casper-chronicles

[casper-chronicles]

I Miss You

[Megumi x F!OC oneshot]

Summary: Katsuko and Megumi have been in a long-distance friendship for about a year now. With the upcoming summer break, Katsuko planned to go home earlier than she had told him. Witness how Megumi's best friend's surprise arrival unfolds. And maybe... just maybe; one of them finally confesses.

Rating: General Audience

Tags: long overdue confession, friends to lovers, emotional angst, denial, lots of denial, barista megumi, slightly christmas themed lmao, fluff, flashbacks, late night confession, summer love, mutual pining, slow burn (?).

★ word count: 3.9k

"I'll see you in two weeks, then."

"Okay. See you, then."

The call ended.

Two weeks. Great. I still have more time to mentally prepare.

At least that's what Megumi thought before his illusion of control over timing was shattered over his best friend's surprised arrival.

—

It was another searing afternoon, the kind where the air felt thick and the breeze only skimmed your skin like a passing thought. The sun spilled harsh light through the coffee shop windows, painting long, gold bars across the worn wooden floor.

Megumi pushed the door open, greeted by the familiar scent of roasted beans and warm wood. It clung to him the moment he stepped inside. He slid behind the counter, tying his apron and clipping on his name tag in practiced motions. Orders came, and he moved through them without thinking — a steady rhythm of clinking cups, grinding beans, and the low hiss of steaming milk.

During a lull, his gaze wandered. Near the window, a couple leaned toward each other over iced coffees. The girl said something too quiet to catch and the boy’s laugh broke easily, warm and unguarded. It wasn’t the laughter itself that caught Megumi, but the look that followed: that quick exchange of something unspoken.

It stuck to him.

Before he knew it, the scene in front of him faded into another: a high school classroom, sunlight slanting across dusty desks. Everyone was too loud. Too strange. Too nice, or too mean.

And then there was her.

He couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said during that group project — probably something dry, sharp enough to amuse himself but quiet enough to be missed. It usually was. But then she laughed.

Not politely. Not to fill the silence. It was loud, genuine, a sudden burst that startled him as much as it warmed something small in his chest. She’d grinned at him, half-teasing. “Dude, that’s so dark.”

He hadn’t expected anyone to notice, let alone react. But in that moment, with her laugh hanging between them, he’d thought:

I don’t want to get my hopes up yet… but this person’s okay.

By habit, he shook the thought away, the way you’d blink against sudden sunlight. A shift in the air told him there was a customer.

The universe was clearly messing with him today.

They ordered a black coffee. His favorite.

He moved through the motions: grind, pour, steam. The earthy scent rose up, bitter and comforting all at once, and without meaning to, his mind slipped back into familiar territory.

Katsuko.

She’d always been kind to him, even before they really knew each other. Back then, their hallway exchanges were nothing more than a fleeting glance — her quick smile, his curt nod. It should’ve been forgettable. Somehow, it wasn’t.

Then came the semester they ended up as seatmates. To his surprise, she never tried to fill the quiet or prod at his walls. No obnoxious questions. No “Why are you so quiet?”

People usually treated him with careful distance. Like if they got too close, they might get bitten.

But Katsuko? She sat there, warm and unassuming, like she knew the silence wasn’t empty.

Suspiciously comfortable, if he was being honest.

Katsuko walked in one day with an armful of drinks, balancing them like some caffeine courier. After handing them out to her friends and even the teacher, she stopped by his desk.

“For you,” she said simply, setting the cup down in front of him.

The bitter, familiar scent hit him before the words did.

“…How’d you know?”

Katsuko’s grin tilted. “I’m a coffee master,” she chuckled. “I noticed you always order this, soooo…”

He wrapped his hand around the cup, the warmth bleeding into his fingers. She was already chatting with someone else, like it was nothing. But it stuck with him. People didn’t usually notice, and when they did, they rarely got it right.

—

(7 months ago...)

The roar of thunder filled the night sky, low and heavy, as if heaven itself was grieving. Rain traced uneven paths down his window, blurring the lights outside.

Megumi sat at his desk, the warm pool of his lamp cutting into the dark. Headphones in, brows furrowed, pen tapping absently against his notebook — his serious study mode. The shared playlist with Katsuko hummed in the background, an anchor in the quiet.

It had been three months since she’d gone abroad for school. He was proud of her. Really. But the absence had a way of sneaking in; the empty lunch breaks, walking home by himself, the lack of someone who laughed at his worst jokes.

A soft ping broke through the music. Video call. Katsuko.

Of course he answered, the corners of his mouth tilting up before he even realized.

"Ah, locked in, I see," she teased, voice crackling slightly through the connection.

He gave a noncommittal shrug, the ghost of a smirk. But his eyes caught something hers didn’t hide fast enough; the faint shadows under them, the way her smile sat on her face like a borrowed mask.

"It’s almost noon there. Have you eaten?" he asked, pen still moving.

"In a bit." She waved it off. "But hey, don’t stay up too late, okay?"

He looked up fully now. This was her pattern — when she was tired or worn thin, she flipped the focus back to him, as if fussing over him was easier than admitting she needed it.

"You always say that when you’re the one running on fumes," Megumi said, voice steady but pointed.

Katsuko blinked at him through the screen, a half-smile still tugging at her mouth. "Is it that obvious?" she asked lightly, but the humor faltered before she could keep it in place. She leaned back, shoulders loosening with the smallest sigh.

"It’s just… been hard lately," she admitted. "The classes are brutal. Everyone’s friendly, but it’s like—" she paused, searching for the right words, "—like they’ve all already found their people, you know? And I’m just the… extra piece in someone else’s puzzle."

Her eyes shifted down, fingers idly tracing the rim of a coffee cup off-screen. "Some days I wonder if I made the right choice. It’s so different here. And I thought I’d be better at handling it..."

Megumi didn’t rush to fill the space. He just listened, quiet except for the faint tapping of rain on his window. When she finally looked back at him, he was still there — solid, unblinking, like he’d decided her words deserved the whole of his attention.

"Sounds like you’ve been doing everything you can," he said simply. "That’s… enough. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now."

Something in her face softened. The tired smile returned, smaller this time but real. "I’m so grateful I have someone like you, y’know?" she said, voice dipping into something warmer.

Megumi only shrugged, but his gaze held hers for a moment longer than usual. "Yeah. I know."

Katsuko laughed, the sound cutting through the heaviness. "Wait— I almost forgot to tell you!" She straightened suddenly, leaning closer to the screen. "I’m not gonna be able to come home for Christmas."

Megumi arched a brow. "Oh."

"Finals, and the flights are insane right now," she said quickly. "I’m really sorry."

He gave a small shake of his head. "Don’t be. Just survive your finals. Christmas will still be here next year."

Her grin tilted again, but this time it reached her eyes. "You make it sound so simple."

“It is,” he replied, turning back to his notebook.

(Are you sure about that, Megumi?)

After that night, he told himself it wouldn’t be so bad. They’d call. They’d text. It was just another day without her in person.

But when December crept in, the distance felt heavier than it should have.

The coffee shop played soft carols in the background now, and the air outside had that sharp bite that made his breath visible.

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around for her, it was already noon on Christmas Day for him. His relatives were talking in the background, the clink of plates and hum of conversation spilling in from the dining room, but his phone screen held his focus.

Her dorm room glowed with fairy lights, her Santa hat slightly crooked like she couldn’t be bothered to fix it.

“You’re festive,” he said dryly.

She grinned. “And you’re not. Shocker!”

They talked about nothing and everything; her roommate’s tragic gingerbread, his customers who only seemed to remember coffee shops existed in December. His lunch sat forgotten at his side while she rambled, the faint sound of laughter from her end feeling warmer than the tea in his mug.

As midnight approached on her side, he counted down with her, his voice low so his family wouldn’t hear.

“Merry Christmas, Megumi!” she said, smile softening. “I know it’s already Christmas for you, but… I hope you got lots of presents!"

He almost said I did. You called. But he didn’t.

“Merry Christmas… Katsuko,” he replied instead.

They hung up when she started yawning, saying she’d sleep before her roommate dragged her out for some Christmas 'breakfast.'

—

It was fine. That’s what he kept telling himself.

And yet, his phone never left arm’s reach.

The plush dog sat on his bed, right where he’d left it last night. She’d given it to him last Christmas, saying, “So you don’t forget to feed your emotional support animal.”

He told himself it was stupid to hug it.

But his arms didn’t get the memo.

While his family passed around steaming bowls of soup, he found himself thumbing through their old photos: grainy selfies at the park, screenshots of ridiculous memes she’d sent at 2 a.m., a blurry shot of her mid-laugh that he’d never admit was his favorite.

Later, when the house quieted, he scrolled back through their texts for no reason.

He’d read them all before. He knew them by heart. But still, his thumb kept swiping, like maybe if he reached far enough back, he’d find something he’d missed.

And then he saw it; a tiny orange waveform, almost swallowed by weeks of newer messages.

He tapped it.

Her voice spilled out of the speaker, warm and close despite the distance:

“Hey. I know you’re probably buried under homework right now, but… don’t forget to take breaks, okay? I need you to last until Christmas. No falling apart on me.”

A laugh followed — soft, unguarded, like she was looking right at him when she said it.

It was the kind of sound that made his chest ache in that slow, dangerous way.

He lay there, phone resting on his chest, staring at the ceiling like it might offer an escape. But all he could hear was her voice repeating in his head.

Until Christmas.

That was the deal. That was what they’d promised each other.

And now here he was, Christmas slipping away, her voice in his hands instead of in the room.

The quiet pressed in on him until the truth finally broke through.

It wasn’t sudden. It crept in like cold seeping through a window, steady, inescapable.

I can’t do this again.

Not next year. Not the year after.

Not ever.

Because Christmas without her wasn’t Christmas at all

—

(Present Day)

The sidewalk’s still wet from last night’s rain, reflecting a broken mosaic of shop signs and traffic lights. Megumi walks it anyway, hood pulled up more for habit than warmth, earbuds in. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, a slim paper bag from the record store tucked under one arm.

The guitar riff bleeding into his ears is familiar — one from the playlist they’d made together. Not on purpose. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

People brush past him, laughter and chatter spilling into the thick, late-summer air, but his pace stays unhurried. The city hums around him, and for once, he lets it.

It’s his day off. No apron, no orders, no forced small talk. Just the street ahead, the music, and the faint warmth in his chest that still hasn’t quite left since she came back into his orbit.

—

The platform smells faintly of metal and rain, the kind that clings to concrete long after the clouds have moved on. Megumi stands near the edge, weight shifted onto one foot, earbuds still in, paper bag hooked in his fingers.

The train’s a few minutes away. He doesn’t mind.

"blink-182? Okay, emo boy."

At first, it’s just background noise. Another stranger trying to fill the silence. He doesn’t bother looking up.

Not until the voice catches on something inside him.

Warm. Teasing. Too familiar.

His head snaps up.

She’s there.

Katsuko.

Hands deep in her pockets, hair catching the station lights, painting faint threads of gold between darker strands. The humid air curls faint wisps of hair against her cheek, refusing to let them go.

She looks exactly the same and nothing like she did on a screen.

Her gaze doesn’t flinch. If anything, it waits for him, steady and deliberate.

“Katsuko.”

“Megumi.”

And then she smiles.

Not the polite curve she gives strangers, not the faint smirk when something mildly amuses her. This one is softer at the edges, crooked just enough to be private. His-to-keep.

It punches the air right out of his lungs.

For a moment, neither moves. Footsteps blur past. An announcement hums overhead. A train screeches into the station. But here, in this narrow stretch of platform, it’s just her voice — sharper in the cold air than it ever was through a phone — and the way her presence slides back into place like it never left.

His fingers tighten around the paper bag, crinkling it loud in his own ears. The plush weight inside shifts, grounding him just enough to remember that he hasn’t heard her laugh in person since she left.

And God, he’d forgotten how dangerous that was.

The train shudders to a stop.

Neither of them moves.

Her smile stays steady and warm, and something in it feels like it’s only for him.

“…Hey,” she says, voice nearly lost under the brakes.

He clears his throat. “Hey.”

The doors slide open. Passengers spill out, the shuffle of coats and the faint bite of caramel coffee in the air. They wait until the crowd thins.

“You taking this one?” she asks, tilting her head toward the open doors.

“Yeah. You?”

“Guess so,” she says with a shrug, stepping in beside him.

They find two seats at the end of the car. The train lurches forward, and for a beat, the silence between them hums louder than the engine.

“You’ve changed your hair,” she says at last.

He almost says you noticed, but swallows it. “Just shorter.”

“Looks good.”

The train sways; his knee brushes hers. He doesn’t move it, but his pulse spikes, just once, traitorous and sharp.

Her gaze flicks to his headphones, the cord disappearing into his pocket. “Still listening to our old playlist, huh?”

“Always,” he says before he can think.

She laughs — quiet, unguarded. It lands deep in his chest.

The space between them narrows, thread by thread. She leans in, just slightly, a breath like she’s about to say something. Her fingers twitch in her lap.

But she lets it hang there.

Maybe it’s nothing.

Or maybe it’s the kind of nothing that changes everything.

—

They missed the stop they’d both meant to get off at.

Neither brought it up.

By the time they stepped out of the station, the sky had shifted to that late-afternoon gold, spilling over the street like someone had turned the saturation up just for them.

“Lunch?” Katsuko asked, glancing sideways.

He could’ve said he’d already eaten. He didn’t.

Their favorite place was still tucked between a laundromat and a convenience store, neon signs buzzing faintly above the door. Inside, the air was warm with the smell of fried batter and broth. They ended up in their usual booth without even thinking about it — Megumi sliding into his side, Katsuko taking the seat across.

She didn’t even look at the menu. “You’re ordering for me.”

“Bossy,” he said, already flipping it open.

“Heh. You like it,” she replied, grinning.

The food came quick, steaming bowls and plates between them. They ate the way they always did: sharing bites without asking, stealing pieces off each other’s plates, her mock-offended gasp when he got to the last gyoza first.

It was easy. Too easy.

—

They hit the arcade after lunch, shoving tokens into machines like they were kids again. Katsuko dragged him from claw machines to racing games to a basketball hoop that ate more of his coins than he’d admit.

When she beat his score on the rhythm game, she didn’t gloat — she laughed until she doubled over, hand catching his sleeve to steady herself. The contact was quick, but it lingered in his mind far longer than it should have.

—

Later that day, they ended up by the river without meaning to.

The sun was halfway down, the water carrying its light in broken shards that kept shifting and reforming. The air smelled faintly of wet stone and dried leaves. Somewhere nearby, someone’s radio was playing low, a bassline barely audible over the sound of water.

Katsuko leaned against the railing, chin tipped up toward the sky. “Sunsets here hit different.”

He almost said especially with you here.

Instead, his eyes stayed on her profile. How the orange light caught the edges of her hair, how the breeze lifted a strand against her cheek. “Yeah.”

They stayed like that for a while, saying nothing. The quiet between them felt alive, full of unspoken things pressing close but not touching.

And in that quiet, something in him shifted, just a fraction, but enough for him to know. If she asked him right now what he was thinking, the truth would spill before he could stop it.

—

The night made the streets feel closer, like the city had pulled in around them.

The hum of a distant train, the occasional hiss of tires on wet pavement — everything else was quiet enough that Megumi could hear the faint swish of her scarf when she moved.

“You said two weeks,” he said, breaking the stretch of silence. His voice came out lower, rougher than he’d planned. “It’s only been three days.”

Katsuko's head tilted toward him, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Yeah, but—”

The rest blurred.

Not because she stopped talking.

Because his thoughts drowned her out.

Three days, and I can’t remember what it was like before you showed up again.

Three days, and I’m already calculating how many more I can steal before you go.

Three days, and it’s nowhere near enough.

Her voice was still there, lilting through the air between them, but then she laughed — quiet, almost to herself — and looked down at her shoes. When she looked up again, her eyes caught his for just a second too long.

Her hand swung forward. The back of it brushed his knuckles.

Not an accident. Couldn’t be.

His fingers twitched toward hers before he locked them in his pocket.

The blocks stretched ahead like a countdown. Streetlamps spilled light in measured intervals, catching her hair in gold, then letting it fall back into shadow. Every time she glanced at him, it felt like she was weighing something. Like if she tipped just a little further, the words would spill out.

Say it. Just say it.

But she didn’t. And neither did he.

The corner came too fast. Her building stood at the end of the block, brick dark against the lamplight, steps slick from the earlier rain. She slowed when they reached it but didn’t climb them right away.

Instead, she turned toward him fully.

“Today was—” She stopped. Her hand flexed against the strap of her bag, her mouth pressing into a line before softening again. “You know what? Never mind.”

His pulse hitched. What? What never mind?

There was a pause, her breath curling white in the cold. Then, softer: “I’m… glad to see you again.”

“Yeah,” he managed. “Me too.”

Her smile lingered just long enough to feel dangerous. Then she stepped back, keys in hand, and disappeared inside.

Megumi stayed where he was, staring at the door like if he waited long enough, she’d come back out.

The air felt heavier now. Not from the cold but from everything he didn’t say, and everything she almost did.

It was easier when she wasn’t here.

And impossible, now that she was.

—

Katsuko turned away.

The cold pressed in, sharp enough to sting her ears, but not sharp enough to cut through the heaviness settling in her chest.

Friends. That’s all they’d ever been. That’s all they would be.

It was safer that way.

Safer to keep the memories soft and untouched, to keep his voice in her life without risking it disappearing entirely.

She told herself she could live with that.

She lied.

Her breath fogged in the air, the streetlamp’s light catching in it for a brief second before it vanished.

She took a step forward. Then another.

“Katsuko, wait.”

His voice cut clean through her thoughts — low, urgent, and nothing like the easy tone he used when they were “just friends.”

She turned.

Megumi was still where she’d left him, the paper bag from the record store hanging slack at his side, his other hand buried in his pocket like it was the only thing keeping him steady.

The wind tugged at his hair, making his fringe look adorably messy. His eyes — dark, sharp, steady — locked on hers with a focus that made her forget how to move.

“I don’t think…” His throat worked, the words catching for half a second before they broke free. “…I don’t think I want to be just friends with you anymore.”

The air between them shifted.

She swore she could feel it — heavier, warmer, threaded with something she’d been pretending not to name.

Her heart stuttered.

He meant it. Every single syllable.

“Megumi…” Her voice was barely there.

One step. Two.

Megumi’s chest was a mess of steady breaths on the outside and chaos underneath.

Every foot she closed between them was another chance for her to tell him no. Another chance for him to lose the only thing he wanted to keep.

And then she was there.

Her hands slid around his shoulders. Warm. Real. Not a dream, not a screen, not a memory.

He let the record bag dangle and wrapped his arms around her — slow, like he needed to memorize how she fit against him. His palm pressed firm between her shoulder blades, fingers curling just slightly, holding her there.

God, she was here.

The scent of her shampoo, faint under the cold air. The way her breathing fell in sync with his without either of them trying. The tiny tremor in her hands. Or maybe that was him.

Every muscle in him screamed to say it all. Stay. Don’t leave. I missed you so much it hurt to breathe without you.

But all that came out was the truth dressed small: “Don’t go again.”

She didn’t answer right away — not with words. Her arms only tightened, her cheek finding that space just beneath his jaw. His pulse leapt at the contact, heat flooding through his chest in a way no winter could touch.

And just like that, all those nights of replaying her voice messages, all the hours of telling himself it’s fine, cracked wide open.

She whispered, “I missed you,” and it landed in him like a stone in still water — ripples he knew would never stop.

He closed his eyes and pulled her closer, "I missed you, too."

Because for the first time in years, he wasn’t wondering what it would feel like to hold her.

He already knew.

[additional notes:]

🌟 non-native english speaker here, so teeny tiny grammatical errors may be present.

🌟 not a writer; just writing for fun!✨

🌟 i hope you enjoyed this reading, and thank you!🫂❤️‍🔥

🌟 shout out to @uzmacchiato for this sick ass divider! 🌌✨

[casper-chronicles]

— Double Edge ⚔️

[Ellie & Val: Spy AU Guide + fic snippets]

Meet the Gay Spies:

HL MCs: Ellie Crawford (left) ; Valentine Black (right)

[fic intro snippet below ↓↓↓]

— Double Edge ⚔️

The air hung thick with a metallic tang mingled with the musty odor of long stagnant air. A faint, earthy dampness carried on the air currents, hinting at the storm brewing outside. Dust motes danced like spectral figures in the single, solitary shaft of moonlight piercing the gloom from a shattered skylight high above, a light that seemed to struggle against the gathering darkness of the storm.

A cavernous expanse of concrete and forgotten machinery, defunct equipment loomed like silent sentinels, their metal forms draped in cobwebs and grime. The floor was a patchwork of cracked concrete littered with debris—scattered bolts, twisted metal scraps, and patches of oily residue that reflected the scant light in shimmering, unsettling puddles, some catching the faint, silver glow of the rain as it lashed against the broken panes above.

Voronov moved with practiced silence, her boots barely whispering on the grimy concrete floor, each step measured against the backdrop of the falling rain. Her long, dark brown hair was pulled back in a practical French braid, and though her face was partially obscured by the tactical hood she wore, the glint of her hazel eyes, sharp and assessing, was visible in the faint light.

Her orders were simple: eliminate the target, a rogue operative deemed a threat to national security.

A faint scuff echoed from the far end of the vast space, a small sound swallowed almost instantly by the oppressive silence, punctuated only by the distant, rhythmic drumming of rain on the corrugated metal roof high above. Voronov froze, the sound of the approaching storm a low thrum beneath her heightened senses.

Her hand instinctively went to the silenced pistol at her hip. She melted into the deeper shadow cast by a particularly large, rusting piece of machinery, its complex network of pipes and gears providing excellent cover. The steady patter of rain against the building's skin seemed to amplify the silence, making her own breathing feel too loud. Her senses were on high alert, straining to pick up any further sounds in the echoing space.

The sound came again, closer this time, accompanied by a low, almost mechanical hum that seemed to vibrate through the concrete floor, a counterpoint to the relentless rhythm of the rain.

Then, a figure emerged from the shadows near a crumbling brick wall, where paint peeled like diseased skin, the soft hiss of rain a whisper behind it. Tall, lean, this entity moved with a chilling precision, every motion devoid of waste. A black tactical suit clung to its frame. Short, sharply cut platinum blonde hair framed a face dominated by unnervingly blank, phthalo green eyes that scanned the broken landscape with chilling efficiency. A prominent scar angled down across its left eye. Voronov's breath hitched.

"It can’t be."

Years of grief, of burying the memory, warred with the undeniable truth before her. The posture, the way she held herself, the sheer presence—it was none other than Chernyakov, appearing as if summoned from the storm itself.

[additional notes:]

⚔️ This was originally an idea by me and my friend ( @accio-bagel ) for the pride month, but let's just say, life happened 🫣

⚔️ Also, credits to @accio-bagel for creating the spy profiles, proofreading the fic, and honouring me with a collab with her lovable rogue, Ellie Crawford! 🐦‍⬛✨

⚔️ This fic is highly inspired by the film Black Widow

⚔️ I'm not really sure when I'll be able to finish this or if I would even finish it 😅 But I just wanted to share bc why not! 😌

[casper-chronicles]

Love & Shadows

[Chapter 01: Fragments in Glass]

Summary: Memories in ruins that keep Val (F!MC) awake at night.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Tags: HL Game Spoilers (The Final Repository), Fairly Canon Compliant, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Action, Drama, Healing, Self-Discovery, First Person POV.

Content Warning: This story contains character death, themes of grief and mourning, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, descriptions of magical battles with implied violence, emotional distress with depictions of crying and despair, references to nightmares and traumatic dreams, and dark themes exploring despair and the burden of responsibility.

★ word count: 1.1k

There I stood, legs trembling from the aftermath of the fierce battle, overwhelmed by fatigue enveloping me like a suffocating veil, binding me in its grasp.

The solid stone beneath my feet felt alive, quaking as crimson and black orbs of magic swirled around me like hungry predators, ready to devour me whole.

Air heavy with the acrid scent of burnt earth and charred stone, mingling with the bitter tang of corrupted magic that clung to every surface. The underground repository showed no mercy; rocky walls trembled, and jagged boulders threatened to collapse above me, their groans echoing ominously in the cavernous space.

This could be my final moment.

I could feel it in my bones, a chilling resignation creeping in, resonating with the burden of despair in the air. But I couldn't leave just yet—not when the responsibility to contain all this magic lay so heavily on my shoulders.

Panic surged through me, intertwining with desperation like poison in my veins. I braced myself and pushed against the threatening force of a massive boulder careening toward me. I had to stop it; I had to contain the crimson orbs, but first, I had to survive.

As a bright blue ray erupted from my wand, the prick of strain shot through my arms, a pulse of raw power that throbbed in tune with my racing heart. The boulder felt heavier than it should, its weight defying my initial expectations as each second stretched into an eternity. Then, a crackle of purple light illuminated the chaos beside me.

“You need to contain it!” Professor Fig’s voice cut through the confusion, a steady anchor amidst the swirling madness as he leaned into the collective effort.

Without thinking, I summoned every ounce of magic I had left, my heart pounding in tandem with the looming threat. But the black mists encroached, wrapping around me like tendrils of despair, trying to tear my focus away.

In the middle of my struggle, a gentle whisper echoed to my ears, soothing yet fierce: “You are stronger than you know.”

A surge of unexpected power welled up from the depths of my being, igniting a visceral light that pierced through the darkness. In that blinding moment, I felt clarity wash over me, drowning out the ringing in my ears, and somehow...

I did it. I had found my strength.

As my vision cleared, I frantically searched for Professor Fig. My heart raced, anxiety coiling tightly within me until I found him, sprawled on the rocky ground, his face pale and pain etched deeply across his features.

“Professor!” The word tore from my throat, desperation flooding my voice.

“Miriam—” he gasped, and I reached for his hand, pressing into it the wand of his late wife, retrieved from the remnants of battle.

A flicker of joy ignited in his eyes, illuminating the shadows of pain lingering in their depths. “Miriam would have loved you, my young friend,” he breathed, his words a fragile thread woven with sincerity.

“The wizarding world could not be in more capable hands—”

His last words hung in the air, a final gift before everything dissolved into darkness.

With my heart beating like raging lightning coursing through my chest, I jolted awake in my bed, drenched in a cold sweat that felt like ice water clinging onto my skin. My breath came in uneven gasps as my trembling body instinctively curled up, burying my head in my arms. I yearned for the comfort of an embrace, a fleeting warmth that felt distantly out of reach.

Weeks had drifted by since Fig’s death; I made sure, with the best of my knowledge and capabilities, that Professor Fig's effort and memory wouldn't go in vain. And only now did the grief strike me like an anticipated brewing storm.

Yes, I had shed a few tears here and there, but the weight of responsibilities—the duties I had desperately imposed upon myself to cling to—had pushed my unresolved feelings into the shadows, where they lurked like restless phantoms. It was suffocating and exhausting, like carrying the burden of an entire starless sky on my shoulders.

As the midnight's darkest whispers ebbed and flowed, blurring the line between dreams and reality, I began to rock gently back and forth. Hot tears cascaded down my cheeks like a sudden summer downpour, while every sob reverberated in the silence of my room like thunderclaps echoing across a desolate landscape.

The cold stone walls seemed to close in around me, oppressive and unyielding, while the flickering flames in the fireplace cast wavering shadows that danced like spectres, witnessing my unravelling alongside the gentle whispers of the ocean waves outside, murmuring their secrets.

With every tear that fell, I felt a glimmer of lightness trying to break through the dense fog of sorrow that surrounded me, a reminder that even the heaviest clouds can feel lighter after a passing rain.

Slowly, as if testing the waters of my own resilience, I stood up and approached the mirror hanging on the wall—a seemingly ordinary surface, yet it felt like a portal between my past and the fragility of my present.

The cracks crisscrossed across the glass, deeper than I had ever noticed, jagged and unforgiving yet somehow familiar, like scars of a shared story.

My trembling fingers carefully traced the fragile patterns, seeking understanding in their imperfection. Then there was my reflection who stared back, fragmented and fragile, a haunting image of a girl lost to grief, each piece telling a tale of heartache.

I gazed at her for what felt like an eternity, entranced in that stillness, and within that moment, clarity began to shine iridescent light upon me. A tentative smile crept onto my lips.

"I may be broken," I thought, the realization gleaming within me, "but I am not irreparable."

With newfound resolve, I straightened, feeling warmth radiate from my core. I smiled gently at my reflection, slowly embracing my scars, understanding that with time and care, like shards of glass, I could be mended.

Yes, I'm well aware that the nightmares would still haunt me, but I also recognized an undeniable truth: just as glass could be reshaped, so could I.

After all, I've come to realize that fragility is not inherently negative, as I once thought; it reflects my capacity for love and the essence of being alive.

Before the pull of sleep could ensnare me, I stole a final glance at the fractured reflection in the mirror. A shiver ran down my spine as a chilling thought crossed my mind:

Am I truly prepared to carry the heavy burden of fate?

Or was I merely a pawn manoeuvred by an unseen master in this elaborate game of chess?

I sighed, "Fate is so dramatic sometimes."

[additional notes:]

☁️ non-native english speaker here! so teeny tiny grammatical errors may be present 😅

☁️ just writing for fun & slowly learning to be good at it!✨

☁️ i'm elated to be able to finally post this here after 8 months of rewriting, rearranging, studying, and translating val's lore ❤️‍🔥

[tag list:] my darling angel @light-of-the-room 💕

[casper-chronicles]

— Distant Star 🌟

Ale's journal entries on March 21st, 1893 (7th year)    　　

ִ ࣪𖤐 ִ ࣪𖤐 ִ ࣪𖤐 ִ ࣪𖤐

word count: 758

— • — • — • —

March 21, 1893

Another Tuesday has slipped into my existence, indistinguishable from the tapestry of days that weave my life here at Hogwarts.

The morning light beckoned me awake and eager to greet the world. I took great care in presenting my best self—each detail curated, a silent testament to my readiness to dazzle.

As twilight yielded to the day, I found solace in the familiar embrace of my studies. In Defense Against the Dark Arts I soared, basking in the approval reflected in Professor Hecat’s eyes, reminiscent of a mother’s pride that warms the heart. Then there's Potions class, once a realm of turmoil, which has been transformed into a pleasant endeavour, all thanks to Ellie. How she brightens even the dullest of lessons! An academic gem, indeed.

Yet, responsibilities as Head Boy called me away, urging me to step into the ever reliable and dependable figure in our house. After the duties were fulfilled, I ventured back to the common room. A familiar haunt now steeped in silence. What was I hoping for? The hour was late, and the castle was wrapped in slumber.

With the evening enveloping me, I donned my pyjamas, yet sleep remained a distant whisper. Instead, I slipped from my dormitory, seeking the flickering warmth of the fireplace—an inviting refuge against the chill of the night.

And here I sit, pen in hand, amidst the soft crackle of embers, savouring the gentle embrace of tea, its steam curling upward like wishes cast into the ether.

Merlin, these British habits grip me tighter each day.

Who would have thought I’d find joy in humble pea soup or dare to enjoy those absurd yet surprisingly comforting meat pies? How Ellie finds pleasure in such fare baffles me, though perhaps it’s her laughter that brings life to the blandness surrounding us.

Ah, Ellie... 

We've spent the last month entwined in this intriguing dance—a delicate balance of companionship that feels both timeless and new. 

Have you ever encountered a soul with whom every moment feels woven from the very fabric of comfort? Like an echo of familiarity laced with the thrill of the unknown?

I often recall our serendipitous meetings in the common room, those enchanting evenings where her hazel eyes spark with mischief at my foolish quips. The gentle curve of her lips as she stifles a laugh, a secret shared between friends, draws me closer, urging my heart to abandon its guarded post.

Not long ago, I witnessed the shadows that hover around her; she is not in the best of spirits. I yearn to be the beacon that guides her through her darkness. A steadfast companion reminding her she is never truly alone.

On those quiet nights when sleep eludes her grasp, I weave tales that cradle her restless mind, watching with awe as she gently drifts into dreams. How peaceful she appears, a vision of serenity that could charm even the stars from the heavens. A delicate beauty with an angelic grace that captivates me.

There’s a simplicity in being with her that feels nothing short of magic.

Oh, what would I sacrifice to linger in her presence a little longer, to unveil the depths of love that she so richly deserves. 

Yet a shadow of doubt weaves through my heart, whispering that this playful camaraderie may be all there is—a fleeting joy, unanchored by something deeper.

What if, in the quiet unfolding of time, my loyalty reveals itself as a gentle echo, fading into the background? 

It stirs a haunting thought, for how could someone as radiant as she ever see worth in someone like me?

The ache of longing cuts deep, a relentless reminder that I might be destined to watch the love I crave bloom just out of reach, leaving me to wonder if my heart will ever know the warmth of her affection.

Only a fool like me would dare to dream of grasping the unreachable. Like a distant star, I ache with the thought that I am destined to orbit her warmth, forever a silent admirer lost in her radiant glow, igniting a yearning within me that feels insatiable.

Yet, there’s a bittersweet solace in the mere existence of her light—a gentle reminder that even the farthest stars can ignite the most profound dreams.

As I linger in the shadows of her brilliance, a solitary wanderer entranced by the flicker of a beauty that is both eternal and elusive, I hold fast to the hope that one day, perhaps, it will no longer be just a dream.

— • — • — • —

MC mentioned: Elizabeth "Ellie" Crawford ( @accio-bagel 🥯 👑✨ )

Ellie is Ale's love interest in his 'canon' lore ❤️‍🔥

For more of Ellie, you can check out her character sheet and my platonic wife's account: @accio-bagel

+++

This journal entry is somewhat inspired by this song recommended to me by my friend, Bagel, while we were brainstorming about their lore.

[additional notes:]

🌠 non-native english speaker here, so teeny tiny grammatical errors may be present.

🌠 not a professional writer ; just writing for fun!✨

🌠 if my style isn't your cup of tea, respectfully skedaddle in peace~

🌠 i hope you enjoyed this reading, and thank you!🫂❤️‍🔥

[casper-chronicles]

Until I Found You

Ale's journal entries on his train ride back to London, 1890.

ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂

word count: 645

[words ver ↓↓↓]

December 20, 1890

The clouds hang heavy in the sky, a cloak of grey that muffles the world beneath it. The wind whistles a chilling tune, though I am no stranger to its bite. As I travel on this long train ride, I find my mind wrapped in a comforting silence, but my heart? It beats with a fervour that seems all too loud.

But wait.

How can my mind be silent when thoughts twist and turn like swirling leaves caught in a gentle gale?

Allow me to take you to where it all began.

—

It was a glorious day in September, the kind where the autumn air dances around you as if to proclaim that fortune was smiling upon me.

In the halls of Hogwarts, I stood on the brink of my fifth year, fueled by aspirations that shimmered like the golden leaves outside. I was certain that my hard work would culminate in becoming a Prefect, a rather refreshing voice in a world where a Muggleborn like me could shine brightly while striving for equality.

Ah, yes, a Muggleborn in Slytherin—how delightfully ironic! With each phrase, "Points to Slytherin!" and every exam I passed with flying colours. The professors praised my efforts; I was hailed as an academic force. With each spell I cast and every duel I won, I proved myself more than capable, challenging the underestimation that clung to my title; a duelling maestro.

I revelled in the support of friends who knew they could lean on me. What more could I ask for? I was as close to having it all as one could be.

Yet, amidst the accolades and admiration, my friends often mused, “Ale, how can such a strapping lad still be without a partner?” It’s true; I’ve flirted and indulged in the allure of romance—I adore the grandiosity of love, the theatrical flair that accompanies it. Still, I understand that nothing worth having should be rushed. My heart longs to dive headfirst into the depths of true connection. I’m more than willing to be patient for the right person to come along.

Until I found you.

The girl with the hair like cherry blossoms, ethereal and captivating. Wrapped in an air of mystery, you present a fascinating riddle for me to solve—a blend of sublime beauty and utter intrigue. Your quiet confidence draws me in, enchanting yet boldly unyielding. You seem to glide through the halls, indifferent to the whispers and glances, content simply to be yourself, radiant and unapologetic.

At first glance, you may appear cold, a fortress built of icy walls, but how dare you shatter that veneer with the warmth you so effortlessly harbour? With just a smile—shy yet reassuring—you melt the very thoughts I thought I had all figured out. Fierce yet gentle, your essence wraps around my heart like a delicate vine—how can someone born into such a notorious legacy embody such captivating warmth?

I knew I had to know you.

Oh, Val, how you bring colour in my world of black and white, my unexpected beautiful disruption, the chaos that made sense. You challenge me in ways I never expected, unconsciously daring me to unravel the complexities of your heart. Suddenly, I’m not the flamboyant charmer; I’m a stuttering contradiction, caught up in my own disarray.

There was a time when I thrived in solitude, relishing my own company, yet you have waltzed into my existence and shifted the very foundation of my world. I discovered the love of my life amidst all the inner turmoil and external pressures I've been handling. You become the light that grazes the unassuming prism unlocking its possibilities.

In truth, there’s one undeniable realization that keeps me awake on silent nights. That is, I may never find love like this again. My heart senses it.

I would never fall unless it's you I fall into.

ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂

These journal entries are strongly inspired by the song "Until I Found You" by Stephen Sanchez.

I accidentally stumbled upon this song on one of my old playlists and it instantly reminded me of Ale soooo—

Here we are 😌✨

[additional notes:]

❄️ non-native english speaker here, so teeny tiny grammatical errors may be present.

❄️ not a writer; just writing for fun!✨

❄️ if my style isn't your cup of tea, respectfully skedaddle in peace~

❄️ i hope you enjoyed this reading, and thank you!🫂❤️‍🔥

[casper-chronicles]

—A Melody Reawakened—

[HCU Christmas Oneshot: featuring Valentine and Callan]

Summary: In the silence of Christmas Eve of 1891 (at Hogwarts), two long-separated childhood friends unexpectedly found solace through a familiar melody.

Pairing: Valentine Black × Callan Gaunt ( @girl-named-matty )

Rating: General Audience

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Fluff (?), Second Chances, Childhood Friends, Sentimental Gifts, Christmas Theme, Fulfilling Promises, Bittersweet Past, Slow Burn, Soulmates.

Content Warning: This story contains themes of childhood trauma, emotional struggles, and feelings of isolation. It explores complex family dynamics and the impact of loneliness during the holiday season. Reader discretion is advised for those sensitive to themes of abandonment and personal loss.

★ word count: 2.1k

There was serene silence that cloaked the corridors of Hogwarts as the holiday spirit echoed softly through the ancient stone walls. It was the Christmas eve of 1891 and most students had already departed to celebrate with their families, laughter and warmth filling homes across the wizarding world and beyond.

Yet not everyone reveled in this joy or feels lucky to be a part of something worth celebrating for. At least that's what our resident Grinch—Valentine Black—felt.

Val never liked the Christmas holidays. 

To be fair, she used to love it not until her uncle Phineas Nigellus Black raised her in a household where she was made to feel invisible and invalid, especially on Christmas.

Gifts? Gifts for Valentine? What is that? I have no idea.

As she wandered through the empty halls of the castle, her heart felt heavy with the quiet solitude that was all too familiar. But then again, there was a sense of freedom that sparked somewhere in the guarded walls of her heart that reminded her that maybe things wouldn't be as bad this time. 

Entering the Slytherin common room, the flickering flames of fire danced cheerfully in the fireplace, casting warm, golden light over the plush green and silver furnishings. The chilly air nipped at the girl's cheeks as she silently wandered through the common room, the dim glow of the fire casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. 

As the Slytherin girl wanders through the space, her gaze drifts to the grand piano nestled in the corner, its polished surface inviting her to escape into her world of music. 

With a soft sigh, she approached the instrument. Taking a seat on the chilly bench, she gently brushed her fingers over the keys and began to play a melody, allowing its familiarity and comfort to wash all over her. Each note resonated with longing and solitude, wrapping her in a cocoon of bittersweet memories; she had loved this song for as long as she could remember.

With most of her housemates gone for the holidays, the solitude wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, yet the absence of festive chatter and laughter left an ache in her chest. The soft notes she played resonated in the stillness, each chord a tender reminder of happier memories. Her heart fluttered as she recalled the faces of her friends, or, as she calls them her 'newfound family.' They may be away for the holidays but Val is happy that they get to spend their time with their loved ones.

'Lucky them,' she mused while a playful smile tugged her lips.

—

Meanwhile, on the other side of the dormitory lies Callan Gaunt staring out of the frosted window, watching the snowflakes swirling playfully in the icy air beyond the glass. 

In the silence, the boy is haunted and tormented by his thoughts—mainly driven by the constant urge to escape his family. A Gaunt by blood, he felt a deep sense of disconnection from his heritage and so does his cousin, Ominis Gaunt, who's situated a few feet away and is already asleep. 

Despite his love to celebrate such an occasion, the boy can't help but feel worried about the possibility that his family would nag him about staying in the castle again. 

'Not like they actually care,' he shrugged.

However, Cal has no ounce of regret left in him about choosing to spend the holidays in the castle. After all, Ominis is staying, so why shouldn't he? 

Amid the boy's war with his mind, a familiar tune echoed into Cal's ears once again, the sound that he had been anxiously trying to search for in the past few days. 

'That sound...' he thought while turning his head in the direction of the music playing.

Intrigued and guided by the melodic echoes, he left the comforting solitude of his room and made his way toward the sound, the thrill of anticipation quickening his pulse.

As he crossed the threshold into the common room, he found Val seated at the piano, her fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys, a serene expression of concentration gracing her features. It was a scene bathed in golden light, illuminated by the flickering fire and the soft glow of enchanted candles lining the walls. 

Cal's heart raced, a mix of nervous energy and admiration flooding his senses. She didn’t notice him at first, so he gathered his courage, sweating under the weight of his shyness.

"You’re… you’re playing my favorite song,” he managed to stammer, stepping cautiously into the room, his heart racing. The tension hung in the air, thick and sweet, but Val's playful nature quickly shattered it.

“Is that so?” she teased, a smirk dancing on her lips. “I didn’t know I had a fan.”

As Val beckoned him closer, he felt a mix of exhilaration and apprehension. “Want to learn how it’s played?” she asked, her voice light and inviting.

As he settled beside her, the tension between them thickened the air like the scent of festive pine. Cal tried to keep his composure as he placed his hands on the keys but fumbled through beginner mistakes. Each misplayed note felt like a betrayal, but the brightness in Val's eyes made him want to try harder. 

“Ah, let’s try that again,” she said, gentle laughter peppering her words. It was more soothing than the song itself. 

They resumed, and with each failure, a palpable tension simmered around them. Each time their hands brushed—his clumsy reach colliding with her nimble grace—his heart raced with a jolt of electricity. Val's laughter danced in the air, each giggle striking something deep within him, and he found himself enchanted.

“Come on, you can do it,” she encouraged, her voice a soothing balm. “You just need to relax.”

“I can’t believe I’m so bad at this,” Cal feigned annoyance, his smile brightening the room. 

Val rolled her eyes playfully, but there was an unspoken weight in the air, something that lingered just beneath their shared laughter. As she leaned closer to demonstrate the next part, the warmth of her presence enveloped him, and he felt a longing to bear his heart surged within him.

For a moment, the laughter faded, and the atmosphere shifted. “You know,” Cal began hesitantly, “I haven’t heard this song in years. Who taught you to play it?” His tone softened, curiosity alight in his eyes.

Val hesitated, her expression growing contemplative as she looked down at her hands resting on the piano. “A friend,” she whispered, her voice dipping as a shadow crossed her features. 

The moment hung heavy between them. He watched as her expression shifted, a veil slipping over her eyes. And in that instant, she opened up slightly, revealing a glimpse of her guarded heart. “After everything happened, it became my comfort when I felt lost.”

Cal felt a pang of longing echo in his chest as she spoke, and he desperately wanted to bridge the gap—to reach the part of her that was still hidden beneath layers of protective armor. “What happened to your friend?” he asked quietly.

Val's fingers hesitated over the keys, emotion pinching her features. “I…I really don't know... One day, my uncle told me that I was not allowed to visit my friend anymore."

Silence enveloped them leaving only the flickering fire and their steady breaths. It was a silence laden with a space of shared vulnerability that made the world outside fade into oblivion.

“Is that why you play?” he asked softly, earning her undivided attention. “To remember?” 

“Yeah,” she replied, the confession of a mere thread of sound. “And to feel less alone.” 

"I think…” Cal started, but the words slipped through his grasp as their hearts raced together in the quiet of that moment. The air crackled with the unfulfilled promise of connection.

“I’m sorry,” Val said suddenly, a mask of uncertainty crossing her features. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” he interrupted, leaning slightly closer, daring the space between them. “No, it’s okay. It feels good to remember. To share.” 

Just then, as if drawn by an unseen force, Cal reached over to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers barely grazed her skin, causing a spark to flit through the air between them. Val's breath caught, and their eyes locked in a gaze that spoke volumes of the unsaid words dancing on the tips of their tongues.

But tragedy struck in a moment of clumsiness; he shifted at the piano, accidentally bumping against the edge, and the necklace nestled beneath his shirt slipped from its hiding place, revealing the emerald ring that hung on a silver chain. He quickly grasped it, but not before she noticed; a gasp escaped Val's lips, curiosity painting her face.

“Where did you get that necklace?” she asked, her voice slightly breathless, eyes wide with curiosity.

“It was a gift from my childhood friend,” Cal shared, trying to keep his voice steady in the heat of vulnerability. “I loved her dearly, and I wanted to keep a piece of her with me.”

She leaned forward slightly, a look of recognition flickering across her face, sending his heart into a wild rhythm. “That's sweet,” Val said with a soft voice, almost like a whisper.

“I wish I had a chance to tell her how much she means to me,” he said, as a few tear drops threatened to spill from beautiful dark brown eyes. “But I never got to say goodbye.”

Val inhaled deeply, summoning courage, and reached into her pocket. A teasing smirk played on her lips as she revealed a music box. “I promised I would return, didn't I?”

Cal's heart raced, memories flooding back to the day in their childhood when he exchanged gifts with Val; they were only five years old when it happened. It was a summer business soiree in the Gaunt Manor when the young versions of themselves met. Their friendship was an instant click and they bonded over their favorite hobbies.

They may never have had the chance to say it to each other (since they were children), but they were both each other's sunshine at that time; they just didn't know it yet. Before their decade-long separation, the two children exchanged sentimental gifts from the people that meant the most to them at that time: the music box from Aunt Noctua and the emerald ring that belonged to the late Mrs. Black. The last words they exchanged were: “Promise you’ll be back?” “I promise."

“You… It was you,” Callan stammered, eyes wide. “You’re the one I gave it to!” 

The air felt electric now, heavy with their memories, and the flames in the fireplace crackled louder as if echoing their discovery. The barriers they had both built around themselves began to crumble in that moment of shared intimacy, like the walls of Hogwarts that sheltered them.

Eventually, they decided to leave the piano behind and find new surroundings in the glow of the soft fire. They settled on the couch, hot cocoa warming their hands as they spoke about everything and nothing, the stories of their childhood merging into the fabric of this special night.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Val confided while looking at him with awe, all her limiting beliefs being proved wrong as she spoke. "Yet here we are."

"Am I dreaming?— This certainly feels like a dream; one I wouldn't dare to wake up," their eyes locked into a gaze full of unsaid words but enough for only the two of them to understand. They both let out a quick laugh as the warmth of the fireplace embraced them.

The next thing they know is that Val found herself resting her head on Cal's shoulder; a gasp of surprise welled up within him, panic mingling with elation. His heart slammed against his ribcage, each beat a reminder of this delicate moment that felt as if it would shatter with the slightest movement.

But Val was warm and secure, and he melted into the moment, letting himself breathe. She felt so right against him, his nerves quieting as they embraced the calm. 

For the first time, the shadows of loneliness began to lift, replaced by the flickering warmth of connection, the promise of something beautiful unfolding between them by the fire’s gentle embrace. 

Who would've thought that after all this time, the person they were searching for was just right in front of them? And it took a cherished shared melody to awaken the memories that their mind had forgotten over the years — but the heart always remembers.

— thank you for reading! 🫂✨

[additional notes]

🥞 i'm not a writer but i have free time and a brain full of ideas 🤪 so if my style ain't your cup of tea, just kindly skedaddle in peace ♡

🥞 non-native english speaker here! so teeny tiny grammatical errors are possible 😅

🥞 this one-shot is written by me: @savingsallow

🥞 coordinated the ideas with: @girl-named-matty ♡