#sad songs. it’ll always be sad songs that do it to me

[fragilecapric0rnn]

Springsteen’s Nebraska is single-handedly reigniting the writing part of my brain this fine Sunday night

[ellegreenawey]

good morning i’m gonna ramble my speak now tv thoughts in the tags because i have a LOT

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 29] First Day of School

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

*Making a very important poll soon (aka in a few minutes)❤️

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Does this look okay?” Ren walks into your room with the cutest outfit imaginable. Today is the day: his first day of kindergarten. You’re nearly in tears every time you look at him, not being able to believe that your baby boy is ready to go to school. He’s so excited for it, and you don’t want to shatter it by crying 

“You look so handsome, baby. Go show your daddy.” You tell him, knowing that Satoru is downstairs trying to make Ren’s bento box perfect. You need a moment to let yourself cry and compose yourself before you drop him off. He’s just a baby, why do you have to send him to school?

Ren nods in response, and walks out of your room to go to where his father is. You take a deep breath, trying to contain yourself. It’s his first day of school, you’re not sending him off to war. It’s just hard to accept that your child is growing up so fast.

The baby that you were just carrying in your arms is going to school. You have to gather yourself, you can’t be a mess in front of Ren who is already scared of what awaits him. Satoru is going to comfort him while you figure something out.

“Hey, buddy. Are you ready?” The biggest smile comes to Satoru’s lips as he sees his son walk towards him. Satoru tries to finish the special lunch that he’s been set on making for Ren, before his son gets to him.

“I am. Waiting for mommy.” Ren answers, and it tugs Satoru’s heart. For how much longer is Ren going to call you mommy? When will it just be mom? Satoru takes a deep breath, he knew that spending too much time with you meant that your sadness would become infectious. 

“What do you want for breakfast? Cereal?” Satoru asks, and Ren nods in response. He doesn’t really care to have a more intricate breakfast, he’s not that hungry this early. 

“Will school always be this early?” Ren questions, walking over to the informal dining table that’s in the kitchen. Satoru chuckles, knowing that it gets worse from here– At least kindergarten isn’t too bad.

“It’ll always be at the same time.” Satoru answers, and he sees the frown that appears on Ren’s face. That just ruined everything for the little boy, and Satoru can’t blame him. “But hey, if you cooperate I’ll let you sleep in on Saturday and Sunday.”

“Really?” A hopeful spark appears in Ren’s eyes, and Satoru almost feels bad. He’ll do whatever will work.

“Yes sir.” Satoru smirks. Ren loves the deal, therefore he’ll cooperate as much as he has to. Satoru has this whole parenting thing under wraps. He walks over to Ren, putting the bowl of cereal in front of Ren, “Eat up, honey. You have a long day ahead of you.”

“Okay, I’m ready!” You announce, walking into the kitchen to find Satoru and Ren sitting together. Tears well up in your eyes as you see the pair and you hold your breath, 

“Actually, give me a minute.”

“Can you replay the song?” Ren asks, and Satoru wastes no time in starting the song over again and turning it up to max volume. Anything to drown out the sniffles that come from you. You’re almost at the school, you need to gather yourself. Ren can’t see you crying like this.

“Baby shark is not that sad for you to be reacting like this.”  Satoru tries to joke, which only makes you sob. He’d love to join you in the crying, but someone has to be strong for Ren. “You must really hate the song.”

“Shut up.” You tell him in complete tears. He’s trying to cheer you up but nothing is working today. You have to soothe yourself. Your son is going to be fine.

“We’re almost at the school.” Satoru announces, and Ren looks outside the car excitedly. Satoru’s word of mouth worked, and the child is more than excited to go to school. Though Satoru’s announcement is more for you, his way of telling you to gather yourself. 

“Replay the song!” Ren yells, and Satoru does as the child asks. Ren will be getting out of the car soon enough so Satoru doesn’t mind listening to the song a couple more times. 

“He’s going to be fine.” Satoru tells you, knowing that Ren is too busy listening to his song to hear what Satoru has to say.

“He’s growing up too fast.” You say, and Satoru pouts. Bringing that up makes him want to cry too but he can’t. Satoru’s already missed so much, and he’s going to miss more. But it’s fine. Ren is going to be fine, and he’s excited to go to school. 

“We’re here.” Satoru turns off the radio, handing you his handkerchief so you can clean your face. You have to control yourself for at least ten minutes, then you can cry all you want. Ren takes off his seatbelt before his face presses against the car window, looking at the surroundings. 

“It’s big.” Ren comments which earns a chuckle from the both of you. Your house is almost as big, you have no idea why he’s shocked. You take one final deep breath before opening your car door. You can hold back the tears. 

“Alright, let’s go. We’re going to be late.” You say, and Satoru fights back a smile. At least you’re putting up a strong fort.  

You get Ren out of the car, and before you begin the walk to the entrance, you take a couple of photos of the child. You’re finally able to do it without crying, so you take as much as you can. Ren with a backpack nearly twice his size and a lunchbox as big as him. He’s a Gojo, he’ll be your height in no time. 

“Were you crying?” Ren looks up at you, seeing how your eyes look puffy. The question makes you want to burst into tears again. 

“Why would I be?” You furrow your brows, trying to play it off. That’s good enough to deter Ren from questioning it any further. Ren takes your hand, and you squeeze it. “Are you excited, baby? It’s a very big day.”

“I am.” Ren smiles at you, and you melt. He’s going to have so much fun and learn new things, you shouldn’t worry. 

“Stop!” Satoru nearly yells when you’re at the entrance. You both look back at him, confused why he suddenly yells. “Let me take a picture of the two of you.”

“You don’t have to yell like a maniac next time you want a picture.” You tell him, getting ready for a picture with Ren as Satoru takes his phone out. You signal Ren to come closer, and once he’s close enough, you both smile at Satoru’s phone. 

“And for the record, I didn’t yell like a maniac.” Satoru says after he takes enough pictures of the two of you. You think you’re done, but he hands the phone to you. He wants you to do the same for him and Ren, which you have no issue doing. You might be a little late but who cares? The first day of kindergarten isn’t that big of a deal. 

“Alright you two, say cheese.” You can’t help but smile as you see your two boys share the same smile as they look at the camera. You hurry up, seeing that Ren is growing sick of taking photos. You don’t take as many pictures as Satoru did, but it’s good enough, he doesn’t need fifty variations of the same picture. 

“Alright, let’s go.” You hand the phone back to Satoru, before you open the door to the school. You’ll admit, it’s nice knowing that you won’t be stuck within the halls this time around… You do feel slightly bad for your son, but he’ll for sure enjoy it the first years. 

“Do you need help with your backpack, buddy?” Satoru asks, seeing how the end of the backpack hits the child’s calves.

“I can handle it!” Ren claims, immediately getting defensive. He’s in a space with kids his age, he has to look like a big boy. Satoru chuckles, claiming,

“I won’t take it from you, no need to answer like that.” 

You begin to get nervous as you approach the classroom. Leaving your baby alone in a classroom full of kids with a woman that you barely know is nerve wracking to say the least. Satoru looks fine, you should be more than fine as well.

“This is the classroom.” Satoru announces when you nearly walk past it. The teacher waits outside with the door open and a warm welcoming smile on her face. This is it. Satoru takes over, telling his son,  “Alright, Ren. Greet your teacher and go inside.”

“How about a goodbye first?” You say, glaring back at Satoru for sending off your child without even getting a proper farewell. Ren waves at the two of you before walking into his classroom as if you didn’t matter. You stick out your bottom lip as you look at Satoru, “He’s a big boy now.”

“Let’s get out of here before the waterworks begin.” Satoru throws his arm over your shoulder and tries to guide you outside, awkwardly waving at Ren’s teacher. He’d stick around and talk to her some more (though the emails and meet-the-teacher night should be more than enough), but he has to make sure that you don’t begin to cry outside of the classroom. 

“He doesn’t even want to say goodbye to his mommy, what have we done?” You let out a cry, and Satoru tries his best to calm you down. Teachers are outside, waiting for their respective students, he doesn’t need them staring at you. 

“How about I take you to breakfast?” Satoru asks, hoping that it’ll take your mind off crying. Truthfully, he might begin to cry too. “Heard there’s a good place around here, won’t you like to try it?”

“I’m not hungry.” You answer, your appetite completely gone from the lack of reaction from your son. Like father like son or whatever they say. 

“A beautiful face like yours has to eat, c’mon.” Satoru insists, and you sigh. Your stomach growls, giving it away. You’re hungry and you can’t deny it, but you don’t want to eat. Satoru hears it, but he knows you won’t change your mind that easily. “Fine, but I’m still stopping to get something for myself.”

“Yeah, whatever. Take me to get breakfast.” You roll your eyes. His plan has succeeded, right now you’re not crying because Ren entered his classroom without giving you a hug. 

“It’s a date.” He says, which earns a weird look from you. It makes him feel nervous, and he scratches the back of his neck before asking, “Is it a date?”

“It’s…” You begin but you stop yourself. You’re not sure. Do you want to give him that slight bit of hope that you can get back together? 

You clear your throat before telling him, “I’ll decide after.”

[thatdesigirl17]

you and i

toxic!theo x fem!reader

kinda inspired by the song you&I by one direction

warnings: theo being toxic and manipulative, slight angst, theo may seem a bit possessive and territorial

It had been going on for months now. The constant fighting, the making up, the arguing again, it had converted into a cycle with Theo. Today, another misunderstanding led Theo to storm out of Y/N’s dorm, leaving her alone to dwell in her frustration and sadness. It had become excessively frustrating for Y/N, the way Theo would never listen to her, would never talk things out. He would always avoid the conversation, he had become an expert really in getting out of it. Her friends had started to tell her that this was toxic, that he wasn't good for her. That was what had started the argument this time, her friends 'interfering' in their relationship as Theo had phrased it. Y/N sat on the ground, her knees tucked in her arms towards her chest, her chin resting on them, as she thought over her relationship with Theo. She loved him, and he always seemed to know what exactly to say to win her again but it was getting exhausting to be like this. 

The door to her dorm opened slowly, pausing her thoughts midway as she looked up to see who it was. Theo, of course. He was standing there with a bouquet and a small carry bag in his bag. The slightest bit of a smirk appeared on his face as he took in the sight of her. 

‘What do you want?’, Y/N asked slowly, her voice low, her words making him frown slightly. ‘Bella, I shouldn’t have fought with you like that. You know I love you right?’, he said, coming closer to her. He handed out the bouquet of white lilies, her favourites, to her. It was neatly packed in brown paper, tied securely with a white ribbon, the arrangement of lilies done with white orchids and baby's breath. 

'Theo...', she sighed accepting the bouquet and placing it next to her on the floor. He crouched down beside her, setting the other bag on the floor. She shifted her position on the floor, crossing her legs, sitting up straighter to face him. 'Why do you always have to avoid talking things out? It’ll just be so much better for the both of us.’, she started, trying to get him to talk, her hand on his forearm. ‘Cara, please, let’s just forget about it okay? Both of us said things we didn’t mean.’, he said, his voice silky smooth. Y/N looked at him, knowing that he couldn’t get out of talking this time that easily, Theo sat down in front of her, cupping her cheek and caressing it gently. 

‘Cara mia…’, he started, his eyes pleading and full of sincerity, ‘I know we have been arguing a lot lately, but we love each other more than that. I know you think your friends are right, but they don't know anything about us, about how we make this relationship work. Did they ever fight like us? Did they ever hold each other like us? We see things differently, amore, but we try, like no one ever has and that’s what makes us special. That’s what makes us stronger.’ 

Y/N looked at him feeling herself get swayed by his words again. No matter how hard she tried, she knew he loved her and she loved him. She knew she would go back to him, he would make her come back. 

‘Y/N…’, he said in a soft voice. Her name on his lips further crumbled her doubts about him. ‘Amore mia, we can make it till the end, till we are one. I know it, I believe in us. Nothing has come between you and I, definitely not some silly argument like this. Do you believe in me? In us?’ 

Theo looked at her, his eyes full of hope. Y/N nodded, making Theo smile, as he leaned in, pulled her closer and kissed her. It was soft and passionate. ‘That’s my girl.’, he smiled pulling away, 'Promise me you won't let anyone get to your head again.' 

He held her gaze, searching her eyes for any reaction. Y/N nodded slowly, her hand coming up to rest on his wrist and caress him reassuringly, a small smile breaking out on her face. Her words made him grin, as he gave her a quick peck on the lips, before continuing, ‘I planned to take you out on a nice dinner tonight, and then give you this, but I think here will have to do.’  He turned slightly, picking up the bag that rested on the floor, beside them. 

He handed her the bag and she opened it carefully to reveal a square, red box that read ‘Cartier’ in neat cursive. She looked at him a bit surprised as she opened the box. In the box, laid a beautiful bracelet made of white gold and diamonds, the classic Cartier design. ‘My god Theo, this is beautiful. It must have cost a lot, you didn’t have to do this.’, Y/N said, her fingers gently tracing the piece of jewellery. ‘Anything for you, cara. Don’t worry about anything and let me put it on, yeah?’, he smiled. 

He gently picked up the bracelet, opened the clasp and then put it on her left wrist. He then pulled up a small driver out of the pocket of his jacket as Y/N eyed him with confusion. 

He chuckled, ‘It’s a Cartier love bracelet, Bella.’ He tightened the bracelet with the driver and caressed it on her wrist. The sight made him smirk softly. Holding her hand, he brought it up and kissed her knuckles. ‘It can’t be taken off without the driver. You’ll wear this forever now, as a symbol of our love.’, he explained, her eyes widening in surprise. Before she could say anything, he continued, his voice soft but firm, ‘Nothing can separate you and I now, amore, not even the gods. I’m gonna throw the driver in the Black Lake so that it’s always there on your wrist. You’re mine, Y/N, forever.’ 

[starkeynation]

I love you, I’m sorry

A letter from reader to Rafe

Content: Angst, like PURE sad, the lamp looks weird, based on the song I love you, I’m sorry by Gracie Abrams (may or may not be accurate)

A/N: about that cliffhanger and happy ending, I changed my mind… also ignore any writing mistakes if there’s any and this was kinda rushed so I hope it still turns out good

Masterlist

dividers from @anitalenia

Rafe,

It is Saturday night. I should be out doing something, partying or whatever to enjoy myself, yet here i am, pen in hand, finding myself writing to you again. I know this letter will never reach you- it’ll end up crumpled at the bottom of my drawer or burned to ashes. Still, I can’t seem to stop myself.

It has been exactly two august ago since everything fell apart. I remember the way I laid it all out, raw, I wanted to be real, hoping that honesty would mend us. We weren’t perfect. Hell, we were far from it. We fought like fire and gasoline, burning everything we touched. Jealousy leads us to mistrust each other but even then, I didn’t think it would end the way it did. I never thought that fight would be the last..the final, devastating blow before you ghosted me and blocked me everywhere.

I swear it wasn’t my intention to break up with you, I thought by exposing the cracks, we could patch them together. Instead, the truth just ended up pushing you away. When you drove off in your Benz and left me standing at my gate, it felt like everything had stopped. The time, the world, my heart…everything froze. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to scream, I wanted to stop you, beg you to stay, to tell you that we could still save us but you didn’t look back, and i was too late.

Now, i watch you from a distance as you become successful, helping your dad doing business, running Cameron’s development like you were born to do it. I heard your name whispered in admiration at the club where I work, how you charm people the way you trained for. And you know what? I’m so so proud of you Rafe. I always knew you had it in you. I’ll be rooting for you always, even from the shadows.

Maybe two summers from now we’ll be talking again at some point, exchange smiles, our lives untangled and we’re cool again. I can picture you’ll be in your family’s jet, travelling, and me, on my boat moving on with our own lives. By then, i hope..im actually ready to move on. I know you’ve already moved on- I mean, why wouldn’t you? Still, there’s part of me wish that you wouldn’t yet, and maybe, just maybe, you would take me back.

But that’s just selfish isn’t it? I was selfish when we were together too. I made everything about me, i was inconsiderate, I turn something small into raging battles. I didn’t listen, didn’t see you for who you were. I’m ashamed of the person I was, of the mistakes I made. After everything i did, I’m surprised you haven’t send someone to kill me yet.

Lately I find myself sitting on the porch, watching sunsets like we used to, with a glass of something strong in my hand. I laugh at myself, at the crash I made, because what else can I do? It’s a twisted kind of coping—laughing at my own heartbreak. It doesn’t feel real and it’s really hard to let go but i guess that’s just the way life goes.

I know i was a dick, Rafe. I had too many flaws to count but as sick as it sounds, I loved you first. You’ll always be my first love. You were the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me, a storm that left me shattered but alive. Your love had impact me deeply, it is carved in my soul. No matter where we are, i want you to know that I’ll carry the past and the weight of my mistakes with me. Trust me, it will always, haunt me.

I regret every second for not treating you well, for not being the person you needed. Lastly, i want you to know that I still, truly, deeply, love you, I’m sorry.

*Ding* you heard the bell rings. You rush downstairs to answer the door.

“Pizza delivery”, says the delivery boy standing in front of you. You almost forgot you ordered one, an hour ago. You take your prepaid alfredo chicken pizza and thank him. It was Rafe’s favourite pizza, you’re not sure if it’s still his favourite though. After shutting the door, you walk to your kitchen.

Just two seconds later, *ding* the bell rings again. Did the delivery boy forget anything? You thought.

You open the door, “yes-“ you pause. You couldn’t believe it, standing right in front of you,

“Topper?”

“Topper what are you doing here?” you ask, your voice laced with confusion.

He then steps aside and reveals a man behind him, lying on the steps of your porch- a man whose silhouette you’d recognize anywhere. “Rafe,” you whisper.

“Shit I’m sorry to bother you but this dumbass got into an accident for driving while he’s high,” Topper blurts out, panickly.

Your brow furrowing and your confusion deepens. You walk closer to Rafe and spot the blood dripping from his head, “Accident? What? Then why do you bring him here instead of the hospital?” You ask, your voice sharp, slicing through the chaos of the moment.

“He won’t let me. He insisted I bring him here to see you,” Topper explains.

“Y/n,” Rafe speaks up, his voice low and strained.

Your heart skips a beat. It’s like the universe has stopped spinning again. This is the first time you hear him calling your name after two whole years.

“Hey Rafe, you’re bleeding,” you say, your voice mix with feelings.

“I’m fine,” he says, giving a soft, disarming smile while trying to sit up.

You instruct Topper to go find some cloth to stop the bleeding. As he dissapears, you sit on your knees facing to Rafe, “Rafe, what happened? Why are you here?” you ask, still have no clue of what’s going on here.

“I wanted to see you,” he replies, putting on that damn smile again, the one that’s always managed to unravel you. “I miss you, y/n.”

Your face goes pale, your eyes widens, the words hang in the hair, heavy and unexpected. “Rafe, you’re drunk,” you accuse, trying to make sense of what’s happening right now.

“No, I’m not, i swear I’m very conscious right now,” he insists, his voice firm. You’re still not sure if he’s telling the truth or not. “I really miss you, y/n,” he continues, his voice low but still clear for you to hear it.

Your heart aches, torn between disbelief and the undeniable pull of his words. “How hard did you hit your head? God, you’re still bleeding. We need to see a doctor,” you say, trying to stand up, but he grabs your hand, pulling you back down.

“Stop it, I’m fine i swear…this is nothing,” he says waving off the concern. Just then, Topper returns with a towel in his hand. He hands the towel to you and says, “dude, are you sure you’re okay? When i saw your car there were smokes everywhere. Looks like you hit that tree pretty hard,” his voice fill with concern.

“I’m fine Top, just go. I need to talk to y/n,” Rafe says with a dismissive wave. Topper hesitates, he looks at you for confirmation as if you’re the one in charge here. You nod at him, signalling an approval, “s’okay Top i can handle this.”

“Okay, just call me if anything happens,” he says. “Thank you,” you mutter softly to Topper as he’s leaving towards his car.

With Topper gone, you shift your focus back to Rafe. You take the towel and start dabbing on the blood on his forehead, “we still need to get this stitched up,” you say. Rafe then grabs your wrist, his grip firm but not forceful, “look at me,” he demands.

You look at him straight in the eyes, drowning in his blue eyes. It’s overwhelming- staring at the man that you love but no longer yours.

“I do mean what i said, i miss you y/n and i wanted to see you,” he says, his tone steady and sure.

“But why now?” You ask, your voice breaking under the weight of the question.

“Sar..Sarah told me tonight that you’ve been writing letters about me. She found them stashed under your bed,” he says, hesitantly.

Your stomach drops and you shake your head in disbelief, “God…i knew it there was something wrong. She was acting so weird when she left this morning,” you mutter.

“So it’s true? You’ve been writing about me?”

Your face is turning red, you’re struggling to find the words. “I- yes…I’ve been writing letters. Pretending like I’m gonna send it to you but i never do,” you stutter.

“Why didn’t you just send them?” He presses, his voice low, almost pleading.

“You know why Rafe…you’ve moved on. You blocked me few months after we broke up. You’re thriving now with your job, you got your whole life together, and I- I was the reason why we broke up. I can’t just crawl my way back into your life like nothing happened,” you shatter, your voice breaking as you’re struggling to control your tears.

Rafe shakes his head. He brushes his thumb over your knuckles and kisses it. “You’re wrong y/n, you’re absolutely wrong. I’ve been doing nothing over the past two years except than trying to forget about you. That’s why I’ve been doing all these jobs, thinking it could distract me, but no,” he shakes his head again. “Nothing could make me stop thinking about you.”

His confession leaves you breathless, your tears streaming down your face as he continues. “About the blocking and disappearing, I’m really sorry, I was a coward. The truth is, that day i came to your house to apologize. Then, as I stood outside, i saw you were laughing with jj through your window. I knew you guys were not together cause after jj left, I may or may not have confronted him…” he then mouthed sorry. “But then, I remember the way you looked so happy when you’re with him. At that time, I knew I had to let you go cause you deserve someone better and you deserve to be happy so that’s why I blocked you..as if that makes any difference.”

You idiot,” you scoff. “I never wanted anyone else, only you Rafe, only you. You’re the only one who could truly make me happy.”

His eyes glisten, his smile soft and hesitant. “Please forgive me y/n, I swear I’m a better person now and I love- I love you, so much. I still do.”

You reach up, caress his cheek and pull him in for a kiss. “I love you too Rafe,” you whisper. He cups your face and returns the kiss. The kiss is passionate, slow and tender. His lip is so soft and only god knows how much you miss this. The world fades around you, leaving only the two of you, two broken pieces finding their way back to each other.

You pull away from his face and let out a giggle. “Why are you laughing?” He asks, can’t help but let out a soft giggle too.

“Before you came I was actually writing another letter for you,” you admit, a shy smile appears on your face.

“Oh really? Tell me about it baby,” he smirks. Your smile widens at the sound of the nickname that rolls out from his mouth. “Mm I miss that. You, calling me baby. Anyways, it’s in my room, wanna come in?” You ask.

He shakes his head, pulling you closer as he leans back against the stairs railing. “Hmm in a bit sweetheart, you can tell me here while we stargaze. I missed your porch- and mostly you, of course,” he replies with a faint smile.

So you do. You talk to him about the letter while your head rest on his shoulder and your fingers intertwined. “Lastly I wrote, I love you, I’m sorry,” you say, explaining the last content of the letter. But then, you realise he has gone quiet. His stillness unsettling. You glance up to him, “Rafe?” He’s not responding. You check his pulse but there is none. Panic sets in as you shake him, calling his name.

“Rafe”

“Rafe, wake up”

“Wake up!”

“Wake up!”

“Y/n”

“Y/n”

“Y/n, wake up”

You gasp, your heart is pounding like a drum. You’re sweating all over your body as reality crashes down. It was a nightmare.

“Hey..baby you okay?” You turn your head to your right and realise it’s Rafe. He’s okay, he’s alive and he’s sitting on the bed next to you. Relief floods through you like a tidal wave.

“Is it the nightmare again?” He asks. You nod, signalling him that he’s right.

“It’s okay baby I got you. Here, come back to sleep,” he says, gently pulling you into his arms. You smile and cuddle him, clinging to the illusion of safety his embrace provides. You close your eyes again trying to fall back to sleep till your alarm suddenly rings.

You wake up with a tear running down your cheek. You hit the snooze button and realise that was a dream and this time, it’s the true reality. You look to the other side of your bed, it’s empty. It always has been for quite a while now. The truth is, that night after Rafe collapsed, you called for an ambulance. On the way to the hospital, they try everything to make his heart beat again, but nothing works. It was too late. He had lost too many blood before that you weren’t aware of and that same night, Rafe had died in your arms.

It’s been 3 years since the tragic. You keep having the same dream almost every night. Part of you is grateful that you and Rafe had ended in good terms but another part of you knows that the truth is you’ll never get the chance to redeem yourself and be a better partner. There’s nothing remaining other than the memories that will haunt you forever.

Rafe, if you’re hearing this, I love you, I’m sorry.

Like and reblog if you want to kys after reading this😇☺️

[navybrat817]

The Dad Diaries: Grief

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky explains grief to Jamie as best as he can when you need a minute to yourself. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, touch of fluff, grief, loss of a friend, reflecting, talk of death, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?). A/N: Another part to the The Dad Diaries . Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky could hear your cries before he reached the bedroom, the sound causing a lump to form in his throat. He could picture you hastily wiping at your face when he knocked. You were in pain and it hurt him to know you were hurting. The worst part was that it wasn’t the kind of pain he could fix by patching it up. It was the kind of hurt that lingered beneath the surface before it clawed its way out.

Grief.

“Do you need anything, doll?” He asked.

“Just give me a minute, please!” You called out, your voice close to sounding like your normal self. You were trying your best to be strong when what you needed was a moment to break. People didn’t realize the weight of the things they carried until they buckled under them.

And you didn’t need to be strong all the time.

“Mama?” Jamie asked, reaching a hand out toward the door.

Bucky kissed the top of his head. “Mama needs a minute,” he whispered before he held him against his chest. He hoped his smell and steady heart beat soothed him. “She’ll snuggle up with you soon, okay?”

If anything could make you feel better apart from being in his arms, it was having your son nuzzle against you.

Jamie made a small sound, his lower lip trembling. “Mama,” he said again.

Bucky didn’t take it to heart that his son wanted you. He understood that there were days when he’d want his dad and other days he’d want his mom and times when he’d want both of you. If anything, he felt proud that his son wanted to go to you. Maybe he sensed that you needed support and love.

“I know you want your mama,” he said, carrying him back to the living room. “But you are stuck with me for another minute.”

Jamie moved his head, his eyes set in a stubborn stare. He looked so much like you at that moment, demanding with a look to know what was the matter and how to fix it. What could he say?

“Jamie, you know how you have your Uncle Steve and Uncle Sam and Aunt Nat and everyone else?” He asked, a sad smile touching his lips at the happy look in his little boy’s eyes at the mention of his friends. He wanted his child to hold onto that innocence for as long as he could. “Well, your mama had a friend who was going to be like an aunt to you, too.”

Was. Past tense. Because your friend recently passed away. You wondered if she knew how important she was to you. If she knew how she impacted your life. She was too young in your eyes to go. Still had so many things she wanted to do. While death is fair in that it comes for everyone, it doesn’t always feel fair when someone you care for is taken away too soon.

The one thing you were thankful for was that she was no longer in pain.

“Mama’s friend, your aunt, isn’t here anymore. She misses her and she’s sad that she’s gone.”

“Mama sad?” Jamie repeated, his eyes wide.

“Yeah, Nugget. She’s very sad. Grieving. And grief is… so many things,” Bucky explained, swallowing a bit as he felt a crack in his heart. “It’s loss and mourning. It’s love that you carry inside and it no longer has a place to go.”

Jamie gazed at him, soaking up every word. His son was too young to hear something like this. Too precious. But if life taught him anything, it’s that it was too short and there was no guarantee of tomorrow.

“Some days the grief comes out of nowhere. You never really know when it’ll happen or why. You may hear a song you’ve heard dozens of times before or catch a scent of something familiar and it triggers a memory or feeling,” he told him, kissing his forehead again because he needed to ground himself. “You think you’re fine and then you fall apart.”

That was exactly what had happened a few minutes prior. You were smiling one moment as the three of you sat in the living room and the next you burst into tears before you rushed out. Bucky wished like hell he could’ve manifested your sadness into something tangible so he could snuff it out. It wasn’t his battle to fight, but he could be by your side to wipe the tears away if you let him. Or whisper words of care. Or to say nothing at all. Some didn’t always want to hear words of comfort or hope when they just needed to feel.

He would be there to give you whatever you needed or asked for.

“It’s okay to feel those feelings, Jamie. I get sad, too. There’s no timeline for healing or grieving. It takes as long as it takes. And we’re lucky in a way to feel things so strongly,” he told him. You were always understanding and patient on his off days. He more than lucked out by having you as his wife. “You know what your Uncle Vis says grief is? That it’s love persevering,” he added, bouncing him a bit to make him smile. It put a smile on his face, too. “And your mama has so much love to give.”

“So do you.”

Bucky looked toward the doorway where you stood. Bloodshot and puffy eyes, but with a small smile on your beautiful face. He wanted to hold you and remind you that you weren’t alone. “Hey,” he said as Jamie reached for you. “I think he wants to cheer you up.”

“Is that right? Well, I think a snuggle with my boys is just the thing I need,” you said as you took a seat beside Bucky and took Jamie into your arms. “Sorry I rushed off like that.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky whispered. He had plenty of moments where he needed to step away and compose himself when his thoughts got too loud. “We just want you to be okay,” he added, kissing your temple before Jamie grabbed your face.

“Mama no sad,” he said, forcing your cheeks up in a smile. The sight almost brought tears to Bucky’s eyes because it was so simple and heartfelt. “No sad.”

You giggled, a soft sound, before it erupted into full blown laughter. It soothed the crack he felt earlier in his heart. The room felt brighter, especially when Jamie joined in with the laughter. “Not sad, Nugget,” you assured him before you looked at your husband, love shining through like always. “Not anymore.”

The grief from your loss would come again in waves. Just like the days Bucky mourned the parts of his life he lost and couldn’t get back. Some days were harder than others, especially when regret and “what if’s” came to mind, but the important thing was that neither of you allowed yourselves to live alone or lose yourselves in grief. Not when there was so much to be thankful for.

You felt what you needed to feel. You asked for help and leaned on each other. And you carried on together.

Because what is grief, if not love persevering?

I lost more than one loved one recently and writing this helped me process some of the loss. We all need someone like Bucky. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[springgirlshowers]

Tell Your Lucky One

Pairing: Joost Klein x GN!Reader (no prns used!)

CW: crying, just emotional angsty shit

WC: 832

A/N: lil angsty song fic, listen to Beach Baby by Bon Iver if you haven’t 🙏🏻🙏🏻 this has been in my drafts for a hot min so here you go! ignore how i used the same prompt i did in my last fic 😭😭

“Liefje, you know these dates were planned months ago.” Joost sighed, rolling his suitcase by the couch while you waited in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I know, I just didn’t know the time was gonna pass so quick.”

“It’ll pass quickly when I’m gone too. I’ll be back home before you know it.” He said, entering the doorway. Joost sat down next to you,

“Two months.” You whispered, trying to convince yourself it wouldn’t be that long.

“Teuns gonna pick me up tonight and then I’ll have to get going.” You purposely didn’t ask what specific time he was leaving, you didn’t want to. You knew if he was leaving at a certain time you’d spend the whole night dreading the hour.

The sun was already setting, casting a golden glow on his face.

“I’ll text you and video chat every night, whenever I can. Maybe, I’ll even call you on stage.” He teased, tickling the side of your waist.

“There’s a smile!” He grinned when you squirmed away and giggled a bit.

You shuffled closer, throwing your legs over his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and laying your head on his shoulder.

You stayed there for a little, silent while Joost rubbed your back. Joost felt a few drops hit his shirt, he craned his neck to look at you.

“Hey, don’t cry liefje.” He cupped your face, wiping away the tears.

“I’m sorry.” You said, sniffling. “I’m just gonna miss you so much.” You didn’t mean to say it through a sob. Joost made a sympathetic noise.

His heart broke, he desperately wanted to bring you along, but he really couldn’t bring any more people on this tour and you had your own responsibilities to take care of.

“The two months will go by so fast you won’t even realize.” He tried to give you a smile.

You felt stupid crying over this, feeling like a child again, sitting in his lap and crying over a dropped lollipop.

You turned your face to the side, trying to hide it from him.

“Hey, look at me. I wanna see you.” You shook your head.

“I don’t look pretty when I cry, my face gets all pink and blotchy.” You said through a sad laugh. He brought his fingers under your chin, pulling your gaze back to him.

“I love your face, even if it’s all pink and blotchy.” He kissed the tip of your nose, you smiled.

You maneuvered yourself off of him, going back to your original spot next to him. Sitting in silence once again.

“Can you do one favor for me?” You looked at your hands, too nervous to look at him.

“Ja, ja of course.” He tried to look in your eyes.

“Just don’t lock the door when you go, I don’t want to hear you leaving.” You said softly.

Joost wanted to refuse and tell you how it was a risk. But you lived in a quiet and safe area.

And if it helped keep him from breaking your heart any more, he would do it for you.

“Okay.” He said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. It hurt how he noticed the way you didn’t lean into the kiss like you always would. You only sat there silent, staring at your fidgeting hands.

“Will you just lay with me for a little bit?” You finally looked at him, lip pouting a tiny amount. He let out a hum of agreement.

You both moved to the top of the bed, shuffling under the sheets. His chest pressed against your back, holding onto your waist so tightly.

You grabbed one of his hands, intertwining your fingers, and holding his and your hand against your chest.

Trying desperately to keep any more tears from escaping, you shut your eyes.

Staying there, so comfortable and so tired. You eventually drifted off into sleep, you didn’t mean to.

Joost didn’t wake you, knowing you didn’t want to see him leave. Once 8PM arrived, Joost carefully removed his arms from you. Walking around the bed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and tucking the sheets over you. So gentle to not wake you up, only making you stir a bit.

He did as you asked, closing the door as quietly as he could, not locking it before he stepped down the stairs.

You woke up later than you expected, it was nearly ten by the time you turned over and your eyes fluttered open. Instead of being met with Joosts warm body, it was only the cold empty sheets next to you.

You slowly got up and out the bed, going into the living room as you rubbed your eyes of sleep. His suitcase and bags gone.

Sitting down on the couch, you took in the moonlight peeking through the blinds and the sad quietness of the apartment. Hoping these two months would go by as quick as he said they would.

[shaunamilfman]

Dating Ghost!Jackie Headcanons

pairing: Jackie Taylor x r note: I'm not sure what this is either 🤷

Jackie being a pain in your ass beyond the grave. maybe not getting on with her super well while she was alive, so while her death was sad, it wasn’t nearly as emotionally devastating as it was for Shauna or someone else. so when you suddenly start seeing Jackie standing behind Shauna and trying to get her attention as she sobs over Jackie’s corpse, you wonder why you of all people would “hallucinate” her.

she finally notices you can see her when you can’t quite muffle your laugh at some petty comment she makes as the girls start carrying her body off to the meatshed. her eyes immediately narrow in on you while you’re just standing like a deer in the headlights.

just thinking about Shauna out there sobbing and crying in the meatshed with Jackie's corpse while Jackie's screaming in your ear because you won’t respond to her and she knows your ass can see her. at the top of her fucking lungs like a damn toddler. keeps switching into songs that give Crystal and Misty a run for their money on being annoying. holding a pillow over your head and groaning to drown her out, and Lottie’s trying to put a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, thinking it's hunger pain or something.

she doesn’t talk as much as she did before—not that she ever really talked to you all that much to begin with. Jackie stares after Shauna a lot, following her around and trying fruitlessly to get her to hear her. she’s quiet a lot now, but if she’s not at Shauna’s side, she’s at yours. 

you finally give up and start answering her whenever you’re mostly alone, claiming it’s just because you’ve accepted that you’re crazy now—though it’s mostly because she just looks so damn sad all the time. she brightens up a lot after this, following you like a lost puppy as you find the emptiest corners of the room to sit in. the other girls sometimes catch you talking to yourself, but with how everyone else is doing, they don’t bother to be concerned about it.

makes it her mission to annoy you as much as humanly possible, commenting on every little thing you’re doing like she’s a game show host. if you have to listen to Jackie narrate the way you eat one more time, you might just join her. always finds the worst time to jump out at you, giggling as she makes you look insane for screaming in shock in the middle of the cabin.

Jackie knocks stuff over whenever the other girls start talking shit about Shauna’s behavior in the meatshed. she doesn’t talk a lot about what Shauna does there, but she always looks strangely flattered when she comes back.

keeps you up to date on all the little drama’s going on in the cabin that you don’t witness. there’s literally no stopping her from eavesdropping on conversations and giving you a play-by-play as they happen. sometimes you just hear a dramatic gasp as her ghostly ass is skipping over to you to tell you about it.

bullies you into giving some of your food to Shauna. Shauna looks at you like you’re crazy but eagerly accepts it all the same. Jackie is standing there looking so proud of herself, like she’s the one that’s going to be starving and not you.

you have weird dreams almost every night. they aren’t unpleasant, just a little strange. they’re always about Jackie, always in places you think she would’ve enjoyed. walking around the mall, passing the ball around on the field, that sort of thing. you don’t think much of it until Jackie mentions something in passing one day about it.

guilt trips you into doing things for her all the time. “Do you remember that time you let me go outside and die in the snow?” and then “yeah, that’s what I thought.” when you roll your eyes and go do it.

thinking about Jackie’s emotions bleeding over onto you. Jackie’s always felt everything so strongly, and this only seems to get worse after she’s died. you can literally feel her longing so strongly that it’ll wake you up in the middle of the night, just to find Jackie staring at you with the softest little look. you aren’t sure how to feel about it at first, but it’s better than feeling her grief.

who’s going to tell the dead girl she can’t have a little crush after all? besides, it’s not like you’re uninterested: Jackie’s the prettiest girl you’ve ever met. it’s a strange dynamic, but it’s not like either of you have a lot of options out here.

just as possessive, even in death. starts getting incredibly jealous whenever you talk to someone who’s alive. Nat’s asking if you’ve seen her headband and the fucking door slams open against the wall. you weren’t even aware she could do something like that. you can feel her eyes burning a hole into the back of your head as the whole room starts to get cold if anyone goes near you besides Shauna.

she always tries to touch you, but most of the time you can’t feel it. the only time you can is when she gets particularly emotional. a hand closing around your wrist and almost pulling you away when she gets particularly jealous about something, a finger brushing away your tears when you can’t help but cry, etc.

Jackie can’t really do much else, so she resorts to a lot of compliments. she compliments your three layers of random shirts like it was an actual fashion choice, and you finally have to draw the line. just thinking about Jackie complimenting you and then sitting cross-legged in front of you like “and now me,” all expectant.

[pressplay-if]

The player character I have in mind for Press Play is very different from the Such Happy Campers MC. They are far less of a clean slate. The Such Happy Campers MC can have different hobbies and varying childhood/past romantic experiences that can come up in conversations with the SHC ROs. However, the story of SHC is independent from the MC’s background. Whatever happens at the Camp Solace will happen regardless of whether MC has chosen to, say, be a martial artist or a painter in their free time.

By contrast, the Press Play MC’s story ties very closely to their past, especially their teenage years and time of crisis. Also, I think overall customization is far more important in Press Play than SHC. I’ve already started working on the first chapter which is lots and lots of character creation. So far, you can choose:

one of three family backgrounds for MC, all of which dysfunctional to some degree

a job MC used to do before they could support themselves through music (unemployment is also an option if your MC is too obsessed with their singing to hold down a job)

an item/gimmick for MC’s performances (MC can wear lots of eye-catching necklaces, a flower wreath, a cowboy hat, a bandana like Angel’s, multiple rings or always go on stage barefoot, which is a nod to Daisy Jones ofc)

MC’s style: they can either be unearthly/mysterious-looking or the attractive and approachable boy/girl/kid next door type (there’s a reason there’s only two options, and that reason is P. Zima… it’ll make sense, I promise)

whether MC emotes less than others

the general vibe and content/image of the band and their music, and their first couple songs

whether MC has stage fright

whether MC feels comfortable in noisy, crowded places (you can select for them to have sensory overload issues, general social anxiety issues or no issues with it at all)

how confident MC is about their performances

whether MC drinks alcohol, plus their favorite drink

That’s a lot to keep track of, and mind you, this is just the beginning. So I’m on track to finish this project in about a hundred years (sad laughter). Once the story will turn towards the MC’s hospitalization, I want to give at least three options for why MC is being treated: depression, severe social anxiety and both. I also want to give effective options for an autistic MC (since I’ve finally started feeling comfortable writing about that since I got my own diagnosis; I’ve mentioned this before in relation to Flo from SHC).  The Press Play romances are also going to be quite different, especially since I’m also considering a poly path for Press Play where the band can be… quite intimate with each other. That could include P. Zima and even Lincoln. It’d be a very different route than just all romances taken singularly, though. But given the story, I think it’d make a lot of sense (by contrast, in SHC, it really wouldn’t have). So that’s another thing I’d be writing for the first time, and I’m kind of excited for. 

Anyways, let me know your thoughts!

[urwhorecrux]

⋆ ˚⁀➷ ₊˚⊹⋆ 𝗛𝗣 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗙𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗦 - 𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗔 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗘

ft. harry potter, ron weasley, draco malfoy, cedric diggory, & james potter.

pairings. harry potter boys x gn!reader.

a/n. the last one makes me sad :( these were all so rushed lmao

warnings. mentions of anxiety, some angst?, mentions of death, gn!reader.

masterlist

— 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

you awoke in a sweat when an unexpected nightmare had occured. this one had been bad, and unusual even for you. this time it’d had been worse, voldemort actually had harry and was stronger and confident. the sounds of faint whimpering filled the room, as you felt a hand reach out for you, you awoke in a panic.

“what’s going on love?”, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a comforting hug.

you admitted the truth about your nightmare, and how you fear for his safety given everything that’s going on now.

“i know its a lot happening right now, but i’ll be here by your side throughout all of it darling.” he brings you closely and gently presses a kiss on your forehead, reassuring you that he was there.

— 𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

it had been past midnight when you woke in terror, loudly gasping for breath. ron, by your side, quickly awoke too, reaching out for your hand for comfort in the moment.

“what’s going on what happened?” he asked, attempting to quickly calm you.

before you could even start gathering your words to say, he pulled you close into his chest, mumbling his reassuring words to you.

after a while of feeling the warmth of his hug and hearing his comforting words, he cups your face pulling you close into him, asking you what’s really wrong.

“y’know, mum used to sing me this song that helped me sleep when i was little, would you want me to sing it to you love?” he suggests.

he calmly and quietly sings to you softly, as he hold you close in his arms.

— 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘

after a long day of school and studying you’d both decided to stay in his own dorm for the rest of the night, him suggesting you stay the night with him. with that, you both fell asleep in each other’s arms, happily.

with him being a light sleeper, it was easy to wake up to the sound of heavy breaths and frantic footsteps.

“y/n?, what is it?” he questions, reaching for you.

“just a really really bad dream” you say, hiding your face of tears in your hands.

“c’mon darling it’ll all be alright, just c’mere, come closer” he pulls back the duvet and makes room for you to come back to bed.

he quickly spoons you, pressing soft kisses on your forehead before mumbling his reassuring words.

— 𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘

you’d been worried and stressing due to exams, and cedric was worried about you overworking yourself and about your sleep schedule.

he made sure you stayed in his dorm so you’d been getting enough sleep.

one night quidditch practice ran late, making him stay an extra hour than usual while you wait for him in his dorm.

when he gets back he notices the lights still on, with you awake and frantically pacing across the room with teary eyes and a rough face.

“baby? what are you doing?”

you turn to him and quickly run to his arms, slightly sobbing while holding him closer.

he notices you trying to come out with words but everything came out all wrong, all in mumbles he couldn’t start to understand.

“shh no need to explain love, just let me hold you alright?” you nod as he strokes your hair, trying to softly calm you down.

after he calms you and listens to your explanation, he cuddles you back to sleep, reassuring you that he’s always there, and holding you until you fall back asleep.

— 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 (post!hogwarts)

james always makes it home from work on time just so he sees you before bed in the perfect amount of time. you’d usually wake up in the middle of the night with him already laying there even though he wasn’t there when you fell asleep, so it was quite an unusual experience when he didn’t wake up next to you.

“james?”, you call out, noticing the timestamp on the clock, which reads 3:44 am.

“james?!”, you yell louder, quickly growing suspicious of the area.

he heard your yells down the hall, quickly rushing into to the bedroom worried.

“y/n? what happened darling?”

you sigh in relief knowing he’s still here, holding out your arms and wrapping him into you.

“i thought you-“

“you thought i what love?”

you tell him the truth about your worries given everything thats going on lately, with going into hiding nightmares didn’t make anything better.

“it’s alright though love, ‘m here i promise, we’ll be safe and this will all be over soon.”

he pulls you back into bed, holding you as close as possible and for as long as he could, hoping this would never end.

[winwintea]

paranoia

PAIRING ↬ boyfriend!huang renjun x fem!reader (feat. ning yizhuo)

TAGS ↬ horror, romance, thriller, suspense, jeno is a ghost, serial killers!! and of course gay witches

WARNINGS ↬ horror, murder!!!, taxidermy (basically like convert someone into a doll), creepy dolls, ghosts, zombified people descriptions, character death !!!

SUMMARY ↬ nightmares to reality. devotion to madness. can you tell what's real and what's fake? who's the true monster in the end?

WORD COUNT ↬ 5.2k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ ummmmmmmmmmm. i can't explain this one it came to me in a car ride. drive safe y'all don't learn from me ok. title is from the cunty kang daniel song, this fic was very very music inspired, so check out all the songs listed if you'd like. pookie bae @polarisjisung beta read for me she my ride or die actually zhong chenle you're getting demoted (he was demoted ages ago)

PLAYLIST ↬ bones - taemin; paranoia - kang daniel; zombie - everglow; good girls in the dark - yena

THE COLD METAL BITES INTO YOUR SKIN,

sending a shiver up your spine as you regain consciousness. The lights flicker on and off, dimming the room. You blink, trying to make sense of your surroundings, but the room feels unfamiliar. You’ve never been here before.

Leather straps pin your wrists and ankles to the table, the edges digging into your flesh as you struggle against them. Panic surges through you as the smell of antiseptic and iron fills your nose.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Renjun’s voice is soft, almost melodic, as he steps into view. His face is bathed in the sickly yellow light from the bulb. He looks calm, almost unreadable, but his eyes seem to gleam with something dangerous. In one hand, he holds a scalpel. In the other, he cradles a small, intricately carved porcelain doll, its lifeless glass eyes staring into yours.

“Renjun,” you gasp, your voice trembling, “what are you doing? Let me go!”

He tilts his head slightly, as though considering your words. “You don’t understand,” he murmurs, his tone almost apologetic. “You’re so close to perfection. So close to being what I always knew you could be.”

The words send a chill through you. “What are you talking about? Renjun, this isn’t you! Please, you’re scaring me!”

His lips form a sad smile, but his hands remain steady as he sets the doll down on a nearby tray. The tray rattles softly, revealing more tools—scissors, needles, thread, and vials of strange liquids.

“I know you’re scared,” he says, stepping closer. “But this is for your own good. For our good. I’m going to make sure you’re... safe. Perfect.”

You thrash against the straps, desperate to break free, but they hold firm. “Renjun, stop! Whatever you’re planning, you don’t have to do this! Please, just let me go!”

His expression darkens, and for a moment, his hand hesitates. “I wish you wouldn’t struggle,” he whispers, leaning in close. You can feel his breath against your cheek, warm and steady, a cruel contrast to your racing heart. “It’ll only hurt more if you do.”

He raises the scalpel, the blade catching the dim light. It trembles slightly in his grip as though he’s fighting some internal battle. You try to scream, but the sound only echoes.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promises, his voice breaking slightly. “You won’t feel a thing, I swear.”

Tears blur your vision as you see the blade descending, inching closer to your arm. Every nerve in your body screams for escape, for salvation, but the straps hold you immobile.

“Renjun, please—”

The scalpel presses against your skin, the cold, sharp edge biting lightly—

You wake with a strangled cry. Sweat clings to your skin, and the room around you is dark and silent. Your hands tremble as you clutch the sheets, trying to ground yourself, but the phantom sensation of the blade lingers, your skin prickling where it had hovered in the dream.

Fuck.

Turning your head, you reach out instinctively to the other side of the bed… but it’s empty. Renjun’s side is cold, the covers are neatly arranged.

“Renjun?” you call softly, your voice hoarse.

Silence.

You shake your head, trying to push away the lingering dread. He must have gotten up early. Maybe he’s in the kitchen or the bathroom. You force yourself to lie back down, but your heart refuses to slow. The dream continues to play at the back of your mind

Eventually you get up and head for the kitchen. You don’t see Renjun anywhere, so you assume he’s out. But it doesn’t cease your worries. 

You hum softly to yourself as you pour batter into a pan, the comforting sizzle of pancakes mingling with the aroma of fresh coffee. For a moment, the night’s haunting dream feels like a distant memory.

But then, a new smell hits you—a sharp, metallic tang that cuts through the warmth of breakfast like a knife. It smells like blood almost…? You wrinkle your nose and glance toward the stove, assuming something might be burning.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor freezes you mid-motion.

You turn slowly, spatula clutched tightly in your hand, and nearly drop it when your eyes land on the figure seated at the table.

“Yizhuo?” The name escapes your lips in a whisper, barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

She sits perfectly still, her head tilted slightly as she watches you. Her once-lively features are now sunken and pale, a sickly greenish tint spreading across her skin. Her hair hangs in limp, tangled strands around her shoulders, and her clothes are torn and stained with dark, crusted blotches.

Most unsettling are her eyes, clouded and milky, yet piercing. They lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Good morning,” she says softly, looking at you expectantly.

You stagger back, pressing yourself against the counter. “This… This isn’t real,” you stammer. “You… You’ve been missing for weeks. You—”

“I’m dead.” Her cracked lips curve into a faint smile. “Or at least, I should be.”

The words hang heavy in the air. Your knees threaten to buckle, but you cling to the counter for support, the spatula still trembling in your grip.

“What… What’s going on? How are you here?” you demand, your voice breaking.

Yizhuo leans forward slightly, her movements slow and deliberate. “I came to warn you.”

“Warn me?” Your pulse quickens, your thoughts spinning. “Warn me about what?”

“Renjun,” she says, her tone hardening. Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, her frail demeanor is overshadowed by something fierce. “Your little boyfriend. He’s dangerous. You need to leave him before it’s too late.”

You shake your head, trying to process her words. “Renjun? No, that’s not possible. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t—”

She cuts you off with a dry laugh, “That’s what I thought too. But look at me now.” She gestures to herself, her decayed hands trembling as she does. “He took me. He experimented on me. He killed me.”

The room seems to spin as her words sink in. “No,” you whisper, more to yourself than to her. “That can’t be true. He—he loves me.”

"So much he’ll destroy you." she says, her voice filled with pity. "He’s obsessed with control, with perfection. He sees you as… as something to be fixed, something to be preserved.”

Your throat tightens. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t want the same thing to happen to you,” Yizhuo replies, her expression grim. She leans in closer, her scent—a nauseating blend of rot and chemicals—assaulting your senses. “He’s planning to do the same to you. I overheard him. You need to run. Now.”

The words strike like a thunderclap, but you can’t move, can’t speak. Yizhuo’s cloudy eyes search yours, pleading.

“You don’t have much time,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Get out before it’s too late.”

Before you can respond, she rises from the chair, her movements stiff and unnatural. She glances back at you one last time, her expression a mix of sorrow and urgency. Then, without another word, she walks out of the kitchen, her footsteps silent.

You’re left standing there, the spatula still in your hand, the pancakes burning on the stove behind you.

Before you can make sense of anything, the front door clicks open again.

“Morning,” Renjun’s familiar voice calls out. The sound startles you, and you spin around, heart still racing.

He steps into the kitchen, his hair slightly tousled from the cold morning air. He looks every bit like the Renjun you know: calm, collected, and effortlessly handsome in his cozy sweater and jeans. A faint smile touches his lips as he sees you, though his brows knit together at your pale face.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says lightly, stepping closer.

You swallow hard, your mind screaming at you to say something about Yizhuo, but the sight of him steadies your nerves just enough to keep the words locked up in your throat.

“I—I had a bad dream,” you finally stammer. “And you weren’t in bed. Where did you go?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t sleep. The air felt stuffy, so I went out for a walk to clear my head.” He gestures toward the front door. “It’s freezing out there, by the way. You’re lucky you stayed in.”

You blink at him, searching his face for any signs of deception, but he looks so... ordinary. So sincere.

“You should’ve told me,” you murmur, voice tinged with worry.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he replies softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

The tenderness in his gesture makes your chest ache.

“It wasn’t just the walk,” you admit, your voice shaky. “The dream I had… It was awful. You—you were doing something horrible to me. It felt so real, Renjun.”

His eyes widen slightly, then soften with concern. “Hey,” he murmurs, pulling you into his arms. His embrace is warm, firm, and familiar. “It was just a dream. Nothing more, okay? I would never hurt you.”

You hesitate, the memory of Yizhuo’s eyes and voice flashing through your mind again. But Renjun’s voice is so steady, so reassuring.

“I know,” you whisper, leaning into him. “It just felt so vivid. Like it wasn’t just a dream...”

He pulls back slightly to meet your eyes, his hands still resting on your arms. “Dreams can mess with your head,” he says gently. “Especially when you’re stressed or overtired. You’ve been working too hard lately.”

“I guess,” you mumble.

“Come here.” He leads you to the table, where the two of you sit down. “Forget about breakfast for a bit. Just breathe, okay? I’m here now.”

You nod, allowing yourself to relax. Renjun’s presence feels grounding, and for a moment, the lingering dread from the morning fades.

Still, the faint smell of something metallic lingers in the air, and you can’t help but glance at the chair Yizhuo had been sitting in. It’s empty now, no sign of her ever being there.

Renjun follows your gaze. “You okay?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Yeah,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

And for the rest of the morning, everything feels normal again. Renjun jokes with you as he helps clean up the kitchen, his laughter filling the space and making it feel warm and alive. By the time he heads to the bathroom to shower, you’ve almost convinced yourself that Yizhuo’s appearance had been nothing more than a vivid hallucination.

It wasn’t real, you tell yourself for the hundredth time. It couldn’t have been.

Stress. Fatigue. That’s all it was. It has to be.

Still, the unease gnaws at you as the day drags on. Renjun spends most of the afternoon in his study, working on something he vaguely describes as “art.” You don’t press him—he’s always been private about his projects, and it’s not unusual for him to disappear for hours into his world of creativity. He’s shown you some portraits he’s done. That alone was enough to convince you then, but maybe not now.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, you decide you need some air.

The backyard feels oddly silent as you step outside, the chill of the evening biting at your skin. The garden Renjun painstakingly tends to is perfectly cared for, each flower bed neat and orderly. But something feels... off. You can’t place it at first, but the further you walk, the heavier the air feels.

And then you see her.

A figure sits near the edge of the garden, half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. At first, you think it’s a trick of the fading light, but as you approach, your stomach turns.

Her head lifts slowly as she senses your presence. Her skin is mottled and patchy, as though poorly stitched together, and her hair hangs in brittle, uneven clumps. One of her eyes is glassy and lifeless, while the other stares at you with unsettling clarity.

“Hello,” she says, her voice low and raspy.

Your instincts scream at you to run, but your feet remain rooted to the spot. “Hi,” you manage to reply, your voice barely audible.

“You’re his new girlfriend, aren’t you?” she asks, tilting her head.

You swallow hard. “What do you mean?”

She chuckles softly, the sound more hollow than amused. “He always picks the pretty ones. Says they’re easier to perfect.”

The words send a chill racing through you. “You know Renjun?”

“Better than I’d like,” she replies, leaning forward slightly. Her movements are stiff, as though her body doesn’t quite obey her. 

Your chest tightens. “What happened?”

She lets out a bitter laugh. “What always happens. He gets bored, or paranoid, or both. Decides you need fixing. Then you end up like me.” She gestures to herself, her fingers trembling. “A mistake he doesn’t know how to get rid of.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “You’re one of his... experiments?”

“Guess you could call it that.” Her eye narrows, and for a moment, you swear you see a flicker of pity in her expression. “But you don’t have to end up like me. You still have a chance to get out.”

Your mind races, every fiber of your being screaming that this can’t be true. But the evidence sits right in front of you, her broken body a chilling testament to something you don’t want to believe.

“I... I don’t understand,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“You will,” she says simply, her tone heavy with finality. “Just don’t wait too long. He doesn’t like it when his plans get interrupted.”

Before you can respond, she struggles to her feet, her movements jerky and unnatural. She stumbles into the trees, disappearing into the shadows before you can even think to follow.

You stand there for what feels like an eternity, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally gather the courage to move, you hurry back into the house, locking the door behind you.

Renjun finds you later that evening, curled up on the couch with a book you haven’t read a single word of. “You okay?” he asks, sitting down beside you.

You force a smile, shaking your head. “Just tired,” you reply, your voice strained.

He presses a soft kiss to your temple, and though his touch is warm, it does little to chase away the cold dread that has settled deep in your bones.

You say nothing about the woman in the garden.

The days that follow are a blur of unease and doubt. Renjun grows more distant, his once-gentle demeanor laced with a nervous edge. You catch him watching you when he thinks you’re not looking, his eyes dark and searching, as though trying to read your thoughts.

You tell yourself it’s nothing—just paranoia creeping in after Yizhuo and the woman in the garden. But the house feels different now, like something unseen is watching, waiting.

One night, unable to sleep, you wander through the house, your footsteps muffled against the hardwood floors. Renjun had disappeared into his study hours ago, and you haven’t seen him since. Curiosity gnaws at you, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you find yourself standing at the door to the basement.

It’s unlocked.

The air grows colder as you descend the narrow stairs, the faint scent of mothballs and chemicals prickling your nose. 

Your breath catches as you reach the bottom. The room is cluttered with tools and shelves of strange, unrecognizable objects, but your eyes are drawn to the center of the room where a series of lifelike dolls are displayed.

At least, you think they’re dolls at first.

They’re posed on stands, dressed in fine clothing, their glassy eyes staring blankly into the room. But as you move closer, your stomach churns. Their skin isn’t porcelain—it’s something else. Something real. 

Your fingers tremble as you reach out to touch one of them but stop short when a voice behind you speaks.

“You shouldn’t be down here.”

You whirl around, heart racing, to find a young man leaning against the far wall. His hair is dark and neatly styled, his posture relaxed, but there’s something unsettling about the way he looks at you.

“Who are you?” you demand, backing away slightly.

“Jeno,” he says casually, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer. “Nice to meet you.”

You glance at the stairs, calculating your chances of escape, but something in his expression stops you. It’s almost amused, like he knows something you don’t.

“Renjun doesn’t like it when people snoop,” Jeno continues, his tone conversational. “He gets... upset.”

“How do you know Renjun?” you ask, your voice trembling.

He smiles faintly, his eyes flicking to the dolls behind you. “Let’s just say we go way back.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your skin crawl. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing you are,” he says cryptically. “Looking for answers.”

Before you can respond, Jeno steps forward—and walks straight through one of the shelves. 

What the fuck.

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch his figure shimmer faintly, like heat waves rising from asphalt. He turns to look at you, his expression unreadable.

“You should leave,” he says softly. “Before it’s too late.”

And just like that, he vanishes, fading into the wall as though he were never there.

You’re left standing in the basement, your heart pounding and your mind racing. The dolls’ lifeless eyes seem to follow you as you back away, your legs shaking with every step.

When you finally make it back to the main floor, Renjun is waiting for you in the living room.

“What were you doing in the basement?” he asks, his voice tight.

You freeze, your mind scrambling for an answer. “I—”

“You know you’re not supposed to go down there,” he says, cutting you off. His tone is calm, but his eyes are sharp, his jaw clenched.

“I was just looking for something,” you lie, trying to keep your voice steady. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He studies you for a moment, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You should’ve told me. There’s nothing down there for you.”

You nod, forcing a smile. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

But as Renjun pulls you into a half-hearted hug, you can feel the tension in his body. His fingers linger on your back a little too long, as though trying to keep you from slipping away.

You say nothing about the dolls. Or the man named Jeno.

But deep down, you know you’ve stepped into something you can’t ignore anymore.

Renjun’s behavior grows more unpredictable with each passing day. His once gentle nature gives way to sudden bursts of tension: slamming doors, muttering under his breath, pacing the house at odd hours. You try to ignore it, to chalk it up to stress or exhaustion, but the warning signs are impossible to dismiss.

One evening, after he disappears into the basement again without a word, you decide you can’t wait any longer. Whatever he’s hiding down there, you need to know.

The basement feels colder than before, the air heavy with the scent of chemicals and something else—something rancid. The dolls remain in their haunting poses, their glassy eyes fixed on nothing and everything at once. You can’t shake the feeling that they’re watching you.

You move quickly, rifling through the cluttered workbench. Papers covered in scrawled notes, jars of unidentifiable substances, and tools you can’t even name. Your hand trembles as you lift a folder marked with your name.

Before you can open it, a voice cuts through the silence.

“What are you doing?”

You freeze, the folder slipping from your hands. Renjun stands at the base of the stairs, his face eerily calm, though his eyes burn with an intensity that makes your blood run cold.

“I—I was just—” you stammer, stepping back instinctively.

“You shouldn’t have come down here,” he says, his tone soft but firm. He takes a step closer, his hand hidden behind his back. “I trusted you.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Renjun, what is all this? What are you doing down here?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he steps fully into the room, revealing the syringe in his hand. The clear liquid inside catches the light, its purpose unknown but unmistakably sinister.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” he murmurs, almost regretfully. “I thought I could fix everything without hurting you. But you had to go and make things difficult.”

“Renjun, please,” you say, your voice shaking. “Whatever this is, we can talk about it. You don’t have to—”

“You don’t understand,” he interrupts, his voice cracking. “I’m doing this for you. For everyone. You don’t know what you are, what you’re capable of.”

He lunges before you can react, the syringe glinting as he closes the distance between you. You scream, twisting and flailing, but he’s faster, stronger than you expect. The needle sinks into your neck, and the icy burn of the liquid spreads through your veins.

The last thing you hear before the world fades to black is Renjun’s trembling voice.

“I’m so sorry.”

When you wake, the cold metal beneath you is the first thing you notice. Your body feels heavy, unresponsive, as though the drug hasn’t entirely worn off. The dim light above casts shadows across the room, and as your vision clears, you see him.

Renjun stands over you, his face pale and drawn, yet his hands move with steady precision. Tools are laid out neatly beside him, glinting in the faint light.

“Renjun?” you whisper, your voice weak and hoarse.

He startles slightly, his gaze snapping to yours. For a moment, his expression softens, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. But it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

“You’re awake,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I wasn’t expecting that yet.”

“What... what are you doing?” you ask, panic rising in your chest.

He sighs, his hands pausing as he picks up a scalpel. “I’m saving you,” he says simply, his tone matter-of-fact. “You won’t feel a thing, I promise. When this is over, you’ll be perfect. No one will ever be able to hurt you again.”

“Renjun, stop!” you scream, thrashing against the straps that hold you down. “Please, you don’t have to do this!”

His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he shakes his head. “I don’t have a choice,” he whispers. “You’re dangerous, even if you don’t know it. I’ve seen what you’ll become if I don’t stop it from happening now.”

He leans closer, the scalpel trembling slightly in his hand. “But it’s okay,” he continues, his voice cracking. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll love you just the same. You’ll see. You’ll understand one day.”

Tears blur your vision as you struggle harder, the straps biting into your skin. “Renjun, please! I love you! Don’t do this!”

His hand falters for a moment, the scalpel hovering just above your skin. “I love you too,” he says, his voice breaking. “That’s why I have to do this.”

The sharp edge glints as it lowers toward you, and your screams echo through the basement, mixing with Renjun’s whispered apologies.

Your body trembles against the restraints, your heart racing as Renjun’s scalpel hovers closer to your skin. Desperation fuels you, and you yank against the straps with everything you have. The leather digs into your wrists, cutting into your skin, but you don’t stop.

“Stop struggling,” Renjun says softly, his voice almost pleading. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

But you don’t listen. Instead, you twist your arm as hard as you can, feeling the strap loosen just slightly. The metal table creaks beneath your movements, and the scalpel in his hand wavers.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Don’t make this harder for me.”

With a surge of adrenaline, your wrist finally slips free, the leather snapping loose. You lunge forward, catching him off guard. His eyes widen in shock as you grab at the tools on the tray beside you, your fingers fumbling for anything sharp.

“Stop!” he shouts, dropping the scalpel to grab your arm. His grip is strong, but your determination is stronger.

You manage to grab a pair of forceps and swing them wildly, catching him across the face. He cries out, staggering backward and clutching his cheek, blood seeping between his fingers.

“You don’t understand!” he yells, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m trying to save you!”

But you don’t stop. You twist your body, freeing your other arm, and kick out with your legs, knocking the tray of tools to the floor. The clang of metal echoes in the room as you grab the scalpel he dropped.

Renjun lunges at you, his hands outstretched, but you roll off the table just in time. Your knees buckle as you hit the floor, but you push yourself up, the scalpel clutched tightly in your shaking hand.

“Please,” he says again, his voice desperate now. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

You scream, charging at him with the scalpel. He grabs your wrist, the two of you grappling for control. His strength is terrifying, and for a moment, you think you’ll lose.

“You’re not the person I fell in love with!” you cry, tears streaming down your face.

“I am!” he shouts, his eyes wild. “I’m doing this because I love you!”

The scalpel slips in your hand, slicing your palm, but you don’t let go. With a sudden burst of strength, you shove him backward. He stumbles, tripping over the tray of tools and falling to the floor.

Before he can get up, you’re on him, pinning him down. The scalpel shakes in your hand as you press it against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

He looks up at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. “No,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

But you do.

With a scream, you drive the scalpel into his chest. Blood blooms beneath the blade, spreading across his shirt. His body jerks, his hands clawing weakly at yours, but his strength is fading fast.

His lips part, as if to say something, but no sound comes out. His eyes, once so full of love, now stare up at you in a mix of pain and betrayal.

You pull the scalpel out and stab him again, and again, each strike accompanied by a choked sob.

When it’s over, you collapse beside him, your hands trembling and covered in blood. The room is silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing.

Renjun lies motionless, his face pale and his body still. The pool of blood beneath him grows larger, seeping into the cracks of the cold basement floor.

For a long moment, you can’t move, can’t think. All you can do is stare at his lifeless form, the weight of what you’ve done crashing down on you.

Then, slowly, you drag yourself to your feet, your legs weak and unsteady. You wipe your bloodied hands on your shirt, your breaths coming in shallow gasps.

But as you turn to leave, something glimmers in the corner of your eye. A reflection in the glassy eyes of one of the dolls, watching you, silent and unblinking.

You stagger up the basement stairs, your mind reeling, Renjun’s blood still warm on your hands. The house feels eerily silent now, the weight of what you’ve done pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

You sink onto the couch, trembling, trying to steady your breathing. The nightmare is over—or so you tell yourself. Yet, deep inside, a strange calm begins to settle over you, and with it, clarity. 

“I did it,” you whisper, almost to yourself. “It’s over.”

“Not quite,” a familiar voice cuts through the quiet.

You whirl around to see Ning Yizhuo standing in the doorway. She looks far less ghastly now, her skin no longer pallid and her cloudy eyes replaced with sharp, piercing ones. She steps into the room with an unsettling grace, her lips curling into a sly smile.

“Oh fuck you.” you gasp, your voice seemingly becoming annoyed. “I told you I could handle it.”

“Did you really think you could keep me out of this?” she asks, tilting her head. “You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, but even I didn’t think you’d drag it out this long.”

“You know I wouldn’t let you die.” you counter back.

“Oh, come on,” Yizhuo says, her tone teasing. “You didn’t even know I was there!”

For odd as the situation was, this casual conversation seemed too strange for someone who had just had a traumatic encounter. 

But you remembered it all. 

The reason why you were here in the first place. 

The spellwork, the rituals, the whispers of your coven as you planned everything together. Renjun—brilliant, dangerous, utterly unhinged—had been the perfect candidate to father the next generation of your powerful bloodline. His twisted mind, his obsession with creation, his unparalleled intellect—they were irresistible.

But he’d caught on, hadn’t he? His jealousy of Yizhuo, his paranoia, the experiments. He’d discovered the truth about who you were, what you were, and had convinced himself that you were a threat that needed to be eliminated.

“You were supposed to bring him to heel,” Yizhuo says, crossing her arms. “But instead, you let him spiral. Do you know how much work it was for me to survive after what he did to me?”

“I didn’t plan for this,” you mutter, your voice hollow.

“No,” Yizhuo replies sharply. “You didn’t. You got too attached. Like you always do. But you still got the job done, didn’t you?”

You glance down at your hands, still stained with Renjun’s blood, and a strange sense of satisfaction wells up within you. Despite the chaos, despite the loss of control, the end result remains the same.

Yizhuo steps closer, crouching down in front of you. “He was right about one thing,” she says, her voice soft now. “You are dangerous. But that’s exactly why this worked. You’re stronger now, more focused. And with him out of the way, there’s nothing stopping us.”

You look up at her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The weight on your chest lifts, replaced by a dark, intoxicating sense of purpose.

“He was brilliant,” you say quietly, almost wistfully. “But he underestimated me.”

“They always do,” Yizhuo replies, standing and extending a hand to you. “Come on. We have work to do. The coven’s waiting.”

You take her hand and rise to your feet, the tension in your body melting away as the truth of who you are settles over you like a comforting shroud.

As you leave the house together, you cast one last glance back at the basement door. The ghost of a smile plays on your lips as you whisper under your breath, “Thank you, Renjun. You were perfect.”

The door creaks shut behind you, and the house falls silent once more, now a graveyard for twisted dreams and dark beginnings.

alternate title:

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams

[casanovamarauders]

my marauders headcanon’s : a series

regulus black first cause he is me and i am him.

first off he does have curly hair. idc argue with a wall or something

he writes so much sad boy poetry and even song lyrics sometimes. he has FILLED journals with his writing and has his whole life within the pages of his writing.

especially when sirius leaves the family he has at least 2 journals filled with his angst about his brother replacing him with his friends.

this is also where he has record of his infatuation and hatred of james; very much “i can hate someone and still find them hot” type of thing. like i said we are one and the same

he is the most observant little shit in the world, very just lovers regulus if ykwim. he sees past people masks in seconds. he can tell what people’s motivations are and what their perspective is. he spends so so so much time people watching

he enjoys studying, though he doesn’t need to (his parents tutors taught him well beyond his schooling ever would) but he loves to study and write notes and figure out why things are the way things are. he is obsessed with finding different ways to make potions. making things more efficient for himself and trying new ways to make a potion.

pandora is his absolute platonic soulmate. they love to just sit with each other and can always understand one another. pandora will listen to him rant endlessly while reading his tarot.

he knows abt rosekiller before barry or evan do. regulus tries to let it play out on its own but those boys are insufferable and codependent and regulus SUFFERS through it

will always like his tea with so much sugar you would think it’ll rot his teeth

very very word oriented. he has a list of his favorite words in one of his journals (self projecting but it’s fine shhhh)

is obsessed with james. absolutely obsessed with him. even if he presents it as hatred, he just wants that man SO BADLY

and all his friends know it too

so every time he brings james up in conversation his friends collectively mentally facepalm

[kitkat13001]

⋆⟡ ݁⚡︎ ₊ . 𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 

⤷ denki kaminari x reader

⤷ friends to lovers, mutual pining, coming-of-age vibes, inspired by the song “ultimately” by khai dreams

ultimately  i don't understand a thing i try to do the best i can i know you try to do the same

denki kaminari was never the smart one. he liked to joke around a lot but the truth underneath his charming smile was that he was terrified of failure. he was afraid that people didn’t see him as anything other than the dumb but funny kid in their class. just a yellow sticky note with a joke written on it, here to be laughed at and gone with a mild breeze. 

we’re just so bound to make mistakes you could call it a disposition i apologize for all your tears i wish i could be different

you were never the fortunate one. things just didn’t work out for you the way they did for other people. you could blame it on a lot of things, but you sometimes think that it boils down to the fact that some things weren’t meant to be. maybe you were one of them. maybe you never would be. 

but i’m still growing up into the one you can call your love i don't know if i’ll ever be enough i’m throwing in my chips i guess i tend to push my luck

high school always feels like it’ll last forever but one day you’re waking up and suddenly it’s all over. and the graduation ceremony is beautiful and everyone cries and then the tears stop when yaomomo announces the party at her house and mina announces the after-party at her house. it’s so strange that after the fun dies down you all realize this is the last time that all of you will be here, under one roof, all together. and it’s sad, of course, but also some strange kind of beautiful. that you’re all going to different places and becoming different people. 

and ultimately i believe we'll be okay it’s so cliché to say these things but repetition is a key

many promises are made the night of graduation. the usuals, to keep in touch and call every day and send pictures and meet up for the occasional hero team-up. but denki’s eyes have been fixed to you the entire night, and he’s got a promise for you too. of all the people in this room, you’re the one he doesn’t want to lose the most. so when the party is over, he swallows his pride and walks over to your dorm room on your very last night at u.a., trying not to stutter and not to trip over his own feet. you welcome him like you always do, and you spend a long time laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling as though you’re stargazing. the only stars are the glow-in-the-dark stickers still attached to the ceiling, though, but they’re enough to give denki hope. 

i think i’m better when i’m with you but i worry when you're gone i think i need to learn to love myself i must learn to be strong

“america is a long way from japan, huh?”

you blink, as if you’re hearing about it for the first time. “i guess so. it didn’t really occur to me until now, i guess.”

“i don’t know how i’m gonna spend my nights without our 1 am study sessions.” denki means it as a joke but he’s entirely serious. his life is going to feel so empty, he thinks, without you in it. 

“maybe you could try sleeping,” you giggle to yourself. 

denki snorts. “nah. i think maybe i’ll still stay up, but on facetime with you. it’ll be daytime there.”

“it’s crazy. i never thought i’d end up so far.”

“you could always come work in tokyo with me,” denki suggests, a not-very-sly wink following suit. 

you laugh. “as much fun as that would be, i think it’s time for me to be somewhere new. i can learn a lot in the u.s.”

he sighs a little. “i know.” he’s silent for a second before he asks the question that’s been weighing on him ever since you announced your departure for america. “do you think you’ll come back? after your sidekick residency, i mean.”

you think on it long enough to get denki’s heart racing with panic. “i don’t know. maybe. i guess we’ll wait and see, huh?” and then you smile and denki really wishes he could feel okay. 

so, for now we'll say goodbye although it pains me in my heart your words they come to me in memories they sing to me like songs

denki cries when he walks you up to the terminal. you cry when denki cries. you sit, a puddle of tears, embracing each other in the middle of the crowded airport as onlookers swarm to get around the commotion to their flights. 

he cries for several nights after you leave, and you cry in your hotel room while you scroll through your old pictures. 

but like anything else, you get used to the absence. the silence. 

it won't be long until i’m here soon i’ll make my arrival under shady trees, a quiet street the roads that i have traveled

tokyo is as lively as you remember it, you think as you watch the busy streets and bustling people and colorful scenery from your spot sitting in the patio of a corner café. you drum your fingers on your cup anxiously. you don’t know why you’re suddenly so nervous, but the idea of seeing denki after all these years makes your heart race.

what if you look different to him? what if he can’t recognize you? what if you can’t recognize him? what if-

you whip around when you hear a familiar nickname of yours called in an even more familiar voice. 

a scream promptly erupts from a young blond man’s lips as he makes a beeline for you. 

a giant smile appears on your face and you begin to scream as well, running for him. 

“denki!”

you collide in the middle of the outdoor seating area, clinging on to each other with a surprising grip. 

denki pulls away and his grin is so wide. 

“you’re taller! and you’ve got a new hairstyle!” he exclaims, eyes roaming over you as he takes in your changed appearance. you look different, for sure, but you look like you. 

you shriek out loud, eyes landing on the metal hoops through denki’s ears. 

“you pierced your ears?!” you demand, bending his head awkwardly to better look at the decorations. 

denki laughs. “i tried to tell you!”

“i thought you were joking! and your bangs, look at you…” your hands remain steady on his cheeks and you get a good look at him, squinting dramatically. you beam at him after a minute of scrutiny. “you look good, denks.”

if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was blushing. “thanks. you look good, too…you always look good.”

ultimately it's a beautiful thing like flowers blooming in a lonely field the petals drift through crossing winds

there’s a very brief moment as you hold him, his hands on your forearms, eyes interlocked and bated breath, where everything feels like you never left. like you’ve been here with him the whole time and there’s never been anything but you and denki kaminari forever. 

it’s that ephemeral moment of beauty that lets you lean in and kiss him, like you both should’ve done so many years ago. 

and it’s everything you ever dreamed. his lips are soft, his hands are warm, and his bangs are tickling your nose. and it’s so perfect you can’t believe it took you this long to do it. 

that find their way to river streams that scent the water beautifully it takes me back to you it takes me back to you

you laugh breathlessly when you pull away after a very long moment. denki just stares at you in awe, dopey grin plastered on his face. 

“god, we should’ve done that forever ago,” he admits, bashful and pink-cheeked. 

“yeah, probably,” you agree, slinging his arm over you shoulder as you tug him along. he moves with you like a magnet, and it feels right to have him by your side again. 

“guess we’ll have to make up for lost time.”

“i guess we will.”

icons from pinterest, not mine ; divider by @/saradika-graphics — i actually really like how this one turned out. i wrote the premise years ago and it finally hit me tonight to finish it. denki holds a very special place in my heart.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Announcement

Hey everyone 💕 So, today is officially the last day of 2024 for me, and I wanted to take a moment to reflect—both on the happy things and the sad stuff (depending on how you look at it).

Let’s start with the good news! I’m just one single follower away from a milestone I honestly never thought I’d reach 😭 I can’t believe it—it’s surreal, and I owe it all to you amazing people 🫂 Seriously, thank you so much for supporting me, cheering me on, and just being here. You’ve made this little corner of the internet feel like home.

Now, onto the heavier news… Even though I’m happy about reaching this milestone, there’s this dull ache beneath it, like it doesn’t really mean as much as it should. Lately, I’ve felt like I’m screaming into a void, and no matter how much I pour into my writing, the engagement doesn’t seem to reflect the effort or heart I’ve put into it. Don’t get me wrong—I love every single one of you who’s ever sent me a message, liked a post, or simply stopped by to read. You mean the world to me. But there’s this persistent feeling that I’m running on fumes, and I’ve been carrying it for over half a year now.

This year alone, I wrote 530k words—let that sink in for a moment. That’s a whole novel series. And while I’m proud of the stories I’ve told, I’m also exhausted. Writing has always been my outlet, my way to process trauma, to heal, to laugh. It’s blood, sweat, and tears poured into every word. But when the response is so quiet, it leaves me wondering if it’s all worth it—or if it’s just my trauma whispering that I’m unlovable (ugh, trauma’s such a drama queen sometimes).

I know many of you care deeply, and I’m endlessly grateful for the asks, DMs, and chats on Discord that brighten my days. But when my heart isn’t in it anymore, continuing just for a handful of people—even those I adore—doesn’t feel healthy for me. So, for now, I’ve decided to step back from writing fanfics. Not because I don’t love it (or you!), but because I need to figure out what I’m feeling and where I stand with all of this.

About Songs of the Heart… This story was written for my dear friend @remmykinsff, and it’ll be my last fic. I’ll still post it—along with some small drabbles for the series (I’m calling it Songs of the Heart: The Notes)—because I owe my characters that final bit of healing. But after that, I’ll put down the fanfic pen, at least for a while. I hope you understand.

That said, I’m not leaving Tumblr completely! I’ll still be here to read the amazing stories you all create, to share love and support for other authors, and to occasionally pop in and say hi. But I’ll probably delete the app from my phone (it’s way too easy to spiral here), and I might go MIA for stretches of time. If you want to reach out, you can always find me on Discord (I’m kingofbodyrolls there, too!).

So, I guess this isn’t goodbye—it’s more like hitting “pause.” Maybe one day, I’ll come back to finish those stories I had planned, or even to tackle the milestone requests I’ve been dreaming of doing. Who knows? But for now, I need to slow down and breathe.

To everyone who’s supported me, talked to me, or simply existed here—you’ve made this journey so special. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You’re incredible, and I hope 2025 brings you so much joy, love, and light. Keep going, okay? You’ve got this 🫂✨💕

[munsoninthedark86]

I Guess It's Different Cause You Love Him(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of possible abuse, alcohol use, reader gets drunk, Eddie is weak for her word count: 1.4k pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Eddie hates your boyfriend. He does his best to be on his best behavior because he is your best friend, but Eddie knows you could do so much better than this fool. Still, he’ll bite his tongue and pretend to be supportive of this relationship. It just hurts when he watches the person he loves the most get shit all over.

Day after day, he sees the real you begin to disappear. The shine and glow of you fades as your boyfriend takes over more and more aspects of your life. Eddie wants to say something, but he’s so damn scared to lose you. He’s scared that if he tells you that this guy is bad for you that it’ll end up backfiring on you and you’ll only think that Eddie is jealous of your boyfriend.

And it hurts him so much to watch you begin to fade away. Your normally sunny smile is only half-assed these days. You were someone who would try decently well in school and in work, but now it would seem you’re doing so poorly. You even stopped coming to the Hellfire club meets, which ends up worrying everyone.

But you always try to pass it off as nothing. Eddie knows that you’ll barely open up to it because this asshole has got you convinced you’re happy. He sees how your boyfriend acts around you, especially when he thinks nobody else is around. Eddie sees the tired look in your eyes along with the heavy bags that begin to form under them. He sees the way you flinch whenever someone raises their voice just a little too loud.

This all culminates one night when someone at school begins passing around the rumor that your boyfriend has been cheating on you. At first you try not to believe it, but the more you hear it from people who give you sad and pitiful looks, it becomes obvious that this isn’t just a rumor. You’ve been played and you’re so embarrassed. You don’t even know who to turn to because you’ve just alienated yourself with the help of that asshole. You’re way too afraid to turn to Eddie, the man who you trust in the most. You’ve been hurting him the most, you realize as all of this comes crashing down.

The bar near your home allows you inside even if you aren’t quite of age. You know the patrons and the bartenders. They can tell you’re not doing well. So the bartender pours you a drink, which soon turns into two…then three…then four.

By the time you’re five drinks in, you’re more than tipsy. You’re absolutely drunk. You’re dancing to whatever song they’ve got playing on the jukebox, but it isn’t healing your heart. It won’t heal your heart ever. There’s not much that ever could. You find yourself sitting on a stool at the bar, your head in your hands as you try to steady yourself.

“You got someone to come pick you up, dear?” The bartender asks.

You’re about to say no, but then you remember Eddie. You nod your head and the bartender gives you money for the payphone in the corner of the bar. You sway as you walk over there, and you lean against the wall to steady yourself. The phone feels heavy in your hands, but you press it to your ear and you put the coin in the slot. It surprises yourself to be able to remember Eddie’s number while you’re in this state. After a few rings, you feel like crying because someone answers.

“Munson residence, Eddie speaking,” Eddie says on the other end, a mocking tone to his voice.

You half-sob, “Eddie can you…can you come pick me up?”

Immediately he’s freezing on the spot, worried about what’s going on with you. He had heard those rumors today too but he didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He had wanted you to come to him for comfort.

“Babe, what’s the matter?”

“Come pick me up. I’m at the bar.”

You tell him the address and beg him to hurry. He can tell you’re not feeling well at all. So he quickly gets into his van and drives over to the bar. Once he arrives, he spots you just sitting outside. You’re obviously drunk and he feels so sorry for you.

“Eds…” you moan softly, clutching your head in pain.

Eddie is quick to pick you up, allowing you to lean on him. He’s not even really sure what to say just yet, so instead he focuses on getting you buckled into your seat.

Then he begins driving the moment he’s back into the driver’s seat. You moan in pain and you begin to cry. It’s breaking his heart to see you like this. Eddie feels guilty because he knows he should have been there for you. He should have done more for you.

“Honey,” he says softly. “Don’t worry. Things will be okay.”

You shake your head, “No…he made a fool of me.”

Eddie feels his heart wrench when you say this. It’s painful to see you hurting this way. So he drives you back to his trailer, knowing you’ll have a safe space to recover from being this drunk. Once you two arrive, he unbuckles your seatbelt and he guides you inside the trailer. You are so thankful that his uncle isn’t home right now. You don’t want him to think poorly of you.

“Easy there,” Eddie says as you begin to stumble. He’s guiding you towards his bedroom.

As the alcohol burns in your veins even more and your mind gets hazy, you allow Eddie to lay you on the bed. First he takes off your shoes, then he begins to remove your jeans. He takes off your shirt, gently caressing your shoulders before pulling on his old Iron Maiden shirt on you. Then you watch as he leaves you on the bed for a few moments.

When Eddie reappears, you’re so happy to see him. He’s got a bottle of water in his hands. He helps you sit up, and you relish in the feelings of his warm hands on your skin. He holds you close as he brings the bottle to your lips.

“Drink so slowly, honey.”

You try your best to take his advice, but the water just tastes so refreshing. Soon he’s pulling it away from you and he helps you lay back on the pillows. He pulls the covers up over you and he’s about to leave when you grab his hand and whine a little.

“Stay with me,” you pout. “Please, Eddie.”

His heart skips a beat when he sees how pitiful you are. You’re a sight for sore eyes, but he still thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. So without thinking too much, he shrugs off his jacket and kicks off his shoes. He slides under the covers with you, and immediately you cling to him. It feels natural to have you back in his arms like this.

“I’m such a fucking dumbass,” you mutter under your breath.

“No, you’re not. Stop thinking that way. That guy is such an asshole for playing you like that.”

Eddie thinks you might be too drunk to understand what he’s saying, but your heart flutters when he defends your honor. You cling a little tighter to him, and he presses the softest kiss to the top of your head.

“Why are you treatin’ me so good?” you ask, your words a bit slurred.

Eddie sighs, and he knows you might not remember this in the morning. “Cause I love ya,”

Your heart flutters again and you snuggle even closer. You know maybe he doesn’t mean it in the way you need it, but you still love hearing it from him. You smile sweetly at him, and he leans in to kiss your lips so softly.

“You’re my girl,” he finally admits. “And…I couldn’t even protect you.”

You sigh softly, “Eds…I don’t blame you for this. You are so wonderful.”

You two share another kiss, and he caresses your face so softly. You don’t even really know why you were dating that asshole…especially when you could have had this the entire time.

“Sleep now,” Eddie commands. “Sleep now and we’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”

You nod your head, “Kay…night night, Eddie.”

He holds you close, vowing to himself he’ll never ever let anything else hurt you like this. Never again will you know pain.

[casualhedonists]

into the mist, into the clouds

pairing: lucy gray x fem!reader

words: 3.5k

warnings: very few; fluff, angst, mystery and intrigue etc, post tbosas lucy gray

playlist for this fic • main masterlist

a/n: my first non-smut fic on here! title from carolina by taylor swift, which this fic is very much based on. this is one of my favorite things i've written in a very long time. enjoy 🤍

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

“You didn’t see me here.”

Whispered words fill the space between you. Your head rests in her lap, dress crisp and clean and smelling like you, like your home. She looks at you with a sense of urgency, one you’ve seen all too many times before.

“What? Lucy Gray, you’re not…”

She can’t be leaving again. She only just arrived. The morning had brought dew and her muddied boots on your porch for the first time in months. Your mother was gone for the day, it was almost like Lucy Gray had known. Her dress was covered in dirt and grass stains. You piled it into a hamper, washed it in the fresh water of the creek down the hill from your house, scrubbing away while she collected firewood.

“I am. Tomorrow. Dawn.”

“Let me come with you.”

“It’s not safe, my love. I can keep myself protected if I’m alone. I’m startin’ to get real good at it.”

You don’t ask if she’d come back. Neither of you ever know the answer to that.

“Will you do something for me, Lucy Gray?”

Your voice drops. The fire crackles, the pine cones you’d collected together popping as they burn. She likes the sound, she told you. It was safe, comforting. Homely. You’d wondered if she was really talking about the fire, or you, the girl who sat with her in its warmth.

“Anything. You know I will.”

“Would you leave before I wake up? I’m not sure I can say goodbye to you again.”

She smiles, soft and sad, and gazes at you like you’re a song, or something she wants to memorise.

“Of course I will. It’ll be like I never came back here at all.”

The glow of the flames dance across her face.

“I don’t want that.” You whisper. “I hate feeling like you’re slipping away from me.”

She lowers her head to yours, your foreheads touch. You hear the smile in her voice.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

You’ve learned not to waste your time in tears, when she’s going to leave. There are better ways to spend those last moments, eyes dry and focused on tracing the lines of her face, committing it to memory for the last time in who knows how long. You sit up, curling into her, pressing your lips to hers, her hair still damp and smelling like the bar of soap you’d lent her when you fixed her a bath, your pruned fingertips massaging her scalp as the water began to cool. You make it to bed, sleeping soundly with her arms around you.

True to her word, she leaves in the morning. Leaving no trace, no proof she was ever there in the first place. But you feel the warmth of the sheets next to you, and you know.

She finds you the next summer.

“Don’t move.”

You freeze, long grass up to your knees, long skirt swishing as you wade through the field, sun blaring down on you.

A pair of warm hands press softly over your eyes.

“You’re back.” You beam, spinning around, taking her head in your hands, eyes shut, just listening to her breathing. You press your lips to hers.

“I sure am.” When you break away to take her in, look at her sunkissed face, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen her smile wider. If you didn’t know better, you’d say she got more beautiful every time you saw her.

You lie sun-drunk in the shade of the tall grass, lazing against each other as you go over your birthday, the village gossip, and she listens. Always listening, drinking up your words like she’s parched.

You’ve learned not to ask Lucy Gray where she’s been hiding, you both know it’s safer the less gets said. But she presses on, ever gentle, asking you for details when you fill her in on your life.

You jump at a movement in the grass beside you, but she just laughs. Picks up the snake, humming as it wraps and twists itself around her hand.

“These ones won’t hurt you, darlin’. They’re docile, see? Wouldn’t harm a fly.”

She lifts the snake to you slowly.

“You’re sure?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Always.” You reply instantly, like you’ve waited your whole life to hear the question.

“Then hold out your hand.”

You reach out.

“Close your eyes.”

You do. After a second, you feel hers, pressing into your palm, and an oddly warm sensation, smooth.

“It feels… dry.”

You open your eyes. The snake twists and drapes between the two of you, loosely binding your hand with Lucy Gray’s, holding you together.

She laughs, bright and sweet, like music.

“Well, what were you expecting?”

“I don’t know.” You confess. “Maybe for it to be wet? Slippery?”

Her laughter chimes through the field, a low gust of winding carrying it away. You stay like that for a few more hours, until night begins to fall, and the summer wind carries her away, too.

A year passes. Then another half.

Your mother gets older; she gets sick. You venture outside the bounds in twelve, slipping under the rusted wire fence with a basket, collecting herbs you’d started to read about but couldn’t afford. You make tinctures, teas, you light incense and fill the house with sprigs of rosemary and thyme. It slows down the sickness that tore through her like wildfire. When she passes, it’s beautifully peaceful, like a candle being blown out. You carry her ashes to the lake and you spread them, lingering by the Covey’s cabin. Hoping.

She doesn’t come. You walk home, humming something you think you remember her singing years ago. You start to wonder if she was just something you dreamt up, an old folk song you sing to yourself each night before you fell asleep.

Spring rolls around, and your empty house gathers dust. Your way with herbs and remedies gets around, starting with a few bottles gifted to a neighbour with influenza. Her granddaughter comes to your doorstep with the empty vial and a bag of potatoes. You smile and thank her.

“Are you a witch?” She asks, barely ten years old and looking up at you with dark, mistrusting eyes. You laugh.

“I’m not too sure about that, hon. Did the herbs help?”

She nods, a frown etched along her features.

“Then perhaps I’m a good one.”

Before you know it, word gets around that you cured the old woman. You make a living collecting herbs, crushing them down, and people line up outside your door most days. You find a slice of peace in it, in the routine.

But winter is cruel, and the house turns cold. The house that was once the perfect size for you and your mother now feels like too much money and work to heat, and things start breaking, and leaking. You hear from your cousin in Seven, you’ve inherited a log cabin and a slice of land on the edge of some woods from a great-aunt you never met.

You weigh your options. You go to the lake and skim stones in the icy water, mulling it over.

To leave Twelve is everyone’s dream. But Lucy Gray. The gentle ghost who lingers over your shoulder. How will she find you, if she ever comes back? You can’t stay here waiting forever. One bad frost kills your crops, the chill sets into your bones, and you make up your mind. You pack up your herbs and bottles, your books and your clothes, the pinecone you keep beneath your pillow, the silver snake bracelet she gave you many years ago, and you leave. A simple, smudged note sits under the plant pot on the porch, your old hiding place for the spare house key where she’ll know to look:

I’m in the trees. Come find me.

District Seven has more trees than you’ve ever seen. Twelve is known for it’s forests and fields, but these woods are expansive, spanning over miles, trees lined up perfectly, the smell of freshly chopped wood filling your senses.

Every step you took made you wonder if Lucy Gray been here, if the birds in these trees had heard her saccharine voice.

Your herbs sell a lot better in Seven. It’s enough to buy new clothes, and the village is better kept. The people are kind, warm and friendly. You can finally afford to eat your fill. Your cabin at the edge of the woods stays warm and comfortable, the wood is plentiful, you chop your own from the land that’s now yours.

Sometimes when your head spins from the weight of the axe you see movement in the woods, and you wonder. Sometimes you peer inside, certain that it’s her. But she feels so far away from you now, that you can’t help but feel you’ve abandoned her.

You take walks through the forests; you whistle to the birds and listen for the ones who might sing back. You hear nothing. One day, in the town, you walk by a window display with an old, beat-up guitar. It looks well-loved, and something draws you to it. Faded gold paint around the sound hole, strings messy but you go inside and barter, and take it home with you.

You hum some of the old songs she used to sing, try to piece together chords on the strings that aren’t snapped. It sounds like a mess but you play anyway. It feels like a piece of her that you want to keep close to you. You’ve learned to become a collector of sorts.

You’re kept warm through winter, and spring fades into summer. You take the little fishing boat that came with the cabin out on the river, and hike through the forest. You take your guitar with you, and one day, finally, you hear it.

A mockingjay.

It sings your broken tune back to you, bouncing through the pines. A smooth voice cuts through the birdsong.

“Did you miss me?”

Lucy Gray.

Your head spins around. And there she is, smiling, and you fall into her arms.

“I was so scared. I thought you weren’t coming back.”

“I know. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think I would either.”

“But you’re here, you found me! My note, I didn’t know if…”

“The trees.” She grins. “District Seven. It made perfect sense, my love.”

“I can’t believe you’re here. Lucy Gray, you don’t know how happy I am to see you.”

“Oh, I think I do. If you think for a second you’re alone in that, you couldn’t be more wrong. Now,” she adds, nodding at the guitar, “what do we have here?”

You take her onto the river, safer in Seven than you’d ever been in Twelve. She watches as you grind up lavender, the smell filling up the cabin, fascinated as you explain the hobby that you’d turned into work. She fixes your guitar strings, teaches you some simple chords. You sit on the porch, playing while she sings.

“It suits you here, you know.”

“You think so?”

“I do.” She pauses. “I was so sorry to hear about your ma. She was a good woman. She was always kind to me. To everyone.”

“Thank you. I’m okay now, really. I like it here. It’s quiet, peaceful. I think that’s what she’d want for me.”

When she stares up at the sky, birds soaring up above, the rush of the wind through the trees, you can’t help but ask. This is all so perfect, and after so long you can’t bear the thought of her leaving again.

“Do you know how long…”

She smiles.

“Maybe a day or two? If that’s okay.”

You can’t hide your grin. You nod, and she glances up at you.

“Of course that’s okay. More than okay.”

Her fingers press over yours as she demonstrates a final chord. She sits behind you as you strum, grinning at her, head spinning around and she’s so close, it’s almost surreal.

“You did it!” She’s beautiful. Vivid like a daydream, all technicolor.

“That’s all of it?”

“That’s all of it. Just play those four over again and you’ve got yourself a song.”

Your fingers intertwine, hand slipping from the guitar.

“Thank you for teaching me.” You whisper with a smile.

“You’ll remember it, won’t you?” There’s a solemness to it.

You frown.

“Of course I will. I’ll practice all the time.”

“You promise?��� Her voice is desperate.

You slide the guitar to the floor and take her hand in yours, clasping it to your chest. Eyes making a silent oath.

“I won’t forget, Lucy Gray. I promise you.”

She nods, corners of her mouth turning up into a smile. You sigh.  

“You know I’ve kept everything, don’t you? All of it. Everything I have that reminds me of you.”

“I saw the pinecone on the mantelpiece. Was that from-”

“The time we made the fire in 12? Yeah.”

She lights up.

“You’re such a romantic. I love it. You-”

Your lips press to hers, suddenly overcome with emotion. When you pull away, she sees the tears on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” You cry. “I really didn’t, and… I don’t want you to leave, I-”

Her wide eyes fill with apology.

“I know. I wish I didn’t have to leave, sugar. I’m sorry it took me so long this time. I wish I could tell you how much it hurts to be away. It feels like I never really rest, until I’m back with you. Does that make sense?”

You nod, blinking away your tears.

“Will you do something for me, my love?” She presses, soft hands brushing away your tears.

“Anything.”

“Until tomorrow, can we pretend I’m not leaving? Pretend like this is our normal. Like we’ve got all the time in the world.”

You close your eyes, then look at her again, just as quickly, not wanting to waste a precious second.

“All the time in the world.” You whisper back.

True to your word, you make the most of it. She leaves you the next morning. You say a proper goodbye this time, holding her like you’ll never let go. But you do.

Weeks stretch on and you can feel her slipping away again. The birds ease the pain, singing her pretty melodies back to you, like a worn-out record you’ve played on repeat. You throw the windows and doors open, filling the house with summer’s balmy air and the sound of her voice bouncing through the rooms as if she was still there. But soon enough, they forget her dulcet notes, and you’re alone with yourself again.

You track the time through seasons, like you always have. The summer draws to a bittersweet close, and you miss it before it’s fully gone.

You slip back into your routine. You take the boat out alone. The schoolchildren sneak up to your door at times, you hear them whispering. The witch rumours are back in full swing but you don’t mind them. You think it rather suits you. You open the door, much to their horror, and offer them some cookies. They come dutifully back for more on Saturdays, and you appreciate the bit of company.

You keep your promise, and it keeps her alive. You practice the chords she taught you, rough calluses starting to form on your fingers. You trace them at night when the world gets too quiet, and as winter closes in again it gets quieter still. The birds fly away to escape the cold, and you wonder if out there somewhere, she might see them. You find yourself praying the winter isn’t being too cruel to her, wherever she is.

One day, at the market, you’re sat at your stall selling chamomile and sage tea, and you hear her name, like a question in someone’s voice. They remember. They remember her. Your heart swells. You want to scream at the top of your lungs, it’s her. She is the girl you love.

She appears more and more in your dreams, some nights you’re restless, dreaming of her scared, running from something in a dark forest, sometimes you’re there by her side. Other times you wake with a start thinking she’s knocking at your door. You sprint outside into the darkness, barefoot on the damp grass, turning in circles before you catch your breath.

You could make yourself some valerian root tea as a remedy, but you don’t. You don’t mind her living on through your dreams. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.

You’re comforted by this haunting.

She finds you again. She always does.

“I saw the Covey a few months ago.” You tell her, the first night you spend together, lay in your bed, arms and legs a tangled mess, her hand in your hair.

Her eyes light up.

“Did you really? Close to here?”

You nod.

“They weren’t here for long. I’m not sure they recognised me, I was at the back of the room. It was pretty dark.”

Her eyes are wistful, filled with something you think you understand now.

“It all feels like so long ago, doesn’t it? I forget sometimes, just how long it’s been.” She looks to the floor. “And Maude Ivory – was she there? How’d she look?”

“She was.” You grin. “She looked happy. Healthy. She was smiling and dancing the whole night, like she always used to.”

You pause for a second, wondering if you should go back, mention that she, much like you, must still have an emptiness, a gap in her life even after all these years, but it’s like Lucy Gray reads your mind. Always one step ahead.

“That’s good.” She says decidedly. “It’s all I ever wanted for her. To be happy. Free. Thank you for telling me. I… I think about them a lot. About all of it. But I always hoped they’d move on without me.”

You’re quiet when you speak again.

“Lucy Gray, I don’t think anyone could ever move on from you.”

It lingers in the air. You speak up again.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course you can.”

“When I saw them that night, I stayed for the whole set, because… well, it’s silly,” you confess, “I couldn’t stop watching. I kept thinking that you’d show up. Like they’d just announce your name and they’d all cheer like they did in Twelve. Like you would get up there and sing, and see me in the crowd, and just… smile. Like you’d asked me to be there that night.”

It’s back again, that wistful look of hers.

“I sure wish I had been, sugar. But I think I’d rather be here with you than up on that stage, these days.”

Warmth fills your chest. “Yeah?”

She takes a breath.

“It’s important that people forget me. It’s safer this way. I don’t know what they’d do if they found me, but I know for certain I don’t plan to find out. Maybe one day… well, we’ll have to see. But for now, I could stay a little longer. Would that be okay? If I stayed until the week ends?”

Stay forever, you want to say. But you nod, holding her like she’s already gone.

When she leaves, it’s too soon. Always too soon. You stand in front of the cabin, wishing you could mold your hand around hers and never let go. You kiss her goodbye.

“You didn’t see me here.” She whispers against your lips.

“Not sure I know what you’re talking about.” You respond, and her lips turn into a half-smile.

“Now. Close your eyes.”

You press them shut, feeling her hands slip from yours. When you open them, she’s gone again.

As the years go by, you stop hearing the name Lucy Gray altogether. She starts to feel more like a folk tale; a messy, ink splashed cursive on old parchment. You yearn to speak of her, to keep her legacy alive, but you can’t. You don’t. You remember, though. The world could forget about Lucy Gray Baird, but your memory of her lived on like a still-beating heart, and in turn it kept her alive. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t keep you alive, too.

You make quite the name for yourself, your apothecary bringing in customers from across Seven, sometimes further. So much so, that sometimes you wonder if when she passes through Twelve or Seven, she hears about you and remembers, counting down the days until she gets to come home.

She still haunts your dreams, slipping away as soon as you wake up. But she’ll come back. No matter how many times she leaves. Wherever you go, she’ll find you. She could go anywhere in the world, but she’ll always come back home to you. And you’ll be waiting for her, even if the world curses her name, even if the Covey forgets her too. You understand now. She’s as much yours as you are hers. And when she comes home, it’ll always feel like she never left. And that’s enough for you. It was always enough.

You leave your porch light on.

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