#they’ve had this conversation several times | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sectumsempraaa · 6 months ago

Text

More Than a Gut Feeling

Pairing: soulmate!Theo Nott x fem!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Based on this request! :)

TW: none, just unlawful amounts of fluff

Featuring: Theo, Draco, Mattheo, Pansy, Lorenzo, Blaise

Summary: Transferring schools in your fifth year is overwhelming enough. But when you find yourself seemingly tethered to a Slytherin boy, you start to wonder… Did you come to Hogwarts by choice? Or did someone lead you here?

“And there was fog, and dust, and all I could see was this hand reaching out for me-”

“Bloody hell Theo, please, we get it. You smoked before bed and had trippy dreams,” Pansy complains, cutting him off from his hazy explanation. She turns to you and rolls her eyes, expressing her disdain.

It’s a typical Monday breakfast in the Great Hall for the Slytherin lads, except they have you now. They’ve recently (and graciously) taken you under their wing after you transferred schools in your fifth year.

Though you’re still adjusting to your surroundings at Hogwarts, your new friends have made the transition easier.

“I didn’t smoke before bed, bastardo,” he replies, lunging slightly towards her in annoyance.

Your eyes linger on Theo for a moment, his dream piquing your interest for some reason. There’s something about it that feels… familiar.

But you shake it off as deja vu in order to move past it. The last thing you want right now is to stand out amongst your new peers.

It’s only been a week since you arrived, but the connection you have with Theodore is unlike the others, and they are starting to notice.

Like when you first met, and the both of you were each holding a hardcover copy of your mutual favorite poetry book.

And a couple days later, when you turned your head to greet him as he was several yards behind you in the hallway, before he even called your name.

And yesterday, when you watched him win the first quidditch match you’d seen because the golden snitch hovered over you the entire time.

“I wish I could remember my dreams like that,” you respond, adding a touch of understanding to the conversation.

Theo’s head turns in the direction of your soft voice, like his gaze is attached to it somehow.

Blaise looks between the two of you, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

Suddenly and smoothly, Mattheo nudges you with his elbow and leans in close to your ear.

“If you dreamt of me, you would.” He smirks, laughing to himself and earning a light smack on the chest from Lorenzo. You notice Theo’s expression turn a smidge darker, something new looming in his eyes.

Lorenzo comments. “You really do ruin everything. You’re like, the king of ruining everything.”

Draco scoffs at Mattheo’s quip and places his hands on the table to signify that it’s time to leave for class. “Come on, Mattheo. Let’s not traumatize the new girl.”

Draco throws an apologetic glance your way.

“Please don’t listen to this child.” He spits out the last few words with haste.

When you look at Theo, you find him still staring at you with a hint of wonder and confusion.

You blush, feeling the crimson warmth spreading from one cheek to another. You reach down to grab your bag and make your way to potions class with the rest of the group.

—

Today’s lesson is, surprisingly, something you’ve already learned at your previous school. And thank the gods, because something about Theo’s dream has your attention caught like a fly in a web.

You imagine his vision, the fog and the reaching. You look down to your own hand, your brows furrowing as you continue to rack your brain. The longer you look at your hand, the more convinced you are that…

No. You just met him a week ago… there’s no way.

But that’s not it. It’s the other dreams he’s mentioned in the past few days, too. One where he’s at Durmstrang looking for someone, another where he’s trying to find them on the Hogwarts Express, but he doesn’t know who he’s following.

Who he’s looking for.

You can’t help but compare them to your own dreams, strikingly, eerily similar.

You recount images of them, scouring through empty train cabins and following the sound of alluring footsteps in your former school.

A tug on your ponytail pulls you out of your distraction, the slight pain guiding your stare. A sea of giggles spreads through the class as you watch Professor Snape’s hand return to his side.

“Miss Y/L/N, I suspect you were the potions teacher at Durmstrang with the way you ignore my curriculum.” Snape retorts, his stern voice closer than you were expecting.

But one particular laugh catches your ears, the corners of your mouth turning up at the sound of it. Your eyes land on Theo, and something about his expression makes your heart skip a beat.

“Tsk tsk, bella,” He whispers, and you bite your lip in response, turning back to your textbook as that damn blush creeps back onto your face.

There’s no denying how unfathomably handsome this man is when he smiles at you, because of you.

Your desk partner, Draco, looks to Theo and then back to you in bewilderment.

“I can never get him to joke around like that,” He says to you. “I’ll be damned if he fancies you more than me already.”

You smile back to Draco, returning the playful demeanor. “Oh, I bet he just adores you.” You respond loud enough so Theo can hear behind you.

You don’t have to turn around to see the bashful smirk on Theo’s face.

—

That night, you toss and turn more than usual. A wild dream keeps you trapped in slumber, unable to relinquish you from it until your roommate, Pansy, physically shakes you awake.

“I’m right here, you oaf!” Pansy yells, her hands squeezing your shoulders as you urgently sit up in bed.

“What? What are you doing? Why are you yelling?” You ask, genuinely lost. The beads of sweat trickle down your temple.

“You don’t remember just now when you were asking ‘Where are you?’ a thousand times in your own sleep?” She responds, her eyes widening with each word.

And then it hits you, the images of your dream. That laugh, a gentle breeze, and a-

“Paper crane?” Pansy asks, looking down into your lap with eyes like headlights.

You slowly look down, afraid to reveal to yourself what lays in your grasp. In your palm is a small, crumpled paper crane. Your baffled stare freaks her out, her hands retracting from your sides.

“What the filthy fuck is that?!” Pansy yells, but her voice sounds quite distant to you as you try desperately to get a hold on reality.

But you know. You know what this is, and you know how you got it. Accepting this fact is like swallowing glass.

“I brought something out of my dream,” you whisper, your breath picking up in pace and weight. The thought is sending you reeling, your brain suddenly racing yet devoid at the same time, unwilling to connect the dots.

“How is this even possible?” You ask yourself.

Pansy continues rambling on, asking you endless questions.

But you can’t seem to shake the idea that this item didn’t exist before you fell asleep last night.

—

After long deliberation, and a real pull back to reality, you manage to get yourself dressed and out the door. But the mental picture of this thing takes up most of the space in your mind that day, haunting you each time you think of it.

It’s not until Divination class, your last period, that things somehow become even more unsettling.

Professor Trelawney begins a lesson about the influence of dreams in real life and the messages they can send to the dreamer.

“Dreams, they can be so powerful. They can point you in specific directions, impact your decisions, make you see the truth.”

Her shakey, ominous voice echoes through your head, her words bouncing off the walls of your skull as you feel around in your pocket for the mysterious object. When you feel the edges of the paper graze your skin, you gently pull it out and place it on the corner of your desk.

From the table over, Theo absentmindedly observes you, your movement guiding his trailing eyes. He sees the object in front of you, but it takes him a second to register what it is, that curious little thing.

He squints, then performs a stunning double take. And when he’s finally able to identify it…

Everything changes.

“Oh… my… god…” Theo whispers, his heart dropping into his stomach like an anchor. His body goes into a state of utter disbelief and stillness. His eyes piercing white and his face ghostly pale as he struggles to grasp the scene in front of him.

Mattheo notices Theo’s knuckles white against the desk and chimes in to check on his friend.

“Mate, you alright? You look like Enzo after a Friday night at the Three–”

But before Mattheo can finish asking, Theo suddenly stands up and gains the attention of everyone in class by the sound of his bench skidding backwards on the floor.

Professor Trelawney’s gaze shifts from Theo to you as she locates the focus point of his unrelenting stare. She offers to take him to the infirmary as he looks “unwell.”

But Theo shakes his head, places his hand over his heart, and silently dashes out of the classroom.

Pansy’s head slowly turns to you with a look of complete perplexity.

“Better go check on Rome, new girl,” she mutters under her breath, referencing Theo’s hometown. She gestures her head in the direction of the door.

You nod hesitantly, soon following in his footsteps and ignoring any questions from your teacher.

—

When you make it to the hallway, you find Theo pacing back and forth, his hand still placed over his heart as if to stop it from exploding. But when he sees you, it only gets more difficult.

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off before you can even inhale.

“Where in seven hells did you get that paper crane?!” He asks, stopping in his tracks. The conversation continues in bouts of interrupting each other.

“Theodore, I-”

“Don’t call me that, that’s not what you call me in-”

“In what?”

“In my-”

Then a pause. A tense, incredible pause. A stare down.

He continues. “Nothing, it’s mind numbingly mad,”

You take a step towards him, but something in your chest suddenly becomes achingly heavy. In response, you place a hand over your heart, just like Theo is.

In your free hand, you unfold your fingers to reveal the paper crane. His eyes land on it, the shock of it still trapping every fiber of his being.

“You…” you start, the weight in your chest transforms from a brick to a block of anvil with each word.

When you’re within arms length of each other, he manages to reach out, the struggle evident on his face. He fights to finish your sentence for you.

“Made this. Gave this… to you, last night.” He explains, his voice dragging as you notice his hand now gripping his shirt in a fist from the sheer pain in his chest.

“Theo… I think we aren’t dreaming of each other,” you suggest, taking time to breathe between thoughts. The weight on your heart is now seemingly unbearable.

“We’re dreaming with each other,” you say, and just as you finish the thought, Theo’s fingers touch the paper crane in your hand, a graze that feels like lightning.

And just then, as the object fuses the touch of two destined souls, a small clad of thunder emits from between you that only you two can hear. The pains in your chests implode, a knee-dropping sensation of light and warmth replacing it.

Like dynamite in your hearts.

“Bella,” Theo’s hoarse voice is laced with a sincerity that sounds like liquid gold to your ears. There’s no way to describe the feeling inside you right now, this fantastic blend of energies and desires.

The only thing you do know is that it’s burning at both ends, like a charring rope.

“I think… I was meant to find you, cara mia. Gods I sound mental,” he shakes his head, embarrassment written all over his face. To his surprise, he finds your hand gently caressing his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours.

“Then maybe we both need to visit the infirmary, because I’ve only just arrived here and for some reason I can’t fathom a minute away from you.”

Relief washes over him as he drinks in your words, and the stunning sight of you confessing the very same sentiment he, too, harbors.

Your heart rate quickens as you feel an arm snake around your lower back, out of your line of sight. This feels strangely comfortable, like you’ve felt it for a lifetime already.

“Y/N…” he beckons, his forehead dropping to rest on yours. “I can’t ask you to be mine, because I think someone, or something, else already decided that.” He jokes, the huff from his laugh hitting your face.

The sight of both your smiles is what shifts everything into place. Everything, all at once. And then, your fists are the ones gripping his shirt, pulling his lips onto yours.

The paper crane falls to the ground between you as your lips move against each other, his hands exploring your back like they’re hunting for treasure. The magnitude of this kiss surpasses any other you’ve shared in the past.

Chills run up and down your body, like it’s finally found its home. Its match. His fingers grasp your hair lightly, keeping you in place as he kisses you with vigor.

He pulls away, looking at you like you’re his most prized possession.

“You’re more than a gut feeling, tesoro.” He confesses, earning another kiss from you. This one feels like an aftershock, the aftermath of the impact of your newfound, yet momentous intimacy.

You nod your head in understanding, barely able to form a coherent sentence at the moment.

“Did you… feel that, Theo?” You question, sending a glimmer of hope his way.

“Yes, like… fireworks?” He asks back. He takes your hand and places it on his chest once again, and you swear you could feel the butterflies erupting from inside.

Behind you, a mess of rushed footsteps make their entrance, accompanied by a couple of stern voices.

“These two, I swear…” Blaise complains, shaking his head and catching his breath.

“What in the Merlin-loving fuck is going on here?” Lorenzo sneers, his expression a mix of urgency and frustration.

But you two never broke that stare, that ruthless, solid stare. Instead you beam at each other as you scramble to put the answer into words.

“Fireworks.”

—

That night, you wander the grounds of Hogwarts together as Mattheo, Draco, and Pansy watch you from the Astronomy Tower. The three of them convene to discuss.

“You reckon she used a love potion?” Mattheo suggests, earning another smack on the arm.

“No, you bloody fool. They’re like, tethered or something.” She attempts to convey the notion to the boys, but they just don’t get it.

“Are we tethered then, doll?” Draco jokingly asks Pansy.

“In your dreams, mate.” Mattheo responds, taking a drag from his cigarette. She responds while picturing the paper crane she found in your lap that one fated morning last week.

“You’d be surprised how accurate that is.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #theodore nott #slytherin #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott x you #theo fic #theo fluff #theo fanfic

961 notes · View notes

luveline · 8 months ago

Note

heyy 💞 could i request something for spencer him and reader have been dating for a while and she has a daughter (toddler maybe) and he meets her as readers boyfriend for the first time cause he had met her before but just as a friend from work and he’s super nervous

ty for requesting!❤️ Spencer balances his phone in the well of his front door, checking his reflection. The last time you were here with Misty, she told him she didn’t like his hair short. It’s longer now but the curls are making it seem shorter than it is, and he’s worried she won’t like it, and further worried that she’ll be moody again.

He has little experience with children, but he genuinely loves them. It breaks his heart that Misty hasn’t warmed up to him yet. Every time she sees him, she either bursts into tears or asks to go home. Eventually she’ll sit with you, but if he attempts to talk to her for too long, she cries again.

“It’s not you, it’s just that you’re new to her,” you’d reassured him.

They’ve met eleven times.

His door falls to the floor as somebody knocks. It’s not a particularly powerful knock, but it’s a repetitive wrapping that echoes until he’s grabbed his phone and swung the door open in answer.

Misty steals his first glance.

Spencer hadn’t realised how nervous he was to see her until she’s really looking at him. He doesn’t often have nerves with you, you’re too nice, too eager to kiss him for any worry, but Misty isn’t half as happy to see him.

Usually. “Hi,” Misty says, waving.

“Hi, Misty,” he says, saccharine and soft.

“Hi,” she repeats.

You lean down to put her on her feet. “Mommy’s tired, let’s walk.”

Misty is just old enough to walk without constantly falling over, but Spencer might as she looks up at him and offers her hand.

“What happened?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

Misty leads him into the apartment. “What’s going on?” he asks her, his voice still uber soft, “Did you bump your head on the way here?”

“Spencer,” you laugh.

He’s so confused. There has not been a time since you met where Misty willingly took Spencer’s hand —he would remember that happening, because he’s worked very hard to get to this moment.

“Let’s sit,” Misty says, lisping but legible as she guides him to the couch, where she stops. “Put me up?”

Spencer is very careful to touch her. If he tried this last week she would’ve screamed. “Let’s go here,” he says, lifting her into a corner snug with cushions.

She just smiles. “Sit?”

“What about mommy?”

“Mommy,” she says, nodding at you.

Spencer sits with her. He feels like one wrong move will tip the scale, so he doesn’t wrap his arm around her. He keeps his hands to himself as you sit beside him. “Sorry about our shoes,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. Misty could track mud over every inch of the apartment if that made her like him.

“So… listen,” you say, leaning against his shoulder as Misty grabs the remote from the armrest and begins pointing it at the TV. “I told her you’re my boyfriend now. And she’s two, so. Don’t know if she gets it.”

“But?” he asks, nonplussed when she turns to him, still grinning, and gives him the remote.

“But I told her I love you, and she seems to have understood that part.”

“What were you telling her before?” he whispers severely. You must’ve been telling her you hate him, the way she’s cried!

Unaware of your conversation, Misty stands up on the couch, barely coming to Spencer’s shoulder, and wraps her arm around him. “Hi,” she says again. She looks like she really likes him, then. Baby fondness in her eyes.

Spencer whips his head toward you. “Wait, you love me?”

You curl a strand of his hair around your finger but don’t answer. Misty pats his shoulder, so he turns, ping-pinged from one sweetheart to another. His heart practically swells as she copies you to stroke his hair back.

“We’re friends now?” he asks.

She smiles like she agrees. You lean against his arm, whispering, “You’re basically besties. Don’t forget about me, okay?”

Spencer could never forget about you. “I’ve never seen her smile this long.”

“It’s great! My two loves are finally getting along…”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

lewisvinga · 1 year ago

Text

Dios mío! | toto wolff x latina! reader x susie wolff !

summary; in which the young single mother of one of jack’s friends catches the attention of toto and susie

warnings; age gap

word count; 1.05k

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minkyungseokie @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote

note; requested ! my fave dilf n milf tbh , my requests are CLOSED ATM!!!

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Santiago! Adónde vas?” [where are you going?]

Y/n sighed as she followed the tan, curly-haired boy who just laughed in response. She held onto her bag in one hand and his helmet in the other as she ran after him. She huffed as she noticed other parents stare at her chasing her son around the track.

“Santiago! Ya vas a ver.” [you’ll see]

Santiago finally stops in front of another boy with brown hair. He greeted the young boy and the two immediately started conversing about whatever they usually chatted about.

Y/n finally caught up to her son and was completely out of breath. She bent down and grabbed Santiago’s arm. “Santiago, what did we talk about?”

“Stay by Mamás side.” The curly-haired boy mumbled.

“Exacto!” [exactly]

“But I wanted to see my friend Jack!”

“I know you’re excited, papito, but that doesn’t mean you can run off on your own. I don’t want you getting lost.”

Y/n sighed as she stood back up, finally realizing that Santiago’s friend and his parents were in front of them. Her face started to heat up from embarrassment. She let out a nervous chuckle as she brushed off her jeans. “I’m so sorry about Santiago.”

She finally got to take a closer look at Jack’s parents. They both seemed older compared to Y/n who had Santiago as a teenager. Jack’s father was tall, way taller than her or his mother. He had black frames and a smirk adorning his face.

Jack’s mother was shorter but seemed to have a strong aura. Her hair was short and blonde. The smile she wore matched her husband's. Both combined emitted an aura that Y/n couldn’t help but feel attracted to.

“Oh, please, don’t worry about it.” The blonde exclaims with a laugh. “Jack always talks about him.”

“Where are my manners?” Y/n suddenly gasped as she flattened her baby hairs that escaped from her ponytail. She holds her hand out with a smile, “I’m Y/n, Y/n L/n.”

Jack's mother flashes her a smile before quickly shaking her hand. “Susie.”

Her husband was quick to shake Y/n’s hand after, the smile still evident on his lips. “Toto Wolff. Your son seems amazing, Jack is always talking about his best friend Santiago.”

Y/n lets out a laugh as she gently pats Santiago’s dark curls. “He’s the only one I got here. My family is back home in Latin America, so I always try to raise my boy the best I can.”

Susie nods sympathetically before her head tilts to the side out of curiosity. “And his father? Does he help?”

Y/n let out a disappointed sigh. “Nope. It’s just me and Santi in this world.” She chuckled and shrugged, “It’s better off just us two.” Her confirmation that she was indeed single made the married couple share a glance.

They’ve seen her several times at Jack’s school before while picking up Santiago. They never got a clear look at her until right before one of Jack’s races where her son ran up to their son. She caught their attention immediately, especially with the way she seemed so careful of Santiago.

Toto and Susie had shared multiple knowing looks while the young mother was talking to her son just moments earlier. They were attracted to her no doubt.

“Mamá,” Santiago’s soft voice interrupted them. He stared at Toto with wide eyes. “He’s the team principal of Mercedes.” He thought he was whispering but in fact, he was talking really loud.

His failed attempt at whispering caused Toto to let out a deep laugh, his hand ruffling up the boys’ curls. “Indeed I am, Santiago.”

At the realization, Y/n let out a gasp. She wasn’t into Formula One but he son was. She often spent Sundays making carne asada and watching races with Santiago even if she wasn’t interested. She had only seen Toto and Susie on screen once or twice, but she failed to recognize them until her son mentioned it.

“My abuelo [grandpa] likes Mercedes! He says I'm gonna be like Lewis!” The young boy continued to rant as Y/n watched, furrowing up her eyebrows.

“Dios mío, [my God] I didn’t realize at all.” She sighed with wide eyes. She had an apologetic smile as her hands rested on her son's shoulders. “Sorry, didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t worry about it.” Toto interrupted her, waving his hand around as he turned to Santiago. “When you’re old enough, tell your pretty mamá to give me a call, hm? Maybe you and Jack can be teammates.”

Ar the mention of being teammates with his best friend, Santiago let out a cheer as the youngest Wolff followed him in cheer. The sudden compliment caused Y/n’s cheeks to turn a light shade of pink.

“I-uh-,” She coughed to clear her throat, “We have to go. Gotta make sure Santiago is all prepared before the race, right?” She chuckled, watching the curly-haired boy chat away with Jack.

“Hey, Y/n, wait.” Susie quickly said before the young mother could leave. Y/n hums in response as the blonde glances at her husband and back at her. “Are you busy tonight?”

“After the race? No.” Y/n replied, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. “Was just gonna order takeout for Santi and me. Why?”

“Come over for dinner at ours.” Toto quickly offered. His offer made her raise her eyebrows in shock as their two sons looked up excitedly.

“A gorgeous lady like you shouldn’t be alone. Come by ours, yeah?” Susie said with a smile, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle as she nodded in agreement, keeping her eyes on Susie and Toto. “Y-yeah! That sounds amazing.“ She reached into her bag and found a pen and a random piece of paper. She scribbled her number down quickly before handing it to the blonde.

“Just call me. I’ll be there.”

“Oh, we’ll definitely call,” Toto said, another smirk appearing on his lips as he looked over Susie’s shoulder at the paper.

Y/n shared another smile with them before grabbing Santiago. The two quickly said goodbye before walking off to prepare the young boy for his race. In reality, she was also preparing herself for dinner with the attractive older couple she just met at her son's karting race. She mumbled to herself, “Ay Dios mío.” [oh my God]

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff scenarios #toto wolff x reader x susie wolff

2K notes · View notes

engineering · 1 year ago

Text

Tumblr Hack Week, January 2024 Edition

Once again it was Hack Week (more than just a day!) at Tumblr! This is getting repetitive in the best way. A couple of times per year we slow down our normal work and spend a week working on scratching a personal itch or features we want as user and see how far we can get with our hacks. One thing from the last Hack Week in September made it all the way to a new experiment out to some testers: Tumblr Patio!

Here are some of the projects that got built for our most recent Hack Week in January. Some of these things you may also end up seeing on the site…

Spoiler text, spoiler blocks, and centered text!

This one is so obvious and amazing, it’s wild we don’t already have it. For Hack Week, Katie added the ability to select text in a paragraph to be hidden behind a wall of black that can be revealed with a tap. This can be super useful to hide spoilers. And even better: whole spoiler blocks. And while we’re here, the ability to center text!

A plethora of new default blog avatars

We haven’t updated our default avatars in several years. (Some of you may remember this one from 10+ years ago.) They’re feeling a bit stale to us, so why not update them? And while we’re at it… make a ton more variations! Paul from the Tumblr Design team came up with a suite of new default avatars, using our latest Tumblr color palette. Here’s a look at some of them, but there are actually many dozens more using different colors:

Notifications and emails about engagement on your posts

This one is for the folks on Tumblr who love numbers and their Activity page. Daniel, @jesseatblr, and the Feeds & Machine Learning team worked on some new notifications and emails we could send out to people about how their posts have been doing lately on the platform, such as how many views they’ve gotten, and by how many people. We already have this available (and more) when you Blaze a post, but why not open it up to more people? It’s really useful to the folks who use Tumblr to help build an audience for their work!

A new way of navigating the web: the Command Palette

Some apps we use a lot have a “command palette” accessible via a keyboard shortcut for quick keyboard-driven access to different parts of the platform. For example, Slack and Discord have Command + K to access their quick switchers to hop around conversations. What if Tumblr had one? Kelly and Paul built one! Press Command/Control + K on Tumblr and you can use your keyboard to jump to your blog, Activity, your recent conversations, search, dozens of places!

As always, stay tuned to the @changes blog to see if any of these hacks make it on Tumblr for real!

#tumblr engineering #tumblr hack week #tumblr hack day

2K notes · View notes

pitlanepeach · 25 days ago

Text

From Eden | Chapter Five (5/8)

Oscar Piastri x Francesca Gold (OFC)

Summary — Francesca Gold is an introvert with a quiet life and a Youtube channel where she talks about books, drinks too much tea, and rarely ever shows her face. She prefers it that way - tucked into her London flat with her cat, Henry, and safely hidden behind a screen.

Oscar Piastri is a Formula 1 driver. Fast-paced, high-stakes, always on the move. He hasn't read a book in years, but he's watched every single one of Francesca's videos. Just for the sound of her voice.

Following her on Instagram was a moment of weakness. He didn't think she'd notice.

She did.

Chapter Warnings — Mentions of agoraphobia + severe social anxiety + telling a partner about self harm. Some awkwardness (obviously. it's them.) Kissing!!!!!!!.

Notes — Ohmygod they’re literally insufferable. I love them so much. I wrote half of this in the middle of the night and the rest when I was supposed to be WFH. Don’t tell my boss.

It took twelve minutes — a stuttered conversation about his plane journey (“Boring. I chose the wrong job for a guy who hates travelling so much.”), him tripping over a random stack of books, and Francesca’s uncontrollable burst of laughter at his clumsiness that cracked through the initial awkward tension.

And then it was just… easy. Like they’d known each other forever.

Oscar fit. He fit into her space. Not seamlessly — his legs hung off the edge of the sofa, and he had to duck to get into the kitchen without smacking his head — but somehow, he still fit. Like there had always been a space carved out for him here, quiet and waiting.

“You have a lot of books,” he grunted, rubbing his elbow where he’d caught it on the corner of a shelf after trying (and failing) to avoid another tumble. A faint red blotch bloomed across his cheek.

Francesca pursed her lips in a valiant effort to hide her grin; her cheeks hurt. Had she stopped smiling since he’d arrived? Probably not. “That’s my entire livelihood you’re talking about.”

Oscar gave her a mock-serious nod, eyes twinkling. “My apologies. I guess I just have to get used to feeling like I’m in a library then.”

Francesca raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Correct. Insult the books and you’ll be out on the street faster than you can say ugly orange racecar.”

He grinned at that, dimples flashing. “Papaya,” he corrected, automatically.

“Osc. It’s… so orange,” she told him, gentle and sincere. “They’ve brainwashed you.”

He rolled his eyes, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Hm. Agree to disagree.”

She huffed her annoyance, but she was smiling, still.

Oscar looked around the flat again, with more intention. Most of the walls were lined with shelves — overflowing, chaotic, personal. Not just books, but little figurines, old mugs repurposed as pen holders, framed photos, postcards, pressed flowers between glass. Her entire world, encompassed inside these four walls.

“I like it here,” he said quietly, more to himself than to her.

Francesca’s smile faltered, just a touch. She studied him, trying to figure out if he meant it — really meant it — or if he was just being kind.

But Oscar met her gaze with something solid. Unwavering.

“I’m glad you let me come,” he added, softer this time. “Really glad.”

Right. Because he really was here.

Not on a screen. Not in the background of a race broadcast. But here, in her flat, stepping over book piles and stealing glances at her like she was the only thing in the room he really wanted to be looking at.

Henry hopped up beside him on the sofa, gave him a cursory sniff, then promptly curled up next to his thigh like he, too, had accepted Oscar's presence as something entirely inevitable.

“You’ve been vetted,” Francesca said, settling in across from them with her knees pulled up.

Oscar tilted his head. “By the cat or by you?”

She smiled. “Both. Congratulations.”

He leaned back, arms stretched out across the cushions, one foot nudging hers gently. “Worth it.”

—

Francesca didn’t mean to end up pressed right up against him on the sofa. It just sort of… happened.

One minute they were sitting side by side, knees brushing slightly whenever she shifted to grab her mug from the coffee table, and the next, she found herself curled against his side, her legs pulled up, tucked comfortably between them, a blanket pooled over both their laps.

Oscar’s arm had moved slowly, almost unsurely at first, but now it was settled around her shins, his big hand warm around her ankle, wrapping around it entirely. His thumb made small, absent-minded circles, like he hadn’t even realised he was doing it. Francesca hadn’t said anything, didn’t want to break this spell they’d found themselves in.

Henry was curled on the rug nearby, snoring faintly. Oscar had tried to bribe him with a treat earlier. The cat had blinked once, disinterested, then strolled off with his tail flicking like a snub.

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” Oscar murmured, glancing at the feline. “He’s kind of a little bastard, actually.”

Francesca smiled, eyes on the cat. “He’s discerning.”

“Is that the polite word for emotionally unavailable?”

“That,” she agreed, “and slightly spiteful. He liked you when you first got here, but now you’re stealing my attention from him, so…”

Oscar chuckled. “Can’t deny he’s cute. I can see why you love him.”

“I do,” she said simply. Then, after a pause, “He makes me feel safe.”

Oscar glanced down at her, the humour in his expression fading into something gentler. “Yeah?”

Francesca took a breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah. He’s quiet — unless he’s hungry and I’ve forgotten his breakfast. Doesn’t expect much. Doesn’t judge me. And he’s just… here, you know? He just exists near me. Always.”

Oscar didn’t speak right away. He didn’t try to fill the silence with something easy or deflecting. Instead, his thumb traced a slow, steady line along her ankle, grounding her.

“He’s taken good care of you, then,” he said, soft but certain.

She turned her head to look at him — really looked. “Yeah. Is that weird?”

“No,” he said firmly, with a tone that very much implied that he wouldn’t accept any different.

His hand left her ankle after a moment, fingers brushing up her leg, light and patient, until they found hers, half-curled on her lap. He picked up one of her hands gently, like it might break.

And maybe it already had; in a way.

He turned it over slowly, thumb grazing the inside of her wrist, then the raw, reddened skin across her knuckles and the side of her palm, the tiny pinch bruises, the white scars. His gaze flicked to hers, suddenly cautious.

Francesca swallowed hard. God, she’d known this would come up eventually. She hadn’t expected them to be so touchy so fast, but it was far too late to pretend this was going to be anything slow-burning. They’d already burned for long enough.

“It’s not— I don’t hurt myself. Not… deliberately.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t stop. “It’s more like… when things get too much, and I don’t know how to handle it, I pick. Scratch. Sometimes I don’t even notice I’m doing it until it’s already bad.” She drew in a breath, unsteady. “It’s been worse before. But this — this is still pretty recent.”

Oscar didn’t let go.

He didn’t flinch or shift away or frown in that way that made people feel like they’d just confessed to something shameful. Instead, he laced their fingers together, slow and certain.

“My parents hated it,” she said after a silent moment. “Whenever they caught me doing anything that made them uncomfortable — biting my nails, needing to leave places early — it was like I was ruining it for them. Like I was an inconvenience on purpose, you know?”

Oscar’s jaw went tight, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I wasn’t allowed to talk about how I was feeling. They didn’t… like hearing it. I had to hide everything. After a while, I started hiding it from myself, too.” She gave his hand a tiny squeeze. “And then, one day, it started manifesting itself in other ways.”

“Like this,” Oscar said gently, brushing a thumb over her hand again.

She nodded, eyes burning. “It’s getting better. I- I hardly do it anymore. I can go months without an issue. I know it’s terrible, I do, but I promise, I can try—.”

“You don’t have to try for me,” he said, voice low as he cut her off, halting her spiral. “Don’t ever have to hide how you’re feeling, or what you’re thinking. You get that?”

Francesca bit her lip, hard. Her chest was tight — not in her usual twisted panic kind of way, but something much, much warmer.

“I’m a bit scared,” she whispered, curling closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder and breathing him in. “That you’ll realise how messy I am and… I don’t know. Decide I’m not worth the hassle.”

“You are,” he said, without hesitation.

No pause. No doubt. Just truth.

She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “You don’t know that.”

“Kinda do,” Oscar murmured. “I’ve got my mess too. Plenty of it.” He paused, his voice low. “You might be the one who decides I’m not worth it. I can’t promise you a peaceful life, Francesca. I’ll try — I’ll do everything I can to give you something close — but I can’t guarantee anything.”

She shook her head before he could spiral further. “Osc, stop. I know. I already know,” she said gently.

And that was enough.

They stayed like that, wrapped around each other, fingers loosely tangled, hearts beating in tandem — not perfectly synced, but close enough. Close enough to mean something.

—

The quiet felt different now.

Francesca sat on the edge of her sofa, staring at the dent Oscar had left in the cushion. Henry had moved to the other end, curled up into a croissant of cat contentment, but it wasn’t enough. Not tonight.

She'd tried brushing her teeth. Tidying. Scrolling on her phone. All of it only filled seconds.

It had been less than an hour since he’d left, and already the air in the flat felt too thin.

She got up and paced, arms crossed over her chest like they could hold her together.

This is ridiculous. He’s five minutes away. Maybe less. But also, you’ve known him for what? Three months? And then, he didn’t want to go either. You saw it on his face.

She reached for her phone, pulled it back, then finally opened FaceTime before she could change her mind.

He picked up on the second ring. His hair was damp, he looked freshly showered, and the hoodie he was wearing sat slightly crooked on his shoulders.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft with surprise. “Everything alright?”

“I—um.” She pressed her lips together and huffed out a laugh. “Is it really weird if I ask you to come back?”

Oscar blinked once, then sat up straighter, the movement making the camera wobble slightly. “No. Not weird.”

“I’m not… asking for anything,” she clarified quickly, heat rising in her cheeks. “I just — I can’t really explain it. I just feel a bit off. I thought I’d be fine. I’ve lived alone for years and it’s never been a problem but now that you were here and now you’re not it just feels—”

“Wrong for me to be five minutes down the road?” he offered gently.

She nodded. “Yeah. Exactly that.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, he smiled — lopsided and warm. “I was hoping you’d say something. Didn’t want to be the one to push my luck.”

“I— Really?” She exhaled.

“I haven’t unpacked,” he admitted. “I’ve just been sitting here staring at the ceiling wondering if it was too soon to text you that I miss you.”

She laughed, the sound raw and relieved. “You’re such a dork.”

“Takes one to know one,” he said, standing up and already reaching for his shoes. “Give me ten minutes. I— should I bring my stuff?”

“Yeah.” She said, without even a second of hesitation. “I’ll leave the front door unlocked.”

Oscar hung up after one last smile in her direction.

Francesca paced again, but this time it was different — tinged with a manic kind of anticipation, her steps light.

When the door creaked open, she was perched on the arm of the sofa, kind of just… staring at it. Waiting.

Oscar stepped inside, shaking his hair out from the light drizzle. “London really rolled out the welcome mat for me, huh?”

“It was wet already,” she said, and then stood there, looking at him. The comfort of his presence settled over her like a favourite hoodie. “Thank you for coming back.”

“I never really left,” he said.

With a snort of derision, she reached for his hand, pulled him toward the couch, and they collapsed into the same dented cushions as earlier — this time, with no awkwardness, no space left between them. She practically curled up on his lap, in a move that was so very Henry of her.

It was late. Early hours of the morning. They were both tired. They didn’t talk much beyond a few whispered words here and there as they watched a random movie that was playing on Channel 4. Just sat, his arm slung around her waist, her fingers toying with the edge of his hoodie. He kissed her temple once, then rested his cheek there.

Easy. Warm.

She wanted it forever.

—

Francesca moved around her kitchen on careful feet, trying not to make too much noise even though Oscar was very much awake — she was wearing one of his hoodies. They’d fallen asleep on the couch, a mess of limbs and cricked necks. When they woke up, she’d shivered, and he’d immediately grabbed his duffle, opened it, and grabbed the first hoodie to hand her. It had a McLaren logo on the front and smelled like him.

The domesticity of it all was throwing her completely off balance.

He looked up from the mug in his hands when she set down two plates — toast, fruit. Not fancy, but easy. She didn’t say anything, and neither did he, not for a few moments.

“You make weird tea,” he said finally, peering into his mug. It had a picture of Henry on it. When he’d chosen it out of the cupboard, she’d had to hide her smile.

She tilted her head at him. “Huh? Weird how?”

“There’s oat milk in it,” he said, nose scrunching slightly.

“I like oat milk,” she replied, matter-of-fact. “You should’ve told me you didn’t. I think I have some powdered cow’s milk in the back of the cupboard somewhere…” She trailed off, glancing toward one of the kitchen cabinets with a furrowed brow.

Oscar coughed, hastily shaking his head. “No—God, no. I’m… yeah. Oat milk is just fine.”

Francesca stared at him for a second, a slow smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “It’s easy to forget you’re probably used to, like, fancy coffee. Flat whites with milk flown in from Australia or something.”

She reached across the table and plucked a strawberry from his plate with deliberate mischief.

“Be nice about my milk preferences,” she added, popping it into her mouth.

“I am being nice,” he said with a small smile. “I’m drinking it, aren’t I?”

Their knees bumped under the table, lightly, accidentally-on-purpose. Francesca didn’t move hers away. Oscar didn’t either.

His phone buzzed near his elbow, but he didn’t reach for it. Francesca glanced at it, then back at him, then said, “Lando?”

He hummed. “Probably.”

She smiled around her bite of toast. “Aw. He’s your Katie.”

Oscar blinked at her. “My what?”

She laughed softly, a little embarrassed. “You know. The person you text the most. The one who you think about telling big news before anyone else.”

His expression softened, gaze dropping briefly to his plate before lifting again, meeting hers. “I think that’s you now.”

Francesca froze. Not in a bad way — just long enough to feel it settle deep in her chest, warm and a little scary. “Oh.”

Oscar’s foot nudged hers again, gentler this time. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, it’s… very okay.”

They went quiet again, the air between them filled with something lighter now, but thicker, too. Oscar reached out, slowly, fingers brushing the edge of her plate to steal a slice of strawberry. She watched his hand, her gaze lingering as it retreated. And then she reached across and took it — his hand — without fully thinking.

He didn’t flinch. Just let her link their fingers and gave the tiniest squeeze in return.

“So,” he said softly, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You studied English Lit at uni?”

Francesca nodded. Of course he’d noticed the framed certificate stuck to the fridge like a badge of honour. The most expensive fridge magnet in the world.

“Yeah. At York,” she said. “I was going to try and get into the publishing industry, originally. Or proof-editing. But… things changed. I started posting on YouTube a month after graduation, and it just… took off.”

“Did you like studying?” he asked after a beat.

“Sometimes,” she replied, her voice thoughtful. “I liked the content. Loved the books. The theory, the discussions. Hated the actual, like, uni lifestyle though.”

He smiled, just a little. “Too much socialising for you, huh?”

She huffed out a laugh. “Too much everything. People everywhere, all the time. Constant pressure to be on. And drunk. I hated how loud it all was.”

Oscar’s fingers stilled for a second before they moved again, slow and grounding, rubbing circles on her skin. “I didn’t do uni,” he said, eyes flicking down to where their hands sat tangled between them. “Went to boarding school here, in England. Left after GCSEs to focus on racing full time.”

Francesca’s brow creased, the image of him at fifteen — maybe younger — on the other side of the world, too sharp in her mind. “Did you miss your family?” She frowned, thumb tracing a line over his wrist. “Your mum must have trusted you a lot, to let you make that decision.”

Oscar let out a breath, not quite a sigh. “Yeah,” he said. “She did. Does.” His voice dropped, a little rougher now. “It wasn’t easy. I mean, I was pretty lucky — I had lots of people around me, managers, mentors, a few teammates who looked out for me. But there were days when all I felt was homesick, you know?”

Francesca turned her body more toward him, their knees bumping.

“I can’t imagine being so independent at that age,” she said, quietly.

“I think it taught me a lot,” he said after a moment. “But I don’t know if I’d want the same for my kids.”

Her breath caught.

“I- yeah.” She murmured. “I can see that.”

He looked at her then, properly, his hand moving to hold both of hers now, like he wanted to keep them steady. “When did you start reading?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Young. I used to go to the library after school. It felt safe there.” She confessed. “When I didn’t want to be at home.”

“I- I really hate how you were treated by your family.” He admitted. “Did you— I mean, can you at least tell me that you had one person in your life who took care of you?”

“Katie.” She said, after a heavy beat. “I met her at uni. She was studying business. She’s a great friend.”

That wasn’t the answer he’d been wanting to hear, clearly, but he didn’t push.

Francesca stared at him. There was a beat of quiet between them, soft and golden, and then she said, “You make me feel safe, Osc.”

He blinked at her.

“I know it sounds like a lot,” she continued, “but there’s something about you that makes me feel like I can just… breathe.”

Oscar didn’t speak for a long moment. He just leaned in, her forehead resting lightly against hers.

Francesca let her eyes flutter shut, her breath catching in her throat. There was something cloying in the air between them now — expectant, tender, and so, so careful. His hand moved from hers, brushing up along her forearm, until it came to rest at the side of her face. His thumb traced a gentle line across her cheekbone, featherlight, like he was memorising every inch of her.

She opened her eyes just enough to meet his.

He was already looking at her.

Not the way other people looked at her — with pity, or hesitance, or confusion — but like he was enamoured by her.

“Is this okay?” Oscar asked, voice barely a whisper.

Francesca gave the smallest nod, her fingers curling into the sleeve of his hoodie. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Please.”

So he kissed her.

It was slow. Intentional. No rush, no need to prove anything — just the warmth of his lips against hers, the quiet exhale from his nose, the gentle tilt of his head as he leaned in closer. He kissed her like he had all the time in the world to do it properly.

Francesca melted into it. Her hand came up to his shoulder, then his neck, fingers sliding into the soft hair at his nape. She felt his pulse against her palm, and hers answered in kind, a steady, stumbling rhythm.

When they eventually pulled apart, neither of them moved far. Foreheads still resting together, breaths shared in the space between them, everything soft and golden in the morning light.

“I really like you,” she confessed, cheeks rosy red, lips swollen.

Oscar grinned, lips brushing against hers as he said, “Yeah. I really like you too.”

And then she laughed, small and slightly breathless. “Good. Because that would’ve been really awkward otherwise.”

He laughed with her, arms tightening around her like he didn’t quite want to let her go. “Yeah, that would’ve been devastating for my ego.”

—

bookishgoldie just posted!

liked by oscarpiastri, hattiepiastri, and 47,109 others

bookishgoldie: new video-essay coming to your screens on Tuesday! hint: it’s about a certain singers influence on the contemporary romance genre 🪩🫶

view all comments

user21: holy shit my two worlds are colliding and i am NOT going to be calm about this

user17: she’s a HUGE swiftie miss girl isn’t quiet about it either 😭 ive been waiting for a vid like this from her omg

user87: me on tuesday: everybody shut up my show is on

user74: ohmygod real

user6: our girl is collecting piastri’s like pokemons ohmygod. oscar AND hattie in the likes iktr

user54: so her and oscar are definitely dating then lol

user69: maybe hattie just showed oscar one of her vids and he just… follows her? it’s probably completely innocent. she’s not exactly wag material lol

user7: @user69 wish i could be as delusional as you babe

hattiepiastri: if i send u my favourite manga will you make a video about it pls?

bookishgoldie: it would be my first manga ever! but yes. i’d 100% make a video about it if u want me to do <3

user40: OH SHES PART OF THE FAMILY HUH

user61: stop she’s giving such big sister energy ‘if that’s what u me to do’ IM DYING

landonorris: my sister asked if u would follow her pls she likes your videos @flonorris

bookishgoldie: ohmygod yes of course that’s so sweet. followed her

flonorris: this is the most humiliating day of my life but I LOVE UR VIDS SO MUCH FRANCESCA ahhhhh (lando i fcking hate u)

user76: ok this is getting crazy now

user8: im getting whiplash WHAT IS HAPPENING

—

Francesca was curled up on Oscar’s lap, laptop perched on her thighs, fingers moving with idle precision as she clipped audio and trimmed footage.

He was content to just watch her work. In her element. The furrow of her brow when something didn’t sync up quite the way she’d expected it to. The occasional muttered commentary and nudge when she wanted his opinion on something. The way she mouthed along to her voiceover without even realising.

It made something calm settle in his chest.

“I like seeing this side of things,” he said after a while.

Francesca glanced at him with a shy smile, tapping the spacebar to pause the video. “A lot of people hate this part. The editing. My management tried to hire someone to take over, but I said no. I genuinely enjoy this. I can just… lose myself in it.”

Oscar hummed. “Hattie’s the same with her sketching. Just zones out completely. You could set off fireworks next to her and she wouldn’t notice.”

Francesca’s smile widened a little at the mention of his sister. “I like Hattie.”

“She’s annoying. But she’s also one of my favourite people,” he said simply. Then, after a second, he asked, “Do you… talk to your siblings much?”

The shift was subtle. Her smile dimmed.

“Not really,” she said, voice quiet but even. “I mean, I have a sibling. One. Izzy. She’s older. We’ve never been close. She was like my parents; thought I was just a dramatic attention seeking kid.”

Oscar’s fingers found hers where they sat between them, soft and easy. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay.” She gave a little shrug, tried to smile again. “I mean, it’s not. But I’ve made peace with it.”

Oscar was quiet for a second. “My family’s already excited to meet you.”

Francesca’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “Wait — what?”

He gave her a sheepish grin. “I’ve told them about you. Mum asked if I’d started seeing anyone. I didn’t really know how to explain what this is, but I tried.”

“You’ve told them about me?”

“Of course I have,” he said. “You’re kind of hard not to talk about, to be honest.”

Francesca flushed, her gaze dropping to their joined hands. She didn’t speak for a long moment, then murmured, “I want to go. One day. To Australia. I want to meet them.”

Oscar looked at her properly then — really looked. Her eyes were glassy, not from tears, but from something quieter. Nerves, maybe. Definitely fear.

“Scary thought?” he asked.

She nodded.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said. “They’ll come to you. They’ve already offered. I told them a little bit—not everything, just what I could. Mum gets it. She said she’s happy to meet you wherever you feel safe.”

Francesca stared at him, wide-eyed. “You… told them that?”

“Yeah,” he said, slightly hesitant. “I—I'm not ashamed of anything about you, Francesca.”

She looked away quickly. Her thumb rubbed absently over his collarbone, shaky and soft.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’d like that. Them here. But that— I mean, I’d want to try. My job gives me so much freedom and I’ve never used it.” Her voice dipped, threaded with uncertainty. “I’ve always been too scared.”

She had a passport, technically. But she hadn’t travelled since she was a kid, since there’d always been a parent’s hand to hold in the chaos of airports, someone else to take charge. Adulthood had turned freedom into something sharp-edged and overwhelming.

Oscar leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple — slow and sure. “We can do as much trying as you want, babe.”

Babe.

The word caught her off guard in the nicest way. It fizzed in her chest, soft and electric, looping like a song she didn’t know she’d needed to hear.

She tilted her head just enough to look at him. “You said that really casually,” she murmured. “So now I feel like a psycho for wanting to scream about it.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, then looked down at her, a teasing glint sparking in his eyes. “Beautiful. Babe. Baby. Princess.” He ticked each one off like a checklist, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Francesca let out an incredulous, half-sputtered laugh as her face flamed red. “Oh my god. Stop. Now you’re just testing me.”

“Actually, I’m gauging your reactions,” he said, gaze calculating. “Seeing which one makes your brain short-circuit the most.”

“It’s definitely ‘princess’,” she muttered, hiding her face in his chest. “You cannot just say that. It’s embarrassing. I hate pet names.”

“No you don’t,” he said, entirely unapologetic, fingers drawing slow shapes on her arm. “You liked them.”

“Did not.” She said petulantly.

They sat like that for a while. The laptop battery warning popped up and was ignored. The video paused, forgotten. Francesca leaned her head against his chest.

“When do you have to be back?” Francesca asked, her voice soft, as if she didn’t really want the answer. “At work, I mean.”

Oscar shifted slightly beneath her. “There’s a break between races,” he said. “Just a week, and I’ve got to be in Woking on Saturday. Sim session.”

She nodded, humming in acknowledgment. Her fingers absentmindedly brushed against the hem of his sleeve. “Where do you… I mean, where do you actually live?” she asked after a beat. “I’ve never really thought about it. You’re always travelling so much — it’s hard to imagine you, like, actually settled down somewhere.”

He smiled, tilting his head like the question had caught him off guard. “Australia, mostly. I stay with my family when I’m back there. But I’ve got a few places scattered around — small apartments I use when I need them. I rent them out when I’m not going to be using them.”

“Oh.” Francesca blinked, absorbing his words.

“I want that to change, soon,” Oscar said, his voice low, honest. “It’s been fun, letting myself just… exist. Living out of suitcases, bouncing from city to city, never stopping long enough to feel anything settle. But I want somewhere to be able to call home, you know? A real home. I don’t feel like I have that at the moment.”

She nodded, quiet for a moment as she chewed on her bottom lip. “Where would that be?”

He let out a short breath through his nose, a sound laced with uncertainty. “Lando’s been pushing me to consider Monaco,” he admitted. “Says it makes sense. Warm weather, tax stuff… the usual.” He gave a small shrug, like he was a bit embarrassed by how dry and practical it sounded.

“Lando seems fun,” she said, glancing up at him with a teasing smile.

“He’s… Lando,” Oscar replied, with a fond shake of his head. That alone made her laugh. “He’s excited to meet you.”

She softened at that. “You’ve told everyone about me, huh.”

Instead of answering right away, he tucked his fingers gently under her chin, tilted her face toward his, and pressed a series of light, lingering kisses to her lips. Slow and affectionate and sure.

“Yes,” he murmured in between kisses. “Everyone. Anyone who’ll listen. Don’t expect that to change anytime soon.”

She blinked at him, dazed and glowing. “Hm. Well, I get exclusive soft launch rights,” she said, attempting something breezy but smiling too hard to quite pull it off. “If you’re telling everyone about me, I’m telling the internet about us.”

His brow quirked, and he grinned. “You want to show me off?”

There was a low, amused heat in his voice, and she bit back the stupid little sound that nearly escaped her throat.

“Yeah,” she said, gaze flitting to his mouth and back to his eyes. “Obviously.”

He gave a small smile, soft around the edges. “So… what you’re saying is that it wouldn’t be completely ridiculous if I asked you to be my girlfriend? Officially?” A slight flush crept up his neck, but his eyes stayed steady on hers. “No pressure, if it’s too soon, or weird, or—”

“Yes.” Her answer came fast, almost cutting him off, and she let out a little breathy laugh at herself. “I mean… yes, I’d like that. A lot.”

Oscar’s smile widened slowly, and something settled behind his ribs. “Okay. Cool. That’s cool.”

She leaned up to kiss him. “Yes. Very cool. Boyfriend.”

—

iMessage — Francesca & Katie

Katie:

Update pls

Francesca:

I AM A GIRLFRIEND NOW

Katie:

Colour me shocked.

Girl why do u seem surprised by this.

He is literally so gone for you.

Francesca:

i want to eat his face off

Katie:

Oh good god.

Please tell me you haven’t been this unhinged in-front of him

Francesca:

yolo

he’s my bf now anyway

no escape for him!

Katie:

Poor guy has no idea what he’s signed himself up for 💀

CHAPTER SIX

394 notes · View notes

feeder86 · 9 months ago

Text

The Neighbor's Boy

“So, do you want to tell us what the fuck is going on?” laughed Martin as Nick’s new boyfriend headed away to the bathroom.

Nick smirked and sat back in the chair, filling his broad, muscular chest with air and looking around at all the chubby boys’ expressions. “What?” he teased, pretending not to know what they were all so surprised about. “Duncan’s a nice guy.”

“But you don’t date nice guys,” Martin countered. “In order to date nice guys, you need to be a nice guy yourself.”

“Ouch!” Nick chuckled, enjoying his bad boy status with the guys. Despite his kind eyes and pretty face, Nick was never without an ulterior motive. “That hurt!” he lied, looking around and seeing even the guy behind the bar checking him out. “I’ll have you know that lots of people think I’m a very ‘nice’ person!”

“That’s because they don’t know you like we do,” Ben contributed, looking around at all of the other chubs in their circle. “And I bet sweet little Duncan doesn’t even know you’re a feeder, does he?”

Nick raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Of course he doesn’t.”

The chubs all looked at each other disapprovingly, despite the kinky thrill they secretly felt. Each one of them owed a good few pounds of their own blubbery physiques to Nick and his incredible ability to arouse them whilst they ate for him; the best and most skilled feeder they had ever come across. “You’re not going to fatten up him are you?” Martin asked. “Not without him knowing?”

“I’ve already started,” Nick laughed. “I got seven thousand calories in him the other day and he barely even noticed.”

“Nick!” Ben sighed. “That’s not cool!”

“I am what I am!” Nick sniggered unapologetically. “I see a little skinny shit like Duncan and my dick tells me I’ve got to feed him until he’s got some decent tits and a proper double chin on him!”

“Why him, though?” Ian asked. “He seems so sweet and innocent.”

Nick shrugged. “My parents were trying to set me up, saying they were sick of all the ‘mysterious guys’ I seemed to date,” he laughed. “Duncan’s family lived on my parents’ street and he’s just come back from college. I remember him as the little gay kid that used to stare out of the window whenever I was mowing my parents’ lawn shirtless at the end of high school,” he smirked, having been the focus on many sexual fantasies for several years now. “I didn’t have much to do with Duncan back then. He’s a couple of years younger than me. But Duncan’s dad was the fattest guy on our street, so of course I had a crush on him growing up. Now his mom is quite friendly with my mom and they’re trying their best to get us together.” he laughed at the idea. These fat boys knew him best in the whole world. Anyone with a real sense of who Nick really was would keep their handsome sons far away from him. “I thought dating Duncan would be a great opportunity to show my parents that they need to keep their noses out of my love life.”

“So, you’re dating him and secretly fattening him up to teach your parents a lesson about interfering?” Martin asked, exasperated.

“Pretty much,” Nick nodded. “Once they see the boy sprouting a little gut, they’ll soon realise the mistake they’ve made. It won’t take any of them long to work out who was responsible. I am a feeder after all…,” he whispered, spotting Duncan making his way back from the bathroom and sitting back up again. “That sounds incredible!” Nick lamented, as if they had been discussing something completely different the entire time.

“What does?” Duncan asked curiously, assuming that the boys were in the middle of a riveting conversation.

“Martin was just saying about this amazing donut place we need to try out later,” Nick lied.

“Oh, yeah?” Duncan smiled over at Martin. “Sounds good. I love donuts.”

The boys all looked at each other guiltily, none of them willing to sound the alarm bells to Nick’s new lover; now all equally complicit in the whole wicked business.

“Your friends are so great,” Duncan smiled, getting into the back of the cab whilst holding the large box of donuts Nick had bought him.

“And they really liked you,” Nick smiled, taking the box from him and ripping it open for Duncan to try one.

“They’re not at all how I imagined,” Duncan replied, nibbling on one without a second thought. “I remember you always hung out with the jock crowd in high school.”

Nick smirked to himself. Clearly Duncan hadn’t even recognised Martin as being one of those high school jocks he used to hang out with; now a full one hundred and sixty pounds fatter than in those days, thanks to him. “I choose my friends based upon how fun they are, rather than how they look,” he lied innocently, already picking up and handling Duncan’s next donut.

“I really like that about you,” Duncan smiled. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, before the pair kissed gently.

Nick stroked his lover’s hair as the third and fourth donuts mindlessly disappeared down Duncan’s throat during their short journey back to his place. Duncan was the son of a fatty alright. That greed was inside there, waiting to be enabled. “Perhaps…” he teased, closing the lid on the donut box, “you could eat the rest of these off my dick when we get back?”

Duncan nodded keenly. Nick had started introducing food into their foreplay last week and it had gone down well ever since. It was so obvious that Dunan had been fantasising about being with Nick since he was a teenager and first realised he was gay. It was almost pathetically simple to make him climax and he’d slipped into a more submissive role in the bedroom with ease.

The naive boy kissed his manipulative lover, not even realising that the guy was adding up all his calories and hoping that today could be a new record.

Over the next few weeks, Duncan became a sucker for the romance: the hand holding, Nick sitting him on his knee and holding him prtotectively around the waist. The guy’s friends thought that Nick was the sweetest man on Earth; his mother made up that Duncan had found someone so openly affectionate. It all helped to mask the gradual softening that was happening all over Duncan’s body; the glutes swelling just a little more each time Nick ploughed his dick between them.

“You got your protein shake?” Nick asked as the pair of them headed off to the gym, where Duncan would spend the majority of his time spotting Nick on the weights and lifting the bare minimum himself. Yet, he would still flush down Nick’s bespoke shake, filled with creams, oils and powders for a truly staggering daily calorie overdose.

Duncan nodded. He’d never been in such a thrilling relationship as this; never experienced a kinky fuck in the cubicles after a workout at the gym, nor been lavished with such open affection in any of his previous romances. The love, the pampering, the endless sex acting as the perfect smoke screen for what was actually happening beneath the surface. Duncan simply threw the shake into his gym bag and then followed his lover out without a second thought.

Dating Duncan was having its advantages. Having parents who were quietly very comfortable had always given Nick a fair amount of entitlement. However, despite never going without as he was growing up, his parents had given him a large dose of tough love once he left college. The easy line of credit had been cut off and Nick’s parents had decided he needed to make it on his own in order to learn the true value of things. Now their hard approach seemed to be easing, given how pleased they were to see him dating someone they approved of so much. In the last month alone, they had thrown a whole heap of cash at repairs for the sports car they had bought Nick for his twenty-first, as well as transferring plenty of money to pay for a romantic getaway in the mountains. The purse strings were well and truly opened again.

“Do you think I’ve put on weight?” Dunan asked, rubbing his stomach in the mirror one evening as he got up to get a glass of water.

Nick managed to keep a straight face. The answer was more than obvious from the direction he was looking: doughy glutes, swollen thighs and budding love-handles; Duncan was well and truly morphing into a chub. “Of course,” Nick replied. “Your shoulders look much bigger after all those workouts,” he lied.

“No, not that,” Duncan shot back, studying his stomach and pinching a little. “Do you think I’m getting fat?”

Nick got up and slipped off his underwear. He’d been considering how best to answer this question for some time. “Why don’t I take a look?” he smiled teasingly, letting his hardness press between Duncan’s butt cheeks; its second home. “Mmm, yes!” he moaned. “There’s definitely an improvement back here,” he whispered.

“An improvement?” Duncan asked in surprise.

“Of course!” Nick whispered. “You like getting fucked, right?”

Duncan nodded; his own dick starting to stiffen as his muscular boyfriend started to slap lubricant between his cheeks.

“Well, guys like me always prefer to fuck a guy with a little more meat back here.” He pressed himself inside and moaned with appreciation and he swayed his hips into action. “Mmm, fuck!” he sighed, watching as Duncan’s arousal grew even as he had just admitted to him that he was indeed starting to get chubby.

“You really like it?” Duncan whispered back just as Nick’s lubricated hand slipped onto his dick at the same time. “You’re not just saying that?”

Nick continued thrusting as if his lust prevented him from doing anything else. “You want me to enjoy fucking you, right? Can’t you feel how extra hard my dick is today?” he breathed into Duncan’s ear.

Duncan moaned in arousal.

“I’m going to finish so fast…” Nick added next, holding his boyfriend’s hardness at the same time and sensing that he had absolute control of the situation. “Keep spreading those big, delicious butt cheeks for me!”

Duncan leaned forward and pressed himself into Nick’s groin, submitting himself more than he knew..

“Well, boys… what do you think?” Nick asked after sending Duncan off to buy some cotton candy as the rest of them meandered around the funfair.

Nick’s chubby friends all looked at each other, then back at Duncan’s enlarged rear as he queued up by the stall. “I can’t believe he hasn’t even noticed yet,” Ben replied.

Nick sighed in frustration. These fatties really didn’t understand anything. “Of course he’s noticed, you idiot!” he growled. “You can’t gain thirty-five pounds and not notice! Not when you’re as skinny as Duncan used to be!”

“Thirty-five pounds?” Martin asked. “Is it really that much?”

“Easily,” Nick chuckled. He could estimate a guy’s weight better than anyone else he had ever met. “And not an ounce of it has been muscle!” he smirked. “Just take a look at those love handles if you don’t believe me.”

“How the fuck are you still getting away with this?” Ian asked, bewildered as he saw Duncan scratching his stomach in the queue for cotton candy.

“Easy,” Nick shrugged. “Bombard a simple boy with pure pleasure, then sit back and watch. It’s really not rocket science. All boys are pigs if you know what you’re doing. And, you know me, I’ve never struggled to put weight on anyone before; as I’m sure your blubbery thighs can attest to,” he winked at Martin.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Adam jumped in. “How much longer until he works out what you’re really up to and dumps you?”

Nick looked over at Duncan in the queue and waved sweetly. “I’d say I’ve got at least another fifty pounds or so before that happens,” he chuckled to the boys. “The greedy little fucker is hardly the brightest I’ve ever come across.”

Without even realising it, the other guys were a great help to increase Duncan’s calories that day. Collectively, they gorged and snacked the entire time as Nick sat back and watched. It was what he loved best about feeding. It wasn’t just about stuffing someone until they nearly puked; it was about the long term training and habit-forming he had programmed into all of them, ensuring that they ate, almost mindlessly, the entire time.

“I’ve got such a boner after watching you eating that hot dog…” Nick whispered to Duncan later that evening, adjusting his pants. “You were practically deep throating it,” he teased.

Duncan grinned. ”Well, you know how good I am at taking something long and thick into my mouth…” he teased back, thinking he knew the game that his lover was playing. He believed he was being playful and seductive, yet he was so far off the mark, it was laughable.

“Here,” Nick smiled, slipping Duncan a note. “Go get yourself another… I want to watch your mouth work and imagine what you’re going to do to me later,” he lied, patting Duncan on his doughy little rear. “Then, when we get home, I’m going to pull out the whipped cream and make you lick it all off me!”

Duncan raised his eyebrows and smiled with excitement. Then, off he went to do as he was told, nursing his own semi at the same time.

It was only in the pictures from that day that Nick really noticed how well Duncan’s double chin was starting to come in. Duncan had never exactly been on a par with him, looks-wise. But with the arrival of the chin and the bloated middle, at last Nick felt like he was dating a real chub once more, sending his arousal into overdrive. He found more and more cunning ways to ensure Duncan continued to overeat and, as the holidays arrived, Duncan had let himself go even more than Nick had ever expected. Suddenly, all those sweatpants Nick had quietly been adding to Duncan’s wardrobe began paying off; the larger shirts and cute underwear that would have been far too big for the guy back when they first got together.

“I’m thinking of asking Duncan to move in with me,” Nick explained to his parents one evening. This wasn’t the sort of life decision he usually made with his parents, but considering how much they were into this relationship, their support was bound to come with a nice big cheque for something or other.

Nick’s mother breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s wonderful news!” she beamed. “I thought you were going to tell us something else then!” she laughed, looking across at Nick’s dad.

“Like what?” Nick asked, curious.

“I thought you were about to tell us that it was all over between you both!” she chuckled, still looking nothing but relieved. “We noticed that Duncan’s put on a few pounds recently and we thought… Uh oh! Nick’s not going to be happy about that.”

“You thought I would finish with Duncan just because he’s gained a few pounds?” Nick asked, realising just how little his parents actually understood him. How many of his chubby boyfriends had they met in the past? “You really think I’m that shallow?” he asked, pretending to feel hurt. That was, until his parents finally offered to consider buying one of the new condos by the river for Nick and Duncan to live in together; so much more convenient than the poky little apartment Nick was in right now.

The chubs were shocked when Nick told them his plans. Adam, in particular, thought he was taking things too far. Sure, Nick had some fun fattening up his boyfriend when they were dating, but moving in with Duncanwould be entirely different. Now he would be able to manipulate everything that Duncan ate all day and all night long. And, from the horny way that Nick spoke about it, it was clear that he was going to take advantage of every opportunity that came his way.

“You really sneak all this stuff into his food?” Adam asked, gazing at the hidden supplies in the cupboard.

“Pretty much,” Nick nodded, smiling as he looked around his new kitchen. “Have you seen these?” he asked, picking up a pair of Ducan’s freshly washed work pants from the laundry basket. “Thirty eight inch waist already!”

“I’m guessing these are his as well?” Martin asked, picking up a jock strap.

“Absolutely!” Nick laughed. “You should see the way they cut into the little pig’s love handles! It never fails to make me explode!”

“Jeez! Look at all this shit!” Ben cried as he opened the refrigerator.

Nick’s face lit up again and his eyes twinkled with devilment as Ben pulled out one fattening product and ingredient after another. “Fat boy is living the dream, right?” he smiled. “And check out this!” he blasted, opening the freezer drawer and extracting a giant tub of ice cream. “Liquid gold, this stuff!” he joked. “The pig can’t resist it and it puts weight on him like nothing else. You wait until you see him. He’s like you, Adam. A similar sort of shape when you started getting fat; a tight, stout little belly. And his face! Oh my goodness! It’s just suddenly started looking chubby as fuck! Do you remember when it happened to you, Martin? Your face and cheeks seemed to just blow up? In less than a week you looked totally different. It’s exactly the same with Duncan right now.”

The chubs all looked at each other. Nick had been there during each one of their initial forays into gaining, and he was the reason why each of them continued to relish putting on more and more weight, even now.

“So this is where the magic happens?” Ian asked, as he was led into Nick and Duncan’s new bedroom.

Nick shook his head and laughed. “The magic happens wherever I want it to happen,” he boasted. “We may have only been here four weeks, but there’s no room or flat surface I haven’t fucked my little piggy on.”

The chubs all pulled a face, pretending to be repulsed by Nick’s crudeness, despite the arousal that they actually felt. Each one of them had been fucked and fed by him during their time. That was, before Duncan came along.

By the time Duncan arrived home from work, there was a wealth of take out on offer in the lounge, with Nick standing up brightly to greet his lover whilst the four chubby guys were draped over the sofas like bloated seals. After hugging him, Nick stood back and allowed the eyes of the chubs to check Duncan out. He could see their eyes wandering to exactly where he wanted: Duncan’s chubby chin, his pot belly and broader butt. How exciting it was to show him off like this! Nick fussed about him, fetching him a plate and a cool beer whilst he settled down with the other boys.

Grazing was one of Duncan’s weaknesses. A large buffet dinner like this always resulted in him eating more than usual. Even as the pizzas and chicken pieces went cool, the boy was still nibbling away as he chatted. He slipped off his tie and supped on the beer until a little opening formed between the buttons on his shirt, a tight bloat starting to take hold of his portly stomach.

“I’m hoping I can pull a few strings and get Duncan a new job with one of my friends,” Nick commented next, as Duncan began complaining about his boss. “He works so hard and just gets more and more responsibilities piled on top of him without any extra pay. It’s not fair.”

“I’ve got my fingers crossed,” Duncan nodded in agreement. “A new job would be so handy right now. As much as I like being able to walk to work, I think I’m ready for a change.”

The chubs all eyed Nick knowingly. Was this yet another cunning way to ensure that Duncan got the least amount of exercise possible? Back in the early days, Nick had manipulated all their lifestyles in a similar fashion, and their waistlines had rapidly paid the price. It burned the question in all their minds: Just how much further could Nick take this gain?

“You’ve been to the gym already?” Duncan asked a couple of weeks later as he groggily rubbed his eyes one Saturday morning.

“Of course I have,” Nick smiled, pumping his bicep. “It was chest day. You know that’s my favorite!” he winked, ripping off his compression shirt and throwing his muscular body down onto the bed with his now easily 240lb boyfriend. He kissed him keenly until he could feel Duncan really getting into it. That was the moment he pulled out. “I’m going to make you some breakfast,” he teased,” reaching his hand onto the boy’s wider rear, “then I’m going to fuck you silly…” he growled.

“Does it have to be in that specific order?” Duncan smiled back, throwing his leg over and spreading his naked butt so temptingly, as if he didn’t understand how, these days, his oversized, wobbly glutes would have put most guys off. Duncan was not the cute little thing he used to be.

Nick growled in lust, sliding his hand onto the boy’s butt and slapped it playfully, watching the fresh blubber ripple. “Breakfast first,” he smiled, resisting temptation, jumping back up energetically to start frying things up for his underexercised lover.

A few weeks later, Nick’s buddy, Martin, had met him in town for lunch. Ever since the pair had dated in high school, the guy had slowly been swelling up fatter and fatter. After understanding their shared attraction to weight gain, Nick had been the one to draw it out of him, with those initial sixty pounds being down to his own hard work and dedication to the cause. It was where Nick had learned his craft as a feeder; utilising the knowledge he had acwuired with the many, many gainers he had fattened up since.

Despite Martin’s athletic beginnings on the football team, there was not a trace of it left any longer. The guy was surprisingly pear shaped and soft all over; with every part of him coated in blubber. Martin had hit three hundred and fifty pounds last year and was still continuing to balloon up with the help of several other feeders Nick had sent his way. As usual, he was wearing clothes that appeared far too tight; his drooping stomach starting to show itself underneath his too-short t-shirt. Nick enjoyed standing back and watching the looks his friend got as they walked around together; his very favourite hobby.

“You know, I almost forgot how much I LOVE a giant fat ass on a guy,” Nick rambled as the pair of them walked to a free bench at the park. “Duncan had almost no ass at all when I asked him out. Then it started getting nice and peachy, and I thought I was so turned on by it; like my dick was never going to be flaccid ever again! But now…” he swooned, turned on just to be saying these things aloud. “...Now it’s properly FAT! Like two doughy mounds of lard! You should see the way it jiggles and moves; how wide it’s getting and how it’s spreading out! Fuck, man!”

“Hence the doughnuts,” Martin chuckled, motioning to the little bag of premium treats Nick had just picked up to take home with him later. “You do realise there are a lot more calories in the regular ones Duncan eats?” he reminded his friend.

Nick shrugged. “Duncan tends to prefer these ones. I know they’re a lot more expensive, but my little fat ass is definitely worth it,” he laughed.

“So it’s finally happened then!” Martin smirked, breathing a sigh of relief as they made it to the bench. “I never got expensive treats like those when we dated. You’re so fucked now, you know that, right?”

Nick turned in surprise. “Fucked?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “Because I spent extra money on donuts?”

“I’ve seen this coming for months. The way you are around Duncan; finishing his sentences and fussing after him. You’ve properly fallen in love, haven’t you? Nick Bowlins: the feeder with a heart of stone, has actually fallen for one of his fatties!”

Nick shook his head. “No. It’s not like that at all!” he shot back, surprisingly offended by the idea. “I know this isn’t a long-term thing. I’ve been secretly fattening him for months waiting until he finally realises and dumps me. I headed into this with realistic expectations.”

“And that’s what makes this all the more tragic,” Martin laughed. “You’ve schemed yourself into a corner. You even pulled all those strings to make sure your friend got him that new job. You’ve played your games and ensured he piles on the weight, but you know he’ll never forgive you once he figures it all out. And when that happens, he’s going to break your little heart.”

“I’m not discussing this,” Nick stated, standing up and checking his watch for the time.

“Ouch! I’ve touched a nerve!” Martin sang with delight. “This is pure karma you realise? Secretly fatten up your boyfriend’s ass and you’re going to end up getting bitten on yours!”

Nick rolled his eyes and started walking off. He hated how jealous Martin was these days, now that they didn’t casually fuck like they used to. Although Nick hadn’t entered into a relationship with Duncan with the intention of staying monogamous, that was exactly what had happened. He just hadn’t wanted to be with anyone else. So, how would he feel when all this was over? Because Martin was right about one thing: this whole relationship was definitely heading for an inevitable conclusion. Maybe Nick would be the one who came off worse.

“You know I love you, right?” Nick asked, cuddling Duncan extra tight as he spooned him in bed the next morning.

Duncan chuckled softly and rubbed Nick’s strong arms that held him so firmly. “I know,” he replied, smiling happily. “I love you too.”

Despite the raging hard-on Nick had, pressed up against Duncan’s soft glutes, he tried his best to resist heading straight to sex and just enjoyed the moment. Who knew how many more mornings like this they had together?

“I’m heading for a shower if you want to join?” Duncan asked, slipping out from under the covers and standing there naked. His blubbery body was so intoxicating. Nick hadn’t been able to resist spoiling him with take-out last night and, as a result, the guy’s nipples finally looked like they were ready to start the eventual droop onto that rounded little gut that was swelling out of him. Was the guy really so oblivious that he didn’t realise how overweight he was getting? Did he really not know that, to the average person, his lardy physique was never going to entice anyone the way he was now trying to entice Nick to follow him into the shower. Bounce, bounce, bounce went those overfilled glutes as he strutted out, confident that Nick would follow; the jiggle of fat in his love handles surprisingly out of sync with the rest of his body. But Nick was so hard; his devious brain having already concocted several ways he could ensure Duncan was gorged on calories all day long. He simply wouldn’t be able to stop himself, even if he tried.

“Wait for me!” he called out, throwing the covers off and following the little piglet into the bathroom.

Many of the strategies Nick had employed to increase Duncan’s weight in the early days were now thoroughly ingrained and trained into him. Nick sat back and watched the naive boy guzzle down his breakfast and then mindlessly wander around the kitchen cupboards for snacks. The boy’s life had been so ridiculously food focused for months now, he initiated his own conversations about where they should go for lunch and talked excitedly about the little bakeries and food places they could stop at along the way. Nick almost wished that he would stop; his dick swelling with blood each and every time Duncan’s well developed greed reared its ugly head in their conversations.

“You’re starting to look like your father!” Duncan’s mother grumbled as they called in one afternoon; her son’s stomach surprisingly rounded and bloated after the sushi lunch he had insisted upon.

Right before Duncan’s dad had taken up with another woman and moved to New York about seven years ago, an eighteen year old Nick had developed the biggest crush on him: the fattest man in their neighborhood. Since then, Duncan’s mother had bitterly sworn off men and neither she, nor Duncan, had had any contact with him since. But the comparison with Duncan’s father now made Nick’s heart race as he took in just how justified it was. Ducan did indeed carry all the weight in the same way; his stomach and butt pushing outwards in completely the opposite directions.

Duncan rolled his eyes, shielded from all the criticism by the many false and exaggerated compliments Nick had filled his head with for almost eighteen months now. “Did you notice that tiny little portion mom gave me?” he complained as they both got back into the car after staying for dinner. “I think she’s trying to put me on a diet herself!”

The pair of them laughed and waved as they pulled out of the driveway.

“You don’t think I’ve gotten too fat do you?” Duncan asked, clearly second guessing himself after the visit.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” Nick growled, swerving the question and pulling Duncan’s hand onto his erection, as if providing evidence to that effect. He’d planned for them both to stop at his own folks’ place before heading home, but his arousal had got the better of him. He felt an ache in his balls and needed to get his fat boy back as soon as possible.

“Can we order Mexican tonight?” Duncan asked; his greedy mind still hijacked by thoughts of food.

“We’ll get you whatever you want,” Nick smiled back, taking one hand from the wheel to rub his lover’s chubby thigh. Oh, how he loved this boy!

Over the following months, Nick’s usual compliments started sounding more and more ironic. He still lamented about Duncan’s butt, calling it ‘cute’ and ‘pert’ like he always had, despite the monstrous width and shape it had developed. He referred to Duncan as his ‘pretty boy’ even though the chubby cheeks had enveloped many of his old facial features and the double chin had robbed him of a jawline for quite some time. Time and time again, he made note of Duncan’s strength and manly physique, even as the pounds and pounds of blubber encased his upper arms and surged into his nipples, making them bounce as he walked. It was almost amusing that Duncan still believed each and every one of them. Then again, was it a lie when Nick really meant what he said? Big and bloated as it was, Duncan’s butt was still the cutest thing Nick had ever seen. Sure, the boy’s face was round and plump, but did that mean he wasn’t pretty anymore? Definitely not!

“I can’t believe you’re still getting away with this shit!” laughed Adam as they all met up for a meal at a fancy buffet restaurant closer to the holidays. Duncan’s gut had swollen significantly since many of the boys had seen him last summer; all of them gazing at the boy from the table as he greedily trotted around the dishes on offer. “I have to hand it to you. I never thought you would get this far with him.”

Nick nodded and smiled, but didn’t feel the need to comment.

“What is he now?” Ben asked, inspecting Duncan’s broad rear as he turned around. “Two-eighty?”

“No way! That’s a three hundred pounder if ever I’ve seen one!” Ian jumped in, laughing when Duncan’s shirt came untucked as he hungrily reached over to pick up some garlic bread.

Nick nodded once again, silently wishing for Duncan to hurry back to the table and end this speculation. All it would take would be for one of them to say something too loudly and Duncan would overhear. Then the entire house of cards would come crashing down.

The chubs all seemed to notice Nick’s silence and they looked at each other in confusion. Where had that wicked, boastful feeder they all knew so well gone?

“Leave him be, boys,” Martin whispered to the others. He probably knew, just as well as the rest did, that this was likely Nick and Duncan’s last holiday season together.

The chair squeaked as Duncan sat himself down again. His plate was piled high; the food glistening with grease and butter. He reached for his knife and fork. Since when had his hands become so chubby and full; his fingers swelling like short little sausages.

“Nick wants to take me away on a cruise next year,” Duncan told the boys later on as the conversation progressed. “Somewhere warm so that we can just lie by the pool and enjoy some drinks in the sun.” “How lovely!” Adam grinned. “All those fantastic restaurants to visit throughout the day; all that delicious food…” he smirked, looking over in Nick’s direction. “What a thoughtful boyfriend you have!”

Nick felt more uncomfortable than ever, wriggling in his seat. In truth, he’d drifted away from the boys for just this reason, knowing that these subtle little comments about his feeder intentions were one day going to land in Duncan’s mind. Then, everything would unravel. “I just thought it would be nice,” he replied softly, rubbing his lover’s bulging thigh under the table.

“That’s what everyone always says about you,” Ben agreed sarcastically. “Nick Bowlins: a real ‘nice’ guy!” he winked.

Nick swallowed hard and forcefully steered the conversation in an entirely new direction. He felt so grateful as the evening ended and it was just him and Duncan back in the car, heading back home.

“I think I’ve still got some of that nice ice cream left in the freezer,” Duncan pondered, despite how much he had consumed that evening. “I’ll have it when I get home.”

Once again, Nick’s erection sprang to life, despite the guilt he felt. For the first time, he wished that his brain wasn’t wired the way it was. Why did he have to get off on how greedy and well trained his boyfriend had become to eat everything he provided? Why couldn’t he just be normal, like everyone else? Why did this secret have to loom over them like a dark, angry cloud?

The rain was falling hard as they made it back to the apartment block that evening, both of them running from the parking lot to the front entrance. A large man stood outside, looking drenched and miserable as he tried in vain to get a response on the intercom to one of the apartments upstairs.

“Can I help you?” Nick asked, letting the man come into the main hallway and out of the downpour.

The man lowered his hood and breathed out, rubbing his fat face and beard,soaked from the rain. Nick recognised him immediately and he could tell from the way that Duncan took a step back that he had just had the shock of his life. There, standing before them both was Duncan’s long estranged father.

“Your aunt said it was a nice apartment you have,” the big man beamed as he followed them both upstairs a few minutes later. “I have to say, she was absolutely right! This was all just wasteland when I was last in town.”

Nicked fetched the man a towel and took his jacket off. Although it had been many years since he had seen Duncan’s father, Eddie, he was surprised at how impressively large the man had become in that time, easily close to being five hundred pounds, if not more.

“What do you want?” Duncan asked, sitting himself down on the couch. “Why show up here after all this time? Is Michelle not with you?”

“Michelle’s at home in New York,” Eddie replied, referring to the woman he had left Duncan’s mother to be with. “I always miss you more around the holidays. Now you’ve moved out of your mom’s place, I thought maybe I could finally summon up the courage to come and see you.” The man looked over at his son and smiled. It had been years since he had seen him. Duncan had been nothing more than a scrawny teenager the last time they had been in the same room together. “You look well,” he nodded. “I always thought you’d end up looking more like me than your mother,” he smiled, patting his own large belly.

An awkward silence fell upon the room. After over seven years of estrangement, was Duncan’s dad really calling him fat within the first five minutes? Tact was clearly not his specialty.

“Your aunt tells me you two have been together for over two years now?” he asked next. “You must be very happy.”

Again, the silence was deafening. Nick began to feel sorry for the man as Duncan’s hostility endured.

“Why did you have to move to New York?” Duncan finally asked; blocking whatever path his father was trying to steer the conversation.

Eddie nodded his head, accepting that the question was a good one. “Because I fell in love,” he answered. “Michelle and I… we’re just made for each other. Sure, it’s not a conventional pairing… A bit like you two,” he pointed at them both, appearing to be gesturing towards their two contrasting bodies. “But we’re very happy together.”

The cogs in Nick’s brain began to turn.

“Your mom was always getting at me for my weight,” Eddie went on. “We were never happy. That was all just an act for your sake. But I think you knew that, didn’t you?” he smiled sweetly at Duncan. “I tried to explain to your mom that this is who I am,” he nodded, grabbing a handful of the fat that encircled his waist. “But she wouldn’t have it. She made my life hell. Then I met Michelle online and… well, as you know. Everything changed.”

Nick had a thousand questions burning in his head. He fought back the urge to jump in and ask them all at once, merely rubbing Duncan’s back supportively from behind the couch.

“Your mom threatened to tell you everything unless I stayed away. She’d hired a private investigator and had endless messages, pictures and transcripts between me and Michelle. I didn’t want you to see any of that. Your mom made it clear that she thought the things Michelle and I were into were just perverted. She didn’t understand the eating and the weight gain and how intrinsic it all is to my happiness.”

Nick tried not to react. Was Duncan’s father really coming out as a… a gainer?

“I thought, maybe now that you’re in your own similar relationship, that you might understand,” Eddie finished, looking at them both.

Nick’s eyes bulged and he stood up straighter; his heart pounding. He’d imagined many scenarios where he would be outed as a feeder, but being called out by Duncan’s absentee father had not been one of them. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he mumbled shakily.

Eddie chuckled. “Oh, come on… it’s obvious!” he motioned again at their extreme size difference. “Duncan’s aunt told me all about you two. You’re the one who fattened up Pete and Shirley’s boy, Martin, back when you were in high school together,” Eddie stated directly to Nick. “I heard he’s a real porker these days! ‘As fat as butter’ my sister said!”

Duncan turned his head to look at Nick, standing behind him, his eyebrows lowered in confusion. Nick was utterly speechless.

“Now, I’m not sure there are many fathers who would approve of their son dating a feeder,” Eddie nodded. “But, in this case, I’ve got to say… I know you two will be really happy together.”

Duncan and Nick both looked across at Eddie. The man was still blissfully unaware of the wrecking ball he had just taken to their relationship.

“I’m staying at the Palace Hotel,” Eddie stated as he grunted and got up from his seat. “Perhaps we could all meet up for some lunch tomorrow?”

Again, silence was the only response. He pulled out a contact card and dropped it on the coffee table.

“It really is good to see you again,” he smiled at Duncan as Nick followed him to the door and closed it behind him.

“Duncan…” Nick began, the moment they were alone again. “That was… I’m not sure your dad has all the facts about… I’m not really…” he mumbled, starting and restarting his sentences again and again. “Are you alright?” he finally offered sweetly.

Duncan inhaled and seemed to pull himself out of his stunned silence. “Well, I guess everything makes a lot more sense now,” he nodded pragmatically. “With dad… With you.”

Nick’s heart was racing. He thought of several things he could say in response, all of them lies and excuses. No. The game was up.

“So I guess that’s the reason why I’m like this,” Duncan sighed, raising his arms up to his chest and looking down at his fattened body, as if for the first time. “I just thought I was going mad. Two hundred and ninety six pounds. That’s what I was when I weighed myself the other day. Can you believe that?”

“I never meant for things to go this far,” Nick replied honestly.

“Nor did I,” Duncan agreed, rubbing his stout belly sadly.

“You don’t have to be this way,” Nick shot back. “We can put you on a diet. I’d love you however you looked. Just give me a chance and let me prove it!”

“I think it’s too late for that, don’t you?” Duncan grumbled, still holding his enlarged stomach. “My dad’s right. I’ve always been more like him than my mom.”

“How do you mean?” Nick asked, wondering just how long it would be until Duncan kicked him out. Where the hell was he going to sleep tonight?

“I love food. I love eating. I love this…” he emphasised, leaning a little forwards and grabbing his gut with both hands, shaking it. “I just didn’t understand why.”

Nick’s heart skipped a beat. “You seriously don’t mind?” he asked in astonishment.

“I thought you were so sweet for not nagging me about my weight when I first started getting chubby. But I guess I understand now. It all makes sense.”

Nick cringed. He felt that things still rested on a knife edge. He didn’t want to open his mouth and say the wrong thing; simultaneously destroying everything.

“So, this is your thing, huh?” Duncan asked, lifting his shirt and patting the large belly he had developed over the last two years. “I suppose I always was a prime target for a feeder, knowing how large my dad is. I guess weight gain is just in the genes. You must have known that.”

“That wasn’t why I started dating you,” Nick replied quickly. “And your weight isn’t the reason why I fell in love with you either.”

“Well, you’re a better man than me then,” Duncan chuckled. “Because the way you used to cook and overfeed me definitely played a part in the reason why I fell for you so badly!”

The pair looked at each other with very small smiles threatening to invade from the furthest corners of their mouths.

“I guess we’re both just a couple of freaks,” Duncan finally laughed. He patted the space next to him on the couch and Nick finally came to sit next to him. The most honest conversation of their lives was about to begin.

“Surprise!” shouted the crowds of people as Duncan and Nick walked into the restaurant a few months later. Everyone was there: the chubs, the two families, Duncan’s father and Michelle; all stood underneath a banner congratulating them on their engagement. The pair of them laughed, pretending that they hadn’t already worked out what was happening, strolling in to greet them all.

“So you’re finally going to make an honest fatty out of this one?” Martin joked quietly as he came up to the pair of them later that evening.

Nick nodded, his hand resting sweetly on Duncan’s large butt as the boy stood, eating his third plateful from the buffet. He rubbed and patted gently, knowing that Duncan always ate better when his size was being admired. The boy had been fattening faster than ever since the pair of them had been open and honest about things. With such an enormous double chin, Duncan even looked larger than Martin himself.

“How was the cruise?” Martin askes next, not having seen the pair of them since they made it home, freshly engaged last weekend.

Duncan and Nick giggled to each other, remembering all the kinky things they had got up to together. “It was very good, thanks,” Nick finally replied, rubbing Duncan’s giant stomach as if to show that the pair of them had stuffed Duncan’s gut for the entire two weeks. They’d even had to buy a new shirt especially for the party that evening.

“Yeah, it was great,” Duncan mumbled through a mouthful of food. “Now we’re just looking forward to the wedding.”

A surge of excitement spread through Nick as he thought about the wedding. His large hand couldn’t resist squeezing Duncan’s blubbery glute as he pictured how much fatter his fiance would be by then.

“Well, it’s unconventional, but it clearly works for you two,” Martin smiled, looking on at his very good friends who clearly only had eyes for each other. Sure, the world had lost one of its most devilish and enterprising feeders, but look at how happy he was with his fat boy. Look at how happy they both were!

The whispers behind their backs could continue, the justified comparisons between Nick and Eddie’s feeder wife could go on and on. Duncan’s mother could regret the day she’d ever agreed to let her friend coax her into setting up Duncan with her son. But none of them could deny that this was something very special indeed. The glasses were raised, the toasts were made and the sentiment was real. A long and happy marriage was wished upon them both. Nick and Duncan, forever more.

#gay feedee #gainerstory #gayfeeder #gayfeedee #gainerfic #gainer story #gainer stories #gainerstories #gainer fic #gainer fiction

1K notes · View notes

ghostaholics · 2 years ago

Text

fuck it i'm thinking about grump x sunshine trope and a neighbor au with ghost where he's known for being the building's loner-tenant, this brute bear of a man that keeps to himself.

nobody's ever seen him smile or caught a glimpse of the entirety of his face because he always wears a black surgical mask when he's going to and from his flat; nobody's ever had a full-length conversation with him, because true to his callsign, he's in and out of the building with as much silence and stealth as a ghost. the other residents gossip about him: the water-cooler talk usually goes along the lines of them trying to piece together his story, who he is, what he looks like, whether they should be worried about the fact that he lives there (because there's nothing wrong with being a recluse but he does give off slightly terrifying vibes due to his size and demeanor). the rumor mill’s churning out these outlandish ideas about his private life and they kind of make assumptions based on little things they’ve noticed about him since he’s started living there.

enter in his new neighbor who's never met him, but was advised on her move-in day that he doesn't interact much with the other residents, basically a light debrief on how he can come off as cold and aloof and while some people have made attempts in the past to greet him, they’ve been dissuaded by his general standoffishness and avoidance of any social interaction.

anyways, simon wakes up at odd times throughout the night because he's got the most fucked sleeping schedule from deployment; he can start his day anywhere from 4am, 6pm, and so forth but on one particular morning, he's up at 3:30am, ready to go out for a jog of all things at this hour and then in the hall, he runs into his cute neighbor who's holding this also equally cute german shepherd puppy in her arms; his reaction consists of slowly blinks and a blank expression because he doesn’t quite know what to make of the sight in front of him

and she's staring back at simon with wide, frightened eyes not because she finds him intimidating or anything of that nature (honestly she doesn’t really give two shites about what the others say about him) but because the landlord has a severe and well-known, no-pets policy so she's been sneaking the puppy outside to use the bathroom in creative ways (one of them being at a time where she's certain none of the other tenants are awake) – she's basically been caught red-handed and fuck she's not sure if he's the type to snitch so all she can really say is:

❝ You didn't see anything. ❞

to which he deadpans,

❝... Sure. ❞

because he’s really just trying to mind his own business and not get involved, ducks his head before shouldering past her in the corridor to get outside – he tells himself he can’t bring himself to care about this new development

however, she's not entirely confident that he's going to make good on his word, so she bakes these cookies (special recipe of hers that she’s hopeful will win him over), leaves them in front of his door as a bribe with a card that says please don’t get me evicted ♡ on the inside, which seemed like an excellent plan in theory until he shows up the next day with an empty plate, a very real, very genuine request for more, and a serious demand to see the german shepherd that’s trying to squirm its way out the door to greet simon

edit: love thy neighbor masterlist

#I have more to say but I’m stopping myself right there #part one is being written #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley headcanons #ghost headcanons #simon ghost riley #simon riley

6K notes · View notes

sinful-lanterns · 27 days ago

Text

CW: Aftermath of an orgy, breeding, pregnancy mention, cockwarming, creampie, womb tattoo

Adding onto the previous ask, how hot would it be if after an explicit orgy with multiple of the demonesses from your harem, they begin discussing the potentiality of you being pregnant, while you are still plugged up and drunk with their cum 🤤

Just imagine you sitting on one of the demonesses’ lap (like Garofano’s), her cock plugging you up and keeping all their mixed cum sloshing inside you, while the other women casually converse about how you simply must be pregnant by now. They’ve all had their cumshots inside you, filling you to the brim and having Garofano sheath you so that not a single drop spills out. “I wonder if the baby will inherit my eyes,” Coquelic mentions in passing, already confident that she was the one who reached the egg first. “Oh? Are you that confident that the baby will be yours?” Adela smiles wryly, tracing her fingers down your thighs to scoop up whatever leftover cum was left.

“Such cockiness already. You all should know by now that powerful demons have a very potent seed,” Langley flicks her lighter and begins smoking a cigarette. She doesn’t mention it, but it’s obvious that she’s referring to herself as a “powerful demon with potent seed.” “Well, mine or not. I just know the baby will have a very cute face, just like her mother,” Chelsea purrs seductively and reaches over to pinch your cheek. “…Err, Miss Franc, you’re erect and drooling again. I know you’re insatiable but the poor human looks like she can’t take another breeding.”

“My apologies,” Cabernet swallows her saliva and regretfully tears her gaze away from your cunt, still wrapped tightly around Garofano’s girthy shaft and creaming over it. The obscene amount of mixed cum oozes out and tempts the gluttonous demon even further. “The sight of her is just very tempting right now.”

There’s a small hum of agreement that rouses from the other demons, but they all agree you can’t take another creampie. You’re dozing off in Garofano’s lap, whimpering every time you feel her twitch inside your oversensitive cunt. Your cum-drunk state leaves you vulnerable to these greedy women, but they don’t take any more than you can handle, knowing you’ll be sore tomorrow during your duties.

“…I shall go prepare a bath for the young mistress,” Jelena finally speaks, rising from her seat. “For now, everyone behave themselves. We shall discuss our lady’s…future predicament when she is able to gather herself.” You feel a gentle kiss press against your forehead from Jelena, before she walks into your master bathroom. Garofano shifts under you and pulls you off her lap, the mixed cum of the several demons leaking down your thighs and making Cabernet groan.

“No Miss Franc, you cannot eat her out.” Langley tsks, putting out her cigarette. “Come on everyone, back to bed. We will serve our mistress again tomorrow.”

The last thing you felt before being carried in Garofano’s arms to the bath, was the feeling of your demon lovers caressing your full stomach, and the subtle, warm, burning sensation of a demon’s sigil imprinting on your womb…

#⛓️ mbcc lovepost #demon au #ptn smut #ptn women smut

173 notes · View notes

wow-thisismylifeiguess · 5 months ago

Text

Dick, visiting Bruce after he realizes the Blüdhaven Rogues are seemingly more scared of him then they used to be.

Dick, “Bruce, what did you do…?”

Bruce, completely oblivious to the effect he had on Dick’s reputation, “Nothing?”

Damian snitches on his Father and Bruce looks at him with betrayal.

Dick, still mad, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Why did you wear *my* suit? What's wrong with yours?!"

Bruce, "I didn't want Bludhaven thinking you left."

Bruce, “Gotham needs Batman and Blüdhaven needs Nightwing. If I showed up as Batman, it would be seen as me encroaching on your territory…again.”

They’ve had past conversations about Bruce patrolling Dick’s territory. Several times.

Dick, "So you put *my* suit on?! Where did you even get one big enough for you?! .........you already had it, didn't you?"

Bruce, having Bruce sized versions of all of his kid’s suits, “…no.”

Dick, “*Bruce.*”

Bruce, “For emergencies!”

Dick, "Bruce!"

Bruce, "It's logical! I have a Batsuit for you down in the cave!"

Dick, "You *what* now?!"

Bruce, “For *emergencies*, Dick!”

Dick, “WHAT KIND?!”

Dick, "Do you have a suit for Red Hood, too?!"

Bruce, "No, that would be ridiculous. Jason and I are the same size, I'd use his."

Dick, "How do you know you're the same size?"

Bruce, "..."

Dick, "...*did you already try his suit on?*"

Bruce, “I plead the fifth.”

Dick, “YOU DID! WHEN?!”

Bruce, “Oh, look at the time, I have…a meeting.”

Dick, "YEAH, A MEETING WITH ME."

Bruce, "Please do not yell, Richard."

Dick gasps, “Do not ‘Richard’ *me*, Bruce Thomas Wayne.”

Bruce, “You’re being childish.”

Dick, “And you’re avoiding the question.”

Bruce, “What question?”

Jason casually entering the manor at this point, hears from the point that Bruce has tried his suit on, just stands in the doorway waiting to be seen.

Alfred, outing his hiding spot, “Ah, Master Jason. Would you like some tea?”

Bruce and Dick whip around to look at him. Bruce actually looks stressed.

Bruce, “Hey, Jason…how long have you been there?”

Dick, “BRUCE HAS WORN YOUR SUIT!”

Jason, “…I know? It smelled like his cologne when I found it.”

Bruce, “You’re not…mad?”

Jason, “I didn’t say that.”

Jason, casually pulling out a hunting knife that he "absently" plays with, "Was wondering if he'd fess up. Guess not."

Bruce looks at Dick, “Help me. Please.”

Dick, “Nope. This is your mess. I’m out of here.”

Bruce, “DICK!”

Jason, leaning against the wall as he tosses his knife up, catches it easily, "Knew about that. Also know about how many times you've been in my apartment. Gotta stop wearing such strong cologne, B."

Bruce, “Jason…Jaybird. Jaylad.”

Jason, “I’m listening.”

Bruce, “…yeah. I have no excuse.”

Jason, sighing, sheathing the knife. "Stop trespassing already, would you?"

Bruce, “…okay.”

He intends to continue trespassing, he’s just going to be sneakier about it. And stop wearing that damn cologne.

#me and a friend were joking about a brickwing post I saw and it resulted in this #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #batman #batfam #batfamily #my post

670 notes · View notes

metalnchains · 5 months ago

Text

He’s staring again. Even with one earbud in, music blaring, and a turned back, you know he’s boring holes into your back. Why he’s here terrorizing you is beyond you. You’ve never addressed him by the wrong rank, never bumped into him, never spoken out of turn to your knowledge. To your remembrance your longest conversation was whether or not he and his team had had a good flight over here, nothing offensive about that right? So why he’s once again chosen to sit here in a hard plastic chair that’s far too small for his hulking frame is a mystery. You know it’s his choice now. You’d interrogated Kate after the first time. She was wholly amused by your plight apparently, assuring you he wasn’t a threat to you. He was just…like that apparently. His team always comes in boisterous, happy to be on flat ground and in good company with Kate and the captain leading. The captain is always polite but distant. He and Kate always seem to need to get down to business quickly to help ease the weight on their shoulders. Being at the top came with heavy burdens. The sergeants are more chatty. They’re quick with a quip for you, or a light hearted jab for the other sergeant before heading into the conference room. He’s always the last to enter building, massive, intimidating, and silent. The first time he entered he’d stared at you with furrowed brows as you greeted the small crowd. His stare cut through any lighthearted chatter on the tip of your tongue. Scuttling back to the desk and starting on those end of quarter reports seemed a much safer option than standing there waiting for any orders from Kate. And it would have been a perfect plan…If he hadn’t stayed outside the conference room on guard duty not even ten feet away from you. No words, no acknowledgment just that god awful staring. Your polite attempts at small talk eventually petering out into embarrassed paper shuffling. Now you can say you’re almost used to it. It’s still unnerving to catch the skull out of the corner of your eye. Or steal a glance at just how deep and dark his eyes are. But at least he’s stopped trying to kill you with his furrowed eyebrows. His expression has smoothed out to boredom instead of unease, and mistrust. Your best guess is that the sound of a keyboard, and a stapler just aren’t much of a threat. Whatever it was you’re thankful.

You’ve started to bring them coffee for their meetings. The puffy rings under their eyes noticeable. Your hands nearly shake when you bring him a cup for the first time. Sitting at your desk feels easier and less heavy now that you’ve gone and approached him successfully, even if he’s not moving to actually take a drink. You feel accomplished, like a little kid brave enough to go and check for monsters all by themselves instead of asking an adult to do it for them. You have to stifle a laugh with a cough at how comically small the little styrofoam cup looks in his massive hand. Almost like a child’s toy teacup. He takes his coffee black. You’ve only seen him drink a sip or two in the several times they’ve been here over the last few months. But he’s never reached for the creamer or sugar you always leave on the chair next to him. He’s started to nod at you when you hand him the cup. When his finger tips had brushed yours the last time you handed him his cup it had felt like a spark. You’d almost said sorry to him for touching him, it was so unexpected. His fingers had been warm though. Warm and slightly rough with callouses. Winter was the worst. With the end of the year looming the workload you and everyone else were expected to complete become more and more. Your poor wrists were taking the brunt of it. The ache was getting harder and harder to ignore, and lifting them to stretch or rub at the aching muscles was only getting you so far. Still the reports, spread sheets, and now frequent coffee runs didn’t let up. The 141 had been here for nearly 2 weeks now. Meeting with Kate and god knows how many other people all over base. The lieutenant’s stare hadn’t even registered in your frazzled brain as you tried to survive these damned reports. He’s never approached your desk before today. Never even come close to stepping behind it. But today he’s leaning over your chair, nearly touching you. His body heat is radiating out warming you quicker than the ancient central heating in this building could ever dream of. With a grumbled “can’t sit ‘ere watching ya break yer wrists luv” he placed a wrist rest by your keyboard. His face is so close when you turn. You’re close enough to see the brown of his eyes, and that they’re crinkled a bit like he’s amused at your warming cheeks. They’re deeper than you’d ever glimpsed in your periphery, but they’re so very warm.

Suddenly having him stare at you with those eye of his doesn’t seem so bad.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty ghost #baby's first fanfic attempt #plz be nice #i hope to god its followable im not good at flowy writing #and god bless auto correct #i love love love when simons whole attempt at flirting is to star into someones soul #cause same

280 notes · View notes

concretejunglefm · 19 days ago

Text

I was enchanted to meet you

Summary: Meeting Noah at an event you’re working at ends in an unexpected twist.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader.

CW: mostly fluffy soft vibes, mentions of smoking, implied sex.

It’s over breakfast when you notice your phone screen lighting up with a notification. Curiosity piqued, you tap the screen, revealing a news article. The headline immediately captures your attention:

“A Wild, Passionate Night for Bad Omens Frontman, Noah Sebastian.”

You don’t even bother clicking on the article. Your eyes quickly scan the headline, then briefly glance at the blurry photo below it—a grainy, zoomed-in shot of Noah taking a step beside a woman whose face is partially turned away from the camera. Her hair falls just right, conveniently obscuring what they’ve decided makes her a “mystery woman.”

Mystery woman or not, she’s far from either of your minds right now.

The corner of your mouth curls up as you glance at Noah, whose lap you currently occupy. He’s shirtless, his hair still tousled from sleep. A faint red mark trails down the side of his neck, where his tattoos don’t reach—a mark you left there just hours ago. He’s sipping coffee from a mug featuring a motif from his favorite TV show, Severance—something you learned about during your late-night hours of getting to know each other. He’s scrolling aimlessly on his own phone, completely oblivious to the buzz his name is generating in the outside world.

You tilt your screen toward him with a soft snort. “It seems you’ve been quite busy.”

Noah raises an eyebrow, leaning forward to catch a glimpse, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. “Mystery woman, huh?” he mutters, his voice rough from the night before. “If only they knew.” A sly smirk spreads across his lips as he refocuses on you, his gaze lingering on your lips before he leans in and kisses you.

They may not know, but you do because you were there—you remember the night perfectly.

What they saw:

Another album release party event has found you catering, but this time, it’s for a band you’ve never heard of—even though your music preferences are vast. You spend the evening mingling, offering drinks and appetizers, while the band who is the center of attention seem to be fading into the background. You almost don’t realize who the event is for until you overhear conversations mentioning their names, particularly Noah, which becomes the center of one young woman’s conversation.

You later spot the same woman approaching whom you’ve deduced to be Noah—through process of elimination—and attempt to initiate a conversation. From a distance, you observe her; she laughs at his jokes, he’s courteous, she leans in as she speaks, and when he moves past her to reach for someone else, his hand brushes against hers—a fleeting, innocent touch.

A casual touch, barely a second long, but long enough to be manipulated and framed in any way the media chooses.

Then comes a photo—another one that accompanies the grainy one taken when he leaves the venue. This time, it’s a selfie they’re standing in the back of. It’s a blurry candid shot of Noah caught in profile, mid-smile, his eyes vaguely angled towards her. Her gaze is slightly upturned, and for a fleeting moment, as the briefest frame of the photo captures, it seems like something is happening between them—a shared glance, a lingering gaze.

You know better, because all of his glances came to settle on you.

As the night drew to a close, they managed to capture the photo that sparked the headline. Noah walking towards the exit, the crowd thinning out and the mystery woman standing beside him—not speaking this time, not even looking at each other. However, the camera didn’t care about their conversation; it only focused on angles and their proximity to sell a story based solely on coincidence.

To them, she was the woman he went home with; that was all they needed to claim it. She was the mysterious woman who had led him to a wild and passionate night.

What they didn't see:

They miss the way you catch Noah’s attention when you brush past him after he enters the room. They also miss the way his eyes keep scanning for you from there on. You’re just a stranger, but the faint scent you leave lingering in your wake keeps him hooked. His eyes are peeled for you, searching through the crowd in hopes of seeing you again—his mysterious stranger.

You catch him staring at you for a second too long. Not in the way someone admires an outfit or scans a crowd, but as if he’s memorizing you. They don’t notice that, or how every time you look up at him after that, he is already looking back—his lips twitching into a small, genuine smile—real—just for a fleeting moment.

You notice him watching you as you navigate through the crowd, ensuring that the trays in your hands remain steady, even under his watchful eye. His gaze then shifts to your legs, your fingers, and the subtle hint of collarbone that the uniform didn’t quite conceal. You feel heat bloom beneath your skin every time your paths cross.

You hear the way his voice drops when he catches you passing by, asking casually, “Haven’t I seen you before?” as if the three times you’ve offered him appetizers were mere coincidences.

They don’t see the two of you in the alleyway—Noah leaning against the wall with one foot propped behind him, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. You uncomfortably close to him—closer than polite or appropriate—but neither of you seem to mind.

You hadn’t intended to follow him out, not really. But when he slipped through the side door, you hesitated for only a minute before pushing it open yourself. It was as if an invisible force compelled you to follow him.

They don’t witness the smirk on his lips as you step into the dim light, or hear the quiet, “I was wondering how long you were gonna take.”

They don’t hear the way your breath catches, or how his eyes dip to your mouth, or how yours do the same.

They don’t notice you staring at his cigarette—not because you desire one, but because you yearn to savor the taste of something which has been between his lips.

They don’t see the tension stretch between you like a wire, taut and humming with potential. They don’t hear the long, heavy silence that fills the space between flirting and something else entirely.

When you both return inside, they don’t notice how your cheeks are slightly warmer, or your lips are slightly bitten.

His gaze follows you differently—less subtle and less patient now. As if something had changed in that alley, something that couldn’t be ignored for the rest of the night.

They witness him leaving with her, but they fail to notice your silent exit ten minutes later.

They don’t hear the first time he utters your name, as if he yearns to savor it. They don’t witness the passionate kiss he shares with you as soon as you’re out of sight—desperate, possessive, and messy. They don’t see the Uber ride, where you climb into his lap and barely manage to reach the second red light before his lips find your neck—heated, possessive. They don’t witness his fingers tracing your thighs, his hands entwined in your hair, and his voice whispering in your ear, confessing that he’s been contemplating this moment since the instant he laid eyes on you.

They don’t see you now, nestled on his lap in the gentle radiance of morning, draped only in his shirt. Your legs are warm against his thighs as he indulges in lazy kisses along your neck, gently nipping at the delicate skin just below your ear, as if he’s still yearning for you, as if last night wasn’t enough. One of his hands curls at your waist, while the other trails light touches up your thigh, fingers brushing the edge of the shirt that barely covers your curves.

Your coffee sits forgotten on the table. His mug is in reach, but his focus is on you—always you.

They don’t hear the rasp in his voice as he whispers your name, like it’s a secret meant for no one else. They don’t see the way he holds you, not possessively, but with a sense of certainty—like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. Like here—with you—is where he’s destined to be.

He doesn’t even know her name, but he knows yours. If you have anything to say about it, it’ll be the only thing he says for the rest of the day—soft, breathless, and repetitive, against your skin.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @floodflameschosen @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero @dollieomens @i-love-the-smell-of-you-blood @sitkowski @athenexe @trvshdxddy @collapsedglasshouses @overmydeadbodysblog @xmads-omensx @ajordan2020 @astronoids @courta13 @oobleoob @bluehairpunklol @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @concretenoah @death-ofpeace-ofmind @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @bloody-spades @limerinseme @lilgarbitch

#bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens blurb #noah sebastian blurb #concretejunglefm fics #noah sebastian x reader #enchanted fic

153 notes · View notes