Love your Farleigh fic btw. Been re-reading that shit for days. Ngl, I feel like the reader is the type to like- have an arm on Farleigh's thigh when they sit together, hold Farleigh by his waist or the small of his back, and do the pinky hold instead of intertwined fingers, idk. She gives off that vibe. I like it
Butterflies
Summary: treating Farleigh like a baby girl!
Warnings: slightly-maybe- a little bit sexual but not much, it's just an attempted handjob and drunk reader. Enjoy, mwah!
Notes: this wasn't a request but its so cute I keep thinking about it. This is the same universe as OMC! Farleigh just before all the cheating. As for what you said, I agree! She just has to be slightly drunk to start it up I fear, she's super aware of what she does around others but drunk reader? She don't care :) this is 1.4k words!
Farleigh is six foot five, nearly two hundred pounds and he's aware that his hair adds nearly another four inches to his height.
He's tall— he's heard it all his life and when he was living in the States with his mom, he had coaches approach him about joining football, basketball, and volleyball and once, a swim coach had cornered him just before school let out for the summer. The point is, that he is aware of his height. He knows that he's probably ducking to enter a room for the rest of his life, he knows he needs to avoid those flimsy wooden chairs because three years ago, he sat in one, and two of the little wooden legs gave out and his cousins still haven't let him live it down. And, he knows better than to sit on your lap as you grin up at him.
He's sure he'd crush you or, the combined weight of the both of you would crumble the chair and well— he doesn't really want to think about it, the imagined embarrassment is enough to make his skin crawl.
“No,” He sneers over the chatter of everyone else. The pub is loud but what else could be expected from a Friday night? “Just get up and maybe you can sit on my lap.”
You pout at him and he mocks it, a fake coo leaving his lips. “I don't want to get up.” You say and then you pat your lap again, your legs spreading as you slouch in the seat. “Come on, sit on Daddy's lap.”
Farleigh coughs, his neck flushing red as he scowls at you. “You think you're funny?”
You smile at him and he can see it in the way your nose scrunches, you're a little bit past tipsy. It'd be cute any other day but all Farleigh wants to do is sit down and drink with you and your friends. “Yeah, I am funny.” You answer, you're still smiling when you reach out to him, your pointer finger linking with his and you pull him closer. He goes easily despite all his huffing and puffing and he stands between your legs with a frown, “Just sit, Farleigh. You're not gonna hurt me.”
“Yeah, mate.” Felix butts in, his pint sloshing as he leans over Oliver. The movement has the whole table quieting and turning to look at the both of you. It's enough to make Farleigh sneer at them all as you let out a giggle.“Just sit, all this flirting is making my stomach turn.”
Put on the spot, Farleigh hisses out an annoyed ‘Fine.’ and gingerly settles himself on your lap, he puts most of the weight into the tips of his toes, nearly hovering for a moment before you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him flush against you. “See?” You murmur, your breath against his ears has his shoulders rising as a shiver goes down his spine. “Nothing happened.”
“Yet.” Farleigh replies. He can feel himself blushing, his stomach fluttering as you nuzzle closer to him. Alicia passes him a beer and he gives her a tight lip smile before his eyes dart over his shoulder and across your face. “Am I crushing you?”
“No.” You giggle and one of your hands pats his thigh. “I’m fine, you're not even that heavy.”
Farleigh knows that's a lie but doesn't have a chance to say anything before he's being pulled into a lighthearted argument with Felix and Daniel, Oliver says a word or two but Farleigh makes an effort to either speak over him or ignore him. You watch from over his shoulder, smiling as Farleigh shoots down whatever Felix is saying so quickly, that it has his cousin's cheeks pink as he rushes to defend himself.
He's cute like this. In his element of arguing about something stupid, a beer in hand. He's still a little tense against you but not like he was before and it makes your smile grow. Maybe it's the booze talking or maybe you just really love him but Farleigh is just so damn cute right now it makes you wanna kiss him out of his clothes. But you have enough sense to realize that Farleigh just got here and probably doesn't want to leave anytime soon so you swallow your growing desire for him and instead, draw patterns against his clothed thigh. He's mid-sentence when you start this and he trips over his words as he glances down at your finger then away, you would have missed it if you weren't so focused on him and another giggle bubbles out of you because of it.
Bravely, you trail your fingers higher, your head resting against his back as you trace circles and figure eights closer and closer to his dick. You smother another laugh against his back when he clears his throat, his hand falling over your and he forces your fingers to link. “What are you doing?” He whispers and your head lifts just enough to see that both Daniel and Felix had turned away from him, falling into their own conversation.
“Sorry,” You say and Farleigh notes that you don't sound sorry at all, there's still a bit of humor in your voice. Like you're about to burst into giggles any second and Farleigh realizes you're far past tipsy and that you're drunk. “Do you want me to stop?”
Your voice is a little loud and Farleigh turns his head, shushing you with a small smile. He ignores how Alica glances at the both of you and away with a frown and he ignores how Oliver doesn't look away. “I didn’t say that, baby.” He says, his voice is still a soft whisper and you let out a breath as he finally settles his full weight against you. You didn't even realize your leg was bouncing till it was forced to still under the weight of his legs. “I’m just asking what you're doing.”
Your fingers flex around his, trying to shake your hand free but he keeps a steadfast hold and it pulls a small whine from you as you slip your other hand up the hem of his shirt. His stomach flexes against your cool palm, but you make no move to do anything else as you let your head fall back against his shoulder. “Just wanna touch you.”
Farleigh huffs a laugh. You always get like this when you had too much to drink, not quite clingy just touchy, like you wanna crawl under his skin and feel him from the inside.“You’re drunk, babe.”
“‘m not.” You murmur and your hand slips, the tips of your fingers slipping under his waistband. Farleigh doesn't stop you because it's just nice to see you want him this much that youd feel him up in front of both your friends. But the hand that's holding yours clutches just a bit tighter, a gentle warning— a nudge to remind you of your surroundings and you ignore it as you grin. “Just wanna suck your dick.”
The laugh that leaves him is choked, he gives your hand a small squeeze before he lets it go. “Yeah, you're definitely drunk.” You only hum in response, your hand slipping lower and Farleigh is suddenly glad he's wearing a baggy sweater because when your hand cups his dick all of it is hidden, he feels himself jerk in your hand and a small groan leaves him. “Are you really about to give me a handy in a pub?”
A snort leaves you and you grope him through his underwear. You've felt Farleigh dozens of times since you've started dating and yet every time you can't help being amazed about how heavy he feels in your hand, how hot he gets as he grows harder. He shifts in your lap and you press a small kiss against his neck, “ You’re so fucking British sometimes, it's a handjob, and yes. I am.”
You get about two strokes in, your thumb swiping over his tip before Farleigh jerks to his feet, your hand slipping from his pants as he pulls his sweater down. “Come on, we're leaving.”
You let out an annoyed groan, you barely tocuhed him. “Farlei–”
He pulls you to your feet and presses a kiss to your lips. “You can do this somewhere Oliver isn't watching.” You giggle against his lips and peak over his shoulder, making eye contact with Oliver who's nibbling on his lip. You wiggle your eyebrows at him, a cheeky laugh leaving your lips as Farleigh pulls you away from the table.
“Where are you two going?” Felix calls after you both and Farleigh wraps an arm around your waist as you twist to answer him.
“I’m gonna fuck your cousin!”
Farleigh hisses your name out in warning as the table breaks out into laughter.
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Seeing a lot of twitter refugee posts about Tumblr etiquette, here's all you need to know (in my experience)
People will assume ur a bot if u don't have an icon, get an icon. if u need one but don't know where to one a lot of artists here are totally chill if you use creds
Dreblr is for c!dream positive fans, dreamblr or dtblr is for cc! centric stuff, but there is a lot of overlap in the community
NEVER!!! tag any mcyt post Minecraft, the Minecraft fandom has it hard enough dont clog their tags
Personally I avoid the main tags like dsmp and mcyt bc the larger communities are pretty hostile to dream fans. our little corner is safe Godbless 🙏🙏
If you send anon hate ur a loser so don't do that
The rivals fans here are the coolest and nicest people in the world
People unfollow and block all the time, if someone blocks u it's not personal do not stress over it. Blocking is everyone's best friend
No one cares about ships here this is not twitter
You can be blocked even on anon, so again, don't be weird
There is no algorithm so there's no shadow banning or anything like that. Most posts are spread by reblogs so a lot of fan creators on here really prefer reblogs over likes. Idrc either way and in my experience dreblr has been some of the best about reblogging compared to other fandoms but ya know, just to be aware why you might see reblogs>likes on someone's post
Don't stress about notes or followers, it can be cool to get a lot but not at all something worth worrying over
Here's a screenshot of my dashboard settings, follow my footsteps I've been on Tumblr forever this will give you the best user experience (or mess around to find what works for u ;P also yes I use the pumpkin color scheme it pleases me)
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Farleigh, our little angel has definitely cried like a baby to reader, whining and sobbing all over over something so miniscule. Like, imagine him reviewing for an exam, trying to remember his lesson and all that, when Oliver suddenly popped inside his mind because he wanted about the topic. I can see him being so disgusted he just freezes, his mind going blank and he just sits there completely dumbfounded.
It's quiet for a few moments before reader suddenly hears quiet sniffling beside her before the drama queen starts crying. And when he'd nuzzled himself in Flare's arms he would be whining shi like "it's so horribleeeeee he just popped up and it was so disgustingggg..!"
Lmao
CRYBABY
Summary: Farleigh has GOT to get over his beef with Oliver but in this, he doesn't.
Warning(s): none!
Notes: I STILL Don't take requests but this was a silly little thing I had fun writing it only took like 30 minutes! It's about 1.1k words!
Farleigh has paced the length of your room ten times.
His phone is tucked to his ear, his shoulders raised to keep it balanced and he turns, his brows furrowed and teeth bared, “Are you a fucking idiot?”
You watch his lashes flutter in annoyance as his lab partner rushes to defend himself. His voice is muffled but you hear him say something about his grandmother and her dying but even that has you rolling your eyes. Steve's grandma has died about three times since the term has started and she'll probably die another dozen times knowing him. Farleigh’s hands clench on the notebook in his hands, the paper tearing as he takes about three steps forward and throws the poor book on your desk, “I don't fucking care–” He starts, “The Queen could die and I wouldn't care! This project is worth seventy-five percent of our grade and if you fuck this for me, I swear on everything I love I'll kick your ass–”
Something is wrong with you, you think. To find him so hot when he's so angry— you watch him from your bed, peaking just over the top of your laptop, your essay easily forgotten as the call drops. Either the school's shitty connection or Steve hanging up on him and Farleigh curses. It leaves his lips in a hiss when he shoves his phone in his pocket then he's rubbing his hands over his face with a groan and a weak little laugh that has you closing your laptop. “You okay, baby boy?”
Farleigh sits at your desk, the chair creaking with his weight. “Yeah.” He mutters, he tries to give you a smile when he turns to look at you but it falls and he quickly turns back around to open his notes. “I’m just stressed. This project and test corrections are just–”
Farleigh stops himself before he can finish, his shoulders rolling as he swallows. You're watching him carefully, eyes catching how his hands clench and unclench on the desk— it's rare that you see him like this. This stressed out, this upset but even you can see that this week has gotten to him. Farleigh has never failed a class, he's a top student; if not A’s he's getting B’s. He's attentive, and proactive in class, he attends even his worst professor's office hours to make himself known and ask questions but somehow–someway, three days ago, he failed. The professor handed him his test with it facing down, a disappointed look on his face, and Farleigh had told you how confused he was. His fingers had been interlocked with yours, your hand in his lap as he recalled the story, a frown on his lips and a far-off look in his eyes— Farleigh has never failed, he's never gotten a bad grade, not even in grade school and yet.
The grade had been the pebble falling before the avalanche, you realize. He had tried to meet his professor to see where he went wrong but the man had blown him off for Oliver Quick. Farleigh had said his name with so much disgust it sent a shiver down your spine. Whenever Farleigh approached his professor, Oliver was there, smiling, laughing— getting perfect grades on his essays and tests, and when Farleigh had finally cornered that man with his corrected test, The Professor simply failed him again, the score lower than before. Farleigh had shaken with thinly concealed rage when he came to you afterward, he told you the Professor signed him up for tutoring with Oliver out of concern for his steadily dropping grade.
You had watched for the past few days as Farleigh returned from studying with Oliver and it was like waiting for a bomb to explode, he always shook for a while afterward, Oliver was a shit teacher according to your boyfriend and if you were to believe him, it was absolutely purposeful— Felix had ripped into Farleigh after the second session because he had spooked Oliver and the next time he saw him, Oliver had a smug sort of smile etched onto his face. The grade was the pebble and this anger— the snapping and exploding over the littlest of things, the silence when it was only the two of you, it had been the destruction. You have been waiting for the aftermath, watching him carefully and preparing for it but there is only so much you could do in a natural disaster, especially when it was shaking the earth beneath your feet too.
“Come lay with me, Far’.” You offer. You're already moving your laptop and kicking off your covers to make room for him and at the same time he's shaking his head.
“I can't. I have to stay on top of this because if I don't he wins.”
You blink. “Who wins?”
Farleigh freezes. You watch silently as he sits stock straight for a few seconds before his shoulders just drop and he lets out an annoyed sob. You're jumping to your feet instantly, nearly tripping in your effort to get to him. “Oh my god.” He wails. “Oh my fucking god-!”
Your hands land on his shoulders and you're thankful your chair spins because it's easy to make your boyfriend face you, “Baby, what–” He wraps his arms around your waist, his face burying against your chest.
“I’m in competition with Oliver fucking Quick and I'm losing.” He whines. “You’re dating a loser, I'm a fucking loser!”
Your hands are still on his shoulders as he cries against you, your mouth hanging open. “Are you serious–” You push him back and another whine spills from him as your eyes meet his watery ones. He's actually crying about this, his nose red and cheeks blotchy. “Farleigh, babe, you can drop the class. You don't even need it.”
He whines your name and you notice how pretty he cries, his lip wobbling as he tugs at the ends of his sweater you're wearing. “But then he wins.”
Your eyes roll and you try to pull away but he moves with you, his arms still wrapped loosely around your waist. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Can you please just validate my feelings for two seconds?” He complains, another tear falling and you sigh pressing a kiss to his forehead. He hugs you closer, his lips twitching upward. “Thank you, I love you.”
“I love you too.” You respond easily but pull away after a moment. “But drop the class, Farleigh. I'm serious.”
He sniffles, twisting the chair back towards the desk with a grumble. “Let me just get a good grade on this correction and I will.”
You can only roll your eyes as you climb back into bed.
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