#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:

[veilantares]

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!

[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. 

[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.”

[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.

[dragon-fuccer]

Hi!!! If u're reading this u're probably the author of this absolutely amazing fic ✨

And if u're not, go read it;!! It's so good u won't regret it<33

First some fanart jumpscare !!! (I hope u're ok w it bc I haven't asked for permission 😭)

It's just how I imagine Jack to look with a few smaller headcannons based on the fic, and there will be more fic related doodles soon, so prepare for that >;D (ofc as long as u're ok with it!!)

Second, the thing I lured ya here with, aka mine n my bfs ocs, art and description for ya to use in the fic if u want to ^^

TYSM for this offer, both me and my bf feel hella honored and it actually gave us a ton of motivation to actually expand on these two!

Tws : body horror, brief description of violence n death, mentioned suicide and brief description of murder

Smokey belongs to my bf and Something is mine !

Normal text is all written by me and green text was written by him ^^

Art and design by my dearly beloved:

Smokey

Real name : Victor Wilson

Age : around 26 yo

possible victor lore

used to be victor by marble hornets standards known as smokey

a dropout uni student with raging nicotine addiction (smokey did not retain any uni info but vic used to be psych student (projecting much lol))

prolly watched marble hornets with friends for fun and against better judgement decided to give a visit to rosswood park thinking its a film project in the beginning

turns out its not and they spotted the lanky guy

smokey the horror movie enthusiast wants out at that point before shize goes down but its late and they r deep in the forest so comes to conclusion they r all p much dead at this point

peeps want to go hunt for the lanky man cus cool and internet views

my guy is like f that yall r following basic horror lore of everyone dies im not playin like that and straight up says hes not going and hed rather go and sleep in the burned down psych ward

he gets called a wimp but decides if hes gonna die hes not dying an idiot and decides to vidtape everything on his mid tier phone camera

not sure what happens to the rest but they do their meet cute w slendy and prolly with time like half of em ends up in the arko e way or another

smokey manages most of the night fine but like luck would have it still end up meeting the guy

does not go well

wakes up in the burned down hospital not remembering the last unknown time and broken phone beyond repair

decides oho this is bad lets go back to uni and never talk abt it

meets with most friends back at uni but like 2 of em r missing and they just pretend nothing happened, friend group dissolves

after that he starts slowly having memory gaps, waking up in other places

all comes to head when it turns out he missed 5 months of uni after he wakes up back in rosswood really far from home and skinnier than ever and suddenly no more uni student

after that victor surfaces less and less till hes just kinda gone at that point

Smokey first shows up the night victor goes with friends to rosewood

in the beginning surfaces confused unsure who they are and what is their purpose

with time smokey goes through both phone and computer of vics

binges whole marble hornets in one sitting and decides he has a personal vendetta against the operator

since then they work on somehow stoping it (and terribly fails given the lack of information) leading to continuous trips back to rosewood and sleepovers in the rubble of the ex psych ward

figuring out the nicotine addiction takes a bit of time and leads to pretty nasty withdrawal symptoms as well as a very wrecked dorm room (he does find the cigarettes tho and is smart enough to connect the dots (smart cookie, here have a star sticker))

smokey learns asl and isolates themself a lot in the months of operator research

he still maintains two personas to some extends which is one the masked smokey who uses mostly asl and rarely speaks (to some extent also a tactic against being caught by police) and times when he goes without mask on library searches and grocery shoppings

smokey starts a yt channel dedicated to catching the operator and ending it which attracts at best some people commenting on obvious marble hornets ripoff and few cents into his wallet

with passing time they do start finding victims in order to keep themselves alive n appease the the big slinky leading to series of alleged suicides then turned to series of murders

he starts off with two of his ex friends who go back to rosewood and start showing symptoms he learned from mh

When they commit murder they hide in the trunk of the car and basically hotbox the whole thing due to smoking making the victim whoozy and confused, moving on they connect a pipe (like garden hose or whatevs) to the exhaustion pipe and suffocate their victims with the car smoke

the thing that tips off the police is the nicotine in the system of every victim and an account of almost to be one that got stalked by smokey who upon being discovered (also while smoking and which earned him the name) decided to bolt

since then he continues on just about the same, aka researching the operator, finding new victims and surviving untill they meet Something

His hoodie is dark green, the mask is greyish from the grime n dirt, the big cross on it is black so are his pants and hair

Something

Real name : Rae Dyer

Age : 23 before transformation, currently unknown

Something used to be a cryptid fan. They worked at a radio station and had a small night show where they played old rock and often rambled about the latest creature they heard about. While out, looking for a new creature to maybe see, they stumbled upon the Slenderman and became obsessed to document it somehow, quickly spiraling out of control and slowly, bit by bit became a creature themselves.

Something doesn't remember much from it's past life. It used to just wander, guided by the static in it's head towards it's victims, always terrified itself but not knowing why. After Smokey found it, they started wandering together. At first they had serious communication issues - Something only able to speak in tap code and Smokey mainly using ASL - but with time they learned to speak with each other, and now they can understand the other almost without words.

Something doesn't really eat, it survives on fear and between itself and Smokey, it always has more than enough of it. It does steal food for Smokey tho, cigarettes as well, usually leaving them in whatever ruined building he decided to stay in for the night. Something got also addicted to nicotine by just being around Smokey so much, leading to separation anxiety fueled by withdrawal when they're apart.

Something cannot speak, and can only communicate using tap code. When it's particularly worried or scared it does emit a small noise, that sounds like a particularly breathy whine, and more commonly when it tries to speak, quiet spider like ticking can be heard coming from it's mouths.

It usually walks hunched over, used to having to duck under branches, entryways, etc bc of it's height.

Something has pale skin reminiscent of porcelain, and is usually wearing a v neck sweater with a white undershirt and jeans or other pants. It's hair is very thin and scarce, floating around it's head down to it's lower back

Also a tiny doodle bonus of how I imagine these two showing up on Jacks doorstep xjbxbcbcb

We think the most probable case of them showing up would be Smokey getting bonked on a mission (probably by a car or a would be victim) and Something bringing them over to Jacks cabin to get pached up, tho feel free to do something else ya might think fits =w=

Again, thank you so much for the offer, we're both so honored to have the opportunity to show these two off and maybe if you're so inclined getting them a chapter in ur amazing fic<3

If u have any questions you need answered Abt the two don't hesitate to ask them as well! ^^

-Kai n Bean

[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.

[rasshu-benaiokny]

〚 I Can Take It 〛 Part 2 🔞MDNI🔞

A Demon Slayer Gyutaro X Reader

- Reader Attributes: Adult (obviously)/ Fem/ Darker skin tone/ sundere

- Gyutaro Attributes: Dominant/ mean spirited/ soft spot for reader/ greedy/ bitch

- Warnings/Content: CNC/ Fighting/ implied battle/ explicit sexual content/ adult × adult/ blood play/ shaming/ toxic relationship

⚠️NOTICE⚠️ This is based off of the official plot of my MAIN fanfiction that is an OC/insert x Gyutaro SFW fiction so please refrain from stealing? Idk how to steal writing but people keep referring to that so ima say it too!

It was dark in your bedroom as the soft red light mixed with your darker skin tone… The demon standing above you was careful and quiet as he looked at your body; examining every inch of detail you had. From being an experienced demon slayer, you had small scars and cuts on your body but the lanky demon seemed to focus on a nasty bruise you had. A portion of your back was darker than the rest, the muscles around that area seemed twisted and mangled… it was undoubtedly the damaging blow that Gyutaro did to you that fateful night, rendering you home-ridden.

The demon didn’t seem to feel bad about doing such damage, it came naturally to him. He didn’t even seem to feel bad about putting you in such a pitiful state, he actually felt good that it was him that fought you and not a demon like Douma. But, something did tug at the back of his mind as he looked at you laying down; a sense of hopelessness. Knowing that he did this to you meant he would never be forgiven, right? He would never truly be embraced by your humanity and compassion like the humans you’ve sworn to protect… It must be nice to be someone loved you.

It makes him jealous just thinking about it

His expression seems cold now as he pulls out his blood sickles, believing that killing you off right now would save him the future issues that would come with someone like you. A hashira would never give him a chance, a human would never look at his tired face lovingly, a person like you would never want him. His fangs clenched as he began to think of you not with hopefulness but with foul rejection as he looked at your neck, ready to cleave your head clean off just like how you did him! It was justified anyways! You had it coming, right?!

But as the monstrous demon riled himself up, he got distracted by your bright red eyes beginning to open… Not fully registered, you look at the repulsive figure arching over you but you don’t say a word as you lay dazed and tired. The demon coldly observes your clueless expression turn to recognition and then to anger as you begin to sit up! Immediately, his large boney hand clamps down around your mouth as he shoves you back down and then with a stern voice he speaks.

Gyutaro: Stay Down, if ya know whats good for you…

You glared with aggression as the demon just looked at your pathetic wittle face and your angry wittle eyes… it was cute. But in his mind, he was forming his plan of action. Should he kill you and eat your body? It was a rare treat in Japan to devour a foreign human as strong as this… Maybe he should take you back to his private room and abuse you? He could finally have his own personal play thing that he could flaunt to the other demons! Or maybe just seeing you was enough… maybe, he didn’t want to personally kill you, not today at least. He had already caused you enough pain, he lost his chance with you if he even had one, and you would obviously be better off not knowing his actual intentio- ***

Immediately, the bedroom was filled with a painful groan as you stabbed the demon in his skinny caved in midsection?! You were injured but you weren’t going down like a bitch! Gyutaro hissed as he snatched the small blade from your hand! That was Gyutaro’s breaking point as he roared out and grabbed your toned legs, pushing them up and over towards your head causing you to yell in pain! Your spine could barely handle this position as you desperately tried to pry this demon off of you but he was too strong and heavy! With how he was stretching your legs up to your head, you felt like he was going to rip them off but unfortunately he wasnt doing that just yet…

If only you stayed quiet and meek, then maybe, just maybe, this weird repulsive demon wouldve convinced himself to just give you a light scare and abandon you where you lay but you just had to do something drastic. Twisting that dagger in his side made him mad and he was just on the verge of leaving you be! But now you had to pay the price for annoying this pent up demon. A pitiful price to pay for something so brash.

(Im sorry •c• I promise the next part is the stuff… just give me time, my cat brain tryn to wok)

[coarsely]

OC cuddle scale tag

Rules: Rate your OCs based on how they handle cuddling/being cuddled on a scale of 0-10

Many thanks to @noblebs for tagging me! This thing looks so cute and fun I absolutely have to participate! I have a lot of OCs so we might be here for a while but it's a very fun exercise to go through.

Saccade: 6/10

She's got biceps like cantaloupes, and is pretty tall, so you'd think she'd be great at it but she's pretty hesitant around touch for the most part, and so usually is pretty tense and awkward. She prefers to give people a handshake or a slap on the back rather than hugging them, and that hesitation comes through.

Vítor Cadogan: 2/10

You'd think a man whose occupation is looking after emotionally damaged children would be well used to giving hugs, but nope! He tends to leave that side of things to Apricity, preferring to be more of a steadfast emotionally dependent rock as opposed to a warm, nurturing personality. He's extremely awkward about it, and he's rather lanky physically, and isn't big on touch as a rule, so the whole thing doesn't suit him.

Ucalegon: 6/10

She's very sinewy, very thin, lots of bones and edges and hard muscle. Despite this, she does put her all into it, and often rocks the people she hugs gently in her arms. She doesn't much like being hugged, but doesn't mind hugging her friends and loved ones, of which there are many. She's also pretty strong and could lift most people, if you're into that.

Cerebellum: 8/10

Muscular, a little on the boney side but he makes it up with sheer enthusiasm. A hug from Cerebellum gets you lifted in the air and twirled around in excitement. He likes to hug his friends! But it can be a bit overwhelming for people not into that, alas.

Diomede: 5/10

He's bonier and thinner than he used to be these days, and is a lot more touch-starved than he ever was with the Vagor. So very hesitant and awkward for the most part, up until his desperation for human contact hits and then he's extremely clingy until you let go.

Hendrix: 2/10

Hendrix is thin, bony, very angular, slightly wet and cold, and has a number of very hard shell growths all over his body that can and do dig into the skin. The only reason why he's not 0/10 is because he does properly try to give you a bear hug if you ask (he's not large enough to really make it work but it's the thought that counts) and he's just about tall enough for most people to snuggle in nicely, it's just that you're snuggling into what feels like rocks.

Imperator V: 9/10

V is a gentle giant in every sense of the word (except for all the murders). He's very large, both muscular and with a healthy layer of fat on him, and while he is somewhat starved for real gentle human contact he's not socially aware enough to feel awkward about it when it is initiated. If you get his shirt off him, he's also pretty hairy. He'd make a great human blanket, if you asked. One mark deducted for the very real risk that you might get blood stains on you from hugging him. On account of all the murders.

Imperator III: 0/10

Sorry babe the armour that singes the flesh of the sinners and nonbelievers of the Empyrean's doctrine stays on during hugs.

Ed Edwards: 8/10

The man is over 7 feet all, and is a former boxer who has put on a lot of healthy weight in his sporting retirement. He is also, despite his bitter attitude and constant pissed off attitude, is someone who does quite like physical contact. He is touch starved also, which I'm coming to realise is pretty standard in this project, especially Bronze Eden. What intense cultural puritanism and Catholicism does to a motherfucker I guess. Anyway points deducted because he still doesn't quite know his own strength and will squeeze you a little too hard.

Sal Solomon: 1/10

Like hugging an unwashed porcupine.

Sylvester Praeceptor: 5/10

Probably the only person on this list that gets hugged somewhat regularly, by his favourite sibling and proverbial twin Jules. However he's not really big on physical contact outside of that, and rarely lingers in someone's embrace. He's fairly tall but quite thin, although his shoulders which are deceptively broad are probably nice to rest your head against if you want. All in all, fairly middle of the road hugger.

Potentate Magnus: 1/10

He's an emaciated 105 year old man with a very literal God complex. He doesn't hug and if he did it would be like hugging a skin-clad skeleton who actively thinks you are lesser than him. Also wouldn't take off his mask so you'd get stabbed by his horns.

Potentate Augustus: 1/10

He would think you were attacking him and would have a heart attack and die.

Potentate Boris: 6/10

Quite warm, very gentle and pleasant, but points deducted because he would start crying and make it awkward for everyone.

Potentate Salvatore: 7/10

He's more of a kiss on the cheek guy rather than a hug guy but he can and will do it, and is fairly warm and cozy, probably the most normal Potentate to hug. I wouldn't linger though, he gets creepy if you stay around him for too long.

Potentate Felipe: 0/10

Would get a stiffy, potentially cream his pants. Bad idea for everyone involved.

Potentate Clymene: 10/10

Warm, soft, smaller than you but properly wraps her arms around you and all around is a very comforting person to hug. Smells nice too, on account on all the floral perfumes she uses. And she won't tell you off for having bad manners for wanting a hug as others might do.

Potentate Zephyr: 3/10

Clymene took all the good hugging genes 😔 he is tall, lanky, and usually is awkward, tense and uncomfortable, but is much more open and warm around Clymene, who is the main person he's hugging. Again, they're probably the only siblings in this miserable family who genuinely like each other.

Potentate Louis: 2/10

Like his uncle Zephyr, he is awkward, tense and uncomfortable, and has the same lankiness Zephyr has (although isn't as tall). He is also chronically touch starved, but will snuggle nicely given the opportunity. Unfortunately you might get hair gel on you, nothing we can do about that.

Sorry for writing so much, games like this really make me realise how many characters I have in this current project 😅 I'm tagging @woundlight, @chauceryfairytales, @dyrewrites, @albatris, @solipseismic and as always anyone else who wants to give this a shot! It was a really cute and fun thing to do!