#i love the green in her original outfit though

[roselime69]

Colourful dragon lady that can kick my ass, take names and work in her sleep 🐉 we stan an icon tbh

This is my contribution to this year's Meiling takeover, check out the bestie @abluehappyface for banger Meiling theme remixes ✌

[voyter]

CRIMINAL .. ( 정국 / JJK ) !

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader

your boyfriend ends up loving your costume idea for the two of you more than he initially lets on.

⟡₊ ⊹ HALLOWEEN SPECIAL !

word count. 5.4k words warnings. jk and oc have matching costumes. vmin being the kings of halloween parties. slight crack. smut. roleplay dynamics. light bondage (handcuffs). oral (fem!receiving). handjob. unprotected sex (be safe girlies). switch!jungkook. switch!reader.

ana's notes. happy (late) halloween !!! this was originally supposed to be posted on the 30th but it wasnt finished .. so i was going to post it on actual halloween day but i got busy LMFAO IM A MESS !!! initially i wanted to do a kinktober but my ass couldnt even keep up with this so AINT NO WAYYY LMFAO IDK HOW YALL DO IT. BUT DONT FEAR ITS HERE NOW !! i had sm fun writing this, hope you love it as much as i do !! keep your comments positive or say nothing at all xx

For the past three years, Jimin and Taehyung have hosted their annual Halloween party. It's the one event they take seriously, spending hours planning the perfect invite list, décor, and food. Friends and acquaintances eagerly anticipate the night, knowing it'll be full of unforgettable moments, laughter, and chaos. Jimin and Taehyung always go all out, making their Halloween gathering the event of the season.

You and Jungkook have a tradition of matching costumes. The first year, you went as Harley Quinn, and Jungkook went as the Joker. That one's still one of your favorites — especially with Jungkook's green hair and tatted up face. He looked so good that night. The second year, you went for something bloodier: you, a sexy victim, and Jungkook as Ghostface. It was thrilling, especially when he made the night even better by fucking you with the mask still on. By the third year, you went classic as Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and Jungkook couldn't take his eyes off your tits spilling out of your corset. This year, you decided to skip the fictional characters and go with something a little simpler — but still hot. You were dressed as a cop, or rather, a slutty cop, and Jungkook was the prisoner.

"Don't you think this is a little basic?"

“Do you know how many people I’ve seen at these parties dressed as vampires and cats?” you retort, adjusting your costume and checking yourself out in the mirror. “Trust me, baby, no one cares.”

Jungkook, clad in an orange jumpsuit, glares at you through the mirror. "I just hate orange," he says monotonously.

You turn around and face him, giving him a smirk. "You'll survive. Besides, you make anything look good."

He smirks, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. Your arms snake around his neck, fingers threading through the hair at his nape. His hands roam from your waist to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh in his large palms, pulling you closer. But just as things start to heat up, you push him back with a playful grin.

"Not now," you say, breathlessly. "We have to be there in a few."

Jungkook huffs in frustration, but doesn't argue. And even though he's not thrilled about his costume, the way his gaze darkens tells you he's already imagining what's to come later tonight. He knows he'll get you out of that outfit later. 

When you and Jungkook walk into the party, it’s all familiar faces. Laughter and cheers erupt the moment they spot you two, with Jungkook’s arms handcuffed behind his back, the bright orange of his jumpsuit standing out in the crowd. You guide him confidently by gripping his arm, playing the role of the stern cop escorting her prisoner.

Jungkook looks equal parts annoyed and amused, his usual cocky attitude momentarily restrained by the handcuffs, though the way his lips twitch hints at his playful frustration. The room seems to buzz with energy as people start teasing him the moment you step through the door.

“No fucking way you agreed to this!” Jimin exclaims, eyes wide in disbelief as he takes in the sight of Jungkook in handcuffs. Without missing a beat, he grabs the camera hanging around his neck, the polaroid already set and ready to capture every costume of the night. “Oh, I have to take a picture of this. Tae, hold my drink!”

Without waiting for a response, Jimin thrusts his red solo cup into Taehyung’s chest, some of the liquid sloshing out and soaking into Taehyung’s blazer. Tae rolls his eyes but doesn’t complain, knowing this is typical Jimin behavior.

Jimin hurriedly pushes his sunglasses up into his hair and pulls out the polaroid camera, eyes gleaming with excitement as he positions himself in front of you. You smirk, grabbing your belt, keeping your expression serious like a true cop on duty. Jungkook plays along, tilting his head to the side with a playful pout, his lips pursed like he’s posing for a dramatic mugshot.

With a click, the camera flashes, capturing the moment perfectly. A second later, the familiar buzz of the camera sounds as the polaroid slowly rises from the slot at the top. Jimin pulls the photo out, shaking it lightly as the image begins to develop.

“Had no choice,” Jungkook grumbles. “Whatever girlfriend wants, girlfriend gets.”

Taehyung laughs, shaking his head. “Bro, you’re so fucking whipped,” he teases.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook mutters, though he can’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “What are you two supposed to be, anyway?”

Jimin looks genuinely offended at the question, pulling his sunglasses back down over his eyes as if that alone should make it obvious. “Hello? Men in Black!”

He points his plastic gun at Jungkook. Beside him, Taehyung pulls out a shiny MIB card.

“Aw, I was really hoping you two would take my advice and go as Dumb and Dumber,” you pout, crossing your arms dramatically.

Jimin and Taehyung exchange offended looks, grimacing at your suggestion.

Jimin puts his plastic gun back in its holster with a flourish, shaking his head. “Respectfully, fuck you,” he replies, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You playfully lift a hand as if to strike him, your expression mock serious. Just then, more people start to stream into the home, their laughter and chatter filling the air.

“Well, since we are so extremely popular, we’ll meet back up with you guys soon.” Jimin says, turning to Taehyung, “We’ve got more people to greet.”

“Don’t get freaky in any of the bedrooms! I swear on my life I will kill you both,” Taehyung exclaims, shooting a warning glance over his shoulder as he follows Jimin into the crowd.

You roll your eyes, amusement dancing in your gaze.

"Alright, baby, can you take the handcuffs off now, please?" Jungkook whines, eyebrows knitting in genuine discomfort. "My arms are starting to hurt in this position."

"Keep begging like that, maybe I will," you tease, enjoying the playful power dynamic between you two.

Jungkook smirks, leaning in closer to amp up the charm. "Oh, please, officer? I promise I'll be such a good boy,"

You scrunch your nose in exaggerated disapproval. "Never do that again," you reply, trying to sound serious but unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckles, the sound warm and inviting, as you turn him around, your fingers brushing against his wrists. The thrill of the moment sends a rush through you as you unlock the cuffs with the small key, the metal clinking softly as you release him.

He turns around, his hands sneaking around your waist and pulling you closer, the warmth of his body igniting a spark of electricity between you. You smile up at him, feeling a thrill at the proximity.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his voice low and playful. “Now who knows what kind of crimes I’m gonna commit again?” He looks down at you, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Careful, prisoner,” you warn, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Don’t forget, I’m watching you tonight.”

He holds his hands up in mock defense, a grin spreading across his face. “I promise to behave… for now,” he replies, the challenge in his tone clear as he leans in just a little closer.

You can feel the heat radiating off him, and despite your attempt to keep things light, the air feels charged with unspoken tension. “You’d better,” you say, trying to maintain an authoritative tone but failing as a smile breaks through. “I don’t take kindly to rule breakers.”

“Oh, I know,” he replies, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone. “But I can’t help it if I’m naturally inclined to break the rules when I’m around you.” With that, he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispers, “What if I promised to make it worth your while?”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, and you step back slightly to meet his gaze, your heart racing. “You’re incorrigible,” you say, shaking your head, but your smile betrays your amusement.

“Only for you,” he quips, and the way he looks at you… you just know this Halloween night was going to be wild.

You stood corrected.

A few drinks into Jungkook's system, and any pretense of annoyance about the costume was long gone. His hands seemed to find your waist every chance they got, fingers tracing the curves of your hips with a needy grip. His lips, once teasing, were now constantly seeking yours, trailing kisses from your neck to your lips whenever you were within arm's reach.

Even in a crowded room, Jungkook's attention was locked on you, his dark gaze following your every movement. And each time you caught him staring, he'd flash you a cheeky grin before pulling you into another heated kiss, making it clear just how much he was enjoying your costume �� and the power it had over him.

Getting a drunk Jungkook home was a damn task. The moment you got him in the car, he was all over you. As you navigated through the quiet streets, his fingers slid up your thigh, kneading it with a firm grip that sent sparks of heat racing through you. Each touch made focusing on the road harder, especially when he leaned over the console, his lips grazing your neck in a series of lazy, warm kisses.

"Jungkook, you need to calm down," you warned, trying to keep your focus on the road as his kisses sent shivers down your spine.

He huffed, not wanting to stop but eventually relented, throwing himself back into his seat dramatically. He crossed his arms like a child who'd been denied his favorite toy, his lips forming a deep pout.

You glanced over at him, biting back a smile as he sulked in his seat. "Aw, I’m sorry baby. Almost home, then you can do whatever you want," you teased, knowing full well that his patience would snap the second you both stepped through the front door.

Like a bunny, his ears seemed to perk up at your words, his pout disappearing instantly. He sat back in his seat with a huge grin plastered on his face, the sudden shift in his mood almost comical. It was as if he'd forgotten all about sulking, now fully focused on the promise you'd made.

Surprisingly, Jungkook behaved as you both got out of the car and made your way to your apartment floor. He walked beside you quietly, though the anticipation was clear in the way he kept glancing at you, his grin never fully fading. His restraint was impressive, given how wild he'd been earlier, but you could feel the tension radiating off him, like a predator waiting for the perfect moment.

The second you unlocked the door, though, all that restraint snapped. Jungkook practically pounced, pushing the door closed behind you as he pressed you against it, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss. His hands were everywhere at once — grabbing your waist, pulling you closer, one hand sliding up your back while the other dipped dangerously low.

Your sloppy kisses didn't break for a second as you stumbled through the apartment, laughter and heated breaths filling the air until you reached the bedroom. The second you got to the edge of the bed, Jungkook gave you a playful shove, making you fall back onto the mattress with a grin tugging at his lips. His eyes never left yours as he hovered above you, reconnecting your lips in a feverish kiss, his hunger for you palpable.

His mouth began its slow descent, trailing kisses down the curve of your neck, leaving a warm, tingling path in its wake. When he reached your cleavage, he paused, his lips lingering there as his fingers found the zipper of your bodysuit. With a swift motion, he unzipped it, freeing your breasts from the fabric. His eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you, a low groan escaping his throat.

Without hesitation, he leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it in slow, deliberate circles. The sensation sent a shudder through your body, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as your back arched in response. Your hand instinctively found its way into his hair, gripping the soft strands, guiding him as he lavished attention on you.

Jungkook's mouth left your bud with a soft pop, his lips slightly swollen as he looked at you with a mix of desire and admiration. Without wasting a second, he pushed the rest of the bodysuit down your frame, his hands quick and eager as he stripped you of the remaining fabric.

“You seduce all the officers like this?” you tease, your voice light but laced with a hint of challenge as you looked down at him at the foot of the bed.

Jungkook paused for a second, momentarily confused by the question. But then it clicked, and when he realized you were still playing into the roleplay from earlier, his expression shifted. His lips curled into a mischievous smirk, eyes narrowing slightly as he fully embraced the dynamic again.

“Only the ones I can’t resist,” Jungkook murmured, his voice dripping with playful seduction.

His teasing words sent a shiver down your spine, the tension between you both thickening with every passing second. His hands moved with skilled precision as he unzipped your boots, tugging them off one by one. The boots were discarded carelessly, the clatter of them hitting the floor barely registering as Jungkook’s focus remained fixed on you, eyes dark and full of hunger.

With a firm grip, Jungkook tugged at the bodysuit, sliding it off your frame in one fluid motion, the fabric slipping away as easily as the last remnants of his restraint. He didn’t stop there — your fishnets followed quickly, leaving you in nothing but your panties. His gaze devoured you, his eyes darkening with each lingering second on your bare skin. He bit into his bottom lip, his excitement almost palpable as his eyes traced every curve of your body like he was committing each inch to memory.

Grabbing your ankle, he lifted your leg gently, a smirk playing on his lips as he began a slow, deliberate trail of kisses from your ankle up toward your inner thigh. Each kiss sent a jolt of heat through your body, his touch maddeningly slow, teasing you with every lingering press of his lips.

“If you’ll let me,” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and full of promise, before kissing your thigh once more. “I did promise to make it worth your while.”

“Show me what you got, criminal,” you smirk, your voice laced with challenge and desire.

Jungkook’s smirk matched yours, his eyes darkening with intent as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties. In one swift, fluid motion, he pulled them down, the fabric sliding easily over your legs. The second they left your skin, his gaze fixed on the damp spot left behind, a low moan escaping his lips as his hunger for you deepened.

“Look at that,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers traced the wetness left on the cloth before lifting his eyes to meet yours, his smirk widening. “Already so wet for me, officer.”

The playful teasing from earlier had melted away completely, replaced with raw, undeniable need. Without hesitation, Jungkook lowered himself between your legs, his breath hot against your inner thighs. His lips hovered just above your core, his eyes flicking up to meet yours one last time before he leaned in, determined to show you exactly what he had in store. His tongue made the first slow, deliberate pass over your slick folds, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your body.

Your body reacted instinctively to the sensation, arching your back slightly as a soft moan escaped your lips. You melted into the bed, fingers gripping the sheets tightly as waves of pleasure rippled through you, the intensity of it all leaving you breathless. 

It was when he latched his mouth onto your clit, the cool metal of his lip piercing sending shockwaves through your body, that you felt a fresh wave of ecstasy wash over you. Your body shook involuntarily, a reaction to the exquisite pleasure he was delivering.

“So good, baby,” you moaned, your voice breathy and filled with longing as you looked down at the man between your legs. Jungkook’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, dark and smoldering, the corner of his mouth twitching into a playful smirk as he enjoyed your reaction to his ministrations. 

"Yeah?" he mumbled, his lips brushing against your slick heat, sending a shiver up your spine. "Am I a good criminal, officer?"

Though it had started as playful banter back at Jimin and Taehyung’s house, the way Jungkook was slipping into this submissive role now felt different — kind of sexy. The intensity in his voice, the way he was looking up at you, it was doing things to you that you hadn’t quite expected.

You bit your lip, nodding as you reached down, finding his hand and intertwining your fingers with his. "Mhm, so good for me," you whispered, the words coming out more breathless than you intended. The shift in the dynamic added a new layer to the tension between you both, and you couldn’t deny how much you liked it.

He hummed in satisfaction against your skin, his tongue working skillfully, each stroke more deliberate than the last, as if determined to draw every last sound of pleasure from your lips. You could feel the tension building within you, and with every flick and suck, he pushed you further into a state of bliss. The warmth of his mouth, combined with the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours, only heightened the sensations coursing through your body. You could feel yourself unraveling, bit by bit, under his expert touch.

You lift your other hand, your fingers tangling in his soft, raven hair, pushing it back to reveal his forehead. The sight of his knitted eyebrows makes your stomach flip — he always does that when he’s savoring something, and right now, that something is you. Your grip tightens in his hair, pulling him closer, pushing his face deeper into you. His nose brushes against your clit with each motion, and you can't help but buck your hips slightly, your body moving instinctively as you practically ride his face.

Your moans become louder, filling the room with the raw sound of pleasure, almost pornographic in intensity. The way his mouth moves against you, his tongue expertly flicking and teasing, drives you wild. You feel his moans vibrate against your sopping pussy, sending shockwaves through your entire body. The more you push him into you, the more he responds, his hands gripping your thighs as he devours you, thoroughly enjoying every second of it. You’re lost in the heat of the moment, each wave of pleasure building to something inevitable, your body teetering on the edge of bliss.

With one final buck of your hips, his nose pressing firmly against your clit, the pleasure overwhelms you. Your release crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body trembling as you cum against his face. A loud, raw moan tears from your throat, your back arching off the bed as the intensity of your orgasm takes over. Your thighs instinctively begin to close around Jungkook’s head, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest — if anything, it only drives him further.

He stays right there, nestled between your legs, his tongue continuing to lap up every drop of your release. If he had it his way, he'd happily stay there forever. His hand gently caresses your thighs, soothing you through the aftershocks as your body relaxes, your breathing still ragged as you come down from the high.

Jungkook removes his hand from yours gently, rising up from the floor. Fully clothed, he crawls up the bed, hovering above you with a smirk that sends a thrill down your spine. His mouth glistens with a mix of his saliva and your slick, a tantalizing reminder of what just transpired. 

Without warning, he leans down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. The taste of yourself lingers on his tongue, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth, the intimacy of the moment amplifying the heat between you. You feel him grinding his hips into your heat, seeking relief for the ache in his cock, and it drives you wild. The friction ignites another wave of desire, your body responding eagerly to his every movement.

He leans back down, reconnecting your lips, unable to get enough of you. The urgency in his movements tells you he's craving more, needing the connection as much as you do. Without breaking the kiss, you smoothly shift positions, pushing him back onto the bed. His body sinks into the mattress, and now it's your turn to be on top, looking down at him with a teasing smile. You sit up, fingers working the buttons of his jumpsuit as he watches you, his eyes dark with desire.

"Do good prisoners get anything in return?" he asks, his voice low, teasing.

"Yeah," you say with a smirk. "Freedom."

Your giggle fills the room as Jungkook kisses his teeth in mock annoyance, rolling his eyes at your cheeky response. Still, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, showing he's just as amused as you are.

"I'm sure there's other officers that'll give you something," you tease, your fingers still working on the jumpsuit.

"What if I want someone in particular?" he responds, his tone more serious, the heat in his gaze intensifying.

"I'm sure that can be arranged," you murmur.

With a smirk, Jungkook sits up swiftly, his hands making quick work of pulling the jumpsuit off his frame. The fabric falls away, revealing his toned, broad chest — the very sight that always makes your breath hitch. You can't help but admire him for a moment, your eyes roaming over every inch of him, from his sculpted chest to the way his abs tense under your gaze.

He catches the look in your eyes, his grin widening as he notices how you're practically staring. "Like what you see, officer?" he teases.

Ugh, slut.

"You know I do," you reply, your fingers tracing over the tattoos decorating his skin before you press your lips against his again, losing yourself in the kiss as your bodies draw closer.

Your kisses travel south, lips brushing over the warm skin of his neck, chest, and abs, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. When you kneel between his legs, you can't help but notice how hard he is. A wet spot glistens where he’d been grinding against you earlier, evidence of the friction that’s left you both desperate for more.

"Baby, hurry up," Jungkook whines, his voice thick with impatience, the need evident in his tone.

You raise an eyebrow, biting back a smirk. "Refer to me correctly," you command, wanting to tease him just a little longer.

He chuckles softly. "Officer, please hurry up," he says, playing along, his words dripping with need.

“Good boy,” you coo with a smile.

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his jumpsuit and boxers simultaneously, yanking them down in one swift motion. His cock springs free, hard and eager, the pink tip glistening with precum. It’s begging to be touched, twitching slightly under your gaze as you admire him, and you can feel the heat radiating off him.

You let your hand glide slowly up his thigh, teasing him with featherlight touches, savoring the way his muscles tense under your fingers. Jungkook's head falls back against the mattress, a low, desperate moan slipping from his lips as he exhales, his chest rising and falling with the anticipation building between you.

You giggle softly, enjoying how easily you’re driving him wild. Finally, you wrap your hand around his thick, hard cock, your fingers squeezing his length gently but firmly. His reaction is immediate — his hips buck slightly as he lets out a deep, shaky moan.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he groans, his voice low and husky, the sound making you smile even wider.

You start to stroke him slowly, enjoying the feeling of him pulsing in your hand. His hands grip the sheets, knuckles turning white, and his eyes squeeze shut in bliss. The way he reacts to every little movement you make has you feeling powerful, completely in control.

"My pussy turn you on this much?" you tease, your voice dripping with playfulness, a smirk tugging at your lips as you continue to stroke him slowly, deliberately.

Jungkook's moan deepens, his hips bucking slightly into your hand, completely at your mercy.

"Always," he groans, his voice breathless. "Can never get enough of it."

Such a sweet boy. You reward him by quickening your strokes, picking up the pace and driving him wild. His response is immediate — his body tenses, and a low, guttural moan escapes his lips.

Jungkook's hand darts to yours, gripping the one resting on his thigh, his fingers intertwining with yours tightly. His touch is needy, desperate, as if holding on to you will keep him grounded while the pleasure you’re giving him threatens to overwhelm him.

His breath becomes ragged as you continue working him expertly. He bites his lip, trying to hold himself together under your touch. You can tell he’s getting closer, every stroke pushing him toward the edge.

“W- wanna cum in your pussy, please,” Jungkook whines, his voice trembling with need.

You smirk, teasing him further. “Do you?”

He hums in response, the sound more like a moan, his desperation palpable.

“Okay,” you say, your voice soft but commanding. “Since you’ve been so good for me.”

You pull away from his cock, climbing on top of him, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. Leaning down, you capture his lips with yours, and he responds eagerly, his hands sliding down the arch of your back, gripping your ass tightly, kneading it in his large palms.

Then, without warning, a sudden surge of dominance overtakes him. In one swift move, Jungkook flips you both over, hovering above you with a glint in his eye. He gives you a teasing peck on the lips, but before you can react, he flips you onto your stomach, effortlessly manhandling you as though you weigh nothing.

With your back turned to him, the sound of rustling heightens your anticipation. You can’t see what Jungkook is doing, but the moment you feel his grip on your arm, your heart races. The cold, familiar touch of metal against your wrist makes it clear — he's handcuffing you.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as he tightens the cuffs around your other wrist, pulling your arms behind your back. You’re completely at his mercy now, and the vulnerability only fuels the fire between your legs.

“Am I still a good boy?” he teases, his voice dripping with playful mischief.

“Bad boy,” you manage to reply, though the excitement surging through you betrays your words. The restriction, the control — it all makes your pussy throb with need.

The sound of the slap reverberates through the room, sending a sharp sting of pleasure coursing through your body. You jolt forward, moaning in response, your skin tingling from the impact. Jungkook grabs the chain of the handcuffs, pulling on it slightly, adding a thrilling sense of restraint to the moment. 

His other hand grabs his cock, and you feel the deliberate tease as he slaps it against your pussy, spreading your slickness over his length. It’s torturous — how long he’s making you wait. But finally, after what feels like an eternity, he slowly pushes himself inside you. 

You gasp, your walls stretching to accommodate him, while Jungkook releases a low, guttural groan, his breath catching at the sensation of being enveloped by your heat. He pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling, his fingers still gripping the handcuffs. The tension in the air is palpable, each movement sending shivers down your spine as he begins to move, his hips rocking into you with slow, deliberate thrusts.

Your breath comes out in heavy gasps, your face buried in the mattress as his pace quickens, his hips slamming into you with a steady rhythm. The sensation of being filled so completely has you whimpering, your body melting into the bed as you push back against him, craving more with every stroke. Each thrust is more intense than the last, the bed creaking beneath you as the slick sound of his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy echoes through the room.

Jungkook’s grip tightens on the handcuff chain, yanking you back harder onto his cock. “All your other prisoners fuck you this good?” he growls. 

A smirk curls your lips. He’s still milking this roleplay. He doesn’t voice it out, but he feels your pussy clench around him. You like this.

“Only you,” you moan, your voice breathy.

“That’s right,” he groans, his tone low and possessive.

Jungkook's pace quickens, the slap of his hips against your ass echoing through the room, his thrusts relentless. The headboard bangs rhythmically against the wall. He yanks the chain of the handcuffs harder, pulling your body back onto him in sync with every deep, punishing thrust.

Your body trembles beneath him, your moans now uncontrollable as the pressure builds to an almost unbearable height. Every drive of his cock inside you sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, his roughness pushing you to the brink. His deep groans mix with your cries, the heat between you reaching its peak, and you can feel yourself getting closer, your climax just within reach.

“You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he teases, his voice rough and low, dripping with lust. The heat in his tone sends another wave of pleasure coursing through you, and you can only nod, your voice caught in your throat as a moan escapes your lips, barely coherent.

His cock drags against your walls, hitting that perfect spot over and over, each thrust igniting a fire within you. Your body is a live wire, every nerve ending alight with sensation as the pressure coils tighter and tighter inside you, building towards a breaking point.

“Come on then, baby,” he growls, pulling you back hard against him, his grip firm and possessive. “Be a good officer and cum. I deserve it, don’t I?”

“Yes! Yes! You deserve it so much!” you manage to reply, the words spilling from your lips like a prayer.

“I’m such a good boy for you, huh?” he presses, his breath hot against your ear, his hips driving deeper.

“Such a good boy, my baby,” you affirm, your voice trembling with need. 

With a few more final, deep thrusts, your body shudders as the last waves of your sweet release ripple through you, your pussy clenching tightly around him. That tightness pushes Jungkook over the edge, and with a loud, needy moan, he releases into you, his hips faltering as he shoots his load deep inside. His groan fills the room as his cock throbs within you, emptying himself completely, the warmth of his cum spreading through you.

For a moment, the only sound is both of your heavy breathing, the heat of the moment still lingering in the air as your bodies stay connected.

Jungkook carefully unlocks the handcuffs, freeing your wrists from the restraints. He tosses them aside, his concern immediately turning to you as he notices the redness on your skin. Gently, he takes your wrists in his hands, massaging them softly, his brows furrowed with worry.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” he asks, his voice tender and full of concern.

“No, baby,” you reassure him, leaning in to kiss his lips softly, easing the tension he’s holding onto. You give him a few more sweet pecks, including one on his cheek, his boyish charm making you smile.

After cleaning up and peeing to avoid an infection, he helps you settle into bed, pulling you into his arms. His warmth envelops you, his face nestled against your neck, and you feel the soft brush of his breath against your skin. Your arms wrap around him instinctively, holding him close as the moment quiets. The heat from your bodies mingles with the gentle stillness of the room, creating a cocoon of intimacy and comfort that lulls you both toward sleep.

As your eyes grow heavy, his voice breaks the silence, low and a little playful. "I think I enjoyed that costume more than I thought," he murmurs against your neck.

© voyter 2024, all rights reserved.

[jccatstudios]

OMG JESPERS OUTFIT IS SO GOOD. JESPER IN GENERAL IS JUST SO GOOD YOUR DESIGNS ARE INCREDIBLE

Thanks!!! I love to design costumes and outfits so much. I'll take this as a oppurtunity to share some details from the Ch 3 illustration.

For this artwork, I wanted to feature my favorite garment (the leather jacket) and take the opportunity to draw the trio in more modern clothing.

For Jes, it's always about patterns. He's got three in this outfit, though I think he should have more to match his aesthetic. We've got warped checkerboard, cherries, and checkered hearts. The cherries weren't in the original plan, but I decided to add it because I love a good patterned lining (also a nod to a song on the playlist I'm working on for him).

And the riveted tie was a thing I found on pinterest. How cool is that?! I love rivets that don't have a function, especially on the side of jeans.

Each ring represents one of the characters! Green for Jesper, black for Kaz, and the braided one for Inej. This was probably my favorite part of the illustration due to the process. First, his hand was bright purple to make the brown overlay cooler but still keep some warmth to it. Then I used clear alcohol (0 for my fellow Copic users) to get the fine details on his nails.

If there's a chance to give Kaz some sort of crow wing motif on his back, I'll take it. The jacket is semi-backless, revealing a light purple ribbed sweater underneath. There are three layers to the wings: the short ones snap and zip to the second layer, which then is sewn into the waistband of the third layer. He also has a "KB" patch, opposite to his "R" tattoo on his right arm.

As for his pants, I gave him patchwork jeans as a nod to the ever-iconic "not so broken" passage in Chapter 38.

Inej's jacket is based on medieval knight armor, especially in the shoulder detailing. Some people have said it looks like a bird's beak at the top. Unintentional, but I thought that was a cool interpretation. While I didn't draw her real knives, I gave her a little one to go through her piercing. What book is in her backpack? I'll let you decide.

[charmed-quill]

Burrow Bound// B.W x reader Chapter 10

authors note at end.

slight content warning for suggestive smut at the end. (nothing explicit)

originally requested by @littlegreenteacup

summary: Y/N, an American half-blood witch newly arrived in Muggle London, stumbles into the warmth of the Weasley brothers after a serendipitous meeting in Diagon Alley. Drawn into their world, she finds herself at the Burrow more often than not. Meanwhile, Bill Weasley is learning to navigate life as a single father, relying on his mother’s help to care for Victoire. Though their worlds orbit each other, Y/N and Bill’s paths never seem to align—until one evening when fate finally draws them together. Will it be the start of a love story, or will they be left with nothing but heartache?

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word count: 5.5k (Oops?)

Y/N stood in front of her mirror, her hands frozen in the act of pinning her hair up for the third time that evening. The flat was quiet save for the faint hum of music drifting from her wireless speaker, but inside her head, it was anything but peaceful.

“This looks too formal,” she muttered, tugging the pins out and letting her hair fall back down around her shoulders. “Or maybe not formal enough. What even is the vibe for a dinner date with your friend’s brother?”

The word date made her stomach flip, and she groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. She glanced back at the bed, where three rejected outfits were draped over the covers like discarded plans. One was too casual, another felt like she was trying too hard, and the third—well, the third just didn’t feel like her.

“This is ridiculous,” she said to no one, turning back to the mirror. “It’s just dinner. With Bill. The same Bill I’ve seen countless times at the Burrow. No big deal.”

But the words rang hollow, and she knew why. This wasn’t just dinner. This was something more, something that felt weighty in a way she couldn’t quite explain. It was the first time in a long time that someone had asked her out, and not just someone—Bill Weasley. Steady, kind, strong, intimidatingly handsome Bill Weasley.

“What if this is a mistake?” she whispered to her reflection, biting her lip. “What if I’m reading too much into this? Or worse, what if he is?”

Her mind raced, conjuring every possible scenario, each one more awkward than the last. What if the conversation faltered and they were left with nothing but the sound of clinking cutlery? What if he decided halfway through that this had been a bad idea? What if she spilled something on him and made a complete fool of herself?

She crossed to the wardrobe, pulling out yet another dress and holding it up to herself. It was simple, soft green, and comfortable enough to feel like herself, but she hesitated. “Is this too plain?” she murmured, frowning. “Should I wear something more exciting?”

Her reflection offered no answers, only the same overthinking woman staring back at her. She sighed, draping the dress over her arm and flopping down onto the bed. Her cat, a small gray tabby, jumped up beside her, curling into a ball as if to remind her that at least he wasn’t worried about her appearance.

“This shouldn’t be this hard,” she told him, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. “It’s just one evening. If it’s terrible, I never have to do it again.”

But even as she said it, she knew that wasn’t what she wanted. Deep down, she wanted it to go well. She wanted to sit across from Bill and feel the same easy connection she’d felt when they were setting up Victoire’s party. She wanted to laugh with him, to see that soft smile that made his whole face light up.

Her mind drifted to the way he’d looked at her as she left the Burrow the week before, his quiet sincerity and the way he’d hesitated, as if she might slip away before he could finish asking her out. That moment had stuck with her all week, a small, stubborn thread of hope that mayb, this could be something good.

Shaking off the thought, she stood and grabbed the green dress. “Alright,” she said aloud, as if summoning courage. “No more overthinking. Just get dressed and go. What’s the worst that can happen?”

But as she slipped into the dress and smoothed the fabric over her hips, her heart continued to race, and the questions refused to quiet. What if this changes everything?

—

Bill crouched down to Victoire’s level in the cozy living room of Shell Cottage, her wide blue eyes locked on his as she clutched her ever-present dragon toy. She tilted her head, curls bouncing, her expression somewhere between curiosity and suspicion.

“Why do I have to stay at Grandma’s tonight?” she asked, her tone edging toward a pout.

Bill sighed softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. “Because Daddy has plans tonight,” he said gently, trying to keep his voice light and casual.

Victoire’s brow furrowed. “What kind of plans?”

Bill hesitated, searching for the simplest way to explain. “Well, I’m going out to dinner,” he said carefully, straightening her jumper as he spoke.

“With Grandma and Grandpa?” she asked, brightening.

“No,” Bill said with a small chuckle. “Not with Grandma and Grandpa.”

Victoire’s eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion returning. “Then who are you going with?”

Bill exhaled through his nose, realizing there was no way around it. “I’m going to dinner with Y/N.”

Victoire’s face lit up. “Y/N? Really?” She clapped her hands together, practically bouncing on her heels. “Is she coming here? Can I stay and play with her? Please?”

“No, sweetheart,” Bill said, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. “It’s just going to be me and Y/N tonight.”

Victoire frowned, confusion knitting her small brows. “Why? Don’t you want me there?”

“Of course I want you there,” Bill said quickly, his voice warm and reassuring. “But this is... well, it’s different. It’s called a date.”

“A date?” Victoire repeated, tilting her head. “What’s a date?”

Bill rubbed the back of his neck, struggling to find the right words. “A date is when two grown-ups spend time together to get to know each other better,” he explained. “It’s kind of like... a special kind of dinner.”

Victoire considered this for a moment, her dragon pressed tightly to her chest. “But you already know Y/N,” she said matter-of-factly. “She comes to Grandma’s all the time.”

Bill smiled faintly. “That’s true,” he admitted. “But this is different. Tonight, it’s just the two of us.”

Victoire’s frown deepened. “Why can’t I come too?”

“Because sometimes grown-ups need time to talk without little dragons around,” Bill teased, tapping her dragon lightly on the nose.

Victoire huffed, crossing her arms. “But I’m not a dragon. I’m a princess.”

Bill grinned, leaning in closer. “Exactly, and princesses need their beauty sleep. Grandma’s going to make sure you have the best night ever.”

Victoire pouted, clearly not entirely convinced. “Will Y/N come back after the date?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Bill said honestly. “But I’ll tell her you said hello.”

That seemed to appease her slightly. She uncrossed her arms and leaned in closer. “Do you like her?” she asked in a whisper, as if sharing a secret.

Bill blinked, caught off guard by the directness of the question. “I think she’s very nice,” he said cautiously.

Victoire tilted her head, studying him intently. “I think you like her a lot,” she said decisively, as if she’d solved a great mystery.

Bill chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll see, princess,” he said, his voice gentle. “Now, go grab your bag. Grandma’s waiting for her favorite little dragon tamer.”

Victoire giggled, running off toward her room, her dragon flopping in her hand. Bill watched her go, his smile softening as he straightened up.

Bill arrived at the Burrow with Victoire in tow, her little hand clutching his tightly as she skipped along the familiar path to the front door. Her excitement about spending the night at her grandparents’ house had returned during the short walk, and she was already chattering about all the games she planned to play with Grandma.

As they stepped inside, the warm, familiar scent of Molly’s cooking wrapped around them like a comforting hug. Molly appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on her apron, her face lighting up at the sight of her granddaughter.

“There’s my favorite girl!” she exclaimed, kneeling down to welcome Victoire with open arms.

“Grandma!” Victoire squealed, running into Molly’s embrace. Her curls bounced as she hugged her tightly, her dragon tucked under one arm.

Molly stood, holding Victoire’s hand and smiling warmly at Bill. “Everything set for tonight?” she asked, her voice carrying just enough of a knowing lilt to make Bill tense.

“Everything’s fine,” Bill replied, his tone carefully neutral. “I just need to head back soon.”

Molly’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she guided Victoire toward the living room. “Off to meet Y/N, are you?”

Bill exhaled through his nose, already bracing himself for the inevitable conversation. “It’s just dinner, Mum.”

“Dinner,” Molly repeated, her tone so light it was practically floating. She shot him a pointed glance as she handed Victoire a plate of biscuits from the coffee table. “Just a casual dinner with a lovely woman who adores your daughter and fits right in with the family.”

“It’s not serious,” Bill said firmly, crossing his arms. “We’re just getting to know each other.”

Molly tilted her head, her expression softening with that particular mix of affection and exasperation she reserved for her children. “Bill, love, I know you think you’re fooling me, but you’re not. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

He frowned, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “Mum, I’ve been on one date with her—well, I’m about to. That’s hardly—”

“She makes you smile,” Molly interrupted gently, folding her arms across her apron. “And it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you smile like that.”

Bill pressed his lips together, his jaw tightening. “I’m not ready for anything serious,” he said, his tone quieter now, almost as if he were trying to convince himself.

Molly stepped closer, her gaze soft but unwavering. “It’s okay to be cautious, Bill. No one’s saying you have to make any grand declarations. But don’t close yourself off just because you’re scared of what might happen.”

“I’m not scared,” he countered, but his voice lacked its usual conviction.

Molly raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm. “I just want you to be happy,” she said softly. “That’s all.”

Bill sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked toward the living room where Victoire was happily arranging her dragon and biscuits into a pretend tea party. “Victoire’s my priority,” he said quietly. “She always will be.”

“And Y/N understands that,” Molly replied. “She’s not here to replace anyone, Bill. She’s here because she cares—about Victoire and, if you let her, maybe about you too.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the floor. The idea of opening himself up, of letting someone into the carefully built walls around his life with Victoire, felt both terrifying and tantalizing.

Molly gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Go on, then. You’ve got a date to get to.”

Bill nodded slowly, finally meeting her eyes. “Thanks, Mum.”

—

Y/N stood in front of her full-length mirror, biting her lip as she scrutinised her reflection for what felt like the hundredth time. The soft hum of music played in the background, but it did little to settle her nerves. She adjusted her top, a flowy, deep emerald green blouse that she’d picked specifically because it complemented her eyes, before smoothing down the black skirt that hit just above her knees. The outfit felt simple yet elegant, but now, under the harsh light of her flat, she was second-guessing everything.

“Too much?” she muttered to herself, turning slightly to check her profile. “Or not enough?”

Her hair was styled in loose waves, though a few strands were already beginning to rebel, falling across her face in a way she hoped looked charmingly effortless rather than frazzled. She reached for her wand, trying to tame the rogue strands, but her hand wavered.

“I’m acting like a teenager,” she muttered, setting the wand down with a sigh. Her heart was beating faster than it had any right to, and she couldn’t seem to stop the anxious thoughts swirling in her mind.

What if he thought this was a mistake? What if she said something stupid? What if the chemistry they seemed to share disappeared the moment they were alone together?

Y/N paced across her living room, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until Bill was supposed to arrive. Ten minutes to pull herself together.

She sank onto the edge of her couch, her hands gripping her knees as she tried to breathe through the nervous energy bubbling up inside her. This wasn’t her first date, not by a long shot, but something about Bill felt different. The stakes felt higher, and that terrified her.

“He’s just a man,” she whispered to herself, trying to inject some logic into her spiraling thoughts. “A ridiculously handsome man, but still just a man.”

Her attempt at calming herself only made her stomach flip more. She groaned, burying her face in her hands. Why did she feel so unsteady, like she was teetering on the edge of something monumental?

A knock at the door broke through her frantic thoughts. Her head shot up, her heart immediately leaping into her throat.

“Lord have mercy,” she muttered, smoothing her skirt one last time as she stood. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and walked to the door, her palms damp against the doorknob.

When she opened it, Bill stood there, dressed in a crisp button-up shirt that was rolled at the sleeves and dark dress pants that made him look effortlessly polished. His hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, glinted under the soft light from the hallway. He was holding a small bouquet of wildflowers, their bright colours clashing slightly but endearingly with his rugged demeanor.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Bill’s eyes swept over her, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“You look, wow,” he said finally, his voice warm but slightly hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure the words were enough.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, and she couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you. You look great too.”

“Thanks,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I, uh, brought these for you. Victoire picked them out yesterday. Said they’d make you smile.”

Y/N took the flowers, her heart softening instantly. “They’re perfect. Please tell her thank you for me.”

“I will,” Bill replied, his smile widening slightly. “Ready to go?”

Y/N nodded, placing the flowers carefully on her kitchen counter before grabbing her small bag. As she locked the door behind her, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered even harder. 

The warm golden light of the restaurant was inviting, but it did little to soothe the jittery nerves that seemed to hover between Bill and Y/N like an uninvited guest. As the hostess led them to their table, Y/N focused on putting one foot in front of the other, clutching her bag tightly against her side. Bill, walking just behind her, seemed equally tense, his gaze darting around the cozy room as if looking for an anchor.

They reached their table—a quaint little spot near the back, away from the bustle of the main dining area. Bill hesitated slightly before pulling out her chair, a gesture that made Y/N’s heart lurch unexpectedly.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft as she slid into the seat.

Bill nodded and took his place across from her, unfolding his napkin and setting it meticulously on his lap. The quiet between them lingered, filled only by the ambient clink of glasses and the hum of other conversations. Both reached for their menus almost in unison, burying their noses in the pages as if the neatly printed words held the key to dispelling the awkward tension.

Y/N peeked over her menu, watching Bill as he scanned the options with the intensity of someone defusing a magical bomb. The sight of him so focused, his jaw slightly tight, was enough to make her want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. She was a grown woman, sitting across from a man she liked—a very kind, attractive man, no less—and yet she felt like a nervous teenager on her first date.

Unable to take it anymore, she dropped her menu onto the table with a soft thud and blurted, “Okay, I have to say it—I’m sweating like a whore in church.”

Bill froze mid-page turn, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, and Y/N felt her cheeks flush with immediate regret. Then, he blinked, and a slow, incredulous grin spread across his face.

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my God. That sounded so much better in my head.”

“No, no, please don’t stop,” Bill said, setting his menu aside and leaning forward slightly, his grin growing. “Did you just say you’re sweating like a whore in church?”

Y/N peeked at him through her fingers, equal parts mortified and amused by his reaction. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice muffled. “It’s a Southern thing. We have... colourful ways of saying things.”

Bill laughed then, a full, warm laugh that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I’ve never heard that one before,” he admitted, shaking his head. “What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m nervous,” Y/N said, dropping her hands and gesturing animatedly as she tried to explain. “Like, really nervous. And when you’re nervous, you... sweat? And I guess if you’re a, uh, ‘woman of questionable repute,’ sitting in a church might make you extra nervous. Hence the sweating.”

Bill leaned back in his chair, his grin turning into a chuckle as he shook his head again. “You Southerners have a way with words, I’ll give you that.”

“You have no idea,” Y/N said with a self-deprecating laugh, her nerves starting to settle now that the tension had been punctured by humor. “There’s a saying for everything. ‘Sweating like a sinner in Sunday school,’ ‘nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,’ stuff like that.”

Bill raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “So... should I be worried that you’re planning on teaching Victoire any of these gems?”

Y/N grinned, leaning forward slightly. “I make no promises. But hey, it might give her an edge in magical linguistics.”

“I’ll consider it,” Bill said, still smiling. “Though I think I’ll need a full guide to Southern slang before I sign off.”

“Deal,” Y/N said, relaxing fully for the first time since they’d arrived.

The laughter that followed felt easy, like the final piece of ice melting in the warmth of the restaurant. As they returned to their menus, Y/N’s nerves ebbed, replaced by a sense of comfort that felt almost surprising. Bill’s grin lingered as he glanced back at her, his expression softening.

The initial awkwardness that had lingered like an unwelcome third wheel had melted away, replaced by the natural rhythm of conversation.

“So,” Bill said, leaning forward slightly with a faint smile, “tell me more about this compass you’ve been working on. The one that spins like mad when someone lies?”

Y/N perked up at the mention of her work, her hands coming to life as she spoke. “It’s fascinating. The enchantment is so old, it predates most of the magical artifacts I’ve worked with. But the charm isn’t just tied to deceit—it seems to react to intent, like if someone’s even thinking about lying, the needle starts to twitch. It’s brilliant and infuriating all at once.”

Bill chuckled, his eyes fixed on her as she gestured animatedly. “Sounds like the kind of artifact that would drive curse breakers insane in the field. Too unpredictable.”

“Exactly!” Y/N exclaimed, her grin widening. “And I’ve been trying to stabilize it without stripping it of its original charm, but every solution I think of feels like it’s going to compromise the integrity of the piece.”

“That’s the challenge with older magic,” Bill said, nodding thoughtfully. “It’s layered. Every spell builds on what came before, like threads in a tapestry. You tug one, and the whole thing shifts.”

Y/N paused, her fork hovering over her plate, and tilted her head at him. “That’s exactly it. How do you even explain that to someone who hasn’t worked with magic like this? You’d think I was trying to unweave the fabric of the universe.”

Bill laughed softly, shaking his head. “Sometimes, that’s exactly what it feels like. The curse-breaking work I did in Egypt? There were days I swore I was one misstep away from turning an entire tomb into a pile of sand.”

Y/N leaned in, her eyes bright with interest. “You’ve got to tell me about one of those days. What’s the worst curse you’ve ever dealt with?”

Bill hesitated, his lips quirking in thought. “Worst as in dangerous, or worst as in humiliating?”

“Both,” Y/N said quickly, her smile mischievous.

“Well,” Bill began, his tone taking on a story-like quality, “there was one time I was working on a tomb near Giza. Seemed straightforward—a few standard traps, protective wards, nothing out of the ordinary. But then I triggered a curse that was... let’s just say creatively unpleasant. Every time I tried to cast a counter-curse, my hair turned a different shade of pink.”

Y/N clapped a hand over her mouth, her laughter spilling out despite her best efforts. “Pink? Oh, please tell me there’s a photo of this somewhere.”

Bill grinned, his ears tinged red. “If there is, it’s buried deeper than the tomb itself. But I spent a solid week as a walking sunset. My team wouldn’t let me live it down.”

“I can’t decide if that’s genius or cruel,” Y/N said, still laughing. “Whoever set that trap clearly had a sense of humor.”

Bill chuckled, his gaze softening as he watched her. “They definitely did. It’s part of what I loved about the job—figuring out the people behind the magic. Why they did what they did, what they were trying to protect or hide. It’s like getting to know someone through the spells they left behind.”

Y/N nodded, her expression thoughtful. “It’s a bit like that with the artifacts I work with, too. Every piece has a story, even if we only ever get fragments of it. There’s something magical about uncovering those pieces, even when it’s frustrating.”

Their eyes met across the table, and for a moment, the conversation paused. There was a warmth between them, an unspoken understanding that seemed to settle in the space they shared.

“You’re good at this,” Bill said suddenly, his voice quiet but sincere.

Y/N blinked, startled by the shift in tone. “Good at what?”

“At finding the magic in the small things,” Bill replied, his smile faint but genuine. “It’s easy to focus on the danger or the frustration, but you... you look for the story. The connection. That’s rare.”

Y/N felt a blush rise to her cheeks, and she ducked her head slightly, suddenly self-conscious. “I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

“Not at all,” Bill said, his tone firm but kind. “It’s a gift.”

The moment lingered, stretching just long enough to make Y/N’s heart flutter in her chest. She reached for her glass of water, hoping the coolness would steady her nerves.

“Well,” she said after a pause, her voice lighter now, “if I ever find another cursed compass, I’ll be sure to send it your way. Maybe you can turn it pink.”

Bill laughed, the sound rich and warm, and the tension that had built between them melted back into easy camaraderie.

The dinner passed in a blur of warm conversation and shared laughter, the initial awkwardness melting away as they navigated through the courses with ease. By the time the check was settled, both Bill and Y/N felt the kind of lightness that only comes from unexpectedly good company.

As they stepped outside into the cool London evening, Bill glanced at Y/N. The streets were alive with soft light from streetlamps and the murmur of passing conversations. He hesitated, not quite ready for the night to end.

“Do you fancy a walk?” he asked, his voice careful, almost shy.

Y/N smiled up at him, tucking her hands into the pockets of her coat. “I’d like that.”

They began to walk, their pace slow and easy as they meandered through the cobblestone streets. The crisp air carried the faint smell of rain, and the quiet energy of the city felt intimate, like it belonged only to them.

“So,” Y/N said after a few minutes, her voice soft in the stillness, “what made you want to be a curse breaker?”

Bill chuckled lightly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s going to sound cliché, but I think it was the adventure. The idea of traveling the world, uncovering secrets, solving puzzles, it was too exciting to pass up.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. “Did it live up to the dream?”

“In some ways,” Bill admitted, his tone contemplative. “It’s dangerous, sure, but also fascinating. There’s nothing like walking into an ancient tomb and knowing you’re the first person in centuries to see it. But…” He hesitated, his gaze flickering toward her. “It’s not as glamorous as people think. A lot of it is just hard work and a bit of luck.”

“That still sounds pretty amazing,” Y/N said, her smile soft. “It’s not every day you meet someone who can say they’ve disarmed a cursed artifact.”

He grinned, his expression lighter now. “And it’s not every day you meet someone who can make ancient magical artifacts safe for a Muggle museum. I think we’re both in niche careers.”

Y/N laughed, her breath visible in the cool air. “Touché. I guess we’re both a little crazy for what we do.”

“Maybe,” Bill said, his voice quieter. “But I think it takes a bit of crazy to do something you love.”

Y/N glanced at him, her smile faltering slightly as she caught the sincerity in his eyes. There was a warmth there, a steadiness that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t expected.

They walked in silence for a while, the sounds of the city wrapping around them. Y/N broke it first, her tone light but curious. “Do you miss it? Curse breaking, I mean.”

Bill considered the question, his jaw tightening slightly. “Sometimes. It’s hard not to, especially when I hear stories from my old colleagues. But being with Victoire…” His voice softened, and a small smile tugged at his lips. “She’s worth it. Every sacrifice, every change, it all feels small compared to her.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at the quiet devotion in his voice. “She’s lucky to have you,” she said gently.

Bill glanced at her, his gaze steady. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

The quiet sincerity of his words made Y/N look away, her cheeks warming. She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re too good at this, you know.”

“Good at what?” he asked, his brow lifting in amusement.

“At saying things that make me feel like I’m about to float away,” she admitted, her tone half-teasing but mostly honest.

Bill chuckled, his own cheeks tinging pink. “Maybe it’s not a bad thing to let yourself float every now and then.”

They turned a corner, the streets quieter now as they approached a small park. The iron gates were open, and the lamplight inside cast a soft glow over the paths. Without thinking, Bill nudged the gate open and gestured for her to go ahead.

“Why not?” Y/N said with a grin, stepping inside.

They strolled along the gravel path, their footsteps the only sound in the stillness. Y/N tilted her head back, taking in the dark sky and the faint glitter of stars visible above the city. “It’s kind of magical, isn’t it?” she murmured.

Bill glanced at her, his heart catching at the way the light caught her profile. “Yeah,” he said softly, though his gaze didn’t leave her. “It is.”

She looked at him then, her eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. The air between them felt charged, not with awkwardness but with something unspoken, something fragile but undeniable.

“Thank you,” Y/N said quietly, breaking the silence.

“For what?” Bill asked, his voice low.

“For tonight,” she said, her smile small but warm. “For making me feel... I don’t know, like this was exactly where I was meant to be.”

Bill swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. He wanted to say something, to match her honesty with his own, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he let his hand brush against hers, the smallest of gestures that felt monumental.

Y/N didn’t pull away. Instead, she let their hands linger together for a moment before quietly lacing her fingers with his. The simple act sent a jolt through Bill, his breath hitching as he glanced down at their joined hands.

They decided to walk back to Y/N’s apartment, and the quiet hum of the city filled the space between them. Bill shifted slightly as he glanced at her. The warmth from the evening lingered, charged with something unspoken and electric.

“This is me,” Y/N said softly, her voice breaking the quiet. She gestured toward the building, a small, nervous smile playing on her lips. “Thanks for tonight, Bill. I had a great time.”

“So did I,” Bill replied, his voice steady but quiet. He studied her face, trying to read the thoughts swirling behind her eyes. He should say goodbye, should let her go, but the way she looked at him, half nervous and half hopeful, made him hesitate.

Y/N hesitated too, reaching for the door handle. “Well—”

“Wait,” Bill said abruptly, leaning forward. She paused, her hand hovering mid-air as she turned back to him. His throat worked as he searched for the right words, his heart hammering in his chest. “I just… I really like spending time with you.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her heart skipping a beat. She turned to face him fully, her gaze softening. “I like spending time with you too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy with something unsaid. Bill’s hand moved almost on its own, brushing hers gently. “Let me walk you up.”

Y/N nodded, her pulse quickening. The short walk to her door felt endless, the tension between them building with every step. When they reached her stoop, she turned to him, her keys dangling loosely from her fingers.

“Thanks again,” she said softly, her smile warm but shaky. “Really, tonight was perfect.”

Bill’s lips tugged into a small, crooked smile. “It wouldn’t have been without you.”

The air seemed to hum, the pull between them undeniable now. Y/N licked her lips nervously, her hand tightening around her keys. “My flatmate’s out for the night,” she said suddenly, her tone light and almost teasing. “So no pressure to keep your goodnight kiss PG.”

Bill blinked at her words, caught off guard by the playful edge in her voice. But before he could respond, she stepped closer, her gaze dropping to his lips.

It was all the encouragement he needed.

Bill leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that started soft but quickly grew hungry. Y/N responded immediately, her hands tangling in the fabric of his coat as she pulled him closer. His hands found her waist, gripping her firmly as the world around them faded away.

Her keys slipped from her grasp, clattering to the ground, but neither of them noticed. Y/N’s back pressed against the door, her breath mingling with his as the kiss deepened. She tugged him closer, her fingers threading through his hair, and the low groan he let out sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y/N,” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough and filled with restraint. “Are you sure—?”

“Yes,” she breathed, cutting him off with another kiss. Her hands slipped to the back of his neck, holding him in place. “I’m sure.”

His resolve crumbled. Bill fumbled for the keys, his hands shaking slightly as he unlocked the door. They stumbled inside, their kisses growing more urgent as the door clicked shut behind them.

The small entryway was dimly lit, and they barely made it a few steps before Y/N tugged him closer, her lips moving fervently against his. Bill’s hands slid to her hips, pulling her flush against him, and the heat between them grew almost unbearable.

“Bedroom?” he asked, his voice rough and barely coherent.

She nodded, her breath hitching as she grabbed his hand, leading him further into the flat. The tension in the air was electric, their shared desire burning like wildfire.

tagged: @navs-bhat @neenieweenie @buendiabebeta

a/n: AHHHHHHH im screaming i've been so excited to write this chapter i went a little crazy. i think there's only one more chapter and epilogue left of the series. we will see. also i just cracked 31k words for this series. guys genuiely all my free time has been devoted to this fanfic it brings me so much joy.

[lunimy]

isn’t she super cute

me when the sillies

[lsd-ink]

Simona's final design - turnaround

I finally decided to change her design for her final arc but we'll it was just her outfit tbh. Though I really love her original clothes, I felt they were so out of place with the series and environment.

I still tried to make her a "preppy" punk girl for her final arc where she finally accepts Randy as the ninja and stops being the Kitsune (green). And on finally accepting herself as someone more rebellious who does what she wants and fights for what's the right thing for her and everyone.

Probably I'll make her first appearance outfit (the green one) turnaround and her cheerleader uniform too.

I ofc made this to be able to make my fake SS more easier Xp.

(Don't mind Randy, is just a beta design for him)

[konnosaurus]

after all this time working on them, konno finally has humanisations!! just these guys for now but there will indeed be more to come. i've had so much fun with these so i hope that you guys like them :3 they Will be showing up alongside my engine stuff hehe!

i'm gonna stick some design notes under the cut in case anyone is interested!:

thomas:

actually the last of these i designed. as always, i find him Difficult, but i am happy with what i have done :3

the bracelet around his ankle was made by percy- james and percy also have them, just in different places. thomas doesn't like things around his wrists or arms in general (no tight sleeves, either!) so has his on his ankle!

originally the jacket was a non-zipped hoodie but it didn't feel Dynamic enough for him, so i decided to go for the open jacket look. it feels more active- perfect for the cheeky lad himself.

he does know how to tie his laces, he just Cannot Be Bothered.

edward:

this design came the most naturally. i didn't really have to do any second guessing or anything- edward is edward and he just felt like edward to me!

of these seven, he is the only one who wears glasses. he is NOT, however, the only one who needs glasses. gordon, james and emily should heed his advice and get some themselves (they will not.)

originally his trousers were going to be a much darker brown, but the lighter just felt a lot more old-man-comforting which i feel fits his pizazz better.

henry:

henry :3

henry is the sort of person to have a little bag that just contains like,, Anything that one could need in a situation. you require an item? henry has it!

the long skirt was initially alllll the way to the floor, but i wanted to show a bit of boot to make it just,, lightly more practical than a full floor-length one. it is a very swishy skirt.

henry has my favourite face/hair design of them all i just love how poofy the hair is and the little EXPRESSIONNNN!

gordon:

mr professionally dressed!

he wears old man shoes because i can't imagine gordon not wearing old man shoes even though he does not consider himself an old man. someone calls them old man shoes and he goes home and cries.

he's got some Muscle to him- beneath those sleeves he has got the p o w e r. also a bit of chink- not all that much, but he is noticably Wide as well as Tall.

james:

my favourite design for my favourite little lad!

i wanted him to be flashy but not Overly obnoxious- his vest is bright and his jewelry is dramatic but he also has some more muted colours. having a scheme is very important to him- the only thing that breaks it is the friendship bracelet from percy that he has on his wrist.

he has long boots because he would have long boots <3

the red strips in his hair are entirely just because he wants to be more red and more colour coordinated.

percy:

his trousers brush the floor because he is not the tallest and the ones he liked weren't quite the right lengths. so many people he knows could shorten them for him but he actually quite likes them like that.

percy gets freckles just because i wanted him to have them hehehe no other reasoning!

his green is a lot more yellowy and bright than henrys more dull and sappy greens, and his red is a lot deeper than henrys more pinky red.

his bag has his little friendship charm on the buckle. he doesn't wear it as a bracelet like thomas or james do- it stays on his bag because he loves his bag and is never without it.

emily:

despite her engine being a dark green, her main outfit piece (the dungarees) is a lighter green. this is Entirely just because i liked how it looked better.

her boots have detailing meant to be like her great race livery!

emily had one of the easiest outfits for me to design- she just feels like a dungaree sort of gal to me, and i just worked from there! the little gold patterns on her dungaree pocket are meant to reflect the big ol wheel pattern on the stirling single.

and there we have it!

[lanawinterscigarettes]

✨️ smutty/soft rachel but with the continuation of the lipstick stain drabble you wrote with more marking kink :)

I'm glad to hear you enjoyed it so much that you wanted a part two 🥰 the original fic can be found here in case anyone wants to check it out

Marked Up (Rachel Green x gn reader)

Warnings: not overt smut but there's definitely suggestive elements/implied smut, marking kink (the reader is marked by Rachel with both lipstick and hickeys), I made Rachel to be a little bit possessive here hehe

"You know, you leaving unnecessary lipstick stains on my clothing is what caused us to be caught in the first place," you pointed out with a look of amusement as Rachel peppered your neck with kisses, causing both your skin and the collar of your shirt to be covered with marks from her lipstick.

"Well, it's not my fault that you happen to be so irresistible," she quipped back playfully, her arms wrapped around your neck as she sat in your lap on the couch of your apartment. "Besides, your outfit could do with a bit of color anyway."

Her obviously teasing words caused a smirk to tug at the corners of your lips. "Oh, is that so?"

"Honey, no offense, but your outfits are a little drab," she continued while her eyes flickered up and down at your outfit for the day.

A snort of laughter escaped from you in response. Most people might be offended if their girlfriend said that to them, but you knew she only meant it in good fun. Besides, she was well known to be an expert on all things fashion, so you trusted her judgement on the matter.

"Well, maybe one of these days I'll have to let you dress me," you suggested while moving your hands to rest on top of her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"While I do appreciate the offer, I think I prefer undressing you instead," she replied in a suggestive tone, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she unwrapped her arms from around your neck, her hands moving down to start unbuttoning your top just enough to expose your neck a bit more.

"Hm, why does that not surprise me?" you muttered, giving her a playful eye roll before leaning in to capture her lips in an affectionate embrace. Her hands stopped their movements on your shirt, moving up to cup your face as she leaned in further, deepening the kiss.

Your lips moved against each other in a way that was both tender and loving, the kiss lasting until you realized you were starting to run out of air and needed to take a break. While you were trying to catch your breath, she dipped her head down to the crook of your neck, starting to nip and suck at the sensitive skin there in an effort of showing others who you belonged to: her.

"I think Ross might throw a fit if he sees that you left hickeys behind," you commented, tilting your head to the side regardless so she'd have better access to the area. "You know he nearly passed out just from the lipstick stain alone, this would probably kill him."

She let out a scoff in annoyance, and although you couldn't see her face properly you were quite certain she was rolling her eyes. "Well, you know what? He's just going to have to throw a fit, then, because I don't rightly care. Ross isn't my problem anymore."

You practically beamed with pride upon hearing that. Rachel wasn't always the best at being assertive or setting firm boundaries, so it warmed your heart to hear that coming from her. "Baby, you saying that just made my entire day," you said before letting out a low groan when she began to move her mouth from your neck down to your collarbone, fully planning on marking up as much bare skin as possible.

"I bet I can make your day even better," she purred while maneuvering you so that you were laying back on the couch with her on top of you, your hands having moved from her waist down to her hips by this point as she went right on back to marking you up.

Safe to say your neck was covered with both hickeys and lipstick marks by the time she was done, though you didn't let her get away without leaving behind a few marks of your own. There was no way of hiding them, and that was entirely the point.

When Ross complained about the visible hickeys left behind on your neck the next day, she retaliated by purposely wearing a low-cut top that showed off your handiwork so he could see you weren't the only one who got all marked up by the other. That certainly did the trick at getting him to shut up, and even earned you a low whistle of approval from Phoebe at "marking your territory", or whatever it was that she said.

From then on, if there was ever any question of who you belonged to, all Rachel had to do was pull out that signature tube of lipstick and apply some before kissing you somewhere that wasn't very discreet, a not-so-subtle way of her telling others you were happily taken and they needed to back off.

End notes: I'm not sure if this is any good or not but I hope it was okay <3

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[calamarikitty]

Hazbin Hotel Redesigns - Part Three!

the hotel attendees are here, along with cherri and mimzy!

individual pngs and design notes under cut

Anthony "Angel Dust" - He/him, trans man, gay

you best believe he has extra legs now! this makes him an anomaly in the industry and grew his popularity.

all of his outfits are like those dumb, tacky sexy halloween costumes. his most used persona is a sexy mafia boss.

he equates his self-worth to his sex appeal and all of his outfits are normal things made 'sexy'

he is more built than he is in the show because i felt like it

spider mandibles and abdomen! for fun! also extra eyes and cool spiderweb eyelashes

also kept his little BANG! gun from one of his earlier designs because i love it so much

also completely unrelated but i just now realized that both angel and molly have drug-related names and i just think that's genuinely so smart.

Sir Pentious - He/him, cis man, straight

just realized that the transparency on his tail is weird so just pretend it's intentional texture shh!

didn't really change his design tbh. i kind of already like it! i just wanted to make him look more cartoon-villainy.

basically just a redraw in my own style

one thing i think he deserves though are silly little mad-scientist swirly glasses.

Cherri Bomb - Any pronouns, bigender, unlabeled

gave them a cyber goth look! i think that she definitely deserved to be more punky.

i wanted everything abt her to be super asymmetrical. i honestly love the different shoe concept that she has in her original design but bro deserves two shoes of the same height so she's not tripping over herself constantly.

the dreads(?) end in a fuse shape because i think that's SUCH a fun reference to her love for pyrotechnics. i tried to include as much explosion shapes as i could.

lots of piercings! stretched septum, stretched ears, snakebites, double nostril, you name it, she probably has it.

also gave her more freckles! she reminds me of freckled strawberry lemonade and idk why. also just thought lime green was such a pleasing accent color for her and i kind of dig it

she's still got her cool goggles and is a badass pyromaniac

Mimzy - She/her, cis woman, straight

my god i have so many qualms with mimzy's original design!!!! i need her to be more glamorous! more fun!

i decided to go a COMPLETELY different route with the colors this time. she is COOL colored now. spooky!

a lot of hazbin sinners are based on specific animals or insects, and i find it confusing that she has no cohesive theming. i decided to take some liberty and make her peacock themed!

i thought this really fit with her glamorous and extravagant nature.

i also wanted to make her hooked nose more prominent, and also give her the awesome feather boa she deserves

i was super scared abt changing the colors so drastically at first, but i absolutely love how she turned out. im also just a sucker for peacock theming though

[wazzuppy]

SPOILERS FOR THE NEW WALPURGISNACHT RISING TRAILER!!!!

And now for some other random things I noticed. Sequel-ish to my previous post.

Homura now has slight curls in her hair. It might also be more purple than before? Though that could just be because of the lighting.

Madoka looks really surprised and confused, but Homura looks all soft and somberly warm. Did she just randomly start dancing with her out of nowhere? 😭 Homura's such a gay little mess, I love her.

Was Homura fighting something here? The way she falls feels less like a dramatic one that she did of her own volition (like at the end of Rebellion) and more like she's in actual danger. Plus, she's in her devil form and the scenery doesn't look normal. I would say it's a witches labyrinth, but no labyrinth we've seen has ever looked like this— this one looks almost heavenly by comparison. Maybe there's some kind of new threat, or perhaps Wraiths are going to come back and get a proper labyrinth of their own. She might even be fighting another magical girl, and they're just in a barrier of some kind high above the city.

This teacup. I feel like this teacup is so important, but I have no idea what it could mean. However I do know what those golden cracks are. That's an example of Kintsugi, where broken things are repaired by mending the cracks with gold. It treats being broken and fixed as part of the object's history, rather than something to be hidden.

Also, this girl's eyes are golden and her hair is green like the tea inside the cup. The spoon and other parts of the tea-set are golden as well.

Nagisa has a new friend!! I thought maybe this orange haired girl might have been the unnamed magical girl from the first trailer (the one who fought with a bow), but that girl only had a single ponytail as opposed to pigtails.

Although... This girl kind of looks like what would happen if Nagisa and orange hair fused together.

And this other (same?) girl with orange pigtails is seen with Kyubey. Her outfit looks a lot like Kyoko's original outfit, too. Hmmm... I wonder if this is Kyoko's little sister? And she's been brought back because of Homura having rewrote the world? Kyoko does go to school with the rest of the girls now. She could have altered more about her life than just that.

Actually, this witch/familiar from earlier in the trailer has orange hair too. Does this mean something or is it just a coincidence???

Anyways, speaking of Kyoko, we get to see a bit more of her new outfit in this shot here. She now has puffed sleeves similar to Madoka's, and her dress in general looks much frillier. It feels a lot more girlish and cute, as opposed to coolness of her original design. Maybe it's a reflection of how Kyoko is happier in this new world?

Is Sayaka in her original outfit here? And just where the hell is she? Wasn't there a location like this in Rebellion, or am I just misremembering?

We see a flash of Oktavia in this shot, but Sayaka seems surprised and confused by it. Maybe she's had her memories erased since the end of Rebellion and doesn't remember Oktavia at all. Although, her shock may just be because it was so sudden.

Also, Sayaka's new outfit has more gold detailing than her original one!

So, the presence of the lizard makes me think that this is Homura. It looks like she may be attempting to cut it out of her, only for her blood to solidify and straight up break the knife (? possibly a boxcutter?). She may be trying to rid herself of her power in some way, or if this is a different girl entirely (the tea makes me think it could be Mami or the green haired girl from before), they're trying to get rid of Homura's influence.

This shot is interesting. It shows a white feather turning black as it falls from a heavenly-looking sky. This is probably a reference to not only fallen angels, but the status of Madoka's godhood. It's initially high in the sky with her, but is pulled down to Earth and turned dark as Homura takes it for herself.

[wyllathepeach]

Welcome back, disney duck's enthusiasts fellas!!! I'm finally back with my actual explanation about...

Why I don't like Gosalyn's Redesign for the Ducktales Reboot:

(Beforehand, I would like to notice that I will touch a very delicate matter latter on in this post. As such, if you're sensitive to discussions about culture and race, this post is probably not for you. I wrote said point with educational purposes in mind)

Now, most reasons are just my personal preferences, and please have in mind that LOVE hate on things I like. It's weird, I know, but I can help myself. Also, I know close to nothing about character desing. Finally: Alex perdóname hermano.

Anyways, reason number one!! : Her new design is not similar enough to her original design.

Most of the characters redesign are just modernized version of what they have been wearing since they were created. Donald wears his typical sailor attire but in black (like in the comics); Gladstone is a modernized version of a dandy; each triplets wears different characteristics of their usual designs; Mrs. B's uniform is now modern and more formal ... you get the point. Every character feels the same but in a different setting.

Now, Gosalyn had a single design, so it should have been easy. She was a read head with pigtails and a purple basketball shirt that I think she wears as a dress. Her redesign does not wear purple as a main color nor a basketball shirt, does not wear pigtails but a ponytail, and for some reason she now has curly hair. Also, though still a redhead, the read is much more subtle, mostly brownish/deep red.

I'm gonna admit that they did succeed in keeping her a tomboy through and through. But here I shall lay out my second problem:

Gosalyn's redesign is quite maximalist.

She wears a lot. And most characters don't wear that much, so she feels out of place. Yes, other characters, like Della and Launchpad, wear full outfits too, I'm aware, but their designs are keeping up with their original design or had more or so a simple color palette to work with. Gosalyn, on the contrary, wears too much color: she is deep red, olive brown, like three shades of green, black, gray, white, and purple. The original design kept her in warm tones and simpler lines.

As I said, I like the redesign do reflect the character personality indeed: she's sporty, so she wears a hoodie. She needs gadgets for her superhero adventures, so she has a backpack. She needs to go undercover, so her colors are muted. It works.

But I also have a third problem here:

She looks older.

The girl is young in dwd, like nine. In the reboot, the main kids are aged up from the 80s show: they are ten in the first season and eventually twelve in the third season, but all the desings are still the same from the moment we firt met them, so they still look and feel ten. Gosalyn does not. She gives me the impression of being like fourteen, as she also has a more mature personality (and I also didn't like that, but whatever).

This does not go well with the reboot because her story is supposed to lead up to her being the daughter of Drake Mallard, who is forty I think in dwd (at least that's the impression it gave me). But in the reboot, Drake is like a millennial, so he is at most in his thirties. The age difference is not quite there. How could they ever become actual father and daughter then? Mentor-protégé, sure. Older sibling protector, maybe. Father and daughter... idk. Would a gen z like to be adopted by a millennial?

Anyways, I don't think they translated that well her overall design for the reboot. When I first saw <Let's Get Dangerous!> I did felt all of these things I'm explaining. "Why does she wear boots? Does she really needs leggings? If under the green hoodie, she wears a purple hoodie that reassemble her original basketball shirt better, then why don’t she just wear that? Was it hard to draw her in pigtails instead?"

The design is pretty, and it works with the aesthetic of the episode, but the overall show. This is not Darkwing Duck Reboot; this is Ducktales Reboot.

Now, all said above is not that deep actually (I told you I like to complain). But there is a greater problem with Gosalyn that I just can't deal with, and I need to share with the world because it actually disappointed me enormously:

Gosalyn is supposed to be a latina now.

... no, she's not.

I'm not sure how to explain this, but latinoamerican is not a race. Each latam country has a different type of racial diversity depending on their history and geography. On the other side, there's this recurrent discussion in latam about how we mustn't consider every latino descendant a latino through and through if they don't participate and/or engage in the culture or social struggles of their respective origin country.

When the ducktales crew announced Gosalyn to be latina, I was... concerned. Mainly because till this day, I dont understand why they can't just say the name of the country the character is supposed to be from. If they don't, then I'm assuming they mean by race, which does not exist in latam for as I explained, latam is full of different races, which mean again they ment Gosalyn to be mixed looking/browned skin. Which didn't make her latina.

Fenton is an ok representation for Ducktales. The mom feels Mexican, their Spanish is quite understandable, there’s participation in the culture, they even gave them a new name: Cabrera (which is not a stereopltycal/overly common surname thanks heavens). It checks out.

Gosalyn does not: She does not speak spanish (and neither portuguese for the matter), she does not get a new surname, does not seem to engage with the cultural identity of any country other than usa (Calisota is canonically in usa). She is not one of us. WHICH WOULD HAVE BEEN FINE!

She could had just have her new look for the reboot and it would had been fine enough as she could pass out as many more non white identities that exist in usa, so using the latino label just feels comercial, which feel frustrating.

Now I shall go and hide for a few more months. xoxo and peace (^3^)/^ ~♡

[0nlyhere4phil]

Rating All of The Howlters New Outfits (except the randomized ones)

Some of you actually asked for this, so here's my review of the Howlters new outfits!

Starting with Dils Formal:

I honestly don't know how to feel about this. It's just not Dil. It doesn't go with his nerdy dad vibe at all. It makes him look older, it doesn't fit him right, and the color is really weird. If they had gone with the blue and some different shoes I think I would have liked it more, but since they didn't put much effort into it it's just bad. Objectively it's an okay suit, but for Dil it just doesn't work. So yeah overall just a no 4/10.

Next His Sleepwear:

Why did they like this so much? What is actually wrong with them? If it was just the pants and the slippers it would have been fine, but the pants, the slippers, AND socks...it's just too much. No no no bad. 2/10.

Next His Party Wear:

What are they doing to him?? Who is this? I'm kind of just staring at this not knowing what to say, because I think if, minus that UGLY HAT, this was on a different and younger sim it would look okay. This looks like Dil is going through a midlife crisis. I like that the shoes match the shirt, thats nice, and I like the overall color pallet, BUT NOT ON DIL! So I'm weirdly torn, but since this look is on Dil I don't like it. Again it's not that bad but on Dil it's just horrible 4.5/10. I hate that fucking hat.

Next His Swimwear:

You don't get how relieved I am that they didn't put him in a fucking speedo. I like this a lot. This looks like a father, which is perfect for Dil. It's cute, it's simple, and I like the colors they chose. 9/10

Next His Hot Weather:

Meh. They didn't change much, they just made it worse. I prefered the original because I feel like the green looked better. Also wearing slippers on a hot day sounds absolutely HORRIBLE! 3/10

Next His Cold Weather:

I absolutely LOVE THIS! It's so fun! Dil in the horrible 80s dad aesthetic works perfectly! It's still nerdy as well! I feel like this is perfect. If they had made his whole wardrobe this over the top ugly neon nerdy look I would have loved it! 10/10

That's it for Dil. To say I'm disappointed is an understatement. I feel like they should have gone for nerdy Dad than whatever the hell they actually did. Next up is Tabitha.

Tabitha's Everyday:

This is just an upgraded version of her original outfit. I like the new hair color, though I wish they looked through different hairstyles cause the one they chose is not giving what it needed to give. I LOVE her new tattoo, I think it's fun that they gave her it. I also do like the shoes matching the hair. This is cute! 8.5/10

Next Her Formal:

I like the dress, but the outfit looks unfinished. They should have changed her makeup into something more dramatic to match the dress, and they also should have put some bracelets and necklaces on her. They did good on picking the main part of the outfit now they need to go back and finish it. 6/10 (I couldn't get a good screenshot with the tattoo sorry)

Next Her Sleepwear:

Slay queen. I love this honestly. I like how lavender has become her color. The sunglasses are iconic. The only thing I hate is SOCKS WITH SLIPPERS! THAT LOOKS LIKE IT FEELS HORRIBLE! Other than the sock and slipper combo this eats. 9.5/10

Next Her Party:

I beg your pardon? What is THIS and WHY was Dan so obsessed with it? This is horrible. I'm glad they remembered that necklaces and nails exist but I'm upset they exist on this monstrosity. Nothing about this goes together. THIS. IS. THEIR. WORST. LOOK. 1/10.

Next Her Swimwear:

It's kind of a mess but I kind of love it. I feel like it suits this new Tabitha. I don't have much to say other than it strangely works. 7/10.

Next Her Hot Weather:

Fuck right off. Daniel you know NOTHING about goths. This is horrible. This poor woman is going to feel so sticky and sweaty, and it wont even be worth it because this outfit is trash. Just no. 1.5/10.

Next Her Cold Weather:

I really like this. I love how throughout the outfit pink pops up, and I like that it makes sense for the category it's in. Good job Dan and Phil 9/10

That's it for Tabitha! For the most part her new outfits aren't bad. I like that they (unintentionally) gave her a pastel goth sort of vibe, I like that she does look like a streamer now, and I think the new tattoo is really cool. I will never forgive them for her party wear though. Moving on to Dalien.

Daliens Everyday:

This is fine. I wish the pants were the skinny jeans because those were more emo, and I wish he had black eyeliner. Overall it's not bad, but I prefer the original. Also they should have stuck with the purple highlights instead of changing them to red. 7.5/10

Next His Sportswear:

Ew ew ew. This is rancid. The hoodie makes him look bald, and I despise the ripped socks they gave him. I actually like the shorts though they remind me of something Phil would have had back in 2010, but even then working out in those shorts sounds like a nightmare. Other than the shorts this whole look is a wreck. 1.5/10

Next His Party Wear:

The outfit itself is okay but this is NOT Dalien. This looks like Dalien stole from a skater boy. They had the opportunity to go absolutely insane with this outfit. They could have given him crazy black makeup, a sheer shirt, some fishnets, and platforms, but instead they did this. It's lazy. It's not emo or goth or whatever they want him to be. 4/10

Next His Swimwear:

Jesus Christ. NO. Just NO. 1.5/10

Next His Hot Weather:

Why didn't they give him FISHNETS? Why did they choose those grandpa socks??? Why is EVERYTHING GREY BUT THE DRESS?? I think the idea of Dalien wearing a dress is cunty, but not like this. I feel like he would be a long skirt kind of guy. Also the cuff like glove things in the summer sounds horrible. 4.5/10.

Next His Cold Weather:

Again this is just a no. Nothing about this is emo or goth or whatever they want him to be. I like the jacket and the boots a lot; if they had put Dalien in some skinny jeans and removed that fucking hat this would have been okay. I mean this in a derogatory way, this is something Dan would wear. 5.5/10

That's it for Dalien. Overall it's just not good. Most of it makes no sense, and they also should have given him black eyeliner.

In conclusion, they really did the Howlters dirty. This is probably the ugliest dressed family I've ever seen. None of these outfits gave what they needed to give. Also this family is a sensory NIGHTMARE!

I hope whoever is reading this enjoyed this or atleast agrees with some of my points. Have a wonderful rest of your day, evening, or morning.

[cyandreamzaceattorney]

✦ AA girls getting boba tea ✦

A few days ago I felt like drawing Ema, Kay, Maya and Franziska hanging out and drinking boba tea, cuz I really like the idea of these four having a friendship group :-D however, I unfortunately couldn't fit all four characters in so I (mostly) cut Franziska from the pic. Sorry Fran fans! I do love her but, I wanted to draw the other three girls a bit more (cuz that's just the mood I was in) and didn't want to stray away from this specific concept as I felt really inspired to draw them walking while chatting with boba tea.

Overall I do like how this picture came out, even if I definitely rushed it a bit (I think this was mostly because I got hyped over getting time to draw again, cuz I've been busy on and off). Unfortunately I lost my favourite brush liner before doing lineart on this and halfway threw my other liner magically dried up! So that was frustrating but, I worked around it and want to regain confidence in using fine liners so kind of a useful problem lol. I also decided to change up how I draw Kay in my art style a little and I think I like it :3 And, really like the outfits I gave the girls. Even if they are simple. They're also summer outfits because Australia is once again breaking the record for hottest summer (and it's still technically spring (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)). Fun fact, Ema is wearing a striped shirt as a reference to the stripe motifs in her aai design!

Now time for boba tea hc's cuz why not XD. Maya has a Taro milk tea with the regular black pearls, because it's purple and in my mind Taro and chocolate being her favourite flavours just makes sense. Kay has a iced tea with lychee jelly (mainly cuz I didn't feel like colouring the jelly but I see Kay liking lychee), idk what flavour her tea is, but it's probably a fruit flavour cuz in my experience ice teas are often fruit flavours. I also have the random hc that whenever Kay gets boba around Miles she gets a weird combo (e.g. chocolate milk tea with green apple pearls) just to see his upset reaction lol.

Ema and Franziska also have boba, you just can see it cuz Ema has them in a shopping bag which Kay is in front of. As for flavours, Ema's is definitely chocolate milk tea cuz her snacks in the English version of the games seem to be similar to tee vee snacks (idk if tee vee snacks are a thing in us, if they aren't they are small long cookies cotted in chocolate, kinda like pocky but much shorter, but thicker and fully coated) though I can also see her getting brown sugar with black pearls. Franziska I could see getting something like the regular tea flavour (which is called "Thai tea" or "original flavour" depending on the boba shop I go to) with no pearls or jelly because in my mind she doesn't like them :P, in general I don't think she'd like a lot of sweet flavours but that's because I hc her as not liking sweet food for no logical reason, my brain has simply decided this ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Hope you all enjoy this drawing and my super austic ramble about what boba tea I think these fictional characters drink XD

Next traditional drawing will be in a new sketcbook as I'm almost finished this one (and the last pages won't be as fanart so I won't post them here). I'm shocked cuz I haven't finished a sketchbook in less than a year for several years now! But this makes sense because I drew a lot this year for several reasons :-P

[quibbs126]

if you havent yet, could you do an almond x latte fankid? i love that ship a lot :)

Here we are, this is Almond Milk Cookie

Funny enough, I was actually trying to go back and find this post after editing something, only to realize I never actually posted it and left it in drafts. Only for one day, but still

Anyways, so on to him

So Almond Milk here is a healer, using almost exclusively milk magic. He started out in Parfaedia, and spent a good portion of time there, until he switched over to the Vanilla Kingdom to learn healing magic, where he now works as a doctor

He’s a very friendly and kind sort, and he’s very dependable. Also, despite what some may think from his profession, he’s quite physically strong as well

However he is self conscious about not being made of “real milk”, instead being made from almonds, and he wonders if his false ingredient hinders his healing abilities. His mother has told him that whether or not his ingredient really counts as “real milk” doesn’t matter, but it’s never been something he’s able to let go. He doesn’t really make it that known anymore though, preferring to keep it to himself

Now on to design things

So I’ve had the name Almond Milk as an almondlatte kid idea for a good while now. Lattes are made of coffee and milk, and there exists a form of milk made of almonds, so it’s the obvious choice

Almond milk:

I made the initial rough sketch some months ago, so I don’t entirely remember the thought process behind it. But it looks nice, and like Latte’s but with one of Almond’s hair colors

I’m not sure why I gave him a thicker body type, but whatever, he has one. It’s not like I’m that good at drawing super skinny Cookies anyways

His outfit was originally going to be more hospital like, and probably somewhat closer to Butter Roll’s, until I decided that maybe I should make it more fantasy looking. Especially with all of my Almond kids generally having more modern looks to them, or at least in the way that Almond is “modern”, I don’t know the right word

The small cloak thing was a bit of a struggle, especially with his smile, but I eventually got something

In the sketch I gave his almond brooch something around it that looked nice, but I wasn’t really sure what it was going into the lineart, so I made it leaves. They probably shouldn’t have lines and should instead be solid green, but whatever

I gave him that spoon last minute in the sketch, since I remembered that as I said prior, I tend to not give my fankids accessories or tools anymore, and I wanted to rectify that. Unfortunately his pose didn’t really lend me well to putting it in his hands, so it’s just slapped on to the back. I’m also noticing now that the spoon itself it too small, at least on the bowl thing. But it’d be a big hassle to try and fix it, so I guess I’m stuck with it annoying the crap out of it

Oh yeah, so as mentioned earlier, I came to edit something in his design, that being his colors. Originally he looked like this

I liked the blue, and it does give him a color scheme unique from his parents, but my big problem was that the colors reminded me of Marcille from Dungeon Meshi. I don’t know if the outfit is exactly like hers, but it was bugging me, so I changed it. I think overall I like the new color scheme better, but I just wanted to mention the old one

I’m actually quite satisfied with how he turned out. Though granted I did have ideas going in about what to do with him, so that probably helped

Anyways, so that’s Almond Milk. I hope you like him

[bloodibambiidoll]

Purple Houses and Paranorman

(Single!Dad Eddie Munson x Single!Mom Reader)

Summary: Eddie asks you and Oliver to go to a special screening of Paranorman with him and Charlotte. WK: 3.9K

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Warnings: Basically none, modern AU, mention of a dead family member (readers aunt), There’s like one second where Eddie is checking reader out and his thoughts get a little carried away, readers son has a speech delay, reader is implied to be alternative and have tattoos but I don’t talk about it much besides her outfits, fluff fluff and moreee fluff. But as always my blog is 18+MNDI

A/N: So I might have gotten a tiny bit carried away talking about the house, it wasn’t something I originally planned out but it kind of just came to me as I was writing, I’d like for them to all live there together eventually. I’m trying to make it a lil slow burn but I suck at that so hard so we will see how much longer I can go without making them kiss LOL. Also I said these were blurbs and this is almost 4K sooo Oopsie. As always my requests for these guys are open and feedback is greatly appreciated.💜💚

Your phone vibrated and the screen lit up, the contact reading “Eddie🎸🦇” you smiled to yourself before pushing the green accept button.

“Helloooo Edward, what can I do for you on this fine autumn morning?”

“Hey weirdo” He let out a laugh, one you’ve grown to find comfort in over these last few weeks. “What are you and Oli up to today? The theater is doing a special showing of Paranorman and I was wondering if you guys would wanna go with us later?”

“What’s in it for me?” You joked.

“Ummm you get to spend time with your bestfriend and do something Halloween related, which I know you love.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re my bestfriend.” You laughed, knowing he definitely had become the best friend you have but still wanting to fuck with him a little.

“Me? I’m talking about Charlotte, you are her new self proclaimed bestfriend and also you do her hair better than me, apparently. Can’t believe my own daughter likes you more than me.” He sighed dramatically and you could practically see him faux fainting.

“Awww I love her, she’s my new bestfriend too. Verdict is still out on her dad though.”

“WOW I can’t believe you would betray me like this, I thought you loved me.”

“Don’t worry, you’re better at playing monster than me apparently sooo I think we are even. What time do you want to go?”

“I guess we can call it even, for now. How about around two? Gives us a few hours to get the goblins fed and ready to go.”

Jokingly teasing each other had become the norm for you and Eddie, easily falling into flirty banter since the day you met.

“Okay, perfect.”

“Want to meet us there? Or I can come get you guys and we can ride together.”

Something you had noticed about Eddie is how perceptive he was. He picked up early on that you’d avoid going places you’d have to drive especially if you’d never been there before, which in those first few weeks was essentially everywhere. So he always offered to pick you and Oliver up whenever you all did something together.

“Could you pick us up? If that’s okay.”

“I wouldn’t have offered it if it wasn’t okay, babe.” Babe, was something he only started calling you recently but it made you giddy every time.

He was also constantly reassuring you that he didn’t mind helping you when you needed it. He knows how hard it is to do this alone so he was always offering to do anything to make things easier on you. Even if it was something as small as picking you and your son up for a movie. At first you declined his help every chance he offered, used to doing things alone, not wanting to burden him. But he’s told you over and over how he doesn’t mind, that it makes him happy to be able to help you.

So who could blame you if you had developed a not so small crush on him? You tried not to, but he was all kind gestures, big brown eyes and chunky jewelry. So how could you not? It’s not your fault it was like he was your dream come to life. You weren’t positive but you were pretty sure he felt the same. Hugs started lingering just a little longer than they should have, hands started brushing when you followed behind your rowdy children on evening walks, the cute little pet names he would always call you that made your stomach flip, the kisses on the cheek you had started giving each other.

So after you got Oli ready you gave him his tablet and spent a little extra time getting ready. You did your hair in your favorite style and added just a tiny bit more makeup than usual, both turned out perfect. But now you were standing in front of your open closet, staring at it like the perfect outfit was just going to jump out at you.

The October chill had set in throughout Hawkins, the days still sunny but the breeze cold, not quite bone chilling like in mid December, but cold enough that you needed some layers. You were also going to be sitting in a movie seat for two hours even if they were the reclining ones you didn’t want to spend that amount of time sitting in jeans.

After trying on several outfits, you ended up deciding on a black long sleeve skater dress, the neckline scooped just enough to make your boobs look nice. You layered some thigh high socks and leg warmers before pulling on your boots. You grabbed a plain zip-up just in case you got cold in the theater and gave yourself a once over in the mirror.

You couldn’t deny the fact that you looked good, and you hoped Eddie would think so too. He had never seen you this dolled up, usually wearing more comfortable clothes and simpler make-up.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, a mixture of emotions going through you. Excitement to see Eddie was in the forefront, but the nervousness was lingering in the background. Are you reading things wrong? Is it smart to get involved with someone that your son has already started to form an attachment to? You took a deep breath, checking your hair one last time before shaking your head as if it would erase those feelings like an etch-a-sketch, willing yourself to enjoy something for once.

When you decided you were as ready as you’d ever be you got on Oliver’s shoes and jacket before grabbing your purse and taking him outside on the porch to wait on the swing. You smiled to yourself as you looked at the porch you spent many summers drinking lemonade with your aunt. The various wind chimes that hung moons and stars and zodiac symbols chime in the mid October breeze.

You loved this house, it belonged to your late aunt who left it to you in her will when she died. It was beautiful but eccentric, kind of like your aunt herself. It stuck out among the many suburban style houses in your neighborhood. It was a late 1800s Victorian style home, with beautiful arches and various types of windows, a wrap-around porch, and a beautiful backyard with a garden that your aunt cared for until the day she couldn’t anymore. You and Eddie had planted pumpkins back there with the kids in her honor, she’s the reason you love them so much after all. They were almost ready to be harvested and carved, a Halloween movie on in the background and the smell of pumpkin seeds baking in the oven.

But what really made the house stand out was that your aunt had it painted a deep purple color, the shutters and roof black, matching the porch. The door was black but it had a beautiful stained glass window in the middle of it, depicting the same kind of crescent moon and stars that dangled from the wind chimes. Inside there were four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living and family room that held a mixture of her old and your new furniture, and your favorite part, the kitchen. It had been updated since the house was built, but still held a vintage feel. Your aunt had the cabinets and drawers all painted the same purple as the outside of the house, wallpaper with those same moons and stars adorned the walls. The only modern thing about it being the fact that she had replaced all the appliances with shiny new ones.

It was a lot of space, too much for just you and Oliver. But you couldn’t bring yourself to sell it, some of your happiest memories were spent here. So you decided you’d take this opportunity and get the fresh start you’ve been needing. You didn’t have much keeping you back home anyways. You and your mom weren’t particularly close but when she found out your aunt left you everything, not just the house, but her money too, she was furious.

Now that you’ve settled you know it was the right choice. Oli started school and despite his struggles with communication he was thriving in class, you got a job at a local diner where you made pretty decent tips, you had this beautiful house, and last but not least you had Eddie and Charlotte.

•

A large smile stretched across Eddie’s face when he turned down your long driveway and saw you and your son sitting on the porch. He loves your house, he used to drive by it when he would deal to the rich kids in highschool and always admired it. But when you stood up his jaw actually dropped. He had never seen you in a dress before, you always looked beautiful but right now you were fucking radiant.

He got out of his SUV to help you get Oliver’s seat in and you were even more breathtaking up close.

“Wow. You look… wow.” Eddie shamelessly lets his eyes wander your form for a moment, his cheeks turning red when he reaches that little sliver of skin between your socks and your dress.

“Thanks, babe. You’re not so bad yourself, I guess.” You repeated his words from earlier back to him and he cackled.

“Ha ha veeerry funny, brat.” He stuck his tongue out at you.

“Reaaaal mature, nerd.”

“Hi Eddie!” Oli ran over to hug Eddie’s legs and smiled triumphantly, having recently gotten his new friend's name down.

“Hey little dude! How’s a going?” He gave your son a wide smile while he affectionately ruffled his hair.

“Where Char?” He tilted his head to the side, more concerned with where his friend was than answering Eddie’s question.

“She’s in the car buddy, you wanna to say hi to her while I get your seat in?”

He just nodded, grabbing your hand and dragging you around to the other side of the car where Charlotte was, knowing he’s not supposed to walk down the driveway without holding hands.

Eddie couldn’t help but watch you walk away, internally groaning when he saw that same sliver of skin from the back. The dress is long enough to cover your ass, but not by much and he can’t help but imagine flipping the skirt of it up and-

“Eddie? Are you gonna put the seat in the car or are you just gonna stand there and ogle me?”

You couldn’t help but tease him when you turned around and he was just standing there holding the car seat with his mouth hanging open.

“Huh? Oh! Uh, yeah- yeah sorry.” His face turned beat red and he turned his back to put the seat in to try and hide it, but you saw it. At least you know he thinks you look cute, mission accomplished.

Once the kids were all buckled and ready to go you got in the passenger seat and flashed him a smile. He turned towards you and reached under your seat, his leather jacket covered arm going across your thighs where your dress rode up. You tried to act like your heart wasn’t beating a thousand miles a minute whenever you were this close to him, hopefully succeeding.

But Eddie caught the tiniest little squeak that came out of the back of your throat when he first touched you. Feeling satisfied with himself that he had any kind of affect on you because you made him feel like he was in highschool with a crush on a girl he didn’t have a chance with. But you were constantly showing him that maybe he did have a chance with you.

He pulled a bag from under your seat, plopping it in your lap.

“Me and the princess stopped at the dollar store and got your guys’ favorite candy. I figured since the movie theater candy is like crazy expensive we could get the candy before and get popcorn and drinks at the theater.” He said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal that he remembered you and your son’s favorite treats. But to you, it was. Every single time you saw him he gave you another reason to fall for him.

“Wow, thank you Eds. That’s really thoughtful of you.” You smiled at him sweetly, the kind of smile that made him feel like he was going to melt into a puddle in the driver's seat.

“Of course Darlin’ anything for my favorite dude and my favorite girl.” He smiled back at you, the kind of smile that reminds you of sunshine that you wanted to bottle up for a rainy day.

He put the car in reverse and of course he had to put his hand on the headrest of the passenger seat while he pulled out. You just wanted to tilt your head up and kiss his wrist where his jacket rode up. You wanted to be close to him so badly, you’ve been trying to find the courage to ask him to hang out, just the two of you but you keep psyching yourself out. You didn’t have anyone to watch Oli anyways and if he wanted that he never hinted at it. Always suggesting things for you to do with the kids. Which you love, having someone think of both of you the way Eddie does is something you’ve never really had. But what you wouldn’t give for just a few hours alone with him, no kids, just being yourselves. But maybe he didn’t want that?

Eddie glanced over at you as he turned onto your street, you were staring out the window, chewing your lip that way you always did when you were thinking hard about something. Usually something that was upsetting you, so he did what any good friend would do and reached across the center counsel to grab your hand.

You whipped your head around at the feeling of his larger hand engulfing yours.

“You okay?” He ran his thumb over the top of it before intertwining your fingers. He had never held your hand before, and you felt your insides grow warm at the feeling. His palm was surprisingly soft against yours, but his fingers were calloused from years of playing guitar and working on cars. The juxtaposition of rough and smooth was more soothing than you ever could’ve imagined.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just got lost in thought for a second. Thank you for checking on me.”

You smiled at him sweetly, squeezing his hand in yours. Expecting him to let go after he knew you were alright but he just held on tighter. One hand on the wheel, the other in yours, hidden from the kids by the center console.

“DADDYYYYY! I want an icee, a blue oneeee!” Charlotte said in a sing-song voice.

“Okay baby, we can get a blue icee.” Eddie smiled at her in the rearview mirror and she clapped her hands in triumph.

“Oli, do you want an icee?” His eyes moved over to the other side of the backseat as he addressed your son.

“Yuuppp! Blueeee!” He said in the same sing song tone as his friend. He was always parroting her and saying things she said back to her and it warms your heart. He’s come so far with his communication skills since he started school and started spending so much time with Charlotte, you couldn’t be more proud of him.

Eddie held your hand up until he parked the car and took the keys out of the ignition. Squeezing it before placing a quick and sneaky kiss on the back of your hand, giving you one of those goofy smiles you love so much and exiting the car like he didn’t just make a bomb filled with butterflies go off in your stomach.

You got the kids out of their seats and walked into the movie theater, Charlotte and Oliver insisting on being in the middle so they could hold hands too. Eddie showed the guy at the ticket booth the barcode on his phone that had the tickets on it since he insisted on paying for everyone.

“Icee! Icee! Blue!” Oli jumped up and down as he pointed at the machine spinning the different colored slushy ice.

“Yeah baby, I’m gonna get you an Icee.” You chuckled at how cute his excitement was, letting him drag you toward the concession stand with Eddie and Charlotte in tow.

You ordered two small and two large blue Icees and a large popcorn. You go to pull your wallet out of your purse to pay since Eddie bought the tickets but you feel a large hand on yours, pushing it back down.

He already had his card out before you even open your purse, handing it to the woman behind the counter.

“Eddie… you paid for the tickets, it's the least I can do.”

“Nope. My treat.” A triumphant smile spread across his lips and he sent you a wink.

He always did this, paid for you, drove you, brought you little things he saw in the store that reminded him of you or Oli. It’s not like you didn’t have money, your aunt left you plenty of it and you had your job at the diner. But you knew Eddie did well for himself, he had told you some about his childhood, how he grew up with very little and he didn’t want his daughter to ever feel like he did as a kid. So after he finally graduated he and his uncle opened their own mechanic shop. It was fairly successful, their lower prices and more efficient work times drawing in and catering to the less wealthy people of Hawkins.

“Dada I have to go potty!” Charlotte tugged on Eddie’s hand, pouting toward the bathroom sign that was on the way to your designated theater.

“Alright sweets, let’s go potty. Oli and your bestie will go get our seats.”

She shook her head and pouted, looking at you with big round brown eyes, asking without verbalizing, something you’ve became an expert at understanding after having Oliver. Ever since you had all started going on outings together more often she had been asking you to take her to the bathroom. She had hardly ever gone in the girls room, always having to have her dad take her, so after you took her that first time, she always asked.

“Do you want me to take you potty honey?” You smiled at her sweetly, titling your head toward the bathroom.

“Yes! Please! I like going to the girl potty room!”

“Alright little dude, looks like it’s you and me with the snacks and the seats. They have lady business to attend to.” He grabbed the drink carrier from your hand, guiding Oli to walk in front of him into the bright colored double doors that led to dimly lit theater.

You stood outside the stall while Charlotte used the restroom, “standing guard” as she called it.

“Have you ever seen Paranorman before?” You asked her as you helped her wash her hands.

“No but my daddy said it’s a lot like Coraline and I love Coraline so I hope I will like this one too!” She smiled at you in the mirror.

“I’m sure you will, Oli loves it!” You helped her dry her hands before leading her out of the bathroom and into the theater to find the boys.

“Mommmmyyyy! Sit!” Oliver patted the seat on his left, signaling for you to sit down next to him. Charlotte sat to his right and to her right sat Eddie.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to sit by him before you even got here. But he felt like he was a world away with two reclining seats between you, it made you miss the old movie seats, at least then you’d be close enough to reach behind the kids to hold his hand over their heads. You missed his hand in yours the minute he let go, it still felt empty now even as you held the large cup filled with sugary blue slush in your hand.

The movie went as smoothly as it could’ve with two five year olds. You had to shush them both more than a few times and twenty minutes in, Oliver had to go to the bathroom, Eddie took him, he liked going in the boys bathroom just as much as Char liked going in the girls.

When it ended you corralled the kids back into the car, Eddie offering to drive through McDonald’s on the way to your house to get the kids happy meals and they cheered.

The ride was filled with small talk, jokes, and all four of you singing along to different songs on your playlist because Eddie even let you pick the music in his car. He never let anyone pick the music, it didn’t hurt that you had good taste.

When you were a few minutes from your house, just like before Eddie reached over to grab your hand. You took it instantly, intertwining your fingers and looking over at him with a shy smile.

“I had a lot of fun today, thanks for coming with us.” He glanced over at you at a stop sign, his smile sweet and his eyes filled with affection.

“I did too, thank you for inviting us. Next time I’m paying though.” You ran your thumb along his, the soft gesture contradicting the teasing tone in your voice.

“Yeah, we will see about that sweetheart.” He sent you a wink as he turned onto your street, giving your hand one last squeeze before getting out of the car to help you with the seat.

He got Oliver and his seat out of his car, you grabbed your son's hand and he held onto the car seat as he walked you a few feet to your door. He sits the seat down on the porch before turning to Oli and asking him for a high five, he happily obliged, even offering to bump knuckles with him in return.

“I really did have fun today, I love hanging out with you guys, it’s nice… to have someone else to do things with.” Eddie rocked on the balls of his feet with a bashful look on his face.

“It is nice, I’m glad we have you guys. I love spending time with you, both of you.” You were sure the smile on your face was lovesick and dopey but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care. “The pumpkins are almost ready to harvest, would you guys want to come over and carve them next weekend? We can put a Halloween movie on, make some popcorn, make a whole thing of it.”

“I’d love that, and I’m sure she would too. It’s a date.” His eyes widen as he realizes his choice of words and you can tell he's about to correct himself so you cut him off.

“It’s a date.” You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug that he immediately reciprocates, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, his chin resting on the top of your head. You give him a final squeeze before pulling away and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight Eddie, get home safe.”

He was beat red with a flustered look on his face, you had kissed him on the cheek a few times now, but something about this felt different, more intimate.

“Goodnight sweetheart, sleep tight little dude!!” He waved at Oli before giving your forearm a squeeze and walking back towards his car. You sigh as you watch him drive away, knowing you’ll be counting down the days until next weekend.

Taglist: @comic-harley @yujyujj @witchwolflea @ali-r3n @bmunson86 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @sheneedsrocknroll92 @melodymunson

[hsslilly-blog]

Summary: Claire Swanson attends a masquerade ball with her best friend, Addison. As is the norm with her, everything quickly turns into disaster when she runs into the worst man to have ever lived. Word Count: 6,9k A/N: This is my first time posting my writing here! Some things: 1. this one closely follows the structure of the original quest since I thought it worked for what I wanted to do (might not happen with my other rewrites); 2. English is not my first language; and 3. unsure if this is too long, since it’s mostly dialogue.

A universal truth to those who knew her, Claribel Swanson always found herself in situations she would not be able to explain. From totaling her car because she got distracted by a donut shop to spending a night in county jail since her license was expired, trouble followed in Claire’s shadow. She’d argue it was not her fault most of the time. Then again, it did not matter if she wasn’t the reagent — she was always the catalyst.

Mid July had a tendency of being arid in Los Angeles. The orange sky hid behind palm trees, while the light breeze did nothing to soften people’s flushed cheeks. The car radio informed Claire it was the hottest day of the year; so it was, of course, the perfect day to hold a white tie masquerade ball.

The taxi ride to Malibu was number two on her list of worst experiences in the month: first, wearing a petticoat in such a cramped space was very unpleasant; then Addison wouldn't stop rambling about the famous designer she wanted to meet; and, to top it all off, the car's air conditioning wasn't working. As soon as Claire got inside the venue, she was set on getting something to drink.

As she looked for a waiter, Claire swerved from women in long bouffant skirts and men preening in ill-suited tuxedos. She scrutinized their outfits as much as they must've been judging hers. Sequined gowns were abhorrent. Polka dots were worse. Holstein pattern… an inspired choice. Claire's favorite part of those events was the pageantry of it all. The low décolletage of the dresses did not take away from the stuffiness: theatrics, she liked to think, was rich people's most treasured hobby. She knew it was hers, at least.

The Regency-style ballroom was almost too much for Claire, but she fancied the chandeliers. The painted murals in the ceiling were pretty, too. The tall windows and the red curtains stopped her in her tracks for a few seconds before she resumed walking. And the people on the dance floor were terrible; did they not know how to quadrille? Outrageous.

Claire stole a champagne flute from a tray. It was not her drink of choice, and far from something she would have to dampen a heatwave, but it was fine. Everything was fine. She loved the bubbles! However, before she could thank the server, Claire's eyes singled out a lady in a feathery, bright green gown. The round, sturdy shape of her skirt left no doubt: crinoline!?

Claire had to find Addison. She could not keep in her outrage. That was like, totally absurd! Crinoline!? Oh, Claire was all for propriety. She loved propriety. She was the most proper young woman in the entirety of the San Fernando Valley. Crinoline, though, was taking it a step too far; next thing people would be wearing bustles and bonnets and asking when the regiment would be coming to town! She knew Addison would take no joy in Claire's ridicule of the lady's outfit, but she had to share her vexation with someone.

In her state of distress, Claire turned around and ran straight into a man's chest. Her champagne flute almost slipped out her hand, but she managed to avoid a disaster. The man wasn't as lucky: she didn't know what he had been drinking, only that it now was all over the floor.

"Oooops…!" Claire grimaced. "Sorry!"

The man frowned, assessing her damage. While his suit was left unscathed, his dress shirt was soaked. "Do you tend to bolt out running like a lunatic?"

"Um- What?!" She scoffs, "how was I supposed to know you were standing like, right behind me!? Why were you standing right behind me!?"

"I was not. I was walking past you," he said. "You, on the other hand, are blocking the passage and scurrying around with no apparent regard for anyone else in this ballroom."

Claire shook her hands in an attempt to dry her gloves. "I'm not blocking the passage! It's a ballroom! There's no passage!"

"You- Could you please stop with that?!" he raised his arms to protect himself from her. "You're making it worse."

"Worse?! I'm trying to do something about- You probably ruined my gloves and- You are sooo lucky my dress is fine."

"I did not ruin anything. I was walking and you got in my way."

"Literally swerve. Do you only move in a straight line!? Are you like, an ant or something?"

The man stared at Claire for a few seconds, not bothering to answer. Instead, he turned in the other direction. This was very insulting to her, and she could not constrain a scoff.

"Hey-!"

Claire trailed after him, her heels clacking on the parquet floor. Some guests measured her down as she zigzagged through the crowd; she did not even bother excusing herself! After what felt like crossing the entire ballroom, Claire caught up to the man at the venue's bar.

"Hi-? I'm talking with you!"

"Stop following me."

"I'm not- I just want to help!"

"I don't want your help." He came to a halt, turning to face her. His eyes flicked to the people around them. "And you are making a scene."

"I wouldn't be if you didn't walk off while I was talking with you!"

Once again, he did not answer Claire. He did, however, point to the crystal flute she still carried. She resigned herself into handing it to him and watched as he placed both their glasses on the bar counter.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Still, unfortunately."

Claire frowned, her lips pouting as she sulked, "there's no need to be so rude!"

"You just threw a champagne flute at me. I'm of the opinion I'm allowed to be curt with you, in retribution."

"It was an accident!"

"It doesn't matter if it was an accident. Your carelessness put both of us in this… circumstance," he gestured to himself and then to Claire's wet gloves. "So I'd appreciate it if you'd turn around and carry on to wherever you were running to before we met."

The man did not wait to see if Claire would comply with his request; he turned his back to her once more and sat on one of the bar stools, preoccupied with his shirt. Claire stared at his nape for a few seconds, the chatter around her somehow louder. She shifted on her feet… looked up… bit the tip of her gloved fingers.

The problem with Claribel Swanson was that she could not let go of anything, ever.

"But I feel bad." She slid to the man's side and observed as he attempted to fix her mess with his handkerchief. "I want to, like, do something."

"There is not a single thing you can do to make this any better. Unless you have a change of clothes, which I don't believe you do." He didn't look up to her as he spoke, "if you can think of anything else, I accept suggestions."

Oh, Claire had a lot of suggestions. In fact, fixing this predicament would be no trouble for her! She knew exactly what this man needed, and she was more than happy to be of service. She smiled:

"I know- I can keep you company!"

"That's the one thing I can't imagine myself ever desiring."

"Wha-! You're…- I'm just trying to help you not look super stupid alone and-" Claire flaps her hand at him, "so people don't think you're like, a drunk or something!"

"I don't care about what people think."

"You just told me I was making a scene."

"That's different. By attracting us unnecessary attention you were embarrassing yourself and, most importantly, me. I don't want to be asked to leave the function. If people make baseless assumptions about me, then there's hardly anything I can do. It's a masquerade."

"That's literally the same thing."

"No, it's not."

"Well, it is to me."

The man turned to Claire, amused. "Finally you're saying something that pleases me. I'm glad we are not alike."

Claire was thankful the mask concealed her face very well, for her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment. She was not, however, too much embarrassed to retort: "You are too mean, mister, and extremely unpleasant. I'm also very glad we're not alike!"

"I am being frank. I'm not to blame if you take that as meanness."

"Oh, you might be frank alright, but you're also a dick."

"Excuse me?"

"I can be frank too! I've been talking with you for, like, five minutes and every single word that's come out of your mouth has been some sort of insult." She measured him, "I'm beginning to think you're either a very miserable person, or a dick- Or both!"

The man turned himself on the bar stool, facing Claire completely. "Of course I'm miserable. You've been on my presence since you decided to spill both of our drinks on me, and you still haven't got the clue that I do not want to converse with you. Or with anyone, for that matter."

"I did not- It was an accident, and I'm trying to make up for it!"

"And you're failing. You‘re being inconvenient."

"I'm trying to make acquaintance with you so at least we get something out of this terrible experience. Can't you see that?!"

"Fine. What is your name?"

Claire blinked in confusion at his quick acceptance. "Um… I'm Marie."

"That's a lovely name, Marie. Too bad I cannot say the same about the person bearing it. I'm Orson. We're acquainted. You can go now."

Claire did not even entertain the suggestion as she was not satisfied with her pursue yet. Besides, his words delighted her too much:

"What-? Are you like, making this up? Who names their kid Orson?"

"My mother."

Claire giggled. "She had really bad taste!"

"I'm aware."

"It's just- You're like… the first Orson I know. This is a moment to me. Were you born prior to color TV?"

"I was not, no."

"Omigosh- Wait, there's the guy who wrote Ender's Game. But he's like super old, so that doesn't help you… and the film director. Who's also old. And dead."

This seemed to catch his attention. "Film director?"

"Yeah, Welles. From Citizen Kane- My mom loves his Macbeth adaptation… I think my first memory is probably watching, um, a really bad tape of it." Claire twirled her hair, thinking. "She has this cassette she recorded from when it aired on TV once and it's like, all blurry and grainy and fading and it's ugly and you can barely hear what they're saying and, um, I don't think… you want to know about my mom."

"No. I am far more interested in you right now. Is this superficial knowledge?"

"I'm an actress."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

Orson seemed to mull on her answer. Claire took it as an opportunity to size him up, something she hadn't done until then. Although his mask covered most of his face, his mien of self-satisfaction was very apparent; his tall frame probably contributed to it, thought Claire, but something about him vexed her to the point of physicality. His raven-black hair was combed to the side, not a single strand out of place. He was, from what Claire could observe, and in the most objective terms possible, very attractive. A good specimen, she would say.

"You're not a known actress, I presume."

It offended her very much, but Claire only pressed her lips together. "I'm… rising."

This amused him. "This denotes movement. Would you say you're closer to the top or to the bottom?"

"What if I say I'm very famous? How are you supposed to know if I'm telling the truth?"

"You're simultaneously too brash and too coy about it. If you were famous, you'd be either or."

"I could be like, Nicole Kidman."

"I… highly doubt it."

"Okay! Maybe I want to confuse you. Mm? And I'm not brash."

"Oh, you are, but I agree with you on the former; you do confound me." Orson's brown eyes inspected her face. "You ruin my night and make it your mission to spoil it further. You insist on trying to socialize with me as I continue to dismiss you. Nothing I say seems to dishearten you. I must know: were you born like this?"

Claire made a moue. "I ruined your night…? Do you promise?"

"This is amensalism. You're not even getting anything out of this."

"I'm getting plenty."

"Why are you here?"

"Um… because I followed you?"

Orson frowns. "Don't be cute. I want to know why you are attending this charity event."

"It's Miami! Men here are loaded and famous... and they can be generous to more than one cause!" She smiles, touching his arm. "Are you feeling any generous?"

"No."

"It was a funny bit. You could've laughed."

"I didn't find it funny."

Claire rolls her eyes. "Figures."

He didn't say anything after that, and neither did Claire. Orson didn't seem bothered by the silence, but his staring unnerved her; she fidgeted with her still-dampen gloves and looked elsewhere. Why was this man so immune to her charms? Claire could not understand how it took him so little effort to brush her off.

"I, um… I came with a friend," Claire retried after a moment. Orson tilted his head to the side, listening. "She wanted to meet this fashion designer… Barbra… something something.

"Tremblay-Leblond."

"You know her?"

He hummed. "When I attend an event, I tend to make a point of remembering the hostess' name."

"Oh. Was this a faux-pas?"

Orson took a few seconds to process her words, but he snorted when he did. "Please, tell me what you've done that has not been a faux-pas."

"Well- I'll let you know your etiquette hasn't been the best either!" she squeaked as her cheeks colored. "Asking this many questions is like, totally impolite. You keep probing me but you haven't shared anything about yourself!"

"You haven't asked me anything."

"Why are you here?"

"It's charity. I care deeply for the arts."

"That's it?"

"Should it be something else?"

"You just don't look like an art guy. You look, like, sad and miserable and lonely and depressed," she said, twirling a loose strand of hair. "I see no reason you'd come to this thing- You know the charity stuff is just an excuse, right?"

"It might be, for others." His gaze lingered on her finger. "I did not plan on staying for long, though."

"Did you change your mind?"

"It'd be discourteous to leave you here by yourself."

"Funny, because you were very eager to send me away just a few minutes ago!"

"Send you away, yes. Not leave you unaccompanied. And that was before we made acquaintance."

Claire could not keep in her smile. "You are all politeness. Gnarly!"

"And you're too content. I'm still trying to figure out a way to get rid of you."

"I'm very persistent."

"I can tell." He considers her. "Can I bore you with conversation?"

"You want to talk now?"

"I'm willing if it runs you off."

"Ooooh. Okay! I'm an adept speaker, you see. I can like, totally talk about anything, for any length of time," Claire nods, agreeing with herself. "Give me a topic and I'll give you an opinion."

"You have an opinion about every topic there is?"

"Yes. And if I don't, I'll form one on the spot."

"Is that how you go on about life?"

"Well, of course. You have to know where you stand on things."

"Even when you have insufficient information?"

"You always have information. Something, I mean. You can't ever be truly neutral, I think."

Orson thought about her words for a moment. "I don't completely disagree with you. Although I prefer to be more… deliberate with my opinions."

"As if! You can't actually believe that- You barely know me and you think a lot about me."

"Oh, you give me a lot to think about with very little."

She dismisses him with her hand. "Adds to my point. Could you be neutral about me?"

"I don't think that's possible, no."

Claire grinned, satisfied. When the dancing recommenced on the floor in front of them, she couldn't help but pay attention to the couples waltzing. Claire twirled her hair, coming up with an idea.

"Do you dance, Orson?"

"I can dance, yes. I try to avoid it."

"Aw… Come on, don't be like that. That's the whole point of a ball! It'd be soooo rude not to pay it the compliment of a dance once."

"I suppose so. I am willing to be rude, though," he told her. "We already went over how this is a masquerade. People won't know who, exactly, is not adhering to a social rule."

"Yeah… but it's still a gaffe with me," Claire pouted. She then leaned forward, "You may dislike dancing, but I know you'll find me very pleasant as a partner!"

"I wouldn't be so unlucky. To find you pleasant would hinder my plans of driving you away. Don't wish me such an evil."

"I'm wishing you all the evil, and more."

"I have a suspicion you're not one to only wish for things, Marie."

Claire inspected Orson for a moment, her eyes traveling over his figure. He still fidgeted with his handkerchief, his mind elsewhere. Something about him was profoundly intriguing to Claire; by his own admission he had no issue rejecting her, yet he seemed to get some gratification by her insistence. Masochism was no foreign concept to her, though concealing it under the guise of decorum was a phenomenon he seemed to have mastered.

Deep down in her viscera Claire could feel her desperation. The man by her side invoked indignation in her to the likes she'd never felt; why was he so opposed to the mere idea of Claire? It was impossible he did not fancy her as affable in the slightest. Claire was certain she had a perfect resemblance of her character in her mind, and she was very sure of her likability. Not only was she totally privileged in her appearance, with her golden mane and her heart shaped lips, but she was also aware of her cheerful and unpretentious disposition.

Claire settled on the opinion this must have been indicative of his own insecurities. For a man to desire to isolate himself in that way, even in the presence of a woman of her degree, he had to fear vulnerability. And, God, the lack of humility to be in this position! To snob other people when they're giving you their time, unable to overcome your shortcomings for the benefit of your partner… This upset her profoundly, and she couldn't help but confront him about it:

"I think you're totally afraid."

Orson furrowed his eyebrows. "Afraid of what?"

"Of, like, liking me."

"Don't think so highly of yourself."

She giggled. "Why? Am I not up to par to your thoughts?"

"It's not a concern I have at all. Finding you likable would be a surprise, but it wouldn't mean a thing," he said, folding his handkerchief. Orson pocketed it. "I'd still want you very far from myself."

"Oh, don't inhibit yourself like this."

"I'm inhibiting you. You look as if entropy was a person. I don't need that."

Claire tilted her head to the side, her curtain bangs falling over her face. "I already said I'm sorry. And I've been so nice."

"I would argue against that last point."

"Awesome! Do argue with me- Prove me wrong. If you're not afraid of liking me just a little bit, then dance with me."

He looked annoyed. "You sound like a child."

"And you are afraid!" Claire grinned big. "Frightened! Terrified!"

It was Orson's turn to consider her. After a heavy sigh, he slipped of his bar stool to claim her hand. With feigned coyness, Claire let herself be led to the crowded dance floor.

"Your gloves are still… damp."

She purred, "would you like me to take them off?"

"No."

"Why? Would that be too scandalous?"

"Once again; please, tell what you have done so far that hasn't been scandalous."

Claire beamed with his irked tone of voice. As Orson guided her through the steps, silence fell over them. Soon she started feeling restless; he didn't seem interested in speaking one word, all the while Claire was bubbling with remarks. For her, to stand face to face with a person for the entire duration of a dance and not chat about anything was akin to torture!

As they orbited their neighbors, Claire's bugs bit her insides. His gaze made her uncomfortable. She almost resigned herself into maintaining the quietude until she realized it would cause him greater distress if he were obliged to talk.

"Everyone here has put so much effort into their outfits!" She pursed her lips, "though some have no sense of aesthetics! Look at that guy and his terrible, awful, ugly suit. Not even a dress coat!"

Orson hummed. "Not worse than the lady he is with."

"Her tiara is so ugly. Ew," Claire grimaced. She waited a few seconds, but did not let them fall into silence again: "It's your turn to say something now."

"Is it a habit of yours to talk while you're dancing?"

"Is it not yours?" she smiled. "Do you expect me to like, not say anything for half an hour? Are we supposed to just stare at each other while we dance?"

"I didn't expect you to be silent, no. Although I naively did hope so."

"Aw… thinking of me? That's so cute!" Claire gave his shoulder a light tap, "but when you're paired up with someone who has trouble speaking you have to like, help them a little."

"How thoughtful of you."

"I try to be! So, you see, I'm doing us both a favor here! How awkward would it be if we just stood here… minding our own businesses…"

"Do you take an issue with people ignoring you, Marie?"

"What? No." She giggled, rolling her eyes. "I just think it's weird to be with another person and just… well, not talk. You should find it weird too. Because it's a little rude. But, um, you don't seem to have a problem being rude- Why would you even ignore me, anyway? You're dancing with me because you want to."

"I am not ignoring you, clearly. You don't make it possible." Orson whirled them through the other couples, "you seem to have a need to be always present, though."

"Omigosh- Are you like, a shrink? Ewwww… please, don't be a shrink."

He have her a weak smile. "I am not."

"Oh, good. Because I dated a therapist once, and it was like… weird. Well, mostly because he was like, my therapist, so it was totally awkward because he was kinda in my head, you know," she told him. Claire then raised her eyebrows. "Not saying I'm attracted to you, or to therapists- Or like, um, that I'm not. I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"I presume it's because you have no filter. It seems to be very striking of your character, though."

She scoffed. "So much for being deliberate- You don't even know who I am!"

"No, I do not… but this is something I've been wondering about ever since you mentioned you're an actress." Orson searched her face, "something about you is familiar, almost loathsome… yet at the same time, forgive me, attractive."

Claire should have been delighted, but her mites chewed her guts at the same rate as her face reddened. She did not enjoy one bit how he was going off-script; this was way too forward for him. And so indiscreet! He was not supposed to say it! At last she had succeeded in prying a somewhat positive comment from this man, and she found herself desiring she had never done so.

"I guarantee you I'm not familiar to you!" she retorted, turning her face away from Orson. "And- Do you only look at people to criticize them!?"

"No. You just happen to be so unabashedly unreserved that it makes it very easy to point out your failings."

"I can also point out your failings very well." She frowns, "you're so self-satisfied you think you're like, above every single person you come in contact with- That they're not good enough to even talk to you. Your fault is that you hate everybody!"

"And yours is to believe you know everything about the world around you, to the point you naively misrepresent what you can't comprehend."

"Oh, please. Tell me, which part of your person have I misrepresented? Are you not arrogant? Acting as if you've known me for years, pointing fingers at me like you have the facts- Like you have the right! Is this not arrogance!?"

They both fell into silence again, as Orson did nothing other than press his lips together and Claire said no more. Their exchange made her so incensed she found it difficult to cross her steps for the first time that night. As she struggled to keep up with the tempo, Orson dropped his hand at her waist and she thought he was finally done with her; instead, Claire was twirled around before safely returning to his arms.

"I apologize," said Orson afterwards, earning a confused expression from Claire. "You are correct in saying I do not know you. I can't make such grave assumptions from what you choose to show me when I'm not being very agreeable to you."

She shifts her gaze, chin high. "Well, um- I guess I appreciate that."

"I would like to blame my behavior on my 40-hour week schedule, but that wouldn't be accurate."

"Oh. You work full-time? Do you have health insurance…?"

"No, only five classes per semester and a migraine every Friday."

This was extremely humorous to Claire. "You're a teacher?"

"A professor."

"Omigosh, you have a title. I am so sorry, professor."

"Don't."

Claire laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "What's an university professor doing at this type of event? Shouldn't you, be, like, doing some lame stuff, like, umm… grading? How'd you even afford the tux?"

"It offends me deeply that you believe I cannot afford a dress suit," he said, almost good-mannered. Orson brought her closer. "As for you, since we've already established you're not a well known actress-"

"We have not established that."

"-I can only assume you have other means of affording your gown?"

"Why are you speculating on my pedigree?"

He smiled despite himself. "I said nothing of that."

"Well, um, yeah- I'm, um, a heiress." She giggles. "Yeah. I'm a heiress. My father is… Um- Daddy is, like, loaded."

"This was the performance of a lifetime."

"I'm so glad you enjoyed it. It was my mission tonight to please you."

"Very well. You just did."

This, for Claire, was like gene mapping for the first time. She grinned, petting his shoulder, and Orson looked thrown off by it.

"What kind of stupid university do you teach at that you have no benefits, though? Are you not tenured?"

"Why are you so interested in my benefits?"

"Um… just making sure you're not being exploited."

"You are so kind."

Claire laughed, then covered her mouth with her free hand. Orson smiled at first, but winced when the music changed. He pulled Claire to the side.

"That's enough."

"What?" Claire tugged on his arm, "it's a group dance now, it's going to be fun!"

"Clearly, we have different conceptions of 'fun'," Orson said. He looked to his side, assessing the dance floor. "I have no interest in dancing with someone I'm not acquainted with, which is to say I feel no desire to leave your side."

"You're like, such a loser. There's something very wrong with you."

"Thank you." He nodded. "I appreciate this coming from you. You would know."

"Um... excuse me?"

Orson smiled, but didn't reply. Instead, he took her hand and led her out of the dance floor and away from the commotion. Once again, she let him guide her and once again, Claire was perturbed by his touch. It was such a harmless act, yet it appeared so out of protocol her first reaction would've been to recoil and push him away had she been wearing no gloves.

As Orson walked them both out onto the silence of a private balcony, Claire leaned against the balustrade. The waves crashed on the beach below and she watched as a small crowd gathered for the fireworks exhibition. The weather was much more agreeable at that point of the night than it had been earlier.

"I'm a biologist," Claire blurted, breaking the silence. Orson turned to face her. "Um- Well, I have an undergrad in biology. I've never… worked in the field."

"Not a heiress?"

She rolled her eyes. "My dad doesn't talk to me."

"Very unfortunate for him."

"It's fine, though. I don't care." She shook her head and smiled, "I've always wanted to act, anyway. So I came back to Los Angeles."

"Have I seen you in anything?"

"Not yet. But you will."

Orson leaned against the railing as well. He stared at his hands for a moment.

"Must I share something about myself now?"

"Well, I'm not going to say no."

He gave it some thought. "I used to be a film director."

"Ohmigosh, really? This is so- I knew we had crossed paths for a reason. See?" She smiled and gave his arm a few happy taps, "I'm actress and you're a director. Verb tenses can change very easily, don't worry."

"I fear it's not that simple."

"Are you, like, famous? No, used to- Are you good? Oh, forget it, you wouldn't give me a negative." Claire waved him away. She did not let Orson reply to her, as she already had a planned line of inquiry: "Have you ever won something? How many films have you made? Are you like, recognizable-!? Hold on, let me think a little!"

Orson allowed her to muse for some time, with her index finger over her moue and her eyes squinted in concentration. Claire tried piecing together all the information she had learnt about him that night, but he could be any person in the county. She let out a frustrated sigh. "Okay, this is harder than I thought it'd be."

"I'm unsure if I should feel very offended, or very relieved."

"I'm bad at guessing games" Claire scanned him. "Oh- Wait-!"

She reached for his left hand, which caught Orson by surprise: "What are you doing?"

"I'm checking if you were smart enough to pocket the ring."

"I am not married."

"That's what they all say."

"I can assure you I am not married. It's not something I have ever given thought to."

"Seriously? This is embarrassing… Okay, so, here's a piece of advice." Claire gave his chest a tap. "You should get married and then like, get divorced. As soon as possible."

Orson frowned. "Why would I do that?"

"Um… first, because divorce is chic, but also- You have like, this strong divorced guy with kids energy," she rolls her eyes, gesturing at his entire being. "I keep thinking you're going to slip up at any moment and mention your ex-wife or tell me your children are at grandma's."

He tucked a stubborn strand of hair behind her ear. "You must have a talent in misunderstanding everything around you. It's… charming."

Claire grins. "Is it now?"

"Your overconfidence in… everything makes you annoying and naive, though it endears you very much."

"Are you unable to compliment people without insulting them first?"

"It's not an insult. It's the truth."

"Do I get to tell you a truth, too?"

"Did you not tell the truth at any point this evening?"

Claire smiles. "No."

"You have a lovely smile."

"Are you saying this because you mean it or because you're trying to be nice and my smile is like, the only thing you can see of my face?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

"In that case… thanks."

They retreated into silence once more. Claire could recognize, though, it was not any kind of silence; unlike the other occasions they stood without speaking, this one was tinted in expectation. Every subject she could think of seemed extremely inappropriate. Claire lowered her chin to her chest, her nerves overwhelming her.

The man in front of her appeared as uncomfortable as her, if not more. With his hands behind his back, his stiffness of manner was more obvious than ever. Orson's eyes did not wander away from her face and Claire could only suffer from anticipation. Besides, of course, wish she could turn around and run away from him. That would be uncivil.

If thoughts of incivility preoccupied Claire, then they overburdened Orson; and in no time she was made aware of it as she was in his arms, and his lips were upon hers. Soon, Claire's hands were on his lapels, and Orson's were on her hair, and her waist, and all over her.

Navigating propriety had always been a prelude. Claire tiptoed until she felt herself bump against the balustrade behind her. She gasped, her fingers trailing from his shoulder to his nape. Fireworks exploded in the distance and her heartbeat mimicked every single blow as their masks got in the way.

"Okay." Claire giggled out her words when he pulled away. She caught her breath, "that was like, a 76."

Orson searched her face, in an attempt to make sense of it. When he did, he frowned, "are you rating my kiss?"

"I rate all of my experiences."

"This makes me… deeply uncomfortable- A C?"

"Ewwww. Do you have those memorized? Freak!" Claire rolls her eyes, not letting him protest, "anyway- I have like, very high standards."

"I must not judge my own performance, but, surely, it's worth more than a 76."

"I just know you're not living up to your full potential, you know."

Orson looked very annoyed, but, to her surprise, humored her; he tilted her chin up and kissed her again. Claire smiled:

"Mmm… I'm giving this one an 82."

"How does your system work? What metrics are you using here?"

"Uhhh… like… lots."

"This seems dubious. I'm led to believe you're intentionally low-scoring me."

"Don't worry. It will be peer reviewed. Later."

This amused him very much, and even earned her a chuckle. Orson cupped her cheeks with both hands before leaning down once more. Claire was not expecting the kiss to be so sweet and she couldn't contain the giggles escaping her. The light ocean breeze was welcome, but it did nothing to assuage the warmth spreading through her body.

When he pulled away, Claire smiled. Her hands reached his wrists as she considered him. "This was nice."

“Nice?”

“What?”

"I want a number."

"Omigosh! I don't work well under pressure."

"And you're in Hollywood?"

"Unrelated. How's this: I still think you can do better, Prof."

Claire prided herself in her social competence. She believed herself to be sensible of people's inner thoughts, but the way Orson's smile dropped off his face was floundering to her. In seconds, he seemed to go through confusion, hurt and disgust until he set on scowling. Had she said something terribly insulting in trying to be funny? Was she too repetitive?

Before Claire could ask him what had happened, Orson reached for her mask. He tried to untie the knot on the back of her head as Claire laughed awkwardly, pushing his hand away. "Hey- No! It's going to like, ruin the fun!"

Orson didn't comply. Once her mask was off, he paralyzed. He searched her face, his eyebrows furrowed; not in confusion or anger this time, but what appeared to Claire as panic, perplexity, a breakdown of order. Discomposed under his gaze, she brushed her bangs to the side.

"Oh, come on." Claire avoided looking up, abashed. "I know I'm not bad looking."

"Claribel."

It was her turn to twist her face in bewilderment. Not once that evening had Claire even come close to sharing with him her nickname, much less her legal name.

"What?"

The sheer horror of Orson yanking his mask off was enough to make Claire stumble a few steps back. In front of her, with lips smudged with her red lipstick, stood Professor Thomas Hunt.

"What?!"

Claire could only turn around, her hands going straight to her face. Her body's involuntary reaction was to flex down in disgust. Her stomach churned. Oh, her bugs wanted out. And they wanted out now.

With everything she had, she forced her feelings down her throat. Speechless, she faced him once again. Claire covered her mouth, her eyes trailing his visage. "Oh my God- Oh my God!"

He frowned. "Stop with this, Claribel. I'm not falling for it. You must've known it was me."

"Wha- Oh please-! Are you delusional!? With a mask on you look like half of the guys in Los Angeles. You're the most generic looking man ever!"

"You-"

"And you're not that special! But you- You must've known it was me!" She approached him again, finger outstretched. "With your- Your meddling and asking questions and being oh-so-interested in me!"

Hunt scoffed. "Had I even suspected it was you behind that mask I would've walked away from you without a second thought."

"You speak as if I have acted any different tonight than I usually do! You were putting on an act, I wasn't!"

"Putting on an act? I was merely trying to be polite in face of your incessant pestering. It's not my fault if you cannot discern between that and not being genuine."

"You are not polite! That's not a word that even exists to you! You like putting people down and telling them to their face they are worthless- You were making an effort- You wanted to confuse me!"

"Are you listening to yourself?! Can't you see how absurd is this argument you're making?!" He scowls, "I have no interest in being involved with you in any form, Claribel- I do not wish to, and I cannot. You are not sound of mind if you believe otherwise."

"I know you at least suspected it was me! How could you not?! I said- I said so much about myself. I know you put everything together!"

"Do you think I care about you? Do you think I waste any second of my time giving you as much as a fleeting thought?" Hunt's face twisted in contempt, "you do not exist to me, Claribel."

Claire gasped. "Don't be under the impression I want you to- God-! You're the last man on Earth I wanted to have spent tonight with!"

"Very good. I'm glad we can agree on this." He squints, "this is not something that should have happened. This was a mistake. A line that should not have been crossed."

"Are you like, reassuring yourself? Or just stating the obvious?!"

"The latter. As you've shown me tonight and in many other occasions, I can't ever expect you to act rationally or follow any common sense. I have to spell out the obvious to you since you appear to be very fond of misconstructions."

"Are you calling me dumb?"

With a voice of forced calmness, Hunt said: "No. You are not dumb, Claribel. Far from it. You're too smart for your own good. You're blind to what makes you an unpleasant person to be around. You're disrespectful, insolent, and frustrating. So I want to be very clear with you, so you do not make up any fantasies in your mind: I dislike you, and I despise you."

Claire wouldn't be able to explain why his words affected her so much, but they did. As much as she tried to ignore the tightness in her chest, the burning sensation spread over to her face and ears.

"Well, Professor, I'd like to offer you a piece of my mind as well." Claire put on a scorn, getting closer to him. Through gritted teeth, she spoke: "From very moment I met you, I was certain you were the most arrogant, offensive and conceited man I'd ever had the displeasure to know. You have no regard to others, you are patronizing and you- You make me sick. I hate everything about you. The world is worse with you in it."

The silence in the balcony was only broken by the waves crashing on the beach below and the distant chatter of the other guests. Neither Claire nor Hunt seemed interested in breaking eye contact, their bodies inches apart. She tried controlling her breathing, but her anger only grew by the moment.

"Very well. I appreciate your sincerity, Miss Swanson. I can only hope I'm never in a situation again where I'm forced to hear it."

And with that, Hunt turned around and walked away with no hesitation. Claire watched him re-enter the building as her legs wobbled. Once she was sure she was alone, she could only indulge in the tumult of her mind; Claire leaned against the balustrade once more and shattered into tears.

For half-an-hour or so, that was the only activity she was capable of partaking in. The dread at any attempt at making sense of anything made her spiral into more desperation, and along came more tears. All of his words were terribly hurtful, but even more so was the bitterness of the situation she was in. What even were the odds of this even happening!?

After a few more minutes so she could recompose herself, Claire decided she could not stay there the entire night. Slipping on her mask again, she marched back inside the building, resolute in finding Addison and leaving that place, and that night, forever behind.