#which is what i was told during the interview process; that it would be a job for the whole summer

[thevalleyisjolly]

Motherfucker, guess who accidentally worked for free for a whole month and a half because neither my boss (who is genuinely a good stand-up guy) nor I realized that the department wrote the contract to end in mid-July when all of us (including the grant funder) thought that it would be across the whole summer until the end of August.

[alastor-simp]

"I See No Fear In Your Eyes." - Alastor x Reader

(This story includes some of the pilot from Hazbin Hotel)

"Oh no, that didn't go as planned." Switching off the TV in the hotel lobby, you heaved a sigh. You had just seen the 666 news broadcast that showed Charlie explaining the hotel and redeeming demons. She had broken into song, and ended up being laughed at by the residents watching. It slowly became worse when Angel appeared on the news, during a turf war with some snake guy, making Charlie's situation worse. Soon after that the interview turned into an all out brawl between Katie Killjoy and Charlie, leading to the camera to cut off. Your name was Y/N, and you had just arrived in Hell five days ago. The fall you experienced was not pleasant, almost causing broken bones. Charlie happened to be in the area, and rushed you back to the Hotel. It took you a while to process it, but you soon realized you were in Hell, which confused you since you never sinned in your life. Charlie was nice enough to explain everything to you, as well as how she was the princess of hell.

Well that definitely shocked you when she told you that. How could the princess of hell be such a sweet and kind individual? Her personality was like a warm hug, very inviting. After she patched you up, she introduced you to Vaggie, her girlfriend, and Angel Dust, their first patron. Smiling, you introduced yourself, which caused a smirk from Angel Dust and a slight glare from Vaggie until she calmed down and shook your hand. Inspired by Charlies ideas, you volunteered to help with her dreams for the Hotel, earning a giant hug from her. There were many things that needed improvement here, so it was decided that advertising and handling the front desk would be suitable.

Soon the door to the lobby opened, where Angel Dust, Vaggie, and Charlie walked in. Vaggie clearly had a migraine, with the way she rubbed her head, and slouched on the couch. Angel Dust had grabbed a popsicle from the cooler, licking it. Charlie took a seat on a crate, appearing very distraught. Angel Dust made a comment about getting more food for the hotel, since there should be a boatload of sinners making their way here. "Not helping Angel" you thought to yourself. Charlie sunk down more on the crate, making Angel feel bad, but he wasn't good with comfort so he walked to the couch where Vaggie was staying. Moving closer to Charlie, you placed a hand on her back, rubbing circles. "Are you okay?" you asked. Charlie looked up and smiled, yet it seemed forced. She jumped off the crate and went to the door, heading outside. Wondering what she was doing, your feet carried you to the door. Leaning closer to hear her, it appeared she was calling someone. Her mom? It was a bit hard to hear, but you heard the lines of "Dad was right about me." Oh no, Charlie. The aching in your heart was painful. Once she came back inside, she was looking at the ground. Wrapping your arms around her, you pulled her into a hug. Charlie tensed, but eased into it, whispering a thanks. "You are trying your best Charlie. This project will be rocky, but its not impossible. Me and everyone here will support you. Trust me." Charlie squeezed back at your words, until she let go. The smile on her face was bright, vibrant. She appeared to be feeling better. Motioning your head to Vaggie, you told her to sit with her girlfriend. Nodding, she walked towards the couch, joining the others.

"Knock-knock. Knock-knock-knock" Sounds of knocking began to resonated from the lobby door. "Who could that be?" Opening the door, you look to see who it was. Standing in front of you was a very tall man. He was wearing a striped red suit, that matched his pants. His face adorned a monocle and a microphone was in one of his hands. The most noticeable thing on him was his smile, outstretched. to inhumane proportions. His eyes glowed a crimson red, as he gazed below to look at you. "Hellooooooo~!" came from his mouth, sounding like static. Opening the door further, you smiled: "Hello sir! How may I help you?"

***Alastor POV***

Alastor continued to gaze at the little demon in front of him, smiling widely back at him. "What a strange reaction!" He thought to himself. He expected a scream of terror or the sound of the door slamming against him, but not this. The eyes that peered back at him were sparkling, no fear contained in them whatsoever. "Is everything okay?" The demon in front of him, tiled her head, worried as to why he went silent. Shaking his head, Alastor remembered what he came here for.

***Your POV***

The man in front of you seemed to be thinking hard, before he bent down to your level. "Alastor my dear! Pleasure to be meeting you! Quite a pleasure!" His hand had grabbed yours, pulling you closer to his face, before shaking it enthusiastically. "Nice to meet you Alastor. My name is Y/N." you said, shaking his hand back. Alastor's smile got wider. "Ah! What a charming name!" His hand let go of yours, before he stood up to his regular height. Thanking him for the compliment, you moved to push the door back: "Would you like to come in?" you asked, moving your hand towards the door, motioning him to enter. Alastor smiled, showing more of his sharp teeth. "Why thank you my dear!" He entered inside the hotel, while you moved away from the door to close it. There was the sound of metal being drawn, causing you to jump. Vaggie had appeared in front of Alastor, holding a sharp spear. ""STOP RIGHT THERE! Cabrón hijo de perra! I know your game. And I'm not gonna let you hurt anyone here! You pompous, cheesy, talk show shitlord!" Vaggie was glaring at the man, furiously as she held the spear against his chest. Stepping between the both of them, you raised your hand. "WOAH WOAH! Vaggie! What are you doing?!" The action you did was enough for Vaggie to drop the spear down, but she was still gazing at the both of you in anger "I'm defending this hotel! That's the radio demon, the most powerful being in all of Hell!"

***Alastor POV***

Alastor was left a bit in shock at what you just did. He had just met you and here you were, stepping in to stop the other demon. "Quite bizzare!" He thought. He had heard the other demon, Vaggie, tell you that he was the radio demon, most feared in hell. He observed you listening to Vaggie, letting you know who he really was. Excitement filled him, waiting for those eyes of yours to become struck with fear. Surprisingly, when you turned around to look him up and down, he saw no fear once again. Why? "He doesn't seem so bad." he heard you say as you smiled at him, before looking back at Vaggie. "Oh ho! I think I'm going to like this one!" The sharpness in his smile got bigger, as he walked a bit closer to the both of you. He placed his hand on your shoulder, giving you a closed eye smile, as he pushed you gently back, before turning back towards Vaggie. ""Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here, ̵̹̇͜I̸̻͆ ̶̰̏̍w̵̝̟͒́o̴̤̾ū̶̗͘͜l̶͚͂͝d̶̼͎̉͐ ̷̝̘͗̉h̸̫͌͊á̶͖͉v̶̺͚̋̇e̶̮̽ ̴̼̞͌d̸͙͚͋ǒ̸̤͎͑ň̴̠̟̕e̵̢̛̓ ̸̞͗͜͝s̶̺̹̾ǫ̷͋̚ ̴̼͋͋a̶̜̻̒̒l̸͓̙̃̉r̶̞͛ě̸̖̟̈́a̵̗͊d̷̦̔y̵̙͙̽͒.̵̹͝"

Vaggie’s eyes were glazed over with shock from Al's display of power. However, you were gazing at Al with slight fascination. A bit shocked, yes, but not scared. He apparently wanted to help out with the hotel, shocking both Charlie and Vaggie. Despite seeing it as wacky nonsense, he wanted to volunteer his services to Charlie while also getting some entertainment out of it. Husk and Niffty were added into the mix after that.

**Few Months Later**

It had been a while since that whole ordeal. It was still difficult to find new patrons for the hotel, but it was coming along. The snake guy you saw on 666 news, Sir pentious, had joined in the program as well. He was like an evil mad scientist/inventor, except evil didn't quite fit the bill for him. He was a softie and a gentleman, and you were glad he decided to give the hotel a try. The relationships you had with everyone grew the more you stayed with them. The relationship you had with Alastor was the most surprising to everyone. The two of you were like two peas in a pod. His mannerisms and dad jokes always brightened your day. The kindness in your soul as well as the genuine concern for his well being warmed his cold heart. Alastor was still baffled with how you were with him. It was an unusual feeling, to have a person who knew who he was and what he did in Hell and his past, and still treat him normally. There were moments where he imagined you were hiding your true feelings underneath the kind gestures and smiles you gave him, and he hoped that was the case, but at the same time he didn't want it to be.

Inside his radio tower, he was giving one of his signature broadcasts. The only difference in is that you were in the room. There was a small corner where you were sitting. Your irises scanned the book in front of you while your ears listened to Alastor's voice. Al was told time and time again that his voice was one of a kind by you, which left him slightly bashful. It led to you eventually hanging around his workspace, just to listen to him, but also to spend more time together. Taking a slight break, his blood red eyes beamed over towards you, observing you. There were still nagging thoughts in the back of his mind, and it was driving him to the point of insanity, if they were not answered.

"My dear, may I ask you a small question?" He turned his body around, chair spinning to face you. Looking up from your book, you smiled and set it down. Getting up, you walked closer to him: "Yes Al? What is it?" Snapping his fingers, the chair that you were sitting on before levitated to where you stand, motioning you to sit back down. As you did so, your eyes continued to look at Al. His smile never left his face, but his eyes held an emotion you couldn't decipher. Confusion? Melancholy? "This had been meddling in my mind for quite some time. I have been around for a millennium in hell and the fearful gazes were always common to see. However! Your eyes never shown an ounce of fear during our time together." After his dialogue, he waited to hear what you had to say. A bit shocked at Al's question, you looked at him, wondering what brought this up. Hesitantly, you asked for his hand. Raising his eyebrow, he pondered why, yet he still extended his hand out, like he was giving a handshake.

Laughing at his antics, you grabbed his hand, holding it upright in front of both of you. Webbing your fingers together, you filled the gaps between them, causing Al to tense a bit. "I'm sure since you are the radio demon, you were prone to being run from and feared. But, there is more to you then just the radio demon, feared overlord in Hell. Something about you intrigued me the first day you arrived. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I wanted to know more about you. The more I got to spend time with you, is when I started to learn more about you, the real you. You're gentleman, bit wacky yet polite. You tell funny dad jokes to everyone. You're handsome as hell. You are an amazing cook. You speak French. Your singing is incredible plus your dancing. The static nature of your voice is soothing. The confidence you carry towards your foes is admirable. The power you yield is dark, but has its beauty too. You have a kind heart, despite hiding it from others. That's the Al I have gotten to know and care for, and despite your past and misdeeds. I will never grow to fear you ever."

Stunned was the correct way to put what state he was left in after your small speech. The whole time he was listening to you, the faster his heart raced. All those words that came flowing out of your mouth was giving him goosebumps and an odd sensation in his stomach. His other hand went to cover his face before moving down to cover his mouth, failing to conceal his rosy cheeks. "I-I see." Words were hard for him at the moment. “Haha. This is the first time I have ever seen you speechless.” Leaning closer towards him, you admired him up close. His microphone played a laugh track after you said that, causing Al to become more flustered, darting his eyes away.

Getting up from your seat, you were still holding his hand. “Al, look at me.” A hand was placed against his cheek. Gazing back over to you, Alastor removed his hand that was covering his mouth. The signature smile was gone, and on his face was a very small grin. Moving slowly, your lips had made their way to his forehead, giving it a peck. Radio screech! You were going to be the end of him. Heaving a deep sigh, his hand laid upon yours that was attached to his cheek. His eyes looking back at you were tender. “Thank you, my dear.”

-END-

Tagging:

@pepperycookie , @yourdoorisunlocked , @ghostdoodlen , @aceofcards0-0 -0, @jyoongim , @saturnhas82moons , @unholycheesesnack , @luujjvi , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @veethewriter , @rains-sleeping , @danveration , @demoarah , @cookiekyo , @iiotic , @delectableworm , @91062854-ka @alastorsgoldie

[delusional-day-dreamer]

paige x olympian gymnast hcs!

‣ paige bueckers x olympic gymnast reader!

‣‣ synopsis: gymnastics has always been your entire life, and your dedication truly paid off when you made team usa for the 2016 rio olympics, but what happens after your injury while in the running for the 2020 tokyo olympics? #uneditedfornow

‣‣‣ a/n: just a few headcannons i have in mind for this story, if i were to make this a full blown series it MIGHT be a wattpad story with an oc or just a full tumblr series because of how long it would be... 👀

your life leading up to and including the 2016 rio olympics:

you've been doing gymnastics since you were three years old

at the age of thirteen your parents switched you to online school so you could train full time, but during this process it set you back a year, making your graduation year 2020 (same as Paige)

at the age of just fifteen you qualified for the rio olympics (meaning you were born in 2001)

your roommate that year was simone biles, and you competed at the olympics, taking home two golds (all around team and beam) and one silver (beam).

following the olympics, you became very popular for your skill at such a young age, leading you to signing many brand deals, sponsorships, photoshoots, etc.

it just so happens that your popularity reaches a certain basketball player, miss paige bueckers. in her slam interview in 2019, when asked about an athlete she admires outside of basketball, she says you. you have no idea who she is, but dm her regardless thanking her for her kind words. this is the only interaction you two have until uconn.

you continued online school for the rest of highschool, and throughout the next three years you received thirty recruitment offers out of the sixty-two schools that had a women's college gymnastics team.

your dream school had always been the University of Connecticut, but their gymnastics team didn't impress you throughout the recruitment process.

your graduation year is 2020, which happens to be the same year you got injured, right before choosing a college to commit to.

injury-related; 2020-2021:

in february of 2020, you got into a car crash while driving home from a late night practice.

you tore your left acl, dislocated your right shoulder, fractured your left collarbone, had a concussion, and suffered a left femoral fracture (ouchies i know)

thankfully you were mostly okay, but the accident completely put you out of the running for the 2020 (now moved to 2021 due to the pandemic) olympics, and doctors told you it would take at least two years to fully rehabilitate before you could even beginning training for competitions again.

your left leg had quite a few complications with the acl tear and the femoral fracture, and you had four surgeries in total on the leg.

during this time, you decided that since you couldn't compete in gymnastics, you might as well commit to the college of your student-life dreams, the university of connecticut.

UConn Era!!:

you commit to uconn for your undergrad in the sports management program, since you couldn't compete, you still wanted to remain in the athletic world.

your freshman year classes (2020-2021) was fully online due to your injuries and the pandemic, but it just so happens that you're placed as an intern with the women's basketball team for your sports management program.

you meet the team before the school year starts, and it just so happens that paige bueckers has remained a huge fan of yours.

the only reason the team recognized you immediately before you were even introduced is because of how much she has fangirled over you

you get your own apartment at uconn due to the program and your status (okay olympic privilege), which meant the team loved to hang out at your giant, well-furnished place.

you become extremely close with the team, and your first two years of rehabilitation seem to go well. it also happens that in your sophomore year, your best friend paige also fractures her meniscus, so the two of you are the resident cripples of the team!

paige has always had a huge fangirl crush on you, but over the years of you being friends, it seems those feelings develop into a little bit more...

one night while you were having a sleepover with her during her acl recovery she confesses, and the two of you start dating on the very down low

during your junior year is also when you are fully cleared to start re-training and you start getting back into gymnastics with a new coach (idk who yet!)

while balancing school and your duties with the wbb team, you start to train only four days a week, slowly getting back old skills on all four events.

you start competing in the 2023-24 season (i believe that’s how it’s measured?) and qualify for the 2024 olympics at the 2024 Xfinity U.S Gymnastics Championship

it’s safe to say your girlfriend and the entire wbb team were your biggest supporters apart from your family

Actual Olympics:

i can see you being roommates with Hezley Rivera, since she reminds you so much of yourself and you’re able to form a connection because of that.

Paige is unfortunately not able to make it to the first half of the Olympics, but she is your biggest supporter from home, constantly posting and hyping you up.

While competing, you definitely wear jewelry that she gifted you for good luck, and your hair has two braids going up into your bun, just to keep a piece of your girl close to you. Maybe even a purple ribbon braided into your hair at some point?

You also definitely took half of her closet of hoodies with you so that you could wear them and have her scent with you at night

the entire uconn wbb team, both current and players from your earlier college years, show support for you on social media, but paige’s is a little.. different than theirs

while all the girls post you on their stories or tweeting about you as, so proud of our husky 💙🐺, that’s my our uconn girly!!, etc. Paige’s are a little more special, hinting at your relationship, ex: so proud of my girl 🫶🫶

there were rumors about you and paige circulating since your freshman year, but you never bothered addressing them, and this only fueled them further.

You definitely text Paige as much as possible during meal times, facetiming at night, sending selfies all the time, etc.

The other girls definitely make fun of you if they overhear you on the phone with her, mocking you since you call each other baby as a term of endearment. They also make a tiktok cut together of a bunch of clips, basically every single time you were texting or atp with paige. the tiktok has over 50 clips!

“can you pass me that y/n?” suni asked you

“yea sure, here” you passed her the makeup brush

“thanks, baby,” she teased, making you blush

After the olympic athlete who ran straight to his girlfriend after breaking the Olympic record, I can definitely see Paige flying out to surprise you for a week or so in Paris.

Her flying out to come visit is when you guys actually hard launch, posting pictures of you at dinner with the captions, “my girl is finally here” or “yk i had to come cheer my girl on in person”

a/n: this is #uneditedfornow but that’s all i have for now yall! idk when i’m gonna make this a series but i have so many ideas for it i just might have to, but i also have two other unfinished series rn so… 😓😓

[smolkooks]

incoming call... - kenji sato.

a/n: 2k words of one of my late night thoughts turned into a fluffy, exes to lovers fic. exes au, vet!y/n x kenji sato from ultraman: rising.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

“kenji?”

“y/n?”

you hadn’t expected to run into him here, and it seemed that he hadn’t either, from the way he was dressed. contrary to how you usually saw him on t.v. during his interviews, he was in shambles. kenji sato was dressed in a sweatset, stained with what smelled like...fish juice?...down the front. his eyes were dim, yet panicked—perhaps at seeing you, but you weren’t sure. was his hair...wet? what the fuck?

it had been more than eight years since you’d last seen him—at highschool graduation, when you’d moved to sydney for university, and he’d disappeared to the states. not that kenji sato could disappear, with how often you saw him on your t.v. screen.

“what...what are you doing here?” he stuttered, furrowing his annoyingly perfect brows. he looked exactly as you remembered, save for his current, unorganised state. just...older. better.

“well, i just got off work,” you said equally as awkwardly, gesturing at your scrubs, “um...just, heading home now.”

truth be told, this was an insanely random place to have run into him. ten minutes from your apartment block, with no shopping districts around or really any reason for him to be here at all. all that there was in your district was a river, which was nearby—so close you could still hear it from here.

“you walk?” he said incredulously, eyes fixated on your badge—dr. y/n, head veterinarian.

“uh, yeah,” you said, shifting a bit under his sharp gaze as his dark eyes shifted to meet yours. the same way he’d looked at you, all those years ago, that day. sad, but hopeful.

ken, we should...i mean, i think we should break up.

the words were as clear in your memory as day, and you forced yourself to swallow and block out those intruding thoughts.

“let me drive you,” he said quietly, after a beat, and as you opened your mouth to protest that you only lived ten minutes away, he said, “please.”

“kenji, you look really tired,” you said hesitantly, “you should head home and rest.”

“trust me,” he said with a sigh, “there’s no rest to be found in my home right now.”

you wondered what that meant. but he didn’t give you any time before he abruptly gestured down the street and wordlessly began walking you towards his car.

if you’d asked yourself twenty minutes ago, you wouldn’t have believed that you would be sitting in your highschool boyfriend’s 300-thousand-dollar porsche. and yet, here you were, buckled into the passenger seat, feeling more awkward than ever as you typed your address into his phone.

“i thought you were in sydney, to be honest,” he said, finally breaking the silence as he started the car, sweeping his hair back with his other hand.

“i moved back a year ago,” you explained as you propped his phone up on the stand he had for it, pressing start on the google maps directions, “worked in sydney for three years after grad, then got a job offer to be promoted to head vet back here in japan. couldn’t pass it up. besides, my mum’s here and i wanted to be with her.”

“you don’t live with her, though?” he said. of course, he’d noticed that your address had changed. he had spent more hours at your house than he’d probably spent at school in all six years of secondary school combined.

“yeah, i wanted my own place,” you said with a soft laugh, “i’ve got a few pets. they would drive her mad, with how loud they are.”

kenji huffed, “kids can be so damn loud.”

that caught you off guard, and you turned to him, shocked, and if not a little embarrassed. of course, kenji already had kids! he was a young, extremely wealthy man who of course would’ve married by now. you’d done well for yourself, but you knew you couldn’t compare to kenji sato.

“kids?” you couldn’t help yourself, the sharp question slipping out before you could process and revealing your surprise.

“uh—it’s complicated,” he said quickly, “wait, that sounds wrong—not that it’s complicated, just—well, she’s not really my kid—,”

“so you’re a stepdad,” you asked, confused.

“not really,” he replied, one hand running through his hair again, messing it up more, “she’s my pet, i guess. pet...lizard.”

your eyes lit up, “oh my god, i love lizards. i wish i could have one, too—maybe a gecko? but i have too many cats right now.”

“i wish i had a cat, instead,” kenji rolled his eyes, “she’s so whiney.” but there was affection tucked in his voice, and you picked up on it even without having to see his half-smile in the mirror.

“i’ll have to visit, then, to see your lizard.”

“and you, your cats,” he shot back as he parked by the curb, “you weren’t lying when you said you lived close by.”

you laughed, “why would i lie?”

he shrugged in response.

“get back safe,” you said, as you stepped out and reached to shut the door, “thank you for the ride. it was really nice to catch up.”

“yeah—well, you too,” he said, biting his lip as he seemed like he wanted to ask something else—you knew that look on his face better than anyone.

“what? spit it out,” you said jokingly, narrowing your eyes.

“oh...” he chuckled nervously, “um, can i have your number? yknow, your new one.”

you were caught off guard by him, yet again. “sure. it’s the same as it was. has yours changed?”

“yeah, actually...gotta change mine a lot, these days,” he looked really embarrassed by that, “what with the baseball stuff. i’ll call you. we need to catch up properly.”

i missed you. his eyes seemed to say, and something in your stomach fluttered at his earnest expression.

“we do,” you replied, before shutting the door, “see you, kenji.”

he waited until you’d headed upstairs before he drove off.

***

incoming call...unknown caller id.

“what the...?” you rubbed your eyes as your vibrating phone woke you up from your afternoon nap. you’d taken a fond liking to naps these days, after taking on so many emergency late night shifts at the clinic.

groggily, you picked up the phone and immediately was met with the sound of heavy breathing, which creeped you out, truth be told, and just as you were reaching to hang up on the creep, a familiar voice rasped out, “y/n, help me.”

“what the fuck? kenji?” you shot upright, panicked at his desperate tone, “what’s wrong?”

“are you free, right...now?”

“uh, well—i guess? i just got back from work, so...”

“sorry,” he said quickly, “to bother you. i’m just having trouble with my...lizard...and i didn’t know who else to ask. i can pay you—as much as you want—or—,”

“no, kenji, it’s fine,” you cut him off smoothly, “don’t be ridiculous. where are you? i did say i wanted to meet your lizard, anyway.”

***

you should’ve expected that kenji sato would live in a district as boujee as this. the buildings seemed to rise higher than your eyes could see, going all the way up into the clouds that shrouded the twilight sky. the cars here were all black and silver, with tinted, dark windows. it felt like a different world to your neighbourhood, and yours was already the nicer of the bunch.

“kenji, i think i’m here, but i don’t know how to get up,” you said into your phone, confused by all the security mechanisms and fancy technology that surrounded the large glass door before you. plus, your hands were pretty occupied—your phone squished between your cheek and shoulder, one hand holding your first aid kit—reptile-specialised—and the other your coat and bag of other equipment that you felt like you might need, if his lizard was in such bad condition that he’d called you up out of nowhere.

“give me a sec, i’m coming.”

as promised, the very man appeared moments later, looking just slightly more put together than the last time you’d seen him. at least this time, his hair was dry.

“thanks for coming,” he said hastily as he let you in, leading you to the set of elevators that awaited you, “i...i didn’t know who else to call. i really don’t know that many people here i’d want to talk to, and i’ve been really lonely lately, it’s kinda...sorry, i’m ranting, but i’m going through it and...anyway, i’m glad to see you.”

you found his ranting kind of endearing. you knew it was something he only did when he was really nervous—just like he’d always done, even when you two were just kids—and it made you feel young again, talking to him. like you were talking to your very first crush.

well, you supposed in a way, you were.

in the elevator, he was largely silent, although you could sense his stress—as if he had something to tell you but was too scared, his leg bouncing and fidgeting nonstop with the bottom of his shirt.

finally, as he went to swing open his apartment door opened, he blurted out, “don’t freak out.”

when you looked inside, you understood why.

and it was too late, because you were already freaking out. you dropped all your supplies in your shock, eyes widening and feet stumbling backwards.

“kenji, what—what is that—,”

there was a gigantic lizard before you. a gigantic one, and when you said gigantic, you meant it. it was at least...ten times bigger than you, and you’d never seen anything like that, before.

“um...emi...she’s a kaiju,” he said sheepishly, wringing his hands.

“what the—,”

“a baby!” he said quickly, “and i raised her, so she’s just a little cutie. but...you know, she’s growing up and i think she’s going through puberty or something. i don’t know! she’s just really struggling emotionally these days and i can’t figure it out. i’m her dad and i can’t figure it out and i’m not home often enough to look after her twenty-four-seven. please give me a chance. i’ll pay you—i’ll do whatever.”

“uh, kenji,” you said cautiously, leaning down to pick your stuff up, “you know that i know nothing about kaiju, right?” he leant down beside you to help you, cheeks tinted pink.

“it’s okay, can you try?”

“i can try, i guess,” you said dubiously, but you had to admit that you were at least curious. you’d never been this close to a kaiju before, and if anything, they were still animals of some sort. you wanted to see. you wanted to learn.

you didn’t really hear kenji’s blurted out thanks as you carefully crept closer to the sleeping pink creature, knocked out completely, curled up on her side. pulling out a stethoscope, you started to gently listen to her heartbeat from her wrist—the closest part of her you felt safe enough to touch, and she stirred, but didn’t wake.

it sounded normal—you guessed. for a creature as big as her, you supposed her heart rate would be really slow. especially when sleeping.

you did all your checks without her really waking, and that was ideal—you’d prefer she didn’t. as much as kenji reassured you that she was harmless, you were dubious that a creature this big wouldn’t hurt you.

“kenji,” you said, after you were done, unpacking some of your medications, “she’s growing up. she’s hitting prepubescence, you’re right. but also, she’s sick.”

“w-what do you mean? she’s—,”

“she has a cold,” you explained, and his panic deflated slightly as you gave him the largest bottle you had in your supplies, “you can give these to her. this’ll only last her today, so you’ll have to buy a shit ton of this medication, but i’ll give you a prescription and the phone of my supplier so you can get it fast. she should be okay in a week or so. but then again, she’s a kaiju, so it may take longer, depending.”

when you looked up, kenji was looking at you deeply, so earnestly and so gratefully, the bottle of pills set on the kitchen bench beside the two of you. you were closer to him than you’d been for years—even closer than that day on the car. suddenly, you were hyper aware of the way you swallowed as you met his gaze, your heart rate quickening.

“thank you, y/n,” he said quietly, “i...” he didn’t come closer, but he glanced down at his own hands before looking back up, “i really missed you, you know.”

“i missed you too, kenji,” you breathed, in disbelief a bit at the way you felt—just like you used to feel whenever he looked at you. you hoped he couldn’t hear how quick and heavily your heart was pounding ink your chest.

he broke out into a warm smile, “i’m really glad i ran into you, that night.”

***

incoming call...kenji sato.

you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face as you reached for your buzzing phone.

“hello?”

[waitimcomingtoo]

Hot N Cold

Pairing: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Synopsis: you and Tom can’t stop teasing each other in interviews

Masterlist

“You three have spent a lot of time together making this movie. And you all seem to get along so great. Is it going to be hard to go back to making movies when you aren’t working with your best friends?” A journalist asked you, Tom, and Jacob one day on the press tour for your upcoming movie.

“No. I can’t wait for that.” Jacob answered. “I hate working with these two. They’re always arguing.”

“What? No we are not.” You insisted.

“We kinda are.” Tom said out of the corner of his mouth.

“No we are not. Why do you always have to disagree with me?” You asked and playfully smacked Tom’s arm.

“That’s a good point. You’re right. I do always disagree with you.” Tom said sincerely. “But maybe it’s because you’re always wrong?”

“You wish.” You scoffed. “Name one time I was wrong.”

“Yesterday, when you drove on the wrong side of the road.” He said immediately.

“That couldn’t happened to anyone, okay? It was not clearly marked.”

“It was clearly marked but you flew past the several giant “wrong way” signs because you’re a speed demon on the road.”

“That’s sexist.” You pointed at him. “You’re saying all women are bad drivers?”

“No. I’m saying this woman is a bad driver.” Tom said and pointed back at you. “You really don’t help the stereotype, darling.”

“Whatever. Fake news.” You rolled your eyes. “Ask us the next question please before I kill him.”

“All righty then. So, you’re all a few years out of high school now. How did you prepare for getting back into the mindset of a teenager?” The journalist asked.

“It was a really fun process actually. The director wanted to emulate a kinda 80s high school movie feel so he asked us to watch a few old movies so we could get the vibe he was going for. Like Breakfast Club, Back to the Future, stuff like that.” You explained.

“Yeah. We watched a few of them together.” Tom smiled as he looked over at you.

“Yeah, we did.” You smiled back at him.

“On your little movie dates in Tom’s trailer. That I was never invited to.” Jacob added. Tom blushed and looked down at his lap while you playfully rolled your eyes.

“They weren’t dates.” Tom insisted. “We were just watching the films we were told to watch.”

“You didn’t think those were dates?” You asked him, sounding hurt. Tom went bright red and scrambled to come up with something to say to explain himself.

“What?” Tom gulped. “No. I mean, I never thought of it like that but-“

“I’m messing with you.” You cut him off when you saw how flustered he got.

“Oh. You scared me so much just then. I didn’t know what to say.” He laughed and touched a cold hand to his hot face.

“I knew it would scare you. You’re so easy to make flustered.” You teased him, making him blush again.

“Hey.” He pouted. “I am not.”

“Yeah, okay.” You said sarcastically.

“Okay.” He mimicked you by sounding as dumb as possible.

“That actually brings me to my next question which was to ask you all to do an impression of each other.” The journalist said, making you and Tom remember that you were in an interview.

“If you want to impersonate Y/n, just whine and complain a bunch.” Tom said. “And leave your jumper on every plane you go on.”

“Okay, I’ve lost like three sweatshirts around you. That’s hardly anything.” You defended yourself.

“Imagine losing your jumper every time your travel.” Tom said to the camera.

“Imagine losing 13 colonies at once.” You snapped back.”

“Stop. You know I’m sensitive about that.” Tom jokingly whined, making you laugh.

“I can do a Tom impression. Um I want to ask Y/n to go to dinner with me um tonight but um what if I ask her and she says no?” Jacob said in a whiny voice coupled with a bad British accent.

“What?” Tom sputtered. “That’s not what I sound like.”

“Yes it is.” Jacob insisted. “I heard that every night during filming. In fact, I still hear it.”

“Aw. Wait, that’s so cute. Did you actually do that?” You asked Tom.

“Only in the beginning, okay? It wasn’t as pathetic as Jacob made it sound. I wanted to hang out with you but we didn’t really know each other yet so I was worried you’d say no.”

“Aw, honey.” You chuckled. “I would’ve never said no. I wanted to get to know you too.”

“I’ll never understand you two. You were fighting two seconds ago. Now you’re all nice and friendly?” Jacob pointed out.

“That’s just how we work.” You shrugged.

“Yeah.” Tom agreed. “We run hot and cold.”

“Exactly. But we’re friends most of the time. I don’t think we fight that much.” You replied.

“You kinda do, though.” Jacob insisted. “I’m expecting at least two more fights before the end of this interview.”

“We’ll see.” You shrugged but knew he was probably right.

“So, the press schedule is obviously very rigorous for a movie this size. Do you guys ever get a day off to do your own thing?” The journalist asked.

“We actually had a day off a little while ago. For Washington’s Birthday.” Tom answered.

“George?” You asked him.

“What other Washington is there?” He turned in his seat to ask you.

“You were just talking about one the other day. When we were asked what historical figure we’d have dinner with.” You reminded him.

“I remember the question but I didn’t say Washington.” Tom frowned on confusion.

“Yes you did. You said that Washington guy and then said it was a super British answer or something.” You insisted.

“Who are you talking about?” Tom shook his head and laughed endearing at you.

“That guy. Don’t you remember? You just said it yesterday.” You whined a little and pushed his arm. Tom looked at the camera in confusion before he connected the dots in his head.

“Wait, do you mean Winston Churchill?”

“Oh God.” Jacob groaned. “Here we go.”

“Oh yeah. Him.” You nodded and pointed at Tom.

“You thought his name was Washington Churchill?” Tom laughed incredulously.

“Well I don’t know who he is. It sounded right in my head.” You defended yourself.

“You don’t know who Winston Churchill is? He’s super important to history.”

“Oh yeah? So who is he?” You challenged Tom, knowing damn well he didn’t know the answer.

“He…” Tom started to answer and then trailed off.

“See!” You clapped your hands. “You don’t even know. I knew you were bullshitting yesterday. You have no idea what Washington Churchill-“

“Winston.” He corrected you.

“Whatever. You have no idea what he did. And yet you said you wanted to have dinner with him just to sound smart. Ugh. So pretentious.” You groaned and playfully rolled your eyes.

“All right, smart ass. Who was your answer?” Tom leaned on his chair and asked you. You were both in your own little worlds now and fully ignoring everyone else in the room.

“Jonbenet Ramsey.” You said like it was obvious.

“Are you kidding me? You’re making fun of my answer but you would pick Gordon Ramsey’s daughter out of anyone in the world to have dinner with?”

“First of all, dingbat, Jonbenet Ramsey is a little pageant girl who was murdered in 1996 and they still haven’t solved the case. I want to have dinner with her because I want to know who did it. It’s a very famous true crime case but I guess they didn’t teach you that in college. Oh wait. You didn’t go. You were too busy making movies nobody ever saw.” You said and poked his chest.

“Don’t even go there.” Tom warned. “If I pull up your IMDB right now, I’d have to scroll through dozens of commercials and straight to DVD films before I got to any substantial roles. Don’t think I forgot about all the time you spent on the Hallmark channel, darling.”

“Do it. Pull up my IMDB right now. I dare you. You know what, I’ll do it for you.” You said and pulled out your phone. Jacob immediately snatched your phone and put it in his pocket.

“No. Please, no more. We’re not doing this again. I can’t hear the IMDB argument again. You said you weren’t gonna fight anymore.” Jacob pointed out.

“All right. Fine. I’m disengaging.” You said and held your hands up in defense.

“Finally, some silence.” Tom sighed in relief. You gave him an icy stare and his smile immediately dropped.

When you sat down to do press the next day, you thought about what Tom had said about running hot and cold. You liked the playful fights you got into but you didn’t want him to start to think you actually disliked him. So when he came into the room and sat next to you, you got an idea.

“Good morning, darling.” He said politely.

“You know what Tom, why don’t we make a point to not fight today?” You suggested.

“Well darling, that’s the first good idea you’ve ever had.” He said with a smug smile. You smiled sarcastically at him as you narrowed your eyes.

“You’re so funny.” You said sarcastically. “How come you’re perpetually single?”

“Because I haven’t worn you down yet and gotten you to go out with me.” He quipped.

“Aw. You want to wear me down? So romantic. I can feel it working already.” You gushed and winked at him. Even though you were kidding, he felt himself blush and had to look away. The interviewer came in then and started to ask you a few questions. You managed to get through most of the interview before any fighting broke out.

“Okay. Now we’re gonna play a game called kiss, marry, kill. Your choices are Scarlett Johansson, Robert Downey Jr, and miss Y/n L/n.” The interview said.

“Oh God. That last actress is the worst.” Tom mumbled under his breath. You gave him a look and he faked an innocent smile.

“I mean I love her.” He corrected.

“Well Tom’s answer for kiss is obviously me.” You said simply.

“What? Obviously?” He scoffed.

“Yeah. Obviously.” You scoffed back to mock him.

“Excuse you. How is it obvious?” He asked and turned in his chair to face you. He mostly did this to keep the camera from seeing how much he was blushing.

“Please. You want to kiss me so bad. And marry me and kill me. So Tom’s answer to all of them is me.”

“That’s what you think, huh?” Tom smiled and leaned on his chair to be closer to you.

“That’s what I know. I can tell you’re dying to get with me. There is no use hiding it.” You shrugged, making Tom grow redder.

“Do you hear how conceited she is? What a diva you are. I’m gonna spread a rumor that you’re difficult to work with.” Tom teased you right back.

“Maybe you find it difficult to work with me because of how bad you want me.” You shrugged.

“Oh please. You’re just projecting because you have a big fat crush on me.” Tom replied.

“What?” You laughed. “In your dreams, maybe. I only go for guys over 5’9. You just missed the cut off, buddy.”

“Not just in my dreams. In my reality.” Tom insisted. “And I’m the average height of a woman so now you’re the one being sexist. But come on, we said no fighting. What would your answer be?”

“Oh yeah. I forgot about the question. Okay, let me think.” You tapped your chin. “I would kiss Bradley Cooper-“

“What? He wasn’t even an option.” Tom laughed in surprised.

“Oh shit. My bad.” You covered your mouth with your hand.

“How did his name even come up?” Tom asked you, feeling a little jealousy bubble up.

“Because.” You smiled coyly. “Have you seen him? He’s double handsome. He looks like a sexy UPS truck driver. I’d sign for that package I’ll tell you that right now.”

“I can’t believe you’re cheating on your husband with Bradley Cooper.” Tom shook his head.

“My husband?”

“Me.” Tom said like it was obvious, making you laugh.

“I know you’re kidding but you kinda are though. I was just saying that to Jacob the other day.”

“About me? You said I was your husband?” Tom smiled in surprise.

“Yeah. You’re my work husband. That’s why we’re so hot and cold. Because we’re like an old married couple.” You smiled and patted his arm.

“Aw. We are.” He gushed. “But you still never answered the question.”

“Oh my God. Who were the choices again?”

“Johansson, Downey, and yourself.”

“Okay. I think my answer is kill Johansson, sorry Scarlett, I love you. I’d marry Downey for that Iron Man money and then kiss myself.”

“You’d kiss yourself? Why?” Tom wondered.

“Because no one else will.” You groaned. “When I woke up this morning and I tallied in my head how long it’s been since I’ve been on a date and once I reached a conclusion, I started to cry.”

“Oh God. Has it really been that long?” Tom laughed.

“It’s been so long. We can’t talk about this right now. I’m gonna start crying again.” You said and pretended to wipe your eyes.

“Wow. I didn’t realize this game would bring out so many emotions.” The journalist laughed.

“Me either. God. I need a date.” You sighed in exasperation.

“All right. I got the hint. I’ll go out with you.” Tom rolled his eyes playfully.

“Oh, please. You wish I’d go out with you.”

“On every eye lash and 11:11, yeah.” He replied. You laughed and playfully smacked his arm as you wondered if he was telling the truth or not. The interview went on but you were barely paying attention as you were too busy wondering if you relationship with Tom was part of the reason you had been single for so long. No matter how nice or funny a guy was, you always ended up comparing them to Tom. If they couldn’t make you laugh as much or keep up with you the way he could, they just didn’t interest you. It didn’t help that In between your arguing and teasing, Tom always managed to slip some flirting in there. The more you thought about it, you realized he hadn’t been in a relationship since meeting you either. And maybe that had something to do with you.

“What do you think?” The journalist asked you. You blinked a few times and came back into the conversation.

“Sorry, what?”

“What was going on in there? You seemed so deep in thought.” Tom smiled fondly and poked your head.

“Don’t touch me, nail biter.” You said and swatted his hand away.

“At least I don’t stink up the whole hotel room by painting my nails every single day.” He shot back in a playful manner.

“Excuse me for wanting polished nails for these interviews. I just happen to chip them a lot. And if you don’t like the smell, go back to your own room. Stop always hanging out in mine.”

“But then how would I get to see you?” He asked with his stupid charming smile.

“What are you talking about?” You laughed. “We literally spend all day together in these interviews. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“With you, darling, there’s never enough time together.” He said with a sarcastic suaveness.

“Shut up.” You laughed again and looked down at your lap so he couldn’t see how that made you blush. He saw it anyway since he couldn’t never seem to take his eyes off you.

The next day, your relationship with Tom was heavy on your mind as you sat in your glam chair. You were spaced out all during hair and makeup as you thought about the possibility of becoming more than friends. You were more than ready to see him but when you walked into the press junket room, you only saw two chairs and Jacob occupying one of them.

“Oh. We’re paired together today?” You asked without realizing how disappointed you sounded.

“I’m sorry. I know you’d rather be with your boyfriend.” Jacob chuckled. You playfully rolled your eyes at him and hugged him hello.

“He’s not my boyfriend. But I do miss him.” You admitted as you sat in your chair.

“You know nobody believes that, right? You guys are clearly together.” Jacob snorted.

“We’re really not. I know how it looks but we’re just friends.” You insisted.

“Come on. There’s no way you two haven’t made out or something.”

“Maybe we have, maybe we have.” You shrugged, making Jacob gasp.

“Oh my God. I knew it. He wouldn’t admit it but I knew you two were hooking up.” He clapped his hands.

“We’re actually not.” You laughed. “It’s just funny to see people fight for their lives to prove that we’re together. I like to feed the flame sometimes with these interviews. You know, keep them all on their toes.”

“Really? Because I could’ve sworn you two were hooking up on set. You were always sneaking off together and no one could find you.”

“That’s just because we liked to spend time together. But we would never hook up. If we ever get together, it’s gonna be the real thing. I’m talking marriage and kids and a picket fence. And whatever the British equivalent of the American Dream is. Beans and toast maybe? I don’t know. But definitely not a hook up.”

“So what’s stopping you guys from being in a relationship now? You like him, don’t you? Why not just date?” Jacob wondered.

“I don’t know. We’ve gotten really close the past few months. I know we tease each other a lot, but I’ve never had that kind of banter with anybody. Talking with him and going back and forth is the best at part of my day. And of course I like him, but what if I say something but he doesn’t feel the same? That’ll make our friendship super awkward and don’t forget- we signed on for another movie. I don’t want to make things weird by suggesting we go out.”

“Oh my God.” Jacob laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“What?” You wondered.

“You can’t be this oblivious. Why do you think he’s always starting fights with you?”

“Because he’s irritating?”

“Well, yes. But also because he’s crazy about you.”

“What? No he’s not.” You scoffed. “He just likes to push my buttons.”

“Y/n, seriously, I’m telling you-“

Before Jacob could finish his sentence, the interviewer walked in with the camera crew. You and Jacob quickly dropped the conversation and turned to shake the interviewers hand. Your interview began and you had to force yourself to listen instead of thinking about what Jacob was about to say before he was interrupted.

Later that day, you went back to your hotel room and collapsed on your bed. It had been a long, long day of press and you weren’t with Tom for any of it. You saw him briefly at lunch but barely got a word in before getting shuffled to the next interview. You had just kicked your shoes off when there was a hasty knock at your door. You groaned and went over to it before opening it up.

“What?” You whined like a little kid. Tom put his hands on his waist and pushed you into the room before shutting the door behind him.

“If you’re gonna stay here I’m warning you right now that I chipped my thumb and I’m two seconds away from pulling out my nail polish-“

“I heard what you said.” He blurted to cut you off.

“Um, can you be more a little more specific?” You laughed. “You know I try to talk to you as little as possible.”

“Can we be serious for one minute?” Tom said hastily. You frowned in confusion but nodded your head and sat down. You’d never heard him sound so serious before so you dropped your usual mocking banter. You patted the spot next to you and he nervously sat down.

“What’s up?” You asked him. Tom scratched the back of his head before nervously cracking his knuckles.

“I just gotta talk to you about something.”

“Tom, you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?” You asked and put a hand on his back. He took a deep breath and looked at you.

“I heard you when you were talking to Jacob. I was walking by and I heard my name so I stopped and I listened.” He admitted.

“Oh, shit. You heard all that?” You grimaced. Tom was unphased and kept looking into your eyes.

“Did you mean what you said? Do you really think we’re gonna do the real thing one day? House and kids and-“

“-And beans and toast.” You cut in.

“Yeah. And that.” He chuckled softly. “Did you mean all that? Do you really see a future with us?”

“I mean, I did before I found out you were an eavesdropper.” You mumbled out of the corner of your mouth.

“Are you kidding me? I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you for once in our lives but you can’t be serious for one minute.” Tom huffed and sat on the bed next to you.

“This is who is am.” You shrugged. “You came to the silly lake and you found a silly goose. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Tom let out a dry laugh before looking at you. You looked into his eyes and saw that for once, he looked completely serious. You frowned at the unexpected candor in his eyes and gave him your full attention.

“Tell me you want me.” He said. “As much as I’ve wanted you since the day we met.”

“You do?” You asked doubtfully.

“Why do you think I invited you to watch all those movies with me? Or hang out in your hotel room every night? I want to be around you all the time. I just didn’t know how to say that since we’re never…” He trailed off as he searched for the right word.

“Serious.” You finished his sentence for him with a knowing smile.

“Exactly. I love joking around with you. I love how much you challenge me to come up with a better insult. I even love being teased for my nationality. But I also love when we just get to talk. I love to hear your perspective on things. I just like being near you.”

“Is this a practical joke?” You asked skeptically.

“Bitch, do I look like four lifelong best friends who compete to embarrass each other to you?” Tom sassed you. You gave him a warning look and he mumbled an apology.

“So you’re telling me you actually like me? For my personality?” You asked him.

“No, darling. I like you in spite of your terrible, garbage personality.” Tom teased you. You rolled your eyes at him but found yourself leaning in closer.

“I hate you.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I hate you too. See how much we can agree on?” Tom replied and smoothly put his arm around you. You looked over at the arm that was on your shoulders as you thought about what he was saying.

“You do realize if you were my boyfriend, we’d be fighting all the time.” You pointed out.

“We do that anyway.” He shrugged. “Why not throw some kissing and domestic partnership in there?”

“Oh, so I was right? You do want to kiss me, huh?” You raised your eyebrows as you teased him.

“Well, I have lips, you have lips, why not put them to use?”

“You have lips?” You pretended to gasp. “Where have you been hiding them this whole time?”

“Oh my God. You are such a little-“

You cut him off by cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. He insulted left his head immediately as he wrapped his arms around you to kiss you back.

“I want you too.” You told him once you pulled away. He smiled in surprise and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Even though we can’t agree on anything?” He joked.

“Even though your hairline is receding, yes.” You replied.

“That wasn’t what I-“

“Shh.” You hushed him and kissed him again. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Tag List 🏷️

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@ciarahollands

[unreliablesnake]

Tough choice (Simon Riley x reader)

Summary: After a successful mission, you get a lot of job offers. But there's one that gets your attention.

Note: We lost a hero, it's hard to fill his shoes. / This will probably get another part where Simon confesses his feelings. And tells the reader about what he thought of them during the first meeting.

Warnings: character death mentioned

Ever since that mission last year, people have been extremely interested in getting you on their side. You were swimming in options, going from briefing to briefing to find that one job which managed to pique your interest. The CIA wanted you higher up the ladder, giving you more responsibilities, while some PMC’s sniffed out what happened and were now trying to sweep you off your feet. Shadow Company offered a fortune for your services, but even Phillip Graves’s charm wasn’t enough to convince you.

And now Laswell brought you an opportunity that made you think. Task force 141. “Ask Alex for reference,” was all she said before handing you the number of Captain John Price. 

It took days to get a hold of your friend, but once you did, he spoke highly of the team he helped out every now and then. “I think they need you to fill some big shoes. A sergeant was KIA and now Ghost needs a partner on the field,” he explained.

“Ghost?”

“Mhm. Man’s a mystery, but he’s damn good at what he does. If I were you, I would go for it.”

So you called Price and organized a meeting with him. This was the first round of the interview process, the opportunity to learn more about your possible future boss, the team, and, of course, how they operate. The captain works with a sergeant called Gaz, while Ghost had worked with Soap, another sergeant who had been KIA. That latter you already knew from Alex. 

Price told you to visit the base the next time they're all there, and you gladly accepted the invitation. The team’s mystery man, the one you would have to work with, grabbed your attention. His superior spoke highly of him, and the fact Alex also emphasized that he was excellent at what he did made you curious. He certainly lived up to his call sign by keeping his identity so hidden. You didn’t know his name, you didn’t know his age, you didn’t know what he looked like. All you knew is that he was a Brit, just like Price and Gaz. 

It took your schedules to align almost four weeks, but eventually you made it to their location and were greeted by the captain as if you were already a member of their team. His warm smile brought one to your lips too, and you soon found yourselves deep in a conversation about Kate and Alex. He liked working with them, and despite Alex being labeled a deserter, the team often crossed paths with him. That was good. Meeting him every once in a while would be nice.

“Ghost is waiting for us in my office,” Price began to say, only to pause for a brief moment when he stopped in front of a door. “But I think I’ll give you two the chance to talk alone. I already told him about you, even mentioned that I want you to work with us, but he has to be the one to finalize our decision.”

Nodding, you waited for him to open the door, then stepped inside the dimly lit room. The window shades were pulled down and the only source of light came from the small lamp on the desk. Ghost was sitting in the swivel chair behind it, his eyes scanning a file that you assumed was yours.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Ghost interrupted you right away. “I want you on my team,” he stated sternly as if it was an order, then threw the file on the top of several other documents. 

Despite your best efforts to keep things professional, a snort coming from you filled the room upon hearing his words. “So does everybody else,” you informed him, slowly folding your arms over your chest. “I already turned down several offers. Convince me; why should I pick this team?”

The lieutenant stood up and walked over to you, finally letting you realize just how much bigger he was. He was intimidating, yes, but that didn’t stop you from keeping eye contact with him. “You know Laswell. If you trust her, you can trust us,” he said.

“It’s not a matter of trust.”

“Then what do you want to hear?”

A sigh left your lips. It wasn’t about the money. If it was, you would be working for Shadow Company now. To be honest, you didn’t even know what you wanted from the job. But there was one question that bugged you since you first heard about this guy. “Are you a good person?” you asked him seriously.

Since you could only see a small part of his face, you almost missed that surprised glint in his eyes. “No,” came his answer. 

For a few moments you just watched him, thinking about his response. He was honest, that you truly appreciated, but you could hear something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place yet. Regret? Pain? Doubt? Self-hate? Whatever it was, it made him sound and look human. Without realizing what you were doing, you took a step closer to him, making this giant man lean his hips against the desk to build back some distance. 

“When can I start?” 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed the way his large fingers tightly gripped the edge of the desk at your words, as if he was trying to ground himself. Was he thinking about the sergeant he had lost? If it was you, your mind would always return to the person who died under your command. What if this one dies too? You would be asking yourself this over and over again. So you didn’t want to rush him, you just stood there and waited for him to pull himself together. 

And then, after several minutes of deafening silence, he finally spoke up. “Good decision. Price will tell you the details,” Ghost informed you before moving past you to rush out the door.

[theemporium]

https://www.tumblr.com/theemporium/732996365739819008/httpspbstwimgcommediaf-cfpsex0aa8a5hformat

PLEASEEE can we have the smallest of blurbs/thots on this, them cuddling into the reader because they’re wee pups after all

-🥀

I KNEW I HAD TO AS WELL

.

You were aware that the forecast said it would rain, but you didn’t realise it would be a full fucking thunderstorm.

You had been huddled in the Red Bull garage when the weather took a dramatic turn for the worse. First, there were just a few radios here and there about some rain hitting the track. Seconds later, a massive dark cloud was covering the track, the sun was gone and the conditions were far too dangerous to finish the end of qualifying. 

You were honestly just happy both your boys were safe as they made their way into the pits, even prouder when you realised this meant they would be starting on the front row together. But then the thunder started and a part of you froze. 

Thunderstorms were never a problem for you. If anything, you enjoyed them. The rain pattering against the window, the distant sound of thunder claps in the air with strikes of lightning as you played some calming music. Being cuddled up in bed, maybe even a book in hand with a warm drink by your side.

But your boys never thought the same. 

You had began moving before you could even process it, but the team wouldn’t let you leave the safety of the garages just yet, which left you watching the interview on one of the screens. You could see it on their faces, even if they tried to hide it. You could see them trying to laugh it off and continue with the questions. You could see the way their bodies flinched, the way they covered their ears, the way they gravitated towards each other for safety. It broke your heart to see because you knew exactly how they were during thunderstorms.

The second they were given the go ahead, the boys were heading straight back to their drivers’ rooms to leave for the hotel as soon as they could. But it was short-lived when both boys barreled into Max’s driver room, Charles rushing towards you before you could even blink. 

A low whine left him as he wound his arms around your waist, tugging you close and burying his face into the crook of your neck as another distant thunderclap echoed outside. 

“I know,” you murmured, holding onto him tightly as your eyes caught Max’s—who you knew was trying to put on a brave face. “Let’s head back to the hotel, okay? Everything is gonna be fine.” 

Both boys were twitchy the whole ride over. All three of you were sitting in the back of the car, with you pressed between both boys as they tried to distract themselves. You could feel the anxiety rolling off them, you could feel the way their bodies tensed and the way their hands tightened on your thighs. You knew they just wanted to be alone and far away from the thunder. 

The second the hotel room door locking sounded through the suite, you heard the distinct sound of clothes ripping before two massive, fluffy beasts were approaching you. Another clap of thunder rendered through the air and both boys let out pitiful whines, cowering slightly as they looked up at you with big eyes.

“My poor boys,” you cooed softly as you reached out to run your hands over the heads, scratching behind their ears until both wolves were nosing at your legs. “C’mon, we’ll do what we do when we’re home.”

And it was a little more squished than the bed you shared at home, but it did the job just fine. You had both wolves squashing you between them, their heads resting on your stomach with the duvet over them. It was a trick you read online with dogs and fireworks, but it seemed to work perfectly with your werewolf boyfriends.

“You both need to eat something soon,” you told them when you felt one of them—probably Charles, if you knew your boys well—pushing the fabric of your shirt up until he could rest his head on your bare stomach. “And I would rather not scare hotel staff with two massive dogs that are technically undisclosed.”

Max let out a huff against your thigh.

“Don’t be a puppy,” you snorted as your fingers threaded through his fur. “Just one meal and then you can transform back. I would like at least thirty minutes with my boys to tell you how proud I am of both of you for getting the front row.”

Charles let out a loving purr as he nuzzled himself further into you.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

.

[originalfatfiction]

Andy's Assistant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure know how to make an impression.” 

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

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

“Yes sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have your forms, Mr. Reynolds.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I guess I am kind of hungry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What other places do you like?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can help,” he said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really should be getting back.”

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

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

“You’re gay, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Andrew,” he said softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” he inquired. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Parker—”

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

“Really, that’s not necessary.”

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

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

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

“You really think you can fix them?”

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

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

“What if I wanted you, Andrew?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

This shift in our relationship was going to be interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey Mark.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man was too stunned to speak.

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

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

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

“You’re something else.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get undressed.”

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

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

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

He moaned loudly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A musical?”

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

“When is it?” I asked.

“Tomorrow.” A Saturday.

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

“If it’s too much, I understand.”

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

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

He laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that one is kimchi.”

“Yes, exactly!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m into it for sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, it ends August of this year.”

“Cancel it.”

“Cancel it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Talk to me.”

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

“Bullshit.”

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

“Follow me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course!”

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

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

Hathaway wasn’t one to mince words.

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

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

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

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

“Yes sir. That’s me.”

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

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

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

That lead copywriter? Mark.

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

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

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

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

“Biscotti boy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s Phase Two?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We won’t!” they all sang in unison.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so he wasn’t fat-fat, got it.”

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

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

“Yes, Owen,” Parker confirmed.

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

“Plus fifteen,” Mike added.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday he’d be training his replacement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be okay, babe.”

“Fine. I’ll dial it back.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I sure knew how to hire ‘em.

The End!

[luv4georgie]

moth to a flame.

Lando Norris x fem!medic!fwb!reader

in which formula one star, Lando Norris, suddenly feels light headed during an interview… or does he? he comes up to his favourite fwb who is McLaren’s medic, Y/n Y/l/n, and asks for a little help.

warnings: smut!!, just barley voyeurism, jealous ass reader, fluffy aswell

prompts 16 and 17- “jealous much?” and “don’t cover your mouth, i wanna hear you”

“he seems like he’s good for you”

it was a Friday and Lando was talking to this interviewer about how it went. he was saying he was quite happy and that he was ready for qualifying tomorrow. what he didn’t seem to notice was that the interviewer was getting a little but too close for someone’s liking. someone’s liking being mine. i was a medic for McLaren and i was watching from a-far, watching Lando. every minute or so he would eye me as-well. minutes went by and the interviewer kept getting close and i was kept getting jealous.

about 5 minutes passed and Lando’s smug smile was wiped off and he had a hand of his head, his middle finger and thumb on either temple. my brows furrowed and watched as he said something to the interviewer with his eyes squinted. she nodded and touched his arm before saying goodbye. i didn’t even notice Lando was walking over to me until he spoke “my head really hurts” he said vaguely grinning. i didn’t realise it so i brought him to the little room with my name on it and sat him down. before i sat down myself i felt strong hands on my waist. i looked down at Lando and he was smirking up at me. “jealous much?” he questioned. “i saw you, getting all worked up over me talking to another girl” he said again. “well, what you didn’t seem to notice is that she was getting rather close to you” “oh i noticed baby” he argued back.

my jaw clenched “well than why didn’t you do something!?” i said, almost shouting. he just smiled even wider, amused by my clear annoyance. “because i love seeing you get all aroused” he spoke. my face dropped and that’s when i felt it. the wet spot on my underwear grew. Lando just smiled impossibly wider and my cheeks heated up. he patted his lap “sit down sweet” i did as he said. i swung my leg over one of his and straddled his hips. he moved his hands from my waist down to my ass and rested them there. my eyes fluttered shut to the feeling of his hard-on against me. i slowly started to rock myself back and forth on him. the friction of my pants against him was enough to get me going. “shit” we both whispered.

we carried on like that for a few seconds until he told me to get up, in which i did. as i stood up, Lando’s hands slowly crept up from where they were in place, which was on my arse, and up to the hem of my grey joggers. he pulled them back and let go. he then pulled my pants down to my ankles and let me step out of them. his eyes widened and i blushed “you’re so wet already baby” he said as he ran his fingers down my stomach and over my clothed core. i moaned at the feeling, wanting more. he smirked. Lando then removed his fingers from their place and hooked them around the hem of my panties. he pulled them down in a swift, quick motion.

“it’s unfair” i said in a huff, crossing my arms. “what is darling?” “you’ve still got your clothes on” my eyebrows furrowed and my lips turned down ever so slightly. he chuckled and pulled his McLaren hoodie off of himself, revealing his bare chest. he unzipped his jeans and pulled them off which continued to reveal his black boxers, which had a rather large tent in them. i smiled at the sight and he stood up backing me up into a wall, taking my shirt off during the process. when he did that my flattering black bra was on show. he instantly looked up at me, i nodded giving consent, and brought his hands up to my boobs to massage them. i moaned and threw my head back at the feeling, a fluttering warmth in my stomach as Lando did so. he reached around to my back and unclipped my bra, letting it fall.

Lando moaned into my neck as he kissed it and slowly trailed his kisses down my collarbone and into my cleavage. my eyes rolled to the back of my head as i felt him kiss my right boob and then my left. his fingers went back down to my pussy and circled my clit a few times, before running his fingers up and down my slit. i moaned again at this. “please Lan i need you i-inside of me” i pouted. “to be fair i don’t think i can hold on any longer baby” he responded. Lando pulled down his boxers just enough to free is cock. “even bigger than i remember” i said, smirking. it had been quite a while since we last fucked. and no we aren’t together or anything, just work friends with benefits!

he snaked his arms around my waist and ran his hands down to the back of my thighs, where he tapped gently to let me know to jump up which i did. that earned a small grunt from the both of us. Lando then proceeded to be a dickhead and tease me even more. after, bare in mind, he said that he couldn’t wait any longer. i groaned and slapped his shoulder playfully. he chuckled and grabbed a-hold of his cock and guided it to where i needed him most. with one swift, slow thrust he was inside of me. he let me adjust like it was the first time and after a few seconds he got himself going, all the while holding me against the wall. i covered my mouth trying to cover up the rather loud moan i could feel bubbling deep within my throat but “don’t cover your mouth,pretty, i want to here you” was all Lando could manage. so i did. i let him here me, maybe the whole of the McLaren team heard me i was that loud. “that’s what i like to hear” Lando said deeply.

then he started really moving. it was euphoric. i felt like i was high it was that good. it was like everything was moving in slow-motion. from the way my head threw back to the way Lando pressed open-mouthed kisses to my neck. butterflies were in my stomach and i couldn’t control myself. Lando was thrusting in and out of me at an ungodly speed trying to get us both off. he groaned “fuck Y/n/n” then i started whimpering and looked Lando in the eyes. mine started to prick with tears. “oh i know baby, i know” he whispered lightly in my ear. he groaned and i whimpered and that’s when it really felt ethereal. it was like we were both floating on a massive cloud. Lando pushed down on my stomach and my head threw back so quick i could’ve broken my neck. then we both did it was the same time, we orgasmed together, something everyone loved to do. him inside of me and me on his dick. a string of moans and swear words came out the both of us. my body spasmed, which was still being held up against the wall my Lando. the orgasm lasted a minute or two and after that he thrusted a few more times, trying his best not to drive me into overstimulation.

“that. was. amazing” Lando said between kisses on my lips. i just smiled woozily and let my body go limp. he giggled breathlessly and kisses my temple. “cmon sweet, let’s get you cleaned up” he ripped a-bit of paper off of the paper towel roll and ran it under the sink. he cleaned me up and then himself. we sat down and held each-other for a few seconds, taking in the presence of the other that we both rarely see. “official?” Lando said. i hummed questionably, opening my eyes to look up at him while cocking my head to the right ever so slightly. “do you want to make it official? you and me, i mean” he answered my unspoken question. i smiled “yes” i whispered croakily. he smiled and pressed a kiss to my head until… “Lando!!” was heard from outside our little space.

-

AUTHORS NOTE‼️‼️ i feel like this is so cute ALSO first smut ever 😝✌️hope you guys enjoyed <3

based of off the lovely @slytherinholland’s request!!! ❤️❤️

[narklos]

Half-Lore #3: 66 HL Facts!

Make your 'counting to three' jokes in the tags please. Back with another instalment, this is one I've been looking forward to! 66 random facts spanning the entire Half-Life franchise (bc I couldn't fit 100 in one post due to numbered list character limits...) If you have any suggestions for other instalments of Half-Lore, please let me know.

Have a peep under the cut, and enjoy!

Gordon can speak, as confirmed in a series of letters that were included in HL1's box. They mention that L.M and him had a telephone call prior to Gordon's arrival.

Speaking of L.M, he was the original administrator for Black Mesa. L.M was the G-Man, though his full name is never revealed.

Barney and Breen were both meant to appear in Half-Life: Alyx, but were cut due to a hard reset on the game's development.

Gordon is apparently very clumsy. Eli jokes about it in a series of cut voicelines.

Prior to his appointment at Black Mesa, Gordon was stationed at the University of Innsbruck in Austria.

Russell's complaint about being told to apply a year later after his interview at Black Mesa is a real-life hiring process that Valve uses.

Marc Laidlaw mentioned that the baby photo in Gordon's locker is probably a nephew, making Gordon an uncle!

Bullsquids have a 'hungry' mode. If they find a dead headcrab, and they're in hungry mode, they'll eat it. Otherwise, they'll play a sniffing animation and walk away.

In HL2, you can bonk NPCs on the head during a cutscene to make them teleport. This is because the game thinks that the character is trapped by a physics prop, and will teleport them to the next segment in the cutscene to free them.

On Kleiner's clipboard during his first cutscene, what he's saying about the HEV suit is actually written on the paper word-for-word.

Barney has a girlfriend called Lauren, and a picture of her in his locker. The woman in question was a real-life girlfriend of one of the devs.

In one of the OP4 skyboxes, a dev has written the note "Hack hack hack all day long. Hack hack hack while I sing this song."

The mysterious artefact Alyx brings back to Black Mesa East is the head of a Cremator, which was a cut enemy.

HL2 was originally meant to take place in New York.

Headcrabs don't turn Gordon into a zombie because he apparently never lets them get close to his face.

Colette gets a kick out of violence.

Gordon was employee of the month when the Resonance Cascade happened.

A special rebel outpost along Route Kanal will start playing ambient windchimes if you hang around long enough.

Breen was meant to wear a pair of glasses, but Marc Laidlaw went against it, citing that they made Breen look 'vaguely homosexual'.

Russell was originally meant to be Laszlo, the finest mind of his generation. His computer's password is actually 'Laszlo' too!

There are props clipping through Russell's ceiling intentionally- objects will phase through each other during portal storms, the likes of which ravage City 17.

The Citadel wasn't built on Earth, per se- it was teleported in chunk by chunk like the world's biggest IKEA assembly.

G-Man cannot understand the Vort's language, and the Vorts use by-words when discussing him and the Advisors to avoid detection.

Combine Advisors cannot breathe Earth's atmosphere, hence the breathing apparatus they wear.

There was meant to be a fourth day of HL2's plot, but it was shortened to three. Players would have fought through a museum.

Eli lost his leg to a bullsquid when he was helping Kleiner into City 17.

Kleiner and Barney were meant to die in a bus crash in HL2's opening sequence. Marc Laidlaw wrote a short story discussing their deaths in rather graphic detail.

In Decay, there was a cut sequence where players witnessed Gordon getting killed if they didn't scare away the soldiers in time.

Despite 20 years having passed in reality, only around two weeks have passed for Gordon due to being in stasis.

For HLA, developers scanned in a $10,000 Nordstrom suit to use for G-Man's textures.

Level designer David Casali, who has worked on every single mainline HL game, was too tall for a lot of the levels in HLA's Vault sequence. This lead to a lot of upside-down sections being cut for accessibility.

G-Man was meant to be an unwilling prisoner in the Vault, as revealed in a storyboard in The Final Hours.

The Nihilanth is inspired by Gabe Newell's fears of fatherhood, as he'd just had his son at the time.

Nothing is native to Xen. Every alien animal present on Xen is running away from The Combine's invasion of their homeworlds.

During Opposing Force, players can find a gear and a valve inside of a cardboard box- a very clear nod to Gearbox and Valve!

Barney's model changes subtly from HL2 to Episode 1- he's shown more dishevelled, with his hair unkempt and a series of cuts on his cheeks.

G-Man's face is hidden in the Xenian crystal at Black Mesa East.

Alyx was found by the G-Man, sitting beside her dead mother and clutching her mother's wedding ring.

Child labour was meant to appear, with models and animations of the children working in Cremator factories made. This, understandably, were cut, and the lack of children explained away with the suppression field.

G-Man's crow friend is nicknamed 'Crowley'.

During the tactical map section of Surface Tension, you don't have to use the drone strike to destroy the doors leading to the next level- you can actually break it with a fully-charged Tau Cannon shot.

Typing 'haiku' in the game's console will generate a random haiku for you.

Imprisoning the G-Man in HLA was referred to as putting 'God in a Box' by developers.

HL2 on PC and HL2 on Xbox 360 sound wildly different! Due to advanced sound chips, developers were able to push the audio of HL2 to be more immersive and sound more realistic than on PC.

Grigori's shotgun is called Annabelle.

A model of Eli naked exists. This was meant to be used in the section we see him in the Combine pods.

An illustration of G-Man holding a gun to his head can be found on the back of a sign in HLA.

Similarly, in the Index HLA home environment, his eyes are used as part of an advertisement for 'vision enhancement'.

You can find a minifigure of the Scout in HLA.

The textures for some of HLA's cans actually use a recoloured metal effect from HL1's orange poster.

Grigori has cut crosses into the backs of his hands.

Inside G-Man's briefcase is pencils, ID, paper, and a gun.

The shadowy woman in HLA is called Hahn/The Contractor, and according to Erik Wolpaw, they 'have plans' for her.

A cut enemy called Mr. Friendly was meant to literally SA the player and knock Gordon's glasses off, blurring the screen. Apparently, the idea was to play on a gamer's subconscious (or conscious...) homophobia and make them freak out. This enemy was actually designed by a teenager, and was predictably scrapped.

Early advertisements for HL1 featured babies and children with lambdas replacing their eyes.

HL1 is intended to be an allegory for fighting your own inner hopelessness.

Valve's offices have a wall built to resemble the moving walls of the Citadel.

G-Man has had a total of 11 different models throughout HL's history.

Breaking the army crates in the Dreamcast port of HL1 will reveal copies of Sonic Adventure inside.

Gordon is from Seattle, Washington.

HL2 was delayed a lot during its development. At the time, many swore never to buy from Valve again due to their broken promises.

HL2's E3 demonstrations were staged.

Colette was employed by G-Man, but Gina died.

During a Reddit AMA, a dev responded that we shouldn't keep making Gordon feel bad about his outdated hairstyle choices, when asked about where his ponytail went.

A metrocop's hideaway can be found in the level after the zoo in HLA. Due to the amount of conspiracy theory paraphanelia, the room is theorised to be Barney's.

The act of covering your mouth to stop the fumes of Xenian flora from affecting you in HLA was implemented after playtesters instictively covered their mouths when sprayed.

Thanks for reading to the bottom! Here's some top notch BREENWAVE for you.

[leadmetothegardenbetty]

OKAY I AM ON THE TRAIN SO HERE IS THE BREAKDOWN MY FRIENDS:

• I got there late bc I didn’t plan well enough and thought I’d be okay time wise and it was Not Okay and I fully almost had a panic attack complete with crying and hyperventilating bc I knew I was gonna be at least five minutes late

• Since I got there late I’m not sure if they did like an intro to the film but in attendance was: Kyle, Emily, Adam (director), JP (director of cinematography), Ross (producer)

• They talked a lot about things we’ve already gathered from interviews when the movie initially came out (i.e., they got time to spend together before they first started shooting, all the music was written first before shooting started — mentioned how Watermelon came to fruition through Emily journaling in character as Patty and that Adam played all the music for Watermelon, also mentioned how Kyle blew out his voice twice during the process of recording for PSYOPS (he apparently tried to prep by singing along to the tracks in his car which as a Bad Idea))

• I did not actually know/do not know if this has been shared before but Kyle and Emily flew out to the shoot together and Adam booked it so their seats would be next to each other, they talked about how much time they spent together and how they would grill steaks, have dinner together,

• There was a Pumpkin mention (the pitbull Kyle got from his neighbor that he bought off of him bc he could see the dog needed a better home), also apparently Kyle found out at 5:30 AM during the shoot of the PSYOPS show that the former owner of Pumpkin was willing to sell her to him and there were a bunch of problems with the dog (she had her period, had to wear diapers, etc, etc))

• Emily talked about how playing Patty healed her inner child and she talked about how Kyle and her really just played versions of themselves in Patty and Simon. Kyle mentioned how he’s always loved punk/pop punk and he grew up in mosh pits and he loved getting to be a musician for this movie (I was tempted to yell out FINGERS ERASURE at one point because Adam and Kyle both talked about how Kyle had “never been in a band before” but alas I am a coward and idk if it would’ve been appreciated lmao)

• A couple people asked Adam for writing/creative advice, he told them to just kind of go for it!

• Kyle and Emily touched on how important it was for the film to go to those crazy/more vulgar places to really show what Patty was going through

• There was A LOT of Patty/Emily love!! I think pretty much every audience question was either aimed at Emily or Adam and 9 times out of 10 Kyle or Adam directed the question back to Emily

• Someone did ask when we could expect the PSYOPS tracks to be released and they said they were “working on it”

Overall guys it was an absolute BLAST to see this film with a crowd, I think like half the audience was seeing it for the first time which was fun in itself. There was no singing along and some people laughed at odd parts (I thought) but ultimately getting to watch with Kyle and Emily in the audience and seeing how much love they were getting—especially Emily, was so so incredibly wonderful!!

I am still kind of soaking everything in so if I remember anything else I will reblog and add!!

[jgroffdaily]

A few things we learned about Jonathan during the promotion of ‘Merrily We Roll Along’:

1. He’s in therapy. He told Daniel Radcliffe and Lindsay Mendez during a Tonys Instagram takeover that he had therapy that morning, and was feeling “very processed”. Video below.

2. In the ‘Out’ Magazine interview Jonathan said he wants to buy the first bar where Barbra Streisand reportedly first sang publicly, which is now an occupied restaurant.

The actor wants to one day buy a Village restaurant called & Son Steakeasy, which used to be the site of the Lion, a gay bar where Streisand first sang publicly during a singing contest (according to a plaque there, at least). His goal is “turning it back into a gay bar and calling it BARbra.” A neon “BARbra” sign even hangs in his Merrily dressing room as a reminder of this dream.

3. In the same interview, he says he's happy to remain single or be in a relationship:

“I’ve been single now for a couple of years and I’m feeling…ready and open for anything. If that’s continuing with that, if that’s a relationship, I’m cool with that.”

4. At the Out Magazine Pride Cover Party he said:

“I’m single. I’m feeling full of pride. And PrEP.”

Bonus quote from the Buzzfeed puppies interview:

"I’m clearly the single one of the three of because the puppies know. I need love.”

5. In the New Yorker interview, he discussed moving to New York at 19:

The first month that I was here, feeling so lost and confused, I pulled the Bible that my Mennonite grandmother gave me off the bookshelf. She gave me that Bible before I left town. I was alone in the apartment thinking, What the fuck am I doing in New York? Or not even “what the fuck”—I didn’t swear until “Spring Awakening,” and when I would sing “Totally Fucked” I would get beet red. And I remember putting the Bible down and thinking, This is not the answer. This is not making me feel good. And then running to Central Park and standing in front of the Bethesda Fountain. I was nineteen, and I was, like, This feels better—but, like, What? Who am I? What am I doing here? I know I want to act, but I’m so scared. And gay. But it was something—some voice, some passion, some inspiration. Some something brought me here.

6. He's very competitive: asked how ambitious he was on a scale from 1 to 10 he says a 10 (to Broadwaycom at the Tonys junket).

7. He says he's “not really a dog person” in the Buzzfeed interview.

8. He talked more about his relationship with Gavin Creel in interviews with Out and Interview than he has previously, including this quote to Interview:

GROFF: I froze. I hadn’t even thought about coming out as a public person. She [interviewer] was like, “Oh my god, never mind. I’m so sorry.” And then she moved along. And I really remember this moment of looking over to the right and seeing Gavin. He had also just recently come out a year or two before, and seeing him with a bullhorn corralling the people, god, I was so in love with him. I was like, “Oh my god, I am coming out. I’m coming out. I’m coming out.” So I went back over to her and I was like, “Hi, please excuse my hesitation, I’m gay.” And that was how I came out publicly at the March on Washington for Marriage Equality.

9. His 30th birthday alone was a happy birthday (in the New Yorker):

I remember it vividly. We were at the Public Theatre. There was a fire in the East Village, and the show was cancelled that night. I got a cupcake at the deli around the corner from my apartment, on Sixteenth Street, and ate it by myself. I can be a bit of a loner, so that was a happy birthday for me.

10. He said in the Buzzfeed interview the best present he has received from a fan was a signature of King George III, and he hung it in his apartment.

[ejzah]

As promised, here is a summary of my experience at Epic Cons Chicago and meeting Eric! I’m including some of the pictures I took (with poor attempts to censor my face). Heads up, this is a long post.

I started off early in the morning with a long drive since I’m a scaredy cat and avoid the expressway as much as possible. The convention center was very full when I arrived and it took about 50 minutes for me to register because the process didn’t seem well-organized, so that wasn’t the most fun.

But after that, I was on my way to watch Eric’s panel! The panel he appeared on, had actors from several different shows, so he wasn’t asked that many questions. As usual though, he was charming and disarming. One fan asked everyone what word they would use to describe their character and I believe Eric chose “fearless vulnerability”, which is technically two words, but so very in character for Eric. I always love listening to him talk about Deeks and the depth that he infused into the character.

I have a few poorly filmed videos from the panel that I can share if you message me. I’d rather not post them just in case my account would get deactivated again. I thought of asking a question myself, but chickened out.

After that I had a very long break before my next event, so I got some tacos from a little place inside convention center. I’d give them a 5/10. They were overpriced, pretty tiny, and overall mediocre.

Now on to the really good parts!

Next I attended a meet and greet with Eric. I was super nervous leading up to it, and kind of regretted the tacos at that point. About ten of us were ushered into a small private room with chairs set up in a circle. We were instructed not to take any videos, picture, etc, before the start, so I don’t have any additional content. Eric came in a few minutes later and ended up sitting one seat over from me (😱), which was pretty darn distracting for me.

After telling us he’d never done a meet and greet before, answered several questions and chatted with us. One of the things that really struck me was just as with every video and interview I’ve seen over the years, is that Eric was so genuine, honest, and generous.

In answer to questions, he talked about the last few seasons and why there were some irregularities. Such as that the show was supposed to end after season nine and each season after that was considered a bonus and based on ability to form a tight budget. He also confirmed that none of them knew what was in “the box” aside from possibly Shane Brennan.

The greet part of the event went by far too quickly, and before we knew it, one of the volunteers announced it was time for the selfie portion. Fortunately, another fan noticed I had been trying to ask a question and spoke up for me.

Before I asked my question, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to shoutout wikiDeeks first. Eric really lit up and expressed how much he appreciated the hard work and thought put into the writing and contributions. He brought up an episode many fans had issues with (we figured out it was probably from the FLETC episode that shall go unnamed), and said he showed a piece of wikiDeeks writing to the writers/TPTB and basically said that it was deeper and better writing. I believe that might have been @anonkp’s wonderful work! In general, he was very appreciative and complimentary of everyone at wikiDeeks. He’s so very gracious!

We were really short on time, but I did get to ask the question “what would you change about Deeks if you could?” Eric couldn’t come up with a response on the spot, so he asked me the same question in return. I told him I didn’t think anything needed to be changed about Deeks, but didn’t always enjoy how silly he was written in later seasons.

Eric shared that he tried to play those moments in a way that put Deeks in on the joke instead of being the butt of the joke as much as he could. Unfortunately, he didn’t always have that luxury.

During our conversation, Eric was very engaging and attentive. For those couple minutes, I forgot to be nervous because he made the atmosphere so comfortable. It felt like he genuinely cared about what I was saying. My only regret is that I didn’t have time to emphasize how much I appreciate Eric’s acting and portrayal of Deeks.

After that, it was selfie time! When it was my turn, Eric bent down to my level (oh my lord he’s tall), naturally in my usual awkward way, I bent down too. 🤦🏻‍♀️ Hopefully Eric saw it as charming rather than incredibly silly and awkward. Hey, at least I made him laugh, right?

He’s so beautiful!

If any fans on here were present for the meet and greet, please let me know if I forgot anything or misremembered events. My memory is often faulty.

I also chose to get a professional shot with Eric and for that one I got a hug! I’m still not over it yet.

It was a really long day and a lot of driving, but so worth it for the chance to meet and talk with Eric. And, I’m pretty sure I came out this experience even more of a fan of Eric than ever.

[batsplat]

sampras tops generous agassi is insane LMAO. thank you for that lovely pt. 2 to the sampras/agassi rivalry essay!!!!!! i showed my friend your first post and she said, of agassi's biography quotes (specifically the "pete, always pete" motif): "OK THATS INSANE.... whys he writing like this is the song of Achilles or something. i could recognize him by touch alone core" andlksjfd and i found it very apt

please it's no trouble, I LOVE talking about them. and yes!! yes!! I LOVE how poetic about this stuff agassi is, how he really just like... gets the narrative appeal of sports, how he's so singularly capable of putting words to it. and how he talks about sampras! where he knows they're both alike in some fundamental ways, that there's something they've shared with each other that can never be erased... that sampras will always be part of his story, inescapable, inevitable. as always, pete. but also this fundamental feeling of separation. of alienation. of not being able to breach that divide

which is a PERFECT excuse to bring in perhaps my favourite interview agassi ever did, courtesy of der spiegel around the time of the release of the autobiography. it's quite extensive and the whole thing is very much worth a read. unsurprisingly given that it's a german magazine, a lot of attention is paid to agassi's relationship with steffi graf - and those bits are particularly sweet and sad

SPIEGEL: Both of you were drilled by fathers who wanted to control everything. Agassi: What is right is that both of us were in our fathers' hands. I told a lot of people that I hated tennis -- seriously and strongly hated it -- and they all tried to talk me out of it: "Ah, that is not right, Andre; in fact you love tennis, don't you?" Do you want to know what Stefanie said: "Don't we all?"

god.

there's also a fair bit about agassi's relationship with his father, so fair warning that those parts are all quite heavy. AND it's also very interesting on the actual writing process for the autobiography and how agassi's collaboration with moehringer came about. plus it takes some fun swings at chang and courier, for old time's sake. but to turn back to sampras, there's just something so striking about how agassi describes what it felt like playing tennis -

SPIEGEL: Mr. Agassi, is it possible for a happy person to win Wimbledon? Andre Agassi: For me, it's hard to imagine. SPIEGEL: Roger Federer seems to actually enjoy playing. Agassi: Yes, maybe. But, in my world, this is impossible. The maximum were short moments of peace during a match which we, the players, used to call "the Zone." But you couldn't plan it. It was never constant. And it went by very fast. SPIEGEL: Does a tennis professional have to be obsessed? Must there be some kind of trauma for him or her to be good? Agassi: While I was winning Wimbledon, I felt like I would die. I feared to fail; I feared embarrassment.

- and then later in the interview gives his thoughts on sampras -

SPIEGEL: For years, the rivalry between you and Pete Sampras was magical to a worldwide audience. Is there still a connection between the two of you? Agassi: There is a lot of respect. I believe that, without Pete, I would have won more and learned less. SPIEGEL: He appears to have been as driven as you were. He had to sleep in ice-cold rooms in total darkness. Was he obsessed or traumatized, as well? Agassi: We were all driven. And, of course, there is something strange about tennis: Egocentric and narcissistic behavior can win; torture and the isolation of players may lead you to the top. Pete and I shared our life and our fate; we were together all year long. But we were lonely. If there was not the net separating us, there was a wall.

and... yeah. "if there was not the net separating us, there was a wall". nyhhhhh this idea that to be a good tennis player, you need to embrace the worst aspects of yourself, that you need to make yourself suffer... egocentric, narcissistic - a sport of the tortured and the isolated... pete and I shared our life and our fate; we were together all year long. but we were lonely........ god. GOD. what more is there even to say!!

which is really agassi's gift, isn't it... putting words to the dark underbelly of the sport that everyone who's spent enough time in that world is aware of - but may never be forced to confront. tennis is hell, it can be one of the loneliest experiences imaginable - and so much of agassi's story is about attempting to stave off that fundamental horror. surrounding himself by as many people as possible, trying to live a real and full and loud life... because whenever he stepped on court he had to face The Horror once again. rivals who can share a life and a fate but can never truly understand each other, a net dividing the players that might as well be a wall... as always, pete - and as always, alone

[dreamii-krybaby]

Theory on Nori’s actual personality

Ok but what if it’s revealed that Nori isn’t necessarily malicious or evil or satan’s spawn, like specifically during her time at the labs and camps.

Like yes I know she seems to be enjoying herself after the core collapse thanks to the pictures in EP4 and at the interview shown in EP6 despite Alice going berserk and smashing her own head and Yeva hurting and terrified. Not only her body language but also the fact she is resting her arm on one of the sentinels as if they were mere pets gives her almost disney villian vibes

Because to me she could be somewhat similar to N. She is a beacon of positivy, it may be simply her personality or a developed coping mechanism

It could be that her chill and cool vibes are astonishing. So it’s not that she doesn’t care or anything, she simply isn’t aware of the gravity of the situation or takes things easy.

Plus the fact that the goddam sentinels are so chill around her that even one of them lets Nori put her arm on top of them can maybe be seen as the sentinels not perceiving Nori as a threat, and more as a companion, maybe even as a friend.

Her EP6 appearance may be a red herring or is purposely made so we draw the wrong conclusion.

Bc most of her bad actions where when she was under the influence of the AS:

- Like before the core collapse happened we clearly saw in EP6 that Nori was fully possessed bc of her yellow eyes. And we in the footage you can see drones or even human limbs scattered around her, so all of that was when she was possessed.

- after the core collapse she shows to be quite friendly, it could be that she doesn’t remember a lot after her possession. Unlike Yeva who probably was still processing everything.

Tho tbh I can cut her some slack if she indeed was happy after the humans perished after the core collapse. Since you know, she was experimented and probably witnessed a lot of fucked up shit.

- When Alice mentioned that she left them to die, she also later added she had yellow eyes, again, Nori was possessed at that time. Alice probably didn’t know that the one who probably left them to die was the AS, not Nori

- Now this more of an assumption, but the fact that in Nori’s closet Khan kept boxes and boxes of “happy family memories” it probably meant their relationship was pretty good.

- And things only went south when Nori started to get visions(?). Also she constantly told Khan to build doors against the coming sky demons. Clearly she was trying to protect herself, Uzi and Khan, and probably the rest of the colony (which also included Yeva, which would go against the interpretation that Nori didn’t care much for Yeva). Also remember, it was Khan who wasn’t there for Nori, she needed him, she tried to warn him.

-Its also worth mentioning that Yeva might have not been harmed by Nori during the interview shown at EP6. Bc first there is no sharp object that could potentially be used against Yeva. (Wait now that I think about it, there is a JCJenson pen, and if u remember the pilot, that pen could have actually been used to cause Yeva’s injury but it seems to be lacking oil stains)

And its a higher possibility that Alice could have done it, as it seems she has gone berserk and drew with her own oil on the walls and is clawing at the wall, and maybeee she also used Yeva’s oil to draw.

Also Nori couldn’t have used the AS directly on Yeva due to both having the AS. And a interpretation made by @capnsaltsquid said that Yeva’s eye got damaged by the AS itself, it fucking blew up, due to her body not being very “compatible” with the AS. (Yeva my poor gal :( )

Again I think it all depends on interpretation.

Now does this mean she is a pure holy saint? No. Murder Drones is a show where most ppl aren’t really a saint. Yes..probably not even my gal Yeva. But Nori could be that at the end she wasn’t evil or smth. She could have a similar situation to Cyn.

Now personally would enjoy if she actually started off as antagonist or even villian when she got the AS at the labs and had to unfortunately learn the hard way about the dangers of the AS later. Wouldn’t mind at all if she occasionally showed moments of villainy.

And me being me, how about devil’s advocate?

Maybe she was indeed a son of a bitch at her time at the labs maybe she was happy after the destruction she caused after the core collapse.

What if Nori actually planned to get possessed? What if the AS offered her freedom by getting rid of the humans. Bc the AS drawing below her shown on the EP6 footage surrounded by body remains gives me “summoning the local Eldritch god inside of my body to do silly stuff” vibes

For all we know the AS could have given her a sense of control, power, and superiority and for a lab rat surrounded by robo-raptors and other, more aggressive lab rats, that must have felt amazing.

Also it would be nice to have a villian who fully embraces the AS, even for only a period of time.

Before you say we have Doll, I don’t think so, well partially:

-She immediately feels sorry for Uzi upon learning she also has the AS, and she promised her to help her once she finds what she is looking for.

-She also calls the AS a “sickness” via Tessa’s comment on EP6.

-A lot of ppl and myself included infer that what Doll is looking for is a cure for the AS

-Even if she uses the AS a lot more than Uzi I think Doll is simply taking advantage of it while she has it, its the only ready available tool she has. But I don’t think she necessarily likes having it. Plus Doll has more control over her body over the AS unlike Uzi.

So I would love for Nori at the beginning to embrace the AS, that loves it. Sees it as a blessing rather than a sickness. That feels a rush of control when using it.

Or we could go the more, chill route, she uses it more due to carelessness and ignorance.

And perhaps for her later go “Well maybe I don’t want this thing anymore”

But realistically from what I gathered, I see her someone who is chill, open, easy going, sociable and perhaps, careless.

Tho am begging on my knees for her to be a morally grey sassy lady.

[hero-next-door]

Defending Nathan Prescott

(From Every Accusation)

All fact proven & common sense theory

No bullshit.

I suck at grammar. Deal with it.

I've replayed the game far too many times to gather this. I read into everything and even read into and WATCHED people who have suffered the same mental illness and situations Nathan has been in.

What I'll be covering:

Illness, rib breaking, dead animals, bdsm, Chloes pic, Rachel, gun on campus, Kate, Pompidou, Jefferson, wealth and his father.

And dont even THINK about skipping ahead!

Everything here is tied into one another. Read from start to finish. You're on this post to understand, right? Or to argue? Im not here to argue so, bye.

Lets start from the top...

Nathans downfall was caused by society and all who failed him. He's driven by hatred of others who don't understand him, and the game purposly wrote him off that way. They want players to hate him from what sides of the stories we've experienced. They gave this character controversial hobbies and a cynical bully attitude to really keep you suspecting him and not guessing Jefferson. The game isn't about Nathan. It's about Max. We learn so much about Max and everyone close to her. The tears they shed, the pains they've endorsed. Same with Chloe and Rachel's story. My heart goes out to all of them. We don't get to see that with other characters. Therefore, we don't care for them...or that's the games' intentions. We don't know the ins and outs of Nathan. Only what the game shows us, which are all negative. So, of course, disliking Nathan is only reasonable.

Mental Illness

We start with mental illness. He has Psychosis. Lots of proof, but i'm assuming you've seen it all already. Like, do people know what Psychosis is? Do they REALLY know what it is? Because this ALONE changes everything. And not Psychopathy ..Psychosis. Two different things, pookie. Psychopathy is the one where part of the brain is missing or disturbed. THEY'RE the ones that don't have empathy. Psychosis is different. Anybody can get it. This illness can take your empathy and awareness away, then bring it all back after the harm is done, leaving you to process that. Schizo and Bipolar are also all quite a handful to deal with too. Loud Noises/downgrading voices in your head SO LOUD that people will do anything to calm them. (Dont be shy, youtube: "28- Psychotic Episode" by Collège d'Alma) The feeling of loosing your mind is something I notice a lot of haters dont empathize on especially if they killed or hurt sombody. The brain slips into a state so disconnected that interviews with recovering patients I've seen describe it as confusing and scary and dont recall saying the stories they told and actions they did others. Imagine not being able to remember the hurtful things you've said and done. Imagine being told you killed somebody... with your own hands? And you can hardly remember what happened. Like... how would you react? Think about it. Anybody can get psychosis with enough trauma or a kick in the noggin. Some people who were interviewed that had psychosis said that they found relief when getting high or drunk. Little did they know the symptoms could bounce back up to 5x during withdrawal. But they were so desperate to get rid of the voices that they abused the drugs. Like....wow the game really did their research to create such a complicated character. Anyway, moving on.

Edit: After further research, he certainly had bipolar disorder first. Then it went left untreated, therefore sunk him to worse mental state of many other illnesses. Drugs only made things much, much worse. Bipolar disorder can cause schizo and schizo to lead to psychosis. 🙄Jesus Nathan quit hogging all the illnesses.

Now, let's break down everything else...

Shooting Chloe

Just rewatch it. Aims gun, Chloe pushes him, it tightens grip, ACCIDENTLY shoots her, immediately drops gun and gets really scared of he's done, checking to see if she's alive! If you specifically rewatch the ending of Lis1 when Chloe gets shot, they extend his reaction. He goes back and forth, checking her body. If he wanted to kill her, you check pulse and then run. Not sticking around crying about it. There's your empathy you're all saying he doesn't have. Other times where he could have shown more empathy ties with his Psychosis. Some people with the illness said that the voices loudly in their head will convince them that everyone around you is your enemy. Everyone is after you. It can twist your brain to feel anger and fear towards others. Nathan is always hung up on how everyone is using him and trying to control him. Which people ..DO use him. So now he's convinced that everyone is. He's not choosing to feel this way. He just needs psychiatric help.

Breaking Ribs

In Before The Storm, his entire demeanor is completely different than the Lis 1. He's more cowardly and not loud and aggressive. We'll be mentioning his creepy "pervy" binder later. Nathan isn't violent until the end IF you let Nathan get bullied and push his life in a negative direction. Sure, it's not Chloe's responsibility, but this is the game's way of showing you his downfall. We need to remember the game hides scenes and expect you to make up what happened behind the scenes. He broke Samantha's ribs over ..what? She's always so desperate to defend Nathan and even gets upset with Chloe when she doesn't help. So, if you tell her the wrong option to pressure kindness into Nathan, it results in him breaking ribs. How, though? Haters immediately hop online to say cause he's a mean and abusive non-empathic nut head. Are you sure he didn't just push her away, and her clumsiness just fell over? This took place after the play...so he possibly...pushed her off... 😰 She did say she was clumsy. You don't think she would have tried to hug or touch him in any way. Ok ok...calm down... Let's take a step back.. You get this "breaking ribs," ending from letting Nathan get bullied and embarrass himself during the play that his father pressured him about! Adding a little "..fuck you.." to the audience. Showing his start to his villain career and the start of him hating everyone, and you tell Samantha to go hug him!? This is the start of his mental spiral if you let things play out this way. But hurting her with intention? No. Lets tie this in with the other endings to their relationship. You get the clumsy ending. She hurts herself differently, and Nathan is with her in the hospital. Saying how he feels bad that she got hurt. (empathy bell) And they continue yo talk about her photo or whatever. Tie this with the rib one, tie this with the Chloe getting shot incident, and tie this with his mental illness. Come on, do i gotta spell it out for you.. Hurting someone is not what he attends to do. Like he quotes in his voice mail. (Speaking of that voice mail, empathy bell.) He does get angry at Samantha and hurts her, and we as players dont know the full story. But what was playing in his head seconds before and the entirety of the game that led up to this IS the reason why he accidentally hurts her. His anger from the entire game was built up and, unfortunately, released on her. Whatever happened, breaking her ribs was not on his to-do list! And then we have.. The good ending. He sits beside her, smiling.

Oh, wait! He's a little psycho with no human emotion? Psychosis has all parts of the brain attached, pookie. For most cases, It can be cured and helped. I can get it. YOU can get it. He has human emotions when he is at his very rare peaceful moments like with this good ending, when with Victoria ig and other scenes we tend to forget. Because painting him as the villain was the games goal. Jefferson was the plot twist.

Daddy Issues, Smug Talk, and a Gun on campus

Simple guys. Simple. You represent this school. You represent our name. This is a legacy. You will not embarrass me. This isn't about you or your problems!

Sure, YOU wouldn't crumble under that pressure, but Nathan sure did. Sure, child abuse isn't an excuse to "kill" people. But is it the child's fault? Sean-beanbag prescott should be arrested for not taking his boy to the asylum. Instead, he argues with a doctor!? Goofy, bro. But so many people are fueled with anger towards Nathan instead. It's whatever. Prescott, literally being his name, was already a red flag to other characters and chose to hate and bully him over it. Drew hated for what his FATHER did. Nathan did ..what again? Notice how that "rich Malfoy talk" wasn't really present in Before The Storm. Sure he tried to burn Drew with a family financial situation insult but the "Im rich, my father owns everything, I got a lawyer, money this and that" wasn't in his character in the Before the Storm. I believe being a prescott wasn't really in his future goals, and he wasn't ever really passionate about it. It's all in the annoyance in his tone with his father before the play. Lis1 he uses it so often to show that he's the boss and in control. He is influenced by representation for his family/school, wealth, intimidation, and of course hatred and believing everyone hates him. In his mind, everyone is against him, after him, and wants to use him. Again, he doesn't choose to think this way. Let me explain my last sentence clearly, though. Imagine being surrounded by a ton of people. All their attention is on you. They hate who you are. They talk about you. You have a defensless stomach sinking feeling and scared because all these people surrounding you are looking at you and all your insecurities and laughing at you. Well, obviouslysome of that is not going on in reality. But to Nathan, that IS his reality, and he has no control over it. Anyways I shouldn't have to keep explaining mental illness and how it stresses the brain. The bottom line is that his status and waving a gun around is what he thinks keep others out of his head. He can barely throw a punch. He had to use his head on warren, and did you catch when Max hit him in that scene? The dude was literally holding onto his face like he'd been battered. Like she did NOT hit that hard lmao. He's weak. He's always been the same tiny Nathan from before the storm. Just now, he uses masks for intimidation to stop his bullies, and anyone he thinks is "after him." He never meant to use a gun on anybody, just a threat. During the second scene where warren reunited a head butt with Nathan.. If you pull off warren, he barely even aims the gun when he runs away towards his room. Cowardly. He feels that he has to, to protect himself. He also uses his father as a threat, but clearly, that never worked. Also, I noticed him crying when you let Warren get crazy on him? Dudes apologizing and sobing? Guess that's not his first rodeo, rip.

Dead Animals

There is no proof he hurt animals. That's not really like him. He does have a list of illnesses, but Psychopathy isn't one of them. Y'all can keep yappin, but it's not. Clearly NOT one of them. He could have hurt an animal during an unaware episode, but there will not be any awareness behind it. Anyways, there are plenty of artists that do the same thing. Nathan is very passionate about photography and protraying solitary but not in the same way Jefferson does. Jefferson certainly uses that manipulation, but we'll get to that later. There are artists that like to shine on death in a positive light and in sorrow. There's also beauty in anatomy. It's not my cup of tea, but someone close to me can name me all kinds of gross organs and would be down to disect any animal. Yuck. But to them.. its fascinating, and they are the greatest people in my life. In love and in empathy. (NOT comparing my pookie to Nathan, PAUSE.) In anatomy theres Education and surprise. Death is also a theme and style too. Skulls and gore, super "rad" fukin "knarly."

BDSM Skip to (●) next part if needed

Ok.. so he's a little frisky. Y'all need to remember this is a fictional game first, okay? Lol Anyway, I can't defend him much here, but I got something. Firstly, the game WANTS you to suspect Nathan. Can't keep his room pretty and pink. They have to make it freaky and spooky. They paint Nathan as the villian for you to only focus on him as a suspect. So that everyones jaws are dropped with Jefferson twirls in.

Anyway...defending BDSM? This can bring trauma to those who have experienced it negatively or view it negatively. So skip to the Frank defense or read more if you want.

Bdsm relationships are very controversial. Some people see it as unhealthy, abusive, and sick. But if you have talked to or listened to other people within these relationships, they state that its completely consensual, safe, harmless, a breach of deep trust with their partners, and simply a fetish or kink The goal is to have fun at your limit..not pass the limit. There are twisted people who have broken that barrier and made it not fun and abusive. That's where I can't argue. If you feel that way towards the topic, I completely empathize with you.

Nathan has shown in his other photos a black and white theme of solitary. And you can tell that he might have taken those bdsm photos himself. As the quality is almost like the Pompidou photo. Everyone blends him taking bdsm photos with his angry behavior and "non empathic" demeanor. But this is where I loop back to Before The Storm hugging-my-binder Nathan. It's shown that in one of his endings, he took photos of Samantha. Obviously, NOT bdsm photos. His binder was a school project. But Samantha obviously consented, and Nathan was passionate enough to show her. He sees them as art. Naked girls have been models for sculptures and paintings. Its beauty. That's IF she was naked in some way in those photos. Which I still doubt. School project. Im sure the photos were gentle and strange and misunderstood, and Drew was just in his bully era. His reaction would have been a lot more eye-opening if he had a face full of tits or straps. Nathan begged for his binder back and even nervously reacted, showing he had love for his work and 'took time with it' (as he quotes when Drew throws it). I bring this up here to show that the women in his photos were indeed given consent, and if hes passionate about depicting his art, hurting them wouldn't be on his agenda. As we all learned today that hurting people was never his intentions until drugs and illness met with pressure and intimidation clouds his brain.

I read up on other artists that painted things similar. In their paintings, they expressed dread, vulnerability, feeling traped, and ..feeling used. If Nathan did find the images he took arousing, then why would he hang them up like everything else in his room like art? I believe that they're depicted in an artful way and in its black and white shading brings a sad darkness. If it's anything like the painters I mentioned, maybe Nathan has a deep level of empathy we don't understand.

●Frank and Pompidou

I didn't even know he took a picture of Franks hurt dog in the road because you little freaks threw his treat in the street!? This will also tie in to chloes pic, but we'll get to that. Frank first, as it's pretty simple. Nathan runs some system with Frank. And it's pretty obvious it's the same thing Drew was doing in Before the Storm. Nathan clearly doesn't like it as he finds it controlling, but getting his hands on drugs is a great way to forget his flaws and calm his illness symptoms. Which only created a loop of his symptoms worsening, as talked about before. His illness is very active towards the end of Before the Storm. You can tell by his huge character difference that drugs only made it worse.

Pompidou is a good dog, but just remember he's not the one who hurt him. This ties in with what we explained in the dead animal phase. The Imagine is black and white. It's a strange art most people don't understand. Man, I don't even understand it. But these people aren't heartless, and they're simply expressing pain. Or.. he took it for the same reason he took Chloes pic. To feel that he's in control, thinking this will help his mental reality of thinking everyone can use him, as explained earlier. But i doubt it. One is in color, and Pompidou is not. One is misguided, and one is "art."

Jefferson, Rachel, Kate, Chloes pic

If i see one more person throw him in the same trash bin as Jefferson, im going to puke. Anyway, I've twisted my head around this story so many times, begging to see the bigger picture. No pun attended. Jefferson was pulling the strings all along ..you know that, right? If Nathan was never there, Jefferson would have still done his disgusting projects. He certainly brought Victoria over without Nathan's usage. He didn't need Nathan, Nathan just made it easier cause he can easily be manipulated. Making Nathan do it all so the consequences will fall on him. Jefferson is smart and knows the right words to say. Nathan is missing the kindness of a father figure. All he has to do is play with his feelings. Nathan falls too easily to kindness. He felt the kindness of Samantha during the good ending, and He felt the kindness from Victoria.. but Victoria toxic bully nature wasn't helping. The bottom line is Jefferson easily manipulates him and understands his mental reality and uses that against him. Adding thoughts into Nathans head. Jefferson learned to use Nathan's illness to his advantage. Nathan trusted Jefferson as did everyone in that school. Why on earth would Jefferson wrong him? He looked up to him, so when Jefferson slowly brought him into his plans of drugging girls, Nathan thought that it was all ..moral. In reality, you and I know obviously that's not okay, but to Nathan (and his severe illness), he trusted Jefferson was doing no wrong. We don't understand the mental strain he was under. Manipulation goes a long way. Heres how he did it. He probably said things like 'We are the same Nathan, this is art just like yours.' It starts small, Nathan gets him the drugs. Then he pulls him in, and Nathan starts drugging the girls for me. Start driving them here. Start helping me inside the dark room. Start helping me inject my victims. Jefferson had so much power over him. He was connected with his father. He can threaten his grade, his representation, and his future in art. He knew all the right things to say and do. He knew how his head worked. Clog him up with drugs, and keep him quiet. Heal his missing father needs and demand him for your needs. Does this not make Nathan a victim, too?

Then ...the Rachel incident happened. Nathan was NOT mentally aware of what he's done. The excited "Rachel!" When he saw Max at the diner clearly shows that he truly expected her to pull up. This mixes with the symptoms we've discussed. He only remembers bits and pieces as obviously it was beyond traumatizing. Sending him in an insane spiral and the infamous psychosis drawing. (Don't be afraid, google psychosis drawings. Damn. Just imagine you recovered from psychosis and laying eyes on that and not remembering you drew that..ugh...I'd cry.) Someone with Psychopathy wouldnt feel traumatized from such events, debunking the fact everyone thinks Nathan has Psychopathy. He doesn't have Psychopathy, he has psychosis. Moving on. Jefferson was certainly angry with him and drugged Nathan himself after the incident, which really helped Nathan to forget what he's done. But Jefferson's anger and not talking to him tore him apart. His emotional attachment clearly wasn't having it. The note he wrote Jefferson in desperate attempt to bring him back after ruining Jefferson plans goes to show just how much he wants that sense of being cared for. If only it was someone else that wasnt Jefferson ..or his dad can do is fucking job too.

Alcohol was certainly a great method of forgetting what he did. So then comes Chloes' interaction with him. We know the story. He did not SA her, I can say that right here and now. Nothing like that was behind this. You can tell by the way Chloe presented the story to Max. There wasn't an uncomfortable tone to her story. She didn't seem traumatized but more shocked, and "it was pretty crazy." She also wasn't drugged for that long. She woke up very soon, fully clothed. What obviously happened is that Nathan used this to feel in control like the mentioned way above. Drugs and Psychosis is no jokes. Who knows what hell is playing in his mind, but I unfortunately believe that this was to try to win back Jefferson. He had been angry at him and ignoring him, and even tho he hates drugging, his confusion and drunk state led him to this. He's cowardly, and his mind is slipping and tries to do what he thinks is right for him. He's misguided and leads down the wrong path.

Nathan did not SA Kate! Kate story breaks my heart into a million pieces, but if she was SA-ed, it wasn't Nathan. After everything I said above, you can tell that that isn't in his character. But here I want to bring up the voicemail. Nathan claims multiple times that he never wanted to hurt anybody, implying that he felt forced to do harm. Something he DID NOT want to do. Why on earth would anybody have felt forced to SA somebody!? I'm not saying Kate WASN'T SA-ed as I can only assume maybe the boys she was shown with in the video did something or Jefferson. Victoria was Kates bully!!! Nathan wanted to be liked by Victoria and was influenced by her nature. He's desperate for attention and kindness. Victoria did far more to hurt Kate and her reason as to why was shit. You go THAT FAR to one up your photography game. Girl, bye. She spread that video, and she still has empathy, too? Her regretting everything? Did she reallyy regret it? Or did she want to make herself look good for her representation? She showed regret via text message in Before The Storm, too? She doesn't have a mental illness, but the game gave her an act of forgiveness and used her as a victim so the audience would sympathize with her. Goes to show you the game controls what they want you to feel. If they were to do that with Nathan..would opinons be different? Taking us into his mind and how he sees the world around him. They could have..but didnt. Well.. We have the voicemail, but obviously, that didn't stop the haters. It's unfortunate. But the game gave me just enough little clues for me to shine light on in this post. They put so much into his character but never showed the audience the truth.

Conclusion

What we've learned today is that Nathan isn't the villain you think. He's been manipulated, used, and needs mental help, but im sure my old Nathan-defending friends have said this time and time again. Im here to add something....

It's been PROVEN that he's capable of all human emotions. You just refuse to believe it because you're mistaking his illness and claiming all of this was intentional. Psychosis can be temporary. It's like a hand that steals your common sense, feelings, empathy, and sympathy, and you're only left with acting on pure chaos and negative or fearful emotions. After long treatment, your sense of reality returns, your feelings, your empathy, your sympathy.. And all you have now is guilt and regret and self blame that you hurt somebody. If you let Nathan kill Chloe, he is arrested. He had doctors aware of his illness and would have been charged with illness in mind. Forcing the treatment he needed ages ago. By the time Lis 2 came out... I wonder how he's taking it all in? What he did to everyone, what he did to Rachel.

He was written off to die, be locked up, and blamed. Unfortunately, he was caught in the crossfires of the harm of our favorite characters. If he was born in a different family and away from Jeff, he would have never hurt anybody. Matter a fact, he would never have suffered with his listed mental illnesses.

This goes out to all real accidental murder cases. There will always be a great divide in opinions. I hate comparing fictional games with real life, but I find it crazy that we call others nonempathtic when they aren't empathic themselves. It's like the word "accidental" is worthless.

Its always a debate..

Do we feel bad for the lives lost and their families

or

Do we feel bad for the mental crumble of the one who never meant to kill and how their familes have to deal with that.

Are they worthy to walk this earth? Are they worthy to see the daylight again? Are they still human, too? Should they die, too? Is redemption possible?

Who knows. Peoples opinions won't change unless they themselves fall onto the opposing team. If they were to suffer the chaos of accidentally murdering someone or the grief of losing someone from an accidental murder.

Red Nathan, the first Nathan we all experienced from Lis1. Damaged and doomed. Used and mentally obstructed. It's unfortunate things ended this way.

Blue Nathan, Appears in Before the slStorm and Max's alternate timeline. He is clean and hasn't touched drugs. He had not been involved in crimes or violence yet. In this alternate timeline, he has been somehow saved and kept away from mental destruction and Jefferson. We will never really know what drove Nathan towards this peaceful path, but I assumed that it was the kindness of Max that led him in the right direction. (Max somehow changed Victoria, too. With her demeanor being so gentle. I really am curious about the whole back story of that timeline... I think about it alot)