#The Answer to Life the Universe and Everything

[ghostlyferrettarot]

♥︎Pick a picture:💕⭐️Channeled messages from your future self⭐️💕

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

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💕Masterlist💕

💙Pile 1:

"You are closer than you think to the life you truly desire, just trust the process."

"The change you fear so much is the door that will lead you to what truly belongs to you."

"Do not underestimate the power of patience; what is to come will be much greater than you imagine."

"Your intuition already knows the answer, it is time to listen to it and act with confidence."

"Remember: everything you have overcome has prepared you for what is to come. There is no turning back."

"Sometimes, moving away from the known is necessary to make room for the new and extraordinary."

"The love you give yourself is the first step to attracting what you deserve in all areas of your life."

"It is time to let go of what no longer serves you; the universe has something better in store for you."

"Your personal power is unbreakable. Do not let anyone or anything make you doubt your ability."

"Opportunities are in front of you, you just need to take the first step with faith and courage."

Hi Pile 1! Your future self is so wise and clever, they are in a powerful position for sure. It's time to take the first step you need, you are capable and are ready for what's next!

💖Pile 2:

"The calm before the storm is the sign that something big is coming, get ready to receive it."

"Your efforts have not been in vain. The universe is preparing the ground for your success."

"You don't have to have all the answers now. Sometimes, the most important thing is to trust the path."

"You are breaking free from what was holding you back. Peace and clarity are closer than you think."

"Your energy is aligned with change. Don't resist the inevitable, embrace the transformation."

"The time to heal has come. Emotional release is your first step towards fulfillment."

"The stars have aligned your destiny for a greater purpose, trust that everything happens for a reason."

"It's time to manifest what you want. The universe is listening to your deepest thoughts."

"You are in the process of rebuilding yourself, give it time."

"What seems uncertain now, will become clearer in time. Allow yourself to trust the journey."

Hi pile 2! You are in a transformation process and your future self wants you to know that everything will be fine, just give yourself the time you need and don't push to hard; be gentle with yourself, a big hug for you pile 2.

💕Pile 3:

"Your capacity to achieve great things is far beyond what you imagine. Trust your potential."

"The opportunities you seek are on your way."

"You are ready to receive everything the universe has prepared for you."

"Every challenge you face is an opportunity in disguise. You are being prepared for something much greater."

"The key to success is constant action. Don't stop, the universe is aligning everything for you."

"Doors are opening, and you hold the key. Don't doubt your ability to take advantage of every opportunity."

"Your dreams are valid and attainable. The first step is to believe in them as much as you believe in yourself."

"You are attracting success because you are aligned with your purpose. Keep believing, keep moving forward, the best is yet to come."

"Your capacity to love and create is infinite. Everything you put your heart into doing, becomes art."

"You are exactly where you need to be. Every step you take brings you closer to the person you are destined to be."

Hi pile 3! You are definitely working hard for your dreams and I see that you will be someone very successful! Feel that you are someone artistic, who connects with the most sincere parts of yourself when creating, this will lead you to find your way. Keep going pile 3!

💕💖Thank you for reading and tell me if it resonated 💖💕

[passengerprincessblog]

“Lewis, Next Door”~ pt 1 Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: age gap, alcohol?

Summary: Coming home from university, Y/N expects a quiet reunion with family—until she finds herself face-to-face with the enigmatic Lewis Hamilton, her dad’s famous neighbor and friend. What starts as a dull evening soon turns unexpectedly electric when Lewis offers more than just small talk.

I hadn’t been home all semester. Between studying, late-night group projects, and the occasional breakdown, the past few months at uni had been… a lot. I’d pushed through, and even though I’d missed my parents, there was something about finishing this term that made me feel a little invincible. I was finally here, though, bags slung over my shoulder as I hugged my mom in the doorway and let my dad ruffle my hair in that way he always did.

Home sweet home.

After the greetings and settling in, I noticed someone else was around. Our neighbor, Lewis Hamilton, was back too. Usually, he was off racing, so it was a rare sight. I wasn’t someone who followed F1 religiously, but I knew Lewis was a big deal—and the whole “dad’s friend” thing only made it more surreal. The few times we’d run into each other, I’d been struck by how effortlessly confident he was. Attractive? Absolutely. Intimidating? Without a doubt. But, honestly, I’d never thought much beyond that. He was just Lewis, the neighbor.

That night, my dad was throwing a big party to celebrate his latest product launch. Fancy guests, fancy decorations, fancy everything—the whole nine yards. I’d barely unpacked, and here I was, getting ready to play dress-up and smile politely for a parade of strangers. My friends were out clubbing tonight, living it up, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. But I loved my dad, so here I was, hair styled, makeup on point, feeling like I’d stepped into someone else’s life for the night.

As the party got into full swing, I did my best to stay interested, though I kept glancing at my phone, imagining my friends dancing somewhere with loud music and neon lights. Instead, I was here, weaving through clusters of my dad’s colleagues. He was chatting with a group of important-looking men, so I took my chance and approached him, feeling like a little kid again as I asked, “Can I please just have one drink?”

He shot me a disapproving look. “No. You know the answer.”

“Fine,” I muttered, trying not to let my frustration show. I wandered around a bit, catching snippets of adult conversation that were all about business deals and tax write-offs. Glamorous.

Finally, I spotted a lonely champagne glass on a table. I glanced around, and with a little thrill of rebellion, I picked it up, taking a sip. It was cold and crisp, and even though I’d never been a huge fan of champagne, it felt like a tiny slice of freedom. A few more sips, and I was actually starting to relax.

That’s when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned, and there he was—Lewis, giving me a knowing smile.

“I see you like my drink?” he teased, eyes glinting with amusement.

My stomach dropped. Oh god, I’d taken his champagne? “Oh my god. I’m so sorry… I didn’t know… I can get you a new one if you want, I just—”

He chuckled, shaking his head. His laugh was low and warm, and something about it made me relax, just a bit. “Nah, I’m messing with you. It’s fine. I don’t even really drink anyways.” He grinned, flashing a glimpse of a gold grill that made him look both mischievous and effortless, a vibe that seemed distinctly Lewis.

I managed a shy nod, suddenly unsure of what to do with my hands. “Oh… good. Thanks.” I couldn’t believe I was so nervous. But he just kept looking at me, his gaze both curious and relaxed.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You bored? I’m so bored. No offense to your dad, of course.”

I let out a laugh, surprised at how blunt he was. “It’s boring,” I admitted, feeling a little guilty, but somehow knowing he understood. He had this whole wild, glamorous life, and a party like this was probably as dull as watching paint dry for him.

“So, what? You’re back from uni, huh? That’s crazy. I remember when you were like, ten,” he says, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

I feel my cheeks heat up with a pang of embarrassment. Here I was, feeling all cool and grown up, and he still saw me as a kid. Great.

“Yep,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light but failing to hide the faint annoyance.

“Well, you’re better than me,” he shrugs. “I never finished school.” I glance at him, surprised he’s trying to keep this conversation going. Usually, we barely exchanged two words, and now, here we were, alone, talking like… friends? Something more? I didn’t know.

“Well… yeah, but you’re a millionaire,” I say, trying to sound casual, though there’s a little hint of playfulness in my voice. I’m not exactly flirting, but maybe a little. Just testing the waters.

He raises an eyebrow, smiling at me but seeming almost uncomfortable at the mention of his money. He shrugs again. “You’re not exactly struggling either,” he teases back.

Was… that a flirt? Or was I just imagining it? It’s just the way he said it, the way his gaze lingers a moment longer than it should. My pulse quickens, but I try to play it cool.

“No… not exactly,” I say, catching his hint and matching his tone. I glance around, making a point about how dull this party is. “Just right now.”

He chuckles, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe next time, you come to one of my parties,” he says. It sounds more like a command than an invitation, like he’s decided I’ll be there.

I nod softly, trying to hide the thrill in my expression. He’s really inviting me? He seems amused, almost as if my reaction is endearing.

“Yeah, maybe,” I say with a slight shrug, finishing off the champagne. I feel his eyes on me, and when I look up, he’s studying me, like he’s considering something.

Then he breaks into a grin. “I could give you my number,” he says, casual but direct.

I raise an eyebrow, trying to mask the excitement bubbling up. “Oh?”

“So you can tell me next time you’re bored,” he adds, giving me a cheeky wink.

I feel my cheeks flush as I pull out my phone. He takes it from me, putting his number in. My hands are shaking just a bit when he hands it back.

“There,” he says with that familiar grin. “Now you’ll be set.”

“Cool. Thanks,” I say, somehow managing to keep my voice steady. Inside, though, I feel my heart racing.

He glances back at the party, then back at me, giving me one last wink. “I should probably go talk to your dad. See you around, Y/N.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me standing there, still holding the empty champagne glass, my mind spinning. His number. His number. A part of me feels like I’m floating.

———————————

Oo La La 🙈

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[myringtoe]

stairway to heaven 🪽 | lnds men

pairing: zayne x fem!reader, xavier x fem!reader, sylus x fem!reader, rafayel x fem!reader (separate)

cw: talk of spiritual beings and religion.

a/n: the basic premise of this one is that mc is an angel…like a biblical angel. i’ve had this idea for years so this is HIGHLY self indulgent. :3 i’d also love to expand on this if anyone would be interested in that. :)

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

just to preface this, this is kinda based on an oc of mine. but i’ve worded it so it’s still reader pov. :)

zayne 𓇢𓆸

legit didn’t believe you at first.

you’re gonna have to show him, full wings and everything for him to believe you.

so when you do show him, he’s astounded. zayne thinks you’re absolutely beautiful, while also being confused. he has so many questions.

one of the only times you’ll see this man speechless.

once you’ve explained how you came to live on earth, and how everything else works, he really doesn’t care about your supernatural-ness.

all he cares about is him getting to be with you, he doesn’t care what you are.

would be so worried about accidentally hurting your wings.

when you give him a feather from your wings that naturally fell off, he almost cries. it means so much to him. he puts it on his desk at work in its own little area.

whenever someone asks what it’s from, he lies and says it’s from a rare bird he saw while he was in another country.

xavier ☆

he LOVES it.

when you show him your angel form, he’s freaking out. (in a good way)

the minute you show your wings, he’s asking if you to take him flying some time. (if you say no, he gets pouty)

believes you’re the most stunning creature in the universe. will NOT stop complimenting you.

is so curious about your abilities as an angel.

then comes the questions about your origins and how you came to earth. when you answer, he’s completely fascinated.

genuinely thinks this is one of the coolest things to ever happen to him. his girlfriend is an ACTUAL ANGEL for christs sake! (see what i did there? ;))

is practically begging to touch your wings. he’s extra careful around the high points/bones of them. his touch is feather-light against them.

any time you’re in your angel form, he just stares at you in awe. he can’t believe that someone as divine as you, chose to be with him.

sylus 𖦹

another speechless one.

is terrified of “ruining” you. (as he puts it)

he thinks that because you’re angel, that he’s somehow going to ruin your angelic “innocence”.

to which you then have to explain to him that that’s literally never going to happen because that’s not how it works.

he felt like he didn’t deserved you before, now he feels like he REALLY doesn’t. this guy needs so much reassurance that he does deserve you.

(sorry if sylus is a little ooc)

after you’ve explained everything to him. he just wants to shower you with love. telling you how beautiful and amazing you are.

leads to a very lovely and very long night. ;)

he’s hyping himself up a little bit too, like ‘there’s an actual angel in my presence, and she wants ME.’

super protective of you after you tell him. he knows you’re fully capable of defending and protecting yourself, but he 1. doesn’t want others to find out and try to blackmail or take advantage of you, and 2. doesn’t want the people of the N109 zone to try and take the one good thing he has in his life.

let’s be honest, sylus has a cocky and confident attitude, which is admirable. but on the inside, he needs SO much reassurance. (which isn’t a bad thing)

rafayel 𓆝

this little shit.

he feels like he finally has someone he can relate to. with him being a sea god and all.

a mermaid and an angel…what a pair.

showing him your angel form was a mistake.

because now he wants to use you as a muse for every single painting.

literally one of the first things he asks is if he can use you for one of his paintings.

people would ask him who the person in the painting was, and with a totally serious face he would say:

“my angel girlfriend. :)”

and no one would actually believe that you were an angel, so it’s like a little inside joke between the two of you.

but seriously, he feels like he can trust you with his secret so much more, because he knows you’re hiding one too.

rafayel would of course ask the typical questions, to which you’d answer honestly.

he’s probably the most chill about it out of all of them. because he’s a “divine” being himself. while he may not have wings, he does have a fish tail and can breathe underwater.

he understands you the most out of the four.

[jimmybutlrr]

Mystery Girl

Pairing: Professor -Terry Richmond x Brown-Skinned Women

Warnings : 18+. Romance, Mature Content (Cursing, and Smut) One-Shot, "Getting Slut Out"

Summary: He's that easy, that his draws dropped a few hours after meeting.

A/N: You voted and you shall receive. As always constructive Criticism is welcome and feedback *No Part 2*

“SURPRISE” everyone said. 

Terry clutches his heart feeling happy that his family showed up and out for him. 

“Thank y'all,” Terry said. After going around the party greeting every family member and friends. Terry can be found talking to Mike and the rest of his friend group. “We have to the club, maybe the strip club” Mike said, throwing all the options out there, “calm down, I just came back after being in the military for a few years” Terry said knowing his cousin is not going to take no for an answer. “You're right, we could go to the bar and use your military discount” Mike said, making the men laugh. 

Terry sighs, thinking about the options, laid out in front of him. “Alright, we can go to the bar but only for a few hours because I want to bury these memories”. Terry said in despain, thinking about his time in the military. “I’m going to make those memories disappear” That’s what Mike said a few hours ago, now being too drunk to entertain Terry. 

As Terry sits at the bar talking to the bartender as he has nothing better to do. During the time he spent talking to her, he found out that she had graduated university with a bachelors of social science, has a chihuahua, is collecting another degree  and works at the bar to be able to pay off her classes and debt.  “I really enjoy this talk with you but It’s the end of my shift and I have to switch out now, See you later Handsome .

" The bartender says winking at Terry and leaves before Terry can have a chance to get her number. Drinking the rest of his drink, he looks around for Mike and the boys, seeing them on the dance floor and he walks towards them. Tapping one of his friends on the shoulder, he lets them know that he has to leave and to watch out for Mike. “I have to go, but make sure you guys  make it home safe, alright”. The man nodds to Terry’s words, turning around to continue to dance with the bad gyal in front of him.  

Making his way through the club, throwing a few excuses here and there. He gets to the exit of the club and starts searching for his car when he sees the bartender on the phone, arguing with the uber as he’s not understanding where to go or what she’s saying. Terry walks up to her grabbing her attention, “Hi, I was just walking to my car, when I  saw you upset and I just wanted to make sure that everything was alright, as it’s dark out” Terry said concerned for safety. “I’m alright , it’s just the uber, they're starting to piss me off”. She said upset, “If It makes you feel better, you look sexy when you’re mad” Terry said walking  even closer to her, she blushes feeling flattered, by his compliment. 

“Thank you handsome, you don’t look too bad yourself” She smiles, staring into his eyes, biting her lip, noticing the height difference between them.  “I’m about about to go home, do you need a ride” Terry said breaking the silence, “I would love that” She said putting her head down, Terry wanting to charm her some more, takes to fingers and picks up her head “Don’t put your head down around me”  he demands staring into her eyes some more, feeling a bit chilly as he has no jacket, he put his arm around her neck and starts walking towards his car.

Thinking back to how they met, It really doesn’t explain how she ended up on his bed with her face planted into the sheets, gripping for dear life. “Don’t cum, Don’t cum” Terry demanded “No ppllleeaassee, let.. .me .. .cum, ppllleeeaasse” moans as her stomach starts hurting her. “It hurts, pleassee”. Terry nodds “Alright let it out, when i could to 3 alright” Terry said, lifting up her hand to start slapping her cheeks “ One “Slap” Two “Slap” Three” Terry said feeling her tighten around his dick, feeling like 2 orgasm isn’t enough. 

He starts fucking her through her orgasm, not caring that she’s trying to push his stomach way from her “Please, it too much,plleeaassee” She moans feeling tired. Terry stops, slapping her ass one good time before turning her around. He takes her legs putting them next to her head giving her a small kiss before he starts to bottom her pussy out”OOOMMYY Gooooodddd”. Tears start falling from her eyes, all while her ears start ringing and her body starts twitching. 

Making her reach up to push his body,” Why you running” Terry said, grabbing her hands and choking her. Looking down, Terry smirks, seeing drools fall from her mouth, the whites of her eyes and her delayed speech, trying her hardest to speak English or at least speak at all, it was cute. Terry’s thrust starts rough and slopier, revealing that his nut is getting closer and closer. “Come on, Nut deep inside me, daddy please” She said hoping to be filled. Terry obeys letting of a string of curses while he nuts deep inside her, not caring about the missing condom

Letting go of her body, he falls next to her, both too tired to get up. They fall asleep bare and sheetless.  A few weeks later, Terry wakes up and starts rubbing his eyes. Walking to his bathroom he starts getting ready for his first day being a substitute teacher for a college course that his connections helped him get. He gets to work, taking out the lesson plan from the previous teacher, the students start piling in one by one. Scanning everybody's faces for remembrance, he sees her. Shocked that she turned out to be his student, while also coming to the conclusion that she is equally as shocked as she is seated staring at him with the same eyes that were rolling back, just a few weeks before. When it hits him, He never got her name.

Tags -

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@megamindsecretlair @theereina

@melaninpov @mscarter213

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 87 (Ghost Night at the Salty Paws Saloon)

Though rare for bars to welcome ghosts with discounted prices, the Salty Paws Saloon in Fisherman's Wharf wanted to embrace any form of sim who dared spend simoleons at their middling establishment.

Their new Ghost Night was an experiment promoted in the Ambrosia Society's final newsletter, and Heather and Conrad had come on a mission of their own.

"You really think it's possible the man you met outside the historical museum could be here?" wondered Heather. "At Ghost Night?"

Conrad shrugged. "I haven't seen or heard trace of him since that night, and without his name I don't know how to find him. Besides, you're the one who suggested he might be a ghost."

"Yeah, but I was kidding."

Brindleton Bay had little in the way of nightlife. The Calico Lounge and Yacht Club down the road was where higher society danced and socialized, but spending the night surrounded by ghosts in a dive bar was just fine for Heather and Conrad.

In the early days of their relationship, when Ash was still a baby, they'd come here after watching seals at the pier. They'd share a basket of fries and maybe watch a sportsball game or two on the big screen. It was even where Ash learned to pull himself up to stand, and would always be a sentimental place for them.

Now with busy careers, two kids, and the added stress Conrad tried to keep to himself, it had been too long since they'd been out together. Considering their laid-back dating style, it was unsurprising they'd chosen such an untraditional night out.

Conrad pulled out his phone so they could mug for a selfie. "After everything we've seen with the Ambrosia Society newsletters, are you not just a little curious?"

"Of course I am. I want you to find an answer to at least one mystery taking up space in your mind. You're so stressed lately with work, the kids, and now with George Brindleton, closing the book on something would be good. And I want to help you, like always. It's just...What are you going to do if you find out the old man is a ghost?"

"Find out what he wants, I guess? His unfinished business."

They were both a little hungry, but the food at the Salty Paw was usually terrible, so they settled for sharing a bowl of chips from seats at the bar. The place filled first with human patrons, but as the night wore on, several ethereal beings floated into the pub.

One took a seat at the empty barstool to Heather's right. He gave them both respectful nods, and they returned the polite greeting, unsure what to say next. What sort of small talk were you supposed to make with a ghost?

But this man took an immediate interest in Heather, taking care of the small talk on his own. "Good evening, miss. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My friends call me Felix Psyded, Esquire. Lawyer, entrepreneur, and founder of the University of Britechester."

Conrad smirked. "They call you all that? I think I remember reading urban legends about you when I was in college."

"I've read them. None are true. I haven't stayed haunting the halls of my own university. I've been trying to visit as many places as I could."

"As a ghost?"

Felix turned up his nose at Conrad's surprise. "And what do your friends call you?"

"My friends call me Conrad. Pretty much everyone else calls me Sargent Gordon."

"Well, Sargent, what brings you out to pay full price for drinks on a night for sims in my predicament? Are you here to remember lost souls in the spirit of the day? Maybe a war hero?"

"My fiancee, Heather, and I are on a date tonight."

"And we're looking for someone. He might be a ghost. If he is...maybe you know him?"

The ethereal lawyer nodded warmly. "Miss Heather, I've been a ghost for many years and I've met many like me. What's his name?"

"That's the thing, we don't know it. He said he's lived in Brindleton Bay all his life, came out of the museum and offered to show Conrad around the lighthouse after hours."

"It's hard to get far without a name, and I haven't spent that much time here over the years. What does he look like?"

"Well, he's not...translucent," said Conrad. "He's elderly, tanned skin, wavy hair, mustache...I met him once outside the historical museum but I haven't seen him since. I haven't been able to get out to Deadgrass Isle much lately, either, but no one at the museum knows him, and I'm starting to think if he's not a ghost, I imagined him completely."

Felix sniffed. "Sounds very generic. Maybe it is all in your head."

"Forget it. I don't see him here, anyway."

"I'm not saying I couldn't help you. I've become a bit of a ghost historian in the many, many years since I expired."

"Why haven't you crossed over?" asked Heather. "Do you have unfinished business?"

"I most certainly do! Today is the anniversary of my death - I died all the way back in 1915, before this day was even known as Remembrance Day. And I came here to drink myself into a stupor so I can forget how I died far too soon."

"Your unfinished business is to just drink your pain away every year?"

"No, Sargent. I pine for the life I could have lived! I had just opened the University of Britechester with a ribbon-cutting ceremony and the linguistics professor told a very good joke. I laughed harder than I intended. You might say I became hysterical - very unbecoming in my day - and the next thing I knew, the Grim Reaper himself was offering to help me cross over. I told him thank you, but no thank you. Even if I couldn't live as a human, I wasn't going anywhere."

"That's a terrible reason to die, because something was funny," said Heather, as she and Conrad both took a drink of their cream colas in perfect sync. But Conrad finished his in a single gulp, and Heather noticed.

Felix sighed. "That's not even the saddest part. When I died, I lost my love. She remarried another man and had a family and all but forgot me, while I spent her years on earth unable to move on. She's spending her afterlife with her husband, and I can't say I blame her..."

"That's rough," acknowledged Conrad. "I'm sorry."

"I would be willing to keep helping you, if you can point me in the direction of someone who's here for the Ambrosia Society. I've heard the Watcher's put an end to emotional deaths, and I can laugh as hard as I like without keeling over a second time! I was hoping to finally meet someone who can make ambrosia."

Heather smiled. "I could do that. I've learned how! I haven't made it yet, but we have the ingredients. We took the society up on their challenge for our own reasons, but we could always get more ingredients later. Will you help us figure out the identity of the old man at the museum if I make you some ambrosia?"

"I would be honoured to help you, Miss Heather. Though I do have one more imposition to place on you. Would you allow me to stay in your home tonight? Brindleton Bay has little in the way of empty rooms, and I would only ask for a humble sofa to rest."

Conrad wavered. His phone beeped and he checked the call display, cringing when he recognized the San Myshuno area code in the unlisted number.

"Is that work?" asked Heather. "Do you need to answer that?"

Ximena had finally returned the call he'd placed yesterday in frustration, but she'd waited until the evening, when he was more likely to be with his family. He put the phone back in his pocket. Ximena would have to wait, and Rafa, too. Wherever he was.

"It's not work. It's an unlisted number, probably just spam." He turned to their new ghostly acquaintance with a frown. "Listen, we've got kids at home, Mr. Psyded."

"Esquire. Felix Psyded, Esquire," complained the apparition. "And I'm very good with children. I'd like to have one or two of my own someday, should I get to live again."

Heather and Conrad stood to speak quietly. "Ash and Lavender will both be in bed by the time we get home," she reasoned.

"And when the kids wake up in the morning?"

"Maybe...maybe meeting a real ghost is how I can start talking to Ash about life and death. He's so smart - too smart for his own good sometimes, I think. But if he learns about ambrosia and death flowers now, maybe one day if he ever hears about the curse, it'll all be easier to talk about."

Felix poked his head in with interest. "Who's curse?"

Conrad snapped his head back. "Just a minute, Felix Psyded, Esquire."

"You're not having a very good night. Are you, Sargent?"

"I did notice you kept giving moon eyes to my fiancee."

"Both of you, stop! We'd be happy to have you over tonight, Mr. Psyded. Esquire. But please don't get off on the wrong foot with Conrad or come home and scare our kids."

"You have my word, I won't possess a single piece of furniture!"

They spent a few more hours meeting several ghosts who made their way to the bar for cheap drinks, hoping against hope that the man from the museum might eventually turn up. But after midnight, they gave up waiting and settled their tab, bringing a giggling Felix with them.

"I'm so excited, I'm vibrating. Can you hear me?"

But Heather and Conrad were quieter. She knew something was bothering him, and she wanted to know what it was. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: I didn't initially set out to schedule this post on Remembrance Day. This is just where the last week of Reaper Rewards stuff fit in my existing storyline, but how fitting, in a way. 🌺

NOTE 2: On one hand, Conrad should be romancing her extra hard considering he's lying, but if he tries over-romancing unflirty Heather she'll know something's up even more strongly. So they get a dive bar date night to fulfill the last tasks of the Reaper Rewards challenge.

[mononijikayu]

and there was something 'bout you (that now I can't remember) — fushiguro megumi.

Then, you smiled, soft and genuine, the kind that made his heart ache with both joy and longing. “It’s a good thing I have someone like you, though.” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder for just a moment, as if seeking reassurance. “My Megumi.” "My Megumi." you said softly, the words like a balm that soothed every ache, every frustration he’d been holding onto. The way you said his name, it reached down to the deepest part of him, pulling at heartstrings that felt knotted and tired. It made him feel more alive than he ever thought possible, like for just a moment, the world could pause and bask in that glow. It was always like this with you. The way you spoke his name, the way your voice wrapped around it like a melody, made everything else fade away. It was as if the sun itself came out just to light the room when you said Megumi. He knew with a certainty that startled him that he couldn’t live without this, without you.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern no curses au;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, fluff, aged up characters, brief one sided romance, eventual romance, slice of life, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, sad ending, physical touch, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, grief, internal conflict, future, letting go, break up, getting back together, depiction of character death, depiction of romance, depiction of internal conflict, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, depiction of illness, mention of illness, mention of loneliness;

WORD COUNT: 21k words

NOTE: when i sent this to my beta reader last night, it was like 17k words. it ended with 5k more words than it needed to be. but with how i write, i just end up being the most unpredictable person. even to myself. i wanted to write about megumi cause i missed him. i hope yall guys understand. anyway, i hope you enjoy this a lot!!! i'll see you soon on the next one!!! i love you all <3

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MEETING YOU FELT LIKE DESTINY. And he would not have it any other way. If one was being honest, you were the only other constant in Fushiguro Megumi’s life – besides his sister Tsumiki and Gojo Satoru. But that was to be expected. He trusted no one.

He likes to think he was a tough crowd, that he wasn’t easy to please. But Megumi expected that. After all, what child wouldn’t have that issue, when his dad left him and his sister to fend for themselves at such a young age? He was bound to have mistrust for everyone and anyone who can’t prove themselves. 

He hadn’t expected to make a friend, not really. If he was being honest, talking to people wasn’t something he excelled at, and reading others’ expressions felt like a puzzle he was never meant to solve.

He was and always will be someone who had a hard time with people. But then there was you, full of unexpected warmth, approaching him on the playground, holding out your prized Charizard card in exchange for his Jigglypuff. You seemed to be the exception. 

“Hey, you!” You pointed at him like he was a riddle you had just solved. Megumi blinked, glancing around to make sure you weren’t talking to someone else.

“Yes?” He answered, the single word sounding more like a question.

You marched up to him, unbothered by the silence that followed. “I’ll trade you my Charizard for your Jigglypuff.”

Megumi’s brows knit together in disbelief. He stared down at the holographic card you offered, one that every kid in school would beg to have, and then at the tiny, pink Jigglypuff in his hands that no one ever wanted.

“Why?” he asked, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Charizard is powerful. Why do you want this weak card?”

“Because it’s cute! And I love cute things! Well…everything cute, really!” you said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. 

Your smile was bright, eyes crinkling as if you were laughing at a secret only you knew. When he slowly handed over the Jigglypuff card, your face lit up with such joy that it made Megumi feel like he had done something incredible. You hugged the card to your chest and then looked at him with a grin. 

“Thank you for trading with me! Do you wanna be friends?”

Fushiguro Megumi stared at you for a good few seconds, stunned by your straightforwardness. You were smiling all throughout that. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. And he could feel it, even then.

You pulled him so close to you with your magnetic pull. He spun around you almost immediately, like the moon embracing the earth. But before he could answer, you added with a playful tilt of your head. 

“I’ll even let you win in tag! And…and I can share my candies! My mommy gave me a lot to share!”

A small, surprised smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He didn’t notice it himself at first. But he likes to think that he only remembered how he smiled years later, when you pointed out to him. Yet all he could focus on is how you smiled at him. How you were so happy, waiting for his answer to your invitation. 

“You’re on.” he said, his voice soft but resolute.

That continued on as you both found yourself living in bodies that grew older and minds that grew wiser. Years passed and yet you had only gotten closer to one another. Both of you were now in middle school, and almost everyday since then — you had always been together.

Fushiguro Megumi could not remember a day where you both were ever even apart. Just one smile and he was hooked. His morning, his noon and night would be consumed by you. And he rinses and repeats. 

The playground turned into hallways and classrooms, and those silly childhood games were replaced with quiet study sessions and whispered jokes. But the feeling you gave him never changed.

He still felt like he was holding something rare and precious whenever you smiled at him like that. Everything about your smile was the most precious warmth he could ever feel, that he admits.

One evening, as you both sat under the orange sky, your laughter from an earlier joke fading into content silence, you turned to him, resting your chin on your knee. “Hey, Megumi?”

He glanced over, meeting your eyes that were as warm as ever. “Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about how lucky we are to have met?” you said, your voice light but sincere.

Megumi looked down at his hands for a moment, feeling the weight of your question. “Yeah.” he replied, his voice low. Then, looking back at you with a rare, soft smile, he added, “More than you know.”

You blinked in surprise, cheeks turning pink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Megumi shrugged, eyes glinting with a teasing challenge. “Figure it out, you dummy.”

As your laughter rang out, he knew, in that moment, that he was irrevocably in love with you. He always had been, and he always would be.

Your laughter bubbled into the quiet evening air, filling the space around you both with a warmth that wrapped itself around Megumi like a familiar embrace. You playfully nudged his shoulder, eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

“Oh, so now you’re mysterious, huh? Fushiguro Megumi, you’re supposed to be the serious one!”

Megumi huffed a soft chuckle, a rare sound that made your heart skip. “Maybe I’ve been keeping secrets all this time, you know?” he said, his tone light, though there was a weight behind it that he didn’t dare show.

Your eyebrows rose as you leaned in, eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Secrets? Like what?” You poked his arm playfully, eyes alight with mischief. “Spill it, or I’ll never let you live it down.”

He met your gaze for a moment, searching your face, the sunset casting warm shadows across your features. The thought of confessing everything—how many nights he’d spent thinking about you, worrying about you, loving you, it all made everything tighten in his chest. But he pushed it back down, letting the familiar wall settle back into place.

“There are some secrets that are better left unsaid, you dummy.” he said, his voice steady but distant.

You pouted, crossing your arms with a huff. “You always do that. You’re always hiding things from me, Megumi. You know you can trust me, right?”

His eyes softened, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “I know, I know.” he said, pausing before adding. “But you shouldn’t hide things from me either. Like when your boyfriend stands you up.”

The playful expression fell from your face, replaced by surprise. You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless. “How did you—”

“I just know.” he interrupted, looking away, his jaw tightening as he bit back the frustration that had been building inside him for weeks.

He hated the way you always made excuses for people who didn’t deserve you. He hated even more that you loved the wrong ones. You sighed, the tension in your shoulders easing as you gave a small shrug.

“He’s busy, you know he’s on the baseball team.” you said, though your voice was thin, even to your own ears.

Megumi clenched his jaw, swallowing the urge to argue, to tell you that being “busy” wasn’t a good enough reason. But he knew it wouldn’t change anything. He didn’t want to ruin this moment, didn’t want to see you upset. So, he said nothing.

Then, you smiled, soft and genuine, the kind that made his heart ache with both joy and longing. “It’s a good thing I have someone like you, though.” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder for just a moment, as if seeking reassurance. “My Megumi.”

"My Megumi." you said softly, the words like a balm that soothed every ache, every frustration he’d been holding onto.

The way you said his name, it reached down to the deepest part of him, pulling at heartstrings that felt knotted and tired. It made him feel more alive than he ever thought possible, like for just a moment, the world could pause and bask in that glow.

It was always like this with you. The way you spoke his name, the way your voice wrapped around it like a melody, made everything else fade away. It was as if the sun itself came out just to light the room when you said Megumi. He knew with a certainty that startled him that he couldn’t live without this, without you.

The air between you was heavy, charged with words unsaid and emotions kept at bay. Megumi felt his fingers twitch again, that familiar pull to reach for you, to close the space that always felt like miles, even when it was only inches.

You turned to look at him, eyebrows knitting in concern as you noticed the silence. “Megumi, are you okay?” 

Your voice was soft, searching, the way it always was when you sensed something under the surface. He forced a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Thinking? Now that’s dangerous!” you joked, nudging him lightly, your eyes sparkling with mischief. It was an attempt to bring back the lightness, and he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, a sound that surprised even him.

“I guess I can’t argue with that.” he replied, his voice low, but there was warmth in it, the kind reserved only for you.

You tilted your head, studying him like he was one of your favorite puzzles to solve. “Well, whatever it is, you know I’m here, right? You don’t have to keep things to yourself.”

The sincerity in your eyes, in the way you said those words, nearly broke him. He swallowed hard, willing the emotions to stay under control. I know, he wanted to say. And that’s why this hurts so much.

“I know.” he said instead, and it was all he could manage. The truth weighed heavy on his tongue, but he bit it back, holding on to this moment instead; the warmth of your presence, the sound of your laughter lingering in the air.

For now, this was enough. He would live in the warmth of your voice calling his name, over and over, in this moment that felt like forever.

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HE ALREADY EXPECTED FOR THIS TO HAPPEN. Fushiguro Megumi came as soon as he got your call. How could he not show up? He had to. You needed him. More than ever, especially now. The moment he heard your shaky voice, his heart clenched with worry and anger. He had to get to you. He had to put his anger aside.

But he can't help it. He'd never liked him. That jerk of an ex-boyfriend of yours. And now all he could think is, how dare he break your heart? He was unworthy from the beginning and now he thinks he gets the right to you miserable?

His mind raced, weaving through every memory of seeing you smile, laugh, and light up at the smallest things, now replaced by the image of you in pain. Even that thought makes him even more angrier. He hated it. More than anything, more than you jerk of an ex-boyfriend.

Megumi felt like he was going to lose it. He always loses it when it comes to you. Everything about you was something that he felt like he had to cherish and treasure. And so, he bears everything about you, happiness or joy, as a part of him.

Because he loved you. More than anyone else in the world, he liked to believe. His love wasn’t flashy or loud; it was quiet, deep, and constant, like an unspoken promise woven through the moments you shared. 

And yet, people claimed to love you and then hurt you without a second thought. The unfairness of it all made his love even stronger, more resolute. It was a love that stayed in the silent spaces between words, in the way he noticed when you were tired, or remembered how you took your tea, or lingered on your laugh long after you’d left.

But saying it out loud? That was different. He didn’t think he could do that—not now, when you were hurting. Now, when the shattered pieces of your heart weren’t his to fix, but his to hold steady until you could piece them back together.

The rain came down harder as he found you, sitting alone on the cold, wet bench, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Your hair was plastered to your face, water streaming down your cheeks, indistinguishable from your tears. You looked up when he called your name, and the raw anguish in your eyes made his breath hitch.

Everything was soaking through his jacket as he searched the park.  But he could care less. Not when he stood here, watching you continue to sit on the bench under the dim glow of a streetlight, your knees pulled to your chest and your shoulders trembling with silent sobs. The sight made something twist in his chest so fiercely it hurt.

“Hey.” he called softly as he approached, his voice steady but urgent. You didn’t look up, too lost in your world of hurt, raindrops mingling with the tears that fell freely down your cheeks.

“Megumi…….” Your voice cracked, barely audible over the pounding rain.

He dropped down in front of you without hesitation, his jeans soaking through as he knelt in the puddles. “Hey.” he whispered, reaching out to push a wet strand of hair away from your face. His touch was gentle, deliberate, as if afraid you’d break. 

“Are you alright?” The question was hollow, a placeholder for everything he couldn’t put into words.

A humorless laugh escaped your lips, bitter and fragile. “No. Not even close.”

Megumi’s jaw clenched. He wanted to say so much—that you deserved better, that he would give you the world if you let him, that he’d never let anyone hurt you if he could help it. But all he could do was cup your face in his hands, fingers warm against your chilled skin. 

“I’m here, okay?” he said, the words weighted with every unsaid promise. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You let out a shuddering breath, your eyes filling with fresh tears as you looked at him. His eyes, dark and fierce, were fixed on you with such intensity it made your chest ache in a different way, something softer, more hopeful. For a moment, the world around you blurred, the rain and cold forgotten in the heat of his gaze.

A fresh wave of tears welled up, but this time they weren’t just from pain. They were from the sheer relief of having him here, solid and real, when everything else felt like it was crumbling. He hated seeing you fall apart like this. He hated seeing you in so much grief about things you didn’t even need to grieve. 

“I can’t believe he—” You started, voice cracking, but Megumi cut you off with a shake of his head.

“No, no.” he said firmly, his dark eyes meeting yours with a fierce protectiveness. “You don’t deserve any of this. You deserve someone who would never make you feel this way.”

A shiver ran down your spine, part from the cold and part from the warmth in his voice. The rain dripped from his hair, tiny rivulets running down his face, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t move. He just stayed there, eyes fixed on you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Slowly, you reached out and wrapped your arms around him, clinging tightly as if he was the last piece keeping you together. He pulled you close, the rain forgotten as he whispered, “I’ve got you. Always.”

“Why can’t everyone be like you, Megumi?” you whispered, the question hanging between you, filled with everything he couldn’t say.

He closed his eyes, the weight of his love pressing against his ribcage, aching to be let out. But he simply pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. 

“Maybe someday, I’m certain about it all.” he whispered. “You’ll see that some people are.”

In that moment, as he held you close under the downpour, Megumi vowed that even if he never said it out loud, you would always know it in the way he stayed. And as the storm raged on around you, for the first time that night, you felt a little bit safer.

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IF YOU WERE BEING HONEST, LIFE WAS GOOD NOW. And it was because you had Fushiguro Megumi. Around Megumi, for the first time that night, you felt a little bit safer. His presence anchored you, solid and reassuring, as if the world could rage on around you, but you’d be alright as long as he was there. 

The days that followed that stormy night were different. Your shared moments became longer, and your conversations deepened. You found yourself opening up to him in a way you hadn’t with anyone else, and he listened, offering small, thoughtful words that seemed to echo in your mind long after he said them.

Megumi and you became closer, like pieces of a puzzle finally finding their fit. You leaned on him more, seeking the comfort of his steady, unwavering support. Whether it was the simple act of sharing a quiet study session or walking side by side down the crowded school halls, you started to feel his presence as a constant, a pillar in your life. And with each passing moment, Megumi found himself falling deeper.

It was in the little things—the way your laughter returned, hesitant at first, then full and bright whenever he made a rare, dry joke. You’d throw your head back, eyes crinkled with genuine joy, and he’d pretend to be focused on something else just so he could hide his smile.

“You’re not even funny, you know that?” you teased one afternoon, nudging him with your shoulder as you both walked through the park, the sun filtering through the leaves.

“Oh? I didn’t know you laughed at unfunny things.” he replied, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I guess I make exceptions.”

It was also in the way your hand would find him during the quiet moments—when you both sat on the school steps, waiting for the last of the rain to clear, or when you talked late at night under a sky full of stars.

Your touch was unconscious, as if you didn’t realize the effect it had on him, but each time it sent warmth radiating through his chest, melting the layers of doubt he wore like armor.

One evening, as the sky painted itself in hues of pink and orange, you sat together on the small bench in your favorite park. The air was filled with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. You turned to him, your eyes soft and thoughtful. 

“Do you ever wonder why some people come into your life at the exact moment you need them?”

He met your gaze, the question settling between you. His heart thudded, a mix of hope and nerves. “Yeah.” he said, his voice steady but quiet. “I think about it a lot.”

You tilted your head, studying him with a smile that made his pulse quicken. “I’m glad you’re in mine, Megumi.”

The simple statement was enough to send a rush of warmth flooding through him. He looked away, the hint of pink dusting his cheeks, and muttered, “Me too.”

Moments like these made him realize just how deeply he’d fallen for you. Fushiguro Tsumiki had caught on, of course. She knew Megumi best in the world. She’d grin knowingly whenever he brought up your name, and she wasn’t subtle about giving him nudges when you came over. Megumi thinks he would have no peace at home knowing all that.

“You need to tell them, your feelings.” she’d say with a pointed look. “They deserve to know.”

Gojo Satoru, in his typical flamboyant manner, took every opportunity to pester him. “If you don’t say something soon, I swear I’m going to set up a banner. ‘Confess, Megumi!’ at your school. It’ll be perfect. I’ll even use sparkles!” he’d joke, bright blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

Megumi would glare, a mix of irritation and anxiety bubbling inside him. But when he was alone, his mind would wander to the what-ifs. What if he told you, and everything changed? What if the easy moments between you became strained? He couldn’t stand the thought of losing this version of you, where your laughter was shared and your touch was easy.

One evening, when you were leaving after spending the day together, you turned back at the door, eyes bright. “Same time tomorrow?” you asked.

He nodded, feeling that familiar warmth bloom in his chest. “Yeah, same time.”

You beamed at him, that smile—the one that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he had a chance. And as you walked away, Megumi felt the pull to call out, to say something, anything.

But the fear gripped him, held him back. For now, he’d stay in the safety of what you had, even as his heart whispered that someday soon, he’d need to be brave enough to reach for more.

And more and more, his sister and Gojo were starting to notice how he’s falling for you. Tsumiki noticed the way he watched you when he thought no one was looking, the way his eyes softened when you spoke. 

After dinner tonight, she caught him staring at his phone after reading a text from you, a small, knowing smile spread across her face. Megumi wasn’t even sure that he was that obvious. But he was.

Everyone was aware, more than he would have liked. It was his private life and yet, it was his own fault how it seeped in the real world. Yet, it was like that when it came to you. He can’t help it. 

“Megumi.” she said, leaning against the kitchen counter, “it’s high time you tell them how you feel.”

He looked up, startled. “What? No. It’s not… I mean—” He fumbled, cheeks turning red as he struggled to find an excuse.

Satoru, who had been lounging nearby and catching every word, let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. Megumi knew that Gojo Satoru was going to annoy him about this. Tsumiki is one thing. But that was his elder sister.

He was bound to just let her get into his life. But it was different when it came to their guardian. He was more of an annoying adult to Megumi. And he didn’t like how he touched his life like that. Even if he knew it was care.

“Kid, if you don’t confess, I’m going to make a banner and announce it to the entire school I teach at, when you visit.” he teased, eyes gleaming mischievously. “It’s so painfully obvious. Even the kids at the school picked up on that fact! Do you know how obvious you have to be that kid Todo picked up on?”

Megumi glared at him, but his usual annoyance didn’t stick. Instead, a flicker of anxiety gnawed at him, deep and stubborn. He knew Tsumiki and Gojo were right. He’d heard the whispers of his own heart long enough; he knew he was in love with you. But the idea of confessing it out loud? Of risking everything he already had with you? It paralyzed him.

“What if… what if it ruins things?” he muttered, looking down at his hands. The idea of you looking at him differently, of you stepping back, distancing yourself—it was unbearable. “What if they don’t feel the same? I don’t want to lose what we have now.”

Tsumiki’s smile softened, and she walked over, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Megumi, you’ll never know unless you try. And if they care about you even half as much as I think they do, nothing will change.”

Satoru chimed in with a rare moment of seriousness. “Megumi, you’re braver than you give yourself credit for. You’ve faced the worst of the world already with Tsumiki. But this? This is one small leap compared to that.”

The words made sense, but fear wrapped around his chest like a vise. Every time he opened his mouth to tell you, doubt clawed its way in. He could picture the worst: your kind eyes turning sad, the warmth between you cooling into awkward silence.

But as days passed and your laughter echoed in his ears, each missed opportunity stung. Every time you looked at him with that bright smile, it chipped away at his fear, replacing it with a longing stronger than any curse he’d faced. And Megumi knew, deep down, that he couldn’t put it off forever.

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IT WAS A RARE DAY OFF FROM SCHOOL. So, it was easy for you to come and call Megumi to hang out. Megumi was someone who had a hard time going with the flow of things. He liked order in his life. But when he is with you, everything is unpredictable.

Everything was a surprise. And so he enjoyed it. He enjoyed letting you wreck his life into things he couldn’t predict. Chaos is livable when he was next to you. And perhaps, you knew that more than he did.  

And today’s request was to go to a skate park. You didn’t know how to skate, nor do you have the balance that allowed you to do so. But you saw an ad for it and you thought that trying was something that would be enjoyable for the two of you. So, Megumi sighed. But he nodded and immediately walked as you practically hopped to the booth where they rented out their skates.

The skate park was buzzing with life when you and Megumi arrived, the warm glow of the setting sun casting a golden hue over everything. Laughter and the sound of wheels on concrete filled the air as you glanced nervously at the smooth expanse of the park. Megumi noticed your hesitation and smirked, handing you a helmet.

“Don’t worry, okay?” he said, voice soft and reassuring. “I’ll be here the whole time. Just hold on if you need to.”

You nodded, cheeks warming at the idea. The two of you stepped onto the rink, and you immediately reached out, grabbing his arm for balance. He tensed slightly at the contact but relaxed when he saw the nervous smile on your face.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice steadier than he felt.

“Ready.” you replied, even though your heart was thumping wildly in your chest.

The first few minutes were shaky. You wobbled and stumbled, and every time you did, Megumi’s arm was there, strong and steady. His hand eventually found its way to yours, fingers intertwining as he guided you along, step by careful step.

The warmth of his touch sent a pleasant jolt up your spine, and you couldn’t help but glance at him, noticing how focused he looked, his hair slightly messy from the helmet. You could feel yourself looking at him for a while and then becoming flustered when he looks back at you.

“You’re doing great.” he said, a rare smile appearing as you both glided a little more smoothly across the rink.

“Thanks to you!” you laughed breathlessly, holding on tightly when you hit a slight dip.

He steadied you immediately, the closeness making your heart stutter. His eyes met yours for a brief moment, dark and intense under the rink’s twinkling lights, and you felt a rush of something that made your stomach flutter.

As the sky darkened into twilight, the skate park began to empty, and an announcement boomed over the loudspeakers. “The park will be closing in fifteen minutes.”

You sighed, a little disappointed that the night was coming to an end. “I guess that’s it for tonight, huh?” you said, a wistful note in your voice.

Megumi nodded and helped you off the rink, his hand lingering on yours a moment longer than necessary. You sat on a nearby bench, taking off your helmets and catching your breath. The sounds around you faded as you felt the cool evening air settle around you both.

“You know…..” Megumi started, his tone unusually hesitant. He looked at you, eyes searching yours as if gathering the courage to speak. “I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, teaching you how to skate. But I’m glad we did it.”

You tilted your head, curiosity sparking in your gaze. “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

He exhaled, a subtle tremor in his voice as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Because… being this close to you makes it hard to keep things to myself.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and your brows knit together slightly. “Megumi?”

He looked away, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I think—I know that I’m in love with you.”

The confession hung in the air, suspended between you as the world seemed to stand still. He winced, realizing what he’d just said, and moved to apologize, but your soft gasp interrupted him.

“You… you’re in love with me?” you repeated, eyes wide and cheeks turning rosy.

His breath caught, and he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know it’s sudden, and I don’t want things to change if you don’t feel the same. But I couldn’t keep pretending that I don’t—”

Before he could finish, you leaned in, pressing your forehead to his, your eyes glistening. “I do. I feel the same way, Megumi.” you whispered, a smile breaking through as his eyes widened.

The tension melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief and warmth. He let out a breathy chuckle, the sound rare and real. “You do?” he asked, almost as if needing to hear it again.

You nodded, your fingers finding him and squeezing them tightly. “Yes, I do.”

The skate park around you was closing, but neither of you noticed. For now, the world shrank to just the two of you, illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights and the lingering thrill of confessions finally shared.

Megumi's surprise softened into a smile, rare and full of something warm and unguarded. He still held your hands, fingers intertwined as if anchoring himself to this moment, the world around you blurring into a comforting haze.

The distant sounds of closing gates and murmurs of the last stragglers leaving the park faded away, leaving only the two of you under the soft, golden streetlights. Yet that all faded to the background. All you could do was focus on the warmth in Megumi's beautiful blue-green orbs. All you could think about was how the world felt brighter when he was by your side.

“Say it again, please.” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if part of him still couldn’t believe it.

You laughed, the sound light and full of joy as you leaned in a little closer. “I love you, Megumi. For a while now. I love you then and now.” you said, your eyes searching his face to catch every flicker of emotion. 

The way his lips parted slightly, the way his eyes softened as if he could melt under those words. Everything about it had made your heart flutter even more. You like to think he was just good at that. He swallowed, unable to suppress the smile that stretched across his face. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear that.” he admitted, his voice rough but sincere.

“Probably about as long as I’ve wanted to say it.” you teased, nudging him playfully. He chuckled, the sound deep and unfamiliar even to him, and you couldn’t help but notice how it made him look so much more at ease. “I’m sorry if I took a long while.”

The cool breeze picked up, rustling the leaves in the nearby trees, and you shivered involuntarily. Without thinking, Megumi slipped out of his jacket and draped it around your shoulders, his hands lingering at the collar to pull it snug. The fabric smelled like him; fresh and warm, with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place but that was uniquely Megumi.

“Thank you.” you said, your voice soft. Your eyes met his, and the look you exchanged was filled with so many unsaid words, promises and relief, all bundled together in a way that made your chest ache in the best way.

He glanced down, a subtle blush creeping up his neck. “We should probably get going before they lock us in.” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement.

You nodded, but neither of you made a move to stand just yet. You both sat in that quiet moment for a little longer, soaking in the newness of what had just unfolded. Finally, Megumi stood up and offered you his hand, a small smile playing at his lips as he pulled you to your feet.

“Let’s get you home.” he said, the weight of the evening settling comfortably between you as you walked away from the now-closed skate park, your hands still intertwined.

As you strolled through the quiet streets, the gentle hum of the city wrapping around you, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. There was a contentment in his expression, a relaxed curve to his mouth that spoke of unguarded happiness.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, nudging him lightly.

He glanced at you, eyes soft under the glow of the streetlights. “How I’m going to make sure I never keep something like that from you again.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and you smiled, leaning against him as you walked. “Good.” you said. “Because I plan on telling you every day.”

And as the two of you continued on into the night, the air between you felt different—not just safe, but full of new possibilities, laughter, and love that was finally yours to share.

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EVERYTHING HAPPENS AND CHANGES ALL THE TIME. You and Megumi were the happiest you’d ever been for a long time. Moving into the city had felt like an unspoken promise, a step forward toward a shared future.

A bright beautiful future that had once been only whispers in the quiet of your conversations. Together, you carved out a life in the heart of the bustling city, with its endless hum of activity and its ever-changing face. 

You found an apartment that felt like it belonged to both of you. The floors creaked underfoot, their sound a reminder of the stories they held, the small, quiet moments of shared joy and unspoken understanding.

Big windows let the sunlight pour in during the mornings, catching the dust in beams of gold as you sat side by side with your coffee. The place was imperfect, but in that imperfection, it was beautiful, just like your life together.

Your days were spent in a rhythm that had once been in sync, the sounds of laughter and comfortable silence filling the air. You’d talk about everything and nothing at all. Sometimes, it was about the art you were working on, the colors you’d used, or the gallery you were preparing for. 

Other times, it was about his latest case, his eyes alight with the thrill of a challenge. You would stay up late, your feet tangled together under the blanket as you exchanged stories of the day, dreams for the future, and the occasional silly moment of laughter.

But, as the years passed, everything started to shift, imperceptible at first, like the gradual turning of the pages in a book you thought you knew so well. The city, which had once been your shared adventure, now became the thing that kept you apart. 

The rhythm of your lives grew more erratic. Megumi, with his sharp mind and steady resolve, excelled in the high-stakes world of law. His career took off with rather good ease, and he quickly found himself buried in cases, depositions, meetings, and late-night strategizing. He became the star of the law firm he worked for. Everything was great for him. 

You could see it in the crease of his brow, the way he stayed up into the early hours of the morning to prepare for court, his suit always a little wrinkled, his tie always a little loose, but his focus razor-sharp.

His world was all deadlines, high-profile clients, and courtroom battles that never seemed to stop. He thrived in it; he was good at it, brilliant even—but it took him away from you, slowly but surely.

You, too, threw yourself into your work, determined to build something of your own, to carve out your place in a world that sometimes felt like it was moving too fast for you. Your art became your refuge, the studio your sanctuary.

The city, with its mix of people, cultures, and experiences, was your muse. You found inspiration in the chaos and the beauty that wove through every street, every corner, every passerby. 

But the more you painted, the more you found yourself lost in the solitude of it all. Late nights in galleries preparing for shows or days in the studio felt like your only real connection to the world.

Your mind was constantly racing with ideas, concepts, colors that needed to be captured before they slipped away. Your hands, once so used to holding his, now spent more time wrapped around a paintbrush than around his.

And so, the distance between you grew. The gap that once felt small, just a quiet space between moments, now felt insurmountable. You would come home to an empty apartment, the silence of it pressing in on you. Megumi would still be at the office, still lost in the whirlwind of his cases, his phone buzzing with messages that had to be answered immediately. 

You’d sit at the table, dinner half-eaten, waiting for him to walk through the door, but he rarely came home before midnight. When he did, he’d be tired, exhausted, really and you’d try your best to carry the conversation, but the words never came as easily as they once had. 

He’d ask about your day, but his eyes would already be half-closed, his attention already elsewhere. You’d tell him about the gallery event or the new piece you were working on, but his responses would be short, distracted. Everything else besides his work became second. Everything else started to fade away into the background. Even you.

The moments that once felt so natural disappeared into the fog. You had always, the both of you, understood each other without speaking. But soon enough, everything began to feel strained, stretched thin under the weight of your respective worlds. You’d lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to his breathing beside you, as he focused on reading case files on bed. Every night was like this. 

It felt like he was a million miles away. You couldn’t reach him. You couldn’t feel him. It was like he wasn’t there. And that broke your heart over and over. Because all you wanted was him. Yet you couldn’t even have that. You couldn’t even have a moment. You couldn’t win. Not against fate itself.

There was no more laughter, no more stolen moments of joy in the middle of a busy day. It was as if the world around you was moving faster than you could keep up with, and you and Megumi were just trying to hold on to what little of each other remained.

The city, which had once been your shared adventure, now felt like a vast, indifferent landscape, a place where the two of you had become lost. And no matter how hard you tried to cling to the life you’d built, the distance between you was undeniable. It became this seesaw game. Both of you are waiting for someone to step out of it. 

The silence grew, and the cracks started to form. Megumi, buried in his work, became more distant, his tired eyes unable to meet yours for longer than a few moments.

And you lost in the world of your art, your mind constantly in motion could just feel like it began to feel as though you couldn’t do anything but chase. You were chasing something that would always stay just out of reach. You were chasing a ghost. 

In the stillness of those long, lonely nights, you began to wonder how it all had slipped away so quietly. You had promised each other that nothing would come between you that no matter how much life changed, you’d always have each other. But promises, like time, sometimes slip through your fingers, and before you knew it, you were both holding on to something that wasn’t there anymore.

And it hurt more than anything you’d ever known.

The times when your paths crossed grew fewer, and each time they did, it felt more like a fleeting moment you couldn’t quite hold on to. Mornings that once held the warmth of shared cups of coffee and quiet conversation were now replaced with hurried mornings. 

That quick abrupt hum of the alarm clock pulling you out of bed faster than you could stretch. You’d barely exchange more than a quick kiss goodbye as you rushed out the door, his briefcase already in hand, your mind already occupied with the tasks of the day ahead.

The breakfasts that had once been filled with laughter, with soft smiles and small talk about what lay ahead, had transformed into something mechanical. You’d grab your coffee, he’d grab his briefcase, and you’d both be off, each of you retreating into your own world before the day even began.

Evenings weren’t much better. The quiet, intimate moments you’d shared over dinner, the kind that had made your world feel so right, had all but disappeared. Now, there were nights when you would come home to find him already asleep on the couch, his suit still on, papers scattered around him like a battlefield. 

His face was soft with exhaustion, the tension in his body unmistakable even in sleep. His tie was loosened, his shirt wrinkled, but still, he’d sleep through it all, the weight of the day too heavy for him to shed. And he wouldn’t notice that look in your eyes. That sadness you couldn’t help but carry for this doomed relationship.

You’d watch him for a moment, your heart aching at the sight, but then you’d quietly tiptoe past him, too tired yourself to wake him. The faint sound of his breathing was the only noise in the apartment, and you’d retreat into your own solitude, thinking maybe tomorrow would be different.

Sometimes, you’d come home after a late gallery event, the city lights outside your window blurred in the reflection of the glass. You’d see the faint glow from his office, a soft halo of light against the shadows.

He wouldn’t even notice how your presence creaked the wooden doors open. He wouldn’t even budge at the sound of your keys clanking. Or your familiar footsteps merging with the mahogany ground. He wouldn’t notice a damn thing.

But you would notice everything about him. Fushiguro Megumi would still be sitting there, case files spread out on the desk, his eyes glazed from hours of staring at legal jargon that never seemed to make sense. You’d try to keep the frustration at bay, try to remind yourself that this was just temporary, that everything would settle soon. 

But every time you’d reach out your hand and you would ask.

“Do you want to take a break? Maybe we can grab dinner?” 

Sometimes you wish you didn't ask. 

Because his response would be the same.

“I can’t tonight. Too much work.”

And you’d nod, the words dying in your throat, as you retreated again, feeling the ache in your chest grow with every passing day. The apartment, once a place of warmth and shared moments, now felt cold and empty, no matter how many art pieces you filled it with. It was just you, and him, but you were worlds apart.

And then the fights started.

They were small at first—an offhand comment here, a sigh there, barely even loud enough to be called a fight. But they were enough. The tension built in the small spaces between words, in the way you’d avoid eye contact when you both spoke. You’d complain about him missing dinner again, how you’d waited hours for him to come home, only for him to slip quietly into bed without saying a word.

“I can’t be in two places at once, you know that.” he’d reply, his voice tight, a trace of guilt mixed with irritation in his words. “You knew what I was getting into when I started this job.”

And you knew, deep down, you had known. But that didn’t make it any easier. The dinners you’d missed together, the quiet evenings you spent alone, your frustrations, your loneliness. It all built up until it couldn’t be ignored any longer. You tried to be patient. But you know that patience always has an expiration date. And yours had started to tick, like a bomb just waiting for the right time waiting to explode.

Everything felt useless now. Everything was one blow away from cracking down. The things you used to say to each other, the things that had made you feel so close, now felt hollow and distant. The love that had once been so certain now felt strained, fragile, as though it might crumble at any moment.

One evening, after a particularly grueling week for both of you, you came home from a late gallery event to find Megumi at the dining table, his tie loosened and his hair disheveled, the dark circles under his eyes deeper than usual.

He had papers scattered everywhere, the remnants of his latest case still strewn across the table like debris from a battle he couldn’t quite win. He didn’t even look up when you entered, his focus entirely on the papers in front of him.

“Another late night?” he asked, not even looking up from the papers in front of him.

“Yeah.” you said shortly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. “Like every other night.”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “We never see each other anymore.”

“Whose fault is that?” you shot back before you could stop yourself. The room felt colder immediately, your own words stinging in the silence that followed.

“You know this is important, both our careers are.” he said, voice strained, but his tone didn’t soothe the growing ache in your chest.

“And what about us, Megumi? When did we stop being important?”

He looked up at you, eyes tired but holding that glimmer of hurt. “We are. We’re just… trying to keep up.”

“It doesn’t feel like we’re keeping up.” you whispered, eyes starting to sting with tears. “It feels like we’re falling apart.”

The silence that settled was heavy, pressing down on both of you. He stood up, running a hand through his hair, the frustration evident. “What do you want me to do? Stop working? This is what I have to do. You know that.”

“And this is what I have to do.” you said, gesturing to your art supplies strewn around the room. “But we’re not making it work, Megumi. We’re barely making it through the day without fighting.”

He looked at you then, truly looked at you, and for a moment, his expression softened, a flicker of the old Megumi shining through. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by the weight of reality.

There was panic in the way he looked at you. You felt a bile form at your throat. You knew what it looked like. He was realizing it. He saw that sadness in your eyes. The sadness that he had hated so much on you, he had caused it on you. 

“I don’t know how to fix this. I….” he said, his voice low and raw. “Babe, I’m so sorry—”

You took a shaky breath, the words you’d been avoiding suddenly tumbling out. “Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t try to fix it anymore. I’m tired of all this, Megumi. I am….I am genuinely exhausted from trying to make it work.”

“Babe, listen we can talk this out and we can make it work. I know we can. We—”

“Maybe we should break up.”

The room went still, the echo of your words ringing louder than anything else. His blue–gren eyes widened, a mix of disbelief and hurt coloring his features. Those words were the hardest you could ever say.

But perhaps it was the right words to say. Because he looked at you for the first time ever and finally, he saw you. He finally sees you, after such a long nightmare. 

“You don’t mean that. You—” he said, almost pleadingly, stepping closer.

“I do.” you said, voice breaking. “I can’t take this anymore, Megumi. We’re just making each other miserable, and it’s not fair to either of us.”

His shoulders sagged, and for the first time in a long while, he looked defeated. He reached out, almost as if he wanted to pull you back into a time when things were easier, when love was all you needed to bridge any gap.

But he stopped himself, letting his hand fall to his side. A sad small smile dances on your lips, biting them soon after. You could feel the tears fall from your weary eyes.

You were tired of fighting for something he couldn’t. You were tired of doing it by yourself. And he knew that. He knew that all too well. There were no other ways for him to stop you from leaving him, from leaving all this pain behind. Pain he had caused you over and over again. Pain that would scar you for as long as you lived.

“I don’t want to lose you.” he said softly, eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

You looked away, fighting the sob that threatened to break free. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we’re already losing each other.”

The words were so raw, so full of meaning, that it made your heart ache. But you could feel the wall between you two now, the one that you’d both been building without realizing it. You both don’t know your place in this relationship. You have outgrown it and it wasn’t even both your faults. It just….is life.

“I don’t want to lose you either, you know that.” you said, your voice shaking. “But I don’t know how to fix this, Megumi. I don’t know if I can keep waiting for you to come home when you’re already gone.”

The silence that fell over the two of you was deafening. The room felt colder, the space between you growing with every word that went unsaid. You stared at each other, both lost in the same silence, both unsure of where to go from here. The city outside continued to hum, oblivious to the cracks that were starting to form in the life you’d once built so carefully together.

The silence this time, it felt final. And as you both stood there, the city’s lights flickering through the window, you realized that sometimes love isn’t enough to fight against the things that pull you apart.

There were city lights, lights brighter than anything else. It was like the universe was here, and the stars beamed towards you both, like lovers. And yet, you were everything but in that moment. You were two people who finally saw the seesaw needs to fall down.

“I’ll pack my things.” You say to him, smiling ever sadder than before. “I’ll stay with a friend tonight. And…I’ll come back for my things.”

He doesn’t say another word. But you can tell. He was close to crying. Yet he gives you one singular nod as you slowly walk towards him and place your hand on his cheek. As though it was the last time you would ever touch him.

He looks up from his gaze on the ground, trying to memorize this image of you. You can tell there was desperation. What if he doesn’t see you again? What does he do?

“I loved you so much.” You said, the past tense making him flinch slightly. It was the hardest word to even pronounce. It  felt harder to say five words than the usual three. “I still do. But…I have to go. For our sake.”

“Don’t….” He whispers weakly. “Don’t tell me this, not after we just….”

“Goodbye, Megumi.” You tell him, with finality. A smile blunt on your face, trying to make this memory redeemable. “I hope you live a long and happy life.”

When you walked out, the city lights looked at you and blinked.

And yet, Fushiguro Megumi felt like he didn’t know what to do.

But he doesn’t stop you as you walk away, taking warmth away.

He lets you go, because loving you meant living without you too.

That was the risk of loving someone, that was the risk of living in love.

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A LOT CAN HAPPEN WHEN YOU BLINK. And that’s what happened. He didn’t expect it to happen, change will always have permanence. As much as time. Both are uncontrollable forces of nature. And he hated it.

It’s been five years now since you and Megumi had last stood on solid ground together, since the life you built had slowly crumbled under the weight of work, time, and distance. 

The memory of your arguments, your silences, still lingered in the back of his mind like a distant ache, a reminder of what once was and what was no longer. But time had done little to heal that wound.

In fact, Fushiguro Megumi had become even more entrenched in his work, burying himself in his career as a lawyer, trying to forget that, in the end, he had lost the one person who meant the most to him.

Now, sitting in a sterile hospital room, the smell of antiseptic burning his nose, he felt like he was living in a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. His eyes were locked onto the doctor in front of him, but his mind was elsewhere, still processing what had just been said. The words hung in the air, thick with finality.

“Mr. Fushiguro, the test results confirm that you’ve inherited a hereditary condition from your father. It’s genetic and unfortunately, there's no cure.”

The doctor’s voice was calm, clinical, as though she were explaining a minor inconvenience, as though it was him talking to the jury at court. But Fushiguro Megumi heard nothing but the echo of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. 

He could barely process the words, the shock still settling in his chest. He hadn’t expected this. He’d always heard whispers about his father, that old man. Megumi didn’t care when he left. He still had Tsumiki. And then he had Gojo and then….. 

Megumi stops himself. He frowns deeper. He was not having the best of luck in lif. He likes to think he never has. Now, he is haunted and suffers more about this man who left them. He has to come back in the form of this stupid illness.

This stupid illness that would now be killing him slowly and fully. He wants to laugh out loud. Because, this was something else entirely. How cruel fate can be. How much of a comedy it is, how much of a stupid thing it is.

He leaned back in the chair, running a hand through his hair in disbelief. The room seemed to tilt around him, the walls closing in, suffocating him. A laugh threatened to slip from his lips, but it did.

Everything about it wasn’t one of humor. It was jagged and bitter, a laugh born of frustration, anger, and the overwhelming sense of betrayal that had simmered in his chest for years.

His blue–green gaze didn’t leave the doctor, but his eyes darkened towards the doctor. The doctor seemed to be unfazed by his reaction. Megumi felt like he was the same as the doctor when he was at court sometimes. Those cases don’t faze him. 

He had seen it all. And everyone had gotten mad at him at times too. And yet there was only disbelief now. He was on the other side of the aisle now. There was only surprise and then anguish and then bitterness. All of that didn’t taste good in his mouth.

“So, let me get this straight, doctor.” he began, his voice tight, almost controlled, but with an edge of fury beneath it. “My father, the man who abandoned me and Tsumiki after Mom died, is now showing up in my life, and now I’m supposed to care that I’ve inherited something from him? Something that’s going to kill me?”

The doctor faltered for a second, clearly caught off guard by the venom in his voice, but she remained professional. “It’s not quite like that, Mr. Fushiguro. Your father may not have been around, but—”

“No.” he cut her off, his fist clenching in his lap. “Don’t give me that. Don’t try to justify him. You think I care about a condition that’s been passed down through the blood of someone who doesn’t even care enough to be there when I need him?” 

“Mr. Fushiguro, please—”

His laugh returned, sharp and hollow, a bitter sound that didn’t belong in a place like this. “I never even wanted to know him. I was better off without him. And now that old man comes back. Oh god, what a fucking mess! What a comedy!”

His mind raced, the thoughts swirling in a chaotic dance of anger and disbelief. His father had left him and Tsumiki in the wake of their mother’s death, promising them nothing but silence. And he was bears with it. He always did. He always knew how to get on with life. That’s how he came to be where he is now. 

But he can’t help it. How could he? All that misery he had buried as a child comes back once more. He had thought it would never come back to the earth again. Everything about it was just as good as dead to him.

And yet, fate laughs at him. He laughs at how easy it is to push Megumi’s buttons. And he knew Megumi would react. Fate loved games and he would continue on and on, until he was satisfied. 

“You said it’s genetic, right?” he asked suddenly, his voice a little more brittle, the edge of his anger still cutting through the words. “How long do I have?”

The doctor looked at him with sympathy, but Megumi didn’t want sympathy. He didn’t want the pity in her eyes. He didn’t want any of this.

“It depends on the progression of the disease.” she answered carefully, giving him the facts. “It could take years. Maybe even months. We do not know. But knowing some cases I’ve seen, It could be faster. We can try treatments, but we can’t reverse the damage already done.”

Megumi closed his blue–green eyes for a moment, his chest tightening. The realization hit him with full force: his life, the one he had built, the work, the efforts to stay busy, to keep going. None of it had prepared him for this. 

None of it had prepared him for the idea that he might not have much time left. How is he going to tell Tsumiki or Gojo? How could he prepare them for this? And to make matters worse, it was a legacy that had come from the very man who had never been there for him in the first place.

His laugh died in his throat, leaving a hollow emptiness in its wake.

“Tell me this is some kind of mistake.” he muttered under his breath, as though saying the words would somehow make them untrue.

The doctor’s eyes softened, but she shook her head, handing him a folder with the test results. “I’m afraid it’s not.”

The weight of it all pressed down on him, his mind spinning. He stood abruptly, shoving the folder into his bag without a second glance, his hands trembling slightly. He couldn’t stay here. He needed to leave. He needed to get out of this sterile room before it suffocated him any further.

As he walked out of the hospital, the cool air of the evening hit him, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside him. He couldn’t help but wonder about it. What was the point of this? What was the point of surviving a life without a father only to be cursed with his legacy, a legacy that had already been stained with abandonment? What did it all mean?

He didn’t have the answers. But one thing was clear. He would never be able to look at his father the same way again. And now, he’d have to face the consequences of that. Whether he liked it or not. One way or another, it was just how it works. Fushiguro Megumi has to see that life goes on. It always has. Even in the face of death.

Yet for a moment, even if he has resigned himself to fate, he stops. 

He stops for a moment and thinks to himself and that warmth returns.

He wishes that  for what remains of life — he wished you were there with him.

Fushiguro Megumi wishes that he could see your smile and live in it again.

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HE FOUND HIMSELF DISASSOCIATING FOR A COUPLE OF MINUTES. But after news like that, who wouldn’t find themselves despondent. Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing in the hospital lobby. He’d left the doctor’s office a while ago, but his feet felt frozen to the ground, the weight of everything pressing down on him. 

His thoughts felt scrambled, and all he wanted was to get out of there, away from the sterile white walls, away from the suffocating reality of the diagnosis. The last thing he expected was to run into someone, you—after all this time.

But there you were, standing at the hospital’s entrance, your hair a little longer, your eyes just as bright, the warmth of your smile still able to stop his heart dead in its tracks. He hadn’t expected it. Not in such a place. And yet here you were. He hadn’t expected to see you here, of all places. After all, you took care of yourself well. But there you were, as beautiful and alive as ever.

At first, Megumi wasn’t sure what to do. Should he approach you? Should he pretend everything was fine? There was so much that had passed between you, so many years, so much silence.

And he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too late for him to fix things. But before he could make any decision, you were already walking toward him, your gaze locking onto his like it always had when you were younger.

“Megumi.” you said softly, almost hesitantly, as though you weren’t sure how to say his name anymore.

You were still the same, and yet, you weren’t. Your voice was familiar, but the years between you had made things feel… off, awkward in a way that he hadn’t expected.

“Hey.” he said, his voice almost gruff, unsure of how to speak to you after so long.

He took a step back, unsure whether to smile, to say something casual. It was almost like he didn’t know who he was around you anymore. The man who used to be able to talk to you about anything had disappeared somewhere along the way.

You smiled, though, and for a brief moment, Megumi felt like he could breathe again. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you're here for a checkup too. You look fine to me.” you teased, and there was that playful spark in your eyes that he had missed.

Megumi shifted, looking around, as though searching for an answer that didn’t exist. The truth was, he didn’t want to tell you why he was here. Not yet. Not when he had no idea how to explain the mess his life had become.

“I’m just here… taking care of some stuff.” he muttered, the lie slipping out before he could stop it. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension build again. “You know, business stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow, a knowing look crossing your face, but instead of pressing him further, you just shrugged. “Well, I’m not here for anything too serious. Just visiting a friend.”

"Oh, I see."

Your gaze softened as you spoke, the smile on your face softening the more you looked at him. "I didn’t expect to see you here. Not after all this time."

Megumi nodded, biting his lip. No kidding, he thought to himself. The years had passed, but he hadn’t expected it to feel like this. He hadn’t expected to feel so... unsure. He wasn’t used to this distance between you two. Not like this.

“Well....” you said, after a pause. You rubbed the back of your neck. “Do you want to grab dinner or something? I don’t know about you, but I could really use some decent food after dealing with all this hospital nonsense.”

At first, Megumi hesitated, unsure if he should take the invitation. But something about the ease in your voice, the casual familiarity of it, made him relent. “Sure. I guess I could go for something... edible.” he said, trying to joke, but it came out more stiff than he wanted.

You laughed, the sound of it bringing back memories of the good old days when life was simpler and he didn’t have to carry the weight of unspoken words between you. You waved him off, but there was something in your eyes, something gentle and patient, like you weren’t rushing him to explain himself.

The two of you walked out of the hospital together, falling into step like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was awkward at first, the silence between you hanging heavy, but as you got settled at the restaurant, everything started to fall back into place.

You ordered something light, and Megumi, on autopilot, ordered something simple—a dish he could eat quickly. The waiter left, and for a moment, the two of you sat in silence, not quite knowing how to bridge the gap that had been there for years.

“So…..” you began, after a while, trying not to be awkward. “Why were you at the hospital? Don’t tell me you have a broken bone or something.”

Megumi’s eyes flickered over to you, and he was about to brush it off, to avoid answering; like he always did when it came to anything about his past, about his father.  He hoped you weren’t noticing it. He hoped that you weren’t able to see through him again.

But before he could think of a way out, he realized something: you weren’t just anyone. You were you—the person who knew him better than anyone. The person he had lost, the person who had been there for him when everything else fell apart. You had and always will know more about him than anyone else. Even if he doesn’t say anything.

He exhaled slowly, and then, without thinking, he shrugged and said, “I guess you could say I’m getting some bad news.”

You furrowed your brow in concern, and before you could ask, he let out a dry laugh, something hollow that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s not contagious.”

You shook your head, already knowing where this was headed. “Megumi, your jokes are still as bad as they were when we were kids.” You leaned back in your seat with a fond smile, your eyes soft. “You’re impossible.”

He chuckled under his breath, feeling some of the weight lift off his chest. The familiar rhythm of teasing, of falling back into old patterns, felt surprisingly good. His heart, which had felt heavy and weighed down for so long, was starting to feel lighter with each passing moment.

“You should’ve known,” Megumi muttered, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m the best at bad jokes.”

You laughed again, the sound like music to his ears. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Fushiguro.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to relax a little. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to fix what had been broken. Maybe, just maybe, he could find his way back to the person who used to be everything to him.

But for now, he would take the little moments like this—the laughter, the shared memories, and the warmth of simply being in your presence again. Everything felt like the sun had shone on earth again. Everything felt right like this.

And, for once, he wasn’t afraid of what came next.

Fushiguro Megumi sat back in his chair, watching you as you laughed, as you teased him, and it felt like the whole world faded away for a few moments. For the first time in months, his chest didn’t feel so tight, his mind didn’t feel so heavy.

The hospital, the test results, the news about his father; they all felt like distant memories, like something that could be put on the shelf and forgotten for a while. Because in this moment, right now, the only thing that mattered was you.

He liked this. He liked the way your eyes sparkled when you smiled, the way you still knew how to make him laugh even when everything inside him ached. There was a calmness, a sense of peace, in being around you that he hadn’t felt in years. 

The world around him had become chaotic, unpredictable, but here at this small, unassuming restaurant, sharing a quiet dinner with you. Everything about it, it made him feel… warm inside. It felt like coming home, after a long time away from it.

As the conversation flowed easily between you two, Megumi found himself watching the way you moved, the way you spoke, the way you were still you. It was like nothing had changed, like time hadn’t passed at all. Except it had. 

Five years had come and gone, and he had spent most of them buried in work, in his own personal mess of anger and hurt, while you had lived your own life. But now, seeing you here, smiling at him like this, it was like he had been given something precious he hadn’t realized he’d lost: you.

And then it hit him. That sharp pang of realization.

He was dying.

In a few months, his life, everything he had worked for, everything he had wanted, would be over. And the one thing he had always wanted, the one thing that had never wavered was sitting right across from him, smiling at him like he was everything.

You, the person he had spent his whole life running from, running toward, the person who had always been there.

And now, here you were again.

His heart skipped a beat as he processed it all.  It was all coming at him fast, like a car speeding fast towards him. He doesn’t know what to do, how to do it. Everything overwhelmed him. But then again, he thinks he’s always felt like this when it came to you. He can’t deny that whatsoever. 

Everything made him feel like a boy again. All these feelings he can’t describe makes him so overwhelmed with what life means. How much he had missed you, how much he still needed you in his life, they all started to make him wonder about it all. 

The joke, the casual teasing, the familiar warmth between you two—it was what he wanted. It was what he had always wanted. He had never allowed himself to admit it fully, not back then, not when you were both young and carefree. But now, with the weight of his diagnosis hanging over him like a dark cloud, he couldn’t deny it any longer.

It wasn’t just that he wanted to be around you. No, it was more than that. He needed to be around you, to feel your presence, your warmth, your love. The idea that he might never get to hold you close again after all this time made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t put into words.

You caught his gaze, your smile faltering just for a moment. “Hey, are you okay?” you asked, the concern in your voice immediate and genuine. “You’ve been quiet all of a sudden.”

Megumi blinked, realizing he had zoned out. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry. Just… thinking.”

You didn’t look convinced, but you didn’t press. Instead, you took a sip of your drink, then set it down, eyes watching him carefully. “I get that a lot lately,” you said, half-joking, half-serious. “I tend to get lost in my head too.”

He chuckled softly, trying to push away the heaviness that was creeping back into his thoughts. But it was hard. It was hard when every little thing in this moment reminded him of what he was going to lose.

He didn’t know how much time he had left. And that thought scared him more than anything. But what scared him even more was the idea of never telling you how he truly felt, never having the chance to fully be with you.

“So, what about you?” Megumi asked, his voice quieter than before. “How’s life been? Really, how are you?”

You blinked at him, clearly taken aback by the change in tone. “You know, same as usual. Gallery events, late nights at the studio… You know, the usual chaos,” you said with a small smile. But then, you tilted your head. “And you? You’ve been working so much, Megumi. You’ve been pushing yourself.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I have,” he admitted. “It’s just… it’s easier, you know? To bury myself in work rather than deal with what’s going on in my head.”

There it was. The truth, just slipping out. His chest tightened again, the weight of everything catching up to him. You watched him with soft eyes, but you didn’t say anything. You just waited, patiently, for him to continue.

“I think…” He hesitated, unsure of how to say it, unsure if he even had the right to say it now. But his heart was screaming at him to be honest, to be real with you. “I think I’ve been afraid for a long time. Afraid of how I feel about you. I never said it before… but I think I’ve always loved you, even when I couldn’t show it.”

Your eyes softened, your lips parted in surprise, but no words came out. Megumi could feel his heart pounding in his chest as the silence stretched on.

“I’ve always loved you, you know?” he repeated, the words stronger this time. “And… I know it’s late. I know it’s probably too late, but I want you to know. I want you to know that I needed you. That I want to spend whatever time I have left with you. Whatever time I can get.”

His voice faltered as the confession hung in the air, and the weight of it felt almost unbearable. But then, slowly, you reached across the table, your hand gently landing on his.

“I never stopped loving you either, Megumi. I hope you know that.” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed us.”

The words hit him like a wave, and for a brief moment, he felt like he could breathe again. Like everything wasn’t falling apart. Maybe, just maybe, the time that was slipping away didn’t matter as long as he could be with you in these final months, these final moments. He looked at you, the warmth of your hand in his, and a fragile smile tugged at his lips.

“Then let’s make the most of it.” he whispered. “Even if we start out again and be friends first. I’d love to make the most of it.”

You smiled at him warmly in response. “I’d like that too.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t afraid anymore. He didn’t have all the answers. He didn’t have the time he wanted. But in that moment, as you sat across from him, the love of his life, he felt at peace.

And perhaps, maybe, just maybe – that was enough.

Maybe, this was all he needed in life.

His life was going to be defined by loving you.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

BEING SENTIMENTAL, IT WASN’T WHAT HE WAS GOOD AT. He knew too well what this will be in the end. He knew that it was going to hurt you both, that it was going to hurt him most. It wasn’t the best idea, you knew that.

Letting Fushiguro Megumi back into your life after everything that had happened, after all the years apart—it wasn’t exactly the most rational choice. You’d spent so long building your own life, carving out your space in the world, and now, just as you’d begun to find your rhythm again, life threw you a curveball you never saw coming.

The diagnosis.

Dementia. A rare form. And to make matters worse, it was hitting you far too early before you’d even reached thirty-five. The doctors had explained it all in somber tones, but the truth was, none of it really sunk in at first.

It was a shock, a blow you weren’t sure how to handle. The thought that, in just a few years, you might forget everything, the art you created, the people you loved, the moments that had shaped your life, was downright terrifying.

And yet, here you were, staring at your phone screen with Megumi’s name blinking back at you. He’d reached out. You hadn’t heard from him in so long. The last time you saw him, things were… complicated. So many years spent apart, so many unspoken words, and yet, when you saw his name, your heart skipped a beat.

You thought it might have been fate. Or maybe just a desperate wish. The idea that you had a shot at all was one in a million. In this small window of time, before it all slipped away— to make some memories. To live whatever life you could, before the inevitable began to take hold. You wondered how that could be.

So you called him back. And when he answered, the voice on the other end was familiar and steady, just like you remembered.

“You really want to see me?” he asked, the surprise evident in his voice. “It’s been a while.”

You smiled softly, your fingers curling around the phone. “I do. I want to see you, Megumi. I need to. I—” You paused, unsure how to explain it. How could you? “I just want to make some memories.”

There was a long silence before he spoke again, and when he did, his tone was gentler. “Okay. Let’s make some memories then. How about we go to the aquarium? I know it’s random, but… I thought it might be fun.”

You felt a small laugh escape your lips at the thought of it. Megumi…Your Megumi. He was always so serious, always so reserved, ever so practical — but somehow, a trip to the aquarium seemed like just the thing you needed.

He was keeping you afloat, keeping you alive, wanting to do things. Wanting to make life interesting, even with that orderly fashion of his. It makes you warm inside. It always has. It always will.

“That sounds perfect.” you said, the words coming out easily, almost relieved.

And so, there you were, standing in front of the entrance to the aquarium, waiting for him. Your heart was a little heavier than before, the weight of the diagnosis still there in the back of your mind. But in this moment, with Megumi on his way, you felt something else: a little spark of hope. A little spark of life.

You caught sight of him as he rounded the corner, looking just as you remembered, though maybe a little older, a little worn around the edges. His eyes were still the same, dark and intense, but there was something softer about him now, something that made your heart ache.

“Hey,” he said, a faint smile on his lips. “Long time no see.”

You smiled back, the weight of the years between you almost forgotten. "Yeah. It’s been too long."

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment, his gaze lingering just a little too long, as though he could tell something was different. You didn’t have to say it out loud. He could read you like a book. He always has. You don’t think he’ll stop now. You hope he wouldn’t. You smiled at him.

“I’m glad you called.” he said softly, as if unsure of how to proceed, but that familiar warmth in his voice was still there. It had never really gone away, had it?

"Me too." you replied, and for the first time in a long while, you meant it. "I needed this."

Megumi nodded, and the two of you walked into the aquarium together, the world around you a blur of soft lights and flowing water. The sound of distant laughter and the rhythmic swoosh of fish in tanks filled the air, but all you could hear was his voice, the way it brought comfort, the way it made you feel like maybe you weren’t alone in this after all.

You pointed out the exhibits as you wandered through the aquarium, asking him what he thought of the colorful fish or the playful otters, though truthfully, your mind wasn’t always on the sea creatures. You couldn’t help but glance at him, at the way he reacted to everything, his quiet smile, his dry humor. It felt so familiar. So right.

“Remember when we came here when we were younger?” you asked, your voice soft. “We didn’t know anything about what we were doing, just wandered around aimlessly.”

Megumi chuckled, though it sounded bittersweet. “I think I spent most of the time trying to keep you from getting too close to the sharks.”

You laughed, the sound light and free, just like it used to be when you were younger. "You always were protective."

He didn’t respond to that, but the way he looked at you said it all. You both knew. You both remembered the connection you had once shared. And now, as you stood together, surrounded by glass tanks and exotic sea life, it felt like maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as broken as they seemed.

Megumi turned to you after a while, his blue – green eyes searching yours, as though considering whether to say something, something important. Sometimes Megumi gets like this.

He tries to do well when figuring out what to say, how to say them. To avoid misunderstanding. To be clear. And yet in that moment, he seemed like he already had those words. But he doesn’t want to bring it up. At least not yet.

“Do you… do you remember what you used to tell me?” he asked, his voice hesitant. “When we were kids, you said you wanted to live life fully. You didn’t want to waste a single second.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. It took a moment for you to recall those words, but when you did, a small laugh escaped your lips. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You still want that, right?” Megumi’s gaze was steady, unwavering.

You paused, your heart skipping a beat. There was no need to speak the truth aloud—it was clear. Even with everything you had to face, you still wanted to live, even if it was just a little longer, even if it meant creating new memories, even if it was messy and imperfect.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I do.”

And with that simple admission, Megumi smiled, a smile that reached his eyes, a little brighter than before. He didn’t ask you what was coming next, or how much time you had left, or any of the things you had to worry about in the back of your mind. He just stood there, by your side, ready to make the most of the time you had left.

And in that moment, you realized something else too—maybe it wasn’t the best idea to let him back in, but it felt like fate. Fate had given you a chance, and you weren’t going to waste it.

Not now. Not ever again.

As you and Megumi wandered through the aquarium, the world outside seemed to fade away. There was something peaceful about the soft glow of the tanks, the gentle movement of the sea creatures, and the quiet way you and Megumi existed in each other’s space. The sounds of the outside world, the murmur of people and the occasional squeal of children, felt far away, like they were part of a distant dream.

Megumi leaned closer to one of the tanks, his eyes following the delicate movements of a seahorse. You caught yourself watching him more than you watched the creatures inside the glass, his expression thoughtful, like he was lost in the quiet beauty of it all. 

His features softened in a way that made your heart flutter. It wasn’t just his looks, though—it was the way he was. The way he had always been there for you, even when life pulls you in different directions. Everything about him makes you orbit around him, like he was your earth and you were his moon. He kept you balanced. And you like it. You always have.

“Hey, Megumi.” you said, nudging him lightly. “You’ve gone quiet. Do you still hate fish?”

He looked over at you, raising an eyebrow in that familiar, teasing way. “Not the fish, just... I can’t believe you’ve dragged me here, of all places.” But his words held no real malice. There was warmth there, a soft playfulness that made you smile.

“Admit it already.” you teased him. “You like it. You just don’t want to admit it.”

Megumi snorted, and you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "Maybe I do. But don’t go getting any ideas. I’m not a seafood enthusiast yet."

You grinned, poking him in the ribs. “I’ll take what I can get.”

You both wandered deeper into the exhibit, laughing at the odd little creatures, pointing out your favorites, and making light-hearted jokes. At one point, you found yourselves standing before a tank of jellyfish, their long, flowing tentacles creating a mesmerizing dance in the water. You both watched in silence, the gentle sway of the jellyfish almost hypnotic.

“This is kind of like us, isn’t it?” you asked, turning to Megumi, your voice quieter now. “Just... floating along, not really knowing where we’re going, but just kind of going with it?”

Megumi looked over at you, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah. Maybe it is.” he murmured, his voice soft and a little more serious than usual. “But, you know, I don’t mind floating along with you.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, and without thinking, you reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His hand wrapped around yours almost instinctively, and in that moment, it felt so right. So simple. So perfect.

"You're really good at this." you whispered, giving his hand another squeeze. "At making things feel easy."

Megumi’s fingers tightened around yours, and he turned his head slightly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “I think you’ve always made it easy, you know?” he said quietly.

You both stood there for a while, hand in hand, watching the jellyfish move. Time seemed to slow down as you both took in the moment, each of you content in the other’s presence. The world around you felt like it had paused, just for a little while, just for the two of you to exist together.

As the day began to wind down and the aquarium started to empty out, Megumi pulled you closer, his arm lightly draped around your shoulder, a natural, easy gesture.

You leaned into him, grateful for his warmth, his presence, the way he made you feel like everything would be okay. You knew it was, even when you weren’t sure about anything. As long as you have Fushiguro Megumi, life will turn out alright. It always has. It always will.

“Thanks for today, Megumi.” you said softly, your voice full of meaning. "I needed this."

Megumi glanced down at you, a small smile on his lips. “I’m glad. I needed it too.”

As you made your way to the exit, you felt lighter. The weight of your diagnosis, the fear of what was to come, was still there in the back of your mind—but in this moment, with Megumi by your side, everything else seemed distant. The future, no matter how uncertain, didn’t feel so scary anymore.

You both stepped out into the evening air, the cool breeze brushing past your faces. The city lights were just beginning to flicker on in the distance, and the streets felt full of life.

You glanced over at Megumi, his expression soft, content. The night was still young, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were living in the moment, not worrying about what was to come.

“You know……” you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe we should do this again sometime.”

Megumi raised an eyebrow. “What, go to an aquarium?”

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “Why not? You never know, next time we might get to see the dolphins.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was unmistakable. “You and your love for sea animals,” he teased.

“I’m serious!” you said with a laugh. “But next time, maybe you’ll actually like it more.”

“Maybe,” he said with a chuckle. "Just maybe."

As you walked side by side, the cool evening air wrapping around you, your thoughts wandered again to the future, the future that was becoming a little more uncertain with each passing day. But then you looked at Megumi again, at the soft smile on his face, and for a moment, it didn’t matter. For now, everything was perfect.

And in that perfect moment, you realized: this—him—was what you wanted. Not just tonight, not just this moment, but forever. Or at least, as long as you could have it. You didn’t know how much time you had left, but in this instant, you were going to savor every second of it.

You glanced up at Megumi, squeezing his hand gently as you whispered, “I want this to last forever.”

Megumi squeezed your hand back, his voice steady and warm. “I do too.”

But you knew, you knew too well, as he did.

Nothing on this earth was bound to last forever.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

HE DIDN’T EXPECT HOW THIS WAS GOING TO END. But then again, you too didn’t expect it. Everything was unpredictable. But he expected this to happen. Even if he didn’t want it to. That was just his fate. The pain had been creeping up on him more and more, gnawing at his insides like a constant reminder that his time was running out. 

Every movement, every step, felt like a battle. His body wasn’t his own anymore, and no matter how much he tried to push through it, the heaviness of his condition weighed on him more than he cared to admit. Everything was miserable, and he hated it. He hated how this was happening.

But there was something, someone, that made it all seem bearable. You. The thought of you kept him going, even when his body felt like it was betraying him. At the time when everything was starting to know its place, to fit perfectly. Right time, right place, right person. And yet, this had come to pass. He was sick. Beyond fixing. 

Yet Megumi was certain that he was going to fight it. For as long as he can still do it. For as long as he had the strength to. He still wanted more time with you. More chances to make up for those five years. But he knew that it was getting harder. He didn’t want you to see how bad it was getting. 

Sometimes he can’t even move himself. Sometimes he felt like he was going to throw up everything he ate. Sometimes he feels like he was going to pass out. But he doesn’t want to give up just yet.

He can’t. It wasn’t time, not just yet. He still needs to live. No matter how painful it all gets. He wants to live. He wasn’t giving up. Not when he still wanted to be there for you. Not when he still wanted to make you smile.

And he wanted to prove that. He always wants to prove that. That he was strong enough. That he can still stay here. That he can still take care of you. Tonight was one of those nights. It was already late when he got your call. But he didn’t care about the time. He had to go there for you. 

He rushed out with his meager winter coat and rushed over there. The sound of your voice was filled with frustration and a little bit of panic, and that was enough to get him moving immediately. It kept ringing in his head, the tone of your voice. He doesn’t think he had ever heard that voice from you before. 

All the way there, he thought more about your frustration and your panic more than his own pain. He didn’t even think about how exhausted he was or how much his body ached. You were what mattered to him at this moment. Nothing else. You mattered more to him. He was always going to put your first, especially now. 

When he arrived at your apartment, he found you standing by the door, frowning and rifling through your bag. Your face lit up with a mix of relief and embarrassment when you saw him. He took a moment to breathe before greeting you. 

“Megumi, I’m so sorry.” you said, wiping a hand over your face. “I can’t find my keys. I’ve looked everywhere. I—I think I’ve lost them.”

The distress in your voice was enough to make his heart tighten. He immediately stepped toward you, trying to hide the wince that flickered across his face as he reached for the door handle. 

“It’s okay, hm?” he said softly, his voice steady, even if the pain inside was threatening to make it crack. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

He tried to ignore the way his legs ached as he crouched down to check the bottom of the doormat, his hand shaking slightly as he pushed it aside, looking for any sign of the missing keys. You stood beside him, still fretting, your hands wringing together.

“I’m sorry, Megumi. I don’t want to be a burden to you.” you murmured, your voice trembling.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stood up again. “You’re not a burden. You never have been.” He reached out, gently wiping the tears that had started to fall down your cheek. "I’m happy to help."

I’m happy to be needed. He thinks to himself, looking at you. I’m happy to be wanted by you.

Your breath hitched, your heart racing from the warmth of his touch. You didn’t understand how he could be so calm and collected when you felt like you were falling apart. But then again, it was just like him to make sure you were okay, even if it meant putting aside his own pain.

“I’m so sorry, again.” you said again, this time more softly. “I shouldn’t have let this get to me.”

Megumi just shook his head. “Hey, it’s okay. We all have our moments. It’s normal to get frustrated. I’ll help you find them, I promise.”

He glanced around for a moment, and then his gaze softened as he met your eyes. For a brief second, the weight of his own pain seemed to vanish, replaced by the quiet, soothing comfort of being close to you. The way you looked at him like he was the one thing that made sense in the chaos made everything feel a little easier.

“Let’s check inside your bag again.” he suggested gently. He took the bag from you, unzipping it with a practiced hand. As he rummaged through it, you watched him carefully, your anxiety easing just a little from the reassurance in his tone.

And then, as if by magic, he pulled out the keys from the deepest pocket of your bag. He held them up with a small, triumphant smile.

“Found them, dummy.” he said, and the relief in his voice made your heart swell.

You let out a shaky laugh, tears still lingering in your eyes, but a smile now tugging at your lips. “I’m so hopeless sometimes.”

Megumi’s smile widened, his eyes softening. “Don’t say that. You’re not hopeless. You just had a moment.”

His hand brushed against yours as he handed you the keys, and for a second, it felt like everything was perfect. Just you, him, the simple act of being together in the quiet, unspoken moments.

You met his gaze, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Thank you, Megumi. For everything.”

His bright blue–green orbs could only soften even more, and for the briefest moment, you could see the quiet ache in them, but it wasn’t pain. No, it was something else, something deeper. Something more beautiful, something more true. Everything about him felt so genuine. More than ever before.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just happy I’m here with you.”

And for that moment, in that small, shared space, it felt like nothing else mattered. The world outside could have been crumbling, but in his presence, you felt a quiet sense of peace you hadn’t known in a long time.

Megumi gave you one last, reassuring smile, wiping away the last of your tears, and then offered his arm to you as he moved to open the door for you. You stepped inside, the cool air of the apartment a small comfort after the small storm of emotions. Megumi was right. Everything would be fine. 

At least, for now, it was. You could forget about the worries of tomorrow and just be in the moment. As he followed you inside, a part of you couldn’t help but think how much longer you wanted this moment by your side. How you wished you could hold onto these moments forever.

The evening had grown colder, but the light snowfall made everything feel magical, like a scene out of a dream. You and Megumi had just finished your little excursion to find the perfect hotpot place, and as you sat at a cozy table by the window, the snowflakes drifted lazily outside. 

The warmth of the restaurant was a nice contrast to the chilly air, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over you. Everything about tonight was what would make winter feel the want to enjoy being alive, being warm in the cold breeze of its existence.

You pulled your phone from your bag, feeling the impulse to capture the moment. You glanced up at Megumi, who was poking at his bowl, looking surprisingly content for someone who usually seemed to prefer avoiding anything too flashy. 

His serious demeanor had softened, and his usual guarded expression was replaced with a rare sense of comfort. With a smile, you snapped a quick picture of him. Megumi looked up, startled by the sound of your camera clicking.

“Hey, no pictures, you dummy.” he protested, though his tone wasn’t harsh. He reached for the camera, but you pulled it away quickly, holding it to your chest with a grin.

“Why not? You look cute, you know?” you teased, winking playfully at him.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “You always say that. Why do you take so many pictures anyway?”

You leaned back in your seat, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass as you thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess… I just want to remember things. The little moments that matter. You never know when they’ll be gone, so I figure I should capture the ones that make me happy.”

Megumi’s eyes softened, and he gave a quiet nod, his gaze thoughtful. “I’m glad you do that. You’ve always had a way of making ordinary moments feel... special.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’m glad you’re here to make them feel special too.”

The rest of the meal passed in a comfortable silence, filled with small chatter and the occasional clink of chopsticks. You felt more at ease than you had in a long time, the weight of the world outside the restaurant seemingly lifted.

Once dinner was over, you both left the warm comfort of the restaurant, stepping into the crisp winter night. The air was fresh and sharp, and the snow had started to fall heavier, painting the streets in a blanket of white. You couldn’t help but smile as you looked up at the sky, the snowflakes drifting down like confetti.

You walked ahead a few steps, enjoying the peaceful quiet of the night, when you suddenly realized that Megumi wasn’t next to you. Turning around, you saw him standing still, almost frozen in place, his posture slumped in an uncharacteristic way. You paused, confused, until you saw him sway slightly before collapsing onto the snow-covered pavement with a soft thud.

Your heart stopped.

“Megumi!” You rushed over to him in a panic, your breath catching in your throat as you knelt beside him. His face was pale, and his body was limp in the snow, the cold seeping through his clothes.

You gently shook his shoulder, your voice shaking as you called his name again. “Megumi! Hey, wake up, please…”

His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t stir. You were beyond scared now. His condition had been worsening for a while, but seeing him like this made your entire world feel like it was crashing down around you. You could feel your heart beating, faster than it ever has. You had never felt such fright in your entire life.

“Megumi, stay with me, please. Please, oh my god—someone help! Please!” you say, your voice breaking as you hovered over him, panic rising in your chest. 

You couldn’t lose him. Not like this. Warm tears were starting to fall from your eyes, contrasting the cold. Everything about this moment felt like you were losing to fate.

You hated this feeling. You hated this helplessness. You hated the thought of losing the love of your life. Everything about this was cruel. And that had just made you cry even more. 

You take a breath, calming yourself, as you quickly pull your phone from your pocket, dialing the emergency number, your hands trembling as you explained the situation to the operator.

You try to check on him, trying to get him to wake up. Tears still pouring endlessly, like raindrops in the winter hale. The minutes stretched on, every second feeling like an eternity.

Megumi stirred slightly, his eyes opening just enough for him to give you a half-smile, his voice weak but still trying to reassure you, even though he clearly wasn’t fully conscious. You gasped, trying to explain to the operator that he woke up. But he immediately cuts you off, his hand on your own. He weakly squeezes it.

“Don’t... don’t worry about me.” he mumbled, his voice barely audible through the cold air. “I’m... fine.”

You shook your head, your tears threatening to spill as you grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “No, you’re not! You’re not fine, Megumi. You’re really not fine.”

“Hey, you…you dummy.” he said, his words slurring slightly. “You... should smile. You... should still... take pictures.”

You shook your head again, laughing through the tears that had started to fall. “I don’t care about pictures, Megumi. I just care about you.”

His eyes fluttered closed again, but he seemed comforted by your words, the faintest hint of a smile still on his lips. You kept holding his hand, never letting go, until the sound of the ambulance arrived in the distance. You didn’t want to, you never wanted to leave. Not him. But you could only pray that he’s just as resolved not to leave you too.

After all, how could you live without him?

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YOU HATED THE SMELL OF HOSPITALS. You don’t like the smell of death, the smell of grief. The smell of suffering all at once gathered through the halls. You were aware just as much that Megumi doesn’t like hospitals either. He’d always hated it as much as you. Even just doing check–ups made him upset. But there was no other choice. He has to live.

This was the only way to keep him alive. This was the only way he wouldn’t leave you. You'd rather he spend the rest of his life hating the smell of this one moment than let him die. You'd do anything to have him for what time is left.

The cold hospital lights buzzed above you as you sat next to Megumi’s bed, your fingers clutching his hand so tightly it almost hurt. His body was hooked up to various machines, the soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor the only sound that filled the sterile room. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, the sight of him lying there, pale and fragile, making your chest tighten with every passing second.

The ambulance ride had been a blur of frantic moments, the flashing lights reflecting off the cold pavement as you gripped Megumi’s hand, trying to keep him awake, trying to keep him here with you. But he slipped in and out of consciousness, each time his body growing weaker, his breath shallower.

When you arrived at the hospital, the doctors didn’t waste any time. They immediately ran tests and checked his vitals, and within what felt like an eternity, they informed you of the worst news you could have imagined.

You felt like you were going to lose it when you finally heard all of it in detail. You didn’t want to hear more of it. But you had no choice. You needed to know. You needed to know so you could understand. 

Fushiguro Megumi had been battling a terminal illness, something that had been eating away at him for months, maybe even longer and he had never told you. They told you about his rare, degenerative condition, how it had been causing him excruciating pain, and how little time he had left. 

You didn’t even know how to process it. There was no true way to process it. He was dying. And you just got him back. You were going to lose him, just when you had him back. And that made you feel like you were dying too. Because how? How does one not go mad with it already? 

You wanted to scream, to yell at the world for being so unfair. But instead, you sat there, numb, tears streaming down your face, your hands trembling as you held onto Megumi like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. Why didn’t he tell you? Why had he tried to carry all of this on his own?

And yet, there was a part of you that knew exactly why. It was just like him. Megumi, ever the stoic, ever the quiet one, always putting others before himself, always bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders without ever asking for help.

The sound of his voice broke through the haze of your thoughts. It was weak at first, a soft murmur, but it was unmistakable.

“Hey… stop crying…..you dummy.”

You froze, looking down at him as his eyelids fluttered open, revealing the familiar dark eyes you had always loved. They were dull now, tired, but there was still that softness in them. That quiet strength that had always drawn you to him.

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling from your eyes. “Megumi, please, I—I can’t…” Your voice cracked as the words caught in your throat. “I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

His hand weakly squeezed yours, his grip not as strong as it used to be, but the touch still sent a wave of warmth through your chest. He shifted slightly in the bed, his brows furrowing as if trying to find the strength to sit up, but his body betrayed him, and he sank back into the pillow, wincing in pain.

“Don’t cry over me. Enough.” he whispered, his voice low and strained. “I’m... I’m not worth it.”

You let out a small sob, your head dropping to the edge of his bed as you tried to compose yourself, though the tears kept coming. “Megumi, you are. You are worth it. You always have been.”

He turned his head slightly toward you, his eyes still clouded with exhaustion, but there was something softer there, something almost apologetic. You hated that look on his face. Because there was nothing to apologize about. Not even once. All you wanted to do was take care of him. All you wanted to do was keep him safe.

“I’ve been so... selfish, haven’t I?” His voice was barely audible, the words coming out in a rasp, but you heard them clearly. “I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want to burden you with this...”

“You never burdened me, Megumi. You should know that.” you whispered, your fingers brushing against his. “You never were a burden. I would’ve done anything for you...”

He let out a quiet sigh, the corners of his lips twitching up in the faintest smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make your heart ache even more. He looked so resigned to his fate, to all of this pain. And you didn’t like it. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be in pain. He shouldn’t be content. Not when you just got back together.

“I know, I know.” he murmured, his voice so weak now that it was almost lost in the hum of the machines around you. “I know you would’ve.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, but it was difficult with the weight of everything pressing down on you. “You don’t have to be strong for me anymore, Megumi.” you whispered, the words barely escaping. “It’s okay to let me help you. Please don’t push me away. I can’t lose you like this.”

His eyes closed again, and for a moment, you thought he might have fallen asleep again, but his voice broke through the silence, softer now, as if he were speaking to himself as much as to you. It was such a low voice, so weary and exhausted. You didn’t like seeing him like this. So beaten by something he can’t control.

“Maybe... maybe I should’ve let you in sooner. I was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if I told you everything.”

You gently cupped his face with your hand, wiping away the tears that still fell freely. “You don’t have to apologize for any of it. I just wish I’d known. I wish I could’ve helped sooner.”

Megumi’s lips parted, but his breath hitched in a shallow cough before he could say anything more. His hand gripped yours again, and this time, he managed a little more pressure, just enough to make you feel the sincerity in his touch.

“I’m glad you’re here, you know?” he whispered softly. “I don’t have much time left... but I’m glad I have you now.”

Your heart shattered at those words, but at the same time, you held onto them, clinging to the fragile thread of time that remained between you. You leaned over and kissed his forehead softly, your heart aching with the knowledge that you didn’t know how much time you had left with him, but you were going to make the most of every precious second.

“I’m here, Megumi. Always.” you whispered. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Days blended together as the winter months stretched on. The world outside seemed to freeze, as if mirroring the heaviness in your heart. Snowflakes continued to fall softly outside the hospital windows, blanketing the world in quiet white, but inside, it felt like the world was slowly slipping away.

You didn’t let yourself dwell on the inevitable. You couldn’t. Every time you looked at Megumi, you saw the man you loved, the man who had always been there for you, even when you hadn’t known you needed him. You stayed by his side every day, holding his hand, speaking to him, telling him about everything you hoped for. 

About how the world was still turning outside, how you wanted to keep making memories, even if it felt impossible. You even began taking photos again. Photos of him. You didn’t know how much time you had left, but you were going to capture every moment, every smile, every soft word between you.

It wasn’t easy. Some days, you couldn’t remember where you’d put your keys, or where your phone was. Little things, fading memories, were slipping through your grasp, like water running through your fingers. But what stayed, what never faded—was how deeply you loved him. How every moment you shared with Megumi had become a treasure in your heart.

It was late one afternoon, the sky already darkening as the cold winds howled outside, when you sat next to him again in his hospital room. The soft beeping of the heart monitor was almost rhythmic now, and the other sounds of the machines had become a steady background hum.

You watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling with the shallow breath of someone who had fought so long to stay with you. You had asked the doctors, of course, but they had never promised anything. They always do that. They say, they can only do their best. Promises are the hardest, especially when it comes to people’s lives. 

You ran your fingers over his hand, brushing against the cool skin that had once been warm, but you didn’t mind. It was still him. Still the Megumi you knew, the Megumi you had spent years beside, growing together, building a life together. Even if that life had been cut short, you would never stop cherishing it.

You whispered softly to him, hoping he could hear, even as he drifted in and out of sleep. “Megumi... I love you. And I’m never going to forget that. No matter what happens, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember you.”

For a long while, there was silence—just the sound of the wind outside and the soft hum of the hospital machines. You thought about the future, or rather, the lack of one that you’d once planned.

The future you had dreamed of with him, one where you could grow old together, laughing at silly jokes, holding hands as you walked through life. But the truth of the situation lingered in the air, thick and undeniable.

And then, just as you were about to close your eyes for a moment’s rest, Megumi’s voice broke the stillness, faint and barely audible.

“Hey...” he said, his voice raspy, but full of that familiar warmth.

You sat up straight, your eyes immediately focusing on him. He was awake, just barely, his eyes blinking slowly in the dim light. A small, tired smile tugged at his lips. He looked so exhausted.

As though he doesn’t have any energy left to live. You hated that, you hated that smile too. You can’t help it. It made you aware how fragile everything is. How fragile life is. How you were far too near to losing him. 

“You... you’re awake?” you whispered, leaning closer, your heart pounding with hope.

He nodded slightly, though the movement seemed to take a lot of effort. “I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m... sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” you said, a smile slipping onto your face, even though your eyes were still damp. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Megumi. I’m just... glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re with me.”

His eyes softened as he looked up at you, his lips parting slightly as he struggled for the words. “I’ve always... wanted you to be happy. Even now, I... I want you to be happy.”

Your heart clenched, and you leaned down, your forehead resting gently against his. “I am happy. Because I’m with you. I have been, and I always will be.”

Megumi smiled again, his hand weakly squeezing yours. His smile was small, but it meant everything to you. The most precious thing in the world. You would carry that smile with you, even if the days grew darker, even if the cold winds of winter began to steal more from you.

In that moment, you made a promise to him in your heart. You promised that, no matter what, you would keep loving him. Even if you forgot everything else, you would never forget the love you shared. You would never forget him.

The room felt colder than it ever had before, despite the soft hum of the heaters and the warmth of the blankets wrapped around Megumi. You sat there beside him, holding his hand, feeling his pulse slowly fading.

The soft beeping of the heart monitor had become slower, more erratic. Your eyes were fixed on him, waiting, hoping for some miracle that you knew would never come.

The doctors had already said it to you, clearly. His time was up. There were no more treatments, no more hopes left to cling to. The harsh reality of it all was suffocating, but you didn’t want to let go. You couldn’t. Not when he had been your everything for so long.

You leaned down closer to him, brushing his bangs out of his face, memorizing the way his features were so familiar, the way his eyes had always held that quiet strength. You whispered to him softly, your voice shaky, as tears slid down your cheeks. 

"Megumi... please, please stay with me. I love you so much."

His breath was shallow now, ragged. But he turned his head toward you ever so slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes still holding a glimmer of something.

Even in the face of his end, there was a calmness in him, a peace that you couldn’t quite grasp. And you wondered, not for the first time, if he had known all along that this was the way things would end.

He barely opened his mouth, but his voice was soft and full of the kind of warmth that you’d come to treasure, the kind of warmth that had always been his, even when he was hurting.

"I'm glad that you were my final view, you dummy…..my love." he said, his voice so quiet, so weak, but full of meaning. "I'm glad that you were my beginning... and my end."

Your heart shattered at the words, but you swallowed back your sobs, trying to stay strong for him. He had always been strong for you, even when he didn’t have to be. And now, it was your turn to be strong for him.

"I love you, so so much." he whispered, the words barely audible but carrying more weight than anything else he could have said. His hand tightened around yours, just for a moment, but it was enough to make your heart soar and break all at once.

You pressed your forehead to his, your tears falling freely now, each drop a painful reminder that time had run out. You wanted to cry out loud. You wanted him to wake up. You wanted him to come back. But you know he won't. He won't ever come back.

"I love you." you whispered back, over and over again, as if saying it would somehow make the pain of losing him easier. "I love you... I love you... I love you."

But there was no answer. No more words. His chest rose and fell one last time, and then it stilled. The beep of the heart monitor flatlines, and with it, the world around you seems to collapse in on itself.

He was gone.

You stayed there, for what felt like an eternity, unable to tear yourself away from his side. You couldn’t bring yourself to let go of his hand, even though you knew he was no longer there to hold it. The warmth of his skin was already starting to fade, but you still clung to it, as though holding on to him would keep him with you forever.

The quiet in the room was deafening, a silence so deep it threatened to swallow you whole. You closed your eyes, trying to push away the overwhelming sorrow that threatened to drown you. But in the quiet, you could still hear his voice, still feel the warmth of his love in your chest.

I love you, he had said. And that was all that mattered now. That was all you could hold onto.

The nurses came in, gently moving you aside, but you didn’t care. They tried to comfort you, to tell you everything would be okay, but nothing would ever be okay again. You had lost the person you loved most in the world, and no one could take that pain away.

Hours passed. Or was it days? You couldn’t remember anymore. The world outside continued to turn, the snow continuing to fall, but all you could think about was him. Megumi. Your Megumi.

The man you loved with every part of you. The man who had been your best friend, your lover, your everything. And now he was gone, and you were left with nothing but the aching emptiness of his absence.

You didn’t leave the hospital that night. You stayed there, next to him, holding his hand, telling him you loved him over and over. You didn’t know if he could hear you. You didn’t know if it mattered.

You just needed him to know. He had been the love of your life, and you would carry that love with you forever. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how much you’d forget, you would never forget him.

The days that followed were a blur of sadness and quiet moments of reflection. The funeral. The family. The friends who came and went, offering their condolences, their words of sympathy. But none of it mattered. Not without him.

Winter gave way to spring, the snow melting and the world coming back to life, but you felt like you were still stuck in the cold. The world had moved on, but you were stuck in that one moment, in that one room, with Megumi.

It was as if time had frozen the moment he left, and you couldn’t break free from it.

But still, you held on to him. You held on to the love he had given you, the smile he had worn for you, and the life you had shared together. Because that was all you had left.

And no matter how much the world tried to take it away from you, you would never forget him.

You will never forget Megumi.

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SOME DAYS ARE EASIER THAN OTHERS, YOU NURSES THINK. But today was not one of those days. Somehow, the days seemed to slip away like water through your fingers, and the world around you grew hazier with each passing moment.

You didn’t know the date, the year, or even your own name anymore. Sometimes, when the nurses spoke to you, you’d hear their voices and understand their words, but the world beyond that seemed so far away.

But there was one thing you could never forget. No matter how much time passed or how much your memory faded, there was always him.

His face, his eyes. Those blue-green eyes that shone with a warmth that made your heart flutter even now. They felt so familiar and yet you couldn’t remember who they belonged to. Who this man was. And yet, you always felt at ease when you painted him. You always felt like life was beautiful, when he stared back at you.

It didn’t matter if you couldn’t remember all of it. How you’ll repeatedly ask what you did and who you met. Or what you were thinking about and or what you wanted to eat. That didn’t matter. All you knew was that whenever you had a brush in your hand, whenever you felt the quiet pull of the canvas, it was his face you painted. It was always him.

It had become a ritual of sorts. The nurses would often find you at the small desk in your room, your hands trembling as you carefully added strokes of color to the canvas. Sometimes it was a portrait.

Everyone could see his strong jawline, his dark tousled hair, the way his lips curled into a gentle smile. Other times, it was an abstract piece, his image lost in swirls of color and light. But it was always him.

No one ever questioned it. The staff knew you were once a famous artist, known for your ability to capture the most subtle emotions in a single stroke. Perhaps that’s why they never seemed surprised to see you lost in your own world, creating pieces of art that you couldn’t fully understand anymore. 

But they saw the joy in your eyes when you painted him, and that was enough. It was more than enough. You were suffering already, in so many ways. What is letting you have some little joy in the things you painted? And so one afternoon, as you carefully placed another layer of paint on the canvas, one of the nurses peeked in. 

"How’s the painting today?" she asked softly, her voice kind.

You looked up, smiling at her, the brush still poised in your hand. "It’s him again." you said, your voice surprisingly steady. "His eyes… I remember his eyes."

She smiled at you, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "You’ve been painting him every day, haven’t you?"

You nodded, not quite understanding why it felt so important to paint him. "He’s got the kindest eyes," you said with a quiet certainty. "The softest face."

She watched you for a moment, her expression filled with understanding. "He must have meant a lot to you."

You blinked, as if the question had never occurred to you. You couldn’t remember the details, couldn’t remember how he had come into your life or who he was, but the feeling that lingered when you thought about him, when you painted him—that you couldn’t deny. It was love. A deep, unshakable love that you could feel, even if you couldn’t understand it completely.

"Yes, I think so." you said, your voice is a little softer now. "He was special. He seems like it."

You looked down at the canvas, the figure of the man emerging once more from the swirls of paint. He had this way of looking at you, even in the paintings—this gentle warmth in his eyes that made you feel safe, loved, and understood, even when the rest of the world seemed so distant.

There was peace in that. 

There was a quiet comfort.

The nurse gave a soft smile, nodding her head before quietly excusing herself. But you stayed, lost in your thoughts as your brush moved again, creating another piece of him. Another piece of your memory, even if it was the only one you had left.

It wasn’t about the name. It wasn’t about remembering the details of the past. It was about the feeling, the love that had lived between you two, that was what mattered. The man with the blue-green eyes, the man who had the kindest smile, was the one you could hold onto in your heart, even as everything else slipped away.

As you continued to paint, a small smile curled on your lips. He was with you. In every stroke, in every color, he was there. And as long as you could still remember that love, you would keep painting him.

No matter how many times the world around you faded, you would never forget him.

He had been the brightest part of your life, and even now, in the quiet of the care home, he was the only thing you still held close.

And that made everything a little easier.

[wardenparker]

In the Still of the Night, ch 1

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 11.7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Just absolute fluff. We're starting strong with a chapter full of flirting. Summary: In the first few weeks working in the kitchen of a cruise ship supper club, Zach has developed a crush on the club's jazz singer. Notes: Welcome darlings! We're so excited to welcome Zach Wellison and Shane 'Dio' Morrissey to the soulmate universe!

There’s a peace that come with the early morning hours. The darkness is only cut by the lights from the interior of the ship. The sound of the water and waves are all Zach can hear from where he is standing against the rails, looking down at the faint waves as they rush by the hull of the cruise liner.

It’s been a long hard road to where he is right now. Clawing his way up from depression, despair and anger. Slowly starting to believe that he deserves to be happy, deserves to do more than sleep on the ground and cart everything he owns in a backpack and be on guard with a pipe in his hand.

Now he has a room – although he had a roommate – with a bunk that is all his own. A small, but growing, collection of personal items plus a bank account that has more than a few dollars in it. It has made him think about other things. Like the mark that he wears, the link between him and the soulmate that happens to be out there somewhere in the vastness of the ocean that would be between them.

******

"Behind! Hot!" The calls come frequently and loudly enough to count as orders these days, the chaos of the kitchen being calmer than the battlefield but sometimes not by much. Today there is extra incentive to be on top of their game because of some VIP reservation, but Zach is able to focus on his task. All of his focus goes to the job at hand, because it isn't the customers he's cooking for this afternoon, but his coworkers.

Since getting a second chance at life after hitting rock bottom, Zach has worked his ass off. He still is the live-in maintenance manager for the little apartment building he lives in, but he has found that working in a kitchen was where he was truly happy. Taking a job that had at first been about having that extra cushion and security, then had developed into the passion that made him eager to rush into the chaotic kitchen where he seemed to thrive under pressure. It was almost cathartic, to be able to work through stress, although this stress doesn’t involve someone shooting at him.

"You good, Wellison?" His boss is across the kitchen accepting a shipment, and the answer is pretty much always yes, but he still checks in.

“Yep.” Zach narrows his eyes as he continues to whip the cream to the perfect consistence before folding it into the broth. “Good as gold.”

"Heard." He knew the answer but he's still glad to hear it. It means he's able to sign off on this delivery and shake the hand of the other man standing outside with a smirk on his face. "You're lurking, dude," he laughs, moving past the back door to greet his brother.

“Just making the most of my short time off.” Chuckling, and relieved to be back on land, he pulls his brother in a crushing hug. “Smells great in here.” He huffs. “Must not be your recipe.”

"Har har." Rolling his eyes, the chef waves off the jibe. "How long are you on leave?"

“Two days.” Snorting, he shakes his head. “I have to interview a bunch of knuckleheads to try to find someone to fit the vibe of my new dinner club.”

"That's the jazz thing, right? Rat Pack Vegas vibes?" As long as they're outside, he'll take the chance to smoke a cigarette. It's murder on the taste buds but so fucking necessary for getting through the day. "You have a menu yet?"

“Not yet.” Running a new concept on a cruise liner is hard. “They gave complete control to us since this is the first if it’s kind.”

The older brother snorts. "They handed you a restaurant and you have two days to hire staff to cook a menu you haven't written yet? Cruise ships make no sense to me."

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” He laughs. “I’m think something family style, but with a twist?” He offers, knowing his brother would understand. “Maybe timeless classics? Old style American?”

"Like supper club style?" A drag off of his cigarette is time to think, and he nods. "Pluck a place right out of the 60s and stick it in the middle of the ocean. Oysters Rockefeller, steak Diane...French sauces and strong drinks?"

“Very strong drinks.” He grins. “Our cocktails will only be available in the club.”

"Sounds like a place Dad would have loved." Both brothers laugh at that. They had followed their father's footsteps into culinary work and never looked back. So why stop at just the profession?

“Smoked gin and tonics for the win.” He steals the cigarette from his brother and takes a drag, groaning in pleasure. He doesn’t have time to smoke most days, so he’s pretty much quit, but there’s something about a good puff on a cigarette that touches his soul.

"You wanna come in?" With his little brother off on a cruise ship serving from a floating kitchen every single day for years, they don't get to see each other much. "Family meal's almost ready. Hang out a while."

“Sure.” He had been to many family dinners at his father’s restaurant and enjoys them. “Thanks.”

The smell only intensifies when they go back inside, and it becomes clear that this particular family meal is more like a family feast. A hotel pan of Monterey Chicken made with the odds and ends of slab bacon and Monterey cheese blocks smothered in the end of a batch of scratch barbecue sauce looks like a masterpiece, and the scraps of vegetables that have become a medley rather than ending up in a stock pot are beautifully roasted. The cook who went after this feast has even made rolls studded with the stems of fresh herbs, and the entire staff are salivating over the offering.

“I’m impressed.” Looking at the meal that is laid out, it looks like something that would be prepared for a special event rather than the family style dinner that had become such a tradition when their father had been alive and running his restaurant. “You’ve stepped up your game from the meals we ended up making.”

“By outsourcing,” the older of the two brothers admit with a laugh. “Zach, come here a second.”

Zach might be annoyed by the interruption, but no one would ever know it. He finishes wiping the rim of a four inch pan and quickly strips off his gloves, wiping his hands as he turns around. “Sure thing, chef.” He notices a man standing beside him and nods. “What’s up?”

“I want you to meet somebody.” His chef explains, gesturing to the look-alike younger man beside him. “My brother Sam. He’s—” It will be such a loss if Zach decides to go that he almost doesn’t want to do it, but the kid deserves something good after the hell he’s been through. “He’s got a new place opening that I think you might like the sound of.”

“Oh yeah?” His brows lift and for a split second, he wonders if his work has been lacking and his boss is trying to get rid of him. But Toby isn’t like that, so he looks over at the other man. “A place like here?” He asks.

"A little different." Sam leans against the nearest wall with one shoulder. Hands in his pockets, he surveys the man in front of him with interest. "Supper club on a cruise ship. We're doing old school Vegas all over the ship so the vibe is classic dishes revamped. It's an experimental sort of thing where we'll have entertainment during service. But the fun part is that we pretty much have free reign on the menu as long as we work within our genre."

“A ship?” Zach has been on a ship before. When he was in the Marines, he was assigned as the Marine detachment to a battle group for six months. It was the best sleep he had ever had. “A supper club?” He hums. “That sounds like a challenge, a fun one. Live entertainment? What kind?”

"A four-piece band and a singer. The intention is to evoke the Rat Pack days on the Vegas strip, so the band will do jazz standards and jazz covers of contemporary songs. There's that..." Sam struggles for a moment, trying to remember the name of the band. "Is it...Postmodern Jukebox? That style." He can tell the kid – alright, he’s not a kid but he's definitely younger than Sam is – is interested so he nudges a little. "It would be six months on the Mediterranean for the maiden voyage. Living and working and everything else on the ship with occasional trips ashore. Sound like an adventure you might be interested in?"

His eyes shift towards Toby to see what his boss thinks about all this, but all he sees is that his boss is smiling and nodding along as if it sounds like a great idea. “I loved being on ship in the Marines.” He admits, more willing to talk about his service now that he had when he first started. There were a couple of vets in the kitchen with him and they had bonded over hard work that was still better than being shot at. “You need a prep cook? Something like that?”

"Actually?" Sam is feeling nearly fucking victorious about this little introduction, but he tries not to show it too much. Not yet, anyway. "I'm going to be executive chef of two restaurants on the ship, so I'm going to need a hell of a Chef de Cuisine to run this club for me. Think you might be up to it?"

Zach nearly chokes in surprise, sure that this is some kind of joke. “Just like that?” He asks, looking between the brothers.

"I wouldn't have even mentioned you if I didn't think you could do it." His boss promises. "It would be a hell of an opportunity for you." It's good experience for his resume, and it's a chance to save money. Toby won't mention it out loud in the middle of the kitchen but he knows that will be good for Zach.

"And I'll take my brother's recommendation over anything else." Sam nods. "I've got some interviews to do for the rest of the kitchen staff. If you want to be a part of this process, we'll sit down to family meal and then we'll get out of here. Work on a menu before we start those interviews."

There’s almost a surreal feel to this entire moment. As if he’s dreaming because opportunities like this don’t just fall into people’s laps for real. That’s for the movies. He takes a moment and nods. “Yeah- yes.” He corrects himself. “I would love that, When would I expected to be on ship?” He asks. “I’m - I have another job as a live in maintenance guy for my building.” He explains. “Would want to give them as much notice as possible.”

"I've got two days before I have to be back." Sam tells him, but laughs and waves one hand when Zach looks gobsmacked. "I have to finish out another contract. We've got a month before we've got to be onboard for this one. So you'd have plenty of time to give notice and we'll have time to work on our menu. I just have to get these interviews done while I'm on dry land."

Again, Zach looks towards Toby. “I don’t want to leave you shorthanded the next couple of days….” He tells his boss. “Do you want me to see if I can find someone?”

Toby shakes his head though, seeing how badly Zach wants this thing he never even knew he could have before. "I'll call my guy at the CIA and see if he can send me a student for a few days. I'll move one of the prep cooks up to your line position while you get this done." He pats the younger man on the shoulder twice – his standard display of affection – and smiles. "This is gonna be good for you, man. And if you decide it's not your thing and you wanna be back on land after giving it a try, you just come on back."

There’s a feeling of security in being assured that he would be welcomed back. “Okay.” He agrees, looking over at Sam. “I’ll do it.”

"Fantastic." Sam puts out his hand and they shake, sealing the deal with enthusiasm. "Let's go eat. If your food is half as good as it smells, this club is going to be packed."

******

Even though the quiet of the night is soothing, it’s been a long day. Eventually Zach heads inside and takes the elevator down to the lower levels where the crew quarters are located. Knocking on his door twice before opening so he doesn’t see anything he doesn’t want to from his roommate.

"Hey man." Shane is on his bunk, phone still in hand, though his relaxed posture says that he's just finished this nightly phone call rather than been interrupted.

“Hey.” He moves over to his clothes cabinet and starts to immediately remove his toiletry kit. He needs a shower before he can crawl into the sheets. A far cry from when he didn’t know when he would be clean.

"Diana says hi." The other man waggles his phone in the air. Even though his bunkmate and his soulmate have never met, she's a fairly gregarious extrovert who can make friends even second hand – so she always sends her greetings along with every phone call if Zach isn't in the room to respond at the time.

“How’s she doing?” He smiles to himself, grateful that his roommate has been an easy friend and his soulmate even friendlier. “I know she’s counting down the days.”

“She started counting the second we left New York.” Shane had a certain amount of very real pride in his relationship with his soulmate. It’s the healthiest thing in his life without a doubt, and that’s a life that hasn’t had too many healthy things. “No surprise she’s been working doubles while we’re out here. It’s not like there’s a single Emergency Department in New York City that doesn’t need extra doctor all the fuckin time.”

“That’s the truth.” Zach snorts and closes his locker. “You need in the bathroom? I want to jump in the shower.”

“Nah, go ahead.” The older of the two men shakes his head. “I’ll take a cold one in the morning and wake myself up. Got some new material to rehearse.”

“It sounded good from the kitchen.” Even with the heavy din of clashing pots and clinking plates, the sounds of the band can be heard when the wait staff flow in and out of the kitchen.

“Thanks, man.” Shane stretches, groaning slightly and privately cursing crossing the age of thirty. Everything has hurt since. “We’ve got some new numbers and transitions and things to work out, but it’s coming along.”

“That’s great. Let me know if we need to tweak the menu for the new set.” Zach tells him. He’s already swiped some shorts and he heads into their shared shower.

Shane will tell him later, but he’d sooner pull teeth than change the menu at the club on ship where they both work. His bunkmate is a hell of a cook to the point where the band’s singer is obsessed with nearly everything that comes out of that kitchen. He can’t blame her. That’s the kind of food he used to dream about it the chow line when he was locked up.

The bathroom is tiny but efficiently set up. Serving the needs of both men without wasting space and the best part was that there was unlimited hot water coming through the pipes. Zach turns on the water and stares at his reflection. He’s tired, but at the same time, he’s been having a great time.

There is never a shortage of things to do on the ship, mostly because the staff party hard in their downtime. Most of the staff work multiple positions so they’re constantly busy. It makes that downtime they have both precious and very necessary. In the two weeks since they came on board there have been parties every night. It’s a lot, but it’s also a lot of fun.

As quick as he jumps in, he’s jumping out and opening the door to vent the steam. “Are we drinking tonight?” He calls out, wondering if his roommate was tired or if he’s gotten his second wind.

“You wanna go?” Shane calls back, and Zach can hear movement from the other room. “Wouldn’t take much to talk me into it.”

“I could use a beer or three.” Zach admits. He’s careful not to over indulge and develop a habit, but he actually likes socializing with the rest of the crew.

“Club’s empty.” Shane suggests. He’s hopped to his feet and thrown his boots back on, and is now inspecting his eyeliner Ina small wall mirror when Zach comes back in the room. “I’ll see if anybody wants to meet us there.”

“The bar would be easy to access.” All of the terminals are set up to become the crew bar for the night.” Zach tells him. “But you are not going to play.” He warns. “Just let someone use their playlist.”

“But what if I want to play?” Shane poses, waggling his eyebrows in challenge. “Musicians are impossible to stop, man. We just go and go.”

“Good for you, I guess.” Zach snorts, rolling his eyes playfully. “I just figured you would want to set me up with another girl.”

“Oh, I absolutely do.” This bunkmates claps him on the shoulder with a smirk after he’s shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Ready to go?”

“Sure thing.” His latest obsession is with a new cologne that Toby’s wife had given him as a birthday present - early - before he left, so he adds that to the pulse points and hums when he rakes his fingers through his hair. “Now we can go. I smell good.”

“Now we can go.” Shane teases, but play-shoves Zach out of their little cabin and toward the stairs without hesitation. For all the bullshit he put himself and the people around him through as a kid and as a young man, ever since he got released he’s made the active decision to try to be a better influence. More positive. For himself and for the people around him. Sure he slips up here and there, but he’s only human. What matters is that he tries.

Shane Morrissey is a good man, upfront and honest. He had told Zach that he wouldn’t hold it against him if he didn’t want to bunk with a former felon, Zach had relearned to judge a man by the weight of their character now instead of the mistakes of their past. He knows all too well what happens when you are too harshly judged and looked down on. It had actually be a perfect situation since Zach didn’t feel the need to hide his own past and had not seen the pity or judgement that might come from others. “I need a beer and like- three shots man.” Zach groans as they trail down the hallway towards the elevators.

“And someone to flirt with.” Shane insists, still steering the way. Truthfully, Zach needs to get laid just to fucking relax a little but both men know it’s not always that easy.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve flirted?” Zach snorts, shoulder checking his friend. “I would embarrass both of us.”

“All the more reason to get back in the fucking saddle,” Shane points out. He jams his finger into the call button for the elevator and leans against the wall to wait. “If I kind find my soulmate in a fucking ER bay, you can flirt with drunk coworkers. I believe in you, man.”

He chuckles at the confidence the pianist has in him. “Keep it up.” He teases. “I’ll think you’re in love with me.”

Playfully, fraternal, Shane rolls his eyes when the elevator to his right dings and slides open to admit them. “Get in the damn elevator, kid,” he gripes to the man barely two years younger than him.

“Sure thing, daddy.” Zach bites his lip playfully, completely enjoying the way Shane turns beet red at the mention of that nickname. He had accidentally heard that part of a conversation when he had come into his cabin without knocking the second day on the ship.

“Shut the fuck up.” Shane mumbles, now jamming his finger into the button to select their deck. “Diana likes it. You think I’m gonna tell a woman that smoking hot who wears all my stupid ass scars no?” He likes it too, it’s just not easy to admit. It’s not easy to bare even the smallest parts of himself sometimes.

“I’m just teasing.” Zach reaches out and pats the other man’s shoulder. “I only wish I had a fraction of what you and Diana have. I’m fucking jealous. And if my soulmate is half as pretty, she could call me daddy any time she wanted.” He adds with a snort.

“You’ll find her.” The vote of confidence Shane has in the other man really comes from just knowing that life works in weird fucking ways most of the time. But instead of getting philosophical, he elbows the former Marine. “Maybe one of those room keys you get slipped every fuckin day will be the one.”

“Shiiiiiiiit.” It’s the craziest thing that he’s ever seen in his life. He would have never expected to have passengers slip him a room key and ask him to join them before. Some are older, obvious cougars on the prowl, but a few of them have been his age and he’s been tempted, but he couldn’t risk his contract, his job.

“We get them too, the band, but not the sheer fucking quantity you do, man.” The elevator jolts to a less than smooth stop and Shane grins. “Excellent.”

“Someone needs to look at that.” Zach huffs as he steps off the crew elevator. “I think they expect me to cook for them in the room or something.”

“Some of them, probably.” The two men make their way along the hallway with purpose. “But there’s worse things in life than getting fucked and making somebody breakfast after.”

“You aren’t wrong.” Zach snorts. He’s never been a very casual person when it comes to sex, but he’s had some flings. “Maybe I will.”

“If there ever comes a night that you don’t make it back to the room, I’ll celebrate for you.”

“Thanks.” The entrance to the club is a large circle, the double doors exactly half of each side and the brass handles are trumpets. Immediately making Zach relax as he knows the inside of this place better than anywhere else on the ship.

The inside has been decorated with a combination of plush-looking fabrics in rich colors and art that invokes the best sixties nostalgia, with just a dash of Sam’s native New Orleans to top the whole thing off. It feels welcoming and luxurious for guests, but those same open arms are here to embrace the staff as well.

“Anybody here yet?” Shane calls from the threshold, seeing as the lights are already on.

Zach doesn’t spend much time in the actual lounge, he’s too busy back in the kitchens making sure each plate is perfect before it’s sent out to the passengers. It’s still new, but so far, every seat in the house has been booked and the reviews have been raving.

"Shane!" Two of the other members of the band have made it there first, and they appear from around the corner with drinks already in hand. "Zach! Hey man, what a fucking day."

“It was pretty busy.” He admits with a grin. The band often plays out on the main deck for the passengers lounging around the pool, even though the space is covered, it’s hot out there. “I swear the breakfast buffet never stops sometimes.”

“Never.” The band’s bassist, Rick, shakes his head as he reaches over to pat Zach’s shoulder. “How you been, man? We don’t get to see you much in that kitchen.”

“Busy.” He chuckles. “Gotta put them in a good mood with the food so you can croon to them and make them feel like they are in a jazz club just for them.”

“You don’t want me doing any of the crooning.” Rick jokes. “That wouldn’t put anybody in a good mood.”

“It’s true.” Shane agrees, coming up behind them both. “Come on, we need drinks.”

“Yes we do.” Zach nods. “Especially after today!” He had nearly half of the supper club wanting the special so he had been busy.

"You have to bring that special back." Shane insists, making his way over to grab beers for himself and his bunkmate. "I think our singer was drunk on the smell. That's like all she talked about between sets, was how good it smelled."

“Did she get one of the plates?” Zach always makes some extra plates for the crew and the band, wanting them to be able to know the menus as well as they can.

"Nope." Rick shakes his head and takes a swig from his own beer. "Gave hers up to a waitress who had had a shitty table. I think that's why she was so fixated."

“Man, that sucks.” Zach has only caught glimpses of the headliner, often too busy to really introduce himself - it’s not because she’s insanely beautiful and he’s developed a bit of a crush just from the way she seems to sing to him, but he would want her to have some. “I’ll have to make sure she gets a plate next time.”

"You should hand deliver it." Shane waggles his eyebrows. "For bonus points."

“No way man.” Zach scoffs. “There’s absolutely no way she’d be interested in me.”

"Who?" The band's drummer, and Rick's bunkmate, Keo, emerges from the kitchen with his own drink already in hand, looking a shade guilty. Like the bottomless pit he is, the youngest member of the band has probably been rooting around for unmarked things to snack on.

Zach chuckles and shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t tell me I need to do a club snack for us?” He teases.

Keo and Shane's faces light up, like this is a possibility they had never considered and now it's the thing they want most in the entire world. It's Shane, though, who pulls the trigger. "But what would you make?" He asks, already knowing his bunkmate can't resist that sort of challenge.

Zach knows the galley pantry like the back of his hand and what he has left over from the meal tonight. “Prime rib croquettes with creamy horseradish sauce and tempura Tiger prawns with Thai chili sauce.” He decides.

"Duuuuuude." Keo groans, wide-eyed and sounding like someone just taunted him with the greatest richest in some magical kingdom. "You can't just say things like that, man!"

Zach snorts and claps him on the shoulder. “Tell you what, you go get me a drink and I’ll fire up the cookers so we can drink and eat.”

"The hero of the hour!" Another voice from the doorway proclaims, only having heard the words 'drink and eat' come from someone they recognize as kitchen staff. This won't be a large party but it will be a party, and a few more people spill through the door in turn.

"I'll make you something good, man." Keo promises. Musicians who were bartenders in previous jobs are not rare but they are good to have around, and Keo was a hell of a bartender.

“I’ll hold you to it!” He has free range over his space and there are a few more ideas that he can try out tonight and use the crew as his test dummies. They never hold back their opinions on the food and he loves that, always striving to make it better.

The large handful of people who flood into the space ends up totaling more than a dozen within just a few minutes of Zach disappearing into the kitchen, but the last one through the door is finally dressed down after a day of performing and being on for passengers.

Jeans and a sweatshirt. That’s all it is for you after dark, though you would stay dressed up if you had someone to impress. When it’s just Shane and the boys, though? They can stand to see you without full hair and makeup.

Shouts of your name ring out because the music hasn’t started yet, Zach hearing it from the kitchen. He perks up slightly and hates how he feels his pulse picks up knowing you are here.

"That's a hell of a welcome," you tease, gratefully accepting a cocktail when it's pressed into your hand and doling out hugs to your bandmates. These guys have become your family in just a few short months, so much so that taking this adventure on the ship together seemed like a no-brainer. Each of you had things that had brought you into New York City but few of you have any ties to bring you back there, which makes this floating madhouse all the more fun.

The ship was the best decision you could have made, in a lot of ways. There is a camaraderie here that you couldn't have anticipated and it soothes you in equally unexpected ways. While you love spending your regular time with the guys in the band, you've found a friend in your bunkmate as well, which is great when River is just as excited to do to these staff parties as you are.

In the kitchen, the fryers are heating up and Zach works quickly to whip up a tempura batter. The fried prawns won’t take but a minute, but while it's resting, he's mixing up the shredded prime rib with some leftover fresh breadcrumbs and making meatball sized bites to stuff with cheese. Coated in panko, it will be a delicious little appetizer and something that he had been thinking about adding to the dinner menu one night.

The party is starting to kick up in the club. He can hear music start to play and people chattering over each other while he works. The atmosphere is laid back enough and it’s not too late at night that they can be assured of a few hours of uninterrupted revelry — just the way everyone likes it.

The music starts to filter back into the kitchen, making Zach wish that they had installed speakers, but he can hear the music every time the door swings open. He hears the door behind him, and he calls outs, “where’s my drink!”

“It’s right here.” The door thwaps shut behind you and you juggle the glass in your hand so the ice rattles. “But you have to be nice or I’ll drink it myself.”

“Oh!” He hadn’t been expecting that voice, whirling around to find you, the girl that he’s been crushing on the smokey smooth vocals being performed every night, standing on the other side of the stainless counter with his drink in your hand. “I— uh, I thought you were Shane.” He flusters, feeling his cheeks heat up as you smirk at him.

“Not last time I checked.” In fact, that little shit had been teasing you mercilessly lately about the crush you’ve developed on the hot chef at the club and specifically shoved you through the door with his drink just to bust you up about it. “It’s Zach, right?” As if you don’t already know. As if you hadn’t found out his name right away.

“Yeah— uh, that’s – that’s me.” The fact that he’s stumbling over his words makes him want to kick Shane’s ass, as well as his own. He used to be able to talk to pretty women with confidence. He says your name easily. “Of course I know the voice I hear every night.”

“Should I apologize?” You ask, mostly rhetorically, and set his glass down on the counter between you. “If you can identify it already, you’ll be sick of hearing me before too long.”

“Not at all.” Zach snorts. “Sometimes your song sets are what power the kitchen through the night.” He tells you. “I wish I had them put speakers in here.”

“Really?” The tips of your ears are immediately on fire and you try not to look too pleased at that, imagining him in here listening to you sing whenever the doors open and close. That answers your silent wondering if he had ever cared to listen. “Do you…have a favorite? Something I can put into the set on busy nights for you, maybe?”

“Crazy.” Zach immediately says, before he coughs and turns back around to his mixing bowl to continue to roll out the snacks. “It’s unique and I swear the first time I thought it was a recording of Patsy Cline, but then you changed the words.”

“I thought the last verse deserved a little hope,” you admit, feeling your cheeks heat to match your ears. “A song about broken love and broken trust can be beautiful, sure. But life without hope is just too sad for me.”

“That’s why I love it.” Zach admits, glancing over his shoulder at you and then back down at what he’s doing. “I heard you sing it from the depths of your soul.”

With your glass halfway to your lips, you can only pause and hope you don't look nearly as flustered as you actually are. "It's for you, then." You tell him, wondering what the hell has gotten into you. "Anytime you hear it. It's for you."

Zach is so damn grateful that his back is turned so you can’t see the way he flushes hot. “There’s been some times I’ve needed something to cling to, and that song….it reminds me of that. Beautiful melancholy.”

"Same." Gently, deliberately, you slide up to the counter to lean your elbows on the stainless steel. "I don't know what you're doing in here but everything you make smells so fucking good."

He chuckles, preening slightly and his shoulders straighten slightly. “You should have sent word you needed another plate.” He looks back at you again. “I would have made sure you got a new one.”

"I didn't know I could call in special privileges." Sure, you're teasing. But his cheeks have pinked in the most adorable way and maybe just maybe you won't murder Shane for shoving you through the kitchen door after all. "Giving me that power might be dangerous."

He laughs as he drops the first round of croquettes into the fryer. “Yeah?” He turns around and smirks slightly. “You would abuse the power?”

"Constantly." There is an accidental groan in your voice, but it's honest so you just shrug it off. "I swear that chicken thing you did last week with the herby butter inside it? Best thing I've ever had in my life. Hands down."

“I bet I can change your mind on that tonight.” He lifts the basket out of the grease and shakes the cooking food slightly and checks the color. The cheese will melt and become a wonderful gooey surprise in the center. The only thing that would make it better is if he had horseradish cheese. Maybe next time he will grate the cheese and mix it with horseradish for the desired bite. But for tonight, the cream sauce will be a good substitute.

"Oh yeah?" A man who cooks for you is already your favorite man at any given time. That's probably where this little crush came from originally, but it has clung on over the first few weeks on board instead of shaking off like it usually does. Like glitter holding onto your hair with every ounce of determination, this crush is making you giggly and flirty like you're in high school all over again. "What are these?"

Zach waves you behind the counter as he pulls up the fryer basket again. “Prime Rib Croquettes.” He tells you. “Shredded prime rib meatballs basically, stuffed with white cheddar, breaded and fried.” He grabs two of the balls and drizzles the horseradish sauce on a plate before he lays them on it carefully and wipes the plate clean out of habit before turning and presenting it to you. “Tell me what you think. This is my first time playing with the idea.”

“So I’m your guinea pig?” Why that theory delights you so much, you’re not really sure, but you lean on the counter with a very serious expression. “Well they look beautiful. Let’s see if they’re as good as they look.” The little nuggets are bite sized and crispy, and when you pop the first one into your mouth the first thing that happens is the bone-rattling groan that rolls through you. The flavor is incredible and the outside crunches while the inside melts in your mouth — salty, unctuous, spicy, creamy, umami goodness making you close your eyes and hold onto the taste while you eat.

“That.” You still have your eyes closed but you point in the vicinity of the plate. “Is the best thing ever.”

You make the food sound sexual which makes Zach’s body react if a very primal way. Shifting slightly, he picks up another one from the basket and squirts the sauce directly on it. “Yeah?”

“Seriously.” You nod enthusiastically. “Eat one. You’re a genius.”

Zach pops it into his mouth and chews. Groaning while he’s analyzing the flavor profile and wondering if anything needs to be added. “Would you want a red wine au jus reduction dipping sauce if there was horseradish in the croquette or leave it as is?” He asks you seriously.

Laughing is probably a self-conscious reaction, but you look up at him with a slightly cringed expression. “I don’t have any idea what a red wine juice—whatever you just said,” you admit. “But I like wine and I like horseradish, and I like this, so probably.”

He chuckles quietly, nodding as he motions to the other one. “Well, when I put this on the menu as an appetizer, why don’t I offer both and see what you think?”

You have absolutely no shame in picking up the other fried nugget of delicious glory, and practically hold it up to him in salute. “I promise you a full report, and look forward to finding out whatever a red wine juice is.”

“Au jus.” He smiles as he watches you eat the next bite. “It’s French.” He explain. “It means ‘with juice’.”

No power in the world could stop you from finishing and thoroughly enjoying that second bite, but when you do you grin at him unrepentantly. “So I was right. It is red wine juice. Just fancy.”

“Fancy.” He chuckles. “It’s actually the drippings from the prime rib, reduced down with red wine until I make it the best tasting sauce you’ve ever put in your mouth.”

“Oh my god.” Even just explained, it sounds amazing, and you groan at the thought of it, though the sound turns to laughter after a second or two. “That sounds amazing. You can probably tell that I know nothing about cooking.”

“That’s okay.” He chuckles as he drops another round of the croquettes to fry and then turns towards the prawns. “I know plenty.”

Warmth curls in your belly, low and teasing and curious, and you suck a drop of the cream sauce off your thumb with a flashed grin under intentionally lowered lashes. “Is this where I suggest that you teach me?”

Zach watches you for a moment, wondering if you are flirting with him, because it feels like you are flirting with him. "Somehow I think that you wouldn't really want to learn how to cook." He teases.

"Fuck, that was awful, wasn't it?" You laugh, dropping your cheek over to one palm in a sort of sheepish expression of apology. "Unless you like cheesy flirting, in which case it was totally intentional and I'm owning it."

"Then you own it." Zach snorts, grinning at you happily as he waggles his brows. "I'm so out of practice flirting that all of it is cheesy."

"All flirting is cheesy anyway, that has nothing to do with being out of practice." As if to dispel any idea that it could be otherwise, you wave one hand and scoop up your drink with the other. "I am interested in learning to cook, for the record. But...call it a secondary interest."

"Okay." He nods and lifts a brow playfully. "Are we at burning water skill levels? Or can you at least feed yourself?" He asks. "What am I working with here?"

"I can follow reheat instructions, make macaroni and cheese from a box, and make a hell of a sandwich. But anything past that?" You shrug, but the whole thing stays playful and you flash him a grin. "I can proudly say I've never burnt water."

"Now I'm sure that I'm supposed to be horrified that you eat mac and cheese from a box...." Zach shrugs. "But that shit is good sometimes."

"You would be more horrified if you had seen my one attempt at making it from scratch," you promise him, though you're absolutely able to laugh at your past food follies. "Do you know that show Worst Cooks in America? I would be an excellent candidate."

"That bad?" He can't help but laugh, but you are grinning with him. He pulls the rest of the croquettes out of the hot oil and smirks as he starts to batter the fresh prawns in the airy batter and dropping them into the grease to start bubbling.

"I've got a lot to learn." He has the most fantastic laugh, and it rolls through you until your stomach flips all over again. "About cooking anyway. Not—not other stuff." Yeah...maybe you're out of practice too. That's okay, though. "So...what are those?"

“Uh.” Zach clears his throat as his thoughts when decidedly X-rated and he looks down at what he was doing off of muscle memory. “Tempura prawns.” He tells you. “Gonna toss them in a chili sauce.”

"Oh, come on." A delighted moan of anticipation slips from your lips but you don't care. "That sounds incredible."

“I thought it would make the best kind of party snack.” He admits. “And give me some feedback.”

"You were absolutely right." You promise him, watching as he moves around the corner of the kitchen with confidence and a graceful economy of movement. "I've never met anybody more consistently hungry than a bunch of musicians, and that's who is out there for the most part."

“Ha!” Zach snorts. “You’ve never met a bunch of marines.” He tells you as he rushes to get the chili sauce. It would be better to warm it up.

"No, can't say I have." Self-consciously, your fingers brush over your shoulder where the aged lines of a warrior's tattoo are forever marked in your skin. Thankfully Zach is looking away in that moment, and doesn't see the flicker of something longing and unknown in your eyes. "You served?"

“Yeah.” It’s taken him a long time to come back to being able to talk about his service even casually, but he doesn’t feel the need to be defensive with you. Despite being the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, he’s comfortable with you. He starts to warm up the sauce and finally picks up the drink you had brought him. “Six years.”

"I'm getting the sense that 'thank you for your service' is maybe not your favorite thing to hear?" He finally steps away from cooking to come back over to the counter you've been leaning on and for the first time you catch the little flecks of gold in his eyes.

“It’s okay.” He promises softly, wincing as he hopes he didn’t come off as angry like he used to. “It’s just- it didn’t end well.” He admits. “Still feel guilty sometimes.”

"Well..." This doesn't seem to be a very happy topic and we were flirting just a minute and a half ago, so you try to steer things back to a more upbeat direction if you can. You know all about making sacrifices for the thing you thought was right. It doesn't always leave the most positive feelings in its wake. "Hopefully now you're doing something that you love?"

“I love being in the kitchen.” Zach flashes you a grin as he looks up from stirring the sauce and moves back over to pull up the prawns. “It’s honestly soothing.”

"And you're amazing at it." Not that you mind watching, either. If you happen to catch the movement of his back muscles under his t-shirt every time he turns around to work on something? Well, that's just a fringe benefit for you.

“It’s about being able to execute and plan.” He tells you as he transfers the prawns into a bowl and reaches for the sauce pot. He drizzles the chili sauce over the fried seafood and starts to toss them in the bowl. “And adapt to overcome any obstacles that might arise.”

"Sounds like good organizational skills wrapped around a creative outlet." You observe, watching the deft, quick movements of his hands as he continues to work. If you maybe imagine other things those hands could be good for? Well, that's just for you. "Food is art, isn't it? I've always thought so, anyway."

“It absolutely is.” He agrees before he plucks a prawn out of the bowl and offers it to you. “Tell me what you think.”

If you were ten years younger you might have nipped that bite right out of his fingertips and let your tongue linger just to tease, but you’re both adults. You’re a little past the point of overt horniness with total strangers.

Probably.

So instead you take the offering from him with two careful fingers, and pop it in your mouth with the highest of expectations. Expectation which are immediately met, as one more heavenly groan escapes you and you positively giggle with glee.

“You like it.” He can tell and there’s just a drop of the warm chili sauce on your lip, right in the corner that makes Zach want to lick it off your lips.

“S’that obvious?” You grin, practically giggling through the end of the bite and licking up the drop of missed sauce along with it.

“I guess you’re hungry since you gave away your dinner.” He supposes. “So you have to make up for it now.”

Curiosity makes your head pop up again, and your forehead creases in question. “How did you know about that?”

“Shane told me.” He admits, reaching for another plate so he can fix you more before bringing out the food for everyone else. “Said you had been drooling over the smells but you didn’t get to eat.”

“That’s a very attractive picture of me that he’s painted,” you huff, almost rolling your eyes. Of course Shane gave you up. He’s been telling you to talk to Zach for ages now but you hadn’t had the guts.

He chuckles softly. “I took it as a compliment. Like half of my staff mooning over you instead of working when you start singing.”

“To be fair…” A smart ass grin curls up the corners of your mouth so that you don’t end up flustered With the compliment. Sarcasm is an old shield and good friend when it comes to flattery. For you at least. “That’s just a standard issue Sea Witch enchantment. Very susceptible to magic, your staff.”

“Sea Witch enchantment, huh?” He grins back at you. “You don’t look like I remember Ursula.” He teases. “And I loved The Little Mermaid when I was younger.”

“Makes sense.” That smirk of yours blossoms, ending up in a grin. “You’re a dead ringer for Prince Eric.”

“Me?” Zach shuffles, trying his hardest not to blush but he’s probably failing. “Hopefully I’m not as dumb as he was to not know the woman in front of his was his soulmate.”

“Neither of them had any scars,” you remind him, but the two of you seem locked in a trance for an unexpected moment before your smile widens and the fluttering in your chest deepens. “You’re cute when you blush.”

“Well, they were cartoons.” He snorts, flashing you another smile as he tries not to preen because you think he’s cute.

"So what would a scar for a cartoon character be, then?" The question makes both of you laugh and you shrug. "A tear in the page, I guess?"

“An interesting question.” He hums, picking up his drink and taking a sip of it as he watches you. Thinking that you look so young, so carefree in your relaxed clothes. He’s caught glimpses of you in your gorgeous gowns you wear on stage, but honestly prefers this look.

You laugh, shrugging it off, and don’t let yourself reflect too long on how silly you feel gazing at him across a damn stainless steel counter. “It’s a silly question. But thank you for humoring me.”

“Not silly.” He sets the food into two large pans and reaches for one of the serving carts. “Want to grab a stack of plates and we will go join the party with the food?”

“The least I can do is help if you’re going to feed us magic food.” The plates he points out are nearby, and you help him stack up the cart with everything that’s needed. It’s probably silly to feel like he trusts you by asking — you are right here, you’re the obvious and convenient person to ask — but somehow stacking plates and finding napkins and helping him make room for all of the containers of amazing food he’s made makes you feel…special. It’s silly, but you don’t want to banish the warm feeling in your chest anytime soon.

Zach is grateful you didn’t deliver his drink and just rush out. “Well, maybe everyone else will appreciate it, but you made it magic with your reaction.” Damn, maybe flirting isn’t as hard as he imagined it to be after so many years. Seems to come easy with you.

"I'm very glad you liked it." Maybe you do tend to be slightly pornographic with the sounds of enjoying food from time to time, but there's no reason to be embarrassed about that when you're literally flirting with a chef. In fact, maybe you should have been flirting with chefs all along.

He hums as he motions you towards the door to leave the kitchen first. “After you, madam.” He says playfully. “I will let you lead our procession.” It sounds gentlemanly, but he also gets the added bonus of watching your ass as you walk.

The second the kitchen door opens there is an explosion of sound, and honestly you had almost forgotten that there is a whole damn party going on out here. Keo has music playing but it’s only a matter of time before the band hits the stage again. It doesn’t matter that they just performed for passengers an hour ago. This time is for fun and for them.

“Time to eat!”

If there is one thing that Zach can count on, it’s that the crew will always swarm where there’s food. He grins at your wide eyes with everyone is instantly at the cart he rolled out and surrounding you.

You scurry out of the way with a loud, barked laugh, and practically hurtle yourself into the corner so everybody else can get their plates. You’ve had some already, served especially by the chef, and want everyone else to try the incredible bites that Zach made.

Glad he made plenty, Zach explains what each appetizer is and quickly serves up plate after plate of food. Grinning whenever everyone ‘ohs and ahhhhs’ over his food.

“Isn’t it insane?” He overhears you saying to Rick, nodding enthusiastically a few feet away over another one of the prime rib croquettes. The grin on your face has stretched wide, making you glow.

He puffs up with pride, knowing that it might be silly that you are gushing over his food, but it makes him preen. He straightens slightly as he finally gives out the last plate and can leave the cart to be picked clean by the vultures he calls co-workers.

It’s easy to get swept away from each other in the sea of silliness and general merriment, and before too long your bandmates have dragged you up on stage in an entirely predictable show of what happens when performers spend time with friends.

They always, always perform.

“How did we all end up working?” Zach snorts, although he’s got a drink in his hand and his seat is as close to the stage as he could get without being on it. He never gets this view and he doesn’t care that there’s not a perfectly synchronized light screw working or you aren’t dolled up. Just music and the love to entertain shines and he watches as you laugh and grip the microphone.

Slipping back to the piano one more time to consult with Shane, there is a confident grin on your face when you return to the mic and take it off its stand to be more comfortable on the small rectangle where you perform night after night. "Everybody has tested out Zach's new recipes and now we're going to test out a few new songs," you joke to your coworkers, though it is completely true and no one minds at all.

Zach claps on the table top, eyes glued to you and it’s amazing how warm he feels right now. Like the alcohol in his system has set him on fire.

"This is something Shane and I have been toying with in rehearsals." There is no need for long or fancy introductions to songs, not when you're just having fun, and you turn to Shane to make sure you're starting in time with each other. The first chord on the piano is done in tandem with the first lyric, and the jazz arrangement that you have been slowly working on together takes shape for an audience for the very first time. "My lover's got humor...she's the giggle at a funeral..."

Zach sips his drink, leaning forward slightly and not even noticing it. Eyes fixed on you and ignoring everyone else in the club as they fade into the background.

Take Me to Church is a hell of a good song to begin with, but tonight it takes on an unexpectedly plaintive tone. Like rather than the passionate promise of someone already with the lover in question, you’re asking to be allowed to be with them. Making your case as a potential partner. Or maybe it sounds the way it always has to everyone else and the fact that you keep looking back at Zach in front of you is making your brain fog over with lust…and if that’s the case it would be extremely reasonable…

Completely entranced by the sultry, plaintive tone to your voice, he’s haunted by the idea - the hope - that you are singing to him. Knowing that everyone who sits in your audience probably feels the same way, he watches the way your eyes roam around the room and then land on him for a split second. He knows logically that you are just being a good showman, but he wants you to have the same desire and yearning that has him nearly aching. Even if he’s not physically hard, thank god, because it would be so obvious - his body is lit up with need.

They tug on you like a rope anchored deep in your chest, those few moments of eye contact. They steal your breath and buckle your knees, and when was the last time you had it this bad for a guy you barely knew?

It’s a miracle or a mercy that Shane calls the next song, but you could kill him for the choice. The intro he plays is a well beloved favorite, but the message makes you ache.

Maybe this time I’ll be lucky…maybe this time he’ll stay…maybe this time for the first time…love won’t hurry away…

Your words pierce his soul and make him bleed. He would close his eyes, but he can’t risk losing the sight of you clutching the microphone and pouring your soul into the words. Making him swallow harshly and nearly start to cry from the emotions you are exposing.

The end of the song is a belt, twisting you up as the intensity rises further and further, until the final blow out has you feeling as wrung out as a wet rag and practically sagging at your mic stand. There are tears in your eyes that get dabbed on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and you turn around to grab your drink off the nearby stool with a ragged breath. “Gimme a second,” you mutter to Shane, wondering why — after singing that song a thousand times — this is the one that makes you feel like you have ripped your heart open and left it shattered on the floor.

Maybe this time I’ll win.

No. You know why. That lyric and the man in the front row. Dammit. You really are a fucking sucker when you like someone.

Zach leans forward, wiping his eyes discreetly and hoping he doesn’t look like a wreck. It’s be so goddamn long since he’s had hope. Not hope for his future, but for his heart. His time in the Marine Corps had changed the course of his future and for a long time, he had believed he didn’t have a future at all. Roaming the streets had a tendency to make you hardened towards the ideals of love and life.

“You good?” Shane murmurs from across the piano, vamping to give you time to breathe. Normally a consummate professional, you’re pretty good at holding off your emotions until you’re off stage. He wonders if this is why you never drink while you’re singing. If it makes it harder for you to focus.

“Yeah.” You nod, wishing he hadn’t gone straight for the emotional jugular. “Something more upbeat this time?”

“Sure thing.” Shane nods and immediately transitions into a catchy, fun song that had been last years summer theme song and converted to a supper club song.

This is more like it. A pop song. The rendition of Katy Perry's Roar would go over well with the teens or other daughters of passengers that got dragged out to the supper club because their parents like jazz, and it's a lot of fun for the fifth member of your band. Cliff is a sax player and a hell of a fun guy, but doesn't always get to shine during all of your songs. He's been pitching a cover of Careless Whisper that is going to be a crowd pleaser too. Shane is a hell of a band leader and is working with him to make it phenomenal. For now, Roar is another good place for Cliff to show off.

Shane makes a playful face while you start singing, remembering how he would have at one time hated this song on principle. He was a rotten little fucker, but he has straightened up and he can’t help but admit that it’s catchy. Especially with you singing it.

This is the tempo most people were hoping for. You can see that in the crowd. People react unconsciously to things that make them happy and the brightened faces and straighter backs of your friends and coworkers is obvious. You look over to flash a smile at Shane -- who you know can't believe you talked him into pop songs – and give him a nod. This is the way to go tonight.

There’s something to be said for the energy of the crowd. Zach looks around, the place isn’t packed but there’s more noise coming from the staff in the seats than most of the customers in here most nights. Although they are normally busy eating full course meals, they aren’t up dancing like some are now.

It makes it fun. It makes it easy to lose track of time and enjoy yourselves. And it makes it more fun to sing for people who are also making a party out of it.

The dancing and drinking goes on, the party hits a stride, and before long a few people are pairing off and heading out for the night so that the party inside the club starts to naturally wind down. You have no idea what time it is when you come down from the stage for the second time tonight, although it's much nicer to breathe deeply and have the atmosphere of good friends around you instead of the awkward curiosity of the guests.

“Well I have to say that you definitely beat me out for the best performance of the night.” Zach scrubs his hand on his jeans as he comes up to you with a cup of ice water for you.

"Hardly." You laugh though, cheeks warm just at the sight of him walking up to you. When he holds out the drink you practically awwe out loud. "That's very sweet of you, though. Um...both, I mean. The compliment and the water. Thank you."

“Have to stay hydrated.” He knows you had drinks while you were on stage, plenty of others delivered them to you, but they were of the alcoholic variety. “Are you still hungry after basically working again?” He asks, grinning at you in awe.

“Fun fact about me,” you tell him, greedily sipping the cold water for a minute and enjoying the way you can feel it run down your entire body. “I’m always hungry.”

“Is that like…your superpower?” He leans in and whispers it playfully, like he’s asking in confidence. “Kind of like Bruce Banner is always angry?”

Zach’s breath is so hot on your skin that you almost flinch, a warm roll of anticipation chasing the cold feeling of the water all the way through you. “Maybe,” you tease back. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m hangry.”

“Then I guess I need to keep you fed.” He snorts, the alcohol in his system making him a little more relaxed than before and it feels like this entire night has been one big dance to lead up to a ‘moment’.

“Good thing you’re very talented.” Fuck…what a terrible line. To avoid owning up to it, you take another sip of water.

He bites his lip at the compliment and watches as you fluster slightly. “Well, since it’s my duty to keep you fed, I guess you should be able to reach me, right?” He asks. “A bat signal for food?”

Instinctually, you’re about to refuse, until about two seconds later when you realize what he’s saying. What he’s offering you. And then the smile splitting your face open grows even wider. “I guess that would be good,” you tease him again and relish the feeling. How easy it is and how good it feels.

Zach pulls out his phone and opens it up to the messages to hand it over to you. “Here you go.” He offers, wondering if you are finding it a little cheesy how he’s basically asked for your number.

Typing your number into the top line, you tilt his phone away from him with a mischievous grin to type out a little message and send it to yourself. When your own phone dings in your pocket a second later, you pull it out and make a great show of reading the message before you react.

Gorgeous chef promises gorgeous singer to keep her fed and she promises to dedicate songs to him in return. Everybody wins.

“Why Zach,” you gasp playfully, one hand flying to your chest after you have his phone back. “You think I’m gorgeous? You flirt.”

Zach reads the message on his own phone and looks up at you for a moment. “And a little too self confident.” He practically giggles, butterflies swimming in his stomach at your description of him. “You’re gorgeous and you know it. Me? Not so much.”

“It’s all a costume. The hair, the make up, the gowns? All of that’s a mask to hide behind.” You may be dressed down right now, without your mask on and not ready to fight, but you know that that’s why you do it. Why you get dolled up every night. It’s not for the guests. It’s your armor. “I…was calling you gorgeous. Adding it for myself was just in case you didn’t mean this as flirting. I could say it was all a joke…”

He stares at you for a moment and shakes his head. “You look great right now. And I know you’re not in a gown or wearing a lot of makeup.” He points out. “So I meant what I wrote.” He tells you adamantly, even if you had technically written the text.

“And so did I.” Setting aside anything else, you add Zach’s name to your contacts and slip your phone into your pocket.

You let slip a yawn and he frowns. “It’s getting late.” It’s the early hours of the morning, and everyone has to be up soon to start the day over again. “Why don’t we get you a snack and get you to bed?”

“That is quite possibly the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me,” you tell him, grinning all over again. When your roommate calls out that she’s leaving you just tell her to go on. That you’ll catch up. You may be hoping a certain chef will walk you back, but you know he and Shane are housed on a different deck.

“So the way to girl’s heart is through her stomach too?” He turns back towards the kitchen and his hand hovers over your back again. “Interesting.”

Letting yourself be led by him is easy. Honestly it might be the easiest you’ve ever gone with anyone anywhere. “Anybody who claims they can’t be won over by a person who puts enough thought and care into to them that they craft a whole meal to take care of them with? Liars.”

He hums, smirking slightly as he guides you towards the refrigerators again. “What are you thinking you want to eat?” He asks, curious about your comfort foods.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” you admit. His kitchen is so well stocked and his skills are so much more extensive than yours. “I basically survive on sandwiches if I have to feed myself.”

“So would you like a sandwich?” He asks. “I can make that happen.”

“Actually,” he sits you down on a stool at the counter and you feel a little dreamy just watching him move, but at least it’s honest. “That sounds amazing.”

He hums as he looks through the fridge and smiles. “Then I know exactly what I’m going to make you.” He starts pulling out ingredients.

“Did you…like any of the music?” It seems right to make conversation, especially since he is once again feeding you, and you are honestly curious. Any song he likes is going to get more play in the club, you can admit that to yourself plenty easily.

“All of it.” That answer comes easily and readily falls off his tongue. “I think you might be the best singer I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Oh come on.” The best you can do is a huff of disbelief so you don’t break out into nervous laughter, but your stomach flips and your whole body turns hot in pleased embarrassment. “You’re exaggerating.”

“No.” He shakes his head as he brings his treasures over to the counter to lay them out. “I’ve heard a lot of people. Some of the street singers came close, but you beat them all.”

Surveying him quietly, you don’t think too much about the comment on street singers since buskers are everywhere where you’re from. Instead you crack a self-deprecating smile. “Would you mind calling up some of the producers I’ve auditioned for and telling them that? I think I could use a spokesperson.”

“Give me their numbers.” Zach huffs. “Guaranteed in a few years you are headlining somewhere.” He tells you. “Vegas or something.”

"Then this is a perfect place to start." You motion to the ship around you. "Floating Vegas, if you will."

“It’s a good place to forget the rest of the world and all the problems there exists.” He agrees, methodically putting your sandwich together.

"And." Leaning forward on your elbows, you bite back your broad grin into something more flirtatious. "To meet gorgeous chefs."

He pauses for a moment, meeting your eyes and his own smile blooms over his face. “And sultry singers.”

For a moment you consider just trying your luck. Just leaning across the counter and kissing him and seeing what happens. But there is just enough of a hint of nervous in your system despite his red cheeks and hooded eyes that you hesitate, licking your lips and swallowing the lump in your throat. You can shoot your shot in a different way, without being too forward. Just in case.

"Would you..." There is blood pounding in your ears and you can't quite hear what you're even saying, but you press on. "Would you...want to go out sometime? With me, I mean? Like when we both have time off?"

Zach is stunned silent for a second before he remembers that he had to answer you out loud. He handed you the sandwich with a beaming smile. “I’d like nothing more.” He promises.

"Yeah?" Now you're both grinning at each other like idiots, and you nudge the plate between you accidentally before remembering he was just cooking for you like a damn culinary angel that dropped right out of the sky. The sandwich he made is a work of art, and you pick up one half before nudging the plate back at him to share. "Okay, um...just let me know when you have time off?"

“I’ll check the schedule and text you.” He smiles as you take your first bite and wonders how the hell he’s gotten so lucky.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

ItSotN: @greenwitchfromthewoods @copperhalfcent @ariavitiellos @spishsstuff @76bookworm76

[veilishvixen]

Question I still have about the Solavellan ending

Lavellan tells Solas that they will “make this journey together. ALWAYS.” But…she’s still mortal, no? Even if Solas wanted to join her in death, he couldn’t because the integrity of the veil is tied to his life force now. He is the last of the Elven Gods which means there is literally no one else for him to pass this burden onto. If he dies, the veil will fall and the world will once again fall into disrepair, completely nullifying everything he swears to do at the end of the game. So I guess my question is…would living her entire life in the prison (the black city) make her immortal? Does time move differently in the fade for mortals? I’ve come across some people theorizing that Solas just ties her to his life force along with the veil, but without the dagger…how? I feel like this all could have been answered in the ending slides, but it was left up for interpretation out of laziness? Uncertainty? It seems any real answers we might have gotten were lost when the old writers left/got laid off. I suppose if he was truly desperate, Solas could put her into uthenera, but that’s not exactly a journey they could take together as he swears to spend the rest of his days trying to find a way to soothe the blight. Ughhhh, ten years later and all I’m left with is more questions. I KNOW this is an ending I could have made my peace with if only it were orchestrated by people who actually understood and cared about the universe. So much time and money went into the combat and appearances, but the writing has always been the heart and soul of Dragon Age. How much was cut out? I guess now, all I can do is wait for our wonderful fic authors to make this ending somewhat plausible to me. Godspeed.

[anjelicawrites]

Anon who sent the request for modern!dark!Aegon, obsessed with reader. Tumblr ate it! That's not stopping me from answering!!!

Aegon knows everything about you: the name of your first pet (Mr. Whiskers), how much watching cute animal TikToks makes you cry, your favorite way to make risotto (saffron with a dash of white wine). He knows you have been hoarding books you don't have time to read, and that you're trying to learn how to crochet in your spare time.

Warnings: DDDNE, stalking, disfigured Aegon, dark Aegon, obsession, non con fantasies (from Aegon to reader), masturbation, use of toys, talk of drug rape usage, voyeurism, talk of kidnapping, talk of reader becoming a basement wife, talk of a previous car accident, talk of drugs and alcohol abuse, talk of infidelity, Aegon enters reader's home to spy on them.

Read at your own risks. Be responsible for the fiction you consume!

NSFW and 18+ only please.

He knows all about the way you sound when you're pleasuring yourself, those high sobs, almost as if you're in pain, when you keep the toy against your clit, forcing another orgasm out of your body. He's learnt to know which one of the toys you're going to use, depending on the kind of porn you pick; he refuses to masturbate if he can't come with you, watching your lovely face contort with the pleasure you force upon yourself, through the screen of his laptop.

Maybe, just maybe, he could try to meet you the normal way, perhaps strike up a conversation in the elevator, or when you both are checking the mail, down in the lobby. Then he looks at himself in the mirror, the scars on the left side of his face and torso, those that plastic surgery couldn't cover, the partially missing hair and his limp: he's not the kind of man anyone would ever desire to date, not after his car accident at Rook's Rest.

If only that night he hadn't driven drunk, if only he had listened to his brother then, perhaps, you'd entertain the idea of dating him. In this parallel universe, so dear to his heart, he's still handsome and healthy, he would sweep you off your feet and stop using drugs, only for you. This other Aegon would be faithful to you, and he would never drive while drunk: he'd be your perfect lover, your best partner.

He'd be able to show you that he's the half of your apple, the piece missing from your soul, because you're the one he needs from his.

It's almost a joke the surgeons managed to save his dick and balls, only for him not to be able to use them anymore.

So, no, he can't try to date you the normal way, he decides after having stumbled upon you the second time. He can't talk to you, nor he can even imagine to ask you out for a drink: that's why he starts learning all he can about you, using every means possible, unconcerned with the money he spends, or the illegality of it.

He fully knows that putting cameras in every corner of your apartment it's wrong, so it's cloning your phone so that he can check on your messages, apps and phone calls. So is doing the same to every piece of electronics you own.

He doesn't care because he needs you in his life, and if he can't have you the usual way, he'd be happy to be with you like this.

Only, he didn't realize that Want is an ever famished demon that, day by day, needs you more and can't be satisfied this way any longer.

So he takes risks: stumbles upon you on purpose in the lobby and around King's Landing, he slips into your apartment when you're out, to touch and pretend to live among your things. Still, Want needs more, so he enters your place at night, when you're asleep, to watch you as you lay in bed and, when he dares, to slip next to you and pretend you two are sleeping together.

It's not enough, not anymore. He needs to know what your skin feels like under his fingers, how sweet your cunt is after he's fucked you with his tongue into multiple orgasms or how tight your hole will clench around his cock.

For days he has played with the idea of putting something in your food, to make sure you would not remember him fucking you for the whole night, his cock milked and milked by your hungry cunt, his tongue licking you clean, his lips at your clit, constantly.

But he wants to know if he could make you sound the way you do with your toys, and he can't find an answer if you're asleep.

And Want desires more: a full life with you, whether you're happy with this decision, or not.

Looking for a quiet, little place, somewhere in the country, where no pesky neighbors will come and ask unwanted questions, is the logical response. So is buying a special wedding ring, the kind that can't be taken off, because it has little knives on the inside that will come out the second you try to remove it.

Planning your taking is easy, finding the right people who will help him, for the right price, is a piece of cake. Now he's only waiting for you to return home, hidden by the shadows the empty furniture cast in your apartment. He's taken the liberty to cancel your lease and to send all your belongings to the house you will share with him, where you will have all the time to read your books and learn your crochet. Where you will be his, body and soul, his lovely little wife he will fuck every single time he feels like to, and Want is ravenous inside of him.

So, hurry up, your new life is waiting for you!

[yiichan]

𝟎𝟐 - 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐧

pairings. idol!ot13 x m!14thmember!oc. word count. 0.8k. genre. parellel universe au, extra member au, angst.

warnings. major character death, depictions of mental illnesses (depression, self-harming etc.), mention of self-harming, slight OOC.

writers notes. is it too late now to say sorry?

no beta i die like men, but still mentioning @sousydive

network: @mansaenetwork

[open] series taglist.

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Jeonghan thought he was dreaming. 

In a nightmare. A terrible, soul-sucking nightmare that he just couldn’t get rid of. 

But it’s real. It’s real as he stood lifelessly in the mourning hall, the smiling photo of Gyuhan staring back at him. 

The members were scattered around the hall. Seungcheol was drinking silently with Chan in a corner. Vernon sat next to a puffy-faced Seungkwan, who had a tired Seokmin dozing off on his shoulder with his tear-stained face. Junhui and Minghao flew back from China almost immediately, sitting silently in a corner, while Joshua bowed to the incoming mourners, exchanging small conversation with them as Mingyu accepted the condolence envelopes. 

Then Jeonghan realized. 

Gyuhan only had them. 

In the decade that Gyuhan has been around, Jeonghan knew that the others didn’t really see him as family. To them, Gyuhan was an abnormality, something that was different and strange. They had lived a life without Im Gyuhan, but yet…

Someone nudged him. Wonwoo walked over, sitting next to him. The two grown men sat in silence as the mourners came and went. Idols, producers and entertainers came in and out, and their own families were resting in a corner. 

“Drink some water, hyung.” Wonwoo’s voice was hoarse as he passed a bottle of water to Jeonghan. The older man accepted it, but did not open it to drink. His fingers gripped the bottle tightly, his eyes on the picture in the middle of the hall. 

When the group died in the car crash in their previous life, Jeonghan was resentful. He was resentful when he woke up and thought he went back in time, until he realized that he and the members had transmigrated into a parallel universe. 

Gyuhan is someone unfamiliar.

Jeonghan disliked him. 

The moment Gyuhan entered the melon green room, Jeonghan felt the goosebumps creeping along his arms. He immediately thought of this as a conspiracy, and Gyuhan was someone out to harm the other members and him. 

It took him eight years. Eight whole years to realize that Gyuhan had done nothing wrong. 

This is a parallel universe, after all.

But when Jeonghan realized his mistake and theirs, it was already too late. 

Little attempts were made to make up for everything. The invites to dinner, the small conversation making. Telling off fans who insulted him. Posing for photos during fansigns. The small links of their fingers, skin-to-skin contact in shows and stages. 

But Gyuhan remained distant. He politely declined each of their invites, except the ones where staff members joined. He gave monosyllabic answers to their conversation attempts, shutting it off pretty quickly. He would quickly retract his arms after linking them together with them for a photo, as though he had touched something dirty. 

He had shut himself away from them. 

Just like they had hoped for the first eight years. 

“Woozi-nim just woke up, I’m going over to the ward.” Jeonghan snapped out of his thoughts, his attention turned towards the manager and Seungcheol. “Do you want to come with me?”

Jeonghan hears Seungcheol mumble a hoarse reply, and he turns his attention back to the bottle in his hand. 

Out of the thirteen of them, Soonyoung took the blow the worst. He had stormed out of the dorm when the news dropped, and had been uncontactable ever since. His mother and sister were sitting among their families, whispering among themselves. 

Jeonghan thought about the day when they debuted. Their families had stepped forwards, putting the ring on them like what they expected. But when Jeonghan looked over to Gyuhan, he was a little taken aback when he saw the manager putting the ring on for him instead. 

Back then, he felt nothing. 

But now?

“On some days, hyung,” Wonwoo started slowly, taking off his glasses. He took a small cloth out of his pocket and slowly wiped the dust on the lens away. “I thought our previous life was something that we have dreamt about. The world where there are only thirteen members of SEVENTEEN.”

Jeonghan slowly savored Wonwoo’s words. He looked up at the photo again, of the smiling Gyuhan. He looked happy, yet the smile did not reach his eyes. It was like Gyuhan just smiling for the sake of the photo. 

Jeonghan was drowning in the endless sea of regret. Wonwoo remained silent after that, his glasses perched on his nose. The older male suddenly stood up, heading towards the exit. 

The air felt like concrete. Jeonghan hurried out from the hall towards the corridor, where he swiftly avoided the fans and reporters gathering. 

Escaping towards the fire escape, Jeonghan gasped like a fish out of water, the fiery tears rolling down his cheeks once again. 

How can they do this to an innocent soul? How could he do this to an innocent soul? 

“I'm sorry…” Jeonghan leaned against the wall, covering his face with his quivering fingers. He slowly slipped down, chanting out apologies like a mantra. 

But the person that needed to hear them isn't around, not anymore.

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[saltoftheearth5x2]

And the angels cry, "Holy" All creations cries, "Holy" You are lifted high, holy Holy forever

Everything - all God's creation - points to a creator. The sky, the earth, the ocean, the stars, the universe - they all point to His splendor. This is called, natural revelation.

Yet people still want to deny natural revelation and say that creation was made on accident. Do they really think that our complex systems of life were just an "oops!"?

That's why they're on my prayer list. :)

...

If you have any questions regarding the Christian faith, please ask me in my ask box. I am not a perfect person, but I will try and answer your questions as best as I can. We all have much more to learn, myself included. So please, do not be shy.

[fancyfeathers]

Love the mother daughter pair, but not gonna lie, fascinated by the thought of bruce blackmailing reader, and then having to properly try and woo her back essentially. If he really wants a seemingly loving family, he has to know he needs to coax his wife and the mother of his daughter into a better mood and viewpoint. No matter how much blackmail he has, she can start gaining just as much now that she's in his life, and I doubt the daughter will start trusting him properly with the tension between him and her mother. How would bruce coax the mother back? And would Talia actually have an easier time establishing a connection? Could see Bruce feeling jealous of Talia if that was the case. Idk just the tangent my mind ran on, even if that's not the case still love the work

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

The blackmail is practically all there is he does that truly hurts him, and that’s only if she does not agree to his proposal when states his intent of gaining custody of their daughter. But after that comes to pass everything would be perfect for a normal couple, news about their engagement spreads like fire, and the wedding will probably be the social event of the century given how they were engaged once before and now it’s back on. The most perfect white wedding and Bruce treating his darling like the perfect husband.

Their daughter does not know the details of what happened, one moment it’s her and her mama having a perfect life together, traveling the world and being each other’s best friend, and then the next all of that is over, her father is back in her mother’s life and now she has siblings and none of them feel like the family she had with her mama, it feels suffocating and her mama doesn’t seem as bright as she once did.She clings to her mama every single day and is only separated when her attention is dragged away forcefully from her daughter and one of her brothers of father comes right to the littlest one’s side.

His wife does not push any of them away, she lets her husband hold her in the morning hours when they have just woken up and press kisses onto her face, she lets Dick call her mom as he runs up to hug her, she lets Jason help her daughter with her homework even though she asked her for help, she lets Tim take her daughter out to the park even if it’s their mother-daughter day they have, or used to have, every week, she lets Damian sit down by her and lay against her while she reads to her daughter. She will never be happy but she will fake it, she does not want to make a scene and have her daughter see and realize something is wrong and do something herself. She wants her daughter to be happy and have a future, go to university, leave Gotham and go back to what is left of the life they had, parents make sacrifices for their children and she is willing to do everything for her. She plays the game of pretend, acts like the perfect wife and mother and stepmother, stays calm and bites back all the internal rage she has building up inside her.

Honestly it is after every she has been through just for her daughter’s sake is when Talia starts to think a bit more highly of her, she understands the strength it takes to make sacrifices for one’s child. She also knows how possessive and protective they all are of her and her daughter, so meeting her discreetly is the best option. Like at a charity gala and someone accidentally spills something on her dress and has to go to the bathroom to clean up and-

“Hello again.”

She nearly screamed when she turned on the bathroom light and saw Talia’s reflection in the mirror. Talia helps her clean up and change into a new dress all while talking to her about what she has found out. She went from viewing her as Bruce’s house pet, because it was clear their marriage was not equal, to seeing a mother who is willing to sacrifice and do whatever it takes to take care of her daughter.

But it is during this the question arises and the answer is terrifying…

“What are you going to do if your daughter is just as trapped as you are? What if all you did for her was in vein?”

“I-I….”

“You are far too soft, you will never get what you desire for your daughter while you stay docile, playing the role of a perfect housewife, a house pet…”

“Talia…”

“I should be off now, but do take care of my Damian, he adores you as his stepmother.”

She leaves her alone in the bathroom and she just cries, feeling like a failure of a mother and she she can barely look her daughter in the eye again.

She just lays awake at night with the thoughts of the life she grew up with, she had a golden childhood and all she wanted was that happiness for her own daughter.

After that there is no chance of anyone winning her over, but she will not act out either, she just feels dead inside, like a complete failure of a mother. Her daughter clearly notices something is wrong and while her mother will stay perfectly compliant, her daughter is a completely different story.

The moment she sees her mom loose that shine in her eyes like she had when raising her on her own she knows this is all of their faults, they took her and her mom away from their life they loved and now there is nothing left of the mother who used to teach her to dance at parties, or attend her piano recitals and sat in the front row to applaud the loudest and despite the busy schedule of meetings she had she never missed one, or when her mom who could not help but boast about her daughter’s latest achievements…

Remember she is still her father’s daughter and has a level of determination that should not be tired under pressure.

[untilthatdayimgood]

Spoilers for season 2. This is mostly rambling about speculations.

So we all know Arcane loves it's parallels right? So last season we had Jayce's life improve constantly as Viktor's health deteriorates before our eyes. This season it seems it's the opposite with Viktor becoming a Cyborg Messiah while Jayce steps down from being counsellor, is sliced with a chainsaw, his girlfriend possibly gets kidnapped and so on. So my question is what we think the breaking moment will be for Viktor? Like how Jayce had the murder of that child that traumatised him and started his downwards spiral.

There's no right and wrong answer obviously but hey it's fun to speculate until the next season comes out. I think Orianna might actually be the (insert Russian accent) "Oh no, my glorious evolution messed up" moment for Viktor. So we are all speculating that Singed is trying to revive Orianna who is probably possibly, right? (you may ask how that's possible with the stupid decision of everything being canon and in one universe and us already meeting Orianna's dad, well you see dear reader, gay people exist-/hj)

Quick recap of who Orianna Reveck is: a once living girl from Piltover with a scientist father who after a disaster struck in Zaun, escaped Piltover and went down to attempt to save as many victims by handing out respirators, giving her own to save a child. Safe to say she fell terminally ill after inhaling all the poison people in the undercity regularly inhale. Her father, desperate to save her life replaced her with a creepy metallic robot resembling a music box ballerina. Except it's not her, it's a mindless monster and her heart is stuck in a ball that the doll carries. So you know that creepy music box melody anytime Singed is shown trying to create life from the dead? Orianna's theme. Bonus of Singed mentioning he had a daughter in the last episode, you can see why everyone thinks it is Orianna. Rip Corin Reveck I guess.

So if Singed does try to revive the wolves and possibly Vander by mixing them and Warwick is the closest he can get to it and he isn't satisfied because he doesn't want his daughter to be some mindless monster that barely resembles a human, he could very well turn to his former pupil turned Cyborg Jesus. I imagine the arcane would lose it at that point because it's already protesting when Viktor healed that guy but Orianna would be necromancy because she is not sick or dying, she is an actual corpse. Also the fact she is fully robot! Which did make sense with Corin in old lore but Singed is more of a biochemist. But who isn't? That's right Glorious Evolution Massiah. Of course it will go horribly wrong, see above the mindless murdering doll description. Jayce takes away someone's child and is hunted by it, Viktor returns someone's child except he doesn't and is traumatised by it. Oh I hope we get to see horror movie monster Orianna.

[smallishzine]

we received a question about shipping, so here is our answer: (there is also important zine info unrelated to shipping at the bottom of the post)

Yes, ship art/writing is allowed, *however*, this is still a zine dedicated specifically to Joel, so if you choose to incorporate that into your piece, it must:

Have Joel as the central focus of the piece

Have something in the piece contributory to the zine besides shipping

be entirely sfw. This goes for any piece anyone makes, keep it Family Friendly. You don’t have to make it, like, toddler safe, and you’ll have a lot more leeway in gore and blood and violence and arson and all that good stuff because it is Joel we’re talking about, but please take pity on the ace-spec minor modding this zine.

try your best to stick to c!Joel’s canon relationships. We’ll be polling about this later but current plan is for the zine to feature pieces dedicated to all the eras of Joel’s content creation as like the thing that our zine is. I don’t know if we’re gonna go as far back as mousyluvscheese, and we’re probably gonna focus on just his Minecraft content unless someone expresses specific interest in doing a piece for something he did outside of that, but yeah that’s currently the plan. With that in mind what I mean by stick to canon is basically with the current plan everything we make up will be based off of what’s already there, so if your ship requires you to retcon and rewrite then probably no. The one exception is probably Lizzie, if she was on the smp then you are allowed to ship them as romantically (or non romantically qprs and other aroacespec headcannons are totally okay) as you want. I’m not sure if I’m explaining myself well so if you want me to elaborate further then feel free to send in an ask.

also I know that everyone has different definitions of ship art so like if you make it with romantic intent but it could also be interpreted as platonic then you don’t even really need to ask if that’s okay (in terms of shipping we’re still gonna make you run your ideas by us before you start working) Also if it happened in canon exactly the way you depicted it, such as Real Life smp smallidarity, double life boat boys, or esmp2 mythicalbeans, then you’re also probably in the clear.

also!!! And this is extremely important even if you definitely aren’t planning on including shipping!!! The plan for what’s going in the zine is in no way set in stone, it’s just a starting place to work off of right now, if you guys wanna do something else then fine by me! However, if the idea gets more difficult/complicated, then I’m gonna need your guy’s help to pull it off. If you wanna tell a complete story, like hotguy comic zine did, I’d love too!! But I’d need you guys to help come up with the story and write it and stuff, as I’m rather incompetent at most things. It was probably a bad idea to put me in charge of this thing. If you wanna make an in universe art book documenting a specific thing Joel has made, like scarland art book did? Sure, super down for that! But you guys would need to pick what thing. You wanna do something that’s never been done before in the zine scene? I’d love too! But you guys would have to come up with the ideas and then let me know, cause currently I got nuthin’. Don’t be afraid to send me asks, if there’s something you want to see Let Me Know!!! Everything is subject to change, and I love getting input from people who want to see the zine get made. If you’ve got ideas, send em’!

wow I got really off topic.

-mod Dinn

[f4y3w00d5]

Guess how many viruses I have in my phone

Is more then 1

Forty Two Is The Answer To Life The Universe And Everything

[farfelue]

All right, let's talk about this.

Not only does he do nothing about his room during his childhood. Only a small chest with an acorn for his poisons...

But in adulthood, his house is barely standing, Hap creates furnitures for him (he says so to Chade). Kettricken adds tapestries, cushions and scented candles to his bedroom.

And finally Molly keep their bedroom "theirs", she puts the blanket near the fireplace, she fills the room of her scent, she makes it pretty and warm.

Fitz never decorated his space. with the exception of Verity's sword (hidden) and the sculptures given by Beloved (hidden and yet exposed).

We can also continue by thinking how his only paintings were done by him and given to Patience, his creations were given to everybody else (children, art, peaceful future, inheritance).

People were his home. When he wanted to feel good he went to another's person "place" : Chade's for counsel, Patience's for company, Molly's house for life and love, Burrich's for support, and Beloved for answers.

He never surpassed this idea : people are home, home can only be people. "Didn't want to" or "couldn't" is not the important part of this analysis. It never occurred to him it could be done though he always admired people capacity to do so : Chade's tapestries and luxury, Kettricken simplicity and colours, Patience chaos and life... And Beloved's complete universe. He saw how people created home the same way he admired Nighteyes capacity to see everything as a pack. It was out of his reach emotionnaly and by his nature.

Sometimes I think about the difference between Beloved who found solace in his room that he decorated to remind himself of the loving home he left far away and Fitz who slept underneath the Elderling tapestry even though it terrified him and never even considered the idea of making his room a home because he couldn't remember what home felt like