#and they’re both like ‘influencers’ or whatever

[saskiavanderbeek]

cheating on your partner is not funny and I’m not a fan, but the way they’ve actually caused ethical debate, got people discussing geopolitical ramifications and just generally inflicting minus 10 cultural relations….anyway my condolences to the victim. hope you find peace and love x

[cape-wearing-enigma]

i swear this website is slowly turning me into an ai defender against my will. like guys. you know the problem is with the companies laying off workers and using ai to do their jobs and not with the technology itself. and the solution to the problems created by new ai technology is to put legal protections for workers in place and to give people the technological literacy to know not to use generative ai text as a source for information. right. right?? even complaints about students using it to cheat on essays feel a bit overexaggerated to me. kids have been finding new and creative ways to cheat on homework since the beginning of time and this is frankly doing nothing but making it a bit easier. and honestly maybe i’m underestimating the quality of newer ai technology but i think if a kid can get away with using chat gpt to write their essays and walk away with a good grade then maybe their teacher is not actually examining the contents of their work all that carefully. anyway this is simply me getting increasingly irked at the amount of posts about ai i see on here that seem to boil down to “new unfamiliar tech thing bad.” plus a lot of posts dunking on ai art that i’ve seen seem to be very concerned with keeping a clear and easily definable definition of what “art” is in a way that rings some alarm bells for me.

[astrocafecoffee]

Venus observation 🙂

Venus in Aries is drawn to partners who aren't afraid to stand up to them or push their buttons. They don’t want someone who just agrees with everything they say. They crave that playful friction, someone who can test their limits and push them to grow. Someone who just tells them "yes" all the time will quickly lose their interest.

You might not expect it from their calm, laid-back exterior, but Venus in Taurus can get pretty possessive and jealous. Because they value security and loyalty, any threat to their relationship, real or perceived, can trigger a strong reaction. If they feel like someone is encroaching on their partner’s attention or affection, they might become a bit territorial. They might not say anything outwardly, but you'll definitely sense it.

If you can make Venus in Gemini individual laugh, you’re in! Venus in Gemini loves someone who has a quick wit and a sense of humor. They can be very attracted to people who can joke around, tell funny stories, or keep the conversation flowing with clever remarks. It’s not about traditional romantic gestures, it’s about sharing a mental connection that’s also fun and light-hearted.

Venus in Cancer often gravitates toward people who have emotional needs they can care for. If their partner is vulnerable, has some sort of emotional wound, or even needs a “shoulder to cry on,” Venus in Cancer might find themselves deeply drawn to them. They can’t help but want to nurture and protect those they love, and sometimes this leads them to take on a caretaking role that can sometimes be emotionally draining. They thrive on giving, but it’s important for them to find someone who also knows how to take care of them in return.

Venus in Leo is often stereotyped as someone who’s just interested in the thrill of the chase or loves attention from multiple sources, but once they commit, they are incredibly loyal and devoted. If they’ve decided you’re their person, they’ll have your back no matter what. They’re not interested in playing the field once they feel secure in the relationship,they’re looking for a partner who can offer the same level of passion and dedication they give.

Venus in Virgo doesn’t do unnecessary drama, fluff, or superficial romance. They’re looking for something real and grounded. Empty flattery, unrealistic ideals, or dramatic outbursts can turn them off quickly. They prefer sincerity and practicality in love,this could mean straightforward communication and avoiding overblown emotional expressions. They just want the truth, no matter how it comes.

If there’s any tension or conflict in their personal relationships, Venus in Libra is likely to step in and mediate. They hate disharmony and will do whatever it takes to restore peace and equilibrium. This can mean smoothing over arguments between friends or helping couples navigate rough patches. They’re natural peacemakers and don’t like to see anyone involved in conflict. But sometimes, this can mean they suppress their own feelings just to keep things peaceful.

Venus in Scorpio isn’t satisfied with a shallow or stagnant relationship. They want to be part of a transformative process where both partners evolve together. They are attracted to people who are willing to dive into the depths of themselves, face their fears, and grow. They often have a strong influence on their partner's emotional development and can help them uncover their true selves. This transformation can feel like a “rebirth” for both people involved.

Venus in Sagittarius is a dreamer when it comes to romance. They can often get swept away by the idea of love itself, rather than being overly focused on the practical realities. They’re optimistic about love and tend to idealize it in their minds. This can lead them to fall in love with the concept of a person or a relationship before they’ve fully gotten to know them. While they have a genuine love for exploring different types of love, they may sometimes find themselves disappointed if the reality doesn’t match their idealized vision.

For Venus in Capricorn, actions speak louder than words. They may not shower their partner with compliments or romantic declarations, but they’ll show their love through practical means. They may take care of everyday tasks, like helping with chores, running errands, or ensuring financial security for both people. They also appreciate these same actions from their partner,they want someone who is dependable, responsible, and willing to contribute to the relationship in a practical way.

People with Venus in Aquarius are generally very open-minded and accepting of others, and they want the same in return. They are non-judgmental and don’t like to impose conventional expectations on their partners. They believe in the importance of allowing each person to be their true, authentic self without restriction. In relationships, they tend to be tolerant and accepting of differences and expect their partner to respect their need for personal growth and individuality.

Romance is incredibly important to Venus in Pisces, and they are often natural romantics. They may be prone to grand, sweeping gestures of love or to envisioning a love story that’s straight out of a fairytale. Whether it's candlelit dinners, heartfelt poetry, or spontaneous acts of kindness, Venus in Pisces wants to create beautiful, memorable moments with their partner. They also enjoy being pampered with romantic gestures that make them feel special and cherished.

[svtswhorehouse]

OT 13 : drunk or high sex — nsfw

Seungcheol : drunk sex. oh. he gets rough, but like, a good kinda rough. lowkey, gets possessive and loves marking you. make sure you check your neck before you go into work the next morning cause he will leave hickeys !!! likes making sure everyone knows who you belong to and will admit to it, he has no shame.

Jeonghan : high sex. you’re telling me you wouldn’t want to make out with this man when he’s on cloud nine ? i mean, he already has “fuck me” eyes like come on. A TEASE. will tell you to wait when you start to whine cause he’s taking his sweet time. TONGUE DOES WONDERS. your eyes will never not be rolled into the back of your head. lowkey likes it when you pull his hair.

Joshua : neither, but not opposed to trying it out. prefers to be completely present and in the moment. will try it out a few times, kind of has the “if it happens, it happens” mindset. will never say no to you though. if anything it happens more when y’all are tipsy than when y’all are drunk.

Junhui : high sex. will probably make a weird joke mid-fuck and have you being like ????? wtf. but it’s okay cause it’s jun and he’ll have you seeing stars regardless. might have to take a break and switch positions cause weed makes him sleepy.

Hoshi : hear me out, high. thought he was too giggly and accident prone when drunk and didn’t wanna kill the vibe. A MUNCH !!!! like you know how people get the muchies when they’re high ? yeah, hoshi just goes down on you whenever he gets them. would be on a mission to make you squirt.

Wonwoo : high sex. honestly, you wouldn’t even be able to tell he’s high, his composure is insane. lazy sex, but he’ll still do all the work because there’s no way he’s gonna let his princess do any. tbh, really really good at rolling and will hold it up to your lips making direct eye contact while you take a hit.

Woozi : neither. man barely even drinks, what makes you think he lights up ? doesn’t need to be under the influence of anything to get you off and he can prove it to you too.

Dokyeom : drunk sex. giggly !!! all sunshine and smiles. will probably make dirty jokes just for fun, but it’s okay cause at least he makes you feel good. he’ll def pamper you with a bunch of kisses before, after, and during the act. king of aftercare when drunk, even if he knocks over everything in his way by accident but y’all can just deal with that in the morning.

Mingyu : BOTH. would not be opposed to getting cross faded. will take a hit and blow it straight into your mouth to initiate a makeout sesh. passionate and rough about everything !! will most likely end up fucking on every surface, from the couch to the kitchen counter — i would make sure you wipe that off if I were you. after, will either make you food or do a late night convenience store run with you.

Minghao : high sex. slow, sensual, and passionate. honestly might last hours just cause you two get carried away. y’all spend like an hour alone just making out until your lips are all puffy and red. not a talker when high, but he does like to make a lot of eye contact.

Seungkwan : drunk sex. tried it while high once and felt like he wasn’t productive enough ???? for some reason he’s always go, go, go. feels like he can do a lot more and please you better when drunk. a cutie pie, always making sure you’re alright at all times. will probably make you get off on his thigh and you’re not opposed cause have you seen his quads ?????

Vernon : HIGH FOR SURE. man is definitely a stoner in another life. chill. so chill, that you would have to initiate something and he’ll just go along with whatever makes you happy. might whine, but if you hear it, pretend you didn’t. also, has worn his red tinted glasses a few times during the deed for some reason ???? (ifykyk)

Dino : drunk. honestly probably got drunk cause he was trying to calm his nerves. would want to initiate it, but in the end he probably took so long that you did. his biggest fantasies come out when drunk and would either ask to try titty fucking or you’d end up sixty-nining.

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 TEENAGE DIRTBAG kang haerin x reader

↳ warnings yn is a member of baby monster, a continuation of bad influence, minji’s blood pressure going higher and higher, yn is still her cocky self

if you were to say yn was a bad influence on haerin, haerin herself would probably disagree with you.

but minji wouldn’t.

“where are you going now?” hanni asked from the couch beside minji, watching as haerin strolled to the door with a slightly distracted look, clearly preoccupied with something or rather, someone.

“oh, just…out,” haerin mumbled, slipping her shoes on and avoiding eye contact.

“again?” minji raised an eyebrow, barely able to hide her disapproval. “that’s like, what, the third time this week?”

haerin shrugged, mumbling something about yn wanting haerin to come watch her while she records a song for baby monsters new album, though her excuse sounded weak even to her.

before minji could press further, haerin was out the door, leaving minji staring after her, hands clenching into fists.

hanni chuckled beside her. “relax, minji. they’re just friends.”

minji huffed, crossing her arms. “friends don’t act like that, this teenage dirtbag is ruining haerin.”

the next few days were more of the same, haerin and yn, inseparable, attached at the hip. and it was driving minji insane.

one day, minji and danielle were taking a walk near the dorm when minji spotted haerin and yn sitting on a bench. haerin had her hand on yn’s shoulder, leaning in close as they looked at something on yn’s phone. haerin laughed at whatever yn showed her, leaning even closer, almost whispering in her ear.

“hey!” minji called out, unable to stop herself.

haerin looked up, startled, but yn only gave minji a little wave, a smirk dancing on her lips. “hey, minji unnie! hey danielle,”

danielle waved back, but minji simply narrowed her eyes, folding her arms over her chest.

“are you two glued together or something?” minji asked, trying to keep her tone light but failing miserably.

yn chuckled, not at all fazed. “haerin and I were just watching the video I took during my recording, you know just looking for flaws.”

minji rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “looking for flaws, sure…” that’s rich coming from yn the most egotistical person alive.

later that week, minji was returning from a late practice when she saw yn and haerin in the kitchen, apparently in the middle of a late night snack raid. yn had her arm slung casually around haerin’s shoulder as they rummaged through the fridge, giggling over some inside joke that minji clearly wasn’t part of.

she cleared her throat, causing both girls to jump.

“again?” minji deadpanned, crossing her arms as she watched them. “don’t you both have curfews?”

yn grinned. “curfews are suggestions, right?”

haerin stifled a giggle, nudging yn. “yeah, totally.”

minji glared. “some of us actually like to follow the rules, you know.”

yn shrugged, unaffected. “guess we’re the fun ones then.”

haerin smirked at that, causing minji’s irritation to bubble up even more. but before she could say anything else, yn grabbed haerin’s hand, dragging her out of the kitchen with a, “come on, let’s go!”

minji watched them leave, her mouth half open in disbelief.

the next morning, minji was on her last straw when she heard loud laughter coming from haerin’s room. she stomped down the hall, finding haerin and yn practically tangled together on her bed, laughing over something on haerin’s laptop.

“oh, hey, minji,” yn greeted, not moving an inch. “we were just watching this hilarious drama. wanna join?”

minji’s eye twitched. “I think you’ve spent enough time here, don’t you?”

yn only smiled, shifting closer to haerin. “actually, I was just about to stay the night.”

“what?” minji looked at haerin, who only shrugged with an innocent grin.

“we were doing a movie marathon,” haerin explained, but her sheepish expression did little to ease minji’s suspicions.

danielle, who had wandered in to see what the noise was about, laughed at the look on minji’s face. “minji, they’re just friends! chill.”

it wasn’t until one particularly intense night, when haerin had yet again vanished with yn, that minji finally snapped.

it was around midnight when she heard soft giggles coming from haerin’s room. she threw open the door, ready to give them a piece of her mind—

only to freeze, eyes widening.

there, in the dim light of haerin’s room, yn and haerin were pressed close, lips locked in a kiss, minji gasp out loud.

both girls jumped apart, startled by the sudden intrusion. haerin’s face flushed a deep red, while yn seemed to dazed to care

“minji unnie!” haerin yelped, clearly mortified.

minji’s mouth opened and closed, caught somewhere between shock and fury. finally, she pointed an accusatory finger at yn. “you!”

yn just smirked, shrugging casually like it was no big deal, which only made haerin nudge her, eyes wide with mortification.

minji, unable to hold back any longer, marched over and grabbed yn’s wrist, yanking her up and away from haerin’s bed. “that’s it. I’m calling ruka unnie, and she’s taking you home. now.”

“oh, come on—” yn started, but minji shot her a look that could melt steel, silencing her.

dragging yn out of the room, minji paused at the doorway to throw one last, scathing glare over her shoulder. “and you,” she said to haerin, her tone low and foreboding. “we are talking later.”

the door slammed shut, leaving haerin groaning as she flopped back onto her bed, covering her face in utter embarrassment.

[anthurak]

Something I think is very much worth considering when analyzing the oppressive, classist societal system we’re seeing in Helluva Boss, most notably in the latest episode:

Satan is not really a ‘tyrant’ in the way I think a lot of people have started viewing him as. At least, he’s NOT some ‘usurper’ who has ‘seized power’ in Lucifer’s absence and now ‘rules with an iron fist’ with no one powerful enough to stand against him. For one, I think it’s pretty clear that this position as the ‘Lawman of Hell’ is a role that Satan has always held, even before Lucifer left.

Rather, let’s consider the fact that while Satan might be the one enforcing this oppressive system, he is FAR from the only one supporting or BENEFITING from it.

We have Mammon, possibly Leviathan, and basically the ENTIRE Goetia royalty who are clearly in FULL, enthusiastic support of this system.

Meanwhile Leviathan and Belphagor (assuming the former isn’t in full support of this system like Mammon) seem to be either too apathetic or too blissed out to really care, which likely also applies to pretty much any ‘not enthusiastically classist/racist’ Goetia as well.

Which just leaves Asmodeous and Beelezbub and MAYBE a handful of Goetia like Vassago who actually DO care and want to do something to help.

Really, I think the ‘vote’ we saw this episode is a clear demonstration of why there is only so much Ozzie and Bee can actually do. They are outnumbered, even among their fellow Sins.

I think it’s not so much that Satan ‘seized’ power in Lucifer’s absence. Rather, without Lucifer there is no one to truly CHECK the power that Satan already has. Sure, maybe a majority of the other Sins might be able to do that as well, but as we see, THAT isn’t happening either.

Satan is not some all-powerful tyrant running an oppressive system. While he may be considered the ‘face’ of that system, he is simply the enforcer of an oppressive system run by many powerful people who benefit from it. With any in power who might want to change things being too few to really do anything about it.

This is why I feel like what we are seeing here is not so much setup for conflict in Helluva Boss, but rather setup for a future plotline in Hazbin Hotel.

Because unlike Blitzo, Stolas or even Ozzie and Bee, CHARLIE is in fact someone who COULD do something about all this.

Even without Lucifer’s help (who I imagine will be indisposed due to other factors for the sake of not making all this TOO easy), Charlie DOES have the influence, charisma and if all else fails the raw strength to actually change things.

Whether by giving Asmodeus and Beelzebub the support they need, snapping/slapping Belphagor and Leviathan out of whatever detached apathy they’re in or maybe just giving Satan, Mammon and the entire Goetia court a brutal ass-kicking.

Probably all of the above.

All in all, I think Satan is a really great example of an antagonistic character who is very much A 'bad guy', but at the same time is not THE 'Bad Guy'. In the thematic sense that Satan is very much part of the oppressive system yet is very much NOT the root cause of it.

And in the narrative sense; both short-term in the fact that Andrealphus is very much the actual 'main bad guy' of this episode, and in the long-term of Satan likely being much more of an antagonist for Charlie in Hazbin Hotel, rather than anyone in Helluva Boss.

[kithtaehyung]

bet wrong (3tan717) | myg

drabble: bet wrong pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717 | one  rating/genre: pg (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after seeing how comfortable yoongi is in his place with your brother and their friends, it’s hard for you to leave… but it’s also hard for you to stay. note: apologies for all the late postings! but kim yeji’s aura was so strong it made me write about her so here we are hahaha. it's not really edited cus i just wrote this up and posted so apologies for any mistakes! note 2: this is in a pocket universe in the three tangerines series, so if you haven’t read the series yet, these characters would make more sense if you did hehe. even though this is very heavily influenced by the olympics, i’m keeping it as easy to read as i can. you can imagine them watching any of the events happening lol warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, angst, olympics talk, yoongi fights back??, the Yearning is Strong, reader is a tease, shiv is back!, brother and jimin are dorks, but so is everyone else, yoongi on the phone, he's so down bad y'all i wanna cry :(( drop date: august 1st, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 2.3k (just like the first drabble omg?)

—

—

“Hey, you made it!”

“Oh, shit, look who’s here!”

After a quick greeting to everyone in Yoongi’s living room, you slip off your shoes with a distracted, “I can’t stay long but, I’m here!”

Even though the handsome devil next to you shoots a look, it’s your brother that speaks up, “Wait, why?”

“I’m meeting my friends in a bit.” You hand a still-quiet Yoongi some snacks you brought for everyone, asking a question with a very obvious answer, “Where should I put these?”

He blinks before forcing out, “Over here.”

“K.”

Sounds of conversation and sports games spring about. Jimin’s clearly in some sort of squabble with your brother and Shiv is fanning the flames. There’s a couple guys you recognize but don’t really know talking on the opposite side of the coffee table, but they’re all watching the Olympics and giving their own comments. 

Hopefully it’s noisy enough to shroud your dizzying thoughts. Because Yoongi looks damn good in his casual fit and his hair speaks volumes. 

What you would give to run your fingers through those waves. Following him through his bustling apartment is already giving you the shivers, so what would a sudden touch feel like? A burst of fire?

“I’ll take those,” he instructs, taking the bags from you and pulling everything out with crinkles. When he sees a certain bag, his blinks make you giggle.

It’s a specific chip he likes, recently divulged during a long night of learning things about one another—like favorite foods, and how fast or slow he likes you riding. 

So of course you threw it in your basket before heading over. 

Commentators make conversation on the television as you shrug, “Don’t ask me, I dunno how those got in there.”

God, that smile always makes you melt. And he proceeds to turn you into mush as he shows gratitude under his breath,

“Thanks, doll.”

“Seriously, I think they just handed me those,” you joke, trying your best to not do any of the million and three things you want to. “Said I was cute or something.”

His laugh is immediate. But it’s shoved away by cheers and yells, and both of you pop out of the kitchen to see what happened on the tv.

Something big must have went down because even Yoongi reacts, scaring you with a delayed reaction,

“Holy shit, what happened? Sorry,” he immediately apologizes at your flinch, putting a daring but comforting hand on your lower back before making his way to the group.

Did he really just…

He is lucky your brother didn’t see from the other side of the couch. 

That was the boldest Yoongi’s ever been and he’s quite literally kissed you in your kitchen. 

“Yeji got silver.”

“What? Wait, run it back!”

“I thought she'd take it!"

Chill out. Relax, relax, relax. Everyone else is clearly entranced by whatever happened and no one is even looking at you. Relax.

But damn, that touch meant a lot more than an apology. 

Seems like the one vocally surprised at the replay wants to do a million and three things, too. 

On your emotional decrescendo, you scuttle back to grab a plastic cup. No use in trying to join them anyway. All you can do for now is get a drink in a kitchen you’re not supposed to know your way around.

Being in his place while your brother is too is quite the experience. 

However. 

This is absolutely the ideal situation you should be in. You would be the one showing up at Yoongi’s at the invitation of your brother, and it would be a small party where you blend right into the background with minimal interaction. 

But of course, the feelings of distance and guilt creep onto your feet, rooting you in place and forcing you to watch from afar. 

They’re all checking their phones and pointing at each other—accusingly? Excitedly?—before switching between different games on the tv and yelling at each other. 

And while you adore them for being such lovable geeks about this, your eyes cannot stop pinning Yoongi with longing. He’s so radiant doing the most normal things, and his eyes have that sparkle they get when he’s comfortable and at home. 

He’s perfect.

Your heart’s warm.

And the cup in your hand never touches your mouth.

—

—

After you take a seat at his dining table—yet another thing you should not know anything about—you cycle between watching them interact and scrolling on your apps. 

At first, you thought you were safe. Staying in the back and letting them have their own time together is good enough for you, especially since you were invited by your brother to stop by.

Really, you were just a courier for food they wanted. 

But it was on the way. And it’s a chance to see someone you’ve been missing.

So of course you faked reluctance to come.

The plan was to do exactly this. Hang back until you had to leave, maybe have a bite or two, and try hard not to yearn for Yoongi too long.

Failed step three.

But also now step one, because Shiv decides to twist around to yell, “Hey! Come join us!” 

“I’m good over here,” you reply, smiling when he gives you a look. 

“Suit yourself!” 

One of the guys you recognize but don’t really know gets off the couch to head into the kitchen, asking a question as he opens the fridge.

Wait, he’s asking you something? You?

You leave your chair so you can hear him better, and when he repeats his question you respond.

“Want a drink?”

“Oh, uhh. Sure.”

“Pick your poison. Yoongi doesn’t have much but it’s all strong.”

He’s pretty cute. But then again, all your brother’s friends seem to end up this way. “Water’s fine,” you say with a light smile. “I have to be somewhere else in a minute.”

“Leaving so soon?” He grabs a cup to fill with your choice before handing it over. Leaning against the same counter Yoongi has smushed you against many times, the man takes a sip of his beer. “You just got here.”

“I was told to bring food.”

“Ah, come on. You can stay a bit.”

Uh huh.

Bold choice to be flirting with the company present today.

But you know what to do. Swerve. “What even happened back there? You guys scared the shit outta me.”

From the creases of his eyes, your plan works. “Oh, Yeji? She was supposed to win gold.”

“Feel like she won anyway.”

You both snap your heads over to the kitchen threshold, and your stomach could win a floor routine with the amount of flips it completes. “How come?” You decide to ask, throwing both guys for a loop.

It’s Yoongi that responds first, “She’s trending from a video back in May.”

“Oh, shit, really?” 

“Fucking boss. But yeah, none of us got that one right,” his friend responds, which leaves you intrigued. 

“Got it right?”

“Mmhmm. We picked her for gold.” Glancing over at Yoongi now crossing between to get to his fridge, he claps his back. “Even this guy bet wrong and he’s usually right.”

“Bet with my heart,” your secret drones as he cracks open a bottle. 

“We all did, bro.”

Fucking hell, that move was hotter than it should’ve been.

But now you’re kinda invested in what they’re all doing, so you ask how the whole thing works.

Which leads you to sitting in the living room with everyone three whole minutes later.

“So all of these are events, and I pick what I think happens?”

“Yup!”

“Good luck.”

“Choose quick, the next games start soon.”

Everyone’s eyes are on your paper as you look at the options, with some laughs and comments as you circle your choices.

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

“Hey, hey, no help.”

You glance at your brother and Yoongi before laughing, “I have no idea what I’m doing but this is fun.”

Their amusement is noticeable.

“If you get any of those right, I’ll be surprised,” your sibling teases, earning a laugh from Yoongi and a counterpoint from Jimin,

“Dark horse?”

“Nah, no chance.”

Park’s shoulders raise as he smirks. “It's all luck, you never know..”

Huffing, you pretend to have confidence for days, just happy that you get to be involved and not hang back like the initial plan. “Yeah, I have masterclass intuition, don’t you know?” 

Reactions pop and fizz around you.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Master class, huh..”

“We have a hustler here!”

Your eyes drift to Yoongi’s at Shiv's comment, and you both share a quick, mirth-filled, intimate stare.

This really is a lot more fun already. 

Your phone buzzing is the one thing that interrupts, and you immediately feel relieved and saddened by the fact that you have to go.

Finishing up, you hand your brother your picks before standing, heading to the door and saying that you have to leave. 

“Wait, already?”

“Tell them you’re busy!”

“I kinda want to,” you admit, feeling a little shy at all the eyes on you. “But we’re watching a movie and tickets are stupid expensive now.”

Yoongi’s already next to you as he waits to let you out. “You okay to drive?”

“Me? Oh, yeah, I just had water.”

“K.”

Why does he have to be so considerate right now? Now you just wanna stay here instead of sit through whatever movie your friends picked!

“Be careful,” your brother comments from the living room, and you wave goodbye.

“I will. Y’all have fun!”

“Okay!”

Facing Yoongi, you wanna do so many things. Hug him, hold him, kiss the shit out of him for his exuding presence in the kitchen earlier. 

“Thanks for the food.”

But you obviously can’t.

So you settle for giving him a smile. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you decide to say. “Have fun tonight.”

You get a small lift of his lips in return. “You, too.”

“Yeah.. I’ll try.”

Hearing sounds from outside as you walk to your car, you feel the loneliest imaginable. 

But alas.

It’s still not your place to stay.

—

—

Much, much later, you check your phone after the movie ends and you’re all walking out. While the girls are busy discussing the movie and Taehyung's checking his phone, you're greeted with two very surprising keystrokes.

Yoongi [9:30pm]: :( 

He texted that so long ago. Did something happen?

You [10:34pm]: you ok?

All of you talk for just a little longer. When you finally get into your car, you wave goodbye at everyone before looking at your device again, wondering what the heck warranted this rogue of a text.

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Yeah

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Just miss you

Well, fuck.

Heart clenching, your fingers skirt across the screen.

You [10:45pm]: i miss you too.. i didn’t wanna leave😭

Yoongi [10:45pm]: You did though😔

There are plenty of people in the lot. Many people walking past as you wait in your car. 

And all you can do is stare at your screen. 

Is… Is he drunk?

Yoongi [10:46pm]: So now you have to make it up to me :) 

That catches you so off-guard you scoff at your screen through a smile. 

You [10:46pm]: don’t be a loser!! 

Yoongi [10:46pm]: I’m your loser 

Cheeks hurting from your shy as hell grin, you bite your lip to keep your screams from alerting people in the nearby theatre. 

How dare this man be this bold when your brother is over there! 

If he’s gonna keep this shocking behavior up, who are you to not play into it? You fucking miss him and imagining being there and being yourselves—your true selves—makes your chest clench. 

You [10:46pm]: not today you weren’t :\

And now you have to make the drive to a house that no one's occupying.

This is so hard. So, so hard. 

But you have to keep going until that one day comes. If it ever does. The day you can do whatever you want with the man you’d fight the universe for? No one will know how to react, and frankly you don’t give a shit about that.

And then you wonder.

Does Yoongi feel the same?

Yoongi [10:48pm]: They're still here

Yoongi [10:48pm]: You down to come back?

Oh.

You are.

Yes, yes, yes you are.

Grateful eyes shut, forehead hitting your steering wheel and heart hurting but still burning lovingly.

There’s no fighting how desperately you want to see him. Especially after seeing him so happy earlier today. Of course you’re going to go. You’d cross mountains even if that meant you’d only get to see him from afar. 

Because—and this you know for sure—he would do the same. 

...But that doesn't mean you won't prank him just a little bit.

You [10:49pm]: don't bet on it w ur heart again💕

Buzzing with excitement, you start your car and pull out of the lot, calling your brother and letting him know you’re coming back.

“K! You gonna bring food again?”

Normally, you would say fuck no and hang up. But you’re so elated you get to go back, and imagining Yoongi's shock makes you laugh. “Yeah, yeah, what do y’all want?” 

“Wait, really? Hey! What do we want for dinner—”

“Wait!” You interject, something pinging into your mind and igniting your curiosity. “How are my picks doing?” 

There’s a scuffle on the line, and you can hear your brother complain, Jimin laugh, and a very, very familiar voice answer from your brother’s phone. 

Because Yoongi’s voice drones so beautifully through the speaker, and you can’t stop your cackling when he responds, 

“Turns out Jimin was right.” 

“Damn, I'm the best,” you boast, earning a loud laugh from him and welcoming the way your cheeks hurt with open arms. “Show me that video you were talking about when I get there?”

This is safe to say. It's all you really can say.

There's a little bit of silence before he answers how he can, too.

“Yeah, I will.” 

Mm. Maybe Yoongi does feel the same.

“Nice," you whisper. Lips curved up in hope, you keep your voice neutral, “See you soon!” 

Again, he responds how he's supposed to. And right after, you both hang up exactly as expected.

For now.

“See you soon.” 

—

—

—

fin. :)

-

how did the second 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe | three tangerines

a/n: love you love you love you. that's really all i can say. but also, here's the video of kim yeji being an absolute badass in may and i cannot stop thinking about her GAHHHHHH and now the guy from turkey?? hello?? this year is so fun and interesting istg!!

[saladscream]

Merlin’s forearms are a mystery.

Truly.

Now, in the interest of putting things into context, everyone within Arthur’s circle of daily acquaintances can be said to boast a pair of forearms (except that stable lad who still does a good job with the one remaining arm at his disposal). So, with the exception of Alfred, everyone has a pair of functioning upper limbs. Some of those forearms are hairy, some are smooth. Some are dark, some are pale. Some are spindly, and some are Percival’s. But the one thing they all have in common is that whatever their appearance, they all serve their purpose – and Arthur has absolutely no interest in them beyond the tasks they can accomplish.

Therefore, pray someone explain to Arthur why it is that the sight of Merlin’s bare forearms inevitably makes his mouth run dry.

It is a complete and irksome mystery.

Arthur is inclined to think that they are, on the whole, just regular forearms. But the way they affect him is both baffling and irresistible.

Percival’s battering rams are arguably a thing of beauty, yet Arthur has never had his heart stumble in his chest while gazing upon them wringing laundry. Elyan has the steel arms of a blacksmith for Heaven’s sake, and Arthur’s breath has never hitched in his throat from catching a glimpse of them carrying hauberks and assorted weaponry. Nor has he lost his train of thought from being unexpectedly confronted with Leon’s fine forearms glistening wet and dripping with bath water.

No – all these things have only ever happened for and with Merlin’s forearms.

Arthur would like to think he is suffering from some kind of weird affliction, or maybe some sort of pointless enchantment. But it all feels much too shamefully visceral and instinctive to be so easily excused by exterior influences.

When Arthur tries to be rational about his untoward obsession, he can argue objectively that Merlin’s forearms are aesthetically average. Neither too hairy nor too smooth. Neither too pale nor too dark. Neither too thin nor too thick.

They’re just… long and solid and beautifully virile.

And they make Arthur’s heart do sickening flips in his ribcage whenever they’re on display.

It is just as well that Merlin favours ill-fitting garments that are too long in the sleeves, for otherwise the spellbound prince would probably get very little done – these forearms are impossible to ignore when they’re in the room in all their twin, deceptively strong, masculine glory.

They’re so unchaste somehow. Arthur finds them entrancing.

Who even heard of such a thing as entrancing forearms?!

A mixed clamour erupts in the tavern, half-cheer, half-groan. Merlin has won his arm-wrestling match, much to the uninformed bystanders’ dismay. Arthur’s knights are in stitches, though, and a raucous Gwaine raises Merlin’s victorious arm high in celebration. He rattles him so vigorously in his drunken mirth that Merlin ends up chuckling with his tunic askew and a more plunging neckline than intended.

Which means Arthur is awarded this rarest of impossible visions – a wanton sliver of pale chest – and has to down his tankard of mead a little too fast to put out the nascent heat in the pit of his stomach.

Tagged: @miyriu @neptunesyellowsands @dollopole @shuukichan @merlininthedogpark @kintsugikid-moonysversion @toomanyfanficsbruh @blueliketheclues @solnishkomoon @evedaser @storigami @bertytravelsfar

1 - Merlin's eyes

2 - Merlin's lips

3 - Merlin's hands

4 - Merlin's throat

5 - Merlin's hair

6 - Merlin's ears

7 - Merlin's legs

8 - Merlin's forearms

9 - Merlin's chest

10 - Merlin's penis

11 - Merlin's arse

[helianthus-tarot]

FUTURE SPOUSE: Your first meeting with their family

As written in the title. I posted the extended version on my Patreon which includes what their family will think about you (their first impression of you) and what they will think about the relationship! 👀❤️

Disclaimer: Here | Instagram: Here

Instructions: Focus on the topic and ask yourself the question. Choose a number/picture that you feel the most drawn to or that you can’t stop looking at. Trust your intuition. May the message resonate. Let me know which pile you choose! Feedback is appreciated!

Like my readings? Tip here!

PILE 1 

First meeting: The Tower, Queen of Cups, The Hierophant (The Sun), 5 of Pentacles (8 of Swords), 7 of Cups (6 of Wands). 

It will probably happen by accident. It could happen when you and your person are both out and you guys run into one another. For some of you though, it’ll happen when you both are at your person’s place; so their family members could suddenly knock on the door, and you might start freaking out, especially if you are not ‘supposed’ to be there, especially if it’s nighttime. Maybe you’re from a conservative culture, or your person is, or maybe it’s not appropriate, etc. Whatever it is, there will be a feeling of chaos or panic at first, or the situation itself may be a bit chaotic or out of order. Some of you could meet their family when your relationship hasn’t been properly established yet, so it may feel like it’s a bit out of order; this meeting isn’t supposed to happen at this time because it could cause complications. Something like that.  

I think there will be at least two people that you’ll meet; probably the maternal influence and paternal influence in your person's life, or the main feminine and masculine figures in their life. Most likely they are your person’s mother and father. For others of you, it could be the person who does the nurturing and caretaking, and the person who sets boundaries and supports the family (regardless of their genders or status in the family). The feminine figure will be warm and nice towards you, they may act like nothing is amiss and they’re all right with you there; they're giving the vibe of someone who brings cupcakes and fruits when they visit lol. You will sense their interest and curiosity about you, but they will probably focus more on your person at that time, e.g. talking with your person, asking about your person’s life and whatnot.

Now, The Hierophant and The Sun both fell horizontally, almost in reverse, so I’m going to interpret them as such; whoever the masculine or paternal influence here, this person may not seem like they are happy to see you. Honestly, they may not talk much, they may not show much emotion, hence why they’ll seem that way. They may also come across a bit more stern and traditional.  

So there’s a possibility that you may feel a bit rejected. Because like I said, the masculine figure may not react much, and I feel like the feminine figure may not focus on you, perhaps out of consideration or perhaps because they don’t want to push your person to reveal everything about you two that day, but this can also come across like they don’t really care about you. It’s hard to explain, because they’ll seem like they are nice and caring, but at the same time they’re not that focused on you. Also, the masculine person could say something about appropriateness, manners, rules, and whatnot. I don’t think they will admonish you though, I don’t think they will address you that day, to be honest. Either they won’t say anything at all, or they could make a subtle comment about it to your person. You could feel like they don’t like you much, or you’ll feel like they don’t see you as the right partner for your person. You will be overthinking it a bit.  

But the meeting will end with you still feeling hopeful, not sure why, it could be due to their body language towards you at the end, like, the feminine person could smile or pat you on the arm as they leave, or your person might explain their personalities to you after they’ve left and say something that makes you feel like the meeting wasn’t bad at all. Maybe your person won’t look worried. So you will hold on to your hope and optimism. 

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! What will they think about you? What kind of person will they think you are? And what will they think about your relationship with your person? Will they approve?👀📝

PILE 2 

First meeting: Ace of Cups, 2 of Wands, Ace of Wands, Judgement, The Magician, Knight of Cups. 

This meeting will be planned. It could happen outside, like, maybe a family outing or a gathering, and you’ll be there to join them. For some of you, it could be a camping trip, or just somewhere you guys can do activities, like having a barbecue or doing something together. So you probably won’t just sit and talk. You or your person could choose this day or this event to meet their family for the first time because doing an activity together can take some focus off you and help you and their family bond through shared activity. The overall energy of this meeting feels quite nice and positive, but there’s also underlying significance and seriousness, which I’ll explain later. 

The meeting may start with a warm welcome, “oh you’re XYZ, they’ve told me a lot about you” or something like that, with smiles and welcoming gestures. You guys may then talk about the weather, the inconsequential things like the traffic jam, or the day, the place, and whatnot. Whatever they’ll do that day, it may cause you to open up or have to show yourself; so either you’ll have to show yourself through the activity that you guys will be doing, or they’ll ask you questions and make you come out more. Their family will be very interactive, responsive and open. They’ll move here and there; there’ll be a lot of energy. They will want to get to know you, especially you guys’ plans with each other and your true intention; e.g. where you see this connection going, what’s your next plan, what are you working on in your life, what you see in your future together, etc. For some of you, the activity you’ll do that day will bring out your talents, skills or expertise.  

But like I said, there’s something significant about this that may not just be about two people coming together and potentially getting married. For some of you, this meeting is a sign or a mark of a big change, especially a change that includes leaving something sad or negative behind. You, your person or their family will recognise this for what it is; they’ll see this meeting as a full stop to whatever has happened in the past, and they’ll be aware of what’s coming next and what this means.

Some of you may have been married before, or your person has, and so being together means you’re moving forward and changing that part of your life for real. If it’s not someone having been divorced/married, you two being together could involve some massive life change; relocation, or being distant or moving away from your/their family or something in your past. It doesn’t feel like the normal change. It feels spiritually significant, kinda heavy and potentially negative too. I’m not saying there will be something negative about you two, but maybe there’s leftover negative energy from the past. It’s like Fate is being moulded and created in front of your eyes, and a path is being established and aimed in a new direction; and everyone knows it. There may be some conflicting feelings about this change (someone might overthink it a bit), but overall, the meeting itself will be positive.  

The meeting will end well, you guys may also make new plans to meet again, exchange pleasantries and good wishes. Their family could offer you something, and you could offer something back. For example, they could offer to bake a cake or show their kittens when you come over to their house, and you could offer to bring a gift or a painting that you have made. There will be offers of love and care. 

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! What will they think about you? What kind of person will they think you are? And what will they think about your relationship with your person? Will they approve? 👀📝     

PILE 3 

First meeting: 3 of Cups, Knight of Wands (2 of Pentacles), The High Priestess, King of Swords, 7 of Swords. 9 of Swords. 

A lot of cards didn’t fall fully upright, so I think there will be some reluctance, most likely on your part. Because when I asked for a card to represent the hidden energy, you got 9 of Swords; so it’s possible that you will have been overthinking this or been stressing about this, and may be not looking forward to the meeting, for whatever reason (it could just be nerves). For some of you, you may have been putting off this meeting; not actively, but perhaps subconsciously. For others of you, this may not be the first meeting, as in, you will have met their family members briefly before (or talked with them online, or via text). So this may be the first long, proper meeting you’ll have.  

Either it will happen at an event, like a party or an open house or a wedding, or the meeting itself will be a social gathering that involves multiple family members. Your person could have a lot of family members who are extroverted (or this is the vibe you’ll get). You will be welcomed warmly, there’ll be obvious emotional expressions or obvious welcoming gestures. But at the same time, being there could feel like you’re being lowkey judged, or they’ll seem like they talk behind your back. I’m not sure if this will actually happen, or if the meeting will feel that way because of your nerves and your own negative energy (maybe you’ve had bad experiences dealing with a group of people, or being in a group).

You may be someone who’s in your head quite a lot. You may be intuitive but you probably have a tendency to overthink, which can make things a bit more complicated, because now you don’t know if it’s your intuition or if it’s just your past trauma or issues. You will also feel like something is being hidden from you, maybe you’ll pick up on subtle energies or body language from your person’s family. But just keep in mind, just because people hide something, it doesn’t necessarily mean they are hiding something bad or negative. 

I think there will also be extended family members; I’m not seeing much of their parents or main guardians’ energies; so it could be that your person doesn’t have those, or it could be that you will be more focused on these other people. There may be several cousins, both men and women. Maybe siblings as well. Whoever these people are, they may seem like they’re quite close-knit; ‘going to different places together’, ‘giggling with each other’, ‘inside jokes’ kind of vibe. Hence why they’ll seem like potential ‘mean girls’ to you (when they may not be) regardless of their genders. Some of you may have been bullied before or have experienced being treated terribly by a group of people, so this meeting could bring that wound to the surface.

There’ll be a masculine person (regardless of gender), a cousin I think, who will be quite flirtatious, this person may tease you or make flirty comments and the rest of the family could laugh or tell them off, but in a joking manner. If you are on the spectrum, the whole thing may seem a bit confusing because you won’t feel sure if they’re on your side or they’re also making fun of you. The thing is, I’m not getting negative energy from them, it’s not clear from the cards; what’s clear here is your anxious, sceptical energy.  

One of the reasons why this meeting could stress you out a bit, is probably because you will feel like you have to exaggerate or overly express yourself, you’ll feel like you have to put yourself out there more. If you are an introvert, you’ll feel like you have to be an extrovert. Whatever it is, you’ll feel like you have to show more than how you normally behave. And again, this could be the pressure you put on yourself, or it could be something you expect from yourself due to your past experiences. You may be a bit restrained, like you’re there to observe before you act. Which can cause that masculine person to tease you even more (some people are like that, they like to poke quiet people just to see who you are underneath your silence and reservations).

There may be another masculine figure (regardless of the gender, but probably the father) who can sound a bit stern and strict when they talk to you, like they’re assessing you and your intention and your plans with your person. It’s probably just their personality. Honestly, I’m not getting a message about them hating you or being mean towards you, but again, this is a general reading. Overall, I think the meeting will end with you still feeling unsure about who you can trust in the family, or what they think of you, etc. You may feel like you just want to hide and be alone or spend some time with your person after that.  

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! What will they think about you? What kind of person will they think you are? And what will they think about your relationship with your person? Will they approve? 👀📝   

PILE 4 

First meeting: Page of Wands, 10 of Wands (9 of Swords, 7 of Cups Rx), 4 of Wands, The Tower (7 of Wands), The Hermit. 

You will approach this situation with optimism, openness, and just... generally being your true self. Some of you probably have some innocent, pure, childlike vibe; like you don’t expect the worst from people, or that you don’t think/assume negatively about people. This meeting may require you to travel a bit more than usual (which makes sense). Either going to meet their family will require some effort on your part (e.g. need to arrange time, and buy tickets and whatnot), or there will be a lot of things going on during the meeting itself. 

I think there’ll be something unexpected about this meeting; it’s like you entering this situation having expected one thing but getting another thing. At some point, you could feel like you’re being asked to do more or to give more. I don’t want to say ‘perform’ but it feels like you’re being asked (indirectly or directly) to meet their expectation in some way, or to do something to please them; which won’t be what you expected at all. This could be anything really, it doesn’t have to be some outlandish thing, but it may put some pressure on you and make you overthink a bit. 

For example, they could say or do something that implies their expectations, but they do it in a nice, smiley, socially appropriate way. I can only give Asian example since I’m Asian; for example, if you’re a woman, it’s like they expect you to join them in the kitchen and cook something with them on that very first day (it’s not unusual, some people legit let their future daughter-in-law do the dishes just to test the girl smh, but this also depends on what type of Asian they are, of course). If you’re a man, then they may expect you to carry some stuff for them that day. Something like that. Don’t misunderstand, they’ll be welcoming and warm towards you, the house may be beautiful as well and they could have decorated it a bit to welcome you.  

But yeah, it really depends on what kind of thing they expect from their people, or from people they intend to welcome into their family, if that makes sense. They may start expecting you to be that way as well, for the sake of the family or for the sake of harmony. Again, there will be something unexpected; they could ask you unexpected questions, or something nerve-wracking suddenly happens, like a mistake, an accident, etc.

Whatever the situation will be, it could make you feel like you have to stand strong within yourself, for some of you it may feel like you have to prove or defend yourself a little. For others of you, you could find out something unexpected too, about your person’s family or about your person. And this thing will shift your perspective big time, it will shock you a bit. It won’t necessarily be bad, this depends on your specific case, but it may be shocking. Like “do you know that your person used to be a part of a gang?” That kind of thing. But I think it’ll mostly be something that makes you feel like you need to defend your position, something that challenges you, I just couldn’t think of an example.  

You’ll leave that meeting with a lot of things to think about. This could be good, or could be bad. But some of you may withdraw into yourself to ponder things a bit, to understand your experience from a different angle, to understand why you feel/think what you feel/think, etc. So some adjustments or some shifts in mentality could happen after the meeting. Some of you may feel disappointed about some things, some of you will choose to learn from the experience. 

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! What will they think about you? What kind of person will they think you are? And what will they think about your relationship with your person? Will they approve? 👀📝  

[seagiri]

some chilshi headcanons?

(Contextualizing my headcanons, I mostly like chilshi post-canon. It doesn’t click during the main story for me)

I think they’re very domestic. One of those situations where they don’t even realize how infatuated they are with the other- until they do. And they don’t know what to do about that so they get used to being close but never taking it a step further. I think Senshi is a good influence for Chilchuck, and Chil he is Senshi’s way to connect with others.

The two of them are people that had to mature emotionally very quickly due to their life circumstances and I think that’s what draws them together in a way

Senshi has the excuse that he wants to help Chil feed himself better and maybe help him taking care of his home, and Chil likes the company. He worries about the guy lmao

They smoke and drink in the porch of his old family house and they bicker about people. Senshi tends to their garden and Chil sometimes when he’s bored and his wrists don’t hurt, he combs his hair.

And Senshi travels and explores and when he comes back he gets to talk about everything and show Chilchuck his new recipes and he is mortified but he listens anyway :) Chil complains about work, updates him on his daughters and they get to talk. They open up

Maybe they go fishing together, to the market if there’s a chance. They drink in the tavern at nighttime. idk

It’s whatever. Whatever you know

>They’re both big spoon interchangeably but it’s Chilchuck the most because he doesn’t like feeling crushed and also Senshi’s beard is equal to 3 layers of blankets

>Senshi likes teaching Chilchuck how to cook but Chil gets annoyed fast if he can’t do it first try so they barely try anymore

>They own a lot of alcohol from different places either Senshi visits or Falin and Izutsumi bring them. That pantry is wild

>They fight over stupid shit that is just mildly annoying and not a real issue

>Their way of loving is to do things for each other. If Chilchuck is tired from work Senshi will offer to arrange his picklocks, maybe go something for him. And Chil tidies up the place for him after cooking or goes buy whatever is missing. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it for you. It’s fine”

>They had to get slightly bigger furniture

The perfect version for me is when they never get together because they’re stubborn and afraid of interfering in each others lives so they self sabotage and don’t know what to do. But I also love it when they’re happy together so make of this what you will <3 they are everything to me

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Been thinking about this for a while, but how about a scenario where reader is a muggle-born from a wealthy family who care much about their public perception. They ask her to bring Sebastian over for dinner because they wanted to meet the guy she keeps mentioning in her letters (she may not say it outright but they get the idea they’re dating) only to find out that he is in fact, poor, an orphan, and potentially not to the gentlemanly standard they expected for their daughter. (he tried this time to act good. He swears) How this ends can go one of many ways.

I don’t know if this is too complicated or fully formed as an idea but I think the drama could be fun

Enough | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK, ANON. I've never written anything quite like this but AH the drama was chef's kiss! I hope you love it <3

Words: ~10,400

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Drama, Fluff, Romance

The morning started the way most mornings did—early. The Great Hall was awash with the usual clatter of silverware and the soft hum of conversation, students huddling over their breakfasts, discussing the latest Quidditch scores, impending exams, or whatever gossip had surfaced overnight. You had been sipping on tea, a half-buttered slice of toast on your plate as you flipped absentmindedly through a letter from home, the familiar script of your mother’s handwriting blurring before your eyes.

That is, until you hit the second paragraph.

You blinked. Once. Twice. And then you reread it, hoping you had misunderstood.

"We were intrigued by this young man you’ve been spending time with, darling. You’ve mentioned him in nearly every letter for months now, and it sounds like he’s been quite an influence on you. Your father and I agree it’s high time we meet him properly—this Sebastian fellow. What a charming name! Please invite him to dinner over Easter holiday. We’re so looking forward to putting a face to the name and getting to know the young man you’re so fond of."

Your heart stopped. Your stomach lurched.

Sebastian.

You’d written about him often, sure. He was your best friend, wasn’t he? Or, at least, that’s what you told yourself to avoid admitting the truth. And yes, you’d spoken of him in glowing terms—how could you not? But your parents had interpreted it all so horribly wrong.

Courting? Meeting him? Easter dinner?

The idea of parading Sebastian in front of your parents, of them scrutinizing him, made your hands tremble. Not because you thought poorly of him—Merlin, no. You thought the world of him, had thought the world of him since the fifth year. It was your parents. Their expectations. Their... standards.

You could hear their voices already: "He doesn’t come from a respectable family. What are his prospects? What on earth does he think he could offer you?"

The clatter of a fork on the floor startled you back to the present. You hastily folded the letter and shoved it into your bag, breathing deeply as you tried to collect yourself. Panic simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

You glanced across the Hall to the Slytherin table, where Sebastian sat, as he often did, leaning back with an infuriating sort of confidence that only he could pull off. He was laughing at something Garreth Weasley said, his grin sharp, his dark hair a mess that somehow still suited him perfectly. You felt your chest tighten, both with fondness and sheer, unbridled terror.

You were in love with him, of course, but that hardly mattered now. You and Sebastian weren’t courting. You weren’t even close to broaching that topic. He had no idea how you felt, and you certainly weren’t about to admit it under these circumstances.

And yet, the prospect of defying your parents—ignoring their request—felt equally impossible. Their disapproval carried a weight you’d been trying to outrun your entire life, and the idea of disappointing them made your stomach churn.

You were trapped. Caught between an impossible expectation and a boy who didn’t even know he held your heart. And now, you had to somehow tell him about this invitation—a dinner he’d have no real reason to accept.

You made your way over to the Slytherin table, your palms sweaty as you clenched the strap of your bag. Sebastian caught sight of you before you even reached him, his grin widening as he straightened in his seat. His brown eyes narrowed on you—your nerves must have been written all over your face.

“What’s got you looking like that?” he asked, scooting over to make room for you as if he expected you to sit. He took a bite of his toast, completely at ease, while you hovered awkwardly beside him.

“I need to talk to you,” you blurted, your voice a little too high-pitched for your liking. “Alone.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but didn’t push. “Alright.” He stood, brushing crumbs from his hands, and slung his bag over one shoulder before nodding toward the doors. "Ladies first."

The two of you walked out of the Great Hall in silence, the weight of your impending confession settling heavily in your chest. Sebastian matched your pace, his usual confidence softened by curiosity as he shot occasional glances your way.

Once you reached the empty corridor just outside, you stopped, turning to face him. He leaned casually against the stone wall, his arms crossed, waiting for you to speak.

“Well?” he prompted, his tone light. “What’s this about?"

You inhaled sharply, clutching the strap of your bag as if it might ground you. “I got a letter from my parents this morning.”

“Ah,” he said knowingly, his smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Let me guess—another lecture about how you’re tarnishing the family name by being at Hogwarts instead of some fancy Muggle school?”

You frowned. “No, not this time. This is... different.”

That seemed to catch his attention. His smirk faded, replaced by a slight furrow of concern. “Alright, what’s it this time?”

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. How were you supposed to explain this? It felt ridiculous, mortifying, and yet you couldn’t avoid it. You had to tell him.

“They...” You exhaled shakily. “They want to meet you.”

Sebastian blinked. “Me?”

“Yes.” You looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “They think we’re... courting.”

For a moment, there was only silence. You risked a glance at him and found him staring at you, his mouth slightly open as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

“They what?” he finally managed, his voice rising just slightly.

“They think we’re courting!” you repeated, your face burning. “I didn’t say we were! I just... I mentioned you in my letters—your name might’ve come up a few times—and apparently, they got the wrong idea.”

Sebastian stared at you for another second before his lips twitched. Then, to your horror, he burst out laughing.

“This isn’t funny!” you hissed, glaring at him. “Sebastian, they’ve invited you to dinner over Easter holiday. They want to meet you, and they’re going to expect you to—” You cut yourself off, your heart pounding as you tried to gather your thoughts. “They’ll expect you to act a certain way, to be someone you’re not.”

“Why? Would they think I’m not up to snuff for their perfect daughter?” he asked, his grin still infuriatingly wide. “You make me sound like some street rat.”

“Because to them, you might as well be!” you snapped, then immediately regretted your words. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly, your voice softening. “It’s just... they’re very particular. They have high standards, and they’ll be looking for reasons to disapprove of you.”

Sebastian’s grin faltered, his expression hardening just a fraction. “So, what? You don’t want me to go?”

“It's not that," you insisted, shaking your head. "I just… I don’t want to put you in that position.

He studied you for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. Then, to your surprise, he shrugged. “Alright.”

Your eyes widened. “Alright what?”

“I’ll go,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Sebastian, you don’t understand,” you said desperately. “This isn’t some casual dinner. They’ll judge everything about you—your clothes, your manners, your background. And if they don’t think you’re good enough—”

“They’ll what? Disown you?” He smirked, though his tone was softer than usual. “Come on, I’ve faced cursed tombs and Dark wizards. I think I can handle a couple of uptight Muggles.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. He wasn’t taking this seriously at all—or maybe he was, in his own strange way.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” you said weakly.

“Well, lucky for you, I do,” he said, his confidence unwavering. “Tell your parents I’ll be there. And don’t worry—I’ll even wear my best shirt.”

You sighed, and Sebastian opened his mouth to say something else, probably another snarky remark, but you grabbed his wrist and tugged him along before he could. “Come on. We're going to the library."

He resisted slightly, his boots scuffing against the stone floor as he dragged his feet. “The library? Now? I wasn’t even finished with breakfast!”

“You’ll survive,” you shot back, glancing over your shoulder to see him smirking again.

“I don’t know,” he drawled, letting you lead him anyway. “I was in the middle of a very important debate with Garreth about whether treacle tart or cauldron cakes are the superior dessert.”

You huffed, ignoring him as you hurried down the stairs, taking two at a time. The sooner you found Ominis, the sooner you could start sorting out the absolute mess that was your life.

“Why the library?” Sebastian asked after a moment, though he didn’t sound all that curious. He was just enjoying making you squirm. “If this is about your parents, shouldn’t you be writing them a letter to tell them how incredibly lucky they are to have me gracing their dinner table?”

You ignored that, your face burning. “We need Ominis.”

“Of course we do,” Sebastian said dryly. “Can’t have a proper crisis without Ominis.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed open the library doors. The room was mostly empty this early in the morning, the usual quiet amplified by the faint rustle of pages turning in the far corner. Ominis was easy to spot—or rather, his familiar posture was. He was seated at his usual table near the enchanted globe, his wand resting lightly in his hand as he read.

“Ominis,” you called softly, leading Sebastian toward him. “We need your help.”

The blonde lifted his head at the sound of your voice, his expression calm but curious. “And good morning to you, too,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “What sort of trouble are we in this time?”

Sebastian dropped into the chair across from him, looking far too relaxed for someone about to be dragged into a week of preparations. “Her parents think we’re courting,” he said bluntly, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

Ominis’ brow furrowed. “They what?”

“They think we’re courting,” you repeated, sitting beside him and burying your face in your hands. “And they’ve invited him to dinner to... meet him.”

Ominis turned his attention to Sebastian, who looked far too relaxed given the situation. “And you agreed to this? Willingly?”

Sebastian shrugged, smirking. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

“And here I thought I’d be spending my week in peace,” Ominis muttered. “Fine. I’ll help you prepare. But don’t expect miracles.”

As expected, the days that followed were, quite frankly, exhausting. Between classes, Quidditch practice, and your usual routines, you and Ominis dedicated every spare moment to preparing Sebastian for the upcoming dinner.

It started with the basics. Ominis took the lead on etiquette lessons, drilling Sebastian on everything from proper table manners to the art of polite conversation. He even went as far as to mimic the kind of snide remarks Sebastian might encounter, forcing him to practice responding without sarcasm—a monumental task, to say the least.

“Let’s try again,” Ominis said one evening in the Undercroft, his tone patient but firm. “I’ll be her father, and you’ll be... well, you. He asks, ‘What are your intentions with my daughter?’ Go.”

Sebastian groaned, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair. “We’ve done this a hundred times, Ominis.”

“And we’ll do it a hundred more if that’s what it takes,” Ominis replied sharply, tapping his wand against his palm. “Now, try again.”

Meanwhile, you took charge of teaching him about Muggle traditions and customs, including the subtle differences he might not have noticed otherwise. You explained everything from the layout of a formal dinner to the kind of small talk he could expect. It was tedious work, but Sebastian humored you, though he often did so with a grin that suggested he found the whole ordeal amusing.

The real challenge came when Ominis insisted on taking Sebastian to Hogsmeade to purchase a proper suit.

“This is ridiculous,” Sebastian grumbled as Ominis guided him through racks of tailored jackets and waistcoats. “I already have clothes.”

“Your duelling robes aren’t enough,” Ominis replied, his tone brooking no argument. “You need to look the part. Now hold still.”

You stood nearby, hiding a smile as Ominis measured Sebastian with his wand, his expression the epitome of focus. Despite Sebastian’s complaints, the results were worth it. When he stepped out of the fitting room in a sleek black suit with a crisp white shirt, you were momentarily stunned.

“Well?” he asked, spreading his arms and spinning once for effect. “Do I pass inspection?”

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. “You’ll do.”

Ominis smirked knowingly. “You look presentable. Let’s hope your behavior matches.”

By the end of the week, Sebastian had begrudgingly mastered the basics. He could navigate a formal dinner, hold polite conversation, and even manage a few compliments without sounding insincere. Whether or not it would be enough to win over your parents remained to be seen, but for now, it was the best you could hope for.

On the evening of the dinner, you stood in your dormitory, staring at your reflection in the mirror with growing unease. Your usual confidence felt oddly absent as you adjusted the neckline of your dress; a light blue gown from Gladrags, soft and elegant, flowing like water down to your ankles, the color reminiscent of a clear spring sky.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your hands down the front of your skirt, grabbed your shawl, and headed out. The castle felt oddly quiet as you made your way to the appointed meeting place near the Floo. 5:30 sharp. You were certain you’d be the first to arrive—Sebastian had a habit of being fashionably late, after all—but as you turned the corner, you stopped short.

He was already there.

He stood near the fireplace, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his dark hair neatly combed for once. He wore the suit Ominis had picked out for him—black with a crisp white shirt—and his tie, much to your surprise, was light blue, perfectly matching your gown. The sight of it made your breath hitch.

For a moment, you just stared, taking in the way the tailored jacket fit him, the sharp cut of his shoulders, the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He looked... different. Polished. But there was still something so unmistakably Sebastian about him, from the way his brow furrowed slightly in thought to the nervous energy in his movements.

...Nervous?

Sebastian Sallow, the boy who faced cursed tombs and duels with a smirk, who thrived in chaos and relished a challenge, was pacing slightly as he waited for you. His hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, and he glanced at the clock above the fireplace every few seconds.

The sight made your chest ache and your heart flutter all at once.

“You were early,” you said softly, stepping closer.

He turned at the sound of your voice, his brown eyes widening slightly as he took you in. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze sweeping over your gown, your carefully chosen jewelry, and finally settling on your face.

“And you're right on time” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. He cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “You look—” He stopped, his words catching. Then he smiled, the kind of smile that wasn’t teasing or cocky but genuine. “You look beautiful.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks, and you clasped your hands together to keep from fidgeting. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He grinned at that, some of his usual confidence returning. “Well, if I’m going to face the gauntlet, I might as well dress the part.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the soft crackle of the torches filling the silence. There was a weight to the air between you, a sense of anticipation that neither of you seemed quite willing to break.

Finally, Sebastian stepped closer, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

You hesitated for only a second before slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow. His warmth was steady beneath your fingertips, grounding you as the nerves in your chest threatened to bubble over.

“Let’s get this over with,” you said with a weak smile.

Sebastian smirked, though the slight tightness in his jaw told you he wasn’t as calm as he was pretending to be. “Don’t worry,” he said as he reached for the Floo powder. “I’ve got this.”

He grabbed an adequate amount, and with one last glance your way, Sebastian guided you both into the Floo.

The swirling green flames spat you out onto the gravel drive of your family’s manor, the grand estate standing tall against the backdrop of the darkening sky. The familiar sight made your stomach churn with nerves.

Sebastian let out a low whistle, glancing up at the imposing structure. “So, this is home, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, half-defensive, half-curious.

He shrugged, his hands slipping casually into his pockets. “It suits you. Polished. Impressive. Maybe a little intimidating.”

You snorted softly. “Intimidating, really?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a grin. “You should see yourself when you’re angry."

You rolled your eyes, but his playful banter did little to ease your nerves. The thought of what waited inside—your parents, their judgment, the impossible expectations—made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

Sebastian must have noticed, because his grin softened, and he stepped closer, his voice low. “Hey. You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ll behave. Promise.”

You gave him a weak smile, wishing you could believe him. “You’ll need to do more than behave.”

“Then I’ll dazzle them,” he said with a wink, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed his own unease. “Shall we?”

For a moment, you hesitated, your heart pounding as you stared up at the towering manor. Then you took a deep breath, slipped your hand into the crook of his arm, and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Together, you climbed the stone steps to the front door, the sound of your heels echoing in the stillness. Sebastian reached for the brass knocker but paused, glancing at you one last time. “Ready?”

No. Not even close. But you nodded anyway.

The knocker fell with a heavy thud, and within seconds, the door swung open. A butler stood in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral as he looked the two of you over. “Welcome home, Miss,” he said with a slight bow before stepping aside. “Your parents are expecting you in the drawing room.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, stepping inside with Sebastian at your side.

The manor was just as you remembered it—pristine and impossibly grand, every detail designed to impress. The faint hum of conversation drifted from the drawing room, mingling with the crackle of a fire. Your nerves tightened with each step, but Sebastian walked confidently beside you, his arm steady under your hand.

As you approached the drawing room door, your mother’s voice carried through, clear and sharp as she spoke to your father. “Do try to make a good impression, darling.”

You froze for a split second, glancing at Sebastian. He caught your eye, offering a small smile that was more reassuring than cocky this time.

With one last breath, you stepped into the room, the weight of the evening settling firmly on your shoulders.

This was it.

The drawing room was as stately as ever, bathed in the warm glow of a crystal chandelier and the flicker of firelight dancing across polished wood paneling. Your parents sat on the velvet settee near the hearth, the picture of poise and elegance. Your mother, ever the perfectionist, smoothed invisible creases from her gown as she glanced up. Your father, a tall man with a commanding presence, stood as you entered, his sharp eyes taking in the scene with quiet scrutiny.

“Darling,” your mother greeted, her tone light but laced with expectation. She rose gracefully, her gaze flickering to Sebastian. “And this must be Mr. Sallow.”

Sebastian straightened, his easy confidence slipping into something more formal as he stepped forward. He bowed his head slightly, his movements smooth and deliberate. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he said, his voice steady and polite. "And please, call me Sebastian."

Your mother’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “The pleasure is ours,” she said, her tone cool but courteous. “Do come in and sit.”

Sebastian glanced at you, waiting for you to move first. You gave him a slight nod, releasing his arm as you both crossed the room. The chairs arranged across from your parents suddenly felt much too far apart, but Sebastian didn’t hesitate. He sat with perfect posture, his hands resting loosely on his knees, his expression calm.

You took the seat beside him, wishing you could shrink into it. Your mother’s sharp gaze swept over Sebastian, taking in every detail of his appearance—his perfectly tailored suit, his neatly combed hair, the faintest hint of tension in his jaw.

She folded her hands in her lap, her poised smile never faltering. "So, Sebastian," she began, her tone deceptively pleasant. "Tell us. How did the two of you meet?"

Sebastian turned to you with an easy smile. "We met during Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said. "My fifth year at Hogwarts—her first. Professor Hecat paired us for a duel."

Your father arched a brow. "A duel?"

Sebastian’s smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. "Yes, sir. I was confident I’d win."

"And?" your mother prompted, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

Sebastian glanced at you, and though his expression was perfectly neutral, you caught the amusement dancing behind his eyes. "I lost," he admitted, the words coming smoothly, without a hint of shame. "Rather spectacularly, if I’m being honest."

Your mother’s lips pressed together, but she nodded as if accepting the explanation. "I see. And tell me, Sebastian, what do you do in your spare time?"

Sebastian exhaled lightly, as if considering his words carefully. "I enjoy dueling. I still train regularly—it keeps me sharp. I also read quite a bit, mostly historical accounts of magical warfare, defensive strategy, things of that nature."

"Interesting." Your mother tilted her head. “And tell us, Sebastian, where is your family from?”

You adjusted in your seat, hands smoothing over your dress in a futile attempt to steady yourself. This was exactly what you had expected—no lighthearted conversation, no genuine warmth, just the relentless, calculated prodding of your parents. Every question, though cloaked in civility, was a test. A careful dissection. They weren’t getting to know Sebastian; they were measuring him, scrutinizing every word, every movement, silently deciding whether he was worthy of the world they had so meticulously crafted.

Sebastian, to his credit, didn’t so much as flinch. His expression remained composed, though you didn’t miss the way his fingers curled slightly against his knee before relaxing again.

“I grew up in the Scottish Highlands, not far from Iverness,” he said smoothly. “My family lived there for generations.”

Your father leaned forward slightly, his expression still unreadable. “And what do your parents do?”

The air grew heavier. This was one question you’d been dreading, the one that no amount of preparation could soften. You risked a glance at Sebastian, your heart hammering in your chest.

“They were Professors, however my parents passed away when I was young,” Sebastian said, his voice steady. “It’s just my sister and I now."

There was a brief pause, the kind that stretched just long enough to be uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” your mother said at last, though the words felt hollow.

Sebastian inclined his head. “Thank you, ma’am.”

He was holding his own, but this wasn’t a conversation—it was an examination. And it was only going to get worse.

You could feel Sebastian’s gaze flick toward you, just for a moment, as if checking in. Making sure you were okay.

You weren’t.

Your father continued on, clearly not ready to let the conversation drift into safer waters. “And your sister?” he asked, his tone polite but probing. “What does she do?”

“Anne’s focus has been on her health in recent years,” Sebastian said carefully. “She’s unwell.”

The words hung in the air for a beat too long, the weight of them sinking into the polished wood and embroidered silk of the drawing room. You knew your parents well enough to recognize the flicker of calculation behind your father’s eyes, the way your mother’s fingers twitched as she reached for her teacup, as if trying to mask the direction of her thoughts.

No parents. An ill sister. No meaningful connections to high society.

To them, it meant one thing: nothing to offer.

You clenched your hands in your lap, nails pressing into your palms as you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. It was maddening, sitting here while they dissected him like this, peeling him apart with careful, polite words, as they decided whether he was worth your time. As if he hadn’t already proven himself a hundred times over to you.

“Sebastian,” your mother said, breaking the brief silence, “our daughter speaks very highly of you. She’s mentioned your... intelligence and resourcefulness.”

Sebastian turned his gaze to your mother, his expression unreadable. He didn’t preen under the supposed compliment, nor did he flinch at the underlying weight of her words. Instead, he simply waited, letting her continue, as if he knew there was more to it.

Your mother took a delicate sip of her tea, the fine china barely making a sound as she set it back on the saucer. “I do hope she’s not exaggerating.”

Sebastian smiled—just a flicker of one, polite but unreadable. “I suppose that depends on what she’s said," he glanced at you briefly before continuing. “But if I’ve earned even half the praise she’s given me, I’d say I’m doing quite well.”

Your mother tilted her head, her smile tightening. “And what are your ambitions, Mr. Sallow? What do you hope to achieve?”

The question made your stomach tighten. They weren’t interested in him as a person. They were interested in whether he was worth investing in.

Sebastian, however, didn’t so much as blink. He exhaled softly, as if considering his words, then tilted his head slightly.

"I’ve always been drawn to subjects that require critical thinking—Defense Against the Dark Arts, for example," he said, his voice calm but deliberate. "My main considerations have been Cursebreaking or perhaps training to become an Auror."

Your father cleared his throat, leaning forward slightly in his chair. “Cursebreaking and… Auror?” His tone was polite but clipped, as though he was carefully parsing the unfamiliar terms. "What would such professions look like?"

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian replied carefully. “Cursebreaking involves uncovering and disarming magical traps, often tied to ancient artifacts or ruins. Akin to... archeology. And Aurors are... the magical equivalent of a detective, sir."

Your mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, her hands folding neatly in her lap. “Quite dangerous,” she said, her tone clipped as her sharp gaze flicked toward you for a moment before returning to Sebastian. “Do you find yourself drawn to danger, Mr. Sallow?”

“Not for its own sake, no,” he replied smoothly.

His response almost had you laughing—because if there was one thing Sebastian Sallow was drawn to, it was danger. You pressed your lips together tightly, trying to stifle the smile threatening to break through, but it was too late. Your amusement must have flickered across your face because your mother’s sharp eyes immediately snapped to you.

“And what, may I ask, is so amusing, darling?” she said, her tone as smooth as silk but edged with curiosity. Her gaze pinned you to your seat like a hawk spotting prey, and you froze, your mind scrambling for an excuse.

Sebastian’s gaze flicked to you, and for a brief second, you caught the faintest glimmer of a amusement in his eyes. But before you could respond, a knock at the drawing room door broke the tension.

The butler stepped inside, bowing slightly. “Dinner is served, everyone.”

Relief flooded through you so quickly you nearly sagged in your chair. Your mother nodded gracefully, rising from her seat with all the elegance of a queen. “Shall we?” she said, gesturing toward the dining room.

You wasted no time in standing, brushing down your dress as you avoided your mother’s lingering gaze. Sebastian rose smoothly beside you, his hand brushing against yours briefly as he offered his arm again. You hesitated for only a moment before taking it, his steady warmth grounding you as you followed your parents out of the room.

As you walked, you leaned in slightly, keeping your voice low. "It's unnerving how talented you are at lying."

Sebastian glanced at you, his expression unreadable but his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “Who says I lied?"

You snorted softly. "You’d dive headfirst into a cursed tomb if someone dared you.”

He chuckled under his breath, his voice barely audible as he replied, “Not if it’s a boring tomb.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh as the two of you entered the dining room. It was grand, of course—your family didn’t do anything halfway. The long table was set with gleaming silverware and crystal glasses, a centerpiece of fresh flowers and candles casting a soft glow over the room.

Your father took his seat at the head of the table, your mother settling in beside him with a practiced grace. You and Sebastian were directed to the seats opposite them, the distance between you making the table feel even more intimidating.

The first course—a delicate arrangement of roasted quail and glazed vegetables—was placed before you, the table settling into a brief silence as your parents inspected the presentation with the same scrutiny they applied to everything else. You glanced at Sebastian, your heart sinking slightly as you noticed the slightest flicker of uncertainty in his movements.

He picked up a fork, pausing for just a moment too long as he seemed to second-guess whether it was the correct one. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. He began to cut into the dish with the smaller dessert fork, and while it wasn’t glaringly obvious, it was enough to catch your mother’s sharp eyes.

“Not quite that one, Sebastian,” she said, her voice saccharine sweet but laced with condescension. “The proper fork for the main course is the one on your left.”

Sebastian froze for the briefest moment before smoothly setting the fork down and picking up the correct one. “Thank you for the clarification,” he said evenly.

Your mother smiled thinly, her eyes gleaming with something that made your stomach turn. “It can be so difficult to keep track of these things when one isn’t accustomed to formal settings.”

You stiffened, your grip on your own fork tightening as a surge of indignation rose in your chest. You wanted to say something, to defend him, but before you could, Sebastian beat you to it.

“Quite right,” he said, his tone still calm but now carrying a subtle edge. “It’s not a habit I’ve had the opportunity to form. I suppose that’s what makes learning new things so valuable.”

Your mother’s lips twitched, as though she couldn’t decide whether to be irritated or impressed by his response. “Indeed,” she said finally, her tone cool.

The meal carried on in uneasy silence, each bite weighed down by the lingering tension that clung to the air like a storm waiting to break. The clink of silverware against porcelain was the only sound, punctuating the unspoken challenge that had passed between Sebastian and your parents. Though the conversation had momentarily stalled, the scrutiny had not. It lingered, sharp and assessing, filling every quiet second with a pressure that made it harder to swallow.

Sebastian remained composed, his expression carefully neutral, but you could feel the way his fingers occasionally curled around the stem of his glass, the subtle flick of his gaze toward you—a silent check-in, a quiet assurance.

But it wasn’t him they turned their focus to next.

“Darling,” your mother began, setting down her fork with an air of practiced grace, “how are your studies progressing this term? I trust you’re excelling?”

You swallowed, already feeling the familiar prickle of anxiety creeping up your spine. “They’re going well, Mother,” you said carefully. “I’ve been—”

“Well?” she interrupted, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. “Is that the best you can say? I sent a letter to Professor Garlick who indicated to me that you've been struggling in Herbology. I’m sure you could apply yourself more diligently.”

You clenched your jaw, your grip tightening on your knife. “It’s not my strongest subject, but I’m doing my best.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, a clear sign that your answer wasn’t satisfactory. “I see,” she said coolly. “And what about that... brutish sport you insist on playing? What’s it called again? Quilt... ditch?”

“Quidditch,” you corrected quietly.

“Yes, that,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I fail to see how spending your time chasing after a ball does anything to further your education.”

Your father chimed in, his tone gruff but no less pointed. “I suppose it’s her way of rebelling.”

You focused intently on cutting your food, willing yourself to remain calm. This wasn’t new; you’d endured countless dinners like this before. But tonight, with Sebastian sitting beside you, the sting of their words felt sharper.

Sebastian, to his credit, didn’t outwardly react at all. You were impressed by his restraint. His eyes stayed fixed on his plate, though you knew him well enough to see the occasional twitch of his jaw, the subtle shift in his posture.

Your mother’s next comment was the tipping point.

“And another thing, darling,” your mother said, her tone saccharine and laced with something sharp. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve put on a bit of weight since the summer. I do hope you haven’t been neglecting your studies in favor of… indulgences.”

The words sliced through the air like a knife, precise and deliberate, meant to wound in a way that could be brushed off as concern.

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck as every childhood insecurity came rushing back all at once. You knew better than to react—she wanted a reaction—but the sting of it lodged deep in your chest anyway.

You swallowed, unsure if you even wanted to look at Sebastian, afraid of what you might see—awkwardness, pity, maybe even silent agreement.

But when you did glance at him, what you found wasn’t hesitation.

It was fury.

Not loud, not dramatic, but cold—sharp enough to cut.

Sebastian’s hand had stilled around his fork, his knuckles just barely white with the force of his grip. His jaw was tight, his brown eyes dark with something unreadable as he stared at your mother.

When he finally set his fork down, it was deliberate, the soft clink against the plate somehow louder than any shouting could have been.

“With all due respect, ma’am,” he said, his voice deceptively calm, "your daughter is one of the most capable, brilliant, and resilient people I have ever known. And if she carries any unnecessary weight, it’s the burden of expectations placed on her by others.”

The room fell silent, your parents frozen mid-bite as they turned to look at him. You felt your heart leap into your throat, a mix of shock and gratitude and anxiety rendering you momentarily speechless.

“I understand you have high standards,” Sebastian continued, his tone polite but firm, “but I can assure you that whatever expectations you’ve set, she’s already surpassed them.”

Your mother’s expression barely flickered, but you knew her well enough to sense the barely concealed offense in the stiffening of her posture. “How very passionate of you, Mr. Sallow,” she said, setting down her fork with quiet precision. “I suppose you believe you know her better than her own family does?”

Sebastian didn’t so much as blink. “I believe I see her clearly,” he said. “Which is more than I can say for most.”

It was a direct hit. You could see it in the way your mother’s shoulders tensed, in the way your father exhaled slowly, setting his silverware down with a pointed clink.

Your father leaned back, fixing Sebastian with a cold, assessing look. “It is quite bold to assume you have any right to comment on such personal matter," your father said, his tone sharp, “Perhaps you’d care to elaborate further on what exactly your role is in her life?”

The shift in their focus was immediate and ruthless, their pointed gazes turning back to Sebastian like predators zeroing in on prey.

"I’m simply someone who sees her for who she is, not who she’s expected to be.” Sebastian replied, a flicker of something dangerously close to amusement crossing his face. “And I have to say, sir, that seems to be a rare thing in this house.”

The air turned brittle, thick with unspoken tension.

Your father’s fingers tapped once against the table, his expression cool but unreadable. Your mother inhaled slowly, exhaling through her nose as she reached for her wine glass, taking a measured sip.

You braced yourself.

"How very poetic," your father finally said, tone devoid of any real warmth. “And yet, poetry has never paid the bills, nor built anything of lasting worth."

Sebastian’s expression remained calm, though you could see the tension building in his jaw.

“With all due respect, sir,” he said smoothly, “neither has cruelty.”

Your mother’s grip on her wine glass tightened ever so slightly. Your father’s expression remained impassive, but the temperature in the room dropped like a sudden frost. The moment stretched taut, every unspoken rule of decorum cracking under the weight of Sebastian’s words.

“Clever,” your father mused, his tone devoid of amusement. “But clever words don’t change the reality of things, Sebastian. You may think you understand our daughter, but understanding is hardly the same as providing for her.”

Your mother hummed in agreement, tilting her head as she studied Sebastian like he was an unfortunate stain on her pristine tablecloth. “Yes, and you do come from rather humble beginnings,” she said smoothly, reaching for her wine. “It's tragic, truly. No parents. A sick sister. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for you, growing up without proper guidance.”

Sebastian didn’t react, but you saw the barely perceptible flex of his fingers where they rested against the table. His posture remained relaxed—perhaps too relaxed—but there was a sharpness in his eyes, a quiet fury coiling beneath the surface.

“I imagine it taught me resilience,” he said evenly. “Self-sufficiency. Things I suspect not everyone in this room has had the opportunity to learn.”

Your mother’s lips twitched, something cold flickering in her expression while your father leaned forward slightly, hands threading together.

“You speak boldly for a man with nothing to offer," he said, his tone deceptively mild. "No wealth. No status. No respectable lineage. And yet, you seem to believe you deserve our daughter. How naïve.”

You clenched your fists beneath the table, your stomach twisting with anger.

Sebastian tilted his head, and though his expression remained perfectly polite, something flickered behind his gaze—something sharp, knowing. “And you speak as though she needs something from me,” he said smoothly. “As though she isn’t already more than capable of carving her own path.” He let the words settle before adding, “She doesn’t need anyone to provide for her, least of all me. But I imagine what she does need is support. Respect.” He smiled, a slow, deliberate thing. “I have no issue giving her both. I can’t say the same for others.”

The jab landed. You saw it in the way your father’s mouth pressed into a thin line, in the way your mother’s fingers twitched slightly before she masked it with a sip of wine. Her gaze flickered toward you, and in that moment, you saw it—annoyance, disappointment, maybe even frustration that you had allowed someone like him into this house. Into your life.

Your father recovered first. He inhaled slowly, his voice quiet, cold. “Let me explain something to you,” he said, his tone shifting from condescension to something far sharper. “This—” he gestured vaguely between you and Sebastian, “—is temporary. She’ll tire of whatever… fantasy you’ve spun for her soon enough.”

Your heart clenched. You opened your mouth, but before you could even form a response, Sebastian did.

He smiled. Not a soft smile. Not a kind one.

A sharp, knowing smirk. “Funny,” he said, tilting his head, “I was just about to say the same thing about your influence over her.”

Your mother inhaled sharply. Your father’s expression darkened. “You insolent scum,” he sneered, the veneer of civility finally cracking. “Do you honestly believe you can stand there and challenge me? In my home?” He leaned forward, his eyes cold, voice laced with something cruel. “You are nothing. A nobody. A street rat with no family, no future. Do you think some clever words and a polished suit change that?”

Your mother sighed, setting down her wine glass with an air of exhausted patience. “It’s pathetic, really,” she murmured, eyes sliding over Sebastian with a look of detached pity. “You must think yourself so noble, playing protector. So righteous.” Her lips curved into something resembling a smile, but there was nothing kind about it. “But it doesn’t change what you are. A boy who clawed his way out of the dirt, only to find himself desperately reaching for something beyond his station.”

Sebastian’s shoulders stiffened, his fingers curling subtly against the edge of the table. His expression didn’t waver—his mask of practiced ease was still firmly in place—but something about him changed.

Your mother took another slow sip of her wine, setting the glass down with a soft clink before turning her attention to you. “I trust this little performance has run its course?” she asked lightly. “Or shall we continue entertaining the delusion that this—” she gestured at Sebastian with a dismissive flick of her fingers, “—is anything more than a childish infatuation?”

The words hung in the air, sharp and gleaming, waiting to cut.

Your mother’s gaze was expectant, coldly patient, as if she were merely waiting for you to confirm what she already believed—that this was just another phase, another mistake she would soon correct. Your father, too, sat with the quiet confidence of a man who had never once considered that he wouldn’t be obeyed. That you wouldn’t bend to their will.

You looked at Sebastian.

The amusement that had once danced behind his eyes was gone. The sharp, confident smirk had faded. And for the first time that night, you saw it.

Hurt.

It was gone as soon as it came, so fleeting you might have missed it if you weren’t looking. But you were looking.

A sick sort of guilt coiled in your stomach, pressing against your ribs. Because Sebastian didn’t have to be here. He hadn’t asked for this. You had invited him—not because you wanted him subjected to your parents’ scrutiny, not because you thought he owed you anything, but because you had been too afraid to defy them. Too afraid to tell them no.

You had brought him into this house, sat him at this table, knowing exactly how it would go. Knowing exactly how they would look at him, dissect him, tear him down with a thousand polished, cutting words.

And yet... and yet he had fought. Not just for himself, but for you. For your dignity, your choices, your right to be more than just a perfectly groomed extension of them.

He had sat at this table, met their every challenge, endured every cutting remark. He had taken the blows meant for you, over and over, without hesitation.

Because that’s who he was.

And that’s why you loved him. Why you always had.

You inhaled slowly, then with careful, deliberate movements, you pushed your chair back. The legs scraped against the polished floor, slicing through the silence like a blade.

Your mother’s expression flickered, just slightly—her perfectly trained poise faltering for the briefest second. Your father’s gaze sharpened.

You stood.

Sebastian's head turned toward you, something wary in his expression. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just waited. Because despite everything, despite all the words that had been thrown between them, this moment wasn’t his.

It was yours.

You lifted your chin, meeting your mother’s gaze first. “Enough.”

A single word. Final. Absolute.

Your father scoffed. “Sit down.”

“No.” You turned to face him fully, voice unwavering. “You don’t get to speak to him that way. Not anymore. Not ever again.”

Your mother let out a breathy laugh, reaching for her wine. “Darling—”

“I love him.”

The words left your lips before you could second-guess them.

Your mother froze, her glass hovering just above the table. Your father’s expression turned to stone, his mouth pressing into a thin line. But it was Sebastian’s reaction that mattered most.

He went completely still.

You turned to look at him fully now, heart pounding, searching his face, because you’d never said it before. Not out loud.

But it was the truth.

And for the first time, you weren’t afraid of it.

“I love him,” you repeated, each syllable firm, unshaken. “And I won’t, for one more second, listen to your condescension, your cruelty, your endless judgment, not towards him.”

Your father scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

You snapped your attention back to him. “No, I’m done being ridiculous,” you said, voice firm. “I’m done playing this game. Done pretending that what you want for me is what I want.” You exhaled, steadying yourself. “I just won’t sit here and pretend that what you’re doing isn’t vile. I won’t sit at this bloody table and let you look down on someone who is worth ten of any society man you’d rather have me with. And I’m done letting you dictate my life.”

Silence.

Then your mother’s voice, quiet but cutting. “You would choose him over your family?”

Your throat tightened.

“If you won't accept my choice, then yes. I would. And I will.”

The finality of it rang through the room.

Your mother’s lips pressed together, her shoulders going rigid. Your father simply let out a slow breath through his nose.

And Sebastian.

Sebastian, who had spent the evening enduring the worst of them, who had sat through every cruel, veiled insult and outright attack, who had stood his ground even when it hurt—

Sebastian looked at you like you were something impossible.

Like you had just rewritten the laws of the universe before his very eyes.

Like he had braced himself for battle and, instead, you had stepped in front of him and ended the war with nothing but your voice.

Your father made a low sound, something between exasperation and disgust. “You’re making a mistake.”

You exhaled slowly. “Then it’s mine to make.”

He shook his head, his expression unreadable. “You’ll regret this.”

You didn’t even hesitate. “No. I won’t.”

You lifted your chin, offering Sebastian your hand. “Let’s go,” you said, voice steady, unwavering.

Sebastian didn’t move for a heartbeat. His fingers twitched at his side, his gaze flicking from your hand to your face, searching—really searching—for any sign of hesitation, of regret.

He found none.

And that was when he took your hand.

Warm. Solid.

Your mother let out a quiet breath through her nose, something unreadable passing over her face before she schooled her features back into perfect neutrality. Your father, however, wasn’t as composed.

“I will not be made a fool of in my own home,” he said sharply, his voice carrying an edge of finality, of command. “You walk out that door, you do not walk back in.”

The weight of his words settled in the space between you, heavy and suffocating. A lifetime of expectations, of obligations, of control—all crumbling with a single choice.

Your mother folded her hands neatly in her lap, watching you with a cool, detached expression. “Well, darling?” she said, tilting her head. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Sebastian stiffened beside you, like he was ready for you to turn around and stay. Like he was bracing himself for the inevitable.

But there was no decision to be made. Even if Sebastian didn't love you back, even if you weren't actually courting, even if he never felt the same, even if this all ended tomorrow, you wouldn’t regret standing here, choosing yourself for the first time in your life.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

And with that, you turned.

You didn’t wait for another word, another cruel remark, another attempt to claw you back into the cage they had built for you. You simply walked away.

Outside the manor, the gravel drive crunched beneath your feet, the only sound in the otherwise still night. You didn’t speak. Neither did Sebastian. The weight of the evening hung between you, thick and suffocating, stretching into the quiet as you made your way down the long path.

When you reached the gates, Sebastian finally let go, of your hand, stepping forward to unlatch them. The metal groaned slightly as it swung open, and you hesitated only briefly before stepping through, leaving your childhood behind with the soft click of the latch snapping shut behind you.

The Floo loomed in front of you, smelling of ash and magic, thick with the weight of old decisions and new ones yet to be made.

Sebastian stepped forward first, tossing a handful of Floo Powder before vanishing into the green.

You inhaled, steadying yourself. Then you followed.

The second your feet touched the cool stone floor of the castle, the weight of it all, of everything that had just happened, crashed into you.

It was sudden, overwhelming—like the entire evening had been held at bay by sheer force of will, and now, with no more battles to fight, no more words left to say, it all came rushing in at once.

Your breath hitched. Then another. Then another.

You were breaking.

The grief, the exhaustion, the anger—it clawed up your throat all at once, twisting into something ragged and uncontrollable. You gasped, pressing the heel of your hand against your chest, as if you could physically hold yourself together.

And then you were crying.

Sobbing, really.

Not the quiet, dignified tears of someone mourning something small, but the raw, wrecked kind.

It was too much. The fight, the way they had looked at him, the way they had looked at you. The finality of it all. The loss. Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? Walking away meant you had lost something, even if you had never really wanted it in the first place.

But you had gained something too. You knew that.

And yet, it still hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whisper, barely holding itself together. “I—I shouldn’t have taken you there. I shouldn’t have—” Your breath shuddered violently as you wrapped your arms around yourself, your body shaking. “I knew what they’d do. I knew. And I still—”

Sebastian moved before you could finish.

Warm hands found your shoulders, solid and grounding. “Hey,” he murmured, voice low, steady. “Look at me.”

You did.

His gaze wasn’t full of pity. Not anger. Not resentment.

Just… Sebastian.

Soft. Steady. There.

And that was worse somehow, because it made you sob harder.

“I just—I don’t know what I was thinking,” you choked out. “I just wanted to get through it, to—”

“To satisfy them,” Sebastian murmured.

You nodded, another sob breaking free. “And I did. For years, I did. But I can’t anymore.” You exhaled sharply. "And now, now I've lost them, and I know it was right but—"

“It still hurts,” Sebastian finished for you, his voice softer now. "They're still your parents."

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, your nod barely perceptible.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

And then—

“...Do you really love me?”

His voice was quiet. Almost hoarse.

You stiffened, your breath catching. Slowly, you lifted your head, looking up at him.

Sebastian's expression was unreadable, his shoulders tense like he was bracing himself for the answer. His fingers flexed at his sides, but his eyes—his eyes were wide, dark, filled with something you couldn’t place.

You had never seen him like this.

Never seen him afraid. Not of a fight. Not of a curse. But of this.

Of you.

“Do you?” he asked again, softer this time. “Or was it just—was it just something you said to get them to stop?”

You blinked, your breath still shaky, your cheeks still wet. And yet, somehow, the weight in your chest lifted just slightly, just enough for you to see through the grief, the exhaustion, the fear.

And the truth was still there, waiting for you, steady and undeniable.

You reached for him, fingers trembling, pressing against his arm first—then his jaw, his cheek, the way you had always wanted to but hadn’t dared.

His breath stuttered.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I love you.”

Sebastian didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink.

He just stared at you, eyes wide, lips parted like he was trying to process the words—like he had heard them, understood them, but didn’t believe them.

“You—” His voice broke. He swallowed hard, shaking his head slightly. “You don’t have to say that just because—”

“I mean it, Sebastian.”

His whole body tensed.

“I didn’t say it for them. I didn’t say it to make a point. I didn’t say it to win.” Your voice was raw, stripped bare, nothing left to hide behind. “I said it because it’s true. It's been true for years."

Sebastian’s eyes flickered, something breaking apart behind them. His lips parted slightly, his breath uneven, and for a single, fragile moment, he looked lost.

And then he crashed into you, his arms wrapping around you with such force that it knocked the breath from your lungs. His grip was tight—almost desperate—like he had been waiting for this his entire life and still couldn’t believe it was real.

You barely had time to react before you were sinking into him, your fingers fisting into the back of his jacket, your face pressing into the warm, solid plane of his chest.

Then, his voice. Barely a whisper. Barely holding itself together.

"I love you, too."

You froze.

Sebastian only held you tighter.

His fingers curled into the fabric of your dress, gripping it like he needed something solid, something to keep him standing. His forehead pressed into your hair, and his breath was warm against your temple, coming in unsteady bursts, as if the words had taken everything out of him. Like they had been clawing their way out of him for years.

You turned your face deeper into his chest, squeezing your eyes shut as your arms wound tighter around him, your fingers pressing into the muscles of his back, warm, solid, real, yours.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, his whole body shaking. "You don’t—” His breath caught, like he couldn’t quite get the words out. “You don’t understand. I’ve wanted—I never—” He let out something between a laugh and a choked breath, his hands smoothing up your back, then gripping you tighter again, like he couldn’t decide if he should hold you gently or keep you locked against him forever.

“I thought—” He swallowed hard. “I never thought—" Another breath, another exhale, another shudder running through him.

"I never thought I was enough."

You pulled back just enough to see him, to look into his face, to make him see you. His eyes were wild with emotion, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he wanted to say more but didn’t know how. You reached up, cupping his jaw, thumbs tracing the sharp planes of his cheekbones.

“Then you’re an idiot,” you murmured teasingly, voice thick with emotion, “because you’ve always been enough.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. He searched your face, as if he was still trying to make sense of this, as if some part of him was waiting for you to take it back, to wake up from whatever dream this must have been.

But then—slowly, carefully—he let himself believe it.

And that was when he kissed you.

Slow, deep, desperate—in ways that only years of restraint could make it. In ways that made it feel inevitable, like the two of you had been pulled toward this moment by some unseen force long before either of you had the courage to acknowledge it.

Sebastian kissed you like he was starving for you, like he had been holding himself back for so long that now, given even the slightest permission, he couldn’t stop himself. His fingers splayed against your back, pressing you flush against him, as if the space between you was unbearable, as if he needed to feel you to believe this was real. His other hand slid up, cradling your face with a reverence that made your chest ache, his thumb sweeping over your cheekbone.

You melted into him, into the heat of him, into the way his lips moved against yours like he was memorizing you, like he needed to commit every touch, every sigh, every trembling breath to memory so he could keep it locked inside himself forever. He kissed you with years of unspoken words, years of buried longing, years of wanting but never allowing himself to have.

You weren’t sure which of you was trembling more.

And then, slowly, like he was dragging himself away from the very thing keeping him alive, Sebastian pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“Say it again,” he whispered, his voice wrecked, raw in ways you had never heard before.

Your fingers loosened their grip, moving up, tracing along his jaw, mapping out every curve, every freckle, every part of him that you had never allowed yourself to touch before.

“I love you, Sebastian.”

His throat bobbed, his grip on you tightening, a smile splitting his face in two.

“I love you, too,” he murmured, soft but steady. He turned his head, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, his lips warm and reverent.

Something inside you—something that had been wound tight for years—unraveled.

You had spent so long living the life that had been laid out for you, bending beneath expectations that had never truly been yours. You had spent so long trying to be what they wanted, waiting, waiting, for the moment you would finally be free.

And now—standing here, wrapped in his arms, his heartbeat thrumming against your own—you realized that freedom had never been something waiting for you on the horizon.

It had been yours to take all along.

[eilishsmuse]

comfortable silence is so overrated

— billie eilish x fem!reader

context. it’s been four months after the whole incident between billie and you. after many mental breakdowns the past months you’ve finally got over it. billie on the other hand could say otherwise. when you see her at a party she pulls you for a chat. but why?

cw. swearing, drinking, confessions, toxicity, billie realizing she fucked up, billie is also a total mess, dumping feelings, lowkey sexual tension

soundtrack. from the dinning table – harry styles

original. i hate that i can’t love you

It’s been a while since the argument with Billie. You two haven’t spoken since. No texts. No calls. Nothing.

For a while, you were completely wrecked ever since the whole situation happened. For a good month you had to do no-contact with everyone you knew. You felt embarrassed and ashamed for what you felt toward Billie. You both agreed on the contract. At least that’s what you kept on telling yourself.

Now 4 months later you were completely over it.

You were sat on a couch at one of your friends backyard house party here in LA. He worked within the music industry and was the main reason you met Billie.

You had a red solo cup in hand. With whatever concoctions your friend mixed for the party.

As your friend group started talking about some gossip within the celebrity slash influencer industry your eyes started drifting around.

People watching.

As your eyes scanned the room they took a quick double take at a certain somebody. Billie.

She’s laughing with a bunch of her friends and they’re all standing around her like she’s the leader of their ‘posse’. You immediately look away and immediately feel uneasy as her face is now engraved in your mind.

You excuse yourself from your friends to go get a drink, swiftly getting off the couch and walking over towards the bar area.

Billie takes a quick inventory of the house party her friend had invited her to. Tons of people she recognizes from the music industry, but also not a lot of people she likes either. Her gaze falls from group to group, finally landing back on her friends.

A few influencers from social media, a couple of producers from her record label...and a familiar face.

Billie’s heart does a backflip as her eyes land on you, noticing how beautiful you looked in that leather skirt with that tight red laced top.

Shit.

Immediately, she has an almost visceral reaction to the sight of you.

Everything about you looks so good, from your hair to your outfit.

Billie wants to go up to you, grab you and lock you in a room, kiss you until you can’t even remember your own name.

But she can’t.

She bites the inside of her cheek, eyes glued on you from across the room.

You order a coconut margarita from the bartender and let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a brief second.

The music was loud in your ears and hard in your chest. And on top of that your heart was already beating out your chest thanks to Billie being here.

You opened your eyes again to your drink being set in front of you. You mutter a small thanks to the bartender and immediately take a sip from the margarita glass.

Billie’s eyes follow you as you order the drink, the sight of you talking to the bartender making her heart jump into her throat.

Jesus, you’re even more beautiful in person than in her memory.

Billie grips the solo cup in her hand tighter, watching as you take a sip from the glass. She tries to swallow, dry throat making it hard.

For a few seconds, Billie considers going over to you.

What would she even say? She can’t tell you that she’s missed you. The contract was clear. No feelings.

Billie has been completely unable to get you out of her mind since the fight. Her heart aches every time she thinks about the way your face looked, so upset and pleading...

Billie bites her lip as you move to walk away from the bar.

Hell, she has to talk to you. At least let you know something.

Before she can talk herself out of it, Billie starts towards you. Her heart is throbbing against her ribcage, nearly threatening to burst through every time she takes a step forward.

Deep breath. Just talk to her. You’re just talking to her.

Billie arrives next to you, standing a few inches away and trying to look relaxed.

“Hey.”

You turn your head to the side to the familiar voice and you’re immediately met with those stupidly, beautiful blue eyes.

You don’t react physically.

But your heart and head are sure as hell pounding inside.

“Hi.”

Billie’s not used to you not having a big reaction to her presence.

When you turn towards her, she’s again hit with how attractive you are, her eyes involuntarily flicking down your body.

Billie quickly brings her eyes back up, meeting yours. She’s a little speechless.

“You look,” she coughs. “You look good.”

What is she even saying?? Billie, get it together for crying out loud.

Your eyebrows raise for a split second but then furrow in part confusion and surprise.

You open your mouth to say ‘you too’ but you don’t wanna give Billie the satisfaction of feeling like she has you wrapped around her finger all over again.

Even though she does look good in her backwards cap and those fucking glasses—

Stop it, Y/N.

Instead you stop the words from leaving your mouth and give her a small smile, “Thanks.”

God, your smile could kill her.

Billie’s heart does a little backflip when you do, the familiarity of it making her chest ache.

She’s missed you. She’s missed you so damn much, but she can’t tell you that.

It’s not just your smile that’s attractive either. That leather skirt you’re wearing drives her absolutely insane, making her want to grab ahold of you and press you up against the nearest wall...

A blush creeps into her cheeks at the thought.

Billie’s heart skips a beat at the small smile, and once again she’s thrown off.

You seem...unbothered to her presence. Usually you’re happy, or at least visibly excited to see her.

Which is exactly what Billie doesn’t want.

She swallows, adjusting her hat. “Yeah, uh, no problem.”

Billie can’t help scanning you over again, her eyes tracing the lines of your body.

Get a hold of yourself, Billie.

You on the other hand, can tell how nervous Billie seemed to be talking to you. From the hat adjustments, the fidgeting of her rings, and the way her eyes would wonder to other parts of you.

The parts she even started talking to you in the first place for.

That’s right.

Billie only really wanted you for one thing. The sex.

A straight face was what you held when you reminded yourself of her not forgotten actions.

There’s a pause in the conversation, and it’s starting to make Billie a little nervous.

You’re not reacting the way she thought you would. Why aren’t you blushing, or staring, or smiling back?

She bites the inside of her cheek, trying to think of something to say. Her eyes flick down to the solo cup in your hands, then back up.

“What, uh, what are you drinking?”

Really, Billie? What are you drinking? Nice one.

“A marg.”

The words leaving your lips dryly and uninterested.

Billie swallows again as she eyes the red cup in your hand. She’s starting to feel like even more of a tool.

Her eyes flick up to yours, and she’s stuck by how composed you seem to be. Like the last few months never even happened.

“Marg?” she asks, repeating you. “Like...margarita?”

You blink at Billie once, a straight face staring at right back at hers.

“What are you doing?” You began, eyebrows furrowed at her poor attempts to make conversation.

“I mean,” You begin to look around the yard and then back at her, “Why are you talking to me?”

Billie blinks at the question, eyes widening. She opens her mouth to answer, but words fail her.

Why was she talking to you?

You’re right. Why is she?

For a few seconds, she’s at a loss. She can’t exactly say “because I miss you” or “because everything reminds me of you”.

She shoves her hands into her pockets, shoulders lifting in a shrug.

“I dunno.”

There’s another brief pause, and Billie’s heart is hammering in her chest as she desperately tries to think of something, anything else to say.

She’s starting to have the feeling that she shouldn’t have even come over, but the pull to you is stronger than her brain right now, and it seems like you’re not going to give her an easy out.

“Look, I...”

Billie pauses again, licking her lips.

“I wanted to talk to you, okay?” She finally says, and her voice comes out a little more gruff than she intended.

Billie’s not used to having to struggle to talk like this. She’s used to having people pay attention to her, listen to her, and do what she says.

But with you it’s different.

You aren’t giving her the usual response, and it’s making her feel even more vulnerable.

A small, sarcastic smile plays on your lips, “And you thought I’d want to as well?”

At this point your margarita left your hand and sat on the bar top, you crossed your arms and looked at Billie with a slight tilt of your head.

Billie’s eyes follow the movement of your margarita being set down, and she can’t really blame you for not wanting to talk to her.

She’d expected you to not want to talk, so why hadn’t she just stayed away?

“I...I just...” Billie’s eyes dart around, her voice getting a little more hushed.

“I just wanted to...I don’t know,” she pauses again, her hand fiddling with the ring on her finger. It’s antsy, anxious, something she hates feeling.

“What?”

Your eyebrows are furrowed and your face has confusion written all over it, “Wanted me to sign another NDA?”

Your voice now low and hushed so only Billie could hear.

Ouch.

Billie winces at your words, even though she more than deserves them.

Her shoulders drop, her eyes going down to the floor for a few seconds. Her stomach clenches, and she swallows.

“No...that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Billie looks up to you, her eyes pleading.

You nod at her slowly and raise your hands in a ‘why’ motion, “So why are we talking?”

You study her body language.

She’s uncomfortable and worried. Clearly.

She’s stuttering over her words, her hands are more clearly messing with the hem of her shirt, her chest is falling and rising with more speed.

Shit.

She looks exactly like you that one day. And now you’re starting to feel like shit.

But you don’t let it show. You shake it off and keep your exterior, a small minuscule change in the way your eyes looked at her.

Billie’s shoulders straighten as she tries to look more confident, but your cool response is really making her crumble inside.

In the last four months, she’s been unable to think of anything except your face, your body, your voice, everything. She’d tortured herself over what she was going to say if she saw you again.

And now here you were in front of her, aloof and impassive.

And it was killing her.

“I...I wanted to talk to you about us.”

You took a steady breath in at her words and looked elsewhere in the party, letting the breath out and looking back over to Billie.

You swallowed and kept eye contact with her for a few seconds, finally opening your mouth.

“There’s no more us Billie.”

Your tone was gentle and quiet. Your face was now replaced with a much softer look and a somewhat saddened expression.

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

Even though Billie knew that was coming, it still hurts to hear you say it out loud.

She swallows again, trying to control the way she’s feeling.

“I...I know that, but I…I just...”

There’s a pause as she wracks her brain for the right thing to say. No, not the right thing to say. The truth.

“I miss you,” she says, her words barely a whisper.

I miss you.

What the fuck?

She’s bullshitting you Y/N.

You blink slowly at her and her words, letting out a shaky breath. A look of anger, betrayal, and sadness all flashing on your face.

All silently.

It was the exact same look you held when you had your argument.

You looked at your drink on the bar-top and took it in your hand, not sharing eye contact with Billie.

Not saying a single word.

The tension was high.

The music was still loud.

The beat in your chest pounded harder.

It was all too much.

So you walked away. You went straight toward the more secluded part of the party where no one was. It was a balcony that overlooked all of Los Angeles.

The bright city lights never looked more interesting. You were really only trying to get rid of Billie’s words out your mind.

Billie watches as you walk away, the emotions clearly written on your face.

Her heart sinks as you reject her words and leave.

She can’t help it.

She follows, weaving quickly through the crowd and around the corners of the house until she finally gets to that balcony.

She takes a few steps forward, closing the space between the two of you. When she can safely assume she’s not going to startle you, Billie speaks up.

“Please don’t run away.”

You look up at the sky with closed eyes and mentally ask the world to give you mercy for this conversation.

Argument really.

You turn around and look Billie straight in the eye.

“I mean what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Your voice confused, angry, and sad. Your face contorted into some sort of mixed emotions.

Billie’s heart flutters in her chest at the sound of your voice again.

This was the reaction she wanted.

No, the reaction she wanted was you kissing her and pulling her flush against your warm body.

But right now this anger was the only thing she could get. Anything was better than indifference.

“What’s wrong with me?”

Billie’s voice is laced with disbelief, coming to stand next to you on the edge of the balcony.

“Yes!”

Helplessness laced in your tone.

“What kind of fucked up shit are you up to? ‘I miss you.’ I mean what the fuck!”

Billie’s chest is rising and falling with her heavy breathing as she stands there, trying to find the words to say that will help you understand, that will get you to listen.

“I’m not up to anything!” She insists. “I just...”

Billie reaches out and lays her hand on your arm, trying to ignore the way her skin tingles when she touches you.

“Please, let me explain.”

You retract your arm from Billie’s grip almost immediately, the contrast of the feeling of her cold rings and warm hand leaving goosebumps on your skin.

“Don’t touch me.”

And at this point your eyes are starting to burn, your teeth are biting at your lips to stop yourself from saying anything wrong.

Her heart drops in her chest as you shove away from her. Billie can tell that you’re getting overwhelmed, and it’s breaking her heart to watch it happen.

She pulls her hand away, clenching her fingers into a fist.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she says quietly, her voice as gentle as she can make it.

Billie’s eyes dart around your face, a mixture of guilt, hurt, and panic written all over her features. Seeing you this upset does something to her— it’s like she can’t breathe.

“Please just listen to me,” she says again, her voice coming out more desperate. Whiny. “Please...”

She takes a step forward, trying to get closer to you again, aching to soothe the agitation in your body.

Billie can’t handle you being this upset. The air is thick, and her chest feels heavy with the need to touch you, to make you feel better.

But she knows if she tries, you’re going to push her away again.

You don’t say anything. You’re silent.

You know if you speak up you’ll regret saying the things that’ll come out your mouth. So you don’t speak.

You let Billie say what she wants to say.

Billie lets out a shaky sigh, and a few hairs that had fallen loose from her cap blow in the cool night air.

“I...”

She bites her bottom lip, trying to keep her hands still and not reach out for you again.

“When I said I missed you...I meant it.”

There’s a hint of frustration in her words.

“Please, look at me.”

So you do.

You look up from the railing of the balcony and to Billie. Your eyes are red and teary-eyed. You’re tired. And it’s written all over your face.

Billie’s eyes widen slightly at the tears now gathering in your eyes.

No.

She didn’t mean to make you cry. That wasn’t what she was trying to accomplish.

Billie’s heart clenches, aching to pull you into her arms and take away any and all pain you’d felt in the four months apart.

“Hey...”

She steps closer to you, gently placing a hand on your cheek to brush away the few tears that have fallen.

And at this point, you’ve completely given up on trying to get away from Billie.

You lean into her touch and let out a sob.

Your heart breaks and your body practically aches with pain and heat. You missed her and you were tired of pretending you didn’t.

“Billie.”

Your voice came out as a whiny cry, like a little kid who mourned the loss of their first pet.

The sound that comes out of you twists at something deep inside Billie’s chest, a wave of helplessness washing over her.

She doesn’t want to make you cry. She wants you to be happy. She wants to make sure you’re as happy as possible, to see you smile that gorgeous smile again—not cry like this.

“Shhh...don’t cry,” Billie murmurs, her other hand coming up to cradle your face.

She’s impossibly gentle, as if you’re something precious to be handled with care.

And you are. That’s exactly what Billie thinks of you. She knows you need to be handled with care.

You are precious...

Billie brushes her thumbs across your cheeks, wiping away the fallen tears. Her brain is running a mile a minute, desperately trying to think of something, anything that will help you feel better.

She hates you hurting like this. Hating the fact that she is the reason you’re hurting.

“Please...just stop crying...you’re breaking my heart...”

“I still—“

Your voice is cracking and whiny. Your burning eyes look up into Billie’s blue ones.

“I still love you.”

Billie’s heart stops in her chest.

She stares down at you, shocked to hear those three words come out of your mouth.

I still love you.

Billie’s eyes rake across your face, looking for any sign of a lie in your words, but all she sees is an exhausted pain and vulnerability.

“Baby...” she whispers.

Billie’s hands still haven’t left their place on your cheeks, her fingers shaking against you as she processes what you just said.

“You...you still love me?”

Her words are quiet and hesitant, like she’s half afraid of what the answer will be.

Billie’s eyes flicker around your face, noting all of the emotions written on your features—a mirror to the ones she’s feeling right now.

Love. Anger. Sadness. Confusion. Despair. Excitement. Exhaustion. Desire.

It’s all there, plain as day on both of your faces.

Just then your hearing was hushed. Your body grew slack and your heartbeat slowed.

You surged forward without any thought whatsoever.

Your lips ended up on Billie’s.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

This is all you’ve ever wanted these past four months no matter how much you denied it. You missed her. You missed her so much. And all you wanted right now was for her to hold you.

Billie is completely caught off guard when you kiss her, letting out a soft gasp against your mouth before finally giving in.

Finally. Finally.

She’s needed this. No, she’s craved this. These past few months have been long, and lonely, and exhausting. But now you’re here and finally, finally she can touch you again.

One of her hands slide from your cheek to the back of your neck, keeping you close as she kisses you back.

Billie’s lips move against yours frantically, pressing hard and desperate. She’s trying to pour everything she’s feeling into this kiss. And she wants to hear, to feel you do the same.

Her chest is burning, her heart is racing, and when she finally pulls back for a breath, her breathing is ragged. Billie looks at you with heavy-lidded eyes, the blue of her irises almost lost in the darkness of her wide pupils.

“I’m sorry,” You breathed out, lip quivering with adrenaline, “I didn’t mean all the fucked up shit I said.”

You gripped at Billie’s shoulder and forearm so tight that there’d probably bruises after you let go.

But Billie doesn’t care if you leave bruises.

In fact, she’d relish in it.

A physical reminder of what this night and this moment meant to both of you.

She lets out a shaky breath, her eyes never leaving your face. “I don’t care, baby. It’s alright. I forgive you. I forgive you. Just...please...let me...”

Billie pauses, biting her lip. She knows what she wants. But she can’t come out and say it. Not right now. Her throat feels like it’s closing up.

She swallows roughly and tries again. “Please...let me make it up to you...and...and prove to you I still...that I still...”

Billie’s words get caught in her throat, and her fingers tighten even more around your body, trying to get her thoughts in order.

“Please just...” her voice drops to a low whisper, “please just...let me...love you...love me back...”

There’s a pleading in her voice, a desperate undertone to her words.

Your grip becomes tighter at her words as you look in her eyes. Your heart was practically beating in your ears and throughout your whole body.

Your head felt dizzy and your breathing picked up again.

The whiny tone Billie voice picked up made your skin tingle. You’ve wanted this for so long.

The yearning.

The begging.

And now you finally had it.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.”

When you say yes, it’s like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. And a deep-seated, burning feeling settles in the pit of her stomach.

“Then you’ll have it.”

It’s the only response that comes out of Billie’s mouth before she’s kissing you again, her hands pulling you even closer to her body.

Her arms wrap around you and she’s practically clinging to you, like this is the last time she’s ever going to get to touch you.

Billie didn’t take you back to the party after the balcony.

Instead, she took you back to her home.

And you spent the rest of the night wrapped in her sheets and in her arms, whispers of love and forgiveness exchanged between you both as the hours passed.

And in the morning, when you woke up, Billie was already awake holding you in her arms, watching you sleep as she stroked your hair with the gentlest of touches.

And after those long 4 months. She no longer hated the fact that she couldn’t love you the way you were meant to be loved.

‧₊˚✩彡

fer speaks!!!

yay happy ending! i beg of y’all to throw some requests at me 🙏🏼

[hyperions-light]

The Poison Fruit Ripens

#defendingtheending here we go

First of all mega super ultra spoilers for the ending teaser that Steam says like… 6% ? Of players have seen? So you’ve been warned. No cuts baby, it’s Miyazaki style

Okay, so it’s the Executors, and they’re probably coming across the sea in the next game (if EA doesn’t nuke BW), from what I can gather. I mean, this is fine from a lore perspective. All we knew about those people before is that 1) they are mysterious 2) they are from over there, across the ocean

And now they’re maybe connected to the revealed Qunari lore, which I am ! So excited to have! We already knew that the Qunari fled across the ocean for unspecified reasons, and that going back there was Not A Thing. But now we know that they left because of the (probably metaphorical?) Devouring Storm, which could be connected to the Executors. What are the odds that there are two separate Huge Bad Things Over There that both want to destroy Thedas? Probably is just one big thing— also the title Executor implies they are doing the bidding of someone else, so whatever the Qunari were talking about could be it. (They also talked about being agents of someone else’s will in the Inquisition War Table quest).

So the cinematic shows a bunch of our prominent villains from the previous games being influenced in some way by the Executors. Which I think people are upset about, but I think it’s fine because:

- They did not really specify the manner of influence. I would be annoyed if they retconned Loghain’s decision to leave Cailan on the battlefield because it makes him interesting, but they didn’t say that. They just said they influenced his decisions. They could have done that by stoking his paranoia about Orlais, or by planting Arl Howe to influence him after the battle. He did a lot of OOC stuff while he was King Regent, and this could be a chance to explain what didn’t make sense for his previously established character and was just put in there to make him seem Very Evil.

- They also were around some people doing a blood magic ritual… there weren’t enough of them to be the Magisters, technically, but that is usually what it looks like when we see them in DA art so I’m going to assume that’s them for now. I mean that’s wild if that’s what it is bc that was such a long time ago? Thee guys have really been playing the long game I guess

- The other person they directly influenced seems to be Bartrand, which is really easy because who the fuck gave him that damn map? We NEVER found out who pointed Bartrand to the Thaig! Someone did it, and they probably did it on purpose! It may as well be these guys

- the rest of the villains don’t get guys whispering to them, so I have to assume they mean to imply that they just set up the circumstances that would lead to these people gaining power. I mean someone sent the Carta to the Vimmark mountains, right? And there was like some weird demon there, too.

-So basically they’re just implying that these people have been manipulating events to make sure that shit in Thedas is hitting the fan all at once, which does kind of explain the frankly improbable number of world-ending events that have happened during the Dragon Age. I mean, three Blights, two Magisters, two Evanuris, Antaam invasion, major mage rebellion, Templar schism, and the death of the Southern Divine? It’s only been like 50 years!!! Before the Dragon Age there had only been four Blights since the Ancient Age! Shit does not normally happen this fast in Thedas

I think the phrase itself is pretty direct (also giving Southern Reach vibes). All this chaos they helped sew is reaching its culmination, and now they’re getting ready to cash in the chips. They’re coming to Thedas at the moment that all the great powers are at their weakest, when there’s basically no one to oppose them. Tevinter? Fucked. Qunari? No military anymore. Antiva? Haha! lol, even. Fereldan? Basically gone. Orlais? In shambles. Free Marches? Decimated. Anderfels? There’s like 100 Wardens left in a swamp. Nevarra? I actually don’t know, maybe the lichlords can do something. Maybe Rivain could field some token resistance if they didn’t get hit by the Antaam too badly, but that’s kind of it IMO. This is THE time to come in and conquer(?) the land, or whatever they’re trying to do. Kill everybody?? Turn them into Darkspawn? Who knows!

Some speculation about what could be done to repel invasion:

- shit ton of blood magic

- fix titans, wake them up??? But idk if they’d be into it

- adaari, but idk if there are that many

- people with dragon blood, like the Theirins, are maybe super special and can do things?

- pirates, baby!!! Woooooo!

- I guess Mythal could know something? She can see the future a bit

- dragon army! Dragon army!!

[cozymochi]

Sorry for asking about the teeth 🤣 I was just extremely curious and won't ask the other question that also popped into my head about his teeth.

I am actually really interested in learning about both Nyoka and Cecil's magics. And just in general. As someone who likes to gush about their characters to my friends, I really like knowing all about characters, especially ones other people have created.

Whatever you're willing to share about them, I'd be very interested in hearing about

other question khjgh ITS FINE I THINK IT’S FUNNY, Thank you and everyone else for the interest 😭😳💖 I probably don’t say that enough I really really do appreciate it. Time to drop important lore on a random post 👍 These are gonna be super paraphrased 😭 one spell is less complicated than the other.

CECILS SIGNATURE SPELL:

“Sorcerers’ Stand-Still”

Renders a person or people frozen in place like a statue unable to move or speak until the caster either releases it, runs out of magic reserves to hold it, or it runs it’s course and wears off on it’s own.

A person is consciously aware that they are frozen in place. There’s no protection qualities here, they’re just stuck. It doesn’t seem like much, but he knows how to use it.

Inspiration: The “Standstill Stone” spell that Cedric used to briefly take over the kingdom in season 4 premiere of Sofia the First.

NYOKAS SIGNATURE SPELL:

“Mark of Evil”

intrusive thoughts the spell

His magically-infused cobra venom can affect someone's mind and remove their morals if he injects it into someone. His magic inflicts tremendous waves of pain and makes it difficult for a victim to think and control their own actions. So long as the spell is active, Nyoka can influence them almost like accomplices for his own means.

It’s not immediately obvious to anyone else that a person is under a spell at all. However, as the effect goes on, the victim becomes more and more openly uncharacteristic, irritable and difficult for Nyoka to steer influence as their psyche continues to fall apart. It’s ideal to release them before it reaches that point. Don’t worry, venom won’t kill this time because magic, but a victim’s memory will be hazy and they will be hurting quite a bit afterwards. 👍 He has more incentive not to use it.

Inspiration: The magic bite Ushari inflicts on Kion at the start of season 3 of the Lion Guard, and the maddening effects it causes from that moment on till the end of the show. (Heavily paraphrased.)

[solarmorrigan]

I know everyone and their mother has made a post about this already, but the thought makes me laugh every time

Hopper does not approve of Steve and Eddie together

This is not because they're both guys – he genuinely does not give a shit about anyone's sexuality one way or the other. If everyone is legally consenting, then he can't be bothered. But he doesn't like Eddie

It has absolutely nothing to do with Eddie dealing drugs (let us not forget that Hopper was on some less than legal shit himself in at least the first season). It has nothing to do with Eddie being a "criminal" or a "delinquent" or a “bad influence.” Hop's a good judge of character, he knows Eddie isn't a bad person. He probably knows that Eddie is actually kind of a marshmallow. He doesn't give a shit about Eddie's "criminal record" or about his reputation

He doesn't want Steve to date Eddie because Eddie annoys him

Hopper doesn’t understand where he went wrong. First El with Mike, now Steve with Eddie. Why do these children have such terrible taste in boys? Surely there have to be at least some other gay guys in town around Steve's age? Literally anyone other than Eddie. Someone who doesn't just randomly pull weird voices out in the middle of conversations, or who doesn't go on rants about capitalism or forced conformity or whatever the fuck that remind Hopper a little too much of conversations with Murray, or who don't speak half in book and music references (specifically books and music Hopper is unfamiliar with; he's 90% certain Eddie's doing that on purpose)

Hopper does not truck with theater kids

And yet he finds himself seated at the dinner table, making nice with Eddie goddamn Munson, because somewhere along the way Hopper acquired Steve, and then Steve decided he likes Eddie, and if Hopper wants to keep Steve, he has to make his peace with Eddie. Joyce is the one who’d suggested they all have dinner together (she actually likes Eddie, and Hopper would accuse her of having bad taste, but he’s pretty sure her bad taste had led her to him in the first place, so he feels like he shouldn’t really complain about that) and it’s probably only the fact that she’s doing most of the talking that’s keeping Hopper’s annoyance level below critical

But the worst part. The absolute worst part. Is that Eddie is entirely oblivious to how annoyed Hopper is. But Steve? He keeps glancing over at Hopper and fucking smirking. Steve knows. And he is greatly amused

[spacedace]

“Hey, I need to get married for bullshit Infinite Realms reasons, you two in?”

“Tt, of course.”

“Sure thing! Do we need to get going for that like, right now? Or later?”

“Eh, like in a couple of hours? The Observants are demanding some Royal Ball or something and they pulled out some stupid old laws out of their collective asses that if I’m not married by the time it starts they can assign me spouses of their choosing, can you fucking believe that shit?”

“Woah, what the hell? Can they even do that?”

“I was under the impression they were only permitted to observe.”

“Right? It’s total crap, but apparently there’s like this super old law on the books and they didn’t bring it up until now when there’s like no time left to try and force me to marry someone they pick.”

“They are training to gain influence over you?”

“Eh, more like they’re trying to get control of my Dad by way of me. But still fucked as hell.”

“So why do you need to marry both of us? Or do you just need to marry one of us and we should play rock paper scissor for it?”

“Technically I only need to marry one of you, but I don’t want them pulling out any loopholes or something. So, it’d be great if one of you could be my consort for my role as Queen of Mirrors, and one could be my consort for my role as Crown Princess. You two can figure who’s who on that all that, I’m good with whatever.”

“Oooh, can I be consort for the Mirror Court? I can annoy Kon more that way.”

“I am amenable to that. Grandfather will have a fit when he learns that I can cut his access to the Pits off at my discretion and there’s nothing he can do about it.”

“Awesome, okay are you two good for meeting up at like, three? We can pop over to my Lair and get everything sorted out there.”

“Works for me, my only class til this afternoon is at one and the professor already said we’re cutting out early because she has to go out of town this weekend.”

“Four would be more agreeable if possible, I have to take Titus to the vet for his checkup.”

“Okay let’s aim for four then. It’s just signing some paperwork, making some quick blood-slash-ectoplasm pacts and swearing a couple binding oaths… Should only take like five or ten minutes?”

“They’re not gonna make you have a huge royal wedding or anything?”

“Nah. Dad keeps things pretty chill so as long as the paperwork is all in order we’ll be good. Though once Auntie Dorathea finds out she’s absolutely gonna make us have one. She loves planning weddings. Swear its what she makes her hoard out of somehow.”

“So long as we have a say in some of the proceedings I have no issue with that eventuality.”

“Same, it sounds like it’d be a fun way to annoy the Observants even more.”

“Don’t for get all the weirdos trying to be my suitors and all that bullshit.”

“We have an accord then. We can reconvene at the usual place.”

“Awesome, you two are the best! I gotta jet and let everyone know and get the ball rolling on the paperwork stuff. See you guys at four!”

With that, Nomad - Stella Phantom, Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms, Queen of Mirrors, Core of the Speedforce and ghostly hero of the Titans and the Justice League - tore a rip in the fabric of space and time and darted out of the room the same way she came. Through the mind-bending tear in reality the eerie, eye-searing green of the Infinite Realms glowed in all its unsettling glory, Phantom Keep a glittering expanse of night sky made solid in the distance.

Jon waved at her cheerfully as Damian gave a nod of farewell before both silently turned their attention back to their respective tablets as the portal closed behind their friend and teammate and the glimpse of the Ghost Zone disappeared again. Completely unbothered by the conversation just held or the life changing implications that came with them.

Jon was humming as he tapped away at something on the screen before him, Damian propping his head up on his fist in vague boredom as he frowned down at the information he was reading.

The rest of the room Nomad had left behind was caught in a frozen, stunned silence in the wake of the baffling conversation they’d all just been witness to. All eyes in the room darted between Flamebird and Pheonix seated calmly at the end of the table, then to the space where Nomad had disappeared to, back to the young men, and then towards the head of the table where Superman and Batman sat looking bewildered and a bit on the verge of heart attacks.

The short status update meeting was about to become much, much longer it seemed.

Though a lot more entertaining.