#Williams you are on thin ice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

catfern · 7 months ago

Text

lap dog.

in support of palestine ∙ the reality of tlou ∙ resources

pairing: ellie williams x afab!reader x abby anderson

music: master of none - beach house

word count: 2k

summary: abby and ellie are best friends, never more. when you come into the picture, competition bleeds into something else entirely.

warnings: porn, ellabs, sub-ish!abby, sub-top!ellie, dom-ish!reader, marijuana use, got high and watched challengers this is what happened

fern says ⎯ this one goes out to @heavenbloom & @atyourmerci the only two pookies keeping me going at this point! rawr!

it was innocent, at first. you suppose.

a pit sinking in your stomach at the all-too-looming feeling of a foreign school, the kind smile offered was an olive branch. white teeth, skin blemished only with the soft indents of a splattering of freckles and moles, it put you at ease. this definitively friendly tour guide.

“hey, m’abby.” the squeeze of her hand was gentle, but firm. practiced. her eyes on you felt like a studied gaze, a flicker over your body that made your ears burn, your name on her tongue a syrupy temptation. “i’m s’posed to show you around, so…”

you clung to abby, in your first few weeks. you would’ve felt bad, this dependence on your only friend growing, if she hadn’t returned the sentiment almost tenfold.

hey

want coffee before class?

- abby

the blaring screen of your phone dunking on you like ice water, bleary eyes and a dopey smile typing a response in the early morning manufactured darkness of your dorm room.

she’d show, fifteen minutes later, in all the gloried aftermath of her morning run, shoving the iced latte at you with easy conversation. she’d wait on your bed while you dressed, poorly pretending to be wildly interested in her instagram explore page.

ellie happened later.

“she hot?”

“i don’t wanna answer that.”

the ball hits the roof, before bouncing with a mean thwack into the tangle of abby’s hair. ellie pulls herself up on the bed, teetering on her tired forearms with a servile smile. “come on,” the rasp in her voice gives her a malignant edge, “objectively, is she hot?”

abby looks at her, swallowed in her gaze even from across the room. she rolls her eyes before returning to roughly running a brush through her hair, “she’s nice.”

“fucking prude!” the palm of ellie’s hand comes down like a rough punishment, a sting on the sculpt of abby’s shoulder that rings a small wince. her laugh is complimentary, “what? she a secret or something?”

abby shakes her roommate’s sliding hands off her, fighting her languid, teasing embrace, “no, no, she’s just- i dunno.”

a light hum fills the quick silence in the air, ellie pulls away.

“i wanna meet her.”

“what? ellie —“ abby whips around quick, something akin to a firm, stubborn fear tracing her face, “no. no.”

you shift on the floor, the scratchy carpet under your ass stinging with a strange itch. the joint is hanging weakly between ellie’s lips as she holds the lighter to it, off-handed smoke swirling and ebbing in the close air of the room. abby is sequestered on her bed, trying her hardest not collapse in on herself.

you’re taking the joint from ellie, ellie. her iced gaze flickers between the both of you, something unrecognisable sitting, gnawing at her very soul.

“so,” smoke spills from your mouth, dripping from your lips like it never wanted to leave you. you hold the blunt, firm between two fingers as you trace your thoughts with your hand, “what is this?”

ellie laughs faintly, her eyes meeting the terror of abby’s briefly, before falling over the way you’re sat, cross legged, the thin fabric of pyjama shorts riding up your thigh. her laugh is dopey, saccharine laced with a bite, “what d’ya mean?”

you’re pinned, like a dead butterfly behind glass, inspected. abby leans forward, a pique of interest crawling up her spine, her elbows digging nasty red welts into her knees. they both, as if practiced, stare, like careful animals on the other side of a zoo exhibit fence. they know they cannot touch you, but they deign still to think they can try.

you laugh, something elevated, untouchable, bringing the joint back to your mouth, “you two — you seem, close.”

a shared look of panic and something deeper sets between them, ellie stretching her legs to knock yours as she plucks the joint from you, shooting abby a teasing glance. she pats the battered carpet next to her, “come on abs.”

the nickname is a taunt, an echo of some wild, buried intimacy that ellie wanted — needed you to know. she’s answering your question, in a way.

abby slides off the bed, scooting over at her roommate’s beck and call. she takes the blunt tenderly, leaning back and letting ellie hold the lighter to her, the movement eased, familiar. she shakes her head, “we’re friends.”

you smile, lopsided, a low-flying buzz hanging in the air. your body loose, uncaring, as you canvas the look ellie has on her face. pensive.

“right.”

“what?”

“nothing, i just - i don’t believe you.”

“it’s true!” the laugh shared between them is something too close for comfort to be true, but abby persists, “we grew up together, we play tennis together, we’re friends.”

“well…” the soft abrade of ellie’s voice was a testament, a challenge. for you, it was a tantalising peak behind a curtain so well guarded, a piece of themselves so rarely shared. for abby, it was an unnecessary torment. she looks at ellie, she sees the competition in her eyes. abby knows the sting of shared desire, of the punishing hand of her best friend. the brunette pouts, studying her roommate’s look of resigned pleading, “come on! i think it’s a — it’s a cute story. abby had a little, teensy crush on me when we were kids.”

“oh fuck off!” the edge in the swell of abby’s voice demanded attention, commanded respect in the abhorrent violence of something unexpected. the closeness of the two sat thick, heady in the face of the thin layer of smoke in the air. ellie’s hand slips from her thigh.

a silence befalls the three of you, foreign and raw in the space of casualty. the air of times past is not lost on you, as you watch the humiliation creep through abby’s skin in red flushes. ellie’s advantage.

“i think it’s cute,” you muse with a misaligned shrug.

— a beat.

“really?” that changes everything, in a pathetic sort of way. abby has the eyes of a puppy, a tortured lap dog as she looks at you, wide and wild, tamed on your word. a certain honey of victory sits in her stomach.

“yeah, i mean -“ you laugh, such an ardent reminder of their own pursuits of you, fresh and recognisable. of who stands on their feet, and who kneels before them. “i just don’t intend to be a homewrecker.”

“we’re not together.” they choir together in rehearsed concordance, in defence of themselves. strange, how their voices melt together in a harmony so well matched.

you hum, as if to challenge them quietly, before standing. the stretch of your legs provides a curious path, their gazes dripping upwards of you like forlorn magnets, drawn to your body. you look down on them with a quirk of your brow, pulling your pj shorts to rest higher on your hips, before perching yourself on the edge of ellie’s bed.

they look at you as if they had just lost you, something childishly snoopy glinting, matched, in their eyes. your hands run along the scratch of ellie’s bedsheets, exploring, before you pat either side of you, gently.

in a scramble, they pull themselves to your side, infringing on your summoning. ellie pressed to your left, abby to your right, inescapable, the both of them.

you meet abby’s gaze, swallowed nearly in the startling kindness of the blue of her iris. she looks so meagre, so shrunken and teetering on the edge of your existence, a planet in orbit of a raging star.

gently, with the softness you label so deserving of her, your hands wander, pulling her in, letting the chasteness of her lips fall away into a fevered triumph, the taste of the salt of her lips and the bitterness of the weed a chaser to her touch.

ellie, sat so humbly, waits in a quiet, angry defeat, her fingers ghosting the edge of your bare thigh. oh, to be the only child, so unused to sharing. impatient and derivative, she almost whines, a soft call for your attention. you answer, to the surprise of both, abby’s taste still on your lips, something so familiar.

she’s more callous than the girl she so aptly loves and despises, her movements quick and domineering as she seeks to own you. abby, tasting you and wanton for nothing, slips down to the stretch of your neck, pressing her kindness into your skin with the pliant pull of her teeth.

ellie’s hands are needy creatures, pulling over you like the ebb and flow of a vicious tide, snaking up your shirt for just a taste.

“..fuck.” your heavy breath fills the room like smoke, a complying pass for her to tease the stretch of her fingers under the waistband of your shorts. control was just a fleeting delusion, your hand grabbing at the bone of her wrist, “come on, let her go first.”

ellie, once again left waiting; abby, so all consumed with the pulse of your neck, is despondent, desperate, her breath shaky in your ear as her hand slips beneath the fabric, a soft groan dripping from her lips at the velvet of your walls enveloping her.

she’s slow, languid and unpracticed with her indigent circles around your clit. a sweet intoxication hanging heavy in the air, you laugh, coy and soft and somewhat mean. you had thought abby bigger, more unobtainable than she really was.

here, she is human. here, she bares her unspoken inexperience.

you pull a desperate, evil ellie from the swirl of your tit, so keen to pull your attention away. your thumb mindlessly swipes along the hang of her bottom lip, her breath warm and savouring in your sunlight.

“y’know what to do?” ellie nods into the palm of your hand, eager to show off, to please. “teach her.”

leaning up on the back of your elbows, you watch through a half-lidded honeyed gaze as ellie slinks down, conflicted. a certain affection in her touch, deeper than that of anything else, she finds abby’s fingers in the heat of your legs, leading them along the strings of your impulse.

a shaky moan leaves abby’s lips, the callous of ellie’s fingers along her own a dream unfounded. she can feel the press of her chest against her back, her breath in her ear, her chin on her shoulder. this was not unlike of them, not a foreign feeling, but new, still. the need in ellie’s throat is rotted, estranged to her touch.

they assess you on the bed, like an experiment. the arch of your back is artwork along the ripple of the sheets.

“go slow, you see that?” ellie’s voice is low in abby’s ear, tracing the breathy moans you drip beneath them. “just like that — good, abs. good girl.”

ellie’s hand slips from abby’s, running your slick along her arm, your thigh, a trail up your stomach as she comes to palm your tits, her mouth finding your neck, biting down on your wicked pulse in such difference to the other.

abby is lost, chasing feelings that no longer belong to her. she watches you writhe under her touch, under ellie’s touch. something wanting sits in her throat, unknown to her.

ellie is her best friend. but this — mean competition abandoned, this is something else. something buried, aged, ready to rear its head.

the blonde brings her lips to the dip of your stomach, pressing a soft trail up the curve of your hips. unsure of what she wants, what she’s looking for on the crest of your body, she presses the crook of her nose into your naval, her fingers burning, picking up their speed.

ellie comes to her, drawn to her like to her a flame. pressing a kiss to the curve of your breast, she finds the cotton of her friend’s lips so easily, as if fated. messily, they meet along the plume of your ribcage, you, an instrument for their own aches. esoteric, their tongues swirl on your skin, on their lips, tracing each other as if they had never known the other at all.

like dogs tugging at meat with the bare of their teeth.

homewrecker, indeed.

⎯ kofi

taglist; @whore4abby @endureher @beemillss @afraidofheightss @sentimentalyellow

#ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #ellie x reader #abby anderson smut #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x abby anderson #ellabs x reader #ellie williams #abby anderson #ellie x fem reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader

613 notes · View notes

stupidphototricks · 4 months ago

Text

Dwarf tradition, in The Truth. Long quote but there is so much to unpack here.

"A dwarf needs gold to get married." "What… like a dowry? But I thought dwarfs didn't differentiate between--" "No, no, the two dwarfs getting married each buy the other dwarf off their parents." "Buy?" said William. "How can you buy people?" "See? Cultural misunderstanding once again, lad. It costs a lot of money to raise a young dwarf to marriageable age. Food, clothes, chain mail… it all adds up over the years. It needs repaying. After all, the other dwarf is getting a valuable commodity. And it has to be paid for in gold. That's traditional. Or gems. They're fine, too. You must've heard our saying 'worth his weight in gold'? Of course, if a dwarf's been working for his parents, that gets taken into account on the other side of the ledger. Why, a dwarf who's left off marrying till late in life is probably owed quite a tidy sum in wages—You're still looking at me in that funny way…" "It's just that we don't do it like that…" mumbled William. Goodmountain gave him a sharp look. "Don't you, now?" he said. "Really? What do you use instead, then?" "Er… gratitude, I suppose," said William. He wanted this conversation to stop, right now. It was heading out over thin ice. "And how's that calculated?" "Well… it isn't, as such…" "Doesn't that cause problems?" "Sometimes." "Ah. Well, we know about gratitude, too. But our way means the couple start their new lives in a state of… g'daraka… er, free, unencumbered, new dwarfs. Then their parents might well give them a huge wedding present, much bigger than the dowry. But it is between dwarf and dwarf, out of love and respect, not between debtor and creditor… though I have to say these human words are not really the best was of describing it. It works for us. It has worked for a thousand years." "I suppose to a human it sounds a bit… chilly," said William. Goodmountain gave him another studied look. "You mean by comparison to the warm and wonderful ways humans conduct their affairs?" he said. "You don't have to answer that one. Anyway, me and Boddony want to open up a mine together, and we're expensive dwarfs. We know how to work lead, so we thought a year or two of this would see us right." "You're getting married?" "We want to," said Goodmountain. "Oh… well, congratulations," said William. He knew enough not to comment on the fact that both dwarfs looked like small barbarian warriors with long beards. All traditional dwarfs looked like that.* *Most dwarfs were still referred to as "he" as well, even when they were getting married. It was generally assumed that somewhere under all that chain mail one of them was female and that both of them knew which one this was. But the whole subject of sex was one that traditionally minded dwarfs did not discuss, perhaps out of modesty, possibly because it didn't interest them very much, and certainly because they took the view that what two dwarfs decided to do together was entirely their own business. — Terry Pratchett, The Truth

I super love the footnote, of course, but unexpectedly now I kind of want this version of a dowry to be a thing. I mean, the dowries of the bad old days where the man basically bought the woman from her parents, that's not okay. But this.

I'm a parent, and in no way do I feel like my kid owes me for their upbringing, education, or even (I'm anticipating) a few years of post-college living at home. Not at all. I can't imagine not taking care of them or attaching any strings to that care.

But that's not what this is. Really, ideally, it's a way for parents and children to give each other the gift of the child's independence, their autonomy, their adulthood. To officially and tangibly say that their relationship from this point on is no longer parent/child, but something more on an equal level.

For that matter, I imagine the child is free not to have a relationship with their parents any more at all, if they want. No obligation, no guilt. If parents want to be in their kids' lives when they're adults, they'll need to make sure their kids actually like them as people.

Well. I know that our world of humans doesn't work like this. Even if we put a monetary value on what we owed our parents and paid it, we'd still feel obligated to them, at least a little. Even if our kids paid us back, we'd still feel like we had the right to control them, at least a little.

But man. That g'daraka thing sounds wonderful.

#terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #discworld #discworld quotes #william de worde #gunilla goodmountain #the truth #and also spoiler but after this it hits so hard in the book when william tries to buy himself from his father

247 notes · View notes

wingedhallows · 11 months ago

Text

cause you're kinda cute; james potter

pairing: james potter x reader | 0.7k words plot: you're kinda scary and james has a crush on you, paper birds which are hard to control aren't helping either prompt: "you don't scare me. then why's your heart beating so fast? cause you're kinda cute." authors note: i tried something fluffy for once, hope you like it, have a good weekend, y'all :)

navigation

The simmering and slight whispers in Slughorn's classroom were the only thing audible, a cold breeze which glided past your cheeks made you sigh. It was mid July and unbearably hot in Hogwarts.

The worst thing was that teachers, especially Slughorn, didn’t approve of improper uniforms. You were allowed to wear shorts, even short sleeve shirts but the robes had to stay, safety reasons he had said. You were sure that he secretly enjoyed seeing you all suffer.

“I’ll drop dead soon, it’s sooo hot in here” Isolde, your friend, muttered as she wiped her forehead with her arm. You were hot, yes, but Isolde had to bear the heat with a head full of black thick curls.

“I told you to put your mane up.” Diana snickered, her ash white hair in a bun on top of her head. You stirred your pot and took another look at the book, something didn’t seem right. Why was Isolde’s whitish and yours almost green?

“It’s not that simple, Diana.” Isolde bit back, her mouth in a thin line. “Just ‘cause you have a fist full of hair.” Diana’s mouth opened in shock as she smacked her friend's shoulder.

“Why is yours like that and mine’s like this?” You asked, leaning over Isolde’s cauldron, eyebrows in a frown.

“Cause you’re kinda shit at potions, hun.” She patted your shoulder and gave you a fake pout.

“But I really need this grade.” You grumbled as you stared at your greenish liquid. Slughorn wouldn’t even be surprised, you thought. “I know, I know." Isolde whispered and dropped something you didn’t know into your cauldron.

“Why don’t you ask for help?” Diana spoke, eyes fixed on her book. “Help? From who?” Diana gave you a small smile.

“You heard Slughorn before, Potter’s a genius at potions.” Your eyes widened as you shook your head. “No fucking way, Potter’s a nightmare.” Isolde’s mouth twitched into a smile as nudged you.

“That’s not what I heard two nights ago.”

Your eyes closed as you turned to your cauldron, you had played truth or dare spiked with Veritaserum. You had blabbered about how hot James Potter and his friends were and how much you would give for him to do certain things to you.

“Shut up, Diana.” You grumbled.

A second later a paper bird stumbled over your head onto your book, flapping its wings as it unfolded.

10 Prettiest Girls

Y/N L/N - slytherin, scary :(

Aurora Kent - boring

Lily Evans - snivellus' friend

Narcissa Black - cousin, not cool

Marlene McKinnon

Diana Hunt - slytherin, airhead

Isolde O’Neil - mean also slytherin

Alice Fortscue

Mary McDonald

Florence Williams - slytherin

You couldn’t believe what you held in your hands. Your eyes widened as you looked over it again. You were number one, wow, but you’re scary?

Slowly you turned around, paper in your hand. Sirius and Peter stared at you with wide eyes as you noticed what had happened. This paper wasn’t supposed to fall into your hands, it was supposed to fly over your head into James’ and Remus’ hands.

With your face cold as ice you walked over to them, their eyes still wide. Remus took a step back.

“Y/N, hi.” He spoke, much higher than usual. You slammed the paper down on James’ table, careful enough to not disturb Slughorn, who was busy in his cabinet.

“This-This-”I’m scary?” You said, mouth in a grin. His eyes widened as they switched between the paper and your face multiple times.

“What?” He tried but you let a small chuckle slip. You took a step around the table, closer than needed. James fell back onto his chair, faces inches apart.

“Do I scare you, James?” His lips formed into a grin and he put his hand on the table, to steady himself, you guessed.

“You don’t scare me, Y/N.” You crossed your arms and now smiled at him, your braids fell over your shoulders, almost hitting the boy in front of you in the face as you bent down a tad. Your lips hovered over his ear, his neck tensed

“Then why’s your heart beating so fast?” He hung his head as a chuckle left his form, he placed his hands on his thighs before looking at you again.

“Cause you’re kinda cute.” You threw your head back as a giggle, barely audible, escaped you. Your hand found his chin, lifting his face.

“Right back at ‘ya.” He smiled and gave you another smile.

“And since we’re already here, you might want to cross that, Diana’s much smarter than she lets on.” He nods and takes the pen Remus holds out for him.

With a hand to his forehead he smiles at you, a pinkish tint on his apple cheeks.

“Yes ma’am.”

#harrypotter #hp fanfic #marauders era #marauders imagine #the marauders #james potter #james potter x reader #harry potter fanfic #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #the marauders fanfic #marauders #the marauders era #james potter fluff #harry potter fluff

869 notes · View notes

ynbabe · 8 months ago

Text

So they just hate him huh?

I am not keeping quiet about this.

What Williams did today was extremely fucking shitty.

Extending Alexs contract AND annoucing after probably the biggest day in Logans F1 career? AND having Alex announce it to the entire Williams staff? All while Logan was out doing stuff for Lap of Legends?

What the fuck Williams.

Get your fucking shit together.

#pookie wait for me I’ll be right there #💪🔪🏃#TRUST #Williams you are on thin ice and it is cracking #logan sargeant #alex albon #williams #f1 #formula 1 #and I love Alex but he should stick up for his teammate once in a while

355 notes · View notes

agendabymooner · 1 year ago

Text

MASTERLIST: A-N F1 DRIVERS by agendabymooner

LINK TO MASTERLIST: O-Z F1 DRIVERS by agendabymooner

LINK TO SOMETHING SINFUL (SMUT) MASTERLIST by agendabymooner (MINORS DNI)

note: I CANNOT OFFICIALLY FIT MY WORKS IN ONE POST 😭 so here is my alphabetical f1 masterlist!!!

legends/genre:

a = angst g = general fic hc = hurt/comfort h = humour

s = smut (minors, dni) mc = mature content (minors, dni) f = fluff

★ - newly added ♡ - favourite piece

ALSO CHECK OUT:

MOONY'S CHARACTER DIRECTORY

MOONY'S FILIPINO CHARACTERS DIRECTORY

alex albon (aa23)

front page lover (thai!kpop idol!ofc)

keeper, smau: polly berkshire has obscure interactions with her thirsty boyfriend and it's safe to say that they love each other.

fashion week, smau: the williams driver and polly always got something for everyone to talk about.

double aa, socmed snapshot: a series of instagram stories in which alex is a dad to alice albon

own it, smau: alex's hidden talent is being a good boyfriend with a dash of photographer. ★

fernando alonso (fa14)

the breakup and makeup series (pro wrestler!ofc)

time to rock and roll, fic: the first time beatrice staedtlander and fernando alonso had broken up. (hc) ♡

heaven, smau: back in 2000s, fernando alonso and beatrice anastasia 'trish' staedtlander were every racing and wrestling fans' couple. years after, trish alonso became a mother and a wife... and the grid's crush of the season. fernando was certainly not happy so what's a better way to remind everyone that he was hers? (f, g, h)

from the ground up, smau: tino and tiago alonso were the twins that trish had given birth to at the age of 40, and everyone understood now why she didn't make it to the 2024 canadian gp. (f)

look what god gave her, smau: beatrice 'trish' alonso survived fernando's messy image better than anybody did. (f, g, h)

bonnie and the fame

maneater, smau: bonnie catherine sutton was carlos sainz's ex-girlfriend who returned to the f1 scene as a different woman. turns out, she's fernando alonso's fiancée (f)

ego, smau: never underestimate a woman's self-esteem, it might end up wounding you more than it would her.

oliver bearman (ob8)

ice ice baby, smau: kimi raikkonen's daughter romania raikkonen debuted in formula one with her friends AND it's safe to say that the iceman doesn't like ollie that much.

icy in saudi, smau: aroma raikkonen was ollie's biggest supporter in his f1 debut. plus, she also had her personal 'reverse harem' consisting of her best friends in the f2 grid. ★

ollie on thin ice(man), scenario: kimi raikkonen had proven himself to be oliver bearman's biggest hater at some point. ★

jenson button (jb22)

pride and pettiness (x british!actress!ofc)

one, 2004: in which, ada and jenson met for the first time.

the mr. darcy type, smau: much like the popular love interest, jenson should have known better than to say things that wouldn't impress a woman he grew interested in. OR ada abbott made sure that he worked hard for her time and attention. (f) ♡

shunt the hell up! (x hunt!driver!ofc)

shunt your lovers, kiss your enemies. smau: it was funny how enemies can be your teammate AND your lover at the same time. OR jj hunt, the daughter of the late james hunt, was jenson's biggest rival until a certain baby predicament cost her her entire racing career. (g) ♡

better enemies than strangers, smau: the brawn gp docuseries discussed jj hunt and the surprising turn of events in her rivalry/partnership with jenson in 2009. ★

other works

affection, blurb: in which, jenson learned that he should just say it without being a little too drunk.

pierre gasly (pg10)

newsflash, smau: ensley soleil doesn’t like playboys. too bad, pierre gasly’s down bad for her (attention and love). (f, g, h)

odds, fic: their timing was always wrong, maybe that's why pierre should consider making it even for the two of them as she writes songs about him and their courtship.

lowkey, smau: fans thought that pierre moved on from ensley four months after publicly declaring his (love?) for her. funnily enough... (f, g, h)

indigo, chatfic + smau: there's really no reason for pierre gasly to be jealous over some man that ensley wrote 'high school in jakarta' about. not when she wrote one or more songs about the frenchman. (f) ♡

high school in jakarta, fic: meeting ensley’s close friends would also mean that he’d have to meet her high school sweetheart, who he believed he couldn’t compete against until ensley ensured that his two-day attendance wouldn’t be spoiled by some guy who couldn’t let go of some memories she couldn’t even remember. ♡

dancing with the devil, smau: ensley soleil doesn't care about what people are saying about her relationship with pierre especially now that she's married to him. (f)

vintage, smau: pierre gasly is a husband and a fanboy of ensley soleil gasly amongst other things. (f)

hot dad era, socmed snapshot: pierre gasly. 30% f1 driver 70% dilf.

other works

do i make you nervous, blurb: lesson learned: just date her first rather than being friendly in the bed.

lewis hamilton (lh44)

stevie and lewis (hearth sister!ofc)

thick and thin, smau + fic: lewis should know better than underestimating her and her capabilities to yearn for him for years. (hc)

hands on and paws on, socmed snapshot: lewis is a stay-at-home dad to lottie hamilton and his best boy, roscoe, happens to watch his mummys everywhere she goes as she carries baby hamilton #2.

the hamilton daycare, fic: lewis is already a stay-at-home dad so what makes his day out in monaco with his two kids any different? (f) (2/3 of daddy, debriefed!)

where the bad girls are (kpop idol!ofc)

lifted, smau: lewis is married to a kpop idol who happened to be one of the girls to shape the image of female groups in the korean pop community.

crowned couple (x miss universe!ofc)

the couple of the universe, smau: lewis is a careless being this season and everyone's wondering why.

melody series (x performer!ofc)

summary: with her sharp eyes focused on her audience, a burlesque performer who went under the name of melody returned to rythme romantique, an entertainment lounge which exclusively caters to the wealthiest people of monaco — or in this case, to the people with a status that are recognized by all. her three exclusive performances were meant to be a closure for her connections in the principality. still, a certain formula one driver saw it as an opportunity to reconnect with his former flame after two years of her absence. felicity vos learned that this was a rich man’s world and that he could do whatever he wanted, but she also realized that the agreement they settled on years ago was corrupted the moment he expressed his love for her.

one, million dollar man: monaco was a world of glitz and glamour that she left two years ago. returning to the principality clearly was a huge mistake as she found herself talking to the man who swore to nothing but his love for her.

two, this is what makes us girls: "decorum isn't something you can buy with money or fame." or what did lewis really want from her and why did he show up on the second night of her performance?

arthur leclerc (al12)

the scheming schumachers, smau: sunny schumacher is mick's cousin and what does a family do? they attract arthur leclerc to get him away from his best friend, who happens to be mick's girlfriend. thankfully, the schumacher cousin is something of a welcome distraction for the monegasque.

charles leclerc (cl16)

the leclerc boys series (x hearth sister!ofc)

debunking drama, smau: prequel to of long lines and names; aimee hearth, the mclaren media manager and one of the famous hearth sisters, was rumoured to be dating lando norris. a certain monegasque's baffled reaction became a trending topic in twitter as he counteracts the rumour with an instagram post of his lover. (f, h)

many kids with many names, smau: everyone found out that aimee and charles were having not only one but two babies. turned out, those two babies have at least a million name. (h) ★

of long lines and names, fic: five kids with (almost) five names under six years. OR the three pregnancies that charles had witnessed told him how motherhood and memories could come in two sets of twins and a boy that looked so much like him. (f)

the leclerc daycare, fic: before his last set of twins were born, charles had to watch his boys on his own- not exactly by himself when he's got esteban and pierre acting as his right hand men. (f) (1/3 of daddy, debriefed!) ♡

about names, scenario fics

summary: extension to of long lines and names and the leclerc daycare; charles and aimee's boys and their names go hand in hand OR times when the couple had to tell their kids that their names were signs of love and respect for their namesakes.

one, an amazing boy with an amazing name: hervé's anger left his parents confused after he refused to be called by his first name. thankfully, his mamé pascale had an easy access to his heart that eventually led to an answer to his sadness.

two, the wingman of maranello: jules leclerc learned two things as he travelled to italy with his father: he had an uncle named uncle teague and uncle teague had a best friend that was once charles' godfather.

other pieces

"slut", smau: charles' ex trashed his new girlfriend a while ago, but too bad he wasn't really into the thought of making music with anyone but lou villar.

breaking curses not hearts, smau: frankie bardot atkinson was also known for her curse in the film industry. after breaking her long streaked curse and finally won an oscar, was it finally charles' time to break his curse at monza gp?

kevin magnussen (km20)

family ties, smau: lando norris forgot that his brother-in-law is in the grid with him and lola norris magnussen couldn't help but make of her brother for it.

lando norris (ln4)

lover era (x alessandro sister!writer!ofc)

london boy, smau: nicola 'cola' alessandro moved to britain and what's a better way to introduce yourself to england than taking a trip around with a certain mclaren driver? (f, g, h)

i think he knows, smau: grazia nichols published her debut novel based off formula one, and a fan could have sworn that the the book bf - nolan langford - was based off of lando's character as a driver altogether. (f, g, h)

✿ honey, honey! series masterlist - lando norris x ofc (honey-sue lewis) ft. sidemen

other pieces

too good to be true, smau: just a brief overview of lando’s relationship with a countryside girl who, beyond her introverted tendencies, was an unhinged, unserious yet amazing mother and girlfriend. ★

f1 drivers (general)

✿ 9 to 5 series masterlist - f1 grid x ofc (lester alessandro) ft. fictional wolff kids

✿ f1 voicemail blurbs - series of blurbs with voicemails left by the drivers. ★

too much caring, smau, sv5 + jb22: kpop idol juno was assumed to have cheated on retired driver jenson button with his best mate sebastian vettel. oh how wrong those people were...

#formula one masterlist #f1 masterlist #formula one fic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula one smau #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 masterlist #formula one series

946 notes · View notes

lee-laurent · 2 months ago

Text

Beaten and Bruised - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke and Sylvie struggle to find their soulmates

content: soulmate au! injuries, bruises, blood, fainting, a bit of angst, fluff!

wc: 5.6k

notes: enjoy guys!! trying to get back in the groove of writing :) not proofread

Sylvie Williams had always wondered what kind of person her soulmate might be. The thought of having someone out there--a complete stranger with a connection so deep they could feel each other's pain--was thrilling yet terrifying. She had gotten used to the faint bruises, and occasional sharp stabs that would catch her by surprise--reminding her of their existence.

She could still remember when she first learned of the bond. She was a little girl, waking up with a nasty gash on her cheek, blood on her pillow. She'd stared at herself in the mirror before bursting into tears. How could that have happened in her sleep? She had sprinted down to her parents room, barely able to contain herself between sobs. Her parents knew exactly what it meant, though. They'd sat her down and explained what was happening to her in the way only parents could.

"Somewhere out there," her mother said softly, "you have someone who will be with you for life, someone who will be there through everything. Thick and thin. You're meant to be together."

At first, it sounded magical--a storybook kind of connection, where she and this mysterious other person were linked to live happily ever after. But over the years, as the scrapes and bruises began to add up, Sylvie learned that fate wasn't always gentle. Her soulmate was clearly living life in the fast lane, and they seemed to collect injuries like they were Pokemon. Sometimes it was as simple as a dull ache in her side that lasted a few hours. Other times, she'd wake up with sore ribs or throbbing knuckles, feeling as if she'd just lost a fight. And one time, she woke up with a broken ankle... that one was fun.

She used to try and imagine what he was doing. Had they been in a car accident? A bad fall? She'd picture them as an adventurer or someone with a dangerous job. But was time went on, she learned not to dwell on it. She couldn't stop them from getting hurt, and the constant worrying became exhausting. Instead, she liked to think that each bruise was a sign that they were out there living their best life.

The constant random injuries had become so much a part of her that her friends had adapted to joking about it, especially her roommate Mia.

"Another bruise?" Mia asked, spotting a fresh mark on Sylvie's shin as she emerged from the bathroom. Sylvie looked down, barely surprised.

"Oh, yeah. Probably nothing," she replied with a grin, rolling her eyes as she rubbed at it. "They must be busy this week. Either that or they've taken up skateboarding."

"Or cliff diving," Mia smirked. "Maybe they're a stunt double."

Sylvie laughed, though it did seem her soulmate had a limitless capacity for injuries. It didn't bother her most days, it made them feel real. She felt them in the faintest aches and though it did hurt, the mystery was comforting. They were out there somewhere, even if they felt worlds away.

For Luke Hughes, pain was something he'd come to tolerate pretty well. As a hockey player, a professional one at that, taking hits and bouncing back was part of the game, an occupational hazard he gladly accepted. But for all the pain he endured on the ice, there were always the other bruises--the ones that weren't his.

It wasn't something he talked about much, even to his brothers, who had all grown up experiencing the same thing. They would occasionally joke about it, but Luke rarely mentioned it. He tried not to think about his soulmate too often, chalking it up as one of those things that just came with being human. But when he was alone, on late nights or long flights after away games, he couldn't help but imagine what they'd be like.

He figured they had to be as accident-prone as he was--maybe more. He remembered his first high school game, how he'd come home sore, only to feel a strange, unearned ache in his ribs a few days later. It seemed like they'd traded injuries without even knowing it.

"You got a twin out there taking hits for you, Rusty?" Nico teased as Luke winced, a dull pain radiating up his side like he'd just bumped into the corner of a counter.

"Must be my soulmate, I guess," Luke shrugged. "Either that or I've got a ghost that keeps beating me up."

"Poor girl," Nico snorted. "I'd hate to be the one taking all your hits."

"I'll try not to break anything this season," he muttered as he tied up his skates. He really wished he could apologize for the pain he'd caused her, but then again... she was serving it right back at him.

Sylvie wasn't the biggest sports fan ever. She'd gone to occasional football game in high school, but hockey was foreign to her, something she associated with people fighting just because they felt like it. It had never occurred to her to watch a professional game, but this was about to be about "new experiences"--Mia's words, not hers.

"C'mon, Sylvie!" Mia pleaded, pulling her along outside Prudential Center as they joined the sea of red-and-black jerseys streaming into the arena. "You never do stuff like this! It'll be fun."

Sylvie laughed, letting herself get caught up in Mia's excitement. "All right, fine. But if I get hit with a puck, I'm holding you responsible."

"Oh, relax. We're nowhere near the ice," Mia dismissed her. "Besides, the only thing you'll get hit by is a serious case of hockey heart eyes. I mean, have you seen these guys? Just wait 'til you see Luke Hughes. You won't regret it."

"I think you underestimate my resilience to heart eyes," Sylvie joked, pulling her jacket a little closer to her body. The arena was packed and she couldn't help but make a face as she was jostled trying to walk through the doors.

They made their way to their seats, a decent section with a clear view of the rink, but not close enough she'd get hit. Sylvie had never experienced the atmosphere of waving foam fingers and signs with players' names on them, and she began to think she might actually enjoy herself.

"Look, there he is!" Mia said, nudging her roommate and pointing toward the players on the ice.

Sylvie squinted, watching the players skate in circles. They were like video game characters, moving so fast she could barely keep track of who was who. But then she noticed him--Number 43, Luke Hughes, the tall denfenceman with light brown hair curling under his helmet. He stood out, as if he demanded her attention without even trying.

Mia leaned over, whispering excitedly. "Total dreamboat, right? Wouldn't you be lucky if he was your soulmate!! I mean, yours is always getting hurt, right?"

"Please. What are the chances he's a pro athlete? Knowing my luck, he's probably a rock climber or something."

But Mia's words did plant a tiny seed of curiousity in her mind. Hockey was an incredibly physical sport, filled with endless risks and injuries. Her soulmate always seemed like he led an active life. She shook her head, laughing it off. It was ridiculous to even consider.

The lights dimmed, and the music kicked up, rattling the arena. The fans roared as the game officially began and Sylvie felt the excitement ripple through her. The players skates carving up the ice with sharp precision. She tried to keep track of who had the puck and where it was going, but her eyes kept drifting to Luke. He moved awfully gracefully for such a rough game, his every move controlled.

Then, it happened.

Sylvie didn't even see the first hit coming. She was finally watching the puck when Luke collided with another player, slamming hard into the boards. A loud thud that made her wince--and then, a sharp sting in her shoulder, a burst of pain that caught her off guard. She gasped, reaching up to rub the sore spot.

What was that?

She tried to ignore it, shaking her head. Probably just a coincidence. Maybe she'd slept funny. But a few minutes later, Luke took another hit, this time falling to the ice as he scrambled for control of the puck. And again, Sylvie felt an ache in her side, like she'd fallen over.

She shifted in her seat, her fingers absently brushing the spot that throbbed with pain. No way, she thought, her heartrate picking up. She tried to dismiss it, but the connection was too uncanny, too perfectly timed. She looked at Mia, who was busy cheering.

"Mia," she whispered, trying to sound casual. "Do you... do you ever feel pain when someone else gets hurt? Like, weird, out-of-nowhere pain?"

"Uh, only when my soulmate is being clumsy. But he's usually fine," she paused, noticing Sylvie's uneasy expression. "Why? You feeling something?"

She nodded slowly, not wanting to seem insane. "It's just... Every time that guy--Luke Hughes--takes a hit, I feel it too. Like... really feel it."

"Oh my god. You think he's your soulmate?"

"No! No, it's probably just a coincidence. It has to be."

But it became impossible to ignore. Every hit that Luke took, every time he went down or got tangled with another player, Sylvie felt a corresponding jolt of pain. By the second period, she was clutching her seat, trying to process it.

"This can't be real," she mumbled, though the evidence was impossible to deny.

"You okay?" Mia asked, watching her with growing concern.

"I... I don't know." She looked back at Luke, watching him as he skated down the rink. Part of her was exhilerated, the idea of her soulmate being someone so cool, so driven. But another part of her was scared. If it was real, he had no idea how much he was putting her through.

And then, as if on cue, everything fell apart.

In the third period, Luke took an extra hard hit. Sylvie saw it coming--she saw the player rushing at him, the brutal speed of the collision as Luke went down. The crowd gasped as Luke lay on the ice a moment, collecting himself.

But Sylvie didn't see what happened next. The instant he hit the ice, a searing, white-hot pain flared in hre chest, unlike anything she'd ever felt. The shock of it ripped through her, consuming every thought, every sense, until all she could feel was pain.

She barely heard Mia's shout of concern as her vision blurred, the edges of her world fading into darkness. The last thing she remembered was the sting of the hit, and then everything went black.

The next time Sylvie opened her eyes, she was lying under bright, sterile lights, quiet beeping filling the room. She blinked, trying to piece together what had happened. Her body felt heavy, her chest aching as though she'd been run over.

"Oh, thank god. You scared the life out of me."

"What... happened?" her voice was hoarse.

"You fainted. At the game, after Hughes took that hit," Mia explained. "Sylvie, I think he's really your soulmate. The timing, the pain--it all lines up."

Sylvie's cheeks flushed, and she tried to laugh it off despite her shaky voice. "You think Luke Hughes is my soulmate?"

"Just saying that it makes total sense! I mean, think about it. The hits, the pain, the last one that made you fucking faint, Sylv!"

Sylvie laid back, trying to take it all in. Deep down, she knew Mia was right but she didn't want to believe it. His life was a worlds away from hers. And the thought filled her with exictement and dread. Lots and lots of dread.

After Sylvie was discharged, she and her friends gathered at her apartment, eager to plan their next move. Mia, Jenna, and Casey were practically bouncing in their seats as they went over ideas, each one wilder than the last.

"So, first thing's first," Mia began, "we need to get you close to him. Figure out if your bruises match."

"Yeah, but how?" Casey chimed in. "Not like we can just show up at the rink and expect him to be all, 'Oh hey, you must be my soulmate!'"

"What about a fan event?" Jenna scrolled through her phone. "The Devils do meet-and-greets, right? I bet we could get tickets to one of those."

Sylvie's eyes widened. "Are you serious? You guys actually want to try and... meet him?"

"Why not? Mia grinned. "It's perfect. If he's really your soulmate, we can test it out in person. See if he reacts the same when you're face-to-face."

Sylvie laughed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I don't know. I mean... it sounds a little... stalkerish? Like, we don't know if he'd be open to this at all. He has no idea who I am."

"Come on, Sylvie! This isn't some stranger," Jenna argued. "This is literally your soulmate. Fate, destiny, all that shit. You can't just sit here and wait for him to stumble across you, can you?"

Part of Sylvie wanted to dive in, to test the bond, to finally meet the person she'd been connected to for so long. But she also felt grossly unprepared, like stepping into his world would be an invasion.

"I just... I don't want to freak him out. If he's really my soulmate, I want to meet him naturally, not... not like some crazy fan ambushing him."

"We get it, Sylv. But there's got to be some way to find out for sure."

After a moment of silence, Casey perked up, snapping her fingers. "What if we watch another game? You know, see if you feel anything. That way, we're not being weird or invasive... just testing the theory. You can watch from a safe distance, and if it happens again, we'll be sure."

Sylvie's eyes brightened as she listened to her friend. "That actually sounds... reasonable."

"There we go! Next game's on Saturday. We'll grab snacks, make a night of it. And if you start flinching or passing out again, then we'll have our answer."

That Saturday night, the girls settled into the couch, snacks and drinks ready, the Devils game queued up on the TV. Sylvie tried to relax, though her nerves were super on edge. She wasn't sure what outcome she was hoping for. Maybe neither. Maybe she'd just got to bed and pretend none of it ever happened.

The game began and the camera panned to the players, the crowd roaring, and Sylvie felt her heart skip when she saw Luke, tall and confident.

"Look at him," Jenna said with a wink. "You got lucky in the soulmate department."

"Shut up," Sylvie blushed.

As the game progressed, Luke took a few minor bumps, the usual hockey stuff. But each time, Sylvie felt it.

Mia's eyes widened when Sylvie winced, giving her arm an excited squeeze. "It's him. It's really him, isn't it?"

Then, toward the end of the second period, Luke took a fall, tripping over nothing in particular. Sylvie gritted her teeth as pain shot through her ribs. She doubled over, clutching her side, her breathing shallow until the ache subsided. Her friends hovered around her, their concern mixed with awe.

"You okay?" Jenna gently rubbed her back.

"Yeah... just hurts like a bitch."

Mia leaned back, her expression triumphment. "Well, I'd say we got our answer. Luke Hughes is most definitely your soulmate."

It was real. He was real. The constant reminder of someone else's presence had a face, a name, and a story. And now, all she had to do was find a way to tell him.

Luke's ribs were still sore from his stupid fall as he leaned against his stall, unlacing his skates with careful, slow movements. The hit he'd taken the other night was beyond brutal, even for him. He'd gone down hard, and though he'd been able to shake it off, falling again just made it worse.

The locker room buzzed with their usual post-practice chatter, but today there was a new current of gossip, something that Luke couldn't ignore.

"Did you guys hear about the girl that fainted the other night?" Jack said, dropping onto the bench next to him.

Luke raised an eyebrow. "What girl?"

Jack leaned forward, his eyes lighting up. "So get this--apparently some girl in the stands fainted right when you took that hit. Like, right in the middle of the third period. Security had to carry her out. Everyone thinks it was from you getting rocked."

The rest of the team chuckled, but Luke rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Maybe she just had a thing for seeing people get hurt. Or blood."

"I'm serious," his brother insisted. "I'm telling you, man, she saw you hit the boards and dropped like a rock."

Luke tried to laugh it off, but it made his pulse quicken. He was used to having fans--hockey was a thrilling sport and people loved watching it. But the timing was... strange. He'd taken loads of hits before but he never imagined anyone fainting at the sight of it, not unless there was more to it.

"Come on, guys, lay off 'im," Nico clapped him on the back with a wink. "She was probably just some hopeless romantic. 'Oh, my hero, Luke Hughes, so tragically thrown into the boards!'" He put a hand on his forehead dramatically.

"Yeah, yeah, very funny," Luke muttered, half-listening as his teammates continued to crack jokes. Fainting at the exact time he hit the boards? The coincidence as uncanny. It was probably nothing, but... what if?

Could she be...? No. The odds were so small, and it was crazy to even consider it a possibility. Jack was just pulling his leg. It was all just some stupid joke at his expense. There was no way... unless...

Luke couldn't shake the idea for the next few days. He thought about it during practice, while watching film, even on the drives home. His usual routine felt off, as if something was missing, and he found himself looking out into the stands during games, scanning the sea of faces for one he wouldn't even recognize.

It was strange, looking for a person he knew so intimately without having met. The idea of meeting her, of actually seeing her face and finding out who she was, was... terrifying.

In the days that followed, he took any excuse to be where fans would be, hoping he might spot her. He'd sign autographs after practice, spend longer at fan events, stand near the entrance after games. Each time, he'd hope for a sign, an instinct that would pull him to her. Tell him, there she is. That's her. But the crowds just blended together, each face unrecognizable and not comforting in the slightest.

His teammates started to notice. Jack in particular seemed to find it hilarious, trailing after Luke wherever he lingered, making sly comments.

"Looking for someone, Rusty?" Jack asked with a knowing grin as Luke craned his neck to look at the fans leaving the stadium. "Maybe that girl from the game?"

"Yeah, yeah, keep laughing." Luke felt the frustration gnawing away at him. The whole thing felt ridiculous. He didn't even know if the story was true, if the girl was really out there, but he couldn't let it go. No matter how hard he tried, he felt a pull as if she were waiting for him to find her.

Jack laughed, clapping him on the back. "Dude, I get it. You think she's your soulmate, don't ya?"

Luke looked away, trying to play it cool. "I don't know, maybe. I just... I just want to know who she is."

Jack gave him a sympathetic smile. "Hey, don't worry. If she's out there, I'm sure you'll find her. And if not, we'll get a whole fan campaign going-- hashtag find Luke's soulmate or something. The media would love it."

"Please no campaigns. The last thing I need is to look like some desperate romantic."

"Who's desperate?" Nico chimed in. "Looks to me like you're finally taking an interest in finding your soulmate."

"Alright, alright," Luke shook them off. He wanted to believe his teammates were right, that somehow, fate would make this happen without him forcing it. But each day that passed without a glimpse of her only made him more determined.

Weeks went by, and his hope began to wear thin. He tried to push it to the back of his mind, focusing on hockey, his training, his routines. But every so often, he'd find himself searching the stands during warmups. The spark of excitement he'd felt at first had faded, leaving a persistent ache that had nothing to do with injuries.

"Maybe she's playing hard to get," Jack mused one afternoon. "You could always start hanging out at local cafés. Who knows? Maybe she's right under your nose."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Maybe I'll just put an ad in the paper: 'If you fainted during that one game, meet me in section 103.'"

"That could work. You'd have half the girls in Jersey showing up though."

"Not really what I'm going for, but thanks."

By the end of the month, Luke had begun to accept that if might be a long time before he found her, if he ever did. Some people never met their soulmates, spending their lives with only the reminders of someone else's existance. In fact, Luke knew people that got married even though they weren't soulmates because they'd given up. He didn't want to worry about that, but since the fainting incident, it was hard to ignore.

Sylvie hadn't expected much from a girls' night out, but that was part of the appeal. After the last few weeks of "Operation Find Luke" (or "Operation Don't Stalk Luke" as she called it), she was ready to leave the soulmate drama at home for the night. The recent bruises had done nothing to calm her nerves, and she was desperate for a break. Tonight, it would just be her friends, drinks, and lots of laughter.

The chose a cozy bar, crowded but not packed. Sylvie ordered a cocktail, letting herself sink into the moment, a little thrill building at the idea of forgetting everything for a night.

Mia nudged her as the drinks arrived. "Here's to no more swooning over mysterious hockey players," she teased, raising her glass.

Sylvie laughed, clinking her glass with Mia's. "To a drama-free night."

The girls settled into a fun night, oblivious to anything outside their circle. But, as fate would have it, that peace didn't last long. Not ten minutes into their second round of drinks, Jenna's eyes went wide.

"Oh my god," Jenna whispered, elbowing her friends. "Isn't that... Nico Hischier?"

Nico Hischier, captain of the Devils, was leaning against the bar with a group of friends. Seeing him there made everything feel real for Sylvie again, like the whirlwind of the last few weeks had come rushing back at once.

"Oh god," she muttered, quickly looking away. "Act normal. If we ignore him, maybe he won't notice us."

"Fat chance of that," Mia teased. "D'you know what the chances are? This is fate!"

Before Sylvie could stop her, Mia slid out of her seat and strolled over to the bar, striking up conversation with Nico like they were old friends. Sylvie watched in horror as Mia introduced herself, gesturning back to their table with a smile. Nice glanced their way, nodding politely.

"Mia's actually talking to him," Sylvie whispered half to herself. "We're fucking doomed."

Jenna giggled. "Relax. What's the worst that could happen?"

A few minutes later Mia returned with a triumphant smile. "Okay, ladies, don't freak out, but I invited Nico and his friends to join us."

"You did what?"

Mia shrugged casually. "What? He was nice! And it's not everyday you get to hang out with the captain of an NHL team. Besides, I may have mentioned that we've been trying to get in touch with a certain Luke Hughes..."

Sylvie's jaw dropped. "Oh my god, Mia. No."

"Hey, thanks for letting us crash girls' night," Nico smiled. "Mia tells me you're a fan of the team?"

"More or less," Jenna said with a grin, shooting Sylvie a look. "Sylvie might be a little more invested than the rest of us."

"Oh, you know... casual fan." She shot a look at Mia, who merely smirked in response.

Nico chuckled, catching on with a knowing smile. "You know, Mia mentioned you've been looking for Luke. Something about... maybe being his soulmate?"

"Oh, I... I mean..." She fumbled for words, feeling horribly exposed. She hadn't planned on spilling her entire, complicated soulmate saga to Nico Hischier in a bar.

Nico's expression softened. "Look, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, but... if this is legit, I think Luke would want to know. He's been looking for someone, too."

"He... has?"

"He doesn't say much, but he's been acting... different. Like he's got something on his mind. We all just thought he'd met someone who might be his soulmate."

Before she could process any of his words, a new voice joined the conversation. "Hey, Neeks, you're hogging all the fun over here."

She turned and froze. Standing next to Nico was Luke himeslf, towering and unmistakably familiar even in regular clothes. He wore a small, curious smile.

And then their eyes met.

It was like the rest of the world faded away, the chatter and music melting away. There was something pulling them to each other. It felt like meeting someone she'd known her whole life, someone who lived happily in the quietest corners of her mind. A look of recognition crossed Luke's face.

Neither of them moved, too caught up in the intensity of the connection. Then, almost as if compelled, he took a step forward, reaching his hand out.

"Hi... I'm Luke."

"Sylvie," she managed, her hand slipping into his.

A current ran between them, a strange, electric feeling filled the space between them.

"Wow," he murmured. "This... this is real, isn't it?"

She nodded, too overwhelmed to say much, a giddy smile breaking across her face. "Yeah... I think so."

"We'll leave you guys to it," Jenna smirked.

"Wanna head somewhere quieter?" Luke offered, earning a nod in return.

Luke held Sylvie's hand, leading her through the crowd and out onto the quiet sidewalk. The air was cool, refreshing compared to to the warmth inside. Outside, things felt a little more real.

This was Luke--her soulmate, her literal other half--and he was standing there, looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

"So," Luke began, "I guess we should start by saying... it's nice to finally meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, mystery man. I can't believe this is happening."

"Me neither. I was wondered who you were. I mean, I grew up with all these bruises and aches. Half the time, I thought I was making it up." He chuckled, shaking his head. "But it was you. It was really you."

"Same here. I tried to imagine you, what your life was like, where the bruises and cuts came from. And then, when I started to piece it together, I kept thinking I'd never actually meet you. But apparently, fate had other ideas."

"Guess we didn't have a choice, huh?" Luke teased, grinning down at her. "You've had your fair share of bruises, too, you know. It was like trying to keep up with my own clumsy twin."

"Hey! I'm not clumsy... usually. But you--my god. You have no idea how many times I've had to explain away your injuries to my friends. They practically staged an intervention."

Luke laughed and the sound made her heart skip a beat. "You can blame the Devils for most of the recent ones. If you've seen me on the ice... Sorry I haven't made this easy for you."

"I survived. So did you. I guess that means we're both pretty tough... what did you think I'd be like?"

"Honestly? I thought you'd be... well, I guess I thought you'd be someone strong. But I didn't think... I didn't think I'd feel this connection, this fast. It's like I've known you forever"

"I know exactly what you mean," she whispered. "It's like... everything just makes sense now."

Sylvie felt an undeniable pull toward him, something so deep it was impossible to resist. She knew, without a doubt, that this was where she was meant to be. As if reading her mind, Luke stepped closer, his hand reaching up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. She shivered as his fingers lingered against her cheek.

"Can I ask you something?" he whispered.

She nodded, her breath catching. "Anything."

"Do you feel it too? Like everything's perfect?"

"Yeah. I do. I've never felt this way before. I didn't think I ever would."

Luke's gaze flickered down to her lips. "I... I've wanted to do this since the moment I saw you."

The moment their lips met, it was fireworks, filling her with a sense of belonging she'd never known before. It was soft at first, a delicate brush of their lips that quickly deepened as he pulled her close, cradling her cheek. Each moment was a silent promise, a confirmation of everything they couldn't put into words.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless and smiling, she looked up at him. She felt weightless.

"Wow," she mumbled. "That was..."

"Amazing?" he finished for her.

"Yeah. Amazing."

"I can't believe you're real."

"But I'm here. And I'm not going anyway," she reassured."

"So," he smiled playfully, "what's next? Do we just... walk off into the sunset now?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "I don't know. But I'm not ready to say goodnight yet."

"Good. Because I want to know everything about you, Sylvie. All the stories, all the moments... everything."

The city had grown even more quiet as Sylvie and Luke walked side by side, their hands intertwined. Luke's mind was racing, still reeling from the evening's events. Finding Sylvie, feeling the spark, sharing their first kiss--it felt like a dream he was afraid to wake up from.

"Wanna come back to my place?" he asked tentatively. "I mean, only if you want to. I just... I feel like we could talk for hours."

"I'd love that."

They continued toward Luke's apartment, each step filled with quiet excitement, and just as they reached the building's entrance, Luke spotted a familiar figure leaning against the wall: Jack. Jack's head perked up when he noticed them, his eyes flicking between the two of them, taking in their clasped hands with a look of surprise.

"Whoa, hey, Lukey! Didn't know you were bringing home... company." Jack's tone was teasing, but his eyes were curious as he looked at Sylvie. "I don't think we've met?"

"Hey, Jack," Luke rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "This is, uh, Sylvie. She's..."

Sylvie chuckled, "Hi, Jack."

"Well, hi, Sylvie. Nice to meet you, I guess?" He turned to his brother, a sly smile on his face. "So, are you going to fill me in, or is this a mystery?"

"It's... kind of a long story." He glanced at Sylvie, who nodded encouragingly.

Jack crossed his arms, examining them. But just as Luke was about to open his mouth and explain, Jack's gaze dropped to Sylvie's arm, where a faint yellow-ish bruise matched one on Luke's forearm--a mirror image, perfectly aligned. Jack's eyes widened, glancing back and forth between their arms, piecing it together. His mouth fell open, a look of astonishment spreading across his face.

"No way. No fucking way!" He practically shouted, pointing an accusatory finger. "Don't tell me... she's the one? Your soulmate?!"

Luke's cheeks flushed but he smiled. "Yeah, Jack. This is her."

Jack whooped, throwing his arms around Luke in a brotherly bear hug. "This is insane! Dude, this is... you found her! Your actual soulmate!" He turned to Sylvie, eyes still wide. "You're real!"

"Last time I checked, yeah," she giggled.

"Oh my god, Quinn's gonna lose his mind!" Jack practically vibrated with excitement, pulling his phone from his pocket and frantically dialing Quinn. Luke barely had time to react before he heard his oldest brother on the other end.

"Jack? It's like past midnight there. Why are you calling me?"

"Quinn!" Jack yelled, making Luke wince. "Guess who found his soulmate?!"

There was a beat of silence, and then Quinn's voice came through, more alert than before. "Wait... you're serious? Luke found her?!"

"Dead serious. She's right here. Her name's Sylvie. And she's awesome."

Quinn laughed. "No way. Luke, man, that's... that's incredible."

Luke could hear the genuine happiness in Quinn's voice and his own excitement bubbled over. "Thanks, Q. And yeah... she's real. She's... she's here."

"Can't wait to meet her. Take care of her, okay?"

"I will," Luke promised.

Jack finally hung up, eyes still wide as saucers. "Okay, I just need to say it--you seem like the coolest! I mean, it's so weird to meet you. You guys were like... made for each other."

She chuckled nervously. "Thanks, Jack. You're... not exactly what I expected."

"Glad I can surprise you," Jack replied, throwing an arm over both of them as they headed for the elevator. "But seriously, I'm so pumped for you guys. You're about to be the most iconic couple in hockey history. Imagine the headlines!"

Luke rolled his eyes, shrugging Jack off. "Alright, alright, Jack, that's enough. This isn't gonna be a media circus."

"Oh come on," he was unfazed. "This is huge! People love a good soulmate story!"

Luke grabbed Sylvie's hand, leading her down to his bedroom, where they settled side by side on the bed. They talked well into the night, sharing stories, dreams, and quiet laughter, each word solidifying their futures together. And as the city lights flickered outside, they held each other close, knowing that all the bruises, all the years, had led them here, to where they were meant to be. Together.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine

94 notes · View notes

sapphic-gardn · 1 year ago

Text

i will

ellie williams x f!reader

summary: grief is complex and painful, ellie comforts you.

warnings: mentions of grief, nudity, ellie and reader take a bath together, mentions of boogers (yk when u have a runny nose from crying? yeah), no specific descriptions of reader other than having boobies and flesh, i dont think there is anything else but let me know!

word count: 1.3k

a/n: hi! i’ve returned from my hundred year long hiatus to torment you all. i started writing this comfort piece while i was experiencing life at Rock Bottom. i also found a lot of inspiration from the song i will by mitski <3 also thank you to @hier--soir for helping me with this one 💓 your writing inspires me, truly—i appreciate you tons & tons.

You find yourself curled up on the floor, the crisp breeze sweeping in from the crack under your front door. Chills dance over your skin, seeping into your body, coating your organs in a thin layer of ice. Your tears shed with a blue hue, painting your lips in a sheer lapis tint. Teeth chatter, bone against bone, reminders of the skeleton that is burrowed beneath layers of adipose tissue. Each exhale is accompanied by a dull ache.

Nights bring you here, disentangling your limbs from the warm confines of cotton sheets, calculated movements so as to not wake your girlfriend from slumber. The numbness creeps in through obscured dreams, visions of faces, now ghosts that haunt every distant memory. You emerge from the darkness, featherlight footsteps over creaky floors, loitering around the house amidst bewitching hours. You converse with the night sky, a one-sided interaction that mostly consists of your pleas—tell me why. Grief consumes you like tidal waves swallowing the shoreline. A mere particle of sand engulfed in foam, getting propelled further, further away from dry land.

The vibrations of Ellie’s bare feet padding on the wooden floor rumble through you. Her rasp breaks the silence. Baby—the only word that leaves her chapped lips, a pitiful tone leaking from her honeyed voice. Her hand caresses your tear stained cheek. Upon contact, a shrill sob rips through your larynx. You choke on anguish that rises like bile, it burns your esophagus as it creeps up.

Gentle hands guide your tenuous form to your feet, securing themselves at your sides. Subtle squeezes to the meat of your hips, wordlessly speaking—I’m here.

In your hazy state, you’re waltzed to the bathroom. One of Ellie’s hands fumbles with the light switch while she delicately maneuvers your entirety to sit upon the closed toilet seat. Cold porcelain hits the backs of your thighs, you hiss at the contact, a wince paints your expression. Ellie coos your name, a hushed thing that warms you from the inside. You study her features, a line forms between her furrowed brows, her green eyes searching for your own. Her gaze brings a settling feeling, something like a merciful wake up call. Ellie’s earthy scent mingles with the air. You inhale, the musky essence settles in your lungs, growing limbs and reaching for your heart; wrapping itself around the muscle in a tight embrace.

A tear slips past your waterline, her calloused thumb swiftly catches it as it trails down your cheek. A smile tugs at Ellie’s lips, “You’ve got boogers,” she gestures to your mucin coated upper lip with her pointer finger. An involuntary chortle escapes your mouth, alighting your saddened expression, “There she is, my pretty girl.”

Her focus shifts to the tub beside you, leaving the spot in front of you to turn the faucet on. Ellie peers over her shoulder to look back at you, “Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?”

Her digits fiddle with the running water as it warms, you examine the way her tendons tug at her knuckles, the freckled skin pulled taut with each swipe under the stream of water. Your eyes land on her side profile, you trace the shape of her nose and the protrusion of her pout like an etch a sketch to your brain. You count the freckles on her face, connecting them like constellations. Admiration blooms in your chest, you clutch your shirt where your heart beats faster.

Once the tub fills halfway, Ellie is undressing you—delicately tugging at the hem of your sleep shirt, pulling the thin material over the peaks and valleys of your body. Her touch is silken, it tickles your nerve endings, chills awaken beneath her fingertips. With each sliver of skin revealed, she whispers, beautiful, you’re so beautiful. And in these moments, you believe her, she utters the words with such conviction. You breathe with ease, allowing yourself to surrender to the woman disarming you.

She guides you towards the tub. Soft hands on your arm, your waist. That low, rasping voice in your ear, one foot, now the other… easy now, until you’re over the lip of the tub and being lowered into warm water. You let yourself sink a little lower, feel the water lap over your neck, your hair. You tilt your head back until everything is submerged except your face. Your eyes close, listening. You let the pressure of the water beat against your eardrums. Oceanic sounds bounce around inside your skull. For a split moment you are the sand and the sea, a shell burrowed in the earth.

When your eyes open, you meet the longing gaze of your partner. She admires the halo-shape your hair forms as it floats, the curve of your breasts breaking the surface, the way your tummy moves in waves with each steady inhale and exhale.

Your eyes wander to where Ellie is stepping out of her boxers, peeling her worn tank top over her auburn bed head, discarding the article in the tile. Her focus never falters from you. She looks so beautiful like this, the soft white light casting an illuminating glow to her supple skin. You sit up, folding your legs in, scooting forward—silent invitations. With two long strides, Ellie’s lanky limbs are climbing into the tub behind you. Your bodies mingle, arms and legs tangle and untangle, an uncoordinated tango.

Ellie surrounds you, she is everywhere. The warmth radiating from her coats every inch of your flesh like a blanket. Her thighs are pressed up against the sides of your own, caging you in, the physical security plucking away at your guardedness. Slippery arms snake around your middle, a vice grip pressing you against her front. You feel her heartbeat thump against your ribcage, feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. A connection so primal, so powerful, tethering you to her. Her lips graze the crook of your neck, a sigh escapes you, releasing the tension held in your abdomen. Taught muscles unfurl; a calmness washes over your senses.

Ellie begins to hum, short breaths tickling the shell of your ear. You recognize the song, familiar but just out of reach.

“What are you singing, baby?”

Ellie hushes you, “Shh, shh, just listen to me.”

Her gravelly tone recites the lyrics, “When all my hair turns grey, enter our twilight years,” you listen intently, the song bubbling at the forefront of your mind. A memory plays, placing a fragile disc in your record player, the needle spinning in its grooves, Ellie excitedly rehashing how she found it on patrol.

Both of you sat on the couch that night and tuned in, entwined and entranced. During the fourth song, Ellie stood, offering a hand—dance with me. And so, your bodies swayed around the living room as one entity. “And our friendships slip away, finding it hard to hear.”

Ellie memorized the lyrics, serenading you for weeks, “No I’ll never be afraid, as long as I still have you,” confessing her feelings through the Alessi Brothers.

And now, she croons the same song, “Together in an ocean of life / Just yours and mine / Motionless time / Love is the answer to eternal life.” Easing your mind, caroling the words that never come easy to her in conversation. Reminders of the fire you alight within her, the tenderness you pull out of her.

She is the breeze, the fierce wind that wrestles with the water. She reels you in from the deep end, a lifeline cast before you take your final breath. Her presence is a sanctuary, your vulnerability takes refuge in her arms—your safe haven.

[end]

a/n: hiii!! if you read this all the way through, thank you! it’s my first time posting an ellie fic so i’m a liiiitle nervous eeee! also im a little rusty on my writing so forgive me if this sucks 🧍🏽‍♀️ and i gave up on editing my last read through bc i need to get this fic out or i will never post it

i have an ellie series and a one shot planned out so hopefully it won’t take me a lifetime to post those!!! okieee byeeee 💓

tagging moots: @ilovepedro @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @daydreamingmiller @chaotic-mystery @cavillscurls @amanitacowboy (idk who else to tag i dont have an official taglist lol why is this so embarrassing)

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fanfic #sapphic-gardn fics

262 notes · View notes

deluxewhump · 27 days ago

Note

Seeing their names on here makes me crave Carlo and Max content soooo much. Do you have anything you can share with us?

Well it’s from an AU not the OG story, but this was in my notes app :)

For the Max is Erik’s nephew au:

Cw: Pet/slave whump, cold whump, someone give whumpee a coat, Max is pretty young in this so Carlo is a teenager

William and Max Holstrom left the warmth of the Christmas party to look at the new toy Erik had bought recently, some fancy imported car. It wasn’t yet six pm but getting dark quickly. A hard crust of snow lay on the ground and the sky was blue with dusk as they made their way across the yard to the sprawling garage. The rectangles of yellow light cast on the ground from the first floor windows fell behind them and the muffled music and laughter of the party faded, replaced by the distant hiss of an unseen highway to the south.

Max and his father hung back two yards waiting for the dark-haired boy Erik called Carlo to punch a security code into a silver keypad. Max looked up and found the big dipper in the frozen black dome of the sky. It was brighter at home, but not quite blotted out by the city’s orange lights here, either. The garage door groaned as it lifted, snapping a thin layer of ice at the base. Carlo flicked on three rows of fluorescent ceiling lights that showed the puffs of their breath on the air as they entered.

The boy wasted no time pulling the canvas cover from his master’s new toy, backing off quickly to be out of the way. Max’s father circled it once and nodded approvingly, raising his cognac glass to his lips. Max stood with his hands in his pockets surveying the car— small, low to the ground and obsequiously sleek. He didn’t get the hype, but he never really had when it came to these types of cars.

He glanced at his uncle’s pet— the only one in the family and seldom talked about— sent outside without so much as a coat. He was in a thin cotton crewneck, and clearly cold.

William didn’t seem to notice. He said something about the vehicle to Max and Max gave an automatic lukewarm response. Carlo must have felt Max’s gaze because he lifted his chin but glanced away sharply when their eyes met, hands tucked under his armpits and jaw clenched so his teeth wouldn’t chatter.

Max shrugged out of his lined wool coat and held it out towards the boy. Immediately, the winter air bit fiercely at his skin through the fabric of his shirt. His uncle’s pet eyed the offering warily. Max nodded and raised the coat another inch like a question. The boy came forward and took it, sliding it on while taking several instinctual steps back from him.

The coat was too big, but Max thought maybe that was even better. It went to his mid thigh and the sleeves hung off his hands. It was warm from his body heat and he watched the boy’s lips part in a little shudder of relief. He turned the collar up and cupped it at his throat with one reddened hand to keep the biting air off his neck.

William had opened the driver’s side door and now leaned into the car, inspecting something about the dash. He hadn’t noticed the exchange his son had initiated.

Carlo met Max’s eyes gingerly, with something between a thank you or a question in them. It was Max who found himself looking away this time.

#slave whump #cold whumpee #max holstrom au #whump of a minor

36 notes · View notes

deblklesb · 1 year ago

Text

[Another Diamond Day — Ellabs x Reader Drabble]

[established relationship, farm!au, fluffy/soft, afab!reader]

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

a/n: this is 100% self-indulgent, I'm not being able to finish the request as fast as i wanted but had this cute piece of fluff that had been engraved on my mind 🫂 it's just pure softness and a silly time. love ya!! despite it, i don't want minors interacting with my content so this is still MDNI

not proof read | reblogs are highly appreciated

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The sun was rising when Abby came back from the corral with a bucket full of fresh milk. A thin fog covered the pasture denouncing a hot day following that cold night, and she already knew you and Ellie would be looking forward to a dive into the lake later. Suzy, the cow from which she milked, was now resting peacefully next to her calf while Abby made her way into the kitchen.

You and Ellie were fast asleep still since that was Abby's day to take the milk. Your limbs entangled with Ellie's in a mess, but comfort reigned on that bed and enveloped you in calm dreams. Abby looked at you both after fixing the milk, the auburn hair of the Williams girl all messy and cute and your adorable pout. She smiled at herself unconsciously, thinking how tranquil your farm were in comparison with the buzzy mornings of Jackson. The community was fine, but nothing compared to that piece of heaven you three had. The days were calm and the chores were shared between you all.

"Morning, sunshine", Abby said when Ellie opened her eyes lazily. Her face was marked by the folds on the pillowcase, and she yawned while pulling you closer.

"Don't keep staring there like a creep, come here", the both of them smiled while the blonde approached the bed.

You squirmed in your, now, light sleep, and soon opened the eyes to see them both next to you. Ellie hid her face on your neck while Abby kissed you face fondly.

"Milk's in the kitchen", she said, a hand going to caress Ellie's arm around you.

"I'm starving", the brunette murmured.

"Let's get up then", you moved slightly, lounging the legs.

"Don't wanna"

"Then starve"

"Goddamn", Abby laughed, followed by you both.

The mood was so cozy and warm, the sun wasn't so bright yet, the chickens were making sounds afar and the air was chill. That was your piece pf heaven.

Sometimes you tried to think what would be of you three if the world wasn't ending. But then realized that the only reason why this was the piece of heaven was the almost-like hell you've been through before. Your parents used to tell you stories about the old world, about music and parties and the fears people had before. They told you about wars and christmas, about ice creams, mathematics and philosophy. It was such a big world and it was all to the ground before you were even born.

Maybe it was impossible to conceptualize that existence in a reality so distant. But, well, it was just the first moments of the morning. You were definitely far too deep into those books you've found.

"C'mon, I'll make us some hearth shaped waffles", you said out loud, getting Ellie's full attention.

"Will you let us eat the cutout edges?"

"What would I do with them, Els?" She kissed your face repeatedly, taking a easy smile from you. On the other side of your face, Abby did the same, finishing with a peck on your lips.

The moment made your heart flutter, and your body suddenly felt so small to contain all the love and excitement them two gave you.

Finally getting out of bed, you and Ellie went to the bathroom before meeting Abby in the kitchen picking up the stuff to make breakfast. She placed it all in the island carefully and all you could think about was how delicate she could be all the time.

Most people get intimidated by her size, but Abigail is one of the most careful woman on the planet most of the times - if she needs to beat you, that's another story. Her hands would travel along your skin lightly while you're laying on the couch listening to the radio, crickets and tree tops whispering from outside, enveloping you in a tranquil time. When she casually puts one of Ellie's hair strands behind her ear, it exhales delicacy and tenderness.

"Thank you, love", you say while pecking her biceps.

Ellie puts coffee on the stove for both you and Abby and then grabs juice from the refrigerator for herself.

"Who's shaving the sheeps today?" Williams ask, sitting on the kitchen isle.

"You", Abby is kick to answer.

"I'm getting the vegetables" you add. "And Abby is cutting wood"

"Oh man, I thought I would cut the wood today", her pout is adorable as she laments, earning a peck from the blonde.

"That's tomorrow, you dork"

You were prepping the waffles and fixing the strawberry syrup, satisfied with the sweet smell running around the kitchen, even with the small window open. You notice a wild cat running outside, trying to catch some insect in the field.

"Hey, isn't that the same cat from last time?"

"Really?!" Ellie almost jump, coming to look outside. "Should we keep it?"

"You don't even know if it wants to stay with us", Abby laughs.

"Who wouldn't want to stay with us?"

"Sometimes I reconsider my decisions", you chuckle with these words coming from the blonde.

As they eat the cutouts, you place the same amount of waffles to each one and then put the syrup on the table. Ellie takes the coffee and mugs, Abby gets the bread and what is left of the chicken.

The breakfast goes calming, comfortable after Ellie puts some disco to play from the living room. You and her mumble the song as Abby stays silent, enjoying the presence and the energy surrounding the place. It's a beautiful day to walk around and maybe go swimming on the lake nearby a little, as the area is always clear due to Jackson's patrols. You three also go out in some runs, just to make sure, and the last time you found an infected it was alone.

"Okay, I wanna finish it soon, so let's not waist any time, ladies", you announce as soon as you finish.

"Wanna go swimming later?"

"Only after the chores"

"I bet a boob I'll finish it first!" Ellie collects the plates, smirking even though she has the longest chore for the day.

"You bet. With these babies, the wood will be cut in no time", Anderson flexes her arms, making you roll your eyes. It would never be boring with them both around.

"I just wanna get the vegetables"

And so the day starts.

You change clothes to a more appropriate to the soil environment, putting a cloth on your head to hold the sweat you know will come drip down your face. The boots come later, dirty from all the external use. You put a sunglass you found on a old Jackson patrol and get the basket and the gloves from the back porch.

The garden looks beautiful. Vibrant green pops from the healthy soil, you recognize it after working so much on the thing back in Jackson. A smile takes place in your face as you go collect the vegetables, carefully walking through the plants to later kneel between them.

Ellie is good with the sheeps. She talks to them, calling by their names - you never knew how she could tell them one from another, and somehow Abby could do it too. Only some wildly different you could keep in mind. But Ellie was always making jokes and petting them, hugging the animals after shaving them and saying how much of a good work they did.

"That's it, Madam Olivia, you're so brave!", she murmurs, kissing the sheep on the forehead before letting it go. "Sir Callahan, you're next! No, you're not running away from me this time, I know you're all nice with Abigail, it's me you have for today, okay? Yeah, it'll be okay, it'll be fine. I'll bring a coat made of your fur, what you say?"

Despite the sun, she stays with the back to it and put all the fur on a sack. They'll take it to Jackson in the weekend, using the time to visit Joey, Tommy, Maria and your mom. The woman makes her best to clean them before cutting the fur, paying attention to sticks and bugs even though a cleaning work will happen in the city too.

Abby is nearby you, getting all the wood she'll have to cut today next to a large trunk. While you collect the vegetables, you can hear the axe going down again and again, the cracking of the wood and then it being thrown next to her. This goes on for over an hour.

It's almost relaxing, to be honest. She focuses on one task and try not to get hurt, mind empty. The pieces end up all pilled on the other side, waiting to be stocked away.

It's before midday when you three finish it all. You also clean the vegetables and cut some of them, making sure to treat the soil later.

"Run to the lake?" Ellie it's the one to suggest, gaining a smirk from Abby almost immediately.

"No", you cut, laughing. "Let's just get our stuff peacefully and go there in our sweet time, please"

They obligated for the most part. You actually got the stuff: towels, clothes and food. But later, when getting close from the lake, Abby started running and Ellie wasn't the one to deny it. And you came right after, making your away on the trail, still partially cautious about the sounds.

Apparently it was all clear, as usual. Taking off the clothes were secure. Abby puts it folded on a rock, Ellie just trows it there before jumping in the water.

You never like the contact of a body of water around you immediately, it takes a minute to get used to it. The way every movement reaches to your skin, and how completely different it is; like experiencing two different realities at once. You have patience to relax before going to the two women messing around and enjoying the fresh water under the sun.

Once you saw this old painting on a suburbian house, you mother told you what suburbs were. The painting had this beautiful lake on it, fast and raw brush strokes creating the image of a landscape. First you thought how cool it was to be able to create something like that. Then, you imagined what would it be to bathe on that place, with a little bit of tranquility and the company of whoever wanted you good.

It was good. It was sweet. And it was true. As you felt Abby's arms around you in the water, as you reached to put Ellie's hair away from her face, you realized once again that it was real, you were there. Touching them and living with them, breathing, feeling, and you couldn't think of anywhere else you'd rather be.

Birds sang sweetly around the pond, the sounds coming from everywhere sporadically as the time passed in front of your eyes. One of those rare moments when the good doesn't fly away, but walks with you, hand in hand, guiding your perception through the details. Their cool skin against yours, little drops on the limbs above water, wet hair slowing drying as breaths were so loud you thought it could be heard miles away.

"I love you. So much", you whisper under the natural track, sighing.

"We love you too", Abby said, face resting on your head as her arms enveloped you, and Ellie's hands rested on the blonde woman's biceps.

Ellie kisses your cheek as you smile.

The afternoon walks with you lovely for the next hours, and then it's time to go home again. You spent some time sitting on the border to better dry, putting back the clothes. Now, them both do not run around, just calmly wander next to you in silence for the most part.

"I'll go get the food, you to can shower first", Ellie said as soon as you reached the limits of the farm.

"Okay, thank you, sweety", you hold her hand.

When the night approaches, signing that a new day is closer than before, you three are with warm clothes on the living room. You and Abby read a book, Ellie reads a comic, and the limbs are tangled on the couch. As tempting as it was, the fireplace would never be lighted up in order to not attract unwanted people, so duvets and socks are essential for this moments.

And for the next hour you three just sit in silence and appreciate the comfort of each other's presences, before going to bed together to finish another day.

293 notes · View notes

bowandcurtsey · 2 years ago

Note

Hi its camellia and idk if your request is open or close-

But if open then i would like to request

Yami,Fuegeleon (idk how to spell 😭😭) Nozel and William with an innocent reader and somebody said some dirty stuff to her and she ask them what it means! Im so sorry to request this if its close! In completely clueless during the night so please forgive me! Dont forget to take breaks,eat daily and drink! Ily have a great day or night! Love you 😘🫶🏻

Hello BBG! thank you for this request hehe! Yes I'm eating enough and drinking enough, ig.

I'm having my off day so I had some time to complete requests again! hehe! I hope you have a lovely lovely rest of the week!! ILYSM too!! <3

Characters: William | Nozel | Fuegoleon x f! reader tw: overall safe. I would say it's still PG, haha! Unchecked works!

d/w: the dirty word (imma leave it to your own imaginations)

William Vangeance

You were on a date, it was William's off day so you asked him casually.

"babe, what does d/w mean?"

William choked on his tea and he coughed for awhile. You seldom saw Will so flustered so you quickly helped him pat his back. his face was red like a tomato.

"Who said this to you?"

"Erm, nobody said it to me, I just over heard one of the trainees say it while I was training with them."

You didn't catch it but William's orbs flashed a tone darker for a moment.

"Oh love, it's... a sexual word. Just forget about it, okay?"

He said it in a gentle tone with a sweet smile, just for you.

The next day at training, William came to oversee the training and made things very very difficult for everyone, even Klaus, who was in charge of the trainees was puzzled.

"Captain William in a bad mood?"

"I'm not sure.." you answered with a shrug.

When Klaus asked his captain, he got a very dangerous smile from him. A smile that told him that he was on thin ice as well.

"well, i think their training is not tough enough, seeing that they can go around running their mouths, don't you think Klaus?"

Nozel Silva

You came into his office one day, telling him some guy at the cafe you were at with your friend and tried to ask for your number and said d/w to you.

Nozel looked up from his work, "Who and where and when?"

You were taken aback that he was this angry. You had to tell him to calm down. It made you even more curious of what it meant.

"It's something your ears should have never ever heard." He stormed out of his office.

He found the guy pretty quickly and carried him out of where ever he was by his collar.

"Never. Ever. Speak filthy things to women you don't know." Nozel stared a hole through him.

The guy was eventually sent to a hospital and was traumatised.

"Was it that bad? Whatever he said? Now you make me really want to know what it means," you asked him that night.

His face blushed a little, thinking about whether he should explain it to you or not, but he thought that you'll eventually know somehow, "it's just something filthy, sweetheart.Nobody should ever say this to you."

"Except you?"

Nozel was blushing so hard.

Fuegoleon Vermillion

"Fue?" you asked him at dinner one day, "What's d/w?"

"I... don't know?" he looked at you blankly, "where and who did you hear this from?"

"Mereo said it while we were on our mission together to some of the bad guys."

"..." Fue looked at you, "you better not learn anything she says, dearie. She has a foul mouth sometimes."

"Okay!" you nodded and beamed.

----

The next day Fue asked his sister about it. Mereo burst out laughing. Then she explained the literal meaning of it to Fue.

Fue almost choked on the water he was drinking.

"I knew it! It's not something good! Don't ever speak like that in front of y/n! she's so innocent!" Fue shouted at his sister

"How should I know she'd take it literally?!" She shouted back, "besides, don't act all innocent, dumb brother! You and her would eventually know it one day!"

Fue's face burned bright red and they eventually fought for a bit until the wall had a huge hole in it.

Fue came back to you that night and told you to erase d/w from your memory and that it was a very very bad and filthy thing.

640 notes · View notes

slippinmickeys · 4 months ago

Text

Got a sort-of prompt on Twitter, and went with it:

“Daddy, what is war like?”

Mulder looks at his son across the Formica table. There are action figures standing at the ready amongst the silverware, salt and pepper shaker stand-ins for Bad Guys. It is just the two of them, Emily and Scully off shopping for back-to-school clothes.

“War is loud,” he says to his son. “And scary.”

The waitress comes by with their order, chipper and smiling, clanking down a short stack of pancakes in front of William, and an order of sausage Mulder will insist he eat for the protein. A Denver omelet for the gent and a refill of hot coffee, so thin and weak that Mulder is pretty sure it’s on its second trip through the filter—barely worth the $1.50 he’ll pay for it.

Mulder reaches forward to cut the pancakes for the first grader, reminds his son to lay the paper napkin over his lap. The boy pours far too much syrup onto the plate in front of him and it spreads over the side and onto the tabletop, leaving a quarter-sized circle of brown liquid goop that his father eyes warily. They will both be sticky by the time they return to their car.

“Did you kill people?”

Mulder is taken aback by the question and the forward way his son asks it.

“William?”

“Mommy says you shot people.”

Mulder breathes out, a little relieved. He takes a bite of his breakfast, chews.

“‘Shooting’ is another way of saying I take pictures,” he explains. “I never hurt anyone. I…I documented what happened during the war.”

“What’s ‘documented’ mean?”

His son takes a huge bite of pancake, and the raw, animal part of Mulder’s brain waits to see if the child will choke.

“It means I photographed things that happened. So that people remember how bad it was.”

William considers his answer thoughtfully. His hair is the same color as Scully’s but more wiry and thick. It grows out of the crown of his head like a copper helmet. It takes everything Mulder has not to constantly run his fingers through it.

“Will we go to war?” William asks matter-of-factly.

“No,” Mulder answers quickly. “No, bud, that won’t happen here.”

The green pepper in his food is crunchy and cut a little too big. He fishes a piece out from the pocket of his lower jaw with his tongue.

“Can you take a bite of sausage, please?” he instructs.

William makes a face, but complies.

“Emily says she wasn’t your first baby. That it died. Because of what happened in the war in Africa,” the boy says with his mouth full.

The bite of the omelet gets stuck in Mulder’s throat.

“Was it my brother or my sister?” William presses, blithely unaware of the emotional impropriety of his question.

Mulder is too stunned to speak for a moment. He had honestly never before considered the child he and Scully conceived in Africa as a sibling to his children, though of course it was.

“I don’t…we never…we don’t know.”

William has no idea the earthquake he has caused in his father, the tectonic plates that have shifted under the hardened crust of Mulder’s memory, of his heart.

“I think it was a boy like me,” William says innocently. He takes a drink of orange juice which leaves a watery mustache above his lip. The boy sets the plastic cup down on the table with conviction. “And I think war is bad.”

Mulder can only nod his agreement.

“If I finish my sausage, can we get ice cream later?” The child has already moved on though his words have left rippling eddies of feeling sloshing through his father’s pneuma, his declaration like a rock thrown into a pond.

Mulder’s eyes wander over the table, land on the kids menu which is smeared with the blue wax of a cheaply made crayon; a connect-the-dots dinosaur, an abandoned game of tic-tac-toe.

He finally finds his voice. “Yeah, we can get ice cream.”

William brightens, happily stuffs an entire link of sausage into his mouth.

The waitress swings by to check on them, tops off Mulder’s coffee without asking. Her apron has faded to the same eggshell white of the walls of 1055. There is a smear of berry jam on it that looks to Mulder, for a very long moment, like blood.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #au #prompt #proof of life universe

38 notes · View notes

catfern · 1 month ago

Text

─ restless dreams.

in support of palestine ∙ the reality of tlou ∙ resources

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader (?)

music: a world of madness - akira yamaoka

word count: 2.3k

summary: you're dead. with how ellie's been coping, she might as well be. that is, until she sees you, or rather, a woman with your face.

WARNINGS: heavy discussions of grief, illness, death. implied hallucinatory sequences, general themes associated with silent hill 2. smut, oral (r!receiving).

cat says ⎯ were ya'll waiting for pyramid head to show up?

if i could be … her.

but i’m not her

and she’s not me.

and you’re somewhere different.

on a different planet.

cold.

the merciless descent of winter had done nothing but bury ellie in a fog. a blur of forgetfulness, of numb reaction.

everyone had told her it would become easier. the festering pain in her joints would fade, the endless congestion in her head, like a dragnet of her slowed thoughts, would release.

“grief is just one of those things that you have to learn to live with.”

ellie wasn’t sure if she was learning. if she knew what that even felt like. what was it, to learn to love an absence? a gaping chasm, in one’s soul?

plagued. the sweetness of your voice lingered like stubborn molasses in her ears, a ghosting touch, nails scratching at her scalp, she could feel it. at least, for a few fleeting moments. in the sticky dark of her bedroom, memories of you clung to her back.

the pavement, slick with thin ice and dirty snow, echoed the song of her footsteps in the empty streets. she needed milk. a sick darkness had descended on the small space of her apartment, and her fridge stunk of something sour.

the hairs on the back of her neck prickled in the bitter wind. she hadn’t been sleeping.

she had thought, maybe, the chill in the air would help her. that the light would snap her from this daze, bring her to see this delusional miasma for what it was. but the wet sun, shrouded in grey, granted no such reprieve. she still saw you everywhere.

the shine of the linoleum tile seemed blinding in artificial light. ellie squinted in the change, her skin dry, pale and discoloured from weeks inside.

she can feel the clerk’s gaze burning her through her clothes. she shakes the dusting of snowfall off her shoulders, and sees the tracks of mud she’s pulled in from outside. oh.

she scrapes the soles of her sneakers along the peeling grout of the tile, and shuffles her way along the aisles. the rows of fridge doors buzz in the dim silence of the store, there’s something metallic in the air.

it was a dying habit, beelining for the skim milk. something you had put her on to, with your endless buzzing about dairy. it was comforting, following a path well-trodden through the small grocer, one she had so often taken when she had a softness to return to. her footsteps fell, heavy and loud and ringing her ears, empty.

ellie grunts a hoarse ‘excuse me’ to the woman standing in front of the milk fridge. she wasn’t grabbing anything, just standing … watching the milk as if waiting for it to move. so, ellie figured it was okay to push past. the woman moved back without a word.

the jug felt cool, and almost anchored, beneath ellie’s fingertips. something to latch on to, tangible in this maze of wretched passing time.

“sorry! i didn’t see you there.”

ellie bit so hard into her cheek it drew blood. warm, foreign in her mouth, an iron taste.

your voice was not an uncommon ringing in her ears, in these hellish pastimes. the open world teased her, so often she heard you in a gentle ripple of water, the humming engine of a passing car. but this …

it was you. ripped from fresh fucking dirt.

well, ellie wasn’t sure. a ghost in the corner store was not something she was eager to find, if that’s what this woman was. what you were. she could feel her hand twitching in her jacket pocket, an obsessive itch to reach out, to feel the tangible, the absent real.

your name slips past her lips like a familiar groove in her tongue, and the woman laughs. it’s deeper than yours, jilted, not sweet.

“are you confusing me with someone else?” she asks. no, no, she can’t be. it’s your face, every mapped detail from the haze of her dreams, ripped from your coffin and supplanted here. on this body, obscure.

it could be a mask. ellie could dig her fingernails under your pretty, unblemished skin and tear it off this creature, this … offence. would you bleed the same?

“i-“ the milk jug suddenly felt too cold, burning into the skin of her palm. she hesitated, joints locked, body aching. whatever frantic obscenities ellie had wanted to hurl at her, at you, for the affront of your very existence, dripped back down her throat, made her choke.

the woman tilts her head in anticipation. you don’t do that, you didn’t do that.

it’s not you.

“ellie? you told me you weren’t coming today.”

she can still hear the wheezing undercurrent in your voice, a haunting possession of the brilliance in your body. you weren’t meant to exist somewhere so … clinical.

“i .. wanted to see you.”

your hand ghosts her cheek, the prickling of neglected texture along the bone. she refused to touch you. not like this.

ellie’s breath comes heavy in the heady air of her apartment. she can smell the stale rot in the walls, consuming her with every struggling heave of her lungs.

she had left the fridge door open when she left, the flickering cold light leaving a staggering crack along the darkness. she slumps against the wall of her kitchenette, pressing her hands into her muddy hair, as if trying to hold herself together at the seams.

she was going crazy, wasn’t she?

you’re haunting her. ellie supposes that she knew you would. a spectre, a shadow tethered to her feet. she had hoped, she could push past it, cradle your tenderness close to her heart, lock away the rest. naive.

she had become too complacent with the shell of you that malady had created. she’d forgotten how angry you could get. even from beyond the veil of death.

but it wasn’t you. no, no, ellie reminds herself. that … woman, was a coincidence. a trick of the flickering, sickening lights. her grief had muddled her mind, made her see things that weren’t there.

maybe she so desperately wanted to see you. deep within the dairy aisle. maybe, she no longer had the strength to turn away from you, like she once had. maybe, she just craves something you can no longer provide.

three raps knock the wood of her door, and ellie shakes. visceral.

she doesn’t remember answering, but the threshold was there, her hand warming the cool bronze of her doorknob.

this was just cruel.

“oh! it’s you again!” her smile is a wicked caricature, something hollow. snow sits in her hair, and ellie is blighted with your warmth, ghostly in this empty winter. “sorry, my phone’s dead. i’ve been asking around, is everyone on vacation? you’re the only one that answered the door.”

“wh - what?” ellie couldn’t listen.

you had broken your nose, as a child, a detail never lost on her in the intimacy of your nights together. she would trace her fingers over the bump the accident left, the irreverent flaws that endeared her, magnetised ellie to your person.

she studied this woman, her … perfections. the faultless slope of the bridge of her nose.

so … she was different? this wasn’t you. ellie wasn’t sure if the constant reminder was her anchor or her chain.

“can i use your landline?”

the question was simple, and ellie ached to oblige. invite her in.

“uh, sure.” it was a hoarse, quiet agreement. she shuffles to the side, carves a path for the stranger, who smiles at her sweetly, tight-lipped, in thanks.

her perfume was different. heavier, something darker. red fruit and earth. it caught in ellie’s nose, unwelcome. your name is a phantom on the dry ridges of her lips, and the woman snickers, the fur collar of her snow-dusted coat ruffling as she turns to meet ellie’s foggy gaze. the glory of what was once your gaze, now shared, was lost on this cheap copy.

“you keep calling me that. what, do i look like your girlfriend?”

ellie chokes on something that is not there.

“n-no, my late wife.” ellie could feel her gravity changing, re-centring. she crosses the floor slowly, listening to every creak of the old floorboards. reverent steps. “you … you could be her twin.”

she laughs, distant and deep, like a joke. like she couldn’t see the lines of desperation, of reaching hope that haunt the withering skin of ellie’s face. couldn’t she see? was she not aware of her own part she played in ellie’s torment?

or was she seperate from it all? was she simply passing through, a tourist in this purgatory?

the woman hangs up the receiver of the phone, having never called anyone. her eyes splay pity on this platter between them.

“i don’t look like a .. ghost, do i?” the teasing lilt in her voice was familiar. it was yours. she purses her lips. “maybe i shouldn’t have come. you’re clearly going through something.”

ellie’s hand darts out to ground itself on her skin, pressing into the bone of her wrist, the base of her body.

“ellie.”

she shook the molasses of your voice from her ears, pressed her eyes shut in beseeching of something free.

“please.” her voice was barely there, small in her throat, but enough to hear in the absence of wherever this was. wherever she has ended up. “you have to tell me who you are, if you’re real.”

the woman pouts, the way you did when you wanted something. her touch is soft, leading, like yours was, as it slips from ellie’s rusting grip and falls back, unceremoniously, onto the leather armchair in the living room. plumes of dust greeted her, only added to the stench in the air, the musk of unforgiving.

“it doesn’t matter who i am.” she says, and ellie almost stumbles after her, her knees aching as she falls, devout, ready to worship, if only this spectre gave her answers. “i know what grief’s like. and … i’m here for you.”

ellie breathes unsteadily, her hands shaking, cool sweat dripping down her back. the woman reaches out in the growing silence between them. her nails were bumpy, bitten down to the quick, covered poorly in thin, pink nail polish, as they scratch gently along ellie’s cheek.

“see? i’m real.”

an illness lined ellie’s stomach. wanton belief … this was real. there was a simplicity in this, in the dream that you had come back to her, after all. flesh warm and alive beneath her fingers, untainted.

“don’t you want to touch me?”

the image of you, of her, bleeds in ellie’s brain. you were asking with a sweetness you knew she could never ignore. temptation rots the soul, but hers had died with you. in your final breath, you had clawed it out of her.

there’s a certain cruelty to her touch, the way ellie splays her decay of passion upon this blank body. control is lost to her here, although a mirage of it echoes in her grip on your thigh, her nails ripping into the stranger’s skin, hoping to study whatever is beneath.

“please, please…” ellie’s voice is soft, chasing a dead docility up the woman’s inner thigh, her tongue pulling a cotton trail into familiar warmth. “i’m sorry…”

your head falls back against the edge of the armchair, soft, sweet whines dripping from the woman’s lips like honey, ellie’s nose pressing into the silk of your cunt, her tongue dazed and ever desperate to taste you. to feel you like you once were, broken, made whole again in the creeping twilight of an oncoming snowstorm.

a low rumble pulls through both of you, her lips a current on your clit, a tremor in the key of her voice. she has to pull herself up on her knees, push herself into your presence, to keep herself there, within this second chance. her body shakes beneath yours, in wait, for something that had long since disappeared.

she groans, something deep and distant below her throat. her tongue dances along the warmth inside you, painting her apologies, her dying grievances along the soft expanse of whatever lay inside, forever unheard. her fingers grip bruises into your stolen skin, a rough yank pulling you towards her.

you had hated when she was rough with you, but were you really here to complain?

“please, i…” her voice is something dark, muffled against your skin. “i need you, i.. you shouldn’t have left me. i’m sorry.”

“that doesn’t matter now.” firm and bitter, dry, calloused hands pull ellie up from her home between your legs. she could nearly whine at the absence of warmth, if the vitriol freeze wasn’t something she had so long deserved, so duly needed. ellie’s touch softens.

“nothing matters now.”

your gaze, her gaze, is scrutinising, painful to hold in her eye. but she needn’t look away, she shouldn’t. otherwise, she was sure you’d disappear. she couldn’t let you, never again. she could keep you alive, deep within the ire of her eye, she could, she was so sure.

something stings within her. feeling, it prickles back into ellie’s body like she’d been long asleep.

“i miss you,” ellie’s voice breaks against the cool, unwavering hand of the strange woman, the absence of mercy she so desperately sought. a sob shakes, sore in the column of her neck. the pain was welcome. “so, so much.”

tears run hot, her spine crooked as she falls back, looking up at you with a newly discovered vulnerability. you look at her, your eyes cold with pity and hate.

“i love you.” she chokes, begging like you’ll listen. “come back to me, i love you still.”

you shake your head. you won’t. ellie doesn’t deserve that kindness. no longer, anyway.

your wife slumps forward, pressing her face into the softness of your thigh like that would mean forgiveness, like that would bring back the innocence she had sorely stolen from you. your hand, with jagged nails, runs through ellie’s hair. brick wall comfort.

when you speak, your voice lingers in her ears like a bad hangover. it’s not yours, not anymore. whatever was left of you was rotten, spiteful.

“are you afraid?”

ellie sobs, loud in the impending silence.

there was something here. it’s gone now.

tag list: @r3starttt

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x you #ellie smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie tlou

231 notes · View notes