#oc lanky cute

[the-acid-pear-art]

Butch of doodles of my latest wildermyth campaign team: miitopia. Silly beasts.

[x-adoringvoid-x]

A couple of rodents

[yanderespamton78]

Pinup!!!!! the baby!!!! the guy!!!!

sorry if this looks kinda iffy the majority of this was drawn between 11pm and 2:30am so i was very tired loll

also yes that is a totoro bag i dont care if totoro doesnt exist in cyber city he has a totoro bag come at me

Pinup belongs to @turntableart

[bugbrews-creations]

Oh my god she's GORGEOUS, I've been waiting for art of her, I've always been so curious what Vasco's wife looks like :O

*carefully picks you up and peeks into your conch snail shell*

Ehm... Sorry to bother, but... Could we, maybe, possibly... see Vasco's wife and her lover pictured by your hand? Sorry again, thank you for listening. Take care.

*delicately lays you back into the water to prevent any stress or dehydration*

Unfortunately I don't have her lover figured out yet, but I think Ludovica looks something like this:

[evileyedoll]

Four Eyes

Not so secret secret is that sometimes these are meant to be people wearing surrealist robot costumes rather than naturally being robots that have the characteristics I described in my comics lore. But usually when I'm drawing I don't think too hard on it and just let these be a free form of expression. Obviously I want to look like a cool stylish robot myself so it can be fun to think of these as outfit doodles.

Reflection time though, I really think I've grown a bit too attached to my favourite really lanky ladies, to the point I sometimes draw that exact figure without even thinking. That's obviously an idealised version of myself if I was more feminine, so I guess it can't be helped, but if I'm thinking of something to change to spice up my art I'm certain different body types would be a good start.

When it comes to other people's figures there's so many different kinds, and I find no end to joy in seeing all of them ... but I think I come short when it comes to depicting them. One of the mistakes I keep making might be obvious with this one, she was supposed to be plus sized with wide shoulders, but I think I subconciously adjusted elements of her design to be more like my average figure.

Maybe this incongruity is what makes me hesitant to draw anything other than OC, I'm always nervous I'm not "getting it right". As a piece in general I think this one can be fine, but as a piece matching the intent to draw a different figure than usual? hmmm...

I still really like how this turned out, especially the sweeping claw arms and cute lil' vampire fangs - the whole process was really smooth for a full body figure too, ... really benefitted from the limits on detail I imposed this time around. For now maybe it's fine just to be happy I finished anything at all!

[bbunisre]

EPISODE 1

PAIRING ☆ jean kirschtein x fem!oc! ( you can just imagine it as yourself!!! i tried to describe physical features for this purpose x )

WARNINGS ☆ no smut in this one, dirty, slowburn, lots of teasing, a little niccolo x oc, voyeurism (???), vulgar and dirty jokes lol, baddie main character

SUMMARY ☆ In which Mirabelle enters Paradis Island years before the Liberio Attack and finds herself instantly interested in Jean Kirschtein, an innocent man who is soon tied mercilessly to her womanly wiles. Jean attempts to escape her but can only run so far before he starts running back to her.

WORD COUNT ☆ 12k

TAGLIST ☆ @lakeiskewl @greenie-c @alt--er--love @kcch-ns @nobodybutnnoorr @biggityboppingboob @sssmokesignalsss lmk if u want to be added <3

MASTERLIST

MIRABELLE WINDRIDER POV

Living in the storage section of a Marleyan warship for several days comes with having my limbs squished between a box of deactivated bombs and ration packs. It’s one of the several cons of being stuck here, besides the seasickness, having to freeze up when soldiers come in to look for things and multiple hours of being bored, plotting my arrival.

Voices atop tell me there’s a disturbance up ahead the boat. Well, they aren’t telling me. The Marleyan soldiers don’t actually know I’m here at all. It should be kept that way until it’s time is what Yelena strictly instructed.

It’s been forever-and-a-half since we left Marley! We certainly must've arrived on the coast of Paradis by now. I’ve been sharpening the blade all this while like a good girl. Can something happen already?

I stretch my body after eight hours of sitting in a cramped position. The commotion above doesn’t surprise me as I feel the familiar pull in my limbs and torso. An assassin’s flexibility is unmatched, a small breeze in the air, seductive and chilling as we kill our victims.

An explosion and a loud horn cause yells on the warship but a smile on my face.

Thank you, Yelena. 

I flip the dagger into my belt as I make my way up the stairs I snuck down merely a few days ago.

I have to be quick but soft. 

They can’t know I’m here. 

Not yet, at least.

The cool air makes contact with my skin, clearing my lungs and any mustiness that has accumulated instantly. But there wasn’t any time to relish in this moment. I’m here to get the job done—the Beast is counting on me.

The soldiers are stunned at what’s in front of them. I try to get a look at the situation from where I am, right behind, in the corner of the door where no moonlight can reveal me. 

Outside is dark, but lighter than inside the storage bunker where I couldn’t figure out who was coming unless I really tried to listen through the water. The first thing I notice about Paradis Island is that the stars here are explicit, little trinkets hung on the blanket they sit on. That, and the many lights by the tents that illuminate where they must be living. Yelena did tell me when she snuck into Marley in between to pick up a couple of the supplies that the stars here shine way brighter.

It’s beautiful.

I shake my head. I can look at the stars later. I have to assess the situation we’re in first.

Beyond the vessel is rocky land and what looks like many rifles being pointed towards the warfare ship. I attempt to look for Yelena through the hunter green capes but the lanky woman is nowhere to be seen. 

I roll my eyes. 

Looks like I’ll have to get to work.

Cracking my neck, I slide behind the soldier closest to me. 

I slink my arms around him, one coming up to cover his mouth and one around his torso and arms. I whisper in his ear, “Make this easy for me.”

He whimpers against the palm of my hand, making me smile. 

That’s cute. He’s scared of me.

The power thrills me, sending goosebumps through my skin. It’s been a while since I’ve been back in action.

I snake up his chest, up his neck. before he can move or do anything, I twist his neck. He falls onto my lifted foot like I wanted, noiseless and efficient.

The rest of the soldiers are paying attention to the rifles pointed at them and a Paradis person screaming through a megaphone at how excited they are to see Marleyans on their grounds and how they want to invite all of us onto their island.

Is that supposed to be welcoming?

I snatch the pistol off of the soldier I just injured, popping a few bullets into the barrel. The soldier opens his mouth, heaving in to scream but I smash my foot onto his face, glaring right down at him. 

That was a close one. 

They’re all blindly focused on the Paradis soldiers so I make the decision to move.

Now or never, baby.

I cock back the pistol, gaining the attention of the Marleyans.

Their eyes widen.

I clear my throat, “Hi!”

“Who are you?!” the captain of the ship hollers at me.

I kick back the face of the soldier underneath me and walk towards the Captain. The soldiers pull out their guns rapidly, only to cause me to laugh.

“Don’t shoot, men.” he orders them in his husky tone. 

“Doesn’t matter if they only got dummy bullets in them.”

The Captain hesitates, puzzled by my response, “Excuse me—” 

“You’re too slow, Captain.”

I launch the dagger into his neck. Blood splatters out of his throat and mouth as he lands with a thud. He’ll be dead soon. I stabbed the artery after all! 

Slipping my dagger right back out, five men charge towards me, hostility swimming through them.

I kick the first one on the side of the face, sending him towards the side. The next two with simple dagger slices in their necks like their damned Captain. The next one is a dodge—I let that one fall over the boat and into the water. 

The last soldier grabs me by the shoulders while I’m cackling at the soldier who fell overboard. He shoves me against the boat’s railing. My head hits the metal, a weird vibration making the world spin in a way seasickness could never.

Said soldier grabs his pistol and shoves it into my mouth.

I cry aloud. He yanks my hair back so I can properly taste the coarseness of the instrument almost hitting the back of my throat.

I’m going to pass out from suffocation or a dummy bullet. 

It’s going to be the end of me.

“I’m going to choke you out, whore.” he says. 

It’s then that a lightbulb goes off in my head. 

He gets off on the fact that he’s in power right now, that at any moment now he can push me off the boat, shoot a bullet down my throat and touch me however he pleases. The sinisterness in his eyes illustrates his devotion to his job, the real grotesque that comes with it.

I’m dealing with someone much like me—a sadistic fuck. 

With all my strength, I discreetly pull out my own pistol that I stole earlier, tears slipping out of my eyes.

Just one push, just one push— 

I heave my knee into his manhood and shoot him in his abdomen.

He flies back, along with his pistol. 

Coughing, I grab my dagger and kick his chest to send the man flying down onto the wooden board. He yells in pain, a cry that is my favourite sound a human’s ever made. It’s washed out and terrible, sending a chill down my spine.

I swear I hear cheers from the island but it could just be my near passing out from the pistol down my throat. 

I straddle the crying soldier and raise the dagger above my head.

“Please,” he blurts out, “Please spare me, ma’am.”

I throw my head back, laughing, “Oh God…no!”

The dagger sinks into his face. Right in between his eyes, at the beginning of the slope of his nose. 

One stab renders him deceased.

However, one stab doesn’t satisfy the assassin in me. 

Two, three, four, five, six—blood splatters onto my face and clothes, a forced strength coming out of my arms and the target’s face absolutely unrecognisable.

Finally, when I’m about to take the seventh, someone pulls me away from the body forcefully. I launch the dagger backwards but it’s caught for the first time by a hand right above their head.

Instead of trying to pull it out, I yelp in surprise.

“Yelena!” I huff out.

“About to kill me too?” she jokes, nothing in her eyes. As usual.

“Yelena~!” I repeat and wrap my arms around her torso.

“Gross.” she sighs at all the blood of two Marleyans rubbing onto her ironed, white shirt.

Yelena kindly puts a towel around my shoulders.

That’s right. I didn’t even think to check on myself. 

I’m breathing so hard, there’s blood all over my hands and clothes and I’m super excited that I completed my mission to perfection again.

“Oops.” I chuckle, pulling out, “I can’t believe you guys left me!”

“Not my fault someone slept through their alarm on the day we left.”

I punch her playfully, glad I finally see someone I’m familiar with after so long.

“Let’s go.” she says.

“Oh, the sailor! I haven’t killed him yet!” I tell her, pointing at the back of the ship,

Yelena shakes her head, pulling my bloody arm towards the dock, “That’s enough killing for you today. We’ll handle it from here. Let’s go get cleaned up first.”

As I walk down the wooden dock, impressed, blank faces stare back at me. My breathing slows down to a steadier pace as I stare right back, unsure on how to react to this weird attention. What I just did is equivalent to a murderous performance.

I don’t think they’ve seen a massacre happen so quickly in front of them. I don’t blame them. I set a record in Marley. Especially working for the Tybur clan, I was trained to be the assassin I am today. However, I’m not particularly used to doing it in front of people. 

That’s the thing about assassins, we’re supposed to take one’s life in private.

“Get to work!” one of the Paradis soldiers yell, “Stop staring, brats!”

A few soldiers walk down the dock, presumably to get the sailor’s head. One of them stands out—extremely tall, brown hair and a sparkle of innocence as he watches me intently. There’s curiosity within that innocence I discern easily, a little mouse coming out of its hole, respectfully.

A smile forms on my lips.

He blinks at me, blank, yet he knows I’m looking exactly at him.

He walks right past me, avoiding eye contact once he’s close.

JEAN KIRSTEIN POV

The image of gooey blood splattered on her face paired with a bewitching smile from the newcomer has Jean Kirstein confused on one side and intrigued on another. Confused because when the Marleyans said that one of their people was delayed back at Marley, he was expecting another male soldier who’s higher ranked, which is why they wanted him here to help out. Intrigued, because now that he knows it’s a woman, he wonders what kind of situation she was put in to create a flawless combat style.

As the moonlight flashes on her face, reflecting the glossy blood and the glimmer of her teeth. She looks incredibly insane and proud of herself for what she’s done.

Taking down six men in five minutes? Jean has never seen that happen before. The most impressive stunt he’s seen pulled off was Captain Levi taking down five Titans in under a minute—a whole other thing if he was to compare the two. It’s not comparable. By far, Captain Levi is the best he’s seen before.

But, still. 

The woman lingers in Jean’s mind.

As he walked back to the tent him and Conny were sleeping in, he couldn’t help but wonder about her. The way she made eye contact with him as if she could read his thoughts then and there was sufficient to know that she’s seductively dangerous. Almost as if her sole purpose was to lure Jean in—

“Sorry,” he mumbles incoherently as he bumps into someone. 

“Are you okay?” Mikasa asks him.

Jean blinks up at her, escaping his trance. He’s never been the distracted type before.

It’s rare for Mikasa to ask her comrades, it’s often she presses that question towards Eren Yeager. Deep down, Jean wishes Mikasa would be concerned with him the way she was with Eren. He really likes her and wanted to sought out for her ever since he came to know her. Eren took all her time, energy and love, now, Jean remains in the immovable comrade-zone.

He forgets the mesmerising aura Mikasa has that made him fall for her in the first place, “Fine.” 

She walks off without another word. All she needed was that little ‘fine’ to let her keep going about her day. 

After all, she had to go tend to Eren like she was some servant.

Jean sighs as he enters the tent, lamenting about Mikasa and knowing there’s nothing he can do about her or her so-called duty to Eren. He can’t help his attachment. 

He gets ready for bed and the moment him and Conny turn off the lanterns to sleep and darkness fills his sight, the Marleyan soldier comes to mind again. It’s like she cast a spell on him the moment they locked eyes on the dock. 

Her smile, he thinks.

It was beautiful amongst the slaughter on her face.

How can one make the wretched so beautiful?

☆

Conny and Jean are in charge of putting away the deliveries the camp receives from the Walls. The cart is full of food, weaponry and other things that would make living here easier. 

They’d discussed that the Marleyans should be doing the labour here but Hange countered, arguing that it wouldn’t be right for the cause they were fighting for. Jean agreed—they had a point. They were trying to do good for the world. What would be the point of making Marleyans do all the work when they were fighting for equality?

As time goes on, Conny and Jean become exhausted and settle into the carts themselves.

“I need a drink.” Conny groans, leaning his head back on the cart.

Jean hums in response. The sun was burning their backs as they slaved the day away, barely breaking in between to keep this damn camp going. 

“Conny! Jean!”

They lift their heads to see who’s calling their name.

It’s none other than Onyankopon, walking towards them with a great, big smile on him, a wave and a guest in tow. Jean wishes he was as positive as Onyankopon looked right now. He’d be getting through these deliveries in no time.

He looks over at the guest Onyankopon brought along. 

Right then and there, chills run down his spine. 

There’s no way.

He straightens up effective immediately. 

“Wanted to introduce you to someone new!” Onyankopon says as he arrives at their cart, “She arrived last night.”

Jean’s eyes are plastered at the Marleyan soldier, eyes wide, consuming her presence. She’s piercing with caramel tones and charcoal hair, illustrating her humanity. Nonetheless, her eyes tell him something else. There’s a certain depth in them, a void that can suck you in if you look too long.

She steps up.

“Mirabelle.” she states, ample confidence, “Mirabelle Windrider.”

Sultry voice that coats strawberries with chocolate. The woman stares straight into him, taking words right out of his mouth and stomping them on the ground before her. The corners of her lips quirk upwards into a minute smile as if she knows exactly what she just did to him. 

“Conny Springer.” Conny responds, “Weren’t you the chick that killed all those soldiers last night?!”

She laughs, “May have been.”

“You were so cool!” Conny continues and Jean would’ve looked at him but he’s currently too occupied with the newcomer, “The way you knocked them all down. Jean and I were talking about you last night! Everyone was.”

“Were you?” Mirabelle’s eyes easily wander to Jean. “Who’s this?”

He has nothing to say. He can’t say anything.

“Cat got your tongue, Jeanie-boy?” Conny calls. “You know staring at a lady is rude!”

Jean will deal with Conny later. Right now, her slightest provocation forces Jean to give her his name. “Jean Kirstein, ma’am.”

“Jean…” she utters and his eyes widen with fear? Anxiety?...desire?

Onyakopon comes into frame and she leans against his arm which she somehow can despite the man’s height. “Ma’am? She look that old to you, boy?”

“N-No! Of course not, just didn’t wanna disrespect her.” Jean blurts out as Mirabelle laughs. 

There she goes again with that smile like she likes watching him twitch under her glance.

Onyakopon sighs, looking down at Mirabelle, “At it again?”

“What’s wrong with a little fun, Onya~”

Before he could think about what she meant by that, Onyankopon says to them, “We’ve got to attend some meetings. Hope you gentlemen do well.”

“Bye!” Mirabelle waves at them.

“Bye!” Conny replies.

“...bye.”

When they leave, a sigh leaves Jean. A couple seconds of silence passes them until Conny finally speaks up, “Hot stuff, huh?”

“What?”

“Ma’am.” he mocks.

Jean furrow my brows, “Shut up, Conny.”

MIRABELLE WINDRIDER POV

Paradis Island is a blast. 

Besides sleeping inside a tent, I’ve had fun the last couple of days, getting to know the nation’s people and growing the bonds I already have. What Marleyans say about Paradis Island is nowhere near true but honestly, you’d have to have a brain to know that. They’re anything but devils, they’re humans trapped in walls and know nothing of the outside world. 

Hange Zoe, Commander of the Scouts, has created a timetable for me this week so it’d make it easier for me to settle in. 

How kind of them. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten close to this treatment back in Marley, even as a respected assassin.

The next thing on my schedule is a team building session with none other than Hange Zoe leading it. I’ve done a couple the past few days and it’s my favourite so far—something lighthearted amongst all the tedious soldier work. 

As someone who’s not a soldier, the training style is different from what I’m used to. I mean, it is still combat training but it’s coarse, explosive training rather than the elusive, cunning style I’m used to.

When I pull up to the grassy patch a hundred feet from the camp, Hange is waiting with a group of Marleyans and Eldians, animatedly chatting with the group.

That’s one thing I love about Hange so far. They see no difference in our races unlike other members in the camp.

“There she is!” they exclaim as I join the circle, “Our final member.”

“Hello.” I greet everyone, looking around the circle.

I stop almost immediately. Two people over is none other than the starer.

Jean Kirstein’s eyes widens at seeing me join the circle.

There he goes again. 

“Now that everyone’s present, today we’ll be playing a fun, little game I’ve conjured up when working with Cadets! Heard you Marleyan soldiers had no fun when in military, so this will be a little refresher.” Hange explains, “Now, sit down, sit down.”

We all do as they say, plopping onto the grassy land.

“This game,” they start, “Is called, ‘two truths, one lie’. It’s just as stated. We will go around the circle, telling two truths and one lie. The point of this game is to decipher the lie through the three statements told. It’s going to help us understand tidbit information about each other and hopefully, bring us closer as a team. Sounds easy enough?”

The group agrees. We take some time to think about our statements before Hange goes first, telling us that they are the example round, “Okay, so I’m the Fourteenth Commander of the Survey Corps, Captain Levi Ackerman is my best friend and I hate Titans.”

“I am not your best friend.” Levi responds indifferently, “That’s the lie.”

Hange chuckles, “Yes, you are, silly.”

Aw.

Levi rolls his eyes, “You’re so obsessed.”

They hit his shoulder, “You’re mean and short, so you’re just as bad.”

He glares right back at them.

“You’re the Fourteenth Commander, that’s the lie!” a Marleyan speaks up.

“No,” I interrupt before they can give away the answer, “It’s that they hate Titans.”

All eyes are on me.

Over the last couple of days, I’ve stayed quiet during team building sessions, only participating when absolutely necessary. No matter how lively I am around the Marleyans, being thrown into a completely new circumstance can make anyone nervous. So, staying quiet and observing is the best way to be until I’m comfortable enough.

Now I’m comfortable enough.

“Yes!” Hange answers, “How did you know, Mirabelle? I don’t remember telling you.”

I purse my lips and look down on my lap, a little embarrassed, “Not directly, but I overheard you telling other Marleyans that you had two Titans called Sawney and Bean. You said you adored them like they were your children. Plus, you don’t seem the type to hate Titans.”

Hange’s eyes light up.

“Sawney and Bean!” they gasp, “Bless them. Can we have a moment of silence for Sawney and Bean—”

“Those asswipe Titans? No.” Levi interrupts, raising an eyebrow, “Get on with the stupid game. I don’t know why you insist on these timewasters.”

“Ugh,” they groan, “This is not a waste of time! Having team building sessions helps people get along and build bonds. Like you care about any of that stuff, grumps!”

“Exactly. I don’t.” 

“Okay, so shut your mouth. Don’t listen to this party pooper, guys.” Hange sighs, causing us to laugh, “It’s your turn, Mirabelle. Give us your statements.”

I nod, having my statements ready to go, “I’m left-handed, I’m an assassin back in Marley and—”

“You’re not left-handed.”

It seems as if Jean is confused as to why he spoke so quickly before I finished my statements. I’m confused, too. How did he know that was the lie?

“I’m not?” I ask, trying to throw him off.

He shakes his head, right on the money, “You’re right-handed. I remember the way you held the gun at the Captain on the boat that night. You were in a right-handed stance.”

It takes me a second to digest that. 

It was dark that night, how could he have seen my stance?

“Did I get it?” he asks.

I smile at him, genuinely, “Yeah…you did.”

He must’ve really focussed on me on that boat. My heart races a little. To have someone enraptured by me is a feeling I haven’t had in a while.

“Well done, Jean!” Hange compliments, clapping, “Great attention to detail! See, guys. This is the point of the game. It’s to understand each other better, so we can have trusting bonds when in combat.”

Levi clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“You better get your lies ready, Levi,” Hange warns, “You’re after Jean.”

For some reason, Levi looks scared. He is slipped into a trance, probably trying to think of his three statements to tell everyone.

“Go on, Jean,” Hange prompts

I watch Jean think about his statements, scanning the grass below him until he lifts his head, “Alright.”

He looks right at me.

He blocks the eight others around us, part of the game and shoots his statements at me.

It’s a challenge.

“I was forced to become a part of the Survey Corps, my mom makes the best omelettes and my friends call me ‘Horseface’.”

“The first one.” I tell him before anyone can say anything. I don’t think anyone was going to anyways. It was aimed at me. He wants me to get it right, there’s a desperation screaming at me to do so.

He blinks at me, “What? How?”

“I don’t think you’re the type of guy to be forced into the Survey Corps. You probably joined it because it matched your ideals and were willing to go far enough to obtain a goal. In that sense, I think most Scouts are like that anyways…did I get it?”

Jean nods, ever so slowly.

“Yay!” I reply.

An invisible line threads between the two of us, connecting us in the moment. Jean seems lost in thought as if it was the first time he was acknowledged for his decisions.

I’m glad I was able to give him that.

The Scouts in this island deserve that more than anything. The recognition and the pride that comes with it. It’s not an easy job, after all.

We’re looking at each other until Levi speaks up at last, “Get a room, the two of you.”

☆

“Mirabelle, Mirabelle! Wait up!”

I turn around, a running bald boy coming my way.

“Hi. Conny, was it?”

He slams his hands on his knees, catching his breath, “Y-Yes.”

“How can I help you?”

“Are you busy?’ Conny asks.

“Huh?”

“Are you busy at the moment?” he repeats.

What is this about?

“Not particularly, no. Sorry, what’s this about?”

Conny straightens up and grins at me. I try to return it with a boxy grin of my own but all this seems a little suspicious to me.

“Would you like to eat with us?”

“Sorry?”

“Would you like to have lunch with me and a few other Scouts?” Conny invites.

Oh.

“Oh my God. Yes!. I would love to.” I nod enthusiastically,

“Right this way, ma’am.”

“Stop that.” I chuckle.

“I’ve never seen Kirstein act like that in front of a woman,” he says, as I follow him.

So we’re having this conversation?

“Uh-huh.” I reply, trying to stay uninterested. 

Giving Conny the wrong impression is the last thing I want to do. Yes, it may be true that Jean caused my heart flutter earlier but that was for a mere moment. I’m not interested in anything except keeping things cool and casual. Imagine if he thinks I’m interested romantically.

That would send the wrong message.

“He’s really a good guy,” Conny continues, “Don’t tell him I said that but he’d take good care of his missus, if he had one.”

“I see.”

“What do you think of him, Mirabelle?”

Did Jean set him up to this?

No, it can’t be. Jean seems like he barely knows that he’s interested in me. Conny, on other hand, as someone who’s on the outside of this situation probably read in between the lines and got a grip on the situation.

“He’s nice.” I reply.

“Nice~” Conny sings, “Anyways, we’re here!”

He’s brought me to behind a tent where a bunch of Scouts are sitting on upside down crates and eating from paper plates.

“Hi!” all of them greet me.

There’s four of them, including Jean, who is just as shocked to see me there as I am him. Oh, what did I expect coming with Conny?

I look at Conny, raising an eyebrow. He just shrugs, nonchalantly. Is he playing wingman right now? There’s nothing to play wingman for!

This is ridiculous.

“Hello.” I wave at them.

“The food’s over there, by the way.” a girl with a high ponytail and a stuffed face says, “You can help yourself!”

“Alright, thanks.”

I grab my lunch at the stand and come back. Jean quickly stands from his crate and gestures for me to sit down.

“Oh, you didn’t have to, I—”

“I already finished eating.” he interrupts, clearing his throat.

It’d be rude to decline so I take the crate, muttering a small word of gratitude. 

The crates are assembled in a circle so I can see the new people I’m sitting with. Conny and Jean stand nearby, joining the conversation.

“I’m Mirabelle, by the way—”

“You’re the girl that knocked down those Marleyans a couple days ago, right?” the girl with the ponytails says, “Sasha, nice to meet you.”

“You’re right! It is her.” a blonde boy exclaims.

“I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Sasha answers, “This is Armin and Mikasa. You’ve met Conny and Jean?”

I look up at Jean and smile a little, “I have…it’s nice to meet you all.”

And the questions come instantly.

“How did you kill them all?”

“Are you a soldier? You’re not wearing a uniform.”

“How do you get your hair like that?”

“How come you came in later compared to other Marleyans?”

“Hey.” Jean interrupts the eager Scouts, “Let her eat before you talk her ears off.”

“That’s okay, Jean.” I laugh, “Let’s see,” deep breath “I’ve been trained to kill multiple people simultaneously. I’m not a soldier, I’m an assassin. My hair? Well, it’s this product I got from Marley. Totally cannot live without. I can share it with you if you like. I came late because I accidentally slept in when Onyankopon was leaving so I ended up having to find my own way here.”

They stare at me in awe.

“Any more questions?” I ask.

Shaking their heads, they go back to their food. 

☆

“That’s the thing, Onyankopon. I don’t want to be trained like a soldier!” I whine behind him, “My combat style is already flawless and the way the soldiers train is so rough and not adequate for a nimble girl like me.”

“That’s a conversation for you to have with Hange, not me.” he replies.

It seems that Onyankopon doesn’t grasp my joke like he usually does. His lightheartedness and otherwise bubbly attitude has gone out of trace and is replaced with someone serious and, well, not so Onyankopon.

I slide off the horse we arrived on together as it stops before the Walls.

“Mhm, right and you know I’ll convince them anyway.” I say, attempting to bring my best friend out. 

It’s not about the training anymore, it’s about making Onyankopon smile again. I miss that cheesy grin of his already and it’s been, what? Twenty-hours of this gloominess that has gone by?

“I doubt that but you can try. No one’s stopping you.” he shrugs, “Now that I’ve dropped you here, may I please go attend to my business in Wall Sina?”

“If I say ‘no’—”

“Goodbye.” he says and I think he’s about to go before he make a face and looks back at me, “Also, don’t play too much around the Kirstein boy.”

Ah.

“Whatever do you mean?” I ask him innocently, patting the horse’s mane. She has lovely hair indeed, the embrace of rich earth.

Unfortunately, Onyankopon has turned to ultimately-serious-bossman mode. He sighs, “You know what I mean.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having fun, Onyankopon. You should have some fun these days.”

“It’s not fun to be put in that position, Mirabelle. They actually have a word for that.” he says, whipping the reins on the horse.

It moves forward, forcing me to jump back with a gasp.

I cup my hands over my mouth and yell, “What’s that?!”

“Torture!”

“Who’s got his panties in a twist?” I ask myself, watching Mr Grim Reaper himself head off into the gates of Shiganshina.

My stomach twists with unease. He makes it sound like I’m going to cause pain to Jean when that’s nowhere near what I want to do. It doesn’t hurt anyone to flirt and play around a little without any strings attached. At least that’s what it’s like back in Marley.

I could do it as much as I want, until—

“I-I’m not sure.” a voice comes from behind me.

Jean.

“Oh, hi!” I greet him and point in the direction of the gone man, “Did you hear that conversation by any chance?”

He shakes his head, “Just what you said at the end. Onyankopon seems a little grim.”

“Yeah, I think the meetings are getting to his head.” I answer, admiring Jean from below.

Up close, the guy’s big, tall and broad simultaneously. He has slender eyes paired with long, thin eyebrows which exudes a feminine aura amongst the straight nose and frowned mouth. Additional to that, there are those pretty, long lashes that cave his eyes; every fluttering blink is one alike to a lovely maiden. He’s quite handsome though, a gentlemanly handsome that is difficult to find within this field of work.

“I can imagine.” he says.

It appears he's curious about why I'm staring at him. He doesn’t back down or look away from me, he stares back this time.

So he’s not the nervous wreck I thought he was? 

“I thought Hange was training me…” I say, peering behind his shoulder to see no zealous Hange running around, ready to train me.

“About that.” he sighs, “Commander’s gone to a meeting so she told me to train you instead and she sends her regards. I’m gonna be showing you how to use the ODM Gear, hoping that’s okay.”

“Huh…” I respond inquisitively and before I can stop myself, my hands are touching the cool rectangles on his hips. The technology here is definitely a lot more advanced than what I was expecting. It’s so…wait, “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

I can see the alarms going off in his head.

“I don’t know.”

Has a woman never touched him before?

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, “I—”

“Jean.” I utter, holding his shoulders in my hands. He tenses up immediately, answering my question right away, “You’re gonna train me just fine. Don’t be scared. Is this your first time?”

Both of us know the real reason why he’s shaking in his boots; however, neither of us can say the reason aloud.

“My-my first time?”

“First time training someone?” I clarify with a small giggle.

“No, it’s not.”

“Then, let’s go! Where’s the equipment?” 

Jean brings me closer to the Walls. A green crate is loaded with ODM Gear equipment, including the gas cylinders, blades and harnesses. After putting on the various different equipment and being safely strapped up, Jean demonstrates how to use it.

“Your turn.” he prompts me.

“Okay.”

“So, you have to—”

I press the triggers, aiming high enough on the Wall and the gear yanks me up forcefully. I gasp, thinking I’m going to smash my face on the wall but I manage to plant my feet on the Wall, keeping my stance light on the surface.

“Like that?” I ask Jean, looking down at him.

He’s about twenty feet away from me, eyes widened to the brim, “T-That’s perfect! Can you get down?”

I do the same thing backwards and climb down the wall to meet him again.

“How?” Jean asks, his eyes glistening with admiration.

I pull back the strings and they snap into the contraption they come from. I laugh, “I don’t know! But that was really fun! Kinda like rock climbing.”

“Rock climbing…?” he questions, tilting his head to the side.

I forget how underdeveloped it is compared to Marley.

“It’s like a…sport, I think? People climb up rocks or walls using their hands and feet and there are these things that stick out that you use to push yourself up and climb up.” I explain, “I used to have to do rock climbing for training. It’s fun!”

He nods slowly, understanding the concept of it, “That does sounds fun.”

“When we go to Marley together, I can show you!” I tell him.

“Together?”

I want to bite my tongue.

“Not just the two of us! With everyone!” I declare, “Sasha, Conny, Armin, Mikasa, damn, even Captain Levi could climb.”

For the first time in my presence, Jean Kirstein slips out a genuine chuckle. Like he means it. There’s no nervousness exuding from him, rather the enjoyment of my presence.

“For sure, but I can’t get over how quick you grasped that. It’s not easy.” Jean replies, raising an eyebrow, “You’re good.”

I lean in slightly, dropping my voice a little, “I’m good at a lot of things, Jean…”

Just like that, the friendly air vanishes into the ether and is replaced with a drop of suggestion. 

Jean freezes, dissecting my words before his cheeks turn red. 

“Aw, look at you!” I point right in his face, “You’re blushing like crazy!”

“Am not!” he argues, quite defensively, “I don’t even know what you mean by that.”

“You are!” I laugh, finding his coyness amusing.

What’s the point of not admitting it when I watched him come to an understanding on what I just said?

“Whatever,” he huffs and points back at the Wall, “Let’s keep training.”

I can’t stop laughing at him.

“It’s not that funny.”

☆

“Wanna go to the Marleyan restaurant in Wall Rose?” Sasha asks the group.

“Of course you wanna go there.” Conny remarks, suggestion glinting in his eyes.

She hits him on the shoulder, red creeping onto the apple of her cheeks.

I furrow my eyebrows, wondering what’s going on with that comment. I don’t question it too much, fatigued from the combat training we just came from. 

To no avail, Hange highly suggested that I join combat training on the island, despite me being a combat virtuoso. They said, although my combat is adequate, there’s always room for improvement and practising on different targets would do me more good than worse.

I couldn’t argue with them there.

However, I thought I had it in the bag and could convince them otherwise, that’s what put me down, not the training itself. I always thought of myself as a finesser but I guess Hange is just way too smart to finesse. 

“Hey, are you alright?” 

Jean appears beside me, peering down with a cautious look on his face.

I nod, “Just a little tired.”

“I see.” he answers, “Combat training can be tiring around here.”

“Mhm.”

“Stop flirting with Mirabelle and tell us what you wanna do, Jean!” Eren exclaims, playfully punching Jean on the shoulder, “Do you wanna go to Wall Rose?”

Jean shoves him out the way, “Get out of my face, asshole…and as for the restaurant, I don’t think we should go. Everyone’s tired. We gotta go all the way to Wall Rose to eat?”

“Yeah!” Sasha exclaims.

“You just wanna see—”

Sasha slaps her hand to Conny’s mouth instantly, “Shut your ass up. Wanna come, Mimi?”

“For sure. I don’t have anything for the rest of the day either.” I tell her.

“Are you sure?” Jean asks me, “I thought you’re tired.”

“She just said she wants to go!” Conny argues, gesturing both his hands at me flamboyantly

“I’m not asking you.” Jean replies and looks back at me, waiting for an answer.

I break into laughter, “I’m fine with it, really, but a Marleyan restaurant? Didn’t know you guys would have those ‘round here.”

“Best food I’ve ever had.” Mikasa speaks up indifferently.

Everyone hums in agreement at her statement.

The last time I’ve seen people react like that towards food was when—

“Let’s catch the carriage before it leaves for the Walls!” 

We run towards the carriages stationed at the exit of the camp, climbing into whichever ones were accessible to us first. I end up in the last carriages, not wanting to get in between Conny and Eren fighting to see which one would go into the first carriage. Jean follows me into the third and final carriage, presumably for the same reason.

“Have they all gone in the other carriages?” Jean questions, peeking his head out of the carriage.

“Seems like it.” 

After a subtle neigh at the front, the velvety carriage starts moving. It renders me silent for a second as I try to comprehend what’s happening. 

No one else is in the carriage with us. I’m going to be going to the Walls with Jean alone. I’ll have forty-five minutes of him to myself.

“I have to say,” Jean begins, five minutes into the ride, “The way you killed those soldiers when you first came…it was amazing.”

I cross my leg over the other, slinking them back to me as I lean back, “You think so?”

Jean nods vigorously, “I haven’t seen anything like that before.”

“I could tell.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

I take a trip down memory lane to the night before, re-imagining the look plastered on his face—the innocent intrigue and the shimmer of moonlight that swam in his light eyes. I can’t forget how he couldn’t take his eyes off of me, either. I felt so formidable in the moment.

“You seemed really curious,” I answer mildly. Offering a wry smile, I add, “It was cute.”

“Cute?!”

“Cute.” I repeat.

“Cute is not the word to describe me.” Jean retorts.

“Oh, yeah? Then, what are you?”

He rubs his chin, actually thinking about it. 

I don’t know what starts it. 

It must be the way his damn hair. 

It falls in a way that looks incredible, it looks styled with a vehemence of boyishness. A

A sheen layer of sweat on his face, more visible when he looks to the side and the sun hits his face and rolled up sleeves to the elbow because of how hot it is out there. I've been trying to ignore it during combat but now, it’s making me squirm in my seat. 

I think back to how he flung Eren to the ground as if he was just nothing to him, barely a sack of potatoes.

He’s so strong…I wonder if he can read my thoughts or I wonder if he can see how a pool of heat travels down to my womanhood and settles there like it’s its new home. 

If he knew, would he let me take him right there?

“More like…handsome?”

Jean’s eyes sparkle again as he looks back at me—the same look in his face.

He has no fucking idea what he does to me.

I lean forward, arousal sticking to my clit as I mouth, “I’ll tell you what you are, Jean…”

“What’s that?” he asks, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

He must think I’m joking around.

“I think you’re sexy.”

The tension in his jaw slacks, “W-What? I don’t understand.”

“Let me explain it to you.” I reply and reach out to touch a finger to his knee, drawing erratic patterns on it. He tenses up as expected and it goes quiet for a second. All I can hear is the wheels of the carriage pulling us forward and the slight breeze that enters the carriage, sending a chill down my spine.

“There’s a drive in you that I’m attracted to. Your provider mindset, for one, tells me that you bring what is important to the table and you think about others before yourself. But you do it in a way that’s not showy, it’s just who you are. And, when you like someone, you really dedicate yourself to them. The way you think about those you like is only out of love. And, my favourite,” I ease back onto my cushioned seat, the silence from him being the loudest thing in this carriage, “How you lose all power when you look at me.”

The Big Jean makes himself small in his seat.

“I’m sorry.” he almost whispers.

“Sorry? Shouldn’t you be saying ‘thank you’? I just complimented you!”

“Thank you.” he breathes out as if there’s no oxygen in here. He peers at his lap before he looks up, brow furrowed and uncertain, “I think you’re incredible too, by the way. Ever since I saw you defeat those soldiers, I—”

The carriage comes to a halt.

“Huh?” 

We exchange a confused glance. 

I peer outside the carriage. The carriage in front of us opens their door and out comes Sasha and Connny. They come into our carriage and get settled in here.

“What’s going on?” Jean asks disappointedly.

I nearly chortle at the tone in his voice.

“Sorry, Eren started blabbering about freedom.” Sasha replies, getting comfortable next to me, “I couldn’t stand another second of it.”

“He doesn’t get it. No one wants to listen to the same speech again and again.” Conny sighs, sitting next to Jean. He looks between Jean and me, “Bro, you’re like proper sweating. Maybe we shouldn’t have left you here alone with Mirabelle. What have you done with him?”

I laugh at his accusatory tone, “We were just talking.”

“Talking? Jean’s cooking in his clothes.”

“Shut up!” Jean says, pushing him away from him.

Jean casually throws one leg on top of the other. 

It’s only when I look closer I see something peek up at me. 

He catches me looking and changes the way he sits so it’s less obvious. 

Little did he know, I’ve seen those countless times and it only takes time before one explodes.

☆

“Where’s Jeanie-boy gone?” Conny pipes up when we’re seated in the restaurant. 

There are massive fans all around the dining area, cooling us down.

“I think he’s in the bathroom.” I answer casually as I look at the menu in front of me.

The restaurant is by far the most luxurious thing I’ve seen on this island. That’s saying a lot as someone who takes frequent strolls in Sina to attend meetings here and there. It looks somewhat familiar too, in the sense of the vibes.

“He takin’ a shit or something?” Conny remarks, causing the others to laugh.

Conny doesn’t know why he’s in the bathroom. I do. I just keep it quiet.

“What’s the best thing they do here?” I ask Mikasa who happens to be sitting next to me.

“I heard they do the lobsters best—”

It clicks right there and then.

“Hello, everyone. What are you…Mirabelle?!”

I dread it.

I dread it so bad, a morbid anguish blossoming inside me as I blink up. 

In front of me is none other than Niccolo.

My ex.

JEAN KIRSTEIN POV

Jean doesn’t like how eloquent Mirabelle is. 

Her lips move so languidly yet, manages to say everything it needs to within a short time. The way she talked to him in the carriage somehow undid him and his pants. Being stuck in a restaurant bathroom where the walls are paper thin and trying to release the pent up was more than a mere struggle.

He’s like a putty in her hands, moulded and crafted for her to use.

“You make me feel powerful” she had told him.

He hates how, for once, he cannot control what’s happening in his body. It’s like she’s found his weak spot and is stepping into it. It makes him feel powerless—nothing but prey in her eyes.

After the Marleyan restaurant and the ride home, his friends wondered what was wrong with Jean, why their constant teasing wouldn’t rile him up like it usually would. 

Even when Jean slips under his covers at night, he thinks about how Mirabelle spoke to him. Her voice had an effect, she had an effect on him that he couldn’t recover from. 

But he couldn’t let himself fall for her. 

No way. 

That was a death wish. 

He would put a lock on his cock before he imagined how her hands would feel tugging on his hair. Or, maybe how she would sound when he pushes into her. How about how she’d feel clenched around him, all wet and tight for him?

“Fuck!” Jean shouts, sitting up in his bed.

“What the hell, man?!” Conny yells back, equally as frustrated. He sits up, flicking on his lantern, “What’s wrong with your ass?”

“Nothing,” Jean grumbles, getting out of bed, “I’m going out.”

“Where are you going, baby?” Conny asks, softening his voice, “Come on here now. Don’t leave a damsel like me in bed all alone!”

Conny makes what is a horrible attempt of a woman moaning. However, it didn’t matter if it was horrible. Jean had had it. Anything remotely sexual was going to have a horrible impact on him. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, he just knows it’s going to be bad.

He has to get out.

Outside the tent is a new world. He switches on his flashlight to guide him through the darkness to a place where he can unwind. Hopefully, a serene place where he can collect himself for a second and review what’s happening right now; somewhere with no commotion, just the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Like the rocky pools a few hundred metres from here. 

He’d accidentally discovered it on a walk a while back. Whenever Jean needed to run away for a while, he’d go there. It's been his designated spot.

He walks around the tents, strictly divided between the males, females and the leaders of the place. 

Some lanterns still shone despite it being past two am. 

There were soldiers still planning how to defeat the enemy, coming up with constructive plans and discussing them until dawn. Hange, Levi and Yelena are likely to be awake to be a part of these discussions. They’re saving humanity, meanwhile, Jean had his head wrapped around some woman like a little boy.

Speaking of the devil, Yelena walks right up to him.

“Kirstein, is it?” she asks, getting a good look at his face in the dark, “What are you doing awake?”

Yelena’s comrade has shaken up his mind and he had to go on a fucking walk to clear his head. Obviously, Jean couldn’t tell her that.

“Just walking around.” he grumbles.

“Strange,” she notes with a subtle nod that Jean’s not sure the meaning of. Yelena is a woman of little words and sometimes those words don’t make sense, “Anyways, could you do me a favour?”

“Sure.” he accepts before thinking over it. 

Jean would do anything right now to rid his mind off anything from Mirabelle. He could go to the rocky pools after completing the delegated task.

“I have tons of things to do right now and need someone to assist me. Could you fetch Mirabelle from her tent?” she asks, “I doubt she’s asleep at this hour and I could really use a hand…Kirstein?”

He cannot escape her.

She’s everywhere, at all times, consuming his every thought and circumstance and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Jean sighs in defeat.

“Is there a problem?” Yelena probes.

He will die if he’s asked another question.

Shaking his head, he replies, “I’ll go get her. Where’s her tent?”

“It should be the one that’s the top left corner.” she relays, “Tell her to come to the meeting tent.”

“Okay.”

Yelena walks off the other way.

It takes everything in Jean not to explode right there and then. 

He takes as much of his frustration out on a nearby pebble, kicking it away, simultaneously being aware that there are people sleeping in the tents surrounding him. 

What did he do to deserve this? This is torture, absolutely torture and he wouldn’t wish this on his biggest enemy. As if there weren't already enough problems with planning an attack on Marley, Mirabelle had to make his life miserable.

What should he do?

Oh, but she is so pretty.

Where should he run to and scream?

I want to get to know her more.

He can’t have a full mental breakdown even if he wanted to.

He’s not one for mental breakdown but this…this was a different cause.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

It’s all wrong.

He refuses to back down. 

In fact, he refuses to submit to her womanly wiles.

Jean is a strong guy, scratch that! 

Jean is a strong man with a strong will and numerous strongly built morals. No woman can control him like he’s her personal toy just like that. He is not easily swooned or influenced by anyone. As it happens, he is guarded.

Who is she to him? 

No one.

Exactly.

He will go to Mirabelle right this moment and act as if she had no effect on him!

Yes, there we go.

That’s the Jean he knew. Arrogant, reckless and the daredevil. 

Off he goes, towards the ladies side of the camp. 

As he makes his way, he can’t lie, his heart is clutched in a fist.

It’s the remaining effects of Mirabelle scouring his tainted mind. It’ll take time for her to be removed from his brain but time was all that was needed. 

If not, a lobotomy will do and who better than Hange to perform it? It’s a joke, that’s a joke, right? Jean forces his thoughts to still. He had to do a task first and he needed his full concentration to complete it. He doesn’t have time to waste.

As he inches to the tent Yelena described, he notices that Mirabelle’s lantern is one of the only ones that are turned on this late into the night.

She’s one of the campers that got lucky enough to have a tent to themselves. There could be a specific reason why. He softens a little, wondering what she could be doing up so late. 

Maybe she had trauma-induced insomnia and she couldn’t sleep? What if she needed someone to be by her side right now?

No, stop.

He’s going to march in there, deliver a message, leave and assert the dominance that she took from him.

That is until he sees something strange.

Two pairs of shoes scattered outside the tent, thrown as if they’d been discarded in a hurry. The tent entrance itself is slightly open. Warm light peeks through like a tease. 

It beckons him to get a look at what he can through the tear of the tent…and halts in place.

“F-Fuck, yes~! Right there, right there…” she breathes out, “Nngh~”

Jean’s mouth runs dry.

“You’re doing so good.” a man says, his voice low and muffled. 

Jean is about to pass out.

It could be a mistake.

Maybe he’s seeing something wrong?

Upon closer inspection tells him otherwise.

A man kneels between Mirabelle’s parted legs. He hooks his arms under her thighs and pulls her closer to his mouth, humming against her. Piercing his nails into the fat of her skin, demonstrating for anyone watching (Jean) that she is his.

The soft amber lanterns catch her breasts in the perfect angle, sitting beautifully on her chest. Of course he’s seen the anatomical body of a woman but like this? Never in a million years would Jean think he would see it tonight.

Mirabelle grabs his unruly blonde hair, pursing her lips. Her eyes flutter shut as she tilts her head back, the curve of her body arching, abdomen meeting the man’s forehead as she pushes him in harder. A desperate cry leaves her. It’s so velvety that Jean couldn’t believe it was her making those noises.

He shouldn’t be looking.

This is wrong of him.

Very wrong.

Jean is not a man, he is not moral, not strong-willed, not anything he wanted to be tonight. 

As he’s about to turn away from the scene, seconds after accidentally looking in, Mirabelle’s head comes forward and her eyes lock with his. 

It’s fueled with intensity. The golden flicker of the light takes a dip in her deliberate gaze. Instead of shock, all he sees is dark, wicked amusement plastered on her face like she’s won an award. She lets him watch, lets him bear witness to her, body moving with slow, languid precision, as though the very act of being observed excites her more. She doesn’t flinch or hesitate, she. Gets. Bolder.

She smirks before tipping her head back and putting on the performance of her life, “Yes, Niccolo! I’m close, I’m so fucking close, baby—I’m gonna, ah~!”

Jean runs.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, he just knows that he has to get the fuck out of here. 

Dashing through the dirty paths of the camp, it’s like his lungs want to jump out of his body. He’s in flight mode

“Jean?! Where are you going?!” Yelena shouts at him.

“Don’t go to Mirabelle’s tent!” he warns her

She cackles as he sprints away.

Had she known? If she had, why the hell would she make him go? He should’ve stayed in his room with damsel Conny!

After a couple minutes of running, he arrives at the rocky pools.

Far enough.

Far enough, physically.

Mentally? Never.

He leans against a rock, much taller and sturdier than he is. It’s been a while since he had to break into a full sprint like that. He never imagined catching people fucking would be the cause of it. 

He places his head on the rock, sweat dripping down his face and a situation to handle.

A rock hard cock under his pyjama pants.

Jean’s heart is racing like crazy and he grabs his clamouring chest, gulping nothing but dryness down his throat. On the other hand, his cock throbs with unease. He needs to get off. His morals tell him no. 

Fact of the matter, he doesn’t really have a choice in this.

Mirabelle’s face floats into his mind, her moans, her breasts…

Jean groans, sliding down the rock and hitting the hard ground with a thump.

He is so verily screwed.

He is screwed in a way that he’s never been screwed before and will probably never be screwed the way he is screwed now.

He has to do what he has to do.

Jean brings out his cock from his pants. Why wouldn’t his mind just match with his dick? What is the pain in that? He wonders, is there some part of him…a truly, screwed up, primal side of him that likes the way he’s being treated?

Does he like her having him in control?

Is he a…cuck for watching them like that?!

No, no, I can’t be. Not that.

It’s her.

It’s her long, black hair cascading in waves down her back. She tucks it behind her ear mid-conversation, focused on what the other person says. She nods, smiles and a little physical contact; usually, it’s a pat on the back or a playful hit on the shoulder. 

Her skin is a soft radiance, captured by the core of the sun's embrace and light of the moon’s spirit. 

Her laugh is a high-pitched melody and sounds like she’s being possessed by a banshee half the time. Nevertheless, seeing the corners of her lips perk up at something he said makes Jean swelter.

And, her body.

God, her body. 

A divine sculpture—the ridges of her collarbone, the angle of her rounded shoulders and the curve of her waist; he thumbs the tip of his cock.

He can’t hold back anymore, he can’t stop himself from wanting her.

He wants to kiss her everywhere, appreciate her for existing as she is. She’s like nothing he’s seen before in a woman and there’s nothing more he’d want than to be a part of her world.

A low moan escapes his lips. 

Jean’s hand travels down the shaft of his cock, pumping it slowly. Precum slips through the crack of his palm, lubricating him. 

The throbbing takes a second to ease into his hand. As uneasiness turns into pleasure, the breeze waves into his face, washing over him.

Jean needs more.

He imagines her here. 

He imagines her warmth.

He imagines her asking him how he got into this mess and asking him if he’d like her to take care of him. She looks up at him, sinister eyes and a grin he cannot fully comprehend. It’s in the middle of adorably charming and shit-eating. He tells her ‘yes’ with a shaky breath. 

She takes his cock in her hand.

She spits on his tip, expertly bringing it down. Because Jean knows she knows how to treat his cock.

Her lips meet his in an embrace, traces of the strawberry jam she always buys from the market, a saccharine overload in his mouth. That woman has a knack for sweet things, it’s a bad habit at this point.

So is this.

“Shit—” Jean moans, biting his bottom lip. 

He closes his eyes, a black screen providing a blank canvas for painting the horrid things he desires. No one’s going to be roaming here at this time. He’s free to do whatever he wants.

Then, Mirabelle climbs on top of him, her hands holding onto the blades of his shoulder like they did when he was teaching her how to use the ODM Gear. That slight squeeze and stability that she gave him was enough to send shivers down his spine.

She sinks down onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She grabs his hair, tugs it back just enough for Jean to let out another moan. He puts his face into her chest, hugging his arms around her whole body. There would be no sign of letting go anytime soon. He’d keep her to his body. He would want to stay inside her as long as possible, to keep that connection as long as possible. Because if it ended, Jean would have a missing heart and a half.

Mirabelle would ride him. She bucks her hips and mewl in his ear, making it tingle. She tantalises him, softens him and bullies him. She knows how bad he wants her.

Jean would feel so fucking full inside of her and she’d be so tight around him. Her walls surround his cock so tightly, he’s lucky he doesn’t have to breathe from down there.

He pumps his cock harder, his hips coming up to meet his fist’s demand and finally, he releases.

Strings of white fly out as Jean lets go of himself, falling back on the trusty rock that was able to support him through all this. 

His sight blurs as he peers at the cloudless sky. A billion stars just watched him pathetically imagine a girl and masturbate to it.

It’s okay if he was pathetic.

He can be fucking pathetic for her.

What mattered more was that he wishes she was actually here doing all that to him.

☆

Jean hasn’t recovered.

When he’s seated at the Marleyan restaurant the next afternoon alone, there’s an air of gloom. He has no idea what to do now.

He hasn’t had much to do today, but his friends were piled with heaps to do. There wasn’t room for distraction.

According to Hange, they like to give soldiers rest days so they could reset and have an actual break. They said that it’s better for them to be different from his friends. The reason being that people need breaks from people too.

Levi full disagreed with the whole concept but Hange said it was especially for Levi since his tolerance for people was at a negative. He couldn’t argue with that.

It just so happens that today is Jean’s break day and he was stuck in the Marleyan restaurant before opening (soldier benefits), eating a meal alone.

Was it bad to come to the place where Niccolo works? Maybe. But he’s sure Mirabelle won’t turn up here. She has a hundred MP meetings to attend to.

She simply has no business here.

He had successfully avoided her the whole day. He will continue to do so as a means to escape thinking about whatever the fuck happened last night. 

The Devil herself had slithered into his dreams last night. This was after he caught Mirabelle and went to fist his cock by the pools. He woke up rock hard—no pun intended. 

You can imagine how scrambled his mind, heart and dick are right now.

Jean was extremely lucky that Conny sleeps like a log or else he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of that. What if it got to Mirabelle?

Double kill.

Anyways, he had avoided her the whole day and treating himself during the restaurant’s close before dinner openings was the best way to go about his day. If he stayed in his tent the whole day, he would’ve gone crazy.

He may have done something he wasn’t supposed to.

Although there aren’t any chefs running around (they gotta take breaks too!), he’s able to control himself in a public space. There was that to applaud amongst this mess.

“Well, well, well,” someone says from behind him, lightly stroking his back, “If it isn’t Peeping Tom.”

Jean freezes against the touch. Time itself stops.

She swivels around to meet his face, fingers still on his back. 

He isn’t imagining her here, this isn’t a dream, she’s really here.

Jean chokes on his lobster. So hard that he doubles over his plate.

“Oh no, you poor thing.” she utters.

Mirabelle grabs the jug of water, pours it into Jean’s empty glass. He reaches out to take it from her. She doesn’t meet him halfway. Instead, she drinks the water.

Jean gulps down the cough and stares at her.

She laughs, “Here. Drink it.”

Mirabelle presses the glass against his lips. 

Jean’s on autopilot, he tilts his head back and lets her feed him the drink. 

Then, she sets the drink down and stares at him a second too long. 

He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, how to process this and he can feel himself slowly getting hard again.

She’s done nothing, absolutely nothing and he’s wordlessly done for.

She reaches out and cups one side of his face, wiping a stray water drop from his face. 

She punctures into his gaze and every wall he tries to set up for himself. It turns into paper and finds his real self, putting it up for display.

“Such a pretty face.” she mumbles.

And then, before you know it, she drops his face and leaves the restaurant.

MIRABELLE WINDRIDER POV

“That’s absolutely outrageous!” Onyankopon cries, shooting up from his seat. He slams his hands on the table for effect. 

I roll my eyes for what must be the hundredth time and yank him from the back of his blazer. He falls flatly on his armchair. The stress lines on his forehead aged him by twenty years.

The meeting room is silent but the faces of the MPs are tumultuous with worry. It’s not every day the Onyankopon breaks out in a frenzy. He’s easygoing for the most part.

I wish I could tell you why he burst out. Unfortunately, I’ve lost track of what the meeting was about. It’s some minute detail in the overarching plan.

When I agreed to go to all these boring meetings, what I’d been doing was dragging his ass back down and mediating the arguments that were happening. I’m only here for his comfort and support of these meetings.

I’m a perfect middleman.

I have to say, Paradis Island makes compelling insights. Yelena and Onyankopon do too. However, being the middleman, I have to take in consideration what is the best and causes the least harm and sometimes, both sides don’t seem to consider this as an option.

I appreciate my comrades for their work ethics. They’re more than comrades, they’re friends and if this makes their lives easier here in the meeting rooms, I’ll do it.

“Let’s take a break and resume later.” Pyxis instructs at last, “We need it.”

There’s no arguing there.

Everyone scours from the room, leaving Onyankopon and I alone.

“Can I bring you some water?” I ask gently.

The man is looking at his lap blankly.

Finally, he sighs, “No thank you. I would like to be left alone though. If that’s okay.”

“Sure.” I reply, standing up, “Collect your thoughts and we can talk again before the meeting. I’ll go take a breather too.”

“Okay.” he responds dryly.

I start heading towards the door.

“Mirabelle.” Onyankopon calls.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, ” he tells me, “I appreciate that.”

I smile, “Love you.”

“...love you too.”

Leaving the room, I head down many flights of stairs of the Mitras’ parliament building. I bid my respects to Queen Historia, who is visiting for a council meeting of her own and step out into the chilly night air. 

There’s something about today’s air that makes it so special. The wind flirts with my hair, winding its way through the seams of my clothing.

To think this meeting was going to take my whole day? I was not expecting that. 

I do hope Onyankopon is alright though. This is a lot of stress for one person to take. I want to help my friends. The only way I can do that is take on more, study more and morph into a soldier. There’s only so much the Marleyans can do here with our restrictions and such.

At least Paradis has a whole army, we’re on our own out here. I don’t know what’s going on half the time. I’m here because I hate Marley and this was a chance to go against them. 

I’ve seen enough to prove that it is not an adequate place to live in. Especially as someone who worked close to politicians. Greed, hatred and sin, committed again and again with no remorse entailing their actions.

That’s not what I want to be a part of.

Assassination used to be a way to make money as someone coming from a low-income family and had to survive. I had to kill to survive—isn’t that ironic?

It’s time for me to put that behind me and turn a new leaf.

There is real happiness rooted in this island.

Coming here, I’ve realised the difference.

I’ve met it through my new friends, new life and…Jean.

“Mirabelle.”

I swivel around.

It is no one but him. 

He’s standing under a streetlight like a full force manifestation of my thoughts. Slightly perplexed, a little untidy from the day’s labour but all in all, Jean.

“I was just thinking about you.”

The way we meet these days is starting to not come off as surprises anymore. It’s almost as if there’s this small part of myself that expects him there.

“What?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. What are you doing here?”

“I…” he begins and drops his head, deeming the stoned ground more interesting than me, “I was just finishing up here, I was about to head back, actually.”

“Hm, must be fate,” I say, linking my arm around his. He flinches, “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” he answers, a little more confidently than I know he’s feeling right now. 

A simple touch must break his insides indefinitely. So I innocently smile, squeezing his arm closer to my face. His arm is tough and plush at the same time, telling me that there’s a good amount of muscle but soft enough for a lady to lay her cheek on.

“Shall we?” I ask, nodding towards the empty street, “I don’t have much time.”

“Okay.” 

We walk down the moonlit street in Wall Sina. 

I can feel tension in Jean’s strides. Every step that hits the ground is rough and not fully taken before he takes the other one. He’s not walking fast but there’s an impatience to the way he does this time around. 

He doesn’t walk like this—he usually takes confident, full steps. It’s enough to tell me he’s still awkward from that.

It’s been a few days since Jean walked in on me and Niccolo. 

Jean’s presence was nothing out of the ordinary. It was right for him to be there, to watch me and wish it was him that was between my legs like that. 

I, for one, do wish that. 

Since he zeroed in on me like that, I’ve never wanted anything more. 

I’d take it so slow, nice and slow, fuck into him until he eases into my body and can take over. There’s nothing hotter than a man who lets me take the lead in the bedroom.

Niccolo doesn’t do that. 

He’s controlling, demanding and can barely make me cum.

I have to clear this up with Jean first. 

I don’t want this to get in between us.

It could start something new though…

“About that night.” I say as we stop under a streetlight, “Niccolo and I aren’t together. Like, at all. He’s an ex.”

It flickers, a constant struggle to seize the light, only for it to evade at every attempt.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to walk into you and him. Yelena wanted me to get you—”

“No.” I interrupt firmly, “I know you like me and you liked what you saw.”

He unwinds his arm from mine, looking anywhere but at my face.

“I—”

He slowly backs up.

“You’ve felt that way from the start.” I continue, walking towards him, “It’s written all over your face. On the first night, in the carriage, when you walked in on me and, look, even now. Why can’t you just admit it?”

He hits the pillar of some desolate luxury motel, broad shoulders taking up the entire distance of it. Despite that, there’s this deniance furrowing in his eyebrows that I’m slowly starting to dislike. It was cute at the start but I need him to own up to it, own up to it like a man.

“...Mirabelle.” 

What bullshit.

“Jean.” I state, looking up at him, “I want to fuck you so bad that it hurts.”

Like magic, the streetlight turns on. A gentle buzz maintains as I search his face. Red blossoms on his cheekbones but no words draw from his mouth.

“There you are, Mirabelle!” someone calls me.

Pyxis is in the distance, waving at me, “We oughta get going. The meeting is resuming soon.”

Talk about horrible timing.

“Right behind ya, baldie.” I reciprocate his wave.

Pyxis walks back towards the building and I turn back at Jean one last time. 

One last chance…and…nothing.

I give up.

“Coming, Mirabelle:?” Pyxis calls.

“Yes!”

I walk away from what could have been.

[thesoftboiledegg]

X-216 looks cute in this commission that I ordered from @sorrelpaws. Tall and lanky, he wisely shields the flame from the wind as he lights a joint. This artist's style is so recognizable that I feel like I collected a rare trading card. An infinite number of X-216s live on the Curve, but there's only one Sorrel!

(X-216 Rick is my OC who appears alongside C-137 in my fics Spectrum of the Curve and Running Like Water 🌿)

[reidslovely]

Just a Tap

Synopsis: Before they were Peter and Bashful they were strangers with an annoying (semi-traumatic) meet cute.

Pairing: Frat!Peter x Fem!Reader/OC

CW: None really, car accident? maybe if you can count that. Swearing.

Reblog or comment in place of liking this post, pretty please.

Pulling out of ESU parking structure six was a hell fest. There was a constant flow of traffic that seemingly never let up, and a ton of pedestrians that would either wait for all the cars to pull out before crossing the path, or simply used the heavy traffic flow to their advantage. (Y/N) pushed her head back into her seat frustrated, why was New York traffic such a nightmare. The highway traffic started to let up and she sat straight up breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Fucking finally.” 

She looked right and then left before letting off her gas, letting her car roll. Out of nowhere a skateboarder rolled in front of her, causing her to barely tap him with her car. But still she felt terrible. She slammed on her breaks, her hands flying up to her mouth. The boy slammed his hands on the hood of her car, throwing his hands up. He was quite obviously laughing at the situation, and did not seem injured at all. Placing her car in park and throwing her flashers on she basically threw herself out of the vehicle, the skateboarder had already started walking away tossing a look over his shoulder. (Y/N), however, was frozen in place. 

“I am so sorry, are you okay? Do you need a ride?” She yelled after him, looking over her shoulder to make sure no other cars were leaving behind her. 

“I’m good! Just wanted to play it up a little bit.” 

 He laughs, turning, his skateboard in hand. “We should both watch where we are going next time.” He yelled back smiling. “You’re too pretty to be hitting boys with your car.” 

(Y/N) shook her head, swallowing the tears that had built up in her eyes. How could he just be joking about this. Then she saw the shirt: yellow with a red Theta Tau logo on it with ‘ESU est. 1930.’ stitched below it. Frat boys. Suddenly she felt less bad for tapping the bleached blonde with her car. 

“But I skate through here the same time everyday, maybe don’t hit me next time okay?” 

“How about I make sure I don’t miss next time?” She yells back getting into her car, now annoyed that he found the whole interaction funny when she was trying to be sincere. The blonde smiled in response, she watched him turn and skate away. She checked both ways multiple times and pulled onto the road heading to pick her friend up from work.

- 

Fraternity row was lit up in all different colors, the first football game of the season had just ended and the whole street was celebrating the victory. M.J. wrapped her arm around (Y/N) as they walked down the street. 

“Come on you seriously can’t still be hung up on the douchebag that skated out in front of you. He was in the wrong not you, he was jaywalking..jay..skating? Doesn’t matter.” The red head shook her head, her curls shaking. “He’s a dick for that and I’ll tell him if we ever see him. Now please relax and party. Please, it's the first big frat crawl of the semester.” 

“Fine..yeah, you’re right.” 

“I know I am.” M.J. kissed her friend's head, and started to say something else before being cut off. 

“Hey! Watson! Hey!”

M.J. and (Y/N) turned their heads quickly trying to spot the voice that came blaring towards them. A head of blonde hair was in front of them in seconds. A lanky guy stood before them engulfing M.J. in a hug which she gladly returned. “Oh my god. Osborn you scared me, hey this is my roommate and friend (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Harry the guy I was telling you about.”

Harry Osborn was a name you were all too familiar with. M.J. had been in love with him since summer orientation when they met and got stuck in the elevator together. They’d been talking ever since. 

“Hey nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah you too.” Harry smiles at her. “Hey, why don’t you guys come into Theta and party?” He offered up, pointing in the direction of the bright yellow door contrasting against the white siding of the huge house. 

“Look at that line, no thanks.” (Y/N) laughed.

“No no it’s my frat, well I’m a pledge but I can get y’all in come on.”

-

(Y/N) stood against the back wall of the party, a black plastic cup in hand as she sipped the vodka sprite mixture out of it. If she could fold in on herself she would, she didn’t even like frat crawls. She only went because M.J. begged her, and she didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to hang out with her. However, M.J. was nowhere in sight. Osborn had stolen her away as soon as they got into the house. 

“Well..look who it is.” A voice pooked around the corner at her, she jumped slightly. “Oh come on don’t be bashful. You already hit me with your car.” 

It was the blonde guy from yesterday, he leaned against the wall next to her. Smiling at her slightly. “I said I was sorry, you walked out in front of me.”

“I did yeah sorry. But it’s really rude of you.” (Y/N) stomped her foot wanting to crawl in a hole and cry. “I didn’t mean too hi-”

“No not that. I mean not asking for my name..it was the least you could do after all.”

Her brows furrowed, mouth forming a smile ‘o’. Her eyes feel to the ground and she bit the inside of her cheek. 

“Peter Parker..and you?”

“(Y/N) (Y/L).” 

Peter smiled and slid down the wall sitting on the floor, waiting for her to join him. 

“Nice to meet you (Y/N)…again.”

Wrote this very quickly this morning because the lab is empty and have no one coming in until later.

[crossbowandwitches]

What Should I Say? (Fred Weasley x OC)

A/N: Hi! I'm so sorry for the long wait, I was so nervous to carry this on, as this is the first story I've ever actually put out. Hope you enjoy the next part though!

Summary: In the bustling streets of Muggle London, Fred Weasley, known for his mischievous charm and quick wit, stumbles into an unexpected encounter that will turn his world upside down. At an ordinary acting class, he finds himself face to face with the enigmatic Delphine Howard, a woman who seems to have stepped right out of his dreams. However, he soon comes to a heart-wrenching realization: the love he's found in Delphine is a love he can never truly have. Or can he?

Warnings: Use of alcohol, swearing, but eventual smut, angst, stress etc.

Chapters 1 & 2

Word Count: 1540

Chapter 3: Delphine’s POV

I really disliked taking the tube after 8 pm, especially on a warm Friday night, and particularly on the Central line. It always reeked of alcohol or sweat, or both, since this line barely had air conditioning and it was still 23 degrees outside.

I put on my headphones and immersed myself in my favourite album, "If I Can’t Have Love I Want Power" by Halsey, as I embarked on my 15-stop journey from acting class to home.

My phone buzzed, and I saw a message from Russel: "Five Guys tonight?? x" Russel is my boyfriend, although it's complicated. The last thing I wanted was to entertain him tonight. Fridays were always the worst in the office, with endless weekly updates and making sure everything was sorted for the weekend, so I didn’t have to work over the weekend.

"I'm too tired tonight! x," I replied. Instantly, he sent me a sad face emoji. I should be used to this by now, the way he makes me feel bad because I won’t put out for him. He can be a dick, but I always end up going back to him because it's easier than trying again with someone new.

"Next Stop: Bethnal Green Station," I barely heard the announcement over my headphones, but then I realised I was one stop away. I grabbed my bag and made my way to the exit - not before accidentally hitting someone with my bag.

"Shoot, I’m so so-," I looked up and realized I had hit Fred Weasley, the tall and lanky redhead from Wednesday’s acting class.

"Delphine! Delphi!" He quickly corrected himself, knowing I’d prefer to be called Delphi. "Hey! How are you?" he asked.

"I’m good! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you. Are you OK?" My cheeks were going red; I could feel it. I was embarrassed!

“It’s all good, hah!” He reassured me with a little smile. "Are you heading home?" I realized then that I was pulling into my stop and panicked - I didn’t want this chat to end, and I didn’t know why.

"Yes! Oh god, this is my stop! It was lovely to see you." I offered him an apologetic smile before saying a quick goodbye and hopping on the train. I quickly turned around, and we waved at each other.

“I’ll text you!” He shouted out before the doors closed between us. Something about that comment made me excited.

-

Why was my heart racing? It’s just this tall guy from my acting class, this tall, ginger guy, this tall, handsome, cute- I stopped myself from thinking like that. He’s my student, I’m his teacher and that’s that. 

As I came round the corner to my flat, I saw Russel standing outside and instantly dreaded coming home. Russel was around 5’8, with shoulder length brown hair. He wasn’t unattractive, far from it. He reminded me a little of Jake Gyllenhaal.

I let out a deep sigh as he came over to hug me, “Did you not see my text? I’m tired. Go home please.” He went in to kiss me and I instantly moved my face away. 

“Oh come on, Delphine. I brought dinner.” He grinned and held up a Five Guys takeaway bag, “Your favourite!”

I shook my head, “It’s /your/ favourite.” I headed up the two flights of stairs that lead to my flat with Russel following suit. “I’m really not in the mood tonight. Let's just plan something Sunday, please?” I pleaded but he was in the door the second after I unlocked it. 

“I’m here now, gorgeous. Come on, don’t be rude to your guest!” He shouted out, he was already heading to the kitchen to find drinks, probably something alcoholic. 

I let out an internal scream before kicking my Converse off at the door and locking it. I wish I was still on the tube with Fred. 

Chapter 4: Fred’s POV

As the train pulled away, I just couldn’t stop thinking about her. Was it wrong that I was thinking about her like this? 

“Fuck it.” I muttered to myself before pulling my phone out and the business card she gave me. I saved her number and sent her a quick text, ‘It’s Fred, from acting class. Hope you got home safe.’ 

The train finally reached my stop, and I stepped out into the busy station. I was heading to a party that George invited me to, he practically forced me to come. When I arrived, it was already packed, with music blaring from speakers, and people dancing, laughing and chatting in every corner. 

“There you are, Freddie!” George was already ushering me over to a group of friends before I had a chance to breathe, “Come and meet my friends.”

I constantly checked my phone and I could see George giving me weird looks, no way was I going to tell him why, but I must have been three drinks down when Delphi texted me back; 

‘Hey Fred, thanks! I got home safe :)’ I was grinning ear to ear, but instantly stopped myself when George came over. 

“Who you texting?” He asked, one eye raised. He was onto me. 

“Huh? Nothing.” I was bright red, George wasn’t going to let this go, so I popped my phone into my back pocket and went back to the party. 

-

By the time I decided to call it a night, it was well past 2 am and I had quite a bit to drink. I called George and me an Uber since neither of us was in a position to get any form of public transport. 

When we finally reached my flat, it was already 3 am. I fumbled with my keys, eventually managing to unlock the door and stumble inside. I collapsed onto my bed, my head spinning and my thoughts instantly on Delphi. 

Without even thinking, I grabbed my phone and texted her back, ‘Hey Delphi. Just got back from a party. Hope you had a good night. See you in class. :)’. 

“Shit!” I shouted, almost throwing my phone across the room. “Why did I do that?!” I took a deep sigh before popping my phone down. There was nothing I could do about it now. 

Chapter 5: Delphine’s POV

Russel was already rummaging through my kitchen cabinets. "Where do you keep the wine glasses?" he called out.

"Top shelf, left side," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. I followed him into the kitchen, feeling the weight of the evening pressing down on me.

He found the glasses and poured two generous servings of white wine. "Here you go," he said, handing me one.

I took the glass but didn't drink. "Russel, I really am tired. I just want to relax tonight."

He took a sip of his wine and leaned against the counter, looking at me with a mix of frustration and something else I couldn't quite place. "You always say that, Delphine. When are we going to spend some real time together?"

I sighed, setting the glass down. "It's been a long week. Can we just plan something for Sunday? I promise I'll make it up to you."

Russel's eyes narrowed. "You always say that too. I'm starting to think you don't want to spend time with me at all." …I wonder why.

“I don’t want an argument tonight, Russel.” I said sternly, “Please, go home.”

“God, Delphine. Fine!” He practically threw his glass into the sink, “I’ll just get it somewhere else…” I wasn’t surprised to hear him mutter that under his breath - this is what he did. 

“Yeah, you do that.” I said as I was practically shoving him out the door and slamming the door in his face. I know what you’re thinking, why is she even with this dude? I ask myself this daily, weekly, hourly. It’s like a form of self-punishment, I just keep crawling back. 

“Now that he was gone, I can get on with my evening,” I said to myself as I unpacked my work bag and plugged my laptop in to charge. I rummaged around the bag for my phone and saw I had a text message from Fred. 

When he said he’d text, he meant it - a man that actually delivered.  -

I very rarely check my phone when I wake up, I’m usually rushing to the bathroom or prioritising a coffee first thing. I also don’t set alarms most of the time, I always wake up around 6.30 am, and this morning wasn’t any different. 

I was mid coffee-making when I heard my phone ringing. I didn’t make it back in time to get the call but it was from Russel, no surprise there. He probably hadn’t even gone home yet. I also saw a text message from Fred and chuckled to myself - a drunk text! 

‘Hey Fred, hope the hangover isn’t too bad, see you Wednesday!’ I was debating inviting him to Monday’s class, it was a smaller class, with more experienced actors which wouldn’t be a bad thing, but he’d probably be even more out of his comfort zone. 

I put my phone back and got on with my morning - there was no way he’d text back until this afternoon. 

[k9effect]

Oh okay, you've twisted my arm ;) I was gonna ramble anyways. Info under the cut!

So the basis of the story, for some quick context, is that its a new world settlement narrative. Earth is severely over populated and simply cannot house as many people as there is, so since technology and science can allow it, they decide to expand to the stars ✨️✨️✨️ and send out a bunch of settlement missions. A lot of the people on these missions chose to be there. They signed up and understood the gravity (pun intended) of what they were doing, that they'd never be able to come home. But they needed to fill a certain amount of roles and quotas for these missions and when people stopped volunteering, they filled these roles via draft, a population lottery. So not exactly everyone wanted to be there.

Here's some info on my blorbos!

Scuttle is the og oc for this. He was the first fella in my head. (Idk why he's named Scuttle, its probably a nickname that stuck but i havent thought of an actual name for him yet lmao) He's a mechanic who signed on voluntarily. His grandparents, who took care of him and raised him after his mother was gone, had passed away and he was needing some drastic change in his life, lest the grief consume him. So without really thinking, he signed on for the settlement mission as a mechanic. Since he has a degree and a passion for it, he got accepted pretty easily. Admittedly, he shouldn't have passed the medical (he's disabled, has a prosthetic leg after an accident) or the psychological (was doing this for the wrong reasons (to get away from his problems)) but the organisers were desperate for people and he was quite qualified so they overlooked it. He's still happy with his decision, even if he misses home a lot sometimes.

He's kind of a short king, stocky and densely built with muscle. Rocks a mullet, is also a natural ginger.

This is Paxton! He goes by Pax tho. He was an army grunt who took a transfer opportunity to join the defence regiment for the settlement missions. Hes part of the security and defence team in charge of keeping the settlement safe from any hostile life forms on the new worlds that may pose a threat. Spoilers, he gets pretty fucked up by a bear-type alien and, after he's rescued, gets medically discharged from the defence/military team and transferred to a much easier and less stressful job after hes recovered. He ends up worked in the agricultural field, but moreso just keeps to himself tending to a few of the planet's native flowers. He makes some real strides and figuring out how propagation and such work on the planet.

Him and Scutt have kind of a thing going for a while but its not until after his maulling that he really starts to rely on Scuttle's support and they become more of a serious romantic couple.

Pax is tall and lanky, had a lot more muscle on him from his military/defence days but after the maulling, he drops a lot of that and slims down. He has a cute little gap in his front teeth <3

This is Kashvi! More often referred to as just Kash tho. She's the resident smartypants. A desi girl who graduated from university with a major in biology, when she went to further her education (probably headed towards a doctorate or smth) when she was offered a full ride scholarship/opportunity to join the settlement mission on the science team due to her outstanding work. It was a lengthy decision making process but inevitably the deciding factor was that the scholarship included accommodation for herself and her immediate family, meaning they could all come with her. They collectively decided to relocate and join the settlement mission. She then got taken under the wing of the science team and began her training and study in becoming a xenologist (thats the term ive been using anyways ahah idk if there's a better one?? For like, the study of alien life).

Her family kind of adopt Scuttle since him and Kash are very similar ages. They become his family and he has a sibling dynamic with Kash. She also spends a lot of time with Pax post his injury since he has first hand experience and information on the wild life, they form somewhat of a friendship that is only deepened when Pax realises how close she is with Scuttle. Kash, like Scuttle, tends to overwork herself. So the two of them make sure to remind each other to take breaks and drink water and sleep, even if they themself don't follow their own advice lmao.

Now finally we have Leisha. She Does Not want to be here. She was one of the unlucky people who got conscripted/drafted via the population lottery. She is here completely against her will and is not happy about it one bit. She's the newest of the four and is still earlier in development than the rest so she's not as grounded. She's got some very justified and valid anger issues about the whole situation. Spends a lot of her time, along with other conscripted people, trying to forge a plan on how to get back home, but its millions of light years away.

I'm not certain exactly what her role in the settlement is yet. She grows quite close to Kash, it's unintentional but turns out having a friend is good for her. Kash kind of makes this whole situation liveable. Leisha takes interest in her work and quickly takes a more romantic interest in Kash. She's a bit of a bad influence on Kash but in turn Kash is good for her <3

-

I love all these lil goobers so much and they are quite literally all I've been thinking about lately. I'm so down to answer questions about them if y'all have any <3 I've been doodling them a bunch so I might do a doodle dump at some point. I'll do more fandom stuff eventually but I'm riding this out right now :)

Tagging some people who may be interested: @catstrophysics @sephieblue @calkale @yeah-w-r-i-t-e

Edit: i do have a little tiny discord server for these guys, just to organise my thoughts and ramble about them in there, so HERE IS THE LINK if you wanna come hang out perchance

[snootlestheangel]

Some Silly Shadow OC Stuff

Snootles is on something (not drugs just a weird wavelength of brainrot) so ignore her while she rambles aimlessly about her Shadow Company OCs ****Moose is @cod-dump 's OC not mine****

Flash has a beautiful singing voice (i've probably said this before but he's like angelic, okay). A song that screams Cole "Flash" Halley is "Selene by Imagine Dragons". Every time I hear it, I have this little mental image of our beautiful blonde bombshell just dancing around in his bottlecap covered jean jacket. It's funky and fun and just it's my little Flash boy

Flash started having his sexuality crisis after joining Shadow Company. He swears the two aren't related.

Flash unable to decide if he wants to be demolished by a bear or make sweet love with a woman

Ness is ace, Flash is the definition of a bisexual disaster, and Woody definitely experimented with his sexuality when younger

Flash is so lanky I can't- He's got the longest fucking legs and they're so skinny and so of course he rocks a nice pair of skinny jeans. Better yet, cuffed skinny jeans *dies cause he's too cute*

Truck: You fucked around *cocks shotgun* Truck: Now it's time to find out

Flash: Man, women are incredible! I fucking love women! I'm so straight *meets Gaz* Flash, panicking: Oh god, oh fuck-

Ness, to Woody: I fucked up Woody: How?? Ness: I was trying to explain something to the commander but I couldn't get the words out for the life of me and so I just started crying instead. Woody: ... Ness: I don't want a father figure, please help me fix this Woody: *bursts into laughter* Ness: IT'S NOT FUNNY! I DON'T NEED A FATHER FIGURE! Woody: *laughing harder* Ness: PLEASE! I'M TRYING TO IGNORE MY DADDY ISSUES, NOT MAKE THEM WORSE!! Woody: *choking from laughing too hard*

Flash, hanging out in Moose's office just rambling: Ya know, I'm definitely a tits kind of guy. Like, boobs are nice, but men can also have titties, ya know? And man titties are nice too Moose: *turns around slowly to stare at him* Flash, realizing what he said: Wait what-

Flash's mental image during that last conversation:

And yes, Flash would simply cease to exist if he ever met Farah and Alex. They'd be too powerful for his bisexual ass

[sl-newsie]

Falling For You (Robert Fischer x OC)

Summary: A city girl’s life as a waitress can’t improve, can it? Wrong! As fate would have it, one woman catches the eye of Robert Fischer and he offers her a job as his escort. Why choose someone from low society for such an elegant position? Will this employment stay platonic… or will their feelings for each other start to bleed through? Warnings: Inappropriate language (nothing too extreme), hinting at intimacy

“Leave me alone!” I shove the man’s hand off my shoulder and attempt to escape into the city crowds.

Talk about a rainy day. Literally. Not only am I being pursued by a sketchy customer but it’s also raining buckets. Somehow I knew today was going to be a downer. The train broke down so I had to walk to work, nobody felt like tipping, and my boss wants me to do overtime over the holiday weekend. One day at a time, living the full city life as a waitress. And now one customer is getting too attached for my taste.

“We’re not through-!” He grabs my arm again and I kick him in the shin.

“Yes we are! I’m not interested!”

His eyes go feral and before I know it he swipes his foot under my feet and I’m falling backwards to the wet pavement. “You bitch!”

“Ah!” My head’s going to split-! “Oh my God!”

A pair of new hands grab my arms just before I hit the ground. I’m not dead.

“Are you alright?” a gentle but serious voice asks from above.

I look up to see my savior: a lanky man in a business suit with a spiffy tie and suspenders underneath a navy blazer. Not everyone can wear suspenders but he pulls them off well. Is my heartbeat speeding up because of the fall or because of the man’s incredibly handsome face? A familiar face, like a celebrity. Clear blue eyes, cute haircut, sharply-sculpted cheekbones, and soft lips. A rich man, no doubt.

“Hey, money bags. Leave the bitch to me and scram!”

Oh. I forgot the jerk was still here. The rich man, still holding me, doesn’t seem to care. He helps me stand up and takes his time to respond after giving the jerk a look-over. He’s not impressed.

“You will never bother this woman again, or you will regret it.”

His words are steady but hold a threat with new meaning. Both the bully and I know what he’s talking about. This man has half the city in his pocket and could make any death an accident. Thank God! The brute gets the hint and sprints off, leaving me flustered to still be clinging to the rich man’s suit.

“What’s your name?” Even his voice is attractive.

Before I answer I pull away and wipe off what water I can to make myself presentable- although it’s hard to in a rainstorm. 

“Margaret Chillinger.”

“Here, let’s get out of this,” the man says and leads me to a nearby restaurant. When we get inside he offers me a seat at a corner table and we both sit. People are already staring and I know what they’re thinking. Why would someone like him be in this low-rate place with someone like me?

The man ignores the stares. “Do you know me?”

Once the rainwater is wiped off (no doubt my makeup is smudged now) I nod my head. “I know who you are. Anyone who reads the papers knows who Robert Fischer is. I’m so sorry to hear about your father.”

Earlier this week I saw a headline claiming that Maurice Fischer, head of Fischer Morrow, one of the biggest energy companies of the world, had passed away. What are the chances I come across his son Robert Fischer? But I don’t feel as odd because Fischer is acting odd as well. Did he whisper ‘not dreaming?’ Why is he even in this part of town anyway?

“Looks to me like you’re in need of a job. A better job,” Fischer observes. “How about considering working for me? Not as a secretary. One that’s more… sociable.”

A new job? Me? Working for a multi-millionaire? A handsome multi-millionaire? What’s the catch?

“Are you saying you are in need of an escort, Mr. Fischer?”

“I need a smart and attractive woman who’s not ditzy enough to trip on her heels.” Fischer never looks away, still with the same no-kidding expression. “Someone the press can admire.”

A showgirl. That’s what he needs. “You obviously come from money. I imagine you already have a large arsenal of pretty girls to parade around with.”

Fischer chuckles. “Looks can be deceiving. What if I told you that I’ve never officially had a hired escort? Only a few temporary employees.” His expression changes. “Will there be any jealous boyfriends I should be aware of?”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Looks can be deceiving. Bold of you to assume I have one. You saw how my last encounter went and he wasn’t even my boyfriend.” I arch a brow. “You rich guys usually don’t come here to associate with lower society. Why choose me?”

“Because I take you as a woman who’s bold enough to not be afraid of authority.”

So he needs a girl with guts. “I don’t fear authority, I respect it. Also I kinda owe you for saving my head from becoming a split melon. You need my street smarts, Mr. Fischer.”

The man’s smile brightens at my diagnosis and he pats my shoulder. “You’ll do just fine. How does ten grand sound as a starting wage?”

Ten grand? This is one Hell of an interview. There has to be a catch. “How deep would the… physical details of the job venture?” I ask slowly.

Fischer is quick to explain. “Basic hand-holding, conjoined arms, the occasional kiss on the cheek. Nothing more.”

Wow. This is not what I expected. How is a man this rich so- so… kind? “Could you maybe-?”

“I will put it in writing,” Mr. Fischer finishes for me. “And I always abide by my contracts, Ms. Chillinger.”

I’ve never had a contract before. Ten grand… Ah, Heck. Why not? It’s better than my crummy waitress job. I can pretend to be an escort. Especially to such a generous employer.

“Ok. So when do I start?”

“You started 20 minutes ago. And you’re doing a brilliant job.” Mr. Fischer notices my confusion. “See those men there?” I look to where he’s pointing and spot two men wearing sportcoats, each occasionally looking over at us. If they’re trying to be discreet they’re doing a terrible job of it. “They’re reporters. They’ve been taking pictures throughout our whole conversation.”

That’s how popular this man is. This is how public my job is going to be? I need to alert my family so they don’t die of embarrassment. 

Mr. Fischer scribbles something on a business card and slides it across the table. “Here’s my personal number, just so when I call you will know I’m not a stranger.”

“But you don’t have my number.”

He simply tilts his head in consideration. “I have my ways. I’ll send over some supplies for your job.” Supplies? “Your first session starts tonight. I’m flying out to Los Angeles and need you to come with me. You’ll be given a private hotel room.”

Los Angeles? Just how much does-? But before I ask Mr. Fischer gets up from the table and gives a proper goodbye before heading back into the rainy streets. Well done, Margret. You’ve moved up from being a waitress at a greasy spoon to being an escort for a millionaire. A very handsome millionaire. How is a city girl supposed to pull this off?

Well. The question of pulling it off is answered. Outside my apartment door are bags and boxes of unknown department store goods. What’s Fischer done now? I quickly push the pile into my apartment before the neighbors can get suspicious. What is- Oh. 

The packages contain every woman’s dream. Gorgeous dresses, elegant evening gowns, classy heels, designer bags, expensive makeup brands. This is the supplies Mr. Fischer was talking about. Something to clean up my image. Clean up his image.

It’s not for you, Margret. He could have picked any woman to dress nicely. Remember that everyone is driven by fear, survival, worry, and anxiety. If Robert’s going to survive the corporate world he needs a woman by his side to show off. The rich man’s world is crazy.

I shower and scrub my skin raw to get rid of the dirt and grime covering me after today’s shift. It doesn’t take as long as I thought to get dressed. I have no idea what event Mr. Fischer is flying to so I choose a simple but classy black dress paired with gold heels. I look the part, now it’s time to test it. Downstairs I find a very sleek limo waiting out front.

“Are you Ms. Chillinger?” the driver asks.

“Yeah, that’s me. Did Mr. Fischer send you?”

“Yes. He instructed me to drive you to the airport. Do you need help with your bag?” I politely shake my head and climb inside, making him look surprised. “That’s the first time a girl hasn’t asked for special treatment. I’m Daniel, by the way.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Daniel. Do you know why I’m here?”

“I have a good idea. My advice? If you want to look legit then you need to pour everything you have into looking confident and rich. Very rich. The cameras love a rich smile.”

Even Fischer's chauffeur is nice! Maybe this job won’t be so bad after all. 

“Thanks, Daniel. Now let’s not keep Mr. Fischer waiting.”

“Good evening, Mr. Fischer. Ready to fly?” 

Even my voice is different. I take Daniel’s advice and attempt to hide my laid-back city accent with a posh tone. It seems to please Mr. Fischer, who’s wearing a different suit that’s a sharp black with a navy blue tie.

His pleased smile is good praise. “I thought that dress would look nice. Do you like it?”

“It cost more than all of my belongings. You have good taste, Mr. Fischer.” I look across the runway and see a giant white jet approaching. “Private jet? Fancy.”

Fischer shrugs. “This is what a business empire gets you. Now follow closely.”

Right. Time to go to work. I grab my simple carry-on bag and Fischer offers an arm for me to take. I must say it’s not as uncomfortable as I thought. He’s gentle but still tense, something expected from a stressed businessman. He leads me to the plane and immediately the stewardess rushes out to greet us- Or him, specifically. 

“Hello, Robbie! Looking handsome as ever-! Oh.” She notices my arm linked with his and her smile stiffens. “Who’s this?”

“Tiffany, meet Margaret. She’s my newest employee,” Fischer answers smoothly.

Aw, that’s sweet. He introduces me as an employee instead of the specific title. Though Tiffany seems to catch on to what I really am because her gaze tells anything but friendly terms.

“Oh. Robbie, what’ll it be? Whiskey or Scotch?”

Tiffany desperately tries to lure him away but to no avail. Mr. Fischer holds his place next to me and we both start climbing the stairs to the jet. His business behavior precedes him. Does he ever break from it?

“Feel free to sit anywhere,” Robert says and takes his own seat next to the window. “Have you flown before?”

“No. But I’m not afraid of it.”

“Before we begin, here is the contract you requested.”

Fischer pulls out a small stack of papers and slides them onto the tray table. How did he draft that so quickly? It looks… surprisingly thorough. ‘I, Robert Fischer, pledge to abstain from physical and mental harassment in favor of one Margaret Chillinger. This includes unconsented kissing, groping, and sexual intercourse.’ There’s also a bulleted list of more restrictions. He’s thought this out well. And my half looks just as laid-out. ‘I, Margaret Chillinger, pledge to carry out the position of a lady escort to one Robert Fischer. This includes appropriate presentation, etiquette, and attire, attending required social events, and consenting to public press.’ Impressive.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Fischer,” I reply and sign my name on the dotted line. “Pleasure to be in business. Would you like to discuss the details of tonight’s event?”

“Robert!” Tiffany’s back. And she’s holding a tray with a hot towel. “I’ve prepped your flight necessities! Oh.” She makes a dramatic performance to see me sitting across from him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know Robert would have a plus one. So there’s only one towel.”

I wave it off to show no offense. “I can handle not having a towel. Thanks anyway.”

Tiffany’s eyes flash and she retreats back to the employee lounge. 

“She’s pretty,” I nod to where the stewardess just stood. “Why not use her instead of me?”

“Because she’s a scatter-brained harlot.”

My eyes nearly pop out at his blunt language. Fischer just laughs and continues.

“The only reason she works here is because her mother is the head chairwoman of the airport. Just watch.”

We wait a few minutes and sure enough the stewardess walks by again. This time she’s carrying a tray with a bottle of blue liquid and a single glass. Zero hospitality skills. Even if I hate a customer I always give them my best service. But that job is behind me now.

“Tiffany, what drink is that?” Fischer points to the bottle.

The smiling woman holds it up. “A type of liquor, I think. It was in the cabinet next to the winerack.”

“Tiffany, that’s windex.”

It’s-? Oh my God! I have to look away to keep from laughing at the big mistake. Robert’s right! How on Earth is this lady qualified to work here? 

The poor girl tightly grips the tray and stiffly walks to the back.

“See? Completely hopeless,” Robert stifles a laugh. “Now about the event…”

The rest of the flight goes uninterrupted by Tiffany. Robert explains that the event we will be attending is a charity gala held for large companies. It’s a good thing I chose this gown instead of a sundress. He tells me that I’ll be free to wander as long as I don’t leave the building. That, and I’m not allowed to associate too closely with other men.

“That’s no problem for me. Your society is far from my own.”

“Yet you still agreed to work for me,” Robert points out.

“Not every rich guy is a s nice as you, Mr. Fischer. By the way, thanks for treating my job professionally.”

“You’ll do your job well, Ms. Chillinger.”

The jet lands and another luxury car is waiting outside. I could get used to L.A. The evening weather is gorgeous! As we’re driven through the bright streets I can’t stop staring at the many marvels all around us. And it gets better! The building we stop at is, quite frankly, a fortress. Far more wide than tall to accommodate the earthquake regulations, yet still breathtaking.

“Impressed?” Mr. Fischer asks from behind.

All I can do is nod. It’s not until he offers his arm again that I snap back to reality. Get it together, Margaret. Do your job.

“Mr. Fischer! Over here!”

Oh boy. The press. Just like Robert said. And they look hungry for good newsfeed. 

“Follow my lead,” Mr. Fischer whispers. “Just smile. That’s all there is to it.”

He starts walking and we do quick work to strut by the photographers, each offering smiles for whatever articles they’re writing. God, I hope it’s not too humiliating. Fischer hires new mistress? Rags to riches? Street trash becomes gorgeous gold digger? As far as I know nobody knows who I am. The public must assume I’m just any ordinary escort.

Inside the building are dozens and dozens of more rich men. Most of them are over 50 but there are a few like Robert who are still young. Aside from looking rich the only thing that most have in common is their escorts. All around me I see women being paraded around like a dog show. Once again I give a silent prayer to Robert for buying me a dress that is classy and appropriate. Some of these girls’ dresses wouldn’t even apply as shirts in my book.

“You look stunning tonight, Mr. Fischer!” A fellow escort compliments.

Now her employer joins the conversation, a shorter man with thinning hair. “And this young lady of yours is gorgeous! Where’d you find her?”

“Actually she found me,” Fischer replies with a smirk. “Margaret is a remarkable person to have around.”

The man lets out a gut laugh and winks. “Not just for social calls, I hope.”

“You have no idea.”

A sick feeling tugs at my stomach and I suddenly want to inch away. You knew this was coming, Margaret. These are business sharks. Not saints.

“Why don’t you go stretch your legs?” Robert’s voice offers an escape. “I’ll meet up with you later.”

Thank you, Mr. Fischer! I make sure to give him a grateful smile and then hightail it to the back. Maybe I can hide here-

“Well hello there,” a new voice lurks in the corner. A tall man in a cream Italian suit struts over with a devilish look in his eyes. “And who might you be?”

Stay strong. “I am Mr. Fischer’s escort. May I take a message?”

He grimaces at the mention of Robert. “Ah, Fischer. You know you could do so much better than him. What does he pay?” He creeps closer and I feel myself getting cornered to the wall. “I can make it worth your while.”

“I’m afraid that is out of the question,” I say firmly and slink past him. “If you have a problem with Mr. Fischer then I’d be happy to arrange an appointment.”

This is where the ten grand comes from. I wouldn’t be surprised if some women charge higher. I sneak around a corner and find a balcony. Good. I can use some fresh air. Outside the familiar noise of the city brings comfort to me.

“There you are,” Mr. Fischer greets and joins me on the balcony. “Doing alright? I saw Nicklson corner you earlier.”

“I will never understand how you can willingly associate with them, Mr. Fischer. They’re scheming, perverted monsters. I’ve met bums in the city who have more morals than them.”

He walks up next to me and puts his hand over mine. It’s not a gesture of business. It’s more comforting, more personal.

“You’ve done brilliantly, Ms. Chillinger.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Au contraire. Ever since we walked in, every guy here has been looking at you. I just closed a very profitable deal that was once impossible all because of you. Some men here are attracted to intelligence, and you’ve delivered most pleasantly. So, ready to call it a night?”

I… I did it. My first night as an escort and I nailed it! I just need to get over this sick feeling.

“Yeah, let’s get outta here,” my city slang slips through but Robert doesn’t seem to mind.

When I first told my old boss I was quitting he thought I was joking. After handing in my official resignation, signed by Mr. Fischer himself, he nearly passed out. A few days later my first payment got transferred to my account. Turns out I can stretch ten grand very thinly. That and once every few days Robert will have me run a few errands for some extra cash. Picking up dry cleaning, scheduling doctor appointments, mailing packages. 

Four months go by. The pattern I’ve grown used to is simple. Every Friday I need to wear either a sundress or cocktail dress to a company meeting. Every Wednesday is an evening gown for publicity outings. Sometimes Robert lets me pick the place for dinner, other times he surprises me. Before each meeting I practice smiling in the mirror. After a few weeks of escorting I began seeing myself in the papers, even on TV. No surprise there are a few negative reports, with some saying I’m only seeing Mr. Fischer for his money. But for those who have gotten close enough they report differently. ‘Margaret is a delightful person to chat with.’ ‘Sometimes I even forget she’s an escort, she’s so funny!’ ‘Margaret can carry a conversation with a drunk Scotsman.’

The news eats me up with no problem. My family, on the other hand, sees things differently. My father was very proud to see me move up in the workforce. My mother was appalled to see me being towed around by Mr. Fischer on TV. My brother saw the upside with the paycheck but offered to cut off Fischer’s hands if he ever violated our contract. 

The contract that Robert has never tested even once. Only simple gestures, nothing more. Just as he promised. The first time he gestured for me to kiss him it came almost too easy. It certainly helps that he’s easy on the eyes but there’s something else about Mr. Fischer. It feels natural to kiss his cheek, to let him hold me for pictures. After a while I can’t help but start to wonder what real love feels like. How it would feel if someone like Robert actually loved me-

“Robert! Margaret! Over here!”

Today’s event is the opening of a new theater. Both of us have a liking for performing arts and decided to attend the opening night of the first show. Of course there were photographers in the theater with us so I turned on the charm. Hold Robert’s hand, lay my head gently on his shoulder. Pretend to fall asleep. They loved it.

Now that the show is over we’re faced with the sea of reporters.

“Margaret! That new dress is dynamite!”

“Mr. Fischer! Mr. Fischer! Stephanie from Playboy. Would your escort be willing for a photo shoot?”

That last one nearly makes my jaw drop but Robert blocks me from her sight.

“Right this way, Mr. Fischer.” The theater owner shows us to the back of the building, where Daniel is waiting.

“Pedal to the metal, Daniel. These people are going crazy.”

I go to pull the door open but Mr. Fischer beats me to it and lets me in first. What a gentleman.

“Good job, darling,” he sighs in relief when the car starts driving.

“God help my poor parents. I’ll never hear the end of this.”

“It’s all a charade. They know that.”

I shake my head and take the time to scratch my hairspray-filled hair, messing up the classy hairdo. “It’s still humiliating. When you go out everyone practically bows because you’re… you. With money. I can hardly walk to my apartment without my neighbors teasing about how I’m your “squeeze for hire.””

I was right to assume that this job wouldn’t be as easy as it seems. After almost a week of starting as an escort my nosy neighbors finally spotted me coming home in clothing that is way too extravagant for a waitress’ salary. They put two and two together once they saw the news. 

“Then let's work smarter, not harder. Come live at my place.”

What? I turn to face Robert too quickly and he takes my surprise as hostility.

“You’ll have your own room, of course,” he stutters. “This way our arrangement will be more civilized.”

Our arrangement. If this gets any deeper then people really will assume we’re together. But he’s right. If no one sees me outside of work then they can’t make up stories. Right? Still… It feels wrong to take advantage of his hospitality.

“You’ve already done enough for me. I don’t want to impose-”

“You won’t be,” Robert interrupts. “I have more than enough. Too much, actually. I need someone to share it with.”

“Maybe it’s different in the rich world but in my world it’s not polite to live off riches you don’t earn. I feel wealthy enough with how much you pay me already.”

He doesn’t seem to be taking no for an answer. Mr. Fischer reaches across the seat and takes my hand. “You are earning it, Margaret. You’re working for me.”

It’s a job. It’s… a job. A job hiding in Fischer’s house. “By playing as your happy homemaker?”

Robert’s eyes show he’s thinking. He gets like this when he’s playing chess, trying to think ahead. “More than that. I- I’ll explain later.”

We’ve arrived back at Fischer Morrow, where a group of more business officials wait inside.

I frown at the gathering through the window. “Mr. Fischer, what’s this? I didn’t think we were hosting another dinner until next month?”

“A last-minute party, I’m afraid. Only for board members so it won’t be too big.”

Wonderful. The excitement of the previous show at the theater is fading because now I have to deal with these people. It’s so much easier when it’s just Robert and I posing for pictures.

“Good luck, Mr. Fischer. Ms. Chillinger.”

“Thanks, Daniel,” I say and wave goodbye.

Robert holds out an arm and together we make our way to yet another social gathering. Oh! Here comes Mr. Browning. Mr. Fischer’s godfather is still skeptical of him involving me with so many events but every time the subject comes up Robert always argues in my favor.

“Good evening, you two.”

“Good evening, Mr. Browning,” I greet politely. “Would you gentlemen like a moment alone?”

“That would be very appreciated, Ms. Chillinger,” the man nods.

I pull away from Robert (does he look disappointed?) and slip inside the lobby. My favorite place is the fountain. Why do corporate buildings always have fountains? None of them compare to the Fischer Morrow fountain. Its main attraction is a center sculpture of a bronze Earth with different jets and currents giving off water displays representing earth, wind, fire, and air. Around the edges are real vines and other plants that give the fountain an extra finishing touch. 

“Mind if I join you?” 

It’s Jolene, Mr. Wallman’s escort. She’s nice.

“Hello, Jolene. How’s the water here?”

Her makeup-heavy face shows a look of warning. “Calm before the storm. The men here could use your pizazz right now. Care to start a conversation? I’ve tried everything.”

“Maybe try to talk about the new member of the Atomic Energy Commission?”

Jolene’s eyes widen. “I forget you’re still new to this. Hon, you never discuss work with your employer. We’re only here to please them and the reporters. If I tried to talk about Mr. Wallman’s work he would be very upset.”

Upset? Mr. Fischer never mentioned anything about avoiding work topics. Does he just assume I won’t talk about it? I’ve never thought about it before.

“There you are, dear.” Speak of the devil. “Would you mind joining me over here?”

I take his arm and resume my smile. “Of course, Mr. Fischer.”

He shows me over to the other side of the lobby where three men are waiting. Jolene’s right. They look bored and uninterested. If Robert needs to sell any new business pitches I need to liven them up.

“Hello again, gentlemen. You know Margaret, I assume?” Mr. Fischer introduces me.

“Ah! Of course! L.A.’s favorite sweetheart.”

“You do know how to pick ‘em, Fischer.”

I take my cue and fish for topics. “Did anyone hear the story about the youth development charity?” All I get are blank smiles. They must not like hearing an escort talk about this, like Jolene said. Time to distract. “On another note, you’ll never guess the dilemma I had last week. I chose a black dress for the New York Stock Market gala, and Mr. Fischer chose to wear navy blue! I had to find a last-minute dress to match him.”

Now all the men laugh at my error (even though both Robert and I went through miscommunication in the predicament) and partake in examining my current outfit.

“You make up for it, Ms. Chillinger. That dress you have now can do no wrong.”

One man continues to lecture me about his water plant and in the corner of my eye I see Mr. Fischer talking business with the others. My plan works because there’s no denying they're distracted now.

“Thank you, gentlemen. It’s been a productive night, but now Ms. Chillinger and I must be heading off.”

“Go easy on her, Fischer. Can’t afford to lose a pretty face like that.”

Those bastards! I swear one of these days I’m going to snap and let out my city side. I wait until Robert walks us outside before letting out a heavy groan.

“I know, I’m sorry. But you did your job well,” Mr. Fischer assures me. “I’ll give you an extra grand, if you want.”

“It’s not about the money, Mr. Fischer. You can’t buy dignity. The only reason I’m still in this is because you’re the best boss I’ve ever had.”

He doesn’t say anything. If he does have a comment he keeps quiet. We keep walking down the sidewalk and there’s still no sign of a pickup car.

“Daniel’s not coming. I thought we’d walk for a while. Is that ok?” Robert asks, almost sounding nervous. 

Why would he be nervous? Probably because he’s not used to this part of town. It’s almost near where I live- or where I used to live. Now I have to think about moving to Robert’s place.

“I’m always up for a stroll outdoors,” I try to sound optimistic. “Have you always lived indoors?”

His brow furrows. “Doesn’t everyone live indoors?”

I let out a laugh. “No! I mean, yes people do. But have you always lived in a penthouse? Ever gone outside for the heck of it?”

“Oh! Um, sort of. When I was younger. Now I don’t really think about it too much-”

“Hey!”

A new hand shoves me away from Fischer and I see a new threat, only this time it’s not a corporate shark. It’s a mugger. He’s definitely a rookie because there’s no gun or knife, as if he expects for Robert to simply hand over his money.

“Take out your wallet!”

“C-Calm down. Here, here it is-” Mr. Fischer gives in and slowly pulls out his wallet. Is he serious?

“He’s not giving you anything,” I argue and step in front. “Touch Mr. Fischer again and the hand comes off.”

The mugger scoffs. “Don’t tempt me, bi- Ow!”

I grab his wrist and give it a hard twist, then give him a kick to the groin. He crumples to the ground and with my sharp heel I step straight on his wrist for good measure. He’s taken care of but we can’t stay here for long if Fischer’s going to surrender so easily to someone like that.

“Thanks for that,” Robert says when I pull him away from the groaning victim.

“I don’t kid around. Never let them see that they get to you.”

“Should I hire you as my bodyguard as well?” Fischer half-jokes.

I roll my eyes and can’t hold back a smile. “You definitely still need my street smarts.”

Why did I do that? My job is to look pretty for the cameras, not defend Fischer from threats. It was out of the goodness of my heart. Only that, right? Not because I feel sorry, not because of- something deeper. I’m doing it to be nice, because he’s definitely been plenty nice to me.

I move into Mr. Fischer’s home the following week. ‘Home’ isn’t the right word. More like an empire. He still owns his father’s penthouse downtown, along with a large mansion on the outskirts and a cabin in the mountains. I choose the mansion so I’ll be close to the city but far away from prying eyes. Of course Robert hired workers to help me move, all of which were surprised by how little I own. 

“This is it?” The head mover asks.

“This is it,” I shrug. “Please be careful, some of this is fragile.”

“Are these musical posters really signed?”

“Yes. I’ve had them signed, which is why they’re special.”

In a matter of three hours my possessions are moved to the house and I’m already settling in. Robert has a meeting so he can’t show me around in person, but he still left a note.

Feel free to take any room. My quarters are on the second floor. Thanks for being flexible. -Robert

Flexible. That’s what I am now. Following my employer around like a hooker pursuing a money trail. But I am not that. I am a lady. And Mr. Fischer knows that. The other thing that catches my attention is how he signed it as Robert, not Mr. Fischer. Interesting.

I decide on the west wing upstairs, next to Robert’s rooms. The full bathroom, bedroom, and walk-in closet feels like a small house all in itself. What captures me most is the view. Half the room is made of windows that look out onto the woods behind the mansion. This ‘work smarter’ plan might not be so bad.

After I’ve unpacked and done some exploring I discover the kitchen. Another note promises that a cook will be over to prepare dinner but I can’t wait. I’ve been too busy to eat and it’ll feel good to make my own meal. In the refrigerator there’s some precooked chicken and raw vegetables. Perfect! One big skillet and a little olive oil later, I’ve made a fairly good dinner if I do say so myself. I may have grown up poor but I can still cook. 

Is this what it’s like? To have a normal life? A wife cooking and upkeeping a house while the husband is at work? No. I am no wife and this life is far from normal.

“Margaret! Are you here?” Robert calls from the hallway. He walks in and does a double-take when he sees me eating. Instead of being angry he seems surprised. “What’s this?”

“Hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t wait for dinner. You’re welcome to have some.” I hold out the skillet and Robert takes a deep smell. “I know it’s not the type of fancy cuisine you’re used to but-”

“That smells amazing. You really made that?”

He likes my chicken? “Umhm.”

A new set of footsteps alert me to the door and Mr. Browning joins us. “I thought tonight’s dinner was pasta?”

“Margaret made dinner,” Robert explains with a hint of pride. “Almost makes me forget the day’s chaos.”

“How did the meeting go?” I ask without thinking. Damn it, Margaret! You’re not supposed to talk about business! 

“It was… tough.” Huh? “Mr. Walker’s trying to get me to partner with his oil company because it’s losing money. He’s a friend of my father’s but I’m not sure I want to accept.”

Mr. Fischer’s letting me hear about this? It sounds stressful. Maybe I can help.

“I don’t know about energy. But I do know about business.” I take a bite of chicken and run through Robert’s words. “Seems to me like this is a scam.”

He looks up from staring at the counter, still running a hand through his hair. His eyes search mine for any hesitation but finds none. He seems to have made up his mind about something.

“Come with me to the meeting. You can point out if it’s a fraud.”

Me? In a board meeting? I’ll be cooked alive. I’m a waitress-escort, not a business expert. I won’t last ten minutes-

“Robert, I’m not sure if she’s qualified-” Thank you Browning!

“I trust her, Browning,” Fischer determines. “She’ll do fine.”

That closes the subject. He is the boss, after all. Since he trusts me with this then I can only bring what I can to the table.

“That’ll be all.”

Robert dismisses his godfather, who’s still looking skeptical, and turns back to his dinner. I see now how the day’s been tough on him. He downs the chicken like there’s no tomorrow and there’s dark circles under his exhausted eyes.

“You look tired. Something wrong?”

Robert catches me looking and tries to shake his drowsiness away. “I don’t sleep too well.”

Between balancing his father’s expectations and the mantle of CEO it’s not unusual. 

“Ever wonder what is real?”

Oh. It’s that kind of insomnia. Who knew Fischer’s thinking went that deep?

“Sometimes,” I reply after consideration. “I try not to think about that too much, otherwise I fry my brain.”

“Are you satisfied with your lodgings?”

I flash him a wide smile. “Is that a joke? This whole place is gorgeous, Mr. Fischer.”

“I’m glad you like it. You deserve it,” Robert grins. “The press loves you.”

They love me. But what’s the point of being loved by hundreds of strangers when I can’t even have the approval of my own family?

“You don’t know my parents. They will never accept this.” I gesture between him and me.

“You never met my father. I’d say we’re even.”

The distant way he says that labels deeper father-son issues. It’s no secret that they didn’t see eye-to-eye when the elder Fischer was alive, and Robert doesn’t seem to have let the guilt go.

“Did you hate him that much?” Don’t pry too deep.

“He… was a businessman,” Robert mutters. “Being a father came second, despite my efforts to please him. I don’t hate him, Margaret. I know he loved me. He just didn’t show it until he died.”

Sometimes I forget how young Robert was when he lost his father. Something like that isn’t easy to cope with, especially if they didn’t make amends.

“Your mother is dead too?” I ask softly.

He walks over to the wine rack and nods. “Died when I was 11. That young, and my father did nothing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Everyone has their own way of grieving. His must have been denial. Did you two ever recover?”

Fischer pops a bottle open. “Not exactly. He never wanted to talk about her again, so I just clung to what memories I had.” Out of the blue he sets the wine down and I see him disappear up the staircase. After a few moments he comes back panting and holding a picture frame. “See this? This was taken when I was 6. It’s my favorite memory.”

The picture Robert holds up shows a child and an older man, each with the same dark hair. The boy is blowing a handmade pinwheel on a bright sunny day. There’s something innocent about Robert’s young face- before he began trying so hard to earn his father’s approval.

“Before he died, all I could make out from his last words was how he thought I’m a disappointment,” Robert mutters in a distant tone as he pours a glass of wine.

“That’s not true.” Escort or no escort, I’m not ignoring this. “You are not a disappointment, Mr. Fischer. Anyone who spends a day in your shoes would agree.”

“But I don’t know if I can keep doing this. Everyone expects me to be just like my dad, but… Nevermind.”

Don’t ask further, Margaret. He doesn’t want to talk-

“What?” Stupid stupid stupid!

“You’ll laugh,” Robert waves it off.

“I promise I won’t. And if I do, you can subtract it from my salary.”

The man eyes me with a suspicion but doesn’t reprimand me. He sighs heavily and toys with his glass. “Something… Something in a dream told me that I shouldn’t try so hard to be like my father. Maybe it’s right.”

“Why would I laugh at that? Premonition and epiphany come to us in many different forms, Mr. Fischer. Call this God’s way of saying you can be your own person.”

Please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad! But instead of scolding me for prying Robert takes in my words gracefully.

“Would you like a drink?”

Drinking with my boss? Normally people might call this inappropriate but then again my job isn’t exactly traditional. A small glass won’t hurt.

“Yes, please.”

Mr. Fischer pours another glass. “Um, you don’t have to stay up long. Since, you know, we’re not getting mobbed by the press right now. I won’t force you to follow me around my own home.”

Wow, this is good wine. I understand where he’s coming from. This situation of living with my boss isn’t traditional either. Am I on the clock now or is this just a social call? I have free time to myself, and yet- This doesn’t feel forced. I’m actually enjoying myself. And judging by his nervous body language Mr. Fischer is too, he’s just too scared to admit it.

“I don’t mind. I’m up for some wine, no payment required.”

Robert’s eyes do little to hide both his excitement and slight fear. “Really?”

“Really. That is if you don’t mind the company, Mr. Fischer.”

He downs the rest of the drink and pours another glass. “I’ve played mind games before. Not a fan. I don’t let just anyone into my life.”

I’m not ‘anyone’ to him? A few months ago any pedestrian on the street would define me as ‘nobody.’ I only knew Robert for a mere ten minutes before he offered me a job. Either he’s quick to judge or his judgment is poor. There’s no half-assing it now. I’ve somehow proven to him that I’m a worthy escort, now I need to stay sharp for his business.

“Me neither. I will do my best, Mr. Fischer.”

He seems confused. “At the…?”

“At the meeting, yes.”

Recognition hits him and he nods, looking at the floor. Of course the meeting. What else would there be? I’ve got serious work to do if Robert is this shy during business meetings.

Last night’s sleep was… serviceable. The first three hours I spent tossing and turning, trying to ignore the eerie echoing of the giant empty house. City life always provides noise so the new atmosphere isn’t as comfortable as it seems. Finally I got fed up and searched for something to make noise and was blessed with a box fan hidden in a broom closet. Ten minutes later and I slept like the dead. However my beauty rest better hold up because so far I’ve hated every second of this meeting.

When Robert walked into the room with me in tow half the men waiting for us laughed. Once they were told I was here as a consultant they laughed even harder.

“Does your consultant do house calls?”

“I’d let her whisper in my ear.”

Disgusting. Relax, Margaret. You’re here to help Robert. It’s all business… right?

“As I was saying,” a Mr. Walker continues. “Walker and Co. has been losing funds for months now and my board agrees it’s best to partner with you. There’s just no oil left in our New Mexico drilling sites.”

New Mexico. Where did I hear that before? Oh! It was Justin! Last week, during my errand to the dry cleaners, he stopped to say hi. What did he say? Something about a new job… For Walker and Co.! There’s no way the company’s going bankrupt.

“Excuse me gentlemen. Mr. Fischer, there’s a call for you in the hall.”

Robert gets the hint and begins to stand-

“He can answer it later,” Walker interrupts. “This cannot wait.”

That bastard! “Very well. Sir, may I speak to you for a moment?” I grab Robert by the tie and pull him to the corner despite his strained protest.

“That’s not true,” I whisper and jerk my head towards Walker. “I’ve heard there’s plenty of oil in those parts.”

Mr. Fischer’s eyes narrow. “Are you sure?”

“Word travels fast in the streets. People want jobs, they go to where the money is. In this case it’s oil. Walker’s mentioned to have a whole row of jobs lined up. I know because one of my friends just started working for him. He’s lying.”

Suddenly I hear someone get up and passive-aggressively pull me away. “Not now, honey. The adults are talking.”

My jaw drops but Robert is quicker to react.

“Don’t speak to her like that!” he barks with murder in his eyes.

Walker scoffs. “Why even have her here, Robert? She’s just a hooker-”

I lurch forward but Robert blocks me with his arm and jabs a finger at the jerk’s chest.

“Absolutely not! She is here for official business, and I will not allow you to talk about Ms. Chillinger that way.”

Now the rest of the men start jabbing at me.

“Do you like that, hm? Using your boss for prime luxury like this?” One man leans in with an accusing sneer.

“Get outta my face!” I shove him away.

“Oh-ho! There’s still some street talk in this one!” Walker snickers. “You like it rough, Robert.”

My eyes narrow and I make a performance to pull out my phone. “Do not tempt me. I could destroy your image in half a day.”

My threat hits him square in the chest but he doesn’t back down. “Oh really?”

I arch a brow. “Really. Ever heard of Phineas Brockowski? He’s a personal fan of mine and would be willing to die for an interview with Mr. Fischer. I could let it slip that a certain Mr. Walker makes weekly visits to strip clubs. Would your wife enjoy hearing that on the evening news?” I strike a nerve. A look of horror slips onto the man’s face and I smirk. “I didn’t think so. Now, it’s been quite a time having you here-” I push Walker away and herd the others to the door. “But I’m afraid it’s time for you gentlemen to leave. Anything to add, Mr. Fischer?”

Robert’s still glaring with a stern frown. “I refuse your offer. And for the record, if you ever insult her again I’ll see to it nobody ever does business with you again.”

The men try to re-appeal to our sympathy but I slam the door shut anyway. Immediately Robert lets out a groan and collapses in his chair, rubbing his temples.

“Margaret, I- I am so sorry. I thought bringing you here was a good idea-”

“No, it’s my fault sir. Mr. Browning’s right. I’m not nearly qualified-”

“No, no! You were perfect. It’s them. It wasn’t a good idea because- because…” He trails off and I see him trying to discreetly look me over. I look presentable, don’t I? I chose a blue blazer and knee-length skirt.

“They don’t take me seriously, do they?” I hang my head to hide my disappointment. “It’s alright. I’ll stick to galas and publicity stunts.” That’s what my job is originally. Why did I ever think I could do something more?

“No, wait. Margaret, I don’t want everyone to think you- you’re not dumb, you’re not an ordinary, um…”

 Obviously he means hooker but is too shy to say. God, this man’s innocence is adorable- Cut that out, Margaret! It’s those kinds of thoughts that do turn you into a dumb hooker!

“I know I’m not that, Mr. Fischer. But it’s alright if not everyone else does. Now, would you like something to drink? I know I do.”

I make a beeline for the minibar in the corner but Robert makes no requests.

“Alcohol doesn’t help. I need to keep my mind clear,” he mutters, still rubbing his head.

“How about painkillers? Meditation? Exercise?”

“Painkillers make me drowsy, meditation is too boring, and exercise makes me pass out.”

Hm. I’ll keep grasping at straws. “Maybe you need other methods of… coping with stress.”

This gets his attention. “Like what?”

“Um… Other escorts tell me some men prefer physical means of stress release.”

“Like a hand job?” Thank God I don’t have to elaborate on that.

“Yes.”

Surprisingly Robert still declines by shaking his head. “I don’t work like that. Besides, I'd never ask you to do something like that.”

I almost choke on my martini. My pulse snaps and I need to regain my thoughts. It’s just a misunderstanding, Margaret. “I didn’t mean for me to do it. I meant that you would hire a professional.” A real hooker.

“That’s out of the question.” Huh? “Like I said, I don’t let just anyone into my life. You’re all I need, Margaret.”

I- I am..? He really does appreciate what I do. Even if he does pay for it. Golly. It feels nice to feel wanted. That’s what’s causing the fluttering in my stomach. Get a grip! He’s your boss. You wouldn���t be doing a good job if he didn’t want you around. You’re supposed to look pleasing. You’re an escort! Stop thinking about what it might be like to- Just stop!

I down the rest of the drink and the alcohol’s sting snaps me back. “Will that- ah!”

I spin around too fast and trip over my feet, colliding with Robert and crashing to the floor. As if my heart wasn't racing already, it flies past the speed limit when I realize I’ve landed on Robert’s chest and his face is inches from mine. He’s much sturdier than I expected given his lanky build. His mouth is agape as well. We both freeze stiff as a board, completely unsure how to react. Those crystal eyes stare unblinking, almost daring me to go further. 

“S- Sorry,” I stutter and hastily roll off so we can each breathe. 

“‘S… It’s alright,” Mr. Fischer mutters, each of us still shocked.

I get up and help him stand, brushing off the accident as if it was nothing and start dusting off his coat.

“W-What are you doing?” he stiffens but doesn’t try to move away, trying to avoid my eyes.

“Can’t have the CEO of Fischer Morrow walking around like he just stumbled through a wind tunnel,” I speak smoothly and adjust his tie. A tie that I could use to pull him- Knock it off, Margaret! “Will that be all, Mr. Fischer?”

Robert’s still staring down at me. “Hm? Oh, yes. That’s all. Thank you.”

“I will return home-” I catch myself. “To your home, and prepare for tomorrow’s brunch.”

“Very good. I’ll be home shortly.”

Before I leave I give him a sincere look of worry. “Don’t overwork yourself, Mr. Fischer.”

A few hours later I notice an extra five grand in my bank account. God, Robert. I feel bad enough taking your money while you’ve also let me live in your house rent free. 

Spring cream suit, brown loafers… Will Robert look better with a blue or green tie? Blue, to go with his eyes. Now I just need to check the reservation-

“What are you doing?”

I flinch and nearly drop my clipboard. Jeez, this house is quiet! I didn’t even hear Robert come in. And… he’s caught me looking in his closet. It’s a very organized one, I’ll give him that. The other thing I didn't expect was for him to be a fan of building models. All over his room there’s shelves and shelves of miniature models. Cars, planes, everything. I didn’t mean to intrude but he can’t blame me for planning ahead! 

“Well, um… I wanted to make sure my dress matched your suit so I-”

“So you decided to pick out a suit for me,” Fischer finishes.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly and lower my head. “Please don’t be mad. I didn’t mean to pry, I swear.”

He sets down his briefcase and walks over. First I crash into him, now he thinks I’m snooping in his closet! He’s going to slap me-!

“I’m not mad, Margaret.” Huh? “You don’t need permission to come in here. I think the suit you picked is perfect.”

“R-Really? I thought it was appropriate for the flower display we’ll be sitting by.” Relief floods through my veins. This man would never hurt a fly!

“A very good choice, Margaret,” Robert compliments as he examines the attire I’ve laid out, looking up with those gorgeous eyes and somehow getting caught in mine.

No, not again. Keep this professional. He’s your boss! He pays for you! For whatever reason my face is good enough for ten grand, so that’s why I’m here.

I’m the first one to look away, gripping my clipboard tighter. “Will that be all, Mr. Fischer?”

The man blinks and shakes his head, seeming to clear himself from a deep thought. “Yes. Yes, Margaret.”

I slip past him and gently close the door. “Goodnight, sir.”

His soft eyes don’t leave mine. “Goodnight.”

God, this job is getting to my head, I pray as I shed my blazer for a comfortable sleep shirt and shorts. I don’t care what others’ say, no expensive nightwear compares to a worn sleepshirt. And it’s no use buying things like lingerie anyway. I never understood that. Why would girls pay hundreds for scraps of fabric that men will rip off anyway? If anything a simple nightdress can be just as attractive. Not that I have anyone who would care. 

Robert might care… If it goes with my dresses, that is. Would he? Would it be assuring to know that I can upkeep appearances under the hood as well? No. It’s not worth getting my head wrapped around that puzzle. It’s for the better that I save up and… Then what? Apart from my employment with Mr. Fischer I have nothing. Once I thought that maybe I’d see the world after I’d saved enough but now there’s no point. Robert’s business has flown me to all corners of the globe. Ireland, Greece, Australia, Japan, Mexico. In the past four months he’s given me a lifetime of an adventure. Since that’s crossed off the list… I don’t know. I suppose I’ll just keep working for him until I get too old to be a worthwhile escort or he gets married-

Thump!

The noise jolts me from my half-asleep state. That’s not normal. This house is quest enough to hear a pin drop. Would anyone try to break in?

I slip out of the covers of my giant king-sized bed and creep over to look out into the hallway.

Thump!

That came from Robert’s room!

I throw away all manner of caution and sprint down the wood floor, heaving the heavy door open. Thank God it’s not locked! Now where’s Robert? He’s not in his bed. There’s no sign of a break-in. Where could he-?

“Margaret?” A small voice comes from the floor.

My head snaps around to find the man huddling on the floor next to his bed.

“Mr. Fischer! I thought there was a robbery! Are you ok?!” 

I kneel down and search for injuries. There’s no physical sign of distress but Robert’s frantic behavior paired with how he’s shaking leads me to believe something isn’t right.

“C-Can’t sleep- Nightmare.” He tries to wave me off. “J-just go.” 

That’s the end, Margaret. You can’t help if he doesn’t want it-

 “No wait!”

I freeze midstep from walking away, my heart clenching at his choked up words. 

“Stay? Please, please… stay,” Robert says softly. Is he asking or ordering me to? Would this be part of my job?

“You know the terms of our contract-”

“I know. Just- just need someone to…” His frightened eyes silently plead and I know this isn’t business.

He doesn’t need an escort or any other employee. He needs someone who cares. Someone to chase away whatever demons he’s seeing and provide comfort.

“Calm down,” I take Robert’s shaking hand and help him get back into his bed, choosing to sit on the edge. “I’ll stay here, just relax.”

Robert finally closes his eyes and lays his head on the pillow. “Thank you… thank you…”

This doesn’t seem to be covered by the job description but I can’t leave him. What kind of person would I be if I left him like this?

“I- I’ll pay for your time-”

I shake my head and put a hand on his chest to stop him. “This is off the clock, Mr. Fischer. Money’s not important right now. You need to sleep.”

I can’t let the CEO of Fischer Morrow get sleep-deprived. Not only as an employer but as a friend. Yes, a friend. Nothing more.

In the dark his eyes open again and I see the tension in his face melt away. “Call me Robert. Since it’s off the clock.”

Then he falls asleep. His hand goes limp in mine and he finally starts breathing steadily. He must be really tired to fall asleep this fast. That was too close. Too close, Margaret. You’re letting your heart get you in over your head. Robert must still be processing memories of his father. He needs a proper therapist. That’s what I’ll suggest to Mr. Browning tomorrow.

Robert shifts in his sleep and half-pulls me into the bed with him. Uh-Oh. As much as I want to fulfill my promise I also don’t want to leave us both in what might look like a compromising position. Maybe- Bingo! I grab the extra pillows and create a makeshift barrier between us. A better look at Robert shows me his own sleep attire is only shorts and a loose tank top. Guess we both have similar tastes. As sleep looms over me again I can’t help but notice my heart skip a beat every time Robert squeezes my hand.

“He had another nightmare?” Browning asks the next morning.

“Another?” I look up from the eggs I’m cooking. “You mean they’re consistent?”

Mr. Fischer’s godfather nods and sips his coffee. “Even before his father passed. And he let you stay with him?”

My cheeks flush and I keep my eyes focused on the eggs. “Yes. I assure you I had no hidden intentions. Mr. Fischer didn’t want to be alone. He should talk to a therapist about these if they’re not going away.”

He’s still sleeping and it’s already 10 a.m. I slipped away without waking him and decided it was best to let him sleep. That brunch meeting can afford to be postponed.

“It may not be my place to say this, but it’s in Robert’s best interest.” Mr. Browning pauses. Here we go. “I’m glad he chose you.”

I blink in confusion and fold the eggs onto a plate. “Um, thanks?”

The older man doesn't look away, continuing to analyze me with consideration. “You may not be the politician wife his father hoped for, but he loves you. Robert is happy with you.”

Love? In my surprise the plate slips from my hands and shatters across the floor. Oh no, no. 

“Sir, he doesn’t love me. He’s a very nice boss, but that’s all,” I stutter and make haste to find a broom. A politician wife?

“Ms. Chillinger- Margaret, surely you’ve noticed that Robert can be a complicated man. He’s been less stressed since you started working. Robert has always been afraid of pleasing people. His father, the press. He never let many women into his life.”

“Then why did he look for an escort?” I whisper and clean up the rest of my mess, my heart racing and tears beginning to blur my vision. What’s happening?

“You know as well as I that half of this business is playing the game of show,” Browning explains. “Showing the cars, the suits, the women. Robert knew he would need a woman to keep up with appearances. When I offered to find him a professional escort he denied and was determined to choose one himself. The next day he came by with you.”

On my knees I keep my head hung and try to piece together anything logical. “I- I’m not even a real escort.”

“You’re not a traditional escort, no. But that’s a good thing.” I hear the godfather get up and walk over to kneel next to me, not speaking until I look up to face him. “He told me about how you protect him. Not every woman does that. I’m glad he found you, Ms. Chillinger. Robert is in good hands.”

We both stay like this for a few minutes, each exchanging a silent understanding. I’ve done what every woman’s dreamt of. At the same time I’ve earned the godfather’s blessing and the heart of Robert Fischer. 

“Everything ok?”

We both look up. Robert’s awake and is looking down at the broken glass. He put on a light robe over himself but its loose knot still shows part of his toned chest underneath the tank top.

“I- It’s my fault, Mr. Fischer. I was careless enough to drop a plate,” I speak as evenly as I can while trying to not look away.

“Her eggs make up for it. Definitely a keeper.” Mr. Browning backs me up and I see him give me a wink.

This flies right past Robert, who’s still waking up. “What time-? Oh God!”

“Relax, relax.” My nerves get thrown out and I switch into business mode, putting my hands on his shoulders to calm him. “I called ahead and postponed the meeting. Your sleep is more important.”

He looks down at my hands and his eyes tell me he remembers last night. “Um, th-thanks. For, um, yeah…”

“Don’t mention it, Mr. Fischer. What matters now is that you’re rested. Now eat.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Robert digs into my plate of eggs like it’s his last meal on death row. Browning and I exchange looks as if to say ‘he needs a break.’ The godfather excuses himself without a word and exits through the side door. Is he leaving us alone on purpose? He mentioned the word wife. Is that term used lightly or should I be concerned? 

“So- what else- is- going on today?” Robert asks between bites.

“There’s a press meeting at the park.”

“Nah.”

I look up and do a double-take. “Excuse me?”

Robert takes another bite. “What else?”

He’s never turned down a scheduled event. “Um… that’s it. Unless there’s a last-minute call from New York-”

“It can wait. What do you want to do?” Robert asks once he’s done eating.

My eyes widen and I point to myself. “Me? My vote doesn’t count, Mr. Fischer. If this is to bribe me for not telling about the nightmares it’s completely unnecessary-”

“It’s not exactly that,” Robert replies, setting his fork down and looking over at me. “I- I want to thank you, properly. For doing that. What would you like to do today? Anything. Anything at all.” Anything…

“You’ve already helped me knock so many things off my bucket list,” I think out loud. “Well… There’s something, but it isn’t a normal request.”

Robert takes my hand and I can’t help but look up at his hypnotizing eyes. “Anything.”

Today is officially marked as one of the best days of my life. My unusual request was granted unquestionably by Robert and he seems to have enjoyed it just as much. I got to see my top favorite band! Not just to watch, no. I got to meet them! I’m still not sure if it was real. The only thing reminding me it was real is that Robert was with me.

“Thank you, Mr. Fischer! Thank you so much!” I say for the billionth time as we ride the jet home.

“So you’ve mentioned!” The dark-haired man laughs as he pours out some drinks.

“I’m serious! That was the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me!”

He takes a sip and looks at me with content. “It’s cute to see you so passionate about something.”

The term cute almost flies past me but my overstimulated mind still catches it. Robert must have too because he looks away and busies himself by checking his phone. We fall into a comfortable silence and when the plane lands Daniel is waiting for us once again. Back at the mansion it doesn’t seem so empty now that Robert’s laughter rings through the halls. Browning’s right, he’s much less stressed now than when I first met him. 

It’s late but I feel no urge to retire yet. We reach the kitchen and suddenly I’m blinded by two hands over my eyes.

“Mr. Fischer! What’s going on?” I giggle pathetically like a schoolgirl.

Behind me I hear him breathing through a smile as he leads me over to the grand living room. “There’s one last thing I wanted to give you,” he says mischievously.

God, Robert. There’s only so much I can take from you, only so much until it’s too much. What else can he possibly-? 

“Ta-da.” Robert pulls his hands away and I’m facing the living room. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary… “Check the cup holder.”

His words draw my attention to the couch cup holders. I peer down and-

“Oh Robert,” I breathe. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

The silver key feels cold against my hand, a simple keyring with the Rolls Royce logo etched in blue. So small and yet so thoughtful that I almost drop it.

“You mentioned that you’re not used to being driven to work. Now you can drive yourself instead of relying on Daniel. Be more independent, as you would say. And you’ve talked about always wanting a vintage Rolls Royce.”

“Rob- Mr. Fischer, I cannot accept this.”

His face falls. Did I do something wrong? Shouldn’t he be glad I’m not draining his money? 

“I’m- sorry if I offended you,” Robert says softly. Offended me?

“How could you offend me? You don’t understand.” My hands start shaking and I feel everything bottling up from the past months start to spill. “I don’t come from money, I- I’m not used to just pulling out a plastic card to pay for things like this. A freaking car?”

Despite my frazzled outburst Robert remains calm. “I know.”

“Then don’t take offense when I decline these things, Mr. Fischer. This job? This house you let me live in?” I gesture to our surroundings. “That’s been more than enough for payment.”

“I wanted to make up for having to put you through it. The job.” Robert approaches me slowly to show no harm with hidden guilt in his eyes. He must be disturbed by my job but still needs me to keep up appearances.

I take a deep breath and use a gentler tone. “That’s no problem anymore. I have a thick skin, I can handle it. What I can’t handle is seeing you unhappy when those bastards try to push you around. That’s why you need me.”

That came out wrong. I know I struck something because Robert’s soft gaze has been replaced with a look of provocation.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks in a low voice.

“I- You, um…” How do I break it to a grown man that he needs more confidence?

“Go on, say it!” Robert taunts in a slightly shaking voice. “I need a spine, don’t I? You think I don’t know that?! I know I’m helpless without money! If I was tossed to the streets I’d be dead in a week, if that.”

I’ve backed myself against the couch. This is the first time Mr. Fischer’s raised his voice to me. Why is he so upset about this? I’m trying to help him! But if he’s not going to accept it then I can’t make him.

“I’m not a secretary and I’m not a therapist. If you need one, hire one,” I speak in a low warning voice and move around to edge towards the door. “Don’t pile this on me.”

“You aren’t a secretary, and you’re more than just an escort.” Robert clutches his head and stutters what I think is an explanation. “I needed- I need someone to keep me in check with reality. And it’s you.”

Good heavens. I’ve seen Robert look intimidated before but never heard him sound this affectionate. My legs turn to stone and I give in to ignore the urge to run away as Robert walks closer, reaching his arms out to gently grab my shoulders. I could drown in those eyes forever… He steps closer and our chests meet. I’ve been held by Robert dozens of times for publicity. This time is different. It’s intimate, more… softer. And… I like it. Is that wrong?

Lost deep in this thought I hardly notice Robert leaning his head in. It’s not until his soft lips ghost against mine that my body goes even stiffer. My lips. We’ve never kissed on the lips. 

“You can leave if you don’t feel comfortable,” Robert whispers, lips still leasing mine. “This isn’t a part of the contract-”

“I’m not thinking about the contract.”

Strength returns to my arms and before I can control myself I push him to the wall. We both stare unblinking at each other for what seems like eternity; silently arguing with ourselves about this contradicting matter. Out of nowhere a hidden feeling that’s been building up inside me sparks to life in my eyes. Robert sees it too and finally closes the gap. 

It’s instant energy. As if on instinct I push harder and feel his arms wrap around my waist. Robert Fischer, you’ve been hiding in plain sight. All this time I’ve been escorting him and this is what I’m missing… He may look shy but Robert is a brilliant kisser. Soft and slow and yet full of desperate fire and passion. 

“I want this- Oh God.” What am I doing?!

I pull off and jump away as if being doused with ice water. What have I done? I just kissed my boss!

“This isn’t supposed to be real,” I stutter, shaking my head trying to convince myself this isn’t right. “This is supposed to be professional.”

But Robert does not see my attempts at logic. Instead his sad face looks as if I just slapped him. “You’ve been a wonderful- a fantastic escort. And I- I want more…”

My nerves quelch. “If you’re suggesting prostitution-”

“No!” He answers quickly.

“So… a promotion?”

Robert shakes his head and his eyes squeeze shut. “God Margaret, I’m in love with you.”

Love. There’s that word again. The spoken word binds itself into my heart and my head is spinning.

“You never took me for a man who falls in love… I don’t fully understand the concept of love.” I chuckle at my own confession. “I’ve had offers, I could have been married at this point. But I wanted to do what I wanted in life without having a relationship to hold me back.” I scoff and look down at myself, a complicated mix of frustration and sadness swelling through my chest. “And now look how far those dreams got me. I’m an escort.”

Robert approaches once more. “You’re my escort. You’re even more to me than that.”

“But you paid me to do it! Money can’t buy love.”

“Then explain why you just had me against the wall with the biggest erection I’ve ever had in my life.”

My jaw drops. I-?

“You could have left at any time. There’s something you feel, I know it.” Robert grabs my hand and puts it to his chest. “I feel it too, Margaret. I have for a few weeks now. I love you.”

His words cause tears to sting my eyes and I try to stay strong. “How can you be sure? How do you know it’s not just your testosterone talking?”

Despite the instinct to look away I keep Robert’s gaze as he pulls me back to the couch. Those soft eyes have grown determined. He’s not bluffing.

“This isn’t a one-time thing, Margaret. I know because there is no other woman who’s made me feel this. You’re the only woman I want in my life, for the rest of my life.” We both sit down and he’s still holding my hand. “Do you want me to prove it?”

Prove. Have these past months not said enough? All these gifts? Or was it all a transaction? Maybe some proof is in order-

“I need you to tell me,” Robert interrupts my thoughts, his face inches from mine.

I don’t hesitate again and nod. “Yes.” God, yes.

And he does prove it. Not through his kind words or affectionate actions but through something I can’t quite explain… Like an unseen energy. Robert’s soft touch lays me back on the cushion and peppers sweet kisses down my neck. All I can do is lie still and stare up at the high ceiling.

“How can you fall in love with someone like me?” 

“Huh?” Robert pants to catch his breath.

“We both come from very different worlds, Robert-”

“If you’re trying to say I can’t love you because you’re not rich, that’s a complete lie.” He hugs me close and can’t seem to stop looking at me. “God… How are you real?”

“You paid for it, you tell me,” I half-joke. But Robert doesn’t see any humor in it.

“If finance was off the record would you still love me?”

I pull on his tie and don’t blink. “Without question. I never want you to think my love for you comes with a price tag.” Now it’s my turn to press a kiss to his soft lips. “This is me, Robert. Loving you.”

“I want this,” he breathes, his eyes closed in bliss. “I want us.”

“Then you can have me. Or at least what’s left of me. I’ll be yours, Robert.”

Boss or no boss, I love him more deeply than any man I’ve ever met. Everything I’ve imagined seems possible. What it’s like to kiss, to feel loved…

Robert slides lower and nuzzles his head against my bust, using my chest as a pillow. No man’s ever done this to me and I don’t want him to stop. If I’m the rock he needs to stay sane then he’s my own as well.

“God, you’re here…” Robert’s voice is muffled by my shirt.

“And I’m all yours,” I speak for him, running a hand through his soft hair.

This gets a moan from him. “You’re all mine… Good thing I was there to catch you when you fell.”

All those months ago. In the pouring rain.

“I did fall for you, Robert. I’ve been falling for you for a long time, and I was completely oblivious to it.” 

When he looks up at me again his face is painted with unquestioning devotion. I’ve never seen him smile so wide. Just looking at his happiness would give any person a reason to live for. 

Another thing he said clings to the back of my thoughts.”Did I really make you go hard?”

Immediately Robert’s face goes bright red but he muscles through and nods. “Absolutely. I- I fell for you too. And, in the possible near future, if you ever feel like falling a little harder…”

“You’ll be the first to know,” I smirk.

His eyes nearly bulge out and his body starts shaking. “Really? Oh, Margaret. Th-thank you!”

I smile sweetly down at him and shake my head teasingly. “You are such a simp.”

“Hey!” Robert shows mock offense and rolls us over on the couch so he’s on the bottom. “You know I’m a people pleaser.”

“Yes, you definitely are,” I giggle. 

“Well then-” Suddenly Robert wraps his arms around me and hoists me up. “How about now?”

My breath hitches. “N-Now? I- Um…”

Robert’s face falls and we both blush. “We don’t have to- I don’t want to make you uncomfortable-”

“No, no,” I groan and bury my head in his chest. “It’s not that. I’m just not… too experienced. I can pull off an escort charade easily but don’t actually know much about… you know. Whatever you might expect me to do I’m not sure I can.”

I feel Robert’s warm hands gently rub my back and pull me closer (if that’s even possible). 

“Margaret, I don’t expect anything. I just want to love you. Want to show just how much you mean to me. I-” He swallows nervously and I slowly look up to reach his eyes. “I don’t know too much either.”

How can a man this sweet exist? Never did I ever think a man would be willing to care this much. He needs my street smarts. Now it’s time for both of us to learn something new.

“Then let’s learn it together,” I whisper and his grip on me tightens. 

“Yes- Please. Please.”

In one swift motion I’m lifted up and carried bridal-style through the drafty halls. Through the kitchen, up the stairs, down the hall. To Robert’s room. Laid down on the soft sheets. When I look up Robert’s adorable face is smiling down at me. Nervous, but excited.

“R-Ready?”

I feel underdressed (or overdressed?) for the occasion in my plain gray slacks and red blazer. But that doesn’t matter now. I meet his eyes again and give a determined nod.

“I’m all yours, Robert. Always have been.”

Wake up…

My eyes fly open and I burst awake. Where am I? Someone’s next to me-! Oh.

Even in his sleep Robert looks absolutely to die for. Apparently the nightmares haven’t plagued him tonight because he’s sleeping sweet as an angel; breathing softly and clinging to me like a human pillow. How can I squeeze out-?

“Hm?” Robert begins to stir.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you. I was just getting up-”

“No you’re not.” Robert sits up and pulls me back down, kissing my ear. “Not yet.” We lay for a few seconds in comfortable silence. “Last night… How was…?”

Last night. My body’s still aching from the memory, one I want to relive over and over. 

“Robert. Last night was magnificent.”

He sighs in relief and gets a naughty smirk. “So there may be a chance for a follow-up?”

I grin wickedly. “It’s already in the books.”

“Oh really? So when is it?” Robert asks, playing along.

“Anytime you want, Robert.”

This surprises him and his eyes widen. “Wha- Really?”

“Yes. If each time is going to be like last night I don’t want to waste a second.”

“Well then-” He pecks my lips and rubs a thumb across my cheek. “Round two?”

“Robert!” I chuckle. “We can’t stay here forever.” A new thought hits me. “Oh no. When’s the-?”

“The first meeting isn’t until ten,” Robert replies and rests snugly against my chest. “We can stay here for a while longer.”

I roll my eyes. “Alright then, mister clingy. What time is it now?”

He lifts his head. “Shit! It’s already nine-!”

He jumps as if he’s been electrocuted and tries to scramble out of the twisted sheets.

“Calm down.” I pull him steady and make him face me. “I already pressed your suit, it’s laid out in the bathroom. I called Daniel last night and told him to pick you up this morning. He’s on his way.”

“God, you’re an angel!” Robert praises and stands up. “Thank you, sweetheart!”

“No trouble. What I need from you is for you to stop stressing yourself out. I can’t fight all your battles.”

Something about Robert’s face tells me what I said has him thinking. This is not the time for thinking.

“Get going before your brain catches fire,” I shoo him off. “There’s leftover egg casserole in the fridge. Will you need me for any events today, Mr. Fischer?”

That sounds off. We both think so. We each stare at each other, trying to decide how to proceed. When do I acknowledge him as my boss? Will this relationship be made public? God, I hope not. Then all the tales spun by the media will have come true.

“Y-You’re going to be late,” I finally break the silence. “Better get cleaned up.”

“Right. Yeah…” 

Robert walks to the bathroom, still looking confused, and gives me the cue to go find my own outfit for the day. Things are just getting started…

“I’m home!” Robert calls from the door.

I look up from reading American Prometheus and rush down the stairs. All day I haven’t gotten a call to come in so I’ve been trying to find things to keep myself busy. A maid already came in to clean and there’s enough prepped food, so the only thing left was reading.

“How was the office?” I ask after pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Boring. It’s far better when you’re there.”

“Then call me in,” I shrug. “That’s partly why I’m here. For the business, and you.”

“Right. That. Um…” Robert grabs my hand and looks around. “I should- Let’s talk in the living room.”

I don’t question it. We both can feel the unanswered questions clinging to the air. Robert leads me to the couch and sits me down, never taking his eyes off me.

“By now you know how my life works,” he starts.

“Yes.”

“And you know that somewhere down the line I need a wife.”

Just like Browning said. A politician wife.

I nod. “Yes.”

Robert copies my nod and runs a hand through his hair, getting more and more shaky. “I was just- planning ahead. And, um, if you might refuse I understand that you wouldn’t want to keep working for me if I was married-”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Robert. I will marry you.”

The man doesn’t speak. He just keeps staring at me with his mouth wide open. I’m incredibly frazzled myself. God, I hope I didn’t misread the situation. Was that the answer he was looking for?

“That is what you’re asking, isn’t it?” I ask hesitantly.

Robert, still staring, slowly nods his head. “You’d want to marry me? Be my wife?”

His wife. Mrs. Margaret Fischer. The title of being wife to the CEO of Fischer Morrow doesn’t stand out. It’s the title of being Robert’s wife that catches me. To be the one he trusts, the one he turns to during sleepless nights. To see his sweet face every day until I grow old.

“I love you so much, Robert.” I cup his face in my hands and we both try to ignore the tears in each other’s eyes. “I would love to be your wife.”

By now we’re both shaking. Not from distress or fear but bubbling happiness. He asked me. Of all people, me. To be his wife.

“I know this is all very sudden,” he whispers. “So if we want to ease into doing anything…”

“Yes, that- That’s the logical thing to do.” Finally! My brain is working again. “Would- Do you want the engagement to be made public? Or wait until after the wedding? Oh God. My parents are going to faint-!”

“Hey, hey.” Robert takes my hands, a smile growing on his face. “This isn't something to stress about. This is a happy thing, Margaret. The happiest moment of my life!”

My own smile spreads across my lips and I lean up to kiss him again. “That makes two of us.”

Christmas special: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/771175123756728320/magic-kisses-robert-fischer-x-oc-falling-for-you?source=share

[drearygenie]

Amada McAllister and Claire Han

inclusivity rant:

i think it's really important to represent aro/ace people without the stereotypes. not all aro/ace people are nerdy unconventionally looking introverted bookworms who need nothing but themselves and their animal (sorry mudd, you'll always have a very special place in my heart). they can be pretty. they can be conventionally attractive. "if theyre attractive why are they ace" ok so looking nice = romanceable? people who don't date dont have the right to look good?

On the flipside, fat people shouldn't have a character arc about their appearance and self confidence "oh you're not fat, youre cute! people can learn to like you," please stop. fat people can have problems other than their weight. they can be sexy and hot and wanted without their confidence being the butt of a joke. stop telling them their weight is normal and treat them like their weight is normal. Also the fact that in most fantasy settings, being big was the beauty standard, it showed that someone was in a place of wealth. dont erase that??

on that note, meet my ocs, the change I want to see out there:

amada is loud, and wants love, and she's conventionally attractive (except for her big nose I guess?). she's stupid and likes being pretty.

claire has always struggled with power and her responsibilities. and then a new problem was thrown into the mix: lexie. a sweet lanky nerd that is so in love with her. lexie treats her like a goddess. even the gay man tried to marry her.

[generalallxsanjishipper]

Idk if you’re still redrawing people’s oc’s or not but if you are-

And if you’re not, have a great day.

Episode Six of: Draw Your Tales Of Arcadia Ocs in the Concept Artstyle

First Sketches were ugly as shit. I tried until I actually liked something

LANKY LONG ARRRRRMS

If you hate it, I am terribly sorry. I tried.

Your oc looks so cute by the way! I would totally enjoy to hear you ranting about them or something in a comment, if you wanna lol.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some questions about recent posting!

Anonymous asked:

How do I gain access to this 🔑 account?

Just DM me, Anon! We just need to make sure that you are an adult and would be okay with the stuff that we post there.

Anonymous asked:

Why are u against ur stuff bein tagged as x reader when some of ur ramblings could be considered as such?

It’s because that would be misleading, Anon.

We don’t have anything against “x reader” stuff, but this isn’t the type of content that we create, and even though some of my ramblings could be considered as such, this isn’t the intent. Whenever I write headcanons and use phrasing like “you’d have to really try to piss this guy off”, I’m not doing it with the idea of you-the-reader interacting with the character – it’s more of a generic statement about that exact character and their personality.

We ship characters with each other, and even if one of the parts of the ship is not a major canon character, a mob or just some rando we came up with for the sake of the story, none of this feels the same as “x reader” to me. We focus on their interactions with other characters and with other potential people within the story, which, in my head, is the opposite of the “x reader” posts. It’s not “if you, the reader, were to date Trey, he would act like that”, but more of a “Trey is the type of person that does this when he is dating someone”, implying either one of the existing ships or some random student.

Of course, you can still read those posts as if they were written to be hypothetical scenarios for the reader, but when it comes to tagging, it could create awkward situations. Like when I draw Malleus (just an example) doing something flirty, in my head implying that the other party is either someone we ship him with, or that it’s just a generic drawing, and people assume that it’s “x reader” because someone tagged it as such, which leads to them being then disappointed that we ship Malleus with Lilia of all people and don’t want to play along with yume comments. It’s just ends up being uncomfortable for everyone involved, and, I’ll say it directly as well, it is uncomfortable for us.

Sorry for rambling, and I hope that makes sense. Once again, it’s not like I have anything against it, it just wouldn’t be truthful to tag our posts like that, just like it wouldn’t be truthful to tag them as Leechcest or Idivil because those aren’t the ships that we are depicting.

Anonymous asked:

Nerd Kalim is hurting my brain 🥵 Can we get him a harem full of gyarus? NRC has plenty of them...

(related to this drawing)

Hehe sorry~

Oh god, Kalim and his gyarus… Every bottom is a gyaru now, congratulations Kalim… Honestly though, Jamil has such nice sporty gyaru vibes!! But they would look so cursed together with Kalim’s nerdy looks lol In a good way.

For some reason, we talk a lot about Kalim’s harem these days hmmm. There is another ask I’ll reply to hopefully soon related to the topic of Kalim’s harem…

eh-nonnie-mouse asked:

Azul may be hard as a rock but Idia's as soft as a bun ( I'd like to think as bony and lanky as Idia is. He's got some cushion on his ass)

Also Idia if you keep poking Azul might decide to poke you somewhere else 😉

Awww, this is so cute! Idia being unexpectedly soft… Azul needs to be careful with how and where he’s poking him, he could leave marks everywhere~

I feel like I always end up drawing Idia “finding out after fucking around”, so to speak. He keeps pestering Azul, and Azul keeps “poking him” in the right places as his revenge…

thestarlightfae asked:

Is Idia commenting on Azul's muscles?

Yep! He keeps forgetting that Azul got them pecs…

thestarlightfae asked:

Alright! Another question as I read through the headcanons! When you that Leona may have had a relationship with twst!Zuzu do you mean the canon one-Kifagi/Negi-or an oc of yours?

I’ll answer all of your questions!

I should also clarify: I didn’t mean that he had relationship with twst!Zazu, I tried to note that this is NOT him that I’m talking about! We haven’t seen the event, so I have no idea what he is all about, but based on the vibes, I don’t think he would fit that role. This wasn’t about any specific OC either; it’s just that when I look at Leona, I can picture him having an older male figure in his life at some point. Someone that he secretly admired and maybe had a connection with, but at this point in his life it’s just a thing from the past. Nothing too deep, I don’t really want to dive into it lol Just a thought that I had.

Also! I just noticed his gold nail-polish! Its pretty, but Kalim is wearing too much gold, he needs more variety (comment on his character, not your art: you art is amazing as always). I bite my nails so I never wear nail polish cause I'll still end up biting, and it tastes really bad. On the topic of nail-biting, do you think and of the twst boys bite their nails?

I’m glad you liked the art, thank you so much!! Yeah, Kalim really is the king of gold lol It looks good on him… even though it’s excessive sometimes. But now I wonder if Kalim bites his nails. Weirdly, I feel like he doesn’t. 🤔 But I’ll think about it some more + about other characters as well, and write a proper post about it! At some point…

Also, have you seen the Scalding Sands event? If so, do you think Najima is a top or bottom?

Haven’t seen it, unfortunately, so no thoughts about Najma :( But I like her design…

I'll go now! Thank you! Have fun the wild journey of my adhd thoughts! Please lmk if I'm being too much and I'll try to tone it down next time!

No worries about the thoughts and questions, thank you for your ask! Feel free to send more; I am pretty speedy with my reply this time, but god I am grateful for everyone’s patience…

Wait! One more! I personally headcanon Leona to have some sort of Alcohol (that word is way to hard to spell) dependancy! What do you think? Do you think any of the twst characters use drugs/ or drink excessively? Do you think any of them are addicted? Alright! Goodbye for real this time!

…this is also a topic for a post that’s going to take longer for me to think about, so for now I’ll just keep being grateful for your patience! It’s an interesting one to think about, and I might group it with some other ask I’ve been wanting to address already…

Thank you for your questions <3

[puhpandas]

Evan and Greg are basically your oc's!, what is your interpretation of Micheal in the modern au. Also how does mike not see Evan as a person?

Also flashlight duo is super cute

Has Evan ever been bullied at school?

the ocification beam hit them too hard...

I view Michael in my flashlight duo universe as being like. not how a lot of people portray him. as in he doesnt lash out for a reason. he isnt acting that way towards Evan because William told him to.

it's for sure affected by William's own actions, but as in Michael subconsciously learned those things. he isn't even on William's side really. he sucks as a father to both of them. it's just that michael doesnt respect Evan enough to see him as someone who is supposed to be on his side

Michael subconsciously learned growing up that everything Evan is is bad. and the cool people his age see people like Evan as weak, so he does too.

he lacks any emotional maturity, so a lot of his actions towards Evan are out of his own boredom and resent. he genuinely thinks his reactions are funny. if he ever did realize what he did was wrong, he would have to actually realize. he knows fully that what he does hurts Evan. he just doesn't care. he hasn't developed the intuition he needs to care. you know?

and Michael is around 16 if evan is 12. it's not that hes too young to understand, it's the lack of good parenting, or literally parenting in general. if Evans life is hell because everyone around him hates him, then that means its true. it means the people in hurricane dont like people like Evan (a boy who at his age should be getting manlier, but isnt. sensitive and emotional and physically small and lanky. evan literally has anxiety and paranoia and is neurodivergent and people dont really acknowledge that but they notice. and they don't like it)

the people in their town suck and are mean and so is Michael's father. so of course hes going to stick to what hes been taught and to everybody else who also believes it and is on his side. he was never taught that what hes doing is wrong. hes a bad person but it's a product of horrible parenting and the worst town in the world

in contrast to Michael, in the neglect and bullying Evan has faced its made him kinder. he is the one facing it so he wants to be kind to others instead of being like the people he hates.

I dont want to say he would be more in tune with his emotions than Michael because he wouldn't be. before Gregory, he was so unstable and miserable he was just a big ball of anxiety and emotions. he didnt understand his emotions and have that country mile on Michael's own emotional maturity because he didnt have it in him to learn

and by that I mean he didnt even like himself enough to want to help himself. hed been taught that theres fundamentally something wrong with him that makes him bad and weird and not like anyone else who's impossible to 'fix'. and hed been hearing that since he was a young kid, so of course hed believe it.

but then Gregory comes alone and slowly tries to strip away what Evan had been taught just by being kind to him and repeating kind things. the opposite of what everyone else did.

and that is what makes Evan begin to change for the better. the first thing he learns is that Gregory doesn't think something is super wrong with him that makes him bad and stupid so he starts to believe it a little, too. he begins to see how maybe how hes being treated is unfair and its him seeing himself as worthy of kindness that makes him upset on his own behalf. and what that means is he has better self esteem when before he was so insecure he could never even defend himself a little bit

and its after he gains some respect for himself that he learns how to help himself. he actually thinks he deserves it now, so with his support system in Gregory and his family he learns how he works. he learns what his phobias are and what sets him off and how to calm himself down. and of course he hoped all the way through that changing could be what 'fixes' him and the people around him wouldnt hate him so much. but like I said before its that self respect that confirms it's for himself and not for others

of course that stuff doesnt go away, but he improves. the people around him do notice. they dont care enough to say anything, they're more just suprised or happy hes shutting up in that mean way of theirs. but I think after a while of Evan being comfortable with Gregory and improving himself he would one day just snap.

before, he had layers and layers of nervousness and fear and anxiety and insecurity stopping his very high emotions from boiling over. and with the newfound respect for himself comes the anger on his own behalf of how hes treated.

so i feel like one day he would just blow up with all the emotion without the insane amount of fear stopping him. and it doesnt help, not really.

before, evan wanted to please michael and his father. but now that he wants them to know how much he hates them and how much they hurt him, they are pleased.

he gained more respect but in the worst way. not the way he wanted.

but back to their relationship, I think post-all of this, evan wouldnt want anything to do with him. let's say Michael does have a wake up call when they're both older. hes already ruined his relationship so much its unsalvageable. he caused evan to develop fundamental issues rooted deep (anxiety and paranoia, general things he learned about the world and certain people/groups and traits that he'll have to remind himself arent true) inside of him.

his family had their chance and they blew it hard. evan is definitely in the right to want nothing to do with him or William and to continue growing up and living and laughing with his actual family in his heart. they never get to make it official, but that doesn't matter.

anyway I went on like. a lot lol. for anyone who havent read my oneshot series this is based completely off of that au of mine and in my mind is canon to every oneshot if you do read them. thanks for enabling me to talk about flashlight duo lol you can tell I put so much thought into them every day its crazy

edit: to answer your actual questions lol: it's not that Michael literally doesn't see Evan as a human person, it's that he doesnt respect him enough to treat him with human respect. you know? everything evan is he has been taught is bad and worthless so that's what he thinks. so by extension evan is too

and yeah evan does get bullied at school. I always imagined it was less bullies pushing him into lockers and stealing his lunch money (Williams ass does not give him lunch money let's be real) and more that they just treat him awful. hes either invisible or in the way and then they dont care to be super rude to him. they dont just spout their exact thought process out but they all think of him badly and view him as a big joke. its less blatant meanness and more just treating him awful in general and that's what makes Evan think its normal and that hes asking for it when its not.