#he got home and then said 'I can't afford to pay you' enough that they won't pick him up anymore

[inkskinned]

you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.

(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)

but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.

(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)

there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.

(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)

you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.

(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)

you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.

in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.

but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.

they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.

it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.

[fizzie-frog]

You know, the Stolitz scene was a trainwreck as a whole (they usually are), but what honestly got me most was the way Blitz started pleading when he thought his livelihood was going to be taken away.

THIS IS NOT A STOLAS SLANDER POST. I'm coming from a place where I've seen Blitz being mostly, if not entirely blamed for their lack of communication most of the time.

Moving on...

People keep going like "Well if imps are so low in the hierarchy..." - Let's take a break to think. Blitz isn't rich, he's just getting by really. And how is he getting by?

By prostituting himself. To the upper class.

That's what it is, he's a certified whxre. Things may have evolved in the meantime, but that's how it started. Blitz got asked for the deal while being chased by a crazy lady and him, wanting to keep his business and livelihood, said yes, obviously.

Now Stolas was suddenly taking the book back with no apparent explanation (until they got to the crystal), so of course Blitz thought he was doomed. On a side note, why couldn't Stolas say "You won't need the book, I have an alternative" instead of the ominous "I'll need the book back, permanently. I have made up my mind." I would be scared out of my mind.

He teared up immediately and started pleading, you could already see what was going through his head. He won't have the means to support his business anymore, to pay his employees, to afford a home, he'll be homeless and have no means to take care of Loona. Everyone will leave him again and he will starve on the streets all alone.

He'd do anything to be able to live a life a bit better than miserable, of course he would.

And this brings me to Stolas's treatment of Blitz. I see that everything tends to fall on Blitz, and I'm not saying he has no fault (in fact I didn't even like him at the beginning of the series too much), but Stolas treated him like a peasant. Just the episode before Ozzie's he's called him his "impish little plaything" and asked for a reward for the rescue. He put out cigarettes on his horns, he ignored his "stop" most times, he addressed him in this little baby voice with babying diminutives. "Itty bitty" imp.

And I am sure Stolas is socially clueless. He was brought up alone and sheltered, taught to be a prince first and foremost.

Stolas probably saw this as playful banter, as something that is inoffensive, silly. It was only in the Ozzie's episode that he finally saw that actually, his silly play served to make Blitz feel smaller.

And of course in this scenario, Blitz would see this coming out of the nether. He reacted quite badly, but why would this prince be actually in love with him? As he said, he needed to have a minute (or several) to think about everything. They needed to talk this out, and Blitz was about to apologize when Stolas cast him out.

They were both emotionally charged. They fucked up. But I can see Blitz's side. And the power imbalance is so evident, that hierarchy that everyone keeps saying is irrelevant - in a moment's notice, he could have his life swept from underneath him. Just like he thought it happened in that split moment; it worried him so much that he cried and pleaded (and that's not in Blitz's character to do).

And then he was so scared of not being enough too, ugh, his little "I can always do better!". He's so used to everyone just seeing him as a lost cause, better to be discarded. With this amalgamation of things, no wonder he can't believe Stolas would have feelings for him.

So uh, I don't know what the conclusion to this is. Normalize getting imps some actual comfort? So far the only really privileged imp in Helluva Boss is Fizz after getting rid of Mammon. And when I say priviledged, I'm referring to wealth and upper class, not taking into account personal issues such as disability and so forth.

Anyway, this was my two cents on Stolitz. I honestly haven't thought too much on them, I'm riding on the Fizzarolli high. I'm chill over here in my Fizzmodeus bubble, but doesn't mean I have no thoughts on Stolitz.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ ii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. here's part 2 folks. part 3 is on the works now. did i write this fic instead of studying for my important quiz tomorrow? yes, yes i did. pls pray for my score.

masterlist.

For Christmas in 2019, Max has gotten you an apartment near his in Monaco. It is a loft apartment good for one on the 8th floor, a building away from where Daniel and Max lived. Originally, he wants to get you the unit a floor below his. You decline quickly, insisting that you are very fine with rooming with Julia and Kendall, who are both members of the Red Bull PR team whom you have gotten close with since your first year working with Red Bull. Max may have beef with the PR team for making him do a lot of embarrassing shit for the views but you're besties with most of them and actually thank them for making Max suffer through PR stuff because you cannot afford therapy and watching Max suffer through PR-related activities is a good form of free therapy. Also, Monaco apartments are fucking expensive. Red Bull might be paying you well but not well enough to afford an apartment in a country as expensive as Monaco.

“I want you close,” he tells you. If you did not know any better, you'd have butterflies fluttering in your intestines right about that moment. Sometimes, Max utter the most heart-fluttering of nonsense without meaning to. It causes your heart to stutter more times than you would like to admit.

“Well, I don't want you close.”

Max will never ever win an argument with you. He knows that. You know that. The best he can do is come to a compromise, a compromise that is usually tailored to suit whatever you want.

So you got that small loft apartment a building away, good for one person only. It's easy to clean and it's cheap, Max already said that, which makes you happy because you can set a payment plan for that. An apartment as a Christmas gift is already too much, borderline giving you a heart attack already. Rich people spending their money give you, a person of the middle class folks, heart attacks. Why can't Max be normal and give you a normal gift? A bracelet? A bag? You’ll even accept it if he gave you a slice of cheesecake. Not even your parents can buy you an apartment.

It has only been three years since the keys are passed on to your ownership and people say three years is enough time for a person to make a place home. But your apartment doesn't even feel like home, only a place you’ll sleep in if you happen to be in Monaco for the evening.

Home is that humble, two-storey house painted in red and yellow in Lynnwood Avenue, Vista Del Pueblo, Austin, a total picture of a picket fence dream. Home is Abuelo's old farmhouse in El Paso where you spent your childhood riding horses and driving ATVs across the dusty dry earth. Home is the retro milkshake place owned by the sweet old couple that has been in the neighborhood longer than your entire existence. Home is the tree-lined streets where you walked the family senior dog, Niko. Home is the Austin Fire House, your Dad’s workplace that you visited a handful of times back when you were a child to deliver cookies that your Abuela baked so your Dad could share it with his co-workers. Home is your mom’s clinic in the middle of downtown, always smelling like eugenol, disinfectant, formaldehyde, and her perfume. Home is not glitz and gold and glamor and cash cash cash. Home is not seeing wealthy people left and right. Home is not Monaco.

And it is not like you stayed long in your place either. You're always off traveling around the world with the Red Bull team and accompanying Max wherever he needs your presence. You don't even spend your breaks in that apartment because you immediately fly home to your family once a break is graciously given to you before flying off again to watch Max collect trophy after trophy.

Six days from now, you're going to be flying off to Texas. That means you have six days—less than six days actually—to pack all your crayons and go. Of course you're going to pack up the day before you leave. Doing shit last minute makes your life exciting, and it's not like you had a lot of shit to pack anyway. All your belongings can be tucked into a total of three suitcases. Three years worth of belongings in three suitcases.

you: you doin good there?

Max has been holing himself up in his penthouse since your arrival from Abu Dhabi, probably dealing with his breakup with Kelly. A shame, really. You thought the two looked good together. (Do they really? the asshole part of your brain thinks.)

And P. Thank God for that child’s existence. You hate children but P is an exception. P brings the best out of Max. Max has gotten the chance to act as the father he never had. It's heartwarming, to be honest.

him: not really no

him: can you bring me coffee

you: on it champ

Fifteen minutes later, you’re knocking on the gigantic double doors of his penthouse, a tall styro cup of espresso from that cute café two streets down and a slice of blueberry cheesecake because you’re thoughtful enough to buy him his favorite cake. You experienced a breakup before. A cake and an icecream work wonders when it came to healing broken hearts.

“You're fast,” he immediately says after opening the door. You kind of expect that he’d look worse, snotty and messy and looking like he ran from hell and back. But no, he looks……fine? His sweater and shorts look absolutely neat and comfortable and dry of snot. His hair is a little fluffy from lying on his bed but not too messy. He doesn't even look like he was crying. No red-rimmed eyes. No red nose.

You fake gasp, putting a hand on your chest for additional dramatic effect, “The fastest racer in F1 callin’ me fast. Truly honored.”

A smile plays on his lips, sidestepping and beckoning you in.

You frequently come by Max’s home, for work purposes of course, but you still cannot help but be amazed by the enormity of it every time you enter. Max’s penthouse is twenty times bigger than the apartment you currently live in. One man and a big house—it must be very lonely now that P and Kelly are no longer around. Now, you’re even more worried about what will happen the moment you go back to Texas.

Oh… You still haven't told him yet.

“Coffee,” you hand him the warm styro cup to which he accepts gratefully. He utters his thanks, taking a whiff before sipping, letting out a pleasured moan.

You make your way to his gigantic kitchen, navigating your way through his cabinets in search of a plate and a fork. You slide the cheesecake on the plate towards Max, who followed you to the kitchen and sat on the empty stool in the kitchen counter.

“Thank you,” he says, picking up the fork and taking a bite. He glances at your feet, eyes trained on your YSL. The obnoxious sound of the heels clicking against the floor as you walk probably is the one that caught his attention.

“You know, you've been wearing the same shoes since 2019.”

Points for Max for noticing. These YSL Opyum heels are the first luxury items you bought for yourself after saving for three years to buy one pair. You saw a rich international student wear it once back in university and you liked how sophisticated it looked compared to all the pairs of converse or platform boots you owned. So you made it your life’s goal to own one. In 2019, after doing tons of part time jobs in university and working with Red Bull for a whole year, you managed to buy yourself one on your birthday and you’d been wearing them to work ever since.

Your regular work uniform consists of a Red Bull polo shirt, a pencil or a slit skirt, and that specific pair of heels. Around 2021, you bought another pair to replace the old one because the old one broke. And 2022 again.

“What's wrong with ‘em?” you ask, brows furrowing as you followed his train of sight. Your heels might be a year old already but they still look fine.

Max blinks, “No, there's nothing wrong. Just…Do you think you would want to wear some other design?”

“No,” is your reply. “I like ‘em just the way they are.”

“Okay.”

Your conversation drifts into something else as Max finishes his coffee and cake. You spend the rest of the day in Max’s penthouse, lying on his plush couch while a slasher movie from the 2000s played on his wide TV. He has given you access on his Netflix account so you abused it to your heart’s content because you don't even have. a Netflix subscription. You can absolutely afford one, you just choose not to. You have opted in using your phone mid-movie because the movie is beginning to get real scary but you do not want Max to think you're a coward so you acted like you're disinterested instead.

“Oh look, Charles is also back in Monaco. Do you want to hang out together?” you nudge Max with your foot, who swats it away from him, face contorting in disgust. You show him the post on Charles private IG—yes, you were mutuals in each other's private IG because whoever is friends with Max was friends with you by extension—on your phone.

“Stop makin’ that face, my feet are nice.”

Your toenails are a glorious red now. Ferrari red actually and they suit you better than the Red Bull red. Huh, maybe you should have considered applying for Ferrari instead of Renault in 2018.

“No, it isn't.”

You roll your eyes, pulling it away from him and sitting up, “Do you want me to schedule you a dinner with Charles? You might need the bro time, you know? Dad said bro times are also important, but not as important as family time, of course. My bro broke up with his sweetheart back when I was still in uni and his best buds were the reason he was back up in tippy top shape by the end of the week.”

Max stares at you blankly, “I think I understand the words individually but not the sentence entirely. I don't know if it's the accent or you Americans just have a strange way of structuring your sentences.”

“Point is, hang out with a friend because a friend can help you move on from a pussy.”

Max hurls a throw pillow at your direction, which you luckily avoided thanks to your non-racer level but still considerably good reaction time, but unfortunately, this action causes your center of gravity to shift and before you know it, you're falling from the couch. Unconsciously, you grab Max but then Max doesn't expect that you’ll grab him so now, you’re both falling off the couch and onto the floor.

You groan.

“Fuckin’ ass, man. That was uncalled for.”

He flips you off.

Nevertheless, Max ends up following your advice though and calls Charles to hang out the next day. Lestappen fans should be thanking you on Twitter the next day for bringing those two together on an off-day in Monaco. Maybe they'll hang out and eat together in a restaurant? Maybe they'll go on a yacht picnic?

Except Max sends you a message at high noon.

him: sos

you: is your kitchen burning

him: no

him: but this is still an emergency and you need to come quick

him: he’s with his girlfriend and i don’t want to thirdwheel

you: succ it up

him: you can’t do this to me

him: i just got my heart broken in abu dhabi

you: where are you

him: home

him: i also need help in cooking

Charles is the one who answers the door when you knock. He looks genuinely surprised when he sees you and you deduce that Max hasn't told him that you're coming over.

“Babe, who’s that?” you hear Alex’s voice behind Charles and you light up immediately, quickly moving past Charles to throw your hands around the sweet young woman.

“Alex!” Alexandra laughs and hugs you back. The sound of her laughter is as pretty as she and God definitely has favorites because why did he sculpt this twenty-one year old like the daughter of the Aphrodite while you look like you were born from one of Hephaestus’ sperm that lost the gene pool contest? The world is unfair. You always get the short end of the stick, may it be career-wise or appearance-wise, and you can't even bring your personality to the table because normally, without the whole act of professionalism and sophistication you put on, you act like an extroverted American frat boy on a good day and a sassy drag queen slash war freak on a bad day so yeah, you guess that's the short end of the stick, too.

“Seriously?” you look up and saw Max holding a frying pan, staring at you unimpressed. You roll your eyes and slowly pull away from the hug, gaze returning to Alexandra.

“How’ve you been, sweetie? Been a while since I last saw you.”

You didn't get a chance to talk to her in Abu Dhabi and in Las Vegas.

“Good,” she replies, smiling sweetly and ugh, you want to pinch her cheeks so bad. But Charles is pulling you away from Alexandra before you can do so.

“No, no, she is mine, yours is right over there,” Charles says, pointing at Max, who's still standing there in the corner. “Go on. Shoo.”

You roll your eyes before walking up to Max, “‘Sup?”

Max raises a brow at you, “So Charles’ girlfriend gets a hug and I get a sup?”

“Well, she's Alexandra Saint Mleux and you’re just….” you look him up and down. “Nevermind, what you trynna cook?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I thought you said you were cooking.”

“I said I needed help with cooking.”

Your eyes narrow into slits, “You’re going to let me do the cooking, aren't you?”

“You know that pasta you made in September that you said was your mother’s recipe?”

A sigh escapes your lips as you roll the sleeves of your button-up to your elbows and power-walked your way to the kitchen, the sound of your YSL heels clicking against the floor bouncing against the walls of Max’s kitchen.

Lunch goes great. Charles and Alexandra love your cooking. Max has even asked for seconds. Good to know that he's eating well. Somewhere down the line, champagne is served even though it’s mid-afternoon and the four of you're sitting in Max’s balcony, staring at Monaco scape below. Thankfully, it is a cloudy day in Monaco. The heat of the sun isn't too harsh on the skin. Despite that, you hand Max a sun screen.

“Sorry about Kelly, by the way,” Alexandra says. Your conversation has drifted towards Max’s failed relationship now.

“That is very nice of you to say,” replies Max, smiling slightly. “But I’m okay.”

You give him a look, clearly unconvinced. Admitting vulnerability gives him hives so he's definitely lying.

“You look too okay for a guy who ended a three-year relationship,” Charles muses and his words get you immediately thinking.

Oh? So they’ve been dating that long? You never noticed.

“Even [Name] looked worse when she broke up with that Williams mechanic two years ago and they dated for like what? Barely a year?”

“Unprovoked!” you exclaim. Alex and Max laugh.

But yeah, Charles is right. When you broke up with Leo in 2021, it was not the prettiest sight. He entered Williams mid-2020 as a mechanic and he immediately caught your attention. He's kind and handsome and a very sweet guy. You have similar interests—engineering—and a similar sense of humor and you just….work so well together, you know? You were sure he was your soulmate the moment he cracked up that Physics pickup line and you know it was the same with him. You swore to God that you’d run away from all the British charming assholes but Leo made you eat your own words and gave you a run for your money.

But alas, 2021 season came and Red Bull Racing became busier than ever because Max and Hamilton got crazily competitive and Max demanded your full attention, needing you as a support system to win.

And Leo. Well, he’s busy, too. Engineers are always busy. But he felt neglected because all your attention was on Max. He felt like he was competing with Max for your attention and it shouldn't even be a competition in the first because Leo was the boyfriend and Max was not. And you cannot even deny that you prioritized Max that year. You wanted Max to win. You needed Max to win, so he can finally ask Horner to move you to the engineering team.

Losing Leo is devastating but Max won the WDC title that year and while you spent nearly a month crying over Leo after the breakup, you're hoping that at least, in 2022, you’ll finally get that damned engineering position at the cost of losing your soulmate. That the tears you shed and the broken heart you carried inside your ribs will be worth it if it was in exchange for your dream. Then, it does not happen. The job isn't given to you and you spent the early months of the 2023 season wishing that you have chosen Leo instead of Max Verstappen.

“You’re still friends with him, right?” Charles turns to you.

“Of course,” you say honestly. You're still mutuals on IG and he still hearts your IG stories at times. You still talk, too, on the freer nights where there's a lot of time to waste. “We ended on good terms.”

“How about you, Max?”

“Can we not talk about this please?”

The four of you empty that bottle of champagne and once the sun has begun retiring for the night, Alex and Charles also left. You're soon to follow, fixing your tote bag and going through the mental checklist in your head so you will not forget anything and not waste energy returning here to pick it up.

“You can stay for dinner.”

Max’s offer surprises you.

“No.”

His face drops as quickly as your answer came.

“You're goin’ to let me cook again.”

“No, I’ll cook.”

You give him an unimpressed look. Clearly, you're not convinced.

“I swear, I’ll cook.”

“What if I get poisoned?”

“You won't get poisoned.”

When you continue staring at him, he sighs.

“Just stay please?”

Of course, you stayed. He asked after all.

You keep your eyes on him as he makes dinner with clumsy hands and a bit of unsureness behind his actions.

“You're goin’ to burn it, honey,” you point out.

“What honey? I didn't put any honey in it.”

You blink. He blinks back.

“You’re gonna give me aneurysm one day.”

Shaking your head, you walk into the bathroom at the end of the enormous hallway, lock the door behind you, lean your back against the door, and slowly slides down until your ass meets the cold bathroom floor. You slap a palm against your forehead and purse your lips to stop a scream from erupting.

God fucking dammit, Max is too adorable back there and this is not doing good things for your heart.

[seijorhi]

Just wanted to let you know that that oikawa soulmate drabble you just posted is such a banger. I can just imagine the look on oikawa’s face as he’s reading the caption on his soulmate’s socials . . . Does he decide then and say, f waiting gotta go find her and remind her of their agreement? Does he blast her name out after winning his next game, saying it’s because of her that he’s been able to accomplish so much and then conveniently shares a reel of that victory speech to one of your friends who likes volleyball and happens to be friends with his fake profile?

There are so many ways this scenario could go and it’s always so interesting and thrilling the way you leave your drabbles open-ended✨✨

Thank you for sharing!

well first of all there's the epic tantrum he throws. tears, snot, a shattered phone. basically wrecks his bedroom, tears at his hair and screams into his pillows. a very measured, healthy response.

ONCE he calms down (which he will, eventually) that's when he gets plotting. oikawa's not a man who takes losing well, he's also not the type of guy to hit back with only one

up until that point, he'd managed to talk himself out of physical stalking. the online stuff was fine, because you'd made it public, you'd posted it and put it out into the world, but actually following you home, finding out your day-to-day routine – when he can afford to, those rare, precious days off – that would've been creepy. or... crossing a line, at least. a step too far. but now he knows there's some asshole trying to weasel into his girl's life, take his place–

six months, six months, six months, six months, six months, six months

–he doesn't feel all that torn up about it. and while he spends his time between volleyball and you, he's sure he can spare some cash to throw at a pi to look into your boyfriend too. surely the asshole's got a few secrets he can use against him. no one's perfect, and everyone's exploitable. he could probably pay one of the girls at that asshole's office to get him in a compromising position, take a few photos and send them your way. he could probably pay someone to drag him into an alley on his way home and beat the fuck out of him too, but that one's a little dicier. more of a 'plan b' situation, he thinks.

he's always been pretty tight lipped about his soulmate status. his teammates have undoubtedly caught a glimpse or two, but they know he doesn't talk about it, and it's too personal a thing to just casually drop into conversation. publicly, he's never said a word.

until now.

he'll make it sound like a cinderella moment. one of those missed connections stories people go nuts over. he'll say that he saw you through the crowds after one of his games, just a glimpse before you were swallowed up. never got your name, never even had a chance to speak to you, but your eyes met for a split second, a heartbeat, and he knew you were his soulmate. now he's desperately trying to find you again, enlisting his fans and followers' help to do so.

he'll sprinkle in enough vague-ish details for the people in your life to pick up on and recognise. maybe start nudging you towards him.

he'll admit, with a soft, self-deprecating chuckle that you were there with another guy – a date, probably. it's why he held off trying to find you at first, but he... he just can't anymore. he doesn't care if you're with someone else.

he's totally swept up in you, it's all he can think about. he's already completely in love with you, and he doesn't even know your name.

it sounds crazy, he knows that, but he can't help it. he just needs to see you again. to learn your name. for you to give him a chance.

you're soulmates, and this is just the beginning of your love story.

[formosusiniquis]

any cosmo girl would have known

“Oh she did it for sure.”

“Steve!”

“Ten bucks, Bobert, don't give me that look last time we agreed double or nothing.”

“No,” Nancy insists. “This isn't Murder, She Wrote or Scooby-Doo or Columbo-”

“You saw who did it in Columbo at the beginning,” Eddie reminds.

“I know it's an awful show.”

Robin and Steve remain in sync enough to each get a hand on his shoulder to keep him from getting on the coffee table to defend the only good cop show in existence.

“I'm only pointing out,” she rewinds the VHS taking it back the two or three minutes they'd talked over before stopping it completely, “that this is a movie, not a drama with a repeated format that Steve can pattern recognition into predicting.”

“You haven't seen it already, right?” Robin asks. “The one rule of Monthly Middle-Aged Movie Night is you have to pick a movie none of us have seen.”

“No, I haven't seen it already. If you'll all remember when I asked you each to go see it with me I got,” he points to each of them in turn. “‘Wouldn't you rather see Tomb Raider?’ from double VHS, prestige cinephile and ‘That's too much pink for me, baby, you know I have that intolerance, maybe Rob or Nance will go?’ from my emo-isn’t-a-phase husband. And ‘I'm a little busy with this new story, Steve,’ from Nancy, the only one of you with a real excuse.”

“Some feminist you are, Birdie.”

“I don't want to hear it from you. I watched two of the blandest men alive pursue Renee Zellweger while the screen writers tried to convince us she was homely because you ‘forgot’ you had band practice.”

“You said you liked it!”

“It grew on me, but sometimes you just want to see a woman in a tank top. And I won't be shamed by the same man who cried during Beauty and the Beast.”

“I went with my sweet baby Lucy Joan, you miserable hag,” Eddie says, “and they turned that hot werewolf into a boring looking man.”

“You weren't into that? Look at who-”

“Why am I getting made fun of? Can we finish the movie?”

“No, I'm not going to let this be another Sixth Sense situation,” Nancy says, holding the remote hostage, she knows no one will try to take it from her.

“Ugh don't even bring that up,” Eddie groans, “Dustin still mentions it in at least one letter a year.”

Nancy nods, prim and proper, “Exactly, so tell us right now why you think she did it, then we'll play it again.”

“Chutney, the daughter,” Steve corrects, “have you even been paying attention? Her hair's permed.”

“And press play,” Eddie shouts.

“No,” Robin smacks his hands as he makes his ballsy play to reach around her for the remote. “Show your work, Dingus, even I didn't follow that one.”

“I don't always like the movies everyone else picks but I at least watch them. Her hair is permed, she said she was in the shower. She would have had to have been washing her hair if she didn't hear the gunshot and she has a perm.”

“You can wash your hair with a perm,” Nancy points out.

“You would know.” Eddie snarks, fingering the ends of his own hair.

“You can't wash a fresh perm, you'll fuck up the ammonium thioglycolate. Then you're out forty bucks and you've got limp hair. She killed her dad and lied about being in the shower.”

“Press play,” Eddie decrees again, leaning in close to Steve's side to purr, “it's pretty sexy when you go all hair care detective.”

His hand starts to slip below the blanket. “This is how we ended up with Lucy in the first place,” Steve reminds him, just under the sounds of the courtroom drama picking back up. It doesn’t stop Eddie’s hand from wandering until the movie’s climax starts getting closer, and Eddie’s attention is captured just like Robin’s and Nancy’s.

“Unbelievable,” Robin says, when Elle cites the perm salt.

“Never again,” Nancy swears, when Chutney screams her confession.

“Lucy’s been asking for a brother or sister,” Eddie flirts, as Elle reveals that any good Cosmo girl could have solved it.

No more movies with mysteries or twist endings for a while, they all agree, Robin can’t afford to keep betting against Steve.

[nightingale2004]

Severus's life if Tobias was an actual decent father and husband headcanons

When he finds out that Eileen and Severus are wizards, he takes a minute to take in the information (i feel like he is more the religious type) and even goes to church.

At first, he was angry that his own wife would hide that from him, but after much time and talking with a reasonable, open-minded, understanding priest, he went home and he and Eileen had a long talk.

He is a hard worker at the factory. He goes to work early but comes home late, and Eileen always makes him breakfast, lunch, and dinner and barely drinks but still drinks every now and then.

After Eileen told Tobias everything, he told her to educate him on the Wizarding world so he could have a better grasp of it.

After Tobias was educated on the Wizarding world, he did not like how relationships like his and Eileen's were looked down upon, which made him worried for Severus, especially when he got accepted into Hogwarts.

Severus still wears hand me downs but he does get some new clothes since they don't have a lot of money.

Tobias would be that husband and father that would glare or yell at someone who gave them looks or said/whispered something about them.

Tobias would not be afraid to fight somebody, magic or not. (YOU DO NOT MESS WITH THIS MAN'S FAMILY)

Whenever Severus comes back and he is acting different, he notices. He knows what being bullied looks like, and he talks with Severus about it

Tobias teaches Severus how to defend himself and shows him a couple of moves he learned in the military (the man obviously served)

Eileen would be more involved in Severus's life instead of being afraid.

When the "prank" happened, they immediately found out and gave Dumbledore h3ll for this. And they immediately pull Severus from hogwarts (but not before Tobias is about to give the marauders an old school a$$-whooping)

Eileen and Tobias transferred him to Durmstrang, where they kept a close eye on him (they are helicopter parents now, and u can't tell me otherwise)

Severus obviously noticed the struggle that his parents were facing, not just prejudice but the money struggle. So, growing up, he would always help his mom around the house, help cook and clean, and even sell some potions here and there. (He sells his potions to Tobias's work buddies)

Severus gives his dad potions to help his health and even casts a few spells on him to help him at work (Tobias even after all these years is still not used to it but is impressed by his son's brain)

When Severus graduated, a lot of potion masters wanted him, but he knew he couldn't afford it. So his parents both worked to scrounge him enough money to pay for his apprenticeship (severus helped, he's not letting his parents do all the work)

Severus's summer job as a teenager was helping out at either his father's factory or working at a bar

When Severus came out that he liked both girls and boys, both his parents weren't surprised. They found out a looooong time ago and had their time to process it. And they learned to accept him and his Sexuality in their own way.

Severus is a potion master, has his own apothecary, and his parents couldn't be prouder. He also has a medical and chemist degree. (So if anyone needs a doctor, he's your guy)

When Eileen passed away, Tobias was distant from Severus, but eventually, he learned to be close with his own son again for his wife's sake.

Tobias and severus visit Eileen's grave every year on her birthday.

After Tobias passed, Severus visits their grave in his free time just to talk to them and tell them about his life.

Severus is happier, calmer, and less depressed but still our favorite Sarcastic sharptounged Slytherin

He wouldn't join the deatheaters unless they threatened his parents. He would protect them with his life

Hope you guys love this little headcanons. Enjoy

[thezombieprostitute]

My Man's an Undertaker

Summary: When your ex shows up, trying to win you back, you're not having it. And you know your current boyfriend has your back.

Warnings: Ex-boyfriend angst, Guns, Mild violence, Threats of murder. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Inspired by the song "My Man's an Undertaker" by Dinah Washington.

A/N2: Soft-for-you Robert Pronge, not canon.

You were just settling in for the night when you hear a knocking at your door. It couldn't be Robert, he said he was working late at the funeral home. Maybe something came up and you forgot something at his place yesterday? Or maybe he had ordered you some delivery again, like the caring man he is.

Looking through the peephole you gasp, recognizing Charles, your deadbeat ex-boyfriend.

"What do you want, Charles," you growl through the door.

"I want to apologize to the best thing that ever happened to a loser like me," he says. "I got your favorite flowers. And some of those chocolates you like."

"Last I checked, you couldn't afford those things," you snap back. He'd always been hitting you up for money. Always promising to pay you back or make it up to you. Telling you he was going to get that high paying job, he just needed some money for a good suit for the interview. Promising you the best in life while taking away what little you had.

"I've got a decent job," he cheerfully announces. "Been working hard so I can keep my promises to you."

"What's the job?" you know you can't trust him and you're not above calling his supposed place of employment to verify his story.

"It's nothing big," he says.

"I don't care, what is the job?"

"Look, I came here to try to romance you, earn you back," he deflects. "Please give me a chance, sweetheart. Let me in."

Not a chance in hell, you think. You send a text to Robert, telling him what's happening. The police have a bad reputation around here regarding listening to women but they'd listen to him.

"You need to leave, Charles," you tell him through the door. "I've got a better man in my life. Treats me like a queen, steady job, doesn't lie through his teeth. You know, all the things you never did."

"Please don't do this," he groans. "I did what you told me to and got a job. Isn't that enough of a start?"

"Not until you can pay me back the money and the time you stole from me. Now go away or I call the police."

"It doesn't have to be like this, honey," he pleads. "Just let me in. I'll make you feel good all over. I still remember that trick with my tongue that made you go all starry eyed."

"Go away Charles. This conversation is over and that door is not opening."

You grab your security bat and walk further into your apartment where you can't hear him so well. Maybe he'll make such a ruckus your neighbors call the cops on him for disturbing the peace.

Checking your phone there's a text from Robert saying that he's on his way. That helps you relax a little. Robert's definitely bigger and stronger than you, and much more likely to get Charles to leave you alone.

There's a noise near the door making you look up. Charles is standing there, a bouquet in one hand, a lockpick in the other. You drop your phone and place both hands on your bat, taking a defensive stance.

"It didn't have to be like this," Charles shakes his head. He drops the lockpick and grabs a gun from the inside of his coat. "Drop the bat, sweetheart. And let's just sit and have a nice chat."

You do as he says and sit at the little table in the kitchen. Charles sets the bouquet on the table before taking the seat across from you.

"That's Robert's seat," you grumble.

"Mine now," Charles smiles. "Besides, clearly you can do better, babe. If he was really a 'better man' than me, he'd be here taking care of you. Protecting you."

"He's an undertaker," you say nonchalantly. "He's got late hours."

Charles snorts at that, "an undertaker? Really? That's cute."

You're grateful for the shake of his head so he doesn't see you perk up at the door opening behind him. Robert peeks out from behind the door to take in the scene and gestures for you to keep quiet.

"He is cute," you comment, keeping your eyes on Charles. "Way cuter than you ever could be. He actually remembers what my favorite flowers are."

"He works with stiffs all day," he scoffs. "Bet he's into some weird shit in bed. Didn't realize you were such a fr---"

Charles gets cut off by a blow to the head, making him drop the gun. You immediately get away, grabbing your bat while Robert slams Charles's face into the table, dazing him. Robert pulls out the duct tape he'd snuck out of the tool bag in the coat closet and uses it to tie Charles's hands behind his back.

"And yes," Robert calmly says, "I already called the police. I'm on their good side so they'll be here shortly."

Setting the bat down and taking a deep breath, "thank you for thinking of that."

Robert moves over to you and takes you in his arms. "It's okay, my Dahlia. You're safe now."

Charles looks around, confused. This doesn't look like the usual interrogation room. He should know, he's been in several of them. It's decidedly colder than it should be as well. His teeth have almost started chattering.

When the door finally opens he vaguely recognizes the man who attacked him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Charles demands. "Shouldn't I be given a phone call? A lawyer?"

Robert doesn't respond, simply walking over to a table that was against the wall. Charles had figured it was a side table for recording instruments, but then Robert lifts the cloth on the table and reveals many sharp objects. Charles can't identify them, but he can guess their purpose and he starts shaking from more than just the cold.

"You know one of the benefits of being an undertaker?" Robert asks without looking at Charles. "I get to do 'favors' for the local police department. Sometimes it's simply helping a slain officer get a proper burial without breaking the bank. Other times it's burying some evidence."

Charles can't take his eyes off the utensils. He knows what's going to happen.

"Dahlia has been a rare light in my cold, dark world," Robert continues. "She's a kind heart. One of the very few people who isn't afraid of me because of my job."

Robert selects one of the cutting implements, a smaller blade, and moves to sit across from Charles.

"She was so closed off for so long," Robert muses. "I had to work hard to earn her trust. It was very much worth it. She told me about you, Charles. All the leeching, the lying, the false promises. I was tempted to call in a favor and have you brought in. But you were in her past. She wanted to just forget you and I respected her wishes."

Robert leans forward so he's face to face with Charles. "But then you showed up at her place. You threatened her with a gun. You scared her. That is unforgivable."

Charles starts crying, trying to babble apologies but Robert isn't hearing it. He sticks the blade to Charles's neck and smiles. "I've got a coffin just your size."

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[eldritch-spouse]

Just when you thought taking a day off from retail when you're sick would be paradise away from the retail hell boys when your door suddenly explodes and the retail hell boys enter your room when they heard you got sick. You can't win.

TW: Reader has a dark mindset, their suffering is not treated seriously.

It's kind of ridiculous that your only respite is sickness, isn't it?

Does it count as self-harm to deliberately let yourself get sick just so you can miss a day or two of work? Does... Does not caring about a twisted ankle that much because you know you won't have to work for a while count as mental illness? If only you could afford a psychologist right now.

What you do know, is that in spite of your physical pain, you haven't felt this at peace in a while. You can even ignore the fact that your pay is getting damaged from this, it's worth it. It's calm.

No weird coworkers, no pressure from a shitty boss, no creepy clients-

CRASH

There's no mistaking it. That was the front door of your rackety little apartment.

Fear has you flatten to the wall of your bedroom, ankle squealing with pain. Deep down, you've always dreaded this would happen since moving to Hell. That some nutjob would just break into your place and butcher you like a pig. Because they feel like it, because some demons are just like that, because humans are easy targets.

Humans are like gazelles to them. And amidst all those grazing bodies, a tired and beaten down one like you is the gazelle with the limp, the one that's getting picked first.

Fucking damn it, you should have bought the domestic defense bat that tall butch tried to sell you when you moved in. You wondered why she was pricing it so high until she revealed it was some kind of hellish beast, as opposed to a barbed wire bat.

As is, you can only grab the bedside lamp and hope, with every fiber of your being, that the thing you're up against has a skull soft enough to allow brain damage.

Hearing hushed voices, your plan is to turn the corner and possibly run outside before you have to hit anyone.

A plan easily thwarted when a meaty hand swipes the bedside lamp right out of your hands.

Alright. You didn't think that far ahead.

" YEAH, THAT'S IT SMALL FRY! " The meathead you've come to recognize as one of the creepy regulars beams. He smashes the bulb out of the lamp, and jams some kind of blade in the hollowed space, using fabric to tie it all together. Is that... Part of your curtains?

" Moz, you ruined the door, you oaf... Isn't that essential to keep the house safe? " The other one, the incubus, points out, feeling the dents left in your wall.

Said wrathful demon pauses to gouge the extent of the damage for several seconds, then waves. " Huh. I'LL DO YA ONE BETTER- WHO NEEDS DOORS?! By the time I'm done, no one will even think of trying to get in. "

Babesley turns around. " Well, she does- Oh! Oh there she is, our tasty workaholic. " The incubus gets a glimpse at your injured limb and gasps. " My sweet hardworking princess, what are you doing out of bed?! Come on, let's go lie down, I'll give you a wonderful massage and you can tell me all about the awful people you work with! "

The awful people being them both, mostly. On a good day.

Babesley has started pulling you along gently, and frankly, you know there's nothing you can do to get them out of your home now, so you might as well just bide your time and see what comes next.

He openly evaluates the state of your room before cautiously helping you lay down, starting to work on your back muscles with surprising competence. You didn't know he was a masseur! Out of spite, you don't allow the shock to show on your face, keeping noises to a minimum.

" Come now, it's no fun if I don't get to hear it. " He huffs. " You're being difficult when we're just trying to keep you safe! Tsk tsk, brats these days. "

" Get- Hnnh- " Oh he popped something ancient in there. The smug brow raise is his display of victory. " Get out of my home. "

" Mhm, not happening. I was thinking of getting a pizza from that cozy nook downtown. "

Pizza does sound good.

You ponder on it to the sounds of Moz breaking your house apart in a nightmare DIY session.

" ... I want the pepperoni one. " It was a moment of weakness. And most importantly, free food.

" Say please. " He sing-songs, clawtips flirting with the fat of your rump through your pajama shorts.

" Cunt. "

" Yes, I bet yours is heavenly. "

Before things can get any more awkward, the other demon bulldozes in with a cup, slapping your ass with a force so great it has you barking every curse under the sun.

" Spit on this, jizzbrains. " He angles the glass at Babes, who easily 'ptoo's in.

You think that one slap just undid all of the incubus' work on your accumulated tension. " What are you even doing? Ruining my house for the fuck of it?! "

" HAH. " Moz grunts. " I'm making it IMPENETRABLE. This here is for a booby trap. IMAGINE DYING WITH A BONER. "

You and Babesley look at him blankly.

" They walk in, right?! They STEP on the plate, they ACTIVATE THE TRAP, THEN BOOM- GET A SPRAY OF THIS NASTY SHIT AND THEN THE FUCKIN' LAMP COMES SWINGING DOWN JAMMING RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES! Either that or the throat... Actually, I need a plan B for a shortstack. "

You decide you'll mourn your furniture later.

" What about the pizza guy? "

" WHAT PIZZA GUY?! "

Babesley waves Moz away, continuing his earlier work above you. " Think about it this way, if it works, we won't have to pay for it. "

You want to go back to work.

[muriels-brainrot]

Happy [Belated] Father's Day, everyone!

In light of Father's Day, I thought it would be fun to think of how Muriel would act as a dad. I only have one headcanon for it right now. But I hope I can add more scenarios in the future! I'd even be happy to do it as a request. But for now, this is:

How Muriel Will Act As A Father:

[Headcanon Scenes] [Post Upright Ending Muriel]

POV: You're the one giving birth to your child

Before being a dad, his only responsibility other than himself was you. The moment he learns that your baby is on the way, something in him snaps.

In the back of his mind, his coping mechanisms - though totally valid - meant that his trauma served as a big reason why he wouldn't go beyond his comfort zone.

But not anymore.

Interacting with people, cooking new foods, eating said new foods, going to the doctor, buying clothes, paying bills; he's taken it upon himself to get better at doing these things.

You never hear this from him, but there are rare moments you catch him walking into Julian's clinic or slipping into the marketplace by himself. When you follow him out of curiosity, you watch him try his trembling best to act out as being a normal participant in human society. It breaks your heart to watch him get discouraged when he stutters too much in dealing with vendors or staff, or struggle to even get the proper words out of his mouth.

But it warms your heart to see him step up and do his best. You know it's not your place to interfere, but you keep an eye on him anyway. Just in case. Sometimes Inanna goes with you, with her being just as curious as you are.

One sunny afternoon, you catch him slumped on a bench outside a store front. You'd never seen him look so disappointed - or ashamed in himself. Perhaps another attempt at talking with the cashier didn't go the way he expected it to - and he's had enough.

Before you could approach him, Julian walks by. Great. As if things couldn't get worse - or so Muriel thought as he tries to sink into his seat. But Julian notices anyway. You and Inanna share an amused look when the two men end up talking. Well, more like Julian talking at him. Though you can't make out the words that your red-head friend is making, Muriel slowly perks up, as if realizing something.

By the end, when they go their separate ways. A new goal forms in Muriel's mind and he makes a beeline towards wherever that goal is.

Within a few weeks, your shared home in the forest turns more into a house befitting of a small family. Though you knew some things needed to change, it's a surprise - as this much renovation would have taken a year's salary to accomplish this.

Muriel tells you that he did all of this with his two hands, from building the nursery to woodworking new dining chairs. Your heart squeezes with glee as he spares no detail in telling you how he got here. He looks so handsomely adorable in this rare moment where he talks this much.

It turns out that a certain someone told him to play to his strengths instead, and not get so hung up over his weaknesses. Whatever those weaknesses they may be, they may simply be what you, his partner, are better at than he is. And that's not a bad thing - but rather, one of the many luxuries afforded in a relationship such as the one you share with Muriel.

A few months fly by - and your child is born. Up until now, Muriel was a nervous wreck. Will he be a good dad? Can he ensure that he can carry his own weight in raising this child properly? Is he even sure that this child won't inherit the same fears and traumas he's had growing up?

It isn't until you gently place the small bundle in his arms. The first thing that surprises him is how warm the baby is in his embrace. The way their tiny chest rises and falls. Their skin is paper thin as Muriel watches their tiny heart beat for its life. So fragile. So small.

But baby doesn't like being away from you, the other parent. Opening and closing its tiny grasp, they fight against Muriel as they wriggle in frustration.

You expect Muriel to get flustered and pass them back to you. Instead, your partner's eyes soften with a kind of affection you only see him have for those he deeply cares for. He lets the baby use their tiny hand to grab their his big finger. A soft smile grows on his lips when the baby is soothed by that.

"It's okay", Muriel says, "You're gonna be okay."

Nothing warms your heart more than that. You watch him in quiet adoration as he and the baby spend a little time together like this.

And he was right. Everything turned out alright in the end

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Dear Diary. . .

18+ for some smut. . .

Steve thought a lot about people's sexuality since Robin came out to him on the floor of the bathroom at Starcourt. Well, he thought about it a lot more. Before, it was only a casual thought. How could two members of the same sex do that? Not in like a hateful way but more in a curious way. How could two men have sex? He usually spent time on it, thinking about it. . .too much time thinking about it, really. That should have been his first clue, but at the time, he shook those thoughts away by telling himself that he was just being overly judgemental like his dad. Now, he was thinking about it a lot more, and he couldn't quite figure it out until Eddie Munson walked into Family Video one afternoon.

"It's fucking freezing! I can't believe Keith made us come in. I swear that I'm going to do it this time," Robin said. "I'm gonna kill him."

"You keep saying it, but then it never happens," Steve chuckled.

"There's no one even here!" Robin complained.

It was the middle of December and pretty damn cold. No one would be crazy enough to escape the warmth of their homes just to get a movie. He was quickly proven wrong, though, when the door opened and Eddie Munson walked in.

"Jesus H Christ! It's freezing in here. Do you guys have the air conditioner on in the middle of winter?" Eddie asked.

"It's broken. We couldn't fix it, and we couldn't get anyone to come out," Steve said.

"And you guys didn't just say 'fuck it' and go home?" Eddie asked.

"We can't really afford to do that," Steve said.

"Really? King Steve can't afford to take one day off? The man with his own castle or so I've heard," Eddie said, and Robin scoffed at him, scowling.

"You mean, my parents' house? Yeah, no. It's their house and like they've told me since I was six: It's their house and they just allow me to live there. They made me start paying them rent the minute I didn't get into any college, and they threatened to kick me out without all my stuff if I didn't pay up on time, so no I can't really afford to say fuck it," Steve said. "And the thing about being called King Steve are the assumptions that come with it. They assume that because I was born into money that everything that comes with it is mine. That I have it easy. You know, you can have all the money in the world but you can't pay your parents to love you. I mean, I don't know. Does it make you feel good when people call you freak?"

"Jesus. . . No," Eddie said, looking properly shamed. "Look, sorry, man. I can fix your problem for free."

"Which problem? People calling me King Steve or my parents not loving me?" Steve asked.

"Well, I can't fix those problems, but I can fix your heat," Eddie smirked. "Let me go get my tools."

He left the store, leaving Steve alone with Robin.

"He's lucky he apologized and offered to fix the heat, or otherwise I would have kicked his ass," Robin muttered, and then she paused. "Your parents are home, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Steve muttered.

"You know, my dad put bunk beds in my room like I'm a kid or something. Want to have a sleepover?" Robin asked.

"Only if I get the the top. A top for a top," Steve said with a smirk.

"Ugh. You'll get bottom and like it," Robin said. "You know, my parents love you. I think you should take up their offer and -"

She didn't get to finish her sentence because Eddie made his way into the store. He shook his toolbox at Steve.

"Lead the way, Harrington," Eddie grinned.

"I'll mind the store, although I think it's pointless. I don't think anyone else is crazy enough to come out in this weather," Robin said to Steve. "You mind him."

"Thanks," Eddie grinned cheerfully as he followed Steve into the back.

Wordlessly, Steve watched as he took off his jacket and got to work. The other man was wearing a tight red sweater. It was so tight that Steve could practically see his. . .wait, are those. . .are those nipple piercings? Steve swallowed. Why couldn't he look away? The movement of Eddie rolling up his sleeves tore his attention away from the man's nipples. There was a tattoo of a creature controlling a puppet on his forearm. He stared at it while he worked and wondered if there were any more tattoos on Eddie's body. Steve tilted his head to the side as he pictured taking off Eddie's sweater to look for more, his mind picturing Eddie's piercings. He could imagine them so clearly, and Steve could see his own hand reaching out to brush his thumb over the piercing. Suddenly, Eddie's underneath him, and Steve is reaching down to take it -

"All done!" Eddie's voice called out.

"What?!" Steve exclaimed.

He realized what he was feeling now. The familiar pull of arousal in his stomach is something that he immediately recognized. Mews being eaten by a demodog! Mews being eaten by a demodog! Yeah, that did it. Eddie was staring at him now with his big brown beautiful eyes, his plump lips looking ever so kissable. Shit.

"You okay, man?" Eddie asked. "Where did you go?"

"Oh, nothing, sometimes I just space out," Steve said, trying not to blush.

"Yeah. I do that, too. I fixed it!" Eddie exclaimed proudly. "Am I forgiven now?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely," Steve said. "Thanks."

Eddie shrugged on his jacket and shook his toolbox at him.

"I'm going to go put Bert up now," Eddie said. "And then look for a movie."

"Bert?" Steve asked.

"My toolbox. Problem?" He asked.

"No, it's cute," Steve laughed.

Eddie looked at him for a moment as if he was trying to figure him out.

"Hm. Dustin was right. You are an interesting dude," Eddie said.

They walked out of the back together, and Steve continued to watch him as he walked out.

"It's definitely warming up," Robin said. "Thank God!"

Eddie walked back in and started browsing the aisles, Steve’s eyes never leaving him. Robin unscrewed her bottle of water and started drinking.

"Yeah, I can definitely picture myself having sex with that guy," Steve said, and Robin started choking on her water. "Jesus, Robin. Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?! Are you okay? What the hell, Steve?!"

"What?"

Later that evening, after they got off of work, Steve and Robin immediately got settled up in her room. A random radio station was playing in the background. They were laying on the floor, their feet pressed against the wall, as they stared at the stars on Robin's ceiling.

"So, let me get this straight - something which we apparently both aren't - you kept trying to picture how it worked between two men, and apparently, that made you think that you were homophobic?" Robin asked.

"Pretty much," Steve said.

"Okay, you're going to have to start telling me all of your thoughts outloud so I can tell you if you're wrong or right," Robin said. "I'll do the same thing with you."

"Like we're diaries?" Steve asked.

"Exactly like we're diaries, Steven," Robin said. ". . . Diaries who give feedback."

"What if they're dirty thoughts?" Steve asked.

"I'm a fully grown lesbian. I can handle it," Robin said. "I want every single slutty detail."

"Okay," Steve said.

"For example: Dear Diary, my platonic soulmate realized he wasn't straight today. He also came out to me. I want him to know how proud I am of him and how much I love him," Robin said. "Even if he is attracted to boys."

"Dear Diary, I came out to my platonic soulmate today after finally accepting that I can be queer. . .that I could be bisexual like Bowie. I don't think I ever could have gotten to this point without learning from her. If she hadn't trusted me, then I wouldn't have been able to put so much trust and courage into accepting myself. I'm so proud of her, and I love her so goddamn much," Steve said. "Even if she is a pain in the ass."

"Aw, Steve," Robin said tearfully and took his hand, interlacing their fingers together. "You know what my favorite thing about our friendship is?"

"What?"

"We're both bitches," Robin said and they both burst into fits of giggles.

After that, Steve wished for more interactions with Eddie, but whenever he went to pick up Dustin from Hellfire, Eddie would scowl and look away whenever Steve tried to wiggle his fingers at him. Eventually, it just became awkward, so Steve stopped trying. He didn't even look at him anymore. Steve even tried approaching him in the grocery store just to ask what his problem was, but Eddie took off and ran out of the store without buying anything. Eventually, Steve realized that Eddie clearly still saw him as King Steve and wanted nothing to do with him. So Steve stopped trying, disappointed, and rejected. Instead, he tried moving on by going on dates, and eventually, Steve pushed Eddie to the back of his mind. . .then spring break rolled around. It all went to hell, and suddenly, he was fighting to save Eddie from being convicted of murders he didn't commit while also trying to stop the earth from splitting open.

Luckily, it was all a success with some injuries. Unfortunately, Eddie still needed to be hidden from the town, and Steve's house was the best place for him. He was currently resting in Steve's guest room, bandaged heavily as he was worse off than Steve but not so bad that he needed a hospital. Steve was pacing downstairs. Now was the perfect time to talk to him. He couldn't run away this time. Steve sighed and walked up the stairs. He entered the room without thinking and without knocking. Eddie froze, his unbandaged hand down his pants. He quickly pulled it out.

"I had an itch!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Uh. I can come back," Steve said.

"No, seriously! It was an itch!" Eddie exclaimed. "I was just thinking about you."

Steve’s mood changed pretty quickly. His cheeks turned pink, and he grinned. He slid carefully onto the empty space beside Eddie. He used an elbow to avoid laying on his stomach.

"Really?" Steve asked.

"How could I not? You pulled me out of hell, man," Eddie said. "I wish I could thank you properly, but I can't even get out of bed."

"You can thank me by letting me do all the work," Steve said.

"Uh, yeah, okay," Eddie said, looking at him, confusion as he started to disappear under the covers. "What are you - Oh! Oh! I think there was a misunde - OH, fuck it! It's such a good one. JESUS H CHRIST!"

There was a popping sound from under the covers as Steve peeked out from under the blankets.

"Do you want me to stop?" Steve asked.

"No! Get back down there," Eddie said and pushed his head down. "I can't believe - I, uh, thought that I hated you and I, uh, I uh, I didn't understand why I did. Oh, fuck! It's why I ran - I shouldn't have - Steve, Steve, I think I'm going to - God!"

Steve plopped down on the empty spot beside Eddie, smirking as he licked his lips.

"I didn't think I would be so good that I'd get a name change," Steve said. "God. God Harrington."

"Cocky asshole," Eddie replied. "So, what does this mean? Is that all I'm good for, or do you want more from me?"

"I think I would like to try more with you," Steve said softly.

"Me too, and once I get better, I am so returning the favor," Eddie smirked.

"There's a lot of things we're going to do when we get better," Steve said as he leaned in close to Eddie's face.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Steve placed a soft kiss to Eddie's lips, smiling when Eddie started kissing him back. Steve pulled back.

"The first thing, though. . .I'm so making you sleep on the couch," Steve said.

"What?!" Eddie yelped. "Why?"

"Well, one, you forced the kids to choose between Lucas and Hellfire. Second, you didn't stick to the plan, and you nearly died in Dustin's arms," Steve huffed.

"But I - yeah, no, that's fair," Eddie mumbled. "I do feel bad about making them go through that. I'm going to work my ass off to make it up to them."

"I know you are," Steve said softly. "Luckily, you've got the rest of your long life to make it up to them."

"Thanks to you," Eddie said, and Steve bit his lip. "You want to tell Robin, don't you? Go ahead."

Steve went downstairs and into the kitchen. He picked up the phone, twirled the phone cord around his finger, and dialed Robin's number.

"Hello?"

"Dear Diary. . . I totally went down on this really cute guy. . .bit of an asshole. . . but he's working on it. . ."

[cellu-lightreading]

Pure Greed

It was all a coincidence really. Jamie's friends took him on a vacation, and a few drunken afternoons produced a flurry of content of him shirtless on his socials. He was twerking on the beach and eating all kinds of food. As he watched it back, he was a little embarrassed. The internet isn't usually kind to guys like him with double chins that eclipse their necks and waistlines wider than adults are tall. When he checked his phone and saw that his phone was blowing up, he was nervous that trolls had come to attack him. That's not what he found. 

Hundreds of likes materialized overnight with a comments section overflowing with support and love. Not exactly body positivity comments, more swarming sexual admirers. There were heart eyes and eggplants and peaches. They said they liked his soft gut and his giant dimpled ass. They were drooling over how much he could eat instead of criticizing all the junk he was stuffing in his mouth. 

At breakfast, Jamie decided to share the phenomenon on his post. No one could quite explain how these legions managed to find him of all people, but one friend had one idea of why they were so obsessed with him. 

"They're called feeders or encouragers." Brandon said "When they see a big fat guy not promising to lose weight, they're like moths to a flame. You filming yourself stuffing yourself is like porn to them."

"How do you know all of this?" Jamie asked. 

"'Cause they swarm the comments of all my favorite fitness influencers going on a dirty bulk in the winter. They go rabid watching a dude's abs melt away for a few months and then get disappointed and disappear in the spring when it's time to cut. Actually, this is a pretty good opportunity for you if you play your cards right. These guys will literally throw money at you just for being fat. Now that they've slashed your hours at work, you can probably string these guys along to keep the bills paid."

"I don't know how I feel about selling my body."

"You're not exactly doing porn. You don't even really have to get naked. All you have to do is be fat and get fatter."

"Get fatter? I just clocked in at 375 the other week! I can't afford to get bigger!"

"Considering we're the ones paying for your stay this weekend, I'd argue that you can't afford not to get bigger."

A few days after getting home, Jamie decided to give making content a try. He wasn't really sure what to do so he started with something basic every influencer did nowadays: a get ready with me video. He started the video from bed, letting the people see him heave his body out from under the covers. He slept shirtless normally so that might be something. He showed himself buttoning up his uniform shirt around his large frame and hoisting his pants around his thighs. He got a little self-conscious thinking about the ways his clothes tended to get stuck around his folds and how tight they looked in places. He pushed the thought away and started on breakfast. Normally, he didn't eat all that much for breakfast, at least not compared to his other meals. He didn't really get that hungry in the morning, preferring to keep things simple with some toaster waffles and bacon. He thought half the box of waffles was pretty moderate considering how small they were; there were only ten in the box to begin with. After licking up the syrup, Jamie ended the video with a wave and a smile hoping he was enticing enough. 

Jamie closed the app out and forgot about it. Work usually kept him very occupied, so there wasn't a lot of time to check his phone. It was only at the end of the day when he got a call from Brandon that he thought to open the app at all.

"I'm genuinely curious: you really call five waffles and half a pack of bacon a light breakfast?" he asked Jamie incredulously. 

"Yeah? I'm usually not quite full after that."

"Oh it's no wonder they're reacting well to this."

"How well?"

"Like two thousand likes plus a never ending stream of comments."

"No way!"

"Yeah and this comments section...honestly is pretty obscene. I definitely feel like some of these would make you uncomfortable, but still no fatphobic trolls so that's a win. People are definitely fans of you. They think you are the sexiest thing ever."

"I still can't believe this is a thing."

"It is absolutely a thing and it is happening to you. Lots of people hoping you'll keep making content, and you're already getting people offering to pay for you to eat stuff. I honestly feel like you should show them what you normally eat before you do all that."

"But I'm hurting now. The cash would be good to have now. You have no idea what I can do with that kind of money."

"I think I’m starting to." He said to himself. Then he asked, "Aren't you the same guy who was nervous about putting yourself out on the internet?"

"I am, but $40 is $40. I go through a lot of money in food and things like that. It would be pretty neat if I really could get a little help around here."

"Well, how does this sound? Take the offer, go have a good time. Don't deny yourself anything for the next month. Every time you want something, have it. You don't have to push yourself, just show off your normal life- and get it on film."

Jamie accepted the challenge. He took pictures and videos of every time he ate. Within the first week, Brandon was shocked to find out just how much food went towards keeping Jamie as big as he was. When he said breakfast was light, he wasn't kidding. He was ingesting thousands of calories just from the vending machine while he worked at his desk. One night he ate an entire party-size lasagna by himself and then remarked that "he still had a little space left, maybe dessert would finally top him off." He went to his freezer, grabbed a pint of ice cream he filled with all sorts of treats and toppings and ate it until he was licking the container. The scariest part to Brandon was that most of his videos felt like a confessional; no one was supposed to know all the eating he does, especially not the people in his real life- i.e. Brandon. Jamie was increasingly comfortable admitting to his new internet friends all of his favorite treats and tricks. That's how Brandon found out people put crushed Doritos on pizzas. 

By the time their little challenge was ending, Jamie was on camera complaining how his jeans were getting a little tight. When the two of them met up at a function for a mutual friend, the conversation quickly veered off toward their project.

"You know, I had a lot of fun following your advice in the last month. I don't know when was the last time I got to have so much fun guilt free."

"Really?" Brandon asked. He thought back to a video where Jamie went back to a restaurant after their friend group left to have a second round of food. "I'm glad you've got a new space to do that now."

"Yeah, and the fans are really getting into it. They've got all kinds of food suggestions and the money never stops pouring in. They've been really supportive.”

"Speaking of ‘supportive’, how to put this delicately, has it gotten any harder for some of the things around you to physically support you and your new hobby?"

"Is this your coded way of asking me if I gained weight?"

"Yeah, I'm trying not to be really rude about it in public."

"It's fine. But it has gotten a little harder to wear anything with buttons, nothing wants to close anymore. I've easily put on 15 pounds, maybe even a whole 20."

"20 pounds in a month is pretty fast."

"That's why I was so nervous to start this. My body is an expert at putting on weight."

"So I see. Do you think you'll cut back down to something a little more manageable or-"

"No, I don't think the fans will like that too tough. That's like the one thing that gets them really jumpy. Every time I bring up the word diet or cutting, the comments get flooded with messages about how beautiful I am at this size and begging me not to lose weight."

"And this doesn't concern you at all?"

"I mean at the end of the day, they are people on the internet and this is my body. I get the final say on decisions I make with my body. I can always just lose the weight, right?"

"But it doesn't bother you that people are begging you to get fatter?"

"Honestly, no." Jamie laughed. "Like it sounds weird, but I kind of enjoy it. I mean, look at me. With no extra effort on my part, I gained 20 pounds in a month. If I'm going to keep getting fatter, I might as well do it with people who appreciate me this way."

"If you say so. As long as you're okay with it."

"Yeah, it's fine. All this talking about the channel is making me hungry though and I know I smelled something good earlier. What do you say we check out the snack situation?"

Sooner than expected by all, Jamie was planning on celebrating his first gainer milestone- 400 pounds. Jamie was a little surprised at the number, but his reaction surprised himself more. For a while, the idea of reaching the 400s was enough to send him into a crash diet of nothing but carrots and celery for a couple of weeks until a strong craving hit him right when he was starving. His willpower would fall apart in dramatic style, and his weight would continue its upward trajectory. This time, Jamie accepted it. It was shocking to know he had reached it with so little effort on his part. He expected to reach the 400s in the holidays, not from an extra trip to the vending machine at work. In fact, he didn't feel that much bigger crossing over the line. 

While Jamie might not be excited, his followers were very excited to get the news. They begged to see him step on the scale and watch the magic number appear and sent some extra money to celebrate the accomplishment.. When Jamie saw how big the donations were, he knew he had to try to do something special.  He had exactly one idea, but it made him a little nervous.

"So to... celebrate 400 pounds, I thought I would treat you all to a little sneak peak behind the scenes of the real life behind the fat man. This stuff annoys me, but you all seem to love it so I think you'll have a fun time. These are 4 of my big fat problems." 

Jamie started off by showing his followers the pile of clothes he couldn't bring himself to get rid of. Every article of clothing in the pile was something he had destroyed just from being too fat. Shirts with the buttons popped off, belts where the buckle had been torn off, pants where his thighs had worn down the fabric from rubbing together all the time while he was walking and waddling everywhere, and everything where a seam ripped in defeat from holding back too much fat. More embarrassing than how he knew he was never going to fit back in those sizes, was how he had destroyed those clothes so no one else would ever get to wear them either. Trying to get them fixed would mean admitting that he had done all that damage to these clothes. To complete the exercise, Jamie put on an outfit from the bottom of the pile that looked smaller than he last remembered. The sweatpants were once the pants when he was too bloated to fit his normal clothes until his thighs made a heart shaped hole around the crotch. Years later, he could hardly get them around his legs. The fabric still felt delicate around the inside of his thighs, thin enough that he could practically feel the skin on tthe other leg through his pants. When he made the mistake of reaching for a shirt on the ground, the pants ripped apart all the way up to his ass. Jamie decided that was enough. 

Number 2 was in his dining room. Jamie had a set of chairs that used to be his favorites in the house. He keeps them hidden now because he had two of them collapse under his weight in one night in the middle of a party. He won't use any of them anymore to save himself the embarrassment of using a chair that doesn't match. It doesn't hurt that even if he wanted to sit in one now, the arms on the chair are so narrow that he wouldn't be able to fit his ass in between. Jamie knew his followers would want the painful proof, so he gently lowered his rear end into one. First came the pinch of the arms skewering his doughy flesh, but the more he tried to unload his body in the seat, the more the arms relented against his flesh until they snapped off. With the arms no longer in the way to help slow down the inevitable, all of Jamie’s body plopped in the chair. The chair immediately protested with a loud symphony of moans and creaks. Jamie thought he might be safe from the ultimate embarrassment. He breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in the chair. Before Jamie could even process what was happening, the chair disintegrated into splinters underneath him. 

Number 3 was deceptively simple: tying his shoes. It took so much effort to do every morning that Jamie actively dreaded the idea that they would get undone during the day. With a large gut permanently sitting in the middle of his body, reaching all the way around to his feet was a challenge. Every day he would try in vain to reach over his belly to tug on his shoes. Getting it done often required contorting his body into ridiculous shapes to bring his leg closer. When he was done, it often left him breathless and tired enough that he considered slides for the rest of his life. 

The last segment of his video involved going jogging outside. In the early spring, the weather was a fairly mild temperature, but you wouldn't be able to tell from looking at Jamie. Jamie purposefully made it short- just one lap around his cul-de-sac.  There was no delusion that he would go far when this would already be one of his longest runs in years. He recorded how his tits and ass and belly all bounced around with every footfall. By the time he was back at his house, Jamie was wheezing and panting. His shirt was wet all over and his face was drenched in sweat. Just a few yards had the ability to completely destroy him. With that, Jamie decided that he had enough. 

Jamie posted and it was a runaway success. All around the clock, Jamie was getting comments online. They cheered him on and told him how beautiful they thought he was. They weren't afraid to tell him just how hot that video was to them. The more comments he read, the more assured he felt that he made the right decision. Why be ashamed of something that made everyone love him more? Maybe this was where he belonged all along. His followers tripled within two weeks. He promised his followers that he would eat whatever they paid for. Jamie tried to sweeten the pot for them too, "If you look back in the archive, you all can tell what kind of guy you're working with when I make promises like that. I eat all sorts of junk and stuff myself whenever I get a chance. I'm also probably not going to burn all of that exercising. If my last video didn't make it clear enough, cardio is not something that has a regular place in my life. So feel at ease, knowing your money is going to a very good cause." Jamie gave his stomach a couple of pats for the camera. 

Suddenly, money started coming in like a water hose. Money was coming into his account, gift cards were getting sent to his email, and presents were showing up at his door. Jamie had full-on supporters now. They were all in, engaging with him whenever he wanted to be there. If he was considering being lazy or having a little extra dessert, someone was always there within seconds to tell him to do it. If he wasn't sure about finishing his meal, there was always a little encouragement waiting for him in his messages. 

His new supporters also came with a bit more edge. They were more willing to speak their mind about the kinds of food he should be eating: fattier, more flavorful, more. They introduced him to shakes; they gave him new concoctions to try to actively help push a few more pounds onto his already very generous frame. It was a new step for him to take. All this time, he hadn't been trying to gain, the weight had found him from trying to have fun. This had all been an adventure in people enjoying who he already was. The last 25 pounds were already a big shock for him, what would happen if he really opened the floodgates and started actively gaining weight? What would people say?   

Nothing he hadn't heard before, something deep inside told him. It was scary to admit, but people had been comfortable saying all kinds of crazy things to him about his size for a long time. 400 might have been a new threshold of big, but he'd been fat enough to draw the ire of folks for hundreds of pounds now. The stares, the jokes, the dire warnings of health concerns, and the snide remarks were already fixtures in his regular life. No one would care if he put on a little more weight, they had already written him off as fat. The only person's opinion that matters is his own...and he was having fun. 

Jamie made a video taste testing some gainer shake recipes for the very first time. His mouth watered watching all these delicious ingredients get added to the blender. He chugged one after another before he came to the realization that each one of those glasses was the calorie equivalent of a full day's eating. "Maybe I overdid it," he admitted on camera.  The comments assured him he was on the right path. 

One evening a few months later, Jamie was meeting up with his friends to celebrate a birthday. He was trying to inhale the rest of the McDonald's he had picked up on the way in his car. When he heard a tap on his window, he was startled. Brandon was leering in. Jamie rolled down the window. 

"Jamie, are you actually eating in the parking lot of a restaurant that you're about to enter?"

Jamie looked to the pile of food on the passenger seat and accepted lying was not an option. "Yes."

"Oh my God." 

"Look, I know this isn't the best look, but I had to do something. My appetite has been growing a lot lately-"

"From the amount of stretching your stomach's been doing for the channel."

"-and I don't want to pig out at every meal that I have in public. I already eat more than everyone else, I don't need to keep adding fuel to the fire. You and I both know they really only tolerate all of this," Jamie jiggled his belly, "because we've been friends for such a long time."

"Yeah, but you've got to admit that this is getting out of hand. You've gained like a hundred pounds in the last year or so, and when you started this you were worried about how big you already were."

"But when I started this, I was also deeply insecure about the idea of even showing my body in public. Now I have people in my life who are genuinely excited about me doing the things I love the most and are happy to see me be me."

"I'm not sure this is you guiding you along. Feels a little more like the tail wagging the dog. "

"Brandon, you know my life better than anyone at this point. I want you to think back to my videos. Have you ever seen me this happy in my life?"

"No. I want to say I have, but I haven't."

"Exactly. Believe me when I tell you that I'm okay. I'm enjoying myself. I'm in control of the situation. I wouldn't still be doing this if I didn't like it."

"Okay, but I think you should know you're starting to get to the deep end of all this stuff. I'm not going to be able to help you so much as you keep growing."

Jamie didn't take that as a warning at the time. He was more than content to catch up on Brandon's life while he ate. He had dessert after dinner and a midnight snack. Jamie kept on, knocking back gainer shakes like it was water.  The only thing that gave him pause came while he was on the watch out to hit 500. Jamie went to his manager after his desk chair broke in a second place in one month. It had been a bit of a fight to get them to give him a big and tall chair in the first place back when he was cresting 300 and breaking it was not going to lead to a pleasant conversation. 

"Look, I understand that we live in a body positive society now and the company is really trying to work on being more inclusive, but this is too much. We can't keep doing this. It might be easier to swallow the fact that you are now too big for a big and tall chair if it wasn't clear to everyone that you're also spending more time eating in your work day than actually working. Every paper that crosses your desk leaves with crumbs and grease stains and your numbers are slipping to the point that you're now last in the division. It's time for you to go."

Suddenly, Jamie was back in a crisis all over again. This time, though, he already had a lifeline. Donations had reached a fever pitch in the past few weeks and it was only going to keep increasing. The only real problem was that Brandon wasn't going to be able to help him find a new avenue to expand his business. Jamie turned to his followers, telling them all of his woes with the hope a savior would emerge. 

He got another warning in his direct messages from another gainer. "Be careful what you wish for. The bigger you get, the more you're going to find people who are serious about this. The dark end of this community will drag you in if you're not prepared to handle it. There are guys who will keep pitching in with a meal or two, and guys who will take over your life." 

That was what we had in mind when he met with Tom. Tom was a slender man who wore a dark suit and a sly smile. Tom had watched his videos since the very beginning. The bigger he got, the more active he had become in the comments. 

"It's such a pleasure to get to meet you in person. I wish it was under different circumstances."

'Well these don't have to be sad either.”

“I didn’t say they were sad; I only wish they were different. I think every man of your… stature should be excited by the prospect of leaving your job to spend the rest of your days eating and having a good time.”

“Well I don’t know if it’ll be the rest of my days.”

“I can’t imagine after this little experiment you’ll be begging to be back working a 9 to 5.”

“I can’t imagine I’ll enjoy being unemployed.”

“It’ll help when you stop thinking of yourself as unemployed and more as a full-time content creator.”

“Right…what's the catch?”

A few months later, Jamie was living in the lap of luxury. Tom hired someone to come around every day to take care of chores and get him whatever food he wanted. (Tom had also hired him to ensure that food was now always within arms reach and Jamie did as little physical labor as possible.He would get a bonus ever time he could sneak in appetite stimulant or weight gain shakes into his diet) Jamie spent the first couple weeks just testing his new helper on the lengths they would go for his every craving. He never found something he wanted that wouldn’t show up for him in multiple greasy bags ready to be devoured. Catering pans filled with burritos or lasagna would show up whenever he wanted. 

Jamie was glad for the extra hands around the house because it meant he could devote all his time to his favorite hobbies. He could binge watch shows and play video games for days. The internet would graciously supply him with any kind of entertainment to keep his mind distracted while giant bags of chips disappeared into his maw. 

The best part, Jamie thought, was having Tom around. All the nagging voices of his coworkers were replaced with Tom’s. He would come over when he got a break or after work, usually toting a bag filled with Jamie’s favorite treats. While Jamie shamelessly licked his fingers and the bag for every morsel, Tom would whisper into his ears how sexy he found him. He would tell Jamie how proud he was every time he found fresh fat and stretch marks while he caressed his body. Whenever Jamie got nervous and embarrassed about outgrowing clothes, Tom would celebrate and order in the finest meals he could find. Tom had transformed unemployment into being the best thing that ever happened to him. 

Time slipped away and pounds piled on. The bubble of indulgence burst when Brandon paid Jamie a surprise visit. The helper opened the door slightly and Brandon barged in. 

“Jamie, I think there’s something you should- dear Lord! What the hell?” Brandon took in the full extent of Jamie’s new level of obesity. He would check in on videos occasionally, but months had passed since he last saw him in person.  “The camera really doesn’t do justice on how big you look.”

“That’s what Tim says too. He says I’ll waste away if I’m not careful.” Jamie let out a nervous chuckle that shook his bean bag sized belly. 

“Brandon, do you know how much Tim is keeping from you? Do you even know how much you weigh?”

“Well I got fired around 500 and we just did a milestone video not too long ago, so I figure I should be in the early 600s.”

“That milestone video was for 700 and that was six months ago.”

“Well time sort of gets away from you when you don’t have to be at work five days a week. But I’m making the best out of the situation. I’ve got great TV and these delicious snacks that honestly taste like butter and sugar.”

“It probably is just lard and sugar,” Jamie said. “And this isn’t raising any red flags for you? Aren’t you worried about fitting through doors anymore?”

“Not since we widened them all. I had a few incidents where I got stuck.”

“A few?”

“Well the first time, I thought it was a freak accident, but then it kept happening and each time it was harder for me to get out. There was one time Tim was going to grease me up to get me out the door with some butter, but I had already eaten it all during a feeding session.”

“And again, you’re okay with all this? A man just emerges from the internet and you let him feed you off a cliff?”

“Honestly, it didn’t take as much convincing as you might think. Tim has this belief that just some people were born to be fat and that’s it. That being fat is our role to play in the world. And like I probably could’ve gone into the job market and fought for another boring job I don’t even like just to make ends meet, but my other option was to be perfectly fine doing exactly what I want to do. I enjoy eating and lounging around all day and the more I do it, the bigger I get, the more money I make to spend on food and fun stuff. Outgrowing clothes, furniture, my car- it’s all just a part of my life at this size. It’s been a part of my life for years now, decades almost. And the price to pay- the stuff that my doctors used to say to scare me- I’ve made my peace with it. I’ve spent too much trying to be scared by it already. One more cake isn’t going to make the difference.”

“Give up, he’s already made up his mind.” Tim said, emerging without warning. “This is who he is now. He’s settled completely into a life of being fed and pampered. Now all he wants in life is to keep growing for me and his subscribers. That strong-willed guy you used to know is gone. He’s accepted life as a fat boy. .’

The doorbell rang. The caretaker opened the door and in came a man in a polo with a gigantic grease stained brown paper bag. The smell of all kinds of food filled the house. Jamie looked at Brandon who was licking his lips. Brandon couldn’t contain his excitement. Brandon said, stunned, “This is really your life now. This is what fills your life with happiness. Do you even have any of your mobility left?”

“Of course I do. Look, I’ll go fetch my mid-afternoon snack from the kitchen myself.”

“Snack?”

Brandon rocked back and forth, trying to get some momentum. For a brief second, he made it off the chair. Then the momentum switched directions. The weight of a family of four slammed into the sofa. The wooden frame underneath let out a scream before the whole left side broke into pieces. 

“Are you okay?” Tim yelled out. 

“Let me help you back up.” Jamie stretched out his hands. 

“No, I can get up by myself.” Brandon tried the trick again. He rocked back and forth and hauled himself up with a mighty groan. Breathlessly, he said, “I told you I could do it.”  

Brandon waddled slowly towards the kitchen. Every thunderous step shook the house, rattling anything not nailed down. It was hypnotizing watching the dimpled folds of his body pillow-sized thighs brush past each other. His gut swung like a pendulum back and forth out of the bottom of his shirt. Every movement made his shirt slide further up his belly until it was blocked by his chest. The sound of his panting was hard to ignore as it grew louder. It didn’t seem like a long distance from the sofa to the kitchen counter, but when Brandon got there, it was like he had completed a marathon. Everyone was stunned by the sight, except for Brandon. 

“All of this is for me, right?” Brandon said, catching his breath, “I’ve been hungry since I finished my second round of lunch an hour ago.”  Brandon tore apart the bag and stuffed a fistful of seasoned fries into his mouth while he rifled through the containers. 

[mugglepawter]

I ALMOST DO.

Modern!Aegon Targaryen × Reader.

Summary: hockey and figure skating, hockey player and figure skater. Their world were always meant to be collided.

Warnings: fluff.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so bear with me. Un-edited.

PART TWO.

She half opened her eyes as she grabbed her phone, turning off the alarm that had woken her up.

Her shift at her workplace on Sunday is between eight am and one pm and after her work, she'll practice her skating and work, then, go home and rest.

She showered and then, got ready and headed for her work using her bike. Typical college girl.

"Hi," Baela greeted from the counter, wearing a soft smile on her face. She waved at Baela and smiled before walking towards the back room to place her things and put on an apron.

"Terrible morning?" Baela asked, "Yeah." She chuckled, feeling sleepy though she already drunk two cups of coffee on her way to her work.

Even though this has been her daily routine for years, she doesn't seem to get a hang of it. She'll be honest, she's jealous of those kids who didn't have to work to live and were prioritized by her parents and mostly, don't have to worry about their future cause it's already handed to them.

She wished she had that life instead of being a working student who can't take a day off cause if she did, she might starve to death and wouldn't be able to pay her bills.

When the clock strikes one p.m., it's time for her to go and practice. She walked on her way to campus, leaving her bike at the cafe because it wasn't that far from it. She thought about getting a dorm here but it's too expensive for her to afford and she barely afford the apartment she has right now.

It has one tiny bedroom and bathroom and all of the area in her apartment is small yet it's still better living with her goddamn parents.

There are not many students here on campus, most of them are rich kids who go to the mall to shop and as always she pities herself cause she can't do any of those things.

"You're here, again." She said, dropping her bag off her shoulder to the ground as she stared blankly at the Targaryen boy who was playing alone in the ice rink.

"You don't own the ice rink," Aegon answered to her. It made her wonder what is Aegon doing in here alone because she knows hockey is pointless without any of your team, or maybe, that's what she thought.

She went into the ice rink, completely avoiding Aegon so no argument would brew between them again. Helaena wasn't here to look out for her older brother.

Aegon took off his helmet and shook his head, his hair damp with sweat as he grinned at her "Nice seeing you." Aegon smiled, showing his perfectly aligned white teeth which made her roll her eyes.

"That's your side and this is my side so don't cross it." She demanded before doing her warm-up and routine but was distracted the whole time cause Aegon kept talking and when she had enough, she approached him.

"Aegon, please, shut up." She snapped at him, stopping at the center of the rink.

"Okay, little miss feisty." Aegon chuckled, annoying the shit out of her.

"You know I actually thought you would be a Targaryen," Aegon said out of nowhere.

"Considering you dated my brother but I was not shocked when I found out you broke up."

"I mean, you don't look so in love with him."

Cause that's because she liked the idea of him.

Don't get her wrong, Aemond is a nice guy for her but he lacks something in her eyes. Yes, she agreed to go out with him but that's because she liked the idea of going out with him but not because of him. So, she decided to end it all and besides, she's not into younger guys.

She likes the older ones better.

She brushed him off and continued to practice while he continued to annoy her "Are you free tonight?" Aegon suddenly asked. She came to a stop, her eyebrows furrowed together, curious why he would ask her that "No." She answered arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Why?"

"I have a job." She told him, quite unsure why she was even talking to him. They talk to each other sometimes but they rarely have long conversations like this cause she normally doesn't want to deal with Aegon's crap.

"Can't you like ditch it?" He asked, "No, 'cause if I did, I'll starve and I'll die and that's on you." She pointed at him which made him chuckle.

He turned his back at her, picking his punk on the ground "Where are you going?" She found herself curious about why he was getting out of the rink "Why? Want to shower with me?" Aegon has that cocky smirk plastered across his face again "You wished." She rolled her eyes and turned her back on him.

For a moment, she wondered why Aegon seemed a bit different today, he seemed quite nice especially to her when he never does that. Well, he was never that cruel to her but he wasn't that nice either to the point he would ask her if she was free.

She had a night shift at the bar near here as a waitress so she called it an afternoon and headed towards the girl's locker left her things there and came back for it tomorrow.

The seven realm bar is full of college students who wanted to get wasted and forget about their fucked up life at least just for one night. If people asked her, she would absolutely love to join them.

People at the bar can be pretty mean and an asshole probably because of the alcohol in their system but some of them are a fucking asshole even being sober.

Her night shift ended without someone ruining it and hitting on her, She served drinks and she got paid.

"Where the hell is my bike?" She asked as she looked around. Her bike is no longer in its chain and nowhere to be found. She had left it here more than a thousand times yet it was never stolen, until now.

She groaned to herself, completely frustrated. It's decided, she's the unluckiest person on earth.

She waited in front of the bar for any taxi to pass by but nothing happened until an orange car stopped beside her as she impatiently tapped her foot against the floor and waited for a taxi to pass by.

The window rolled down, revealing a Targaryen inside. She curses herself for not recognizing Aegon's orange audi q2, his baby Sunfire "I thought you weren't free tonight?" Aegon asked.

"I worked here." She pointed at the name of the bar "And I couldn't go home cause my bike got stolen." She's waiting for him to laugh at her and call her stupid names but instead, he sighs and nods his head before opening the door from inside his car.

"Hop in, I'll drive you to your place." Aegon decided.

"How do I know I could trust you?" She asked with doubt "I might be an arsehole but I loved Helaena and I wouldn't let her friend get in trouble."

"Okay." With a nod, she entered his car, put the seat belt on and he drove off. As he drove the car, they talked and talked about the most random thing as they both found it quite awkward that they were talking to each other without throwing any insults.

"Why don't you live nearer the campus?" Aegon broke the silence and she was tense at his question cause nobody had asked her this, especially since they knew how she was struggling financially. Her best friends tried to help her but she couldn't simply accept it.

"Too expensive." She answered, shrugging

"I'm sorry." She was surprised by his sudden word cause Aegon had never been nice to her, not this way and the Aegon she knows does not say sorry.

"Why?" She asked, "For bringing it up, I sense now that you don't want to talk about it." Now, he is kind of making her uncomfortable but not because of weird things but because he is being totally nice.

"It's alright, everyone makes mistakes." She said, tapping his shoulder. She's starting to get a hang of them like this even though it's just started.

When they arrived, she wondered how he knew where she lived when he's never been here before, unless he asked Helaena. She opened the door and got out, waiting for Aegon to drive off but he didn't.

"Won't you invite me in?" Aegon asked cheekily "Don't you have an apartment yourself?" She roasted. She doesn't usually invite people into her house but, maybe she can make an exception just for tonight.

"But—"

"My apartment is small but be my guess and do come in." She invited as she smiled. It's always once in a blue moon she had a guess other than Aly and Helaena or Baela.

Even though she is grateful to the company of Aegon, it's still Aegon.

She climbed the stairs, Her apartment was on the third floor but she had gotten used to it, having to live in the apartment for years. She took out her keys and unlocked the door, Aegon closely following behind her.

She didn't know where he had parked his car but she hoped it wouldn't be damaged by the people around here.

She pushed open the door, going in first as she took off her shoes. Aegon walked past her, his eyes wandering around "Didn't know you liked this kind of stuff." Aegon said, looking around the living room and seeing a bunch of canvas hanging on the wall "I do like painting." She told him, pouring herself with a glass of water.

"Do you want anything?" She asked, being hostile to her guest. Aegon shook his head and sat on the two-person sofa in the middle of the living room "Suit yourself." She mumbled.

She sat beside him, thinking to herself what's the point of him being here if they won't do anything?

"Tell me what you are really here for, Aegon." She doesn't know what his intentions are so it's a bit hard for her to understand why Aegon is in her apartment, sitting on her sofa "I wanted to rest for a bit, driving is exhaustion too, you know." Aegon looked at her, "Sure." She nodded her head, not knowing what to do.

Aegon sat there, feeling exhausted for today. He doesn't mind staying here Besides, who will look for him? He lives alone in a big apartment and honestly, he gets really bored sometimes for someone who has a lot of money.

"I don't know why you're here." She muttered yet Aegon heard her "Because I wanted to make your life hell." Aegon responded, tapping her on the back as he chuckled in satisfaction when he saw her starting to get annoyed.

Now, she cannot wait to kick him out. Aegon stands up from the couch, fixing his shirt as he says something to her. He's going home.

She nodded before pushing herself up from the couch and following him outside her apartment. She escorted him outside to make sure he'd get to his car in one piece and since he's a new face around here, people might rob him.

"Fuck, my sunfyre!" Aegon exclaimed horror covering his face. His hands were both on the side of his eyes he looked like he was about to cry. His car is still okay but it lacks its four wheels.

She can't help but laugh and shake her head. She expected this to happen but it still made her giggle and almost roll in laughter

"This is not funny!" Aegon frowned at her,

"How will I get home?" He said helplessly, making her enjoy his suffering more "You can rest here, then, call a tow tomorrow." She offered.

As much as she likes to see him suffer, she can't leave him out here. She'll let him sleep on her couch, just for tonight and then, they can go back to the ways before. Could they?

————

Taglist:

@targaryenmoony @diiickbrainn @heavenly1927

[greatbritishsimchallenge]

As the winter days passed, Cassian began to feel a little more like himself - albeit much, much older. He didn't have any interest in any of the women at the colony; they were all either poor or ugly, in his view, but he did enjoy Maaike's company. She had fast become a friend, something he hadn't had for a long time, if ever.

"Spring soon, Cass. You lookin' forward t'goin' 'ome?" Maaike asked.

Cassian groaned, "I cannot wait to get out of this frozen hell, but I haven't exactly got much waiting for me when I get home."

"Aww, but it'll be lovely to see Henry."

Cassian shrugged, "I suppose. It'll be strange. He'll be a grown man now."

"Good - you'll need someone young and strong to take care of you when you get back. Yer grey hairs are doublin' by the day," said Maaike, grinning mischievously.

"Thanks and fuck you," Cassian smiled in return.

"I've never understood why people are so afraid of ageing. I think a few greys and wrinkles make a person look better... like they're... distinguished!"

"That's because you're still young. Your body hasn't started turning against you yet."

"Oh, stop with yer bellyachin'. You've got loads of life left ahead. Aye, you might even meet someone and get married again."

Cassian whistled, "The touch of a woman - now there's something I have missed dearly."

"Lots of girls like the silver fox look and you've still got the charm on yer - when yer not complainin'. I bet you'll meet a nice lady in no time."

"What about you? Why aren't you marrying off with one of these traders and setting up your own little plot of land?"

Maaike shook her head sadly, "Nah. I want ter go back to England too. This place ain't for me. I thought London was filled with death and disease, but this place makes London feel like bloody paradise of health."

"Fair enough. At least we'll have each other for company on the way back then."

"Nah, mate. I can't leave."

"What do you mean?"

Maaike sighed, "I can't afford the journey back. I'm up to me eyeballs in debt for the journey here and the building of this pub and I'm barely makin' ends meet. I'll be an elder, too, before I get to see England's shores again... if the place doesn't kill me off first."

Cassian frowned as if he couldn't understand the problem, "So? I'll pay off your debts and pay for your journey back."

Maaike laughed and wiped down the bar, assuming Cassian was making a joke - there was no way her pub's bum could afford to get them both back to England.

Start (Iron Age) | Start (Roman Britain) | Start (Anglo Saxon) | Start (Medieval) | Start (Tudor)

Previous | Next

[domsideencourager]

This story disappeared. I hope its okay to repost.

University was really fucking expensive, Noah had quickly realised. Between paying for his halls, food and all the surprising little costs of living away from home, his student grant was rapidly dwindling, and he was starting to worry about making it last until reading week, nevermind the next payment after Christmas - he'd gotten a bar job, but even with that it was hard to make ends meet. Parents, teachers, older friends had all warned him not to spend all of his money going out, but chance would be a fine thing.

"Daddy told me that he's literally not going to give me any more money!" Noah's flatmate Cissy wailed at Becca and Will, two of his somewhat more financially fortunate new living mates. "He said that three hundred a week should be enough, but I told him that he just doesn't understand what it's like to budget!" Noah bit his tongue and focussed on buttering his toast while keeping an eye on his pan of baked beans.

Becca nodded sympathetically. "They just absolutely do not understand what it's like to be working class students like us," she told Cissy sagely.

"Does this mean you can't buy us coke tonight?" Will asked, the concern clear in his voice.

This only made Cissy cry harder. "I'm not thinking about fucking coke right now Will!" she cried. "I don't even know if I can afford brunch tomorrow!"

"I could probably try and get some ket?" Will suggested.

"You know I can't have ketamine Will!!" Cissy yelled. "I'm a fucking aquarius! Obviously I don't react well to ket!" She buried her face in her hands and wept. Noah poured his beans onto his toast and gathered his cutlery. He considered topping his meal with some cheese, but decided it was too much of a luxury right now.

"Besides," Becca said as Noah began to take his meager dinner to his room. "Ketamine reminds me too much of my horse Diana, so I'll be far too sad to do any."

The door closed as Cissy comforted Becca about the dear departed Diana. Noah let out a sigh. He wished he had a "daddy" who would "only" give him £300 a week. He laughed as he sat down at his desk and looked for a show to watch on his laptop. He'd remembered earlier that week when some of his mates were saying they'd have to look for sugar mummies and daddies to make it through the term. He'd joined in laughing at the time, but the prospect was starting to look less and less absurd as the term went on and his finances dwindled.

He paused, wondering. He knew sugar daddies existed of course, but he couldn't quite convince himself that there really were older men out there just waiting to give someone money.

After a while, his curiosity got the better of him and he pulled out his phone. How to get a sugar daddy he typed in. He was surprised how many websites and apps there were. Surely the idea wasn't really this popular? He clicked on a couple of links; they all seemed to cater for older men looking for young women. He tapped his search bar again and added gay to his search. The first result was an app called The Sugar Bowl, advertising itself as the UK's premier gay sugar dating app. He downloaded it. He had to entertain himself somehow, he supposed, while all his flatmates were out getting drunk and high - a luxury he just couldn't afford.

The app was asking him to make a profile. He quickly tapped in all his details, chose a username and clicked next, giving short, vague answers for any that needed more than basic information. Photos next; he scrolled through his phone looking for some good recent photos. He appraised himself as he scrolled - he was a bit of a catch, if he did say so himself. Just over six feet with naturally broad shoulders, with a handsome face and a strong, square jaw. The vivid ginger hair on his head was mirrored on his chest and trailing down his stomach, a shock of orange against his pale, freckled skin.

He finished his profile and was immediately shown a man who was at least eighty. A bubble of text at the bottom of his screen informed him he could "Ask for a taste" or "Carry on looking at the menu", and only the men he selected would be able to message him. Noah rolled his eyes and tapped the cross. The man's profile whisked itself away and was replaced with another.

Now this was more like it - mid-40s maybe, salt and pepper hair, bit of a gut but Noah didn't mind that necessarily. His fingers moved to tap the tick before he noticed the short blurb of text below the photos: Discrete! Married with children, but would love to add you to the family. Noah cringed and rejected him.

The next one wasn't too bad. Bald, a nice square face, pictures showing him dressed in sharp suits in what looked like various cities across the world, and, to Noah's surprise, a screenshot of what looked like a banking app, all of the details removed apart from the dizzyingly large balance. Noah tapped, accepting him. Nothing happened - presumably he'd have to wait for a match or for the man to be notified before he'd get a response.

He spent a couple of hours idly swiping through profiles. It was almost like a game, really. He was surprised to find how handsome he found some of the men; he'd never really considered himself attracted to older guys before but there was something about some of them. He particularly appreciated some of the dad bods on show - always something he'd liked before on guys his own age, and there were plenty on offer here.

He snapped out of his app-induced reverie as he heard his flat mates leave for the night, stampeding towards the door. He closed the app and decided to watch a movie for the night as he heard Cissy loudly proclaim to everyone "You know what? Fuck it. I'm buying coke. Daddy can fuck off. I have to be true to myself and I know that I am not a ketamine queen!" This was met with one of the poshest cheers Noah had ever heard.

The app left Noah's mind entirely as he watched his film and then fell asleep. He woke up to a notification.

SilverFoxDom: Hello handsome. You know, my hair used to be that exact same shade, before succumbing to the ravages of time.

He looked at the name and sighed. He must not have looked very close last night.

RedFox: Nice. Listen, I'm sorry, I must not have really read your name last night. I'm not really into the whole sub/dom thing.

He closed the app and checked the news, reading through a few stories. Within a few minutes, another notification popped up.

SilverFoxDom: Neither am I. My actual name's Dominic, or Dom. I didn't really consider the implications until I'd made the profile, and now I can't figure out how to change it.

Noah smiled a little. At least this guy seemed sweet, and hadn't immediately asked for nudes - an improvement on more conventional dating apps, in fact. He went back to the app to check his profile. The guy was okay-looking, Noah thought; probably mid-50s, with a head of receding white hair and a beard to match, and warm, crinkled eyes surrounded by laughter-lines on a rugged, square face. Noah could see faded freckles across his nose and cheeks, the only remaining evidence of the ginger hair in his youth that he'd mentioned. A bit of a dad-bod, with a thickness evident beneath the expensive looking suits he wore in each photo, but Noah had met up with bigger guys before.

RedFox: Sorry to hear that, not-a-dom Dom. I bet that's led to a few sticky situations.

SilverFoxDom: Oh no, no sticky business over here! I'm very content to offer what aid I can to fellow foxes in need without it going any further. I've got to say little fox, you're looking more underfed than most. A particularly cruel winter, perhaps?

RedFox: Yeah, I've always found it pretty difficult to put on weight, especially living on beans on toast at uni, haha.

SilverFoxDom: Something I can help with, perhaps? Well then, young fox, what brings you to this rather niche corner of the internet?

Noah decided to be honest. This guy seemed genuinely nice.

RedFox: Some mates were joking about needing a sugar daddy to get through the term. I thought it'd be a bit of a laugh, but I was sort of curious what it's all about.

SilverFoxDom: Well I heard it's only cats that need to be wary of curiosity; us foxes should be fine.

How about you let me take you out for a meal a little more elaborate beans on toast? At least then you'll have gotten something out of this whole experience.

RedFox: That's very kind. Honestly though, I really did just make an account out of curiosity. I don't think I'm into this whole sugar daddy/baby thing.

SilverFoxDom: And I am also being honest when I say there is no obligation or hint towards anything other than a good meal and some company for an hour or two. I can guarantee a finer meal than anything else you'll rustle up during your time at university.

Noah's stomach grumbled. It would be good to have a proper meal, and really, it was no more dangerous than meeting someone off grindr or tinder.

RedFox: Sounds great then, thank you. When were you thinking?

They arranged to meet that evening at half past six, a little early Noah thought, but he wasn't about to argue. He put on his nicest shirt and his cleanest jeans, and walked into the center of town to a restaurant he'd never heard of.

Noah walked up the stairs to the large entrance, with a small sign next to it with the name of the restaurant - Pastures Green - and was met by a thick-set man in a three-piece suit. "Hi," Noah said as he approached. "I'm meeting someone - Dominic?"

"Of course sir, welcome," the man said. "I've been told to ask you for your favourite animal."

Noah was taken aback, feeling like he was back in primary school and being asked about his favourite shape (hexagon) or dinosaur (triceratops). "My favourite animal? What the- Oh! Right, no, I see. A fox. My favourite animal's a fox."

The man smiled and his eyes flicked to Noah's hair for a moment. "It suits you. This way then." He turned on his heel and walked through a thick wooden door. Noah followed into a large, expensive looking room. The room seemed underfilled, with only ten or so tables, and plenty of space between them all. Noah was led between them all, to a table at the back, wth Dominic sat in one seat.

Dominic stood up as Noah approached. In person, he had a warm energy that seemed to enhance all his features, and made him look quite handsome, if you could get over the age thing. He looked a couple of inches shorter than Noah, maybe at about 6 foot, and a few pounds lighter than in his photos,  though still with a broad frame and a slight gut rounding out his waistcoat. Noah didn't know much about suits, but he could tell the one Dominic wore was expensive - light grey with barely-there pinstripes, and seemingly tailored to perfectly highlight or hide different parts of his body.

Dominic moved towards Noah and stuck his hand out for Noah to shake. "Gosh, but you really are handsome aren't you, little fox?" he said with a twinkle in his eye. He gestured for Noah to sit. "Now, this is very foolish of me, but I don't actually know your name."

"Noah," Noah answered as he took his seat.

"Noah!" Dominic almost bellowed. "A good strong name." He sat down opposite and handed a menu to Noah. "But you didn't come to introduce yourself to old men Noah. I believe you were promised a slap-up meal."

Noah opened the menu and noted that there weren't any prices. A note at the top assured customers that all the food was grown and produced locally. "A, uhh, a steak maybe," he said, deciding it wasn't too far removed from his usual safety option of burger and chips.

"Good choice," Dominic said with a smile. "But we'll get to that in good time. What about something to start?" he asked. "Or I could choose a few things I think you should taste?"

Noah put the menu down and gave a small smile. "Sounds great."

"Excellent!" Dominic said, as a waiter seemed to appear out of thin air. "Now Michael," he said to the waiter. "We'll start with some drinks,-" he turned to Noah. "A beer?" Noah nodded. "Two beers, I'll try something new. Something Belgian maybe? Now my friend here," he gestured towards Noah, "has never had the pleasure, so I really think he should sample as much of your fare as is reasonable, don't you? We'll start with a few small-plates - those lamb ribs you did last time, definitely, that pork belly with the fennel, do you remember? Yes, yes, those. Some of those crispy twelve-hour potatoes, that wonderful asparagus you do. I think I remember some artichoke concoction a few weeks ago? Perfect. And what fish do you have today? Yes, a small serving of that." His eyes flicked back to Noah and seemed to appraise him for a moment. "Perhaps that'll be it for starters this time Michael. And then my young friend here wanted the twenty-ounce rib-eye, and I'll have, hmmm…" For the first time he actually opened the menu himself and looked, although only for a second or two. "A salad, I think. Whatever chef thinks will work." He patted his slight belly and looked over at Noah briefly. "Doctor's orders," he said with a wink. "I'm afraid I can't overindulge like I once could."

Noah swallowed hard - it definitely sounded like he'd be overindulging, even if Dominic wasn't.

"The steak, sir?" the waiter - Michael - asked Noah.

"Oh, uh, yeah. That's great," Noah replied.

Michael smiled thinly. "How would you like the steak cooked?" he elaborated.

"Oh! Right, yeah, well." Noah stammered for a moment. He'd never had a proper, high-quality steak before, what did he know about how.it should be cooked. "Medium-rare?" He said it as a question as much as an answer.

"Excellent," Michael said. "Your drinks will be out presently." He turned on his heel and walked away.

Dominic turned to Noah and beamed. "So, little fox, why don't you tell me about yourself," he said. "You mentioned you were at university?"

Noah nodded. "First year, studying engineering," he replied, as Michael reappeared with two glasses.

"Thank you Michael," Dominic said. "First year, eh? Very exciting, first time away from home, discovering independence for the first time. Exhilarating really." He took a small sip of his beer and closed his eyes. "Mhm, perfect. Do take a taste." Noah did as instructed. The beer was odd - it was almost thick, and tasted strongly like wheat, with just a hint of sweetness. He smiled and nodded, wordlessly answering Dominic's inquisitive look. "I'm glad you like it," Dominic continued. "And engineering? Very impressive. I was never one for science and maths and all that myself. It was PPE at Oxford for me." Noah just smiled and took another swig of beer - the taste was starting to grow on him. "Not much of a talker, eh?" Dominic prompted.

Noah swallowed yet another swig of beer. "Sorry, no, it's not that I - it's just -" He decided it was best to play coy a little, play up to the guy offering a slap up dinner and who knows what else. "Just nervous, I guess."

"Oh fox, no need to be nervous," Dominic said with a growing smile. "In fact, I remember when I was your age and met up with a man, who, ah, shall we say, had a little more life-experience than me…"

Noah realised that what Dominic really wanted was someone to talk at, rather than any real expectation for Noah to contribute outside of an occasional reply. He was fine with that, happy to sit and drink his beer and give a nod or encouraging "hmm" when prompted. By the time the starters arrived, his beer was nearly empty and he was already beginning to feel the effects, having not been able to afford to drink for a while, and having not eaten much that day.

Noah's eyes went wide as the starters got put down. When Dominic had ordered, he'd expected morsel-sized portions, and while the servings weren't enormous, the six dishes added up to a lot more than Noah would usually eat in any given meal, and this was just the starter!

Dominic must have seen Noah's reaction. "Don't worry too much about finishing it all, little fox. I might take a sliver to taste, and I suppose the kitchen can dispose of any leftovers," he said.

"No, no, I can, I mean, it's fine," Noah said. "I can finish it, it's not too much." Not only could Noah not stand to waste food, particularly nowadays when he was living within such meager means, but he got the sense that Dominic was testing him somehow, seeing how willing he was to play along.

"Another beer sir?" the waiter asked, gesturing towards Noah's glass.

"Oh, uh, yeah, cheers, umm, Michael," Noah replied, picking up his fork to start.

"Certainly," Michael replied simply and walked away.

As Dominic looked on eagerly, Noah took his first bite, starting with the lamb ribs. As the meat reached his tongue he actually moaned - he couldn't stop himself. It was almost certainly the best food he'd ever had, and it made him realise suddenly just how hungry he was.

"Good?" Dominic asked simply, his eyebrows raising in a smug expression.

Noah could only give a short "hmm", as the second mouthful of lamb was already in his mouth. It was perfectly cooked - tender and juicy and seemed to be roasted with rosemary and something Noah couldn't identify. He cut off some pork belly, even as he was still chewing, and brought it up to his mouth the second he swallowed his lamb. It was just as good, and Noah closed his eyes as he chewed, trying his best to slow down to savour the taste.

Dominic let out a small chuckle. "Very good," he said. "I do hate to see a young man without a healthy appetite. Yes, very nice indeed." He paused for a moment, watching as Noah chased a mouthful of potato with some beer. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the thing people don't understand about John Major you see…"

Noah did his best to pay attention, but Dominic’s tales of Tories past weren't exactly Noah's bag, and they had to vie for his attention with the exquisite flavours in front of him. He built up a rhythm, alternating dishes with each bite, dipping the potatoes in all of the various sauces and juices from the other plates. He did his best to eat slowly but he just couldn't help himself. He was almost surprised when he looked down to see all of the plates were empty.

“... Which is why, of course, Thatcher's right-to-buy scheme was so beneficial,” Dominic finished. His smile grew as he saw Noah lean back in his seat, his breathing slow. “Oh, well done. Yes, very good indeed. You know, a lesser man would have given up on that, but not you, no.” Noah rubbed his stomach in wide slow circles. “Now, time for mains perhaps?”

Noah belched, the sound erupting out of him without warning. “Oh god,” he said. “I'm sorry I-”

“No apology needed! None at all, no, no, it's the sign of a good meal well-enjoyed,” Dominic said as his smile grew.  “You know, when I was part of the trade delegation to China, I was told that burping was a sign of respect! Now, the steak?”

Noah nodded blearily. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I'll give it a go.” He downed the rest of his beer, hoping the liquid might help soothe his stomach.

“That's all that any of us can do, isn't it?” Dominic proclaimed wisely. He waved down the waiter. “We’re ready now. And my guest here will have another beer.”

The steak arrived all too soon, looking even bigger than it had sounded earlier. Noah steeled himself, knowing that this was the best meal he'd had in a long time, and might have for a while yet. Dominic spoke constantly, picking at his own salad while 

After Noah had finished the selection of desserts Dominic had ordered, he was drunk, stuffed and tired. Dominic helped him to his feet and guided him to a waiting car, which took Noah directly to his uni halls. Noah unbuckled his too tight trousers and collapsed straight into bed.

He awoke the next morning to Cissy knocking on his door and passing over a large hamper that had been left for him. He looked inside to find a selection of expensive cheese, crackers, desserts and several ales. Looking closer he found a note.

Little Fox,

I so enjoyed our evening last night. I've included some small treats that I think you might enjoy until the next time we meet.

Your Silver Fox

-

This went on for a while. Two or three times a week, Dominic would invite Noah to some restaurant he'd never be able to afford to go to by himself, order an inordinate amount of food, plus a salad for himself, then watch as Noah stuffed himself silly. The next morning, a hamper would get delivered to Noah's flat, each time with something different in it - expensive cheeses, cured meats, selections from Dominic's current favourite bakery or deli, each delivery coming with several bottles of stout or ale that Dominic thought would pair with the food - Noah's room rapidly filled with more wicker baskets than he could handle. One time, Noah had off-handedly mentioned how much he liked ice-cream, and the next morning a delivery man handed over a miniature freezer for his room, stocked full of Ben and Jerry's. Each time, he considered sharing with his flat mates, but each time he'd sample one of the exquisite treats and immediately change his mind. Dominic, for his part, never suggested anything more - he really did seem to just genuinely want to help out a struggling uni student. Noah knew he'd have some ulterior motive, but as sexual deviances went, this one felt fairly benign and Noah wasn't about to turn down a few free meals a week.

As the end of the semester rolled around, Noah pulled a Christmas jumper out of one of the hampers that he'd repurposed as a clothes basket, and noted with a wince a developing tightness as he put it on. The jumper still fit, thankfully, but he worried about Dominic losing interest - Noah was quickly losing his thin figure that first attracted the older man.

Noah looked in the mirror and assessed himself. He wasn't fat, per se, not even chubby really. A bit more solid looking, that's all. He looked better, if anything; not quite so rail thin, or like a strong wind would blow him over.

Noah sighed. Tonight was the first time Dominic had invited him around to his own house, and he was a little nervous. Noah felt he knew Dominic well enough by now to trust that nothing untoward would happen, but it felt like a big step up in their strange friendship.

Noah smoothed down his jumper, laying his hands flat against his midsection. He was being silly - Dominic probably wouldn't even be able to notice anything.

"I've noticed you've been putting on some weight," Dominic said that evening, taking a sip of wine and smiling across the table.

Noah took a moment to swallow the mashed potatoes he'd just put in his mouth - perfectly creamy, and with a hint of rosemary and garlic - and looked down at himself. As stuffed as he was, his shirt had begun to get noticeably tighter. "I uh…," he started, trying to form words. "I suppose I've put on a little weight, yeah. I was pretty skinny before though - too skinny, some people think." He'd started talking faster, trying to convince Dominic it wasn't so bad. He hit upon the idea to appeal to Dominic's ego. "And uh, it's all this great food - I'm so grateful, you've been so generous."

Dominic's smile widened a touch and he laughed softly. "You've no need to worry, my little fox. Merely a comment." He drank some more wine and seemed to look Noah up and down. "It looks good on you, you know. You really were too thin when I met you - quite ghastly really, like a wraith. No, you look much healthier now." He set his wine glass down and leant back in his chair, one eyebrow raised. Noah got the distinct impression that he was trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. "I don't suppose you know how, ah, much weight exactly you've put on?"

Noah shrugged. "Not too much, my clothes all still fit, just about. And I've not got a scale at my flat."

Dominic stood up suddenly. "Well then we'll have to find out, won't we?"

"Will we?" Noah asked around a mouthful of turkey and gravy.

"Aren't you curious?" Dominic asked, moving around the table to usher Noah out of his seat. "We're having this little tete-a-tete about these rather charming, wonderful little changes to your body, and you don't want to know?" For the first time since Noah had met him, Dominic seemed to have a strange nervous energy about him, as if he'd rehearsed this moment. Dominic gave a short laugh. "And you the engineer! I thought your head would be full of numbers and precise measurements."

Noah decided to play along - whatever was happening, it wasn't worth losing out on his meal ticket. He pulled himself heavily out of his chair, his full stomach making him sluggish. Dominic left the room and Noah followed.

After climbing several flights of stairs and walking down a couple of corridors, Dominic stopped outside a door. "Sorry for the hike," he said with a smile. "This is the only bathroom with scales in." Noah wondered if Dominic had put the scales in there (or more likely had someone put them in there for him), so that he could show off the house to Noah - he remembered some quiet comment Dominic had made about this being "just the city house".

Dominic opened the door and ushered Noah in, flourishing an arm towards a set of scales. "Do you, ah, know what you weighed when you first arrived at university?" he asked.

Noah shrugged. "Probably about twelve stone, I think," he answered. That sounded about right, anyway.

Dominic tutted. "See? Far too thin. Shall we, ah, call that 170 pounds then, do you think?"

"Sure," Noah said. "Call it what you like I suppose."

"Call it what you- oh yes, very dry, very dry indeed little fox," Dominic chuckled. "Yes, well, ah, would you, that is to say, if you'd care to, ah…"

Noah was surprised to see Dominic so ill-at-ease. He always seemed so unflappable, and now he was a stammering mess about asking Noah to step on some scales. Noah did the honours, and looked down at the numbers on the scale. They rapidly climbed for a moment before stopping at 193.

"Oh my," Dominic said. "Well I suppose if we take off your- that is, if we account for your clothes, and what you've eaten tonight of course." He reached out and touched Noah's slightly distended stomach through his jumper. Noah felt a jolt - it was the first time Dominic had touched him at all, aside from shaking hands, and it felt like there'd just been some significant change in their relationship from that brief touch. "Shall we say one-ninety?"

"If you like, sure," Noah said, stepping back off the scale. He was starting to doubt whether these free meals were really worth it.

Dominic took out his phone and started tapping it. "Twenty pounds in, what, two months?" he muttered, seemingly to himself more than to Noah. "Very impressive, very impressive indeed."

Noah's own phone buzzed as Dominic put his away. Noah looked confused and reached into his pocket to pull it out. His eyes widened. A notification from his bank informed him that £2000 had just been added to his account by D. Berkeley. Noah looked up at Dominic, dumbfounded. "What?" Noah asked. "Why?" 

Dominic smiled coolly, all of his nervous energy suddenly dissipated. "One hundred pounds for each pound you've put on," he said calmly. He seemed back to his usual self, like he'd just taken back control of the conversation. "Something of a mea culpa, if you'd like. After all, this," he once again reached out a poked Noah's slightly softer middle, "is rather my fault."

"Well, I mean, you don't need to-" Noah began.

"And I do actually rather like it, if I'm being honest, little fox," Dominic interrupted. "Which is to say, I rather think that young men such as yourself do look rather more handsome with some weight about their person."

"Right," Noah said. "Okay then, well, thank you, I guess. I'll, umm, put it towards a gym membership."

"Oh, well if you'd like to lose it, I do of course understand,” Dominic said. “I could even pay for a private trainer if you’d like? As it is my fault.” He paused for a moment and seemed to be analysing Noah's body, looking it up and down. Noah felt like some sort of prey animal. “But then again, I really do think it suits you, you know. I could even, if you were amenable, continue these little apologies? Same rate of course, one thousand sterling for every ten pounds - best exchange rate you’ll get while the current government is in power.” He laughed at his own joke before looking expectantly at Noah waiting for his answer.

Noah stood still for a while, the only sound in the room that of the other shoe finally dropping. He'd known, of course, that there was no such thing as a free lunch, but he'd rather hoped his payment would have been keeping an agreeable older man company during those lunches. Clearly, Dominic was taking payment by pound of flesh.

Was the money worth it? Noah was in the prime of his life - he should be taking advantage of his young, fit body, not wasting it for a few measly quid. But then, a thousand pounds wasn't something to scoff at, and he could make a fair amount more, not to mention all the food he didn't have to worry about buying. Maybe he should just get back on the app and find some other old rich guy who just wanted something simpler, like a blow job or feet pics. But then, did Noah really care? He'd been attracted to plenty of other big guys, he'd just not ever thought of himself that way. He wasn't even really a big guy himself yet, he could easily ring this guy for another few grand and bounce before it was really noticeable, and then he could lose any excess weight easily enough.

Dominic cleared his throat, snapping Noah out of his rambling train of thought. “I'll, uhh, think about it,” Noah said. “Over Christmas.”

“Of course!” Dominic boomed, clapping a hand around Noah's shoulders and guiding him back out into the corridor. “You think about it while you're back home, and message me with your thoughts on my offer. For now though, I hope you have some space for dessert and the cheese board.”

A few hours later Noah swayed towards the front door, Dominic's hand on his back guiding him. The sheer amount of food and drink Noah had consumed was making him bleary-eyed, and he'd had to undo his belt sometime during the cheese course.

“Noah, one final thing,” Dominic said, as Noah stumbled his way outside towards the waiting car. He held out an envelope towards Noah. “It's a card.”

“I forgot to get you a Christmas card,” Noah said around burps.

Dominic laughed. “No, no, a credit card,” he explained. He pushed it into Noah's hand. “I’ll pay it off each month, of course, but it is yours.” Noah burped in response, which Dominic seemed to take as understanding. “I'd appreciate it if you only used it for food and drink - I don't mind how much you spend, you understand, but I would appreciate it nonetheless. Respect, more than anything, you see.”

Noah looked at the envelope for a while before looking up at Dominic and smiling. “Merry Christmas,” he mumbled before he belched and collapsed through the open car door.

-

It was the card that tipped it, for Noah. He decided he could live without the free extravagant dinners, even the offered grand for each ten pounds didn't seem that worth it in the cold light of day, but that credit card seemed to fix all of his money worries overnight. Trips to the supermarket weren't spent agonising over how much he had left or whether he could afford the tin of tomatoes that cost 15p more, he could treat himself, go out with mates on nights out. He still couldn't get over the look on his mum's face when he offered to pay for everything for Christmas dinner, or when she opened the present he'd bought her with some of the two grand Dominic had given him. So he was probably going to put on a bit of weight, who cared? He got back in contact with Dominic once he was back in halls, and their dinners recommenced, Noah's personal discomfort with the situation ebbing away all the time, even while the physical discomfort of his clothes mounted.

"Why aren't you eating more?" Dominic asked.

Noah swallowed his mouthful on noodles and looked down at the plates in front of him. He'd almost finished his bowl of donburi, and there was a small stack of small plates next to it which until recently had held a selection of dumplings and sushi.

“Well, uh, I thought maybe we'd have dessert, I guess,” he said, placing a hand gingerly on his bloated belly. “Or, I mean, if you wanted me to order some more sides?” He'd gotten used to pushing himself past his limits recently, focussing on the money he knew Dominic would be happy to part with, but that didn't make it any easier.

“Not tonight,” Dominic said, smiling. “No, you've rather impressed me tonight. The card I gave you, I mean. I'd expected a young man like you, away from home and enjoying all the pleasures of university life had to offer to be living off of take-aways and beers.”

Noah furrowed his brow. “I mean, I've been using it, you know, for shops and stuff,” he explained. “I didn't want to take the piss I guess.”

“You've no need to worry my dear little fox!” Dominic said. “It would take quite a lot of eating indeed to make me regret my decision. No, no, you've no need to be concerned about your impact on my finances. You should be enjoying yourself - dinners out, big lunches, deliveroos.” He said this last word as if it was an unfamiliar foreign term he was impressed with himself for learning while on holiday.

“Right, yeah, I'll keep that in mind I guess,” Noah said, before bringing the bowl up to his mouth to drain the last of the broth. “Thanks again,” he said. He placed both hands on his stomach and began to massage it, as much to soothe it as much as to put in a bit of a show for Dominic.

Dominic licked his lips. “You know, I had rather noticed that your, ah, wardrobe perhaps needed an update,” he said. “Perhaps it wouldn't go amiss if you were to use the card for clothes as well, when needed. I'd only ask that you let me know ahead of time, when you, ah, well, when you outgrow your clothes, I suppose.”

Noah nodded and ran a hand along the hem of his t-shirt to feel the strip of skin that had started showing beneath it in the last week or so. “Thanks, that’ll be helpful. These jeans are killing me.” He made a show of unbuttoning them and sighing with relief. “Sorry, hope you don't mind.” Dominic shook his head while making some posh clucking noises.

“Why don't you weigh yourself tonight?” Dominic asked. “With that scale I sent. You could send me a picture and I could send some money, if needed.”

“Sounds great,” Noah said, leaning back. “Don't suppose you could get the waiter's attention could you? See if they could bring over the dessert menu?”

That night, Noah sent Dominic a picture of the scale reading 202, and smiled as a notification appeared in his banking app less than a minute later.

-

Fancy going interrailing this summer? Just me and you? Mum’s given me some money for “self betterment and actualisation”, thought I'd go get pissed in Prague.

Noah's heart sank as he read the message. Just last week he'd spent most of the money he'd saved up from Dominic on a used car. He loved it, but now wished he'd held off a little longer. Him and his mate Stuart from school had talked about going interrailing for years; Noah had always thought of it as little more than a pipe dream, but suddenly it felt like it was all too attainable, if only Stu had text a week earlier.

Noah was about to text back, telling Stu he was skint, when he paused. No reason he couldn't save up a bit more money - he'd have until the summer to put on some more weight, and get as much money as he could from Dominic. Okay, so 220 pounds was bigger than he ever imagined getting, and having a genuine belly bloating out the front of large t-shirts, even when he'd not eaten, was something of a surprise, but he was hardly that big yet, he could afford to put on another twenty pounds before it was that bad, couldn't he? Besides, Stu was always the “fat friend” at school; he'd hardly judge Noah, and might even get a kick out of seeing him the same size as him.

I'd have to sort a bit of money, but count me in! August will be better than July maybe - gives me a bit of time to bank some extra pounds.

Noah chuckled at his own small joke as he grabbed the iPad Dominic had sent him a few weeks before, ready for some research. He started off simple, typing How much does it cost to go interrailing into Google and searching through some sites. He started to worry a little about how much it might cost and increased his imagine future body by another ten pounds or so. Would 30 pounds put him bigger than Stu? It was a strange prospect, but he found himself getting hard. As much as they'd all taken the piss out of Stu, he'd always commanded a bit of respect because of his size - he was the big one, the one who always got mistaken for being a bit older, the one who could eat the most and would probably win in most fights. The idea that Noah could usurp Stu in that way excited him.

How to gain weight fast he typed into the search bar. If he wanted to enjoy himself, he'd need to earn as much money as he could before summer.

A couple of mornings later, Noah pulled a carton out of one of the crates he’d ordered. He cracked it open and took a sip. This Boost stuff wasn't too bad, he thought. It was sweet and creamy, but not as thick as he thought, and he was surprised by how small it was considering the number of calories in it. He downed the rest of it in a few large gulps.

He’d read that some people had gotten incredible results from just one or two a day, so he thought one after every meal would do the trick nicely. Then, he'd finish the day with a pint or two of ice cream from the freezer that Dominic made sure to keep stocked. All of that, on top of his newly formed habit of getting every meal delivered - McDonald’s breakfast in the morning, a burger or burrito for lunch, and then a different take away each night for dinner - would surely help him make the money he needed for Europe.

While he was researching all of this, he'd been surprised to discover the communities of men who seemed to get off on this kind of stuff. He’d thought Dominic was some kind of one-off, the result of whatever crazy repression results from being gay and posh, but it seemed like these gainer guys were fairly common. He took some perverse pleasure in realising he was already bigger than some of the men who'd been trying to put on weight. He did his best to ignore men around 250 pounds, knowing he'd be that size soon enough, if everything went to plan - surely he'd not look that big? Obviously these guys would try and make themselves look as big as possible in their photos. No, he'd be fine, he told himself, just a little more weight would be barely noticeable.

-

“Do you think we could stop off somewhere and get something to eat?” Noah asked, his stomach rumbling. It was the first time Dominic had taken Noah for a weekend away, and he was regretting not remembering to bring some cartons of Boost.

“Well, we have dinner reservations in a couple of hours. Did the restaurant not look to your liking?” Dominic asked.

“No, it's fine, I'm not saying instead of dinner, I just mean, I haven't eaten since lunch, I'm not used to starving myself like this,” Noah replied. He was starting to get a little grouchy.

“Starving your- ah, yes well, perhaps we could find somewhere nearby, a cafe or bistro perhaps.” Dominic began to look around the row of shops along the beachfront.

“It's fine,” Noah said, crossing the road already. “I'll just grab something and eat while we walk. There's a place there look, I'll just grab a couple of burritos.”

Noah ate his first burrito in silence, only occasionally pausing to nod or give an approving grunt to one of Dominic's long stories. It was only when he started pulling the foil off the second burrito that Dominic asked for more of Noah's attention.

“You know, I do rather like this beard you've grown, little fox,” he started. “But I do wonder if it’s purpose might be to hide a certain developing feature? A certain roundness of the jawline perhaps.”

Noah felt his cheeks flush red. He had indeed grown the beard to distract from the double chin that had developed recently. The last twenty pounds seemed to take him from “slightly chubby” to “fat” in a way he wasn't expecting. With each step his round gut shook inside his XL shirt, which hugged a pair of budding moobs. He even realised that weekend with some shock that he was quite a bit bigger than Dominic now, so while he knew that the beard wasn't doing much to hide his weight gain, he'd hoped it wouldn't be too obvious why he'd grown it.

“Umm, yeah, I mean, some other guys in halls have grown a beard too, you know, and I thought I'd give it a go too, but, well, yeah, I guess it's to kind of cover the chin as well,” he admitted.

Dominic clapped a hand on Noah's shoulder. “While I really do think it's handsome, I always think it's such a shame when handsome growing men such as yourself try to hide the fullness of their face,” he said. “You should be proud of it! Have you not worked hard for your changing face? Earned it? Perhaps you'll shave it for me tonight? Show me what's underneath?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, I guess I can, I mean, it's just, I didn't pack a razor or anything,” Noah said, hoping Dominic would drop the matter.

“That's no concern! We can buy one for you, no matter at all. Look, there's a pharmacy there, I'll go in while you finish your little snack,” Dominic instructed.

Noah sighed and took a big bite of his burrito as he leant against the window of the pharmacy. He patted his gut and felt it jiggle. Just a little more weight and he'd have enough to go to Europe with Stu, and then he could block Dominic's number and lose all this weight.

That night, Noah's beardless face showed off just how round his cheeks were getting as he stuffed food into them. At Dominic's suggestion, Noah left himself with a moustache, which he was finding quite sexy. Dominic had ordered the entire starter list for Noah, followed by a roast dinner and a burger for mains, and a selection of desserts, while he ate a small serving of monkfish. Noah wiped his moustache with his napkin and leant back, resting a hand on his gut. “I don't suppose anywhere will be open, do you think?” he asked Dominic. “I usually like to have some ice cream before bed.”

-

Dominic clinked his wine glass with Noah’s. “Here's to a grand tour around Europe, and to two-hundred and seventy pounds,” he said.

Noah smiled and continued eating his fifth dessert of the night, thinking idly that he shouldn't have let the waiter take away the dessert menu just yet. While he'd overshot his target weight a little, the five thousand pounds he'd accrued would make sure that he wouldn't have to worry about scrimping and saving while interrailing, and he'd hopefully have some money left over afterwards for a gym membership, hell, maybe even a personal trainer. If nothing else, Noah thought ruefully as he adjusted his belt, he'd need to buy yet another new wardrobe, if he gained anymore weight.

“I've been thinking,” Dominic said. “I know that gallivanting about like this can be rather tough on the old purse strings, especially when one is young and wants to experience as much as possible of all these wonderful places you'll be going.”

Noah nodded, his cheeks full of tiramisu. “Yeah, you know, you've been a massive help with money and stuff, I definitely think I'll have a great time,” he said, truthfully. While he still found their arrangement a little creepy, Dominic seemed like a genuinely sweet guy, Tory proclivities and fetish for fattening up men aside, and Noah knew he'd have had a much worse year without him.

“Of course, of course, no need to thank me, anyone else would have done the same, faced with a young person in need such as yourself” Dominic said. Noah's eyebrows flew up; this situation fell very firmly under the category of things most people would not do, but he knew better than to protest. “Well, I was rather thinking, as this is such a marvelous opportunity for experiencing new places, meeting new people, learning languages, and of course, trying new food,” he waggled his eyebrows at this last point. “Well, I thought, as your patron, as it were, it would be remiss to not fund the trip.”

“Sorry, I'm not sure I follow,” Noah said, as he started on a rich sticky toffee pudding. “You are funding it - I wouldn't be able to go without you.”

“But I want you to keep that money! No, I want to pay for your trip,” Dominic said. “All of it. You and your friend. You can put everything on the card I gave you, the food and drink of course, as per usual, but the hotels, the trains, the flights, all of it. Anything you've paid for already, send it over to my office, I'll have my man expense it for you.”

Noah's gawped. Here he was, approaching twenty stone, one hundred pounds heavier than when he’d first arrived at uni, and Dominic was telling him all that money he'd saved was for nothing?

“Well, that's very generous Dom,” Noah said slowly, ruefully spooning some custard into his mouth.

“Think nothing of it, little fox! You know, when we first met, I must admit, I had rather hoped you might put on a little weight,” he understated. “But I really have been so impressed with how you've taken to it! Yes, I'm more than happy to pay for a man such as yourself who’s so readily taken up my little challenge.”

There it was, of course. The other side of the coin. Noah the twelve stone twink would never have been offered an all expenses trip around Europe. A catch-22: Noah had only saved enough to afford to go interrailing because he'd gotten so fat, and because he'd gotten so fat, he needn't have saved any money at all.

-

“Fucking hell!” Stu said as Noah walked up to him in St Pancras station. Dominic had arranged for a car to take him right up to the front, so Noah wasn’t nearly as sweaty as he would have been if he'd had to drag his backpack through the tube. “Louis said you'd gotten fat when he saw you at Easter but he didn't say you had tits! And what's with the porn-stache?”

“Nice to see you too,” Noah said. “Why weren't you back for Easter, anyway?”

“Fuck off, don't try and change the fucking subject,” Stu insisted. “You’re bigger than me!”

Noah had to admit that. He was surprised how small Stu looked - he’d always been one of the biggest guys in the year at school, but now he just looked a bit husky and had a beer belly. “Yeah, but you've lost weight, haven't you?” Noah pointed out.

“I've put on weight mate!” Stu laughed. “But I've put on about a stone like everyone else at uni, not about ten.”

Noah was shocked, and found himself getting hard. Not only had he surpassed Stu like he thought he might, he'd absolutely eclipsed him. “Go on, how much do you weigh then, Mr Skinny?” Noah asked, wondering how much he outweighed him by.

“Like seventeen stone mate,” Stu replied. “You must be, what, twenty? More?”

“Like two-seventy pounds. Probably a bit more now,” he admitted, thinking that he'd not exactly slowed down his eating in the week since he'd last seen Dominic.

“What? What's that in stone?” Stu asked. “Who weighs themselves in pounds?”

“Oh, right, yeah, like, nineteen and a half, maybe,” Dominic said.

“Christ,” Stu said in a low voice reaching out and poking a finger into Noah's gut. “That's fucking huge mate. You were tiny at school.”

“Well, you know, I'm taller than you, so that's a bit of weight isn't it,” Noah pointed out.

Stu laughed. “And the rest! You’re like an inch taller than me, two at most. That hardly adds up to two extra stone, does it?”

“Fuck off,” Noah said, returning Stu’s gut poke with one of his own. “Is there anywhere to buy breakfast around here before we get on the train?”

“Yeah, but you've already eaten haven't you?” Stu said.

“What? What makes you think that?” Noah asked.

Stu laughed. “I saw you throw a McDonalds coffee cup in the bin when you came in, big guy. A bloke your size doesn't go to McDonalds for just a coffee, do you?”

“Oh, yeah, well you know, that wasn't really breakfast, that was just something to eat after I woke up,” Noah protested, thinking back to the two mcmuffins he'd eaten on the way.

“Also known as fucking breakfast,” Stu howled with laughter.

“I'm just thinking we’ll be on the train a while,” Noah said, his cheeks flushing red. “And then we’ve got to get to the hotel, we might not have lunch until late.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm sure it's a very thoughtfully considered second fucking breakfast,” Stu said while shaking his head. “Come on, yeah, I could eat too. We don't want you dying of hunger, do we, you fat git.”

Sat on the train, Noah regretted not getting as much as he'd like, but Stu had started gawping at him as he'd ordered, and he thought it best to limit himself to a light breakfast today, while Stu got his head around Noah's enhanced size.

“So I've been meaning to say,” Noah started. “I've swapped some of our hostel reservations.”

“What? Why?” Stu asked.

“For nicer hotels,” Noah said. “Don't worry, it's all paid for.”

“What do you mean it's all paid for?” Stu asked. “How are you affording to pay extra for hotels? I thought we agreed the cheapest hostels we could find?”

“It's fine,” Noah reiterated. “It's sorted.”

“Yeah, but I'm asking how,” Stu said. “Go on, you can't just show up suddenly fat and rich and expect me not to ask anything. Did you win some kind of million pound eating contest or what?"

“Haha, very funny,” Noah said, rolling his eyes. “It's just, there's this, well there's this guy, alright, and he's said he's happy to pay for us both. Sees it as some enriching experience for us.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘some guy’?” Stu asked, eyes boggling. “I'd have been less confused if you had said it was the eating contest, to be honest.”

Noah tried to look as nonchalant as possible as he fidgeted in his seat. “It's just this guy I know who's happy to give me some money as, you know, charity or a patronage or whatever, for young people to, I don't know, enrich themselves or whatever.”

Stu narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean a charit- wait, patronage?” He leant forward. “Do you have a fucking sugar daddy?” he whispered harshly.

Noah looked around to see if anyone was listening. “Look, he's not a sugar daddy, alright? He's just this older guy who pays for some stuff for me,” he said, cringing at his own words as he said them.

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Stu pointed out.

“No!” Noah insisted. “He's just this older guy who wants a bit of company sometimes.”

“Like a sugar daddy.”

“Shut up. We don't, you know, we've never fucked or anything,” Noah said. “He's not interested in any of that. It's just conversation.”

“Conversation he pays you for,” Stu said. “Go on then, where did you meet this not-at-all-a-sugar-daddy?”

Noah flushed red. “An app,” he mumbled after a while.

Stu laughed. “And what was this app called exactly?”

Noah sighed. “Okay, it was a fucking sugar daddy app, okay? I've got a sugar daddy.”

Stu cackled. “I fucking knew it!” he yelled, receiving glares in response. “It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?” He shook his head, laughing to himself.

“Yeah, well, you're getting a free holiday out of it, aren't you?” Noah said, slumping down in his seat and pulling some snacks out of his bag.

-

The two began to eat their way across Europe. Two nights in Paris first, with wine and cheese and bread and fine restaurants. Then Geneva - the original plan was to just spend a few hours there, being too expensive for two poor travelling students, but Dominic's card opened the city and it's restaurants up to them; they booked a hotel for a few of nights of luxury, before moving on to Interlaken.

Noah's gut shook as he pulled his t-shirt off at the side of the lake. Stu whistled and shook his head. Noah laughed and slapped his gut for show; after Stu’s initial shock, he'd gotten used to Noah's larger frame, and the two had settled into an easy rhythm of teasing.

Noah waded into the shallows of the lake and lay back so that he floated with his gut and moobs sticking out of the water in front of him. He closed his eyes, paddled for a moment or two into some clear water further from the shore and lay floating in the sun.

After a while, he heard some splashing and cracked an eye open to see Stu swimming over to him. He allowed himself to sink slightly so that he was treading water and Stu did the same. It was the first time Noah had been swimming since he'd started putting on weight, and he was astonished by how alien it felt. He was so much more buoyant than previously, his fat rising up around him. Each time he moved, he felt the same heaviness and resistance he'd gotten used to on land magnified, his heavier body moving slowly through the water. Noah was happy for the cover of the water and his overhanging gut; the sensations were causing him to get hard in his swimming shorts.

“I think it's time we really need to talk about this mate,” Stu said, gesturing at Noah.

Noah looked down, not seeing anything amiss. “Talk about what?” he asked.

Stu leant forward and poked Noah's gut under the water. “This! Bloody hell, talk about the elephant in the room.”

Noah shrugged. “We've talked about it,” he said.

“Yeah, we've joked about it” Stu agreed. “But we've hardly, I mean, we've not properly talked about it, have we?”

“What's there to talk about?” Noah asked, feigning ignorance. Obviously he knew that Stu would eventually want to ask questions about his shocking weight gain, but it was just so much easier to make jokes about it.

Stu sighed and allowed himself to fall back. Noah noticed that his own small beer belly rose out of the water like Noah's did, though not nearly to the same extent. Noah appreciated the lack of eye-contact the position granted. “Are you alright?” Stu asked. “Like, really alright? Nothing’s wrong?”

Noah floated on his back too, mirroring Stu's position. “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Really. It's just, being at uni, beer weight and stuff.”

Stu laughed. “No mate. This” he slapped his gut for emphasis, “is beer weight.” He leant over and slapped Noah's much larger gut. “This is a fucking eating disorder.” He was quiet for a while. “It's not, is it? An eating disorder? Or you're not depressed or ill or something?”

“Definitely not depressed or ill,” Noah reassured Stu. He was quiet for a while though. Did he have an eating disorder? He didn't feel like he could control it anymore, that was for sure. “I don't think it's an eating disorder either,” he said after a while. “Like I know I'm not eating normal amounts but…” He paused, gathering courage. “I'm enjoying it, I guess? Eating whatever I like, not worrying about what it's doing to my waistline.”

Stu nodded. “Good,” he said after a while. “Good,” he repeated. The two floated quietly for a while. “Has it got something to do with your sugar daddy?” he asked after a few minutes.

“I don't have a-”

“Yeah, yeah, we've done this bit already,” Stu interrupted Noah. “Whatever, has it got something to do with your older gentleman friend who takes you out to nice restaurants and pays for you to go on holiday and gives you money and who you met on a sugar daddy website but who is not a sugar daddy, somehow?”

Noah huffed. “Why do you ask that?” he asked eventually.

“Because no offense,” Stu replied. “But you're hardly sugar baby material these days, are you?”

“Oi!”

“Look, I'm not saying I am either!” Stu protested. “I'm just saying that the Noah that went off to uni was a little more conventionally sugar baby material, and the one that I'm interrailing with is a bit more high-blood-sugar baby.”

“You've been saving that one up, haven't you?” Noah said.

“Thought of it the other day,” Stu said, the pride evident in his voice. “But it is, isn't it? Your sugar daddy likes you with a bit more padding.”

Noah sighed. No point denying it, really. “Yes,” he admitted. “We started going out for these massive dinners and he'd send me treats and pay for all my food shops and then after a while, Dom told me that-”

“Fuck off!” Stu yelled, twisted to tread water again and face Noah. “You do not call your sugar daddy ‘Dom’!”

“That's his actual name you twat,” Noah said, moving to tread water as well. “Anyway, Dom- Dominic eventually said that he liked that I'd put on some weight and…”

“And what?” Stu said, filling the gap Noah had left. “He started paying you to get fat?” Noah held his breath. “Oh my god, he's paying you to get fat, isn't he?”

Noah clenched his teeth. “It's not… It's not prostitution or anything,” he said. “He pays for food and takes me for dinner, I've put on some weight because I'm eating well, he likes me bigger. It’s- I mean it's separate things, you know? He's not giving me money to get fat, he's giving me money because I am fat.”

Stu laughed. “You can fucking say that again,” he said. “Alright, alright, you're not the heftiest whore in Halifax, fine, whatever you say.”

“I've never been to Halifax,” Noah pointed out.

“Alliteration, innit?” Stu said. “Go on then, how much does he pay you?” Stu asked quietly, moving toward Noah a little, seemingly forgetting how loud their conversation was just moments prior.

Noah shifted uncomfortably. “Hundred pounds for every pound, or well, we usually do a grand for ten,” he said.

Stu almost sank under the water in shock, and came back up coughing. “Fuck off! A grand for ten pounds?” He realised how loud he was being and looked around at the people swimming away from them towards the shore. “Go on then, how much have you earned?” he asked, much quieter.

Noah sighed. “Ten grand,” he said.

Stu’s eyes went wide. “Ten gra- that's, No, mate, I mean, that's a hundred pounds,” he whispered. “What's that in stone?”

Noah tilted his head back and winced. “Seven or so,” he said. He looked up at Stu. “I wanted to pay for the trip, you know, but I spent some of it on a car, and then a bit into savings, and then,” he floated back and sighed. “Fuck me, last time I saw him, he said he'd pay for everything. That he didn't want me spending the money I'd saved up.”

Stu almost sank beneath the surface again as he laughed. “So you've put on, and I'm going to slow down for this bit, you've put on one hundred actual pounds to earn ten grand to not spend around Europe?”

“Well, see,” Noah said, placing a hand thoughtfully on the ledge of his gut. “No. Well, yes. But no. If I hadn't put on a hundred pounds, he wouldn't have offered to pay. One way or another, I needed to get fat to go interrailing.”

Stu’s eyes went wide. “Fuck,” he said. “You're right, you know.” He reached his hands out and placed them on Noah's gut. Noah’s cock twitched beneath his gut at the touch, and he hoped Stu hadn't noticed. “I reckon you didn't actually need ten grand either way though.”

Noah sighed and closed his eyes. “I know, I know,” he agreed. “I can't control my appetite anymore. After I bought the car I kind of thought I could just do with two or three grand, but then…” He motioned down at himself.

“One hundred pounds later,” Stu finished for him. They were both quiet for a while, until Stu laughed to himself. “Here, I don't reckon he'd pay me to putting on weight as well, do you?”

“Fuck off,” Noah said, laughing. When Stu didn't respond, just carrying on looking questioningly, Noah continued. “You're not serious?” he asked. “You'd want to get fat for a few grand.”

Stu shrugged. “Why not? You've done it and you were a shrimp at school. I'd blow you out of the water.”

Noah laughed. “Oh you would, would you?”

Stu nodded. “Absolutely,” he said. “And yeah, why not? I could put on some weight. I can barely keep it off anyway, especially the way you've been making me fucking eat on this trip, might as well make some cash while I do it.”

“The way I've been making you eat? You were planning on doing weight watchers before, were you?” Noah asked. “Anyway, you're too skinny for him,” he said. “And you're not even gay anyway!”

Stu laughed. “Well not being gay doesn't matter if there's no funny business, right?” Noah grumbled at having gotten caught out. “Alright, alright big guy,” he said, raising his hands up. “I won't steal your sugar daddy.” He laughed again.

-

After Interlaken, the two of them went north to Germany, first to Munich, which they experienced by slowly wandering from beer hall to beer hall all day, taking in history and culture largely incidentally to the beer, sausages and bread they consumed. Then north again to Berlin, where Noah was disheartened to find Stu had actually planned non-eating based activities for the two of them.

“Fuck me, but it's good to get off my feet,” Noah said as he shuffled into a booth at a restaurant on their first evening. He was surprised at the way the table of the booth bumped into the crest of his gut. “I’m starved,” he told Stu, who shook his head.

“You've been eating all day,” Stu pointed out.

“Hardly!” Noah protested. “Okay, so we had lunch-”

“Two lunches,” Stu pointed out.

“Then we went to that currywurst stall, and that's it,” Noah said.

“We went to three currywurst stalls.”

“Whatever,” Noah said, finding himself growing irritable as his stomach growled at him. “That was hours ago. And besides, I've been on my feet all day!”

Stu laughed. “So have I!”

“Yeah well you're not…” Noah grumbled quietly.

“Go on,” Stu said as a grin spread across his face. “I'm not what?”

“Not as bloody fat as me, are you?” Noah said, blushing. The two hadn't talked again about Noah's weight since Interlaken, even to joke about it. Noah got the impression that Stu was waiting for him to bring it up.

Stu laughed. “He finally admits it!”

“Well I can hardly bloody hide it at this point, can I?” Noah snapped. Despite having talked about it, Noah still couldn't help feeling embarrassed about how far he'd let himself go. “Look, sorry, I'm just hangry,” he apologised. He passed a menu over to Stu. “Let’s order, yeah?”

“Don't worry about it mate,” Stu said. “I've been on the receiving end of fat jokes for years, it's nice that someone else can take over for once.” He looked at the menu for a while. “I'll probably just go for a burger. Fancy a starter?”

“Yeah, I'll probably do the same,” he said absentmindedly. “Couple of starters, couple of burgers, couple of sides.”

“Fucking hell mate,” Stu laughed.

“What?”

“I don't even think you know how much you're eating these days, do you?” Stu asked. “I said I might get a starter and a burger, you mentally double it and add extras. And I bet you'll want a döner on the way back."

Noah blushed. “Yeah, alright, I get it,” he mumbled. “I should start cutting back.”

“No, I don't mean…” Stu considered for a moment. “Maybe I could have a second burger too, you know? You're right, we have been walking about all day.”

Noah raised an eyebrow and smiled to himself. He'd noticed Stu doing this a lot - pushing himself beyond what he initially wanted to eat, trying to match Noah bite for bite. Each time Noah suggested they stop for street food, or grab a quick dessert or even extra meal, Stu would protest, and then quietly acquiesce. He never managed to keep up with Noah of course, but he made a valiant effort nonetheless. Noah was starting to wonder if Stu felt threatened - he'd been the big guy for years, and now previously skinny Noah was running rings around him. Metaphorically of course - Noah struggled to run anywhere these days.

“No, no,” Noah teased. “If you can't manage it, just order the one.”

Stu bristled. “I can manage two easy,” he insisted. “I think you're right about a couple of sides as well, those onion rings look good. If you want to just get one, you go ahead.”

Noah shrugged. “Maybe I should just order one,” he agreed. “After all, I'll end up having to eat your second one for you anyway.”

Stu’s mouth dropped open, before he hurriedly hailed a waiter and proceeded to order double what he wanted.

-

After Berlin, Prague and its cheap beer, roast meat and heavy dumplings. Noah discovered a love for a dessert of a tower of pastry filled with cream, which he would eat non-stop between beers and snacks.

Then east, on an overnight train to Warsaw, where the two men had to convince two Spaniards to allow them to sleep on the bottom bunk - Noah in particular was concerned that the berth might not take his girth. Poland brought more heavy food and more beer. South, after Warsaw, to Krakow for a few days, and then continuing on, through Slovakia to Hungary, and Budapest.

“You need bigger clothes mate,” Noah told Stu, poking the sliver of fat hanging out the bottom of his t-shirt as they left the train.

“Says you!” Stu retorted, grabbing Noah's much larger wedge of fat at the bottom of his t-shirt. “And you broke that button in Warsaw.”

“Yeah, well, this is the biggest I have right now,” Noah said. “You could at least start wearing my clothes.”

Stu patted his gut and sighed. “You think it's that bad?” he asked.

“Oh fuck off,” Noah said, elbowing Stu in his side.

“I'm serious!” Stu said. “I'm not the size you were when we left are you?”

Noah looked him up and down. “Probably not far off mate,” he told him. “Catching me up.”

Stu laughed and slapped Noah's gut. “I think I'm still a while off that, don't you worry. You've not exactly been losing weight either, have you.”

“I suppose you're right,” Noah said, caressing the soft fat spilling out the bottom of his t-shirt, and doing his best to ignore his hardening and confusing erection.

“I kind of get it, though,” Stu said, as the two crammed into the back seat of a taxi.

“Get what?” Noah said, his mouth full of a chocolate bar.

“I kind of get why you like it,” Stu clarified. “Being fat.”

“Fuck off,” Noah blustered. “I don't- what do you- I don't like being fat.”

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Stu appeased him. “I get why you like eating so much then, and not giving a shit about the consequences.” Neither said anything for a few moments. “It feels kind of manly though, doesn't it?”

Noah looked over and then quickly looked away again to pretend he hadn't seen Stu's hard-on in his too tight trousers. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “Really manly. And soft. To touch I mean. It feels good.”

“Yeah,” Stu said, growing quiet. “It’s nice. How soft it is.”

“Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, you know,” Noah said. “To gain-”

At that moment the taxi arrived at their hotel, and the driver thrust a card reader in their faces. Noah dutifully tapped Dominic's card and the two collected their suitcases.

Noah lay in his pants on the bed of their hotel room while Stu had a shower.

“They've got a scale,” Stu called through the bathroom door.

“A what?”

“A scale,” Stu repeated, sticking his head through the door. “You know, for weighing yourself.”

Noah clambered off the bed, doing his best not to show how excited he was. “Go on then,” he told Stu. “You first, what's the damage.”

Stu stood with a towel wrapped around his waist, water still dripping down his body hair, around the curve of his gut. He nudged the scale with a toe to turn it on then, swallowed nervously and then stepped on.

“It's in kilograms,” he said. “I don't really…”

“What does it say?” Noah asked, grabbing his phone.

“One hundred and twenty.”

Noah typed the number into Google and showed Stu the result. “Two hundred and sixty five pounds,” he told him. “A little under nineteen stone.”

“Fuck me,” Stu said. “That's almost two stone since we left.” Noah once again did his best to act like he didn't notice the growing bulge of Stu’s erection. “Go on,” he told Noah. “You next.”

Noah stood on the scales and sucked in his gut to see the numbers.

“What does it say?” Stu asked.

“Just give me a moment,” Noah said, typing the conversion into Google. “I'm just… oh fuck me.”

“What? How much is it?”

“Three hundred and thirteen,” Noah said. “I weigh three hundred and thirteen pounds.” He lifted his gut and let go, watching as it bounced and rippled. “I've put on forty pounds.” He did his best to stop his own growing hard-on.

Stu gave a low whistle. “No wonder none of your clothes are fitting.” He reached out and ran a hand over Noah's belly, before raising his hand to his chest and lightly lifting a moob. “And we've still got a while before we go back. It uh…” He swallowed hard. “It looks good on you though mate. Like we were saying in the taxi, you know. Manly.”

Noah nodded. “You too,” he said. He reached a hand out and placed it on Stu’s own gut.

Stu abruptly walked away, back into the room, and started hurriedly getting changed.

“You alright mate?” Noah asked, confused about the sudden change in demeanor.

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be?” Stu said, determinedly facing away from Noah. Noah saw him adjust crotch.

[homemakinghippie]

Hi I have a question I hope you don't mind:)

So I recently realized that I want to be a housewife, but I live in a country that is really "influenced" by radical feminism meaning everything that has to do with femininity or being a housewife is looked down at or your being declared for "wanting to give up your rights". So my question is where do I find men that actually want to be a provider and don't fetishize it.

Hey! That's definitely how it feels in the US sometimes too. I feel like I got extremely lucky with my husband so I'm not sure exactly how helpful I'll be lol.

I tell women in the US to give military men a chance lol. In my experience the majority of them just want someone who will take care of them and put of with the insanity of their job. My husband has said that a lot of his coworkers are a little jealous of everything I do for him. They want to be able to come home to someone who will help calm their anxiety and not make them stress about a ton of things on top of work. They want stability.

I'm from a super rural area where farm wives are pretty common, so if you're not afraid of getting dirty and doing some hard labor sometimes, farmers are generally good guys too. Depending on the size of the farm they have/work on they might not be able to afford for you to stay home. A part time work from home job or something with really minimal hours outside the home might be necessary.

Blue collar men in general tend to just want a woman who will put up with their job and take care of their home so they can just focus on family when they're not working. Depending on what they do, their jobs are also often well paying enough to support a housewife, but you may need to work a few hours to help.

Finding out if there are certain professions in your country where housewives/sahms tend to be popular can be a place to start, but you can make it work in almost any career field if you're willing to be frugal, learn how to budget, and live within your means. Pay is also often less when you first start a job, so just because they can't afford for you to stay home right now, that doesn't mean they never will.

I'm sorry this is kinda all over the place (I'm still going through newborn sleep depravation a bit lol), but I think a lot of men want to provide for their family. There are probably a lot of guys who don't think they'd want a housewife (my husband didn't at first), but once they have you at home taking care of things they'll never want you to work again lol. Be picky with who you choose. He needs to have respect for the work you do, and be willing to step up and help when you need it. I hope some part of this is helpful.

[detachedfacade]

cw: panic attacks

Steve hadn't been coping well. He hadn't been for a few years, really. But he thought he had got over all of that, gotten past the nightmares and the insomnia. Since his very first run in with the upside down, Steve knew there had been underlying issues he was ignoring. His hearing loss, eyesight issues, nerve pain that seems to come and go with the wind. And the worst, frequent but unpredictable major panic attacks. He had never gone to the doctors for any of it. At first it was more about being an arrogant boy rejecting the need for help. More recently it was a matter of money.

After pulling Munson's body out of the upside down, Steve had blacked out. Hit his head on the counter in the trailer and, according to Robin, had a seizure. He didn't remember that. What he did remember was waking up in the hospital and immediately panicking about the bill, about the fact his parents had taken him off the insurance.

The nurse tried to calm him down, put her hands on his shoulders. But his body was tense and he couldn't breathe, and every noise that passed through his head felt fuzzy and painful and he pushed her back, hard. She returned with a doctor not long later but long enough that Steve had started picking at his stitches trying to pull them out. "I can't afford it." He said, knowing in the back of his mind his actions weren't rational, yet still unable to stop.

It was this panic attack that kept him in the hospital longer. Not just to clean up the wounds he had made a mess of but to deal with what was obvious to the doctors, his anxiety disorder. Steve refused to speak to any counsellors or therapists, what could he say to them that they'd believe? Ultimately they ended up putting him on a high dosage of diazepam and sent him on his way, told him his parents had taken care of the bill.

"My parents?" He asked. And the receptionist nodded over to the waiting room where they sat, his father pouring over the sports section of a day old newspaper, his mother chatting to a stranger sat beside her.

It was uncomfortable, but Steve had been uncomfortable for years. "Thanks for paying." Steve said. "I wouldn't have been able to…"

"It isn't a problem." His mother interjected. "It's…you're our son. I regret how things -" She sighed, looked up to the ceiling, blinked. "We thought we lost you, Steven. After the earthquake we rushed to your place, that awful little apartment and it was completely…It was just rubble. And the firemen couldn't tell us if you were in there…"

His father gripped her shoulder, rubbed his thumb in circles over her cashmere cardigan.

"Son." He said. "You're coming home with us, okay? You can hate us. We can have our differing opinions. I care more to know you are safe."

If he could, Steve would have cried then. But he hadn't cried in front of his father since he was five years old. He wasn't sure he was capable of it.

"Thank you." He said. "I don't really have any stuff."

"Everything you left is still in your bedroom." His mother said. "They may not be your favourite but I'm sure you'll still fit into all of your old clothes."

Steve wasn't necessarily excited about the idea of moving back home, losing the freedom he had found in that little apartment of his. But he was tired, he had nowhere else to go - not if he didn't want to be a burden to the Buckley's or the Henderson's. And frankly, he could use some parental love, even if it was conditional, even if it wouldn't last. So he followed them through the parking lot into the car. Took the seat on the left in the back, the one he had always sat in as a child, where the leather is more worn down and the window doesn't wind down all the way. And he felt like a child again, tucked into the back of his parents' lives.

After surviving the upside down, Eddie is concerned to find out Steve has moved back in with his homophobic parents. alternate title: Eddie Munson is Not Okay (I Promise).

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