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wowweeharrystyles · 3 years

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Part 14 | Birthdays, Flares, & Sequins | 7.2k words

‘Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

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Don’t forget that reblogs help writers out a ton !!!

love y’all, mean it.

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Aurora’s birthday starts with a knock on the door of her hotel room waking her up. She rolls out of bed and is met with a hotel employee when she opens the door. She moves out of the way and can barely get out a ‘good morning” from the shock she’s in when she sees the cart the employee wheels in.

“Happy Birthday, Miss Del Gatto!” He greets her as he lifts off the silver lid to the plate. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

Aurora rushes out a thank you and quickly grabs a few bills from her bag to tip him. Once he leaves she goes to investigate. A golden Belgium waffle, fruit, bacon and a french press full of coffee. There’s a vase of coral coloured roses and bursts of baby’s-breath and a note that’s propped up against said vase. She recognizes the handwriting as well as her own. “Rory” is scribbled across the envelope. A blush rises to her cheeks.

Typically, Aurora’s birthday is uneventful. She likes it lowkey. If it’s lowkey, there’s no expectations to be met. There’s never a let down. There was 1 birthday where she tried to plan a night, dinner with her closest friends and then back to her apartment for a party. During that dinner she got text after text with some lame excuse or another that yet another person couldn’t come to the party. Aurora hated that birthday and ever since she just didn’t put a big effort in. She kept things small, dinner with family, movie night with Issac.

It’s not even 10am and Aurora’s birthday is already better than any other year. She hadn’t even reminded Harry that her birthday was coming up. She did assume he had someone that kept him on top of it though. He never missed a crew member's birthday. Cake and singing on stage if it was a show day and always a massive cake for everyone at craft services. Aurora didn’t expect this; flowers, breakfast, a handwritten note. The more she thought about it, the more rosy her cheeks turned.

She sent Harry a photo of the cart before she ate with a short thank you text and he responded with a phone call. He cheered over the phone from his hotel room, or maybe a business coffee meeting, she wasn’t sure, but he didn’t hold back. He was loud and excited and now Aurora’s cheeks weren’t just bright red, they hurt too, from smiling so big.

Aurora ate the breakfast Harry sent to her while on the phone with her parents and then Leila and responded to a handful of texts from college friends as she got ready. Harry had told her to meet her later that afternoon at Soho House, the city club he was staying at. With the Chicago show happening the next day, they had a wide open schedule. Aurora told him she wanted a chill day, to enjoy the summer weather in the city. So they planned to spend the day at the Soho House pool deck and Harry shared that he had reservations for dinner later that evening.

Aurora truly cannot complain a single bit about the afternoon. Her and Harry share a blue and white striped chaise on the pool deck and spend their time in and out of the pool, reading, and playing a few games of gin rummy when Mitch and Sara join them for a bit. It’s much later in the afternoon when they decide a nap is much needed. The sun is exhausting and frankly, it’s their 1st day off in a while.

They’re tired.

But that doesn’t stop them from showering off the chlorine together when they go back to Harry’s room. The pair linger under the steady stream of water in the obnoxiously (but thankfully) large shower. They don’t remember how tired they are until they get out of and Harry is lazily kissing Aurora’s skin as he dries her off. Harry tosses her a t-shirt of his to wear while they nap. They don’t sleep for long, but they do stay in the crisp white sheets, tangled together for longer.

“Ope, your nose is a little burnt,” Harry practically whispers to Aurora while tapping the tip of her nose with his pointer finger. They’re laying so close that when Aurora scrunches her nose at the gesture he not only instantly feels the tightness of her skin there but the brush of Harry’s nose against her own. She reaches up to rub at it for a second.

“Bound to happen, I guess. I just hope my back isn’t bad,” Aurora comments as she sits up, pulling away from Harry’s arms. “How bad is it?” she asks, tugging at the t-shirt to reveal some skin for Harry to get a good look.

Harry doesn’t say anything. He reaches his hands out, sitting up behind Aurora. There’s warmth that transfers from her back to the palm of his hand but it isn’t hot. Harry moves the shirt higher up and kisses the middle of her spine. Aurora shudders.

“No burn,” he says against her skin.

“Really?” she asks, surprised.

“Hey, I got your back when we got to the pool! Gotta trust that I wouldn’t let ya burn.”

“No, no, no,” Aurora starts to explain, turning around to face him. “I just always burn, no matter what.”

“Well, looks like all you’ve needed your entire life was me helping you with your sunblock.” Aurora groans and only manages to shake her head before she’s laughing and Harry’s joining in. Harry looks to clock on the bedside table. “We should start getting ready. Don’t wanna be late for our reservations.” Aurora sighs, because even though her stomach rumbles a bit at the thought of dinner, she’s perfectly happy right here with Harry. “Come on, love,” Harry says as he gets off the bed, hands out to encourage Aurora to get up and join him.

When Aurora stands, she does nothing to move to get ready. She wraps her arms around Harry’s waist and rests her head against his shoulder. She lets out a deep sigh.

“Everything alright, Ror?”

“Mhm,” Aurora hums, squeezing him tighter. Harry rubs a hand soothingly up and down her back. “Best birthday ever.”

“It’s not over yet,” he says with a small chuckle. Harry pulls her head off of his shoulder and kisses her softly on the lips. “Go on now, I’ve gotta call Jeff to take care of something quick.” He presses his lips to her forehead before turning her around and pushing her towards the bathroom.

Barely half an hour later when Aurora steps out of the bathroom, Harry is buttoning his shirt. He stops at the 3rd button and that could be because that’s where he intended to stop or he forgets what he’s doing when he sees her. Aurora has a satin finish, strappy dress on. A sharp V dips down at her chest and the skirt moves a bit as she walks towards him.

“You look beautiful, Rory,” he breathes.

“Thank you,” she responds, a blush rising to her cheeks. “I like this shirt,” she compliments Harry, running her hand over the open collar. He squeezes at her waist feeling the sleek fabric that slides easily underneath his fingertips.

Harry kisses the top of Aurora’s cheek before stepping away to rummage through his duffle that’s sitting open on the bed. When he turns around he has a small gold wrapped box in his hand.

“Happy Birthday,” he says, handing her the box.

Aurora can’t get any words out so she just smiles at him and takes the box. Carefully she pulls at the ribbon and sets it down on the table nearby. She rips away at the gold wrapping paper and is met with a turquoise box.

“Harry,” she whispers before setting the paper down with the ribbon. Her hands pause before she lifts the lid. Tiffany and Co. She takes a breath and lets it out. It doesn’t help with the flush that appears on her chest or the heat rising on the tips of her ears.

If Aurora thought she couldn’t get any words out before, there’s no way in hell she can once she lifts the lid and sees what's inside. She sucks in a breath.

She’s met with a delicate gold chain with small diamonds sparingly sprinkled throughout it. Aurora runs her finger over the necklace in the box.

The silence is almost driving Harry mad as he watches her every move. It feels like the room is getting smaller and nothing else exists besides her. Aurora can feel her skin heat up more and more as Harry takes a step closer

“May I?” Harry asks quietly, gesturing to the box. “Unless, you don’t like-”

“Like it? Aurora cuts him off, finally finding her voice, though it cracks a tad. “Harry, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. It's far too much.”

“It’s not too much. Let me, yeah?” Harry rushes out as Aurora begins to raise the necklace from the box.

Harry takes the delicate gold necklace from the box. He swipes Aurora’s hair off to one side and she moves to gather it in her hand to get it out of the way. Harry’s hands move slowly, careful not to damage the necklace in any way. The chain is cold against Aurora’s skin and at the feeling of it she looks down at it against her chest. The diamonds sparkle and the minimal lights in the hotel room reflect off of them. She reaches to touch the necklace as Harry secures the clasp at the back of her neck. She can feel the coolness on her hand now but it starts to disappear as she notices how quickly her heart is racing. She’s speechless again and she can feel tears prickle at her eyes. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath but it still comes out shaky. The coolness is completely gone once Harry trails a finger down Aurora’s spine. There’s heat in the wake of his movements and after another deep, shaky breath, Aurora turns around and crashes her lips against Harry’s.

This will have to do for words right now, she thinks. When they pull apart, barely, Harry’s breath fans across Aurora’s face and she can feel her chest rise and fall, the necklace still laying delicately there. Harry takes his hand and delicately touches the diamond that sits perfectly on Aurora’s sternum.

“Thank you,” Aurora whispers as she watches Harry admire the necklace he’s given her. “It’s absolutely beautiful.” Aurora lets one of her hands slide down Harry's arm, gives his hand a squeeze and then she walks towards the full length mirror that is hung on the wall.

When she sees her reflection, she can’t help but smile. She reaches for the chain hanging on her neck because she has to touch it to make sure it’s really there.

“Happy Birthday, my love,” Harry whispers in her ear as he wraps his arms around her waist from behind. His lips graze against the back of her ear and along the side of her neck. Aurora closes her eyes and let’s his arms wrap tighter and his lips cover more skin.

Harry’s phone ringing across the room is what pulls them away from each other. The conversation is quick and Aurora puts her heels after Harry slides the phone into his pocket along with his wallet. Harry opens the door after one quick kiss and ushers Aurora out of the hotel room.

Aurora has never been one to find her reflection everywhere she can, but right now, with the diamonds picking up every single glint of light, she can’t help but awe at the sight of herself being trailed along the hotel hallway by Harry. His broad shoulders only a blur as she hones in on the sparkles in each mirror.

“I never asked if you liked surprises or not,” Harry trails off as he leads Aurora through a dark lit hallway. Aurora gives him a wary look. “Doesn’t matter cause we’re here already and I promise you’ll like this one.”

“You said we were going out for dinner,” Aurora reminds him.

Harry presses a sure kiss to the top of Aurora’s head and her heart beats hard against her chest, unsure of what Harry has planned. When they reach the door at the end of the hallway, Harry reaches in front of them to open the door and lead her through. A small glass window lined bar is on the other side and it seems like a normal thursday night but Harry doesn’t stop at the hostess stand or lead aurora to the bar. Instead, he grips her hand tighter and leads her to another door across the room. Aurora’s too preoccupied by fear of a surprise to actually take the time to come up with what the surprise could be. She can’t decipher between the beat of her heart and the butterflies in her stomach as Harry looks back at her with a smile that speaks more than anyone knows.

She’s met with a sparkling, lowly lit rooftop. Aurora barely notices the strings of fairy lights that hang from the roof behind them to the slender beams at the edge of the deck before she sees all the familiar faces surrounding the door. A loud cheer of “Surprise!” echoes into the empty night sky. Aurora gasps. It didn’t even cross her mind that she’d be met with a group of people she calls family now. Her cheeks hurt from how far she’s stretched her mouth into a smile. Harry’s arm wraps around her waist tightly and he kisses her check.

“Happy Birthday, Roo!”

Aurora’s breath catches in her throat when she hears the familiar voice. Her eyes instantly well up with tears when she sees Issac walk towards her. She can feel Harry's grip on her waist loosen and she looks up to him and he just gives her a nod and smile. Aurora practically runs up to her best friend to hug him.

“What're you doing here?” Aurora asks when she pulls away from the hug.

“You said I could come visit you on tour!” Issac answers, like it’s obvious.

“I mean yeah, but I thought you decided on Denver!”

“That was just the cover up. Harry messaged me on instagram to help plan your birthday. So here I am.”

“You know I don’t like surprises!”

“You don’t seem to hate this one.”

Aurora hits him across the arm. “No, but it’s the principal!!”

“Yeah okay, whatever you say, Roo. I’m going to go get a beer, what do you want?”

“You know me well enough!” Aurora yells as Issac walks away towards the small bar that is set up in the corner of the rooftop.

Aurora turns around, knowing Harry is hovering behind her. She takes no time at all to take his face in her hands and kiss him.

“I love you,” she whispers against his lips before kissing him again. His grip on her waist tightens as he dips her back a tad.

“Love you,” Harry whispers back between short pecks. “Happy Birthday, Ror,” he says once he’s pulled away and straightened the 2 of them out. He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, his finger lingering across the top of her cheek and then down to the necklace that still lays perfectly around her neck.

There’s a breeze on the rooftop, but the unmistakable summer humidity creates a light sheen of sweat across Harry’s chest where it peaks out above the lowly button shirt and Aurora can feel the heat radiating off of him. Neither of them mind the unavoidable warmth between them and they stay linked together as they move through the small crowd. Harry lets Aurora go when someone goes in to hug her and wish her a Happy Birthday, but he’s quick to wrap his arm back around her waist. Aurora can feel Harry play with the silky fabric of her dress, sometimes his hand roams her skin, thankful for the open back.

“Here you go, Birthday Girl,” Isaac says as he hands Aurora a glass that has salt lining the rim. “Margarita, just how you like it.”

“I cannot believe you’re here right now,” Aurora says, still in disbelief, as she takes the glass from him.

“Roo’s mentioned that you like straight tequila, so,” Issac addresses Harry, handing him a glass as well. Harry chuckles and thanks him. “Cheers!”

“So do I need to formally introduce you two or?” Aurora asks after they all take a sip of their drinks.

“Well, I messaged Issac on instagram like he said, but this is the first time we’ve met face to face, so,” Harry answers.

“Alright, Harry this is Issac. Issac, this is Harry. You two are required to get along. There are no exceptions.”

“Bossy one isn’t she?” Isaac jokes as he shakes Harry’s hand.

“Sure is! Always telling me what to wear and fixing my clothes.”

“Hey!!!” Aurora whines.

Harry just giggles before kissing her cheek.

“Oh great, y’all are gonna gang up on me from now on, huh?”

Harry and Issac look at eachother, shrug their shoulders simultaneously and then yell out a ‘Yeah�� almost in sync. Aurora groans at them but can’t help the smile that tears across her face and she wished that she had dimples like Harry’s so that people could innately know exactly how happy she is in this moment. She wishes she could bottle up this feeling and keep it with her forever. Pull it out of her suitcase when she’s homesick in a hotel or anxious on an airplane; or even when she’s just as happy as she is now to remind herself that this feeling comes from the people she loves most in this world. It comes from them loving her just as much as she loves them. It's a feeling she truly could not explain as she looks from Harry to Issac’s face and then to the crowd around her on the rooftop, all there to celebrate her. Never has she felt like this on her birthday.

Someone brings out a cake that’s littered with candles and a big sparkler on top when Aurora is drinking her 3rd or 4th margarita. Everyone joins in singing Happy Birthday and after Aurora blows out the candles Harry makes sure to scoop up a bit of icing and wipes it across her nose.

Aurora plants herself on one of the couches on the roof to enjoy some cake and people come in and out of the party to drink and eat and chat but all Aurora really remembers is Issac and Harry sitting on either side of her.

Issac hits it off with Mitch and Sarah and somehow manages to really get Mitch to talk. Issac definitely has that effect on people, easy to talk to, easy to get along with. Since Aurora can remember people have always flocked to him. He has this personality that attracts everyone and Aurora’s grateful for that. Growing up with Issac helped her not become a hermit and made her meet new people, try new things. She’s partly who she is because of him.

“Got any funny stories about Aurora?” Helene asks Issac from the seat across from them

“I’ve got loads. Narrow it down to an age and I’ll tell you my fav!” Issac says with a mischievous grin. Aurora groans and pleads for him not to share anything too embarrassing.

“Hmmm, how about something from high school,” Harry requests and everyone that’s still hanging around nods with drunken enthusiasm.

Issac thinks for a second, deciding which story to start with. “Okay, so you’ll need to see a few photos to get the full effect.” Harry cackles at the opening of the story and Aurora groans again cause she knows exactly the story Issac’s about to tell.

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Aurora is sitting backstage in Harry’s dressing room, on the black couch that he has adorned with his Gucci pillows, something she’s started to make fun of him for. He gets all defensive about it, “makes it cozy in here,” he always fights back with a small pout. Or “I like them, leave me alone,” he’ll whine. Harry comes to sit down on the couch with Aurora once he’s showered and in a clean set of track pants and sweatshirt. Aurora’s legs are curled up on the couch and she pats her hands on the tops of her thighs, signaling for Harry to join her and lay his head there.

“How’re you feeling?” Aurora asks. They both know they drank more than their share last night and Harry was groggy going into his boxing session.

“Surprisingly good,” he says softly as he crosses his arms over his chest, gently closing his eyes. Aurora rests her hand on top of his arms and places the other starts to play with the fine hair right at his hairline. “Boxing wasn't horrible. Anyways, last night was worth it” he says with a small smile before sighing.

“Yeah, it was,” Aurora sighs too. “I can’t tell you enough how incredible all of yesterday was.”

“You told me that over and over again last night,” Harry opens his eyes to look up at Aurora. “And then again this morning,” he offers another smile to Aurora and brings the hand that’s resting with his up to his lips and kisses Aurora’s knuckles gently. Harry rests their hands back to where they were but doesn’t release his hold on Aurora’s.

“Well I’m gonna keep saying it,” Aurora says and continues the movement in Harry’s hair. “I’ll never forget last night.”

“I won’t either. Quite a memorable night,” Harry says with a smirk, opening one eye to peer up at Aurora. “Party was good, but the after party,” Harry trails off, an overly flirtatious tone to his voice and his eyebrows waving suggestively. Aurora returns his smirk with a glare and a small shake of her head. Always so cheeky. “Hey, from what I remember, you loved the after party, too,” his smirk grew, showcasing a dimple.

“‘After party’ implies there were more than 2 people,” Aurora corrects him in a rush, then rolls her eyes as Harry lets out a giggle. “Shush.”

“Oh, you can’t even keep that grin off your face,” he says, now both eyes open and a full chuckle erupting from his chest. Aurora looks away from his snarky gaze trying to avoid smiling from ear to ear. “Love how flustered you get, sometimes.”

There’s a light, but obvious knock on the dressing room door.

“Come in,” Aurora chokes out as the smile she’d been avoiding covers her entire face.

“Hey, Aurora! Harry, just letting you know, 1 hour till curtain for Kacey,” Scott, one of the stage managers announces as he peeks his head into Harry’s dressing room. “Ayae, should be in in about 10 minutes, as well.”

“Thanks Scott,” Harry says as he sits up on the couch. Scott closes the door behind him. “Hi,” Harry flashes a dopey smile at Aurora before standing up. He moves so he’s directly in front of her. He leans down and rests his hands on the back of the couch on either side of Aurora’s head. She tilts her head up towards his and her nose crinkles as his hair tickles her cheek bones, just long enough to touch now. His smile pulls up higher on the left side, eliciting a deep dimple on his cheek. He presses his lips into Aurora’s quickly, pulling away just as soon as they’re connected. Aurora reaches her hands up to his face, bringing him back to her and pressing her lips to his this time. Aurora’s right hand slides it way to his hair and the other grabs at the neck of the hoodie he’s wearing, pulling him down closer to her. The kiss deepens slightly before Harry pulls away, a smirk on his face. He shakes his head at Aurora before standing up straight. She sighs and sinks back into the couch.

As Harry walks over to the vanity across the room, Aurora’s eyes divert to his suit for tonight. Aurora can’t quite decide if it’s more burgundy or pink. The velvet trimming on the lapels and sleeve hems are a perfect touch and give the already beautiful suit a sharp finish. Aurora’s eyes travel to the pants that are hanging with the jacket and black buttondown. The exaggerated flares are billowing, even just hanging on the hanger. Aurora looks at the flares a little bit longer, her head tilting to the side as she thinks. Harry’s tall and a whole lot of leg, but the pants seem extremely long, dangerously long. Aurora thinks back to the fittings and can’t remember him trying them on during prep week. Fuck.

“H, maybe your loafers aren’t the best idea for shoes tonight” Aurora suggests, a concerned look on her face.

“Uhh, they should be fine. They’re comfortable on stage,” he answers, distractedly, responding to something on his phone.

“Why don’t you wear your heeled chelsea boots?”

“Hmm?”

“Your heeled boots? I think you should wear those instead.”

“My boots? Why?” he questions, setting his phone down and sitting in the chair in front of the vanity.

“Flares seem a bit long…”

“I’ve got long legs, sweetheart,” he says as he straightens one leg out, exaggerating his movements. Aurora rolls her eyes.

“I know you do, but those flares are longer than your legs. Don’t want you tripping on stage, already clumsy as is.” Aurora sighs, “I don’t think we hemmed those at all.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Harry responds.

They’re not fine and Aurora repeatedly asks Harry to wear different shoes or let her stitch them up but he’s being stubborn and is convinced they’re fine. He parades around backstage swooshing the exaggerated flares. To each their own, Aurora thinks before realising she’s smiling watching him. She can’t help the butterflies that find a home in her stomach when Harry looks back to her. He drops a wink at Aurora before looking back at his band crowded around him.

“Hey, Roo,” Issac calls to Aurora from down the hall. “Ya ready to go? I don’t wanna miss Kacey.”

“Uh yeah, just one second!”

It’s as if Harry can feel Aurora approach him because he’s turning around with his arms open to pull her into a hug.

“Good luck,” Aurora whispers into his ear. Harry thanks her with a kiss and quick squeeze to her waist when they pull apart. “Please be careful in those pants on stage.”

“You worry too much. I’ll see you after, okay? Have fun with Issac!”

“You seem nervous,” Issac tells Aurora bluntly as they walk to the back of the pit near the sound mix.

“Harry’s gonna trip on his pants.” Issac laughs at her response. “He was being stupidly stubborn and wouldn’t let me fix ‘em. They’re too long.”

“So your rockstar is gonna twist his ankle tonight?” Aurora hums before laughing.

Aurora’s missed Issac like hell. Concerts have always been their thing. There hasn’t been a single one of Harry’s shows that Aurora didn’t wish her best friend was with her. They have so many memories at different concerts across the country. They’ve seen just about all of their favourite musicians. It reminds her of college because they would really only see each other if there was a concert. They’d visit each other in their respective cities and make a few days out of it. At least one night at a concert, another having a movie marathon of their favourites like She’s The Man and August Rush and a tearful goodbye when they had to go back to real life and catch up on papers and studying. It feels like home with Issac next to her singing along to Harry’s lyrics. They hold hands and lean against each other during the slower songs like Meet Me in the Hallway and From the Dining Table and Sign of the Times. They sing along at the top of their lungs to What Makes You Beautiful just like they used to in high school while driving around with nothing better to do. Issac pokes fun at Aurora when she smiles stupidly up at Harry on stage and she just rolls her eyes in response.

“Chicago, we have two songs left and before we go I wanted to introduce you to my wonderful, wonderful band,” Harry begins as the beat of ‘The Chain’ begins on Sara’s drums. He introduces Adam, Clare and Sarah. After introducing Mitch, the guitar and bass kicks in and Aurora laughs in surprise as Harry pulls his pants up as much as he can before walking to his mic stand.

Aurora and Issac sing and dance along to song like they have the entire night. The floor is shaking and the feeling in Aurora’s chest is undeniable. Right now with her best friend by her side and her Harry on stage, she truly feels like her heart might rip out of her chest.

“Chicago, I’ve got you for 5 more minutes,” Harry begins his closing speech. “If you haven’t been singing, that’s no problem. If you haven’t been dancing so far, that’s no problem. For the next 5 minutes, I need you singing every word. For the next 5 minutes, I need you dancing like there is nobody next to you. You are not going to see these people tomorrow! So why do you care? Are you gonna go for it with me?” he yells. “Lets go!”

Aurora stops in her tracks when the break in the music starts, a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach as Harry starts to dance around the stage. In the split second Harry stops dancing and reaches for his mic he steps on the flare of his left pant leg and simultaneously starts singing again. Aurora’s jaw drops. In the small time Harry stops singing she sees him mouth to Mitch “Ouch.” Not only does she see this interaction but she can tell by the look on his face he knows there’s an “I told you so” coming his way. Mitch just laughs as Harry goes back to singing.

Aurora drops to the floor in a second, her knees buckling from laughter, her hands on her face to cover her smile. She knows Harry knows where she is in the audience and surely he’s thinking about looking for her to find her reaction OR he’s completely avoiding meeting her eyes in the crowd.

“Oh My God!” Aurora yells to Issac once she stands up. “He made it so far without tripping. But ‘Chain’ and ‘Kiwi’ are always a risk,” she yells in Issac’s direction.

“Wow you know him well,” Issac laughs.

Harry’s performance isn’t affected by the trip so either Harry’s really great at covering it up or the only thing it bruised was his ego.

“How’s your ankle, bub?”

Harry huffs, “Go ahead.

“Nah,” Aurora decides.

“It’s worse if you don’t say it.”

“Nah, I think you’ve suffered enough,” Aurora says with a small laugh. She breaks the seal on the inside of an instant cold pack. “Here,” she offers it to him after shaking it a bit.

“Do you just carry these in your purse?” Harry asks as he shrugs the plaid jacket off before sitting down.

“No, it was in my cart,” Aurora points to her set of rolling drawers by Harry’s wardrobe. Aurora rolls the flare of his pants up out of the way, grabs a pillow from the couch and sets it on the table. She pats it, “put your foot up.” Harry narrows his eyes at her. “Come on, don’t want it to swell too much.” Aurora grabs a towel from the counter quickly and then joins Harry on the couch. Harry gives her a questioning look again. “What?”

“So you just carry ice packs around,” Harry asks again.

“I mean no, but always keep them with my stage stuff. My cart used to be my backstage kit for dance then I used it in college for my fashion classes,” Aurora starts to explain. Harry’s face still read confusion so she continues. “When I packed for tour, it felt right to have all the necessities, stage and sewing.” Aurora shrugs. Now she rolls Harry’s sock down a bit so she can see the colour of his skin. “No bruising yet, that's good. Probably just irritated, but didn’t sprain it at least.” She places the towel over his ankle and then takes the ice pack from his hands and lays it on top.

“So you’re not angry with me?”

Aurora snaps her head to look at him, her brows furrowed. “Why would I be angry?”

“Cause you knew my pants were too long and I didn’t let you fix them.”

“Harry, I don’t know where you got that idea, but I could never be angry about that. I’m sorry it happened but clearly you learned your lesson,” Aurora laughs looking at the ice on his ankle. “Not that big of a deal.” Harry lets out a sigh. “Let’s just make sure you’re careful and it isn’t bad. You still have quite a few shows left.”

“You’re worrying too much,” Harry says now reaching a hand out to Aurora’s face.

“Not worrying, I just know how bad ankle injuries can be if you don’t take care of them. I’ve had plenty of sprains in my life.”

“I’m really fine, Ror.”

“None of that. Let me take care of you.” Aurora tries to stand, tylenol and water is next on the list.

“Come ‘ere,” Harry pulls on her hand. Aurora falls back into the couch and Harry wastes no time kissing her. He kisses her hard to thank her and to distract him from his painful and cold ankle.

| | | | |

Harris: saw some photos from last night! The shirt looks much better backwards if i’m being honest

Aurora: BACKWARDS ?????-

Harris: hahahaha the tie was meant to go in the back-

Aurora: oh my god. I literally have one job. Dress him, correctly. That's it.-

Harris: it was a creative decision!-

“What’re you giggling about over there?” Harry’s voice is muffled against the pillow.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Aurora leans over to Harry on the other side of the bed. She runs her hand over his shoulder and then presses a kiss to the bareskin of his back. Goosebumps rise all over his skin and Aurora tries to smooth them out with the warmth of her palm.

Harry hums, “not really asleep, just like laying here with you like this.”

“We’re not even cuddling,” Aurora says with an eye roll that Harry can’t see but definitely can hear in her voice.

“Nah,” Harry’s voice is still low and grumbly from sleep, “just like knowing you’re right there, that in the early moments of the mornings, I get to be in the same space as you.” Aurora can’t fight the smile that tears at her mouth and Harry catches it as he rolls over to look at her. “Come ‘ere, though, I always like a good cuddle.”

Harry wraps his arms around Aurora’s waist and hides his face into her neck. The feeling of his hot breath on her skin makes her giggle and try to pull away. Harry’s arms only tighten and his lips lazily graze against her neck. For a moment they get lost in the morning sunlight coming through the windows and how the heat of each other’s skins feels on one another. Harry doesn’t make any attempt to open his eyes for the day yet, he lets his hands wander over Aurora.

“What were you giggling about anyways?”

“Oh! It was Harris, they said they saw some photos of their design from the show last night, but guess what.”

“What?”

“I dressed you in it backwards!” Harry’s mouth drops open dramatically. “The bow was meant to be in the back!”

“Ohhhh that might explain the deep V then…” he trails off trying to hide a smile.

“My only job is to make sure you’re dressed.”

“I was dressed…”

“Not correctly!” Aurora fights back, a giggle bubbling up in her throat.

“I think 1 miss in a 89 show tour is a pretty good track record.”

“Ugh, I guess. The deep V was popular though,” Aurora says, looking at the bright side of the mistake.

“So you did it on purpose?” Harry teases.

“I did not!” Aurora squeals as Harry sneaks his arm between Aurora and the mattress to pull her into a tight squeeze. He teases his lips across her collar bone. And that jogs Aurora’s memory of the moments they shared in the dressing room before the show.

Aurora’s dragging her finger lightly down the middle of Harry’s chest after tracing his collar bones. She stops at the butterfly and she feels Harry’s stomach twitch lightly and his hot breath fan across her face. Aurora gets carried away with the sight in front of her. From the sparkle reflecting in Harry’s eyes, to the build of his chest that is just expanding with every boxing session he does, Aurora can’t help but press a kiss to his sternum instead of tying the fabric that hangs from his collar. Harry sneaks his hands around her waist and pulls her closer. He lands his lips on her neck and then behind her ear.

“Think you might have,” Harry teases again, pulling Aurora out of her flashback.

Aurora brushes off the teasing and memories from the night before with a small shake of her head. She focuses on Harry in front of her and as if she couldn’t be more consumed by him, she takes in a deep breath and isn’t air she’s inhaling. It’s him. It’s always him. His scent, nothing too strong, no cologne just the lingering smell of his clean hair and faded minty breath. In between pressing her lips against his they both giggle, their legs getting tangled in the sheets. Aurora rolls the 2 of them over so Harry’s on his back. It’s a lazy and clumsy but neither of them care. She kisses down his neck and then across his collar bone like she did the night before. Her eyes linger along the tattoos that scatter his chest and shoulders.

“Oh, sequins must’ve really bothered ya huh?” Aurora asks, pulling away. She glides her finger across Harry’s shoulder where a faint red rash is left.

“Told you they were itchy!”

“I’ve worn sequins more times than I can count, I won’t hear your complaints. Comes with the territory. If you wanna be a sparkly rockstar you gotta get used to it.” Aurora teases. Harry huffs at her. “I’ve been dealing with sequins since I was 3, I won’t sympathize with you.”

“Think one day you’ll show me some old dance videos?” Harry’s voice is soft. He’s over complaining about sequins, it’s a loosing battle anyways.

“My old recital tapes are all back home. So you won’t be seeing those anytime soon.”

“Maybe when I come visit?”

“Visit?”

“Yeah,” Harry says as he traces a finger across Aurora’s cheek, “figured I’d come visit you in New York once tour is over.”

“I don’t have an apartment yet.”

“You’ll figure that out, but I’ll visit you at home home. Wanna see your hometown and maybe those old posters you had in your room.” Aurora groans when Harry teasingly squeezes her waist.

“Those are long gone. Also a heads up, I still only have a twin bed in my room. Anyways, my parents will definitely make you stay in a separate room.”

Harry barks a laugh, “will they really?”

“Sure will.”

“Well, sneaking around is fun.”

“Shut up,” Aurora whispers as she blushes. “Would Anne make me stay in a separate room?”

“She’s definitely tried it. Made Michael sleep in the guest room for the first year he and Gemma started dating. But I’m really good at persuading her to let me have my way when I’m home.”

“I mean, those puppy dog eyes really do some damage,” Aurora compliments before pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “When are you planning to go back home?”

Harry hums, thinking, “Probably stay in LA for a bit. Catch up with everyone here and sort some things out. Then make my way back to England. Settle back in and then visit mum and Gemma for a bit.” Aurora sighs. She really hasn’t given post tour details much thought. Aurora absentmindedly plays with a loose thread on the edge of the tshirt she’s wearing. She’s unsure how to bring it up, frankly, she doesn’t want to hash out the details because she knows the details will have very little Harry in them. “Alright?” Harry asks quietly and squeezes her hips lightly.

“Yeah,” Aurora whispers.

“C’mon,” Harry encourages.

“It’s just, just,” Aurora sighs again. “It’s hard not knowing when we’ll see eachother once tour’s over.”

“Remember I said I wouldn’t just leave you hanging at the end of tour. Honestly, don’t think I’ll be able to stay far from you for very long.”

“Think we’re a bit spoiled being with each other almost everyday.”

“Yes,” Harry agrees, “but, we’ll get to do other things once tour is over. I plan on taking a long break and going back to the studio when I feel like it. No due date for another album, I've got nothing but time.”

“It’s just gonna be so different,” Aurora says softly, still thinking too much. “A bit scary to think about.

“Go get your planner,” Harry encourages. “Let’s block some time, won’t be so scary then.” Aurora quite literally scurries over to her bag after clumsily crawling off Harry. She misses the heat of Harry and her legs covered in goosebumps the second the air conditioned air hits them. “It’s always helped me to set some stuff up, doesn’t have to be fully planned or anything but having something to look forward to makes it better, I guess.” Aurora slides back under the covers and copies Harry, who is now sitting on the bed, back against the headboard. She smiles at Harry for a moment, taking in his messy curls, smooth tattooed skin apart from the rash along his shoulder.

“Remind me to give you some cream for that,” she says with a small giggle as she taps her pen on his shoulder. “Have I told you about my family’s lakehouse?” Aurora asks when she opens her planner in her lap.

“A bit, yeah,” he recalls with a hum. He’s on his phone opening his calendar.

“I really wanna take you there.”

“I’d like that. When?”

Harry and Aurora spend the rest of the morning planning the next few months.

Stay in LA for a few days after the final show. Harry in New York late August; lake house, hometown, apartment shopping etc. Aurora in England with Harry to visit Anne and Gemma. Thanksgiving in New York. New Years in London. And they can’t forget the unplanned things that’ll definitely happen when Aurora starts her new job and Harry gets back to his own work.

And Harry was right, it isn’t so scary once they’ve gotten some trips written down. They’ve got lots to look forward to.

#Harry Styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles #hslot18 #one direction fanfic #one direction writing #sequins & zippers #aurora on tour #harry styles x ofc

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lynelovespopculture · 3 years

Text

THE CHILLING ADVENTURES OF ZELDA CHAPTER 14-A SPELLMAN FAMILY SOLSTICE

Faustus and Zelda had a long recovery in front of them. Faustus had only awakened 1 hour before his wife so they were healing at the same time. They both were assigned to complete bed rest for the next 3 weeks. In that time, they rested, snuggled together, and watched the defeat of Blackwood video numerous times. They both agreed that there was no foolproof way to get rid of Blackwood forever; they had to just keep their guard up and hope for the best. Zelda also told Faustus how Lilith had reclaimed hell for herself and found happiness with a new Adam. After the 3 weeks of bed rest, Faustus and Zelda were up and around and just in time to help celebrate Sabrina’s 18th birthday. (Since this was Sabrina’s last year at home before college, new rules were set. Thursday nights were family dinner night, absolutely no excuses for not attending, and Sunday was family movie night.)

Later that week, Faustus and Zelda managed to find some time to sit down with just the twins to have a serious talk about the adoption. Zelda explained that this adoption was less about guardianship, as the twins were almost 17, but more of a show of commitment to be their mother. Zelda nodded with understanding when they told her that they wanted time to think about it. Yet, there was 1 issue that the male twin didn’t need to think about at all. Just like his sister, Judas wanted to forget about his life with Blackwood. Soon enough, he confessed that he hated the name of Judas, so with his parents’ full support, changed his name to Jacob. It wasn’t long at all until he was used to the family calling him Jake. 3 days later, Faustus took Zelda for a romantic dinner in the fanciest restaurant in town. As they clinked their wine glasses together, Faustus explained that it was the 1st anniversary of him being free from the curse. Hearing this, Zelda re-clinked the glasses.

“To the first of many, many years,” She smiled.

They went home, and make wild, passionate love before drifting off in each other’s arms. Late that night, Zelda turned around and found herself alone in bed. She caught Faustus at the entrance of the attic, which Ambrose and Jake now shared.

“I still can’t believe we’re all home now,” Faustus whispered as his wife linked her arm with his. With a kiss, Zelda led him back to their room, where they made love for the 2nd time that night.

Their 1st solstice all together as a family was a very special one. LJ and Jake were both all smiles as together, they handed Zelda a gift. After wrapping it, Zelda gasped, for the box was filled with papers, but not just any papers. On top were the half-filled adoption papers and beneath that, were papers for legal name changes. The twins explained that not only did they want to be adopted but they were also ready to become Spellmans. All the family couldn’t agree fast enough. Zelda did a pretty good job of blinking back her tears of joy, or she did, right up until the twins called her ‘mom’ for the very 1st time. This happened right after Zelda gave LJ and Jake their Yule present. A thick photo album filled with pictures of their birth mother, Constance, at every stage of life so the twins could look at it whenever they wished.

In the new year, after Hilda and Dr. C celebrated their 1st anniversary and Zelda filed the paperwork for the twins’ adoption and name changes, plans went full steam ahead for LJ and Jake’s joint dark baptism. Jake kept it simple, by picking Jacob Faustus for his baptismal name. LJ’s was longer. LJ explained that her name was to be Letitia Judith Constance Zelda.

“To honor both my mothers.” LJ smiled and Zelda kissed the girl on the head, blinking back happy tears once more.

The baptism, attended by family and coven alike, went off without a hitch. For the next few months, the Spellmans’ lives were blissfully quiet and uneventful. Their lives revolved around work, school, and most importantly, each other. On April 2nd, the whole family gathered to celebrate Cordelia’s first birthday. They threw a party, of course, with cake and gifts but it was Faustus and Zelda who got the best present that day. It was later that night after they readied Cordelia for bed, they sat Cordelia down in front of her crib as they did for the last 3 weeks. It was normal when Cordelia pulled herself up to the crib with her tiny hands but then something new happened. Cordelia took her hands off the crib and took her 1st few unsteady steps towards Zelda. She playfully touched her mother’s cheek before saying her 1st word loud and clear. “Mommy!” After kissing her daughter silly, Zelda turned Cordelia around so she could walk to Faustus. The baby took 3 steps before she stumbled on the 4th and would have fallen but Faustus managed to catch her. He was rewarded with a giant smile. “Daddy!”

Spring and summer flew by and before anyone knew it, it was September again. Everyone came out to see Sabrina and LJ, who graduated a year early, off to college. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. When she was 3 and big enough for a big girl bed, Cordelia was given Sabrina’s room by her still at college cousin. The following year, Hilda, Faustus, and Sabrina convinced an uneasy Zelda to allow Cordelia to attend mortal kindergarten, just like Sabrina before her. Cordelia’s parents sat her down and explained to her not to talk about witches or use magic at school. They also kept their promise to the witch’s council, to keep them updated on Cordelia’s magical development. Yet, there was little to report. The baby who cried the devil out of the house was growing up as normally as any other little witch, except for a slammed door or a few floating items. Her powers were at their strongest when her emotions were at their peak. One afternoon, Cordelia wanted to play outside but Hilda explained she couldn’t because it was raining, hard.

“I don’t want it to rain!” As soon as Cordelia stamped her foot, the sun came out. Hilda stared wordlessly, yet Cordelia didn’t even seem to notice. It was on the 1st day of school that Cordelia met Erin, Emily, and Erica Warner, mortal triplet girls who quickly became her BFFs. Meanwhile, with his youngest now in school, Faustus was feeling a little lost. Ambrose and Jake formed the perfect team to run the funeral home together and the rest of the family were busy with their own thing. 1 night, Zelda suggested her husband should return to teaching. Zelda knew she got through to him and was waiting for Faustus to ask her to return to the academy. So, she was shocked when he told her he gotten a job at Greendale middle school, teaching 7th grade. Theo Putnam was also a new teacher.

It was a cold night in the late December of Cordelia’s sixth year that the child awoke with a start.

“Who’s there?” She demanded with the greatest demand she could mutter as she sat up and looked around the darkened room. She looked around and saw nothing, yet she felt someone was nearby. Cordelia sighed, this wasn’t a new feeling. She pulled back her blankets and got up. Might as well go to the bathroom while I’m awake. She thought.

“Hey, Salem.” Cordelia petted Sabrina’s familiar on her way back to bed. Then she picked up her favorite doll, tucked it under her arm, sighed as she laid down, and closed her eyes.

The next thing she knew, sunlight tickled at Cordelia’s eyelids. 1 quick look at the clock and she jolted out of bed and down the hallway. Her own school had let out for Christmas yesterday, but the academy was a year-round boarding school that demanded much of its headmistress. Cordelia felt that she spent less than 10 minutes with her mother all week. Maybe it was still early enough to catch her. She stopped short in her parents’ doorway. Not only was no one in here, but the bed was made and everything was neat, suggesting that both her parents left long ago.

“It's not even 9 yet! Well, so much for that idea.” Cordelia muttered as she headed for the steps. Downstairs, Cordelia found her brother fluttering back and forth before the front door as if he was preparing to go out. “Where’re you going, Jake?” she asked from the stairway.

Jake looked up, pausing as he put on his coat. “Good morning, Cordy. Mom just called, she needs someone to fill in for her with the choir ASAP.”

“Mom’s already at the school?”

Unfortunately, Jake was too busy to notice the sadness in his sister’s tone. “Yeah. Bye.”

Cordelia was left to frown at the closed door when the wonderful smells finally reached her nose. Those smells only appeared when someone special visited. Now wearing a tiny smile, the 6-year-old ran into the kitchen and hugged the visitor from behind. “Hi, auntie H!”

Hilda, who was baking, half-turned and gave her niece a 1 arm hug. “Hello, darling.”

From his stool 3 feet away, Ambrose waved. “Hello, cousin.”

“Hello, another Spellman who no longer lives here.” Cordelia teased good-naturedly and Ambrose laughed. He and Prudence had only moved into a small apartment together downtown 3 months ago.

Meanwhile, Hilda wiped her hands on a towel. “It’s cereal alright for breakfast?”

Cordelia smiled and nodded. “Yes, please.”

“So, Cordy, how did you sleep?” Asked Ambrose.

“Good! For the most part.”

Ambrose and Hilda exchanged a look. “For the most part?” repeated her aunt.

“Ghostbusting again, cuz?”

Cordelia gave Ambrose an annoyed sideways glance. “No, Ambrose. Ghostbusting would imply that I actually see the spirit.”

Ambrose was now confused. “Wait, you don’t see the ghosts? Ever? But you had this problem for a while.”

“Since before feasts of feasts as I recall,” Hilda added.

“I don’t understand. If you can’t see them, how do you know they’re ghosts?”

Cordelia shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know, it’s just a feeling. Most girls my age are scared of ghosts; I just want them to make up their minds! They should show themselves, tell me what the problem is so I can help or just let me be so I can sleep at night.”

Hilda and Ambrose both had nothing to say so they just stared at the girl. Cordelia sighed, what was needed now was a change of subject and she found it on the serving tray. “Who pops popcorn this early in the morning?”

Ambrose sprang to life. “Oh, I almost forgot! I was supposed to bring out the cranberries and popcorn to Dr. C and Uncle Faustus. They finally setting up the Yule tree!” Ambrose grabbed the tray and rushed out of the kitchen.

“Well, I got to go too,” Cordelia announced.

“Why?” Asked Hilda.

“Because my bowl of cereal was on that tray!”

Hilda laughed, shook her head, and returned to her baking.

“I swear, we get this tree up later and later every year.” Faustus sighed.

“Well, we’re busy men,” Dr. C assured him. “Me at my bookstore, you at the middle school. Here comes Ambrose, at last.”

Faustus smiled as the younger warlock rushed in. “We were beginning to think you’d forgotten us.”

“I’m so sorry that it took me so long,” Ambrose said. “Aunt Hilda and I got to talking and then Cordelia walked in.”

“Oh? Cordy’s up?”

“I sure am!” The child was right on Ambrose’s heels. She was closer to Dr. C so she greeted him first. “Hi, Uncle C” She hugged him and then went over to her father. “Hi, Daddy” she giggled when Faustus kissed the cheek of his youngest child. The 2 men went back to trying to steady the tree, as Ambrose found a chair and began to thread the popcorn and cranberry strings together. After reclaiming her breakfast, at last, Cordelia sat on the sofa and asked about the only thing on her mind.

“How long ago did Mom leave for the academy this morning?”

“About an hour and a half to 2 hours ago” Faustus answered casually. “Why? Do you need her?”

Cordelia frowned. “No, I don’t need her per say, but I do miss her. It’s like I barely have seen her this week.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Faustus soothed his daughter. “While it’s true that Solstice demands more of the high priestess’s time than normal, all she has to do is get through today and perform tomorrow’s midnight mass then Zelda will be free to spend the rest of the holidays with us.”

“Don’t forget when we go get the girls tomorrow.” Dr. C added. “Zelda would never miss that.”

Although both LJ and Sabrina left for college 6 years ago, the girls were still away for their education but for different reasons. Unlike Jake, who left a year after his sister and cousin and return 2 years later, business degree in hand. Poor Sabrina was having a tough time, having changed her major 3 times. On the flip side, LJ had not only completed university in record time but was enrolled in 2 different medical schools. When done, LJ would not only be 1 of the few female witch doctors, she would also be the 1st witch doctor trained in mortal medicine. With a sister on her way to glory and her mother already in the history books as the 1st high priestess, Cordelia was extremely proud of her family and sometimes wondered if greatness lay in her future as well. Having finished her breakfast, Cordelia now lay the now-empty bowl on the coffee table and went to the old cardboard box that held the tree decorations. After a few seconds of digging around, Cordelia was able to her favorite one. It was a diamond full moon on 1 side and the other side was a picture frame. The picture itself was taken on her 1st solstice. It was of Zelda, Faustus, and Cordelia herself, when she was still just a baby. While Cordelia stood admiring the photo, Dr. C lost his balance on the step stool and bump into the girl, causing her to lose her grip on the glass moon and it smashed on the floor.

Dr. C rushed to the child’s side. “Oh Cordelia, I’m so sorry!” He hugged her.

Cordelia put on a brave face. “It’s okay, uncle C. We have lots of others.”

As they spoke, the fragments of the glass moon float up in the air and magically fixed itself.

“But this 1 is your favorite,” Faustus held it in the palm of his hand. “I know because it’s my favorite too.”

Cordelia smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

Putting up the tree nearly took all day. Cordelia was excused because right after lunch, the Warner triplets called their friend to come with them to go to the mall to see Santa. Cordelia was gone all afternoon and returned just in time for dinner yet her mood seemed to change. She was quiet and seemed angry. At first, Hilda thought her niece was annoyed because Zelda called to say that she was too busy to come home for dinner. Then, in the middle of supper, Jake knocked over a glass of water. On the other side of the table, his baby sister jumped up in horror.

“You should be more careful!” She shouted before she ran out of the room. Faustus and Hilda found Cordelia in her room pacing back and forth before her bed. “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry!” She muttered to herself.

“Cordy? What’s wrong?” Faustus asked.

His daughter looked up, frowning. “You should have told me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“THAT OUR KIND CAN MELT!!” Cordelia shouted.

Faustus and Hilda exchanged a confused look. “Cordelia, love,” Hilda said gently, “what exactly did you and your friends do this afternoon?”

Cordelia sighed. “After the trip to the mall to see Santa, Mr. Warner invited me back to their house for hot chocolate and it was there that Erin, Emily, Erica, and I watched a movie.”

“What movie?” Her father asked.

“The Wizard of Oz.”

Both Faustus and Hilda felt instant relief. Hilda left to go inside the bathroom while Faustus took his daughter by the hand, guided her to the bed, so they could both sit down.

“Darling, while it’s true the mortals have short lives, while we witches can live for centuries and centuries. Surely, we can’t live that long if we are in danger of something as common as water.”

“But in the movie-“

“The movie is not real. It’s pretend, make-believe. You remember when you, Mommy, and I had our talk about make-believe?”

Cordelia nodded. “I remember, but it’s so confusing! After all, mortal parents tell their children that witches are make-believe.”

Faustus nodded. “That’s true but I can prove I’m right! Think back to every mass you attended, all the times Zelda took you with her to the academy, have you ever, after all that time with the coven, even seen a green witch?”

“No. Hey, wait a second, I didn’t tell you that the witch was green! How did you know?”

Faustus laughed. “The Wizard of Oz is a very famous movie and you’re not the 1st witch to get spooked by water after seeing it. I guess you could call it a witch childhood rite of passage by now.”

“Your father’s right,” said Hilda, coming toward the bed, glass in 1 hand. “When your cousin Sabrina saw that movie, she reacted the exact same way you did. That’s when Zelds and I came up with the test.”

“Test? What kind of test?”

“Come here and I’ll show you.” When Cordelia didn’t move and kept staring at the glass, Hilda tried again. “What’s wrong? Don’t you trust me?”

This softened Cordelia immediately. “Of course I do, Auntie H.” The child got off the bed and came forward and Hilda knelt down to look her niece in the eye. “Now just give me 1 of your fingers.” Cordelia offered up a finger. Hilda took it and put the tip of the finger just under. “Now, how does that feel?”

“Wet.” Was the child’s only reply.

Hilda laughed. “Yes, it’s wet, but what else? Does your finger feel like it is going to fall off or melt?”

Cordelia smiled and shook her head. Hilda smiled. “Good, the test has worked in our favor yet again.”

“Thank Hecate!” Faustus added. “Can you imagine how foul our world would be if none of us would be allowed to bathe?”

Cordelia laughed at her father’s funny face as Hilda kissed her brow.

A few hours later, Faustus turned down the bed as Cordelia got ready in the bathroom.

“Cordy, have you brushed your teeth yet?”

“Doing it right now, Dad.”

Faustus couldn’t resist. “With water?”

First, there was silence then came a low moan. Faustus smiled to himself.

Cordelia switched off the bathroom light and walked more into her bedroom. “Hecate, I’m dumb,” She muttered.

When she was close enough, Faustus put his arm around his daughter. “You are not dumb. You, my girl, are 6. Considering how you speak and behave most of the time, it’s easy to forget how young you are.”

Cordelia gave a half-smile. “Still young enough to be read to?”

“Not very subtle, miss Spellman.”

Cordelia giggled and crawled into bed as Faustus grabbed the book on the nightstand. Some little girls like fairy tales, most, at least, like a story with a plot. But most nights, Cordelia favored spell books, especially the Latin ones, even though Cordelia didn’t speak the language. She said it soothed her faster. Tonight, Faustus only read a page and a half before Cordelia was fast asleep. He tucked her in and tiptoed out of the room. The next thing Cordelia was aware of; someone was arranging her blankets. Her 1st thought was that the troublesome ghost was back but she was instantly awake when she saw who it really was.

“Mommy! I missed you so much today!” Cordelia sat up and threw herself into Zelda’s arms.

Zelda kissed her brow. “I’ve missed you too, little one. I didn’t mean to wake you, but your father told me that you had a scare today.”

“That’s not important,” Cordelia dismissed. “Will you come with us to pick up LJ and Sabrina tomorrow morning?”

Zelda nodded. “I will, but I must get back to the academy by early afternoon at the very latest.”

Cordelia frowned. “But tomorrow is the day before Solstice. You always spend it with us.”

“I know precious but we’re so behind this year. I mean, the church is not yet decorated or prepared for midnight mass yet.”

“How about I go with you? That way you could get your work and we could still be together.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“No! Wait! Don’t go yet.” Cordelia grabbed her book. “Read to me.”

“It’s late, Cordelia.”

“Please, Mom?”

Normally, Zelda would have held firm but she felt massively guilty about barely being home lately. Zelda sighed and took the book. “Move over.”

An hour later, Faustus went to look for his wife and found Zelda and Cordelia snuggled up together, both fast asleep. Faustus went to Zelda to whisper to her. “It’s late, my love. We’re going to have to leave for the airport, well, in just a few hours now.”

“Mmm,” was Zelda’s only reply.

It was only then that he saw the book. “Did Cordy get another story out of you?”

Again, “Mmm.”

“Dearest, are you asleep?”

“Mmm?”

Faustus smiled. “That’s what I thought.” Gently, he put 1 hand under Zelda’s head and the other 1 under her knees. Then he carried Zelda out of Cordelia’s room and back to their own bed.

Even though they had only been home a few weeks before for feats of feasts, Sabrina and LJ’s homecoming was a joyful one. At the airport, there was much hugging and kissing, done by all the family. The morning flew by with all their laughing, talking, and catching up. After lunch, most of the family went to the church with Zelda to help set things up, yet Sabrina went for a different reason. All Sabrina had to do was wait for an opportunity to talk to her aunts alone. She got 2 and chickened out both times. Fed up with her own failure, Sabrina teleported herself back to Spellman’s kitchen and groaned.

“Just tell them, you coward!”

The loud whistle of the kettle startled Sabrina. She turned and saw Faustus at the stove,1 of his eyebrows rose. “Something wrong, Sabrina?”

She could feel her eyes watering. “Yes.”

Faustus said the 1st thing that came to mind. “Are you changing your major again?”

Sabrina shook her head. “No, I’m not changing my major. I’m not going back to school at all!” There, she finally said it.

For his part, Faustus got out 2 cups and saucers, poured the tea, and sat down at the table with Sabrina.

“I can’t seem to bring myself to tell Auntie Hilda and Aunt Z. I wasted 5 years, 3 majors, and all that money. My aunties are going to be so disappointed.”

In an effort to comfort his niece, Faustus took Sabrina’s hand in his. “All your aunts have ever wanted for you is to be happy.”

“I tried, I tried so hard.” Sabrina’s lip quivered.

“I know,” Faustus soothed. “Maybe this could be a blessing in disguise,” he suggested. “Maybe, by taking a semester off will help you relax and figure out for sure what you really want to do.”

“But I was sure all those times I change my majors,” Sabrina stressed.

“You know, 1 of my favourite teachers once told me that the secret to professional success is to pick something that you love and are good at.”

“But I don’t know what I’m good for a job.”

“What about helping people? You’re good at that.”

“But that could any career.” Sabrina pointed out.

“How about a therapist? I would be lost without mine.”

Sabrina smiled. “A therapist? Me? You remember I’m the one who causes most of the problems around here?”

“Oh, that was when you were a teenager,” Faustus dismissed. “You’re grown up a lot since then. Besides, if nothing else, the outlook of a half-mortal, half-fallen angel raised by witches is bound to be interesting.”

Sabrina laughed. “True. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Thanks, Uncle Faustus.”

He was shocked. “You’ve never called me uncle before.”

“I know but it’s high time I did.”

“Dad? I’ve been wondering something for a long time, but I’m not sure how to ask.”

It was late that night and Faustus was readying Cordelia for midnight mass. In his opinion, she looked great. His daughter was wearing a new red dress, her white winter tights, and shiny black Mary Janes. He was now adding the finishing touch of a ribbon in her red hair, exactly like her mother’s. “Cordy, don’t be scared. You know you can ask me anything.”

“Okay, Dad, don’t you believe? I mean, I know that Uncle C isn’t a warlock, so it makes sense that he doesn’t share our faith, but why don’t you believe?”

“But I do believe, sweetheart. I was baptized the night after you were born.”

Cordelia seemed confused. “You were?! Then why don’t you ever attend mass?”

Faustus sighed. “You have to leave in a few minutes and it’s a very long story and I promise that someday we will discuss this in greater detail, but for now all I can tell you that when I was high priest, before you were born, I did things that I am deeply ashamed of. The coven has since forgiven me but I am still weary of being near them. I do attend mass, in fact, I’m there every week, but I don’t sit up front with the rest of the family, I actually like to sit in the very back pew. I also like to be the last one to arrive and the first one to leave. I like it when the coven doesn’t even notice me.”

Cordelia thought for a moment and then said, “Are you sorry about what you did?”

“Oh, Hecate, yes! I’m sorrier than anyone can ever know.”

Cordelia shrugged. “Then the coven has to forgive you. It’s just good manners.”

Faustus hugged his daughter, grateful for her innocent logic.

A little later, Cordelia found herself at the church, sitting in the front pew with Hilda, Sabrina, Ambrose, and the twins while Prudence sang in the choir. Even at 6, Cordelia felt proud that it was her mother who performed the service, glorious in her white and gold robes. During the middle of the service, Cordelia took advantage of her end seat and looked toward the back. Sure enough, she found her father, who waved at her. After mass, Cordelia stayed behind to help clean up and help her mother say goodbye to the coven. When they drove home, there a raven haired woman near the stairs. Cordelia didn’t know who the lady was but, judging the way her mother was gripping the wheel, Cordelia guessed her mother did.

“Is she the one who keeps bothering you?” Zelda asked.

“No, I don’t think so. Mom, who is that?”

“Go inside and get dressed for bed, Cordy. It’s late.”

Cordelia did as she was told but she did pick up some bits of dialogue.

“Bright solstice, Zelda.”

“What are you doing here, Lilith?”

“Come now, surely I’m allowed to check up on my son’s future bride.”

That was all Cordelia heard. 10 minutes later, Zelda came into Cordelia’s room to kiss her daughter goodnight.

“Mom? I heard you and that lady talking. Who’s getting married? Prudence or LJ?”

“No one in this house is getting married!” Zelda declared firmly.

Zelda went to bed mad and woke up even angrier. “I don’t get it, Faustus.” She said to her husband as they went downstairs for breakfast. “We heard or seen nothing of Lilith these past 6 years and the 1st thing she mentions is that stupid marriage contract that I signed in invisible ink and can’t possibly be binding. Lilith knows that! What game is she playing at?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” Faustus answered honestly. “Whenever it is, we’ll deal with it together like we always do. Today is solstice. It’s time to celebrate that and the fact that this is your 1st day off in weeks. Then, later on, tonight, I get to show you how terribly I and our bed, have missed you.” He kissed her hard before they walked into the kitchen, hand in hand.

According to tradition, the family waited until sundown to gather round the Yule tree and start exchanging gifts. Half an hour later, the get together was in full swing, with music, talking, and laughing all filling the air. It was about this time that Faustus gave Zelda a small blue ring box. Inside was the 6th annual charm that Faustus gave his wife every Yule to go on the bracelet that he had given her on their 1st Solstice that they spent together as a married couple. However, the meaning of this year’s charm was lost on Zelda.

“A white rose?”

Faustus nodded. “A symbol of eternal love.”

Zelda gave a sly smile. “Yours or mine?”

Faustus laughed and stroked his wife’s cheek as he received Zelda’s thank you kiss. Then Faustus stood up and grabbed a skinny gift from under the tree. He passed it to Cordelia. “Speaking of jewellery, here a little something from your mother and me.” Cordelia smiled as she took the gift and unwrapped it. It turned out be a golden chain with a crescent moon attached, not unlike her own birthmark. She looked up at her parents from her place on the floor.

“I love it! Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Mom.” Cordelia got up and hugged both her parents.

“May Hecate bless and keep you, my Cordelia.” Zelda smiled at her daughter.

“Amen.”

“Oh, it seems we ran out of music and could use a new Christmas CD.” Hilda sighed.

“I’ll go change it since I’m up.” Cordelia offered and journeyed to the stereo but before she got there, she passed a window and froze. She looked very upset.

It was Hilda who first noticed her distress. “Cordy, darling? What’s wrong?”

“It’s her,” Came her niece’s reply. “The ghost that keeps up me at night. She’s right outside.”

“How do you know? You said you never saw her.” Ambrose pointed out.

Cordelia shook her head. “I never did, but I always felt her just as I feel her now and I’m looking straight at her.”

Faustus got up to collect his daughter. “Come sit down, sweetheart. We’ll figure all this out later.” Yet just as he put an arm around Cordelia, he looked out the window and saw the ghost too. “Constance?”

“Faustus, may I see you out in the hall for a minute?” Zelda asked as she rose.

“I think we should let Constance in.”

Faustus couldn’t believe his ears. “What? Zelda dearest, what are you saying?”

“Well, I think it’s perfectly oblivious why she’s here.”

Faustus nodded. “Yes, she’s here to ruin our family solstice.”

“No,” his wife disagreed, “I think she’s here to see her children, the twins, as is her right.”

“I think you’re giving her too much credit. Don’t you remember how she behaved the last time we made contact with her? You had to bar her from the house!”

“That was over 6 years ago. Maybe she changed.”

“Changed?!” Faustus sneered. “Then why has she been bothered Cordy for over a month?”

“Why don’t you go out there and ask her yourself?”

“Fine, I will,” Faustus agreed. “But you’re coming with me.”

A moment later, Zelda and Faustus stepped out onto the frozen porch. Constance was right before them.

“If we allow you into this house, will you abide by its rules and customs?” Faustus asked.

Constance smiled as she nodded. “I will.”

“Come in. You are welcome.” With those simple words, Zelda broke her own spell.

The whole family was shocked when Faustus and Zelda returned with the ghost. Hilda was the 1st to recover.

“Um, Ambrose, Prudence, Sabrina, Cordy, could you come to help me and your uncle C in the kitchen?”

“I think I’ll join you.” Zelda turned to join the family, but Constance called her back. “Please stay, Zelda, there’s something I would like to say to you too.”

“Ok.” Zelda was unsure as she slid into her chair next to Faustus. The twins were sitting on the sofa. Zelda noticed that the twins were holding hands, something they only did when they were really anxious.

“Is it true?” Jake asked. “Are you really our mother?”

“She’s only our birth mother,” his sister answered him, “Zelda is our real mother.”

“LJ, please!” Zelda didn’t mean it, but her mothering tone came through.

Constance didn’t seem to mind as she stared at the twins and smiled. “You are both so beautiful.” She touched LJ’s face. “My daughter on her way to becoming a witch doctor!”

Jake lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not a genius like LJ.”

“Are you happy, my son?”

“I am.”

Constance smiled. “That’s all that matters.”

“And we’re safe,” LJ added.

“That’s right,” Jake agreed. “Blackwood is no more.”

Constance smiled. “I know; I’ve been watching you. I’ve been watching all of you.” Constance turned. “Which brings me back to you, Zelda Spellman. I have something important to say to you. Thank you. Ever since you dispatched with Blackwood, you have done everything to make sure that my children felt safe and loved. I can never thank you enough for that.”

LJ got up and walked to Zelda’s side. “Why would even doubt her? She cared for us when we were babies. I mean, this is the same woman who whisked me away at birth and loved me when she didn’t have to.”

You must understand,” Constance stressed. “The last time I saw Zelda; she was heavily pregnant. I thought that she would prefer her own child and become a petty and jealous stepmother to the 2 of you. Just” Constance sighed and cast down her eyes in shame. “Just as I did with Prudence. Happily, that didn’t happen. She loves you as if you were her own.”

“I love them because they are my own,” Zelda said gently, “Just as Cordelia and Prudence are. Perhaps you would have learned this if you’ve survived but a mother’s heart can never be too full.”

“Wait,” Jake was confused. “If all you wanted was to have a peaceful heart-to-heart, then why have you been bothering Cordy all this time?”

Constance looked startled. “Have I? I didn’t mean to. Please apologize to her for me.”

LJ leaned in to whisper in Zelda’s ear. “I guess the divine child’s powers can pick up a rogue ghost better than we can.”

Zelda’s focus was elsewhere at the moment. “Constance, you’re glowing. You’ve never looked better.”

The ghost blushed like a schoolgirl. “Am I? Well, I guess being at peace agrees with me then. You see, I recently re-met a friend from childhood on the other side, and he has been helping me to put aside my anger and bitterness. I’m starting to see things differently now. Zelda, I understand that you didn’t set out to break up my marriage, Faustus’s heart was yours long before I came around. It’s perfectly fine that my children have 2 mothers, as long as they are loved and protected.”

Sensing that her time was up, Constance kissed both her children and turned to leave when

“Wait.” It was the 1st time Faustus had spoken since they had all sat down. Now, he stood and when to the ghost. “Constance, I have never seen you speak so tenderly or behave so kindly. I just to say I’m sorry. We never were a love match but I could have been kinder to you during our marriage. Not pressuring you for a son, been more of a comfort during your miscarriages. Enjoy the happiness you have now; you certainly deserve it. Bright Solstice.” He gave her a peck on the cheek. The lights flicked and then the ghost was gone.

It was when Constance was gone that Jake fell on his knees before Zelda. “We love you, bonus mom.”

LJ hugged her. “We sure do.”

Faustus watched this touching scene for a moment and then turned his attention to the hallway. “Okay, guys, you can come out now. Don’t think I don’t see you spying over there!”

The guilty gang filed back into the living room and the Solstice celebrations continued.1 hour later, the room was quiet as Ambrose read Charles Dickins’ A Christmas Carol aloud. Fearing that she would too big to do it next year, Cordelia grabbed her favorite blanket and settled herself on Zelda’s lap. She was going to ask if she was too heavy when her mother held her closer.

“Hecate, bless us, everyone,” Cordelia whispered.

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oingo233 · 3 years

Note

Hi! Congrats for the 100! Can I get a ship? I’m an INFP, straight, Hufflepuff girl with a bit of social anxiety. My love language is touch. I'm a hopeless romantic and a night owl. I love listening to music. No day passes without me listening to some rock music. I enjoy movie nights, reading books and goofing around with my friends. It's not easy for me to open up to people, but once I'm comfortable enough I can be pretty chatty I'm 5'8", long brown hair, dark brown eyes and glasses. Thank you!

Hello, I hope you are doing well, love. And thank you so much! You sound like such a wonderful person (I also can’t go a day without listening to music, like 60s & 70s rock for me). So based off of everything here is what I think...

Lightening Era

I ship you with Sirius Black...

- He first saw you walking through the open corridors, the wind was blowing through your hair but you didn’t even bother to move it. Your fingers were tapping against your thigh to the beat of the music running through your cassette player, your eyes were closed and you were taking in the music. He thought to himself that you looked so beautiful, caught up in your own world with a soft smile, he felt like he was watching something vulnerable yet he couldn’t look away. He wondered all day what song you were listening too and what your name could be.

- He noticed you the next morning in his 1st period class, headphones in once again. He swallowed his fear and gathered his courage and he walked over and sat down next to you. He noted your black and yellow scarf, a Hufflepuff, but he didn’t care.

- He leaned in close to you and tapped your shoulder, you turned to him blushing, yet smiling kindly nonetheless and he almost forgot what the hell he was doing. You were so wonderful and he suddenly felt very shy.

- He stuttered out some band name, he was guessing which band you were playing. Of course he was wrong, you laughed and went to tell him which band but he stopped you. He noticed you were just as nervous as he was so this gave him some confidence.

- “No, don’t tell me. Let me guess, and if I get it right then you have to let me take you out on a date.” He states, as if it was a very simple, already agreed upon thing. You sputtered for an answer and eventually just settled for nodding you head with a blush. He smiled and sat next to you every morning, finding out more about you.

- The morning he did guess right, he cheered loudly for the whole class to hear, then took you out for a wonderful date late in the kitchens when he heard you were just as much as a night owl as he. You had so much fun, and were dating ever since.

- He loved how tall you were thought it was sexy but said he’d love you just as much if you were as short as a Peter, who then promptly whacked Sirius in the arm.

- You got along well with all his friends. They all thought you were very cool and had good taste in music, they helped you open up and were sweet about your social anxiety cause gurl same but I just know these dorks would do anything to make sure we felt included and comfortable and at ease.

- Sirius always held your hand in anxiety inducing situations, and would bring it up to his lips and kiss it sweetly.

- Sirius is allllll up for sleepy cuddles and is quite literally a cuddly puppy.

- You two were both slow to open up, but once you two did there was no holding back and yall knew each other like the back of your hands, and always talking and comfortable with one another.

- He steals James and your glasses so that he can “Look just as smart as you”

Lighting Era

I ship you with Ron Weasley...

- Ron first saw you walking down the hall with Neville. You two were talking about Herbology and his plant his grandma gave him. Ron was struck by how you looked so kind and the way the black and yellow lit up your features like the sun, he didn’t care about you being a Hufflepuff. He had to have you, even just for one date he needed his chance.

- He immediately hounded Neville on who you were and all these little details about who you were, and how he could get you to even look at a bloke like him. He swears he fell in love just listening to Neville talk about you.

- When he heard you were a hopeless romantic his plan began to form...

- One morning you woke up and walked to class only for your Herbology table seat to be covered in a huge bouquet of wild flowers that he picked around campus with a silly smile on his face cause he felt stupid doing this but wanted to see your reaction and made sure to make Neville swear to tell him everything and by the flowers a note from a secret admirer. But he actually got too excited and revealed who he was by the third letter.

- You two went on a date and then another and another until Fred and George were able to convince him to just ask you to be his girlfriend. You said yes!

- He would love to sit with you and have you read aloud, because he was able to cuddle you and fall asleep to the sound of your voice.

- He adored that your love language was touch, it always helped him feel more comfortable and at ease, and confident. He also made sure to always be touching and near you, which helped you feel more at ease and less overwhelmed in social anxiety inducing situations.

- You, Harry, Ron and Hermione always stay up and watch and read and scheme and mess around together.

- The twins also thought you were cool once you were able to open up and chat more with them.

- You and Ron have dance parties but he’d blush red and deny it if you ever told anyone. He also loved to braid and play with your hair. He learned how to braid from Ginny just for you. Ginny also adored you and your music taste.

That’s it! I hope you enjoyed it <3

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randombtsprincessa · 4 years

Text

BADLANDS || 1

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Jung Hoseok x Reader (1st POV)

Summary: You are keen on the Golden Boy, Park Jimin but nowhere getting his attention. A late night decision to win him over leads you straight to Jung Hoseok - opposite of gold and rival to Jimin. On your quest to land the prince, you learn that not everything that is gold, glitters.

Warning: Some social drinking and maybe decisions that are kinda wack lol.

A/N: Who knew Jimin would wiggle his way into this? Not me, nope, I certainly was the most surprised.

Everyone has crushes on someone at least once at a point in their lives. Sometimes, it works out, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it is just an infatuation that passes in a week or month or so and sometimes it is squashed down till the person moves on.

And sometimes, there is a person who develops a crush on the most impossible person in their vicinity. Don’t misunderstand, a lot of the crushes can be formed on impossible people usually but me…I had hit the jackpot on being Impossible Crusher #1.

Like all crushing parties, I was staring; staring across a college ground which currently held the small fundraiser that would equip the fine arts department with some new musical instruments. I had enthusiastically and joyously written down my name for volunteering, eager to get my hands on a good composing system.

The fundraiser itself had been of a small musical competition, the money earned from the audience had proceeded towards the funding. In return for my contribution, I had been handed an invitation to attend the fundraiser party and now here I was, standing in one corner like a weirdo and staring like a creep.

I hoped the goods the money would buy were worth it, because the fine arts – especially music, in which I was a student – badly needed it. My friends had long since departed, sitting down at a picnic table while I continued to stare.

At one point I think I may have been poked, but everything else hopelessly faded away when he was in line of my sight.

The ‘he’ in question was Park Jimin, golden boy of Seoul Arts College, star of the fine arts department and an overall fantastic person. He was an all rounder that had taken our college by storm ever since he had stepped foot over in the institute.

I don’t remember the exact time that he had joined our fray but I did remember the moment when I had first started hoping that he would look at me and maybe see something more.

“Y/N, I want you to take these notes down to the dance department. These are our possible schedules and timings for practices and I want to know if they can fit their choreography practice in.” The head of your department; Shoji handed you a sheaf of paper that had scrawling all over it.

For the life of me, I did not understand how the dance captain was going to make heads or tails of it but I quietly obeyed, bundling the papers and taking the stairs down.

The dance department was spread completely onto one whole floor. All practice rooms were mirrored, glass walled and so bright you couldn’t miss a damn thing. It was used to show off the diligence and finesse of our dancers. Of course, very soon it would become cause to come and see Park Jimin in motion.

You knocked on the first dance room, the dance captain glancing up at you where he had been talking to two dancers. You had never had much time to talk to the heads of all the departments but it was mandatory to at least know them all by sight.

“Yes,” he called.

You held up the leaflets. “Shoji sent the timetables for the arts department. Can you take a look and let me know there are good?” I asked.

The captain nodded, holding out his hand. He didn’t take one step towards me. I rolled my eyes inwardly. For all the stamina in the world needed to be captain to the dance team of one of the finest institutes in the world, the captain sure was pretty lazy.

Nonetheless, I was the subordinate so I walked in, my own arms outstretched so the papers would reach him quicker. He gripped the bundle, rifling through them and passing a cursory gaze over it.

“They’re fine. I’m just going to add a few more time slots in so I can train up the new kid.” The captain nudged his chin towards the boy who was standing in front of him.

I looked at him just as he turned to give me a beam.

The force with which he hit me was unexpected and I nearly staggered back.

The boy was stunning – like honest to god, no lie, stunning.

Smooth blond hair mopped on top of his head, crescent eyes turned into a smile that was so endearing I was sure he could make anyone do anything for him just to be rewarded with that smile.

Safe to say, I was enchanted and I remained so – till this day.

“He is Park Jimin,” The captain introduced, paying no mind as he jotted down timings to the upheaval that was just caused to my social systems.

By the time I got home that evening, it was late, much later than I had anticipated. The fact that I had managed to find a roommate and a small apartment close to the university was a boon during times like these.

When I entered, sliding the key through the lock, the place was dark. My roommate was probably still at work or had gone out as well. I sighed, slipping out of the tight new shoes I had squeezed into. I made a note to loosen them a bit and placed them neatly on the shoe shelf, trudging in.

I flipped onto the couch, covering my eyes with my arms. I had to be up in about five hours to go back to classes and at this point, the age old debate whether my education was worth the sleep deprivation started again.

I groaned and precisely at that point, my roommate decided to stride in.

Kang Mina, on first sight was alarming. With a name that sounded deceptively sweet, she was the complete opposite of it.

I remembered the first time I’d seen her, the front door to our now shared apartment opening to see a girl my age with a shock of bubblegum hair, a thickly lined eye and chapped lips. She’d looked me up and down before letting me in and despite wondering if I should, I had obliged.

Mina had given me a brief run of the house and it all had seemed nice enough; Hot water, electricity, maintenance but easy access to campus and a safe neighborhood – even if it was small. It had struck a chord and with the way Mina talked, I didn’t think she was going to be too much of a problem.

We had been roommates for two college years and even though we weren’t the best of friends, at least she didn’t hate me.

“What’s wrong with you?” Those were the first words she spoke as she started shrugging off her heavy coat.

I removed my arms from my face, peering blearily at her.

Mina’s pink hair was long gone, now replaced with her natural black – almost too black – hair. She put it up in a bun, still watching me for an answer.

“Life,” I grumbled, turning on to my stomach.

Mina grunted; sounds of her quietly moving about before starting the TV echoing in the apartment. “How was the party?”

“As if you care; how was work? What time it is?” I rubbed my eyes.

“As if you care,” she shot right back. “It’s late, nearly one.” She looked at you. “Don’t you have class in the morning?”

“As do you, what’s your point?”

“I’m used to staying up all night. You’re not. That’s my point.” She didn’t look at me again, flicking through channels. It was silent for a bit, both of us watching the reruns of Tom and Jerry.

“Is this about that guy you like, Jimin?” She asked again.

I shrugged.

Mina gave me her raised eyebrows. “Look I don’t know much about crushes but from what I’ve gathered, moping about because of them isn’t considered healthy.” She said.

I groaned again.

“You’d be right. I stared at him all through the night and he never once even glanced in my direction. Aren’t people supposed to feel when they’re being stared at? He does not seem to have that thing going. No, he kept drinking and laughing about with his boys and then stupid Hyerin began to make eyes at him. All my friends left me, you know.”

I could feel waves of judgment rolling off of Mina now.

“So, you spent three hours at a party which you worked hard to contribute for, only to creepily watch a guy ignore you and got left alone by your own friends? Honey, you need a hobby…and may be new friends.” She firmly turned to face the TV.

“You’d leave me behind.” I pointed out.

“If you were embarrassing yourself; I wouldn’t just drop you because you were staring at some guy.” She muttered and I had to agree. No matter what Mina’s idiosyncrasies were, she was a very good friend.

“Right, I’m going to go crash now. Hopefully, I’ll wake up to go to my classes; I can’t afford to miss them.” You got to your feet, stretching as you made your way towards the hallway when she spoke again, stopping you in your steps.

“You need to get a boyfriend.”

I whirled around, looking at her in horror. “What?”

Mina didn’t look at you. “Get a boyfriend; it’s the easiest thing in the world and it is also a surefire way of making Park turn his head to you. Flaunt your man in front of him to show him what he’s missing.”

I gaped at her, finally making her turn to me. “What?” She asked, defiantly.

“Who are you, and what have you done to Kang Mina?” I teased. “How many of those rom-com movies have you watched?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not a lot, but that’s always the gist isn’t it? The girl wants a guy, guy doesn’t want her, she gets a new guy and guy miraculously wants her and all ends well. Maybe, not for the second guy,” she shrugged.

“Mina,” I returned to sit next to her. “I can’t just get a boyfriend. What will I do with him? I’m not…I can’t flaunt anything that I have no experience with.” I turned my head down.

There was a pause. “I can’t believe I’m saying this…and I’m very sure I’m going to get murdered for this but…I might have the guy for you.” She said slowly.

I raised my eyebrows. “You do?”

Mina nodded. “Yeah, he’s my friend. He’s in the dance department with Jimin as well. He’s also an underground rapper. It’s a real mix, I can tell you. But the dude is okay and I can vouch that he would love to make Park Jimin jealous.”

I bit my lip worriedly. “I don’t know Mina. Sounds far-fetched and…”

I looked down when my twitter notification went off, obviously from Jimin’s account.

It was a group photo; Seokjin, Taehyung and Jungkook sitting around Jimin…with Hyerin on his lap. I cursed.

“Can I talk to him first?”

Mina didn’t look much thrilled by the notion but shrugged anyway. “We can go see him tomorrow.”

Mina’s idea of ‘going to see her friend’ was to take me through to a narrow street with barely any space for two people to walk side by side. I followed her meekly as she led us to a more open space, a door being guarded by a heavyset man.

“Hey Anton,” she greeted, pushing back her hood then jerking her thumb back towards me. “I brought a newbie.”

Anton gave me a once over, grimacing a little at my plain grey shirt, jacket and jeans. Next to Mina’s glittering silver hoodie, and purple pants, I probably looked homeless, but I didn’t let it get to me too much. No matter his personal aversion to my style, however, Anton moved aside, swinging the door inwards.

“Thanks, Ant, have a good one.” Mina patted the broad man’s shoulder, barely touching the top of his arm and I ducked in beside her.

“Where are we?” I asked.

The inside was an explosion of dark lights. Red, white and black was strewn everywhere, flashing lights making it difficult to see anything at all and I very nearly grabbed Mina’s hand like a child to keep from getting lost.

“It’s an underground club. It’s where performance pieces are tried out on an audience.” Mina explained.

“Oh,” I mumbled.

Mina and I walked past the bodies occupying the center space, heading for the bar. My roommate seemed to be looking for someone, weaving through the crowds till she reached a particular man, wearing a huge jacket as he poured over a messy notebook.

The man looked up at our approach, shooting a smile at Mina immediately. “Hey,” they greeted each other with a hug while I hung behind.

The man had thick glasses on, sandy blond hair ruffled under his hood when he took it off. “Joon, this is Y/N, my roommate. This is Kim Namjoon, Y/N. He’s one of the best rappers here and he also goes to our campus.” Mina introduced.

Namjoon gave me a dimpled smile, putting out a hand for me to shake. I took it, looking back and forth between Mina and Namjoon, confused. “I haven’t ever seen him in our classes.” I said.

Namjoon chuckled, answering, “I’m rarely there actually. I go because I need the degree but I spend most of my time composing here.”

I nodded at his explanation. Mina glanced about. “Where’s the J-Hope?” She asked.

“He’s backstage already, it’s his set next.” Namjoon told her, binding his notebook.

“What’s a J-Hope?” I asked.

Mina gave me a sly smile. “He’s the one we’re here to see.” She said.

“His name is J-Hope?” I asked, incredulously. What was I supposed to do with that?

“No, it’s his stage name. It’s kind of an inner joke he has. Don’t worry about it.” Namjoon waved at the bartender. “If you guys are going to stay, you’ll need drinks.” Mina enthusiastically joined at that, leaving me to linger behind a bit.

Was I making the right choice here? What would happen if I did meet this J-Hope, whose real name I hadn’t still found out and he turned out to be some wacko? Namjoon seemed fine enough and Mina was alright, but was everyone in this place all over okay?

I didn’t hear Mina ask for my order when the next minute, lights fell, thrusting the room into near black with one spotlight aimed at the stage where the announcer stood.

“Next up…! You know who he is…yes, put your hands together for J-Hope!”

Cheers and applause broke out, screams ranging from farther back reaching my ears and I politely clapped as the lights came on again, much more flashier and erratic than before.

Beats started from somewhere, low but quickly picking pace. It was catchy, I had to admit with a beat drop I felt in my stomach and then the rapper emerged, his words already midway.

“That’s J-Hope, Jung Hoseok.” I started a little, feeling Mina appear at my elbow, drink in hand and eyes calmly examining the rapper’s performance.

“He composed the song?” I asked, feeling Mina nod.

I had to say, he was impressive. The song was distinctly understated, the beat not really flamboyant but the words and his enunciation made up for it. Small quirks of his voice broke out mid song and the slight slur he had only made the song’s effect lasting. That combined with the distressed baggy jeans, tight army jacket and a bucket hat pulled low over his eyes – he looked like a professional.

“He’s really good. I loved it.” I said, when Hoseok finished, taking a curt bow and flashing a sudden smirk, half face still hidden before he vanished behind the curtain.

On the other side of me, Namjoon chuckled. “Yeah, you’re not the only one.” He said, indicating the still screaming girls. I cringed at a few who were blatantly shouting about what they wanted him to do to them.

I was going to ask this man – this overwhelmingly popular man – to act as my fake boyfriend till Jimin took notice. What had I just walked into?

“Mina, I need to go backstage. Do you and Y/N want to come with?” Namjoon asked, slipping his glasses off and replacing them with black shades.

“Yeah, I need to make a few introductions.” Mina muttered, putting her cup down and grabbing my arm. “Let’s go.”

The backstage to the club was quieter. The screaming that previously deafened me had dimmed by now, eagerly awaiting the next artist to scream for and the lull was bliss to my poor ears and more than likely to the performers also.

Mina and I walked with Namjoon, through the small section where I spied the announcer taking a drink and some boys chatting up fans obviously.

“I’ll be going on now. Make sure you don’t leave without saying goodbye.” Namjoon called, nudging Mina a little with his shoulder before pointing over her head. “There’s Hobi and Yoongi. Go wait with them.”

I watched Namjoon depart, with a small wave in my direction that I smiled at before Mina was leading me over to where two men were deep in conversation.

“Boys,” Mina threw her arms over their necks in lieu of a greeting. The smaller boy jumped a little, immediately retaliating with a smack. “Bitch, I didn’t see you during my performance.”

“I work for a living, Min. Plus, I came, didn’t I? I also brought a friend.” She turned to me, gesturing me to come forward. I took a small step forward.

Two heads turned to me in surprise, eyes boggling a bit. “You have friends?” The taller one, Hoseok obviously, asked. This time it was him getting smacked before Mina snorted. “Only this one, actually; this is my precious, sweet roommate, Y/N. Y/N, this goof here is Yoongi, and that jackass,” she paused, heavy with implication, “is Jung Hoseok.”

My eyes helplessly fixed on Hoseok, who was looking right back at me. His hat was gone, hair falling to the front in a sweaty mass. His head was thrown back, cheekbones high and flushed. His eyes were a little narrowed in thought and he glimmered in perspiration but somehow managed to not look gross.

He was actually surprisingly good looking – hot even. I could understand the screaming girls now. If he looked like this, and his rap sounded like that…well, he probably deserved more screaming fans.

“Looks like your girl has a crush, Mina, she didn’t even look at me.” Yoongi cut in suddenly.

I shook my head immediately, turning to him with a smiling apology. “No sorry; I’m just a little overwhelmed. I’ve never been to an underground rap thing before.” I explained.

“Ah, you’re a little newbie.” Yoongi smirked, teasing with small teeth full on display. Eh, it was cute. Were all Mina’s friends so surprisingly adorable under their intimidating personas?

“What’s the matter, Min? You jealous a chick is eyeing me instead of you?” Hoseok shot at his friend, who grimaced.

“Dude, I don’t need to be jealous of you and your chicks. I distinctly remember a few of yours having STDs the last time. I have enough to handle. Besides, what if she’s already dibbed by Namjoon?”

“Then a duel can happen,” Mina cut in quickly. “Now, are you going to get us drinks or what?”

The drinks happened once Namjoon had joined us. Mina had already given me a silent signal and while I was quickly loosing nerve, I knew I had to take at least one shot. If he refused, well…I could just die in shame, never try crossing paths with him, maybe move out of the shared apartment and oh, die alone. Maybe I could get a nice cat – a Persian.

The three rappers took me and Mina to a booth, sliding in and letting out groans of comfort.

“It’s always better once everyone leaves and we can just chill.” Namjoon explained to me. I hummed, sipping gingerly at my coffee. My eyes drifted, watching where some of the workers had started sweeping out balloons, confetti and glitter. Some were polishing equipment and glasses and even Anton was at a table, nursing a drink. I saw the bartender by the front, counting bills.

“Do you earn from this?” I asked.

“Why, thinking of trying to give us some competition?” Hoseok leaned forward, straight across from me, a haughty grin spread across his face.

I blinked, taken aback. “You don’t seem to have much confidence in your skills, if you think I can give you competition.”

The comment was out before I could even think of stopping it. It bubbled out and I smacked my mouth shut, eyes widening.

Oh fuck, I did not just say that.

There was a stunned silence, a look of genuine surprise passing over Hoseok’s face as he gaped at me. Mina was smirking proudly while Namjoon and Yoongi guffawed openly.

“Nice, blatant insulting mixed with a little self depreciation. You’ll fit right in, Y/N.” Namjoon laughed.

Yoongi chose to answer my question. “We do earn some. You have to start a novice, of course. That’s a no pay show until you create a fan base and you know, actually have people screaming for you. Management gives you…a promotion then. The club hosts us, promotes us, and gives us special shows, even solos. The ones who buy tickets to watch us are what make us special. The money is divided between us and the club.”

“That’s really wonderful. You must all work hard.” I said.

“Yeah, which is why we spend all our time here; composing and writing verses. College is great and all, but we’re artists. Exposure is everything at this stage.” Namjoon added.

I caught Hoseok giving Mina a look and blushed. He was probably going to rant about how I was a loud mouthed idiot. There go all my chances.

“Well guys, this has been great but Y/N has classes tomorrow and I got to get to work. I’ll see you guys very soon.” Min got to her feet, her eyes on me. I took my cue, standing up as well.

Yoongi and Namjoon griped, Hoseok lounging back almost as if he was expecting something. At Mina’s pointedly raised eyebrows, I tossed caution to the winds. “Um, Hoseok, can I have a word?”

There was a pause in which Hoseok turned calm, cool eyes on me, his face blank. Then, slowly, fluidly, he got to his feet, looking at me expectantly.

I turned, keeping my head down to hide my furious blush. Namjoon wolf whistled behind us. “Stop it, Joon, she just wants to apologize.” Mina quickly cut him off.

Hoseok followed me out through towards the exit, taking a turn in one of the smaller hallways.

“This way,” He said curtly, a jerk of his head indicating me to follow him while he led us out, hands deep in his jacket pockets. “It’ll be quieter here.”

I meekly obeyed, taking smaller steps compared to his long legged strides. We reached a double door, Hoseok pushing down the bar lock so we could slip out.

It was probably the back alley of the bar, lined with dumpsters, wooden and metal crates and various odds and ends expected of an underground club, I supposed. It was cooler here, breath rising up in visible white puffs from our mouths.

Hoseok walked to the farther back, leaning against it with one foot propped on the exposed, chipped bricks. “So, what did you want to talk about?” He asked. “I doubt it’s an apology for what you said.”

I frowned a little at that. Mina had said that to hide my ulterior motives, something I was grateful to her for but that did not mean I was going to actually do it.

“I can if you think it’ll help you.” I said, letting just a hint of acid creep into my voice.

Hoseok managed a laugh. “No, Y/N, I don’t need you to appease my bruised ego. Just get on with it.” He said.

I nodded, taking one deep breath. “I have something of a proposition for you.” I said.

The boy in front of me tilted his head to one side. “What kind of proposition?”

I fought hard to not close my eyes, to not let the intimidating Hoseok render me speechless. All I had to do was spit it out. What was the worst that could happen? He could refute the proposal, the least humiliating. He could laugh and call me delusional or a conniving bitch. That, well, that I’d just have to handle without trying to let the fact bother me that I did not come off as pleasant in this situation either way.

The worst of it was probably that I knew it, and yet I was going through with it.

So, without missing another beat, I let her rip. I told him about Jimin, my desire for him and what I wanted him to do. I tried to say it without sounding ridiculous but with the plan out – yes, I could hear the dumbness of it.

I was asking Jung Hoseok – popular, famed, sexy Jung Hoseok, on whom girls and maybe boys threw their bodies with wild abandon – to act as my boyfriend, till Park Jimin took notice, felt miraculously jealous and asked me out. What was the logic? Why would Jimin, hopefully more sensible than me, ask me out when he thought I was with Hoseok?

Even as I finished, Hoseok had lounged further, now looking a little bored.

“Yeah, I know; Mina already told me.”

I stuttered to a stop.

“Mina…she told you what now?” I asked a little weakly.

“All of that which you just said. I already knew that.” He waved a finger in the air to show ‘all that’.

“Hang on…if you knew already; why would you ask me to say it all again?” Irritation had flared up in my throat, fighting the rising embarrassment.

Hoseok shrugged. “Call it an experiment. Mina said you and she discussed this late at night. Weird decisions are made late at night. You showing up here were surprising. So I wanted to see if you could say what you wanted.”

I lolled back on the balls of my feet, staring at him. “So, what’s the conclusion?”

He didn’t answer the question. “I need you to know this. I don’t get along with Park Jimin a lot. I don’t have a problem annoying the shit out of him. I just need to know if you’re up for this.” He lowered his head to pin me with a gaze that was of warning and stern grievance at once.

I paused, weighing options that might mean a whole of an eventful year. Then came; the crinkled, wide smile that Jimin beamed, his golden skin gleaming in the sunlight.

I looked up to give Hoseok a steeled look. “Yes, I’m in.” I said firmly.

Hoseok’s blank stern face melted into a wicked smirk, eyes shining with mocking intent. “We’ll see about that. I hope you’re ready for a fun ride,” He paused heavily, “baby girl.”

#btsbookclub #jhope fanfic #jhope smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan smut #jhope #jung hosoek #jhope x reader #jung hoseok x reader #jimin #badlands

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robinskey · 5 years

Text

Lover (Steve Harrington x Reader)

A/N: GUYS as you’ve probably noticed, I’m incredibly excited about the release of @taylorswift‘s new album. IMO, Lover is one of Taylor’s best songs to-date, and I thought it would fit perfectly with a fluffy, domestic Steve one-shot.

Warnings: Mild language, heavy fluff. Story under the cut.

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

This is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

It wasn’t until you and Steve moved into your first home together that you realized how deeply in love he was with holiday decorations.

You had started the process of moving your belongings into the new place at the end of September. By mid-October, Steve had begun pestering you about shopping for Christmas decorations. You reminded him that you hadn’t even unpacked the last box yet, and Halloween hadn’t even occurred yet. Steve was persistent that you needed to get the lights up as soon as possible to “maximize the Christmas spirit.”

After a lot of convincing, Steve had finally agreed to wait until November. By then, you figured, he’d forget about it. I mean, this was the guy who couldn’t remember his social security number and occasionally wrote it on his stomach (“because I’m not dumb enough to keep it on, like, my hand, Y/N, where everyone can see it.” When when you suggested he just carry his social security card with him, he told you he didn’t trust himself not to lose it.) Surely, that guy would forget all about it, right?

Wrong. On November 1st, you were nursing a Halloween-candy hangover when Steve dragged you to Goodwill. You returned home with enough decorations to light up a mansion and spent the rest of the afternoon stringing them all around your tiny one-bedroom house. After dinner, you and Steve headed outside. As the sky faded to black, Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and he watched in wonder as your small townhouse transformed into a winter wonderland.

“Look at that, Y/N! We did that,” he said. The various colors of the lights reflected in his eyes as he gazed down at you.

“I didn’t know King Steve Harrington could get so excited over Christmas lights.” Your smooth teasing was foiled by a strong gust of wind that left goosebumps on your arms and caused you to shudder.

“I’m full of surprises,” Steve said as the two of you started back towards the front door. “For example, you probably didn’t know, but I can make the best cup of hot chocolate in the state of Indiana.”

“Oh, really?”

“Oh, yeah. Grandma Harrington taught me her secret recipe.”

Even though you’d known Steve for years, you learned new things about him every day. You wondered if you’d ever run out of things to learn about the boy you’d known all your life.

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

Dustin Henderson started referring to your place as “our house” before you guys even moved in. He dropped by several times a week with updates on the newest happenings at Hawkins Middle or questions about how to handle a Suzie situation. At least once a month, Dustin crashed on your couch after a weekend movie night.

On one occasion, you and Steve returned home from a date night to discover half a dozen adolescents gathered around the television in your living room. A curly-haired kid carried around a bag of chips in one hand and waved cheerfully with the other. He flashed his infamous toothy grin, which you met with a half-scowl, half-squint of confusion.

“Dustin? How did you get in here?”

Dustin spoke through a mouthful of Doritos. “My mom dropped us off. And then I used my key.”

Your glare switched targets. This time, you directed it at Steve. He clamped his hand down on his face; you weren’t sure if it was to avoid your gaze or express his frustration.

“Dude, I gave you that key for emergencies only.”

“This was an emergency!” Dustin threw up his hands, sending an army of cheesy corn chips into the atmosphere. After falling back to earth, bright orange triangles wedged themselves into your new white rug. “The season premiere of our favorite show is tonight, and we didn’t have anywhere to watch it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. Your eyes scanned over the gang sprawled across your couch, armchairs, and carpet. Judging by the boxes of candy and cans of soda littered across the floor, Dustin must have raided your pantry. Apparently, the kitchen wasn’t the only place he infiltrated, since almost your entire linen closet was spread out over the living room. Lucas and Max shared the recliner beside which Dustin was currently standing. Will sat on a pillow with his back against the coffee table, his attention still focused on the television screen. You turned your attention to Mike, who was curled up next to El under a crocheted blanket you’d received from your grandmother.

“Doesn’t your family have a TV, Mike?”

"Yeah, we do, but my mom kicked us out so she could watch a soap opera or some shit. She and Nancy love that crap.”

Nancy.

That name ignited the flame of jealousy in your chest. You knew it was totally irrational; she and Steve hadn’t dated since high school. They’d both moved on-something Nancy did almost instantaneously. Steve had told you the whole saga of their mostly-one-sided relationship, and you were fairly certain Nancy never really loved him.

Still, Nancy was Steve’s first serious girlfriend. She was the first girl-the only girl, other than you-to whom he’d said “I love you” and meant it. Nancy was, and would always be, Steve’s first love. There wasn’t anything you could do to change that.

“Y/N? Hey, babe, you good?”

Steve’s voice jolted you back to reality. You shook your head slightly to clear it, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

You pretended not to notice the way his mouth twitched downward slightly in concern.

“Great. So we can stay?” Dustin interrupted. The hopeful gleam in his eyes was too much to resist.

“I guess,” you sighed, earning a chorus of triumphant “yeah!”s from the kids. “Your show’s probably about over by now, anyway, isn’t it?”

Dustin furrowed his thick brows, as though that was the most blatantly incorrect assumption you could have made. Lucas let you know that “it doesn’t even start for three more hours.”

“Won’t that be, like, midnight? Your parents aren’t going to freak out if you come home at two in the morning?” Steve asked.

“Actually...” Dustin drew out the word until he finally ran out of air. Then, he spoke the next few words in one breath. “We were hoping you’d let us spend the night here?”

You and Steve exchanged glances. Between your schoolwork and Steve’s work schedule, the two of you hadn’t been able to spend as much quality time together. You’d finally both managed to secure a responsibility-free night and a cheesy rom-com to watch while cuddling on the couch. (Steve pretended to hate those movies, but he almost always teared up at least once during the show.)

None of that mattered now, though, because your boyfriend could never say no to his favorite child-or so you thought.

Steve scratched the back of his neck. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before saying, “Actually, Dustin, tonight’s not the best night for a sleepover. Y/N and I kind of had plans.”

Lucas raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Plans, huh? What kind of plans?” he said, earning a smack on the arm from his girlfriend.

Color rose to your cheeks; Steve picked up a pillow someone had haphazardly tossed on the floor and launched it at Lucas’s head. Instead of hitting its intended target, though, the cushion collided with Max’s face. Ever the hothead, the ginger quickly contorted her neutral expression into a deep frown. She chucked the pillow back toward Steve with tremendous force, along with a few other throw pillows. Only one actually hit Steve. The rest rained down on you.

And, as a mature, homeowning adult battling literal children, you knew there was only one correct response: to hurl each and every one of those pillows right back.

It didn’t take long before the scene devolved into utter chaos. Fluffy rectangles flew across the living room, smacking into bodies or simply into walls. The kids outnumbered you and Steve three-to-one, so you were doomed from the start. However valiant of an effort you two gave, the party still overcame you, burying you and Steve under an avalanche of pillows.

“Clearly, we won this fight,” Dustin said as he loomed over you. Steve had tried to act as your human shield, so he laid beside you on the floor. “I think that means we earned the right to stay.”

“Dustin-“

“No, Steve, it’s okay,” you said, turning towards him. “I know it’s not what we originally planned, but maybe a sleepover with the kids would be fun.”

Steve looked at you with admiration glittering in his chocolate eyes. “Yeah?” he asked softly.

“Yeah.” You shifted a few pillows to get closer to Steve and plant a gentle kiss on his mouth. He smiled as your lips brushed his, and for a moment, you forgot about the gang of gangly tweens in your living room.

Then, a symphony of “ew”s and “aw”s and “can you not”s and “I think it’s sweet”s erupted throughout the room.

Steve shot into an upright position, pointing his finger in the general direction of the sitting area. “Hey, this is my house, and my girlfriend, and if I want to kiss her, I will. And if you dweebs want to stay here to watch your stupid show, you’ll keep your mouths shut.”

“As long as you keep yours shut,” Dustin quipped. “I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’d rather not see you and Y/N sticking your tongues down each other’s throats.”

You tossed the last pillow throw of the night at Dustin but agreed. You and Steve kept the PDA to a minimum that night. They were just kids, after all, and you didn’t want to corrupt them. However, when Nancy came to pick up Mike the next morning and Steve waved to her from the porch, you didn’t hesitate to flounce out the front door in your robe and draw Steve into a passionate kiss.

You just had to make sure Nancy knew what was yours.

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force-of-a-man to be my lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

Your favorite part of the day was coming home to your best friend.

Steve more or less memorized your schedule. You arrived home around the same time every evening, so Steve knew when to start listening for the sound of gravel crunching under the wheels of your car. He would then meet you on the porch with a “hello” kiss and a “how was your day, honey?” You always feigned indignance as he took your bags, murmuring something about how weak he must think you are to not be able to carry them two more steps. But, secretly, you spent your entire commute home anticipating the interaction.

This was especially true on the stressful days, the ones you felt would never end. Even though Steve was completely clueless in most situations, he could typically tell when you were in a foul mood. Those were the times he pulled you a little closer to his heart, hugged you a little tighter, loved you a little extra-just in case you needed it.

Today, you really, really did. It had been one of those days where everything seems to go wrong. You couldn’t wait to crawl into bed with Steve and snuggle all your sorrows away.

As you pulled into the driveway, your heart beat faster in anticipation. You watched the front door swing open. It took you a second to realize that the figure standing on the porch wasn’t your boyfriend. Rather, it was a short, stocky kid with a halo of golden curls. If it hadn’t been for the unmistakable hair, you might not have recognized him; you’d never seen him sans ballcap but plus a paisley-print bowtie around his neck and certainly never with dish rag was draped over his arm.

“Hey, Dustin,” you said. When he responded by simply smiling back at you, you asked, “What...what’cha doing here, kid?”

“Hello, Ms. Y/L/N. I’ll be your server for the evening,” he responded without missing a beat.

“My server?”

Dustin bent his head slightly in what he must have considered a sophisticated spin on a nod. “Indeed. Now, if you’ll follow me, ma’am...”

You kicked off your shoes and set down your purse before wandering after your guide down the dimly-lit hall. Something crinkled under your footsteps. You quickly noticed small ovals scattered across the wood floor. As you stepped on one, it felt like silk against your bare feet.

Petals?

You were too busy staring at the flowers scattered across the hall to realize you’d reached your destination. Dustin stopped, and you ran right into his back. You stumbled before regaining your balance and taking a look around the room.

The “server” had escorted you to your own kitchen-a place you were quite familiar with, since Steve couldn’t cook a decent meal to save his life. (To be fair, though, you weren’t much more skilled with the stove, so approximately 90% of your diet was comprised of takeout and peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches.) However, you’d never seen the kitchen quite like this.

It was the cleanest it had been since move-in day. Not a dish sat on the counter or even in the sink. The crumbs typically scattered across the floor had been replaced by rose petals. Sparkling white Christmas lights stretched across the room, and Elvis Presley crooned over the record player in the corner of the room. You didn’t even know Steve owned a record player. (As you later discovered, he didn’t. He’d borrowed it from Jonathan Byers.)

In the center of the room, your cheap card table was draped with a lace tablecloth. Wedged between two covered silver platters that looked like they belonged in a castle, a flickering candle cast shadows on the face of the boy sitting beside it. As soon as his eyes fell on you, he scrambled to his feet and over to you.

“Hi,” Steve said, winding his arms around your waist. He sounded breathless, even though he’d literally just walked a few feet.

“Hey.” Your eyes flicked from his slicked-back hair and freshly-shaven face to his crisp button-up and newly-polished shoes. “What’s-um-what’s all this?” you asked, vaguely gesturing around the room.

“Oh, you know.” Steve pressed a quick kiss to your lips before taking your hand and leading you to the table. “I just thought I’d do something special for you tonight.”

"That’s...really sweet.”

Steve scooted your chair in before placing himself back into the seat across from you. Dustin disappeared into your pantry, then returned with a bottle of sparkling grape juice. As you watched the teenager carefully pour a splash into each of your glasses, you asked whether Steve had bribed or tricked him into spending his Friday night playing restaurant.

“This is my full-time job, ma’am. This is how I earn my living,” Dustin answered dutifully before breaking character. “Besides, four of my stupid friends are on a double-date, and Will’s sick, so I had nothing better to do.”

“Way to sell us on the idea that you want to be here, dipshit,” Steve remarked.

“Hey, show our waiter a little respect!” you teased, gently kicking Steve under the table.

“Thank you, Y/N. But, actually, I prefer the term server,” Dustin corrected. He proceeded to produce a notepad from his pocket and read you the specials-or, rather, special, considering there was only one: spaghetti with meatballs. “On our regular menu, we also offer a wonderful noodle dish with a marinara sauce for the same low price as the special-zero dollars.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “So...just spaghetti again?”

Dustin clapped a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Excuse you, madam. It’s spaghetti without meatballs, which is a completely different experience.” Dustin glanced around as though someone might overhear before quietly adding, “Personally, I would recommend the spaghetti with meatballs, unless you want grubby hands digging around in your dish to pull out the meatballs, which may or may not already be incorporated into the pasta.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed nonetheless. “I guess I’ll have the spaghetti with meatballs, then.”

“Excellent choice. And for you, sir?”

“I’ll have the same,” said Steve.

“Well, you’ve both made this very easy for me. Pardon my reach,” Dustin said, leaning over to pluck the covers off the platters. A heaping hill of noodles, red sauce, and meatballs lay underneath.

Dustin took the lids and disappeared into the living room. You weren’t sure if Dustin was just trying to stay out of the way or if he was going to attempt to wash them in the bathroom sink. It definitely wouldn’t have been the weirdest thing he’d done in your house; once, you and Steve caught him trying to explain morse code to a squirrel in your backyard. That kid was truly an odd duck.

And speaking of weird behavior, you were still seriously questioning what was happening. Steve was a sweetheart, and he did everything in his power to make you happy. This definitely wasn’t the first time he’d surprised you with a thoughtful gesture, but it was probably the most all-out he’d ever gone. The last time he even attempted to cook for you was during senior year of high school, when you first started dating. As an after-school snack, Steve had popped some pizza rolls in the microwave and promptly forgotten about them...until, of course, the kitchen appliance burst into flames.

As strange as it was, you didn’t want to ruin the moment by verbally expressing your curiosities. You simply swirled slightly-soggy spaghetti around your spoon and savored the small talk. Eventually, Dustin reappeared to clear your plates and ask if you wanted dessert.

“What are my options?”

Dustin’s excellent waiter facade faded for a second. He glanced at Steve with wide eyes. His gaze begged for guidance-which Steve failed to provide. He simply squinted at Dustin as if to say, Figure it out for yourself.

The entire ordeal lasted about fifteen seconds. It was too long for Dustin to turn back to you with a tight-lipped smile plastered on his face as though nothing had just happened between them.

“The final course is-the dessert, uh-it’s a surprise.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could have sworn you saw Steve offer a nod of approval.

“Okay...” You drew out the word as your mind jumped to every conclusion possible. “Is it a good surprise? Or is it, like, a somewhat-edible science experiment that might actually poison me?”

“Oh, no, no. It’s a good surprise. You’ll like it. I promise,” Dustin said. “I-uh-I’ll go get it,” he said, then disappeared once more.

“Steve, why did Dustin just head toward the bathroom? I swear, if he made Jell-O in the toilet or something, I’m going to lose it.”

Steve just shrugged. He avoided your gaze, and a few beads of sweat had broken out across his forehead. That pretty much solidified your suspicions that Steve and Dustin were pulling some weird sort of prank on you.

Dustin returned a few minutes later with yet another silver platter. (Seriously, where was he getting these things?) This time, though, there weren’t any noodles on the plate he unveiled. Instead, a small velvet box sat on the metal.

The next few seconds happened in a blur. You recalled Steve rising from his chair and reaching for the box. Then, suddenly, he was on one knee in front of you. The box opened like an oyster. Instead of a pearl, though, its treasure was a glimmering diamond ring.

Tears began clouding your vision before Steve’s lips even parted. As soon as he spotted the water in your eyes, Steve started to get choked up, too. He tried to power through, but his voice became more strained with each syllable.

“Y/N. These past few years with you have been the best of my life, and I never thought...shit." Steve blinked rapidly, attempting to clear away the tears. “I never want to spend my time with-with anyone else-damn it,” he murmured as a drop of water finally escaped his tear duct and rolled down his face. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I had this whole speech prepared, but now I’m a mess-”

You stopped his ranting by placing a gentle palm on his cheek and a kiss on his forehead. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I love you for the whole-ass mess you are.”

Steve leaned into your touch for a moment and whispered, “I love you, too, Y/N.” Then, he straightened up, cleared his throat, and softly asked, “Will you marry me?”

“Of course.”

Steve barely had the patience to slide the ring on your finger with his shaking hands before he picking you up and swinging you around. He kissed all over your face, and your happy tears mixed with his in a joyous saltwater solution.

The kiss fest didn’t end until Steve, caught up in all the excitement, accidentally pressed his lips to your nostrils. The two of you burst into a fit of giggles amplified by the ecstasy of the emotions you were feeling. Your hysteria lasted for several minutes and ended with you and Steve laying on the floor, lungs devoid of oxygen and limbs tangled together.

“Are you guys really that happy, or are you, like, on something?”

You both glanced toward Dustin, whose presence had completely slipped your mind. Luckily, Steve had a response ready. It was cheesy and cliche, but nothing could have fit the situation more perfectly:

“No, dude. We’re just high on life.”

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (Forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Oh, you're my, my, my, my

Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover

***

Taglist: @novaddictx @anabundance0ffand0ms @rexorangecouny @broadwayandnetflix @explode-a-pult @whormotional @loulouloueh @readinthegarden12 @lacunaclouds

If you want to be added to the tag list for a specific character/my writing in general, leave a reply or send me a message! Thanks again for reading. <3

If you want to check out more of my writing, here’s my masterlist. :)

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mi6-cafe · 5 years

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007 Fest Sign-ups are open!

What is 007 Fest?

007 Fest is our annual month-long celebration of all things Bond! It takes place from July 1st to July 31st (during the 007th month, of course). Come one, come all, and share your headcanons, your fic and fanart, your meta, your recipes and your other fancreations! We will have weekly themes, prompt tables, and other activities to spur on your creativity. You can also gather around and watch Bond and Bond-related movies, or join us for chats in the Slack! Whether you like to lurk or you’re the biggest party animal in the fandom, everyone is welcome to join. ^ ^

We'll answer some of the biggest questions here, but for more details, check out this collection of info pages.

How is 007 Fest organized this year?

This year we have three competitive teams. Let’s give it up for:

Team 00

Team Q Branch

Team Villains

If you are part of a competitive team, then all of your actions in the Fest (e.g., commenting, making fancreations, etc) will earn points for your team! You’ll count up your points at the end of the Fest and submit them through a google form. The team with the most points wins!

Do I have to compete?

Nope! We also have a non-competitive team. If you think 007 Fest sounds fun and you’d like to participate, but you’re not into the competition or counting up points, then you can join Team Civilian!

(You can also participate without joining a team if you want! Just tag your posts with #007 Fest. We just think teams are fun. ^ ^)

Are there prizes?

Yes!

We have two prize drawings at the end of the fest. Everyone who participates, including Team Civilian participants, has a chance to win something from the all-participants prize pool.

For the second drawing, people on the winning team will also have a chance to win prizes from a winning team prize pool!

Prizes can be anything! Past prizes have included drabbles or ficlets, sketches or fanart, fandom bookmarks or pins, Redbubble or Amazon gift certificates, and more. If you would like to donate any prizes for the prize pools, we would love to hear from you. You can email the Cafe mods, or you can message @castillon02 or @spiritofcamelot.

Has anything changed since last year?

Yes! We've modified the points based on some of your suggestions and added a scavenger hunt! (More on that later) Even if this is your fourth time participating, please make sure to refamiliarise yourself with the rules and the points.

We're also dual running the Fest on tumblr and wordpress. Everything will be primarily on tumblr, but all admin posts will be on both platforms and we encourage you to interact in either location.

Okay, I know what 007 Fest is, now how do I sign up?

Easy–just fill out THIS short google form. We mostly ask you for a way to contact you and for your choice of teams. Please keep in mind that although we’ll try to put everyone on their preferred team, we also need to ensure a balanced number of participants for each team.

Sign-ups start NOW, and they end on June 15th! After June 15th, you can still join the Fest, but you will be randomly assigned to a team.

What can we do between now and July?

Anything you want! Points can only be earned by fancreations posted from July 1-July 31, but you can certainly start brainstorming or working on a WIP!

You can also add to the ANON PROMPT LIST for 007 Fest 2019! This is a list of anonymous fic or art prompts, and anyone who creates a fancreation fill for something from the prompt list gets bonus points. Whether you’re adding prompts or thinking about filling them, the prompt list is a great place to look for inspiration. ^ ^

We’re super excited about 007 Fest 2019, and we hope you are too! For more detailed information, you can check out the 007 Fest rules here.

May the best team win!

#007 Fest #007 Fest 2019 #007 fest admin

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tomeandflickcorner · 4 years

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Umbrella Academy Rewatch 1x01

With the second season of Umbrella Academy approaching, I figured I should have a rewatch of the first season again.

Of course, we start at the beginning, with us being told that on October 1st, 1989, 43 completely unrelated women around the world miraculously gave birth at the same time. This event was particularly unusual since none of these women had been pregnant when they’d woken up that morning. We’re also told that Reginald Hargreeves, an eccentric billionaire and adventurer had attempted to adopt as many of these miracle babies as possible, even going so far as to approach the mothers directly and paying them to allow him to take their baby. away. In the end, he managed to obtain seven of these unusual babies and brought them to his estate. As it turned out, each of these seven babies had seemingly been born with a unique superhuman ability. Luther (AKA Number 1) possessed super strength. Diego (AKA Number 2) could control the trajectory of any object he throws, with his preference being knives. Allison (AKA Number 3) can manipulate people’s actions simply by saying the words ‘I heard a rumor.’ Whatever she says after those words will actually happen. Klaus (AKA Number 4) is basically the kid from The Sixth Sense. Number 5 (who never received an actual name for reasons that I’ll explain a little later, can teleport/time jump. Ben (AKA Number 6) can essentially summon Lovecraftian horrors from his body. And finally, there’s Vanya (AKA Number 7). She allegedly doesn’t have any special abilities, so she was always left out when Reginald meticulously trained the others to be some sort of elite superhero team in the vein of X-Men, with the building they all lived in being treated like a school called The Umbrella Academy.

Of course, the main story actually begins years later, when the Hargreeves Siblings have all grown up. And grown apart as well, as each of the siblings have, for the most part, put their old lives behind them and have therefore become estranged from one another. In an opening montage, we’re introduced to the now-adult Hargreeves Siblings. Luther, for reasons that are revealed later on in the show, has spent the past four years on the moon. Diego has become a vigilante. Allison is now a big movie star with a legion of fans. Klaus is a drug addict, and is pretty much in and out of rehab. And Vanya is a violinist who hopes to make it into a major orchestra. As you might have noticed, there are two of the Hargreeves Siblings that haven’t been accounted for. As the episode explains as it progresses, Number 5 mysteriously disappeared 17 years prior, and hasn’t been seen or heard from since. And Ben has died for reasons that are as of yet unknown.

As the opening montage wraps up, Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus and Vanya all learn that Reginald Hargreeves has suddenly passed away. So they all return to his old estate to attend his funeral. Though, upon arriving, it’s made very clear that Diego is not the least bit pleased to see Vanya. It turns out that, at some point, Vanya wrote an autobiography about her life growing up as the odd one out among the others. And she apparently revealed some of the Hargreeves family’s deepest, darkest secrets within her autobiography. So this has pretty much further ostracized Vanya from hier siblings, particularly Diego. Though Allison seems to be willing to look past that in light of the current situation.

Anyway, the next few minutes of the episode allows us to get to know our main characters, and how they interact with one another. Diego, as we’ve established, isn’t very pleased to see Vanya, which does’t help with how she already felt like an outsider amongst her siblings. And Luther also seems mistrustful of Klaus, though this wasn’t entirely undeserved, as he stopped Klaus from trying to pocket some of Reginad’s old trinkets. Off hand, only Allison seems somewhat normal, as she responds with reasonable softness to each of her long-lost siblings. However, it seems even she has some sort of baggage, as she admits her husband filed for divorce 8 months ago, and her now-ex-husband has full custody of their daughter, something that clearly upsets her a great deal. During this whole sequence of events, we also meet Grace. who was, for all intents and purposes, the Hargreeves Siblings’ mother, and Pogo, the family butler who is, to put it bluntly, an anthropomorphic chimpanzee. (Just roll with it.)

As the episode progresses, Luther makes it clear that, despite the autopsy report stating Reginald died of a heart attack, he suspects foul play was involved somehow. He points out that Reginald’s signature monocle was missing, and he and suspects that somebody took it. And if somebody took the monocle, it meant that Reginald hadn’t been alone when he died. Of course, Luther’s attempts at sharing this theory with his brothers and sisters goes poorly when he clumsily makes it sound as if he suspects one of them might have murdered Reginald.

In spite of the tangible rift between them, we do get a small indication that there’s still a deep-rooted bond between the siblings when Luther plays a vinyl recording of Tommy James and the Shondells’ I Think We’re Alone Now. Even though the five siblings are all in different rooms, they all are shown dancing to the same song. It’s a particularly enjoyable scene, particularly when the camera pans out to what I call ‘the dollhouse shot.’

However, the dance party is interrupted by a sudden disturbance out in the courtyard. When the five siblings run outside to investigate, Luther surmises it’s some sort of temporal anomaly. (Lucky guess!) As they watch in confusion and bemusement, a figure emerges from the time portal. To everyone’s amazement, the figure is revealed to be Number 5, who hasn’t seemed to age a day since the morning he vanished 17 years ago.

The Hargreeves Siblings convene down to the kitchen, where Number 5 fixes himself a snack. As he proceeds to make himself a sandwich (peanut butter and marshmallow), Number 5 explains his prolonged absence happened because he went against Reginald’s instructions and attempted to travel through time, resulting in him getting stuck in the future. And, while it’s been 17 years since his disappearance for the other Hargrees Siblings, it’s been 45 years for him. But he managed to finally find a way to return to the present day through some technobabble explanation. But for whatever reason, while his consciousness remains that of a 58 year old man, his body has regressed to that of his 13-year-old self. Although, he doesn’t really explain anymore than that and simply walks off, leaving his brothers and sisters to take it all in.

Of course, it then cuts to the funeral service, with everyone gathered out in the courtyard to pay their last respects to Reginald. But of course, drama erupts when Diego begins an emotional rant about how Reginald was a horrible man and father. Which wasn’t entirely off the mark, as we see through flashbacks that he might have also conducted experiments on the Hargraves Siblings. Here, it’s also revealed that Reginald never gave any of them their names and had simply referred to them by their individual numbers. It was their mother, Grace, who had given them their actually names. (Which does explain why Number 5 doesn’t have a real name like the others. He must have vanished to the future before Grace began issuing names) This ultimately leads to a fist fight breaking out between Diego and Luther. In the ensuing fight, the statue that had been erected in the late Ben’s memory is broken, and Diego ends up throwing one of his knives at Luther, leaving a bleeding gash in his arm.

So, things are clearly still strained between the Hargraves Siblings, who all soon part. Vanya is the first to leave, with only Pogo seeing her off. Diego heads off soon afterwards (with Klaus tagging along). Number 5, however, retreats to a local doughnut shop called Griddy's Donuts, hoping to get a decent cup of coffee. But before he can begin his drink, he notices a group of men armed with guns entering the shop. Number 5 doesn’t seem to be the least bit surprised by this, simply remarking he thought it would take them longer to find him. The leader of the armed men instructs Number 5 to come with them. But Number 5 chooses to not cooperate. And he proceeds to utilize his teleportation skills to meticulously kill every single one of the gunmen, as Istanbul (not Constantinople) by They Might Be Giants plays over the scene. Once all the men are dead, he calmly cuts into his arm with a discarded knife, putting out what appears to be a tracking chip. With the tracking chip removed, he calmly walks out of Griddy’s Donuts, as the poor waitress (whose name will be revealed to be Agnes in later episodes) peers over the counter at the remaining mess and dead bodies, completely shell shocked.

As the first episode wraps up, we see Diego has Reginald's missing monocle, though it’s not clear at this point how or why he has it. We also get our first glimpse of Ben, the deceased member of the Hargraves Siblings. Even though he is dead, he is present in the show as a ghost. Though only Klaus can see and hear him on account of his ‘superpower.’ As for Vanya, she returns to her apartment, where she is shocked to find Number 5 has broken in. Vanya is quick to spot he’s bleeding (on account of his self-inlicted cut), but Number 5 virtually waves away her concern. He tells her that he’s decided to share some vital information with her, since he feels she’s the only one he can trust. Throughout the episode, it was implied that Vanya and Number 5 had been rather close as kids. For instance, after Number 5 had vanished, Vanya had made a habit of leaving out peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches for him every night, because she didn’t want him to go hungry if he ever returned. As such, Number 5 tells Vanya that, when he jumped ahead in time, he learned that something catastrophic will happen in the future that will effectively wipe out the entire human race. While he wasn’t sure what exactly caused the apocalypse to happen, he was able to determine the date it occurred- exactly eight days from the present date. Vanya takes this bombshell surprisingly well.

Well, that’s quite an opening episode. We got a group of siblings with a strained relationship, a suitable mystery on our hands and a fast-approaching end of the world. Not to mention the whole weirdness the show just expects us to accept with no actual explanation. All in all, this episode does effectively rope you in, leaving you with a bunch of questions that you want to see answered.

Additional things of note:

Grace is revealed to be a robot. Which explains how she sometimes seems to be out of it at certain points in the episode

Vanya is taking what appears to be a prescription medication

The exploits of the Hargraves Siblings as a superhero team led to them having a certain level of fame. There were even comic books made about them in the show’s reality.

Even though Luther made him drop Reginald’s trinkets, Klaus still managed to make off with an ornate box with currently unknown contents

#umbrella acedmy #umbrella academy 1x01

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ladyadalicialove · 5 years

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MLB Dupain-Cheng Wedding and Marinette’s Birthday theory!!

An updated version of this theory can be found here. Some new info was revealed and I decided to talk about it.

Here I have developed two theories; when Sabine and Tom got married and Marinette’s Birthday. I have finalised two dates as to when they got married and when Marinette was born. This is pure speculation by the way, so take what I say with a grain of salt!!!

The Dupain-Chengs Wedding Date THEORY:

To figure out when they were married I gathered clues from all available episodes.

Lets start with “Timebreaker”! In this episode Sabine says they are celebrating their 20th wedding anniversary with a special dinner. And since “Timebreaker” was in season 1, this episode is speculated to have occurred sometime sometime in February-April.

I have theorised that “Backwarder” is set in either April of 2011 or May of 2018 This is because Adrien, Gabriel, Kagami and her mother are going to attend a Royal Wedding in England. And Thomas Astruc must have been inspired by a royal wedding and since this episode aired in 2016, Astruc would not have known about Harry and Meghan meaning that Kate and William was probably his source of inspiration.

So if Tom and Sabine are celebrating their twentieth wedding anniversary in February-April 2011 or 2018, that means they were married in 1991 or 1998.

However in consideration to the style of Sabine’s dress, it is more likely to be in 1998. 1991 Wedding dresses were extremely puffy, most likely due to the after effects of the 80s fashion. Sabine’s wedding dress actually closely resembles the wedding dresses of the 2000s. Meaning that it is highly likely the wedding happened in 1998, here’s a photo comparison.

(Credit: Me, I googled some pics of both 1991 and 1998 wedding dresses and created this collage.)

Basically since Sabine doesn’t look like any of the snow beast brides of 1991 and closer to 1998 wedding dresses, I think it’s a safe bet that it was set in 1998. FYI: I did loads of wedding dress research and her dress is closest to the 2002 bridal styles, especially with the BOHO-chic fashion trend.

Now fun fact, this means we actually know when the exact date they were married because of Marinette’s calendar (which is basically Adrien’s Schedule) back in “Timebreaker”. The episode as we know starts off with Sabine talking about their 20th wedding anniversary. However in this episode, Alix and Kim have their rollerblade race, This is the only episode we know of to have rollerskating in it, and in Marinette’s calendar April 6th is marked as “Roller Time”.

(Credit: https://amour-chasse-croise.tumblr.com/post/142955283453/miraculous-ladybug-timeline-complete )

This means that April 6th is the day that Tom and Sabine were married!! (And Alix’s birthday lol)

So this concludes that…

Tom and Sabine were married on April 6th of 1998.

Also this means that Tom married Sabine when he was twenty!!! Because he turned 40 in Bakerix which is set in 2018, we knows this because the events in “Bakerix” happen before "Backwarder", as the inauguration of Startrain is shown. And we know “Backwarder” is set in May of 2018, meaniNG BAKERIX IS HAPPENING IN EARLY 2018!!!!

Our bakery boi snatched his wife with that broom-stache at 20 holy moly. I wondered how old Sabine was, I think she might have been 19, making her 39 in “Bakerix”. Love to hear anyone’s theory on Sabine’s age.

This means that Tom and Sabine totally dated in high school. oMG SO CUTE!! Can’t wait to draw the art for that one!

The Date of Marinette’s birthday THEORY:

This theory isn’t as concrete as the previous but I had to do some hard core predications and assumptions!! So don’t take my word for it!

It took Tom and Sabine a couple of years before they had Marinette. Because we know she is 14 in “Befana”, that means she was born in 2003 or 2004 if this episode took place in 2017 or 2018. And according to the MLB wiki timeline, Befana takes place in July, meaning Marinette is born in July. No joke the wiki has a timeline.

If we look at her personality we can actually determine what part of July her birthday is on with zodiac signs!! July 1st to July 22nd are members of the Cancer zodiac sign, and July 22nd to July 31st, are a part of the Leo zodiac sign.

I did a little research for Cancer because as a Leo myself, I know that sign pretty well. And guys, “Cancers are born people-pleasers and emotional caretakers.” and not just that but “You’ll often see Cancer women busting their butts behind the scenes building props on theatre or movie sets, or as head chefs making magic in the kitchens of busy restaurants. These women prefer to work with their hands, and do work that they feel emotionally connected to, rather than spending hours staring at spreadsheets or mathematical abstractions.” (source:https://www.astrology.com/cancer-woman.html)

MARINETTE IS A MEMBER OF THE CANCER ZODIAC SIGN CONFIRMED SHE IS A CRAB!!!!! CAN YOU IMAGINE HER LIKE THAT I CAN

So we can confidently say her birthday is between July 1st and 22nd, we just gotta find the specific date!! Here’s another clue I found thanks to another birthday theory on Amino; In the Webisode "My Birthday Party", Marinette's voice over says "It's my birthday on Saturday". (In the English Dub)

Now the webisode was released in 2016, while “Befana” was released in 2017. In 2016 would have been 12 if Marinette was born in 2004, which is inaccurate as she was 13 when she received the miraculous. Meaning she is born in 2003 making her thirteen in 2016 the year of the webisode aired!!

Now if her birthday in that webisode was set in 2016, the Saturday’s between between July 1st and 22nd land on three dates. The 2nd, 9th and the 16th of July.

How do we narrow the three dates down to one I hear you ask? Well Kung Food is set sometime after July 14th according to this tumblr user, meaning we can eliminate the 16th because her Great Uncle would have mentioned her birthday but he didn’t.

(Credit: https://ladybug-x-chatnoir.tumblr.com/post/138842131342/here-is-a-visual-timeline-based-off-of )

Now that means it’s either the 2nd or the 9th. I think if we look at the school dates when the year “Befana” takes place we may determine her birthday.

So if Marinette is turning 14 in “Befana” and if she is born in 2003, that means “Befana” occurs in 2017. In the episode she talked about being at school that week, and “yesterday” she caught Nino listening to her fav song at school , however she did not mention being at school on her actual birthday. Which in 2017, Mari’s birthday is on a Sunday and I had to check but France does have Middle and High schools that choose to have courses on Saturdays. So we are deficiently in the right timeframe!

It occurred to me that July is when Summer Holidays begin for France. And according to this website, France’s summer holidays begun on July 8th in 2017.

(Credit: https://www.renestance.com/blog/2017-school-holidays-in-france/ )

Now if we rewatch “Befana”, we can see that the classroom is bare of any school work or posters. Now everyone who has been to middle or high school knows there are big clean ups that happen the day Summer Holidays begin. And that’s what I think we are seeing here. A completely clean classroom ready for a new year.

(Credit: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nTz8SC39s24)

I can conclude then that Marinette’s Birthday is on the 9th of July, and she was born in 2003!! THE PROOF IS IN DA PUDDIN THAT IS ADRIEN LOL!

So to quickly resummarise this double theory of mine:

Tom and Sabine were married on April 6th of 1998.

and

Marinette’s Birthday is on the 9th of July, and she was born in 2003.

Wow I spent six hours researching all this and now I’m super tired, I’m posting these theories because I will be MIA during May and possibly June because of Exams and Assignments for Uni. Enjoy reading this and I hope to hear your opinions and thoughts!!

REMEMBER THIS IS JUST A THEORY

Posted on 5th of July in 2019, sometime after Bakerix aired.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #miraculous theory #ml spoilers #theories MLB #mlb #mlb spoilers #ml season 3 #ml #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Marinette #sabine cheng #tom dupain

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onewhoturns · 5 years

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Fireworks (1/4)

What?? Another?? Damn straight, I’ve written one thing a day just about for the past four days which is insane but here we are.

Fandom: Oxenfree Pairing: Alex/Jonas Chapter: 1/4 Characters: Alex, Jonas, (later) Michael, Ren, Nona, Clarissa Word count: 2437 Rating: T for language Summary: The one saving grace of that first kiss (apart from, well, it wasn’t a bad kiss) -- the one thing she could point to as making the kiss sort of okay, morally -- was that it was in a timeline where they were just friends. Well… okay, maybe the kiss might have changed that. A little? Or maybe it didn’t get a chance to, much, cause Alex was too busy shutting herself away and having a teensy tiny crisis over kissing her sometimes-stepbrother. And then, naturally, as always seemed to happen July 8th, it would be May 1st all over again. or: the First, the Fourth, the Fireworks.

She should’ve seen it coming. He’d become her other-brother, the one she went to with the things she wasn’t sure she wanted Michael to know. Even if Michael so often ended up finding out anyway (the awkward moment when Michael realized Jonas had been her emergency ride home from a party at Pat’s where she got a little past shitfaced, that was a memorable one). It’s par for the course, in these realities where Michael is with Clarissa, where Ren is with Nona, that Alex gravitates toward “new in town” Jonas. At least, at this point she’s pretty sure that’s how it goes. She doesn’t remember everything, just bits and pieces and vague feelings. She would remember if she’d kissed him - if he’d kissed her - before, right?

There had been moments, sure, that might’ve hinted at it. Halloween night, when Clarissa wore those red contacts, and Alex was shaken to her very core, Jonas had been the one she drove to the coast with. Staring up at the stars, in comfortable silence, feet knocking against one another lazily. Wrapped up in the ratty blankets from the back of his truck, sitting on the rocks and looking out at the ocean. Not that she’s all that big of a fan of the ocean, either, but it was too cold for anyone to try to pressure her into swimming (and Jonas has never been the type to do that, anyway).

Actually, it was weird-- the first time (this time around, anyway) she’d balked at deep water, everyone had seemed surprised. Like this Alex was a friggin’ fish or something. A couple of panic attacks later, they’d learned not to push it. It was wading or the shallow end for her. And Horn Lake was officially a no-go area.

Maybe that’s why she’s been perhaps a little bit clingy with Jonas at the 4th of July barbeque. She couldn’t convince her parents not to have it at the lake, so instead she brought Jonas along and once there dragged him as far from the water as possible, perching on top of the playground equipment, throwing snap poppers at the ground and lighting sparklers and dollar store smoke bombs and trying to forget the fact that Michael is probably at this very moment swimming in the thing that killed him. In the dark. Like an idiot.

It jolts her heart straight into her throat hearing Clarissa’s yelp of, “Mike!” from the beach. The smile wiped from her face, the sparkler drops to the ground and she’s on her feet in an instant, staring worriedly toward the spot their families are camped for the night’s festivities, but unable to see past the silhouettes of a few bodies gathered around the camplight. But then Clarissa bursts into shrieking giggles and Alex finally breathes again.

“Hey,” Jonas’s voice is soft as he wraps a hand around her wrist, giving a gentle tug. “You alright?”

She might be about 50% of the way to crying when she turns back to him. Maybe. Possibly. Or maybe it’s just the wide-eyed panic that has him suddenly concerned, that small crease between his brows just visible in the mix of moonlight and tree-trunk-filtered LED camplight as he reaches for her other hand as well. “Alex, seriously-- are you okay?”

Her pulse had skyrocketed, but with his thumbs rubbing circles into her palms, it’s a lot easier to come back to herself. She hadn’t realized the memory -- a false memory, now, of something that never even happened -- was still so clear, that it could flash so vividly into her head, no matter how briefly. A noise somewhere between ‘mhm’ and ‘ehhhhh’ croaks from her throat between closed lips.

God, his face is so soft. For someone so good at maintaining his cool (ever-vigilant, after his juvie stint, of keeping his temper in check), Jonas’s expression is pretty transparent. None of the usual wariness she gets from others about her baseless fear of the lake, or her occasional moments of sheer panic. His smile, small and slow and warm, is genuine. Caring. A corner of his lips lifts wryly. “Don’t go all Edwards Island on me, now.”

It’s so easy to step forward, to stand in front of his perch on the stupid plastic wall of the kiddie playground, to step between his knees and rest her forehead on his chest and just breathe. He’s grounding. Dependable. A few breaths of his shirt - his deodorant a scent she’s pretty sure she can pick out of a lineup - has her head a lot clearer.

“...Alex...” His voice is almost hoarse, and he clears his throat.

“I’m okay,” she mutters, and sighs before straightening, pulling her hands from his to rest on his knees, avoiding his eyes. “Just… you know. That thing,” she tilts her head toward the sounds of splashing and laughing and people checking their watches in expectation of imminent fireworks. She’s told him about Michael. Well, in a way. She didn’t go into the whole parallel timelines thing, but he knows she had some kind of experience, or maybe a dream, that made Michael + swimming + lake = terror. He puts a hell of a lot more stock in it than Michael, too.

“Right. Yeah.” He swings his legs a bit, thudding his heels against the hollow rails with a thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk. “...Wanna get out of here?”

Alex shakes her head, staring at the ring that still hangs around Jonas’s neck. “Nah, I’m-- I’ll be fine. Besides, the fireworks are gonna be starting s--” The word isn’t even all the way out of her mouth before she sees as well as feels his shift of attention, looking up to the sky, and a moment later there’s the boom and crackle of the first rocket. She half turns, watching the scattering of sparks floating a bit sideways in the slight breeze. The camplight went out from where the rest of their group had stopped to watch. And then up goes another, another thud and a noise like hard rain on a plastic roof.

She turns to watch the sky, midnight blue, speckles of stars lost in afterimages of the fireworks. A triple explosion - the loudest ones they’ve got, all in a row - brings a smile to her lips. “Nice.”

“Yeah. It’s, um… beautiful.”

Alex scoffs, shooting a glance back at Jonas with a small smirk. “They’re like ten bucks a pop, Jonas, this isn’t some masterful pyrotechnics, just the annual July Fourth ‘extravaganza’ according to a few suburban PTA moms.”

“Heh... Yeah, well. Last year it was me and my dad watching Die Hard on the couch and listening to it all going down outside, so…”

“But Die Hard’s a Christmas movie.” She ignores the teeny touch of guilt that she didn’t invite him last year, after all the Island drama. Then, all she’d wanted was to be around her flesh-and-blood, no-longer-dead brother. This year, though, with all the graduation festivities over and done with, with Clarissa and Michael both home for the summer and both families chattering at each other constantly any time they’re in close proximity, Alex was way too eager to have a friend to hang with.

“Oh, we watch it then, too. Sandwiched between Trading Places and Gremlins.”

She narrows her eyes for a second, unsure if he’s serious, before elbowing him in the stomach, rolling her eyes. He hooks an arm around her to keep from taking a ten foot fall to the ground, pulling her back against him as she snorts, “Seriously, you guys have the weirdest traditions.”

“Hey, I take personal offense at that.” He flicks her in the arm, and when she bats his hand away, and he teeters once more, he wrestles her arms to her sides. “Alex I swear, if you push me off this thing and my legs stop working I will never forgive you.”

She’s smirking, but let’s him hold on. “Optimistic. I think I’d aim for paralysis from the neck down.”

“Well you’re the overachiever.”

Another burst of one, three, one, four explosions, and they’ve fallen into companionable silence. In a brief pause between pops, Alex muses, “You know, I heard three years ago one of the firework engineers almost lost an eye.”

“Hm.” She doesn’t get much more than that from him, and then there’s another pop-crackle-pop-pop-BOOM and his hold tightens a little.

“Scared?” she teases, as the sky clears again, in anticipation of the finale. She’s pretty sure that’s his heart she feels thudding against her shoulder. “You never told me your family has a history of losing eyes to pyrotechnical accidents.” Seriously, is he having a heart attack?

“Alex…” His voice is quiet, maybe hesitant, close to her ear.

She huffs out a small laugh, “Relax, I’m just-” But when she turns to reassure him their lips meet and-- Jesus Christ, they’re kissing, when did they start kissing? Her eyes close for a fraction of a second before the fireworks crackle through the air and she blinks back into her senses and pulls away. “What the hell--?”

“Shit, I’m-- Sorry, I--” He lets go of her immediately, and she can feel the heat off his skin even if she can’t see his blush as she stumbles a step away. “I didn’t-- That’s-- Fuck, my bad.”

She thinks maybe she should be leaving, walking back to her family, glaring at Jonas for kissing her so suddenly, but instead stands, dumbly, a foot out of his reach. She’s just… baffled. Confused? Perplexed.

Jonas’s head falls into his hands as he groans. “God, that was--” He’s mumbling into his palms, “Can we just pretend that didn’t happen?”

Alex stares for a second. Because, she’s just… there’s a lot happening in her head right now. Specifically, after mentions of Christmas, she’s remembering that awkward moment at Ren’s Christmas party, running into Jonas in a doorway, catching him spotting mistletoe and very quickly stepping out of her way, face flushed from what she’d initially assumed was the spiked punch. And maybe there had been glances across the front seat on those midnight drives, the way he looked at her when she stuck her head out the window and howled at the sky, that grin he gave her, and the look in his eyes. Tracing the lines of her palm hanging over the side of the couch as Ren and Nona battled it out button-smashing, as everyone threw taunts and jeers at game night. That time she’d had a nightmare and called him at 4am and he answered (with only minor complaint).

...Okay. Maybe she’d… um… maybe…

A hand is rubbing at his neck awkwardly, head hanging low, feet tapping a quick nervous rhythm close to the bars, super audible in the silence now that the fireworks are over and done.

Alex has never been particularly good with romance. She has, in fact, been notoriously obtuse when it comes to people liking her. Case in point, apparently. But she does like Jonas. And it’s definitely not the same way she likes Ren, or Nona, or even Michael. She loves him, really, just never considered it a physical thing, never thought that maybe it could be something… else. He’s her best friend. Closer than Ren in a shorter amount of time. She’s just… surprised, that’s all. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t something settling in the pit of her stomach. Something not nearly as unpleasant as she might have expected.

She probably looks more angry that she feels, brow furrowed as she steps toward him. But she’s not angry. Just… trying to figure out what exactly she’s about to do. And really trying to ignore that nagging feeling in her head that this is one in an infinite number of timelines where too often this is not okay.

A tentative step forward and she’s between his knees once more, fingers resting on denim. He drops his hands and glances up; ashamed, hopeful, mortified. “Honestly, Alex, that was way out of line, I shouldn’t have-” His voice stutters to a halt as she brings her face closer to his. Her gaze shifts from his eyes to his mouth-- she’s just to his right, glancing away for a second, and she spots his hands gripped tight to his perch, and she turns back, and her eyelashes brush his cheek as she noses into his space, and then--

Their lips are touching. Again.

It’s… nice, actually. Better when he breathes her in and seems to melt against her and his hands wrap around her waist like he’s scared she’ll pull away again. Her heart is in her throat for a completely different reason now, because this is the closeness she likes with him-- only better, closer, but not in a way that makes her feel awkward or uncomfortable or… It’s just… really nice. Kissing him.

When she breaks the kiss, she doesn’t pull back, only moves to rest her cheek on his shoulder. There’s a pause, a moment when she realizes her heart is beating as hard as his was earlier, and she lets out a short huff of breath.

“Um…”

But whatever he’s going to say, it’s interrupted with a call from the beach. The camplight is on again. “Alex? Alex honey, we’re just about packed. It’s getting late.”

She’s not sure when her palms went to Jonas’s chest, but they leave it now, stepping away once more, only for him to catch one hand.

“Want to go for a drive?” It’s hopeful, maybe a little anxious, even though the request is one he’s made - hell, she’s made - time and time again. “Or-- or I can just give you a ride home, or…”

She shifts from one foot to the other, avoiding his expectant gaze. Instead her free hand traces the chain, hooks briefly into the ring around his neck. Shit-- She lets go, steps away again, pulling out of his grasp. And he lets her go, of course he does, and she wonders if she’d spot his expectations falling if she were brave enough to look. “I’m… look, I’ll…” The breath feels forced from her lungs in a puff of air. “Not tonight.”

And she feels like an idiot for it -- feels guilty and stupid because that’s just mean, leaving him like that -- but she leaves the remnants of sparklers and smoke bombs and poppers scattered on the ground (in a poor display of responsibility) and walks back to the picnic site not quite too fast, but with a kind of determination that only comes from pointedly avoiding thinking about potentially really fucking up a relationship thanks to an awkward kiss in the dark.

#oxenfree #alex/jonas #i wrote more #wtf is with this productivity #oxenfree fic #my writing #alex #jonas #alex oxenfree #jonas oxenfree #jonalex #demi alex #my first time writing a gray ace/demi char so... be kind ><#fireworks

7 notes · View notes

fortheheavenssake · 5 years

Text

PG MM Anon Interpretation Collection- 10

65: Sept. 20

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON HAVE AN AWESOME WEEKEND 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON … it’s a bird’ it’s a private plane ‘ it’s an Archificial!!!!!…… Canada why?…… three weddings and a numeral …… an unnecessary company …… not buying the lying ……” Rome , Bloody Rome!!”…………” one makes ones bed Philip”…… tabloids ‘ mud sticks, it’s official!!…… hated ‘ not rated …… This spotty leopard is def!! …… “ To boldly go……… “

it’s a bird’ it’s a private plane ‘ it’s an Archificial!!!!!

It’s Superman!!! Was the original third part. The ever elusive doll baby with magic powers to change size, hair colour, eyes, eyelashes etc etc all while wearing a Christening gown🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 Again MM ANON are you confirming this? Private planes have been used because as we all know, there is no baby in her care, it’s always been a doll, and/or actors getting on/off private planes and or going to their local. For some reason EJ and ED are lying! Allegedly.

Canada why?

Canada Dry🤣🤣🤣😂😂MM ANON are you teasing me because l didn’t know that rare song🤣🤣😂😂? Seriously, l wonder if this is about Cameron Ortis and enquiring why Canada’s issue occurred and who was given what information.

three weddings and a numeral

Movie Three Weddings and a Funeral. Interestingly the write Richard Curtis is working with Catherine DOC , a new mental health initiative. It was in the paper the other day, if l recall there was a suicide he experienced, sibling? I cannot recall exactly. So Three weddings and a numeral. Let’s review what a numeral is, its a figure, symbol, or group of these denoting a number. MM ANON are you affirming something for us? Oh pretty please!!

Madam alleged annulled 1st marriage, divorced second and PH was the golden door number three, let’s make a deal, who remembers that game show? Does numeral represent a part of the law which denotes annulment and was it done legally? We know the divorce was legal because TE has remarried or is engaged. Oh my stars, are we getting affirmation?l have said awhile now why did PH hold the book when he was ‘signing’ the register after the wedding ceremony, he held the book so the camera couldn’t see it. Oh this clue has me buzzing! I know it’s can’t be III. Roman numeral three for three weddings they have attended as a married couple, the horrible blue and white dress, Princess Eugenie and Jack B and now MN?

an unnecessary company

Is this the Sussex Foundation? They could have worked as a team with the Cambridges but her jealousy and craving of $$$$$££££££££€€€€€ far supersedes any philanthropic or truly real humanitarianism.

not buying the lying

No one is believing anything she says or does except sugars and celebrities who share management or SS PR.

” Rome , Bloody Rome!!”

Again PP, disgust continues to rile his anger. Raging at yet another trip, how many flights is this now in six weeks or so? If they are all true it must be close to ten. He is a strong man, served his country for decade upon decade, to see this madam, l cannot imagine his blood pressure!

” one makes ones bed Philip”

HMTQ and PP , or maybe LG, the phrase you made your bed, now lie on it. This means your life choices have consequences and you have to deal with them The speaking if first person here, in a manner, leads me to believe this is HMTQ talking to her husband and the incredible burden of a booty call turning into this horrendous mess and PH playing his role, in his due to HMTQ, his grandmother is him having to deal with his poor choice. We still love and pray for him, as do his family. It must be desperately hard to watch him , but it will all be worth it, once justice is served, and make no mistake, it may not be tomorrow or next week, it will come! My word for madam, she will not understand this but Ask not for whom the bell tolls, for it tolls for the.

tabloids ‘ mud sticks, it’s official!!

Monster Meghan nanny tells all, TMZ shows fake photos of pub visit days and days after it allegedly happened, the pub owners denied they were there, the meta data on the photo said it was taken September 17,2019. More and more in the tabloids both paper and online tabloids, the truth is coming out and people are believing it more and more thus the term the mud sticks. MM ANON, the other riddle you used ‘ stick and stones’may break my bones, but names will never hurt me. I added the rest, after the part she mentioned. So in this case, the ‘names’ which in fact is truth are most definitely hurting her already bad reputation. Way to go SS!! You’re really earning your $$$$£££££€€€€! NOT !😂😂😂😂🤣

hated ‘ not rated

If one goes by social media et al, she doesn’t rate as a royal, but oh my the level of absolute disgust, anger, has built into hatred. Rightfully so, she blew in, rather flew in on her 🧹, paid backers. Manipulated a marriage, a ‘fauxmegnancy’, wastage of money on an epic scale, disrespecting the British and Commonwealth every step of the way. Trying to Americanize the Royal family and the biggest of all is the complete vile disrespect to HMTQ. To me, all the misdeeds, ? maybe illegal, those are all left for LG to manage. The thing of HMTQ at this stage of her Reign and her life, to be so utterly disrespected, repeatedly is utter gall. Yet another major reason she is hated so much by so many!

This spotty leopard is def!!

Def Leopard…awesome band and takes me back to hockey games music and after parties. She is def, not physically def,but tone def in an abstract meaning. She doesn’t accept any opinion except her own. Any questions she immediately cries troll, racist, hater, a plethora of descriptors. I still cannot believe all the time twitter was going last night either in Italy or as leaving to go there. Who cares if l or others misread the riddle. I am not embarrassed to acknowledge l misread something! Hey this is for fun, if it angers or irritates someone, perhaps reset this or take a break. In saying that, l work very hard in processing what the options are that a clue may mean and then writing it, in a manner that is as clear and concise as l can do.

“ To boldly go……… “.

To boldly go where no man, since changed to no one , has gone before, from the opening of Star Trek episodes. So madam has boldly gone to Rome sans archficial, and the Africa trip is pending shortly. Wonder why the journalists flight to Capetown has been cancelled?? She sees herself as the worlds answer to anything and l am sure she will display her narcissistic brilliantly while there. Oh this is going to be fun to watch!

As an aside, the HMS PRINCE OF WALES was taken out of drydock in Forsyth, Scotland. Some interiors are still being constructed. This is a massive beast of a sea faring ship. Check it out!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Wow! How do you do this dear PG! You take so little and turn out a masterpiece! So impressive, thank you so much! As always, greatly appreciated! Thank you!😃💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

Sep 20th, 2019

————————

66: sept. 21

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

MM Anon

skippyv20

MM ANON …The wedding r/deception … the bigger picture …… easy does it! but do it…… weasel words …… not an option …… a collection of miss-fits…… heads or tails?……… home alone 7…… A sensible emptiness …… “don’t forget to wind the clock”……… no public appearances …… a good WHO-done

The wedding r/deception

So, this variety of people gather for big wedding number two in less than five years for the same bride,,different groom. It looked like a political conference with the level of security and who was there. Why did they attend, as far as l know the paper said they weren’t part of the evening prepared, l didn’t see them there in the photos from that evening. They were at the wedding, why? If you’re all close friends why not go to the fun bit and socialize, have a few drinks and a dance. I’ll tell you why BECAUSE THEYRE NOT A COUPLE THATS TOGETHER, it’s a charade. There must have been some reason they went, especially l enjoyed the cheeky photo of Harry where he SOUGHT out the camera and grinned. That told this girl all l need to know. Something was up, and we may never know what the agenda was but something was up!

the bigger picture

When one says look at the bigger picture here, it means take a step back from your situation, look at pros, cons, what you have invested into the issue and make the best decision that way. Here l think it’s literal, look at the whole picture, who was at that we’d and why. I have no answers but l think that’s one option.

I also think this is PH, going to the wedding was one small part of his time with mm, MM ANON is telling us don’t yippity yap about who was wrong or right about them going to the wedding or not. I admit it freely, l completely misread the clue about the wedding. Am l still lived?🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂💜💜💜💜💜 l hope so😊. Seriously now, look at the big picture who set him up, what’s happened since then and so forth. I feel we need to continue to brain storm and put forth opinions here, this is fascinating and sometimes what we have talked about is in the paper the next day and l think wow! So let’s keep our eye on the prize and on the bigger picture!

easy does it! but do it

Slow progress in extraction from this sordid tale. Many many things have changed and been revealed l he is back to being called PH in the media no more DUKE🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂😂. There is so much negative PR it’s incredible and SS has only made things worse. So easy do it with the extraction but DO IT ! HMTQ and LG have this. The thing l fear presently is that speech she is going to give shortly after landing.

weasel words

Weasel words are words or statements that are intentionally ambiguous or misleading AKA word salad. That’s how she speaks, gobble de gook , just all kind awesome kind, yet kind but also awesomely kind, but kind of awesome, yet kindly kind. You get it, you know it. As l said , my massive fear is that first speech with the domestic murder rate off the charts, she goes in there yammering like that, there is serious damage that she could do. This is no joke, l worry about this. She on the other hand thinks she’s so awesomely kind that her speeches save the world and just her presence there will make things all better especially if she uses a darker bronzer!

not an option

Giving up is not an option. There were years invested into planning this and years have been invested into investigations. This must be allowed to play on as long as it needs to. They cannot afford to not pull out and follow every piece of yarn they unravel, this is too internationally important to just give up now. The general public is angry both at home and the a Commonwealth, its an incredible game being played but we have God , HMTQ and LG and PW and PH on ours! Let’s remember to keep them in prayer 🙏🏻💜🙏🏻.

a collection of miss-fits

Well l could say the stolen name SmartSets was a collection of things that fit a very select few and a bag, that cost more than the clothes that the fit on was terrible. The trousers she woke had a big bit of extra fabric right in the front lower area yikes! I do think, the almost inbred crew that was at that Italian wedding was a bunch of misfits. I am not judging but my reading tells me, her first marriage took place in Venice and was a massive affair, that marriage didn’t last three yearsish. Here we have a massive affair in Rome, l don’t get this flaunting of wealth. I just do not get it. The guest list, why are the Kushners, be it Jared or Josh always at any event? The connections in that guest list that was posted in the paper again reminded me of a genealogical family tree. This all so bizarre. Has she grafted her way into money as well? They keep saying she’s a fashion designer, l keep myself pretty in the know of stuff like that because it interesting to me. Before mm, l had NEVER heard of mn and her stupid white shirt. That’s her big contribution to fashion a white shirt? Okay then…..moving swiftly along…….

heads or tails?

Flip a coin, choose a side, you win or lose the bet.

home alone 7

Home Alone aaaaahhhhh Kevin!!! Love it, the sequels not the same. Is this now, the trio to Italy, the 7th time archficial has left left alone by his ‘parents’. Well yes l sure Nannyficial has things all in hand, in fact maybe they will Nannyficial to take care of Archficial in SA??

A sensible emptiness

Emptiness can mean a human condition is a sense of generalized boredom, social alienation and apathy, which means a

lack of interest, enthusiasm, or concern.

Sensible can be a statement or course of action chosen bearing in mind wisdom and prudence, and is likely to be of benefit. It can also be something that is practical and functional rather than decorative. Well we know mm is not the latter definition of sensible. So sensible emptiness, PH has made a life changing, mane lives actually, decision that night at soho, and here we are today. I truly believe this description of sensible emptiness could apply to him, HMTQ, those who live both, their families and all of us who are loyal to the Crown and love our royals. We know justice has to be brought to bare or is it bear, you know what l mean. So these feelings we talk about with our 💜🐼💜 and we share here are normal. We need to pray for justice seekers and truth seekers in all forms, they are doing Gods work.

“don’t forget to wind the clock”

Old clocks need winding to keep them running. To wind somebody up means to get them excited in a good or bad way. I think this means quite literal don’t forget to take care of yourself, PH, sleep, exercise, eat well, check your emotions with those you love, do what you need to do to stay fit (and oh is he fit,😁) so as the clock needs to be wound to function well, these things are essential to him being able to function well.

no public appearances

Amw will stay MIA, this is stupid ridiculous, but the lie has to continue. There has to be a reason and we must pray for PH , HMTQ and LG. Especially PH, he will have to maintain his composure. How they are going to keep this lie going l don’t know but l read they are taking 12 staff, that is NOT counting RPOS!!

a good WHO-done it.

This clue has a double meaning. It can mean a really good storyline in a book or film or tv really, that doesn’t tell us straight away who the criminal is but lays clues to figure it out….kinda like your riddles MM ANON. WHO is the World Health Organization. I don’t know if anybody noted the article l put on my blog last night or read it in the paper/saw or heard it on the news, this is a run on sentence for the ages, my goodness! There has been a spate of relationship homicide in SA, with 30 women being murdered in the last month alone. There has been a dramatic rise in statistics of violence. The WHO commenting means this is a severe issue needing addressing! With great dread do l await madams first speech shortly after they land, where she will speak on the topic of violence against women. This is a very dangerous decision with a lot of potential blowback!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Wow! Amazing….so appreciate this dear PG! Things are getting interesting now! Thank you so much!😃💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

———————

67: Sept. 22

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

I have had a massive increase in my sciatic pain, that’s been building since flu last week, today was brutal. But better now so l thought l would give the riddle a go. Please continue praying for me, l really am in need of it. Lots of love and gratitude 💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON … Azurelee Drive…… “ we are interested” … … between 6 and 10……🎼 California scheming 🎼……((wedding gems…… “ SA ‘just a fuc#@g nuisance”…… “£uck the press, we can do anything I want”…… “ I don’t lie, I embellish”))……” is on our watch list “……… “HEADS ‘ I win”…… a draconian solution … “when The devil drives”. 🎼 “over and over and over again my friend”🎼………(🤫🤫🤭💎💎💎💎👩🏽‍💻👷🏿‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️ when in Rome!!!!)

Azurelee Drive

Azure is the bluest of blues it is a gorgeous colour. As l suspected, Azurelee Drive is in Malibu, another clue to reenforce her long term plan is Malibu. Are there any prisons with an ocean view in Malibu? Maybe someone could let me know if there are, l am serious!

“ we are interested”

Again with the first person royal”we”. HMTQ is very interested in what’s going on. I think we are nearing some sort of climax with this trip. I have said this before, l trustmyngut, l have a very strong feeling something is going to happen. Perhaps the reason they flew to the wedding for such a short time, hardly worth it, was for her to use someone else’s computer to engage in a blood diamond deal? Again does she not get she is being monitored? Obviously not!

between 6 and 10

7, 8, 9, are between 6 and 10 literally. But l think this is the amount of time they spent at the wedding. They weren’t part of the party the night before, the next day wedding breakfast or the second night party the night after the wedding. Wow besties eh? Isn’t it awesome to have such great best friends?🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂

🎼 California scheming 🎼

This is a play on the song California dreaming, MM ANON has used this before, so it’s reenforcing for her plan to live there after all this is over. Yes perhaps in a dark cement building! Her plan, get all the $$$$€€€££££££ she can, set up her blog again and divorce rebuilding her life in Malibu was the last place l read was the mansion search. She is scheming her way into the marriage, during the ,arriage, out of the marriage and after the marriage

((wedding gems…… “ SA ‘just a fuc#@g nuisance”…… “£uck the press, we can do anything I want”…… “ I don’t lie, I embellish”))

Gems has an obvious meaning, which is also involved in this riddle.Gems can also be snippets like best song on an album etc. These are the gems of conversration/comments she made the night of the wedding. She really is stupid, has no filter and no judgement whatsoever!

” is on our watch list “

Of course, with the international security issues at , her past involvement with many, many individuals of dubious character during her yachting decades, and the current work LG has been doing l am certain she is on a watch list. Here l assume everyone knows what a watch list is, a person, or persons, group, or items requiring close surveillance, most usually for legal or political reasons.

“HEADS ‘ I win”

We had heads or tails yesterday. HEADS all caps, what’s the meaning? Who has HEADS and is the winner? I found one definition but nothing in all caps, heads a shouted warning that something is falling from above one’s head.

a draconian solution

We had a case, few years ago where l live, they wanted to build a casino in part of a local pub. Our city had a by-law preventing gambling and alcohol on sale in the same establishment. I can still see AND hear the owner when he was interviewed on the news about how Draconian our laws were. The definition of draconian is of laws or their application) excessively harsh and severe. I might add old law not updated. Many many places have old laws in the books that are never used anymore but still would be enforceable because they still exist as binding law. So LG and his team may have found just such a law or set of laws that they believe fit this situation and can be utilized to the benefit of the Crown. Oh please, please pretty please, let this be so!!

“when The devil drives”.

There is a novel by Scottish write Chris Brookmyre, with this same title. A dual plot, one a Shakespearean play being performed outdoors and a sniper kills someone, second plot a terminally ill woman wants to find her missing sister. The first is obvious, we don’t want that but security will be very tight on the tour l am certain. The second plot, are we being told there is a sister that is missing and still being searched out? Or is this nothing to do with the novel and the obvious meaning, once you’re riding with the devil nothing good and only reviled happens. I am inclined to think maybe a bit of both.

🎼 “over and over and over again my friend”🎼

This song has been performed and covered by many. The endless ways one tried to do things to be loved and keep someone happy. This is PH over and over and over,he is publicly acting this out, the loving supportive husband and “anything Meghan wants Meghan gets”. He has done such a great job and this has resulted in him taking lots and lots of media heat!

(🤫🤫🤭💎💎💎💎👩🏽‍💻👷🏿‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️ when in Rome!!!!)

Blood diamonds! We have had this in a previous riddle. Shhh, diamond, laptop, four workers with hard hats of colour. Did she order, or pick up her diamonds??. Or sell some??? I suspected from an earlier riddle blood diamonds were on the table for her, here l have confirmation . I am thinking with the use of laptop she communicated the deal and will pick up in Africa. Oh kids, this is getting good. HANDCUFFS CLANG CLANG,

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Fantastic PG! Things are heating up it seems! Thank you, we so appreciate all the work you put into this….especially on your days! ThNk you🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️

Ask Skippy submission

12 notes

Sep 22nd, 2019

———————-

68: sept.28

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

IT IS SOOOOOO GOOD TO BE BACK!!

MM Anon

MM ANON …… a slippery halo… … AFRICANT …… 🎼” you must have been a beautiful …” 🎼……… faux mother… no British archificial …… a crowd of booooos await……” so’ she Hates the bloody Brits”…… PB will destroy her thunder …… “ Malibu-hoo welcome “…… a $6 million drive in …… an uninterested Africa … PR pays for local hysteria … a white black imposter … well paid unimpressed mothers feel used …… “beef it up for Pakistan”

a slippery halo

The Halo Trust, the anti landlmine charity that a Princess Diana was such a part of and still thrives today because of her work . I remember 1997 , the land mine on the news, her walking, seems like yesterday. This is a double entebdré by our dear MM ANON. Harry has been slaughtered by the media for being a spoilt petulant entitled man. The halo or crown of the Prince 🤴 is slippery now in public opinion. LET’S PRAY FOR OUR HARRY🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

AFRICANT

Can or can’t, the version of cannot. Nothing has been good, happy, meaningful about her presence on this holiday, it’s not a royal tour. Just wonder what other stunts she is going to pull, because we are going to get another video of amw with oh happy day in the background music. By the way, is she paying royalty rights for using that music , the performers? Catherine cannot and does not put a foot wrong. This one cannot even put a hair right!

… 🎼” you must have been a beautiful

You must have been a beautiful baby, you must have a beautiful child! Singing as l type, great old song. Drive all the girls wild, l think is one line. He sure is a cutie, that’s for sure!

faux mother

As below, she doesn’t possess an ounce of mothering instinct. She can’t because that takes away from attention on her. This is exactly why amw was not at the play date.

no British archificial

So is he born in SA? Not royal, less than that not even British. Good God this woman is moronically stupid! Makes sense that he was in SA, that’s why the dolls have been in use, Christening photo, photoshopped, first photo that was barred by the palace from being used after June, can’t recall exact date. She picked this child up while in SA so she could throw him up in the air, climb up steps in five inch heels to copy Catherine , show off a real baby, who didn’t respond to her at all except when she dug her hands into him and he involuntarily winced. THIS US MADNESS PEOPLE!! This poor child, now his face is forever plastered. In one photo, l thought l noticed a strong resemblance to papa TM!

a crowd of booooos await

Oh Kuwait, l am rubbing my hands together, wait until the return to the UK! NOW the gloves are off, she will be booed and booed, good luck to her on any engagement or public appearance. Boo boo boo are coming. People are beyond furious in the UK and Commonwealth!

” so’ she Hates the bloody Brits”

This is PP, piping in his comments l oh Sir, l feel so bad for you having this to deal with. HMTQ needs your love and sumore than ever! Steady on Sir, steady on!

PB will destroy her thunder

I am so happy for Princess Beatrice and Edo, their engagement photos both the colour ones that Eugenie took, and the black and white ones, l cannot recall the photographers name just now. I was soooooo happy to see the news and what a payback for her stealing the thunder meaning spoiling someone’s excitement, on Eugenie and Jack’s wedding day by wearing that huge coat to stir attention to possibility of her being pregnant. Who knew how that fauxmegnancy would turn into such a mess. As does everything with her!

“ Malibu-hoo welcome “

Will she be welcomed with hoos or boos in Malibu when she just leaves once she has her nest padded, or so she thinks. I don’t see her living the high life in a mansion. She might check into hotel California but she may never leave. Justice is coming! The IRS will want it share of the 250K as well as all she has purloined. The US , l believe is the only country in the world where no matter where you live you still pay taxes on EVERYTHING!!!

a $6 million drive in

Ha ha, reminds me of summertime, movies st the drive-in, l think the place she will eventually live will be mouth many tens of millions, have the best security and the best staff. It will also require wearing of an orange jumpsuit or its equivalent!!

an uninterested Africa …

As l have written below, NOBODY CARES ABOUT HER, People are struggling to get by. SA has had water problems for years! Droughts, poverty, the sky high murder rate and domestic abuse, she isn’t even in the radar of importance.

PR pays for local hysteria

The ‘crowds’ on the tree stump she stood🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂😂 the great Plato sharing infinite words of wisdom and insight. The video with DT was privately arranged, paid for. People have been bussed in as paid extras so it appears she has people who adore her. I saw an interview with three regular women walk-in down the street, he asked if they knew of a big event, they looked at each other , nothing. He said royal, then they came out with Harry but not a one of them knew her name. Ooooooo the sting!The burn! I hope she saw that!

a white black imposter

Blackface used to be a thing decades ago, Al Jolson, in the first talking picture/movie made it famous, well it already was actually. White people putting black on their faces and pretending to be black to perform or at parties etc. Here we have the screamer of racist, troll, racist troll, her two twitters that l follow are.CcccRrrrraaaazzzzyyyy. She talks to herself, to Sam, sometimes tweeting from both alternately. She of the racist card, has spent her life identifying as Caucasian, her immense use of bronzer gets worse day by day, except it seems to me on this ‘tour’ her makeup is less, her clothes are dishevelled, she looks a mess. She is trying to pass as black so it’s fits her narrative right Sister?!? Passing, years ago meant someone of colour who appeared Caucasian could appear or pass as being white and avoid the racism. She disgusts me 🐍.

well paid unimpressed mothers feel used

These women who allegedly paid 50K to have a half hour ‘lunch’ with her, made to sit on the floor, which culturally is soooooooo inappropriate given that is done when grieving or in mourning. God please bring the Justice and remove her from this family right into a nice colour of orange, she seems to like jumpers or whatever they are called in the UK, that one piece thing she wore, so orange to match her bronzer which she has amazingly used so much less of, in the photos l have seen.

“beef it up for Pakistan”

To beef something up, is to make it stronger, better more secure. The Cambridges are heading off for a Royal tour, let me say that again, A ROYAL TOUR😁 to Pakistan. Security issues have been in discussions and this trips itinerary will be not be as publicized due to those issues. Now it is sounding like, by this clue, that they have had to increase the already planned security measures. There is always the possibility the risk is too great and things would have to be cancelled. That would be a disaster in relationship building but safety first! Remember Harry is #1 on the Taliban hit list and that risk is by extension a factor.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Fantastic! Thank you PG! You are right on your game! So appreciate this!🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

Sep 28th, 2019

————————-

69: Sept. 28

Is this a new thing MM ANON. Two riddles in one Day?🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON, ITS SO AWESOME TBE BACK DOING THESE🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

MM Anon

skippyv20

MM ANON …… second son walks alone … bonfires of PR. …… a great rip off … another archificial field trip… a home run …… a lot of backlash back home …… sugar coated photos……… “is it time to go it alone “…… “THE TAPE HAS BEEN SOLD” …… “ for posterity old thing”…… burying it with the rest. ……… 🎼 “ riders on the storm” 🎼

second son walks alone

Our Harry, walks alone, many in the public have been so critical of him, they can’t see the truth or haven’t taken the time to inform themselves. He is our Harry, l don’t care what anyone says, he is a man literally physically fading away, he’s so thin, dishevelled, being with her, l cannot imagine. To me, he deserves a medal for serving to HMTQ ! He has been and will remain in my prayers. Literally speaking he was walking alone in that minefield, or former minefield. What a metaphor for his life eh? 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

bonfires of PR.

I remember being in Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 for Bonfire 🔥 night as we called it or Guy Fawkes day . Old history about Scottish rebellion and a bomb being placed in parliament etc etc look it up, its interesting. Anyhow it’s still great fun in Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 every November. So MM ANON is using bonfires to describe the PR , basically it’s all explosive!

a great rip off

The fee she is charging especially that lunch just using people for maximum cash value. I am positive she has other side deals going on. I recall that last riddle l dud days ago with the clue being diamonds, workers in safety coloured vests, men of colour, a woman at a laptop. You remember it, lead me to think she is sourcing blood diamonds for resale. Everything with her is a rip of, all a grift, capsule collection, using people even a baby for her personal gain!

another archificial field trip

Oh as l said in the other riddle, we are going to see another privately filmed, ore arranged appearance of amw, l bet she is being paid for these appearances. I just hope his socks fit this time and may a pair of shoes, a blanket, a toy/stuffier and a bib or rag for drool.

a home run

Baseball, America’s game. Home run, hit the ball out into the stands, run all the bases until the final base which is called home base and you’ve made a home run. But MM ANON you sly lady🤣🤣🤣, you are not talking baseball. She is going to do a runner and head home! Be gone, be gone, go face the IRS🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂🤣

a lot of backlash back home

Oh my oh my, showing him publicly live in the flesh for the first time in SA and not in the U.K. has lit a match under a huge pile of 🧨 dynamite. She is and has been playing with fire. People are FURIOUS and they already hate her! I cannot wait to hear the boos. I think the English politeness is gone, as MM ANON has said in other riddle, she has made her bed or beds🤣🤣🤣, she must lay in it. But the sad thing is she doesn’t give a whit of care or respect for HMTQ, the BRF nor the public of the U.K. or the Commonwealth!

sugar coated photos

Oh the sugars have literal gone crazier seeing archficial , like Pinocchio is now a real boy, not rubber anymore but flesh and blood. No seeing what’s so obvious, no relationship, the child doesn’t know her, climbing those steps in stilettos , holding him, unsafely, then roughly, tossing him in the air, the look of concern on DT daughter she even put her own arms up lest amw get dropped. Oh heavens how tacky were those cookies, sweets with words written on them, banana-gate2.0!

“is it time to go it alone “

Is the her or him going it alone? I doubt at this point, if Harry ended it, there would still be screams of racism. I think she is padding her nest in SA and planning her post-divorce life. Good luck with that project Rachel!

“THE TAPE HAS BEEN SOLD”

The infamous tossed salad tape sold at last. All uppercase. I am certain either the BRF has it, or a good friend of the BRF has secured it for them and they have it!! Who hoo !! Happy day! 😂😂😂😂😂just reminded me of her abuse of that beautiful song Oh Happy Day. I really wish she took those words to heart, the second line is when Jesus washed my sins away. I want no soul condemned but she has to choose.

“ for posterity old thing”

Again our PP, speaking, saving the video and dossier perhaps for posterity. When you save something for posterity, it means you hold onto it, keep it safe because you never know when you might need it!

burying it with the rest.

Wondering did the BRF buy the video, and just keeping that and all the other things in her dossier burying it in the secret files. I highly doubt they will reveal too much species publicly. The marriage will dissolve as a natural course, she can’t adjust etc etc. The BRF and PH. Publicly have done everything and then some to welcome her, they are spotless in this!

🎼 “ riders on the storm” 🎼

The Doors, classic album. He died in Paris and is buried there, it’s a place to visit for many fans.This is a classic song but dark in lyrics. Speaks of home one is born into poor ie dog no bone, don’t want lyric infringement so l adjusted that. Speaks of a killer , a family dying in a car crash. Speaking in the chorus that a woman needs to love and support her man. Put these all together at , pardon the pun, but they are a perfect storm for describing what’s Harrys life has been and is. Lost his mum is a car crash, his wife born into grifting family allegedly. Certainly getting no love and support from her. Today, well yesterday now, but seeing him sitting where she sat, with the now woman who was the girl she comforted, him all alone by the tree, didn’t you just want to take him in your arms and comfort him? Tears now……

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you dear PG! I am in awe! You are brilliant! A very rough day for Harry I am sure….🙏🏻💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

Sep 28th, 2019

————————

70: Sept. 29

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU SO MUCH DEAR MM ANON, I KNOW YOUR TISK IN DOING THIS FOR US, TO SEEK THE TRUTH AND GET IT OUT IN THE OORN🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

Did l ever tell you all, l do the riddles from bottom to top? I don’t know why, l used to look at the Sears catalogue from the back too, l still look at magazines back to front. A fun wacky PG fact!🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂

MM Anon

skippyv20

MM ANON …… Cape Town closure ……bells and whistles farewell … on returning, a tour… an unpopular reluctance …… disinformation …… the fence that won’t mend…… club class flying isolation …… Heathrow paps…… no rest for the wicked …… “Hello Boys”…… “He needs a parade”…… “ not another bloody investigation” …… now D&G not H&M. …… cosmetic records!!!! O,no

… Cape Town closure

They officially closed the Cape atone part of the tour and flew out September 29,2019. I was going to say today but l know this is a worldwide blog so l thought l would put that in there. The itinerary has them leaving from Johannesburg, and returning to London. I am sure most of Cape Town citizens had no idea they were there, if they did, no one cared really.

bells and whistles farewell

This whole entire holiday has been just bizarre, her behaviour, a real live baby, was that baby really a boy or just presented as such. We all know the baby shower was for a girl baby, the BRF/LG so so so clever!!! Turned things around that it was a boy baby, that video of them showing amw to a few selected UK and US/CBS reporters was bizarre, at Windsor Castle. She looked so nervous, and PH said they grow so much in two weeks, the glare she gave him!! You know it, you all saw it! Will there be a whiz bang goodie doo? I think likely, paid, bussed in, waving goodbye. I have visions now of O showing up!

on returning, a tour

Oh my goodness, is SS already planning a return trip, as she has been showered with love and praise by thousands and thousands , the crowds have been massive and amazing , kind, amazingly kind, and kind of amazing! NOT!!! I hope you got my attempt at using her favourite words and l tried her amazing kind of word salad, so kind and amazing of me to be so amazingly kind!🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂

an unpopular reluctance

Reluctance means unwillingness or disinclination to do something. She is unwilling in any way shape or form to put celebrity aside and take on her proper duchess role. But this makes sense because there was never supposed to be a wedding let alone a baby. Using the word unpopular putting it mildly.

I do think this may refer to PA and his reluctance or downright refusal to be part of the F.B.I. requests for an interview with him regarding his friendship with JE, GM. and other things like VRG allegations. I do not know how long his refusal can go on.

disinformation

PR PR PR PR constant disinformation. One might use the word lies!! It’s been sickening to see and read in the papers. It has Albee’s thus wth her and it will forever be. Oh l just had to let out a big sigh because it’s so sad, and the baby ring used, disinformation about his age, everything about him is one huge example. There is nothing worse than using a child. Scripture says “Suffer the children to come unto Me, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven “ the exact is

Matthew 19:14 King James Version (KJV)

14 But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven..

the fence that won’t mend…

Mending fences has an obvious meaning, fix a broken fence. However it can be used as a metaphor, fixing a brook relationship for example. I think this is what MM ANON is referring to. Madam, initially when she came on the scene was ‘a breath of fresh air’, marvellously inclusive and welcomed into the U.K. and Commonwealth, and into the ‘family she never had’. Many , including PW had grave concerns. It didn’t take very long for the bloom quickly began to fade. There is ABSOLUTELY NO CHANCE IN A MILLENIA INFINITY! that her relationship with the British public, most members of the BRF, the Commonwealth and many around the world , can ever be mended. It has been irrevocably broken. Complete disregard and blatant disrespect for HMTQ! And a laundry list of grifting, disgusting behaviour, plus her complicated filthy past. No mending of this fence is even wanted, never mind attempted. GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

club class flying isolation

The return flight, again commercial l am sure, back to London should be interesting. She and her team, will again be prattling on about how successful and awesome the tour is, IF BY THE WAY, she and her smuggled alleged living diamond , amw, if she wants baby in London, or just leave is SA. and carry on with dollies. My sentence structure is horrendous but IF BY THE WAY, l meant IF she can get through customs. Do babies need passports, Royal Allegedly babies? Was he sleeping on arrival and she got archficial through that way. I don’t know how, strict customs are with royalty.

On the flight, Harry will be alone, not involved in anything because it’s all about a madam. I noted today how sloppy he looked catching that flight in t shirt and jeans, wrinkled, he has been wearing those ratty brown suede shoes the entire time. He suited up well though earlier and l an certain when he means the High Commissioner he will hopefully be dressed for it. I keep repeating myself, but his looks and behaviour are SCREAMING FOR HELP, HE HAS COMBAT FATIGUE! I am so worried, he’s wasting away, remember the interview when he was in uniform and something urgent was happening, he took off his mic and ran to see what needed doing? Remebhow fit and muscular he was? Look now, dishevelled clothes, those brown shoes😩, looks like he cannot sleep etc etc etc. I know l keep repeating myself but please LG, l know he is getting help behind the scenes, but our Harry is at such risk now, in his depression, l do worry greatly for him!!🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Heathrow paps

Oh my my my my my!!!! The media and paparazzi will be waiting at Heathrow, if that’s where they land, they might be cheeky and land at Gatwick or elsewhere. The media when they return and subsequently is going to be scathing!!!!! Again read her twitters, petal is in SA talk about the Sussexes non-stop but denies being her, petal calls her baby bubs has done for quite sometime. In SA, big reveal, amw nickname is Bubba ☺️☺️☺️🤣🤣🤣. We are not talking about Einstein here! It would be funny if it weren’t so dangerous!

no rest for the wicked

She had all her private things planned during this holiday. Yet she still manages centre stage by foisting herself via IMessage or Skype l think to be with the classroom where PH was in Malawi. All about CAMFED campaign for female education . She just cannot let him go, except when he could have really needed love and support, in Angola, the mine field, him sitting all alone by the tree named after his mum. Oh self seeking narcissistic behaviour, she lives a Master Class of it.

“Hello Boys”

I can’t remember the name of the film, it might be Hello Boys actually! It’s fantastic Bette Midler at her finest, set further war, WWII, she goes on tour to entertain the troops, she would appear on stage all gussied up looking gorgeous and sing for them, she is amazing. Great film! I wonder MM ANON are you relating madams behaviour to the character in the film?? Going on tour and putting on a show!!! I might be way off but that’s a great film!

“He needs a parade”

Support and love for Harry! Agree wholeheartedly! Yes he made a bad choice of bootycall that was his choice,who of us is without sin and can cast the first stone? This was all pre-planned, they would have kept at it, until it worked. I think he needs medals of the highest order for service to the Crown, HMTQ, his granny. He needs away time, months of privacy, therapy, perhaps medication, he ,Ishtar we’ll be on anti-depressants already! HE NEEDS PRAYER🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻. This is evil at work, it’s a nefarious web planned, he was shared in it.

“ not another bloody investigation”

What now? What’s the next thing? Well PA is in a spot of trouble, putting it mildly. He has hired a new PR guy, Jason Stein, former Amber Rudd’s bulldog, lost his job when she quit recently! The paper says he is a ‘master of the dark arts’! The same was said about SS. What are the ‘dark arts’ these PR people use??? Anyhow, there are more accusers , resulting further Epstein investigations in America. The F.B.I. are more insistent upon an interview. The palace statement and PA years ago when this first came up, were emphatic he had NO sexual contact or interaction with VRG. They are not commenting today, read the article in the Daily Mail, if you’re inclined. They are saying, royalty is not an issue, years ago it was swept away. Since the #metoo movement the world has changed. Many many famous men have been charged, Bill Cosby, many famous American media personalities, actors, Weinstein, . This week l was chuffed to hear Wexner been charged in connection with Epstein! If you don’t know Les Wexner, look him up. He’s an American billionaire, one of his many businesses is Victoria’s Secret! Buy from them, you give money to an alleged sexual predator! I am not recalling just now his other businesses, but very very wealthy men have been and are being brought to justice. PA is in serious trouble. The ,ore he refuses to cooperate and scream he’s royalty, he is dragging out the inevitable. Poor poor HMTQ, l just feel so bad for her!

now D&G not H&M

Baby Archie wore H&M to meet DT, which was subsequently marched and appeared officially on H&M advert and website l think website. Now baby Archie will appear wearing D&G. Dolce and Gabbana highend designer Italian clothes. This woman never fails to put a foot wrong. I don’t know if Archie was wearing it while she carried him to catch the plane to Johannesburg , the photos again captured through a clear glass walled corridor. Did anyone else think the ‘baby’ she was carrying looked a lot smaller than amw who met DT? Or was it just me? I would love a side by side photo. Maybe l am totally off.

cosmetic records!!!! O,no.

I am not sure if these two clues go together but this is how they appeared to moi. Are there records surfacing or in possession of the BRF and LG’s team of investigators that show the extent of work she has had done, especially since coming onto the scene with PH? We know something was up at U.S. Open, she had that invisible medical tape over her nose 👃🏻, yes l purposely use that colour of nose! We all have seen her nose appears to be collapsing, those darn hobbies can show up in real physical manifestations ie wide eyed , dilated pupils, agitation, hyperness, just read the twitters feeds that will show you bizarre behaviour, also noted the times tweets are sent!

As far as O, no…..PH is/ has reportedly been working with an O on mental health programs for a fruit tv channel. I have no idea where things are st with that. Is she going to come back on the scene in Africa. I know she has sponsored a school there, where there had to be some firings of l think the administrator , look it up!! I have visions now of her showing up for a surprise appearance with madam. Oh gracious, make it stop! PLEASE😩😩😩😩😫😖😖😖

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you so much dear PG! Seems much coming….Seeing your humour and wonderful personality shining through….is wonderful, you are BACK! Thank God for our Dear PG!🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜. Sept. 29, 2019

2 notes · View notes

chroniccombustion · 5 years

Text

Your Name in Lights

Genre: Trans!AU, friendship, warm and fuzzy feelings Rated: K+ Characters: Naoto Shirogane, Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), Kanji Tatsumi, Investigation Team, ensemble, the Dojimas Warnings: minor implied past child abuse Status: oneshot, complete

They waste no time after school in grabbing Kanji-kun by the arm and signaling to Rise-chan to follow after them, high tailing it down the hall into the practice building to look for an empty room. The moment the three of them are inside, Naoto shuts the door behind them and whirls around like a person possessed.

“Souji-senpai’s name day is May 1st and I need your help to put together a party.”

Your Name in Lights

January comes in softly, a direct contrast to the events of the previous months, and while it takes the Investigation Team some time to begin relaxing, the urge to fervently check the weather, to stare anxiously at the television on rainy nights, finally starts to wane around two and a half weeks into the new year. There is still an air of trepidation – after all, the first time they’d been foolish enough to let their guard down they had nearly lost Nanako-chan. The second time, they nearly lost their leader.

By some horrid twist of ill luck, the only good thing that had come with that two month long hell had been the 17th birthday of Amagi Yukiko, which was nearly completely eclipsed by the hunt for Adachi. The harried group had made it a point to take a free day after school, to try and inject some normalcy back into their lives by gathering at the food court and presenting their friend with a small pile of gifts and a cake, but the oppressive atmosphere hanging overhead had somewhat dampened the mood. She had appreciated the gesture, though, so at least it hadn’t all been for naught.

But all of that is passed now, left behind where it belongs in that dismal, frigid span of time called November and December, and slowly the month of January trickles by.

As it does so, it brings with it a small sense of peace, of accomplishment, and tentatively the IT begins to breathe out a long, collective sigh of almost-relief. By the time the month is nearly through, something vaguely like happiness has already begun to take root. Their mission is – hopefully – over, their friends, their siblings, their leader are all safe; Adachi is behind bars and Ameno-Sagiri lies dead in the rubble of the Midnight Channel. With Nanako-chan and Dojima-san all but entirely recovered, January starts to feel, if only a little, possibly like the beginning of something much, much better.

There is the faintest dusting of snow that glitters in the fading light of the late afternoon sun as it sinks below the horizon line. Naoto watches through the window as a few more flakes descend and fiddles with the small, blue-wrapped package clutched tightly in their lap. They sigh. Of all the anxiety they’ve had to quell within themself over the last few months, all the ready-to-spring fight or flight tension they’ve kept in their shoulders, this right here, this situation they’ve now found themself in is probably the most nerve-wracking.

Saturday, January 21st. Kanji-kun’s birthday had been two days ago on the 19th, a Thursday. Unable to do much with a day and a half of school still ahead of them all, the Investigation Team had decided to postpone their festivities until the weekend – which was how Naoto had found themself wildly out of their element, sitting on the floor of the Tatsumi family’s living room, tucked up by the low table with a birthday present taking the brunt of their nervously fidgeting hands.

They don’t know what they should be doing right now; Rise-chan and the other girls have been banned from the kitchen, of course, where Souji-senpai and Tatsumi-san have long-since disappeared. Instead, Yukiko-senpai and Rise-chan are piled up on the couch, watching Kanji-kun bashfully try and talk through the process of embroidering white flowers onto a lovely scrap piece of lavender fabric. He keeps stumbling over himself, face red, but the enthusiastic interest his audience keeps giving him seems to be helping him to power through his embarrassment. Off to the side of the room, over near the television, Yosuke-senpai is stuck pulling double duty. Every so often, while vehemently arguing with Chie-senpai as to what sort of movie they should watch once dinner is ready (“Hell no, Chie! ‘Fist of the Mortal Flame’ is not family friendly!), Yosuke-senpai has to reach over and snag Teddie by the scruff of his neck to keep him from either trying to slide into the lap of one of the girls on the couch, or trying to sneak off into the kitchen to “help Sensei”. Senpai’s ability to divide his attention so fluidly is actually rather impressive. Naoto wonders if it’s a natural talent or something he’s learned from years of customer service work.

But then that leaves Naoto. They sit there quietly, observing everyone from a distance the way that they’re so accustomed to doing – alone and silent at the short table, guarding the little pile of birthday gifts like an awkward, hoarding dragon. They don’t feel left out, per se, just out of place. It’s taken them a long time to wrap their head around the concept of no longer being isolated, of being friendless, but now, sitting here watching the rest of their teammates mill around the room, Naoto thinks maybe they could get used to this.

(If only they knew what they were supposed to be doing right now. After all, they can’t remember the last time they had real friends, let alone be invited to a friend’s birthday party.)

Thankfully, it isn’t much longer before Tatsumi-san pokes her head into the room to announce that dinner is almost ready, giving Naoto the excuse they need to feel useful. They jump to their feet like they’re the pulled trigger of their own gun and escape off into the kitchen to help plate or carry or set up anything their hostess might need an extra set of hands for. They loiter just inside the door, unsure of how to voice their desire to assist, and silently pray they aren’t already underfoot.

Souji-senpai spots them first. He tilts his head just so, asking a question without words in that way of his that always makes Naoto feel strangely calmer but somehow also like they’ve been electrified. They meet his eyes as best they can and answer him with a short, sharp nod.

Souji-senpai smiles. It’s quiet, soft like his voice when he speaks among people he’s comfortable with, and tugs just a little higher up near his eyes than it does with most others. It’s a smile Naoto has come to appreciate as one meant almost solely for Kanji and themself, for the only two members of the team that had been able to guess at Souji-senpai’s secrets, the only two he’d been truly relaxed around because they had understood him without him ever needing to say a thing. They can feel the corners of their own mouth lifting in response, a quiet smile of their own to match the one they’ve been given.

“Could you take this out to the table, please?”

Naoto feels their smile widen. “Of course,” they say, finding their voice at last as Souji-senpai holds out a long tray laden with tableware and chopsticks. They take it from him carefully – it’s a little heavier than they expected – and glance over to where Tatsumi-san is loading up another tray with a full setting for tea.

The elderly woman smiles back at Naoto over her shoulder and waves a hand lightly. “Oh just set it anywhere, dear. Kan-chan will know where it goes.”

Naoto dips their head and neck as best they can in semblance of a bow. Tatsumi-san chuckles, making a shooing motion before turning to hand her tea tray off to Souji-senpai, who shoots Naoto another quick, moon-bright smile as he takes it from her.

They return to the living room and hand the tray off to Kanji-kun, who hops off the couch as soon as he sees them round the corner. As the tray passes from one set of hands to the other, their fingers brush slightly, and Kanji-kun’s face lights up a pretty shade of scarlet. It’s… oddly adorable, Naoto thinks, and the thought makes their own cheeks feel suddenly warmer.

Kanji-kun moves away to set the tray down and Naoto leaves the job to he and Yukiko-senpai, who has already come over and begun to assist in setting out the tableware. She may be a hazard in a cooking situation, but she does now how to make everything presentable. Naoto will happily give their senpai that. They turn just in time to intercept Teddie as he rushes over to help – and no doubt try to impress the girls of the group. They barely manage to catch him by the arm before he crashes into Kanji-kun and sends a great many breakable things clattering to the ground.

Yosuke-senpai is at the table a moment later, grabbing at Teddie’s other arm with a muted curse and a, “Stop it, Ted, you’re gonna make a mess!” and yanking him back from the danger zone. Naoto gratefully hands over the bear wrangling to one more suited to the role before taking a few steps back and away from the ever-growing group of people. They sigh. It’s so easy to forget how quickly everyone can go from relatively calm to a flurry of motion and sound.

Still, they think as they watch Rise-chan saunter over to take the second tray from Souji-senpai as he comes back into view from the kitchen, it’s nice to have friends.

The party becomes more of an actual party and less of a collection of people stuffed into the same room sometime after dinner is concluded. Several people attempt to help Tatsumi-san clean up afterwards – including Naoto, Kanji-kun, and Souji-senpai, of course – but she simply smiles at all of them and forbids them from setting foot back in the kitchen. She tells them to “have fun,” shooting Souji-senpai a look with an eyebrow raised so high it nearly comes off her face. Subdued, he sinks back down into his spot on the floor with hunched shoulders and Naoto has to stifle the grin that threatens to overtake their face at seeing him actually act like a guest instead of a second host. It isn’t often that Souji-senpai is allowed to be the teenager that he is, (something Naoto is all too familiar with, themself); it’s a sight that never fails to makes something in their chest warm whenever they get to see it.

And today they get a perfect view of it, having been lucky enough earlier to weasel themself into the spot next to him before someone else (Teddie) had. Usually Yosuke-senpai would be next to him as well, on Souji-senpai’s other side, but today is Kanji-kun’s birthday and Kanji-kun had wanted his best friend to sit beside him, so Souji-senpai is now seated between Kanji-kun and Naoto – who have both silently agreed via eye contact behind Souji-senpai’s back to keep him seated and out of the kitchen. Yosuke-senpai has been ousted, forced to sit opposite his boyfriend at the other end of the low table and next to Teddie. He had pouted for a while, attempting to good-naturedly guilt trip Naoto into giving up their spot with his best puppy-dog expression, but Naoto had staunchly refused.

“Awww, c’mon! I’m his second!”

“And? I am his tactician. I got here first.”

Souji-senpai had just watched them both with a barely-concealed look of amusement and suddenly became extremely interested in Kanji-kun’s embroidery sample when Yosuke-senpai’s puppy-dog expression had turned towards him instead.

Naoto scoots a little closer Souji-senpai’s side and offers him a small nod when he glances over at their movement. He nods back, that quiet smile ghosting back over his features – along with a look in his eyes that clearly shows his minor disgruntlement at not being allowed to help do dishes. Naoto’s shoulders twitch in silent laughter.

Everyone is distracted a few short moments later as Rise-chan thrusts a glittering gold and pastel pink gift box across the table into Kanji-kun’s face. The bow is enormous and very nearly pokes out one of Kanji-kun’s eyes, but he takes it from her with a startled yelp and an embarrassed flush. He opens it slowly, taking care not to rip the pretty wrapping paper, all the while rejoining whatever conversation had been happening around the table that Naoto hadn’t entirely been paying attention to; too busy observing their Pack of Imbeciles with something akin to affection blooming happily in the pit of their stomach.

One by one all the presents are opened and all the gift-givers are thanked. Kanji-kun is clearly a bit overwhelmed at everything, unused to having this much positive attention on him or being on the receiving end of so many physical tokens of friendship. Naoto feels a tug of empathy just between their ribs, knowing all too well just how surreal it must be for him to be surrounded by people that enjoy his company. They smile into their teacup, hiding the heat they know must be spreading across their face as Kanji-kun opens up their gift and practically beams at the sight of the book’s title.

Advanced Knitting Patterns. Naoto is just a teensy bit proud of themself for picking it out all on their own. They have very little experience giving gifts to people that aren’t their grandfather; they’re counting Kanji-kun’s stuttered, elated “thank you!” as a victory of the highest sort.

Surprisingly, there is not a single gag gift among the pile, which Naoto had expected at least Yosuke-senpai to bring. (Although, considering everything that had transpired between Yosuke-senpai and Kanji-kun back at the end of last year, Naoto does have to admit it would be less likely now for Yosuke-senpai to pull something than it might have been before.)

Yukiko-senpai’s gift is a free night’s stay at the Amagi Inn – which is also extended to Tatsumi-san, as Yukiko-senpai had apparently recently overheard Kanji-kun saying he wished he could give his mom a holiday. Chie-senpai’s gift is a movie, of course, though not a kung fu one as Naoto might have predicted. It appears to be animated, and the cover has what looks to be an anthropomorphic rabbit with a championship belt around its waist, so Naoto is unsure as to what the film is actually about but they can’t deny it looks interesting. (They wonder if perhaps they can all watch it together later, rather than whatever Chie-senpai had originally planned to make them sit through.)

Rise-chan and Teddie’s gifts are little things – a cute yellow sewing basket and a fluffy stuffed bear, respectively – and there is a handmade card and a large spool of coral-colored ribbon from Nanako-chan. Second to last is a videogame from Yosuke-senpai, followed up by an invitation to “come over whenever if you want to play versus,” which Naoto is proud of Yosuke-senpai for. It’s nice to see them acting like real friends rather than the chilly distance that had been between them most of last year.

The final present to be unwrapped is from Souji-senpai. Kanji-kun smiles as he unwraps it to reveal another book, this one titled A Beginner’s Guide to Gardening, his face lighting up like dawn over the Samegawa. It’s a very similar smile to the one Souji-senpai reserves for Naoto themself; quiet and unguarded, with deeper edges and a stronger presence around the eyes that make it just that much more real than the ones he usually gives the world. Naoto briefly wonders if Kanji-kun has picked up on it, even subconsciously, from their senpai, or if it’s a brand of smile all on its own that only those with cracked and mended edges are able to give. (Naoto isn’t sure, but they think they might have something similar that hijacks their features when around their two favorite companions.)

All in all it’s quiet an impressive assortment, one that Kanji-kun is entirely deserving of, in Naoto’s opinion, and there is a brightness to his eyes as the evening continues on. It’s something carefree and joyful that has seemed long-since missing, something that should have been there all along. Above everything else, Naoto is happy to see this side of their friend; it feels like summer, this cozy, contented warmth that spreads through them as they sit and observe the people they care about, the people they’ve come to think of family.

At some point, as everyone is helping to gather up the neatly-folded wrapping paper and discarded, empty boxes, Souji-senpai slinks out of the room and around the corner to what can only be the kitchen. Naoto spots his escape. They mutter a quick, “I’ll be right back” to Kanji-kun and follow after their senpai – partly in case he needs any assistance, and partly to make sure the energy of the get-together isn’t taking a toll on him. Introvert’s intuition, they think, suppressing the amused chuckle at their own little joke.

They do indeed find Souji-senpai in the kitchen, padding quietly in behind him as he pulls a few plates from the dish drainer and wipes them down with a towel. Naoto watches for a moment, simply observing.

Souji-senpai moves fluidly around the small area, gathering up desert plates and setting them to the side in two short stacks. When he’s done with that, he does the same with a handful of utensils – drying them off and setting them next to the plates – before pausing in front of a line of drawers as though debating whether he wants to go rifling through Tatsumi-san’s things. It’s obvious how comfortable he is in a space like this, how much he allows his own mind to go quiet. Souji-senpai is very much a person that needs to be doing something with his hands, needs to have something to occupy his thoughts to keep him from sinking too deep inside his own head. His comfort task seems to be cooking, or even just some form of kitchen work like dishes or cleaning up. It’s a testament to how often in his life he must have had to fend for himself and how he’s made it into something positive instead of a lonely chore born from necessity.

For as alone as Naoto has felt in the past, they can’t imagine what it’s like to be surrounded by loveless, empty silence. Their grandfather is too kind of a man, too caring, and not for the first time, Naoto wishes they’d known their friend sooner so that maybe, just maybe, they could have eased the some of the solitude off one another shoulders.

“Do you need any help?” they ask quietly, taking care not to startle him. Alone like this, with the sounds of the party in the next room muffled by the dim light and the separating walls, Naoto consciously drops the “senpai” from the end of their question. It’s something the pair of them (along with Kanji-kun) have started doing ever since the events of December, when the footing between them all had shifted into something a bit more equal, a bit more stable. The word still exits in Naoto’s thoughts, yes, but only as an affectionate form of respect for their leader, their upperclassman. Aloud, though, when it’s just one or both of them and their friend, without anyone else around, they all simply… exist. Formalities are forgotten, titles and honorifics dropped, and for that sacred length of time the three of them find the ability to think of themselves as human and nothing else beyond.

Their friend turns his head to look at them, movements slow like he’s coming out of a deep line of thought. A light blinks on behind his eyes as he sees them in the doorway and spreads like a small, harmless flame sparking into a crackling campfire. He smiles. “Possibly,” he admits, a hint of sheepishness lacing his voice. “Tatsumi-san went to bed a while ago, I think. I… forgot to ask her where she keeps her cake knife.” Pink dusts over his cheekbones and his smile turns just the tiniest bit self-depreciating. He curls his fingers around the back of his neck – a motion of discomfort no doubt picked up on from Yosuke-senpai, mimicked the way that couples often seem to do. He huffs, laughing at himself. “It didn’t seem polite to go hunting for it.”

Naoto smiles back at him. “Would you like the detective to do it?” they tease – an action they’re still getting used to being able to do.

Souji-senpai ‘snerks’. “I don’t think that’s much better,” he says, but there is still laughter in his tone, so Naoto takes it as the return banter that it is.

They step further into the kitchen.

Together, they manage to locate the appropriate knife with minimal searching and Souji-senpai adds it to the small pile of things he’s been gathering on one of the trays from earlier that evening. Just like last time, he hands the tray off to Naoto, and then turns to open the refrigerator and duck his head inside. Naoto steps back to give him space to move but doesn’t yet return to the living room, content to keep observing for as long as they can in this liminal pocket of time.

Souji-senpai emerges from the refrigerator a moment later with a large cake box grasped firmly in both hands and nudges the door shut with his hip. Turning back to the counter and setting the box down, Souji-senpai looks up and seems to startle slightly at the sight of Naoto still loitering by the edge of the sink. “Oh,” he breathes, likely unaware he’s spoken, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait for me; I just need to plate this is all.” Grey eyes flick down to the tray in Naoto’s grasp, (which, admittedly, is getting just a little heavy) and the faintest hint of a frown begins to tug at the line of his mouth. “You can head on out, if you’d like.”

The furrow of his brow does something to Naoto’s own. They frown slightly in return, not liking the unconscious flicker of guilt they spot behind their friend’s expression. “I don’t mind,” they say honestly.

Souji-senpai opens his mouth to reply. Naoto speaks instead.

“I don’t.” They twist their mouth into a light smile, no more than a quirk of one corner, really, but it appears to do the trick.

Souji-senpai blinks at them, opens his mouth once more, shuts it again. He looks lost for a moment, like he isn’t sure how to respond or what he’s allowed to do – it’s something Naoto knows their friend is still struggling with, will struggle with for a while to come. Izanagi’s dungeon is a fresh memory, only a few weeks old at best, and it’d be unreasonable to expect Souji-senpai to come to terms with everything his Shadow had revealed about him any sooner than the rest of the IT had after their own.

Souji-senpai isn’t used to people being gentle around him, still doesn’t entirely know how to handle the knowledge that everyone cares. He’s so accustomed to playing a role, to holding himself in place, that when he’s faced with a situation in which he gets to be a normal person, he flounders. Even now, with something as simple as a friend waiting for him while he completes a self-appointed task, it’s clear to Naoto’s hyper-observant eyes that Seta Souji has no idea how to just… be.

Souji-senpai only knows how to be a host or an ornamental guest; the role of friend and found family member, of someone invited to the party and not just expected to be there on his best behavior is a concept that will probably take years to comprehend.

Naoto watches the line of their friend’s shoulders as he awkwardly transfers the cake (one that Naoto would bet real money he’d made from scratch himself,) from the box to a platter, likely feeling off-kilter at being watched as he works. Thankfully, his discomfort doesn’t seem to go any deeper than him simply being caught off guard, so Naoto doesn’t feel too bad about it. It’s almost nice; it means that progress is being made.

Still, their thoughts from earlier refuse to go away. Knowing what they do now about Souji-senpai’s childhood – or lack thereof – the idea that he has no idea how to be at a party without taking an active role is… worrying. There are many things it could say about him, and Naoto doesn’t like a single one.

“When is your birthday?”

The question is out of their mouth before Naoto can even consciously make the decision to ask it, and Souji-senpai’s shoulders are suddenly wound as tight as springs. Naoto doesn’t like what that says, either.

He lets out a low breath, not quite a laugh but not quite anything else, and resolutely does not look up from where his fingers have stilled around rim of the cake platter. He stays like that for a few moments, silent, until at last the tension bleeds from his spine. He sags a little, like he’s suddenly somewhere far away. His voice is almost a whisper when he finally speaks.

“...Not until after I leave.”

Naoto feels something cold and heavy sink to the bottom of their stomach. Oh. They should have known; nothing about Souji-senpai’s life has been fair to him, why should this be any different?

But Souji-senpai has already straightened up, has adopted the mask that he used to wear like a second skin but no longer fits him properly, and is turning a very strained, plastic smile over his shoulder to where Naoto is standing. His eyes do not meet their own, instead landing somewhere behind them at the space beyond the doorway. “It’s alright, though. I don’t really celebrate it anyway.” His expression doesn’t change, but the edges start to harden, and when he does flick his gaze down to catch Naoto’s for the span of a heartbeat, there is a horrible, bitter kind of sorrow lingering deep inside the rings of stormy-grey.

He shrugs. “Even before my parents stopped pretending to give a shit, it never actually felt right.” He tilts his head and stretches his lips into a thin line – the facsimile of a joyless smile. “Wrong name on the birthday card, you know?”

And suddenly Naoto does.

The realization feels like someone has dumped ice water over their head and they stand there as if stunned, mouth falling open in sympathy and horror. Of course. After everything that Izanagi had told them, after everything else that Souji-senpai had told them later, Naoto cannot fathom how they never put this part of their friend’s past together with the rest of the puzzle. Their face burns with embarrassment – both at having blurted out the question without thinking, and at having missed such an important detail about someone they consider to be one of their closest friends.

There is a gentle pressure at their arm. They look up instinctively, cheeks still ablaze, to see that Souji-senpai has moved to stand beside them with the platter held securely in his hands. He watches them carefully from the side of his vision before quietly moving his elbow to nudge against them a second time. “Hey,” he murmurs, voice kind. “Don’t do that to yourself, I know you.”

Naoto feels their face burn harder, though this time it’s for a slightly different reason. They forget sometimes that they aren’t the only one in the Investigation Team that’s eerily adept at reading others.

Souji-senpai’s expression softens and he offers them a tired, barely-there smile. “It’s okay.”

Out of their entire group of friends, Naoto has known Souji-senpai the shortest amount of time. They were the last to join the IT, the last person pulled from the Midnight Channel before Nanako-chan’s kidnapping, the last to face their Shadow and come back to the real world with a Persona at their side. But there is a reason Souji-senpai had named them his tactician, his third in command, and it’s because of their ability to notice what others don’t. There is subtext in his words, an extra, unspoken message that he knows Naoto will pick up on. They sigh as they decode it, and with the exhalation they let go of the threads of self-depreciation that had begun to tangle in their mind. “Sorry,” they mumble anyway.

Souji-senpai just shakes his head, lips tilting a little higher. “Don’t be.” He readjusts the platter in his grip and gestures towards the doorway with a roll of his shoulder. “Come on,” he says, “we should get back in there before we’re missed.”

Naoto just nods and follows him out into the brightness of the living room, the tiny, timeless pocket of quiet closing behind them as if it had never been.

---

February starts and January closes. Naoto does not think about the conversation in the kitchen.

March begins and February dies. Naoto does not think about how much they’ll all miss him when he has to go.

But then March ends.

March ends, and Adachi’s letter arrives.

There is the letter, a question, and then there is a goddess. There is a final showdown in the deepest pit of the underworld; a quick, cold death, followed by revival, followed by one last stand in defiance of Izanami’s false truths.

There is victory. A collective first breath of fresh, fogless air as the team emerges from the Junes electronics department to find the town of Inaba bathed in the light of triumphant sun.

March ends, and Dojima-san makes a phone call.

March ends, and Souji-senpai doesn’t leave.

---

It’s nearly the end of April before Naoto is once again reminded of the conversation that took place in the Tatsumi family’s kitchen, and the question that had sparked it.

The jog to their memory is brought about, appropriately, by their own encroaching birthday – which they had nearly forgotten about in all the chaos of the previous month and the overwhelming joy at no longer having to give Souji-senpai back to the prison of his parents’ house. It is Rise-chan that brings it up, catching Naoto after school and asking them point blank what they’d like to do for their birthday celebration, and Naoto all but balks at the implication.

It startles them into dumbfounded silence, leaving them standing there, blinking like a deer in headlights as Rise-chan good-naturedly giggles over having “stumped the detective.”

They genuinely hadn’t even thought about it.

They say as much to Rise-chan, who frowns a little and gently scolds them over not taking time to think about themself – especially since birthdays are “special” because it lets everyone show appreciation for someone they care about. Which, to be fair, Naoto cannot argue with; they’d thought the same about Kanji-kun and Yukiko-senpai’s birthdays. (They choose not bring up their own accidental hypocrisy to Rise-chan’s face and instead allow it to settle as a flustered blush across their cheekbones.)

Ages ago, when their parents were still alive, they remember Mother and Father taking time off work to spend their birthday with them, turning down any cases that arose until at least a day or two after Naoto’s birthday had passed. Those are good memories – ones that Naoto keeps safely tucked away inside a little box in their heart – even if they aren’t ones that Naoto allows themselves to visit much anymore.

In the years since, Naoto has often kept themself busy during the month of April. Sometimes it’s deliberate; sometimes they just… forget. It’s usually only when their grandfather sits them down at the dinner table and places a small iced pastry and a brightly colored gift box in front of them that they even realize what day it is. There have been a few occasions where Naoto has been away until well after the 27th has passed, so the sweets and the present sometimes don’t happen until a week or so into May, but there is always a phone call, always a card over-nighted to wherever they’re staying. It has been a very long time since Naoto has been made to think about their birthday well in advance.

(Then again, after witnessing everyone happily throwing Kanji-kun a birthday party and trying to throw one for Yukiko-senpai, they probably shouldn’t be so surprised that the same would happen to them as well.)

Naoto revisits the encounter in their head later on as they make their way home, turning it over this way and that and layering it over several things at once as they’ve done a million times before on a million actual cases. They think about their own history with birthdays, about how the very idea of someone other than their grandfather actually wanting to do something for them, with them on their birthday has become so foreign a concept that they don’t know how to react like a regular person. It’s almost uncomfortable, how disarmed they’d felt. And yet, allowing themself to picture it, a small celebration with friends, it’s… nice. It does still scare them a little in its unfamiliarity, but not so much as to overpower the tiny blip of excitement and childlike glee that sits just below the surface of the fear. A smile makes its way to their face and they let it stay, warm in the glow of the scene in their head.

The glow is gone by the next morning but the mental train tracks have been laid, so the thoughts stay. Naoto runs through them every so often as the school day passes, angling them in new directions whenever the lectures get to be too boring for them to pay attention to, and only really pulling themself back out when lunchtime rolls around. Souji-senpai sticks his head through the door just as Naoto is standing up to stretch the feeling back into their legs and holds up a bento, tilting his head in question as he smiles that quiet smile of his. Naoto wastes no time in following him out the door and up onto the roof.

They talk as they pick slowly at the bento, trading topics back and forth like a pair of regular teenagers without a single, supernatural care in the world. It’s wonderful. Naoto lets their mind split back to Rise-chan the day before, asking what Naoto would like to do for their birthday, and thinks, this. This is what would make their birthday another happy memory: staying with their friends just a little bit longer, being allowed to act like the kid they are for once, without fear of rejection or persecution. They think their grandfather would approve.

“Your birthday is coming up soon, right?” Souji-senpai asks suddenly, as if reading Naoto’s thoughts. His voice is light, relaxed, no longer deliberately controlled to be lower than it’s normally wont to be. Naoto considers it an honor to be able to hear it, even if they know it’s not Souji-senpai’s voice, just the voice that came with his body; it’s yet another little way their friend is comfortable around them and it makes Naoto feel good.

Naoto nods, still chewing, and Souji-senpai hums brightly, his smile stretching just a bit wider in a kind of gentle fondness. “Is there anything specific you’d like?” he says. He laughs softly. “I’m getting pretty good at home-made cake. Let me know what your favorite is and I’ll find a recipe for it.”

And just like that, Naoto feels their entire body go warm.

Souji-senpai must see how flustered he’s made them, because he gives another breathy chuckle – still not wholly alright with laughing beyond a huff in his body’s voice – and holds the bento a tiny bit closer. Naoto shovels a hunk of rice into their mouth to avoid responding.

“Sorry,” he says, still smiling, though he doesn’t really sound it at all. “Didn’t mean to put you on the spot there.”

Naoto side-eyes him as they chew, taking their sweet time so as not to give him the satisfaction of a reply. In turn, Souji-senpai gingerly picks himself out a sizable bite of fish and, innocently as can be, proceeds to occupy his mouth with it. (Somehow, the smile stays put.)

If Kanji-kun’s smiles are hard-won, a product of someone bringing out the rare, calmer side of his personality and the loyalty that comes with it, Souji-senpai’s smiles – his real ones – have to be coaxed out of hiding. It’s like convincing a feral cat that you aren’t going to hurt them, that you mean no harm and are worthy of trust. Souji-senpai only ever peels back the mask when the tension in his shoulders is soothed away – and that’s why, at first, those genuine, more natural smiles only ever came out for the people he was comfortable enough around to let himself breathe.

On the surface, Souji-senpai never seems to emote past the polite, default expression he usually wears. Naoto is trained to read people, though, and has long since learned where to look. Souji-senpai hides his emotions, absolutely, but he does have them, and to anyone that knows what to look for he is actually incredibly expressive. His face, his body language, the way he says things, it’s all based on nuance; his voice can go from calm and neutral to stony and cold in the span of a single word, and his shoulders and the set of his jaw hold most if not all of his tension.

It’s the same with his smiles. There is one he wears for the world – when he wears one for the world – and then another that he wears among friends or family. Then there are the personalized ones. Each member of the Investigation Team has a customized smile, as if Souji-senpai has crafted each one specifically for their intended person with tiny, minute shifts in detail that speak volumes in their silence. One is thoughtful and understanding, another is patient and encouraging, one is warmhearted and perpetually amused. One is even conspiratorial in nature, an almost unseen mischievousness that plays off its receiver’s nature as organically as water in a river. Each is just barely different – all are real.

But then there are the ones with an extra layer to them, the ones reserved for the handful of people that get Souji-senpai on a deeper, more personal level. There is one for Nanako-chan: soft and kind, laced with gentle hope and pride. One for Kanji-kun: bright and subtly excited, like he’s forever interested in anything Kanji-kun has to say and is glad when he says it without fear. And one for Naoto: quiet and knowing, edged with constant tiredness in a way that denotes just how much he’s able to let his guard down around them.

(Yosuke-senpai also has his own special smile, and it’s so full of desperate, all-consuming affection, gratitude, devotion, that it nearly hurts to look at. Naoto doesn’t think Yosuke-senpai even knows just how much emotion his lover has poured into that look, but it’s clear he cherishes it all the same.)

Right now, woven into that tired, peaceful smile that belongs to Naoto, there are threads of teasing, of causal happiness, and it belongs there in a way that only something a person has been deprived of for too long can. For a moment, Naoto wonders if this is what Souji-senpai feels whenever he’s with Nanako-chan.

It is in this teasing quiet that Naoto’s brain begins to take the thoughts from last night, from class, and turn them over again. It calls up thoughts of Souji-senpai, of birthdays, pulling and twisting until it unearths the memory of Tatsumi-san’s kitchen and the way Souji-senpai had held his face and voice and body tight like it had tugged at ancient scar tissue.

(“When is your birthday?”

“Not until after I leave.”)

Naoto’s mouth opens; their lungs fill.

“You aren’t leaving.”

Souji-senpai glances up from where he’s been poking at the bento, separating what’s left into equal portions. Eyes like river stones shift over to look at them, his head titled in minor confusion.

Naoto moves to meet his questioning gaze, bringing a hand to their chin, index finger over their lips – a habit formed from years and years of over thinking. “Back in January, you said your birthday wasn’t until after you left.” They tilt their own head to mirror his, watching as understanding spreads behind his eyes. “But you aren’t leaving anymore.”

Souji-senpai nods slowly, the corners of his eyes twitching in an aborted wince. “I also said I don’t really celebrate it anyway.” His voice is neutral, unperturbed, but there is a sour note to the end of his words – bitter and sad and resigned.

Naoto blinks, furrowing their brows slightly. “But you could now, with us.”

But Souji-senpai just shakes his head and turns his eyes back down to watch his chopsticks poking at the leftover vegetables. “I appreciate the offer, but…” He sighs. It’s a low, unhappy sound. “I’d really rather just not.” When he looks up again his smile is strained and his eyes do not quite meet with Naoto’s own.

Naoto presses their finger tighter against their lower lip, frowning. They want to protest, to argue that there are people now that want to celebrate with him, that will be there to do so if he said the word. But they don’t. Instead, Naoto keeps their mouth closed and their thoughts inside, even as they ache to shout, “we care about you!”

Because they get it.

They get it, and they hate Souji-senpai’s parents even more for it, for taking one more thing away from him that should have been good, should have been happy. They hate that there is a stain on yet another piece of their friend’s life.

The minutes go back to passing in silence, only this time it’s more sad than comfortable. It isn’t awkward, exactly, just heavier, and Naoto finds themself going back over everything again and again in a weird kind of loop – just like they do when elements of a case make no sense. It… helps, sometimes. Even if they don’t manage to suss out anything new, they at least confirm this situation to themselves, which can eliminate doubt on their end.

(“Even before my parents stopped pretending to give a shit, it never actually felt right.”)

Even when Naoto was at their loneliness, there had always been at least one person there to let them know they were loved. Mother and Father, then Grandfather; no matter how isolated Naoto had thought themself, they still had family. They were never entirely alone.

But Souji-senpai has never had that. Before Inaba, before Dojima-san and Nanako-chan had taken him in and kept him, Souji-senpai’s “family” had been solely made up of his absent, abusive parents. Kanji-kun had once described them as “fucking garbage” – a sentiment that Naoto was all too inclined to agree with. And it hadn’t just been the borderline abandonment, either, nor the blatant disdain they seemed to have for his existence. The worst of it, the part that had nearly broken him, if Izanagi was to be believed, had been the complete and utter hatred they had shown him in regards to his identity.

(“Wrong name on the birthday card, you know?”)

Little wonder he wanted nothing to do with the date on which his mother had given birth; it was the day his body had been born, not Souji-senpai himself.

…That’s it!

Naoto lifts their head again and turns to stare almost feverishly at their friend’s face, wordlessly willing him to look over at them and meet their eyes. He does, obviously confused and slightly uneasy at the intensity Naoto knows is etched into the crease of their brows.

“May I ask something else?” they say, keeping their tone as collected as they can in light of their new idea.

“Uh,” comes the response, hesitant and vaguely on guard. “Sure?” Souji-senpai’s eyes flick to the side for a moment as he shifts to offer Naoto his full – albeit wary – attention.

Naoto sits a little straighter. “When did you get your name?”

“My… name?” He blinks at them, eyes wide as he tries to catch up.

“Yes, your name. Do you remember when you first acquired it?

Souji-senpai huffs softly. His lips quirk upwards at the corners; a playful gesture despite obviously still unsure of what is currently transpiring. Then he turns away again. He fixes his gaze somewhere off in front of him, out across the rooftop and along the clear blue plane of the sky above. The playful smile slips from his face and becomes something quieter, nostalgic – reflective and sad but still with the faint coloring of years-old joy.

“I was, hmmm. Seven at the time, I think?” A cool spring breeze drifts by, sweeping a few strands of hair across his eyes and he shuts them, leans his head back slightly to pull the memory out of its carefully protected packaging. He stays that way for a moment or two, just breathing, and Naoto watches the curving of his mouth when he finally speaks again. “I had a friend that lived in the apartment building behind ours. He helped me pick it out.”

Naoto tries very hard not to be impatient. They want to hear the story, they want to know about the good parts of Souji-senpai’s past because they know too much about the awful parts and there needs to be something to balance it out. But they are also running out of time before the end of lunch, and this is important. They purse their lips as tightly as they can and do their damndest not to fidget.

Their efforts pay off, though, because Souji-senpai’s eyes reopen and he glances over at them with a wistful tilt of his lips. “First of May,” he says, and it sounds like the ghost of a long-passed sob. “He said it was fitting that I picked my new name on the first of something, like I was starting over.” Souji-senpai sighs, breathing out the last of the lingering emotion tied to the memory. The breeze returns and sweeps it away.

The both of them are startled out of the moment as the bell sounds from just inside the stairwell door, signaling the end of lunch and the beginning of the mad scramble for every student not in their classrooms to make it back in time. There is a split second where they simply sit there, looking at one another, before they both fly into action. Souji-senpai hurriedly stuffs the bento back into its bag while Naoto looks around to make sure they haven’t accidentally left anything on the ground. They sprint for the stairs a few moments later, side by side with breathless, stupid grins.

They part ways at the third floor, where Souji-senpai dashes back to his room with a wave over his shoulder. Naoto returns it as they round the corner of the stairwell. They hop the last couple of steps to the landing and nearly stumble before catching themselves, only half paying attention as they turn again and head down the last section of stairs leading to the second year classes.

Their mind is already buzzing with ideas before they even sit back down.

---

Ten days.

In retrospect, Naoto is exceedingly lucky that Souji-senpai hadn’t given them a date that had already passed, as that could have been a massive wrench in their plans if that had been the case. Thankfully, though, he hadn’t, and while there isn’t nearly as much time as Naoto would have liked to put their plan into motion, it is at least doable. Hopefully.

There is still a week before their own birthday, and then three more days after that until the 1st. It falls on a Tuesday this year, which is regrettable, but Naoto’s falls on the preceding Friday and they’re fairly certain everyone will want to celebrate on the weekend like they did with Kanji-kun. Which means that, unless the two dates are combined into a singular get-together on the same day, (which Naoto does not want; Souji-senpai deserves his own party) there is a danger of his celebration not happening until the weekend of the 6th. It wouldn’t be a terrible, but the 1st is a much preferable date.

There is a statement to be made on that day, after all.

Both of their friends stare at them with a mix of confusion and worry – Kanji-kun especially looks like he’s gearing up for a fight the moment Naoto tells him whom to throttle. Rise-chan’s eyes are wide and alert, zeroed in on Naoto with the same laser focus that Kanzeon has in battle. Naoto realizes they… may have overdone it.

Still, this is one of the rare cases where the ends justify the means and Naoto’s mission is important. They need their teammates for this in a way they’ve never needed anyone before. Taking a deep breath, they start.

“Souji-senpai’s name day is May 1st and I need your help to put together a party.”

There is a moment where no one reacts; both their friends stand there silent, blinking at them like Naoto has just been speaking rapid-fire English instead of Japanese, and Naoto has to quell the habitual urge to purse their lips in anxious frustration. But then Rise-chan seems to process what was just said, because suddenly her entire face is splitting into the most blindingly gleeful expression Naoto thinks they’ve ever seen – which is saying something, having know the girl now for months.

The idol squeals, bringing her hands up under her chin and clasping them together as she bounces on the balls of her feet in delight. “Ohmigosh, really?!” She presses her mouth against her knuckles and squeals again, the sound morphing into an exuberant, close-lipped cackle in the back of her throat about halfway through. “This is fantastic!”

Naoto feels a surge of relief.

Maybe this will be easier than I thought.

In contrast to Rise-chan’s animated reaction, however, Kanji-kun stands rigid, shoulders hunched nervously like he’s thinks he’s about to be scolded. “Uhm,” he starts, clearly still confused as he glances back and forth between the two of them with furrowed brows. “Hey, so, I’m all for throwing Senpai a party but uh…” He trails off, rubbing at the nape of his neck sheepishly as he looks back over at Naoto with a lost expression. Finally he gives an awkward cough and mumbles, “what’s a name day?”

Rise-chan playfully swats at kanji-kun’s shoulder before Naoto can respond. “It’s like a birthday, silly,” she giggles, the high of her enthusiasm still running strong. “Only instead of when they’re born, you celebrate the day a person first gets to be themself – like when Souji-senpai picked his name!”

“But… why not celebrate his birthday?”

Rise-chan makes a strange, gravelly noise behind her teeth. “What’s wrong with his name day?” she counters, hands on her hips in the start of a huff.

“Nothing!” Kanji-kun splutters. His face turns a vibrant shade of burning red. “I didn’t mean—! I just… why not both?”

“He refused to tell me his birthday,” Naoto responds. “I do not think he wishes to acknowledge it, due to it being…” They pause, thinking of how to word their thoughts without crossing a line they don’t want to. Souji-senpai isn’t around to hear it, obviously, but referring to his assigned gender in any way still makes Naoto uncomfortable in the most empathic way imaginable. “…Not… his birthday,” they finally mumble out. They wince; casual communication has never been their strong suit.

It must be enough, though, because Kanji-kun lets out a soft, “oh” as the light bulb clicks on behind his eyes, which slowly start to widen in realization. He is ramrod straight an instant later, the lines of his body sharp and tense like he’s been hot wired with battle-born adrenaline as he stands there practically vibrating with barely contained excitement. He turns to Naoto (who gives a happy nod in confirmation), before breaking into a wide grin of his own and punching a fist up into the air. “Oh hell yeah!” he crows. “Screw the birthday, this is way better!”

Rise’s smile grows impossibly brighter. “This is so cool, we never get to do anything special for Souji-senpai.”

That’s because he never lets us, Naoto thinks with a pang of sadness; he doesn’t think he deserves it…

The room goes uncomfortably silent. Looking up, Naoto catches sight of their friends watching them, expressions pinched and aggrieved. It takes them a second to figure out why. “Oh, I… said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Rise-chan nods slowly while Kanji-kun looks down and away. “You’re right, though,” she whispers, and her voice is just as pained as her eyes. She, too, looks away, casting her gaze downwards towards her feet as the light from her earlier giddiness fades to something bittersweet. She falls quiet again for a few more seconds before sadly, timidly, she murmurs, “Do you think Senpai’d even want us to throw him a party?”

Oh.

Naoto feels themself deflate. As horrible as it is to think about, Rise-chan does have a point; Souji-senpai had made it very clear that he wasn’t comfortable talking about his birthday, which was why Naoto had asked about his name day in the first place. However, even with the with the fresh exhaustion of Izanagi’s intervention months behind him, Naoto is aware of how long it will be before Souji-senpai is healed enough to be in a better place mentally. Just because he’s learned that others care for him doesn’t mean he’s learned how to care for himself. In all likelihood, the process will begin with caring only because others do, in an attempt to make his friends happy – caring just for his own sake will take a far longer span of time to kick in.

There is a very strong chance that their friend will either only go along with their party plans for their benefit and not truly allow himself to enjoy it, or will try and talk them out of it altogether. Neither choice is a good one.

“Well...” Kanji-kun says into the depressive silence, nearly startling the others with the unexpected sound. “Th-then we just don’t tell him.”

Naoto looks up at him sharply, the gears in their head beginning to turn. Across from them, Rise-chan does the same.

Kanji-kun seems to draw strength from their reaction, straightening his shoulders and nodding to himself. “You know, like… like a surprise. He can’t shoot us down if he doesn’t know we’re doin’ it in the first place.”

Rise-chan perks up like a cat, smile creeping back into place along her down-turned mouth. “Yeah,” she whispers; then, louder, “yeah!” And suddenly she is beaming, bright and eager with a newfound determination. “And if it’s a surprise then it’ll mean more, too, because it’ll prove we want to do nice things for him!”

A weight shifts in Naoto’s chest, cracking and falling away to make it easier to breathe. This could work. This could actually work.

“There’s still the possibility that he won’t appreciate being surprised like that,” Naoto says, because, well, there is, “but I agree. I doubt he’d be upset at the knowledge that we were thinking of him.”

“Then it’s settled!” Rise-chan claps her hands together and fixes them both with a thousand-watt smile. “Operation ‘Give Senpai The Best Name Day Ever’ is a go!”

Naoto just barely manages to stifle a chuckle while Kanji-kun mutters a quiet, “are we seriously callin’ it that?” under his breath.

They pretend to ignore the way Rise-chan smacks at Kanji-kun’s arm again in retaliation and instead turn to grab their school bag from where they’d slung it off to the side upon entering the room. They hide their amusement by digging inside for a quasi-empty notebook, smothering down a snort of laughter at Kanji-kun’s “hey—ow!” Once the sounds behind them have stopped, they emerge from their hunt, notebook in hand and open, and pull a pen from their jacket pocket with what someone besides themself might call a flourish.

“Alright,” they say with a decisive click of their pen, “what do we need to start?”

Rise-chan’s smile turns positively manic.

They part ways roughly an hour later, with Naoto’s notebook now having several pages dedicated to scrawled notes and party ideas. At one point, Rise-chan had brought up Naoto’s own birthday party – which was indeed confirmed to be scheduled for the following weekend – but the three of them had unanimously agreed that Souji-senpai’s party absolutely must be held on Tuesday the 1st. Luckily, it seemed that any arrangements Rise-chan had been making for Naoto’s birthday were already done and thus wouldn’t interfere with their mission. She didn’t elaborate – only mischievously hinted that she’d spearheaded the planning alongside Souji-senpai, and enlisted the rest of the team to gather on the chosen Saturday with whatever pieces they’re responsible for. All of this, however, Naoto had already long since guessed.

Their plan is broken down as such: because this is Naoto’s idea and because they’re the most knowledgeable in this particular situation, they’re responsible for the planning overall. Gathering the others, approving or vetoing aspects, doling out tasks, choosing whom to involve and whom to not since the concept of a name day party will require explanation; all of these are things that Naoto is comfortable doing. (After all, it’s just like rounding up the necessary resources for a particularly stealthy case.)

Kanji-kun had, surprisingly, suggested asking his mother to teach him how to bake. Souji-senpai had done so much to help with his birthday, and Kanji-kun admitted that he’s been wanting to return the favor for a while now. (Not only that, but also because the only member of the group able to produce anything edible is Souji-senpai, and a store-bought cake absolutely will not do.) Both Rise-chan and Naoto had liked the idea, and Naoto had even awkwardly asked if they could learn as well in order to help. With a stammer and a blush, Kanji-kun had agreed.

Rise-chan is next. Being the most experienced with, well, all of this, she is in charge of the finer details. She’d volunteered to talk to Yukiko-senpai and Chie-senpai about prep and potentially figuring out some kind of food situation, which, she assured, also included adamantly keeping the other girls from trying to make any of it themselves. She’d also offered to see about finding them a location to hold the party, (possibly the Amagi Inn,) but had agreed to wait on that particular front until after Naoto talks to Dojima-san.

Ideally, Naoto would like to have the whole affair take place at the Dojima residence, where Souji-senpai can feel safe and comfortable. It’s also imperative that Nanako-chan and her father be involved with the celebration somehow, even if it’s just having them be present, so throwing the party at Dojima-san’s house would just be the most practical thing to do. It would also give them the chance to help out with preparations if they so chose – and if nothing else, the team could put Nanako-chan and Teddie on decoration duty. Naoto plans to give Dojima-san a call just as soon as they know Souji-senpai is off at one of his part time jobs and well away from anywhere he could overhear.

Yosuke-senpai is appointed the job of acting as Souji-senpai’s distraction. No one has yet contacted him to tell him so, but none of them doubt that he’ll be completely on board.

All that’s left now is to start putting everything into action.

---

Shirogane: DO U OR TEDDIE WORK ON THE 1ST?

Yosuke-senpai: idk abt ted but i dnt think i do? y?

Shirogane: GOOD. MAKE SURE U DONT

Shirogane: WE R THROWING A SURPRISE PRTY 4 SOUJI-SENPAI & U R THE DISTRACTION

Yosuke-senpai: !!!!!!???????

Yosuke-senpai: just tell me wat u need me 2 do!

---

Shirogane: DID U ASK HER?

Kanji-kun: yeah she got all happy & pulled out gma’s cookbooks.

Kanji-kun: she’s teachin me the basics after school tomorrow. said to invite you.

Shirogane: I WILL B THERE. WHAT TIME?

Kanji-kun: around closing? startin after dinner I guess.

Kanji-kun: uh. she said to invite you to dinner too.

Shirogane: I WDNT WANT 2 IMPOSE

Kanji-kun: I don’t think she’s givin us a choice. ma’s kinda scary when she’s excited.

Shirogane: I AM UNSURE HOW 2 RESPOND 2 THAT

Kanji-kun: me too.

---

“Dojima speaking.”

“Dojima-san, hello.”

“Shirogane?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I have something important to ask you. It concerns Souji-senpai.“

“Souji? What’s wrong, is he alright?”

“No, no, nothing’s wrong! Forgive me, I didn’t mean… We want to throw him a surprise party.”

“…Oh.”

“Yes.”

“Wait, so… a party. Like a birthday party?”

“Yes and no?”

“Oh hell. Is it coming up soon? He’s never said anything, and with as busy as this past year’s been it didn’t even cross my mind!”

“That doesn’t surprise me, honestly; Souji-senpai has expressed an intense dislike for his legal date of birth. However, he has stated that he first acquired his chosen name on May the 1st, so we’ve elected to celebrate on that date instead.”

“The 1st, huh? Wow. That’s… soon.”

“It is. We would have started planning much earlier, but we all just found out ourselves a few hours ago.”

“Thank you for telling me. Souji’s a good kid, but I doubt he would have told me any of this on his own.”

“Sadly, you’re probably right.”

(A sigh.)

“Okay. So the 1st. Yeah, I can probably clock out early then. I’m going to assume that you’re calling to ask if you can have the party at the house, right?”

“Ah. Well, yes, actually. If possible.”

(A laugh.)

“If Nanako found out there was a party for her big brother and it wasn’t being held at our place, she’d never forgive me for it.”

“Thank you, Dojima-san.”

“Heh. After everything he’s done for us, it’s the absolute least I can do for him.”

---

Rise-chan: Naoto-kuuuuuuuun! I spoke to Chie-senpai!

Rise-chan: Yukiko-senpai was working earlier so she’ll have to call me back. But!

Rise-chan: Chie-senpai and I are going shopping this weekend to get party supplies~

Rise-chan: How did it go with Dojima-san?

Shirogane: IT WENT WELL. WE CAN HAVE THE PRTY @ THEIR HOUSE ON THE 1ST

Shirogane: HES ALSO GOING 2 TALK 2 NANAKO-CHAN

Rise-chan: Awesome!!!!

Rise-chan: oh brb phone

Shirogane: RISE-CHAN?

Rise-chan: Sorry!! Yukiko-senpai just called me back. She’s coming this weekend, too~

Rise-chan: She also said we could look for places that cater while in Okina.

Rise-chan: If we don’t find anything she’ll ask at the inn for a small dinner spread.

Shirogane: THAT IS MOST GENEROUS OF HER

Shirogane: I WORRY ABT SUCH SHORT NOTICE THO

Rise-chan: Plan C is takeout from Aiya’s~

Rise-chan: (Last resort is Junes but I reeeeeeaaaally don’t want to.)

Shirogane: AGREED

Shirogane: U R GOOD @ THIS

Rise-chan: Why Naoto-kun~ Was that a compliment? ;3

Shirogane: GN RISE-CHAN

---

The weekend passes in the weirdest, most jarring clash of furious activity and jittery stillness.

It begins the very next day at school – which is mercifully a Saturday and therefore not a full day, so Naoto only has to stifle their anxious fidgeting for half as long as they might have otherwise. It’s still nigh on unbearable. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the last class of the morning ends and Naoto is on their feet and booking it out of the room as fast as their platform shoes will allow them to travel. They meet up with Kanji-kun and Rise-chan by the shoe lockers and wait for their senpai to come downstairs.

They don’t have to wait long. Souji-senpai hurries over, freshly changed out of his uniform and into more casual clothing. He waves to them as he changes shoes, apologizing for being unable to stay longer; he has a shift at the daycare center that afternoon. Naoto sends the rest of the group a confirmation text the moment Souji-senpai is out the door.

The group meets up at Junes about half an hour later, all of them instinctively heading up to the food court upon arrival and making a beeline for the table that used to serve as their secret headquarters all those months ago. It’s oddly nostalgic in a way. The location and the company and the impending deadline make the whole situation feel intensely reminiscent of a time not too long passed – which is both a pleasant and an unpleasant thing for Naoto to be reminded of, given the circumstance. Thankfully, however, the reason for this particular meeting is of a much happier origin, though arguably is of the same level of importance.

They sit and pool their information, with Naoto and Rise-chan rehashing the myriad of texts from the night before. After that is open discussion. Decorations are discussed (with the strict rule that absolutely nothing may contain the word “birthday”), along with a possible guest list. Eventually – though they all know of several people that would love to come and celebrate Souji-senpai’s existence with them – they decide it would be best to only include the members of the Investigation Team and the Dojima household. Souji-senpai isn’t out to anyone aside from them that they know of, hasn’t told anyone else about his parents and the reason he hates his legal birthday so much, so finding a way to invite Ebihara-senpai or Souji-senpai’s friends from the sports clubs without giving away the underlying significance of the party will, sadly, be too tricky to pull off. (Naoto has their suspicions about Konishi-kun, but until anything is confirmed they aren’t going to investigate further; it isn’t their secret to expose.)

The conversation turns to food shortly after. Then to cake. Then to appropriate presents. All the while, each of Naoto’s friends looks to them for approval, for their input, and while it flusters them a little they find themself excited as well. There is a cozy swell of pride and childlike eagerness inside their chest, resting comfortably against their heart and making it beat faster with the knowledge that their plan really is coming to fruition. For what might very well be the first time in a long time, Souji-senpai will be shown the appreciation he deserves. Naoto has to suck in a long, slow breath through their nose to even out their giddy, quickened breathing.

Once the plan is laid out and everyone is on the same page, Teddie pulls out his phone, puts it on speaker, and calls the Dojima landline. They fill Nanako-chan in on everything they’ve decided; she takes her time mulling everything over as they tell it, asking a question every so often and throwing in her own two cents as only the most discerning of little sisters can. She has the final say, Naoto tells her. Nothing will be done without her approval – after all, as much as Naoto loves Souji-senpai, as much as the IT loves him, as much as Yosuke-senpai loves him (which is even a different brand of love entirely), Nanako-chan is undisputedly the one that loves Souji-senpai most in the world. Her opinion is not to be taken lightly.

They stay on the phone with Nanako-chan until all current aspects of the plan meet with her approval. The afternoon has worn on by that point, and since nothing more can really be done until the next morning the group decides to call it done for the day. Perfect timing, too, because as absorbed as they’d been with all the planning, Naoto hadn’t realized just how close it’s become to evening.

They walk with Kanji-kun and Rise-chan to the shopping district, where they part ways with Rise-chan in front of the tofu shop before continuing on to Tatsumi Textiles.

Dinner with Tatsumi-san is lovely.

(The practice cake the two of them manage to turn out, however, is not.)

Sunday is somehow less and more busy all at the same time.

Yosuke-senpai has to work, but on his break he messages the group chat several times with pictures of things he’s spotted around the store that he’s using as inspiration for his present. He also sends links to things he’d spent all night looking at online – including things like a new binder, which is sweet and practical and Naoto appreciates the thought behind it but also knows it’d be hard to get the fit right without Souji-senpai’s input. They politely tell him as much.

(They also know about the personal attachment Souji has to his old one, stretched out as it is after all the fighting he’s done in it, which Naoto and Yosuke-senpai both still hound him for. He’d almost bought himself a newer one at some point, one with a zipper, but he’d decided against it last minute and Naoto thinks it was less about saving the money for new armor and more about not being able to part with something so important to him.)

Yosuke-senpai take it pretty well, but follows it up with lamenting over the binder being his best gift idea. Naoto has to gently remind him that he’s dating Souji-senpai; he knows the boy better than anyone at this point. There is a bit of back and forth for a few minutes, in which Yosuke-senpai keeps insisting he has no idea what to get and Naoto reassures Yosuke-senpai repeatedly that he is, in fact Souji-senpai’s best friend and that they themself are no better suited to picking out gifts based on their history of quiet solidarity. Naoto knows their senpai is simply terrified of messing up, not that he’s deliberately being dense, but GOD it’s still ever-so-slightly exhausting watching Yosuke-senpai flounder like the anxious, love-sick idiot that he can so often be. Sometimes it’s endearing to see him acting like a first-year with a crush rather than someone who’s been in a relationship for nearly six months. Now is not one of those times.

Eventually Chie-senpai chimes in to tell him to shut up, and Yukiko-senpai suggests something that invokes a rare happy childhood memory (“Perhaps a book or an action figure? Souji-kun is the sentimental type…”), and Yosuke-senpai abruptly goes quiet for the next four hours.

Meanwhile, Rise-chan and the other girls head out to Okina to shop for party supplies – partly because they don’t want to risk running into Souji-senpai anywhere in town, and partly because Inaba, while charming, is limited in its selection. There is also the fear that someway, somehow, the gossips in town will notice what everyone is buying and ask. On its own, that wouldn’t pose a problem; the issue apparently lies with the fact that they’ve already been shopping for supplies for Naoto’s party, so doing it all over again so soon might pique some innocent curiosity.

There is also the added bonus of present shopping, as well as possibilities for party food that isn’t just the usual fair, so all in all it’s going to be a long, full day for the three of them.

Teddie drops in on the chat sometime that afternoon once his shift is finished to give them an update on his own progress. Earlier, while on break, he’d called Nanako-chan to ask if she would like to accompany him to Junes to shop for “groceries”. Souji-senpai had apparently been at home as well, and while he’d been reluctant at first to let Nanako-chan out of his sight, a well-placed “pleeeeeeeease, Oniichan?” had swayed him over. With Souji-senpai’s permission, Teddie now had at least two hours to help “Nana-chan” look for a gift of her own.

There was also talk of making a banner for the party, which was met with enthusiastic approval from Rise-chan. Teddie promised to let her know what colors they wound up choosing so that the girls could pick out decorations in a matching color scheme. (At this point Naoto is unashamed to admit that they are more than a little intimidated by Rise-chan and her event planning skills.)

Naoto themself winds up spending most of the day in the company of Kanji-kun, who has been looking through every pattern book in the textile shop for ideas on a handmade gift. He calls Naoto up a short while after Teddie has finished spamming the group chat and invites them over to help him narrow down his list. The pair spends a good portion of the day in Tatsumi-san’s living room, trying to decide whether a knitted cat plush would be a good enough present before Kanji-kun scraps the whole idea in frustration and admits that he doesn’t want to just give Souji-senpai something cute, he wants to make him something helpful.

They discuss the obvious choices – such as a scarf or a sweater – but quickly rule them out when it becomes apparent that clothing will require sizing and anything warm isn’t going to be practical in the approaching heat of summer. It’s a bit disheartening; the longer it takes to think of something to make, the less time Kanji-kun will have to gather supplies and actually make it, and Naoto feels powerless to help when the most they know about sewing crafts is how to mend the occasional tear in their favorite hat. To save themselves from burnout they take a break to order lunch from Aiya, grabbing extra for Tatsumi-san as a way of saying thank you.

It’s actually Tatsumi-san that makes the suggestion to give Souji-senpai a blanket. “It doesn’t have to be for warmth,” she tells them with a knowing smile. “Sometimes a person just needs to feel like they’re being hugged.”

Naoto spends the next twenty minutes doing research on the benefits of weighted blankets while Kanji-kun minds the store until his mother has finished her lunch.

“For anxiety,” says one article; “can help with PTSD and depression,” says another. “Good for grounding, good for comforting, good for stimming, good for those with trouble sleeping”; the list goes on and on and by the time Tatsumi-san has taken back over at the front and the two teenagers are back in the living room, Kanji-kun is already plotting out what supplies he’ll need to make one. A quick text to the group chat and Rise-chan adds his requests to the pile of things to shop for while the girls are still in Okina.

The rest of the time before closing is spent with Kanji-kun looking through blanket patters to see if any can be modified. Naoto does what they can, but aside from helping to pick out colors and running their hands over different fabrics to determine the most pleasing textures, there isn’t really much more they can contribute. It’s almost a relief when Tatsumi-san reminds them of how late it is and invites Naoto to stay for dinner again with another baking lesson to follow.

For as busy as everyone has been all day, for all the advising Naoto has done among the members of the group, they themself don’t feel as if they’ve done anything particularly productive. The baking helps – the second cake attempt coming out far better than the one from the night before – but Naoto has never been a person that likes to sit and let others do all the physical work. Assuming the role of tactician is familiar and easy; not immediately following it up with being on the front lines is something they still need to get used to.

(It’s worth it though. Souji-senpai is worth it.)

---

Monday marks the beginning of the countdown.

School starts back up and everyone is busy with their own responsibilities – family, work, assignments – and there just aren’t enough hours in the day anymore. It’s alright, though, Naoto tires to convince themself as the week begins to trickle by and their nerves slowly begin to eat away at them. It’s alright, because most of the preparations have been completed already (Rise-chan is very, very good at this,) and now all that’s left is the individual pieces. All that’s left is to wait.

Kanji-kun works on the weighted blanket.

Yosuke-senpai has apparently found and ordered his gift online (though Naoto would be surprised if he wasn’t also planning something personal and likely romantic for whenever the boys have a moment alone).

Chie-senpai, Yukiko-senpai, and Rise-chan hadn’t found anything in the city that they deemed good enough in terms of dinner, but Yukiko-senpai had apparently spoken to the kitchen staff at the inn and told them she needed help cooking for a friend. With as much as the staff seems to tend to think of Yukiko-senpai as their own family, and with as much as they’ve been willing to help her out with her personal cooking endeavors in the past, the likelihood of them having to use the takeout-from-Aiya’s contingency plan is blessedly small. And, since it’s a small event with under a dozen people, it won’t take up too much precious time from their actual jobs. So the timeframe also looks to be doable. (Naoto still worries, but they trust the skill of the Amagi Inn’s kitchen staff.)

Two of the girls had all managed to find their gifts for Souji-senpai in Okina, as well, though Rise-chan was inspired while there. Kanji-kun had told Naoto later on that Rise-chan had come by the shop and commissioned his mother for something, but that he didn’t know anything beyond that.

Lastly, though Dojima-san was staying mostly out of the way, Teddie had confirmed that he and Nanako-chan had managed to put their own gift idea together on Sunday. The parts they were unable to do themselves, Dojima-san had helped with later on. All that was left was the banner Nanako-chan had wanted to make, though they already had the pieces bought and hidden away.

For their own part, Naoto spends nearly every evening over at the Tatsumi residence, helping Kanji-kun with the blanket where they can and continuing their cake-making education with Tatsumi-san after dinner. The woman is an absolute miracle, honestly; she runs the shop, works on orders, cooks, and then patiently teaches two novice bakers. Kanji-kun does help with the shop, obviously – especially since Tatsumi-san is happily working double time on whatever it is that Rise-chan has ordered to make sure it’s ready by the 1st. Kanji-kun had said that she’d been positively delighted after Rise-chan had spoken to her, stating that she’d even tried to give their friend a discount (which Rise-chan had politely refused,) because the order was for “that wonderful boy that’s made you so happy, Kan-chan!” Kanji-kun’s face had been as red as the flames on his shirt while telling the story.

By the middle of the week, their test cakes have turned out pretty decent, which is a huge balm to Naoto’s nerves in and of itself. They won’t be able to get in any more practice until possibly Sunday, as Friday is their own birthday and Grandfather wants to spend it with them. They do feel a little guilty about being gone for dinner nearly every day for a week, but they’ve been on cases that have kept them away for longer and Grandfather knows how important this is to them, so Naoto tries not to feel too badly.

Saturday will be a no-go as well, because whatever Rise-chan and Souji-senpai have planned for their celebration is taking place on Saturday evening. Still, Naoto is confident that they and Kanji-kun will be able to make something presentable by Monday night. It won’t be nearly as good as Souji-senpai’s baking – or Tatsumi-san’s, for that matter – but Naoto takes a bit of pride in what the two of them have managed to do in such a short amount of time.

So really, Naoto had no reason to be so anxious.

(It doesn’t stop them from being anxious, though.)

Friday is a good day.

Their friends catch them – before school, during break, at the shoe lockers after class – to wish them a happy birthday. Souji-senpai invites them to lunch up on the roof again and surprises them with the seasoned-rice-and-tuna onigiri of his that they like so much. Grandfather is waiting for them when they return home, a loving hug and a small box wrapped in navy blue paper at the ready the moment Naoto walks in the door. It’s a good, happy day.

It’s made even better by the arrival of a long, thin envelope in their mailbox.

At first there is a flash of dread; the envelope has no return address and bears only the words, To the Wheel of Fortune, for the Fool written in neat, feminine handwriting across the front. The dread dissipates, however, once Naoto cautiously pries the envelope open to reveal a smaller envelope and a note. Folded against the smaller envelope is a greeting card. The cover of the card sports a blue and black mask with something akin to a sunburst behind it, and several more shades of blue in a diamond pattern; it strongly resembles the image on the back of the tarot card they use when summoning Yamato Takero. The material is nice, durable, expensive. It’s obviously a custom-made piece, and as Naoto warily opens the card up to see Happy Name Day, Souji in raised, cobalt letters, they realize just how specifically custom-made it really is.

The note is also on high-quality paper, and written in that same looping penmanship that the package had been marked with. It reads:

Shirogane Naoto,

I humbly request that you give this card to our mutual friend and confidant, Seta Souji, on Tuesday, May the 1st as, regrettably, I will be unable to attend the celebration planned in his honor. I have taken the liberty of signing my name in advance and invite you and the rest of your teammates to do the same.

Best wishes on your birthday.

There is no name, no signature to indicate just who this mystery mailer is. It should worry Naoto that someone other than the Investigation Team and the Dojimas knows about Souji-senpai’s party and the actual reason behind it, but the fact that it’s respectful and appropriate keeps them from being too on edge. That, and the image of the familiar mask on the front of the card itself both finally lead them to the conclusion that, whomever the sender is, they know. It doesn’t frighten them as much as they think it probably should.

Later that night, after their birthday dinner with Grandfather is over and they’ve gone their separate ways to bed, Naoto pulls the strange card back out and examines it under their bedside lamp. There in the corner, down at the bottom where their fingers had covered before, is a scrawl of metallic gold ink that simply says, –Margaret.

---

Naoto’s birthday celebration turns out to be a late-afternoon picnic at the Samegawa.

Rise-chan and Souji-senpai, it seems, had both agreed that anything larger, anything in an area with or involving more people would probably not be the most comfortable of situations for Naoto to sit through. However, since they’d wanted to do something slightly different that the dinner party they’d had for Kanji-kun, which had also given Tatsumi-san a chance to be involved with her son’s get-together, they’d decided on this instead. They had even come up with a secondary plan in case the weather had been against them, though with the bright sun and the warm wind, it obviously wasn’t needed. They smile at one another in that vaguely unnerving, silent, conspiratorial exchange of theirs and Naoto finds they just don’t have the courage to ask what their back up plan had been.

(Rise-chan and Souji-senpai working in any sort of collaboration is a special kind of powerful that borders on terrifying. Naoto doesn’t think a mere mortal such as themself would survive a full demonstration.)

Some of the food is store-bought, or was made with boxed ingredients, but Naoto genuinely does not mind. In fact, they prefer it that way somewhat, considering the culinary skills of the entire group combined is rudimentary at best. Kanji-kun, however, does come with a homemade offering – which he apparently did mostly on his own with Tatsumi-san only stepping in once or twice to give him advice as she supervised. Naoto does not attempt to hide their pride in him, and is rewarded for their own pink-faced compliments with a splutter and a blush so deep that Rise-chan jokes Kanji-kun could get part-time work as a traffic light.

Souji-senpai, of course, comes with not only a decently large spread of his own but also cake. (No one has to ask if he made it himself; even when the world was quite literally about to end at the hands of a creation goddess, Souji-senpai still only ever made everything entirely from scratch.) He brings two large bags with him – one with cold food he’d made and left to chill the night before, and one he’d gotten up early that morning to prepare and then quickly put into insulated containers to keep it reasonably warm. Naoto is both impressed and not at all surprised with any of this information, and they tell him so with a tiny, cheeky quirk of their lips. Souji-senpai simply chuckles and offers Naoto the smile that is just for them. He shows affection through his cooking, by giving a little piece of himself away with every bit of food he makes for others. It’s subtle, but hard to miss, and it always makes Naoto feel cozy and bright whenever it’s directed at them.

The Team piles up on several picnic blankets all thrown together and held in place by packages of food and sit together in one big lump, Souji-senpai’s cake sat squarely in the middle. They talk, laugh, watch the lowering sunlight as it goes to kiss at the edge of the water; it’s wonderful. Naoto beams below the brim of their hat, face colored with a flush of happiness as they let their found-family shower them in attention. It’s something they can’t remember ever really having, at least not for ages, and while it’s different and new it’s also absolutely perfect – as if there had been a shard missing from somewhere deep in Naoto’s chest that many hands have now helped to fill.

The sunlight fades to a dusty gold at the line of the river, reflecting back the elongating shadows of early evening’s arrival. It isn’t yet dusk, the sky not dark enough to be considered so, but it’s getting close. In the past, Naoto has never cared much for twilight. The diffused amber light always used to make them slightly anxious, reminded them that yet another day had come to a close and left them feeling stagnant and stuck. Now, though, with their favorite people surrounding them, they think maybe the glow along the horizon might not be such a bad thing after all.

It’s getting closer to the darker side of day’s end, a couple of hours into the celebration when the cake has been devoured and the presents all opened, that Naoto finds themself sitting closer to the bank and watching the miniature waves that curl along the river’s surface. The motions are gentle, like the soft caress of a hand, and a sense of calm has washed over them as they stare at the last rays of sunlight glittering across the top of the water. Their friends have taken to gathering up the leftovers, putting away the boxes, packing up anything that might get lost in the dark when the sun finally goes all the way down. Naoto had tried to help, of course, seeing as how everyone had gone to the trouble of throwing them a party, the least they could do is help clean up, but they’d quickly been shooed away.

So they sit. And watch the river. And tuck their knees up to their chest with their chin resting comfortably atop them. They listen to the sounds of their friends up behind them as the group moves about but keep their ears unfocused to anything but the sound of the Samegawa. It’s because of this distraction, this peaceful suspension as the light grows low, that Naoto nearly misses the rustling of the grass as Souji-senpai comes to sit beside them.

“How did you like it?” he asks softy.

Naoto turns their head to look at him; he’s facing the water just like they were, with his face framed in soft edges and tranquil contentment. It’s a good look on him.

They hum. “It was lovely, thank you.” Naoto’s lips curve in a slow smile, which Souji-senpai returns even before he moves to face them. Their smile widens. “When Rise-chan asked me what I wanted to do for today, I would never have thought of this, even if I’d had an answer at the time.” They chuckle and shift their gaze back towards the horizon, the dance of the gold on the river shining just at the edge of their line of sight. “I’ve never… done this,” they confess, tucking their chin lower against their knees. “I’ve never really had any friends to do this with. So… thank you.”

Souji-senpai huffs softly – a happy sound that nearly becomes an answering hum of his own. “I wish we’d met sooner then.” He shifts his legs to stretch them out in front of him and leans back on his hands against the grass.

They both stay quiet for a time, Naoto watching the fading light and Souji-senpai watching them with patient eyes. Eventually he turns fully back toward the river and says, in a whisper nearly swallowed by the breeze, “For what it’s worth, I think we would have been pretty good friends as kids…”

Naoto feels their breath stutter and catch in their throat, and their vision blurs hot with sentimental tears. They cannot speak past the swell of unnamable emotion in their chest, warm and fluffy and desperate in its yearning for a different life with a different childhood. I want that, they think, but the words refuse to come; I wish we’d had that…

They cannot answer, so they simply nod.

That night, after everyone has gone home and Naoto sits alone in their bedroom with Grandfather fast asleep down the hall, they go to their bookcase and pull an old, well-worn volume with a cracking canvas spine from its place on the highest shelf. There is a moment of mental debate, where Naoto carefully flips open the dusty cover and reads the words they’d loved so much as a child, before they close it again one final time. It’s served them well, given them joy and comfort when they’d needed it; now, it can go to someone else, someone that might have loved it as much as they did in years long passed.

They slip the book into a pretty paper gift bag they’d purchased the day before and gently tuck a handful of silvery tissue paper in around the ageing book. There is a small part of them that is sad to see it go, but it is eclipsed by the softer, fuller feeling still lingering in Naoto’s chest from Souji-senpai’s words at the riverbank. They know, (or they would like to think) that their childhood self would understand, and would whole-heartedly approve.

Naoto sets the gift bag on the edge of their desk where it won’t be forgotten and reaches for their phone to cancel the order they’d placed online the other day. They don’t need it anymore – not when something much more meaningful now rests inside the bag meant for their closest friend.

They fall asleep a short while later, slipping into peaceful dreams of alternate timelines where seven familiar figures join them on the grass of their favorite childhood playground, and a quiet boy with storm-cloud eyes asks them if they want to play.

---

Naoto meets with Kanji-kun on Sunday for one last round of baking practice. The two of them politely decline Tatsumi-san’s offer to observe their efforts – if ever they were going to try and do this on their own, now would be the time. Tatsumi-san gives them a knowing, proud smile and tells them to call for her should they need anything, then slips away into the depths of the house to put the finishing touches on Rise-chan’s order.

So they take their time, moving carefully and reading the directions twice over before completing each step. Tonight it crucial; it’s the first time they’ve made a full-scale cake, rather then the individual-sized ones they’d been producing all week in order to save space and ingredients, and thus it is the first time they’ve used a recipe that requires more from them. If they fail tonight, then they will need to double their efforts tomorrow – Monday is all they will have left after this.

Early into the learning process, several days back, they had agreed that anything too complicated or overly ambitious was going to be out of their depth. They keep it simple, with minimal decoration (that’s what the banner and the rest of the party decorations are for) and an easy, traditional flavor. The only thing extra that they plan to add is a strategically placed spattering of colorful sugar flowers that had been purchased from a small bakery in town. The package sits off to the side, waiting.

When the cake is pulled from the oven and has sat long enough to cool, when the icing is on and as smooth as they can get it, they call Tatsumi-san into the kitchen to appraise the results. She smiles at them as she tries it, wide and kind, and in a soft voice that Naoto thinks their own mother might have used oh so long ago, Tatsumi-san tells them both that it’s perfect.

---

Monday comes and Monday goes. Souji-senpai goes to work at his job at the daycare center, leaving everyone free to stop by the Dojima residence to drop off anything they feel comfortable leaving hidden in a downstairs closet that doesn’t get much use in the summer. Presents are stored, anything non-perishable is tucked away out of sight, decorations and paper supplies are left until tomorrow. Nanako-chan and Teddie map out where they want everything to go and show off the banner they’d finally had the chance to finish making with Dojima-san’s help. Afterwards, Naoto follows Kanji-kun home to take one final stab at baking.

The blue and violet sugar flowers look beautiful against the icing’s stark, vibrant white.

---

Tuesday.

Naoto barely sleeps the night before, too busy going over and over and over everything in their mind long into the early hours of the morning. As a result, they find it nearly impossible to concentrate during class. They fidget with their pencil, bounce their leg unconsciously beneath their desk. It isn’t noticeable enough to draw any attention, but it’s enough to keep them distracted in and of itself. By the time lunch rolls around, they’ve barely managed to take any notes at all.

After school is even worse. Yukiko-senpai and Chie-senpai meet up with Naoto in the stairwell, where Yukiko-senpai whispers that they’re on their way to stop by the inn and pick up the finished dinner before heading over to the Dojima house to help set up. Chie-senpai adds that Souji-senpai is still upstairs in the classroom, being stalled by his boyfriend as Yosuke-senpai does his best to keep their leader’s attention on him. (Not that Yosuke-senpai has to try very hard in that respect.)

Naoto nods, perhaps a bit more animatedly than necessary, and hurriedly waves them on ahead. When Naoto gets to the ground floor and sees no sign of anyone else, they hang back near the bulletin board by the front entrance and pretend to peruse the various papers pinned to it while keeping an eye out for the rest of their friends.

Kanji-kun finds them next, and he confirms that neither of their remaining senpai have passed him on the stairs. He waits with them, also trying to calm a thundering heart rate without making it obvious, until Rise-chan makes her way down. She and Kanji-kun leave together in the direction of the textile shop – Rise-chan to pick up her order, and Kanji-kun to grab the cake before they, too, join the others at Dojima-san’s. Naoto watches them go.

Their phone buzzes in their pocket a moment or so later, a new message in the group chat winking up at them.

Yosuke-senpai: takin prtnr back 2 my place 2 hang out. som1 txt me when ur ready

Naoto snorts quietly to themself at that. Not very subtle, they think, because really – if Souji-senpai doesn’t show up later with hickies dotting his neck then Naoto will be thoroughly surprised. (Still, better than taking Souji-senpai on a date and running the risk of taking too long or leaving their leader too burnt out to enjoy his own party.)

Sending off a quick reply, Naoto takes this as their cue to leave. They change out of their indoor shoes and quickly slip out the door before the pair of boys can make it down and spot them loitering.

Naoto arrives at the Dojima house before most of the rest of them – save for Teddie, who had headed out early to walk Nanako-chan home from school. The two of them are halfway through dragging everything out of the closet when Naoto gets there, the low table in the living room already piled high with all the gifts that had been left there the night before. Naoto spares a second to pull the strange blue greeting card – which now bears the signature of every member of the IT, plus Nanako-chan and her father – from the gift bag where Naoto had tucked it away for safe keeping. They set it on the table near the front of the pile, where the deep, shimmering blue of the envelope can be seen amongst the other colorful wrappings. That done, Naoto lets themself be pulled in the direction of the closet to help dig everything else out.

It’s only a short time later that Kanji-kun and Rise-chan arrive. Nanako-chan giggles over how pretty the cake is as she helps Kanji-kun put it away in the refrigerator. Rise-chan, meanwhile, sets down the large paper box she’d carried in and begins to rifle through the supplies from the closet for the roll of wrapping paper she’d stored just for this purpose. Naoto goes and sits with her when Rise-chan calls them over and together they manage to wrangle the box into its shiny pastel wrappings in record time. Nanako-chan stands off to the side and watches them excitedly for a moment before turning her attention back towards where Kanji-kun is helping Teddie to hang the banner. She calls out instructions until both sides are perfectly even.

The five of them are tackling the rest of the decorations when Yukiko-senpai and Chie-senpai finally knock on the door. Rise-chan helps to clear away space on the kitchen table as their senpai start unpacking what they can from the three giant bags of food containers brought from the Amagi Inn. Anything that won’t need to be heated up in any way goes directly on the table; everything else is set off to the side of the kitchen for the time being. Eventually Dojima-san joins them – much to the elation of Nanako-chan, whom Naoto is certain still has minor trust issues when it comes to her father and his work schedule. He greets them all, hugging his exuberant daughter and ruffling her hair, and then promptly gets out of the way with a promise to help should they need him.

The preparations are nearly complete when the members of the group all swap places. Kanji-kun and Naoto take over in the kitchen to get the last of the food warmed up with Nanako-chan’s assistance. Rise-can and the rest of the girls rearrange the presents over by the sliding glass door to make more room to sit at the low table, since Rise-chan’s gift is a bit too large and hard to display in the small space. They carefully lay the card on top of the pile.

Finally, finally, with the sun drifting lower into late afternoon and striping the living room in soft, dusty light through the curtains, Naoto sends Yosuke-senpai a text to let him know they’re ready. He texts them back to confirm that he and Souji-senpai are on their way.

“Alright,” Naoto breathes into the room full of waiting faces. They feel their heart fluttering inside their ribcage like a butterfly’s wings, their lungs suddenly pulling in twice as much air and yet still not filling nearly enough to quell Naoto’s shaking hands. “We have fifteen minutes.”

Oh my god, they think with only a touch of adrenaline-spiked mania. We’re doing this. We pulled this off. And as they watch their friends, their teammates, the people that mean the world to Souji-senpai scurrying about, looking for places to linger to wait for him to arrive, Naoto can only tell themself that they’ve done all they can. The whispering voice of doubt tries to titter and hiss in the back of their mind that their efforts aren’t good enough, that they haven’t done enough; Naoto squares their shoulders and tells the voice to kindly shut the hell up.

Deep breaths.

“Everybody ready?”

A quiet chorus of affirmation is the response.

Calm washes over them out of nowhere like a warm summer breeze – Yamato Takeru humming gently inside their soul. They nod. “Good.”

Naoto switches off the lights and steps back away from the door to stand under the banner with their friends. Not even two minutes later there is the sound of keys being inserted into the lock, and a familiar pair of voices reaches them from just outside the door.

---

“I… guess no one’s home yet…”

“Guess not.”

There is a pause as the lock turns and the grating click of metal echoes in the silent space of the living room. The handle turns.

“Hey,” Yosuke-senpai’s voice comes again, muffled by the wood of the door that still hasn’t opened. “You okay?”

There is another, shorter pause. Then, softly, “Yeah, I just… The dark still messes with me a little bit.”

Naoto tenses, holding their breath behind pursed lips as they listen to their leader, their friend expose a crack in his shield. They don’t have time to wonder if the admission will play well with what’s about to transpire before the door swings resolutely open and the wary sound that Souji-senpai makes behind his teeth rings audibly into the dark.

Here we go.

Yosuke-senpai steps in first, his voice preceding him as he enters and goes to stand by the light switch on the wall. “Well then, guess we’d better turn the lights on, huh?”

There is another pause where Souji-senpai must make some kind of inaudible reply, followed by a second pair of footsteps when he finally moves inside.

“Alright!” Yosuke-senpai says with just a bit too much cheer, and Naoto knows he’s speaking more to the group hidden in the shadows than to his boyfriend. “Bright light in 3… 2… 1…”

‘Click.’

“SURPRISE!”

The lights flash on, chasing the darkness from the corners and revealing the small crowd of people concealed within. Eight voice rise as one in joyous, excited greeting.

For a moment, there is fear.

Souji-senpai recoils as if struck, blinking in bright-eyed panic at the sudden light. He flinches backwards, startled at the sharp movements and the unexpected sounds, and drops lower into something like a battle stance – instinctive, like he’s used to years of being afraid of entering a house. His shoulders tense as he reaches habitually for a sword that simply isn’t there.

But then Yosuke-senpai is at his side, a hand is on his back, and slowly, like a frightened, feral cat, Souji-senpai straightens up and blinks again to take in the sight of friends instead of monsters.

(Naoto bites their lip so hard they feel the skin give way. They know all too well that the worst of the phantoms plaguing Souji-senpai’s mind are not the ones he’s had to face inside the television.)

“It’s okay, Partner,” Yosuke-senpai murmurs, just barely audible in the space of deafening silence.

And just like that, the fear begins to drain.

The team surges forward, Teddie and Nanako-chan at the front, and Naoto stands grinning as a very confused-looking Souji-senpai is dragged further into the room. Beside them, hanging back away from the gaggle of teens and children, Dojima-san chuckles softly.

“You did good, Shirogane,” he says.

Naoto glances over to see the older detective watching his nephew with a fond expression.

“I think he needed this.”

Naoto grins just a little bit wider.

Souji-senpai stares around the room as if lost, taking in the sight of the silver and blue paper streamers draped along the walls with quiet, childlike awe. His expression is guarded still, tinted around the edges with disorientation, like everything around him is foreign and strange. Ever since Naoto has known him, there has been an age to Souji-senpai’s eyes, a kind of maturity that no teenager should ever have to wear. It took them a long time to realize that it wasn’t simply the weight of the investigations that had put that age there. Now, however, as Souji-senpai catches sight of the bright blue banner in the corner of the ceiling, with Happy Name Day, Souji emblazed across it in shining silver characters, the age seems to melt away into nothingness, slipping from his shoulders and the lines between his brows. His lips part in wonderment, unconsciously forming the shape of the words as he reads them, and Naoto thinks they catch a momentary glimpse of the little boy their friend was never allowed to be.

“Wh…what’s…?” he whispers in a small voice, likely unaware he’s even spoken aloud.

Naoto steps closer, sliding up behind him and standing just off to the side where his peripherals will alert him to Naoto’s presence. “The first of May.”

Souji-senpai turns his head slowly to look at them, brow crinkling in silent question.

“The first of May,” Naoto repeats. They raise their voice just so, just enough to be heard over the raucous sounds of their friends in the background as the rest of the group begins to spreads out to begin celebrating in earnest. Their lips curl upwards in a smile. “The day you chose your name.”

Souji-senpai’s chest deflates likes he’s just lost his breath, grey eyes flickering from Naoto to the banner to the gifts by the curtains and then back again. He breathes, and the sound is shaky, tinged with timidity. “I don’t understand.”

Dojima-san picks that moment to wander over as well. He claps a hand down on his nephew’s shoulder – which causes Souji-senpai to twitch instinctively before relaxing into the fatherly contact. “What’s not to understand?” he teases, though his tone is that loving kind of serious that leaves no room for argument. “We’re celebrating that day you came into existence.”

The emphasis in not lost on Souji-senpai, it seems, because his face scrunches slightly as if he’s fighting back an emotion he doesn’t think he’s allowed to have.

Dojima-san shakes his head. His voice is low and resolute as he says, “To hell with your birth certificate, Souji.”

Souji-senpai has to look down and away for a moment, and if there is a faint gleam of moisture in the corners of his eyes, then neither Naoto nor Dojima-san say a single thing about it.

Before the final wall of Souji-senpai’s dam can crack and fall away, Nanako-chan runs up with Teddie fast on her heels and throws her arms around her brother’s waist. Teddie echoes the movement and soon Souji-senpai is trapped in a double embrace from both the IT’s resident Little Siblings. Dojima-san steps away with a laugh.

“Okay!” Rise-chan calls a heartbeat later. “Dinner first, before it gets cold!”

And finally, for the first time since stepping into the house, Souji-senpai’s face tentatively smoothes out into something like unfiltered joy.

After dinner comes cake, which Souji-senpai just sort of stares at for a few seconds, as though his mind is lagging as it tries to process. He watches Yukiko-senpai with an owlish expression as she slices the cake into equal pieces and slides a piece with the largest, prettiest bundle of sugar flowers onto a plate. He seems to almost startle, shoulders hunching adorably, when she holds it out for him to take.

Naoto nearly snorts into their tea. Souji-senpai looks very much like an awkward child, unsure of what he’s allowed to do and what is proper behavior; Naoto is reminded of how he couldn’t sit still at Kanji-kun’s party, always up and moving and playing the role of co-host with ease. They would never say it to his face, but it’s sort of nice to see Souji-senpai safely out of his element.

The cake itself is a success, earning the seal of approval from both Nanako-chan and Teddie in the form of delighted cheers. Souji-senpai smiles at them, apparently content to watch, and it takes Kanji-kun reaching over Nanako-chan’s head and lightly poking him in the side before he remembers that there is a piece in front of him, too.

“You made this?” he asks quietly, no louder than an awed murmur.

Kanji-kun rubs at the back of his head and turns away to hide the smile of pride and the faint hue of crimson that warms his features. “W-well, you made mine, so I just…” He clears his throat and jerks a thumb over to where Naoto is sitting on Kanji-kun’s right. “Naoto and I both made it, and they’re the one that found the flowers, all I did was—“

“We made it together, yes,” Naoto finishes. They smile over at Kanji-kun in reassurance, then turn to Souji-senpai to smile a little wider. “You made mine as well, it was only right.”

“Yeah,” Kanji-kun adds with a fervent nod. His face is practically radiating heat with how red it is, but he presses on, gaze glued to the tabletop. “You keep spoilin’ all of us, so we figured it was our turn to spoil you for a change.”

Souji-senpai’s eyes go impossibly wider, and he ducks his head to hide the way his cheeks have gone bright and warm with a blush of his own. He stuffs a bite of cake into his mouth to avoid responding, and his lips curl faintly upward in a happy smile around the tines of his plastic fork.

Once everyone is finished eating and all the washable dishes have been set neatly aside, Nanako-chan pulls a thick, flat package wrapped in sunny yellow paper from the pile of gifts along the wall. She hurries back over to her spot at Souji-senpai’s side at the living room table (where Naoto had adamantly kept him seated while the rest were cleaning up) and plunks down next to him on the floor. She holds the box out to him with an expression that could rival the first true day of summer.

“Open this one first, Oniichan!”

Souji-senpai smiles at his little sister – the one just for her, full of softness and pride – as she pushes the box into his hands.

Rise-chan squeals in delight. “Yes!” Rushing over from the kitchen, she scoops up as many of the presents as she can in her arms and excitedly brings them over to the table for easy reach. Yosuke-senpai grabs the ones she misses.

“You have to open mine second, Senpai,” she gushes as she comes back to her seat, face split wide in a beaming grin.

As small as the low table is, there isn’t much room for so many people crowding around it, let alone people plus gifts, but they make it work somehow. Yosuke-senpai is pressed up against Souji-senpai’s left side, his proximity to his boyfriend acting as both subtle affection and also a bit of a grounding point. Nanako-chan, of course, is seated on Souji-senpai’s right, and the three of them together are practically squished into the space of one side of the table with most of the rest of the IT filling up whatever remaining room they can fit themselves into. Dojima-san wisely sits slightly apart from the group at one of the kitchen chairs, which frees up the couch for Yukiko-senpai and Chie-senpai to claim as their own. Yukiko-senpai pulls the stack of packages closer to the two of them, silently appointing herself in charge of handing them over once Souji-senpai is ready.

“Actually, wait.” Naoto cuts in before Souji-senpai has a chance to do more than fidget awkwardly and blink at Nanako-chan’s present like it’s something sacred. They lean back and stretch out their arm towards where the cobalt-colored envelope lies at Yukiko-senpai’s feet. Daintily, Yukiko-senpai bends forward and picks it up, handing it over to where Naoto can reach. They nod their thanks, then slide the card across the table to Souji-senpai, who looks no less bewildered than he did before.

He takes it with a questioning tilt of his head and carefully looks it over as if he’s not quite sure what to do with it. (There is a part of Naoto that wonders if he’s just wary, or if he’s genuinely confused as to why he’s just been handed a card. Either one is entirely plausible, and neither one is something Naoto would ever wish on their friend.)

Slowly, taking care not to rip or crease the envelope, Souji-senpai tugs the card free from its paper housing. His face twitches slightly, like he’s habitually suppressing a startled smile, but there is mild amusement in his eyes that Naoto can see from their seat two people away, as he takes in the blue-and-black emblem on the front of the card. He opens the cover; his entire body stills.

Naoto watches as Souji-senpai’s expression melts into something almost unreadable, something lost and unsure but speckled with the tiniest blooms of disbelieving hope. Once again they liken his countenance to that of a child afraid to break an illusion, confused and maybe a little sad and scared to believe that they are deserving of something nice. It wrenches at Naoto’s heart.

(“Wrong name on the birthday card, you know?”)

Not anymore.

Naoto may not be able to see the inside of the card from where they sit, but they know exactly what’s written on every square inch of available space within.

We love you, Souji-senpai! in looping, glittery pink.

You’re the bear-y best, Souji-sensei! in wobbly blue.

I’m glad we’re friends, Souji-kun, in elegant crimson.

To Souji-kun – best training buddy EVER, in vibrant neon green.

Welcome to the family, Souji, in professional, ballpoint black.

Souji-niichan, Souji-senpai, My Souji – written in cheery purple and pastel yellow and metallic sunset-orange, with Naoto’s own message of Thank you for existing, Souji-kun in long strokes of deep, rich indigo down in the corner below “Margaret’s” brilliant gold.

Best Friend, Partner, Leader, Brother; each and every signature preceded by words of endearment, words of praise, words of thanks, and every single one containing a deliberate emphasis on the only name that matters.

Souji-senpai’s gaze sweeps across each iteration of his name as if he’s never seen it written before. Shakily, he brings the fingers of one hand up to ghost along the paper, trailing over the words as he reads them one after another. Little by little, the blankness of his expression gives way to bewildered realization. He lets out a short, sharp exhale as he reaches the bottom of the card – a huff of baffled laughter escaping from his chest. His eyes are wet when he finally looks back up at the people around him.

“I…”

He trails off, swallowing uncertainly and blinking twice in rapid succession to keep the rising flood of feeling at bay.

“…Thank you,” he whispers, and in those two words is the entire weight of everything Souji-senpai cannot find the proper words to say.

Nanako-chan, embodiment of all things pure and good that she is, leans against her brother’s side and wraps her tiny arms around his waist. She mumbles something into his shirtsleeve that Naoto cannot hear, but whatever it is causes Souji-senpai to drape his arm over her shoulders and pull her in for a hug. He ducks his head and buries his face against her hair, but just before he does there is a faint gleam of teeth – an actual, albeit watery, grin.

The moment of stillness dissipates. Teddie, not to be left out of hugging his “sensei”, launches himself across Yosuke-senpai’s lap with a wordless, weepy cry to join in on the embrace from Souji-senpai’s left.

Yosuke-senpai squawks, Nanako-chan giggles, and in an abrupt burst of noise and movement there is suddenly an odd dogpile of hugging limbs where Souji-senpai used to be as Rise-chan and Chie-senpai loudly throw themselves into the mix, followed close behind by Kanji-kun. Yukiko-senpai cackles with glee from her place on the couch. After a moment she must decide “why not?” because she hops up like a spring, still laughing, to add one more body to the fray. Eventually, Souji-senpai snakes out an arm and drags Yosuke-senpai over against him as well.

Naoto watches their friends and teammates pile on top of their leader with an amber-colored glow behind their ribs. It starts like a drop of liquid sunlight and slowly spreads throughout their veins until their entire body feels warm. This is exactly what they’d wanted, what they’d all set out to do from the start, and if there was ever a moment in their life where Naoto has felt prouder of their Pack of Imbeciles they cannot call it to mind.

They watch for just a few moments longer before sliding over to join as best they can, ignoring the sound of Dojima-san taking at least a dozen pictures on his phone.

The group hug ends a short time later, once Nanako-chan grows impatient enough to poke her brother in the side. “Oniichan!” she calls from somewhere beneath the mountain of people. “You still have to open your presents!”

Souji-senpai chuckles, loud enough to be audible even past the muffling by Rise-chan’s arms. “Okay, okay,” he relents, and rolls his shoulders back to straighten his spine. Like the well-oiled unit the IT has become, they all fall gently away from their leader’s form.

It’s like a long-dead battery has finally been recharged. The Souji-senpai that emerges from the cluster of people is lighter, surer, with a telltale crinkle at the corners of his lightning-bright eyes. The group must feel it, too, because there is an aura of something clicking into place and suddenly everyone seems just that much more alive.

Nanako-chan digs the yellow-wrapped package from before out from under the table. “This one first,” she says resolutely as she places it in front of her brother. Souji-senpai smiles.

One by one the gifts are carefully opened.

There is a handmade scrapbook from Nanako-chan and Teddie, with a glossy azure cover and cat sticker decorations. It’s full of empty grey photo pages – ready and waiting and perfect for someone to paste in a lifetime’s worth of future memories. The best part, though, the part that makes Souji-senpai positively beam, are the pictures already glued onto first few page of the book.

There is a picture of Teddie and Nanako-chan working on the banner together, the table in front of them covered in crafting supplies and an ocean of deep blue paper.

There is another of Souji-senpai and Nanako-chan in the kitchen, Nanako-chan standing on a chair to look over her brother’s shoulder as he teaches her how to make Valentine’s chocolate.

Four pages in all are filled to the brim with candid snapshots; some from the IT members’ phones, some taken with an actual camera, but all of them featuring someone that Souji-senpai holds dear.

The very last one in the book before the blank pages begin is the one that had been taken on the first day of school, when everyone had gathered after classes had ended to commemorate the start of a new term. The Investigation Team stands grouped in front of Tatsuhime shine with Souji-senpai squished happily between them all at the center, Yosuke-senpai at his side and pointing to the third year bars clipped to Souji-senpai’s collar.

(Naoto thinks is might very well be Souji-senpai’s favorite of the bunch, as it’s a personal reminder that he never has to leave.)

Next up is Dojima-san, who pulls familial rank over Rise-chan to hand his nephew a plain white gift box with a simple silver ribbon. Inside is a small camera. “Nothing flashy,” he explains, “just something to help fill up that new scrapbook of yours.” He ruffles Souji-senpai’s hair in a very paternal gesture of affection, and the grin from earlier flashes briefly across Souji-senpai’s face once more.

Dojima-san takes his leave after that, pausing on his way out of the room to give his daughter a quick hug and making her promise not too stay up too late. He gives his nephew one final pat on the shoulder and then heads off deeper into the house.

After that comes Rise-chan’s gift – which Souji-senpai nearly drops back into the box in shock when he opens it. Inside is a stunning, midnight blue yukata with a faint pattern of thin vertical striping in a barely-lighter shade that only shows when the light hits it just right. It’s of high quality, clearly handmade and absolutely gorgeous; a testament to Tatsumi-san’s extraordinary skill.

Souji-senpai nearly chokes. “Rise,” he says, voice cracking and eyes wide. “Thank you, but I can’t—“

“Senpai,” Rise-chan calmly interrupts. She places her elbows on the tabletop and leans forward, lacing her fingers together in a very deliberate motion. She smiles at him, and when she parts her lips to speak her voice is downright dangerous in its sweet, adamantine calm. “You know I adore you, but if the next words out of your mouth are that you can’t accept my present then I’m afraid I’m going to have to stop you right there.”

Not even giving him a chance to respond, Rise-chan leans further over the table until she’s practically in his face. “One,” she starts, holding up a finger, “I know you don’t have one you feel comfortable in, you told me so, yourself. Two…” She holds up a second finger. “This one is super masculine and it’s going to look so flattering on you.” Another. “Three, the summer festival is coming up in a couple of months and you promised Nanako-chan you’d go with her. Isn’t that right?” She turns towards the little girl in question, who answers with a gasp and an excited tug on Souji-senpai’s sleeve.

“We can dress up together, Oniichan!” Nanako-chan whispers, loud enough for the entire room to hear.

Rise-chan shoots her backup a wide grin before switching that razor-sharp focus back to the boy across from her. She holds up another finger. “And four, it was a custom order so you can’t take it back anyway.” Her smile stretches to show a hint of teeth. “Understand?”

Souji-senpai closes his mouth with an audible ‘click.’

“Good,” Rise-chan chirps, straightening up from her subtly threatening posture. Her expression softens. “You need to let people give you nice things, Senpai.”

There is a moment of awed silence where everyone just… stares at her, collectively unable to process how effectively and completely she had shut their leader down.

(Naoto represses the urge to applaud.)

But then Rise-chan is slipping back into her usually bubbly self and holding out her hand to Yukiko-senpai for another gift to pass off, leaving the rest of the partygoers somewhat questioning their reality.

The next present to be opened is from Chie-senpai. The box is wide and rectangular, wrapped in glossy green paper, and as Souji-senpai peels the wrapping away to reveal a plastic model set, Chie-senpai awkwardly rubs at the back of her hair. “W-well, it’s not as fancy as Rise-chan’s, but I know you like making those and I thought, hey, his shelf could use a few more decorations, right?” She shrugs. “The guy at the shop said it was vintage, too, so… ya know…”

Souji-senpai chuckles and looks up from reading over the box to fix Chie-senpai with a fond expression. “I think I’ve actually seen this show before,” he says in a voice laced with quiet mirth. “Thank you.”

Chie-senpai turns away to hide her answering grin. “Okay, enough of that, Yukiko’s is next!” She grabs at a pale pink box with tiny scarlet speckles patterned across it, and hurriedly hands it off to Rise-chan to slide across the table.

Yukiko-senpai’s present is a (very nice) traditional calligraphy set, complete with several different brushes a small stack of practice paper. “I wasn’t sure if you had any prior interest in this,” she explains, “but you seem to like quieter activities and I thought you might find it relaxing if nothing else.”

The only two presents left in the pile are Kanji-kun’s and Naoto’s; Yosuke-senpai had grabbed his own small, brightly-colored package when he and Rise-chan had brought everything over from the wall and has been sitting there with it tucked safely away on his lap ever since the group hug. While Souji-senpai is thanking Yukiko-senpai, Naoto, casually as can be, reaches back and snags the two remaining packages from down by Chie-senpai’s feet before anyone else can. They quietly set Kanji-kun’s gunmetal grey gift box on the table and slip their own bag into their lap to ensure they don’t go quite yet. They pretend not to see Rise-chan’s knowing smirk from over on their right.

Like with Rise-chan’s gift before, Souji-senpai nearly balks as he lifts the paper top from the box to reveal the star-speckled swath of fabric within. Naoto finds themself leaning forward to get a better look at it, since they’ve seen most of the work in progress but haven’t yet seen the finished product. It’s beautiful.

Random spatterings of white and silver rest against a rich, phthalo blue background like a sea of unnamable constellations in a cloudless twilight sky. The material itself sturdy, looking almost quilted from where the weighted innermost layer has been stitched securely in place. Souji-senpai runs his hands across the top of the blanket and follows the trailing lines that his fingers leave in the short, soft microfiber with his eyes.

Souji-senpai looks back up at Kanji-kun with a quiet smile and the bridge of Kanji-kun’s nose flushes pink. He ducks his head to hide it. “U-uh,” he stammers, weak in the face of his senpai’s expression. “Pick… pick it up.”

Their leader does so. His eyes go a little wide with, frankly adorable, curiosity. “It’s… heavy?” he asks, head tilted to the side.

Kanji-kun nods. “Yeah, it’s weighted. S’possed to like, help with stress or anxiety or somethin’…” He trails off, still recovering from the look Souji-senpai is giving him. Naoto can tell he’s flustered; it isn’t the first time he’s forgotten how to speak around their friend, and with as much thought as Kanji-kun had put into making that blanket perfect, there is no other reason for him to be downplaying his own work as if he hadn’t known exactly what he was doing from the start. Naoto jostles him lightly under the table and merely offers a teasing arch of their brow when he glances at them indignantly.

A rustle of movement pulls both their attention back just in time to watch Souji-senpai finishing draping the blanket over his shoulders and pulling it close around himself like a happy child. He doesn’t grin again but his expression when he looks over and catches Kanji-kun’s eyes is positively radiant. “Thank you,” he says, glowing, golden warmth coloring the sound of his words. For a moment his eyes look less like rain clouds and more like shining silver.

Kanji-kun can do nothing but blush harder in response.

“Right, okay, so uh. My turn then, I guess.” Yosuke-senpai gives Kanji-kun an odd, sidelong glance as if he isn’t sure what to make of his kohai blushing over his boyfriend. (Then again, with as astute as he is, Naoto would be completely surprised if Yosuke-senpai wasn’t at least partially aware of just how many people tend to do exactly that. Souji-senpai, on the other hand, appears to be utterly oblivious.)

They watch Yosuke-senpai’s body language as he hands over the package he’s been guarding for the past half hour. He gnaws at his lip nervously, spine rigid and arms locked as Souji-senpai gently pulls back the wrapping paper and withdraws a dvd box set. It’s precious, they think, how even six months into their relationship, Yosuke-senpai still acts as if he’s asking out his crush for the very first time.

Souji-senpai lets out a short exhale, lips pulling into that devastating smile of undying affection that exists for Yosuke-senpai and Yosuke-senpai only. “This is…” He looks back up at his partner with an expression so bright it could illuminate even the blackest corners of Yomi itself. “You remembered.”

Yosuke-senpai laughs quietly. “Dude, of course I did.”

“Oi! Lovebirds!” Chie-senpai calls from the couch, sending Yukiko-senpai into a fit of sniggering. “Quit with the eyes and show us what it is already!”

With a huff of laughter, Souji-senpai turns the box forward and holds it up for everyone else to see. “My Neighbor Totoro,” he says, voice still laced with happiness. He taps his index finger under the colorful stripe at the top of the box, which reads Special Collector’s Edition.

“Ah man! That movie’s adorable!” Kanji-kun exclaims, apparently having already gotten over his earlier blushing.

Souji-senpai nods. He brings the box back down to stare wistfully at the cover once more, expression going soft. “It was my favorite movie as a kid,” he admits, almost too quiet to be heard. “But I… haven’t actually seen it in forever.” He sighs, and the sound is just a little sad. “A neighbor friend and I use to watch it all the time; I gave him my copy when we moved away from each other.”

No one says anything for a moment or two – the only sound coming from the shifting of cloth as Yosuke-senpai scoots impossibly closer and slips his hand inside the edge of the blanket still around his boyfriend’s shoulders to link their fingers together.

It’s Teddie that breaks the stillness.

“Ooh, ooh! We should all watch it together, Sensei!” he says, volume just barely on this side of a shout. Yosuke-senpai winces from the proximity of to his ear.

Nanako-chan lets out an excited gasp. “Can we, Oniichan?” she asks hopefully, and tugs on her brother’s sleeve until he shifts to look down at her.

Souji-senpai huffs another laugh. He reaches up to oh-so-gently ruffle his little sister’s hair and says, “I’d love to, but we might have to wait for another night.” He hums. “It’s already getting kind of late.”

And he isn’t wrong. A quick glance at their watch tells Naoto that it’s creeping up on 8:30 – likely close to Nanako-chan’s bedtime.

Honestly, it’s probably getting pretty close to everyone else’s bedtimes, too. It is still a school night, after all, and every one of them has been up and going since early that morning, heading straight out after classes had ended to get everything set up. It’s been a long day for all of them. (And Naoto sheepishly reminds themself that they’d barely slept the night before due to a predictably racing mind.)

With a collective groan of protest, the group slowly begins picking themselves up out of their seating arrangements and gathering together any last bit of party mess they can find. Souji-senpai has a brief stare-down with Rise-chan, who gives him a Look as he goes to make a grab for discarded wrapping paper, but eventually she gives in and finally allows him to join in the cleaning.

It takes another ten or fifteen minutes to get everything squared away, with anything they’re unable to take back with them being set neatly off to the side until later. Little by little, the team says goodbye to Nanako-chan, goodnight to Souji-senpai, and starts to make their way out the door. Yukiko-senpai and Chie-senpai go first, then Rise-chan and Kanji-kun, then Teddie as he hurries to catch up to them, until the only ones left are Naoto and Yosuke-senpai, who is quite obviously spending the night.

Naoto steps away to call for a ride, since theirs is the furthest distance to go. As they do, Souji-senpai waves Yosuke-senpai on ahead, giving his boyfriend a chance to go get his things settled for their sleepover while Souji-senpai helps Nanako-chan get ready for a bath and bed. (Naoto feigns nonchalance as they wait for their call to go through and eyes Yosuke-senpai closely while he gathers up his stuff to take upstairs with him. They spot the way he dips his hand inside his school bag like he’s checking for something and then nods to himself as he apparently finds it, pulling his hand out and slipping what looks like a tiny, gift-wrapped box into his pocket. Naoto hides their triumphant smirk as he waves them goodnight and heads upstairs; they’d had a feeling the dvd wasn’t his only present for Souji-senpai.)

The living room is quiet as they finish up their phone call, momentarily left alone. Carefully, unwilling to break the late-night stillness of the liminal space the house has become, Naoto pads back over to the low table and slips their hidden gift bag out from underneath.

They’re just about to turn around and go wait beside the door when Souji-senpai comes back into the room. He gives Naoto his tailored smile as he spots them. “Sorry about that,” he says, voice low in the sleepy silence. “Is your ride on the way?”

Naoto nods.

Souji-senpai’s smile stretches just slightly, pleased, and he steps over to join Naoto at the table. “I’ll wait with you until they get here.”

They sit beside one another now that there is space enough to do so without squishing more than one person to a single side of the table. For a moment neither of them speaks.

It’s Souji-senpai that eventually breaks the quiet. “Thank you. For everything.” He tilts his head and looks down at the tabletop to hide the happy crinkle at the corner of his eyes. “Nanako told me you were the one that planned this out.” Shyly, he glances back up. “I had fun.”

Naoto doesn’t really know how to respond. Objectively they do, obviously, but it’s been a rare thing in their life for someone to thank them for something they’ve done. Not only that, but Naoto will be the first person to admit that they aren’t the best at handling social situations; they’re too blunt, they’ve been told, too tactless and frigid.

But even without that prior track record of not being good at this kind of thing, even without being unaccustomed to being in this kind of position, completely divorcing the current setting from all past experiences, this is Souji-senpai. Naoto’s face feels as though it’s on fire.

They swallow to clear the dryness from their throat. “Y…you’re welcome.” Awkwardly they fidget with the bag in their hands, unable to handle the full weight of their friend’s gaze. The paper crinkles audibly under their grip. “Ah, uhm…” Face still blazing like a sunburn, Naoto shoves the bag forward, two-handed, and holds it out for Souji-senpai to take. “This is for you,” they mumble, hiding their flush behind the brim of their hat.

Careful hands, calloused from months of holding a sword, delicately take the bag from Naoto’s grasp. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” he says, curiosity and mild confusion coloring his words.

Naoto chances a peek back up at him to see Souji-senpai still holding the bag, blinking over at them with a questioning expression.

They blink back at him. “Of course I did,” they say, quietly incredulous.

But Souji-senpai shakes his head and huffs in amusement. He looks pointedly around the room, gesturing with one hand towards the banner that still hangs over in the corner before turning back to them with a raised brow. “You… You threw me a party.” He chuckles, and the sound is one of perplexity – a wordless reminder that Souji-senpai still doesn’t understand just how much he’s worth to people.

Naoto frowns. “All of us did, I was just the one that asked you for a day.”

A pair of dust-colored brows arcs over a knowing silver gaze. “Which still makes it your idea.” He smiles just a little wider, and Naoto knows he’s won this round.

“Are you going to open it or not?” they ask in lieu of a proper response, giving their friend a flat look that they’ve been told can rival his own. Souji-senpai simply laughs once more in that breathy not-chuckle that he does when he doesn’t feel like making much sound.

As gently as he did with all the other packages that night, he slips a hand into the bag and slowly withdraws the tissue paper obscuring the inside from view, setting it aside as if it, too, were something to be respected. He slips his hand in a second time and gingerly slides the gift out into the light.

The book is hardbound, with a faded, wine red canvas cover and a charcoal grey spine that one upon a time was purest, deepest black. It creaks and crackles faintly where Souji-senpai holds it – old and tired but still in one piece despite the age and the creases where years of open pages have worn down the hinge. The words on the spine are nearly gone but the black-filled imprints on the cover still remain and Souji-senpai’s lips quirk as he brushes a thumb across the title.

“The Murders in the Rue Morgue, and Other Tales By Poe.” He lights up, shoulders rolling back and chin tilting, as he looks up at Naoto in delighted, innocent glee. It tugs at his expression, pulling the corners of his mouth, his eyes, etching excitement into his outline even as he sits perfectly still. Once more, Naoto is struck by just how young their friend looks when he isn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He looks right – like a child on their birthday, starry-eyed and completely unaware of the monsters in the dark. For the second time that night, Naoto thinks they can see the ghost of the little boy Souji-senpai could have been, if Fate been just a little less cruel.

Sound reaches them, pulling them back into the room and away from the feeling of their heart squeezing in their chest. They blink over at their friend as he murmurs off the titles of the short stories, imprinted in that same aging black on the book’s back cover.

“Purloined Letter… Mystery of Marie Roget…” He looks back up at them, grey eyes practically shining like leftover rain puddles on a sunny summer day. “Inspector Dupin, right?”

Naoto’s own eyes widen. They sit up just a little straighter, lips parting in a quiet exhale of surprise. “Inspector C. Auguste Dupin, yes,” they reply with a nod. Nostalgia prickles, bittersweet, at the inside of their ribs; Naoto feels it sticking to their bones, their lungs, leaving them with the warm sweep of fond memories with the after-image of long-gone grief. They blink, and it flutters away.

Souji-senpai watches them carefully, tilting his head to the side as if he were a cat. Naoto takes a deep pull of air through their mouth, lets the feeling of their chest expanding ground them in the present.

Are you alright? he asks without words.

They smile at him. I’m alright, they answer back.

Naoto’s voice is strong and steady when they finally speak aloud. “My grandfather gave it to me when I was little,” they explain, gesturing towards the book with a dip of their chin. "He used to read it to me before bedtime. It’s what made me want to be a detective myself someday, even when I was still too young to really fully understand what my parents actually did for a living. I loved it very much.”

Their smile grows wistful. Taking another deep breath, Naoto lets it out slowly and lifts their gaze from where it’s drifted out of focus to the dusty photo albums in the back of their mind. They meet Souji-senpai’s curious, worried eyes and smile wider. “Which is why I want you to have it.”

Souji-senpai presses his lips between his teeth, brows pulling down into a shallow furrow. “Are you sure?” he asks, soft as a whisper. “This seems like it’s too important to give away.”

You’re important, Naoto thinks but doesn’t say out loud.

Instead, they simply nod. “I still have the memories attached to it; I don’t need the physical copy to help me remember.”

Souji-senpai seems to understand. Slowly he pulls the book closer to himself with reverence, excitement still there, still gleaming behind his eyes, but softer, gentler. He slowly holds it against his chest as if it were a priceless treasure and fixes Naoto with a look of gratitude deeper than any person his age should be capable of.

A familiar tightness begins to bloom in Naoto’s chest. It’s warm, insistent, soft like fine-spun cotton even as it expands to fill their ribcage and press against their heart. It’s rightness, home – so intense that it steals their breath away in the gentlest manner possible. They swallow around it, nearly choke.

“You were right,” they murmur, because that’s all that they can do in the face of that desperate if only, if only, if only whispering different lifetimes into their skull.

Souji-senpai gives them a quizzical look, tilting his head again with a quiet, “hm?”

Naoto exhales sharply, a breathless facsimile of a watery laugh. “The other day, on the riverbank; you were right.” Their gaze drifts lower until Naoto’s eyes are resting on the aging cover of the book in their senpai’s careful hands. “I think we would have been wonderful childhood friends...”

Their words trail off into silence. There is more that they could say, whole volumes of things that remain unspoken, that rattle around in the cotton-filled gaps between their ribs and stick just at the back of their throat. But they don’t. They don’t need to.

And looking over at Souji-senpai’s answering smile, they know he’s heard them anyway.

“Thank you, Naoto,” he murmurs, an ocean of meaning hidden below the surface.

Naoto’s breath hitches at the sound of phantom waves. “You’re welcome, Souji.”

Souji-senpai grins.