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manicpixiefelix · 3 months

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baby, put your back into it {Farleigh Start/Reader/Oliver Quick}

2/2: think about me while you do it [SMUT]

{ masterpost : 2/2 }

Summary: In which Oliver puts you in your place, and makes you beg to be there.

Need to Know: She/Her. AFAB!Reader. Established FWB Brat!Reader/Brat Tamer!Farleigh

Warnings: PWP!! smut; fingering, oral (M receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, lots of arguing, reader is very very bratty, dehumanising language and overall incredibly degrading talk, BDSM, leashes, dacryphilia(crying), reader being treated like a dog, bondage & restraints, creampie, so much begging, sir kink, oliver having the time of his life as a manipulative dom, pet name used for the reader "princess" and being referred to as "good girl"

A/N: 7434 words. never ever as long as i live will i ever write this pairing (farleigh/brat!reader/oliver) again, and not only can you quote me on that, but you can take it to the fucking bank. that being said, i did genuinely LOVE writing this, i think they're dynamic is so incredibly fun to explore, and honestly there's something hot about the mind games they all play on each other. it's just that it takes FUCKING FOREVER for them to do anything because they all hate each other. well, you and farleigh hate oliver and he hates both of you, but you also like to cause problems on purpose which pisses them both off. i love it. i never want to write them again. 10/10 LETS GET WEIRD WITH IT i would love to know what you guys think about this all :) oh also we definitely get heavy on the farleigh/oliver in this as well

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Farleigh has always had these long, delicate fingers that Oliver's been fascinated by since they'd met, since he'd grabbed his thigh - so achingly briefly - in their tutor's office and levelled a grin that surely read as apologetic to the professor for running late, but turned so immediately dismissive the minute his gaze flicked to Oliver himself. For so long as Oliver wormed his way into Felix's life, into his circle of friends, that's all Farleigh had been; dismissive looks and long, enticing fingers poised with cigarettes and disdain like he was a model for Marlboro.

But the coldness in Farleigh's eyes turned warmer, especially over the Summer at Saltburn, and Oliver couldn't deny the heat of his frustration didn't have some kind of want pitting in his stomach. Anger and lust have never truly been strangers, at least not if he was judging by the way Farleigh had been looking at him tonight.

Now, Farleigh was looking at you with that heat in his eyes, looking at your parted lips and breathless smile like he wanted to devour you whole after so readily giving in to Oliver's degradation. Then he's watching the gentle way Oliver caresses your face in the moments that follow, and that heat too turns degrading.

"You really have no self respect," he scoffs; the mood shifts sharply to the left. There's that look in your eyes again like you're on the verge of causing more trouble.

"He said I had no manners!" You protested as Farleigh moved back from you, "my etiquette teacher would be rolling in her grave if she heard that!"

"Etiquette teachers aren't a real thing, are they?" Oliver, genuinely baffled enough to be pulled out of his earlier mood, automatically shuffles back as Farleigh gently pushes you over. You land on your stomach with a humph, hands still trapped at the small of your back, though now Oliver can see the skilled, tight way his belt was binding them. It conjures up images of expensive leather contraptions, restraints, and you on display, desperate for a hungry-eyed academic like Farleigh who'd actually put in the work to study how to best tame a beast like you.

"Do you think she ever stops to think why we call her a princess?" Farleigh scoffs in a brief moment of solidarity as he reclines on the bed. Oliver actually, genuinely laughs at that, much to your chagrin, at least until Farleigh's hand, those beautiful fingers, pushing down the waistband of his own boxers to finally give his cock some sorely needed attention. "Don't think your manners are the most scandalous thing you've been a part of tonight," he adds, turning his head to you with a deliciously sly smile, "your etiquette teacher know you beg like that?"

Oliver had caught sight of the way you were pouting, legs kicking ineffectually against the end of the bed considering how you were trapped in your position, like a little worm. You turned your head to face Farleigh with that same sulky expression, like all three of you didn't know exactly what he was talking about.

"My arms hurt," is all the response you give.

"Good," Oliver hadn't meant to say that out loud, nor had he entirely realised how fucking pleased he'd sounded as he'd said it, but it had seemingly escaped him nonetheless. His focus had been caught on the lazy rhythm Farleigh had been using to keep himself hard, but he still found himself enjoying the sound of your complaints, it seemed.

And your reactions to him; the way your fingers curled, the shiver he could see run down the length of your spine, and how quickly you had to press your face into the mattress, most likely embarrassed by whatever Farleigh would have seen in your expression. It seemed Farleigh himself wasn't even immune, cock momentarily twitching in his hand before Oliver realised how long he'd been staring, and that Farleigh's bright yet smug expression had meant he'd definitely noticed.

"You are taking to this remarkably fast," Farleigh sounds almost pleased, almost proud. You tell him to shut the fuck up, face still pressed against the duvet, but can't kick anyone from this angle, much to his ongoing amusement.

Surfacing, but still rather flustered, you announce sharply that you're not touching either of them until you can use your hands again. Oliver remarks that that's the point, and there's a part of him that's far too pleased about how it makes Farleigh laugh too. Of course this sets you off - he should have known - but it's easy enough for Oliver, sitting on his knees beside you on the bed, to keep you from sitting up too far once you've managed to roll over onto your back.

He knows he's different in this light, leaning over you, everything awash with the blue and silver of the night. For just a moment, it's as if you know you're helpless, his hand flat and warm on your chest, on your sternum, and you can see it in his eyes that he thinks you're helpless beneath him too. The chain around his neck hangs like the sword of Damocles above your own throat, and with the blue, searching, hungry eyes of a man who remembers every last cruel remark you'd tossed at him in the past week.

"Can I at least get some water?" You break the moment, and Oliver almost has to laugh, "it's not funny, I'm thirsty and for some reason," you pointedly rolled your eyes, words dripping with sarcasm, attempting to regain some of the composure you liked to carry yourself with, "I can't move my arms."

"Of course, your highness," Oliver briefly acquiesces, lips twitching into a smile as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom, hoping their was some kind of cup in their. Re-joining the room, he finds Farleigh to be amused, and you to still be on your back, annoyed -

"- not kidding, I'm not doing anything with either of you if you don't take this belt off of my damn hands," you were still insisting. Farleigh just grinned.

"Yeah, Miss Green-Light-Princess, we'll see about that."

Considering how your expression scrunched up to something almost flustered, and you didn't have any kind of comeback, it was safe to say you were still on board, just as Farleigh was delighted to call you out on it. Oliver reintegrates himself, sits himself on the edge of the bed and wears a little smile even as you call him your hero with more bitter sarcasm than he's ever heard from anyone in his life.

"Sit up," so gentle, so opposite of the ways he's been speaking to you just before he'd left; Farleigh is regarding him curiously, but you just roll your eyes. Now that Oliver knew inside and out - pun entirely intended - you were deliciously predictable. Easy to lull into a false sense of superiority.

"I can't."

"Roll over," the sweetness is quickly disappearing. For a brief moment, Farleigh's gaze meet's Oliver's, and he knows exactly what Oliver's doing, even if you haven't clued in. There's a spark of devilish glee that they share in this moment, but Oliver can't let it show on his face.

"What?"

"Roll over, I'll help," Oliver's smile doesn't reach his eyes, but you dubiously agree. Perhaps you think he'll undo the restraints around your wrists. Of course he won't, you should know better than that.

With you obediently on your stomach, Oliver puts the water on the nightstand. One hand goes to your shoulder, the other holds your shoulder.

"Now princess," he murmurs low in your ear, tone oozing condescension, "sit," like ordering a dog when he pulls you upright; you don't even fully notice at first, the pressure from the angle that he pulls your arms makes them ache once more, but then you're sitting up on your knees, and Oliver's lips are inches from yours, leaning into your space with intent, "stay," and you go quiet.

There is fury when he looks in your eyes; your jaw twitches as you bite down on a hundred different retorts. There's something intoxicating about you, the way everything you do in these moments is a war between your cruel nature and your hedonistic desires. You want to kick him, you want him to spit in your mouth, you want to ruin him, you want him to ruin you. All of it is written in your eyes.

You have spent all week treating Oliver Quick like nothing more than a dog; you hate that it turns you on when he returns the favour.

Farleigh is eating this interaction up, watching like a hunter who lay in wait for his prey, content with how Oliver so skilfully toyed with you -

"There's a leash in the bottom draw of the night stand -"

"Farleigh Start, I'm going to kill you with my bare hands when I get them back," you hissed, but Farleigh's comment had piqued Oliver's curiosity. Before you could even look back to give Farleigh a withering glare, Oliver's hand found your throat. Thumb and fingers against your delicate pulse points, not yet cutting off the blood flow, but right where they needed to be.

Ironically it's Farleigh's voice in the back of his mind, a night out at the pub where it had just been mostly guys, and somehow the topic of their sex lives came up. It had been Farleigh who had rolled his eyes and explained - it's here, idiot - reaching over to demonstrate on Felix himself - it's cutting off the blood flow that makes their head spin, not actually choking them to death. Gorgeous fingers momentarily placed on his cousin's throat, Oliver had memorised the placement. Considering what he now knew of Farleigh's relationship with you, he didn't need to guess why he was so sure back in the pub.

"Didn't say speak."

"I'd kick you if I could," your lip curled, even as his grip on your throat tightened. That fire in your eyes was betrayed by the way your heartbeat practically danced beneath his fingertips, "give me my water, I wasn't kidding about that."

There's a long, tense moment where Oliver deliberates. Then, very slowly, he lets you go, and turns, reaching over to the night stand. Out of the corner of his eye there's a very sudden flurry of movement, and of Farleigh moving unexpectedly fast. The water actually shakes with it, spills and splashes several drops onto his thighs, cold in the humid room, before he turns to see the tableaux of attempted rebellion. Farleigh looks still amused, but rather exasperated, like he expected as much, expected to have his hand in your mouth, your teeth in his palm, other hand digging nails into your shoulder as he attempted to hold you back.

"It's like you forgot, Ollie," Farleigh says with a mean little smile, "my dog's the kind that bites," still he plays along, the words coming out lazily despite how he seems to actually have to work to pull his hand from your mouth. Your anger at being thwarted seemed to simmer just beneath your skin; this smile you now wear is laced with malice that hadn't been there before.

"Just having some fun," you practically spat, with both of Farleigh's hands now on your shoulders, holding you in place. This malevolence is it's own kind of fun; your desire to hurt, to wound, to sink your teeth in like a cornered animal betrays you to Oliver. Your pride is starting to win over your desire; your capacity for cruelty is overcoming your desire to be put in your place. Perhaps it was getting to real, perhaps you remembered how much better you supposed you were than Oliver himself. This is exactly how he wants you.

Princess. Collared.

Taking a deep, deliberate breath, Oliver levels a flat, unimpressed look at you. Both you and Farleigh are waiting, watching, letting him lead in this moment, and he does. Water in one hand, he carefully reaches down to the bottom drawer of the nightstand - when you move, the bed moves with you, but Farleigh's grip on you never yields, never lets you lunge at Oliver the way you keep trying. The collar is sleep and simple, padded on the inside, with a leash to match. It even has a little bell, and an engraved tag.

Bitch.

Oliver chuckles a laugh as he reads it, he can't help himself.

"Farleigh thinks he's very funny," you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what Oliver had found so amusing. Farleigh does look particularly pleased with himself over your shoulder.

"It was true when I got it engraved and it's still true now."

But Oliver's moving on again, asking Farleigh to hold the glass of water for him as he fiddles with the collar. He is quiet, intense, arms around your neck as he takes his time doing up the collar; his face is so close to yours, sharing your furious, shaking breathes.

"How is our princess feeling?" Oliver takes the moment to check in, genuine, though it seems to irritate you further, "green light?"

"Do not flatter yourself into thinking I am yet speechless," you spit, "if I truly thought you offered me nothing, and wanted nothing more from you, I am more than capable of making that abundantly clear." You were endlessly fascinating to Oliver; you wanted to maim him, but you wanted him nonetheless. He tightens the collar around your neck. Farleigh still has one hand on your shoulder; his thumb comes to press against the edge of the collar, against your skin meeting the leather as he makes a pleased hum. "Green fucking light, scholarship boy," you give a mocking little smile to Oliver, the bitterness never leaving your eyes.

"Good -" the moment Oliver has latched the collar, has the leash curled at the back of your neck around his fist, you strain forward against it. The bell rings with the movement, a delicate sound for an indelicate moment -

"But I am warning you," forehead pressed against Oliver's, you're straining for any inch, any millimetre more you could get from his unyielding grip on your leash, you practically snarl against his lips with venomous hatred, "about what you will get when you treat me like a dog." Yet Oliver makes sure to remain impassive, perhaps even a little amused, in the face of your threats.

"If I can't make you bark like a good girl, princess," Oliver murmurs, catching your lips in a kiss even as you try to bite him, pulling back with a cold smile, "then I'm going to make you beg."

"Are you going to be a good girl?" Farleigh's voice purrs in your ear, and some of the viciousness about you eases. You sit back, back out of Oliver's space, and watch as Farleigh hands the water back to Oliver's waiting hands, trading him for the leash.

"For you," there's contempt in your eyes as you watch Oliver while addressing Farleigh, "I'll think about it."

Oliver's gaze meet's Farleigh's as he presses his laughter to your shoulder; something in his eyes almost says, well, good luck, I tried. Like Oliver isn't revelling in this chance you've laid before him; like he doesn't know how quickly your body betrays you at every single opportunity.

"If you want some water, you have to ask nicely," Oliver offers. A pause follows, and he watches you change tact.

You relax, letting the fight leave you, pressing yourself back against Farleigh as much as you could. Feeling his face so close to yours you turn, practically nuzzling against him.

"Even if I'm nice, he's going to be mean about it," your voice comes out so sweetly, so transparently manipulatively, "I just want a drink of water, you wouldn't make me beg for a drink of water, Farleigh," you insist, voice plaintive, all doe-eyed and pouting and not looking at Oliver.

"I can and I have and you didn't complain this much," Farleigh saw fit to remind you, giving a wide, mean smile. Your lip began to quiver.

"You're not even fucking me and I'm going to cry," you tried whimpering.

"Funny how none of those sound like any of those safe words," Oliver points out. Your lip stops quivering, in fact, you glare at him out of the corner of your eye as you pout, still trying to be soft and gentle with Farleigh.

"That's because they're not," Farleigh says far too knowingly, far too smugly, muttering into your ear once more, though loud enough for Oliver to clearly hear how sharp and praising it is, "and aren't you pretty when you cry."

"Can't cry if I'm dehydrated," you huff, and finally Farleigh, with a roll of his eyes, gives in with a sigh.

"Give her the water."

You immediately perk up, looking far too pleased to be getting your way, and lean forward expectantly. Oliver will give you this - and only this - before he drags every bit of satisfaction out of you that he wants. So he is careful, doesn't let the water spill, lets you breathe between mouthfuls when you indicate.

"All of it; it's good for you," still he tells you, tone like a teacher, cup insistent at your lips.

"Yes sir," you managed sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you drank more of the water, but something snapped, rewired in Oliver's brain. Farleigh could see it too.

"Oh he liked that," he commented, eyes alight with intrigue, and you frowned as you indicated for Oliver to lower the cup.

"I'm not saying it again."

"The optimism you have about what you will and won't do tonight is adorable," Farleigh tells you, planting a teasing kiss on your cheek, while you tell him to piss off.

"Give me the last of my water, you fuck," you finally manage, and Farleigh finally feels like he can lay himself back down, cackling at your audacity in the face of everything that had just happened. He also drops the leash, at least confident in either Oliver, or his own reflexes, for the time being, "do you want me to drink it all or not? Pick a lane."

Oliver, glass in one hand, reaches between your legs with the other. Immediately, you close your eyes, breath catching, knowing exactly what he was playing at.

"Is that how you think you're going to get fucked tonight?" No response; Oliver's thumb begins moving on your clit, pressing insistent circles as your breathing grows deeper, "are you going to be a good girl?"

"I'm not going to bark for you," you manage through gritted teeth, though after a moment, you half stutter out a moan, "please can you let me finish my water?" Two fingers slide teasingly down your slit, "please, Oliver -" you swallow hard, eyes opening to meet his; he can see this almost pains you, "please Oliver Quick, can I have the last of my water?" Those two fingers inside of you, curling, teasing, pulling a groan from you, eyes fluttering closed, and your voice barely above a whisper, "may I finish my water, sir?"

Oh yes, he did like hearing that from you.

"Of course," Oliver sits back, pleased, licking his fingers clean like a pleased cat while assisting you with finishing off the glass of water. You can't meet his gaze, already embarrassed by how quickly you'd given in. He watches your tongue dart out across your lips, collecting the few drops that had strayed, clinging to the edges of your lips. Beautiful mouth, he's sure he can put it to good use.

"All better, princess?" Farleigh snarks from behind you. Oliver thinks he can see you bite back on a harsh retort, and once again watches you change tact. Shifting away from him, half turning so you were now perpendicular to Farleigh and able to properly look at him, you wriggled your legs out from under you, perhaps a little more comfortable to your side, like a Victorian woman on a fainting sofa, it's an unassumingly sweet pose for the situation. Though it clearly matched the energy you were trying to give off.

"Yes, Farleigh, thank you, Farleigh," without even sparing Oliver a single glance. For a long moment, Farleigh's gaze slides from your innocent act to Oliver, looking unamused and still holding the empty glass. A strange moment of understanding passes between them the minute Farleigh sees Oliver's gaze snap to the leash down your back. So he sits, leans in close to you, and takes your face in one hand. It's clear you're leaning in to this perceived moment of tenderness, but Farleigh stops, a breath from your lips.

"You fucking bit my hand," his voice ice cold, you see there's no humour in his eyes as you pull back and try to stammer out something, anything, genuinely caught off guard, "so thanks won't cut it, princess; you can start with an apology."

"I -" you begin to frown, but then the bed dips behind you, and Oliver's cool hand is grasping at the leash, pulling gently.

"Didn't say speak," he warned, and didn't even give you a moment to butt in before continuing, "show Farleigh you're sorry."

Farleigh, clearly delighted by this turn of events, sits himself up, shuffling back to lean comfortably against the headboard. This confidence becomes him, legs spread in invitation, generous cock resting hard and wanting against the smooth plane of his stomach. For several long moments, Oliver watches Farleigh lazily stroke himself, simply watching you and Oliver through a smug, half-lidded gaze.

"You should see yourselves," the teasing barely hides how his voice is dripping with want. Unsurprisingly, you try to play it off, becoming flustered at the implication of you staring, of how much you knew you wanted him. But Oliver meets Farleigh's gaze, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Farleigh's smile widens.

"Aren't you lucky?" Oliver murmurs into your ear, grip on your leash tight as he keeps his eyes locked with Farleigh's. Though you've gone quiet, Oliver's unsatisfied with your lack of proper response, and gives a pointed yank on your collar.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'm lucky," you sighed faintly, "sir." Farleigh snorts a laugh, and Oliver grins, shuffling himself to sit on Farleigh's other side, by his hip, and looks expectantly at you before giving your leash a tug. At least you seem to be getting into this, considering you actually perk up, scrambling as best you could to sit yourself between Farleigh's legs.

There's something about the gleeful little grin that you give Farleigh in this moment that give away how much genuine joy and anticipation you have to have your mouth on his cock. He too seems at home in this moment, settling back against the headboard with his hands behind his head. It's almost cute, your eagerness, the way you lean down in anticipation before.

"Can I have my hands back now?"

Farleigh goes to sit up, goes to say something, as if he'd realised you'd probably need your hands for the act, but Oliver cuts him off before he can.

"No." And it's too firm for him to argue with. When you look at Oliver this time, there's something there that wasn't before. A moment of genuine doubt, a moment of genuine submission.

"Sir, I think I need my hands for this," instead of argumentative, it's almost pleading. This is the moment he knows he's starting to win. Oliver tips his head to the side, as if regarding you curiously.

"Do you?" He can see the doubt in your eyes grow; it's driving him mad the way he's holding himself back, but good things take time.

"I think so," you don't sound sure.

Oliver moves slowly, deliberately, and makes sure you're following his movements. Farleigh's cock twitches in Oliver's cool hand, but all Farleigh does is let out a low, pleased hum. He starts simply, thumb gliding over his slit, collecting the precum that had been beading there, hand then moving up and down in even strokes. For a moment, he chances a glance at Farleigh, only to see his head lolling back against the bedframe, pleased smile on his lips.

When an actual whimper escapes you, and Oliver feels you tug on your leash in his other hand, he remembers his task at hand. There's lust in your eyes as you wriggle, thigh clenching and rubbing together at the sight of Oliver working Farleigh's cock. This might be far easier than he thought.

"You want this?" Just like a pet owner with their clearly eager dog, Oliver teases you.

"Yes," your practically bark, breathless and eager and embarrassingly fast. It actually seems to catch both Oliver and Farleigh off guard, Farleigh's cock clearly reacting positively in Oliver's hand to your obvious desire, and Oliver giving Farleigh a genuinely impressed look.

"Never seen someone so eager to get their mouth around a cock before; you must've done something special to her."

"Do you want me to teach you or do you want me to show you?" Farleigh's eyes shine as brightly as his smile in the silver-blue glow of the night. Oliver's mouth goes dry at the thought, his own cock aching at the mere thought of what it would be like to look up at Farleigh with his smug approval - knew you could be boy for me, Oliver - and he wants to hate the idea, but he can't. But he doesn't get the chance to respond -

"No, mine," slips from you like a whine, unexpectedly possessive. It brings both boys' attention back on you, however, and you seem to realise your slip up. Mouth opening and closing, you can't even seem to find the words to defend yourself; at least you've learned to shut up.

"Careful princess," Farleigh says surprisingly coldly, slipping back into dominance with practiced ease, "you're lucky, remember?"

"I'm lucky," you nod emphatically, but you're straining against your leash, wetting your lips.

"Good girls get treats," he yanks your collar back to remind you who still holds your leash, "this a treat for you, princess?"

"I do genuinely enjoy it," you admit honestly, seeming a little flustered to be saying as much, looking to Oliver with a sheepish smile, "not with anyone else though," it's actually a very sweet moment.

"Really?" Farleigh seems genuinely flattered, wide, bashful smile on his face as he sits forward a little.

"You seriously don't understand how hot the noises you make are," you laughed a little self consciously, "I came completely untouched once just from going down on you."

"Are we here to stroke Farleigh's ego or his cock?" Oliver rolled his eyes, already tired of this, but Farleigh sat back obliging, while you tried to bend down, but very much couldn't.

"Pick a lane, Oliver," you groaned, before quickly amending, apologetically, "sir." Farleigh snickered. Oliver's gaze grew cold.

"Beg for it."

He pushes his hand between your shoulder blades, forcing you to double over and bend down, but then kept his grip on your leash tight as he held the shiny, plump head of Farleigh's cock just inches from your lips.

"Please," already you were back to playing along, mouth open, breathing heavy, whimpering as you hear an impatient moan from Farleigh himself, "please, sir please -"

"Please what?"

Mouth hanging open, panting like a desperate whore, you beg for Farleigh's cock in your mouth, your throat, to be facefucked and used, whatever - you felt like you were going insane from the suspense. All the words come spilling out from you, begging and dripping with need that Oliver almost gives in right there.

Oliver's hand has been skilfully fisted around Farleigh's cock this entire time, keeping him hard and ready and in the perfect spot to drive you made, just out of your reach. He'd half forgotten he was even doing it, getting him all worked up, leaking, slick, fingers shiny and sticky with Farleigh -

"Oliver -" Farleigh chokes out in a kind of warning tone, as if to tell him to stop playing around one way or the other.

"You think you deserve this?" Oliver finally lets Farleigh's cock go, and you actually whimper. Oliver wipes his hand off messily against your mouth, once more demanding to know if you think you deserve this. You're begging, please tumbling from your lips even as Oliver presses two fingers into your greedy mouth.

"Please, sir," muffled so much that it's almost indistinguishable as your thorough tongue laps at Oliver's fingers, "please, I need him," and the desperate tears are welling in your eyes as he keeps his fingers in your mouth but pushes you back up onto your knees.

"Will you sit for me if I give you what you want?" He pulls his fingers slowly from your mouth. You nod, heartbeat alive when he wraps a firm hand around your throat, "will you stay for me if I give you what you want?" Another nod, lip trembling and breathing so desperately hard. He applies more pressure.

"Anything," you gasp, hips moving again, insistent, desperate for friction; he'd see to that soon, "speak, shake," you wet your lips, "roll over."

Oliver glances over his shoulder to where Farleigh is watching with rapt attention. Good.

"Good dog," Farleigh mumbles, desperately working his own hand up and down his shaft.

Oliver lets go of the leash carefully, and your eyes snap back to him. Just as you promised, you sit, you stay, a good dog, watching him move closer to Farleigh with intent. He hears your breath catch the moment he takes Farleigh's cock in hand, and the desperate chanting of 'pleasepleaseplease' as he lowers himself down. For a moment, he looks to Farleigh, a silent question of permission, but considering he too can hear how desperate and needy you're behaving at the mere sight of this, he realises, at least in part, what Oliver's doing and seems entirely on board.

You were right, Farleigh moans and whimpers like a whore with a mouth on his cock. A wanton melody made all the sweeter for your begging having turned simply to needy noises. What Oliver can't fit of Farleigh in his mouth he continues to jerk off, momentarily slipping down to gently squeeze Farleigh's balls, earning him the most beautiful series of swears Oliver's ever heard. Tongue always moving, caressing, often lapping at Farleigh's slit and the sweet, salty slickness, Oliver works hard to make him feel good - which he knows he's more than capable of, despite his demeanour he's nothing near a virgin in any realm - without getting him to close. He'd still leave that for you.

For a moment he glances up at Farleigh, and the bitterness in his eyes at the edge of the obvious lust, like he resents Oliver for being so good at this, makes it all worth it.

I got you here, Farleigh, Oliver thinks with bitter triumph, everything else is sloppy fucking seconds.

When he pulls away, he makes sure there's a distinctive, lewd slurp before he takes a deep breath.

Looking to you, the fight is back in your eyes, but it doesn't fucking matter; Oliver won. He pulls you in for a rough kiss -

"I hate you," you snarl at him through your intensely frustrated pout, even as his hand grabs your jaw, "interloping little slut, where the fuck do you get off -?" But the minute he pushes his tongue into your mouth you still try to press yourself against him, to kiss him harder, taste all of Farleigh in him that you could. You know you're sloppy fucking seconds to him, and you hate him for it.

"I was thinking it was going to be in you," Oliver says blithely as he pulls away from the kiss. In the back of his mind he knows it's a loaded statement - ha - but he hasn't forgotten the colours if this was a bridge too far -

"Fucking finally you have some common sense," you sneer, as if you weren't still on the verge of tears, "I was going to say that if you ruined my sheets I was going to have you arrested."

"No you weren't," pipes up Farleigh with an eyeroll. Immediately embarrassed you tell him to shut up, "no, I don't think I will; I'm beginning to think you guys are a bunch of fucking teases -"

Oliver gives him a thin smile, handing over the leash, having gotten all the permission he needed.

"Are you going to be good for Farleigh?" He whispered low in your ear, "didn't you want this?"

"Weren't you just begging for it?" Farleigh smirked down at you, lust-filled approval in his voice, "come on, baby," he murmurs as he takes your face in his hands, and immediately you're his, "crying for me?" The teasing starts warm, but as he's wiping the first of the tears from your cheeks, as you're nodding with embarrassment, his teasing turns mean and sharp and smug, "crying like a desperate, little cockwhore," he doesn't even time to let you react before he's giving your cheeks a gentle squeeze; "open up," he orders in that same cruel, loving, smug tone that makes Oliver's hairs stand up on the back of his neck. But you seem to react with relief the moment you have your mouth around him.

There's something that even Oliver finds entrancing about Farleigh in this moment. He'd been leading you both for so long that he'd forgotten where it had all started, the way Farleigh had spoken so early on, and how even in your most vicious or playful, part of you would always refer back to him. Part of Farleigh had earned your respect, and in the end, he had been the only one in the house who made the princess feel like her place was on her knees.

"Now your little power trip is over," Farleigh's voice cuts through Oliver's thoughts like a fucking knife, as always, painful and clean and precise, "do you need my permission to -" but Oliver's done with his bullshit tonight too.

"Shut it Farleigh," he rolls his eyes and starts to move once more. Time he focuses on your bound hands, finally deciding that you'd probably had enough, or at least were willing enough to listen to either Oliver or Farleigh in a way that mattered.

"Oh my god, freedom!" You immediately announced, sitting up to throw your hands in the air with a genuinely delightful glee.

"You see what you've done," Farleigh looked over your shoulder to Oliver, tossing his belt to the side, but you were already using your freedom to crawl up to meet him. Oliver's surprised by how genuine and affectionate you are when you tell him to be quiet for a moment. With one hand still working on him, the other being used to brace yourself up, you kiss Farleigh gently. What surprises Oliver even further is the momentary look of actual love in Farleigh's eyes as he cups your jaw and kisses you back.

Then you're moving back, making sure to let them both know that you weren't kidding about how much you enjoyed going down on Farleigh. However you do give pause, looking at Oliver through narrowed eyes for a long minute where he's sitting by your knees, watching the exchange, not quite sure where he was meant to go from here.

Your foot lashes out at him. Hard. It's unexpected. Somehow, so is the second kick that follows immediately after. The third he anticipates, but by that stage you'd shunted him to the edge of the bed, and though he tries to catch your leg he falls off, unsuccessful.

"What kind of problem do you have?" Oliver is scowling from the floor, his shoulder and hip sore from the fall, while Farleigh is laughing his ass off.

"What are you, a coat rack suddenly?" You demanded, matching his scowl with one of your own, still braced on your hands and knees over Farleigh, "also fuck you for making me beg for water." Careful, Oliver thinks, he's not quite done making you beg.

"Maybe his dick's broken," Farleigh snorted, "which would be a fucking shame; have you had a proper look at it?" Oliver bristled at the implications, though he knew he'd be thinking about the compliment tucked in there for days to come.

"You are both right fucking insufferable," Oliver snapped, getting to his feet and brushing himself off with indignation.

"Yeah, I'll cry about it in the shower later," you could clearly be heard rolling your eyes. There's a few pointedly obnoxious moments where you make a point of gagging on Farleigh's cock before coming back up for air and to add, "fuck me or fuck off - woah, okay, good choice!"

Before you can even finish your ultimatum, Oliver's decided he's come too far to, well, not. Grabbing your thighs with all the strength he could muster, he pulls you almost entirely away from Farleigh, to the end of the bed, half off the bed, causing you to faceplant into the duvet the moment your knees were no longer supporting you. Farleigh's protests fall on deaf ears, however, as all Oliver allows himself to focus on is keeping you stable, bent over the end of the bed like this.

Still, Farleigh shifts down to accommodate your change in position, despite his eye rolling and claims that Oliver's being dramatic, it's overshadowed by the sudden, loud moan that escapes you.

"Never felt someone so fucking desperate for someone they hate," Oliver bites out, almost impressed by how easy it was to bury himself in you. In the moment he gives you to adjust, his hand pressed to the small of your back to which you eagerly arch back against him, he watches Farleigh. It's his turn to be smug.

After a moment, he gives a few, shallow, experimental thrusts. Each time you rock back to meet him, to take him as deep as possible, and each time he hears a faint, pleased whimper. Your body and it's desires has betrayed you at every single opportunity, which is information Oliver gladly keeps in the back of his mind.

"Come on princess," he leans over to you to murmur in your ear where you'd pressed your face to Farleigh's thigh for the moment, attempting to keep going with your hand on him when your body could only focus on the rhythm of Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, "you've got a job to do, don't you want to be good?"

"I want to be good," you keened, before making the effort to prop yourself up, taking Farleigh in your mouth once more.

It's the last moment of care that Oliver affords, however, as he very quickly sets a rough pace, nails digging so hard into your hips that he thinks he might draw blood. But your cunt still clutches at him like it was made for his cock, so slick with how much you need this, need him in this moment, that it's already dripping down your thighs.

The three of you get lost in each other, each desperate moan from your muffled by Farleigh's cock hitting the back of your throat. The sensation soon sets him off and he can't keep his hands off of you. Up on his knees he takes over, takes your face in his hands as you look up at him, teary-eyed with a heady kind of bliss, and he matches Oliver's rhythm as he fucks your face.

Oliver can only imagine the kind of mess you look like right now, but has to focus on sustaining himself, making sure he doesn't leave you with any more excuses to belittle him tonight. So he reaches around, between your thighs, and his fingers find your desperately sensitive clit.

Immediately your stance slips, widens, gives him better access to your clit, and he hears your muffled moan become a choked sob. The beginning of the perfect end.

Farleigh's getting close, his pace is faltering, his hips are stuttering, you're whining and gasping desperate breathes between each of his thrusts, that have turned to wordless, overwhelmed sobs in the past few minutes. Oliver is genuinely impressed that you're able to take all of Farleigh like that; he wonders if he'd dedicated time to training you. He can't dwell on it, not when Farleigh's eyes have fallen closed and he's started mouthing what Oliver can only assume is a string of swear words.

For just a moment, Farleigh looks like an angel. Ethereal. He almost glows. Perfectly at peace and content and not a total, unbearable smug asshole. Then he pulls his cock out of your mouth and lets his legs give out again, flopping back onto your bed with a wide grin.

"I thought Oliver couldn't make you speechless," Farleigh teased, while you had in fact moved past words almost entirely, except -

"Please," you sobbed desperately. Farleigh, who'd never gotten to see you like this from here, lights up, moving back to you. You're shaking, barely able to support yourself, and he finally sees Oliver's hand between your thighs, and puts two and two together.

"Please?" He wears a smile that's all teeth, gently taking your shoulders and the pressure of keeping yourself up. In return you find yourself holding his face, his arms, everywhere, for support as he moved you back to press against Oliver. Taking the hint, Oliver wraps his arm around you, firm against your back, keeping you secure as he fucks up into you.

"Pleasepleaseplease -"

"Words, princess," Farleigh tells you as he brushes Oliver's hand out of the way, letting him focus on the new angle, the new sensation, the way you're trembling and so close to cumming on his cock. Before you can even formulate proper words at first, your head falls forward onto Farleigh's shoulder, sobbing, aching with how good you've been made to feel.

"I'm so close," you choke out, "please can I -"

"Selfish," Oliver admonishes coldly, and the reaction is immediate.

"No, no," you whimper apologetically, something Farleigh's never heard from you before. Lifting your head you lean back, fitting yourself against Oliver further, trying to placate, "please, no I promise- you, I need -" you take a deep, shuddering breath, "Ollie, please, it feels like I'm going to fucking die if you don't cum in me," you blurt out. Farleigh actually laughs, he's never seen you so fucking weak for another person.

Your begging and desperate pleas spur Oliver on, holding you tighter, fucking you harder, until he finally leans forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. It sends you over the edge, has you seeing stars as you cry out. Shudder and sobbing with your release, you feel Oliver bury his cock deep in you as it twitches and throbs and paints your inside.

Oliver lets you go, lets you fall onto Farleigh as your orgasm is still quaking through you. Oliver's hands grip your hips, keep you flush to him, keep you from pulling away.

"That's a good girl," Farleigh murmurs in your ear. He's holding you close with one arm, the other gently running his fingertips up and down your back in a comforting rhythm. He doesn't bother sparing Oliver a second glance, Oliver isn't an important part of this equation to him anymore. Not that that matters to Oliver.

It was far easier to pick you apart, to own you inside and out, than he'd ever imagined. He'd brought you to tears, made you beg for every last bit of fucking pleasure including every inch of him and then some. He would leave you aching, leave you knowing that you both knew the truth of where your place is in his world.

Finally Oliver pulls out of you, wiping his softening cock on your thighs before he thinks about getting dressed. He does take a few moments, while you're still half bent over the bed and being supported by Farleigh, where Oliver watched with a detached kind of approval, the way his cum starts to leak out of you, down your thighs with your own shining arousal.

The princess had been collared, cuffed, and his, inside and out.

"Thank- thank you, Oliver Quick," your voice is demure and grateful among your sniffles and whimpers, and Oliver can't help but smile to himself. His pride in you extends only to your final show of submission, though it's pride nonetheless.

"Good girl."

#saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start x reader x oliver quick #farleigh start x you #farleigh start imagine #farleigh start x y/n #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick smut #farleigh x reader x oliver #farleigh x reader #farleigh imagine #manic writer

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beatcroc · 3 months

Text

a year!!! as of today i have now been drawing these funny little pizza freaks, to the exclusion of almost everything else, for!!! an entire year!!! i wanted to do a nice group shot/lineup of everybody to compare to when i first started trying to draw them because oh boy were they bad. i never even posted most of them anywhere because they were so bad. but im posting them here, now, to see how everything's changed/evolved.

this is probably the hardest time i've ever had trying to figure out how to work with a style, but we got there eventually; i'm pretty happy with the handle i've got on everybody now...dont let ur memes be dreams. lots of unimportant journaling and idle thoughts abt it below.

older pics

the first one is the VERY first time i drew them, before i thought i was going to actually have any interest in drawing them [lmao]; it was just the one isolated image, for my friendserver, to illustrate the funney message, so there was no attempt to make it Good or actually understand anything going on w/ the designs or style.

second is the original run of practices sketches to start trying to figure them out for real; done after i started having ideas for the comics and such and realized oh god maybe i am actually gonna draw fanart for this. [again, lol, and lmao.]

third one is the first pt art thing i posted on here. there were a couple weeks of sprite studies between this one and the previous image. the one on the top right wasn't part of that post i just threw it on as space filler; i'd intended to shift to doing Sprite Redraws But Stylized to explore tings more, but that was the only one i did. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

individual characters

peppino: by far the hardest dear god. bro what ARE your shapes how DOES your face work. jesus christ. everything i have trouble with this style for, peppino has it in excess. i draw in polygons! i need consistency! and that is the last thing this kind of style is concerned with. they are made of squarshy clay and i do not understand how to mold them. i was really hoping trying to learn this game's style would GIVE me that kind of flexibility for fun exaggerated facial expression but i don't think much came of it in the end 😔. anyway on the bright side all this means once i got peppino figured out a little bit everybody else clicked way easier.

fake peppino: honestly i never did anything with him on purpose except for how his eyes work + the perma-smile thing. i figured ok hes supposed to look weird and off model so whatever happens with him happens. and it did. and it kept happening. it is still, in fact, happening.

noise/ette: somehow, for every bit that peppino was the least natural thing i've ever tried, these two worked pretty much right off the bat. i still don't understand it, seeing as pretty much all the things at play for peppino are also at work for them. i think the new sketches are actually a little worse than older ones but not enough that i care.

gustavo: really funny bc i drew him on model twice and just went 'okay, cool nice, easy, um. he doesn't have any fucking legs?' fortunately he was the only one i had a strong idea for how to stylize him [square] and it worked exactly as i was hoping so wahoo.

brick: is an animal and therefore 5000x easier and more natural for me to draw/stylize than anything else in the cast. that is Just a rat bro. i can draw a rat.

gerome: i think the funniest one here. the most drastic and least necessary change imo. i was gonna have him be really small at first, like smaller than the noises, but then i just... didn't. he's just peppino-sized now. also i gave him like. actual human facial structure, which is funny bc in most cases i'd do anything to avoid, but it works well for his being A Rock to give him some angles and definition like that+ to differentiate his vibe from the rest of the cast who are all very squishy. also since he is essentially Just A Head it's good to emphasize that too ig.

john: i only drew john a couple times but he gets to be here because i like him. and because most of the stuff i applied to gerome was readily applicable to john, though i did try to keep him a little more uncanny because he is a Huge And Lanky Freak. i hate that he is barefoot btw but idk how to make his color balance look right with shoes.

pizzahead: i did not want to put him on here honestly but i Have drawn him a handful of times and more importantly i didn't know what i was gonna do with john's pose if i didn't have him there to be glared at. the only thing that's different with him is giving him wider-bottomed pants, which i got from when i tried to draw these guys in clone high style [i never posted that one either][i will eventually]

snick: he gets to be here because 1. he's like 6 lines 2. i like him and 3. ive scribbled him a few times offhand and it went pretty well

misc

there are some guys missing because those are guys i didn't draw enough [or at all] to have gotten comfortable with them. sorry

i would have Liked to shade these but for the time being i have accepted that my grasp of light/shadow has decayed to the point im not going to be happy with anything i try there, so For Now i am working on my presentation with flats i guess. gerome has a shadow only because he's shaded like that ingame and looks naked without it

anyway if you are still reading [hi?] i get to shamelessly plug now. i'm over the hill of my pizza run now, and while i still have plenty of things i want to make here, most of the bigger more in-depth ones have passed. pizza tower was the first thing in THREE YEARS to get me out of my oc groove to doing fanart, and once i am done with my ideas here i will be going right back to it. if you like my art or how i write characters/interactions you should check out my oc/webcomic blog @jamverse . i can't promise people who like pizza stuff will be terribly into my designs, but i can guarantee i treat my guys with the exact same sort of tone i handle the pt guys with. and hell, i've mentioned it a few times before, but like 70% of my characterization for fake pep is just copied off one of my characters, so if u are going to miss him... he will still be there in spirit >;p

and if you dont care about any of that and are still reading thank you anyway. actually making these comics + seeing how shockingly well-received they've been has done a lot for my confidence, and for seeing that my kind of stuff IS something people enjoy :')

#pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #gustavo and brick #the noise #noisette #pizzahead #arting #pizzaposting

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coolprettyleo · 1 month

Text

obsessed with your ex? - juraj slafkovsky ☆

wc: 650+

tw: toxicity? obsessive. mention of sex. stalking?

juraj slafkovsky x reader

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it was four in the morning and you couldn't sleep. your thoughts were running wild as the six foot three man was laying sound asleep next to you. you were staying over his place tonight and what was supposed to be an easy going night turned into a nightmare; for you at least.

you had opened your instagram to find that jurajs ex had followed you, and commented on her recent instagram post, how you slayed the photo dump you posted on your recent trip to Milan.

I mean his ex didn't mean to get in your brain. you had finally met the girl, about a couple weeks ago at a brand dinner seeing as you were both models. you had been professional with her. but since you guys had many mutual friends the ex seemed to be trying to befriend her.

oh my god I wonder if she was friends with jurajs friends? did she know arber like you know him?

was she good in bed?

does he still think about her?

was she easy going?

every controlling?

well traveled?

well read?

all these thoughts made you want to scream into your pillow and die. something you couldn't do because you were at your boy friends house, sleeping in his bed on a side that was now 'your side' but you knew it was once hers.

when you met the ex about two nights ago you had to act like you didn't know every little thing about her, when you did. you knew everything about her, from her star sign to her fucking blood type.

you felt insane. you were honestly borderline of psycho. you were so obsessed with jurajs ex and everything about her was making you so upset.

you were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt the boy next to you move.

"why are you still awake" jury asked seeing her stare up into the ceiling. he moved to wrap his arms around her and pull her in, trying to to comfort his girlfriend.

what were you supposed to say to him? I'm up thinking about your ex? that im fucking obsessed with her? he would think I was her freaking best friend with how much I would want to talk about her and ask him.

and it wasn't like there wasn't anything I could complain about too, anyways. she was an angel, who was perfect. my friends would even tell me she talked so nicely about me. she was the life of every party and had these perfect hips with the most perfect lips. god you sounded like you were in love with her.

he had once told you that she hated flying so she would take melatonin when they would go visit his family with him back home, and you've never forgotten that detail about her.

"y/n" jurajs voice rasped again.

"what did you call me?" y/n exclaimed sitting up moving away from him. she could of swear he said HER name.

"your name?" juraj said slowly, beyond confused. he loved you so much and the last thing he would of thought was wrong with his girlfriend in the middle of the night, was that you couldn't stop thinking about his ex. he doesn't even speak to her anymore and he loves you with his whole heart.

you looked at him, studying his face for any lie. he wasn't. you felt so obsessed and you knew it was crazy upon repair, but you couldn't help it for some reason.

"alright what's wrong. did I do something" he says sitting up and turning on the nightstand lamp.

you felt horrible. he looked exhausted and he needed his sleep, he had games coming up and he had practice in about five hours.

"no-" you sighed looking at his soft eyes urging you to go on.

"-its just" you stumbled upon how to word your next choice of words.

"you can tell me" he said rubbing your back and kissing your shoulder.

"im obsessed with your ex"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

omg this is my first non au right and also like no oc character. if its cringe lmk! I like feedback. also this is based of an edit I saw on tiktok!! goodnight loves!!

#nhl imagines #nhl imagine #juraj slafkovsky #hockey fic #hockey imagine #juraj slafkovsky x reader #montreal canadiens x reader #juraj slafkovsky smut #arber xhekaj

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r4ins · 1 year

Note

could u pls make another dick grayson x male reader fic? ^^

Dick Grayson x Top Male Reader

cw. bottom dick x dom male reader

“I thought you Bats didn't approve of gun ownership,” Y/N murmurs when they step over the carpeted threshold. Dick trails him, hands slipped into the back pockets of his jeans. Y/N definitely hasn’t been looking at how they frame that cute ass.

Dick doesn’t seem to notice, his gaze trailing over the wares with aloof curiosity, waiting as Y/N approaches the nearest rack. Doesn’t bother to turn over the gaudy little price tag; he can afford any model he wants.

“I don’t have an issue with you owning guns,” Dick replies lightly, and Y/N hums. “I do have an issue with you using them on innocent civilians, though.”

“What about smart-talking vigilantes?” Y/N quips back, and looks up in time to see the man flush. Dick’s gaze slides away, nonchalant, and he clears his throat.

“I mean for your work. If you’re just looking for some toys to try out at the range, I’m not going to hold you back.”

“And there’s no ulterior motive to wanting to accompany me into a gun shop,” Y/N returns with a crooked brow.

“No,” Dick says, admirably level.

Y/N hums again, and wanders over to the handguns. He palms the nearest, pulling it off the rack to test the grip, smooth his trigger finger down the barrel. “See anything you like?”

Dick smiles. “I don’t want a gun. They’re your thing. I’ve got all I need with my escrima.”

“Sure, Grayson.”

He palms the slide, listening for the satisfying clack of polymer settling. He lifts the firearm and squints his good eye down the sights, aiming for a rack of semiautomatics across the room. Dick’s gaze follows him, but there’s nothing in his expression to give the game away. Doesn’t mean Y/N misses the minute hitch in his heart rate.

He lowers the gun, ejects the empty clip. “So you don’t have an issue with my work?”

Dick makes a complicated expression. “An issue? Maybe. Would I prefer you were putting your talents to better use? Absolutely. Am I going to try to stop you? I’m not that stupid. And you’re holding a gun.”

Y/N snaps the clip back into the well, holding Dick’s gaze as he does. Which means he sees the heat bleed into those blue orbs. “And they say you’re just the pretty one.”

Dick gives him a grin for that, trailing Y/N as he shifts down the wall, setting that gun aside and trying a higher caliber.

“Charming. I am more than just a pretty face though.” When Y/N opens his mouth, Dick cuts him off with, “Don’t tell me I’ve got a pretty ass too. I’ve heard that one before. Come up with something original.”

Y/N grunts, and weighs the new firearm in his palm. It’s heavier, the frame steel. Dick’s throat bobs when he swallows.

“Have any favourites?”

“Favourites?” Dick repeats blankly.

Y/N waggles the gun in his grip. “Any favourites?”

“Oh.” Dick flushes, then nods at the gun in Y/N’s palm. “That one’s bigger.”

Y/N gives him a wry smirk. “Ever the size queen, Grayson.”

Dick scowls. “I didn’t mean like that. You’re big, I figure a bigger gun is something you’re after. Fragile masculinity and all that.”

Y/N toys with the hammer, ratcheting it back slowly under Dick’s burning gaze. “You really don’t know the first thing about guns, do you?”

“I’ve studied guns,” Dick contradicts, hands slipping from his pockets to cross over his chest, defensive. He leans his weight into one hip, considering Y/N’s current fascination. “Bruce gave us all the rundown.”

“You haven’t studied them yourself though, have you? Haven’t gotten familiar with them, intimate.” Y/N’s grin becomes a tad more malicious when Dick shifts at that, so he smothers it back to acceptable impassivity. “You could do with an education, Grayson.”

“And you’re going to teach me, aren’t you?” Dick suggests, crooking a dark brow. He doesn’t look offput by the idea, though.

“Is there anyone who knows guns better than me?” Y/N counters, returning the handgun to its hook. Dick’s expression is just the barest bit crestfallen at the surrender.

He gathers himself rather quickly though, to quip, “Deathstroke.”

Indignation spills across Y/N’s features before he can curb it, displeasure twisting his lips down at the corners. Dick’s grin grows in response.

“Jealous, Y/N?”

“Watch your tone, Dick.”

“Oh no,” Dick purrs, and circles around behind Y/N to lean one hip against the nearest counter, where Y/N’s eyeing the rows of custom engraved bullets with intrigue. “Don’t tell me your ego is that easily bruised.”

“If you want to talk bruises, that can certainly be arranged.”

Dick’s lips tick up another notch. “Bit cliche, don’t you think? You’ve only spanked me - what - forty-five times, at least count? Losing your touch a bit, babe.”

“Or maybe,” Y/N contradicts in a low murmur, “I just know all your kinks so well by now, little bird.”

Dick flushes at the nickname, but lifts his chin an inch, challenging. “I don’t think you know all my kinks.”

Y/N scoffs, and brushes past him to retrieve another firearm, far above where Dick can reach. Doesn’t miss the younger man’s gaze appreciatively trailing the length of his arm when he stretches upward.

He flips the gun over in his palm, watching the light dance down the sleek black metal, the way it catches in Dick’s blue eyes. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are, Grayson.”

“Subtle?” Dick prompts, saccharine.

Y/N glances up, meets that gaze with his own eye.

There’s the sharp, bright chirp of a momentary alarm, and then the electricity snaps with a harsh sizzle, the store falling into immediate dimness around them. Y/N’s gaze goes to the door, to mark the reinforced steel bolt that locks into place. Dick’s gaze sweeps the counter and the unmanned racks.

“Lockdown,” Y/N murmurs, on the lazy side of alert. “Someone tripped the alarm.”

“No one else in the store,” Dick informs him, in quick report. “Unless someone’s in the back.”

They pause for a moment, to note the stillness and the distinct lack of panic.

“False alarm,” Dick entreats, and Y/N nods an agreement.

“No getting out until they reset the breaker, I’d say,” Y/N concurs, shifting around Dick to return the firearm to its shelf. Then he has an idea.

He withdraws the gun, index fingertip stroking the steel.

Waits until Dick’s gaze slowly returns back to the metal, like a moth to flame, before he offers, “I suppose I could give you that lesson while we wait.” The suggestive stroke of his finger down the barrel leaves no room for implication.

“Seriously?” Dick says with a hint of incredulity, and eyes the gun.

Y/N lets it loll in his grip, if only so he can enjoy the way Dick’s eyes fitfully track the firearm. “I need a new gun. It would be negligent of me not to test it before purchase.”

Dick’s gaze flicks to the door, and then the empty counter, skimming that sleek barrel before it jumps back up to Y/N. His pulse is rabbiting. “You’re serious.”

When Y/N just holds his gaze, steady and unwavering, Dick’s throat bobs. He bleats a short, tittering laugh, his gaze flashing to the door again as his weight shifts against the case.

“Here? Right now?”

“Can you think of somewhere better?” Y/N returns, and smirks at the scowl Dick throws him.

So the little bird needs convincing. Y/N’s a regular charmer.

He takes a step forward, ignoring the reflexive tense that halts the air in Dick’s lungs, and stops just short of crowding the boy. Ensures he’s only barely touching the front of Dick’s torso, enough to set the man’s senses to blistering.

Dick swallows again, and looks up to meet his eye.

“I think we both know how this is going to go, little bird,” Y/N murmurs, tone deep in a way that pulls a shiver from the acrobat’s arching spine. He lets his wrist lull until the muzzle of the gun in his palm nudges Dick’s thigh, just so he can enjoy the way the boy flinches at the cold touch, distracted. “The question is whether you still need convincing.”

Dick’s gaze flicks down and back up when the muzzle traces the joint of his thigh and hip, trailing higher before returning. Y/N’s lips quirk at the involuntary shudder it produces.

Then those pretty blue eyes flash across the store one more time, to each corner of the room and back over to the counter. Cataloguing surveillance cameras probably, though he arrives at the same deduction as Y/N; whatever tripped the power to the store probably cut the power to the surveillance feeds too.

All the privacy they need to get started.

Dick shifts then, hands lifting to Y/N’s hips to ease him back a step. Just far enough away from the counter that the little bird can slide down to his knees between Y/N’s boots, eyes locked on his the whole while.

It’s an intoxicating sight, having a man like Dick Grayson willingly sit on his heels at Y/N’s feet. Makes his mind race with wicked possibilities, makes him almost wish they had more than a few minutes before the electricity comes back on.

Let it not be said that Y/N can’t make the most of a time-sensitive situation.

He rolls his wrist, letting the cold metal glide up the angle of the man’s jaw. Dick tilts his head into the motion, giving him a soft little moan when those sights scrape down the ridges of his windpipe and then press in against his pulse. The little notches leave twin marks when Y/N pulls them back, but only so he can nudge Dick’s gaze back up to his own again.

“Didn’t need that much convincing after all,” he points out, and chuckles at the flash in Dick’s gaze. His fingers slip into the man’s dark locks, a hush cresting over his lips as he taps the barrel of the gun against that handsome chin. “Don’t pout, little bird. We both know how much you’ve been begging for a good throat-fucking.”

“Didn’t think I’d be getting it from your gun,” Dick admits. Y/N can tell from the tightness of the words just how affected the man is, see how much he leans into the sensation when Y/N drags the gun up to knock gently against his cheekbone. “You’re not one to share, usually.”

“If you’re going to mouth off,” he warns, “I can give you a nice pretty bruise to remember the occasion by.”

It’s a delightful sight, watching the words tumble through the boy’s skull, seeing the way he conjures and discards quips just as quickly. Weighing the merit of each against the possibility of Y/N knocking his teeth around in retribution.

He settles on, “I can find something else to do with my mouth, sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Y/N praises gruffly, and reaffirms his grip on the boy’s hair, holding him steady as he aligns the barrel with those begging lips. He makes sure to stop a few inches short of penetrating the man’s mouth though, just to watch the confusion and then the realisation crest over Dick’s features.

The little bird’s been trained well though, because Y/N doesn’t even have to bleat a guiding command before that tongue dips out to lather the underside in a long, tantalising swipe. Y/N hums an approving note, offering more of the barrel as the man’s enthusiasm rises. There’s something about the sight of those soft, pliant lips caressing hard metal that has Y/N’s blood heating, has him fighting the urge to just fuck straight into the boy’s begging mouth.

“Chamber's empty, right?” Dick asks between dragging kisses down the cold metal.

Y/N gives a responding hum. “Hard to say.”

Dick stills for a beat, eyes flashing up. “Y/N-”

He takes advantage of the man’s slack jaw to press the muzzle between his teeth, ignoring the bleat of surprise in favour of enjoying the way Dick immediately opens to allow the gun entrance. It slides across his tongue, sights clacking on his teeth as it dips inside.

Y/N doesn’t push it farther than that, giving his bird a moment to adjust. Those blue eyes are heated, but from the way his cheeks hollow and those pretty lashes flutter invitingly, Y/N assumes the outrage is fleeting.

“That’s the way,” he purrs in approval, enjoying the shiver that traces down Dick’s spine, the way he tilts his throat open a few inches further. Betters the angle of Y/N’s gun when it slips over his plush lips.

The roll of the flesh beneath the unyielding metal is mesmerising, as is the way the boy takes every slow thrust so readily. He looks completely focused, on his knees, at Y/N’s mercy. Every sense and nerve attuned to the inexorable press of that gun further and further into his throat.

“Come on, little bird,” he coaxes, easing the barrel deeper. “Something tells me you’ve got a little more give in you. I’ve seen you take cock deeper than that.”

Dick whines at the tease, jaw opening farther to let him in, to beckon that gun deeper into his throat. He only gags once, when the sights press against the roof of his mouth, and then he’s drawing in a sharp breath, wresting free of Y/N’s grip in his hair to bear down on the weapon.

When he pulls back up, Y/N only lets him withdraw as far as letting the sights clack against the back of his teeth. Those blue eyes slide up to meet his, awaiting instruction, so Y/N gives it to him.

“How about you tell me how much you want it, little bird?” he suggests, and pumps the gun once, slowly, into his mouth just to watch those gorgeous eyes water. “Convince me how much you need a gun down your throat.”

To his credit, Dick doesn’t try to pull back any further. Not that he’d get far, with Y/N’s unrelenting grip holding him at just the right angle. His tongue dips out once, in an attempt to wet his lips perhaps, before he tries to speak around the barrel filling his mouth.

It’s barely coherent, but Y/N can interpret the sentiment of the, “Please, Y/N,” from the earnestness in the little bird’s eyes. He watches the man swallow, that throat flexing as that tongue withdraws briefly, before he tries again, moaning the words out around the muzzle in his mouth.

Y/N holds him there, lets the man beg and plead around the obstruction for a few seconds longer. Just until he can see the first bead of drool spill over the stretched corners of those lips, see the flush that takes over his cheeks when Dick realises, see the way he tries to angle himself to curb it and finds himself trapped beneath Y/N’s grip.

“What a pretty sight you make,” Y/N coos, tilting his head sideways until the string of drool is caught beneath what remains of the light. If it takes longer to drip down the boy’s chin too, that's just a bonus. “Making a mess of yourself.”

The droplet parts from Dick’s wavering chin, splattering on the toe of Y/N’s boot as they both watch. Y/N takes the moment of distraction to thrust the barrel deep, enjoying the sound of the man’s choke, the slick sound of saliva as he gags, before he withdraws it back to a reasonable length again.

“Just begging for it, aren’t you, slut?” he says quietly, smirking when Dick’s gaze flashes up. It’s wide and open, laid bare for him.

Y/N slides back the gun, ignoring Dick’s bitten down whine as he wipes the weapon clean on each of his cheeks. Feels a thrum of heat at the way Dick’s lashes flutter with shame, at how the spit must feel drying on his skin. Then he returns the gun to rest on the man’s lower lip as he shifts his other hand to unbuckle his belt.

“I don't think I’d even need this,” Y/N ponders aloud, rolling the flesh of Dick’s lip beneath the muzzle, “to get you to take cock like a good whore. You’re eager enough already.”

Dick moans, soft and breathless, when Y/N palms his cock, eyes flickering between the progress of his calloused hand and Y/N’s burning gaze.

“I think you’re just looking for an excuse,” Y/N continues, peeling his jeans down far enough that he can bear his cock to the cool air, and pause to sigh, ��so that no one blames you for being the eager little slut you are.”

“Please,” Dick whispers, lips catching on the barrel when he speaks. It kicks Y/N’s pulse up another notch.

“How about you show your gratitude by sucking me and my gun off?” Y/N suggests, enjoying the breath that hitches in the man’s throat. “Then I’ll let you keep the excuse to take back to Daddy Bats when he asks why you were on your knees in broad daylight sucking off a mercenary.”

The groan is much more audible this time, the need obvious in the way his hands fist the material of Y/N’s jeans. He doesn’t keep the bird waiting, angling the gun into the corner of Dick’s lips as he feeds his cock into the vigilante’s mouth.

Dick takes him eagerly, familiarity taking over as he sets to work. Y/N lets him adjust for a few moments before he taps the gun against his cheeks, humming approval when they hollow obediently.

It’s wet and hot, those lips sinful in the way they wrap around Y/N’s cock like they were made for nothing else. The small, pleading moans that spill up the boy’s throat are a gorgeous accompaniment, betraying the need in that heated gaze.

“That’s it, little bird,” Y/N murmurs, chuckling at the whine Dick lathers around his cock. Those pretty lashes flutter when he presses the man’s face down on his cock, gun scraping across his cheekbone to dig into his temple.

He lifts a thumb to draw down the hammer, making sure every click of the mechanism reverberates into the boy’s crooked ear. Those keens rise to a fever pitch when he releases it, his motions growing sloppily desperate as he fucks down onto Y/N. Punctuating each moan with the mercenary’s cock hitting the back of his throat.

“I could blow your brains out, just like this,” Y/N coaxes, and curls his finger off the trigger guard.

Those pretty blues roll, his motions jerking to a surprisingly sudden halt as he shudders. For a moment, Y/N wonders if he’s taken it too far; then the flush spreads over the little bird’s cheeks, a sheepish edge to the gaze he won’t lift to meet Y/N’s eyes.

The realisation crawls over Y/N’s skin like a palpable heat, thundering down to his groin as he fucks tightly into Dick’s slack, recovering mouth. The thought that the man could come just from the threat of a gun has Y/N spilling down his throat, grunting as he empties.

Dick takes it all with only the mildest of chokes, Y/N guiding palm helping him to keep it all down. He settles once the brunt of it is taken, catching his breath when Y/N pulls free and tucks himself away.

“Come on, little bird,” Y/N says, offering a hand to pull Dick up to his feet. He wipes the back of a hand against his lips, still flushed with colour beneath Y/N’s wandering gaze. “There’s a range in the back where we can try this one out. I think we could even fit you beneath the counter if you aren't inclined to watch.”

#top male reader #x male reader #dc comics #gay #dc universe #dick grayson #bottom dick grayson #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing x y/n #queer community

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ladylooch · 1 year

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could you do a friends to lovers fic w/ Nico pls?? my plates empty and i’m starving 🍽️😂

You know, it is lunch time and I'm happy to provide 😉

Where I'm Supposed to Be- Nico Hischier

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluffy, swearing, drinking, itty bitty amount of angst

A smile twitches my lips when I hear Nico Hischier’s footsteps running down the hallway of my apartment building. He’s cutting it pretty close this year. I should give him a pass for being on the road, but it’s too fun to watch his face scrunch in exasperation when I tease him. Nico is the only one of my friends who insists on seeing me every year on my birthday. Even if he isn’t in town, we FaceTime and do our traditional shot together to celebrate another year around the sun.

Not much changes from year to year and this year, it will be the same. Another year around the sun being in love with him. Not that he knows that. I’d rather have Nico as my friend than run the risk of losing him with unreciprocated feelings. As a captain of an NHL team, he has his pick of women. All of his last few girlfriends have the same thing in common, they model professionally. Although, calling them girlfriends might be a stretch. They never seem to stick around long enough for me to meet them.

I stand as his footsteps get louder, pausing with my hand on the door knob.

“Shit.” I hear him mumble after the sound of plastic hitting the floor. “Fuck.” He whispers forcefully.

I open the door as he is raising his hand to knock. I fall a little more in love with him seeing his brown hair peeking out from his black beanie. His face is flushed from exertion and visibly lights up when he sees me.

“I made it.” He pants out. The hot pink tulips in his hand have seen better days as he trusts them at me, completely ignoring the few petals that have fallen to the floor. “Happy birthday!”

“Barely.” I quip with a large smile, referencing the clock on the microwave that says 11:56pm.

“It counts.” He insists, walking forward. His hands go to my hips, nudging me backwards so he can enter my apartment fully. Butterflies assault my stomach at his touch. It feels so personal, so assertive and loving, just like Nico.

“To be honest, your birthday game has been slipping since you were named captain.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just pour me your birthday shot.” He laughs, placing a hand on the small of my back to move me forward.

“I have Jameson or Fireball.”

“Jameson. It’s tradition.” I nod reaching for the bottle on the back counter and two shot glasses from the drawer.

“I’m doing fireball.” I insist. I pour the shots out, sliding Nico’s across the counter to him. I hold mine up, letting our glasses rest against one another.

“To my best friend. I’m glad you’re mine. Life would suck without you. Happy birthday.” He smiles sweetly. His words settle into my chest where I’ll surely overanalyze them later tonight, alone in my bed.

We toss the shots back, both grimacing slightly at the burn we feel.

“Hit me again.” Nico taps the glass at me.

“Wow, rough game?” His eyes lift, studying my face. He reaches out to my cheek, grabbing at a piece of lint stuck in my hair. Electricity explodes at the feeling of his skin against mine.

“Just trying to chase some thoughts from my mind.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Nope.” He puckers his lips at me, scrunching his nose. Something passes between us. The air becomes unsettled and I feel the temperature rising in my body. Nico ends it before it can go any further. “Okay. I need to go get some sleep. It’s game day tomorrow.” Disappointment pulls my gaze from his.

“You say that like you’re not going to take a two hour nap.” I tease to keep the mood light. He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. He reaches for the second shot of whiskey I poured him, knocking it back easily. He licks his lips when he’s done, setting the glass back on the counter.

“Before you go…” I murmur, watching the shine of his lip in the low lighting. I shake my head at the thought of pressing my mouth there, tasting that shot of Jameson like I was the one who took it. “Um, could you fix my toilet? It’s running again.”

“Seriously?” He laughs in disbelief at me. “I showed you to how fix this last time.”

“Yeah, but I fix it and it happens again right away. You fix it and it stays that way. You’ve got the touch.” He raises his eyebrows in what I think is suggestion. My mouth goes dry and I resist the urge to reach for him.

“You really need to put in a maintenance request for this, babe.” Both Nico and I pause at the pet name. I hold my breath for a moment while his gaze diverts from mine. “Sorry, that was…”

“It’s okay…” I trail off, not quite sure what else to say.

We walk down to my bathroom in silence. As we go, Nico shrugs his jacket off, handing it back for me to hold. His fingers work on the buttons of his dress shirt at his wrists, rolling the black fabric up his strong forearms. The sound of running water greets our ears as Nico walks to the tank. I lean my butt against the counter next to him as he sets the top on the ground.

“How long has this been running?” He wonders as he begins to work on the tangled chain.

“I don��t want to say.” I purse my lips together, trying to hold the laugh in.

“You’re unbelievable.” Nico snorts, shaking his head. The laugh bursts between my lips, shaking my shoulders. This catches his attention and his laughter joins mine.

“I may be a disaster, but I’m your disaster.” Our eyes shine together for a moment as I tilt my head at him. My gaze softens as Nico stares back at me with a depth in his face as if he’s contemplating something. Then, suddenly his smile drops.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Nico mumbles, breaking our eye contact and resuming fidgeting with the chain in the tank.

“I’m… not looking at you like anything.”

“Yes you are.” He insists, clipping the chain back to it’s place. He tests the tension then does a test flush.

“How am I looking at you?” I push him, drinking in each tightening of his cheek as he bites his lip in concentration.

“Like you’re in love with me.” He turns fully to me when he says that.

“You’re my best friend. Of course I love you.” I try to sound calm as my heart pounds so hard in my chest that it hurts.

“You know I don’t mean it like that.” His brown eyes pin me in place. I can barely breathe. I think of the years of friendship we’ve had. I think about what it would be like to lose him. But then I think about living the rest of my life like this, pining for someone in secret. Despite my fear, I know which one is harder, so I leap.

“What if I was?”

“What if I know I am?” He responds immediately.

Years later, we’ll argue over who made the first move, but in the moment, we both fall into each other at the same time, lips sealing to one another eagerly.

“Say it.” He says against my mouth as his teeth tug my bottom lip. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Nico. I can’t remember a day that I didn’t.”

“Good. I love you too.” We laugh to each other, then kiss again. Eventually, the realization of us making out in the bathroom hits, so Nico leads us to my bedroom. He sits on the bed and pulls me down with him. We fall onto our backs, then turn to our sides to braid our limbs together.

“I thought you had to go?” I murmur as he snuggles me into his body with a firm hand on my butt. He shakes his head no.

“I’m finally exactly where I’m supposed to be."

#nico hischier blurbs #nico hischier #new jersey devils #NHL fan fiction #hockey writing #my writing #writing request

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izicodes · 1 year

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Hi! I’m a student currently learning computer science in college and would love it if you had any advice for a cool personal project to do? Thanks!

Personal Project Ideas

Hiya!! 💕

It's so cool that you're a computer science student, and with that, you have plenty of options for personal projects that can help with learning more from what they teach you at college. I don't have any experience being a university student however 😅

Someone asked me a very similar question before because I shared my projects list and they asked how I come up with project ideas - maybe this can inspire you too, here's the link to the post [LINK]

However, I'll be happy to share some ideas with you right now. Just a heads up: you can alter the projects to your own specific interests or goals in mind. Though it's a personal project meaning not an assignment from school, you can always personalise it to yourself as well! Also, I don't know the level you are, e.g. beginner or you're pretty confident in programming, if the project sounds hard, try to simplify it down - no need to go overboard!!

But here is the list I came up with (some are from my own list):

Personal Finance Tracker

A web app that tracks personal finances by integrating with bank APIs. You can use Python with Flask for the backend and React for the frontend. I think this would be great for learning how to work with APIs and how to build web applications 🏦

Online Food Ordering System

A web app that allows users to order food from a restaurant's menu. You can use PHP with Laravel for the backend and Vue.js for the frontend. This helps you learn how to work with databases (a key skill I believe) and how to build interactive user interfaces 🙌🏾

Movie Recommendation System

I see a lot of developers make this on Twitter and YouTube. It's a machine-learning project that recommends movies to users based on their past viewing habits. You can use Python with Pandas, Scikit-learn, and TensorFlow for the machine learning algorithms. Obviously, this helps you learn about how to build machine-learning models, and how to use libraries for data manipulation and analysis 📊

Image Recognition App

This is more geared towards app development if you're interested! It's an Android app that uses image recognition to identify objects in a photo. You can use Java or Kotlin for the Android development and TensorFlow for machine learning algorithms. Learning how to work with image recognition and how to build mobile applications - which is super cool 👀

Social Media Platform

(I really want to attempt this one soon) A web app that allows users to post, share, and interact with each other's content. Come up with a cool name for it! You can use Ruby on Rails for the backend and React for the frontend. This project would be great for learning how to build full-stack web applications (a plus cause that's a trend that companies are looking for in developers) and how to work with user authentication and authorization (another plus)! 🎭

Text-Based Adventure Game

If you're interested in game developments, you could make a simple game where users make choices and navigate through a story by typing text commands. You can use Python for the game logic and a library like Pygame for the graphics. This project would be great for learning how to build games and how to work with input/output. 🎮

Weather App

Pretty simple project - I did this for my apprenticeship and coding night classes! It's a web app that displays weather information for a user's location. You can use Node.js with Express for the backend and React for the frontend. Working with APIs again, how to handle asynchronous programming, and how to build responsive user interfaces! 🌈

Online Quiz Game

A web app that allows users to take quizzes and compete with other players. You could personalise it to a module you're studying right now - making a whole quiz application for it will definitely help you study! You can use PHP with Laravel for the backend and Vue.js for the frontend. You get to work with databases, build real-time applications, and maybe work with user authentication. 🧮

Chatbot

(My favourite, I'm currently planning for this one!) A chatbot that can answer user questions and provide information. You can use Python with Flask for the backend and a natural language processing library like NLTK for the chatbot logic. If you want to mauke it more beginner friendly, you could use HTML, CSS and JavaScript and have hard-coded answers set, maybe use a bunch of APIs for the answers etc! This project would be great because you get to learn how to build chatbots, and how to work with natural language processing - if you go that far! 🤖

Another place I get inspiration for more web frontend dev projects is on Behance and Pinterest - on Pinterest search for like "Web design" or "[Specific project] web design e.g. shopping web design" and I get inspiration from a bunch of pins I put together! Maybe try that out!

I hope this helps and good luck with your project!

#my asks #resources #programming #coding #studying #codeblr #progblr #studyblr #comp sci #computer science #projects ideas #coding projects #coding study #cs studyblr #cs academia

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randomfoggytiger · 1 year

Text

The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part I): Colony and End Game

Bill and Tena (not “Teena” because of a Two Fathers script I read that spelled it that way, thanks @x-files-scripts for posting them~) Mulder are “two complicated, flawed, beautiful people” that deserved a deep-dive of their own. In doing a frame-by-frame, however, I discovered there was more than meets the eye to their character; and, slowly, one post turned into who knows how many. So, without further ado, let’s begin.

Pilot

During their first case, Mulder stops being a jerk to his little spy when Scully shows up at his motel door, shaking and scared. After the dust has settled and all is calm, he opens up about his sister’s abduction and the fallout it had on his family: “I was 12 when it happened. My sister was 8. She just… disappeared out of her bed one night. Just gone, vanished. No note…. It tore the family apart. No one would talk about it. There were no facts to confront, nothing to offer any hope.”

The only one who seems to have found hope and comfort from the past is Mulder, who goes on to explain how he found the X-Files and used hypnosis to recall his sister's abduction. He never mentions what his parents' thoughts are about this path he has taken; and doesn't bring them up again for a long time.

Aubrey

The first memory Mulder relates of his father is in Aubrey as he and Scully bat the likelihood of genetic predisposition back and forth: “Whe-when I was a kid, I’d have nightmares and I’d wake up in the middle of the night thinking I was the only person in the world. And I would hear this--” crunching down on a sunflower seed to illustrate-- “My dad would be in the study eating these.”

This was obviously comforting to a young Mulder, likely stretching to a time before Samantha’s abduction when his family hadn’t fallen apart yet. (It also ties into the discussion on insomnia later in this post.)

Colony

Mulder and Scully are interrupted from their mytharc quest by a summons from Skinner, who relates that Mulder’s father had been trying to contact him all afternoon.

Mulder runs to the basement to call Bill Mulder back; and is shocked when Tena picks up. As she passes the phone off to her ex-husband, Mulder shifts his cellphone nervously to another hand. His nerves are only heightened by his father's cryptic answers-- "I received a very strange phone call this afternoon. I called your mother. We think it is extremely important that you come up here as soon as possible.”

It's important to note that Bill tells Mulder that both he (which he denies later) and Tena wanted their son to "get up here"-- the up-here meaning Tena’s house in The Vineyard. What’s interesting about that is: Bill has not separated a meeting place with his son from his former wife’s house, all three of them taking for granted that they’d meet at Tena’s. It’s such a blurring of boundaries and lines that it’s easy to see why Mulder blurs those boundaries constantly with Scully, modeling his parents’ separate-but-not-really relationship.

Mulder has shifted in full-blown panic while Bill continues to dodge questions-- “I’ll know more when you get here”-- and hangs up, much to Mulder’s frustration.

Mulder leaves immediately, dumping the investigation in Scully’s lap.

When he arrives at the Vineyard, Mulder is stopped from walking inside by Bill on the porch-- “Your mother needs some time.”

Mulder goes in for a hug naturally, implying that at some point hugs were a tenuous normal between them, at least in times of crisis.

When Bill swiftly blocks his attempts with a hand stuck out for a handshake--

Mulder is aggrieved, but accepts it.

He is further pushed away by the distance Bill places between them: “SHE wanted you to come. It’s a difficult time.” He almost implies that Mulder was invited up because Tena requested it, not because he wanted his son there.

Bill Mulder appears distant and cold from the first moment we see him. The invitation and longing seems to be, by his own words, from Tena; and Mulder’s emotional outreach appears to be personally undesired and refused.

However, it’s incredibly important to note his facial expressions and relaxed posture whenever Mulder isn’t directly looking at him;

because, once his son has been redirected away from scrutinizing, Bill’s real feelings slightly bubble to the surface: he’s nervous and unsure. His smoking seems to be a distraction or a crutch as he tries to relate his jumbled feelings about the whole affair:

“The certainty. The calmness-- a comfort that allows you to move on. We bury our memories so deep after all that has been destroyed… never expecting--”

Here Mulder cuts his father off, having observed his mother through the window talking with a woman and roughly wiping away tears with her handkerchief:

The first time we see Tena is as a dynamic woman: her hands are traveling all over her scrunched up face, expressing intense emotions through her jerky movements and mile-a-minute talking.

Bill reveals that the woman is Samantha, with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. (And, though the music is swelling menacingly and not painting him in the best of lights, in retrospect he isn’t menacing or smug: just… processing the shock in his own way.)

Tena is wide-eyed, amazed, bewildered, and hopeful when her son walks in the room.

After a night spent talking and processing, Mulder takes an active role in putting Tena to bed:

As he settles her in, Tena reflects: “After all those sleepless nights, I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

Mulder pulls her down gently, turns out her light, exhaustedly tries to softly soothe her for sleep-- "Well, you're exhausted. We all are. It's after 5:30."

Tena response? “Oh, I just need a couple of hours.”

She continues to comply as her son reiterates “Try and get some sleep", settling more firmly against her pillows and watching as he tucks her in, turns out her light, gives her a kiss, and begins to close her shades.

This interaction is CRUCIAL in the early stages of Mulder and Tena’s relationship dynamic:

1. Tena is afflicted with the same insomnia issues as her son. In fact, the two of them demonstrate an underlying rote awareness and second-nature routine as he becomes her caretaker-- pulling back the covers, settling her pillows, and guiding her into bed-- and she a compliant but wired patient-- “Oh, I just need a couple of hours”-- after having spent all night talking and enduring an emotional upheaval. (Insomnia doesn’t seem to simply be a post-traumatic response connected to Samantha’s abduction: Mulder states in Aubrey that he would be up late, or wake from a nightmare, and hear his father comfortingly cracking sunflower seeds in the study. Since these memories are from early childhood, it’s hard to speculate how late Bill Mulder’s habits were in comparison to a young boy’s bedtime.) At the very least, Mulder and Tena seem to have bonded over their terrible sleep routines. That would also explain how Mulder is a natural at tucking Scully in or letting her sleep on his shoulder.

But most importantly:

2. Tena and Mulder have an emotionally open relationship (or did until Demons.) Most often I find theories, meta, or fics depicting Tena as cold, aloof, or withdrawn; but this firmly establishes that she has no qualms talking about her vulnerabilities with her son. And furthermore, she has done so in the past, often enough that Mulder takes her declaration as a fact that doesn’t faze or surprise him. It explains Mulder's comfortability with emotional expression-- wide-eyed in his earnestness to not only help Scully heal in a crisis, but to empathize with victims and the downtrodden. It also explains why he gives so many forehead kisses and comforting hugs: he expressed his love and care for his mother in those ways, and she likely did it for him as well when he was small. It seems, however, that since Samantha's abduction the role has solely fallen on Mulder because of how effortlessly they fell into these heartfelt but wonky dynamics.

Before Mulder can leave, Tena pops back up and asks fearfully: "Fox, it is really her, isn't it?"

Mulder smiles, tired but content; and replies: "I don't see who else it could be."

Tena is not very reassured;

but she trusts her son and his instincts. When he further admonishes her to "Go to sleep", she sinks back on her pillows

and obediently closes her eyes against the worry.

As demonstrated, Tena and her son’s relationship is heavily baked in trust and trauma. She obeys his every word, clings to his every assurance, leans on him more than he leans on her. It’s a credible reflection of Mulder’s insanely trustworthy character: so many people rely on him and trust him on his word alone-- his mother, Scully, Skinner, TLG, even acquaintances and informants-- willing to put their jobs and their lives at risk to stand by him. Because Mulder is pure Truth: he lives by what he seeks.

Now: does this mean Tena is a compliant wallflower who does the bidding of everyone around her? No. Her stubborn, tough-as-nails nature will be explored in a future post about Talitha Cumi.

Regardless-- thus ends Colony.

And thus begins--

End Game

After the loss of Samantha (who no one knows is a clone at this point), Mulder leaves Scully on the bridge with an ominous parting statement: ”I already told Skinner, that was the easy part. Now I gotta tell my father.”

This is when Bill Mulder’s true nature is revealed: emotionally disconnected and harsh to protect against the scars of trauma.

Bill arrives at Mulder’s apartment with an expression much more open and, perhaps, optimistic than he had on their previous meeting.

He even starts the interaction by teasing his son-- “You didn’t have me come all this way to give me good news”-- which is a fascinating window into how Mulder developed his sense of humor.

The fact his dad is so cheerful and trusting is a further blow to Mulder, who had seemed to recover his family in one night only to lose it himself, again, in the next.

Bill sees that disaster lies ahead, donning the armor of stern anger to smoke out the truth. His son has become a suspicious character to interrogate and correct.

Mulder turns back-to, shakily explaining: “Samantha’s gone… Dad. I lost her.”

Bill pauses for a couple of heavy seconds, baffled, unable to wrap his mind around that thought.

When it clicks, he begins speaking rapidly-- “what do you mean ‘you lost her’?”-- taking swift steps into the room. For a split second, raw, vulnerable fear and hurt is written all over his face:

Mulder keeps silent for a stretch; but finally explains that his partner had been held hostage and Samantha needed to be exchanged. While he is fumbling with his words, his father’s eyes begin to glisten, and his mouth becomes more and more pinched to keep back the emotion.

“You let this man take your sister? …Isn’t that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“I… can’t explain it to you”-- Mulder pleads-- "But, um, I believed I was doing the right thing, Dad.”

His gestures are unsure: hand flailing as he tries to grasp an explanation, eyes averted to the floor, head bowed, shoulders hunched. Bill reads this all as guilt of thoughtless action, which turns to useful anger he can use to blockade off his feelings.

As Bill perceives it, his son’s actions have hurt him deeply, and lost Samantha for possibly the last time. Despite knowing how dear she was to the family, his son traded her for the safety of a work partner from (likely) the very people that had taken her in the first place. Bill sees this as reckless, and harshly punishes his son like a child who has killed a little bird in his careless actions. Chastisement has become the modus operandi.

“Was this your decision?”

Those words will haunt Mulder to his dying day...

(or would have if Samantha had not been a clone.)

“Yes.”

Bill Mulder was a military man; and you can tell he trained his son by those hard standards as well. He stands erect before his father, shouldering the blame and answering his commanding officer with a direct affirmative. But at the same time the little boy peeks through--trying to protect himself by tucking in his chin and manfully facing his punishment instead of slinking off into the corner to cry.

And like a little boy, he tries to show his father he's learned how to be good and take responsibility for his actions: “I’ll tell Mom.”

Bill continues his correction speech: “Do you realize what losing her again is going to do to your mother?” His barely restrained tears give away his true meaning: Do you realize what you’ve done to me?

While he expects straightforward honesty from his son, Bill himself practices deception by avoidance. He cannot bear to peer into the darkness of his own emotions and pain; so, he deflects them by projecting onto Tena.

When Mulder falters and doesn’t answer, Bill’s thinly held anger seeps through with more his clipped, uptight inflection:

“Do you?”

He is exuding more outwardly forceful control because his own has internally slipped.

Here it is demonstrated how alike and dissimilar father and son are. They both protect Tena in their own steadfast ways, but in very different ways. Mulder comforts and soothes her distress while Bill tries to guard her from the pain by wrapping her in protective layers from the outside world. He is angered that an unavoidable heartache was brought to her doorstep because it’s another home he couldn’t keep the conspiracy out of, following her even when she had tried to escape from his connections by leaving him. You could easily make the case that Bill is still in love with Tena-- whether it’s in a fond, by-gone-days affection bred by guilt or love that couldn’t be revived after the horrific loss of his family (similar to what Scully and Mulder went through during their breakup years.)

Mulder tries and fails to compose himself as his face crumples and his voice cracks: “I’m sorry, Dad. I-- I’m sorry.”

Bill turns abruptly to leave, overwhelmed; but pauses when he remembers the envelope left by Samantha for Mulder.

“Your sis--” his face softens, almost cracks;

then hardens as he copes by distancing himself as quickly as possible-- “...Samantha left this at the house for you.”

Mulder's anguish overcomes him again at the thought of a posthumous letter from his sister;

giving Bill ample time to retreat, slamming the door behind him.

This next part is still relevant, as it demonstrates Mulder's coping strategies he learned from his parents.

Mulder softly grasps the letter, expecting it to be a heartfelt note; but is surprised to see she'd written cryptic instructions that leads to an abortion clinic. He immediately turns tail and flees from his emotions by running headlong into his quest for answers, uplifted he can distance himself from the bog of guilt and head towards more active salvation. He may have lost Samantha; but perhaps he can redeem his failures with the Truth. He sees hope in that.

Thus ends End Game.

Thank you for reading! I will be adding more parts in future; but that might take a bit. In the mean time--

Enjoy!

#txf #analysis #x-files #the x files #meta #mine #S1 #S2 #Pilot #Aubrey #Colony #End Game #Bill Mulder #Teena Mulder #Tena #The Mulder Family In-Depth #Colony and End Game

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sugareey-makes-stuff · 4 months

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And here's the last batch of fic recs I have to wrap up @hprecfest and 2023! Feel free to give these some love, or else add them to your TBR for later to kick off your 2024!

Day 27: A Muggle AU Fic

Of Bookshelves and Baby Carriers by poppunkpadfoot (Wolfstar, T, 11.8k)

The customer standing in front of him is quite possibly the most beautiful man Remus has ever seen. Like, he looks like a model or something. He has long, black hair, flattened by water, and just the slightest amount of scruff on his face, and… And a baby strapped to his chest. Okay.

This fic is cute AF! 😍 Doing a reread of this again made me squee about how Remus is such a precious cinnamon roll who needs more hugs, Harry is adorable, and Sirius' flirting is hilarious. So much flangst, this is a bookshop fic, and 1000% a pick-me-up if you need something to brighten your day. A+++ aka go read this ASAP!

Day 28: An Under-Rated Fic

Chimera by Literallyliterary (Flintbell, E, 11.5k)

Years after Hogwarts, years after the war, Katie Bell finds herself traded from the Harpies to the Tornados and into the hands of team captain Marcus Flint. It’s a lot easier to ignore a childhood crush when you have to take orders from him, right? …Right??

I always love a good Quidditch fic, and this one seriously delivers, especially with all the UST built up from Hogwarts days. The way Marcus and Katie push each other's buttons but are clearly attracted to each other is amazing, and there are just so many Feelings waiting to spill out, especially after they get physical. It's spicy, it's got that fiery Gryffindor-Slytherin relationship dynamic we all love, the mutual pining is for real, and the competitive streak is so alive. For the game, for a chance, and yeah, this was what really solidified my love for this rare pair when I first discovered them. Def give this a shot if you'd like to dip into new ships!

Day 29: A Post-Canon Fic

Crimson Neon by @xanthippe74 | xanthippe74 (Drarry, M, 20.6k)

Winter, 1999. Harry thought going to New York would help him get his head on straight, but all he has to show for it are sore feet and a fridge full of takeaway containers. And now he’s homesick on top of everything else. It doesn’t help that his mysterious neighbour in 2C keeps cooking dishes that remind Harry of home and all the people he lost or left behind.

I adore fics that include anything senses or food related. And gosh, this one with the angst and food as a love language is gorgeous. The small details really makes this a story I can visually see. Also, Draco cooks! 'Nuff said. And the way Harry and Draco gradually fall in love is so heartwarming. It's on their own terms, in a different country. Love, love, love. Definitely a must-read for a sleepy or rainy day.

Day 31: A Fav Amongst Favs

Drowned Boy by bmouse (Marcus/Percy/Oliver, M, 4k)

Oliver wants to drown himself. Percy wants to study, but he's willing to be distracted. Marcus probably wants trouble, but it's hard to tell.

Sooo, PoA is my 2nd fav HP book, and any references to that Quidditch game where Oliver tries drowning himself in the shower or missing moments right after are gold. Marcus and Oliver banter at each other as usual, but then Percy gets tangled in their chaos, and it kind of escalates. They're all boys with hormones, and yeah. 😜 This fic is so well written where you can see the attraction between each of them, and the dynamics work. *chef's kiss* (And since I genuinely like to delve into character studies for Marcus, Percy and Oliver, this was the fic convinced me that they're an awesome triad. Hell yeah.)

#hprecfest2023 #wolfstar #flintbell #drarry #marcus/percy/oliver #multiship #spicy #fic recs #rec lists #hp fanfic #sugareey #sugareey recs things

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rosalind-hawkins · 3 months

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TLDR: Duke is smart boi, Mastershipping good.

Been thinking about Duke's arc in the anime, and here's the thing.

He was "in talks" with Pegasus about DDM, but it wasn't greenlit yet, yeah? It didn't get finalized and Pegasus just stops responding to his emails, hence the whole going-after-Yugi thing blah blah blah.

(Side-note about how clever and diabolical Duke is to go after Yugi via his good friend Joey; damn Duke, you make a good antagonist, I'd love and fear the version of you that goes full villain.)

But despite Duke not having the green light or official production yet, he's still got the DDM dice; probably a sample batch from manufacturers, okay, I can believe that they made a 100-bag batch or something as an early order. But he ALSO has a duel arena fitted out to be adapted for DDM specifically, and this can only exist a couple of ways.

Industrial Illusions commissioned the custom DDM arena from KC as an early model and it was delivered to Duke. (I think this is unlikely since, again, no final say from Pegasus yet.)

Duke bought a Duel Arena from KaibaCorp, studied it, took it apart, and made his own adjustments to convert it into a DDM arena, which means studying Kaiba's tech, redesigning portions of it, reprogramming some of the software, creating schematics and custom parts and reassembling everything for the final version.

Option 2, but Duke paid someone to do it. (This is unlikely to me because of how deeply personal this game is to him and how deeply involved he is.)

Option 2 is much more likely to me, and this is why in my Rock Bottom AU, I have Duke set up as a technical hardware genius. (In that AU specifically, Duke handles hardware and Seto handles software, and they're the perfect nerd team.) I do think he is a genius on some level. He's not on Kaiba's level, but I think he's highly intelligent and doesn't generally get enough credit for it.

What probably happens later on, after Pegasus gives the green light, is that Industrial Illusions formally contracts KC to design and produce DDM arenas, and maybe Duke tries to insist that he already did the design part, but KC won't produce a design that's not theirs, so they make their own.

I imagine that when Duke and Kaiba get together later, Kaiba just casually mentions that he knows about Duke's original bootlegged DDM arena, and Duke is like, "Yeah, I'm aware that I voided the warranty, and no, I'm not going to apologize for it." And Kaiba's intellectual curiosity gets the better of him, so he's just like, "Even though I know the official KC version of the DDM arena is superior, I wanted to know how you made the original adjustments," and then Duke gets to show off his own handiwork on his bf's tech, and Kaiba has someone that's not an employee that he can talk to about the intricacies of his inventions for maybe the first time ever? And it makes him happy in a way that he doesn't understand, but these inventor boys have each other to talk to now about this stuff, and it's so fulfilling for them.

When Duke eventually moves in with Kaiba, he gets his own workshop/office for all the creative and technical work he does for DDM, and Kaiba makes a point of stopping by every once in a while to see what he's working on and "no, I don't need your advice, I can do it myself" only needs to be said to him a few times in order for him to learn to withhold his opinions until Duke asks for them.

In the context of Mumbleshipping, I imagine that any time Duke or Kaiba talk about their inventions in any detailed way to Ryou, his eyes glaze over pretty fast, and bless him he's trying, but he doesn't have a brain for engineering or hard sciences, so this all goes in one ear and out the other.

#duke devlin #ryuji otogi #otogi ryuji #kaiba seto #seto kaiba #mastershipping #inventor boyfriends #musings #i need you to understand why these boys connect so intuitively in my brain #this post is kind of all over the place but i think yall get the point #mumbleshipping

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neverthelesshex · 6 months

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"Muse" Jschaltt x reader (Collage AU) prt1

No smut in this part sorry

Female reader sorry boys

........

You wake up to your alarm, ugh the typical repeating, exhausting, and repeating day starts you put on some white cargo pants, with a brown lacey cami top since it was mid summer, you throw on some Mary Jane's grab your satchel bag sling it on your shoulder and start to go to your class, on your way you grab a coffee and continue your walk to your first class.

You sit down next to ted, taking a sip of your coffee

"Hey y/n what are you up too" he hums writing down some stuff from his flim class notes

"Trying to wake up and survive another day. I have like three exams today!" You whine throwing your head back running your hands through your hair

"Man I don't have any exams till next week, you need to relax a bit" he smiled

"I wish but I need to study this weekend so my schedule is packed" you huff

"Dude, you don't always have to study" he rolls his eyes

"YES I do, you just don't understand I need to pass this collage shit" I cry

"I'm passing all my classes, And I party on weekends you'll live I promise-" he sighs

"I hate parties..." you stare blankly at him

"Then come to a baseball game with me this week my friend jschaltts playing" he taunts with a hint of begging in his voice

"Fine" you agree

*time skip*

It's Saturday you did a majority of your studying Friday, and now you're in front of your closet trying to figure out what to wear out, you decided on a white tank top and some black cargo shorts with some converse.

You walk out of your campus dorm and start to walk to your collages baseball arena and start walking up the stairs seeing ted a mid way up,

You go and sit next to him "so which ones jschaltt" you question

"Number 69 with the mutton chops" he points

You nod and see him. The game begins with jschaltt at the home plate with his bat he hits it left field getting to first base with ease going to half point between the bases before getting go second and sliding being safe. The next batter Is up hits it right field and jschaltt gets to home sliding a cloud of clay red dust filling the air

"SAFE" the umpire yells, I softly clap as ted is screaming his lungs out.

The rest of the game goes by and jschaltts team "the Chicago rams" win with 25-10

We walk down near the dugout to see jschaltt

He walks out with his baseball bag on his back

"Hey buddy!" Jschlatt booms

"Jschaltt!!!" He side hugs jschlatt

"This your new girlfriend" jschlatt hums nodding his head towards me

"Nah this is my childhood friend y/n" he laughs

"Well hi y/n I'm jschlatt how are you" you shake his hand shyly

"I'm doing good, good job at your game though" you smile

"Thanks y/n!, now guys let go eat I'm starving" he groans

You and Ted nod getting into his car and driving to Applebee's

Ted sits with jschaltt and you sit alone in a booth he you guys order your drinks and start to talk

"So y/n what are you majoring in?" Jschlatf asks tilting his head slightly while taking a sip of his drink

"Art, more specifically visual art and fine arts ted is my model for when I have to do certain projects" you ramble

"She draws really good, so I'm happy to be her muse" he laughs

"You should show me some one day" he smiles "I love art but baseball is my calling!" He bluffs

You guys get your food and chat more and eat before you guys leave jschlatf gives you his number

"Call me up if you ever need a muse" he smiles at you

You get at your dorm again changing into pajamas and flopping down into your bed

'Today was amazing' you smile to yourself before going to sleep.

#smut requests #crush smut #jschatt #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt stuff #multiplicity #story #writing

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sphnyspinspin · 1 year

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Lost And Found

Chapter One: Summer

“Summer vacation, is now in session everybody!” Hotshot enthusiastically shouted after charging into the lounge area and flopping onto the couch. Stretching his limbs across the cushions and ex-venting from a tiring graduation ceremony. Which they finished surprisingly early.

“Hey, move over a bit would ya.” Using his servo to nudge Hotshot’s pedes away, Wedge sat down next to him and proceeded to turn on the T.V. “The best course of action right now is for us to relax for a little bit, then to go pack up our stuff and be ready in time for departure.” Wedge stretched his arm behind his head while watching the T.V. He kept switching channels until Hotshot tapped his pede against his side, signaling to stop at the soccer play-offs.

“A very good point Wedge. I, however, will be in the lab if anyone needs me. I’ll be doing a last recount of all the supplies there.” Medix responded as he headed off down the hallway, towards the lab. He just didn’t want his bandages to think he would forget about them.

“I-am-beat. I’ll be meditating over here, so just give a tap on my shoulder when it’s time to pack please. I’ll be in my happy place from here on out.” Hoist strolled over to sit on the tire-chair and listened to some white noise to meditate.

At first, Whirl just couldn’t decide what to do with her free time. Play the arcade game? Nope, already beaten it twice. Clean the lounge area? Wait-they all cleaned it before they left. Go through the wind tunnel? Yeah! She can definitely go for a last round in the tunnel. “You guys can come get me from the wind tunnel when it’s time to pack. I’m going to treasure my last few moments at the academy doing loopty-loops!” She waved excitedly to her friends while heading out.

“Have fun!” Hotshot exclaimed, sitting up to wave back, but he went to laying back down when Whirl exited the door.

She kept humming a random tune and kept skipping down the corridor. Having a big grin spread across her face, she was so excited to go back to Cybertron. Everybody was excited to go back to Cybertron.

Wedge would be training a lot, to one day be a part of the Bee team. He’s been ecstatic about spending more time with Bumblebee outside of the academy. He even got a job as freelance engineer to continue his scale-model crafting hobby. And he might even get a couple of his Heroes if Cybertron cards signed if he keeps hanging out with Bumblebee.

Hoist is going to go back to doing cool sigma-ship repairs with his cousins. They’ve been bugging him non-stop, asking him all about the academy and what his new altmode is. He’s planning on surprising them by showing up in his dino-mode.

Hotshot would be touring with the Cyberbalzers and probably go to Caminus. Since he was, practically, the main reason the Cyberblazers have become one of the best cube teams ever. Who knew that when he showed them how to work as a team, that they would become twice as popular.

Medix is going to be interning with his uncle Ratchet at his clinic. His uncle even let him bring in a singular specimen from Earth for him to study and take care of. Ratchet doesn’t know what it is yet and Medix said it would be a surprise. He just promised it wouldn’t be like that bat incident again.

Oh, and Brushfire might come and visit her from Earth and tell her all about her adventures. Whirl is definitely excited to start hanging out with Brushfire again. Brushfire said that she might start going to the academy after this summer, which excited Whirl the most. Slash and Laserbeak would probably be starting the same year at the academy as Brushfire. So she’s going to have her hands full with her future team.

Whirl being Whirl, she took up a job of being a crossing guard for the local police station in her hometown. It’s not the flashiest of jobs, but she isn’t really experienced enough in the field to become full-time police officer. But she’ll do her part, and bring justice to jade-walkers everywhere.

Getting back on track, Whirl spent the majority of her free time doing a couple small tricks and stunts in the wind tunnel. A couple big loopty-loops, some relaxing gliding, and just to top it off with some ridiculous sideways and upside down flying. When it was time for them to pack up, Whirl got a call on her comm from Wedge about heading to the lockers.

:Hey Whirl. We’re heading to go pack up now. Time to wrap it up.:

:Okie dokie artichokie! Be there in a second!:

:…Artichokie?:

Whirl hung up and switched off the wind tunnel. She continued down the hall, through the academy. Just as she was minding her own business, a familiar, “Caw!” was sounded behind her. It was Laserbeak flying towards her, so Whirl lifted her elbow to let Laserbeak land on her forearm. As he perched on her arm, and he made another short but softer, “Caw.”

“Hi Laserbeak.” Whirl greeted with an excitable tone, while still being exhausted from her recent work-out. “Did you see some of my sick moves earlier?” She went and gave his little helm an itch with her digit. Which he kindly enjoyed. Until he bit her finger for her to stop.

“Ack! If you wanted me to stop you could’ve just asked…Ow.”

“Caw.”

“Heh…No matter how much of a jerk you can be, I’m really going to miss you Laserbeak.” Whirl said with a smile, still having the tiniest scar on her digit.

Laserbeak responded with a solemn, “Caw...” as he hung his helm a little lower than before.

“Aw…You’re going to miss me too? That’s okay. I’ll make sure to try to visit you when I get the chance. Or-you visit me.”

“Caw!” Laserbeak cawed in approval.

—-

Whirl and Laserbeak made it to the locker room where everybody was just beginning to open their lockers. Laserbeak flew down from Whirl’s shoulder and began to peck at one of the crates on the floor. Whirl went over to her locker, and began to pack. Pulling out her duffel bag that she shoved in her locker from her first day. Technically, it was her second first day, but the first day back nonetheless. Everybody began to chat, talking about what they were doing over the summer.

“I can’t wait to start training with Bumblebee! The-Bumblebee! Can you guys believe it?”

Hotshot sarcastically responded “Yeah, it’s not like you kept telling us that, after Professor Bumblebee offered to you to train under him. And-help me remember this correctly, Bumblebee said-“

“He said-‘And who knows? Maybe you’ll be a part of my team someday,’ Oh man! I’m so ready to get back home and start training.” Wedge said with a look of excitement on his faceplates.

“Well one thing’s for sure, I’m seriously stoked to go to Caminus with the Cyberblazers. Some say, that the city we’re playing at-is where Windblade lives! She might see our game! Maybe she’ll ask for my autograph?”

“That would be so cool. Honestly, I-I’m kinda nervous about going back home. I have no i-idea how my family will react to my new alt-mode. W-What if they don’t like it?” Hoist said, as he wasn’t the best at hiding his anxiousness about it.

Medix turned to him and said, “Hoist, it’s very unlikely for your own family to not like you for choosing an alt-mode you specifically picked for good reason. What makes you think that they won’t like your dinosaur alt-mode? Do they also have a fear of Dinobots?”

“Oh no, I just thought they would think i-it would be too...destructive. But now that you mention it, i-it does sound a little bit silly. They really aren’t the k-kind of bots that would do that. Thanks Medix.”

“You’re welcome.”

Medix continued to pack up his stuff after making Hoist feel better. He looked down to see Laserbeak pecking at one of his boxes and it began to shake from the inside. So Medix immediately, but carefully, set it into his bag. He then began to talk about his future occupation for their upcoming vacation.

“I’m excited to help my uncle Ratchet at his clinic again. I wonder if I’ll see any of the other patients I saw the last time I visited? Or maybe I’ll see some new ones with absolutely new injuries for me to study-I mean-to help with. To help with and study.” Medix continued, with a short and slightly awkward silence.

“Wow. Good for you Medix. It really sounds like a win-win situation for you.” Whirl agreed to with a reassuring smile, and a complimentary tone in her voice.

“Phew…I appreciate your input Whirl. I thought it sounded like I was a little bit-overly…enthusiastic about wanting to see patients for the wrong reasons. Not that I like seeing others in pain, but I do like it when they visit my uncle’s clinic for help. That’s what I meant.”

Whirl gave a muffled chuckle to Medix’s response, and they both returned to packing their things.

—-

After the hallways began filling up with sounds of a few bad puns, giggling, shuffling luggage, a couple caws being followed by screams of shocking terror, they were finally done packing. Well, almost all of their things. Whirl quickly closed her empty locker and hastily stepped out the room, following Wedge, Hotshot, and Medix. While Hoist was the last one out of the room, he spotted a drawing on Whirl’s locker that she forgot to pack. Hoist, being the fantastic friend he is, carefully took the drawing off of her locker, so that it wouldn’t be ripped by the tape. Then he soon caught up to the others, and to Whirl, so he could return her drawing.

“Hey Whirl, you f-forgot this.” Hoist waved the picture, so it would catch Whirl’s eye.

“Oh scrap! I can’t believe I almost forgot this. Thank you Hoist.”

“Oh, it’s no biggie. A-Anyways, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Go ahead.” Whirl gesturing with her empty servo.

“Who’s the bot in the picture? Are they a f-friend of yours? Family, maybe?” Hoist pointed to the large bot that was drawn next to Whirl. The bot had one optic, two big claws, and had abnormally skinny pedes.

“What? Pfft-Ha! What-Um…ha ha. Uh-what-uh…wha-what makes you say that?” Whirl darted her optics from side to side. And tried to shove her picture into her bag. Her smile looked uncomfortable. It’s like she was caught in a lie that she never told.

“W-Well, for one , you two l-look pretty close. And your b-both blue, and you both have yellow optics. Maybe you c-copied them, I assumed. Or that c-could just be me, but despite a couple d-differences, you guys do look a lot alike. I-I mean, like on p-paper-look-alikes. Uh, maybe not t-this paper, but uh….” Hoist after struggling for a bit to explain, gave a low sigh and began to apologize to Whirl. Because he probably felt that he made her feel embarrassed in some way. He felt embarrassed for sure. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Whirl slowly relaxed her face into a neutral frown. But she did still feel the tiniest bit upset. She wasn’t upset at Hoist or his question at all. She was just caught a little off-guard, that’s all. Whirl then un-crumpled her drawing and looked at it, without turning her head away from Hoist. “It’s my….imag…ry….fri…n..” Whirl mumbled, but it was too hard to decipher.

“Uh, s-sorry. What did you say?”

Clearing her intake this time, Whirl said, “It’s my-They’re my…..imaginary…friend.” Whirl took a minute to look up, before she darted her optics to look up at Hoist with her helm directing to the floor.

“Oh. Y-You had an imaginary friend? That’s k-kinda cool. They look cool too.”

“Heh. To be honest…I actually didn’t know what an imaginary friend was until Cody asked me about the drawing a while ago.”

“O-Okay. So what were they to you, before t-they were your imaginary friend?”

“I honestly have no idea. When I started drawing this, Cody asked me who they were, so then I said-“

—-

“Oh I don’t know. They’re probably just someone I’ve met before but I don’t remember.”

Cody was looking at Whirl’s drawing of her beside this tall guy, and he was asking who they were. Wondering wether or not they were a Rescue Bot or not, cause he definitely hasn’t seen them before.

“Well, they look interesting. What’s their name?”

“Whirl.”

“Their name is Whirl too?”

“No. Just Whirl.”

Cody looked confused for a second. But then it became a little bit clearer when he connected a few dots he thought were obvious. And it wouldn’t be that surprising for someone her age to have had.

“So, you both have the same unique name, you recognize them enough to draw them, but you’ve never actually met before?”

“I know right? It’s like they’re a cool ghost with mind erasing powers, that has a mysterious past. Pretty cool right?”

“I see. So they’re your imaginary friend?”

“A what?”

“An imaginary friend.”

Cody then sat up on the table and he began to explain the concept of an imaginary friend. It’s someone who a kid, or someone young creates, in order to feel less lonely, or to just have interesting company. But the catch is, they aren’t real, and the whole point of creating an imaginary friend was to imagine they’re features to your liking. Even if what you find comfort in is a one-eyed, blue, string-bean with servos that looked like they were stolen from a claw machine.

“Huh. I guess that makes sense.”

“I didn’t mean to diminish your friend. If I’ve offended you in any way-“

“Oh no no no-I just I didn’t know what they were to me at first. But it does make more sense to call them an imaginary friend. I really don’t mind.”

“Okay then. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t hurt your feelings. Or, your friend, Whirl’s feeling either.”

“Its okay Cody. It’s not like, they can hear you if they’re imaginary, am I right?”

—-

“And let me guess. Y-You did mind?” Hoist asked, feeling bad for bringing it up in the first place.

“Well…not at first. But this was during the middle of our first year here. I’ve pretty much forgotten about it already. I just hung the drawing back up, because I liked what I did with the, uh…-line art! Yeah, it’s one of the neatest drawings I’ve ever done with the line art like that.” Whirl stated with full confidence.

Pointing to the piece of art she was holding up. Emphasizing how willing she is to prove that it didn’t have too much of a personal meaning to it. Nothing below the surface whatsoever within Whirl’s subconscious along with her self-doubt and anxieties. Nope. Nada.

“The..line art is r-really pretty…Now that you mention it.” Hoist said as he turned to give crinkled piece of paper Whirl’s digit was set upon his full attention.

“See. Nothing to worry about.”

“I-I see that, but why were you so g-guarded about it in the first place?”

“No….reason?” Whirl shrugged her shoulders and gritted her dente as her response left her voice box. Her insides felt twisted, her faceplates were hurting from pseudo-smiling, and her grip on the picture looked like she was hanging onto it for dear life. It really sucked that Hoist knew about how awkward the situation must’ve been. It was supposed to be just a simple answer, until Whirl’s big mouth just couldn’t keep shut. She thought she could try to convince herself and Hoist that the situation was fine. But, deep down she knew for a fact that she just couldn’t lie to friend. Especially Hoist, now that she knew he was worried about her. “Listen Hoist, I know, that you know, my feelings are a bit complicated at the moment, but i really just can’t talk about it right now. You’re a great friend, it’s just that-”

“Hey! Are you two coming with us or not?” Wedge yelled from down the hallway. Where everyone else were already at the groundbridge and waiting for them. Cutting off Whirl from explaining the rest to Hoist.

“Sorry Hoist, I really am. Maybe we can talk about this later?”

“Yeah. I understand. Take a-all the time you need.”

“Thanks buddy.”

And with that, they both met up with the others. The groundbridge flared a great big green and blue light. Electricity softly crackling, symbolizing their return home, and onto the train station back on Cybertron.

—-

The beginning of summer vacation has now become just little bit more complicated for Whirl, but she plans on talking it out with Hoist once she gets the chance. But for now, she just wants to go home, take a stasis nap on her berth-slab, and sleep in.

Maybe then she wouldn’t have to worry so much about the other Whirl. She’s just so conflicted. Every part of her is conflicted. Her thoughts, her emotions, her…memories are all so confusing-

*blank*

It’s the feeling she would always get from thinking too much about it. About…about….who was she thinking about? Oh yeah, her imaginary friend. She still had to apologize to Hoist about getting so worked up about it. It was like she was in a different dimension for a moment there.

Crazy right?

—————

Commentary:

Short chapter, I know. I already posted it on ao3, but I’m not sure if want to keep posting it on there. So I’m just gonna switch it over to tumblr. Cause I can. It’s also slightly easier for me. I wanted it to start off slow, and just inevitably build up to the climax to the beginning of the story. If you look hard enough, there’s a teeny bit of foreshadowing. Ooooooh.

#transformers #maccadam #maccadams #rescue bots academy #transformers rescue bots academy #rba #tfrba #rba whirl #rba hotshot #rba wedge #rba hoist #rba medix #Lost And Found #whirl & WHIRL #get it #How To Parent A Whirl #is not coming out anytime soon #i’m sorry

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mochiinf1 · 2 years

Text

flying economy - c. leclerc

fem! reader

content: fluff, sweet charles, unfortunate (but honestly not so bad) series of events for our poor driver

masterlist

Charles Leclerc was a man of class. Was he not only a racing driver for formula 1, but the man actually modeled every once in a while. He came from a good family in Monaco, which should say enough about who he is. It had been a while since the last time he had to fly in economy.

It was a last minute thing. The flying agency messed up big time, and now, he was flying economy with another company back to Monaco. He didn’t mind all that much, it wasn’t a 15 hour flight, it was around 6 hours or so. It would be fine, he would be fine. It wasn’t the end of the world.

That was what he thought until he was seated next to the most obnoxious couple in the plane. Charles didn’t want to be judgemental, but he was worried. The couple themselves looked just fine, however, they had a baby with them. Oh god. Charles was extremely tired, which was normal considering he was going back home from a tiring but successful race weekend. He was planning to sleep a few hours on the plane, but it looked like destiny had other plans for him.

He left his carry-on, which consisted of a backpack, on the upper compartments on the plane, and sat down next to the couple. At least he had a seat next to the corridor, that was a relief.

“We are very sorry sir, I hope our baby doesn’t disturb you during the flight. However, he does have the tendency to cry, especially at the beginning and the end of the flight.” spoke the lady next to Charles.

Well, damn it. Charles cursed in his mind. At least the woman was very nice to him, and apologized on behalf of her baby son. It wasn’t like Charles was blaming the baby for anything. It was only logical that pressure changes would disturb the young boy, therefore making him cry.

“Thank you. Don’t worry about it, it's not like you can control him or if he is uncomfortable.” Charles replied.

He took his phone out and texted his mom he was on the plane, she always wanted to know when he was coming back home, and whether he was doing okay. After that, he scrolled through Instagram until the plane finished filling up and getting ready for take off.

You finished putting your brother’s backpack on the top compartment, after struggling a bit since you barely reached it. The worst thing was that you weren’t exactly short, average height according to most people, but apparently some planes disagreed with that statement.

“I hope you pulled anything you might need for the flight out of your bag, because I’m not pulling it out again.” you told your brother, finally sitting down next to him.

“Yeah I did, no need for threats sis.” replied Griffin, your brother.

You had recently graduated University, and as a gift, your mother and step father offered you to take a trip around Europe. The only condition was for you to take Griffin with you. You didn’t mind, you and your step brother had a wonderful relationship. Being related or not didn’t matter much to either of you.

Griffin had graduated high school the previous summer, and didn’t know what to study. According to your parents, traveling could give him a few ideas. During the time that you had traveled, Griffin’s company proved to be very useful. He was very good at taking pictures for you, he liked exploring, so visiting many places in one day wasn’t a problem, he had good fashion sense and gave honest opinions, and the most important, he was taller than you.

Whenever you didn’t reach something or somewhere, he would do it for you. It was great, since he would put your bags on the top compartments of the plane. At least, that was until he fell down the stairs of a museum and he sprained his wrist. No carrying heavy stuff with that hand for a few weeks, but he would still play video games.

“So, we have a 6 hour flight ahead. Are we playing something on the nintendo or are you going to be a moody teen and ignore me?” you said teasingly. You were the older sibling, that had some benefits.

“We can play something, y/n. And, for your information, I’m neither moody nor a tee-” Griffin said, but suddenly stopped while staring at something, or someone.

“Griff, all good?” you asked, turning around to look wherever he was staring. “What are you looking at?”

“Did you see who just sat down there? Like, two seats in front of us on the other side! Next to that couple with the baby!” he whispered.

“Um, no. Who?”

“Charles Leclerc”

“Is he a celebrity or something? The name sounds familiar, but I don’t remember who he is supposed to be.”

“The F1 racing driver, from Ferrari. Remember I was watching a race and you said he was hot?”

“I remember saying half of the racing drivers were hot, Griff. And my memory is good except when it comes to names, you know that.”

Griffin rolled his eyes at you and took his phone out to search for something. He was interrupted by the sound of a baby crying. Both of you turned to each other with worried looks.

The flight attendants walked around as if looking for something. It looked like they had lost something, they were probably stressed out of their minds. Losing something in a plane must have been a nightmare.

“Hey, Y/n! Look! There, that’s Charles Leclerc!” Griffin whispered yelled into your ear, pointing to a man who was standing up from his seat and taking something out of his bag.

“Oh, yeah. Now I remember him. Ferrari you said, right?” you replied, Griffin nodded at your question. “Poor guy, he looks exhausted. There was a race this past weekend, right? Having to travel next to a baby after having such a stressful few days must be a nightmare.”

“I know. I thought they traveled on business or first class though, maybe something happened with the airline.” your brother said.

You turned to look at the seat next to you, it was empty. The plane doors had been closed about 5 minutes ago, but because of air traffic, you supposed, you were still waiting to leave the gate.

“Wait here Griff, I’ll be right back.” you told your brother while unfastening your seatbelt and standing up.

“Wait, Y/n! What are you doing?”

You walked up to the man you now knew was Charles Leclerc. You had had your fair share of plane rides after exhausting weeks. Being a college student whose University was in a different country than her own meant you had to travel back home for Christmas after finals. Thank the heavens, you had never been seated next to a crying baby on those occasions, but you had on others. The combination of tiredness and babies crying on a 6 hour flight didn’t sit right with you.

“Excuse me, sir. I don’t mean to overstep, but if you want, the seat next to me is empty. You look exhausted, if you want, you can take it.” you said.

Charles didn’t expect for the baby next to him to start crying even before the plane started moving. He decided the best course of action was to take out his headphones to try and muffle the sound of the baby next to him. He stood up from his seat and opened the upper compartment to find his bag.

“Excuse me, sir.” a voice called him. “ I don’t mean to overstep, but if you want, the seat next to me is empty. You look exhausted, if you want, you can take it.”

Charles turned to the source of the voice and found a girl, around his age, looking up at him. She was slightly pointing at a seat 2 rows behind him on the opposite side. She was wearing a pair of black leggings and a military green sweatshirt, her hair was loose and a little bit messy, probably from the airport hecticness. He couldn’t help but stare a little, she was very pretty after all.

“My brother and I are sitting there, but the remaining seat in the row is empty.” the girl repeated, at his lack of response.

He was pulled out of his trance. “Um, yes thank you. Are you sure you don't mind?” he asked.

“Not at all, don’t worry about it.” she replied sincerely.

Charles looked one last time at the couple next to him, who was now trying to calm down the baby and looking for something in a bag. He didn’t think twice about it. He would be more comfortable on another seat, and perhaps the couple would be more comfortable to have a row for themselves as well.

He took his bag and closed the compartment, following the girl to her seat. He left his bag and sat down next to the girl. There he found another boy, around the age of 18, sitting next to the window.

“I’m Charles by the way.” he introduced himself. The least he could do after the girl had kindly offered the seat next to hers.

“I’m y/n, pleasure to meet you. This is my brother Griffin.”

The guy next to her gave him a slight smile and a wave. Had he seen him staring at his sister? Maybe he was the type of brother to be kind of protective over her.

“Griffin here, is a big fan of Formula 1. He is a bit surprised to see you here, but if you are willing, maybe you can sign something for him?” y/n asked kindly.

“Sure, no problem!” Well, maybe he hadn’t seen him staring at his sister, or he wasn’t mad about it. Good to know.

“My cap is in my bag though, sis. You think you could sign it later? She will kill me if I make her grab something up there again.” Griffin said, showing Charles the bandage around his wrist.

“Of course, I have my marker in my bag too. How did that happen? If I may ask.” Charles asked, suddenly interested in the pair beside him.

“He tripped over the stairs in a museum trying to take a picture of a cute girl he saw.” stated y/n, teasing his brother.

“A picture you asked for, sis. Your fault, not mine.”

“You were the idiot who tripped, don’t go blaming things on me!”

The playful arguments and snarky comments reminded him of Arthur. It had been a while since he had last seen him, hopefully he could see him now that he was going back home.

The three of them continued talking throughout the flight. They even played on the nintendo switch that Griffin brought, taking turns, and eventually, Charles and y/n teaming up against Griffin, who kept winning despite having a broken wrist.

Charles' tiredness suddenly fading away, and only wanting to keep talking to the pair of siblings. When Griffin started feeling tired, Charles and y/n continued playing by themselves, allowing the younger one to rest for a while.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep yourself? Racing must be extremely tiring.” y/n asked him.

“No, I'd rather keep playing with you. I’ll rest when I get home.” he smiled at her, sending butterflies to her stomach. She had met him a few hours prior and she was already getting those reactions.

The hours passed by, they stopped playing after a while, deciding just to talk for a bit.

“So, you are going to be in Monaco for how long?” Charles asked.

“For a week or a bit more I think. I need to check the dates, I didn’t quite plan the trip after all.” she replied.

“If you are up for it, I could show you guys around. I don’t have any races for a few weeks, so my schedule is pretty much empty.”

“That would be lovely, are you sure though? We wouldn’t want to disturb your rest from work.”

“You wouldn’t bother at all, I wouldn’t be offering if you did.”

She laughed at the statement, a sound Charles had really come to enjoy.

“Well then, if you are offering a tour around Monaco, how much should I pay you?”

He was taken aback by her question, he was offering it as a favor, not something she would pay for. “Why would you need to pay for me showing you around?”

“I can’t have you offering services for free, can I?” she said.

It was his turn to laugh. “Tell you what, you can pay me by going out to dinner with me. Does that sound like fair payment?”

Y/n smiled at him. “Only if you let me pay.”

“To be discussed.”

“Well then, should I give you my number to further discuss the time and place?”

“And if it goes well, to arrange a second time? Of course.”

Charles expected for his economy flight to be a nightmare the moment he saw a crying baby next to his seat. However, he was now thanking the young soul for being there, and allowing his now girlfriend to come up to him and offer the seat next to hers.

He was glad to have flown economy that day.

I wrote this for the TG1F girls! (Two Girls 1 Formula). Make sure to go and listen to their podcast, it’s amazing!

#charles lecrelc #ferrari #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 x reader

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