#but at least you learned something about frogs

[lateiii]

Some reasons I absolutely hated gym class:

Reasons related to autism, transness & other stuff:

I am not a motorically talented person, and I was made feel like a failure because of this. I have quite a good balance, but that's about it.

Playing group sports was my personal hell. I never got the rules because of the stupid ass idea to "explain it as we play", and then there's 20 kids yelling at me because I didn’t know what to do. Baseball especially was horrible, because ppl kept yelling at you, the sun was always shining, it was hot and bright, and everyone was staring at you.

I can't dive without holding my nose. This made like half of the swimming techniques impossible, and again I was made feel like a failure. (I also couldn't swim symmetrically because of a thing I have, and this bothered the swimming teacher A LOT. Especially when I was swimming frog.)

I couldn't see shit without my glasses, so diving to find something from the bottom of the pool wasn’t really that fun. Especially when it was a relay race (is that the correct term, I mean viesti).

I never got good at skiing. Either because I'm not that good motorically, or because when I learned to ski, I had these old ass skis from a flea market, that weighted too much, and I ended up hating skiing. (Was also made fun for having old ski shoes, that connected to the skis in a "weird way".)

As a teenager - not yet understanding I was trans, but positively sure I hated many things in my body - it was awkward and uncomfortable to be in an environment that highlighted gender in such a manner. When you went swimming or skating, you wore gendered equipment. I was always scolded for not showering with "the other girls", either waiting for everyone else to have left or not showering at all. I hated periods so bad I cannot even describe it, but even more I hated wearing a tampon. Made me legit feel like throwing up and wanting to jump off a bridge. And that is what one swimming teacher would have very badly wanted me to do, when I didn’t go swimming during my periods.

I absolutely hated the smell of a bus full of children, who smelled like chlorine, wet (sometimes dirty) towels, and those (too) sweet perfumes that were the first ones some girls tried on. Some of the towels were the same ones the kids had with them the last time, and clearly smelled like they left them in the bags. And then, because it was a bus, someone barfed. It was way too overwhelming.

Related to other stuff:

Because some kids had sport hobbies and tended to be friends with each other, the teams were usually team 1) full of talented, rich and / or popular kids, and team 2) all the other losers.

It seemed there was almost always something wrong with my equipment. Too big, too old, suddenly the skates were too small and pinched my toes into a numb ball of ice, when the weather wasn’t *technically* cold or bad enough for us to not go out.

Too many team sports. They were all just yelling and failing and bullying.

You didn’t get to choose what to do, or try to have fun. It wasn’t fun. You had to perform.

There was a lot of sexism in the way gym class was taught in my days. (Boys played hockey, girls played ringette. Girls had to at least try to do pretty things with skates, boys got to do whatever.)

The fitness test was really weird and annoying, and it seemed from like the 60's or something. Trying to bend when we hadn't streched in the way we were asked to in the test?

The fucking Cooper test? When we had never ran habitually during the classes?

Everything was always an excuse to the teachers. "Oh, you can't because you get dizzy / you have periods / you have bad allegies, and are afraid of those bees / feel weak? Too bad." Guess how fun it was having anemia and scholiosis in such an environment? Because if you couldn't see the issue, there wasn’t an issue. If your back hurt or you felt unwell, but you didn’t have a paper from a nurse or a doctor, you were faking it.

And more than anything: gym teachers - and craft teachers - are among the people who MOST CLEARLY have favourites. They don’t even try to hide it.

Good things:

I was really good at throwing those small sacks with peas in them. Maybe threw some of them deliberatelly hard towards kids I didn’t like when playing kaupunkisota.

Seeing that swimming teachers exression when I swam a fairly good length in a test, when we were only measuring how far you could swim in X time, not which techique you used, and how symmetrical your legs and shoulders looked!

I liked it when we had orienteering with enough time (= when we didn’t have to run 4+ km, but got to walk around to find the places, and point out some ant nests etc.)

I remember skipping my 4th hour class nearly every day for the second semester one year because my 4th hour was gym first semester and I could go there and play and run and have fun because the teachers thought I was still in the class.

I loved gym class so much, more than any other class, including art class.

[sysig]

You will soon learn to appreciate Charm (Patreon)

[greenfrogartist]

Batman looking a little red there, isn't he @the-stove-is-divorced ? Must be a trick of the light

[headspace-hotel]

How to begin a sustainable way of life

This is a draft of something I've been writing for a couple months. It is mainly focused on the culture of the USA. Feel free to repost or otherwise share, with or without credit.

Do not tell people what to do—help them do it! 

Give the gift of relief from being forced to engage in society’s unsustainable ways of life. 

“People need to eat more plant-based foods.” ->Talk about your favorite recipes, give others recipes, cook for them, and grow vegetables and plants in your garden and give them away as gifts. 

“People need to repair their clothes.” -> Offer to repair others’ clothes, and teach people how to repair their clothes. 

“People need to buy less clothes.” -> Give them old clothes that you don’t want, help them repair their clothes

“People need to buy less plastic stuff.” -> Learn to make things that can serve the same purpose, such as baskets, and give them as gifts. Let people borrow things you own so they don’t have to buy their own. 

“People need to stop using leafblowers and other gas-guzzling machinery.” -> Offer to rake the leaves. You can use them as compost in your own garden. 

“People need to be more educated about nature.”-> Learn about nature yourself. Tell people about nature. Be open about your love of creatures such as snakes, spiders, and frogs. Do not show awareness that this could be strange. You are not obligated to quiet down your enthusiasm for creepy crawlies to demonstrate awareness that it is weird. Point out at every opportunity how these animals are beneficial. 

“People need to use cars less.” -> Offer rides to others whenever you must go somewhere. Whenever you are about to go to the store, ask your neighbor or your friend who lives along the way, “Is there anything you need from the store?” 

You cannot control others’ behaviors, but you can free them from being controlled. 

If you think to yourself, “But this would be so difficult to do!” ask yourself WHY? Why does your society coerce you into less sustainable ways of living, forcing you to consume excessively? After thinking about this, consider that it is less simple and easy than you thought to make more sustainable choices, so why would you judge others for not doing it? 

Do not act alone—act with others! 

Environmentally friendly behaviors that can be done alone, without collaborating with or consulting another person, are the least powerful of all. Whenever an “environmentally friendly” behavior is suggested, figure out “How can I give this as a gift?” or “How can I make this possible on the level of a whole community?” 

“Personal choices” do not work because every single person has to make them individually. If you are focused on making your own personal choice, you are not focused on others. If you are not focused on others, you are not helping them. If nobody is helping each other, most people won’t be able to make the “personal choice.”

You inherently share an ecosystem with your neighbors  

            Start with your neighbors, the people physically close to you. You live on the same patch of land, containing roots from the same plants and trees. You can speak to them face to face without traveling, which means you can easily bring them physical things without using resources to travel. 

            Always talk to your neighbors and be friendly with them. Offer them favors unprompted and tell them about how your garden is doing. Do not be afraid to be annoying—a slightly annoying neighbor who is helpful, kind, and can be relied upon for a variety of favors or in times of need is a necessary and inevitable part of a good community. If you make the effort to be present in somebody’s life, they will have to put up with you on some occasions, but that is just life. We cannot rely on each other if we do not put up with each other. 

Simply spending time with someone influences them for good 

Every hour you spend outside with your neighbor is an hour your neighbor doesn’t spend watching Fox News. Every hour you spend talking with someone and interacting with them in the real world, eating real food and enjoying your real surroundings, is an hour you don’t spend only hearing a curated picture of what reality is like from social media. 

            Isolation makes it easy for people to become indoctrinated into extremist beliefs. When someone spends more time alone, watching TV, Youtube, or scrolling social media, than they do with others, their concept of what other people are like and what the world is like comes more from social media than real life. TV and online media are meant to influence you in a specific way. Simply restricting the access these influences have to yourself and others is helpful. 

A garden is the source of many gifts 

If you grow a garden, you can give your neighbors and friends the gift of food, plants, and crafted objects. This is one of the foundational ways to form community. When you give food, you provide support to others. When you give plants, you are encouraging and teaching about gardening. It is even better when you give recipes cooked from things you grew, or items crafted from things you grew. You can also give the gift of knowledge of how to grow these plants, cook these recipes, or craft these objects. 

More on gift-giving

            Some people are uncomfortable with receiving items or services as gifts. They want to feel like they are giving something back, instead of having obligation to return the favor hanging over them. 

            It can help to ask a simple favor that can be easily fulfilled. People generally like the feeling of helping someone else. 

When you give someone a gift, it can help to say something like “Oh, I have too many of this thing to take care of/store/eat myself! Do you think you could take some?” This makes your neighbor feel like they are helping you. 

When allowing others to borrow items, you might not get them back. Don’t worry about that. It just means the item found a place where it was needed the most. You can ask about the item if you think it might have been forgotten, and this can create an opportunity for a second meeting. But don’t press. 

If the person you give to insists upon some form of payment, this is a good opportunity to negotiate a trade. 

Ask to be given compostable or recyclable things 

Ask your neighbor to save compostable scraps, biodegradable cardboard and paper products, and any other items that might be put to use. Use them in your own compost pile. Or, start a compost pile at the edge of the yard where you both can add to it. Remember that “wet” compost like vegetable and fruit bits needs to be mixed with twice as much of “dry” and “woody” compost like cardboard, leaves, small twigs, paper and wood bits. 

Use the front yard for gardening

Overcome the cultural norm that the front yard is only decorative. Use the front yard for gardening so you can be seen by others enjoying your garden, and others can witness the demonstration of the possibilities of land. In the front yard, anything you do intentionally with your land can be witnessed. It also makes you a visible presence in your community. 

Grow staple foods 

Don’t just grow vegetables that cannot be the core component of a meal themselves. Grow potatoes, dry beans, black eyed peas and other nourishing, calorie-dense foods. Grow the ingredients of meals. You could even build a garden around a recipe.

Invite neighbors and friends over to eat food made from things you grew 

Be sure to send them home with leftovers.  

Grow plants for baskets 

Containers are one of the fundamental human needs. If we had more containers, we wouldn’t need plastic so much. You can learn to make baskets, and to grow plants that provide the raw materials for baskets. 

If someone rakes their leaves, ask to have the leaves  

If you see someone putting leaves in bags, don’t be afraid to ask if you can have the leaves. More likely than not they will be happy to agree. 

Collaborate with neighbors to plant things in the no-man’s-land of the property line 

In the border land between your neighbor’s yard and your yard, it is almost always just mowed grass because no one can plant anything without it affecting their neighbor. But these border lands add up to a lot of space. It would be much better if you talked to your neighbor about what would be nice to plant there, and together created a plan for that space. 

Give others the freedom to wander 

Make it clear that you will not get mad if the neighbor’s kids play in your yard or run across it. Invite the neighbors onto your land as much as possible. Tell them they are allowed to spend time in a favored spot whenever they would like.  

The power of the hand-made sign 

If there is a yard sale, you always know about it because of the hand-drawn signs placed around. Therefore, a cookout or unwanted item exchange can be announced the same way. In rural areas I have seen hand-made signs that say: FIREWOOD or WE BUY GOATS or EGGS. This is one of the few technologies of community that remain in the USA. If someone who looks to buy and sell can put up a hand-made sign, why shouldn’t you?  

Religious people or people with strong political opinions like to put signs everywhere. If they have the confidence and courage to do so, why shouldn’t you? 

So if there is a message you would like everyone to see, use the simple power of the hand-made sign. Proclaim “BEE FRIENDLY ZONE!” above your pollinator garden with all the confidence of a religious fundamentalist billboard. Announce to the world, “VEGETABLES FREE TO ALL—JUST ASK!” “WE TAKE LEAVES—NO PESTICIDES.” Instead of YARD SALE, or perhaps in conjunction with YARD SALE, you can write, PLANT EXCHANGE or SEED SWAP or CLOTHING SWAP. Who can stop you? 

Someone has to do it for society to change  

Some of these ideas might be eccentric, strange, or even socially unacceptable, but there is no way to change what is normal except to move against it. Someone has to be weird. It might as well be you. 

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING MINGHAO INCLUDES…. — sfw

• indulging in his tea parties lollll.

• you actually never liked tea — always considering yourself a coffee girl until you met him. now, it’s your drink of choice.

• you’re the only person he never catches an attitude with.

• he won’t EVER judge you, even if the things you do are questionable sometimes.

• you learned how to make his favorite dishes from his hometown and it was one of the most heartwarming things anyone has ever done for him.

• you’re actually a terrible cook, but it’s the one thing you can do right and perfectly (shoutout to his mom and countless youtube videos for teaching you.)

• you raid his closet from time to time, letting him know that his fashion taste is superior whenever he complains about it.

• he secretly loves seeing you wear his clothes.

• you bought him one of those frog hats. he doesn’t necessarily like the hat, but wears it anyways because it makes you giggle.

• calm bf x hyper gf dynamic for sure. even if you are also calm, he’s a lot calmer.

• he has the habit of buying tea cups as souvenirs for you whenever he’s on tour.

• he insists that you try meditating whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed or have a bad day.

• he looks at you so fondly, it’s almost as if he has stars in his eyes.

• minghao was never one to see himself as a lovey dovey person until he met you.

• when you can’t sleep at night, he turns on ocean or rain sounds to help soothe your brain.

• when you two get into arguments, he’s a very good listener. he takes your side into account and tries to see where you’re coming from. you learned that he’s very level headed and because of this fights never get out of hand and are normally resolved very quickly.

• he always asks if you wanna come with him whenever he goes back home to china. (his parents love you and told him they wouldn’t allow him in the house if you weren’t with him.)

• your favorite dates are the ones in which he chooses and yall go to a museum. you actually don’t know what you’re looking at, but at least you’re spending time with him so you’re okay with it.

• if someone is ever rude to you, best believe minghao is not having any of it. he’s very quick to snap back, especially if it’s to protect you.

• he’s always buying you clothes. he’s quite the fashionista himself and considers himself an expert so best believe he’s going to use you as his model and dress you up.

• always looks at you questionably when you suggest something crazy, but nevertheless goes along with it just to see you smile.

• your outfits won't exactly match, but they would be coordinated somehow.

• he always finds a way to subtly include you in his instagram feed.

• definitely the type to soft launch your relationship on social media.

• he acts cool and calm when he finds out you're learning his native language for him (he's actually giggling and kicking his feet on the inside.)

• he's the logical one in your relationship.

• he knows you almost as better as you know yourself.

• your apartment hallways are filled with endless canvases that he painted for you.

• he's the type of person you can sit in a comfortable silence with.

• he always lets you do your own thing, but is a quiet protector. he always has his eyes on you whenever you two go out together and is ready to step in if you're ever uncomfortable.

• slow and sensual kisses !!!!!

• minghao takes the most perfect photos of you. he knows all your angles and how to do you justice through a camera lens.

[the-ancient-dragons]

The last Overcomplicated Pantalan tribe; LeafWings!

You know how it goes. I'm just me and Joy and Tui are awesome and amazing.

Details and explanation below.

Otherwise, next week is something new! You'll get to meet one of my fantribes >:)

More overcomplicated dragons.

With the LeafWing, I struggled to decide what approach to take. Should I do something closer to canon or go crazy and do 100% my go-to headcanon?

Because my go-to headcanon is that LeafWings should have four wings. I found it odd that they and SilkWings both come from Pyrrhia, but SilkWings (technically BeetleWings) were the only tribe that evolved four wings? I hesitated to even mention this in my HiveWing post because idk how popular this opinion is, but even the fact that Clearsight's arrival somehow split the BeetheWings into two WILDLY different tribes is astounding, with how long dragons live.

But that's not the point of this post. We're here for LeafWings and buckle up, it's a doozy.

So first of all, the reason I justified a four-winged LeafWing is to help it camouflage as a plant better. I'll eventually provide a sheet of this, but it would have two main defence modes, the first being a single-leaf version where they lie flat on the ground or stand still with their wings drooping, creating the silhouette of a single leaf, or a version where they hang on the end of a branch and hold their wings and tail out.

It isn't just their wings that creates this look. I took the original single sail and split it in two, based on the ribs of a draco lizard, and had them run along the sides of its neck. When spread, they are a part of the single-leaf camouflage and bridge the gap between the head and shoulders. They would also have more similar frills on their front and back legs in case they need to camouflage standing up. They could use this for hunting or hiding...

Continuing with the bug-avian beak mix, I referenced african parrot species and leafcutter ants. The highly altered head is based on horned frogs and leaf geckos, and I obviously based the colouration and patterning on leaf insects (though the lighting kind of hides it on the back of the head, lol). Last but not least, I wanted to preserve and enhance the leaf cell design Joy used for the scattered body scales (at least, I'm 90% sure it's for that purpose, it seems most obvious). So, like any sane human, I found photos of plant cells under microscopes and used the rectangular-ish shapes for the main body scales.

I had so much fun making this series. It seems like a lot of people enjoyed it as much as I did. I learned a lot about external anatomy and mixing different creatures to achieve unified designs.

School is doing its best to murder me (I can't do big pieces) so from now on I'll have to stick to loose sketches I can do in-class or doodle within an hour. But once we learn more about bones and muscles I'll be able to take a crack at analyzing the full bodies of some of the tribes. I'll go in whatever order I see fit.

In the meantime, I've got some Fantribes for you, starting next week! See you then!

[anifever]

omggg I love ur Lottie!reader hc’s! Could you do one where the reader acts like Tiana? A super independent, great cook and no-nonsense gal with good humor is someone I think the whole gang would rlly love

Gang w/ a Tiana!Reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The Outsiders x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : Curtis gang with a reader who’s like Tiana from ‘Princess and the Frog’

A/N : Why does my theme mess up when I do requests kms. Once again, sorry if these are a bit short <\3 I have so many other requests I’m working on so bare with me

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🐸 ˚₊‧⁺˖

Darry

୨ IMO, he’d be the best choice for someone with that personality to be paired with

୨ The gang is terrified of pissing either of you off

୨ My ongoing hc/scenario of him = throwing flour at each other whilst cooking together continues to hold up

୨ He thinks you’re the perfect mix of sweet with a bit of sour

୨ If you have a little restaurant, etc; he’s always gloating about it

୨ He’s honestly a little shy about it like one of his coworkers asks abt you during a lunch break and he’s just like “Well….🤭🤭🤭”

୨ You guys both share your parents recipes with each other

୨ He’s the one who’s always cooking for his brothers/the guys, so it’s helpful when he gets a bigger range of things to make

୨ Also helpful that you offer to cook with him or just do it yourself sometimes

୨ He gets pretty worried when he notices you overworking yourself (ironic.)

୨ You both try to help each other through it and take some burdens off one another’s shoulders

୨ You’re both super independent; power couple

Two-Bit

୨ You love to cook, he loves to eat

୨ You’re his saving grace

୨ You also match his sense of humor which makes you the full package in his eyes

୨ He can’t compliment you without you brushing him off and he hates it LMAO

୨ He just wants to butter you up but you’re so humble

୨ Then again, he gets all shy when you start sweet-talking him back

୨ You spoil him with food constantly

୨ “Baby, you’re an amazing cook ‘n all, but I’m gainin’ a bit of a belly-” then you just shut him up by stuffing his mouth with more food

୨ You don’t gaf about his weight you just like coddling your funny lil’ handsome guy

୨ Like I said, he cannot stop complimenting you, like it’s impossible for him

୨ He thinks you’re perfect and feels the need to constantly rub it in other people’s faces that they don’t have someone like you

୨ Like he bagged a woman who can cook, is funny, nice, gorgeous, and stays humble about all of it????

୨ It will forever be his greatest achievement

Steve

୨ You keep him in check

୨ He can be such a smartass sometimes but he learned not to mess around with you fast

୨ Just sits and watches you cook sometimes because he’s so mesmerized by it

୨ He debates on stealing ads for your restaurant he sees around town since he’s so proud of you but then he decides it’s probably bad to lower your promo

୨ He says “There’s my favorite chef 😋” with the dumbest grin on his face whenever he sees you after a while of being apart

୨ If anyone dares to say something bad about you or your food, etc- his ass is NOT having it

୨ His smart-ness comes in handy in cases like that

୨ Like I said, you can handle your own and he’s lowkey giggling and kicking his feet on the inside whenever he gets to witness it

୨ He’s like yes!!!! That’s my girl!!! 😣😣

୨ Borderline moans when he tastes something new of yours and you can’t tell if he’s playing it up or being serious

Dallas

୨ You walk him like a dog I’m crying

୨ You’re really kind most of the time, but he loves that you’re also able to handle yourself

୨ Like going to Buck’s together and some guy is being weird, he thinks he’ll have to step in but you handle it just fine on your own

୨ He wanted you to have his children after that.

୨ Anyways, you’re also really caring over him

୨ Not to mention super loyal which he’s not used to

୨ You always clean him up after fights (not without scolding him tho)

୨ Once again, if you own a place yourself or at least work somewhere, he’s always showing up out of the blue

୨ He reluctantly agrees to be on his best behavior when he visits

୨ That being said, when he hangs out with Pony and Johnny, he’s always bringing them there for food

୨ He tries to flirt with you whilst you’re on-job and you do not have any of it

Soda

୨ He’s always ready to be a taste-tester whenever you try a new recipe

୨ He’s just so supportive I’m sobbing I love him

୨ You pack him lil’ sweets for him to snack on during his shifts at the DX

୨ He watches you passionately talk about cooking/your job with hearts in his eyes

୨ Whenever girls come into the the DX to flirt with him, he takes the chance to promote your business/the place you work LMAOO

୨ He worries a bunch when you start working more than normal

୨ He tries to get you to take breaks but then you’re like “?? You do the same thing with your job” and he’s just like “Ah.. well, you got me there.”

୨ Realistically though, he gets where you’re coming from about “the only way to get what you want is through hard work” and relates to it

୨ That still doesn’t stop him from pouting when you seem more tired than usual when you take longer shifts, etc

୨ You start helping him and his brothers out financially once you start making more money

୨ He cries.

Johnny

୨ You try to help him with his confidence since you’ve got a lot of it yourself

୨ You make him feel secure

୨ You’re also a pretty big inspiration for him

୨ He doesn’t eat great considering his living conditions other than when he goes over to the Curtis’, so he’s basically getting full course meals when he’s with you

୨ You encourage him to get multiple helpings/take a few bites before the food’s done but then scold the other guys when they try to LMAO

୨ “Oh, so Johnny can eat it early but not us??”

୨ “What- was I supposed to let him STARVE?!?! 🙄”

୨ You care about him so much and always make sure he’s away from his parents as much as possible

୨ You’re aware he can also handle himself the same way you can, but you’re still protective over him nonetheless

୨ You have confronted his mom before and desperately tried to keep your usual down-to-earth and kind demeanor, but it didn’t work. At all.

୨ You and Two-Bit are one in the same when it comes to that woman

Pony

୨ He is SCARFING your food down

୨ I’m dead it’ll be gone so fast, he can’t help it

୨ Loves that you’re so headstrong since he’s the same way

୨ Anyways, imagine he brings home a small box filled with something you made him from school & Steve’s like “Where’d you get that from?? 🤨” and he gets all smug about it

୨ He refuses to let him have even the smallest bite

୨ You get along really easy with everyone and he loves that about you

୨ You’re always sticking up for him if he’s getting made fun of at school, on the street, etc

୨ It makes his lil’ heart hammer in his chest

୨ He visits you during your waitressing shifts

୨ Like he studies and does homework up at the counter while you work and he takes glances up at you every now and then AHHHHH

୨ He also probably does yours for you depending on how busy you are

୨ You repay him with food on the house though 😊

୨ Darry’s always asking him where he’s been and he’s like “… the diner in town…🧍” and he’s still suspicious but he’s just glad he’s not getting into trouble

[thewertsearch]

CG: WHAT HAPPENED TO THE FROG BREEDING, I THOUGHT WE WERE ON A ROLL WITH THAT GG: yes, we still are! GG: this little detour was related to that task. we should be nearly done.

Echidna is located on the frog planet, so I guess it would make sense if she offered Choices that related to frog breeding. Maybe she needs to 'approve' the nascent universe, just like she did the Scratch.

CG: WHAT WAS SHE EVEN SAYING TO YOU, I CAN'T UNDERSTAND A WORD OF THAT HORRIFYING GIBBERISH. GG: i can understand her just fine!

It’s reasonable to assume that only the Denizen’s designated Player can understand their speech.

That would probably prevent any Player from completing a Quest that wasn’t assigned to them, which was one of my suggestions for ways to ‘break Sburb’, a million billion years ago.

CG: I STILL DON'T REALLY GET IT. CG: WHY MY DENIZEN WAS SUCH A NIGHTMARE WHILE YOURS APPARENTLY GIVES YOU GUTTURAL PEP TALKS IN SOME BYZANTINE MONSTER LANGUAGE. GG: we already talked about this GG: echidna and i have an understanding now ;) CG: OOH, VAGUE BULLSHIT, IT'S THE EXACT FUCKING THING I CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF. GG: well maybe if you werent in such a grumpy hurry all the time you wouldnt have killed your denizen so quickly GG: you might have actually learned something!!!!!!

I'm willing to bet that Karkat shot first, aggroing his Denizen before it had even opened its mouth. Just like Eridan and his angels, the possibility that this NPC wasn't an enemy simply didn't enter Karkat's head.

...granted, the Consorts do to tell you that your Denizen needs to be slain, so the messaging is a little all over the place. Perhaps the game straight-up lies about how the Denizens work, in order to test the Players in some way.

After all, a species which shoots first and asks questions later might not have an ideal temperament to rule over a universe...

...so maybe Sgrub ensures that they can't.

GG: did you ever talk to kanaya about it? […] GG: her situation was very similar to mine

If the kids needed to activate their frog, then so did the trolls. It sounds like Kanaya, at least, had the wherewithal to listen to her Denizen before immediately popping a Fraymotif.

CG: I THOUGHT SHE KILLED HER DENIZEN TO LIGHT THE FORGE OR SOMETHING GG: it doesnt sound like you got the whole story

You seem to have overlooked the fact that Jade’s Forge is lit - and yet, Echidna was available for a second visit. Keep up, Karkat!

[problematicsashawaybright]

Yap session about Sasha & Grime no one asked for: I really don't think Grime fully understood how young Sasha was until after he asked her to be his lieutenant. Frog and human development is REALLY different and he had no reference. He probably saw that Sasha had legs and a full head of hair and was taller than all the toads, and assumed she was at least older than a tadpole/young frog. Secondly, Sasha's behavior developmentally isn't normal. Like at all. The average 13 year old shouldn't be able to lie and manipulate people so easily and be GOOD at it. She was able to talk numerous guards into leaving and being on her side. Most teenagers do not have that ability unless they had to develop it out of necessity. Lastly, Sasha was so scared and guarded when she was in the prison cell in toad tower. She wasn't volunteering unnecessary information. And even the information from earth she did mention, Grime didn't understand it, like when she mentioned cheerleading (a sport associated with middle/high school girls on earth) and he didn't know what it was. I don't think he saw a child and wanted to take advantage of her manipulation skills and drive to find her friends. I think he legitimately saw her as a valuable asset and the perfect addition to his army he needed to squash the rebellion and get his soldiers into shape (something she was able to do before she was even allowed to leave). Obviously he did grow to legitimately care about her and learn more about her later on, but in the beginning of their allyship, he solely wanted to utilize her interpersonal skills and strength for his military. If I had to pinpoint the general time he realized she was actually a child, I would say he started to realize it during reunion when he watched things go down between her and Anne and she chose to fall, and then sometime after reunion but before toadcatcher, they had a genuine (well, as genuine as S2 Sasha can manage) conversation and he was like "well shit she's barely older than a tadpole". There is a noticeable shift in the way he treats her before and after reunion. During reunion, he coaches her like you would a soldier. In toadcatcher, he coaches her like you would a younger friend or family member you're worried about. Obviously, it was a piss poor idea to see this strange and insanely unhinged creature and immediately make her your lieutenant without asking any follow up questions, but I don't think he knew that she wasn't a full grown adult until at least post reunion and I don't think he used that to manipulate her to form an allyship with him.

[vampire-connoisseur]

Since 2025 is apparently the year of the no-buy and the stash down, I have a very controversial opinion.

I think "using up your stash" is barely an improvement to just continually buying new yarn. The idea comes from a good place, but when the goal becomes reducing the size of your yarn stash, it just becomes a challenge to use what you have any way possible so you can buy more.

If you don't particularly want a granny square blanket, you probably shouldn't use pristine skeins to make one. Same thing with cabled beanies or what have you. When you start trying to use up your stash, instead of just limiting yourself to knitting with mostly yarn you already own, the goal can become to burn through it as fast as possible chasing the feeling of progress, instead of ending up with useful things that you or people in your life will love. If you knit a hat and then never wear it, it isn't actually any better than not knitting the hat at all, in terms of waste.

I honestly think yarn should not be such a defining feature of the hobby. I think it holds inherent excitement because a new skein could become anything, we automatically feel interest and desire for new skeins, and it has the same dopamine fountain properties as other forms of shopping, but it probably isn't good for most of us. When the most exciting part is buying the skein, and then using it becomes an obligation, the joy of knitting and crochet is reduced to consumerism.

Yarn is beautiful and exciting to me, but I'm really trying to change the way I see it. Instead of an exciting blank slate, I'm trying to teach myself to view yarn as a companion. I don't want yarn to be what excites me, because then the hunger for more of it never goes away. I'm glad when I run out of a beautiful yarn because it means I can buy more. Buying is the reward. New yarn is a treat. I don't want that to be part of my life, though. I'm trying to see yarn as enabling the project, and if anything the pattern as the exciting component. When I knit, I try to focus on the work itself, the properties of the finished object and what it will be for, and the techniques I'm learning or practicing, instead of my progress through the yarn.

It's difficult because often inspiration comes from the yarn, and yarn is something that all knitters and crocheters can share an enjoyment of regardless of experience level, style, or time investment, but I still think it's doing more harm than good.

When I buy yarn, I want to be thinking about all the time I'm going to be spending with it. I'm going to be touching it, carrying it with me, frogging it, measuring it, finding patterns for it, and examining it as I knit it up. I will probably use it for multiple projects, at the very least in scrap form, and it will probably lead me to consider buying more yarn of a similar weight and fiber content to use in conjunction with it. That's what I mean when I say it should be a companion instead of a commodity. It goes with you and you pull projects out of it; you don't transform it into projects and move on.

I don't want to use yarn I thought I would love in patterns that don't make me happy and that no one in my life particularly wants. I want yarn to be a resource, rather than a burden. If there are no projects I want to make with my existing yarn, I should save it for later or find another owner for it. I don't want to choose projects out of obligation to yarn I have so that I can make the space to buy more.

Part of me wonders if the emphasis on yarn has amplified the boom in very plain knitting patterns. I can't speak to crochet, but I know that the most popular patterns on ravelry and among knitting youtubers are very simple stockinette pullovers or plain ribbed beanies or something else that is very quick and easy to make and doesn't challenge your knitting capabilities. It could just be because these are what become wardrobe staples, but I also know that a lot of non-knitters wear complex cabled and lacy sweaters and cardigans on a daily basis, including very fashionable people. These simple patterns emphasize yarn choice and let you process stashed yarn faster, but how many people knitting them would rather have a more complex piece, and just don't feel inclined to dedicate the time to one sweater when it could be used to make three?

Anything that slows down your purchasing will be beneficial to your finances and environmental impact, but I think an even greater change in perspective than what you get from a buy ban is in order. You may learn what yarns you actually enjoy or become more creative or experiment with new techniques, but that doesn't actually address the supposed materialism or consumerism issues regarding how we engage with our hobby.

I honestly don't know if building a stash should be a goal or common practice at all. I know all the defenses; I think it makes sense to want to save yarn if your finances are unpredictable, but I think this is a separate issue not really related to the topic of stashing generally. That is either a sensible behavior in a situation that a lot of people with massive craft hoards are not in, or a maladaptive response to traumatic experiences. Either way, saving yarn when you get your hands on it is different from building a "mindful stash" or knitting to use up what you have as fast as possible.

I know a lot of people reason that if you have what you need to create on hand, you can make things more easily, but there are so many limitations of material, quantity, weight, and color that knitting from stash for many people is just an additional challenge (I know for amigurumi artists this is not really the case) and when you have a large stash, it becomes a question of whether you can use it before your tastes change. I know I have a lot of aran weight yarn I don't really know what to do with.

I don't think we should use shopping for joy or comfort. I suspect we would be happier if we almost exclusively bought yarn we planned on using immediately. I saw a youtuber turn an entire advent calendar into a granny square blanket in the name of "stash busting," and maybe she really treasures that blanket now, but if not, I don't see why it had to be "busted" in the first place.

Maybe our engagement with yarn should take the form of reading up on our material options, building lists of specific things we want to try, or following whatever source of yarn is within our budget-- not to seek out deals or new releases, but to get a sense of what our options will be when we do decide to replenish our supply. Instead of looking at skeins of yarn and indulging or fighting a drive to snap them up before they're taken away from you, we could try to translate the skein from a visual and textural experience in the moment into the entire course of working with the yarn. We should imagine the experience of working with it and the finished objects we can pull from it.

I think making fewer finished objects would be okay, as long as each one was worth more to us. Using less yarn on the same budget would also let us try fancier yarns. And when shopping for deals, it's worth remembering that the qualities of the yarn are not what you are bargaining for, but the enjoyment and utility you get per dollar. Even very expensive yarn that you get for cheap and then rush through using is only worth the fun you got from using it and the pleasure the finished object brings you or others (unless you sell the FO).

Joy from shopping is very temporary and sometimes comes as a loan when the purchase becomes a burden and we miss our money and time. I think shopping for fun, especially online, is an inefficient way to get value for our money at best and a maladaptive behavior at worst. I'm curious how often we buy yarn for the act of searching and buying instead of because we want a new yarn in our lives, and I'm curious how doing so impacts how we engage with our hobby.

TL;DR: I think a lot of people have a shopping problem, not a hoarding problem. I think no-buy time and working from stash will not resolve the underlying issues, and I think different behaviors would make us happier.

My mind could be changed, but these are my thoughts right now.

[aestheticanimegirl15]

Decided to make a second part for the Ghoap × reader thought I had the other day anyway. Mainly cause I can't get this idea out of my head- (the frog has taken over, everything is on fire and its laughing maniacally as it slaps it hands on the keyboard)

___________________________________________

The only logical course of route after finding you and Soap together, in Ghosts mind, at least, was to punish you both, right? After all, the two of you should have waited until he was around before you played, both of you knew how rough you could get and he didn't want his two mutts to end up getting hurt.

So that's how you ended up here, sprawled out again across the bed. But this time, Soap was using his mouth on you while Simon watched from his spot on the chair in the corner. You couldn't remember how long he had been going at it, licking and sucking your puffy little clit while his fingers massaged your silky walls. But all you knew was that as soon as you would get close, Simon would make Soap stop. It was torture, for both you and Johnny, whose hips had been rutting against the bed while he ate you out until Simon forced something under him, you didn't see what, so he couldn't get any friction.

"Not yet. Mutts like you need to learn a lesson in patience. Couldn't even stop your hips when I found you, could you?"

But the times when Soap couldn't physically pull himself away from your sloppy entrance, Ghost would stand up, grab a handful of his mohawk and pull him away. Causing both of you to whine and plead even though it fell on deaf ears.

"No! No, please, please. Need it, need it so bad. I'm so close, please!"

It wasn't until you saw Simon tug his own, almost scarily massive, cock out of his pants did you know that you would finally get to cum. For a price that is.

And the price? Is that you had to watch Simon take Soap first before he took you. Mainly so you knew what you were getting into and a part of you was thankful for that. Cause once you saw just how rough and harsh Ghost was on Soap, absolutely destroying the poor mans ass while simultaneously jerking his cock at the same pace, you felt a slight hint of nerves. Would you even be able to take all that? But you never were one to back down from a challenge, especially one that made your entrance flutter and clench.

And thank God for that, because once Simon got done with you, every thought was erased from your mind and all you could think about was how you would never be able to go back to that little peice of plastic that was tucked away in your nightstand.

Not to mention the aftercare? What could be better than being sandwiched in between two massive men while your brain was absolute mush?

[damn-stark]

Chapter 36 Have you left a seat for me?

Final chapter of Moonlight

A/N- The final chapter! but there will be an epilogue!!

Warning- some angst, FLUFF!!!! Talks of death and violence, SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- Past 578

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

And there he is ever so gracefully under the moonlight, like a wild wolf admiring the beautiful moon. Only Cregan is very quietly watching over your son as he continues to talk to Alys, making sure that she doesn’t…cast a spell on him you assume? He is very wary of her because of what she can do.

“How is it going?” You interrupt his silence even though he already heard you approaching him since you were a few paces back.

“I do not know,” he shares as he peers over his shoulder and watches you break the barrier of space that was between you by wrapping your arms around his waist, and then pressing a kiss on his shoulder blade before resting your chin on his shoulder.

“He left dinner a while ago to come talk to her again,” he adds as he turns his head away to continue watching the pair distancing themselves from the Weirwood tree—“At least he hasn’t turned into a frog.”

You roll your eyes and gently knee the back of his leg, causing him to laugh breathlessly as he cups your hands wrapped around him before drifting his gaze to the corner of his eyes to be able to look at you.

“We can ask in the morning,” you try to assure him. “Just trust her okay? Has Alys given you a reason to distrust her? Alys likes the kids. All of them. If she didn’t she wouldn’t have agreed to help.”

Cregan hums in comprehension and then turns around to be able to look at you, letting you see his conflicted eyes brewing under the moonlight. “I tried talking to Jacaerys, but he brushed me off. Again.”

You watch the desperation in his eyes and lift your hand to stroke his jaw. “My love, he’s drinking right now and carried away with his brothers. Try again when he’s sober. Alright?”

Cregan nods his head and then lifts his hand to caress your arms. “I have been dropping my woes on you, how was your funeral?”

The softness taking ahold of your eyes fades and that sorrow and ache once again contorts your face. Cregan notices right away and interjects rapidly. “I am sorry I could not be at your side. I wanted to…”

“But Aemond would not have liked it,” you finish his sentence and move away from him to start leading him away from the Godswood. “So it’s okay. I already told you it was. Besides, the girls were at my side in your place.”

“And because they wanted to be there too,” he adds, causing you to respond with a small smile that tells him that you know that too.

“And I'm grateful for it…” You trail off and your smile fades whilst agony quickly takes over the sorrow as you think back to what Aerion said and did earlier.

“Do you think…I did something wrong to make Aerion and Daenys forsake their father?” You have to ask out of helplessness because what Aerion said has been gnawing at your mind all night and wounding your heart for Aemond— “You know I tried to keep our people from speaking ill of him when they lived in Winterfell, and I never talked bad about him to them either, but they still don’t acknowledge him. That’s why Daenys didn’t bother showing up for his funeral.”

Cregan glances at you and sees your distress and guilt clearly spewing out, making this conversation easier to navigate. “They know what you told them. They remember your efforts of painting him in a good light so they can look at him fondly, but, my darling, they are adults now and you cannot keep the world silent.”

Your frown deepens and you whisper. “I know.”

He swallows back nervously and continues to be brutal but honest. “They were going to learn about their father's doings and form their own opinion about him one way or another. Besides, they…didn’t know him as you did, so the good shared by one person cannot outweigh the bad written in history and shared by thousands.”

You draw in a shaky breath and nod, leaving a silence to spread between you and linger as you make your way to your dragon. Cregan doesn’t know that but he follows you anyhow with the silence not bothering him.

“One time,” you break the silence and keep the melancholy emotions running high. “A Red Priestess told me that three of my children would be followed by sin,” you pause and Cregan looks at you bewildered, not because he finds what you’re saying absurd, but because he can’t believe you seem to take words from the priestess so seriously.

“I have tried to break my head trying to figure out what she meant for so long…”

Cregan sighs out of annoyance but he doesn’t fail to amuse you. “What does it mean?” He probes.

You glance at the starry sky and share what you assume. “Daenerys is a bastard. We cannot deny that. We can't spin it any other way. She was created while I was married to Aemond,” you say with no actual guilt or distress because you don’t let that fact bother you anymore—“And Daenys and Aerion will always be overshadowed by the actions of their father and me. Kinslayers. Every time someone figures out who their parents are, that's the first thing that will come to mind. That sin.” Your voice breaks but tears don’t spill. You continue to look distressed.

“That should not bother you. They’re words of a witch. I have told you this many times.”

“But it does,” you retort and drop your eyes on him. “Because it’s what makes me a bad mother.”

Cregan lifts his eyebrow and leans his face towards you to whisper. “If you’re a bad parent then I am one too. I cannot talk to my sons and in turn, they don’t trust me enough to bear their sorrows on me. They think I hate them because I cannot simply talk to them. I am too cold. I am their Lord rather than their father, so don’t bear that burden alone.”

You hold his gaze and your eyes soften with awe as you let out a soft and relieved scoff. In turn, Cregan strokes your chin and then drags his hand up to caress your cheek, making you lean into his touch.

“I love you,” you remind him, making a warmth creep onto his cheeks and a timid smile tug on his lips.

“I love you too,” he doesn’t hesitate to redirect.

You hold his grey eyes for a second longer before you look ahead and pick up your speed as you walk past the castle gates and see Astraea curled up outside the wall since she’s too big to fit within the castle walls and too protective to stray far to find a nice open space to rest.

“<Look at you!>” You exclaim to your beloved dragon in High Valyrian and skip before you jog to her. “<Too worried to go far?>” You ask. “<Good girl,>” You coo as you reach Astraea and throw your arms around her snout.

This time Astraea fills her silence by letting out an affectionate growl. You proceed to caress her and press your forehead against her, choosing to leave it there for a moment, but then getting interrupted by the sound of a word that sends you in alert. “Mother.”

Your eyes snap open and you move away from Astraea without letting her go to follow the sound and that’s when you catch Jacaerys sitting against Astraea with a goblet in his hand that he lifts in the air for you, and Cregan walking up behind you.

“Father.”

You share a quick glance with Astraea and then let your hands slip to slowly approach Jacaerys. “I’m surprised you’re out here, Jace.”

He scoffs and takes a long drink of wine before he gives you his response. “Why? You should know I’m going to enjoy my last bits of freedom before I am forced to wither away at the Wall.”

You blink repeatedly out of nervousness and then you snap at him. “Jacaerys. We already talked. Don’t—”

“All for you father,” he cuts you off and pushes the cup toward Cregan slowly making his way to you and Jacaerys.

“Jacaerys.”

“It's alright,” Cregan assures you. “He may speak his mind.”

Jacaerys rolls his eyes away as he turns his head away. Cregan reaches where you are and pats your arm before walking past you to be closer to Jacaerys.

“Why are you mad at me, Jace?” Cregan asks, making your stomach knot with concern. Especially as Jacaerys keeps quiet for a while.

Astraea senses this and turns her head to gently tap your side with her snout so you can relax. And you do take a breath but you still feel worried. More so as Jacaerys finally meets his father's eyes.

“Because of you and this need to send me away to the Wall,” he finally snaps with his eyebrows quickly furrowing. “I may not be next in line to be Lord like Rickon or Maekor. I may not have dragon dreams like Torrhen, or be married to a lady with a powerful family, but have you ever thought about what I wanted and not what you wanted? Have you thought about the fact that wasting away with a bunch of old men is not what I consider honorable? It’s always, “It's an honor”, or “It’s your duty”, that I started to be someone that I wasn’t to believe it, but I’m tired. I do not want to be a Brother of the Night's watch. That’s not me.”

Cregan drops his head and places his arms on his hips, whilst Jacaerys glances over at you with a flicker of surprise over the fact that he just said all that to his father. And as Cregan remains quiet Jacaerys speechlessly asks for reassurance so you offer him a small nod and a gentle smile, letting him draw in a deep breath and return his attention to his father.

“Then what do you want, Jacaerys?” Cregan interjects as he lifts his eyes off the ground to look at Jacaerys without anger. It would be heard in his voice if he was angry.

“I,” said man pauses but not because he’s caught off guard or clueless. He just exhales and then continues. “I cannot have a dragon like mother, but maybe I want to sail and…see the world like Yi-Ti, or some other distant land. This world is big. I don't want to just waste away in some corner imagining what it might look like when I have the ability to actually know it.”

A proud smile spreads on your face as you hear your son's dream. One similar to the one you had once upon a time.

“It was told to me that a Stark always had to serve the Wall. With all your brothers having a place in this world, I placed that duty on you without taking your opinion under consideration. And maybe if your mother had been another woman I would have forced you, but…” Cregan pauses and looks back at you with an admiring smile. “I have heard your words before. I know that girl would want nothing more than to let you go and do what she couldn’t,” he says, making your smile tremble—“So go if you want Jace,” he directs back at his son. “Or stay. Follow your heart. Be free and keep dreaming in ways that girl couldn’t.”

Jacaerys eyes fall and you see his mind racing so you approach Cregan and hook your arm around his. He turns his head and presses a kiss on the top of your head.

“Mother…is it true?” Jacaerys questions since your past desires are something you haven’t shared with your kids. It’s been forgotten for a long time until now.

“Once. I always wanted more, but your father helped me see that I already had so much in what I was given. I just had to learn to see it and enjoy it. Besides…my place was always here. I learned that long ago, but your place…is wherever you want it to be because you don’t have the burdens we did…so be free Jace.”

Said man nods in comprehension and his breath shudders as he lowers his head again. Cregan takes this time to approach him and take a seat beside him without uttering a word. He just sits with his son, causing the boy to slowly look at his father with an appreciative smile.

Cregan slowly meets his gaze and offers a sweet smile in return, making your heart swoon as you watch the silent interaction from where you stand.

——

*A FEW DAYS LATER*

“<Trust me we’re getting out of here now,>” you assure Astraea since she’s not a fan of the Riverlands. “<But I do have to tell you that when we get to King’s Landing you’ll have to fly to Dragonstone. Aegon…” you breathe out as you stroke her face. “Is not a fan of you, so stay at Dragonstone until it’s time to leave okay?>”

Astraea, like always doesn’t respond, you know she listens but she can’t respond.

“Are you flying Astraea to Kings Landing?” You hear a voice travel into your ears, making your hands fall off Astraea to turn and face Torrhen joining you and your dragon in the field past the castle walls.

“Not yet. I don’t want to leave you all behind for two weeks,” you let him know and watch Astraea as she pushes herself up and crawls closer to Torrhen to nudge him gently.

“About that,” Torrhen brings up softly as he lays his eyes on Astraea. “I am going to stay with Alys. Just until you make your way back this way. After that, I am leaving back home with you.”

You blink in surprise and then your eyebrows knot together. “Are you…sure? You don’t want to go see your sister? Or your uncles?”

Torrhen's grey eyes slowly find you and he sighs before he explains his reasoning. “I would like to, but I have been learning so much from Alys, and she still has a lot to teach me. I don’t want to waste this opportunity, not while my mind is still rampant. I still cannot make sense of what I see, but…the weight of them is not as heavy anymore and it’s thanks to her.”

Your confusion and concern falls and the corner of your lips show your amusement as it rises. “And you didn’t want to talk to her,” you remark teasingly, making him laugh under his breath.

“Maybe after this, I can be unburdened by my dreams and visions and be carefree like her,” he adds, causing you to fall serious and close the space between you to wrap your hand around his arm and gently caress him.

“If that's what you believe then stay,” you assure him since even if he wasn’t asking, he was still seeking your opinion without demanding it. “And then come home,” you press, but quickly break into a smile to let him know you’re not all that serious about demanding him home.

“Or don’t. If that’s what you want. I will be sad, but it is normal.”

Torrhen shows his pity, but he quickly consoles you. “My place is still at home. Do not worry.”

You scoff and nod lightly in comprehension before you let go of his arm and offer him a sweet smile. “Stay then, and after…talk to your father? Him and Jacaerys talked, so maybe you can try talking with him now.”

Torrhen sees the desperation and the plea in your eyes so even if he’s hesitant he tries to please you. “I will try. I swear.”

You let out a breath of relief and when he notices the change on your face he flashes you a faint smile before he licks his lips and tries to share his concern. “Will you be okay when you return to King's Landing?”

You have returned to King’s Landing many times already, so going shouldn’t bring you so much conflict, but you still grow stiff and nervously avert your gaze. “I always am,” you respond in a stiff voice and then drift your eyes over to him to offer him a faint smile to go with your response.

“Now,” you avoid going deeper into that conversation since he knows more than anyone you're depressing history with King’s Landing. “See us off?”

Torrhen doesn’t deny your request, he happily lets you hook your arm around him to return to the castle side by side.

The moments that follow aren’t eventful, you stick to your schedule and depart from Harrenhal to head to King’s Landing whilst also leaving Torrhen behind with Alys with no protests from anyone. Then again what could they say? Even if this would be his first time being alone away from home, he’s a man grown trying to make sense of his abilities. It’s best to leave him be so he can get his help.

Besides, the further you get away from Harrenhal and your youngest child, the less you worry about him and the more that you feel distressed by returning to King's Landing, the land where you once lived your life for fifteen years.

Happy memories were made there. Good memories you cherish, but the grief, agony, torment, and the violence that you lived through there is what makes itself present every time you think about King’s Landing and every single time you've returned because it’s a constant reminder of what you lost. Just like Dragonstone. Albeit you can actually step foot in King’s Landing, you cannot and have not returned to Dragonstone—Even if it’s been twenty-five years since your mother died.

Time was supposed to heal you. Turn your wounds into scars, and then distant and faded memories, alas, the moment you arrive to the great capital and lay your eyes on the amazing Red Keep, you curse everyone who said such a stupid thing because twenty-five years since your mother's death, twenty-six years since Aemond’s death, and twenty-seven years since the war started has not passed in your heart or your mind. The memories and the anguish are not vivid anymore, but the scar hurts, and the ache is a reminder of what you no longer have.

At least there is happiness and light in the family you do have living here though. They keep the storm at bay and break a smile on your face.

“Grandmother!” The sweet little sing-song voice of Naerys rings as she breaks out of formation and makes her way to you.

You beam right away as you see your young granddaughter running to you and meet her halfway to quickly sweep her off her feet and hold her against you. “Hello, my little songbird,” you coo as you hug her tightly. “How are you feeling, hm?” You ask right away.

“Oh grandmother I have missed you,” she lets you know before she pulls back to face you with her sweet blue eyes. “I am better.”

You grin brighter. “I’m glad to hear it. And for that, your grandfather and I have brought you a present.”

The little girl's eyes brighten as she grows giddy. “What is it? Where is it?” She asks and looks past your shoulder.

“With your grandfather. You’ll have to wait for him to get here,” you tell her, making her even more eager to know. “Now let’s put you down—”

“Hey! Where is Astraea going?!” Another young voice interjects, making you drift your eyes down to see your grandson Aemon running past you to watch Astraea fly away with a pout—“I wanted to ride her,” he complains as he crosses his arms over his chest whilst you put Naerys down and approach him from behind.

“Forgive me little one. I don’t want to distress your uncle Aegon, so she has to leave,” you tell Aemon, Daenys’ oldest child with her husband and your brother Viserys, making Naerys their youngest child and Aemon’s sister.

“Well,” Aemon huffs and turns around to face you. “Then can you promise that I will ride her with you before you leave?” He pleads and bats his eyes, making you touch your chest and melt.

“Of course, I promise, but first,” you add and crouch to be at his level. “Why don’t you show me some love, hm?”

The little boy grins brightly and then throws his arms around you, causing Naerys to join in and throw her little arms around you too.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you all. You’ve grown so much since I last saw you,” you mutter as you embrace them against you.

“I lost a tooth since we saw each other last,” Aemon shares as he peels back to show the gap where his tooth is meant to be. “Because Aegon pushed me during training.”

You stroke his chin and whisper. “Did you get a coin for that tooth?”

Aemon closes his mouth a nods, causing you to flash him one last smile before you let Naerys go and stand to your given height to turn around and face your daughter Daenys.

Once your eyes are on her, much like her daughter, she breaks from formation and makes her way to you as you make your way to her to meet each other halfway with an embrace.

“I am sorry I could not go to Harrenhal,” Daenys chooses to make that the first thing she still tells you without knowing that her brother already told you the real reason why she chose not to go.

Albeit you don’t bring it up. Like with her brother, you let her be angry and have her own emotions toward her father. Instead, you caress her back and assure her. “It’s alright. I understand. I’m just glad Naerys is okay and I could make it here to see you.”

Without needing to see her you know Daenys is smiling timidly and that’s all you need from her to let the ordeal go.

“When do the others get here? Is Alysanne coming?” She asks as you both pull away from each other and hold each other's hands.

“She is. And they should be here by the end of the day.”

Her smile widens at the sound of the news, making you stroke her cheek before you move to greet your brother Viserys, who was thought of as dead for a while, but a few years after peace was officially announced throughout the realm, a family from Lys sailed to Westeros with him aboard to bring him back home. With conditions of course, but alas, that condition abandoned Viserys a year after she had their son Aegon the Fourth.

After that condition left is when Daenys and Viserys married, out of duty, but also because they grew a liking to each other as Daenys was the Queen’s Lady-in-waiting.

“Vis,” you greet sweetly and don’t greet him with an embrace, instead you cup the back of his neck and offer him a sweet smile that he mirrors with a charm added to it.

“Sister. I’m happy to see you and I know our brother Aegon is eager too, but…” he trails off and you finish for him.

“Astraea. Yes, I assumed. How are you?”

He shrugs. “I have no reason to complain. My daughter made it out of her illness and you are here with the rest of our family soon to join…Aerion is coming, yes?”

You giggle and nod. “Of course.”

His smile grows wider and he nods in comprehension. After that, you step to the side and look down at the little boy standing beside him.

“Hello, Aegon.”

Said boy offers you a faint tight-lipped smile, but that’s it. He doesn’t mirror his siblings' excitement, so you move on to greet the Queen, Daenaera Velaryon, one of your cousins, and the second wife to your brother Aegon after Jaehaera sadly passed away not long after she was crowned Queen and before she and Aegon could have children.

Daenaera is sweet and charming. Kind and understanding which is why you were comfortable greeting your grandchildren, daughter, and brother first, because she doesn’t mind it and because to her your title as the Dowager Queen commands more respect, so she lets you be, plus she knows you’ll never leave her out, and you don’t. After you greet her, you then greet her children standing at her side, but then hastily return to her to touch her expecting belly since you treat her like you do your brothers, with affection and warmth.

Once that greeting is over nevertheless, as all the noise of your welcome has calmed down, you make your way to a drawing room in the royal apartments. One that you would spend your time at with your mother and brothers. One where the setting sun would shine through the balcony window and bask your mother ever so perfectly, making her look ethereal and angelic as she listened to you read your books in Valyrian, or sing a song.

You always liked the end of the day in that room because of that detail. You looked forward to it every day because it was always so warm and comforting. She was always so warm and comforting…

When you're there now, all that's gone, leaving only a sad memory. Thus your exhale is heavy and not relaxed, and when a knock raps on the door you expect to see someone who’s been dead a long time, but instead you see your brother Aegon walking in so you quickly get up and curtsy. “Your Grace,” you greet, and right away Aegon puts his hands out and interjects.

“Please, you do not have to do that when we’re alone. You’re the Dowager Queen. I owe you my respects,” he says and then offers you a small bow, making you giggle before you make your way around the couch to reach him.

“Dowager Queen or not you are still my King,” you argue, causing him to lower his head and then shake it.

“Perhaps but I prefer to be your brother first,” he counters and you sigh before taking his hands in yours.

“Alright…sweet brother. I’m glad to see you.”

He lifts his solemn blue eyes off the floor to meet your gaze, causing a shuddering breath to escape through your nose as a memory of your mother flashes in your mind. Aegon doesn’t look like your mother, he doesn’t have her eyes or the same color hair. His hair is also pin straight and he’s impressively tall and lean, but even so, as you look into the eyes of the little brother who was with you when your mother died, you see her in him for a fraction of a second.

“And I you,” he redirects as he gently rubs the back of your hands with his thumbs. “Is your dragon…”

“Gone?” You cut him off and then nod. “She flew to Dragonstone. She’ll stay there until it’s time to leave, so you can rest easy.”

He nods stiffly in comprehension and you proceed to take a long look at his thin face, noticing he looks a bit thinner than usual. “Aegon, my sweet, have you been eating?” You ask and he pulls his hands away and nods quickly as if to brush you off.

“Quite well in fact,” he dismisses you and makes his way over to the couch to take a seat, making you walk back to sit beside him.

“Why do you come here first every time you come to King's Landing?” He cuts the other conversation short. “I always mean to ask, but I always forget.”

You intertwine your fingers together and exhale deeply as if trying to work up the courage to share the reason. As if it was costly to your scarred heart. “Uh…when I was a little girl I used to come here with our brothers and mother…”

Aegon shifts slightly at the sound of the memory but you continue.

“…it was not every evening, just some, but we would spend time here whether it be playing, talking about our day, and or doing some different activity, but,” you pause and your eyes flicker to your hands as the memory becomes more vivid than before. “One of my favorite things to do was read or sing to our mother right here on this couch because when the sun was setting it would peek through the balcony doors and all the windows and kiss her ever so gracefully, making her look…absolutely breathtaking, so I would admire her and hope every time that I would grow up to be as beautiful as her…” you trail off and peel your hands away from each other to gently rub the couch before finding the strength to look at him without feeling like you’ll cry.

However, you notice that Aegon is teary-eyed, so you reach over for his hand and cradle it.

“I wish I could have seen that,” he mutters and averts his gaze. “I wish I had been born earlier so I had more time with her like you and our brothers did.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze, causing his eyes to pull back to you and catch your pitiful smile.

“I try to talk to Viserys about our mother, or our father, but…he doesn’t remember how they look like or actually hold a single memory about our life before, so I’m alone in my grief until you’re here.”

If only he knew how alone you felt in your grief whether it was with him, or without him over the simple fact that he never lived in the earlier years when you still lived with your mother and brothers. But you don’t tell him that to avoid breaking his heart.

“If you ever want to talk you can send me a raven,” you remind him. “I’ll answer as soon as I can or even fly here if need be.”

He giggles softly and you can’t help but smile before you drag yourself closer to him and share a small story about your mother since he loves hearing them. Albeit there was a time when he was a boy that he wanted nothing to do with you because of the fact that you left; he was so livid that you left him all on his lonesome, but when he got older and a bit mature he figured out that you left because you had your duty to your husband and your family, and well…older sisters eventually have to leave their little brothers behind to live their lives. He was never aware of the fact that you couldn’t continue living here, and you would never tell him.

“One time when I was a little girl, as you know, I liked going down to the platform by the sea,” you begin your story, sparking eagerness within him to know more.

“I liked to sneak away from my Septa’s, and our mother never got me in trouble even if she was told to, but,” you giggle. “She got curious as to where I always ran off to one day, so she followed me without my knowledge. Every step I took, she took in secret without making a peep. She was rather sneaky. Eventually, when I reached the platform, she came up behind me as I reached my straw man and announced her presence so abruptly that she frightened me so badly that I fell over the ledge with my straw man falling under me, breaking my fall, but not shielding me from the wave that crashed over me. So I got soaked, and after our mother helped me back to stable ground she laughed…and I laughed with her.”

A smile tugs on Aegon’s lips before he laughs softly, making his shoulders shake and his solemn eyes spark with a flicker of joy.

That reaction makes you laugh with him, giggle in fact as you watch him and admire the way he laughs because it’s so rare to hear. You have to grasp and internalize the scraps you’re given. However in doing so, even though the sun is not seeping through the balcony door and all the drawing rooms windows, sunbeams still find their way inside and cast Aegon in its illuminating hue, making his usually dark blue eyes gleam brightly, and making him appear as beautiful as you mother looked when she was basked by the same sun.

For the first time in twenty-five years since her death, for a fraction of a second, your mother was in the same quarters as you in the body of her son. And then…as fast as that second same, she left and you were orphaned all over again.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

After some time of being in King's Landing, it’s finally time to leave, and yes, you’ll miss your brothers, your daughter, and your grandchildren, but besides the memories that haunt you, this place is not as grandeur as you once believed. Thus you’re eager to leave with Alysanne to the Riverlands until she gives birth—albeit you will miss the sea; it’s so far from Winterfell...

Nevertheless, before you can even attempt to leave, you enter your chambers to grab what you need before you meet up with Daenys and Aerion, but as you come across your bed; you see that there's a rather long and wide gift box sitting on the bed.

You look around in confusion before you approach the gift box and notice a small square folded note attached to the ribbon that has your name neatly written on it.

Cregan comes to mind, but he has not eluded to gifting you something. He usually would, but he hasn’t and neither have any of your children, so, you eagerly grab the note to see who it could be from.

“Dear sister,

I found one of Mother’s gowns so I had it tailored for you so you could cherish and wear it. And that’s not at all, in my search I also found one of her rings and I noticed that you fidget with your rings the same way she did, so I had it customized for you.

From,

Aegon.”

Whether you wanted to or not, tears run out of your eyes without warning and stream down the curve of your cheeks whilst your heart dances with pure bliss. You try to open the gift box, but all you can do is put the note down before you start sobbing, and your heart starts aching out of genuine bliss.

You can hardly breathe for quite a while so you have to sit down and catch your breath first before you wipe the tears off your face and pull the box onto your lap. More tears do quickly well up in your eyes, but you ignore them and pull on the ribbon to loosen it and put it aside before you open the box. Thin paper presides over the gown so you yank it off and when you lay your eyes on the black and crimson gown you break down again, but to avoid staining the gown with tears you cover your face to cry into your hands.

After a few more tears you pull your hands away to wipe them off your face and then wipe your hands on your thighs before grabbing a small velvet box that was placed on top of the gown.

Of course, more tears stream down your face and your shoulders tremble as you take in the simple yet beautiful gold ruby ring that once belonged to your beloved mother.

After she fled the city and after she died you never thought you’d find any of her things. Most of the smallfolk took off with the jewelry and the clothes she had to leave behind, leaving only a few things behind, so you didn’t have much until now. And it’s all thanks to your sweet melancholy brother, Aegon.

You smile at your gifts and gently smooth out the gown. You would wear it right away, but the day is coming to an end so you’ll have to save it for later. As for the ring, well, you wear that now and get surprised when it fits just right.

You proceed to linger on the edge of the bed after that with the things resting on your lap until you feel like it doesn’t look like you’ve been sobbing uncontrollably. After that, you set the gift box down on the bed again and grab what you came here for before meeting up with your children.

As expected they’re already waiting for you where you told them to with quite the impatient look painted on their faces.

“Mother,” Daenys complains as she unfolds her arms. “Where have you been? We’ve been waiting here for ages.”

You snicker and roll your eyes as you walk past the pair, catching the way Aerion tries to study your face as evidence that you’ve been crying still remains on your face.

“Mother,” Aerion speaks up as he trails right behind you. “Are you alright?”

You hum in agreement and unlatch the tall windows to push them open and reveal the roofs. The same roofs that Aemond and you would escape to when you were children—“Come,” you urge them and step out of the window to stand on the roofs.

“Mother,” Daenys calls out. “Are you mad? What are you doing?!”

“Just come on,” you brush off her panic and lead them away from the window and around the corner where no windows decorate the walls so you aren’t seen. Aerion and Daenys are hesitant to follow, you almost believe that they won’t follow you, but eventually, you see them peeking around the corner.

“Mother,” Aerion calls out now with worry, but you just pat the empty spots beside you.

The siblings look at each other with concern but Daenys takes the risk and falls by your side, Aerion lingers behind cautiously, so you interject with amusement. “We will not fall, trust me. I have done this hundreds of times.”

“I believe you,” Daenys mutters and raises her head to peek over the ledge.

“We will not stay long,” you assure them, and then turn around to dig into the bag that you brought with you and pull out things they have not seen before.

Aerion notices that you’re pulling things out of your bag so he carefully makes his way over to join you and his sister. “This is completely unsafe,” he mutters. “You are meant to safeguard us, not put us in harm's way.”

You snort and cover the things by pulling back a thin layer of your gown. “I fought in a battle with your sisters in my belly, and have taken you on dragonback when you were babes. I am not someone who takes safety as my priority, besides, you will be fine. Unless you’re reckless. Are you?”

Aerion carefully takes a seat beside you and then shakes his head and deadpans. “No.”

You shrug to brush him off and then move along with the matter at hand. “I brought you here today because when we were in the capital together a few years back, I…never took your feelings toward your father under consideration. I worried about my own grief and my own loss that I disregarded yours and thought lies that I would only recently uncover. So now that the three of us are here I summoned you to a…rather unexpected place, but it’s a place where Aemond and I would come to when we were kids. So it’s special.”

Aerion and Daenys share another quick glance before their eyes fall on your lap as you yank off the layer of your gown to show what you brought.

“This,” you continue to speak before they have the thought of interrupting and pick up a hand-carved wooden siren. “Is a siren your father carved me when he was a boy. He lacked a dragon so he picked up other talents, and whittling was one of them.”

You put the siren down and grab the heart-shaped book that holds songs and ballads in Valyrian. “This,” you move on to the book. “Is a rare book of ballads and songs he scoured the earth for because he knew how much I loved to sing in Valyrian, and well, he really liked it when I sang in our mother tongue.” You giggle and pass the book to Aerion since he’s more musically inclined than Daenys.

“And this,” you move on to the third thing made of glimmering gold and beautiful gems. “Is a circlet inspired by one of my favorite ancestors, Daenys the Dreamer. He,” you pause and draw in a deep breath to calm your racing heart—“he had this done like one Daenys wore in a drawing of her in one of the history books because he knew how much I looked up to her. It was after I had you, Aerion.”

Said man sits in silence for a moment and when he returns the book to your lap he quips, “expecting a girl?”

You smile bashfully. “Desired a girl, yes, but we were still rejoiced when we had you…he really did love you Aerion, and you too Daenys. He never got to meet you, but he loved you. He cared about you both,” you finally share what you came here to say as you put the circlet down to give them your attention.

“If he really did love us like you say,” Aerion cuts in while Daenys remains quiet—“he would have tried harder to make it back to us, but he fought and died. He left and died.”

You nod rapidly. “Yes. Yes, don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I was furious too? I was left widowed with three children. Newborn twins and an infant. I was mad too Aerion, because he died after he promised that it was just us in this world that mattered. Him and me…Me and him, but he left with only traces of him to haunt me.”

“Then perhaps he should have fought harder,” Aerion continues to be hard-headed as he pouts down at the surface beneath his feet.

“I…” you trail on with tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. “I was angry at my father once too. I forsook him because he left too. I carried that hate in my heart because I was betrayed by him and my mother. All I felt pulsing through me was my anger, so I know, I know some of that resentment you hold for your own father, but as someone who went through that, as someone who knew how much Aemond loved and cared for you both, I just want you to change your perspectives. Open your hearts and accept a little piece of him at least.”

“But,” Daenys’ sweet voice finally fills your ears. “He was a monster. You have your scar to prove it.”

“And you have a new part of the city to prove my sins,” you defend him by shedding light on your own wrongdoings. “He did bad things, yes, but I did too. Everyone who fought in that war did bad things, some worse than the others, but it was done. It doesn’t make him any less of your father. It doesn’t take away that he still loved you.”

“But you have your life to make up for it,” Aerion argues, making your eyes drift to him. “And you raised us. You were here and made sure that we did not only think of the bad parts when we thought of you. When I think about Aemond…I see the death, destruction, and pain he left behind.”

“Because,” you pause and drop your head to fiddle with the wooden siren. “That’s what you hear. That’s what they all say about him, but he was much more than that. He,” you laugh softly and with a fond smile. “He would watch you sleep to make sure you were breathing when you slept. He went out to make sure you found your dragon so you didn’t feel ostracized like he did. He was selfish, but that made his love that more passionate.”

“I wish…we had memories together,” Daenys whispers in such a way that can only be heard if you’re sitting next to her, so you barely catch what she said—“Not just words spoken by you and others. That’s why it makes seeing him as a monster easier because I can’t even dream of him. At least Aerion can cling onto that, but me…I only have his name and trinkets that have no meaning to me.”

You look at her with pity and you catch tears crawling out of her eyes, but she’s quick to wipe them away.

“I am sorry, my Sweet,” is all you can offer her besides the wooden siren he had made for you—“keep it. It was made by his own hands. It’s not him, but it’s something made by him.”

Daenys carefully takes the siren and looks at you with worry. “Are you sure?” She asks.

You nod and pat her hand. “Positive.”

With a faint smile, Daenys looks down at the hand-carved siren, assuring you without words that she will try to look at her father under a different light, leaving you to seek Aerion’s response to all this now.

“You can’t ask me to forgive him just like that,” Aerion says and tries to hide his quiver.

“Nor will I ask you to,” you reassure him as you take his hand in yours. “Just change your prescriptive.”

Aerion takes a deep breath and then shudders. “I’ll try.”

A relieved look unfurls on your face and you squeeze his hand. “That’s all I want. Monster to man.”

Aerion meets your gaze and shares a faint nod, causing you to raise your hand to stroke his cheek and look into his striking blue eyes for a second longer before you look away and watch the horizon with contentment just like you would so long ago.

Life has been hard. It is still hard sometimes, but you can admit that you know what peace means now. You’re not falling into any abyss. You know happiness, you can find it in every member of your family. You know love, and it’s true you miss so many people, but their loss is not like being pierced in the heart or getting it torn and shattered, it aches when you remember the good moments, but you’ve preserved through your agony and grief, and that’s your greatest achievement because you can love again. You can smile with your lips and your eyes, and you can enjoy the sun's warm embrace as it seems to shine just for you as you dip your feet in the sand and let the salty sea waves crash over your feet on the morning of the day you have to leave King’s Landing.

Everyone else is barely starting to stir awake because you made it your mission to get up as the sun was rising to find serenity by the sea before you left.

Albeit there is one presence who does join you in your moment of solitude, but they don’t announce themselves. They watch you from afar as the sun completely shines just for you, kissing your skin, and making your silver-white hair glimmer like untouched snowflakes on fields of snow.

They can’t see your face since they’re behind you, but they know you well, they can picture your blissful smile as clear as day as you take in the sun and welcome the cold touch of the water. Perhaps—no, this is the best part about departing from the North and visiting King’s Landing and or visiting Driftmark, they get to see you completely enamored by the sea as if you were a mythical creature parted from their home. It’s always breathtaking to see and be a part of it that they don’t want to move from where they are, but after a while of stillness, you’re the one who looks over your shoulder with your smiling gaze.

“Come. Join me,” you wave Cregan over and his lips show off a fascinated smile before he breaks away from his spot and joins your side unable to part his eyes away from your face.

“What?” You quiere with a giddy smile. “Will you dive with me this time? Just a few miles offshore. I swear it this time.”

Cregan’s smile softens and his eyes darken as his pupils dilate even bigger as you’re all that reflects over his gaze.

“You are and have always been my heart's keeper,” he interjects assertively and catches you off guard. “Everywhere you go my heart follows. Even in death, where the sea meets the edge of tomorrow.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you look as if this is the first time he’s ever made such a passionate confession, when in truth he has never stopped reminding you how much he loves you. Physically and with sweet and romantic words. You're the one who lacks in reminding him sometimes, but your heart has never faltered, it has only grown fonder.

“And you, are the reason I am here,” you now offer him a confession of your own filled with just as much passion. “You are the reason my heart beats and why I draw in air. You are my morning and evening star. My light and the color that forbids me from looking at the world in black in white. Everything about you fascinates me, from the inner markings of your soul to your stormful grey eyes.”

Cregan scoffs softly as he stands in disbelief, causing you to react by cradling his cheeks to close the space between you. He follows by wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and pushing you to him to rest your foreheads against each other and just breathe in and be in each other's presence under the shining sun, and by the peaceful blue sea.

——

*SEVERAL YEARS LATER*

A loud gasp escapes your lips as your heart jolts and your eyes spring open. However, you’re quickly forced to shield your eyes from the blinding light that shines before you, letting your other senses take in your surroundings instead, like your ears, that catch the sound of louder chatter, laughter, and music in High Valyrian. Your nose also kicks in and you smell freshly made strawberry tarts, roasted pig, and every other traditional Valyrian food that you love.

But it’s weird because the last thing you remember is…getting swallowed by darkness. It was slightly terrifying, but you couldn’t resist its call, you let it take you…here…

You slowly pull your hand down and open your eyes, catching at that moment, the sight of your hands missing the wrinkles that once marked your skin to proudly show off how long you’ve lived. Now besides seeing the expensive and extravagant jewelry decorating your hands and fingers, you see that your hands look like they did when you were a young adult…

You would ask yourself why and start to panic, but as your surroundings come into focus you realize that you’re in a corridor you don’t recognize, but one still so familiar that doesn’t let you feel estranged. You feel at home like this is where you were meant to be the whole time. It’s why your jolting heart that had started to race calms down to a relaxed beat.

That’s not all, the bright light that once blinded you is not actually before you, but casting through the colorful stained glass set on the stone walls that all tell a story of…your Targaryen ancestors. Every major event that you read in books or got told is told on the glass, even the past you lived through.

You see a visual summary of the war, the dragons that fell, and the family that got torn apart. It’s there and as tempted as you are to walk to it to admire it from up close, the commotion coming from behind the tall doors ahead of you is more tempting, so you break away from the spot you woke up from, walk past grand stone dragon heads sitting at the sides of the doors, and without hesitation you push the doors open, catching sight of the beautiful lilac gown on your body made of your favorite silk from Yi-Ti, and catching sight of your long white-silver hair flowing past you with the swift movement.

Yet what does the sight of a beautiful gown and unique colored hair hold compared to what you see in front of you, the marvelous and breathtaking sight of so many different people, all whom you know in your heart have Targaryen and Velaryon blood running through them just like you. They’re all your family…every body and soul is your family that once lived…just like you…That’s right…you’re dead and now you’re…yet in another space you don’t recognize, but it doesn’t feel at all strange; not with the warm setting sun embracing your figure, or the sight of your family.

You could melt with all the heartwarming bliss you’re already filled with, however, before you can melt, the sound of your name breaks through the commotion, snapping your attention straight ahead.

Albeit you don't catch a thing. The sound of your name continues to be called though so you walk down the stairs and go toward the crowd. Before you can make an attempt to break through though, none other than Jacaerys and Lucerys come out, catching you off guard and paralyzing you right where you are.

“Jace,” you breathe out with your eyes set wide with bewilderment and fascination. “Luke.”

The pair look at one another with a teasing smile before they both offer you heart-warming smiles that you start to mirror as your eyes immediately brim with hot tears.

“Jace…Luke,” you call out again and then laugh, making them flash you a grin before they giggle too and set off toward you, causing you to break away from your spot and run at them. When you meet each other halfway you can’t contain your excitement, you jump on them and they don’t fail to catch you or laugh with you the moment you’re wrapped in each other's embrace.

Nothing is said when you’re tangled in each other's arms; no witty remark, and no funny joke, nothing is passed between you but a comfortable silence as the three of you take in the fact that you’re together again. After so much longing, you’re together again and nothing will tear you apart ever again.

“Mother!”

Your eyes snap open and ahead of you comes Alysanne; the girl who reintroduced you to an agonizing grief when she died after the birth of her first child. Following at her side is your eldest boy, your Aerion who died alongside his step-brother Rickon as they fought a war his cousin Daeron started against Dorne.

They were both gone from your life for so long. You mourned their death until your dying breath because losing children was a different and more painful heartbreak than you had felt before. Alas, there they are and every muscle in your body takes you to them right away.

“<My loves,>” you mewl in High Valyrian as you embrace the both of them the same way you embraced your brothers so you wouldn’t leave either of them out.

“<Mother,>” Alysanne cries as she's overcome with emotion. “It's been so long.”

“I’m here now my darling,” you console her as you rub her back. “I’m here.”

Alysanne nods, you can feel her head moving as she welcomes your comfort as if that’s what she’s been needing since she died.

“Oh,” you gasp and step back to turn around and face your brothers. “I’m assuming you know my brothers, your uncles. Jacaerys and Lucerys.”

“Yes, we do,” Aerion lets you know while Lucerys confirms with a nod.

“Don't worry we’ve been looking out for them since they got here,” Lucerys offers you some consolation, making you smile brightly.

“Not that we needed looking out for,” Alysanne quips. “But we’ve been together all this time. We hardly separate.” She says with the corner of her lips perking up.

“Because mother hardly lets them out of her sight,” Jacaerys interjects and your curiosity piques while every single thought becomes about her.

“Mother…” you mouth and let your children go to step forward and probe. “Where is she?”

Jacaerys’ eyes point forward, past the bodies of your children, so you turn around swiftly as if afraid your mother would disappear, and as if intertwined with each other's thoughts, the dancing crowd in front of you begins to drift away, making a path that leads you to the middle of the floor where your mother is under the twinkling candlelight.

She doesn’t spot you right away, it’s not until she probably feels you staring that she turns and steals your breath when your eyes lock together.

“Mama,” your voice quivers and your heart skips a beat as the commotion around you drowns out, the dancing light all over the room dims except for the lights above her, making her the center of all your attention, and making her beauty that much more enchanting to your eye.

Maybe it is because you haven’t seen her in so long, but something about her just glows.

“Mama,” you say again and start moving toward her with a wobbly smile tugging on your lips and tears flying past you.

Your mother doesn’t lack a reaction; her lips part slightly as her eyes glimmer at the sight of you. She doesn’t keep still either, the moment you make your way toward her she comes after you too, letting you meet in the middle of the hall with a tight embrace that connects your hearts and finally feeds that yearning they felt for each other's connection once again.

“<Oh my sweet,>” she coos as she cradles the back of your head and keeps you close.

“<Mama,>” you keep saying as you weep happy tears, feeling the world around you completely disappear, leaving only you and her in the large hall.

No more yearning and no need to strain your mind to remember how she looked or how she smelled. You’re together again, drawing in her calming scent, and basking in the comfort and warmth only she could provide.

You died an old lady, but here, now, with her and the others you’re the age you were mere days before the war started, that brief period where you were endlessly happy and you had it all; your brothers, your son, Aemond, and your mother.

“<We have all eternity together now,>” she assures you, making you beam and grip onto her tighter.

“<And I’m glad for it. Thank you for looking out for my children. Thank you for loving them while I was gone.>”

She scoffs softly. “<I would do it all for your children because they’re my grandchildren too, so there’s nothing to thank me for…you did good my sweet. I’m so proud of you.>”

You nuzzle your face in the crook of her neck and pamper her with more tears.

“Someone’s been waiting for you,” she interjects, pulling you away from her to look her in the eyes, but not ask who because the moment those words leave her mouth, you think about one person. Thus without asking and without guidance of any guide you let her go and drift away from her to head toward the tall windows that decorate the massive stone walls.

The people around you make way for you without needing to be told, or at least you don’t care to excuse yourself because you’re so consumed by the thought of him; of seeing him, of touching him, and being in his arms again. So much so that when you finally make it past the sea of people and find him outside the window sitting on the roof and watching the sun go down, you stop breathing. Your heart feels like it stops beating and the entire world around you freezes except for him, Aemond.

Just like with your mother, there’s no need to say his name, he turns around and your eyes meet, making sparks fly, and reviving your heart. Whilst his jaw drops and his eyes widen while he slowly stands up.

When he starts moving, your legs move in unison, and after breaking every single barrier of space that was keeping you apart, you throw your arms around each other to bring each other as close as you can manage to be without being in each other's skin.

This time unlike the others there’s no words exchanged because no amount of words can explain how enthralled you both are for being reunited. The longing looks speak for themselves when you pull away at arm's length to take in the sight of each other. The matching breaths share how in sync you are, and the smile your faces hold share how connected your souls are.

Still, he gently cups your cheek, and you cradle his face, taking note that he looks the same age he was when you were the happiest; that moment in time before the war, where you had it all. He chose that moment too, leaving you both to be forever young.

“<Me and you,>” he mutters and pulls you toward him to crash his lips on your forehead.

“<You and me,>” you echo and smile tenderly as your heart feels forever content now.

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A/N- Lived to watch her family die and then outlived her younger brothers and two of her children…

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

[myraniellejkelly]

aib men w a s/o that easily gets excited over things they like

Heya ^v^ sorry for the late response! Hope you like it!

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Author’s note: after I’m done with the important post I’m doing, any request? I would be liking to write it down in the meantime.

This work includes: all images aren’t mine, little grammars, entirely fluff, and a little bit vulgar.

__________๑♡⁠๑__________

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𝑅𝓎𝑜𝒽𝑒𝒾 𝒜𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓊

“Arisu! Arisu! Arisu!” you shouted as it caught you his attention. You were constantly getting all overly jumpy as you grabbed his hand.

It caught his attention when you ran into your guys’ classic date, unlike you saw none of other than Sanrio merchandise from the store.

“Sanrio? And you want—”

“Can I have this plushy?” as you take a Cinnamoroll plushy from your hands as you’re overly stimuli. You were smiling like a little girl, while your boyfriend really wants you to be happy.

“Okay… just one or two?”

Then you quickly grabbed another Cinnamoroll merch as you place it on your boyfriend’s head; he wears a jumpy hats that moves its ears, as you were pressing the palms as it moves and even made a squeak. “How about this!” you said so energetic.

He was laughing so cutesy as you touch his squishy face, “You’re more cuter in this!” you said.

“Alright, let me pay it.”

At least, he was employed and got the amount of money for that, seeing you excited really adores you so much to love you. In fact, he now knows you were easily attached to Cinnamoroll merchandise, he could really give you something for your birthday or anniversary.

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𝒟𝒶𝒾𝓀𝒾𝒸𝒽𝒾 𝒦𝒶𝓇𝓊𝒷𝑒

Is absolute surprise when you wanted a collection of frog figurines, “Wow, babe, you wanna get these or how about those one with the funny looking faces?”

He is supportive of you and wants to get you something, while you were very overly excited like a little kid. Your boyfriend would be laughing his own shit of how adorable you are.

He could really picture you with your obsession with frogs, or he’ll call you froppy all day. “Okay, is there anything left you want?”

Now, you’re wearing a sweater, weird glasses, the hat, and figurines: all of them are frogs.

“Is it too much?”

“Nah, I’ll pay for it.”

Yep, he is wasted but he’ll get the amount of money he needs for himself, including you.

Somehow, you just felt honestly guilty of it. But he doesn’t consider it’s your fault, he just loves you so much that you’re more extra happy to get this collection of frogs in your room.

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𝒮𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓌𝒶 𝒞𝒽𝑜𝓉𝒶

“Honey, what’s this all this book you want?” as he was having a hard time carrying them.

“Oh come on, there’s a new release to this series and even literature is one of my faves!”

Oh boy… your boyfriend got a back pain afterwards, considering he had to carry this whole ass books you’re buying. Makes him want to workout just because of this, you were just so excited with reading like he never expected of you to be such a bookworm.

He finally dropped the books down on the floor, then you came hugging him with such cute aggression. “I love you so much!”

“Okay!” as you squeeze your boyfriend tight, “I love you… but you’re squeezing me tight!”

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𝒦𝑜𝒹𝒶𝒾 𝒯𝒶𝓉𝓉𝒶

“Babe! Babe! Check what I made!”

Your boyfriend look at you in surprise of your reaction, you show him your origami and you gave him it.

“A swan?”

“Yes! I also made more! Even I made a paper star!” as you were giggling over your obsession with origami.

He would be hugging you and thanked you. Somehow, he comes to your room as he watches you folding up the paper, even he wants to learn from you and even your obsession makes you extremely excited.

You were smiling as you made an origami flower crown onto his head, your boyfriend smiles, “You’re so sweet.”

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𝒦𝑒𝒾𝒾𝒸𝒽𝒾 𝒦𝓊𝓏𝓊𝓇𝓎𝓊

At your casual date, you guys were walking by and saw a claw machine full of plushies.

He caught your eyes of excitement as he watches you placing your hands on the barriers, “What do you want from there? Darling?”

“Can I get the Aggretsuko plushy?” as you smile at him. He heavily sigh and fixing up his glasses, just to see the plushy you were looking at. Your boyfriend is very careful in getting it, as he begin to get the one you needed; it caught from the claw as it drops.

He got you the Aggretsuko plushy and said, “Here, you go my dear.”

And you took it out of excitement, your boyfriend slowly smiles as he didn’t expected of you to act very energetic, holding in the plushy and kiss your cheek afterwards.

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𝒢𝒾𝓃𝒿𝒾 𝒦𝓎𝓊𝓂𝒶

Well, I’m gonna say here, a celebrity as your boyfriend. Yeah, you would be getting spoiled as you were overly excited, and that you wanted a newly expensive car for yourself.

He did in fact see you in this state, you jumping around as you look over some cars, then lastly you pick the one you got. Sold for the expensive car, now you got the car keys as you laughed happily.

“Just for you, my love.”

“Thank you, baby!” as you were energetic to ride on a car.

“Okay, let’s move!”

As you drive the car in the high speed, while your boyfriend was having a time with you, “WOOHOO!!”

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𝐻𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇

If you were overly excited about some hat, then your boyfriend would quickly give it to you or tried it, just to see your happiest and excites smile across your face.

Clearly, matching up your guys’ energy and the excitement between you two. “I love this hat!”

“You wanna try it on?”

As you giggled and he laughed with you, placing his hands on your face. “Beautiful.”

“I wanna try another!”

Your boyfriend settle you with another as you were smiling, then he smiled at you as you both look at the mirror. “Hmm… maybe another?”

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𝑀𝑜𝓇𝒾𝓏𝑜𝓃𝑜 𝒜𝑔𝓊𝓃𝒾

Isn’t much to bother by your over excitement on things like those charm bracelets. Seems likely you act like a kid as such as you’re addicted into making one, your boyfriend doesn’t mind it.

You were too energetic that he doesn’t care how much you like making charm bracelets. You even gave him one as he considers wearing it, you were giggling with a smile as your boyfriend slowly smiles.

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𝒮𝒽𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓇𝑜 𝒞𝒽𝒾𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓎𝒶

He watches your every move after he saw you smiling and gets so energetic about a jewelry. You were out at that time while you didn’t know your boyfriend, was constantly spying on you as he smirks.

Honestly, the most adorable thing he saw in you was that you can’t control how overly excited you look. He just really can’t stop laughing at the sight of you.

Moments later, you were sleeping at his side while he was checking from his phone, looking through what you wanted just by zooming in the photo.

From the other day, you met up with him at the rooftop in the hospital. He was turning to you with a smile, “Sorry, if you’re very busy, you didn’t have to met me up here.”

“Actually, it’s my break time,” he said, “I was gonna give you something but please stop jumping up and down.”

“Huh?”

As he goes closer to you with a smile, then make a magic trick as he said, “What’s that in your ear?” as your boyfriend showed you, your favourite ring. “Tada!!”

You were gasping in excitement, you couldn’t control as you smile. But you lost it as you become all jumpy, “There she is, can’t stop jumping up and down.”

Then he put on the ring for you as you were giggling in excitement, like you can’t stop moving so much as you hugged him. Your boyfriend was laughing as he caressed your back, “What a ray of sunshine you are.”

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𝐿𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝐵𝑜𝓈𝓈

He was just constantly looking at you at your own excited self, as you can’t control over your obsession with cats. Well, your boyfriend just sighs as you put a cat hand band on him.

That doesn’t matter, you seem weirder as he is, good match. You were smiling at him as he doesn’t know how to react to that energetic self, he heavily sigh and he slightly smiles at you. “Nyah! Nyah!” as you were playing with him, flapping the cat ears.

He rolled his eyes as he tried to be more fitting to what you said, then he just move his hands so weirdly to you. While you just clapped and smiles, “Nyah! Nyah!”

As he repeats what you said and you laughed. Your boyfriend suddenly smiles at you.

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𝒮𝓊𝑔𝓊𝓇𝓊 𝒩𝒾𝓇𝒶𝑔𝒾

“Oh, look at this puppy!”

You were smiling so much.

As he appears to be not interested, “You mean that little shit is gonna shit at our house? Baby? I’m not taking care of it.”

Yet, the boyfriend of the year comes at the best and at the worst. You poured at him, “Why?”

“Do I have to repeat myself? I’m not taking care of that shit.”

You slowly gotten silent and frown as you put back the puppy. But you just smile anyways, “It’s fine, at least I know it’s hard to take care of it.”

As you walked away, leaving him soften gaze at you at the moment, he felt such an asshole. The time he first saw you so happy and overly excited, he would’ve been teasing you but now what will he do?

He doesn’t know what to deal with it, rather looking down at the puppy you just choose as he sighs, “Fuck…” as he picked up the puppy into his hands. Looking at him in the eyes while he stick out his tongue, “Buying a dog, my ass,” he said.

As he saw you getting in the car, then he turned back to the puppy, “Whatever, you’re gonna make her happy and don’t even fucking disappointed me,” he told to the puppy, instead he lick his nose. “Ugh! You’re even worse.”

Just the other day, when you were at the couch in silent; a puppy passes by to you as he came running to you with an excitement. “Eh?! Puppy?!”

Your smile suddenly went back as you laughed. Your boyfriend was behind you as he grips the back of the couch, he leans into your ear, “I gift for you.”

As you squeak and he was laughing at you, leaning on the couch with a smile. “You’re as cuter as that puppy you wanted… so energetic… overly excited, I really don’t want to shattered that smile of yours.”

He sighs and jump over as he sat down beside you, “I give up on not feeling it, I do owe a sincere apology for being such an asshole, I never meant to make you feel less love.”

As you lay your head towards his shoulder with excitement in your eyes, making him roll his eyes. “Stop being so noisy, you’re really making me want to regret adopting that puppy.”

“No!” as you poke his face gently.

“Babe, stop that!” he shouted, slapping your hand away.

As the puppy goes to him, “Hmm?” as you watches his little tail going to him. Your boyfriend seems to be surprise then he realized and laughs dryly at you, until he for real was laughing with you.

“Come back!” as you clapped at the puppy but he yawns on your boyfriend’s lap. Your boyfriend caressed the puppy as he cockily grins and chuckled. “You jackass, what are you laughing at?”

“I guess he knows his place and who’s he belong to, sorry babydoll.”

“Goddamn you, Niragi!”

“Love you babe!”

He laughs at you.

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𝒪𝓀𝒾 𝒴𝒶𝒷𝒶

He watches you getting fixated over homemade knitting accessories, you were giggling as you stare at it.

Your boyfriend doesn’t mind your overly excitement as he told the person who made it, “We’ll take them.”

Afterwards, you were clinging into him as you were very excited. He sighs at that and you wearing a knitted sweater and a hat, “Very lovely.”

“Thank you!”

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𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒶𝓉𝑜 𝐵𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒶

If you’re overly excited with his collection of knives. Oh man, he would smiling so much as well as he is more obsessive of you, your boyfriend showing his finest knives.

You would be giggling and smiling, he really is loving you so dearly, rather too much. Despite he is cold and psychotic at much, your boyfriend hadn’t had anyone like you who really admires him so much, like one of his knives.

“What’s this type of knife?” as you smiled in excitement.

“Oh, they call it a ballisong in other words,” as he was flipping the handle and revealed the blade, “it’s a butterfly knife.”

He handed you the butterfly knife as you tried to open it, “Careful, puppy, you wouldn’t cut off your paws,” as he laughs. You’ve tried to turn it around and well it gives you a little cut, but you landed it anyways as you finally opened the blade.

To any case, your boyfriend would’ve gave you the knife as a gift. You would just be so obsessed in turning the knife in and out, “Do you like it?”

“Hmm… hm!”

He laughs and pats your head, wrapping his hand around your shoulder, just as you two were close and kissed you. You laughed while looking at the butterfly knife from your hand. “I love just as much as I love your knife,” you said.

“I love you just as much as I love my knife too,” he chuckles.

Then you laughed and you guys both laughed.

[aychama]

Can we get more catnip story’s?

Alrighty!

Heket nudged her only little brother to listen to what Shamura was saying to them in the carriage.

"-since you three aren't old enough yet you will only be allowed to watch from the sidelines." Shamura finished cleaning the final arrowhead they needed for the hunting competition.

"No need to fret my dear young siblings! You get to watch me and Shamura show off our expertise in catching our prey!" Kallamar beamed with confidence not noticing Shamura's competitive side glance.

"Booo! Boring!" Leshy yelled with a pout, jumping up with the carriage as the sturdy wheels hit a small bump. The newly crowned worm was pretty small and light after all.

“I wanna join too! Let us wield weapons too!” Leshy continued, not caring one bit about the warning Shamura had just given younger ones.

“We could get injured during this hunt.You must listen more carefully brother.” Heket laid back with a straight posture exuding a solemn light. If only one of her four eyes weren't looking for approval from Shamura, she would look like a model lady every noble wished to have as a daughter. 

“Ugh, yuck! You are a frog, why are you trying to act like a swan?” Heket’s red skin darkened “Wha- You little-!” She clutched her dress as she yelled flusteredly. 

A light chuckle sounded from her right. She turned to the mocking sound with slight surprise and annoyance “Don't laugh at me you three eyed freak!”

The chuckling from him stopped as the irritated thumps of Narinder tail took its place.

But before he could fight with his sister for the fifth time today, Kallamar cut in.

“You three are the future kings of your respectful kingdoms. You must learn to not fight with each other for any little word any of you utter can be used against you.” Kallamar lectured as he usually did. 

Teaching his little siblings to be civil had turned out to be more of a hassle than he originally thought it would be, he was the only one born into nobility among his siblings after all so it was only natural that he would be the one to teach them about the rules of courtesy and the heaviness their roles held. 

“If you aren't gonna give us big weapons, at least give us knives so we can play!” Leshy did not relent.

“Dear brother it is not-” Kallamar was cut short with the rustling by his side as Shamura tossed a sheathed hunting knife at the youngest of the five. Despite being eager, Leshy was caught off guard and almost dropped it. Almost.

Everyone's demeanor in the carriage changed into one of alert with Shamura’s move.

“Shamura, why would you give him a knife! It could be dangerous!” Kallamar half got off of his seat as he panicked. Leshy took the knife out of its sheath and started inspecting it with his small hands. Both Heket and Narinder, despite their previous spat, scooched over to look at the knife as well. 

“We are kings brother, we deserve what we want and we must get it no matter what.” Shamura said matter of factly as Kallamar deflated.

“W-well yes. But he is still a child-”

“They will learn to transform their crowns soon anyway brother. They should know their way with real weapons so the transformation goes smoothly.”

“Right…” Kallamat sat down, still feeling a little anxious about leaving a knife in his younger chaotic siblings' hands.

The journey to the hunting grounds continued without issue. 

Well, Leshy almost stabbed Heket in the eye but since it was prevented by Shamura it was all still water.

After arriving at the hunting grounds Kallamar immediately started to socialise with the young nobles children that would be attending the competition while Shamura stayed behind to watch Heket and Leshy being escorted to the waiting area.

Narinder took a little longer to get off the carriage.

“Is something the matter brother?” Shamura asked as they picked up their belongings.

“Hmm… no. I just thought I smelled something.” Narinder said as he rubbed his nose and jumped off the carriage after Shamura.

Narinder was about to follow after Heket and Leshy when Shamura stopped him.

“Brother. I fear our younger siblings will try to pull something. As the oldest of the three, could you guard them?” Shamura asked with a kind voice.

“Sure!” 

With a newfound mission and a feeling of protectiveness of his sister and brother, Narinder gave Shamura a big smile before running off towards the waiting area.

Shamura looked at Narinder’s running form with a smile.

.

.

.

The trumpet was blown with the start of the competition and the whistling arrow was shot, signaling that the first prey had been caught. 

Heket and Leshy were almost forced to sit down with a weirdly on duty feeling Narinder who was looking around. 

The two younger siblings whispered among each other without the knowledge of the feline.

With everyone focused on the competition, talking and some even betting on who would win, the young kings slowly sneaked off of the platform they were on easily since everyone was so energetic about the hunt.

Narinder, to his surprise, didn't notice his siblings missing at first. But when he did, he immediately started searching for the two frantically.

As soon as he turned around the corner for the carts almost empty with weapons, he spotted Leshy’s bushy, wagging tail.

“What the hell are you doing?!-” Narinder ran up to them, yelling and not expecting the puff of smoke to hit his face.

“Ugh!- What?!” he coughed, doubling over in panic more than pain. No, he was not feeling any pain at all.

“Hah! Look! I told you it would work!” He heard his sister exclaim with delight as she peeked over the cart, holding an empty, delicately designed pouch.

Narinder rubbed his eyes. “What was that?”

“Catnip!” Leshy joined with the same excitement as his sister while holding a big crossbow that looked funny in his small hands. He couldn't even balance it properly.

“Where the hell did you find catnip?” Narinder tried to fight off the calming effect. But it was too late, he had already forgotten his worry and anger as his pupils got bigger.

“I brought it from Anura. I'm tired of you guarding me as if I'm a little flower so I came prepared.” Heket said proudly. 

So that's what he smelled in the carriage…

Well, he didn't really care about it right now. He kneeled and then lay down, rubbing his face on the ground where the catnip had scattered to and purring. 

He only faintly heard the laughter and the mocker his little siblings threw at him as they got what they needed from the cart and ran into the hunting grounds…

.

.

.

The news of the Green Crown’s young King getting lightly injured on hunting grounds spread like wildfire amongst the nobles.

Some had even talked about the embarrassing situation Red Crown’s young king was in and his outburst against his younger siblings…

[fluff-n-cookies]

Hey, love! I’m new to this, so sorry if I’m doing this wrong :) You can call me Moon btw. I love your writing and appreciate how it’s all platonic!!!! I was wondering if you could do Aizawa (and maybe Mic or whoever else you want) with an introverted teen he took in asking to braid his hair, and getting lost in thought and humming while listening to him complain about work or something. It’s fine if not <3333

Hi Moon! It's nice to meet you! I am so so so so sorry for replying so late. I was feeling burnt out and just really needed a break. I hope you understand. I was also hoping I could use this prompt for other characters so if you’ll give me permission I’d love to use your idea again for different characters. :)

Aizawa never liked coming home. He never liked the blinding white light bulbs that came with his crappy apartment and was too lazy to change, he didn’t like the smell of coffee and dirty dishes he felt were too overwhelming to do. He used to only have the energy to eat some soggy cereal and pass out on the couch before getting up to do hero work in the morning, or 2 am, or come home at 11 pm but that didn’t matter, it was just the same thing every day. 

But now, he had you. Being the sole survivor of a strange house fire at 1 am and having no memories whatsoever and having been considered shy and introverted. You were one with no guidance, no past and a future unknown and uncharted. And while you had been proven to have the intelligence of a child your age and then some, you had little to no knowledge of much else. You were a young girl in need of love and protection. (at least to him.)

So he took you in, begrudgingly, at first, but he soon felt a sense of comfort in your presence, a sense of happiness even. 

He even decided to pick up a parenting book or two, and found some mommy bloggers as well. I mean, what else is a man to do except try and be a good parent to a child he loves ever so dearly?

He learned he needed to make food for said child, instead of living off take out and what he can find at the convenience store next door. Children also need to live in a clean environment, so that is what he did, he tries to at least do the dishes and laundry regularly now. 

Guess he needs to listen too, because he often finds himself listening to your rants about school and homework, as well as the rants of your hobbies, about what you did today, how you felt today, so many things. And I guess, just a hunch, that his life was finally falling into rhythm. 

But it remained mostly the same.

Tonight was no different.

It goes;come home, take off shoes and coat, check if you’re awake, make some ramen (and some for you too if you are awake.) complain, go to bed. 

So here he is, tiptoeing to your room at the end of the hallway, careful not to wake you if you are asleep. Only to find that you are, in fact, awake. The warm light bulbs he installed in your room peaked through the crack in the door you had left for the cat to come at the ungodly hours of the night. You could also see the various trinkets and hobbies you had picked up over your 4 years of living together and made your room the heart of the whole apartment. Lively and bright. And there you were, hunched over your desk watching a video on your computer, fiddling with a piece of origami paper, attentively following the instructions from the video to try and make an origami frog. 

It took about 10 seconds to recognize he was there, smiling, happily at your antics. You smiled a little, but that smile made it all worth it to do what he does, be a hero and a single parent both at the same time, a smile that could light up even the darkest of nights. You did a little run too, you ran a little run to get to him but still tried to be light on your feet so as not to bother the neighbors.

Always so considerate. He thought. 

It was a regular routine really, for him to get you from your room and make some ramen, but as you two sat on the couch, TV was buzzing with the latest new stories (who needs a dining room table? Just use the couch! Why waste the space? It is the perfect space for your plants so for your plants it will be!) Something different happened today. 

For in the smallest little voice, he heard you squeak out,

 “c-can I braid your hair.” a slight tremble in your voice 

Now that was a surprise,

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m sorry, I meant it as in can I do your hair, I’m sorry I shou-”

“Sure.” he replied nonchalantly.

“What?” 

“You can braid my hair. Go on, the hair ties are in the bathroom.”

“Oh.” there was a pause. “Okay.”

Here he was, out in the dead of night at 12 in the morning, a young girl braiding his black locks of hair while he complained about PresentMic’s antics while eating convenience store ramen. For once in his life he felt at peace, as the world slowed down he felt himself slowly understanding. Understanding that it may be over, the repetitive nights of the never ending loneliness. It’s over.

And it starts here, with you, with tonight where you braid his hair and listen to him rant about the outside world. But here it’s safe, in this crappy apartment with the cool light bulbs and the distant stench of dirty dishes and the coffee he had this morning. It's okay. Life is okay.

Maybe he wasn’t doomed to have the same routine every day over and over again.

[babyscottoncandy]

Fortnight

Mattheo Riddle,, Harry Potter

Summary: Mattheo Riddle x Fem¡Reader,, (Y/n) is stuck with a deadbeat boyfriend, nothing could save her. At least that's what she thought until Mattheo Riddle stumbled upon her.

TW: Mentions of DV/Abuse/Emotional Neglect,, Cheating,, Death,, VERY angsty,, English isn't my first language excuse any errors!

Based off of the song "Fortnight" by Taylor Swift

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The thing about pain is that you learn to live with it.

At first, it burns—raw and searing, like an open wound. Then, it settles into something quieter, something dull. A constant ache you stop noticing after a while.

(Y/N) had learned to live with it. The cold shoulder, the possessive grip, the way he made her feel so utterly replaceable.

Her deadbeat boyfriend had never been the kind of man to love her properly. Not the way she dreamed of. But she had stayed. She always stayed.

At least, until he showed up.

Mattheo Riddle had never been the hero in anyone’s story. He was reckless, dangerous, the kind of boy mothers warned their daughters about.

But when his sharp brown eyes locked onto hers across the dimly lit corridor, something inside (Y/N) shifted.

He saw her.

Really saw her.

“You’re still with him?” Mattheo’s voice was low, edged with something she couldn’t quite place.

She stiffened. “It’s not that simple.”

Mattheo huffed a dry laugh, running a hand through his dark curls. “It is, actually. You just walk away.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

His gaze darkened. “I understand more than you think.”

(Y/N) swallowed, her fingers tightening around the sleeves of her sweater. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be listening to him.

And yet, when Mattheo reached for her hand, she didn’t pull away.

“Two weeks,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Give me two weeks to show you what it’s supposed to feel like. And if you still want to go back to him after that…” He trailed off, his jaw clenching. “Then I won’t stop you.”

Her heart pounded. It was reckless. Stupid. But when had she ever made the right choice?

For the first time in years, she decided to be selfish.

“Two weeks,” she whispered back.

Mattheo smirked. “That’s all I need.” And just like that, she let him pull her away from everything she’d ever known.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” (Y/N) whispered, but she was already following Mattheo through the castle’s hidden corridors, her fingers tangled with his.

He glanced over his shoulder, smirking. “That’s the best part.”

Her heart pounded as they slipped outside, the cool night air biting at her skin. It was reckless. Dangerous. If anyone saw them—

But the second Mattheo pulled her into the shadow of the Forbidden Forest, the worry melted away.

A small picnic was laid out beneath the trees, charmed lanterns floating lazily above a blanket. Her lips parted in surprise. “You did this?”

Mattheo shrugged, sitting down and pulling her with him. “Thought you deserved a proper date.”

A date.

She had never been on one before. Not a real one. Not one where someone actually wanted to be there.

“You’re staring,” Mattheo teased, handing her a chocolate frog.

She blinked. “I just… didn’t expect this from you.”

His smirk softened. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

They sat in the quiet, the hum of the forest surrounding them. Mattheo leaned back on his elbows, watching her. “What’s the best part so far?”

(Y/N) bit her lip, thinking.

The sneaking around? The whispered confessions? The way his touch made her feel alive?

No.

“This,” she admitted. “Right now.” Mattheo’s smirk faded. He reached for her, his fingers brushing her cheek. “Then let’s stay here forever.”

She let out a breathless laugh. “We can’t.”

He leaned in, his lips hovering over hers. “No,” he agreed, his voice low. “But we can pretend.”

And so, for just one night, she let herself believe it was real.

Mattheo led her through the dark corridors of the castle, his grip warm around her wrist.

(Y/N) didn’t ask where they were going. She didn’t have to.

By now, she knew him well enough to understand—Mattheo never did anything without purpose. And when it came to her, he always had a plan.

When they reached the Astronomy Tower, she didn’t blink at the sight of the blanket already laid out, the small enchanted fire flickering beside it.

She smiled. “You’re getting predictable, Riddle.”

Mattheo scoffed, dropping onto the blanket and tugging her down beside him. “I’d be offended if I didn’t know you love it.”

She settled against the blanket, stretching out beside him. “I do.”

His smirk faltered, something softer replacing it. “I know.”

The night air was crisp, the stars endless above them. She let herself relax, listening to the quiet crackle of the fire, to the steady rhythm of Mattheo’s breathing beside her.

After a moment, she turned to him. “What are you thinking about?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then, finally, he said, “I’m thinking about how I wish this wasn’t temporary.”

(Y/N) didn’t let herself flinch. Instead, she laced their fingers together, squeezing lightly. “It doesn’t feel temporary right now.”

Mattheo exhaled, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “No. It doesn’t.”

And that was enough for tonight.

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The castle was quiet at this hour, the rest of the world lost to sleep. But here, hidden away in the Room of Requirement, time felt irrelevant. It was just them, tangled in warm blankets on the worn-out couch, the fireplace casting flickering shadows against the walls.

Mattheo lay beside her, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting lightly against her waist. His fingers traced absentminded circles over the fabric of her sweater, but his mind was somewhere else.

“Tell me something real,” (Y/N) murmured, turning to face him.

Mattheo exhaled slowly, staring up at the ceiling. “Like what?”

“Something you don’t tell people.”

A dry chuckle left his lips. “You don’t ask for small things, do you?”

She smiled softly, shaking her head. “No, I don’t.”

Silence stretched between them, comfortable but heavy. She didn’t push, didn’t demand—just waited.

After a moment, Mattheo let out a quiet breath. “People think they know me,” he said. “They see the name, the attitude, the fights, and they assume that’s all there is.”

(Y/N) stayed quiet, watching him.

Mattheo’s fingers stilled against her waist. “But no one ever really asks about the rest of it.” He turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze. “Except you.”

Her heart clenched. “Then tell me.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t look away. “I grew up knowing exactly who I was supposed to be. What I was supposed to become.” His voice was quiet, edged with something bitter. “They never asked if I wanted it.”

(Y/N) reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. “And do you?”

Mattheo let out a humorless laugh. “No.” He squeezed her hand, his voice rough when he said, “But I don’t know how to be anything else.”

She shifted closer, resting her forehead against his. “You don’t have to be.”

Mattheo swallowed, his eyes flickering over her face like he was searching for something—doubt, hesitation, a reason to pull away. But he didn’t find it.

Instead, he exhaled shakily. “You make it feel possible.”

(Y/N) cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb over the scar along his jaw. “It is possible.”

Mattheo closed his eyes for a moment, like he was letting himself believe it.

And then, so softly she almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “Don’t leave me.”

Her chest ached. “I won’t.”

Mattheo kissed her then—slow, deep, like he was memorizing the feeling of her, the taste of something real. And for the first time, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be something more.

It wasn’t real.

She had always known that.

Mattheo had never promised her forever. He had only promised her two weeks—two weeks to show her what love was supposed to feel like.

But what was she supposed to do when this started feeling like love?

They were in an empty classroom, bathed in candlelight, his hands tracing patterns on her arms as she sat between his legs, leaning back against his chest.

“You’ve been quiet,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple.

(Y/N) swallowed, staring at the flickering flames. “I don’t know how this ends.”

Mattheo stiffened slightly, his fingers pausing. “Does it have to?”

She turned to look at him, her throat tight. “You said two weeks.”

His jaw clenched. “I know what I said.”

She reached up, brushing a curl from his forehead. “Mattheo—”

“Don’t.” His voice was hoarse. “Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to leave.”

(Y/N) exhaled shakily. “I don’t want to.”

Mattheo studied her, something dark flashing in his eyes. “Then don’t.”

She wished it were that simple.

She wished she didn’t have a life waiting for her outside these stolen moments. A boyfriend who barely noticed her but still owned a piece of her. A reputation to uphold. A heart that had been so thoroughly twisted and confused that she didn’t even know who it belonged to anymore.

“You still haven’t told him,” Mattheo said, his voice eerily calm.

She flinched. “Mattheo—” His grip on her arms tightened—not rough, just desperate. “Do you love him?”

(Y/N) hesitated.

That was enough of an answer. Mattheo’s breath came sharp, his body tensing behind her. “You love me.”

Tears burned at the back of her eyes. “I don’t know what love is.”

Mattheo’s expression twisted into something heartbreaking. “I think you do.”

She did. It was this. It was him.

But love had never been enough to save her before. So why did she think it would be different now?

The weight of the decision felt heavier than it ever had before.

She had known it was coming—knew that eventually, the fantasy would shatter. But she hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

(Y/N) stood facing Mattheo in the dark, abandoned classroom where they had spent so many stolen moments together. But tonight, there was no warmth in the air between them. Only coldness. The coldness of inevitable goodbye.

His eyes burned into hers, something darker flickering beneath the surface. “You’re really going to walk away?” His voice was low, sharp, the words slicing through the silence.

Her throat tightened, but she refused to back down. “I don’t have a choice.”

“You do!” Mattheo shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his frustration palpable. “You always have a choice!”

She took a step back, her breath shaky. “You don’t understand, Mattheo.”

“Don’t I?” His voice dripped with bitterness. “You think I don’t understand what it’s like to feel trapped? To feel like there’s no way out?” He took a step toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. “But you are choosing this life, (Y/N). You’re choosing him.”

Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she held them back. “I don’t have a future with you, Mattheo. You know that.”

His face twisted with frustration and pain. “You could! You could have a future with me if you’d just let yourself—”

“I can’t!” she snapped, cutting him off. “You don’t know what it’s like to have someone else depend on you, to have your entire life tied up in someone who—who doesn’t even know who you are anymore!”

Mattheo took another step closer, his eyes flashing with anger. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re stuck in a life you didn’t choose?” He grabbed her arm, his grip tight. “I’ve been fighting for something real, something that matters, and you—you’re going to throw it all away for the same damn thing that’s been holding you down for years?!”

(Y/N) flinched, her pulse racing as his words sank in. His touch felt like a burn against her skin, and she wanted to push him away, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t.

“Mattheo, please,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You don’t know what this would cost me. I’m not like you. I can’t just run away.”

“You’re scared,” he spat, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re too scared to make a choice, to live.” His eyes were filled with fury now, the hurt so raw it was suffocating. “And I’m tired of waiting for you to wake up.”

Her heart cracked at the look in his eyes. He was right. She was scared. Scared to lose everything she had ever known, scared of the consequences, scared of the freedom he promised her that she couldn’t bring herself to take.

“I’m not like you,” she repeated softly, the words tasting like defeat. “I can’t just throw everything away and expect it to work out. I have a life, Mattheo. And I can’t—”

“You don’t have a life!” he cut in, his voice breaking. “You have a cage, (Y/N). You have a cage, and you’re choosing to stay inside it!”

She jerked her arm out of his grip, stepping away from him, the tears finally falling freely. “Stop it!” she cried, her voice cracking with the weight of everything she was trying to hold back. “Just stop making this harder!”

Mattheo’s breath came in ragged gasps, and for a moment, there was silence between them. He looked like he was fighting himself, fighting the urge to lash out, to reach for her and pull her back into his arms. But he didn’t.

And she couldn’t move.

“I love you,” he whispered through clenched teeth, his voice hoarse with the emotion he was barely containing. “I’ve never said it before, but I do.”

(Y/N)’s heart broke, shattered into a thousand pieces. “Mattheo, please… I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t love you the way you want me to.”

He stared at her, his eyes raw, like he couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. “You’re choosing him over me. You’re choosing the life that’s never going to make you happy.”

And with a final, tortured look, Mattheo turned and walked away.

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

And when she finally collapsed against the wall, her tears falling freely, she realized, with a hollow ache in her chest, that she had made the choice.

She had chosen the life she knew.

Even if it meant walking away from the only thing that had ever felt like it could be real.

It had been months since the last time they truly spoke.

Since that night in the dark classroom, where everything shattered between them, (Y/N) had thrown herself into her life, into her responsibilities. She had stayed with her boyfriend, buried herself in the routines she’d always known. There had been no other choice.

But there was always the quiet ache that followed her—always the feeling of something left unfinished, hanging in the air between her and Mattheo.

The hallways of Hogwarts were filled with students hustling from class to class, yet for (Y/N), the spaces between those crowds had never felt emptier. Every time she passed a corner, every time she turned a corridor, her gaze would inevitably find his.

But they never spoke.

Mattheo’s eyes would catch hers for the briefest of moments—barely a second—before he would look away, his jaw tight, his gaze cold and unreadable. And that was it. No words. No acknowledgment. Just the raw tension that pulsed in the air between them like a secret neither could keep anymore.

It was on a random Tuesday that it happened again.

She was walking down a quiet hallway, the sound of footsteps echoing off the stone walls when she saw him.

Mattheo stood near the window, his back to her, hands shoved into his pockets. His posture was stiff, like a wall she couldn’t break through. He hadn’t seen her yet, but she knew. She always knew.

Her heart fluttered, unbidden, and for a moment, she considered turning away—walking in the opposite direction to avoid the inevitable. But it was too late.

His eyes flickered to hers before quickly darting away.

She froze. He didn’t smile. Didn’t nod. Nothing. Just cold, distant silence.

(Y/N) felt her chest tighten, that all-too-familiar ache creeping up again. For a split second, she almost reached out to him, but she stopped herself just as quickly. There was nothing to say.

She forced herself to keep walking, to keep moving, her eyes trained forward, heart heavy, but unwilling to look back.

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The grand hall was filled with the soft hum of laughter and clinking glasses. The chandelier above her sparkled like stars in the dark sky, casting a soft glow over the white, satin-clad figures of guests who whispered and smiled. Everyone was here to celebrate her.

Her wedding.

But as (Y/N) stood at the front of the room, her hand in her boyfriend-turned-husband’s, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

The vows were being read, but her mind was elsewhere.

She smiled, nodded, and repeated the words, but they tasted hollow, like a script she had long since memorized but never quite believed in.

Her fiancé, his hand holding hers tightly, smiled down at her, but there was no spark in his eyes. There hadn’t been for years. Yet, he was the one who had stayed. The one who had promised to take care of her, to be the one to give her the stability she thought she needed. He was safe. He was… comfortable.

But the truth was that (Y/N) had never stopped thinking about Mattheo.

It wasn’t that she had wanted him to be a part of her life again. No. She had moved on. She had done the right thing. She had chosen. And yet, every now and then, a fleeting thought would pass through her mind. A lingering memory that would sneak up on her when she least expected it.

Like the times when she would catch herself staring at the quiet corridors of her home, wishing she could feel something more than the weight of routine. Or when she would wake in the middle of the night, only to find that she was reaching out, as if seeking someone who wasn’t there.

Mattheo Riddle.

His face was still fresh in her mind, despite the years that had passed. She could still recall the way his eyes would hold hers, the way the world seemed to fade away when they were alone. There was something about him—something so dark, so raw—that had left an indelible mark on her heart.

The truth was, she had never stopped loving him.

The thought was suffocating.

She had buried it, locked it away, and pretended that it didn’t exist. But it did. It was still there, like a secret she couldn’t erase, a longing she couldn’t shake.

The priest’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Do you take this man to be your husband?”

Her fiancé’s eyes were filled with anticipation, his gaze loving, even if it didn’t quite reach her heart.

Her lips parted, and she took a shallow breath, her hand tightening around his. But in that moment, her mind wasn’t on him. It wasn’t on the life she had built, or the future she was about to step into. It was on the memory of Mattheo—his words, his touch, the things left unsaid.

“I do,” she said, though it felt like a lie.

But it wasn’t a lie for him. He believed it. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he smiled at her as if she were his entire world.

And for him, she tried. She really did.

But there, in that moment, as the final words of the ceremony echoed through the hall, she couldn’t help but think of Mattheo once more.

What if she had said yes to him all those years ago? What if, instead of turning away, she had walked toward him, let herself fall into whatever it was they could have had?

Could they have built something? Would it have been real?

But it was too late for that now. The doors had already closed.

Her husband kissed her forehead, the crowd clapped, and the room erupted into cheers. But all (Y/N) could feel was the emptiness that lingered behind her smile.

As the night wore on, she danced with her new husband, smiled with family and friends, and posed for photos. She played the part she was meant to play. But every time the music played, every time she felt a hand on her waist, her mind drifted to the one person who had never truly left her.

Mattheo Riddle.

The man who had shown her something real, something unfiltered. The man who had made her feel more alive than anyone ever had.

She could still feel him in the air, could still hear his voice echoing in the quiet of her memories. But it was all she would have now—memories.

And as she danced with her husband, a part of her wondered if Mattheo would ever be just a shadow in her past, or if he would haunt her forever.

The music swirled around her, a soft melody that was both cheerful and distant in her ears. The wedding party was in full swing, guests laughing and chatting in tight-knit groups, the buzz of excitement reverberating in the air. (Y/N) tried to keep up the facade, laughing at the jokes, nodding when needed, but the truth lingered beneath it all—the quiet ache she couldn’t ignore.

She had done everything right. She had married the man she was supposed to be with. She had built a life she was supposed to want.

And yet, as the night dragged on, she found herself standing at the edge of the room, watching the people around her, feeling disconnected. The champagne in her glass was warm now, forgotten in her hand, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Mattheo.

The thought crossed her mind again, unexpected but inevitable. She glanced toward the door of the hall, her breath catching for a moment. For just a split second, she wondered if he would be there—if he would show up, even though he hadn’t been part of her life for years.

Her heart skipped when the door to the venue creaked open. She didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until she saw him.

Mattheo Riddle.

He stood in the doorway, his figure framed by the light outside. His dark eyes scanned the room as though he were looking for someone, his presence cutting through the crowd like a blade through silk. He looked exactly the same, but somehow… different. There was an edge to him now—something colder, harder, like he had been chiseled from stone.

She felt the weight of his gaze, even from across the room. It was like he had always known where to find her.

Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, the noise of the room faded into the background. It was just her and him, their eyes meeting briefly before she quickly looked away, heart racing in her chest.

What is he doing here?

The thought barely had time to form before he was walking into the room, his steps slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world but was still in no hurry to confront her.

Her husband, standing beside her, didn’t notice, too caught up in a conversation with a friend. But (Y/N) couldn’t take her eyes off Mattheo, even though she knew she should. She shouldn’t have let him get to her like this, shouldn’t have let the emotions bubble up in her chest again.

But they did.

Mattheo approached the bar first, ordering a drink without even glancing at anyone, his jaw tight as he kept to himself. His eyes flickered across the room once more, his gaze landing briefly on (Y/N) again before he quickly shifted away.

Her chest tightened. Why was he here?

She felt a pull, an inexplicable force urging her to move toward him, but she stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move. Her husband was still busy talking, oblivious to everything happening around him. The moment was slipping through her fingers, and yet, all she could focus on was Mattheo.

The man she had left behind.

The man who was now standing there, in the same room, within reach but entirely out of her grasp.

After a few moments, Mattheo took his drink and began walking through the crowd, avoiding conversation, like he was a ghost moving unnoticed through the celebrations. His eyes were searching, but there was nothing warm about his gaze. It was sharp, calculating.

When his eyes locked with hers again, it was for just a second.

But that second was all it took. The world spun on its axis, and for a brief moment, it was like time had stopped.

There was no wedding, no party. There was just the rawness of the silence between them, the distance that had grown over time, yet never truly broken.

Her heart thudded in her chest. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. She wasn’t supposed to feel like this—not today.

She forced herself to look away, but it didn’t matter. The ache in her chest only grew as she caught herself stealing another glance in his direction.

Mattheo wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even looking at her anymore. He was lost in the crowd, standing off to the side, nursing his drink, his face impassive. But she knew him. She could still see the storm brewing in his eyes.

It was maddening.

Her husband finally noticed her distraction and leaned closer, wrapping his arm around her waist. “You okay?” he asked, oblivious to the turmoil swirling inside her.

“Yeah,” she replied, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t fine. She wasn’t fine at all.

Mattheo began walking toward her, every step heavy, deliberate. She was rooted to the spot, her body frozen as if she couldn’t move. It was a stupid reaction—she shouldn’t feel this way. She was married, and it had been years since they’d been together. But there he was, closer now, and everything about the way he moved, the way he looked at her, brought the flood of old feelings rushing back in an overwhelming torrent.

As he reached her, the space between them felt like a chasm. Mattheo was standing right in front of her, yet it felt like an eternity since they had truly connected.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. He just stood there, his eyes dark, but there was something—something softer than the anger she had seen in his eyes all those months ago. Something broken. Something she could never have imagined.

Finally, he broke the silence. His voice was low, husky, barely above a whisper, but it sliced through the noise around them like a blade.

“You look… beautiful,” Mattheo said, his words thick with something she couldn’t place.

She blinked, heart in her throat. Beautiful. She hadn’t expected him to say that. She hadn’t expected him to say anything at all.

“Mattheo,” she whispered, taking a shaky breath. She hadn’t expected to see him here, hadn’t expected this moment, this confrontation. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might break through her chest.

He ignored her unspoken question, his eyes flickering to her husband for a moment, his jaw tightening. Then, without warning, he stepped closer to her, until there was barely any space between them. He was so close, she could feel his presence like an electric current running through her.

The wedding party seemed to disappear in the background as Mattheo’s gaze locked onto hers. His eyes were filled with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. There was no anger there anymore, not like before. But there was pain. And it hit her like a wave, pulling her under, drowning her in everything they had been.

“You don’t belong here,” he murmured, and the words hit her like a slap.

She didn’t know how to respond. Didn’t know what to say. Was he angry? Was he still holding onto that past, to the things they had left unsaid?

“I… I’m married,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper, even though the words felt foreign on her tongue.

Mattheo’s expression hardened for a moment, but it quickly melted away into something darker—something more resigned. He didn’t speak for a few moments, just staring at her, as if trying to memorize her face, the way she looked now, the way she was so far from who she used to be.

Finally, his lips curled into a small, bitter smile. “Yeah. I can see that.” His eyes flickered to the wedding ring on her finger, and his jaw clenched.

(Y/N) felt her heart shatter all over again. She hadn’t expected this—hadn’t thought that seeing him again would be so painful.

“You were right,” he said quietly, his voice almost too soft to hear. “I… I didn’t have anything to offer you. But you—” He glanced at her husband, and there was a flicker of something deep in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite place. “You deserved more than me, didn’t you?”

She shook her head quickly, wanting to tell him that she didn’t deserve this—this emptiness, this weight. That she hadn’t ever wanted to lose him. But the words wouldn’t come. Her chest felt too tight to speak.

“You made your choice,” Mattheo continued, his eyes cold now, a wall slamming down between them. “And I have to live with it.” He turned, as though the conversation was over, but before he could walk away, he paused, looking back at her one last time.

“If you ever… if you ever regret it, I’ll be gone.”

The finality in his words stung, like salt in a wound she hadn’t known still bled.

With that, he was gone.

For a moment, (Y/N) stood there, staring at the spot where he had been, her heart racing, her breath shallow. Every part of her wanted to run after him, wanted to undo everything that had happened, but she knew she couldn’t. It was too late.

But as the music played on, and her husband’s hand wrapped around her waist once more, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering—just for a second—what would have happened if she had said yes to Mattheo, if she had made a different choice all those years ago.

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(Y/N) sat alone in the living room, her hand gently resting on the curve of her belly. The house was eerily quiet. The only sounds were the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards. She was months pregnant now, the life inside her growing, kicking lightly every so often, reminding her that she wasn’t truly alone. Yet, in the quiet of her home, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was.

Danny, her husband, was always working. Always gone. It wasn’t unusual anymore for him to leave early in the morning, barely speaking a word to her, and return late at night, too exhausted to do more than mutter a greeting. Sometimes, he didn’t come home at all, staying at the office or going out with “clients” or “colleagues,” though she had stopped asking what he really did. The answers were never satisfactory.

(Y/N) had grown used to the silence, to the absence. At first, it had been easier to pretend that everything was fine, that this was just a phase, that work was simply demanding. But now, the weight of the months of distance had begun to settle in. She didn’t know how to feel about her husband anymore. She had tried—tried to understand, tried to reach out—but he had withdrawn so completely that it was hard to remember the man she had married.

She was sitting on the couch, her fingers tracing the edge of her wedding ring, lost in thought, when she heard the front door creak open. She didn’t look up immediately, knowing it would be him. The sound of his footsteps, slow and heavy, drifted into the room, but still, she didn’t look.

“Hey,” Danny’s voice called from the doorway, rough, tired.

“Hi,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to break the silence.

He stepped into the room, rubbing his eyes, his face unshaven, his suit slightly disheveled from the long day. He looked tired—so tired—and yet, she didn’t feel the connection that once existed between them. He was there, physically, but emotionally, he was somewhere far away.

“Long day?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Danny muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. It’s just… a lot right now.”

She nodded, trying not to show how heavy his words felt. She had heard it all before.

He sat down beside her, his body stiff, as if he wasn’t sure how to be close to her anymore. There was a time when they would sit like this, hands intertwined, talking about their day, making plans for the future. But now, there was only this distance. Only silence.

“How are you feeling?” he asked after a pause, his voice softening just a little.

(Y/N) shifted slightly, feeling the weight of her pregnant belly press against the fabric of her dress. She hadn’t been sleeping well—her body felt heavy, uncomfortable, and the loneliness gnawed at her.

“Fine,” she said quietly, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

Danny didn’t respond immediately. He glanced at her belly, his eyes flickering with something—guilt, maybe? But then it was gone, replaced by the familiar blank expression.

“Good,” he said absently, standing up again. “I’m going to hit the shower. I’ll be back down in a bit.”

She nodded, watching him walk away, feeling the same hollow ache in her chest she had felt for so long.

He didn’t even seem to notice the shift in their relationship, the growing gap between them. He was too consumed by his work, by his obligations. He didn’t see that she needed him, that the baby needed him.

A part of her wondered if he even wanted to be there. But she didn’t ask. She didn’t have the energy anymore to fight for something that didn’t seem to matter to him.

(Y/N) sat at the kitchen table, the soft glow of the evening light spilling in through the window, but it did nothing to warm the cold emptiness that had settled in her chest. The letter from Mattheo sat in front of her, its weight heavier than she anticipated. She hadn’t realized how much it would affect her.

Her fingers traced the edge of the envelope, the familiar handwriting staring back at her, reminding her of all the things she had buried deep inside. His words were just a few pieces of paper, just ink and feelings that had been carefully put together. But they carried more than just memories. They carried the possibility of something she had long since convinced herself she would never allow to come to light again.

She wasn’t ready for this.

Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced at the envelope one last time before shoving it under the stack of bills on the table. Her stomach twisted with anxiety, her heart hammering in her chest.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

The letter from Mattheo represented everything she had tried to leave behind, everything that had been a fleeting dream, a forbidden memory. She had chosen a path—a life with Danny, despite everything, despite the way it made her feel like a ghost in her own marriage. She had convinced herself that it was enough, that she could make it work. But now, Mattheo’s words were like a whisper in the back of her mind, calling her back to a version of herself she wasn’t sure she could handle facing again.

I’ll be here.

She could barely bring herself to finish reading it, but that part—that part stuck with her. And now, more than ever, it terrified her.

The baby shifted inside her, a gentle reminder of the life she was carrying. The life that was supposed to be her focus, her future. She couldn’t afford to open that door, not now, not when so much was on the line.

Two Years Later

The soft chatter of the market surrounded (Y/N) as she pushed her stroller down the cobbled street, her daughter giggling softly in the seat, kicking her feet playfully. It was a sunny afternoon, the kind where everything felt almost perfect, but there was always an undercurrent of something else—something unspoken, something left behind.

Her daughter, Ella, was two now, her wide blue eyes full of wonder and curiosity. (Y/N) could hardly believe how quickly the time had passed. Two years since she’d made the decision to stay with Danny, two years since she’d hidden that letter from Mattheo away, telling herself she was doing what was best for Ella.

But her marriage had only become more strained. Danny’s work had become all-consuming. He was hardly ever home, and when he was, he was distant and detached. (Y/N) had learned to live with it, to ignore the ache in her chest every time she found herself alone, missing something she couldn’t quite name. But Ella… Ella was her focus now. She was everything.

As they walked through the market, (Y/N) tried not to think about the past. But life had a way of bringing the past back when you least expected it.

She paused by a stall, admiring the vibrant flowers, when she heard a familiar voice.

“(Y/N)?”

Her heart stopped.

She slowly turned around, her breath catching in her throat. There, standing a few feet away, was Mattheo. He hadn’t changed much. His dark hair was a little longer, his posture still sharp, the same intense look in his eyes—but there was something softer in his expression now. Something… different.

Her body froze, as if all the air had been knocked out of her lungs. Her heart pounded, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak.

“Mattheo,” she whispered, almost in disbelief. She hadn’t seen him in two years. She hadn’t thought about him in months—at least, she hadn’t allowed herself to.

His eyes flickered down to the stroller, and then back up to her, his gaze softening as he took in the sight of Ella.

“She’s beautiful,” he said quietly, a small, almost wistful smile on his lips.

(Y/N) swallowed, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “This is Ella,” she said, her voice shaky. “My daughter.”

Mattheo nodded, his gaze lingering on Ella for a moment before looking back at her. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, it’s… it’s been a lot,” (Y/N) said, her hand tightening on the stroller’s handle as she tried to steady her emotions. She hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected to run into him, not like this, not after everything.

Mattheo took a tentative step forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “How have you been?” he asked, his voice low, almost too careful.

(Y/N) hesitated, glancing down at Ella before looking back at Mattheo. She wasn’t sure how to answer. Had she been happy? Had she been okay? The truth was, she had been numb. She had tried to fill the silence of her life with her daughter, with the mundane routines of everyday life, but something inside her had always felt missing. And now, standing in front of him again, that missing piece seemed to ache more than ever.

“I’m… managing,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mattheo nodded again, but the tension in the air was palpable. He seemed to want to say something, but he hesitated. For a moment, it was just the sound of Ella’s soft cooing and the distant chatter of the market.

And then, as if unsure whether to cross the invisible line that had always separated them, Mattheo spoke again, his voice raw with something (Y/N) couldn’t quite place.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before returning to meet her eyes.

(Y/N)’s heart skipped a beat, and she couldn’t stop the rush of emotions that flooded her. She wasn’t sure what to say, what to feel. She had never stopped thinking about him either, but she had buried that part of herself so deeply that it almost didn’t feel real anymore. The pain, the love, the loss—it had all been buried beneath the weight of her life with Danny. But now, with Mattheo standing before her, it all came rushing back.

“I—I don’t know what to say,” she murmured, her voice shaking as she glanced at Ella, as if to remind herself of the reality she had built.

Mattheo took a slow breath, his eyes darkening with an emotion she couldn’t read. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice tight. “I just… I needed you to know.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world seemed to pause as they stood there, locked in a moment that felt like the past crashing into the present.

Finally, Mattheo took a step back, his hands shoved into his pockets, his expression unreadable. “I should go,” he said, his voice softer now. “I just… I just wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something—anything—but the words didn’t come. She wanted to ask him so many things, to tell him what had happened, how she had chosen a life that felt incomplete, how she had lived with the ghost of him for so long. But she couldn’t. Not here, not like this.

“Take care of yourself,” he added, his voice thick, and before she could respond, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

(Y/N) stood there, frozen, her heart beating loudly in her chest. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion, emotions she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for so long rushing back with a force that made her head spin.

She looked down at Ella, the tiny life that had been her focus, her reason for pushing forward. But now, as she stood alone on the crowded street, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the past had just caught up to her.

And there was no telling what it would mean for her future.

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Ten Years Later

The sun was just beginning to rise over the bustling platform of King’s Cross Station, casting a warm, golden hue over the sea of excited students, parents, and the occasional tearful goodbye. It was a momentous day—Ella’s first year at Hogwarts.

(Y/N) stood beside Danny, trying to smile as her daughter bounced on the spot, practically bursting with energy and nervous excitement. Ella’s owl, perched on her shoulder, hooted softly, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride mixed with sadness. Her baby girl was all grown up.

She had to remind herself, again, to breathe.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Danny asked, his voice low as he adjusted his tie, looking at Ella as she waved excitedly at some of her new friends.

(Y/N) looked at him, her lips pressed together in a tight smile. He had been distant for years—always caught up in his work, leaving her to handle everything. Even now, standing beside her at the station, his attention was elsewhere.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” (Y/N) replied softly, trying to ignore the ache in her chest. Ella was about to start a new chapter of her life, and (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she was ready for it to be this moment.

Just as Ella’s excited chatter filled the air, (Y/N) caught a glimpse of someone—someone she hadn’t expected to see, not here, not now.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Across the platform, standing with his son beside him, was Mattheo.

For a second, (Y/N) was frozen. She hadn’t seen him in over ten years. His dark hair was a little longer, his posture still confident but more relaxed. He was wearing a dark coat, his usual intensity softened by the warmth of the moment. But the one thing that struck her was the child standing beside him—a young boy, maybe around Ella’s age, with strikingly similar features to Mattheo—his son.

But there was no wife. No woman at his side, not even an ex. Just Mattheo and his son.

(Y/N) felt a strange, familiar pull in her chest as she watched them interact. He was leaning down, speaking to his son in low tones, his voice gentle as he adjusted the boy’s robes. He looked so… so different. Kinder, perhaps. The years had shaped him, but in the ways (Y/N) hadn’t expected.

Danny, oblivious to her gaze, continued fussing with Ella’s things. But (Y/N) felt her heart pounding harder in her chest. The last time she had seen Mattheo, it had been a fleeting moment at the market, and now here he was—right in front of her, a part of her past she had buried long ago, reappearing in the most unexpected way.

As if sensing her presence, Mattheo’s eyes flicked over to where she stood, and for a brief moment, their gazes locked. His expression faltered just for an instant before he gave her a small nod—almost as if he was acknowledging everything that had passed between them without needing to say a word.

He looked… conflicted.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, her eyes darting between Mattheo and his son. She hadn’t even realized how much time had passed since their last encounter. She hadn’t thought about him as often over the years—at least, not consciously—but standing there now, watching him, it felt as if all those feelings, all that unresolved tension, came rushing back to the surface.

Her daughter tugged at her sleeve. “Mom! I’m going to miss the train!”

(Y/N) blinked, shaking herself from her thoughts. She turned to her daughter, forcing a smile. “Go ahead, honey. I’ll be right behind you.”

Ella grinned and rushed off, eager to board the train, leaving (Y/N) standing with Danny, her chest tight. She could feel Mattheo’s presence like a pull—magnetic, undeniable.

Danny glanced at her, following her gaze to Mattheo. His face stiffened. “You know him?” he asked, his tone sharper than (Y/N) had anticipated.

“Not really,” she said quickly, turning away from the sight of Mattheo and his son. “We used to know each other. A long time ago.”

She wanted to leave it at that, to avoid any more questions, but Danny’s frown deepened as he looked at her, his gaze lingering on her face.

“Well,” Danny muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe it’s for the best. That’s a lot of history you don’t need, especially now.”

(Y/N) nodded silently, but she felt something in her stir—a reminder that the life she had built with Danny was not the only one she could have had. She had sacrificed so much, convinced herself that she was doing what was best for everyone. But standing there, in that moment, watching Mattheo with his son, she couldn’t help but wonder about all the “what-ifs” she had shoved aside over the years.

Mattheo caught her eye again, his gaze lingering this time, a mixture of sadness and something else—regret, perhaps. Then, he turned, leading his son toward the train.

(Y/N) watched them for a moment longer, and for the first time in a long time, she wondered what it would have been like if she had chosen differently.

But there was no going back. Ella was about to board the train to Hogwarts, and (Y/N) had a family to look after. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by what might have been.

Yet, as the train began to move, a part of her felt like the door she had closed on Mattheo had cracked open just a fraction. She couldn’t help but feel the pull again—the one she had ignored for so long.

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Three Years Later

The bar was dimly lit, and the air was thick with smoke and the low hum of conversation. (Y/N) sat at a corner booth, nursing a glass of wine that had long since lost its chill. Her fingers traced the rim absentmindedly, eyes distant. Tonight, she wasn’t a wife. She wasn’t a mother. She wasn’t someone’s caretaker. Tonight, she was just… her.

It had been a week since she’d discovered her husband’s affair. The lies had cut deep, a wound that refused to heal, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. Danny was still the same distant man he had been for years, but now, knowing about the betrayal, everything felt hollow. Her marriage had already been on its last thread, but this was the final blow.

She had been staying in a different room for days, the tension at home unbearable. Ella had sensed something was wrong, but (Y/N) didn’t know how to explain it to her—how to explain that sometimes, love just… wasn’t enough.

But tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight, she was going to forget. Even if it was only for a few hours.

She had come to the bar to lose herself, to drown the pain in something stronger than her thoughts. As she took another sip, her gaze wandered around the room, settling on a few familiar faces—some from her past, some strangers—but none of them felt like the right company. She just wanted the noise, the numbness.

And then, her heart skipped.

Standing near the bar, dressed in a well-tailored suit, was Mattheo.

His dark eyes met hers from across the room, and for a second, it felt as though the entire world slowed down. It had been years since she had seen him, since the train station when their paths had briefly crossed. He was the last person she expected to see tonight, but there he was—seemingly as familiar as he had been when they were younger, but with something different about him.

She quickly looked away, trying to push down the old feelings that surged up in her chest. She wasn’t ready to face him, not after everything. But Mattheo didn’t let her retreat.

He was suddenly at her side, his presence looming close, the scent of cologne mixing with the alcohol in the air.

“(Y/N),” Mattheo’s voice was low, a mixture of surprise and something else she couldn’t quite place.

She took a deep breath, resisting the pull to turn toward him. “What are you doing here?” she asked, the question coming out harsher than she intended.

He leaned against the booth, his gaze unwavering. “I could ask you the same thing.” There was a hint of something playful in his voice, but it was quickly replaced with a more serious edge. “You look… different.”

(Y/N) let out a dry laugh, glancing at him, unable to avoid the pull of his presence. “Yeah, I’m sure I do.” She was trying to sound indifferent, but she couldn’t deny the way his words made something stir inside her.

Mattheo’s expression softened. “I didn’t think I’d see you here, not like this.”

(Y/N) didn’t answer, unsure of what to say. She didn’t want to talk about her life, about Danny, about her failed marriage. She didn’t want to explain why she was here, why she felt so hollow inside.

The silence stretched between them for a moment, before Mattheo broke it again, his voice softer now. “What are you running from, (Y/N)?”

Her throat tightened, her eyes dropping to her glass. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to answer that. How could she? What was she supposed to say?

She didn’t even know if she was running. Maybe she was just trying to forget.

“I’m not running,” she finally replied, her voice cold, but the tremble in her tone betrayed her.

There was a brief silence, and then Mattheo leaned in slightly, his eyes intense. “You deserve more than this,” he said quietly, his words sinking into her like a weight.

(Y/N) wanted to argue, to push him away. But she didn’t. She didn’t have the energy for it anymore. And suddenly, she didn’t want to fight.

He was right. She did deserve more. But the thought of what more might look like—of what she could have had—was too much to bear.

Without thinking, she stood up, her hand gripping her purse tightly. “I think I should go,” she said, trying to pull herself together.

Mattheo’s hand shot out to stop her, his grip warm around her wrist. “Stay,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “Just stay for a little longer.”

The pull between them was undeniable. (Y/N) knew what he was suggesting, what he was offering—a way to forget, even if it was only for a night. She had felt the ache in her chest for so long, a longing she had tried to bury, but here it was, raw and exposed.

She could feel the heat of his touch on her wrist, his proximity drawing her in. He was dangerous in a way she couldn’t resist, and maybe that was why she let herself be pulled back into his orbit.

Without a word, (Y/N) leaned in, her lips meeting his in a desperate kiss. It wasn’t gentle, nor was it kind. It was hungry, born of unspoken frustrations, loneliness, and the overwhelming need to escape the suffocating reality of her life.

For a moment, everything else faded. There was only the sensation of Mattheo’s lips on hers, the way his hands found her waist, pulling her closer. She could feel her heart racing, her pulse quickening as the intensity of the kiss deepened.

The world didn’t matter. Not now.

They broke apart for a moment, breathless, and Mattheo’s eyes locked onto hers, searching, his voice barely a whisper. “You don’t have to do this, (Y/N). But I’m not going to stop you.”

(Y/N) didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know if this was the right choice, but she was past the point of caring.

She nodded, her lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but wasn’t a frown either.

And that was all it took.

The night unfolded around them in a blur, and when morning came, (Y/N) wasn’t sure who she was anymore. But for the first time in so long, she had felt alive. Even if only for one fleeting night, she had felt seen.

And as the sun began to rise, she realized that sometimes, forgetting meant you had to lose yourself first.

The car ride home was long, too long. The dark, empty streetlights flickered as (Y/N) drove, her hands gripping the wheel tighter than necessary, her thoughts racing, heart pounding in her chest. It felt as though the weight of the world was pressing down on her, suffocating her.

She hadn’t been able to shake Mattheo’s presence since they parted ways. His touch, his kiss—it was all so raw, so urgent, so full of things unsaid. She had wanted to forget everything, to just let herself feel something for once, to escape the prison of her own thoughts.

But guilt clawed at her now, gnawing at her insides.

What had she done? What did this mean?

She wasn’t proud of what happened. The one-night stand—if that’s even what it was—had been a desperate escape, a fleeting indulgence in something she hadn’t allowed herself to crave in so long. She hadn’t been thinking of Danny, or Ella, or the life she had carefully built, the one that was supposed to keep her safe and secure.

Now she was left with a hollow feeling. Like she had betrayed something much deeper than just her marriage.

Her heart twisted at the thought of Danny. The very man who had been absent, emotionally distant, yet the one she had promised herself to. The one she had given so much to, who had never truly been there.

But it didn’t change the fact that she was still married. And now, she was going home to face him.

(Y/N) pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine, sitting there for a moment, collecting her breath. The house loomed before her, quiet, dark, and uninviting.

The door creaked open as she stepped out, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat she felt inside.

Danny was probably asleep—he usually was at this hour. He hadn’t been paying attention to her for months now, and the thought of him being oblivious to the storm that raged inside her only made her feel worse.

She closed the door quietly behind her, slipping off her shoes and walking toward the living room. The house was still, too still.

When she found Danny, he was sprawled out on the couch, eyes closed, snoring lightly, his hand hanging off the edge. He didn’t look up as she entered the room, his face slack, relaxed in the way he had always been when he was too tired to care.

For a moment, she watched him. This was the man she had promised to love, the man who had stood beside her when she thought he would be the one to build her world. And yet, here she was, standing on the edge of a precipice, caught between two lives.

She sat down on the edge of the couch, her fingers nervously twisting a strand of hair as she debated what to do, how to feel.

Danny stirred and opened one eye, giving her a half-hearted glance. “You’re back late,” he muttered, his voice rough with sleep.

(Y/N) swallowed hard. “I… I just needed some time,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady.

He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

There was nothing left to say, not really. He hadn’t been the man she needed for years. She had lived in the quiet pain of that reality, pushing it aside, convincing herself that it was enough.

But tonight, with Mattheo, it felt different. She had felt alive, seen in a way that Danny had never truly managed to do.

Guilt settled in her stomach like a stone.

“I’m going to bed,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her chest tight. She stood up from the couch, her legs feeling like they might give out from under her.

“Yeah, sure,” Danny replied absently, closing his eyes again.

(Y/N) turned, her heart breaking at the emptiness of it all. This was her life. This was what she had chosen.

But she couldn’t deny the truth anymore.

As she climbed into bed, she buried her face in the pillow, her thoughts a mess. What had she done? What was she supposed to do now?

And somewhere deep down, there was a part of her that wanted to believe she could still fix things with Danny—fix herself—but it felt like it was slipping away.

The warmth of Mattheo’s touch still lingered on her skin, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if she could ever forget the way he had made her feel, if she could ever truly go back to the life she had with Danny.

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The air was cold, but (Y/N) barely felt it as she stood at the edge of Mattheo’s grave. Time had worn her body thin—her once-youthful features now etched with the lines of years lived, the weight of regret and loss settling deep in her bones. Her hair had grayed, her hands had trembled with age, but the pain that pulsed through her chest was as raw as the day she had lost him.

It felt like she had just seen him, just felt his touch. But here she was, decades later, standing at his funeral.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been standing there. The ceremony had ended, the mourners had trickled away, but she remained, rooted to the spot. The grave before her was quiet, a final resting place for the man who had shaped her life in ways she had never truly acknowledged. The man who had once made her feel like she was something more than just the sum of her responsibilities, more than a woman bound by the confines of her own choices.

But now he was gone.

He had died of old age, quietly, with none of the grand drama she had always imagined in their stolen moments together. It was a life he had lived fully, despite everything, despite their lost chances, their moments of fleeting happiness. He had lived.

And she had never gotten the chance to tell him how much she regretted walking away.

(Y/N) gripped the headstone with trembling hands, her eyes blurring as she looked down at the name engraved in the cold stone. Mattheo Riddle.

The years had blurred everything together. She had built a life after him—married, had children, lived through the motions. But it had never been enough. She had never stopped wondering what might’ve been, what could’ve happened if she had chosen him when she had the chance.

She could still remember his eyes, the way they had looked at her when they had been together—the way he made her feel alive in a way no one else could. The moments they shared were a treasure, a secret she had buried deep inside her heart, but now, as the years wore on, they began to weigh on her in ways she couldn’t escape.

“I never said goodbye,” she whispered, her voice cracking with the weight of everything unsaid.

Her heart squeezed painfully, and she sank to her knees before the grave, the cold earth seeping through her clothes, grounding her in the present. She should have done more, should have made a different choice. But life had a way of moving forward, and she had been swept along with it.

She closed her eyes, and the memories of Mattheo flooded her mind. His smirk, his laugh, the way he had challenged her, made her feel like she wasn’t just another woman, another face in the crowd.

It was funny, in a way. She had spent so many years trying to forget him, trying to make peace with the life she had built. But now, with him gone, she realized that he was the one thing that had always been real.

Her life with Danny had been empty, hollow, a quiet compromise. But Mattheo, with all his flaws, had given her something that no one else ever could.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, the weight of the words breaking something inside her. “I’m so sorry I never chose you.”

But the truth was, it wasn’t just about choosing him. It was about her fear of the unknown, her fear of letting go of the life she had built, the life that was supposed to keep her safe. She had chosen security over love, and now all she had were memories, fading and distant.

A soft wind brushed against her face, the trees swaying above her, and for a moment, she imagined that Mattheo was still there—standing behind her, his presence just beyond her reach.

It felt like the smallest part of him still remained, even if it was only in her heart.

As the rain began to fall gently around her, (Y/N) stood up slowly, wiping the tears from her eyes. She wasn’t sure if the tears were for him, or for the years that had passed, or for the love that was lost.

“I loved you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

And with that, she turned and walked away, her heart heavy, her footsteps slow, knowing that the ghost of Mattheo Riddle would haunt her for the rest of her days, even in the quiet moments of old age, when all she had left were memories and regret.

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AUTHORS NOTE: hiii i hope you all liked this! 💞