#can I put this on my resumé?

[dodorimo]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN BORIS SLAVOV SAW MY SCREENSHOT WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT DO-

[abyssarts]

one of my all time favorite animals to draw

[acridid-s]

I swear to fucking god, if they don't hire some new employees soon, and if that one coworker doesn't come back to help out already, I will lose my fucking mind.

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 3

I'm living for the love for this story!! Thank you everyone!

I'm sorry to say that any requests to be added to the tag list will be ignored. It's all full up! But! You can follow me and put on notifications. That seems to work for most people!

In this we have a lot of growing pains and the girls try everything they can think of to keep Eddie home.

Part 1 Part 2

~

The next couple of days were spent ironing out of the kinks and setting expectations. Like when Steve scolded Janice for pulling on Joan’s braids and she yelled back that she wasn’t the boss of her.

Both girls went running to their dad.

Eddie looked down at his two little sun spots. “I don’t know why you’re coming to me about this, if Steve saw Jannie pulling Joanie’s hair, then he had every right to call it out. Just like Chrissy, just your uncles. He is in charge while I’m gone, so you better get used to his authority. Both of you girls go sit on your time out chairs for five minutes.”

Both girls gasped in shock, but after an intense showdown, they did as they were told.

“Thanks for that,” Steve said with a huff. “There’s always a little bit of give and take for first couple of weeks, and you laying down the law will really help that.”

Eddie smiled up at him. “It’s just been a tough year for them both. They’re old enough to remember Ethan, but young enough that it’s all the good and none of the bad. So they don’t understand why he left. I’ve been talking to a couple of therapists that think once they’re a little older, they want to start seeing both girls.”

“Nothing quite as traumatic as abandonment issues from an early age,” Steve said with a nod.

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

Steve sat down on the sofa with a sigh. “Unfortunately, yes. Only my parents did just enough to make sure I wasn’t taken away from them. Making sure their trips would only last long enough that it would be considered child abandonment and endangerment. Sending me gifts for my birthday and Christmas, but not being there.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Then as I got into high school, sending me money for groceries and gas. As well as a hefty allowance to make sure that I wouldn’t talk. ‘Let’ me throw lavish parties and then ground me when they found out. Only they would pack up and leave, knowing I’d ignore the grounding because they were gone. Just a bunch of stupid shit like that.”

Eddie’s expression softened. “In the Hall of Fame of shitty parents, that’s really up there, man.”

Steve let out a huff of bitter laughter. “I got the last laugh though. The second I turned eighteen and finished school, I told them I was running away with my best friend and joining the circus. Then I told them I was bisexual and never looked back.”

“So how was the circus?” Eddie asked with a grin.

“Not as fun as you’d expect,” Steve conceded. “Robin and I didn’t have anything like skills to be a performer, and wasn’t experienced in running the booths and rides, so we were part of the put up and take down crew.”

“So how did the nanny thing come about?” Eddie asked, crossing his legs and leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair.

“I used to babysit these kids when I was younger,” Steve said, putting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together, “and when the one’s dad died and left a hefty life insurance to his mom. She suddenly was overwhelmed and hired me to nanny for her.”

Eddie thought back to the resumé the agency had sent over. “Mrs. Henderson, right?”

“That’s the one,” Steve leaned back on the sofa. “Dustin was a good kid. Too smart and arrogant for his own good.”

“Then of course, Mrs. Henderson recommended me to her friends,” Steve said. “One of them said they would only hire me through an agency. My ex-girlfriend happened to work at a nanny agency while she was going to school and offered to put in a good word for me.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “That was nice of an ex. I don’t know if I have any exes that would do the same for me.”

Steve just shrugged. “We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms either, but I used to babysit her younger siblings and knew how good I was. Nancy Wheeler is nothing but logical. She knew I would be good at it.”

“I spoke to a Nancy earlier,” Eddie said thoughtfully. “She really went to bat for you.”

“That’s Nance for ya,” Steve huffed. “Tenacious to a fault. This is her last semester at college and then she’s going to go to Emerson to get her journalism degree. She wanted to get her generals out of the way so she wasn’t paying out the ass for them.”

Eddie smiled. “Looks like I really lucked out then.”

“I guess you did,” Steve said softly. “I did too. Having you here these last couple of days have really helped out. They are still going to have the worst meltdowns during that first week you’re gone, but knowing you’ve already set the boundary they’ll only butt against it instead crossing it.”

Eddie smirked. “They’ve chased off nannies before. It’s why I have a very specific list of do’s and don’t’s with anyone I hire.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it,” Steve chuckled. “Normally, I’d put them to bed, but because it’s your last night with them, I’d suggest you do it.”

“Of course,” Eddie said softly. “Thank you for taking good care of them, Steve. I’m really grateful to be leaving them in such capable hands. I don’t want to go on this tour, not really. But I need a break. I love my girls, but with Ethan leaving it feels like he took away my right to chose how to live my life.”

Steve got up and moved to the desk and sat down on it half way. “But at least you have the money and the wherewithal to make sure they are taken care of. Every parent needs a break once in awhile. You’ll go out there make your fans happy and then when you come back, you’ll appreciate them all the more for leaving.”

Eddie looked up at him, then his eyes fluttered shut. He pursed his lips together and leaned his head back. He opened his eyes to look at him again. “You don’t think I’m being a bad parent?”

“It does you no good to burn yourself out,” Steve soothed. “It would do them more harm if you burned out and couldn’t take care of them anymore.”

“I love them so much,” Eddie said, his lower lip quivering. “But not having any help except Chrissy occasionally made it hard.” Tears trickled down his cheeks.

Steve pulled out a tissue and handed it to him. Eddie let out a watery chuckle. “You didn’t have anyone close that could help you?”

Eddie wiped his eyes and shook his head. “My former bandmates kinda scattered all over the globe. Gareth in Wales where his family is from, Jeff in New York, and Brian in LA. My uncle, Wayne broke his leg just after Ethan left and he’s just barely moving around without a cane. I couldn’t make him watch two rambunctious four year olds.”

He let out a shuddering breath and then another. “A lot of the nannies we had kept trying to be their mother. One was even caught trying to teach Joanie to call her Mama.”

“That’s rough,” Steve murmured. “But I’m here to help you. I’m not going to try and replace you as their dad. Or even Ethan, really. I’m just an extra person you can rely on.”

“You don’t mind setting up the household staff do you?” Eddie asked, his voice still rough from the crying. He blew his nose and then threw the tissue away in a nearby garbage. “It’s just that I want people that will work well with you and not try to fight you on every little thing.”

Steve shook his head. “No I get it. Plus getting help for a place as big as this one, I’d need the help otherwise I’d wear myself out before you got home.”

Eddie chuckled. “Do you like the house? Some of the other nannies thought it was creepy.”

“Mr. Muns–” Steve began but Eddie cut him off.

“Call me Eddie,” he said softly. “Mr. Munson makes me feel old and I’m not ready for that yet.”

“All right, Eddie,” Steve murmured back, “I think it’s spooky in a fun way. It’s not creepy. It’s beautifully decorated. I’ve seen creepy. Like tiger and elephant heads mounted on the walls with fully stuffed birds and in one horrifying case a Tasmanian wolf.”

“Aren’t those extinct?” Eddie asked with a grimace.

“Oh yeah,” Steve said, moving to sit on on the desk all the way, to put some distance between them. Before he did something stupid like kiss his boss. “I made sure to report his taxidermy to the Feds on the way out.”

“Brutal.”

“Dude was creep and his wife wasn’t much better,” Steve said with a shrug. “I felt sorry for their kids. They didn’t deserve having parents like those.”

“What made you leave?” Eddie asked, honestly curious on how Steve could have gone through so many clients considering he didn’t seem very old.

Steve kicked his feet a little, careful not to kick Eddie. “They aged out of needing one. They were already pre-teens when I got hired. They basically only needed someone to pick them up from school and make them dinner before their parents came home.”

“How long were you with them?” Eddie asked, more to keep Steve there then any real curiosity he had. Yeah, he had been curious about what made him leave, but this was blatant flirting at this point.

Steve laughed. “What’s this, more interview?” he teased. “No, in all seriousness, it was about a year. Most of my clients only need me temporarily anyway. I’m pretty sure that for at least three of them, their friends or family got to them about me being a guy, because they hired a female nanny soon after.”

“That’s bullshit,” Eddie huffed. “I’m sorry that they kept doing that to you. If anyone says anything to you, send them my direction. I’ll set them straight.”

“Thanks,” Steve murmured. He checked his watch. “It’s about time for me to make dinner.”

Eddie nodded and watched him leave. Once Steve had closed the door to his office behind him, Eddie put his head in his hands. It was so hard to keep his hands to himself when Steve was that close.

He just hoped that the three months he was going to be gone would be enough to put out the fire in his gut for his new nanny for fuck’s sake. He needed to get laid, Jesus fucking Christ!

The rest of the night passed with relative ease. Steve made meatloaf and garlic mashed potatoes with corn on the side.

Night time went well, too. Both girls drifting off to sleep quickly.

Morning, though? That was what was fraught with difficulties and tantrums.

Joan refused to get dressed, flopping on the floor and sobbing uncontrollably. Janice dumped her cereal on the floor, kicking and screaming like a toddler. Joan threw herself at the door while Janice tried to hide Eddie’s shoes.

Eddie stared Janice right in the eye as he pulled out another pair of shoes out of his carry-on. And then another out of his suitcase. He put the shoes back in the suitcase, but pulled on the shoes from his carry-on. All while Janice stood there with her jaw on the floor.

Steve pulled Joan away from the door so Eddie could open it and both girls started crying. Eddie hugged and kissed each girl goodbye.

Steve picked up both girls and held them up to the window so they could wave goodbye as Eddie drove off.

He set them down and they both flopped on the floor like ragdolls. He let them lay there for awhile, even taking advantage of Joan not moving to get her dressed. He put his hands on his hips it was going to be a long week. A very long week.

~

Part 4 Part 5

Tag List: CLOSED

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10- @kultiras @morallyundefined @ollieolive @themoonagainstmers @tartarusknight

[originalfatfiction]

Andy's Assistant

“Hello, excuse me.” There was a gentle rapping at my office door that caused me to look up from my computer. “Are you Andrew Reynolds?” I looked at a young guy obviously in his early twenties. He smiled cheerily as he stood in the doorway, waiting for my response. His smile was gorgeous, his teeth immaculate.

“Yes, I’m Andrew Reynolds,” I replied. “How can I help you?” He smiled again before he continued, walking a little further into my office. 

“Well, the receptionist at the desk in the waiting area said it would be okay if I came on back.” I nodded, allowing him to continue. “My name is Parker Jeong and I applied for the job as your assistant. We had the interview over the phone early last week. I was in the process of moving to the area.”

“Oh, yes, I remember.” Recent college grad. Moving from California. Could start working immediately.

“I know that you mentioned wanting to meet in person before finalizing my employment.” He smiled again, and even with the wholesome smile on his face, I could see in his eyes that he was nervous. He had beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes, and he did his best to hold my gaze. He toyed anxiously with the crisp sheet of paper in his hand, which I assumed was a hard copy of his resumé. He was probably scared I wouldn’t want to hire him after all. Imagine moving across the country for a job only to be told the position had already been filled.

“I know you just graduated a few months ago,” I verbalized. “But from what I remember you telling me during our phone conversation and what I saw on the resumé you emailed over, you’re more than qualified to work as an administrative assistant.”  

“Thank you, sir. I brought a hard copy of my resumé with me,” he said.

“Let me take another look.” He walked closer to my desk and handed it to me. I looked it over, recalling most of the standout credentials. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

Parker had majored in marketing with a minor in graphic design. He’d spent his final semester involved in a mentorship program for Asian-Americans interested in working in advertising. He graduated magna cum laude. Hell, he was overqualified for this position. 

“You’re sure you want this job?” I asked. “You could definitely get a position as a copywriter at another agency.” 

“Hathaway and Associates is the best agency in the entire Midwest. I’ve dreamed of working here since I decided I wanted to go into advertising. The commercials you all put out for Nike were astonishing.” The kid had done his research. 

“What about those commercials did you like so much?” 

“They had this sense of authenticity that I don’t think we see much of anymore. Those ads gave me the courage to join a gym.” I wondered what he’d think if he knew the portly executive in front of him had come up with the concept that inspired his fitness journey. 

“I want more for my career, yes, but I don’t plan on shirking my responsibilities as your assistant. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re taken care of, sir.”  

I was a pretty good judge of character, and I didn’t think Parker would let me down. I liked his honesty. It was refreshing. My previous assistants had never been my choice, often young adults that had some sort of connection to the other executives at the agency. “Well, I look forward to working with you.”

“I look forward to working with you too,” he replied, reaching out to shake my hand. I stood, and his eyes traveled upwards to my face. Maybe he couldn’t tell I was so tall behind my desk, but it seemed like he was surprised by my size. I tended to have this effect on people. I grabbed his hand, and we shook to seal the deal of his hiring.

“Head to human resources and get your paperwork finalized. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning. We start at nine.” He thanked me again, clutching his over-the-shoulder bag as he left my office. I bet he skipped down the hallway all the way to HR.

I knew he’d work hard. That was certain. But when it came to how sexy he was, I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into. I assumed Parker was gay, and he was definitely a little snack I could see myself sinking my teeth into, but I had to remind myself that I was in a position of power over him. Even if I wanted to see what he was working with underneath his exquisitely tailored slacks, flirting with him was a no-go. And besides, that little gym bunny probably had no interest in a grizzly bear like me.

The next morning, I got to work a little early and Parker was sitting at his station right outside of my office. He had a dozen donuts on his desk and two coffees, one much larger than the other.

“Hello Mr. Reynolds,” he said. “Please let me know what I can do to help you this morning.” He handed me the larger coffee and a napkin before smoothly opening the box of donuts. I recognized them immediately. They were from a trendy new spot that had opened a few months ago. They specialized in unique flavors, like maple-bacon and Fruity Pebbles.

“You sure know how to make an impression.” 

“I told you that I’d do whatever it takes to make sure you’re taken care of.” I grabbed one of the donuts, knowing I’d be coming back out for another within the next fifteen minutes.

“Let me get situated and I’ll let you know what you can do for me.”

“Yes sir.”

I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me with all this “Mr. Reynolds” and “Yes sir” business. My last assistant was a statuesque redhead who never tried to go above and beyond the requirements of her position. Which was fine, I got it. She did what she was paid for. But sometimes I think she messed things up on purpose so I wouldn’t give her more work to do. I barely got a hello from her in the morning, and she left promptly at five without so much as a farewell. 

I shuffled into my office, tossing my bag on one of the chairs opposite my desk. I bit into the donut, savoring its sweetness. It tasted like a Biscoff cookie, and I was almost certain the glaze was made from cookie butter. I took a slightly larger bite before shoving the rest of the pastry into my awaiting mouth. That donut never stood a chance. I already wanted another, but I needed to show some self-restraint. I couldn’t let Parker know I spent my working hours inhaling food three minutes into his first day.

About ten minutes later, Parker was knocking at my door, box of donuts in hand.

“We’re celebrating today, Mr. Reynolds,” he said, walking towards my desk. “I’ve already had two of these. I’m going to leave the box with you so you don’t have to worry about coming back for more.”

“Well, uh, you don’t want to offer them to some of the other assistants?”

“No, sir,” he said, coyly setting the box to the left of me at my L-shaped desk. “This is for me and you, sir.”

Damn did Parker know the way to a big man’s heart. Having the box within arm’s reach, I finished the rest of that dozen by noon.

The donuts were one thing, but Parker was constantly supplying me with snacks throughout the day. He’d brought me homemade blueberry muffins and brown butter chocolate chip cookies. He’d made me buttery croissants, decadent fudge brownies, and Oreo cheesecake bites. I wondered if he was making his way through a cookbook.

“It’s just a hobby,” he said offhandedly when I mentioned he didn’t have to bring me so many treats. “I guess I got carried away.”

“You just always bring so much. I hope you know I’m not expecting you to bring something every single day. I don’t want you to feel put out.”

“It’s just how I unwind,” he said. “Before I moved here, I had three roommates. Now that I live alone, I don’t have anyone else to share them with. I’m really sorry for assuming you wanted them.”

“Whoa!” I interjected. “I never said I didn’t want them.” This made him laugh. I didn’t mind the baked goods. I woke up salivating thinking about what new thing he’d have for me to munch on, but it was never just a sampling of his work. The portions were huge. When he showed up with his reusable containers, it always brought to mind something that would normally be placed in the breakroom for everyone in the office to sample—like a baker’s dozen of white chocolate raspberry mini-Bundt cakes or an entire pan of M&M Rice Krispie Treats.

The baked goods were just the cherry on top of having an excellent assistant. He was definitely the best one I’d ever had, a really fast learner for sure, but his competence as an office worker was second to his ability to cater to my often insatiable hunger. A month of Parker’s special treatment was damaging to my waistline. Being catered to by him turned me on beyond belief, and it was something new for me. In my past relationships, my love of food was never celebrated. Parker’s eyes seemed to light up when I munched on whatever he brought me. “It’s not too chocolatey?” he’d asked, pushing another confection my way. It was never too chocolatey. It was always perfect, just like him.

He greeted me with baked goods each morning and made sure to say goodbye before heading out every evening, carrying with him an empty Tupperware container or pie dish. Aside from the extra thousand-plus calories a day I was inhaling from his delicious goodies, he always made sure to have lunch delivered for me.

He talked to me more than any of my other assistants ever had. Almost like he was trying to get to know me on a more personal level. It had me looking forward to going to work, a feeling I hadn’t had in quite a while. It might have been unintentional, but Parker’s interest, even if it was just platonic, was boosting my ego. My old assistants barely ever looked in my direction, but this guy wanted to know what my favorite movies were and what I liked to do for fun. This attention from him was electrifying. My brain knew being this infatuated with him was no good, but my heart (and my stomach) didn’t care.

Even now, none of the interns or other assistants ever talked to me unless absolutely necessary. That didn’t mean I wasn’t a topic of conversation. They all definitely talked about me. I was big, yes. But I also had a resting serious face. Combined with my intimidating frame, they thought of me as some sort of beast. I once made an intern cry during a pitch meeting because I “looked like I was going to bite her head off.” I now made more of an effort to smile, even when there was no reason to. I also tried to ignore the implications of this, considering I was one of four black men on staff.

To the other execs, I was more of the office joke. I was younger than most of them by fifteen years, so they viewed me as some sort of kid brother. It was always a crack here or a joke there. When I landed the Nike account they all thought it was the funniest thing to ever happen in the history of the world.

“Andy?” one of them had guffawed, barely able to get out what he wanted to say. “When was the last time you saw the inside of a gym? And Nike went with your pitch?”  

But it was something I had become accustomed to; all throughout school I was the big guy people joked about or avoided. Adults always thought I was with the wrong group of kids in elementary school because I was a head taller than the other boys. As if I wasn’t already too big, I had another growth spurt the summer before freshman year of high school. At fourteen my dad began teaching me how to lift weights. My body developed rapidly, and it took me a long time to get comfortable with those changes. By the time I was eighteen, I was larger than my father, who was by no means a small man. My weight sort of leveled out in my early twenties, and I graduated college at my current height and 270 pounds.

Joining the workforce was frightening, yet liberating. I had disposable income and the ability to make my own life decisions. I began working where I was currently employed as a copywriter two months after getting my degree. Lots of late nights and hard work helped me rise in the ranks. I was promoted to the executive level three years ago, and had run through five assistants in that time. I was now thirty-two, unmarried, and a little stifled.

I spent most of my time working. I hadn’t had a hookup in literal years, and to be frank, I didn’t see one happening in the near future. I used to be able to lean into being the big, burly guy who’d had one too many beers. I walked the line between dad-bod and straight-up fat guy for as long as I could before I was promoted. Being an executive meant a lot more responsibility and a lot less free time. My tri-weekly lifting sessions were now a thing of the past. I thought I could stand to lose a few pounds then, but now I was over 350 pounds.

Having Parker as my assistant only exacerbated my feelings of loneliness (and horniness). He probably didn’t even know I was gay and very much into his tight slacks and obedient disposition. The last month had been amazing, yet torturous.

“I have your forms, Mr. Reynolds.”

I told him he could call me Andy, or even just Andrew, but he never did. It was about lunch time and I was getting a bit restless. Maybe I’d run off my other assistants with my multiple food orders throughout the day. I seemed to simply exist in a state of hunger. I was also slightly convinced I couldn’t do my best work on an empty stomach.

I looked at Parker standing in front of me. His dark brown hair was short and very stylish. My hair was cut in a neat fade and my facial hair was thick. I’d kept a standing appointment with my barber every Sunday morning at ten for the last five years.

“Thank you,” I said, holding out my hand to take the manila folder that contained the forms from him. Like some cheesy porno with ridiculous circumstances to set up a sexual scenario, the folder fell through my fingers, all the papers scattering on my office floor.

“Oh, sorry!” he exclaimed. “That’s my bad.” He bent over to pick up the documents, noticing there were more papers to gather than he first realized. He then got on his knees in front of my desk and once again I got to take in his beautiful ass. The fabric of his slacks pulled tight against his butt. His back was slightly arched, as if advertising himself to me. What I wouldn’t give to be bucking my hips behind him. I thought about fucking him constantly, and it had become an obsession. I’d definitely gotten the vibe that he was gay, but I had some serious doubts he’d ever want to hook up with me. “Here you go,” he said, hopping to his feet and handing me the papers.

Almost like it was trying to embarrass me and purposely kill my arousal, my stomach growled.

“Sorry,” I said. I couldn’t believe how hot my face got. My stomach growling was only going to draw attention to the fact that I was twice his size. The portion of goodies I received from Parker at the start of the day was on the smaller side, so that hadn’t helped to dull my hunger pains.

“It’s okay.” He smiled. “It’s lunchtime.” I felt my face go hot once more.

“Yeah, I guess I am kind of hungry.”

“You’re a pretty big guy. I get it.” He fidgeted with one of the buttons on his dress shirt. “Do you, maybe, want to take lunch with me today?” 

“I’ve never eaten with one of my assistants before,” I said, in disbelief he wanted to spend time with me outside of the office.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can just pick something up for you if you’d prefer—”

I stood quickly, not wanting to pass up any opportunity to talk to him about topics not related to copies or signatures or meetings. My gut shook a bit with the momentum. The buttons had given me a difficult time when getting dressed, and I needed to get some new shirts.

“I’m free for lunch,” I exclaimed. “We can go now.”

There were a ton of restaurants in the downtown area. I asked what he wanted to eat and he deferred to me, claiming he wanted me to get whatever I was craving. If I were able to get whatever I was craving, it would be the Parker Jeong meal, extra sauce. He’d probably think that was so cringe. I sighed to myself.

“There’s this place called The Coop,” I said, giving my second choice for lunch. “They serve Nashville style hot chicken.”

At the restaurant he got a normal sized portion of food for a normal sized person, and I wanted to be good, but I needed to replace the lust I was feeling with something else, and that something else was two Nashville hot chicken sandwiches, a large fry, baked beans, coleslaw, and a strawberry mint frozen lemonade.

He didn’t even bat an eye, offering to pick up our trays while I waited at the table. I knew he was just being nice to me because I was his boss. I’d paid for the food, so he was probably just still in assistant mode.

“Order up,” he said, returning to where we sat, setting my overstuffed tray in front of me.

“Thank you,” I said, taking in his tray with three tenders and a medium fry.

“Do you like to eat here a lot?” he asked, sipping from his unsweetened iced tea. Coming from someone else, that would’ve felt like a jab, but from him it just felt conversational.

“I do like this place a lot. Especially for the downtown area. The portions aren’t skimpy and it tastes pretty good too.”

“What other places do you like?”

“Oh, well that’s easy,” I said, digging into my first sandwich. “There’s Tripp’s for seafood, Curry House for Indian, Miss Janie’s for BBQ, oh yeah—Sub Daddy has these huge hoagies. Best in the city. And they’re open late!”

“Sub Daddy?” he laughed. “What kind of name is that?”

“Well, maybe they’re leaning into the innuendo?”

“Hmm, maybe,” he said, looking down at his tenders. “We’ll have to eat there together soon, though Dom Daddies are actually more my speed.”

Was that directed towards me? There was no chance. Absolutely no way. He wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t coming on to me. But still—even if his comment meant nothing, I could feel myself getting hard. 

I took another big bite of my sandwich, trying not to fuck things up. If I lost another assistant they’d probably open an investigation or something to figure out what I did to keep running them off.

“So, um, how’s your food?” I asked, deflecting. 

The vibes never quite got back on track after that. I was too wound up and way too invested in my food. If my inability to hold conversation wasn’t enough to scare him off, me stuffing my face for fifteen minutes straight surely did the job.

We made our way back to the office and finished up for the day. It was a little after five when Parker peeked his head into my office. 

“Have a good night, Mr. Reynolds.” He hesitated for a moment. “Oh, and thanks for lunch.” 

“No problem. I enjoyed your company.” I did enjoy his company. Even with how poorly I felt things went, it was nice being out in public with him. I had to remind myself it wasn’t a date and only lunch between colleagues.

“About the joke I made,” he started, stepping completely into my office and closing the door. “I am so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon.”

“Don’t even sweat it,” I said, knowing I sent him into this spiral because I was now inept at talking to cute men. Things had been so much easier ten years ago.

“I am gay,” he continued. “I know some people feel a type of way about that sort of thing. I just don’t want it to ruin our relationship.”

“You don’t need to disclose your sexual orientation, there are policies in place to protect people from discrimination in the workplace and I’d never treat you poorly because of something like that because—”

“Because you’re a really good boss, I know. I’m sorry I even thought you’d treat me differently. It’s just—the real world is way different than a college campus.”

I was about to come out to him. What did I even think was going to happen? Were we going to fuck, me taking control as his sought after Dom Daddy? I was being ridiculous. Of course he was concerned about his career. 

“Are you going to be much longer?” he asked.

“Yeah, I have to catch up on some work for that supercenter presentation next week.” He started to take off his jacket. “No need to do that, Parker.”

“I can help,” he said. 

“No, that’s okay. Don’t ruin your evening,” I said, still feeling embarrassed by this whole debacle. I could use his help. The copy room was unbearably small and I didn’t want to have to keep squeezing in and out of there. 

“But if you need my help, I can help.” He smiled. “It’s my job. I’m your assistant.” 

I was glad he wanted to help me. He was truly the best assistant I‘d ever had and not just because he had such a fantastic ass. I didn’t want to come across as demanding or difficult to work with, but selfishly, I wanted to spend more time with him.

“Well, okay,” I relented. “As long as you’re free.” 

“I’ll order us something from Sub Daddy,” he said, heading back out to his station. “It’s been hours since lunch. You can’t focus on an empty stomach.”

After that, we worked late a lot, and went to lunch together even more often. He was more than willing to try new restaurants with me, always encouraging me to order as much as I wanted. He always offered to treat me, but I never let him. What sense did that make? He only ever ate a fourth of what I did.

His personality was pleasant, which didn’t make it easier for me to stifle my crush on him. Who wouldn’t be into him? He was smart, hardworking, fun, and considerate. He knew how to bake and never made me feel bad about eating what I wanted. I had gotten into the habit of eating more and more when I was around him. I hardly noticed until all the food was gone. I found myself to be less nervous when I was stuffing my face. It felt less likely that I’d say something dumb. When I was 70 pounds lighter, I was way more willing to flirt or say something corny to make a guy laugh. But now I felt like everything I said or did seemed desperate. And so instead of talking, I stuffed my face. In the two months Parker had been working with me, I’d gained ten pounds.

On our late nights, I always told him he could leave but he never did. Not once.

That was enough to keep my delusional fantasies about him going.

He started mentioning clubs and bars, asking if I’d ever want to go with. I figured it was just a gesture, and I was way too rusty to ever take him up on the offer, but maybe one day I could. The more I got to know him, the more I found myself thinking that maybe, just maybe, he was interested in me too.

My pants had gotten even tighter; I needed some new ones. My thighs filled them out completely and my ass was getting pretty big too. I’d never gotten around to getting those new shirts, and now I needed new pants. I had to face it. I was fat, and with my habits, I was just going to keep getting fatter.

It was late October, and one of the other execs was celebrating his fiftieth. His assistant and a few of the interns had organized a little office party for him after lunch. I’d already eaten these really delicious chocolate covered pretzel sticks Parker made me and something he’d picked up for me from The Coop for lunch.

Everyone filed into our largest conference room. There were a few toasts and it was a decent time overall. Then the cake was revealed. It was from a nice bakery near our office that people always used when doing festive things like this. 

It was time to admit to myself that I loved sweets, and with Parker’s kind gestures, I had tried tons of things I’d never eaten before.

I moseyed on over to the cake, planning to only have a piece. Just enough to be polite to the planning committee. But it was delicious. It was a strawberry lemon layer cake, the perfect marriage between tart and sweet flavors. The lemon cake layers were separated by a delightful strawberry compote (a term I’d learned from Parker), which was also incorporated into the rich buttercream frosting. 

By the time I finished my (substantial) piece, Parker discreetly replaced my empty plate with another that had an even larger slice. He did this three more times while we mingled with others from the office. I must have ended up having a third of that cake to myself. 

Returning to my office after the celebration gave me time to reflect. I tried to get some work done, but it was hard to focus, especially with the buttons on my yet to be replaced shirt and slacks straining.

What was Parker trying to do? Was he simply being an attentive assistant or was he subtly making fun of me? Or maybe I was just too in my head and he was attracted to me? He’d never done or said anything that alluded to disliking me because of my size. But that didn’t mean he was attracted to me because of it either. I looped through variations of the same arguments over and over.

I must’ve overanalyzed those different scenarios for a good fifteen minutes before shifting my focus back to work. I’d already sent Parker to the art department to collect some mock-ups we’d need, but I couldn’t move forward in my current task without making some photocopies. 

I was going to have to face the dreaded copy room.

Minutes later, I stood outside of the copy room. I paused momentarily to psych myself up before proceeding. The room was not spacious to begin with, but with multiple built-in cabinets full of office supplies on one wall and a line of photocopiers on the other, the only space for a person to move was a narrow strip of floor down the middle of the room. I walked up the aisle to one of the machines in the center of the room.

So far, so good. I made one of my copies, and proceeded to the next. Still good. I moved on to my last document. That’s when the machine jammed.

“Fuck me,” I said to myself, sighing. I took a step back, my ass already brushing against a cabinet. I leaned forward, opening the side panel and noticing the jammed paper immediately. This would be an easy fix, thankfully. I was bending my knees slightly, and I could feel the fabric of my slacks pulling tight against my beefy behind. It might have just been my anxiety, but I swear I could feel the stitch on the rise of my pants stretching to its limit. I made a mental note to myself that at this point some new items in my wardrobe were necessary, not optional.

I removed the jammed paper, made my last copy, and swiftly made my exit from that claustrophobic space. Bull in a china shop, meet Andrew Reynolds in the copy room. 

I paused for a moment, as I could hear Parker’s voice.

“I really should be getting back.”

“Come on, Parker. You can’t actually like working with Andy.” I backpedaled before I could be seen. It was Antoinette, one of the office gossips. She’d been close with my previous administrative assistant.

“Yeah, I do,” Parker said, sounding somewhat bothered. “He’s really very nice. And super smart.” Whoa. He was actually sticking up for me. I could hardly believe it.

“You’re gay, right?”

What a segue. Antoinette was likely upset he wasn’t down to badmouth me, ready to move the conversation in a direction she found more interesting.

“Uh, yeah, I am,” he said, his tone slightly more annoyed. 

“You don’t like him, do you?” Antoinette pushed. “Because you’re probably barking up the wrong tree with that one. He’s never been with anyone since I started here, and it’s been seven years.”

“Mr. Reynolds might just be a private person. He could have a wife and kids at home. You don’t know.” At this, she laughed.

“I highly doubt that.” Parker likely made a face, as she then said, “Now don’t give me that look. I wasn’t trying to upset you. I hadn’t realized how much you looked up to Andy.” She couldn’t have sounded more sarcastic.

“Like I said,” he reiterated. “I really should be getting back.”

“Okay, wait. I only bring it up because there’s someone else in the office who is interested in you.” She sounded like some sort of matchmaker.

“Toni, please.” He sounded even more irritated. “I don’t think my love life is any of your business, and I don’t need you to hook me up with anyone.”

“Mark is the one that wanted me to talk to you. He really likes you,” Antoinette continued. Mark was a copywriter that had started two or three years after I did. He’d never gotten over the fact that I’d been promoted and he hadn’t.

“I’m flattered, truly,” Parker replied. “But please tell him I’m not interested.”

“Fine, but here’s his card anyway.” There was a slight pause. “But you’ve got to be real with me. Working with Andy must be hard. I heard from his last assistant that he was so demanding, and not about work matters. She spent most of her time placing food orders and picking up his take-out.” She laughed. “Did you see all that cake he ate at Dave’s party this afternoon? That’s why he’s not with somebody. Who wants to date a pig?” I felt my stomach tighten in embarrassment.

“Watch how you speak about my boss,” Parker responded. “This conversation is over.”

“Fine, I swear—” I could hear her heels clicking on the linoleum of the hallway as she walked away from the corner in which they’d been speaking. I could then hear Parker’s steps as he headed towards the copy room. 

I froze.

What could I do? There was nowhere to hide. I was in the world’s smallest copy room, and even if there was somewhere to hide, there was no way I’d fit into that hiding spot. I just stood there, ready to face the awkwardness. He turned the corner quickly, bumping into my stomach.

He stumbled back, almost losing his balance. He dropped all the samples from the art department. I could feel that tight feeling in my stomach again, my mouth going dry. He must have known I was listening.

“Mr. Reynolds?” he mused. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” He knelt down and started picking up the papers.

“No apologies, please. It’s my fault.” 

I bent over quickly to help him and there was a loud ripping sound. The same seam in my pants that had worried me moments before gave way. I could tell immediately that my pants had split down the back.

I stood up straight immediately. I could feel his eyes on my face. 

“Andrew,” he said softly. 

No, not the pity. I could feel it coming, and that would make me feel worse. I pushed past him, leaving him alone in that tiny room to gather the scattered papers. I waddled awkwardly back to my office to grab my jacket. I didn’t want the pants to rip anymore than they already had. I needed to get some new slacks. 

Taking a moment, I looked in the mirror on the back of my office door. My blue button up shirt didn’t hide my large, round belly. I’d really let things get bad these last few months. I had completely lost all restraint since meeting Parker. I was happy-eating when he brought me his baked goods. I was nervous-eating when we went out to lunch together. I was sad-eating at home when I thought about how much it sucked to have unrequited feelings. 

My love handles sloped away from my torso down over the side of my pants. My pants looked like they’d been painted on my meaty thighs. When did my face get so round? If I shaved my beard how many chins would I find? More than the one I remembered when I started working here ten years ago? I had once had a square jaw, but I knew now it would be backed by a second chin, with a new layer of fat likely being formed behind that. My round cheeks made my eyes look smaller than they were in my youth. I even had a light dabbling of sweat on my forehead from my dash back into my office.

“Mr. Reynolds?” Parker called gently as he knocked at my door. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” I said, speaking slowly. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” he inquired. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I need to head out for an errand, so please make sure you reschedule the rest of my meetings this afternoon.” 

“Do you need to go shopping?” he asked. 

I could have leaped from my office window—and we were on the twentieth floor. Any chance of ever being with Parker was surely ruined. I needed to rip off the Band-Aid and get this interaction over with. I opened my office door. 

“I could help you pick some things out,” he suggested. “I am your assistant. And I know it’s a stereotype, but I have a pretty good fashion sense.” He was trying so hard to be nice to me. 

“This is my problem.” I was still speaking slowly, forcing the words out in a way that likely came off as short. “This is a personal matter, not something to do with work.”

He didn’t say anything. He turned and walked over to his desk, rummaging in one of the drawers. He held a tiny sewing kit in his hands as he strode back over to where I stood. He placed his hand on my stomach, pushing me back into the office before closing the door.

“I understand you would rather shop alone, but I’m not going to let my boss walk around with a split in his pants.” What was he expecting me to do? Strip? There was no way.

“Parker—”

“We don’t have to make a big deal out of this, sir,” he said. “Just take off your pants and hand them here. I can mend them in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Really, that’s not necessary.”

He just stood there, looking at me expectantly. I didn’t want to walk around exposed until I could get to a clothing store. It would only take him fifteen minutes. I took a deep breath and unbuckled my belt. It was a brown leather material that matched my loafers, which I’d slid out of before shimmying out of my too-tight navy slacks.

I could see myself in the mirror behind my office door again. Here I was in my boxer briefs, Parker standing right in front of me, and it wasn’t a scenario I’d previously imagined. He crouched down in front of me, grabbing the pants so I wouldn’t have to bend over.

He inspected the rip for a moment. “This is perfect. It’s not frayed or anything.”

“You really think you can fix them?”

“A temporary fix, yes.” He walked towards one of the extra chairs in my office and had a seat. Things were silent for a few minutes as he threaded the needle and got started on the repair. I’d taken a seat behind my desk and watched him work.

His skin was so smooth, his lips kissably full, his nose a little large for his face.

“I can see why these split,” he said, not looking up from his work. His words abruptly hit me and filled the silence in a way that sat heavy on my mind.

“Me too.” He still hadn’t looked up at me. He just continued mending my pants. 

“I knew I needed new ones, and I—” The words got caught in my throat. I was already embarrassed, so maybe it was time for me to just speak honestly, but speaking honestly kind of felt like admitting defeat. It felt like I was giving up on taking things in an intimate direction with Parker. “I’ve been putting it off. They probably could’ve held on a bit longer, but I’ve put on some weight recently.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Guys like you don’t get it. You could have anyone you wanted.”

“What if I wanted you, Andrew?”

He finally looked up from his work. I must’ve been looking at him stone faced, because his bravado faltered almost immediately.

“Mr. Reynolds—I’m so sorry. That was out of line.”

Parker’s confession allowed me to push past that voice in my head that explained away all the things he did as platonic. He liked me. He wanted me. He’d said so himself.

Before the self-doubt set in, I had to shoot my shot. I’d sulk about my split pants late at night years from now, but right at this moment I refused to return to that negative place. He wanted a Dom Daddy, and that was a role I was more than willing to play.

“What if I told you I wanted to fuck you right now?” His face reddened considerably. I’d never seen him so worked up before, and that made me more confident. “Since the day I hired you, I’ve thought about what it’d feel like to be inside of that sweet ass.”

“Sir—”

“C’mere,” I said in a low voice. He stood, placing my slacks in the seat he’d gotten up from, and gingerly made his way to where I sat behind my desk. He looked down at me slightly as I sat, but we were essentially still on eye level with one another. I could see his chest rising and falling with each breath he took, his lips parted slightly in lust. He pressed his crotch into my gut as he leaned down to kiss me. I could feel his erection through his khakis.

I reached up and palmed his ass, holding a cheek in each hand. He really was stacked back there. He moaned slightly, pressing his dick further into my stomach. We continued kissing, and I pulled him even closer into myself.

I could have kissed him like this for hours, but he pulled away after a few minutes. His palms were pressed against my sagging chest, which sat atop my heavy middle. He slid his hands down my front before resting them on the part of my gut that sat out the farthest. Normally, my first instinct would have been to suck it in, but I realized how useless that would have been. There was no hiding it anymore.

He patted my stomach gently before moving his hands beneath it, lifting it and bouncing it up and down slowly. I could see his hardness through his khakis, so it was clear that he was enjoying himself. If I were to be honest with myself, I was enjoying the belly play too. I’d never had someone focus so intently on my gut before.

I stood up, and he tilted his head back to continue meeting my gaze. I had to play this correctly. I knew he made a joke about liking dominant men, but I wasn’t certain it was actually what he was into.

“Get on your knees,” I said, staring down at him.

“Yes sir.”

He knew what I wanted. He pawed at my underwear until it was around my ankles. My dick bobbed freely now, level with his line of sight. The closer he got to me, the harder I got and the harder it was to see him. He reached up with one hand to hold my belly out of the way and with the other he grabbed the base of my dick.

“Get to work,” I instructed. I grabbed a fistful of his hair as he wrapped his mouth around my dick. It had been a while, but I couldn’t recall a better blow. He was a perfectionist in every sense of the word. His one hand gently massaged the base of my gut as he continued sucking me off. I’d been with people who liked that I wasn’t rail thin, but never with someone like Parker. Everything was adding up. The special treats, the lunches together, the cake at the party this afternoon. He liked me being fat, and I was now fairly certain he wanted me even fatter. “I’m about to cum.”

He didn’t stop his work. He simply slowed his pace, teasing my dick with his tongue in a different way. The switch in sensation caused me to erupt. A heavy stream of cum shot from my dick into his mouth and he made sure to get every last drop. I let go of his hair, stepping back so I could have a seat.

I was panting heavily, my underwear around my ankles, gut rising and falling with each deep breath I took. He looked up at me from his place on the floor. His hair was disheveled and his face was flushed. I could still see his erection through his khakis. Damn, he was the hottest guy I’d ever seen. I could hardly believe he was experiencing such intense lust over me.

“You’re something else,” I said, still catching my breath. “And I can’t believe it, but I’d kill for another piece of that cake right now.”

That had him up on his feet, speed-walking from my office and back to the conference room. He was so out of it, he’d probably run to that bakery to get me another piece if he had to.

This shift in our relationship was going to be interesting.

I wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen immediately following our initial sexual encounter, but we went about our weekends like nothing had changed. After eating one of the final slices of that cake from the office party, I left early to purchase some new clothing items. He texted me, and I replied, but neither of us mentioned what had happened.

So Monday morning came and I had spent the entire weekend eating optimistically. I thought about how much he’d want me to be eating good. At one point, I googled “gay fat fetish” and found there was a whole world of people not only into big guys, but into big guys getting even bigger. Maybe he’d bring it up, but now I wanted to test the waters a little. What sort of things would get him going? I was excited to find out. Monday morning, I was hard the entire commute to work thinking about demolishing whatever Parker planned to put in front of me. 

I walked into the elevator, pressing the button that would lead me to the twentieth floor. I noticed Parker making his way toward the elevators. Just seeing him existing in the world made me so fucking happy. I almost didn’t even notice that Mark was right next to him. I hit the door open button quickly, wanting to be near Parker as soon as possible, even if that meant sharing the space with Mark. The doors stayed open, and they both got on.

“Good Morning, Mr. Reynolds.” He smiled up at me. He was carrying a tote bag, and like some sort of sugar-addicted bloodhound, I was almost certain I could smell cinnamon. 

“Parker, hey,” I said, covering my crotch with my bag. Just hearing him say my name was turning me on, giving me a semi. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Hello Andrew,” Mark said. To be completely honest, I’d blocked him out almost immediately. He and I weren’t on the best terms, especially after my promotion.

“Hey Mark.”

“Are you still hitting the gym?” he asked. “Since you got that promotion, I’ve noticed a change in your appearance. I’m sure you’re eating well on that executive salary.”

“I do have a hand in that,” Parker said plainly. “Mr. Reynolds is very kind to indulge my personal baking hobby.”

“But still,” Mark pressed. “Sometimes we’ve got to push ourselves, you know? Once you hit thirty it takes more effort to stay in shape.”

“I think he looks great,” Parker offered, turning to look at Mark. He gave him an obvious once over, his eyes traveling from the top of his head all the way to his shoes. “Do you work out, Mark?”

“Yeah, I do actually,” Mark responded proudly. “Six days a week.”

“Really?” Parker inquired. “I’d have never thought that.”

The man was too stunned to speak.

We all stood silent, the whir of the elevator’s mechanisms the only source of sound. The elevator finally stopped on our floor. Parker and I went towards my office while Mark made his way to his cubicle. Parker placed the tote bag on his desk and I stopped for a moment.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, giving a knowing smile.

“I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.”

“You’re something else.”

“I’m nothing special,” he said, removing two Tupperware containers from the tote bag. “So today you have options. You could have some millionaire shortbread bars or carrot cake cinnamon rolls.”

“Or? You act like I’m not going to polish off both of these containers before we head out for lunch.”

“Uh—well, I—I didn’t think you’d want—”

He looked up at me in surprise, like he’d been found out. I’d known Parker for a couple of months now, and I’d never seen him so flustered. It made me weirdly satisfied. He wanted me to eat? He wanted me to put on a few pounds? If he kept blowing me like he had last week, I’d eat whatever he wanted for the rest of my life.

“I bought some new pants, so I can probably keep indulging for a little while. I need my assistant to make sure I don’t go hungry. That’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, sir,” he said. “Not a problem at all, sir.”

“I didn’t think it would be.” I grabbed both containers and went into my office, peeling off both lids and diving into the baked goods with unabashed enthusiasm. Over that first hour of the day, I ate a dozen shortbread bars and six hefty cinnamon rolls. 

Once I’d finished both desserts, I sat back at my desk. I felt my chair sag, groaning slightly as I allowed my bulk to settle into the seat. This was so unhinged. What was happening to me? Maybe it was all the sugar, but I was in some sort of stupor. My only thought was how I wanted Parker between my legs again, his hands all over my gut. I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. I must’ve sat there for about ten minutes before there was a knock at my door. “Mr. Reynolds?”

“Come in.” Parker opened the door and walked up to my desk. I watched him survey the scene. I laughed a little to myself at the shocked expression on his face as he took in both containers sitting empty in front of me.

“You already finished the–the–the shortbread bars?”

“And the cinnamon rolls,” I added. “They were both phenomenal. You’ve got quite the talent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I only wish I’d had some milk to wash it all down with.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that for next time.”

“There is something you could do for me right now,” I said. He looked back at my office door, which he’d left open. He went over to the door and closed it quietly.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Reynolds?”

“You could get that ass over here, for starters.”

He made his way to where I sat behind my desk, like he had on Friday. We looked at one another for a moment, both taking in the moment. It probably wasn’t smart to fuck my assistant before 10 AM on a Monday, but I’d spent nearly two years involuntarily celibate.

“Get undressed.”

He didn’t question me. He immediately began unbuttoning his crisp, white dress shirt. He tossed it on my desk and then peeled his undershirt off over his head. He shimmied out of his navy-colored chinos. He was in nothing but a pair of stylish briefs. It was obvious he worked out, as his quads bulged with muscle as did his arms. He had well-defined abs, firm pecs. 

His body was completely opposite to my own. My legs and arms were large, yes, but not defined with muscle as they had been in the past. I’d never had abs in my entire life. My stomach sat heavy in front of me, packed full of sugary snacks. And even though I’d just eaten enough baked goods for a small get-together, I was already thinking about what I’d be having for lunch.

“What’re we doing for lunch?” I asked. His whole face reddened, all the way to his ears. I reached out to pull him closer, so I could feel his body with my mouth. I kissed his chest softly, enjoying his scent in the process. “I asked you what we’re doing for lunch.”

He moaned loudly.

“Last—last week you mentioned you wanted an—an Italian beef from—” I bit his nipple gently, sucking it afterwards. “Big Beef’s.”

“Fuck that sounds good. With extra hot peppers and a cheese sauce on the side.” He pawed at his briefs, exposing himself to me. He had a nice dick, a respectable size. He was getting off on this for sure. I let go of his waist and began to unbutton my own shirt. He watched me intently, still stroking his penis. I tossed it on the desk with his clothing items.

He paused his masturbatory efforts to help me remove my undershirt. His briefs were now around his ankles and he pressed his dick into my gut. I grabbed at his ass, lightly teasing his hole with my finger as he grinded against me. He didn’t last long after that, coming all over my bloated stomach. He took a step back. Looking down, I could see his cum glistening as it coated the fuzz of my belly. “You’re not done,” I said, lifting my gut to reveal my belt buckle.

A man of excellent intuition, Parker immediately got me out of my pants and gave me some very thorough head.

Oh, and lunch at Big Beef’s that afternoon was stupendous.

We fell into a routine that made every work day well worth it. He was still bringing me his baked goods (beverages now included). We left the office whenever possible to grab a bite to eat during our lunch hour, and when we couldn’t get away he made sure to pick something up for me or to have it delivered. But the best part had to be our sexual escapades. I’d had nearly every part of his body in my mouth at least once. And he was excellent at taking direction. I was pretty sure at this point that he craved it, being told what to do. He was my good boy, doing what I requested, often going above and beyond like there was a chance of being promoted.

From the end of October to the start of the winter holidays, he and I were completely engrossed with one another. Although, even with how intense things had been within the four walls of my office, we had yet to move beyond them.

It was now the second week of December. I was nearing 400 pounds, a thought that was slightly frightening to me. I’d never been this big in my entire life. People around the office had taken notice of my rapid weight gain. It was the elephant in the room. But the food was good, and the sex mind-blowing. I was also intoxicated by Parker’s adoration. With each pound I gained, he seemed to get more and more excited to service me. I wondered how much longer my wardrobe would last before needing to be updated again.

“Excuse me, Mr. Reynolds.” I looked up from the email I was drafting. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“Yeah? What is it?” I inquired, wondering what it was Parker had been mulling over. He was shifting his weight back and forth, nervously smiling in my direction like the day I hired him.

“Well, my parents bought me these tickets to a musical a few weeks ago, and I know that it’s last minute, but I was really hoping you would come with me to see it.”

“A musical?”

“What can I say?” he offered, shrugging slightly. “I’m as stereotypical as they come.”

“When is it?” I asked.

“Tomorrow.” A Saturday.

Was Parker trying to take things to the next level? This was an exciting development. I would love to spend time with him outside of working hours. I could only imagine how much fun we’d have late into the evening post dinnertime.

“If it’s too much, I understand.”

Too much? Not at all. We both wanted more. It was like a weight had been lifted from me (metaphorically, of course). The office sexcapades were nice, there was no doubt about that, but he too wanted to be more than just a hook-up.

“You just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

He laughed.

“I’m kind of obsessed, can’t you tell?”

“I love being adored,” I said, smiling at him playfully. “And now I’m really looking forward to this musical tomorrow. What’s the runtime? Over two hours, I’m sure. I’ll probably need to eat something beforehand.”

“I’ll make a reservation,” he declared enthusiastically, always delighted at an opportunity to get me eating. I was only half-serious with my comment about needing to eat beforehand, but I wasn’t so sure I’d make it the two and a half hours without a meal prior to the curtain rising. I felt incredibly lucky. We’d be getting dinner and seeing a show (and hopefully having even more fun at one of our apartments after).

Once he made the reservation, he emailed over all the info—the restaurant, the reservation time, the name of the theater, the showtime. I could hardly wait. I’d be counting the milliseconds until then. 

The next evening, I dressed to meet Parker for our date. I wore a pair of dark jeans and some Nikes. When I first landed that account, they’d sent over at least ten different pairs. I had lots of dress shirts that fit fairly well since I re-upped, but I wanted to be a little more casual. I found a burgundy crew neck in the back of my dresser that had been a staple in my wardrobe last winter. I pulled it on and found myself shocked at how it fit. I figured there’d be some resistance, but the fabric clung to my plump chest and protruding belly in a way that was much more form-fitting than I anticipated. I tugged at the bottom trying to pull it down to cover the entirety of my stomach. If I moved my arms too much, it exposed some of my brown skin, even though I was also wearing an undershirt.

My first inclination was to change. I wouldn’t have normally wanted to draw attention to my size. But I knew what Parker liked, and I loved pressing his buttons, so I put on my jacket and grabbed my keys, deciding to keep on the sweater. I hoped I wouldn’t come to regret my outfit choice later on.

I was right on time to Haraboji’s, and as I entered the restaurant, I noticed my perfectly punctual assistant had already beaten me to the establishment.

“Mr. Reynolds, over here!” He waved at me from a seat at the bar. I felt silly for being this excited, considering we ate together in restaurants every other day, but this was no work-lunch. This was a Saturday night dinner. A date.

“Parker, hey,” I said, smiling down at my companion for the evening. He was still wearing his jacket, a stylish, olive-green duffle coat. He had on a pair of platform Chelsea boots and dark chinos. “Please, call me Andy, or Andrew—even Drew would be fine.” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “I guess we aren’t in the office.”

“That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he replied. “I’ve wanted to eat here with you for months.”

“I’ve heard this place is really good.”

“Have you ever had Korean barbecue before?” he asked. “I haven’t been to a Korean restaurant since I moved here.”

“I haven’t, but you know I’ll try anything. I trust you to make sure I have something tasty.”

After that the hostess called Parker’s name and we were seated. It was pretty crowded, every table filled. In front of us was a little grilling station. Our waiter came and Parker took the reins, ordering what seemed like a lot of food for just two people. He asked for bulgogi, pork belly, garlic butter chicken, and brisket. He also ordered fried seaweed rolls and tteokbokki. Our waiter brought out a lot of little dishes with different vegetables on them.

“These are banchan—um, side dishes,” Parker explained. “They’re really good with the grilled meats. That one is cucumber, that one is potato, and that one is zucchini.”

“And that one is kimchi.”

“Yes, exactly!”

Our waiter returned with another worker to assist him. One of them held our appetizers, the other numerous plates of raw meat on a serving platter. Once all the plates were set out in front of us, it seemed truly excessive. Parker got to work immediately, oiling the grill and placing meat on it strategically. As things were cooked he piled them high on my plate. Everything tasted great and I followed every suggestion he gave me. “Eat this with that,” he’d say, hyper focused on his grilling. “Ooo, you’ve got to try that with this dipping sauce.”

Halfway through the meal, I noticed that he was no longer eating. I seemed to be his main priority. I was now regretting my earlier boldness when getting dressed for this outing. My sweater rose slightly on my stomach exposing the light layer of dark hair on my underbelly. Parker didn’t stop either, making sure to cook every piece of meat that had been provided to us.

“There’s also Korean fried chicken on the menu,” he said, having just finished grilling the last bit of bulgogi and pork belly. “They come in orders of four.”

I groaned slightly, sitting back in my seat and resting my hand on the top of my gut.

That was when the waiter returned, taking in my gorged state his face reddened on my behalf and he focused his attention on Parker. “Is there anything else I can get for you guys?”

“Yes, we wanted a double order of the fried chicken wings and a bottle of peach soju.”

The waiter glanced in my direction and then back at Parker. He probably couldn’t believe we were ordering more food. I couldn’t believe we were ordering more food, but my date was a man on a mission. We did have about forty minutes before we needed to be at the theater, but I still thought he was cutting it close.

“I’ll put that in right now.” I waited for our server to leave before speaking. 

“I’m spilling out of my sweater and you're still shoving food in my direction.”

“Andy,” he said innocently. “You don’t want to be hungry while the show is going on. You said so yourself, remember?”

“How considerate of you,” I responded, sitting up. I grabbed my fork and started in on the last bit of meat he’d put on my plate. “And I can’t wait to thank you at my place after the show.”

After dinner at Haraboji’s, we made our way to the theater for the musical. I’d already parked my Buick Enclave in a parking garage on the same street as the restaurant. He informed me that he picked this restaurant not only because he’d been wanting to try it, but also because it was only a block away from where we’d be seeing the show.

I was so full I didn’t feel like doing anything, especially walking. I was perspiring a little bit so I left my jacket open to air myself out. I could feel a cool breeze on my stomach, but I just ignored it. Parker was leading the way, glancing my way every so often to check me out. If his parents hadn’t gone through the trouble of buying him these tickets, we’d already be halfway to my place.

We made it to the lobby and the worker scanned the tickets on Parker’s phone. There was about ten minutes until the show would start so we made our way to our seats. This was where things got awkward.

Personally, when purchasing tickets in advance, I always tried to get the seat closest to the aisle. But these two seats were right in the middle of a row. Not everyone was in their seats yet, but we’d still need to shimmy past five or so people. Parker seemed somewhat oblivious to this issue, and in his defense, he likely never faced this sort of problem. Being bigger meant anticipating any obstacle. Would there be a lot of walking? Would there be a lot of stairs? How sturdy were the seats? I’d always thought about these things, but having gained fifty pounds in the last five months created even more complications I needed to be ready for.

“Excuse us,” Parker said, making his way into the row. He got by the first person with ease, whereas the man needed to stand up for me and press himself as far back into his seat as possible. Even then, my gut pushed up against him as I made my way past him. This happened four more times until we made it to our seats.

I sat in the chair and it creaked loudly. It was a really tight squeeze. This was not a theater that had been updated this century. It had probably been forty or fifty years since there had been any type of alteration to the seating. The armrests could not be lifted, so I sat there as they dug into the sides of my bloated gut. Fuck, I thought. Maybe we shouldn’t have gone so hard at dinner.

“Isn’t there like a special section for bigger people?” the woman next to me asked the man she was with. She was at least trying to whisper, but considering the fact I was sitting right next to her that didn’t do much to keep me from hearing her. “It’s just, these seats are so small, you know? Even for someone regularly sized.”

I’d been feeling pretty good before all of this happened. I was used to people making comments. But something about this made me really think hard about what I’d been doing to my body. I was already fat. I’d already had horrible eating habits. But should I have let this thing with Parker push me so completely into gluttony? I was the one who had to deal with the wardrobe malfunctions and too-small theater seats. 

Parker was a great person and a masterful lover, but he was also ten years younger than me. If this dalliance were to end, he could go about his life unchanged. But me? How much bigger would I be by the time he got bored of me?

“Andy,” Parker said, his hand on my thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. This wasn’t the time or place to share my thoughts with him.

“I didn’t pick the seats,” he explained. “Next time, I’ll make sure that we’re on the end.” 

“Thanks.” I exhaled, feeling a little better. Him saying that didn’t absolve all of my fears, but it reminded me of how thoughtful Parker was. Maybe he didn’t know what it was like to be my size, but he did try to consider how my size affected my day-to-day life.

The lights dimmed and the show started a few minutes later. It was pretty funny and the music was enjoyable. I never thought a musical adaptation of an 80’s fantasy-horror-comedy would be any good, but I’d see it again if given the chance. After the cast took their bows we waited for our row to clear out before we got up. I could tell he really enjoyed himself, so that made the two and half hours in that seat from hell worth it.

“I Ubered here from my apartment,” he said once we were outside.

“I’m in that parking garage by the restaurant,” I said. “I could give you a ride home.”

“You did say you needed to thank me at dinner.”

“Oh, I know just how to thank you.” It was nearly ten, and aside from the people who were also leaving the theater, there weren’t a ton of people around. I grabbed Parker’s hand and we went to my car. I asked him where he lived and other than that I just listened to all the fun facts he had about the production. We were soon out front. “You’re coming up, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course.” I parked and we made our way towards the entrance. He led me up some stairs to his fourth floor apartment. If he lived any higher, we’d have had to call it a night. His place was pretty small, a one bedroom. It was also super neat and tidy. Everything about Parker was that way.

He took off his jacket and hung it in the closet, offering to take mine too in the process. He told me to take a seat on the couch. I sat and realized how little it was. I guess a couch of this size was all he really needed, but it was more like a chair. I filled it up three-fourths of the way.

He carried in a tray with some vanilla oat milk and a container of cookies. He placed it on the coffee table and sat on the remaining one-fourth of sofa. “Consider these as a thank you for a great evening,” he said. “They’re lemon shortbread.”

“You must spend a fortune on butter and eggs.”

“Not at all, I just started buying in bulk when I realized I had someone to bake for.”

“I appreciate getting to eat everything you’ve made for me,” I said, pulling at my sweater, “though I should probably slow down on all the baked goods.” I looked in his direction, wondering how he’d take in that information. He looked a little hurt, a little embarrassed.

“Is everything okay, Andy?” he asked. “With us, I mean. I just thought—”

I could just keep all of these concerns to myself, but that wouldn’t solve anything. It was probably better to have this conversation now instead of later. “I’ve gained a substantial amount of weight since we started sleeping together. I know we haven’t put into words what this is, but I’m pretty sure you’re a feeder—or an encourager—which term is it?” I thought about all the information I found back when I investigated gay fat fetishes a few months ago.

“I think they’re pretty interchangeable.” He wasn’t looking at me. “And I guess that I am, yes.”  He actually looked super pale. Was he scared? Did he think I was upset? I figured he was aware that he’d been found out months ago. He was always so focused on my weight and overfeeding me. His preferences were kind of obvious.

“I’m not upset,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “If I’m being honest, I’m pretty into it.”

He looked up at me, relief overtaking his previously sullen expression. “You are?”

“I think you know I like to eat. And getting bigger is kind of hot when I have someone so into it.”

“I’m into it for sure.”

“My main concern is how serious you are, Parker.” He looked at me intently, waiting for me to continue speaking. “You’re young. You’re still fairly new to the area. When it comes down to it, you’re a hot commodity. Any guy would be lucky to be with you. With how big I was, with how big I’ve gotten, I’m limiting myself. My prospects were slim before, but I’ve probably made the margins even smaller in regards to my marketability.”

“Andrew, I am very serious about you,” he said. “You are the sexiest guy I’ve ever been with. You’re also the biggest guy I've ever been with. Whatever you’re comfortable with, I am willing to do. If you want to lose weight, that’s fine. If you want me to stop with the baking, that’s fine. I just want you. I like you.”

“I like you too. I have since you first started working for me.” Our eyes were locked on one another. This conversation felt so real, so needed. This guy was serious about me. What a relief. “And let’s not be too hasty about the baking. I’ll let you know if we need to slow down, Mr. Feeder.”

This caused his whole face to redden, all the way to his ears. I loved when that happened. It was so funny to see his emotions so clearly. “Now bring that container of cookies over here. I’m hungry.”

Maybe it was reckless of me. Maybe I should’ve taken the out Parker had offered me. But I kept on eating like I had been. I blew past 400 pounds as we entered the new year. He’d flown home for the holidays, so I spent time with my own family. They all showed great concern for how big I’d gotten, but that didn’t stop them from piling my plate high with soul food at Christmas dinner. That was just how my family operated. It’s why I was so big growing up to begin with.

That first Monday back after the winter holidays was nice because we were able to fall back into our normal routine, which included copious amounts of food and a great deal sex. While most people around the office set goals for having a healthier diet or joining a gym, I did nothing of the sort. It was somewhat freeing to know there was no resolution I was bound to break.

Over the first few months of the new year, Parker began spending more and more time at my apartment. Suddenly there was a toothbrush, and then extra pairs of underwear, and then, an item that let me know how serious things had gotten between us, his KitchenAid Stand Mixer.

“You’re here more than at your place,” I said one Saturday evening in April. We’d ordered pizza for dinner, and even though Parker had stopped eating thirty minutes ago, I was still working on an extra-large, tavern-style sausage and pepperoni. I’d already eaten some buffalo wings and a Caesar salad (for balance, of course). “When does your lease end?”

“Well, it ends August of this year.”

“Cancel it.”

“Cancel it?”

“Yeah,” I said, reaching for another slice. “I’ll pay whatever fee your landlord charges for breaking your lease.”

The next week he moved into my three-bedroom apartment. I had more than enough room for his stuff. Even his dollhouse-sized couch fit comfortably against a wall in the home office. This did mean my office baked goods were a thing of the past. They were never able to last long enough after he prepared them to be brought into work. Since meeting Parker nine months ago, I was now 75 pounds heavier.

Parker and I were going to take a long weekend for Memorial Day. We’d both put in for the day off on Friday and we wouldn’t need to return to the office until Tuesday. I’d rented a house up north, about three hours away. The Thursday before we were to leave, Parker frantically entered my office a little after we returned from lunch.

I was positively beached. We were both looking forward to the weekend and he excitedly ordered for me at Rockin’ Sushi. We had purchased enough sashimi, nigiri, and maki rolls for a party of five or six people.

My belly covered my lap almost to my knees when I sat. I normally didn’t dress so casually for the office, but today I was wearing a polo. The fabric was pulled tight around my stomach and I’d been massaging the sides of my gut before Parker came to find me. If he didn’t seem so distraught, I’d have asked him to take over.

“We can’t go out of town,” he said. “We have to reevaluate your accounts.”

“What?” I asked, my eyes half-open. “I have nine major accounts and twelve smaller ones. That’s more than all the other execs.”

“Yes, that’s true, but—” he stopped talking. He probably felt like he’d been overreacting, but I wanted to make sure his worries were quelled.

“Talk to me.”

“I heard from Mr. Monroe’s assistant, who heard from Mr. Otterly’s assistant, that Mr. Otterly plans to retire at the end of June.” John Otterly was well past the age for retirement. His presence at Hathaway and Associates was really just a formality at this point. He’d been an exec at our agency since the mid-seventies. In his prime, for sure, he was incredible at pulling in clients and coming up with catchy slogans for print ads. Now, he had only one major account for a failing brand of novelty gag-gifts. “They’re looking to promote someone, but they want to make the position more robust by taking some accounts from other executives.”

“Bullshit.”

“Agreed.” He watched me heave myself out of my desk chair. “What should we do?”

“Follow me.”

I might have moved a little bit more slowly these days, but with Parker’s help I’d acquired two new clients in the last nine months and strengthened our agency’s relationship with all my original accounts. I wasn’t just some overweight behemoth who didn’t do any work. I was a heavy hitter. I’d recently had a confidence about myself that, shamefully, came from the idolization and devotion Parker gave to me. I was the biggest I’d ever been, but I didn’t feel ashamed of myself. I was already going to draw attention entering a room so I might as well not give a fuck what people thought.

We stopped outside of William Hathaway’s office, whose grandfather had actually founded Hathaway and Associates almost a century ago. We executives kept things running while he received a great deal of the credit, considering he was only in office two days a week. He did hold a forty-five percent share on the board of directors, which was the largest portion of any member. This meant he had a great deal of influence when the board made the large decisions that affected day-to-day operations.

“He’s preparing to leave early for the holiday weekend,” his administrative assistant said plainly. She was also the office manager. Mr. Hathaway’s schedule allowed her to take on more responsibilities, so she helped to organize the tasks for the interns and other assistants. “He doesn’t want to be bothered, especially after the meeting he just had.”

“Martha,” Parker said gently, smiling in her direction. “Mr. Reynolds was hoping to speak with Mr. Hathaway before he left. If he’s not terribly busy, would you please let him?”

“I don’t know. He was pretty adamant that he didn’t want to see anyone else.”

“Didn’t you say your husband liked the chocolate-dipped almond biscotti I made you for your anniversary?”

“Those were divine,” she said, taking more interest in Parker’s plea. I remembered those biscotti. I’d eaten two test batches before he felt confident enough to share them with Martha.

“Weren’t they?” I added. “I don’t know how he does it, but he’s incredibly talented.”

“My husband’s birthday is coming up,” she pondered aloud. “Have you ever made a cake before?”

“Of course!”

They ironed out some details and settled on a tiramisu inspired layer cake. She hopped out of her seat giddily and went to inform Hathaway of our arrival. We got the go ahead to enter and there he was waiting for us behind his desk nursing a scotch.

“Reynolds, you’re bigger every time I see you.”

Hathaway wasn’t one to mince words.

“You’re one to talk. I’m not the only one carrying around a spare tire.” This made him laugh.

“I’m in my sixties, what’s your excuse?” He didn’t stop. “And I’ve got a spare tire, you’ve got a whole Goodyear.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, allowing him to think his ribbing had gotten to me. “I’m just eating good. And my assistant here is a master baker.”

“He is, eh?” Hathaway asked, drinking from his scotch. “You're the biscotti boy?”

“Yes sir. That’s me.”

“Martha, that stingy bitch, only let me have one. Said they were for her anniversary. I’ve got an anniversary. And a birthday.”

“I’ll get those dates from Martha, sir.” Hathaway gave an impressed smirk and took another sip from his drink.

After that, we were finally able to talk business. I asked about Otterly. His retirement was true, a decision “strongly encouraged” by all members of the board. The position being padded with the accounts of other executives was also true. We would be asked in the coming month to choose one or two of our large scale accounts to let go of. When I asked why they didn’t just cut the position, they were concerned about losing their lead copywriter, who voiced concerns about a lack of upward mobility at Hathaway and Associates. He claimed he’d be willing to walk away from the agency unless he was seriously considered for Otterly’s position. 

That lead copywriter? Mark.

If it were anyone else, I would have thought twice about my next course of action. But for Mark? I couldn't care less.

“Well,” I started, hoping I was playing this right. “I say cut Otterly’s position. Give his few accounts to one of us execs, and if he walks, he walks.”

“He’s done good work,” Hathaway offered.

“You can save a great deal by cutting the position. Promote one of the junior copywriters to Mark’s position. And for good measure, Parker here can take the open junior copywriter role.” Parker made a sound of surprise but did his best to recover.

“Biscotti boy?”

“He’s got the Andrew Reynolds seal of approval.” This meant a great deal. I had the most accounts out of all eleven execs. I also had the greatest renewal rates. “I’d be losing the world’s greatest assistant, but I’d do anything for Hathaway and Associates.”

“My great-niece did just graduate from Columbia,” Hathaway said. “I’m sure she’ll need help finding a job with a degree in art history.” If I had to deal with another nepo-baby, so be it. I was keeping my accounts and helping Parker advance in his career.

“Just think about it,” I said, ending our conversation. As we left his office, Martha entered. Before the door closed completely, I heard him mentioning that the board needed to convene after the holiday weekend to vote about an important matter. I had a good feeling that things were going to change for my little Biscotti Boy.

We did still manage to make it up to the house I rented. Fortunately, it was somewhat secluded, the houses pretty far apart from each other. They were only really visible to one another from the front yard. Parker had a long list of grocery items he needed, so our first stop after checking into the rental was the local supercenter. He was obviously grateful for what I’d done in Hathaway’s office, and he spent the weekend showing me that gratitude with his culinary skills and physical flexibility. My favorite memory from our trip would be how he’d gotten me on the floor after grilling some brats and making s’mores.

“Okay, so bend your knees,” he said, swinging his leg around my waist after tossing me a pillow for underneath my head. There wasn’t a ton of space between my bent knees and my bulging belly, but Parker fit there perfectly. He looked down at me as he sat atop my waist, sliding all nine inches of my penis inside himself. He rested his hands on my stomach. Their warmth penetrated me to my core. 

I reached up to grab at his butt as he rode me. It felt good in my hands, and the thought of what it looked like as I fucked him had me salivating. Always the hard worker, Parker swiveled his hips back and forth rhythmically. His dick was angled upwards, sandwiched between the bottom of my gut and his flat stomach. He leaned forward slightly, his hands sliding up my stomach to my chest. He grabbed my slightly puffy nipples and pinched them gently. That intensified the pleasure I was feeling and I lifted him slightly by raising my legs, pushing myself deeper inside of his ass. 

“Oh God,” he moaned, sitting straight up. He bounced up and down like this for nearly a minute before he came. His cum shot up his front, some landing on the floor and on my gut. The look of sheer pleasure on his face was intoxicating. That did it for me too, and had me shooting my load as well.

We stayed on the floor longer than intended. I couldn’t get up just yet, so he covered both of our naked bodies with a large blanket and cuddled up close to me. Losing him as my assistant was going to be tough, but moments like these would make up for it.

Returning to work on Tuesday was fine. I’d have preferred another week in a secluded lake house with Parker, but the real world was waiting for us. Antoinette was in rare form, flitting from assistant to assistant spreading gossip. She was Hathaway and Associates' very own Lady Whistledown, though a lot less discreet. 

Before lunch, the board met to discuss the future of Mr. Otterly’s position. Antoinette made sure everyone knew how they voted, openly voicing her dismay that her good friend Mark would not be shifting to an executive role, as John Otterly’s position would be closed and his accounts redistributed amongst some of the remaining executives.

The ball was now in Mark’s court. He could keep his current job or he could quit. I was hoping for the latter, so Parker could shine in the field he’d gone to school for.

We worked all day and at exactly five we clocked out. We entered the elevator and Mark followed behind us. “That’s some shit you pulled Andy,” he spat. I noticed a cardboard box in his hands.

“You’re referring to what exactly?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Oh please,” he said. “You get a little ass from your assistant and you’re bending over backwards to get him a promotion. It’s pathetic, but it makes a lot of sense. Why else would he ever waste his time trying to find your dick under that massive gut?”

“You’re out of line,” I said, stepping towards him.

“He’s a sneak and you’re a gullible, desperate, sorry excuse for a professional.” He was upset, understandably, but his job had still been intact. He could’ve continued in his role as lead copywriter, a position I held for over four years before my promotion, and one day he’d be seen as ready to move up in the agency. He’d only been lead copywriter for a year and a half, a role in which he’d been given when the previous lead stepped down to take care of her newborn twins. Mark expected things to be handed to him without putting in the work. Now he was throwing a tantrum, and he wanted to take out his anger on us because he thought we were easy targets.

“Have you ever considered the fact that you just aren’t that likable?” I asked, staring down at him, forcing him into the corner of the elevator. “You’re talented, sure, but you are just so fucking hard to like. Hathaway knows this, the other execs know this. Why do you think it was so easy to encourage them to close Otterly’s position? They don’t want to work any more closely with you than they already do.”

I looked down at the cardboard box. Like a baby, he’d quit when he didn’t get his way. “Or should I say did?”

The elevator stopped on the main floor and the doors opened. Mark looked up at me and then over at Parker. “Fuck the both of you,” he said, pushing past me with slight difficulty. Parker looked pretty mortified, his entire face red with embarrassment.

My little ingénue. He was still very green, and I loved that about him, but I needed him to stand up for himself if he was going to survive in this industry. People made jokes or rude comments. There’d be backstabbing and petty office gossip. At the end of the day it didn’t matter. I was proof of that. There’d been talk about my weight for months, and I was still one of the most successful people on staff.

I’d for sure been in a slump before I met Parker, but I was becoming the man I’d been in my early twenties (metaphorically, not physically). There was a lot less self-doubt and self-loathing. I liked looking at myself in the mirror. I knew that I was good at what I did, and I knew I just needed to carry myself like I had when I was grinding as a junior copywriter. 

“That was really intense,” he said. We’d slowed, pausing in a stairwell. We were halfway between the lobby and the underground parking garage. “I would never sleep with you for that. I swear that I would never do that.”

“I know.” I felt myself smiling. It made me feel good that he liked me so much. His first thought was how I felt. He was always looking out for me, and if he did get a new role as a copywriter, no assistant would ever live up to what he was capable of.

“I love you,” he said, looking at me seriously. I couldn’t believe he’d just said that to me. How we’d gotten to this point, I’d never fully grasp, but I was glad that we did.

“I love you too,” I said. We were silent for a moment, and I took the opportunity to joke with him. “And I have to say, what an elaborate scheme you pulled. The baked goods, the lunches, the head. All for a promotion. You’re truly a mastermind.”

He laughed, swatting me on the ass. “And this is only Phase One. Mu-ha-ha.”

“What’s Phase Two?”

“Hmm, I’ll let you know when I think of it.”

“Maybe you aren’t the mastermind I thought you were—”

“Shut up!” he said, laughing. “Now let’s get you something good to eat for defending my honor.”

A month later, Parker was officially offered a position as a junior copywriter. He’d taken me shopping for some summer clothing items—both work attire and casual items. The number of X’s on my shirts and shorts was a little shocking, but he did have a knack for picking flattering cuts and patterns. I may have been over 400 pounds, but I’d never looked more stylish.

“Are you ready yet?” Parker called from the living room. It was the last Saturday in June and all of Parker’s old roommates from California were in town for the last weekend of Pride and to celebrate his promotion.

“Yeah,” I called in response. I walked out of our bedroom. “But you’re sure you want me to wear this to meet your friends?”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “It’s just a pair of shorts and a polo. It’s not risqué.”

The shorts were much shorter than I’d buy for myself, but they did fit me very well. They were a good three inches above my knees. He saw them on some Instagram ad and bought me three different pairs. The polo was much more out of my comfort zone. It was cream-colored and a crochet knit. You could see glimpses of my brown skin through the hundreds of small holes that made up the shirt.

“But it seems like you guys want to dance and that’s not really my scene anymore. Can’t you all celebrate tonight and then we all meet up for brunch tomorrow?”

“Okay, what about we all meet up tonight and go out to brunch tomorrow morning?” he countered in rhetorical fashion. “And besides, if you don’t want to burn any calories, you can just have some bar food and a beer.”

“They have those soft pretzels there don’t they?”

“They sure do,” he said, handing me my keys. “Now let’s go please.”

Fortunately I was able to find a good parking spot not too far from the bar. I parked and we walked the block to Dudes. The day had cooled considerably, which I was grateful for. It’d been in the eighties, but it was only about seventy now that the sun had set. They asked to see Parker’s ID and then we made our way inside.

“Parker!” I looked for who had shouted his name. It was another Asian guy who was about Parker’s height.

“Yedam, hey!” Parker looked at me. “Andy, this is Yedam. Yedam, this is my boyfriend Andy.”

“Oh wow,” Yedam said, taking me in. He smiled, like he was trying to stifle a laugh. “Um, it’s nice to meet you.” He locked eyes with Parker, raising his eyebrows theatrically. Was this a good interaction or not? I was having trouble reading the situation. Two other guys made their way to where we stood, both holding drinks. One of the guys handed a glass to Yedam.

“Mike, Sam, this is my boyfriend Andy.” Mike was white and very blond. Sam was black, a little lighter than I was. Overall, they all had the same vibe as Parker. Very put-together, the same height and build.

“This makes sense,” Sam said, gesturing back and forth with his pointer finger between Parker and I.

“Oh yeah, a thousand percent,” Mike added.

I felt like I was missing something, but I was hopeful Parker would fill me in later. The guys all told me I was very handsome and very large. It wasn’t in a sarcastic way, or a flirtatious way even. They presented it like they were simply stating facts. I ordered my pretzels and a round of shots for Parker and his friends. They were all laughing and joking and hanging off of one another. It was almost enough to make me jealous,  but I knew I was what Parker wanted. I didn’t need to worry about his friends.

After another shot Parker pulled me towards the crowded dance floor. “Ready?” he asked, leaning into me.

“I thought I was supposed to drink my beer and eat bar food.” I scanned the whole place; I was the biggest guy in the entire club.

“You’ve got all night to eat bar food. You can dance with me for a few minutes.” He started to move his body and I did too. I wasn’t a bad dancer; it was just something I tended to avoid. He turned slowly, his butt against my crotch.

It seemed like the music got faster and louder, and the entire time I couldn’t take my eyes off of Parker. He was absolutely gorgeous. I leaned down, kissing his neck. He lifted his arms, wrapping them around my neck. I stepped back and felt a foot under me. 

“Shit, man, watch where you’re going! You’re gonna break someone’s foot!” This guy was drunk.

“What was that?” I asked. Six months ago, I’d have left the dance floor completely mortified. But now, why would I ever stop living my life because I took up just a little too much space? The world was a big place, and people would just have to make room for me.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, adjusting his tone. “Just be more careful. Sorry.”

“That dude was an ass,” Parker said, turning to face me, resting his hands on my waist.

“As crowded as it is, I was bound to step on someone’s foot.” I leaned down so I didn’t have to shout this next part so loudly. “Although it does probably hurt a little more when the one doing the stepping is over 425 pounds.” Parker smiled at me, and I think it was a relief to him that I was being a good sport. 

“Parker! Andy!” It was Sam waving us over to the bar.

He and the rest of Parker’s friends wanted to do another shot and my pretzels were waiting for me. “They were just delivered,” Yedam said. “And we didn’t want them to get cold.”

The rest of the night went pretty well. Parker was always so reserved and in control of himself, so it was nice to see him having fun and letting loose. They were all pretty toasted by midnight, and Mike drunkenly started talking about getting something to eat.

“Why did we drink so much?” he bemoaned, leaning against Yedam as we left the bar. “We should’ve gotten dinner before the bar.”

“You were the one convinced you were getting laid tonight,” Sam stated, stumbling right along next to them.

“Andy knows a place,” Parker said, leaning against me. “Isn’t Sub Daddy’s second location near here?”

“Uh, yeah, it is,” I offered. “I can drive, though you all better not puke.”

“We won’t!” they all sang in unison.

We made it to my Buick unscathed, and I made sure everyone was buckled up. Looking at Parker in the seat next to me and his three drunk besties in the back seat was hilarious to me. It looked like I’d kidnapped a bunch of intoxicated twinks.

“So did Parker used to bake a lot when you all lived together?” I asked, making conversation as we drove.

“Constantly,” Yedam said, sounding comically exasperated. “We had this neighbor.”

“Oh yeah!” Mike interjected. “Big Idris.”

“Your neighbor went by ‘Big Idris?’ Seriously?” I asked.

“Of course not!” Sam exclaimed, cracking up. “I think his real name was Tyler or something?”

“Tyson,” Parker clarified, his entire face and ears covered in a red blush that I didn’t think was entirely from the alcohol.

“Tyson, right,” Sam continued. “We called him Big Idris because he was hot like a young Idris Elba, but much bigger. I mean, not huge.” There was a slight pause, as if he was second guessing his next statement. “Like you’re way bigger than he was.”

“Okay, so he wasn’t fat-fat, got it.”

“So anyway, Big Idris was our neighbor across the hall. When we moved in at the start of our fall semester junior year, Parker baked little treats for everyone on the floor. Big Idris was the only one who came back asking for seconds.” The three of them roared with laughter. I could see where this story was going. Yedam continued the tale.

“It was just like when we were in the dorms. He didn’t have access to a kitchen, but Parker made sure this guy who lived on the floor above us never went without a snack. Insomnia Cookies should probably erect a statue in Parker’s honor. What was his name? Owen?”

“Yes, Owen,” Parker confirmed.

“So Owen, the ex-football player, ended the year having put on the freshman fifteen.”

“Plus fifteen,” Mike added.

“Plus fifteen,” Sam followed. They all cracked up again. Parker was definitely an anomaly to them. An oddity that made for interesting stories. Their sex lives were probably pretty tame compared to what Parker and I were into.

“Owen was nothing like Big Idris though,” Yedam said. “Those 45 pounds were nothing compared to the almost a hundred Big Idris gained living across the hall from us for two years.”

Mike spoke next, saying, “To be fair, it wasn’t all Parker. This guy liked to eat, and he was always ordering DoorDash or UberEats.” 

“But Parker wasn’t innocent,” Sam said. “He baked him a different type of cookie at least three times a week.”

“What happened to Big Idris?” I asked, now extremely curious.

“His girlfriend moved in and Parker moved here to start his new job. She’s definitely helped him change his diet around. You can tell he’s lost some weight, not eating as much take-out. But he for sure doesn’t seem as happy as when Parker was visiting his apartment at two in the morning.”

“That’s a shame,” Parker said. Now that had me cracking up as I pulled into the Sub Daddy parking lot. Of course Parker would be upset to hear that all his hard work was being undone.

We went inside and ordered, and the four of them decided to split two sandwiches, which was funny because I ordered two sandwiches for myself. We sat and ate, the four of them passing tiny bags of chips back and forth to supplement their little sandwiches. After we finished eating I drove them back to their Airbnb. We made plans to meet up for brunch the next afternoon, and I was very interested to hear more about Parker as a sexy coed with feeder tendencies.

Parker was only slightly hungover the next morning. We hung out with his friends again in the afternoon. They mostly shared stories, while I mostly ate boujee brunch food. We said our goodbyes and they made plans to get together again soon. They all still lived in the old apartment, at least until their lease ended in the fall. Overall, the weekend had been a success, and I was sure Parker was excited to start his new position come Tuesday.

Monday he’d be training his replacement.

“So make sure his lunch is ordered at eleven so that he’s able to eat by noon,” Parker stated matter-of-factly. 

He had been with my new assistant all morning. She was a nice girl, and I could tell she was already a little overwhelmed by all the things Parker expected her to remember. I think Parker was sad to be shifting to a new position, even though he was really excited to be doing what he dreamed of. 

He would be on an entirely different side of the office. It was probably for the best that we had a bit of space from each other. We didn’t want to become one of those couples that couldn’t function without the other.

But still, he knew me better than anyone. I didn’t have to think about my next move because he’d already anticipate it. 

“Parker, can I see you in my office for a moment?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” he said before turning his attention to my new assistant. “Nicolette, we can go over the best times to schedule Mr. Reynolds for a meeting after you get back from your break.” She couldn’t grab her purse fast enough. She was probably going to be updating her LinkedIn and putting in applications on Indeed.

“You need to go a bit easier on her,” I said once we were behind closed doors. “Remember that's Hathaway’s great-niece.”

“I didn’t have anyone to show me the ropes when I started,” he said. “I just want to make sure she knows what to do so things go smoothly for you.”

“I’ll be okay, babe.”

“Fine. I’ll dial it back.”

“So how about a quickie for old time’s sake?” He laughed, but he immediately loosened his tie.

I ended up seated behind my desk with my pants around my ankles. He was completely nude, claiming he didn’t want to chance getting a stain on his clothes. He kneeled in front of me and reached into my desk drawer. He grabbed a tiny bottle of lube. He squirted a moderate amount in his palm before wrapping his hand around my erection. He pumped my dick slowly, covering it with the lube. 

I watched him stand with his back to me. I got to my feet, grabbing the bottle of lube from him and covering his hole with some of it, massaging it with my fingers. Being between his fat cheeks was always a pleasure. It was the only fatty part about him, and I loved grabbing his ass roughly in these moments. I bent my knees before angling my dick so there’d be a smooth entry and pushed my penis into him slowly. I leaned my body on top of him, my gut resting on his back as I rocked my hips back and forth. I felt his body relaxing as I found a good rhythm. I continued to thrust my hips and he did his best to stifle his moans.

“I’m your biggest success story,” I said breathily, pushing a bit more forcefully. “I just know your friends are going to be shocked the next time they see me.”

“Uh—” he whimpered, his knees buckling slightly.

“Say it,” I said. “Say that you’re gonna make me bigger.”

“I–I’m gonna make you bigger.” He tugged at his dick desperately. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“500 isn’t that far off,” I said, not entirely believing it myself. Would he want me to get that big? He did tell me that I was the biggest person he’d ever been with. Could he handle that? Could I?

“Oh fuck!” he panted, doing his best to catch his cum in his hand. I gave a few final pushes before filling him with my cum. I pulled myself from inside of him and we both got cleaned up. He got dressed, looking positively pristine, like nothing lewd had just taken place in my office. 

That’s when he turned to me and said, “I hope you’re ready for lunch.”

He had a look in his eye that let me know our sex talk wasn’t just talk. Parker had goals, and I liked a man with motivation.

I sure knew how to hire ‘em.

The End!

[no-saints-no-scholars]

Hear me out: Duncan's got more homemaker skills than Courtney.

Courtney's parents were always focused on her academic life and career. They got her private tutoring any time she slipped, had her in all advanced classes, and they made sure she never did an extracurricular she couldn't put on a resumé. But they never taught her any regular life skills.

It's not like she's clueless, though. A lot of stuff is common sense. She's too much of a neat freak to have a messy dorm or apartment, and she can do her own laundry, but she can't cook. She ruined her new frying pan the day she bought it trying to make eggs. She doesn't know what to do when her bookshelf collapses the first week of college, and resorts to stacking her books next to her desk. She burns a hole in one of her most professional looking blouses with the iron when she doesn't realise fabric can melt.

So when her favourite jumper begins to unravel, the pale purple one with tiny flowers on the cuffs, she very nearly cries about it. It's just a jumper, but Courtney is nothing if not particular. She knows there's no replacing it.

When she mentions it to Duncan, frustrated and not thinking much of it, he raises an eyebrow and asks why she doesn't fix it, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind.

"How would you even begin to fix it? There must be half a foot of wool coming off already, and the hole's in this super awkward place by the elbow."

"So you didn't try?"

Courtney goes a little red in the face at that.

She doesn't expect Duncan to come over the next day with a banged up biscuit tin and ask to take a look at the jumper himself. He inspects the damage, careful not to tug at any of the loose loops of knitting, and looks up at Courtney.

"This is the "huge hole", you mentioned?"

She might have exaggerated a little, but she's emotional about this, damn it. Duncan sighs, and grabs the biscuit tin. He cracks it open to reveal a sewing kit, packed full of loose fabric and needles and threads of every colour.

"This won't take long. Put the coffee pot on."

Courtney bites her tongue about manners and does as she's told, pouring them each a cup while she watches Duncan work.

It shouldn't surprise her that he has this stuff. Most of his clothes look D.I.Y'd somehow, with little tears and patches tacked on. But the scene before her is just so uncharacteristically domestic. He tries mending the hole normally at first, but the yarn keeps fraying when he tries, and he huffs before rummaging through the sewing kit.

When Courtney sets his cup down in front of him, Duncan is sewing what looks like a loose scrap of fabric over the hole.

"I had some blank patches left over and this thing is being a bitch, so it'll have to do."

After some time, he hands the jumper over for Courtney to see. There's an oblong white patch neatly stitched onto the left sleeve, covering the hole, and the elbow entirely. If she didn't know better (and if the other sleeve wasn't blank) Courtney would almost think that the jumper came that way- the evenness of the stitches is shocking.

Courtney blinks. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"My mom. I used to fuck up everything I wore within a week, and she always fixed it. She showed me how to do it myself when I was ten." Duncan takes a sip of his coffee. "You're welcome, by the way."

Courtney rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. "Right, thank you. Really."

"You really didn't think to do it yourself?" Courtney opens her mouth, and it's like Duncan can sense the indignant response before she gets a word out. "I'm not judging, I just figured little miss C.I.T would know how to do this stuff."

She huffs. "Not all of us were burning holes in our shirts before 8th grade."

"It was barbed wire, thank you very much. And it's still a good skill to have."

"My parents were just focused on teaching me other things, and it's not like I ever needed to know before now."

"Uh-huh." Duncan looks at her, thinking.

"I could always teach you anyway?"

"You'd teach me to sew?"

Duncan down at his cup. "Well, not just that, but yeah. I just don't wanna be the one to fix all your shit."

Courtney crosses her arms. "It was one hole in one jumper, Duncan."

"And the bookshelf?"

She flushes. "I just haven't got around to it!"

"Sure you haven't."

Courtney thinks, rubbing the soft wool of her jumper between her fingers. She gets a small hole in one jumper, and suddenly it's like she's hyperaware of how little she knows. Sure, not everyone can sew, but it's not just that. She doesn't want to admit to Duncan how many times she's eaten out this semester after burning her dinner, or how many times she's called Bridgette in a panic over her dishwasher making weird noises.

"...I guess it couldn't hurt. To get a second opinion."

Duncan smiles. "Whatever you say, Princess."

[cuprohastes]

CV

Curriculum Vitae: The Story of My Life. AKA a Resumé.

Anyway. I changed mine up, used Google Doc’s temp[late. And All the callbacks dried up.

So today I reverted it back to a simpler layout, and… all of a sudden I’m getting responses.

I put this down to the software being used to triage CVs… So I decided to play clever.

Here’s my layout:

OK.

So you’re having to play silly games to get your CV in front of people. Most of the time it’s someone who’s not in the mood to plough through it all - So two pages is the best.

Once in a job, I watched the two senior IT staff go through a literal cardboard box of CVs and basically throw any away that were too hard to read, in a weird fond, didn’t vibe well…

And if you can add bullet points… do so. You’re appealing not to someone who’s picking your CV for it’s content, but how easy it was for them to read it.

OK at this point if anyone’s in HR or is an employment specialist, now’s your chance to suggest tweaks or call bullshit.

[icouldhyperfixatehim]

happy to have an offgun sunday show back on the docket but i can already tell this series is going to put a bee in my bonnet every week about late stage capitalism foisting its cancer upon all workplace cultures and turning things like internships from learning and exploratory opportunities to build skills and discover interests in a field, to an expectation of free/low paid but inexplicably pre-skilled labour. do you think ye olde blacksmith's apprentice showed up to the first day of the apprenticeship and the blacksmith is like "what do you mean you don't know how to shoe a horse?? that's so basic" no. the expectation of apprenticeship is that a newborn emptyheaded youngin with a vague notion that metal is cool shows up, and is taught how to blacksmith. the expectation is not that the young savant of metalwork turns up with a list of horses already shoed, including One Very Special One in the Royal Stable, and god would you please please please allow me to debase myself for you, o blacksmith? my resumé is just like the journeyman's!! this workplace culture is a modern invention!! they used to teach you things at work!!

[breathing audibly] i just think entry level should mean entry level, and that as much effort goes into gathering experience that makes people competitively hire-able, ability, opportunity, and luck also play a role. it is lucky to know your passion early enough to be able to groom yourself to competitiveness in a sharky field of work, but a person should be able to turn up for entry level positions/interning with an unabashed "i know nothing" as long as it's followed with an "and i'm ready to learn" and it is in neoliberalism's favour to allow work environments to cut their costs by eschewing the responsibility to teach. to train the trainee.

[artsybridgerton]

Hello there! I read that you wanted to write a Benedict Bridgerton x reader so I want to request that for you :)

you can write anything but I wanted that they meet for pure case and that reader is a really cheerful, happy and clumsy person lol

idk if regency/modern, feel comfortable to choose!

thank you in anticipation and have a good day/night! 💟

Hi @shoyooss! Thank you for the request! So I tried my best but i think it came out a little cringy.

Could be the fact that i couldn't think of how a cheerful/happy person is, probably cause i've never been that myself but hey, i gave it a shot :D

I hope you like it even a little and i apologize for everything you will read on my blog :D

Thanks for trusting me tho <3

with love, Essy<3

p.s. the pigeon part is actually based on true events in yours truly's life :)

_______________________________________________

warnings: my mediocre writing lol

modern au

Pieces of paper

You’ve been looking for a job with no luck but recently you started working in this bar as a waitress, with no experience at all. You may or may not have lied on your resumé with having years of experience.

It was a busy morning and you were told to stay outside of the bar to welcome in the customers other than that you were also in charge of keeping the pigeons away from the people eating and the plates that were yet to be taken inside to be washed.

As you were fighting off the pigeons your coworker came to you.  “Hey, when you’re done with that, help this man with his order ok?”

“No problem!” You smiled at her as you quickly ran inside leaving the customers fend for themselves. “At Least they didn’t poop on me!” you thought to yourself.

Taking a tray you approached the counter to bring the order to the customer: a cappuccino, a glass of orange juice and avocado on toast. As you turned around to accidentally bump into a tall man spilling the customer’s coffee on him.

He yelped slightly. “Wow, that coffee was hot!”

“I am so sorry sir, I didn’t see you!” You reach for your rag wanting to try and clean the stain on his shirt but by doing so you accidentally let go of the tray you were holding with both hands making everything fall on his feet. 

“Great heavens!” you immediately crouch to clean up. “Sir I will personally hand wash your clothes if you let me, I'm deeply sorry!”

“It’s fine miss” He smiled and also crouched to help you clean. 

“Well you could always say it’s a fashion statement!” You say trying to make the situation less awkward. At that he chuckled a little. “Really sir, let me at least offer you some coffee, i mean it! The whole breakfast perhaps? Lunch? Is dinner more of your liking?”

“Well that escalated quickly, I might just assume you want to ask me out” He joked and slightly moved closer to you while you were looking down putting the food back on the tray.

“Wou-would you want me to?” Panic-flirting was an ability you developed recently but now you directly head-butted him when you looked back up to him so he lost his balance.

“Sir! I didn’t mean to do that! Would you like an ambulance?” You panicked.

You help him back up. Only now you got a good look at his face and thought he was actually very handsome.

He let out a laugh in confusion. “Miss, really everything is fine, don’t worry” He cleaned himself off. 

“I’m y/n, this is my number, i will gladly pay whatever damage i caused to your person sir” you say as you write down your contact on a piece of paper. 

“Benedict” He offered you his hand to shake. 

You shaked his hand, keeping eye contact, almost mesmerized by his eyes.

“Miss, I'm still waiting for my order!” The other customer yelled.

“Oh shit right!” You were woken up from the trance and went back to the counter to retake the order.

In the meantime, Benedict ordered a cup of tea and sat down to enjoy it.

Some time has passed and you were now cleaning up the tables.

As you passed near Benedict’s table he stopped you and handed you a piece of paper. “My number.” You look at him confused. “You still have to offer me a meal, dinner? was it?” He winked. 

You couldn’t help but smile at him as you accepted the paper.

[folkloresthings]

northanger abbey , fernando alonso + some sort of hurt / comfort ? perhaps one of them is down abt smth, and the other has to pep talk them into feeling happy again ?? leaving it up to u and ur talent , idk i just feel like this trope works so well w/ him , like he acts all tough but secretly he would just love love making u feel better .. idkkkkkkkk

fernando who’s soft for his s/o and his s/o only

GOOD ENOUGH. ❨ fernando alonso x reader ❩

another job interview, another rejection email. it was like groundhog day — you just weren’t right for any of them. all you needed was a start into the career, something to put on your resumé, a stepping stone to your dream. but the companies were all run by assholes, who all apparently had something personal against you.

arriving home, you drop your bag and coat by the door, slumping into the couch. you felt completely and utterly defeated, with absolutely no motivation to go on. you had given up.

fernando had been in the kitchen when you’d come home, finishing up dinner for both of you. when you hadn’t come straight there to greet him, he’d grown suspicious. sticking his head around the doorframe, he catches sight of you, your head in your hands.

“mi amor…” he murmurs, knowing instantly what was wrong. he’s next to you in a flash, kneeling in front of where you seat, hands tugging your wrists away from your face. “another no?”

the words leaving fernando’s lips only solidify the reality of your day, forcing you to curl into yourself again with a groan, tears pricking at your eyes.

“hey, hey—” fernando could have cursed himself for making it worse. his least favourite thing in the world was seeing you upset, especially at yourself. “it’ll be okay, corazón.”

“they all think i’m so stupid!” you cried, hands dropping to your lap. fernando wastes no time in holding onto them, squeezing gently. “i’m not good enough for anything.”

“stop that,” he says sternly, but his touch is gentle when he wipes under your eyes, palms cupping a cheek each. “don’t talk about yourself like that, okay?”

all teary eyed and pouting, you nod slowly at him.

“you are the most amazing person i know,” fernando whispers, amazed at how you couldn’t see everything he could. “you’re smart and hard—working and so kind, if a company doesn’t want you then it’s their loss. remember what you always tell me?”

“everything happens for a reason,” you mumble at the same time as him. fernando smiles a little, moving to sit up on the couch and pull you into his lap, thumbs smoothing along your hips.

“exactly,” your boyfriend kisses your forehead softly, holding you as close as you’ll let him. “i’m going to plate you up some dinner, we’ll watch whatever you want, and get some sleep. and then, tomorrow, you’ll start fresh.”

you glance up at him, nibbling at your bottom lip. he was sweet, so very sweet that it made your teeth hurt. the best part was — only you got to see this side of him.

“i’ll help you look at some more jobs and prep for the interviews. you’ll go into the next one and try your best, that’s all you can do,” he’s rambling on with one of his pep talks again, and you cut him off with a kiss. “but no matter what, i love you. okay?”

“i love you too, ‘nando,” you murmur against his lips. “thank you.”

“my pleasure, mi amor.”

[redditreceipts]

i think you are being too nice to troons and their worshippers. these people literally view you as a fetish, they do not deserve one ounce of your kindness or politeness. these people never empathize with real women, so why should you empathize with them?

it's 2024. be as ruthless as possible and show no mercy to these sick men.

yeah lmao maybe you're right in some cases

on the other hand, it's super important for me to show people that I don't hold my positions because I find TIMs gross or disgusting or dislike gnc men. I don't come from a place of prejudice or hatred or bigotry. I am not transphobic and looking for any ideology to excuse my hatred for trans people. (I'm not saying that people who aren't as nice do hold these opinions because of bigotry btw.)

I just think that trans ideology reinforces the gender hierarchy instead of abolishing it, and it puts women in danger.

There are also a ton of people who are on the fence when it comes to gender ideology, and I want to show them that I am a safe person to come to and ask questions. The social space they know (the gender identity folks) are violently intolerant towards anyone who uses one word that is not in the approved vocabulary, and I feel like they are afraid that gc people will do the same. All of their mutuals have DNI lists longer than their resumé, so they will ask me questions like "can I still follow you if I have pronouns in my bio?"

I guess that there are other blogs where people can find more of a vent-y style, but that's not really my thing

[munsons-hellfire]

Chapter 2: Damsel In Distress

SUMMARY: You've settled down into your apartment now its time for you to find a teaching job, and Eddie wants to take you out to get to know you better and more about your past. All while your dad and brother set up a little welcome home party as well as a meet the crew party, but things seem to take a sideways turn and not in a good way.

PAIRINGS: Biker!Eddie Munson x Teacher!Fem!Reader

PART 2 IN THE DARK PARADISE SERIES

CONTENT WARNINGS: MFW (can still be read at work), a little angsty towards the end, Part 2, Biker!Eddie Munson, Teacher!Reader, no use of y/n (though bug is used), implied pet names, she/her pronouns (but barley used), Reader is 24 (turning 25 soon), Eddie is 26, post-upside down, vecna is defeated (will be mentioned in later parts), language, angst, mentions of drugs, mentions of murder, rival biker gang

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here is part 2, I hope you enjoyed it and are enjoying this series so far. I hope you enjoy this part, I apologize for it being so long, I thought about splitting it up but my gut was just telling me to keep going and end on a slight cliff hanger. It’ll be picked up in part 3 though so fear not. The ending that I had was not the intended direction I was heading for but I like how it ended so it's sticking, I just really got into writing this part which is why it's so long. Plus I’m a sucker for angst, so I had to have something in this part. As we progress through this series it will start to get more mature and will eventually be for readers over 18+ with eventual smut as well. I just haven't decided when it’ll get more mature and when the eventual smut will happen. I did make a playlist for this series, the link to the playlist can be found in the series masterlist under "word count". And if you’d like to be added to the permanent tags let me know in the comments or send me a message. And please feel free to send some asks if you wanna know more about Eddie and Reader’s relationship or other characters in the series. I would love that a lot, it makes me excited and happy about my series.

WORD COUNT: 6.2K Words

THE DARK PARADISE SERIES MASTERLIST

The birds were chirping outside, you could hear them through the open window in your apartment. It was a warm night in the middle of August, which you thought was odd considering August seemed to have some hot days already. You turned on your air mattress and reached out for your phone that rested on the floor and had been connected to the charger. You watched the screen pop up so you could look at the time.

There was a text message from your brother and one from your dad. Luckily there was no text message from your ex. You had blocked the number she had used last night to contact you, but you wouldn't put it past her to get another number and start texting and calling you again. If that were the case you knew you would be turning your phone off a lot until you could get a new one.

After looking at the messages left from your dad and brother you decided to get ready so you could head out and look for a new teaching position. Your old school would be sending over whatever paperwork that would be needed for your hire. You had your resumé and portfolio ready. After getting ready for the day you grabbed everything you needed and headed towards your front door.

You opened the door and went to walk out only to see Eddie standing at your door ready to knock. A sudden gasp left your lips as Eddie stared down at you. You looked pretty today, Eddie couldn't deny that. The way you had dressed caused the man to smile and try and hide the blush that was creeping up his neck. You held onto your bag tightly. Your phone was in your pocket and your keys were in your left hand.

"What are you doing here?" You questioned, eyes scanning Eddie for any trace of a lie he might throw out.

"I came to see you, Bug." Eddie said, smirking after watching the roll of her eyes. So she likes to be a brat? He thought to himself as he continued to stare at you.

"Please don't call me Bug, that name is only reserved for Sam and my dad." You were stern when you told Eddie how you felt about the nickname.

"Okay, so what can I call you?" Eddie clearly wanted to know your name and you were definitely hesitant to tell him. Without a second thought crossing your mind your name dropped from your lips. Eddie smiled triumphantly. He repeated your name like he had been saying it all his life, and if you were being honest with yourself you really like how your name rolled off his tongue.

Then you wondered what he'd be like in the sheets, what he would be like with his tongue on you. Before you could get any further into the little thoughts you were having your phone started to ring. You forgot you had turned the sound back on. You answered the phone without checking who was calling you.

"Hello." You called out, Eddie was waiting for the phone call to end so he ended up leaning against the wall while you turned around and closed your door to look up.

"You are some bitch, you know that. You really think you can skip town on me and leave me behind."

You sighed and turned away from Eddie. He would still be able to hear everything but you didn't want him to see your face. You didn't want to see him the way she was making you feel.

"Jules, look, we broke up, I moved on, and you need to do the same." You tried to keep your voice calm and collected with Eddie right behind you but he could hear the break in your voice, he was sure Jules could hear it too.

"I'm not moving on, not until I have you back in my arms." Her tone of voice made you flinch slightly, something Eddie has also seen.

"That's never going to happen."

"You better believe it will. I'll-"

You ended the call before Jules could say another word to you. Your phone was quickly turned to silent and you shoved it back into your back pocket. Jules would definitely be calling you again, which meant you had to get a new phone now. Gathering yourself together you exhaled and turned around to look back at Eddie. He was still leaning against the wall.

His arms were crossed over his chest and a tattoo was peaking through slightly, not to mention you could get a better look at the few tattoos that rested on his fingers. It made him look super sexier, and it really helped that he was a biker.

"Sorry about that." You paused, while Eddie adjusted himself slightly. "It was my ex, she won't leave me alone. Jules, she thinks we're meant to be with each other, soulmates and all that bullshit."

"And you don't?" Eddie asked, he knew that maybe this was his way to get to know more about Sam's little sister.

"Well, my first ex before Jules, Mikey, he believed in all that crap and I did too. Thought he was the one I was supposed to be with but then the shit hit the window and things got bad so we broke up. Now he's in Cali fucking whoever and doing all the drugs, at least that's what I heard. Then I met Jules not even a few weeks after Mikey and I ended things and I thought she was perfect, but she was too perfect. Anyway, one thing after another happened and now here I am."

The two of you started walking down the steps. Eddie was right on your trail as he digested the new information you had given him. You still weren't going into much detail with the break-up between you and Jules but it was clear how much it was taking a toll on you. Then you stopped on the steps remembering that neither your dad nor Sam knew. Eddie stopped on the step above her, he was looking down at you and honestly it was kinda sexy.

"Please don't tell my dad, or Sam. I don't want them knowing that's the real reason I'm back in Hawkins. As far as they knew I had to leave my mom and step-father behind." You had only known this man less than a day and already you were making him keep a secret from his boss.

"You got it, princess." Though Eddie was certain that Allen and Sam would know before the week was out. It would either come out of his mouth, or you would slip, it was going to happen one way or another.

The two of you continued down the stairs of your apartment building until you finally made it to the sidewalk that led you to your car. Eddie had managed to park his bike next to your car. This allowed you to get a better look at it. His bike was a Harley Davidson, that much was clear. It also contained a design on it, most of the bike had been covered in webbing.

A large spider was in the center of the bike, standing still on the web that it seemed to have created. You looked closer at it and noticed that the spider must've been a Black Widow, because you could see the hourglass peeking through. Not to mention there were a few other hourglasses on his bike, but most were small and barely noticeable. The bike really seemed to suit Eddie, and honestly you kind of liked the way it looked.

"So where are you off to today?" Eddie questioned, as he leaned up against his bike at the same time you leaned against the hood of your car.

"I have to go to Hawkins Middle School to make sure they have all the paperwork for my transfer and I have to give them my resumé and portfolio." You paused for a minute. "They just wanted to make sure everything is good before I start working at the end of August."

You watched Eddie smile at the way you had yourself prepared for your job and you still had a few weeks to get ready. The only thing that really seemed to be crossing Eddie's mind was that he wanted to spend the day with you. It's why he had shown up at your door, hand ready to send a knock on the door at full throttle.

"Mind if I tag along with ya, princess?" Just the way his question rolled off his tongue had you a hot mess on the inside. Never in your life had someone made you feel this way. You didn't feel it with any one night stands and you definitely didn't feel it with Mikey or Jules. It was different with Eddie. You felt safe with him.

"I don't see why not." You looked at your car and then Eddie's bike. If you were being honest with yourself you wanted to ride on his bike. "Whose vehicle are we taking?" You had questioned, all while hoping he would just say his.

"We can take my bike." Eddie said softly, with a smile jumping to his lips as he stared at you.

"I guess it's a good thing I decided to go for a book bag today." You mumbled.

Eddie snickered at you. Meanwhile, you took your phone out of your pocket and placed it in your book bag with your keys. Before you dropped your keys into the bag you popped open the trunk. Walking to the back you grabbed the helmet that Sam had gifted you as an early birthday present. He gave it to you last night after Eddie and Steve had left and you felt that it would be safe and sound in the trunk of your car rather than your apartment.

When you closed your trunk and placed the helmet over your head, Eddie seemed shocked that you had come prepared. He stared at it, seeing their signature logo on the front of the helmet. Which prompted even more confusion. While you weren't a biker, you had ties to the club because your dead lead it and your brother was the second in command with Eddie and Steve right below him.

"Sam got it for me. An early birthday gift, I guess. Or maybe a welcome home gift." You smiled at Eddie as he turned on his bike and you climbed onto the back.

"When's your birthday?" Eddie adjusted himself slightly as you wrapped your arms around his waist tightly.

"At the end of August. August 31st to be exact."

"I'm glad I get to be here when you celebrate it."

"I'm turning 25, there's not much to celebrate. I'm just another year older that's all."

"I get that." Eddie paused as he backed up his bike out of the parking spot. "Better hold on tight, princess, don't want you fallin' off." You smiled, tightening your grip just a little more. Once Eddie knew you were secure around his waist he drove off heading for Hawkins Middle School.

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Eddie pulled up to the middle school and turned off his bike. You climbed off and took the helmet off, setting it where you had just been sitting. You looked at Eddie as he placed his brown eyes on you.

"I'll be waiting here when you're done. And when you're done I'm taking you into town, my treat." Eddie said, sternly.

"Eddie, you don't have to do that." You didn't want to turn him down but you also didn't want him to go out of his way to make plans with you. "Besides I'm sure Sam and my dad probably need your help with whatever they normally do." In that sense you were honestly completely clueless to what they actually did.

You knew that the club was big and that they often went out of their way to take care of things that Chief Hopper might not be able to take care of. You also knew that sometimes your dad and brother would go home with a bloody face or bloody knuckles, you knew not to ask questions when you saw it if you were on FaceTime. Basically you knew not to ask questions about work.

If they wanted to tell you they would. And you honestly didn't have a problem with that. You didn't want to really know about the horrors that they might be facing, or that they might be putting their lives on the line for the job. But at the end of the day you knew that they knew how to protect themselves. Eddie started to shake his head at you.

"Nonsense, if Allen or Sam need me they'll call me. If I'm needed for a job they know how to get in touch. But until that happens I'll be waiting here for you when you get out." There was that smile that Eddie already loved, he watched as it brightened your face. You found yourself sucking your bottom lip in-between your teeth to hide the smile on your lips.

"Okay, I shouldn't be too long. I'll be back in a little while." With those words you turned around and walked towards the front door of Hawkins Middle school. Back in New York you had spent the last two years teaching 8th grade. It was the grade that you wanted to teach and had been approved to teach in Hawkins.

As you walked into the school you headed towards the front looking for the office where you met with the principal and the assistant principal. It had been so long since you had stepped foot in the middle school, it was honestly strange to be back here as a teacher this time rather than a student. As you turned the corner you walked right into someone whom you assumed was another teacher.

"I'm sorry." You said, leaning down to help pick the papers from the ground.

"It's all right." She lifted from the ground as you did too. The woman in front of you had blond hair, it was a short length just above her shoulders. She was wearing a floral dress, and had nude heels on. "I'm Amy Willow, I teach 8th Science." She said introducing herself, then holding her hand out in front of you.

You took her hand in yours and shook it while telling her your name. "I will most likely be teaching 8th grade English. That's actually why I'm here, to get everything sorted out. I have a meeting with the principal and assistant principal." You explained.

"Oh, I can take you there. And then afterwards I can take you to your room. It's only a few doors down from mine."

"You know about me?" You were confused, but then again you wouldn't be surprised if they had already made a statement about how you would be joining them for the school year.

"Oh yeah, you're the gossip around here. Something new, we haven't had something new since the Earthquake a few years ago. Not to mention the Biker club around town. Though that one biker is kinda cute." You looked at her as you walked next to her.

"Which biker are you talking about?" You were hoping that she wasn't talking about Eddie, because you wanted nothing more than to have him to yourself. Though that thought would never see the day of light.

"He's probably a little taller than you, I think his dad runs the Wolves and he's like his second in command." You had the biggest shit eating grin on your face and Amy definitely picked up on it. "What?" She asked, with a chuckle falling out of her mouth after the chuckle.

"That is Sam, and he's my older brother."

"Oh, my god. That's embarrassing. I am so sorry."

"No, god, please don't be. Sam needs someone in his life other than my dad, and me, and the Wolves. I'd be happy to put in a good word for you." You looked at Amy, watching as her smile got bigger.

"You would do that?" The shock that dripped from her voice surprised you.

"Yes, I think you and Sam would be great together. Plus I am in dire need of some friends."

"I need some friends too. Most of the teachers don't like me. Guess cause I'm either too young or I'm too weird for them."

"How could you be too young? And honestly who cares if you're weird. Everyone's weird in their own way."

Amy gave a shrug, the two of you eventually coming to a stop outside the office. "I'm in my 20's, I went to school here a few years ago so it's weird for the teachers that know me. But anyway, here is the office. And this is my number. Feel free to text or call, or FaceTime, whatever your comfortable with and definitely give it to your brother."

"I will make sure your number makes its way into his phone. Thank you for showing me the way."

"You're welcome. I'll be just down the hall making some copies, please come get me when you're done and I'll show you to your room."

"Sounds like a plan." You took the piece of paper that had her number on it and shoved it in your pocket. Then after saying your goodbye to Amy you headed into the office to sit down and talk with the principal's. All went well and they gave you keys to get into the school and to get into your room. Afterwards you met up with Amy and she walked you to your room.

It was a little bigger than the room you had in New York. You couldn't wait to decorate and make the room yours. On the desk that rested at the front of the classroom had your work laptop as well as the curriculum for what you would be teaching this year. As you glanced over it you noticed that it was a little different from the curriculum that you had been teaching in New York.

This was the fresh start you desperately needed. And now that you had your classroom and your work computer, everything was falling into place. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you turned around in the classroom. While you had a lot of setting up to do for the classroom you knew it would be worth it in the long run. There was a knock at your door and you looked to see Amy.

"I'm heading out for the day, just wanted to say goodbye." Amy said.

"I'll walk with you, just give me a sec." Amy gave a nod of her head. You turned towards your desk and unzipped your book bag putting your laptop and the papers into it. Once it was zipped you walked out of the classroom walking with Amy.

"So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?" Amy questioned.

"Oh, I'm going to see the town, I don't really have a choice in the matter. And then my dad wants me to stop by later for something." You explained as the two of you walked out of the school. Your eyes found Eddie who was still leaning against his bike. "Do you wanna meet someone?" You asked, placing your eyes on Amy.

"Sure." She saw Eddie and seemed to be hesitant but followed behind her. Eddie picked himself up from his bike.

"Eddie, this is Amy Willow. We'll be working together in the next few weeks. Amy, this is Eddie Munson."

"Oh, you work with her brother Sam right?" Amy was in all smiles as she asked the question. Eddie was staring at her with a blank look, it seemed that he was studying her to determine if she would be safe enough around you.

"I do. He's one of my best friends." Eddie answered, causing you to look at him with a serious but playful look. Something of which Eddie took note of. You knew now that if you wanted to do something with Eddie you might just have to sneak around, it got you hot and bothered just thinking about it.

"Oooh that's so exciting. Well I should get going. I'll see you around." Amy turned to look at you. "If you need help setting up your room, just call down to my room or shoot me a text. And if you want to hang out over a glass of wine please let me know." Your laughter filled Eddie's ears as your smiled brightly at her. He couldn't help the little small smile that appeared on his lips.

"I will let you know. Thank you for being a huge help today. And I promise I'll put in a good word with Sam. I'll make sure you two have a date by the end of the week."

Shock ran across Amy's face, as Eddie exchanged a glance with you. You felt that this had been the most happy you had been since leaving New York. You were with a guy that you definitely felt growing feelings towards, and you had made your first friend.

"You really don't have to do that." Amy was insistent on it.

"Nonsense, I think it's the least I can do for someone whom I know will be my best friend, and maybe one day my sister-in-law." You and Eddie both saw the blush that crept on her face as she looked between you two. Amy gave a nod and eventually walked away. You moved over to Eddie and he looked at you.

"Give me one minute." Eddie said, he left you on his bike confused as he called out Amy's name. From a distance you watched the two make a brief interaction with each other. You watched her give Eddie a nod before they both turned away from each other. Amy was heading to her car again and Eddie was heading back to you.

"What was that all about?" You asked curiously, staring at the biker with soft eyes.

He gave a tight lipped smile, "just wanted to ask her something, that's all. You ready for the town tour?" Eddie questioned, trying to change the subject quickly. 

"You know that I lived in Hawkins when I was younger, right?"

"I know, but I'm sure it's changed since you were last here."

You gave a slight nod with a shrug of your shoulders. Eddie climbed on his bike and turned it on. You placed your helmet over your hair and climbed onto the back of the bike, eventually wrapping your arms around Eddie's slim waist tightly. He smirked to himself, taking off heading down the road towards town.

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Your travels into the town had been short lived. Though what you had seen, you could tell just how much the town of Hawkins had changed since you had last visited it. You and Eddie were now heading to your dad's house as requested. Though you were still clueless as to why you were even going there. You had a small smile on your lips when Eddie pulled up to your dad's house.

"Here we are, princess." Eddie said, kicking the stand out and turning his bike off. You pulled your arms from Eddie's waist, and turned to look at the house you hadn't seen in so long.

"Home sweet home." You said, pulling your helmet off and holding onto the straps after you clipped them back together.

"How longs it been since you were here?" Eddie questioned as he placed his brown eyes on you.

Your eyes found his, "uh, I think about 10 maybe more than that, maybe less. I came for a few summers but then my mother didn't want me seeing my dad or brother anymore so I didn't see them for a long time, or this house. The only time I really saw my brother and dad was when I could FaceTime with them when I got a phone."

"Are you excited to be back home?" You walked towards the front door with Eddie following right behind you.

"Of course I am. I hated living in New York. Teaching up there was okay, but I hated everything the city had to offer. So yes, I am very happy to be back home with this quiet life."

"Hopefully it won't be such a quiet life." Eddie smirked at you. You looked back at him playfully.

"I don't think I will, not if you're planning to stay around."

"Well, I don't plan on going anywhere princess."

The door opens and you turn back around to see your older brother standing at the front door with a bright smile on his face.

"Why are you smiling like that, Sam?" You asked quizzically.

Sam looked at you and then at Eddie, but then his eyes fell back on you. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Bug." Sam grabbed your arm and pulled you into the house.

Eddie followed behind the two of you watching the sibling interaction. The lights turned on and everyone jumped out yelling surprise. The sudden noise caused you to panic slightly, you backed up into Eddie. The biker took notice of the way you suddenly changed at the voices that ran through your ears. But you calmed down when you felt Eddie slid his fingers into yours for just a brief moment.

You were quick to replace your panicked look with a happy one. Sam didn't take notice of the way you had reacted but like Eddie your dad had seen it too. He would make sure to pull you aside later and have a talk with you about it. Deep down it brought you back to the times where you and Jules would constantly argue with each other, not to mention the amount of times that your step-father would raise his voice to you.

Sam pulled you around to everyone, your fingers disconnected from Eddie's as you were pulled away. You were introduced to Chief Hopper and his wife Joyce. After you had meant them you had met the kids that Steve used to babysit before he became a part of the Wolves. Though they were in college now, you met all of them. Dustin Henderson was the first you had met followed by Mike Wheeler who was Nancy Wheeler's younger brother.

You met Will and El who were step-siblings, and their older brother Jonathan who was dating Nancy. Then you finally met Lucas and Erica Sinclair who had been standing with Max Mayfield. Eventually you noticed all the kids were hanging out with each other and talking about a game while they ate some food. Steve introduced you to his girlfriend, Becca Reynolds.

She was nice and you like her a lot. After you had met her, you finally met Robin and you knew almost instantly that you two would be best friends. The last person you least expected to be there had been one you already knew.

"Amy?" You asked, as she stuffed her face with a burger. She turned away from your father and looked at you and Sam. Eddie was elsewhere, most likely talking to Steve and Becca. She dropped her burger onto her plate and placed it on the counter. Your dad turned around and looked at you and your brother. "What are you doing here?" You questioned as the two of you hugged each other.

Sure you had just met earlier in the morning, but she was already your first real friend here in Hawkins. Like Eddie, and your dad and brother she was making Hawkins feel like a home again.

"Uh, Eddie, he invited me this morning. He thought you might like having someone you know here at the party." Amy answered, when she pulled back from the hug. You had a bubbly smile on your lips, your eyes found Eddie. He had been watching the entire interaction.

"Thank you." You whispered to him. Eddie only gave a nod and smiled back at you.

"So who is this? She seems to be the only one that we don't know." Sam said, pulling your attention back to the already ongoing conversation.

"This is Amy Willow, we'll be working together soon." You answered.

"It's nice to meet you Amy, I'm Sam. Bug's older brother." Sam said introducing himself to her. It seemed like you didn't need to do anything else because Sam was already so interested in Amy. You dad took that as a perfect opportunity to talk to you in his office. He excused himself as well as you and grabbed a hold of your hand pulling him with you.

"Dad, what are you doing?" You questioned, completely confused as to what was happening.

"We need to talk in my office." His words cut through your ears and you suddenly feared what he wanted to talk about. When you two were in his office and the door was closed and locked he sat down at the edge of his desk looking at you. "Tell me why you're really here, Bug." Allen said.

Your eyes found your father and took in the frame of his stance, he had locked the door so you knew neither of you would be leaving until you came out with the truth. You hadn't even been here for a week and he had already picked up on something. Though to be fair your dad could read you like a book. When you were involved you couldn't hide your emotions from him like you could with others.

Though you weren't doing a good job hiding it from Eddie because you had already spilled the news to Eddie. A deep sigh rippled through your chest, you walked over to one of the chairs in front of his desk and sat down. You tried to keep yourself calm but you found that didn't help much when you started bouncing your leg.

"Would you be okay if Eddie were in here?" You questioned, not looking up from your hands.

You dad didn't say anything, he stood up and walked towards the door and walked out leaving you alone with your thoughts. Allen knew that the second you came here that Eddie would be interested in you, because you were everything he wanted. And he knew it would be the same for you and by the look of it you two were already tugging at something.

"Munson!" Allen called out, Sam looked at Allen with a serious look on his face as he stopped the conversation between him and Amy.

"Everything okay, dad?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Make sure the guests are well fed, or get them in the pool." Allen ordered as Eddie walked up to him.

"Everything okay, sir?" Eddie inquired when he stopped in front of Allen.

"Come with me." Allen turned back around and walked down the hallway with Eddie following behind him. Sam did as told and got their guest and the rest of the Wolves outside where the pool was. Most of them had gone outside anyway but the rest were still inside. You looked up when your dad walked back into his office with Eddie on his trail.

"What's happening?" Eddie asked another question as the door was shut and locked.

Allen looked at Eddie and then at you. "I know what trouble looks like when I see it. So tell me, Bug, what did Jules do to you that made you run back home?" Allen questioned you.

"How do you know about Jules?" You were now utterly confused. You had only told your brother about Jules, you didn't want either of your parents to know. You knew both would be a pain because you were jumping into another relationship rather than taking a pause. "Sam told you, didn't he?"

"He did, and when I found out I had Hopper find everything he could find on her. Turns out Jules isn't her real name and she doesn't have a pretty past." Eddie looked at your dad with wide eyes, you having the same look on your face as well.

"What does that mean?" The question left Eddie's lips before he could stop it.

"It means that you're going to stay with my daughter and protect her until we can locate Jules and have her arrested for some kind of charge. You're the only boy I trust enough to protect my baby. I knew what was happening the second you told Sam you were coming back to Hawkins." Your dad explained.

"What did she do?" You asked, fearful of what you might learn about Jules.

"For starters her name isn't Jules, it's Jessica. She kept the same last name but changed her first name. If someone wants to go into hiding the way she did she should've changed her entire name. Secondly, Jessica Hartley killed her mother and father, and pleaded guilty to insanity. Before the trail was finished she escaped. She had the help of her ex-girlfriend before you, and well she didn't live to see another day because she's dead too. Now Jessica won't stop until you're dead and I'm not going to let her hurt you."

So much for a fresh start. You thought that to yourself, your dad and Eddie were talking to each other but you couldn't hear their voices. The only thing you could actually hear was a ringing in your ears that wouldn't seem to go away. Not only had she lied to you about who she was but now she might just be on her way to kill you. The panic was starting to settle in the pit of your stomach. You took a deep breath in and exhaled.

"Where is Jessica now? Is she still in New York?" You heard Eddie ask your father.

"I have some of the boys up in New York checking out her apartment. I'm hoping that she's still there and we don't have to prepare for any kind of war that she might want to start."

You stood up from your chair, keeping your eyes on your father. Eddie and Allen were staring at you. "Why would you have to prepare for a war?"

"Because Jessica Hartley is the actual daughter of one of our largest and painfully annoying rival groups. They are mostly located in California, but they have some in New York too. They're the reason Jessica killed her parents, her ex was a part of the group but her dad had her kill her. And well now he wants you dead because he can't get anywhere near me or Sam."

"Fuck." You breathed out, now you really wished you had seen the red flags. You lifted your hand to your throat and started rubbing it.

"Honey, you're gonna be okay. Eddie's gonna stay with you and watch out for you. Not to mention Amy will be watching you while you're at work, and Robin will be there too. Eddie can make as many stops to the school as he needs to if that's something you want."

"What? Are you saying Amy fucking works for you?" Allen could see that what he had said wasn't helping you.

"She does and doesn't. Her dad was a ranger out in Texas before he moved out here. I trusted her father and I trust her, she knows how to use a gun and how to fight. She's still a teacher but she will protect you if needed."

"No." You said sternly, eyeing your father.

"If Jules is coming after me then you're going to use me as bait. You're going to train me how to protect myself and I expect to be a part of this after it's over."

"No, I'm not letting you get in on this, I barely wanted your brother with me. You have a good life as a teacher."

"I can barely afford the apartment I'm living in. And yes I love teaching the kids and for the remainder of this year I'll still teach, but I want in dad. I'm not going to be some damsel in distress. I'm not gonna sit on the sidelines while Eddie, Amy, and Robin try to protect me from my psycho ex girlfriend who I wished I had seen the red flags before I got involved with her. I am doing this."

Eddie and Allen exchanged a look with each other. "What do you think, Munson?" Allen questioned, hoping he would side with him.

"I think your daughter is tough, and I think this plan would work. Maybe Bug here is the key to taking down the Stingers. Maybe this is how we get on top of them. I can't believe I'm saying this but I agree with princess over there." Eddie said, having your back.

Allen released an angry sigh as he looked at the two. This is not what he had in mind at all. But he knew deep down that this plan might just allow them to put a stop to the Stingers before any more damage could be done.

"Okay, fine. But your training starts tomorrow. Eddie is still staying with you. And we have to wait for the call to decide where we go from there." Allen explained.

"What call?"

"We're waiting to see if Hartley is still in New York."

"And if she's not?"

"Then you're gonna have to be a damsel in distress."

TAGS: @funsonmunson-again @inhumanssxx @lma1986 @corrodedcoffincumslut @squidscottjeans

[yennasun]

A fighters' redemption, part 1.

Many ex-fighters talk about a point in their lives where they felt unstoppable. Unbeatable. Destined for greatness.

But they also talk about the first big mental obstacle a fighter overcomes; losing their undefeated record and losing for the first time.

There are also times where a fighter can't cope with this, and spirals down in what many call "the long slide downwards."

"And the winner of this 10 round contest, by 6th round technical knockout... Green Becker!"

He threw his arms up as the crowd cheered for him. Another opponent, another name on his growing resumé.

Midas went and picked the young stick up and lifted him in celebration, but this time green doesn't reciprocate...

He was far too focused on the roar of the crowd.

He breathes the chants in like a drowning man, soaking in the applause as it washed over him.

This was his peak, and it could only get better from here.

---------------------------------------------------

During the post fight press conference, green had plenty to say.

"So, do you have any thoughts about the stoppage?" One reporter asks.

Green thinks for a second.

"I was thinkin' "finally, they gonna let me kill this guy or what?"" And let out a chuckle, but the crowd seemed to turn to one another.

Another reporter quickly chimed in.

"Was there anything your opponent brought to the table tonight that caught you by surprise?"

This one, green answered quickly

"Not at all. Read him like a book and did what I needed to... I can't really point out anything that stood out to me other than his toughness, cuz he sure took alot longer than most others to put away."

Some people in the audience shifted a bit as green set his microphone down, waiting the next question.

"And where do you think you should go from here, after a big win like that?"

Greens hand shot towards his microphone.

"Title shot... title shot, title shot, title shot. That's all that's on my mind right now, I'm sick of fighting these bums on the prelims... gimme the shot that I fully believe I deserve!"

Now Midas shifted slightly... he'd felt green's mannerisms shift slightly after agreeing to coach him on his professional journey... but with each win and crumpled opponent, his confidence grew.

Midas began to fear it'd maybe grown a little too much...

Just as the thought passed his mind, the same reporter followed up;

"You say you feel you deserve it, can you elaborate?"

Green gave the reporter a look, like it was the dumbest question he'd ever been asked.

"Elaborate on what? 2 of the guys in the top 10 I already beat, 2 more of 'em are matched against eachother already, ones out injured and I dunno how he's kept his ranking, another 2 are coming off losses..."

After his tirade, he took a deep breath.

"...who else is there, but me?"

---------------------------------------------------

Green felt a bit odd that he'd let his mouth go off like that, but it didn't change that the fact that he fully believed what he said.

With everything he's done, all the work he's put In, he felt he could act just a little entitled.

But it also didn't change how everyone else felt about it.

The first to speak up was yellow, a few weeks later while he was booked to another fight.

He'd been in training camp for about 2 weeks and still had another 4 weeks to go. And Midas was quite ruthless in his training.

Yellow herself was in the amateurs, still contemplating turning professional, but still quite on the fence.

Yellow slowly began to speak up more and challenge him more and more.

She herself couldn't understand why, but something about the way green spoke to her now aggravated her deeply.

"Alright, let's go for a spar then!" He growled after the two exchanged particularly heated words that were so petty green couldn't be bothered to remember.

He could tell yellow was taken aback by his request, but her pride wouldn't allow her to step down...

"Let's go, then!" She growled back, shoving him.

Green charged, but Orange and blue quickly jumped in between them.

"You two! Stop!" Orange shouted as he grabbed ahold of green and held him back.

"Breathe, yellow, breathe!" Blue coached while he did the same.

The twos' attitudes quickly calmed down, but their tempers didn't.

"What about that spar?" Yellow said, more calmly.

"Read my mind." Green obliged as yellow let out a low growl in response.

The two began to head towards the ring, orange and blue decided to go with incase it got heated.

Orange sighed, he felt something bad was gonna happen.

"Where's the old man when you need him..." he said, referring to the currently-absent Midas.

---------------------------------------------------

The two eyed each other down from opposite sides of the ring they were in.

No words were spoken, but both made it clear that neither had any intention of having a "little sparring match."

Blue was in yellows' corner.

"Any way I can still talk you outta this?" He asked.

Yellow was bouncing around on the balls of her feet. She shook her head.

Blue took a breath.

"Alright, then."

He stopped out of the ring and went over towards the timer.

Before he hit it, he spoke up;

"Try not to hurt each other, 'kay?" Neither responded.

"You two ready...? ...Go!" Blue yelled as he hit the timer for the first round.

The two came out patiently, with green in an orthodox stance and yellow in her native tricky southpaw stance.

The two jabbed at range, yellows twitchy head feints and footwork made it hard for green to pin her down with his own jab, despite his height and reach advantage.

Yellow kept her guard up and stayed in range, not allowing green to space he wanted to box at range. She kept it a mid range sinping contest.

She followed up a jab with a straight left that just barely caught green and he clinched, using his height to bore his weight down on yellow and move her where he wanted.

He moved them both back to the center of the ring, but this time he established his own jab to seize control of the center.

Now it was yellows turn to defend and move, which fortunately for her (and midas), she was very good at.

This time she tried clinching with green, this time when he bore his weight down, he pushed yellow back and into a left hook that stunned her.

Yellow never saw it coming, let alone the power it had behind it.

Yellow backed up and put her hands up to defend, she took a few punches to the body but was able to smoothly angle out.

Successfully resetting it back to the center, this time yellow used her own lead hand to block green's jab.

She used this tactics to manufacture confidence in herself and eventually began timing her straight left right as green jabbed.

It was a sort of "catch and shoot" tactic but it seemed to repeatedly catch green off guard as he had a habit of not bringing his hands back up to his face.

The bell sounded, and the two took a minutes' rest in between rounds. But it was clear that they were looking to get back to it as soon as possible.

Green made sure to keep his distance in the 2nd round. He snapped his jab out quickly to get a feel for the timing of yellows' head movement, but she always seemed to move just before or just after green thought she would.

Eventually, green began pinning yellow with his jab. He baited out her parry-blocks and used them as openings, with an opening found, he rammed his jab out with authority.

Successfully putting yellow on her back foot, he was able to control the center of the ring and corner the southpaw.

He used his signature left hook to the body, yellow began to wince in pain, but green continued to press her again the ropes and set up his left hand.

Yellow landed a counter right hook and clinched. She didn't out-mucle him but she used slick movement and footwork to angle her way off the ropes.

But now her hands were low because of the body shots.

At the end of the round, green began to mix it up. He threw long hooks to the body mixed in with straight punches, and while yellow was doing a great job defending, her offense had shut off entirely.

At the end of the round, green threw a 1-2 that yellow slipped. She tried to pivot to her right to get an angle for her own hook, but green already landed his body hook.

Yellow stepped back and pulled her head away, expecting a follow up straight-right immediately after, but green's timing was impeccable.

He landed flush and visible stumbled yellow right as the bell sounded.

Both orange and green were watching closely. Yellow by far had the better skill and ring-generalship but green had more experience and knew how to impose his style on others... and yellow just didn't have the power to make green think twice.

In the third, green began to catch on.

He figured trying to out-skill his smaller foe was alot tougher than just out-muscling them.

Using his jab, he shut down yellow's feints and had her biting on every movement green made.

He pinned her to the ropes, then quickly made just enough space to land more body shots.

This time, yellow wheezed as all the air in her body was violently beaten out.

Green went up high with a left hook and caught yellow on the side of the head, and all she could do was move away and flick her jab out once or twice.

This time, green timed a straight right as yellow jabbed. He sent it quickly right down the middle, and caught her on the very end of it.

Her legs buckled and she stumbled back into the ropes, green gave chase.

He tried to go for the finish, until he felt something slam into him.

It was enough to knock him off his feet, the air left his lungs as he felt his back slam against the canvas.

He tried to struggle against whatever was holding him down, but he was thoroughly pinned.

He finally noticed the dark orange arm that wrapped around his chest and pinned his other hand down.

"Midas?!" Green squeaked, but was quickly cut off.

"Quiet! What the hell were you doing?! That's your own teammate!" Midas snarled in his face.

Green's face lit up in anger.

"She's the one that wanted this, she's the one that asked me!" He said.

"It doesn't matter!" Midas said, getting off of green.

Green stayed on the floor for a bit, and Midas looked down at him.

"I taught you better than this... if I keep seeing this attitude I'm pulling the plug!" He snarled as he stormed off.

Now green was left tired, embarrassed, and... even a little guilty...

And all this manifested into bitterness.

He went over to yellow, who was sat on her stool with her head drooped.

Now he could see the swelling he'd caused, it made him angry at himself. It made him hate himself.

And still, he couldn't control his ego, or his mouth.

"Stick to the amateurs, this isn't for you." He said lowly, before storming off himself.

---------------------------------------------------

Later that night, dinner was quiet. Green had gone off to his room earlier, once the reality of what he said and did hit him, it was like a punch he didn't see coming.

He hadn't asked for forgiveness, part of him felt he shouldn't have to. Another part of him felt that he didn't deserve to.

Alone that night, he decided to open up a social media.

He could use it to promote himself and get himself on the public radar... maybe make some friends...

...

...

...

This couldn't end well.

---------------------------------------------------

This is going to be the last fic that I post on this account as i will be moving over to a different one. I don't like how disorganized this blog is and i want to get a fresh slate.

Keep in mind, I am not deleting this account and will reblog several old works over on the new one, and the continuation of this mini-fic will be posted on the new one as well as soon as I make it.

Thank you guys for sticking with me for this, I really do appreciate it and I can't wait to have a blog where i can finally get my ideas out in a more comprehensive manner.

[hanbindans]

zerobaseone as IB students (headcanons)

some fun headcanons for my fellow students. please take these with a grain of salt, obviously I don't know them personally and these are just meant to be fun :) word count: 1.1 k (ca 140 for each) a/n: this is for a very niche target audience but it makes sense in MY head. also I have exams in less than 2 weeks so this is kind of representative of where my mind is at rn. and PSA if you're also an IB student please don't actually skip TOK <3

jiwoong

what's that?? "he's a 24 year old man, it's been years since he completed high school??" sorry I can't hear you too well I'll just go ahead and write this headcanon anyway <3

he's such a drama kid and he would take it even in IB, so theatre and korean lit would be his HLs

I feel like he would take bio and psych sl purely out of curiosity and then immediately regret it when he realizes how much content there is (but would be really good at psych)

aa sl!!! no particular reason tbh I just think he's kind of smart

doesn't understand tok. like...... at ALL. is saved by the fact that his psychology EE is pretty good because he pretty much flunks tok miserably

CAS defender because "guys it builds character I think it's great that we all do volunteer work :))" bless his heart

hanbin

7 subjects :)

is good at tok probably

genuinely puts SO much time and effort into his cas and regrets it in the end but it looks cool on his resumé

psychology and korean lit HL, probably takes VA too but maybe as sl. he gives such lit vibes I feel like he would totally be a literature kid

chinese ab!!!! and maybe ESS because he can and doesn't like science <3

AI SL just because he's so social science but he gets 6s and 7s because it's too easy for him <3

basically he's all the social science subjects but because they're FUN not because they're easy :)

shares notes and study resources in the class group chat because he's cool like that

zhang hao

science kid

HL math AA, geography, and maybe chem or bio. maybe takes physics SL too.

definitely chinese lang/lit and korean ab (he could definitely do korean B but he can't be bothered)

you won't catch him anywhere without a comically large energy drink

completely numbed on the inside but also puts more effort in than everyone else and gets straight 7's

skips tok though because he can't be asked

does his EE on a very niche obsession of his and it gets a really good grade but he puts way too much effort into it

everyone wants to learn his ways but he doesn't do study groups because he gets too annoyed lmao. WILL tell juniors chatting in the library to stfu

he will complain about anything and everything any chance he gets but also catch him getting that 45 at the end of the day.

taerae

also science kid but a lot less intense

HL bio, chem, music, SL AA, korean lang/lit and japanese ab

he would complain SO MUCH about group 2 btw he's one of those science kids who really doesn't want to do 2 languages lol

really only cares about music to be honest but does the sciencey subjects because he thinks they're cool and gets pretty good grades

the type to do a hyper specific science IA and spend way too much time on it just for shits and giggles because he likes pouring things into beakers and swirling them

unintentionally does the most for his CAS, like "oh a service??? yeah I've been tutoring guitar for like 6 months does that count" and genuinely fails to see how other people struggle with it

also excells at tok, like genuinely writes an amazing philosophical TOK essay and gets full marks

ironically cares so little about IB but somehow does so well because he genuinely likes his subjects (and has an iq of like 150)

matthew

7 subjects :)

wants to do more languages than he's allowed because he's just built like that, he likes flexing his multilingualism

HL english lang/lit, french B, history. SL AA, bio, chem, psych

is annoyingly good at all his subjects like HOW are you doing all that and remembering everything?? secretly kind of a genius

does the mostest for his IAs for absolutely no reason other than he's just interested in his subjects and wants to do fun projects :)

also genuinely likes CAS for the same reason (play sports feed stray cats, what's not to like?)

super ambitious classmate who is somehow the only one still sane and always happy

encourages everyone before tests and exams like "come on guys we can do it!! :)"

ricky

this is more likely than you think like do you know how many rich international kids do IB??? in an alternate reality he's M23

visual art HL <33

probably business management HL too, but I could see him doing psych as well!! I think he'd enjoy the human relationships option

chinese lang/lit and english B because why do a bilingual diploma and struggle when you could just breeze through english B?????

AI and ESS sl because he cba, he just wants to pass fr.

to be honest he only really cares about visual art (does his EE in it and regrets it every day) and his social science a liiittle bit, other than that he's just doing exactly as much as he needs to pass

super chill classmate though like all IB kids need a Ricky in their class to humble our god complexes

gyubin

IB but because he's an exchange student :') like he didn't even know what IB was when he started it

cramming the night before tests because he can't be asked to dedicate his whole life to studying

actually the nicest classmate though

eng b HL and breezes through it

ESS and AI sl together with ricky (they sit in the back of the class and snack together <3)

also like business management/psychology or something equivalent but he's REALLY good at it and gets easy 7's?? like he will be that 1 kid who has that 1 subject that he's an absolute god at

cries every tok lesson but it's alright

favourite part is ironically CAS because he has an excuse to volunteer at dog shelters and play basketball with his friends :)

gunwook

peak IB child I bet he would take this programme for real

4 hls (economics, psychology, korean lang lit, chemistry)

I have no justification for these subjects btw I just spat out 4 that I think he would take. he definitely would do 4 HLs though because that's how he rolls

ALSO takes cas very seriously for absolutely no reason

also takes tok SUPER seriously- he will lead class discussions and get into heated debates about stupid shit like if newspeak would work in real life

AA sl and japanese ab because that's just his vibes

kind of overworked but is always helpful and shares notes with his classmates :)

does his EE in economics and ends up getting way too invested in it and becomes obsessed with economic development policies or something niche like that (nerd but affectionately <3)

very stressed and overworked but he WILL get those grades at the end of the day <33

[sno4wy]

Did you seriously drop that much money to try to make your awful ship more valid? Guess what? You didn't, hope you enjoyed wasting a ton of money. It doesn't matter how much money you pay, you and your lame friends will always be the only ones who prefer your fugly builder with Miguel. Just give it up and go jump off a bridge already.

Hey Anon, based on the three messages you sent me today, it seems that my sharing of my commission from Momodeary in the official Pathea Discord server really upset you. Your rage felt really familiar to me, and I thought about this a lot about why. I'm going to hazard a guess that you're lashing out at me more than usual because of the price aspect, especially for something that seems so frivolous. I get it -- I grew up in abject poverty, and I harbored a lot of rage about it both directly and indirectly for many years. It really sucks not having the money to do what you need, or even what you want, and it can feel like having salt rubbed into the wound when someone else shows off some pricey non-necessity that they got. Everyone deserves to get what brings them joy, as long as it isn't something that causes harm to others, and it sucks that capitalism/corporations/societal structure/etc make most people unable to attain that. I sincerely hope that things improve for you.

I'm fortunate now to do well enough for myself that I can afford a pricey commission like the one that I shared. I got the commission because I like Momodeary's art style, it's not a style that I see myself personally doing, and I'm making it up to myself now for all the things that I couldn't do in the past. I wouldn't be so presumptuous as to say it was to support the artist, as she has tons of clients and certainly didn't need my money, I'm really lucky to have been able to get a slot with her. If you have the means to do so and want to, I really suggest contacting her directly -- the worst thing she can say is no, but more likely is that she'll put you on an (admittedly long) waitlist. The point is, if you're upset about not being able to get a commission from her, don't write it off until you try. Worse comes to worst, she can't fit you in, but there are tons of skilled artists out there with similar styles that you can commission instead. It's ok though if you have your heart set on Momodeary, most artists are very accommodating as long as the client is understanding and willing to wait.

If your anger has to do with not being able to afford a commission from Momodeary, I'm really sorry about that. There are some ways that I can help, if not directly to get you a commission, but perhaps means to address the funds shortage issue. I managed to claw my way out of poverty, and in the process picked up more than a few ideas and tricks, however at the end of the day, there is no magical get rich quick scheme, and everything that you hear about how to find a job is sadly mostly true. For instance, a good resumé is an integral part to finding a job, and a big part of what makes a resumé good is proper formatting. Having gone from someone who sent out hundreds of resumés to someone who's had to review hundreds of resumés, I can tell you that so much of the time, it's a lot less about the contents of the resumé and more about its appearance. Countless qualified, heck, overqualified, people get turned down for positions because their resumés don't even get looked at. I'm happy to look over a resumé if you'd like, and of course I'd understand if you need to anonymize most of it before showing me. Please note that it is sadly the case that having a good resumé, or in many cases, all the correct qualifications, don't necessarily guarantee you a job. Connections are at least, if not more, important, so don't be shy about asking for help from friends and family in this aspect.

Finding and securing a job can be a long-term project though, so picking up some side hustles might be a good way to generate some income, especially as you can keep these side hustles after finding a job. A lot of people have even done so well with their side hustles that they were able to make them into their careers. I'm happy to make suggestions, but I'm afraid that my knowledge is chiefly confined to the US and my ideas may not be applicable or workable in other countries. I have found however that a fairly universal way to generate some income via a side hustle is through selling crocheted items. Crochet is very quick and easy to learn and master, and yarn is very cheap, especially if you get store brands like Joann's Big Twist. Red Heart Super Saver is also very cheap yarn that comes in a ton of colors. There are countless free patterns on the internet, and ones that aren't free tend to be pretty cheap, generally within the $5 range. It is totally legal to sell the stuff you make from purchased patterns; some patterns even explicitly state that this is the case. The best part about crochet is that you can do it while doing other stuff, like commuting to your job, watching a show, listening to music, etc. It's totally possible to churn out a ton of crochet animals (amigurumi) in one day. Dipping into fandom stuff by making characters from a certain franchise is a great way to sell crochet products. Another really cool thing is that there doesn't currently exist a way for crocheted items to be mass produced; while there are items that look crocheted, they're actually sewn together pieces and not true crochet. Machines can't currently make crocheted items. Buyers looking for real crochet products want something that only a human can make.

Online marketing tools are also pretty solid. Etsy is the way to go for handmade crafts, although they do take a pretty hefty fee (15%). You can try to cut down on that fee by listing on your own social media, in which case you'd still have to pay a 3-5% handling fee for payment processors, and it can be a pain trying to beat social media algorithms. If you're handy with TikTok, that's a great way to boost awareness of your brand, and you can use those same videos as Reels on Instagram and Facebook to get your accounts noticed faster.

If you're an artist, you could of course always try to go the commissions route, but I've found that this is a much harder uphill battle than trying to break into the scene marketing crochet goods. If you do decide to give crochet a shot, I really recommend investing in a quality hook -- Clover Armour is many crocheters' go-to. They are pricy, around $9 for a hook, but they last forever and they're super comfortable to use. You only need one to start -- I recommend the size G (4.0 mm) one, as that goes with the most common yarn weight for a lot of amigurumi. Big Twist and Red Heart Super Saver are also both Worsted weight yarn, for which you use a G hook. If this is something you really want to do but are really tight on funds, I'm happy to get one of those hooks for you, just tell me how to get it to you.

I have a lot of other ideas for possible side gigs, which all will require a lot of work, but will return income. However, I'd just be spitballing, so hit me up if you want to talk shop. You know where to find me. ;P

[ladykailitha]

STRIPPERS

Me with Nancy

WIP Wednesday!

Just clearing out my inbox, join me next week!

Other asks here.

Snippet

Nancy turned to Jason, “Come on, let’s get out of here. I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

Jason clenched his fist like he was still looking for a fight. He looked around gauging the people around him. With a sneer and a snarl, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the club. Nancy followed him, but she stopped at the door.

“This is your last chance, Steve,” she murmured. “You can still come with us. Leave this behind. I’m sure I could you place teaching ballet. You’d have to leave this place off your resumé of course. But just think, you could be raising the next group of dancers.”

Steve scoffed. “There are fifteen dancers, six bartenders, ten wait staff, and two large cleaning crews that depend on this club for their livelihood. Not to mention the two men who put their heart and soul into the running of this club, and if you think I’m going just walk away like that, then you never knew me at all.”