#they are borrowing hiccup's clothes!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delulujuls · 11 months ago

Text

friends don't know how you taste | ms47

hi! i know that i have a lot of second parts to write, like for example for this one, but i just cant write other stuff when i am having particular ideas in mind, ya feel me? but dont worry, i remember all of the requests and i will write them in the sooner than later future, i promise!

but here comes the mick schumacher's one and i hope that you will enjoy this while waiting for the next parts for other shots, so bon apetit!

summary: when you are in love with your best friend and only alcohol can untie your tongue to reveal your feelings

warnings: reader being drunk, mentions of alcohol usage

pairing: fem!bffreader x mick schumacher

"Careful, watch out."

The tipsy giggles intensified as Mick steadied his friend's waist a bit more securely while they exited the elevator on the correct floor.

The girl struggled to maintain her balance, and despite being upset when her friends ordered transportation to the hotel for her, she was delighted when Mick turned out to be her ride.

"We're almost there, you're doing great," he reassured her.

Occasionally, he glanced at her, wanting to ensure that the alcohol wasn't taking a negative toll on her. She, however, was in great spirits, giggling and being very talkative.

"When they told me to go back to the hotel because 'I've had enough,'-" she mocked one of her friends, hiccuping, "at first, I got mad. But when I saw it was you who came for me, you have no idea how happy I was to see you!"

She stopped and embraced him, hugging tightly. Mick chuckled softly and reciprocated the hug. He knew he was in for a rather amusing evening with his friend, whom he had no intention of leaving in such a state, even though he could see that she had indulged in one of those harmless ways that shouldn't lead to any harm. Nevertheless, he wanted a clear conscience.

"I'm happy to see you too, liebling."

The girl lifted her head, smiling at his face. Her mascara was slightly smudged, her eyes sparkling, and a wide smile stretched across her rosy lips. Mick returned her smile, looking at her affectionately. She looked charming, staring at him like a painting in the middle of an empty hotel corridor.

"Liebling," she repeated, trying to mimic the German accent, "am I your liebling?"

Schumacher laughed, hearing her feigned accent.

"Of course you are."

She giggled again and hugged him once more. Shortly after, they managed to reach her hotel room. Mick closed the door behind them and seated his friend on the bed. She immediately sank into the soft mattress, feeling everything around her spin. Mick put her purse aside and took off her shoes.

"We'll get you into something more comfortable, okay?"

"Just say you want to undress me."

She joked, giggling. Mick chuckled and shook his head. He was genuinely curious about what interesting things he would learn from his intoxicated friend, with whom he had been friends for many years, and who had never made him feel that there was anything more than friendship between them. However, with alcohol, the girl always became more open, and whenever he was around, she enjoyed his company. Mick decided to play along.

"No, absolutely. After all, we're just friends, right?"

He said, taking off her leather jacket.

"Friends, just friends," the girl sighed heavily, sitting down with difficulty, "of course, as you wish, liebling."

Mick laughed when she again used the term he often called her, this time with an exaggerated German accent that amused him.

"Do you even know what that term means?"

"Liebling?"

"Mhm."

He said, squatting by her suitcase and looking for something for her to change into. As he searched through her clothes, to his surprise, he came across his own T-shirt, which she must have borrowed from him at some point. He smiled to himself. It fit perfectly, being a bit too big for her and, as a result, comfortable.

"Of course, I know."

The girl snorted. Mick stood up and approached her again, holding the T-shirt in his hand.

"So, tell me, and I'll get you changed, okay?"

The girl nodded, a shadow of intense contemplation appearing on her drunken face.

"Liebling," she said again, with the feigned accent, "means darling."

Mick smiled, squatting down and unbuttoning her pants.

"That's right, it means darling."

"I'm your darling?"

She asked, looking at him. He lifted his gaze, and their eyes met. His once amused blue eyes suddenly became serious, and the girl's intoxicated, gleaming eyes also became a bit more serious, too. Nevertheless, a smile still lingered on her face.

"Am i?"

She repeated the question, but Mick couldn't bring himself to utter a word. However, he thought that the next morning, his friend probably wouldn't remember half of the evening, so why worry about what he would say? Even if he revealed his long-hidden feelings to her now, he could gauge her reaction even if it wasn't positive. Everything would return to normal the next morning. He decided to take the risk.

"Of course, you are, liebling."

The girl smiled. Mick returned her smile. He took off her pants and tossed them aside, leaving his friend in just the top and underwear. He stood up and handed her the T-shirt, which she clutched in her hand.

"Can you manage the rest? I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"You promised to dress me, so you should keep your word."

She said confidently, looking into his eyes again.

"However you wish."

He replied softly, smiling slightly. He took hold of the bottom of her top and carefully removed it. He tried not to stare; that would be impolite. He grabbed his T-shirt and helped her put it on, tucking her hair behind the collar.

"We'll remove your makeup now, okay?"

The girl nodded and pointed to the bathroom. Mick disappeared for a moment, returning with micellar water and cotton pads. He sat next to his friend, looked at her face, and warmly smiled at her, sweeping her hair from her face and tucking it behind her ears. The girl closed her eyes and nestled into his hand. Mick stroked her cheek with his thumb, looking at her affectionately.

"You have pleasant hands. I like your hands."

He chuckled softly.

"Is there anything else you like about me?"

He asked, after a moment, taking a cotton pad and soaking it with makeup remover. He placed one hand on the back of her head and gently started removing her makeup with the other.

"I really like your eyes," she said after a while, without hesitation, "they're beautiful. Like the sky on a summer afternoon."

Mick smiled, hearing that comparison. With careful movements, he swiped the cotton pad over her cheek.

"I love your smile. And your laughter—whenever you laugh, you brighten everything around you." As she said this, she smiled herself. Mick couldn't hide his own smile.

"God, I think there's nothing about you that I don't like."

"Really?"

He giggled, taking another cotton pad, and he applied it to her eyes.

"Although, no, there's one thing I don't like about you."

"I'm all ears then."

"That you haven't made me Mrs. Schumacher yet."

Mick smiled. For a moment, he worried if he had missed something.

"Would you like to be Mrs. Schumacher?"

"Oh God, yes!"

She replied without hesitation, making him laugh. He set the cotton pads aside and leaned in, examining her face carefully, checking if he had done well in the task entrusted to him—removing her makeup.

The girl bit her lip, watching his face.

"You're doing great. This is the moment when you give me a kiss."

Mick was taken aback by her confidence. Even though, he looked into her eyes and smiled.

"Like this?"

He asked, touching her cheek and kissing her. He felt her smile against his lips, deepening the kiss. Although her lips tasted like alcohol, the kiss was filled with emotions. Not wanting to overdo it, he intended to pull away, but she grabbed his hoodie and pulled him closer.

After a while, they separated, but their foreheads were still pressed against each other.

"You have no idea how much I like you."

Mick confessed quietly.

The girl laughed softly.

"And you're telling me this now, when I'm drunk?"

"You probably won't remember it in the morning," he replied, stroking her cheek, "so I'm not worried that it will change anything between us."

"And you don't want anything to change?"

Mick sighed and lowered his gaze, leaning back a bit. He took her hand in his.

"You're drunk, baby."

"No, not at all."

She replied quickly, but hiccups got the better of her. Mick smiled, stroking her hand with his thumb.

"I'm afraid you won't remember anything from this conversation tomorrow."

"Answer me, Mick," she said, looking into his eyes, which were now avoiding hers, "you don't want anything to change?"

He looked at her. He felt that this joking conversation had taken on a completely serious tone. So, he decided to go all-in.

"I'd like to stop pretending that I only want to be your friend."

The girl smiled.

"So let's stop being just friends."

Mick was about to say something, but she kissed him again. Despite the taste of alcohol from her lips, he also felt the taste of change.

After all, friends don't know how you taste, right?

#f1 imagines #f1 #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher x reader #ms47

246 notes · View notes

emeritusemeritus · 1 year ago

Text

No Good Deeds [George Weasley x Reader]

Part 5

Part 1 2 3 4 5

Pairing: {George Weasley x Reader} mentions of previous Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Set a few years after DH, loosely following Canon.

Summary: A few years after Fred’s death, the investors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes demand changes to the name. All it would take is two years of a fake marriage to fix the issues, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Warnings: Fake marriage trope because we love the cliché. Mentions of death (Fred). Friends to lovers. Slow burn but mentions of kissing and eventual smut. Swearing. George calls us Angel. Drinking. SMUT. The smut has arrived! P in V, oral (both). Angst, sadness, grief. Tags will be updated with each chapter. Not Beta-read or spell checked.

Honeymoon time 💕

Your wedding to George was a jubilant celebration with your family and friends, a chance to bask in the love you were so thankful to receive from everyone around you. You'd honoured Fred in many ways that day, including photos of him, an empty chair with his name on and many other little ways to make it seem like he was there. You'd noticed George had worn his chain under his suit shirt and the sight of it made butterflies flutter inside you.

It was a small and quaint wedding that had admittedly been rushed in planning, only two weeks after you'd announced your engagement, but it was perfect. No one had doubted your intentions and the day had gone completely to plan, except for the regular hiccups that seem to occur when a group of people are brought together. Muriel had been characteristically foul as usual and had clashed with your great aunt Ariadne though she'd avoided the more triggering topics which was one consolation.

You danced with your friends and your now blended family late into the night, with George eventually stealing you back from dancing with Bill for one final dance.

"Have you had a good day Mrs Weasley?" He asks, holding you close as you sway with surprising grace even with the healthy amount of alcohol you'd both consumed.

"The best, Mr Weasley," you beam up at him, his handsomeness once again hitting you as you look upon his smiling face.

"Couldn't have asked for better. I don't think you've ever looked more beautiful."

The night you'd spent together had not been repeated since, nor had you really spoken about it. There was a lingering tension between you, growing increasingly stronger throughout the day as you thought of your wedding night and honeymoon, the anticipation almost consuming you.

Ginny and Fleur had whisked you away from George not long after your final dance to get you ready to leave for your honeymoon, which you'd be departing for very soon. It was tradition in the Weasley family to immediately begin your honeymoon the night of the wedding and you had readily accepted the chance to exit out of the wedding a little earlier into the night, giving you and George some time alone.

You'd chosen to honeymoon in the U.K. to keep costs down, after all this whole situation was based upon George reclaiming the shop as sole owner and any unnecessary spending would only increase the amount of time you'd be married. Bill and Fleur had graciously offered for you to stay in Shell Cottage with them but George had instead chosen to surprise you with your destination. He'd tactfully evaded every single one of your questions, relishing in his power of knowledge but had thankfully given you a few clues as to what you should pack. Clothes for all weather, from hot to bitter cold, a couple of 'nice' outfits and a bathing suit. So, nothing to really go off.

Percy had arranged a ministry car for you to borrow for the week, his gift for you both and you'd decided to travel like muggles for the week, taking your time and only using magic when necessary. George was driving to your destination, the luggage and travel necessities having been packed up earlier that day by the Weasley boys and Harry.

The crowd cheered as you both walked towards the car that was waiting for you, your family and friends gathered around with jubilant faces as you walked hand in hand towards the car. You both paused to thank and embrace Mr and Mrs Weasley before climbing into the car, George opening the door for you before getting in on his side. You waved at the gathering of people in front of you as George pulled away and as you pulled away from the Burrow, you peered through the back window, squirming around the freshly painted 'just married' sign to see your loved ones fading further away as they carried on the party.

"Are you okay?" George asks gently as he drives out of Ottery St Catchpole, the rolling Devonshire fields passing you by as the sun begins to set.

"I'm... incredible, I don't think there are words for how I'm feeling," you say with a wide smile, giggling a little at your inability to get your words out. He chuckles and reaches for your hand, pulling it onto the gear stick to join his.

"I know what you mean, I feel like I'm floating," he says, flashing you a smile before turning his attention back to the road. You take the opportunity of his attention being elsewhere to really look at him, the plains of his face looking unbelievably handsome to you. He looked stunning in his suit, the colour and cut of the material only serving as a compliment to his gorgeous red hair and sharp features.

"Checking me out Mrs Weasley?" He says with a smirk, eyes still fixed on the road. You fight to hide the creeping blush that appears on your cheeks, realising that he'd caught you staring. You bite your lip and turn away, choosing to look out of the window at the rolling hills instead. "You can you know, I'm yours now."

You turn to look at him and the smile he has plastered on his face fills you with warmth and nervous excitement.

"You look so handsome, I feel like I can't take my eyes off you," you admit, a little bashfully.

He gives a deep chuckle and squeezes your hand that is still held by his own.

"You have no idea how hard it is to drive right now, all I want to do is stare at you," he admits, though he sounds completely unashamed of his words. You blush and look away again, this time out of pure bliss, wanting to remember everything about this moment.

"Get some sleep Angel, it's quite a drive," he says softly a few minutes later, turning down the radio that was playing music in the background.

"I'm okay," you lightly protest, despite feeling relaxed by the drive. "I wish I'd taken this dress off though, not the best travelling outfit."

"And take that joy away from me? How dare you," he jokes, sounding a little outraged. Your stomach instantly fills with nerves and butterflies at his words; he intended to take your dress off.

You fell asleep a short while later, just as the last slither of sunlight had disappeared into the horizon, the long stretch of road ahead now only lit by car lights and the faint cats eyes on the ground. The mixture of the low humming from the radio, the gentle rocking of the car and the presence of George was enough to lull you into a much needed sleep as you cuddled into a pillow you'd thought to pack, wishing that you were wearing something much less restrictive but that couldn't be helped.

When you woke again, it was still pitch black and George was still driving, the car lights ahead of you the only clue to where you were.

"Hi Angel," George says, noticing you staring as he briefly looks over at you with a smile.

"Mmm, hi Georgie," you mumble back, still fighting off the last embers of sleep. "Where are we?"

"Nice try," he says, not falling at the last hurdle and you give a little huff, hoping that one would have worked. "About an hour away."

"Is there time to stop for a coffee somewhere?" You ask, sitting straighten in your seat as you abandon the pillow into your lap.

"I don't know anywhere that would be open," he says, flicking his eyes to the dashboard clock, prompting you to do so and realising that it was now past midnight, much to your surprise.

"McDonald's will be," you say with a little shrug, trying to see any hints from signposts as to where you were of where the next services would be.

"McDonald's?" He asks, completely oblivious and you can't help but laugh, never having thought about how the notion of 24 hour fast food had not yet entered the wizarding world, making George completely oblivious.

"It's a 24 hour restaurant, usually around road services, it's fast food," you explain. He immediately gets it and let's out a little 'ahhh' of understanding, telling you that there was a services coming up and you could check if there was one there. There was.

Introducing George Weasley to drive-through ordering was nothing short of hilarious and you'd briefly lamented the fact that his first McDonald's experience wouldn't be inside an actual McDonald's building but you were not about to enter a fast food joint at a service station in a wedding dress. You'd both ordered a coffee, yourself a medium coke and then you had excitedly introduced him to not only a Big Mac but also chicken nuggets, both of which were a complete revelation to him and you had to hold back serious giggles at his reactions. Half an hour later and you were on your way, coffees in hand and belly's a little fuller as you prepared for the last part of your journey.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take over? I don't mind driving to give you a break," you offered as you watch him put on his seatbelt.

"You don't know where we're going," he says with a devilish smirk but you feign innocence.

"Then just tell me and I'll get us there," you say innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

"Nice try baby," he says with an even more sinister smirk, his eyes roaming your face briefly before he turns on the car and begins to pull away after one last sip of coffee.

You were transfixed as George turned right up a long winding path entirely shielded by trees, the long road leading you deeper under the canopy of trees until you were completely surrounded by woodland. You could make out a small, warm light at the end of the long road and became transfixed on the approaching light, trying to focus your eyes hard on that point, trying to make sense of it. The car swerved a little to avoid a large twig in the road which brought your destination into clear view.

You gasped at the beauty of the scene in front of you, looking excitedly at George who looked more than pleased at your reaction.

"George," you say breathlessly as he parks up in the little clearing beside the place you'd be staying.

It was a rustic log cabin, completely shielded away from everything by a large canopy of trees, a beautiful escape completely hidden away from the outside world. The cabin was almost entirely made of wood with wooden shutters and a wrap around deck.

"George it's beautiful," you say, completely gobsmacked as you look at the gorgeous lodge in front of you, seeing it illuminated by the multiple lanterns that offered a stark contrast against the pitch black night.

"Only the best for my bride," he teases, opening up his car door, prompting you to do the same.

"Want to explore whilst I unload the car?" He asks with a grin, holding the keys to the cabin out in front of you, the little wooden keyring clinking against the two old fashioned keys. You nod enthusiastically and reach out to grab them, pulling George in and without much thought, you leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. Instantly, you realised what you'd done and took a step back, blushing a little as you avoided his gaze. His hand had instinctively wrapped around your back and he gave your back a little rub as you parted, showing no ill will as you turned and walked excitedly towards the cabin.

Opening the door, you were immediately met with an illuminated room thanks to the warm lighting from multiple lamps and light fixtures. The cabin was warm, as if there was a log fire already burning and the smell was heavenly, clean and fresh but with an indisputable scent of wood and pine, a natural consequence of it's idyllic surroundings. You walked through a little entrance hall that houses a utility room before stepping into an open living room, dining room and kitchen, all of which were warm and inviting with natural wood features throughout and neutral colours, highlighting the windows which you knew would almost certainly have beautiful views in the morning. There were two brown leather sofas that looked absolutely lush and a single armchair underneath a window that looked perfect for reading, a tall lamp beside it and a little table for drinks. There was a television and a cabinet in the corner and beside that was a beautiful log burner that was indeed lit, radiating heat throughout the home. You couldn't see much through the side door that was half glass but the outside light did illuminate the decking a little, highlighting a rather impressive sunken hot tub that was covered, eliciting a little excited squeal from you.

You walked down a small corridor that led off from the main atrium through a beautifully carved wooden door with an old metal latch which led you to the bathroom on the left and two bedrooms. You crept into the bathroom to take a peak and saw a big bathtub to the left and a built in shower to the right, as if every need was catered for. One bedroom has two single beds partitioned with a beautiful shelving unit and the other bedroom was almost certainly the master.

There was a huge four poster bed against the back wall bookended by two beside tables with lamps that looked entirely too inviting. The bedding was sheer white and completely crease free, only adding to its appeal. There was a smaller television in here too, along with a dressing table and a large, ornate wardrobe that looked older than the cabin itself.

"What do you think Mrs Weasley?" George asks from behind you as you pause to run your hand over the ornately carved bed frame. You turn to see him leaning against the doorframe with a smirk, still wearing his wedding suit but now with his tie removed and a few buttons open near his collar.

"I think it's absolutely beautiful Mr Weasley," you reply, turning to him with a look of pure elation.

"Just like my wife then," he says with a look in his eyes that makes your pulse race. He steps towards you with clear conviction and it's all you can do not to melt into a puddle, the look in his eye so dangerously arousing that you're almost frozen to the spot. It was the first time he'd called you his wife and the reaction that it pulled from your body was almost unbelievable, the sound of it almost heavenly in your mind.

As soon as he reaches you, there's a brief pause as if he's searching your face for any hint of resistance, not that he'd find any. When he sees the look in your eye, knowing that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you, he steps even closer and wraps his hand around the back of your neck before leaning down and kissing you with a burning passion.

Your hands slip up to his chest, feeling the material of his lapels under your fingers and pull slightly, needing to feel him as close to you as possible as you pull his jacket off. His fingers tangle in your hair as the kiss deepens, tongues working together to fuel the burning desire between you both.

With his right hand cradling your head and his left clutching as your waist, he begins leading you to the side of the bed, silently asking if it was okay to go further.

"Make love to me George," you say against his lips, hardly wanting to pull away for even a second. You hear him groan against your lips before his hand slips from your hair and down to your butt, cradling you and taking your weight. In a move that would otherwise impress you if you'd seen it in person, he sweeps you off your feet whilst climbing onto the bed and lays you down softly before climbing over you, kicking off his shoes in the process.

"I've waited all day to rip this dress off of you," he mumbles against your skin as he begins kissing down your neck, onto your bare shoulders where your dress straps began, the soft layers of the gown suddenly feeling much too restrictive as your skin burnt up with desire. He kisses down your chest as your hands tangle in his slightly grown out hair. There's a single moment where your eyes meet, just as he hovers over your panting cleavage and it takes your breath away how absolutely sexy he looks, the desire and admiration in his eyes mirroring your own. His long fingers drag against your rib cage as they dance over to your covered breasts before he reaches in to pull down the cup of dress, exposing your right breast to him, your dusky pink nipple already hard and waiting for him. He groans, watching your breast spring free and immediately bends down to run his tongue over the pebbled nipple, eliciting a deep, breathy moan from you before his lips wrap about the little bud and begin sucking. You moan out again, throwing your head back into the pillows at the overwhelming sensation and suddenly you feel the whole atmosphere change. There's no trepidation anymore, no resistance or questioning but rather just a primal urge between both of you.

You can tell that George is feeling for the opening your dress so you divert his fingers to the small, concealed zipper on the side and help him drag it down, much too slowly for your liking. He pulls away the dress after you slip your arms out and you watch carefully as his mouth slips open to a little 'o' shape as he pulls the dress from your body, exposing you completely to his gaze. You couldn't wear a bra with your dress thanks to the unique straps but you had thought you buy a tiny white lace thong that you'd had embroidered with a little 'W' on the left side of the crotch, knowing it would either make him laugh or make him growl. Luckily for you, it was most certainly the latter as he groaned as he spotted it, momentarily fixated on your naked breasts that were exposed completely for his view, his eyes travelling down your body with acute precision before he eventually noticed your little customisation. He groans and leans down to press a kiss directly to where the 'W' was situated, just above your mound and you can't help but squirm as the sensation of having him so close to where you needed him. He notices, of course he does, and his eyes flick up to yours with a look of pure mischief as he begins kissing the inside of your thigh and across your bikini line, teasing you. You groan and can't help but roll your hips as he flutters kisses everywhere apart from where you need them.

"My beautiful wife needs something?" He teases, acting completely oblivious when you knew he was very aware.

"Please George," you beg, "need you."

Like a switch had been flicked in George's mind, his long fingers begin tracing your pussy through the very thin and nearly transparent lace, groaning once again when he feels the wetness seeping through the lace. You feel his fingers hook into the side of your thong, catching your labia with a little stroke before he pulls them away from your burning pussy, exposing you completely to his view. He wastes no time and leans down, licking a long stripe across your pussy, catching your swollen clit with the til of his tongue in the most perfect way that has you gasping and moaning.

"Fuck you taste good, so sweet," he whines into your pussy, resting his forehead against your mound for a moment before he slips down again, this time licking you with vigour. "So wet baby."

His tongue is everywhere, delicately stroking and teasing whilst also hitting every spot you need him in perfectly. It's a perfect juxtaposition between his igniting a fire inside of you, making you burn with desire and pure torment whilst also extinguishing the flames with his tongue. As soon as his finger traces your inner lips as it moves down, gently pressing into your waiting hole before he slips one of his long, deft fingers inside of you, you're gone. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, hips rising of their own accord as you grope your breasts, completely consumed by your pleasure. He slips a second finger into you as you cry out, fucking yourself on his fingers as he circles your clit with his tongue, putting pressure on the left side just as he's discovered drives you crazy.

"George, George!" You chant as you feel the beginning of your orgasm rising in you very quickly, consuming you and burning you from the inside out. Your pussy is drenched and you can feel more arousal gushing from you as your climax crests, George's own moans ringing out in your mind as he pushes you over the edge. It's like you're falling, the crescendo of light and burning arousal overtaking your whole body and mind, the only capable thought in your mind is of George. He licks you slowly as you come down, careful to avoid your sensitive clit as he laps up your cum, fingers still slowly fucking you bath and forth with gentle strokes, extending your pleasure.

You gasp to catch your breath, chest rising and falling rapidly as your heart pounds, the effects of your orgasm still lingering as you feel a tingle across your whole body. It takes all of ten seconds for you to focus your attention back to George who has pulled his fingers out of you and began kissing your inner thigh again, soothing you as you return to him.

You sit up and reach for him, pulling him on top of you as you kiss him feverishly, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips. He notices and groans deeply against your lips, almost growling as you lick at his lips, desperate for a taste. You claw at his shirt, desperate to even out your nudity and feel his skin against yours and as if he can sense the sheer desperation, reaches down and completely rips the front of his shirt, the flying and falling buttons only an afterthought as you fight to get the shredded shirt away from his body. Your hands slip to his smooth shoulders and down his back as you kiss him desperately, pulling his tongue into your mouth so you can suck on it, relishing in his deep groans and little whines. Your hands rest on his collarbones as you slowly pull away from him, pushing him slightly until he realises was you want. You overpower him with just enough force that he rolls onto his back as you immediately latch to his chest, kissing and biting as you make your way down to your destination.

His suit trousers are completely tented, the sheer size an excitement of him almost intimidating to you as you fight to open the fastenings of his trousers. You don't wait even a moment after they are open to slide them down his hips, along with his black boxer briefs until he was completely bare, except from his sentimental chain and your wedding rings. You crawl back up the bed after throwing aside his bottoms and flick your eyes up to see his own desperate look as you come face to face with his rather impressive member. His lips are parted and he looks completely desperate as he watches you carefully, silently pleading for you to take his aching length in your mouth. You grant him reprieve almost instantly, licking straight from the crest of his balls to the engorged tip of his cock, tracing the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, following the gentle curve. He cries out at the contact and it makes you want to do everything in your power to hear it over and over again.

You gave into him completely, taking his tip in your mouth and licking all around, earning another heavenly noise from him before you sucked in your cheeks and bobbed up and down his length, taking him deeper and deeper with each fall; never stopping your tongue from running along the length of him. You were addicted to him, the taste, the weight of his length against your tongue, the feel of his smooth skin against your lips. You fought to go further with each bob, sucking him down like the most delicious treat from Honeydukes, giving everything you could.

George was moaning mess before you, desperately searching for any part of your body he could reach as he fought to stop his hips from rising each time you'd pull off, like he never wanted to leave your hot, wet mouth. Sweet names, curses and a load more expletives fell from his mouth as you pleasured him until he reached out, leaning forward to pull you closer to him.

You were dripping, more aroused than ever and so desperate for him to fill you that it was all you could think about. He pauses, looking at the little strip of lace that was still misplaced, concealing nothing of yourself and ripped the thin strings on the sides, tearing it away from your body, both of you complete bare to the other's gaze.

It was so intimate and intense that it stole the breath from your lungs, just how adoringly he was gazing at you. His hand grabbed around your neck, holding your face and threading into your hair as he kissed you completely without abandon, your chests pressed together as your leg slipped between his, desperately seeking friction.

"Ride me baby," he mumbles against your lips and as if acting directly on command, you comply. You lift your hips and straddle him, his narrow hips allowing your thighs to rest against his comfortably as your centres align, the heat and sensitivity joining together to make you both gasp.

He reaches down and holds his perfect cock at the bottom, ready for you to climb onto and you can hardly contain your cries as you slowly sink down, feeling him stretching you out. He pulls his hand away, moaning at the sensation as his hand rests on your bum, the large hand and long fingers wrapping around your bum and thigh.

It's sinful how well he stretches you out, filling you completely without any pain or discomfort, like you'd been moulded perfectly for his cock alone.

When your hips rise again and you sink back down, this time much more confidently, your head flips back at the sensation. George grunts and tightens his grip on you as you slowly begin to ride him, hips undulating and breasts bouncing as you fall into a perfect rhythm. Your hair fans out across your back and you've never felt sexier in that moment, feeling adored under his gaze and praised by not only his words but also his moans and growls.

You're both so worked up, so perfectly in sync that you can hardly contain yourself, not even caring to try and hold off the impending climax that threatens you, creeping up slowly until it's impossible to resist. You can feel your walls clenching around him, your arousal peaking as it leaks out around his cock and you're rewarded with the most incredible moans that spill from his lips at the sensation.

"George, Georgie I'm gonna," you stagger, completely breathless as you keep riding him, finding the perfect spot and movement so that he hits every single pleasure point inside you.

"Cum Angel, fuck, cum around my cock," he pants, groaning and tightening his grip on your hips as he fucks up into you. "Godric you're tight, perfect little pussy squeezing my cock so good. Cum for me Angel."

You chant his name as the heat of your second orgasm consumes you, never once stopping as you bounce on his cock. He takes over fucking up into you as you ride out your climax, filling you completely as he shoves his entire length into you before pulling almost completely out and repeating the motion. You're in complete bliss, overwhelmingly so, and can hardly stop tears of overstimulation brimming at your eyes, blurring your vision only slightly. George lets out a roar as he cums, fucking up into you with a brutal pace that is sinful at best. His hands pull you close to him, bruises forming under his grip but it's perfect.

His thrust stop slowly as he comes down from his high, riding out the last of his pleasure as he pulls you down to rest on him, softening cock slipping out at the angle. You breathe deeply as you feel the evidence of his pleasure slipping out of you slowly, trickling down until it dripped onto your inner thighs.

He cranes his neck to reach out to kiss you again, though this time it's like a warm down, gentle and sensitive.

"Welcome to the family," he wheezes after a few moments of comfortable silence and you let out a loud belly laugh at the absurdity of his words, tapping his chest as you slink down to rest beside him, his arm still keeping you pressed to him. He's covered you both with the duvet and you can't resist slipping into a very comfortable sleep, too comfortable and worn out from the day to fight it.

Taglist Requests

@ferntv

@aigowen

@that-lame-ghoul9000

@jules-with-stars

@sleepiemocha

@seppys-return-to-madness

@wtvbabes

@the-mrs-malik-styles

@cedslover

@nisapoosworld

@dashhhhkaaa

@ghostlytv

@fiathefirst

@costheticbabe

@cliffburtonscig

@lildrunkjkk

@levylovegood

@jewelsrules

@jphxnix

@asuperconfusedgirl

@staceys-moms-thighs

@nighttimewrites

@egghasnoleg

@mel119g

@angelrioter

@minatozsana

@quinny921

@blahhh819

@comicgollum20

@moonieseyelash

@marisimps

@xslashers

@70s-chic

@shadyunknowncreation

@rockabieesstuff

@moon-2424

@chx-la

@malenk

@jimmywoosimp

@soulessfictionaddict

@twistedlaces1909

@brookiecookiez0

@nightowlgirl

@football1921

@in-the-middle-of-the-sadness

@rk-ceres

@kisses4fred

@apolloleprince

@slashersimpshadow

@slytherinambitious

@screamingoverfiction

@rhunew

@tomhockstetter7-111

@hagridshaircare

@ellouisa17

@fonderaura

@clemlament

@jennapancake

@murderisfunlol

@ohantonia

@storytime-20

@guavacookie23

@satansdarlin

@smartoneamia

@littlelillysjs

@victorylr

@nanamisfootrest

@nulixity

@03michi01

@hjpbiggestdrider

@wzardweasley

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #george weasley masterlist #George Weasley x you #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley smut #George Weasley fluff #no good deeds

212 notes · View notes

ezshellshocked · 9 months ago

Text

⚡︎ ┊ TMNT : Finalized designs & Headcannons.

⚡︎ ┊ Finished my official designs, now I can make comics and such without them looking different every time. !! HEADCANNONS BELOW IMAGE, FOR ANYONE INTERESTED.

⚡︎ ┊ HEADCANNONS.

Leonardo

Cannot be sneaked up on (Will catch whoever tries)

Lots of night terrors

Light sleeper

Loves bubblegum

Superiority complex

Talks to himself out loud

Really good at lying (Best liar in the family)

Always smells good

Very overprotective (especially over Mikey bc he's the youngest)

Annoying older brother vibes

Argues with Raph the most

Sleeps with one eye open (literally)

Allergic to dogs

Only turtle who CAN cook

Can't watch horror films (they freak him out)

"IDC" Thinks about it for hours

"I'm not scared!" Freaks out

Hates bugs

Raphael

LOVES Halloween. (Has decorations all over his room)

Heavy sleeper

Snores but says he doesn't

Mr.Sarcastic

Picks on Don the most

Swears in nearly every sentence

Metalhead

Bedroom? No, Mancave. (Barely leaves his room)

Talented artist

Plays the bass guitar

JUGALLO RAPH REAL!!

Hates everything and everyone.

Edgy middle child attitude

"IDGAF!!" Starts crying

Likes Mikey more bc he can playfight rough with him.

True crime >>>

Horror movies >>>

Works out to calm himself down

Only shows his "cool" art to his brothers, keeps everything else hidden

Always looks angry no matter what

Can't control his tone of voice (Speaks really loudly, and aggressively)

Hates being told what to do

Deathly terrified of roaches

Missing a tooth (From a fight with leo)

Donatello

Very very VERY tired

Mr.Fix-it

Germaphobe

Neat-freak

Really picky with food

Won't eat spaghetti or most noodles bc it reminds him of worms

Hates wearing most clothes because they make him feel trapped

Gets hiccups when nervous

Doesn't drink coffee, though likes energy drinks

Must double check everything a billion times

Throws a fit when someone messes with his plans, or things

Swears as much as Raph

RARELY in his room, mostly in his lab.

Hates the smell of dust, sage, and greasy food

Likes collecting pens

MOOD SWING KING!!

Paranoid all the time

Insomniac

Almost always accidentally falls asleep in his lab.

Sticky notes, sticky notes, sticky notes

Can only draw mechs and vehicles, cant draw anything else

" We're poor as dirt " Has thousands of dollars hidden in his room.

Has to wear glasses but doesn't around his brothers (they pick on him :( )

Likes psychological horror better than visual horror.

Slouch king

yells a LOT

Listens to techno music when making inventions

#1 oingo boingo fan

Has slight bucked teeth

Speaks with a lisp

Michelangelo

Spoiled younger brother vibes

Loves video games

A LITERAL GOD AT DANCE DANCE REVOLUTION

Hates being left alone, or away from his brothers for long periods of time

ALWAYS asking Donatello for money (usually a yes)

LOVES candy (especially sour)

Borrows April's camcord to take stupid videos

Cracks every bone in his body when nervous

"The vibes are off right now…"

" Dudezz!! " " Chill out brozz " type of guy

Wears braces!

Always doing stupid shit

PRANK LORD

#ILOVEBEINGATURTLE!!!!

Sings in the shower

Puts on whole concerts for no reasons

Plays the drums

LOVES play fighting with Raph

Likes cooking, but cant do it good.

"CAN WE KEEP IT!!"

"I licked it, it's mine"

Steals from everyone, thinks its funny

Hides Donnie's tools for fun

Talks too fast

#digital art #artists on tumblr #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt redesign #tmnt design #tmnt headcanons #tmnt 2012 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo

100 notes · View notes

libras-idol-hours · 1 year ago

Text

Fluff Alphabet - Madara Mikejima

*casually posts a year and a half later* ma help the snakes (enstars) are in the coop (my brain) again. GN reader.

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Ahh, this is a tough one. Madara would answer that he’s happy doing anything with this partner, which is true - outdoor dates, traditional dinners, local festivals and cozy nights are all wonderful ways to spend time together. Considering both of them have such busy schedules, Madara is grateful for every opportunity to spend time together.

Madara’s big favorite is either snuggling in the evenings while watching a movie his partner likes, or his partner wanting to show him a place he’s never seen but they love. He could listen to them talk about their interests all day.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

If his partner has a big creative streak, an exceptional passion for their art or interest, it gets the big man feeling fluttery. He loves seeing the fire in his partner’s eyes as they throw themselves into what they love. Adding onto that, determination and passion is something that moves Madara deeply, doubly so if it's done for the sake of others. He’s so weak for a kind heart.

Madara finds these things more attractive than just looks; but if he had to choose, eyes and laughter capture his attention. He loves a unique laugh, especially if he made it happen or it’s hard-earned. He adores seeing that humor reflected in his s/o’s eyes, too.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Madara will go one of two ways, depending on what his partner needs. Do you want to be encouraged, to smile again, to laugh? He ups his antics and says something truly outrageous to distract you. He’ll keep going, saying all sorts of nonsense while hugging them tight until their cries turn to hiccupping laughs.

But sometimes that isn’t what’s needed, and Madara is just as good as taking his partner’s hands and listening. They can squeeze his hands as tight as possible, it won’t hurt. Hell, they can hug him too tight or shout and hit, it makes no difference to him. If Madara could take all of that hurt into himself, he would. Madara takes his partner’s happiness very seriously, and is willing to be their punching bag and/or security blanket for as long as they need.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

It creeps up slowly, these thoughts of domestic living. Madara doesn’t turn away from them or feel embarrassed. He turns the pleasant thoughts over in his head, considering all the hopeful what ifs. He wonders if his partner has the same daydreams. It doesn’t have to be the “ white picket fence with kids and a dog”; that doesn’t suit him, anyway.

He just wants a future where he and his s/o continue to be together and support each other, and he finds himself thinking of simpler, smaller things first - like, if you two moved in together, would you borrow his clothes? Wouldn’t it be nice to have your shoes next to each other at the door?

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Madara leans dominant, but that doesn’t mean he’s domineering or forceful. Rather, he has a quiet confidence in his feelings and desires, and has no issues being the one taking the lead in dates, affection and intimacy. If his partner would rather take initiative, by all means! Madara is pleasantly surprised to be on the pampered side for once. He’ll also easily give into his partner’s desires, not wanting to deny them anything - but he will be a tease about it.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Yes, Madara will forgive easily, even if he wasn’t in the wrong. He doesn’t want to fight with his partner. In fact, he’s willing to tolerate and “lose” a lot of fights for their sake, but he does have a limit.

If the fight is over something trivial, Madara will give his s/o some space first. He needs to sort out his own thoughts and words, too, then he checks in to see if they’re willing to talk. He wants to keep it calm and make sure both their feelings are heard and understood.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Generally, yes, Madara is deeply grateful for his partner and tells them as much! Really, not a day goes by when he isn’t praising them. However, if his partner is more subdued and closed off in their feelings, or does things to help him secretly, Madara is not as aware. He still adores them, but might quietly wonder if he ever bothers them.

(That’s until a little birdie tells him all these things his s/o did or said for him - then he rushes straight to them to heap tons of affection!!)

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Well .. …. Yes, there are secrets. His reasons for not divulging them range anywhere from it really doesn’t matter to it’s something I have to do on my own. His partner likely isn’t aware of even half of what Madara was and is involved in, and as long as it doesn’t directly affect them, he plans to keep it that way. He can be tempted to confide in them … and maybe someday, in a very roundabout way, he will.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

It could easily work out both ways; Madara is so used to doing things for others, he falls naturally into that “fixer” role when his partner is troubled. If they denied him that role, and tried to help him - well, that’d be one hell of a surprise. Around the right partner, Madara would be more relaxed, less stressed, more assured of himself. Those who don’t know him well wouldn’t see a difference, but those who do would pick up on his improved energy.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

First of all, Madara is fully aware of how childish his jealousy is and how quickly it can spring up. He’s good at suppressing it, especially when it’s over something foolish. Yes, his partner is popular and has lots of affectionate friends, and yes, sometimes he feels an itch of jealousy when said male friends are clinging on his s/o. It used to be worse when they weren’t dating, Madara would feel compelled to wedge himself between them with a smile and joke.

Now that they’re dating, Madara is much more patient (usually) and understands he can’t always be the center of attention. If his s/o ever notices this jealousy in him, Madara’s a bit embarrassed … but then just cheekily asks them for attention.

After dating for a while, his partner might notice that sometimes his jealousy flares up the worst around strangers or business acquaintances. Madara will outright place himself right behind or beside his partner, giving a menacing aura and faux-cheery words. His partner isn’t totally sure why their boyfriend dislikes certain men so strongly, but at least they feel protected.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He certainly is, even without lots of experience before his partner … but now he has them to experiment on practice with! The jerk will figure out veeeery quickly what his partner likes best, how they react to this or that, which spots make them sigh and which makes them startle. Madara is relentless in his offensive kiss attacks, especially if he was already feeling snuggly. No escape!

His first kiss with his partner was something he'd been wanting to do for a while. That's not to say he planned it, but Madara had certainly thought about it, so when it happened he eagerly cupped their face in his hand and led a slow, sweet kiss. He was actually being pretty serious, too ... up until he teases them for their cute expression.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Madara would wait, even if he was sure his crush liked him back. He wants to tease and goad them until they’re red-faced and sputtering. He can be patient and stubborn about this! He wants to hear them say it!

There are two exceptions, though - if his crush is someone who is far too shy and nervous, Madara will take the initiative once he’s sure of their feelings.

The second exception is the fact he often finds himself in dangerous situations - before or even after, Madara might seek you out or call you and just confess right there. It sounds desperate, more of a plea for your affection than a confession of his own. Again, he wants to hear the confirmation.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Yes he would, but not because he’s a traditionalist or anything. Madara is perfectly fine with a non-typical wedding or no ceremony at all, he’s just beyond happy and grateful that his partner is in it for the long haul. This is especially true for idols, who have to be so careful about their personal lives. It feels like his partner is “choosing” him over that, which makes him feel very special.

And yes, the wedding clothes and ceremony and party are all wonderful things, but he’d be just as happy with a dramatic elopement or private ceremony.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Where to begin? He has dozens of names ready, ranging from sickeningly sweet pet names to endless variations on his partner’s name … oh, and he probably was calling them by half of these before the dating started. He doesn’t mind receiving sappy nicknames, and even encourages it. Something like Mā-chan or Mikemin; so overly cutesy, but it delights him anyway.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

To people who don’t know Madara well, it seems like he’s acting his usual self around you. Those closer or more savvy will pick up how he hovers just slightly closer, how he’s more eager to give hugs and praise, how he seems to soak up his crush’s attention and watches very closely if someone else is taking up all their attention. He and his crush will already seem like a couple, and he’s obviously delighted by anyone making that mistake.

For them, he gives a lot of himself. His time, his advice, his affection, his trust. Madara will do it instinctively, not thinking about himself, wanting to focus on his (future) s/o singularly. Maybe there’s a little possessiveness in there, too … A little hope that you’ll depend on him more than others.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Yes. If it wasn’t obvious by how he dotes on them and showers them in affection and praise, Madara loves talking about his partner. He’ll bring them up anytime something reminds him of them, which is a lot. Even before he was dating his s/o, he was very clear about his affections.

There’s could be a problem with PDA, though. Madara would love nothing more than to constantly hold and touch and cling to his partner, but as idols, they need to maintain a certain distance in public. In the private offices of ES - where everyone knows about it anyway - Madara and his partner can be more open (they’re still told to get a room, lol). Madara really resents having to hold himself back for the sake of an “image”, doubly so if it also troubles his partner. That just means he’s extra affectionate and clingy once they’re in private again.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Madara has lots of skills, and many translate well to helping his partner out. First there's his experience in the idol business and less savory things but let's not worry about that, he's excellent at reading their moods, and he's calm and composed under pressure. His language skills are great during travel, he's big and strong and protective ... Okay, There are many benefits to dating Madara Mikejima. How can their partner pick one?

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Mama has the range! He can be anywhere from silly to painfully sentimental to very sensual. It’s half what he’s feeling in the moment, half what flusters his partner best! That’s the best part! But no matter what, he makes his affection and love for his partner clear. It’s obvious in his words, physical affection and things he does for them - not to mention the little dates and time spent together. Madara might not call himself a romantic, but his partner would certainly think it.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Oh yes, Madara is willing to go quite far to assist his adorable, beloved partner; especially if they have a great dream in life. It can be simple, considerate support - making them meals, hearing their ideas out, giving feedback - this is especially true if his partner is involved in the idol business, as that's his wheelhouse. Mama will always tell them how much he believes in them and supports them ... and, well, if there's some kind of person obstacle that upsets them or seriously hinders them and he could take care of it ... Madara probably will? He'll seriously consider it, at least.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Sort of both. Madara has an adventurous and daring spirit, so he meshes well with a partner whose similar and will tease and challenge him. But if his partner is more easygoing and predictable, he can adapt well to that … still expect the teasing, though, and he might suggest more than a few things to them. Madara is always considerate of their comfort level, though.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Madara's already excellent at reading others, not to mention information he can dig up. Presumably, he knew his partner well before dating - he kind of has to before he's willing to open himself up to a relationship. Madara was always good at reading their intentions and moods, and now that they're dating, he's even better. One might say he's a little too perceptive ...

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Very important; and perhaps if his s/o knew him very well before they dated, they'd understand this well. Madara has lost much in his life and those who have become this close to him are something precious. He places a great deal of worth on his partner; probably more than what's healthy, honestly. The longer he and his partner are together, the more this worth grows and solidifies in his mind.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

He will melt if his partner plays with his hair, or wants to brush and style it. Madara didn't think it was something he liked until they began running their fingers through his hair, then they wanted to mess with it ... and he gladly lets them. His messy hair was originally because he was unsure how to style it (and didn't always have the energy), but it became something of a trademark, so he didn't worry. Madara's hair is nice and soft, and when his partner starts playing with it, he immediately stops whatever he was doing to enjoy the attention.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

I mean, we know who we’re talking about, right?

There is no escape from Mama’s hugs to begin with, but his partner? The hugs and cuddles and pick-ups and princess carries and kisses are doubly inescapable!! You already knew he was going to be an affectionate guy going into this relationship, but wow it's up to eleven. Other idols (or you!) have scolded Madara for being so free with his affection in public, or even amongst friends - he just can't help himself.

... Well, he can, if his partner wasn't crazy about the PDA or the relationship was secret. Madara can control himself, you know. It just means his partner will get pounced the second they're alone. Madara likes receiving all kinds of touches in return, but especially if his partner likes to kiss or play with his hair.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Biiiiiig sighs… just so someone can ask and Madara can go on about how much he adores and misses his s/o. If they're gone for just a few days, he might up his antics just for fun. Cue Kohaku texting them to hurry up and come home already.

On a more serious note, for long trips Madara is great with communication. He’s familiar with time zone differences, so he will wake up at 3am just to give his s/o a call (and!) encouraging text when they're just finishing work or waking up. It’s rough if his partner is an idol too and also has a schedule full of touring and events; but he understands it can’t be helped and does his best to stay in contact so they don’t feel so lonely. He’s delighted by their own enthusiastic texts and voice notes, and saves them for a time when he’s feeling down.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of? Absolutely. If someone’s captured Madara’s heart, he’ll go to the ends of the earth for them. He’s willing to cross many, many lines for their sake … so let’s uh, hope it doesn’t come to that. When it comes to simpler, easier things than murder/extortion/manipulation, he's wonderful at making his partner feel loved, thinking up fun things for them to do, appreciating and adoring them, and so on. They'll surely notice the things he does for their sake, but trying to tell him to hold back or relax is a bit of a losing battle. Mama loves his s/o too much to not give them his all !

#finally i wrote something after like almost a month of frustration LOL #ty idol boys very cool #madara mikejima x reader #enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader #i havent finished all his stories so mayhaps later i will edit this #but i had to get the brainrot OUT

130 notes · View notes

oncewhenalongtimeago · 1 year ago

Note

"sorry, but i think i lost your plot" where toothless notices hiccup admiring our protagonist often and follows her around one day while she's working? basically toothless being a wingman of sorts

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 17

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,006

You and Toothless rendezvous.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, unedited

You hurried down the steps of the Ingerman home, basket in tow, a warm, clean cloth wrapped steaming loaf of bread sitting on top of a basket of dirty laundry.

Each step tapped against the wooden stair, your worn boots doing little to soften your footsteps.

You walked with quick strides through the clearing, running across damn dirt and a forge that hadn’t yet been lit in the early morning darkness, only pausing briefly to glance at a shadow at the corner of your eye.

When you looked back, there was nothing there.

You shrugged it off, despite the chills running down your back, intent on quickly getting down to the wells before anyone else could.

You held a rag in your fists, braced against your hips, staring at your work, at the many, many shiny weapons lined and mounted against the wall, some patterned, most not, all sharpened to the highest degree.

As you polished to the highest degree, soot and other things caked onto your clothes and the apron you’d borrowed from Mrs. Jorgenson.

Your attention was drawn, for a moment, to the half open window, where you caught a glimpse of a large green eyeball just as it disappeared from view.

You didn’t mind it, instead looking away and taking a few more moments to admire your work.

You knew the Jorgenson head didn’t much care for polished artifacts, though Mrs. Jorgenson insisted on it. Something about utility and pride, nothing you learned from anyone but the head lady herself. She has some very strong opinions on it.

You looked outside a window to your side, half covered by wooden shutters and a wood frame to match the wood everything else, admiring the yellow, rising sun.

The Head should be back from his early morning training soon off in the forests. You found that he trained like every day was Thorsday Thursday.

You fled quickly as the morning got just a bit brighter, willing yourself out before the fresh dewy feeling left the air, grabbing your coin and your effects, before either one could come home and they could start arguing.

Sitting by the well, on top of the built stone wall surrounding the hole, you looked down at the nice cloth wrapped gift you had gotten earlier that day.

Off to your side, a terror danced and pounced around, following a bug.

Animals, dragons mostly, crowed and lazed in the warming noon light.

You unwrapped it, revealing a nice loaf of bread.

You were sure you were going to save it as much as you could before it started to mold. You needed to finish it before it went bad.

But you thought it wouldn’t hurt to take off a few slices.

The poor woman, Mrs. Ingerman, had gotten up extra, extra early to bake you a loaf which was impressive considering you were up in the earliest of hours, so early it had only been a few since the last night. The last midnight, that is.

You stared out at the place around, at the occasional person bustling past, most vikings heavily involved with their tasks for the day.

You spotted something in an alley, large and slinking and nearly black, it’s body language cautious and yet not.

A Night Fury. The only Night Fury you knew, crouched around the corner, observing you.

If he shifted just right, you could see the glint of a metal buckle attached to his strap. You wondered where his rider was.

You bit into the bread loaf, still staring at him.

Had he been following you all day?

You looked at the sheep in front of you, shears at your side.

It was a dusty white one, slightly overgrown, white fur and gray face very fuzzy.

You considered cutting its wool into a shape like you’d seen gardeners do to bushes.

You stood on a floor of hay in the gentle shade of a barn, one by the open fields sort of close to the coast-cliff line overlooking the sea and the craigs.

It had been a long while since you’d shorn a sheep, yet it felt like just yesterday you’d learned.

You stared out at the open stall towards the light of the afternoon where the fields were open and the sheep were wandering free.

The grass was tall and green and looked incredibly fresh, something nice to lay in.

You would do that after your task and the retrieval of your coin when it was colder and you could better appreciate the fresh earth freely.

You blinked.

It looked like you had a friend for the day.

You didn’t see anything, but you did hear a light purr, the kind you could perhaps brush off as one of the sheep’s, before you heard a loud thump.

You brushed it off.

You wondered if he had a task for you?

You stared down into the open barrel, slightly smelly, damp with seawater and slime, ready to be hung and dried and maybe pickled, filled with fish of many different sizes.

You wiped your hands on the towel by your side, shifting your rolled up sleeves further up your arm as you stared down at your work.

And then you looked off to the side, where Toothless peered out at you, the green of his eyes a bit more difficult to make out, washed over with orange.

You reached into the barrel and tossed him a fish.

It landed against the ground with a smack, and he jumped back into the shadows slightly, before creeping forwards again, eyeing you curiously.

He sniffed it curiously, looking up at you with big, suspicious eyes all the while, large, draconic shoulder hunched before grabbing the tail delicately by the teeth.

Quickly, he threw it up into the air and gulped it down before quickly turning around and bounding away, leaving vague imprints of his paws in the dust layer resting over the hard, dry dirt floor.

Whatever brought him to you, the fish seemed to treat pretty well.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #toothless #fem reader #female reader

77 notes · View notes

ianthedebonair · 1 year ago

Note

your Halloween drawing is incredible!!! thanks for everything!! Now tell me if HG isn't secretly happy that his little brother is dressing up like him? I bet he took several photos and leaves it in his wallet/phone like a proud mother. while Ricardo must have been deeply disturbed

The earrings also add extra charm. Have Damian thought about joining the Mob Boss style?

In my little headcanon, Damien successfully "borrowed" and "returned" HG's suit without him noticing. But there was a little hiccup:

They're dry clean only and he has very strict standards. Damien had to research about HG's dry cleaning afterwards. The second trip back was fortunately uneventful.

If Damien did go out wearing his suit, HG would have taken whatever he could gather from public surveillance and saved it on his phone before scrubbing the original sources. Ricardo would definitely be disturbed because of the conflicting feelings of wanting to make-out with a well-dressed Damien vs wanting to punch a Hollow Ground look-alike in the face lol.

In terms of joining the mob boss fashion, Damien thinks it's too flashy for his taste. I am planning on a little glow-up in book 3, like neater hair and clothes, and a couple discreet devices that look like jewelry, but nothing that would make him stand out too much.

#i'd like to think that damien could have just asked to borrow one suit but hg would end up on a whole shopping spree #and if he did admit to borrowing and improperly washing the suit he'd be forgiven (but the suit would have to be burned)#(i'm liking this “hollow ground is actually a doting older sibling” a bit too much)#i'll never be ready for how their actual dynamic would end up in the book lmao #for the glow-up by book 3 it's either his whole secret is exposed so there's no need for him to dress down #and/or he's confided in at least one ro about what he really is and it gave him more confidence to exist and be “seen” (?)#but hopefully not by the farm lol #fhr #fallen hero #hollow ground #nocturne #jake manalo #anon #my art

116 notes · View notes

8-rae-rae-8 · 1 year ago

Note

Feral anon back with brain worms 😔

What if 09! Ghost and 22! Ghost, who both regress temporarily swapped universes?

(For simplicity, 22!Ghost will be Simon and 09! Ghost will be Riley)

Simon at first does his best to remain professional and respectful. He just wants to get home and is willing to cooperate the best he can with the version of 141. He’s stressed and worried about his 141 and he feels his regression coming along. He misses Baba, he misses Soap, he misses Gaz he just wants to be held. He doesn’t realise he’s pulled out his comfort blanket until he sees Captain Mactavish’s soft, concerned eyes.

“Ah, so you’re a wee one like my ghostie?”

Ghost is reluctant to answer, he freezes and holds his breath. But Mactavish has played this game before. Very carefully, he steps into Simon’s space, slowly cupping Simon’s masked cheek in a delicate hold.

“It’s alright if you need a break. Little one. You must be so stressed and scared, aye?”

Simon nods, his shoulders shaking a little as he starts to weep “w-wan’ baba..” he hiccups.

“I know, wee one..it’s okay, I’ll get ye back to baba.” Mactavish promises “but until then, would you let me take care of you?” Simon hesitates but nods, with shaky hands he pulls off his mask. A sign of ultimate trust. Mactavish’s heart aches at seeing that Simon’s face is littered with scars- even more than his Ghost’s. Glasgow smile, a tear in his upper lip that exposes a little bit of his gum. Tiny, scarred cuts…but he looks past all those and sees the scared, vulnerable tiny boy instead, waiting for the captain to step back in horror. Mactavish doubles down and cups his cheek again.

“There’s the sweet, adorable wee bub. Goodness yer’s just as cute as me own wee one!” His heart warms when he sees the 6’2 giant melt and squirm at the praise. His already flushed cheeks getting hotter under his touch. He smiles when he hears Simon coo and babble a little.

“Oh? We got a really tiny Bub? Well, we should probably get you out of these yucky big boy clothes, aye?”

Simon nods and begins to suckle on the corner of his blanket. He’s about to try walk when he feels the captain pick him up. He squeaks and clings to Mactavish, wiggling and trying to get down. He’s too heavy! He’ll hurt Mactavis-

His thoughts and squirming are halted by a soft chuckle and a gentle pat on the bum.

“I know ye wan’ to walk Bub, but yer just too small! Can’t risk ye going home to baba hurt, no?”

Simon whines and blushes more. Mactavish’s words make him fully regress and the last bit of fight leaves his body. He opts to cling to his temporary caregiver and the stress immediately leaving his body. His eyes gloss over and his eyelids get heavy. A soft coo can be heard and he melts further as the captain begins to draw random shapes into his back.

“There’s a good Bub, just relax an let uncle Mactavish take good care of ye until baba can come pick ye up.”

Simon has to borrow Mactavish’s softer clothes. Riley’s frame is a bit too small for Simon’s. But he’s still able to be padded up before a nap and is content with suckling on his blanket as he cuddles in Mactavish’s lap.

Price and Roach enter the office and see the soft scene. Mactavish looks up and chuckles

“Looks like both the ghosts have more in common than we thought…” Mactavish grins fondly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from the sleeping baby’s face “hell, I think they maybe the same age..”

He misses Riley and is worried about his little Ghostie. But being able to take care of another Ghost is helping ease his anxieties and fears. He’ll get his Riley back and he’ll make sure Simon is reunited with his Baba.

UNCLE MACTAVISH

SOBBING SOBBING SOBBING

THATS SO FUCKING CUTE

Stabbing you stabbing you /pos /aff

I MUST REITERATE

"UNCLE MACTAVISH"

UGH /pos

The Ghosties 😭😭

IMAGINE THEY MEET

MACTAVISH AND SOAP

(then the lingering question 'why isn't Roach with you too? Where's your Roach?')

#call of duty #cod agere #captain mactavish #captain john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod #soapghost #ghostsoap

78 notes · View notes

cookiewrites · 11 months ago

Text

bang chan with a trans masc boyfriend

please enjoy these sfw/nsfw thoughts about bang chan, featuring my gender crisis. these are based on my experiences/hopes, and may not match every trans-masc person's - and that's okay!

wc: 1k

cw: bang chan x trans masc/afab! reader, mentions of dysphoria (various forms) and transition, no transphobia, brief mention of misgendering (no one actually misgenders reader), name for reader (baby, boy, boyfriend, pretty boy)

sfw

i have no doubt in my mind that chan would accept you being trans - whether you came out before you met him or whilst dating him. but let's talk coming out; he wouldn't have a learning curve, there'd be no slip ups or small mistakes. it would be an instant shift, and he'd make sure it would be the same with the kids. even if you weren't ready to tell them straight up, he'd let them all know that you were trying more masculine things and they'd just follow his lead.

he'd let you borrow all his clothes, of course. not even in the possessive my boyfriend is wearing my clothes way although yes that as well but so you can try out different styles and have access to a full wardrobe of masculine clothes as you built up your own. tbh i think you'd end up sharing a wardrobe with him from then on, it's your joint wardrobe, easy as that. he'd instantly turn compliments from beautiful to handsome, or whatever would make you comfortable. suddenly you're his prince. sometimes you'd forget you were ever not out to him.

telling him for the first time was hard, you couldn't stop crying and you were so scared, hiccupping over words and telling him over and over that it was okay if it stopped him loving you and how sorry you were and- 'you know i love you, right? and i love that i have a boyfriend now, if that's the term you're most comfortable with. either way, baby, 'm going nowhere, and i'm so so proud of you for telling me.'. he'd hug you close, too, squeezing you tight as you calm down, reminding you over and over how much he loves you as you are.

you'd expect at least a discussion and questions, and maybe him to need some time and maybe take a break and maybe break up with you and maybe- 'god i was so worried you were going to leave me, baby boy, i'm so glad this is all that's been wrong'. he's so happy that you're not going anywhere he can't stop smiling. yes he has a boyfriend, and yes it's a change but you're still his! before you really have time to grasp what has happened he's covering you with small kisses and reminding you how much he loves you.

if someone were to misgender you he'd be quick to correct them, never making a big deal out of it, just interjecting with the right pronouns or terms. if it was one of the kids he'd pull them aside later and remind them to try harder - not that they'd need it, he taught them all better than that and they'd be so happy to have another guy the group, for some of them another hyung.

he already knew a bit about being trans, but he went out of his way to research everything he could, and the ways he could support. you'd often stumble across open tabs when borrowing his laptop or visiting him in the studio. the consideration to not expect you to do all the emotional labor of explaining things the internet could easily tell him. he'd look into chest binding and medical transition in case you ever wanted to, he looked up ways to help dysphoria so you wouldn't have to teach him. he wanted everything to be as easy for you as possible.

would 100% help you with your dysphoria by almost playing dumb to what's making you dysphoric. like he wouldn't even acknowledge your chest being anything but a chest, changbin has a bigger chest, so do you, it's the same. he's not tall, and he's as much of a man as you are. dysphoria where? dysphoria what? you're just as masculine as the rest of them.

'they're just jealous i have the prettiest boyfriend' he'd whisper to you when the kids would tease you both for being so loved up. every time he says that word is makes your heart skip - he says it with so much love.

nsfw

additional cw: mentions of chan bottoming, reader receiving oral sex, reader's parts referred to with the term dick, mentions of chan giving a blowjob, praise/dirty talk

i think chan could have a relationship without sex, he would never expect or push a partner and it is as fulfilling with or without for him. that being said, sex is something chan loves; the feeling of closeness, and trust, and love. the way he loves making a partner feel good, and loved, and cared for. he is such a soft dom, and just wants to make who he is with feel good.

so when he put together that your reluctance to have sex may come from your dysphoria he starts helping you over that; and make adaptions to intimacy to make you the most comfortable. don't want to take your shirt off or wear a binder? absolutely fine, let's make sure you're safe but you never have to be naked around me. don't want penetration? amazing, chan loves playing with you in whatever way makes you feel good. want to top him? oh please, he'll be good for you and really loves whatever toy you want to pick. want him to refer to your parts with masculine names? 'god your dick is perfect baby, fuck, it's so pretty'

he's so into you that he will do anything. there was one time he gave your strap a hell of a blowjob, just because you'd mentioned in passing how frustrating it was not getting to see him like that. even the way he does go down on you changes, with or without going on t, chan gives you head instead of eats you out - there's this masculinity in the way he treats your body.

the praise during sex is always incredible, and we are all in agreement that chan is talkative during sex. he doesn't always expect a reply but simply loves telling you how incredible you are. it's through this that you find just how good it is to be with someone to truly sees what you are;

'oh pretty boy, god you're so good for me'

'f-fuck you're so deep baby, so b-big, fuck'

'i don't think i'll ever get over this dick of yours baby boy, fuck, it's just perfect'

#skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids drabble #skz smut #bang chan #skz chan #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids chan #chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut

48 notes · View notes

eleanor-bradstreet · 1 year ago

Text

Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 3: Repercussions

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer From a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: T - nasty insults and insinuations Word count: 3.3k

Masterpost Previous chapter Next chapter

Author's Note: This is a fully original chapter with no AOFAG quotes or references.

Sophie’s sobs had managed to die down by the time she reached Gen’s shop. She didn’t have the breath to cry and run simultaneously. Now she was stricken with confusion and what felt like a bottomless well of anguish. In one way she had gotten what she wanted from her night of adventure. It had been an evening of near-realized dreams, an escape from her reality of scorn and servitude where she had felt beautiful, welcomed and worthy. It would be one of her most cherished memories, something to bolster her through the drudgery that would inevitably dominate the rest of her life.

But what she had not expected was that the memory would grip her heart the way it did. That the longing she always had to change her circumstances would be magnified into longing for a person. For a man. She hadn’t intended to speak with anyone at the masquerade to any significant degree, nor did she think she would have anything in common with them, seeing as they lived worlds apart. But Benedict had appeared in the garden almost as if he were fated for her. And he was…he was nothing she could have anticipated. Their connection had been undeniable. The magnetic heat between them, irresistible. Something wondrous may have lain in store for them if she were legitimate, if she hadn’t needed to lie to gain access to the ball. Now her actions had only left them both in pain. She was torn between censuring herself for her stupidity and admitting that though it would break her heart hereafter to hear his name or see him in the city, she was grateful to have known Benedict Bridgerton for one night rather than to never have known him at all.

Repressing her feelings as best she could under hiccuping gasps, she retrieved the key Gen had tucked into her cloak and let herself into the darkened display room. Her friend was still at her own party and had told her to return the dress at her leisure. Sophie certainly couldn’t bring it back to the Cowpers and so she changed quickly, hanging the silver treasure neatly in the back room and silently thanking the modiste for wrapping her in magic. She removed the borrowed jewels from her hair and ears. She peeled off one glove, then her heart nearly stopped. She had left the other one behind. Benedict had it when she dashed off. Her mind began to whir. He could use it to trace her if he thought to ask Gen about its origins.

Scrambling back into her servant’s clothes and slipping Araminta’s shoes into her bag, she found a quill behind the desk and dashed off a note.

Dearest Gen,

I haven’t words to thank you for all you gave me tonight. I am sorry to say that a glove was misplaced. Please forgive me. I know I can trust in your discretion should it be returned to you. I owe you more than this.

Yours in friendship, S

She needed to return to Cowper House before anything else went amiss. With the unmasking over she didn’t have long before the family returned. Locking the shop and slipping the key through the letterplate, Sophie took off once again into the night.

She slowed her pace as she approached the house, entering silently through the back servants’ door. She made for the staircase, eager to return the shoes to their place and then hide away in her room for the night, washing off the last remnants of the debutante she feigned to be. But when she rounded the corner she stopped dead, finding herself face to face with Araminta. The lady of the house was already dressed down in her evening robe and had a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“Good evening Sophie.” Her voice was cold as always.

Sophie swallowed hard, barely able to breathe for shock. “Ara…Lady Cowper.”

“You’ve been out quite late.” A sinister grin tugged at the corner of her tight lips.

“You are home early.” Sophie stammered. “Where is Miss Cressida?”

She touched a finger to her temple with a grimace. “I had a headache. I took a carriage home an hour ago. Cressida and Lord Cowper should be home shortly. But I was surprised to find upon my arrival that you had gone out for the evening.”

Sophie’s thoughts raced. Surely she could talk her way out of this. Keeping her composure, she nodded. “Yes, to visit a friend.”

“A friend?” Dropping her pained expression, Araminta lapsed back into her affected, sickly sweet tone of voice. “Pray tell what friend do you have in the city?” She looked the young woman up and down with bemusement, then stepped closer. “What is that on your face?”

Sophie jerked back as a bony thumb swiped across her cheek. Araminta’s expression grew dark. “Little Sophie, what on earth have you gotten into? Are you meeting up with men in the wee hours of the night?”

Sophie balked. “No, my lady.”

“Then who are you looking to impress with your hair done up that way?”

Her heart began to pound. Another misstep. She shouldn’t have left the modiste shop until every trace of her disguise was removed. But she hadn’t expected anyone to be home…

“My friend and I were only playing at…”

“This friend again!” Araminta clucked. “What did you bring to meet them?” Eyes narrowing on the bag Sophie held behind her skirts she clawed at it, the two of them tousling as Sophie fought to keep it out of reach.

“Let me see!” The older woman shrieked, finally ripping the bundle from Sophie’s grasp and peering inside. Her jaw fell open. “These are my shoes…”

“I was working on cleaning them!” Sophie exclaimed, knowing her story was hopelessly unraveling.

Her employer glared back at her. “Cleaning shoes in the middle of the night, dolled up like a harlot while you went to meet your ‘friend’? I suppose that is my rouge too that you’ve stolen?”

The allegation caused Sophie’s spine to stiffen. She may have transgressed social rules but would not be accused of thievery. “I haven’t stolen anything.”

“Shut your lying mouth and listen to me.” Araminta snapped, her deadly cool demeanor returning. Setting down the bag she began to stalk a circle around her maid, flinty eyes never blinking. Sophie held still, feeling like cornered prey.

“Sophia Beckett. I knew you were no good from the moment you became my family’s burden. Lord Cowper spared an ounce of pity for you and so I agreed to keep you on. You have been useful but I always suspected you were rotten at your core. I always knew someday it would come to light. I only hope your bad influence hasn’t rubbed off on my dear Cressida.”

“I have done nothing wrong!”

Sophie’s protest was silenced with a sharp slap to the face. She bit her tongue, tears welling in her eyes but she forbid them from falling.

Araminta leaned in, hissing like a snake. “Sneaking off in the middle of the night with my things and coming back looking like a common whore. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. What would a bastard know about propriety? How would she know to keep her legs closed until she was married? That is if any man would stoop to claim her. Like mother like daughter.”

Something jagged cut into Sophie’s stomach. She clenched her fists and closed her eyes, trying to tamp the fire rising within. The urge to lash out, fight back, hurl all the bitter insults she could at this cruel and horrid woman. But she schooled herself. Such actions would only prove her right, that she was a classless, impertinent, good-for-nothing who deserved her low rung in society. She wouldn’t dishonor herself or her mother in that way.

But she also wouldn’t subject herself to such abuse any longer. This was the final straw. Perhaps it was her recent taste of freedom which made her bold, or perhaps it was that she already felt such pain and confusion at losing Benedict that she hardly cared if she lost everything else. All she knew for certain was that she needed to get away. Perhaps her carelessness had already set her free.

“Are you going to release me?” She ground out, opening her eyes.

Araminta paused then stepped back with a vicious smile. “No. I’m sure that’s precisely what you want isn’t it?”

Sophie’s heart sank but she remained steely.

“You will no longer serve my Cressida as her lady’s maid. It will be scullery work for you now. But since you are so committed to ensuring my shoes are cleaned, that will be your final task upstairs. You will clean them. You will clean all of them. And you will remain in my dressing room until the task is complete.”

Sophie understood this was her employer’s version of imprisonment. Araminta owned dozens of pairs of shoes. To clean them all would take nearly an entire day and there was a lock on the dressing room door. It was where she liked to stash Sophie when she longed to forget about or punish her.

Signaling for a footman to collect the bag and escort Sophie upstairs, Araminta shot her a final glare. “Perhaps with that level of discipline you can learn to make something of your sorry life.”

Sophie said nothing, only kept her jaw locked and marched behind the footman to the dressing room. She was given a single candle, ushered inside and then heard the key turn behind her. She looked about the room, recalling the many hours she had worn her fingers raw scrubbing shoes and the many nights she had cried herself to sleep in a corner. This would not be one of those nights. She was well and truly done.

It had been fear of the unknown that had kept her from running away before. Fear about her employment prospects knowing she couldn’t get a letter of reference for another position as a lady’s maid. But what did it matter anyway if she was now a scullery maid for the Cowpers? Surely someone somewhere needed help scrubbing floors and tending fires. Her chances would improve in the countryside where households cared less about employment history. Leaving London would be a necessity after she escaped. She couldn’t risk being tormented or dragged back by the Cowpers. She reasoned it may also soothe her heart to be further away from Benedict and free of the anxiety he may discover her. She didn’t think she could survive watching the light die in his eyes if he recognized her on the street only to realize the woman he sought to woo was nothing more than a bastard servant, barely worthy of cleaning his floors. She couldn’t bear his revulsion and his anger.

But all the money she had to her name would hardly get her out of the city, much less sustain her until she found work. There was nothing for it. If Araminta already presumed she was a thief, what reputation would she damage if she did nick just enough to get by? If any family both deserved and could endure such treatment, it was the Cowpers. Picking through the finery laid across the room, Sophie pocketed the diamond clips from the shoes she had worn along with a pair of ruby earrings tucked in the back of a jewelry box. Surely their sale would be more than enough to keep her fed until she started a new position.

Now she had to make her escape. Sitting in the darkness and listening intently, within the hour she heard Cressida and Lord Cowper return, then the tittering voices as everyone readied themselves for bed. When all grew quiet in the house Sophie knelt at the door. She had only picked a lock once before when she was a young girl at Penwood Park desperate to get into her father’s library. It had taken many tries but she was ultimately successful. The trick was to have a hair pin. Something she had always been locked in the dressing room without. Until now. Pulling pins from her masquerade coif, she quietly teased them into the lock, breaking two before she finally heard a promising click that made her heart soar.

She uttered thanks once again to Gen who had gifted her more than she could ever repay. Then she paused, thinking of her friend and how sad she would be to part from her. But she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t stay in London and risk encounters with the Cowpers or Benedict. And the last thing she wanted was to endanger Genevieve and her livelihood by hiding out at her shop with stolen jewels. No, she simply had to leave for the betterment of everyone. She would find a way to reunite with her friend one day. She knew that Gen would spur her on. She would understand better than anyone, having completed her own fierce climb out of the muck toward independence.

Tiptoeing silently through the house, Sophie gathered her few belongings from her room and washed the last of the powders from her face. She pulled her hair back in a modest style and hid it under a bonnet. With all she owned in the world tucked under her arm and her stolen revenge clinking in her pocket, she slipped down the servants’ stairs, out the back door and as far toward the city outskirts as her feet would carry her. If she knew anything for certain anymore, it was that the details of her life were not significant. Where and how she lived was nothing to fret over. All of it was bound to be equally unfulfilling since none of it would include Benedict.

---

The next day, Viscountess Bridgerton swept through the halls of Bridgerton House. She had just laid her newborn down to rest and the sounds of an argument were echoing from the morning room. Marching toward the noise, she could make out the voices of her husband and brother-in-law.

“Benedict, I am not sure how many ways I can explain it to you. This is the guest list for the ball. Why is that not good enough?”

“There has to be another one! I’ve met all these families already and she’s not one of them.”

“Who?!” The Viscount practically shouted.

His brother responded with uncharacteristic agitation. “Have you heard anything I’ve been saying to you?!”

Reaching the door, the Viscountess swung it open forcefully. Two chestnut heads swiveled to face her, eyes wide. Anthony sat at the head of the breakfast table. Benedict sat at the corner, papers spread before him.

“Gentlemen!” Kate chastised, letting her frustration be known. “Lower your voices, please.”

They both shrunk into themselves.

“I’m sorry, my dear.” Anthony’s brow turned up in supplication.

“Sorry.” Benedict mumbled, dropping his head and turning back to the documents.

Kate walked to them, letting her own temper cool. It wasn’t unusual for the brothers to have disagreements, being opposing sides of the same coin as they were, but it was odd that they were so impassioned about it. Benedict especially never raised his voice.

“What is the matter?”

Benedict looked up at her, red-eyed and disheveled as if he had not slept at all. “I met a woman last night at the masquerade.”

Kate flicked her eyes to her husband who met her gaze knowingly. They had both been waiting for an entire season to hear Benedict express interest in a single young lady and had all but given up hope. Now it seemed the year may not have been fruitless.

He continued. “She wouldn’t give me her name and she left before the unmasking. I had never met her before. I need to know who she is.”

“Because you would like to court her?” Kate asked gently.

“Yes.” There was something desperate in his voice, something pleading in his eyes. “You must have seen her. She was in a silver gown, an old fashioned dress. Jewels in her hair. She wasn’t on the dance floor but you must have seen her come in.”

She furrowed her brow, questing back through her memory. It had been the first ball she had hosted since Edmund was born and the first ever masquerade. Even with the help of all the Bridgerton women and staff, it had been overwhelming. She had been needed everywhere at once and had met dozens of guests, all of them hidden behind masks and disguises. None of them had stood out in the blur.

“I’m afraid I don’t recall anyone of that description. There were many guests.” She turned to Anthony. “You did not see her either?”

He shook his head, frowning. “Colin did apparently.”

“And that’s the only thing assuring me that she wasn’t a dream.” Benedict dragged a hand across his face, looking ready to collapse on the table top. “That and she left a glove behind. Someone has to know who she was.” He turned back to the Viscountess. “Did anyone inform you that they were arriving without an invitation? A guest of a guest?”

“I’m sorry Benedict, no. Seeing as it was a masquerade, are you sure you didn’t mistake her for someone else? How do you know that she was not one of the young ladies on the list?”

“Because I know.” There was a sternness in his eyes and an edge to his voice that were altogether novel. Gone was the carefree bohemian brother who never failed to light up a room with his mirth. He was haggard, clearly distressed. Kate was reminded of her own anguish when she had watched Anthony courting her sister. How she had contended with longing for something she could not have.

Anthony leaned forward, his voice exasperated. “Brother, it was one evening. How much of an impression…”

“If you felt such a connection to this young lady, it is doubtless she did too.” Kate cut off her husband, flashing him a warning look before turning to her brother-in-law. “I will let you know if I learn anything in the usual gossip. You should keep your eyes open too. Perhaps your paths will cross again.” She placed a hand on Anthony’s chair. “That is often how things occur when two people are destined to be together, is it not my love?”

The Viscount swallowed and nodded. “Indeed.”

Benedict sighed, a hint of his crooked grin returning. “Thank you. I suppose I’ll start by interrogating the footmen. John seems like a secret keeper.”

Kate gave him an encouraging smile. “Very good.”

Raking a hand through his already wild hair, Benedict gathered the guest list and plodded out of the room.

Staring after him, Anthony rolled his eyes. “You should not encourage his flights of fancy.”

“And you should not discourage him if he thinks he has found a match.” His wife cut back. “Do you want your brother settled or not?”

“I do, but leave it to him to fall in love with a nameless ghost.”

Kate stepped closer, arching a brow and running a hand across the width of his shoulders. “You did not learn my name when we first met.”

Anthony smirked, tracing the pattern on her dress and allowing his hands to travel up the contours of her thighs, rounding over her hips and coming to rest around her waist. “You would not give it to me. Something about enjoying a victory lap.”

Kate pursed her lips triumphantly, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Ah yes, I had come out on top in our little race.”

In one swift motion Anthony pulled his wife down into his lap, holding her tight as he gazed into the depths of her eyes. He nuzzled into her collarbone, a purr rumbling from his chest. “Mmmm, on top…”

The sounds that emanated from the morning room for the following hour were ones that the staff had long grown accustomed to and knew not to approach, but at least they were not loud enough to wake the sleeping heir.

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @eg-dr3amer3 @time-to-hit-the-clouds @lyta2323 @autumn-grace @sadprose-auroras @the-other-art-blog @goldrambutan @colettebronte @heeyyyou @musicismyoxygen84 @faye-tale @ambitionspassionscoffee @starchaser325 @malna4903

#let me be your anchor #an offer from a gentleman #benedict bridgerton x sophie beckett #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #sophie beckett fanfiction #benophie #benophie fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #head canon

58 notes · View notes

trashland-llamas · 10 months ago

Text

Lost in a Maze

Note; This is the same sibling of sin from the fic of mine, Sodo or Dewdrop? who I decided to turn into an oc named Florence, Flora for short. Will be making an intro post for them sometime soon.

-- -- --

Florence was currently hiding from the sister who was encased with their care. They wanted to play outside longer but were unfortunately forced to take a bath after getting their clothes all muddy. ‘Florence! Come back here right now.’ Their caregiver wasn’t truly mad, simply stressed with everyone on her plate. In Flora’s haste, they ended up lost in the maze that was the abbey’s halls. Ending up near the ghoul’s den.

It was when they bumped into someone’s legs that the waterworks started. ‘Hey, it’s okay. How’d you get all the way out here?’ The ghoul helping them stand back up. Kneeling down to Flora’s height so his stature wouldn’t scare the little one. ‘I just want-wanted to play out-side a bit longer but sis-ter said I had to take a bath. But I didn’t want to so I ran. A-and now I’m lost!’ Flora sobbed, hiccuping through their words. Clutching onto his antlers.

‘Well, how bout we kill two birds with one stone then? I can get Aurora to help you with the bath, Phantom probably has some bath toys he wouldn’t mind you borrowing. Then we can help you find your way back.’ Mountain rubbed small circles on Flora’s back as she cried. Encouraging her to let it all out as sometimes you have to cry it out before fixing the situation.

‘Rora?’ They had met the ghoulette before in passing. Their caregiver letting them help the ghoulette in chores. Nodding, Mountain stood up. ‘I bet all that crying tired you out.’ He remarked as Flora sat, perched on his hip. ‘I’ll wake you when we get there.’ Mountain left out the part that the den was less than a foot away.

‘Everyone better be decent, we got a lost sibling.’ Mountain called out before entering. Laughing as he heard a few falls. ‘Aww, it’s little Flora,’ Aurora cooed, taking them from the Earth ghoul. ‘What the rascal do this time?’

'Florence ran away from bath time. Which, can you pretty, pretty please, with an extra cherry on top help me with?' Mountain begged with his hands clasped towards his chest. 'You don't have to beg. Of course, I'll help. Haven't seen this one in forever.' Watching as their eyes slowly opened. 'Rora!'

'Hello sleepy head. Are you ready for bath time now? There'll be bubbles and rubber ducks.' Smiling when they perked up at the mention of bubbles. 'Okay.' Aurora led them to the bathroom, placing Flora on the sink counter. Watching as the bubbles foamed up and the water rose. The ghoulette splashing her hand to make sure it was the right temperature. Mountain handing her one of Cumulus' old shirts to use as a nightgown, realizing that none of the group had any spare clothing for the kiddo. 'Thanks Mountain.' Waiting for the door to close before helping Florence into the bath. Turning the facets off.

'Tip your head back for me, sweetheart.' Aurora used one of her hands to guard Florence's eyes. Their pruned hands splashing the duck into the water. Making noises as it dive-bombed. The suds running down the kiddo's back, the bath water going murky.

'How about we get out and into some comfy pj's?' Aurora softly asked after seeing them yawn, the duck now bobbing afloat. Nodding, Aurora unplugged the tub. Patting the little dry. 'Can you raise your arms for me?' Maneuvering the armholes around their hands, letting the shirt fall.

'Now, let's go find Mountain so we can get you to bed.'

#not x reader #my ocs #oc; florence #sibling of sin oc #ghost bc oc #mountain ghoul #aurora ghoulette #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #ghost the band #oc & character

25 notes · View notes

brick-a-doodle-do · 1 year ago

Note

You say you want prompts….

What if the giant who used to be quiet (maybe for not so good reasons) but came out of their shell with the help of their tiny has a short relapse where they completely don’t talk and the tiny is just there to help

Perhaps g!Ranboo with t!Tommy or t!Tubbo (or whoever I just want fluff—)

speedwriting on vacation? speedwriting on vacation.

i was gonna wait for you

wc: 1849

cw: swearing, panic, brief mutism (is that the right word? the internet gave me it), mention of (sfw) vore/mouthplay

—–—

Ranboo is going to murder him.

Tommy stumbles against the lapping wind, which pushes at his cheeks and makes them like ice. Rain patters onto him, each drop like a bucket being dropped on his head.

Shivering, he pulls his coat around him, trying to act like it wasn’t already drenched. He stumbles again, adjusting his footing right before toppling over. A blurry light shines in the distance, through an array of trees with branches that clash loudly with one another. With each of his steps, above the sounds of the wind and pouring rain, there’s a faint clicking noise. Prior to going out into the belly of the storm, Tommy had been occupied shoveling handfuls of rocks into his pocket to assure he wouldn’t get swept into the night by the gale.

The tiny made his way through the clearing, the light of the house growing nearer at an agitating pace, and by the time he finds footing on the pathway to his hole in the wall, the rain has seemed to disperse a little. He scrunches his hair up and water seeps from it, the same as he pinches the fabric of his coat.

For the most part, the house seemed sleepy enough. Maybe he could get to bed before Ranboo confronts him. He treks the path, his soaked and muddy shoes sliding along the floor and nearly having him fall over enough times for him to discard them at their third murder attempt at him.

The rest of the way was quick, until he finally reached his nook. The lights were out, just as he had left them. He squints in the darkness, feeling his way through the area before collapsing on a makeshift couch. He sighs, pulling his coat off and tossing it to the side with a squelch. He cringes at it, then decides he should probably do something about the wet mess he could call himself.

He gets off the couch and flicks his lights on, which flicker for a moment before lighting the space up in warm lighting while projecting star-shaped shadows on the wall. He grabs his jacket from the floor and hangs it up, positioning a portion of a towel, (courtesy of Ranboo), underneath it to collect the fallen raindrops.

Doing the same with his shirt, he then hovers over a basket of clean and dry clothes.

Tommy is mid-way through struggling on a makeshift hoodie before a soft sob carries through into the walls.

He—not before adjusting the shirt on him—pauses, interest piquing at the sound. Ranboo?, his mind supplies, thoughts of the human’s reaction to his disappearance already filtering through his thoughts. At another sob, Tommy promptly replaces his pants and hurries down the hall to the opening in the kitchen.

Stepping out onto the counter, it wasn't hard to spot Ranboo, curled up on his couch, staring blankly out onto the floor, shuddering occasionally as the post-cry hiccups settled in.

Tommy’s seen that gaze before.

Guilt bubbles in his gut, the feeling in him as he remembers seeing Ranboo look like that, quiet and still after events regarding another borrower they had scared off. Tommy had gone to talk them out of the demeanor and in the process befriended them, and now months down the line they stare at the floor the same way they had back then. It didn't take much for Tommy to recognize that the trance he’d put the human in traced back to none other than himself.

He sighs, arms crossing instinctually as he begins to adjust to a plan. Water drips inaudibly from his soaked hair, tracing down his face and dripping down his bare arms, a small puddle forming at his feet before he takes off again, along the length of the counter, (While clambering through stray things on its surface), until he reaches the edge of it, then steps off to an installed plank for him to walk along, the thing narrow and uneven although plentifully useful.

Tommy passes through Ranboo’s excuse of a dining area and then into the living room, silent as he can as to not disturb Ranboo into panicking further. The human’s head rests on the couch with their hands folded solemnly over the edge of the couch.

While sturdily inching his way down the pathway, Tommy debates on calling out to his friend, his mouth opening and closing with ‘Ranboo!’ stuck on the tip of his tongue.

He sucks it up and stops in his tracks momentarily, cupping his water-wrinkled hands over his mouth and yelling out a fond: “Ranboo! My guy!”

Ranboo’s still for a moment, Tommy narrowing his eyes at the scene before opening them up again as he human shuffles up from the couch and looks around for the borrower. He waves, attracting their attention towards Tommy. Ranboo’s eyes soften instantly, though they make no move for their little friend.

Tommy, not knowing what to do with such a distance recognition as Ranboo’s, fills the silence.

“Oh, man, Ranboo, that storm out there,” Tommy starts, groaning for emphasis while continuing down the path to the, (still half-frozen), human, “I fucking went across the clearing for acorns, they're in season and I figured …. uh, well, I didn't really have s plan, but then it became fucking dark as shit and only at sundown, so I filled my pockets with rocks so I wouldn't blow away, I—”

“Were you leaving me?” Ranboo says, cutting Tommy off purely in relief. His voice is quiet, nearly cracking had he spent any more time crying.

“What?” Tommy asks, dumbfounded at the question. By now, he’s halfway across the floor of Ranboo’s floor; halfway to the couch.

“You left, and I have to ask if it was because of me,” Ranboo repeats, more emphasis and his voice a little louder, though Tommy doubts any lift in Ranboo’s demeanor.

Tommy shakes his head, knowing well Ranboo couldn't see it but perhaps as a reassurance to himself.

“No, no! Dickhead do you really think I’d do that? Ranboo, I wouldn't have came back if I was leaving you,” Tommy says, scoffing half-heartedly before adding a swift: “which I wasn't.”

Ranboo hums, still making no move to welcome home the borrower, who stands below his outstretched hands awaiting any kind of movement.

“Jack was a one time thing, he just got scared, like the ass he is,” Tommy continued on. He stands, folding his arms over his torso impatiently despite knowing he shouldn't be worried about the status of his stance.

At the most, Tommy can barely reach the tip of Ranboo’s finger no matter how much he extends his height.

Falling back down onto his heels, Tommy huffs. “One time, I walked in on Jack borrowing food and he thought I was a human. Scared the shit out of him for sure, like a human could come from the other side of the cabinet.”

Ranboo stays quiet.

“...can you let me up?” Tommy asks, finally. Much to his dismay, he’s met with an immediate response that almost seems mindless. Ranboo’s hand inches down barely, though enough for Tommy to cling onto him. Secure, Ranboo says nothing as he brings the borrower up to the couch, resting on the unoccupied side of the pillow that he had been resting on.

Tommy then adjusts to the uneven surface and looks up at Ranboo, who's face is covered, the strap of their seeming mask the only thing he can make out. They put the mask back on.

(Regarding the incident of Jack, Ranboo had sulked around the house in a mask. He never understood why and never cared to question it after he took it off, and now he doesn't have the gut to ask now.)

“I'm back, aren't I? I still touched your abnormally long fingers,” Tommy points out, partially because he wanted out of his thoughts. Ranboo doesn't crack a smile at his thrown-together humor. Or, at least he assumes they don't as the mask obscures the one prominent indicator.

Tommy pulls his lips to the side in thought, eyes narrow at the quiet human. “If I took the mask off and climbed inside your mouth would you move enough to spit me out?”

Ranboo’s brows crease through strands of their hair. Tommy considers this progress.

“Ranboo,” Tommy starts, something of a distant phrase stuck in his throat. His voice runs dry and his pride pulls at him to Shut The Fuck Up, but his heart doesn't care.“I'm sorry,” he says, a weight lifted from him even though he knows he shouldn't be the one being relieved, “I knew you were awake, or whatever you were doing, and I left during a storm and even then I hadn't came back and I guess it was shitty on my end. Sorry.”

There's a pause, and a longer pause, and …. it doesn't take long for Tommy to realize the pause was simply Ranboo ignoring the borrower.

He doesn't know why, although that silence hit him graver than any other. Like months of tangling has been undone by a simple stroke. An apology from him has been left to disperse into only a fine memory of Tommy’s that leaves him remembering how kind he had been and how passive Ranboo had been. (Even so, he still has the emotions to amplify that he was more than hurt at the absence of a response.)

“Fine. Dick.” It's back to wit. “I'm going to jump off the couch since you don't want to fucking talk to me,” Tommy murmurs, turning on his heel and making less than a grand exit than he would've liked. (Not as if Ranboo's attention was on him.)

He slides off of the pillow, then close to the cliff that was the edge of the couch. Staring down at it, he considers the fall. Couldn't result in death, therefore leading him further and further until he decides to quip out a curious: “Oh, goodbye ole’ Ranboo, he-who-won't-talk-to-me.”

At his last syllable he steps from the couch, praying to Prime as the ground comes closer that he comes out of this with no less than an injury. Before he could hit the ground, just as he had presumed, he’s caught as lengthy cold fingers trap him and he’s stopped from the fall. Ranboo’s grip on him tightens ever-so-gently and he can make out his return to the couch.

Ranboo hums, the smallest of noises he’s heard all evening.

Instead of being let out, Tommy body pulses with warmth all around him as he’s engulfed in a darkness, a beating heart just moments away from him. He groans at their grip, yet makes no move away from the crease in his friend's neck, which radiates warmth and vibrates softly, almost silent had he not been pressed against their throat.

“Thank you, for not leaving me,” Ranboo whispers. It echoes from where he sat against their throat.

Through his urge of wit and of sarcasm, Tommy only has the mind to respond, loud and clear and in full honesty, with: “I wouldn't do that.”

—–—

#brickquiries #sloth brickling #sloth my beloved \o/#mw #brickfic #short prompt series #<- well it kinda turned into a long fic #cw vore mention #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dream smp g/t #t!tommy #tiny!tommy #g!ranboo #giant!ranboo

58 notes · View notes