#mat is a siren

[feysandfeels]

The casting for Christopher Nolan's adaptation of The Odyssey is ABYSMAL. ABYSMAL. Like I have never seen such ChatGPT casting in all my days. Is Tom Holland going to be Telemachus? Zendaya as Circe? Lupita as Calypso and Charlice Theron as Athena? Anne as Penelope to Matt Damon's Odysseus???

I thought it was going to be the Odyssey as a metaphore as he uses in other work... but an Epic? Set in Ancient Times? Oh I don't trust it. I know he has an English Lit BA, from like Oxbridge ????? but those institutions are nothing but name and zero critical thinking skills and rigor. Like they barely look beyond their own borders and when they do is to study US literature... so mark me down as concern.

And Nolan that is well known to not be able to write or develop a female character if his life depended on it.... oh no. I need to know which translation he is basing this of.

[veevil]

I got bored and decided to go through and like every single one of your Cherik siren AU posts. Such adorable fishy babies✨🐟

I'm just wondering, would Erik live as long as Charles? Because, I did a bunch of research (a single Google search) and Mako sharks only live up to 28-35 years and Erik is probably (hopefully) at least 18.

I'm pretty sure you said he's based off of a Mako shark, right?

So, if he aged like one, he would only have around a decade left with Charles. Maybe less if he's in his 20's.I'm gonna go cry over this.

Idk if it's different cause he's a siren or cause he's half human, that's why I'm asking.

Sorry for the long ask, I'm just interested✨✨✨

Oh nooo what if he's 32 like he is in first class😥

I NOTICED YOU WENT THROUGH THEM!! Hope you had a good time :]

@nyang-cheng and I talked about this and we came to the conclusion that sirens live around the same life span than humans, maybe a tiny bit longer. (mostly because we can't take the angst of Erik dying right after meeting Charles it would be TOO SAD...) Erik's life span is closer to a human's since he is half human.

So yes, he is based off a mako shark (mostly in design though), but lives longer!

[tildeathiwillwrite]

A Musician and A Curse

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Hair Matted With Blood

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 1200

Tag List: @badthingshappenbingo @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf

CW: curse, mind control, magic whump, music theory, blood, healing magic with a price

----------

The forest was silent, save for the faint rustle of leaves and branches in a far-off wind as Caecilia hummed the melody in her head and tried to place the notes on the strings of her lyre, the vibrations of her voice echoed by her plucking. Few living creatures ventured near her place of solitude, not since she’d figured out a song to ward most of them away. After that, the prey animals avoided the place, and by extension the predators.

Not that they would harm her anyway. Or even could.

Caecilia sighed and stopped humming, but continued to strum the lyre, moving away from the vague melody to something familiar. An etude that she’d learned back when she was still a student. Back when she lived in the village on the edge of the forest, by the river. Back when things were easier.

Back before the curse.

The piece was easy, but she remembered struggling to master it. Caecilia’s fingers moved over the strings, guided by muscle memory and memories of a happier life. A flat minor chord. Her cousin’s favorite color, a flash of his hair. G flat. D flat. Her older sister’s smile.

B flat diminished. Her mother’s face. How it would light up when she played, how she’d encourage Caecilia when she was frustrated over simple mistakes.

A flat minor. The piece was slow, in the beginning. She always liked music like that.

D flat, G flat. Another chord, B flat G flat, and D flat. Repeat.

Caecilia allowed herself to get lost in the melody, forgetting the years since she’d learned it, imagining that she was sitting outside her childhood home, her mother and sister busy inside with cooking or cleaning or weaving, the window cracked open so they could listen to her practice.

She smiled softly at the memory as the notes began to quicken, changing from quarters to eighths. She always got nervous when they did that, so they tended to be discreet. They were always so supportive of her playing, even though they were less sure of her desire to become a wandering musician.

Suppose it didn’t matter now. Would her mother be happy if she knew Caecilia still played? As long as she was certain her daughter would be safe?

Caecilia strummed the final chords of the etude. She was the safest here, alone, with no audience but the occasional bird and squirrel. Only the trees could hear her play, and that was perfectly fine with—

Crack!

She froze, the last notes fading as a snapping twig broke her focus. Who—? Lyre raised defensively, she quickly rose to her feet, eyes scanning the trees. Caecilia had chosen to perch on a small rock formation today, so she was somewhat out of reach of anything—or anyone—with malicious intentions. Unfortunately, that meant she was also cornered, but she’d gleaned enough about the nature of her curse to know she would—

Someone stumbled out from the tree cover, their steps unsteady, as if they were a sailor who had just disembarked and wasn’t used to solid ground yet. Caecilia frowned as they reached the rock, placed their hands upon it, and gazed up at her. A young woman, maybe in her late teens or early twenties, with short blonde hair and a light blue dress.

Her hair was matted with blood oozing from a wound in the side of her head, her dress was torn up, and Caecilia noted the glazed look in her dark brown eyes. Likely concussed, and also unlucky enough to come within earshot and accidentally become bespelled.

Caecilia sighed. Gripping the lyre tightly with one hand, she carefully climbed down from the rocks next to the young woman. She barely seemed to notice, head cocked slightly to the side as if listening for something.

“Sit, please,�� Caecilia urged. The young woman’s eyes flicked to her before she obeyed, almost falling to the ground.

Caecilia sat beside her, fingers gently plucking on the lyre strings. “What happened? Why are you bleeding?”

“I…” the woman mumbled, a dreamy expression crossing her face, “I… I was walking… along the old path through the forest… but the ground… the ground just vanished… and I fell….”

“Why were you traveling by yourself? The woods aren’t safe.”

“Aren’t safe…” the woman echoed softly, “I needed… needed to… get away… no one could know… the forest seemed safe enough in daylight….”

Caecilia closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. Reopening them, she changed to a different melody, plucking a few experimental notes before balancing the lyre in her lap and reaching out, playing with one hand and touching the wound on the side of the woman’s hand. She quietly began to hum along, willing the music to help instead of harm.

Beneath her fingers, the cut began to close. Caecilia’s playing faltered as a sharp pain lanced through her temple, followed by a dull pounding in her skull, but she stubbornly continued. Small cuts opened on her arms and legs, and new bruises on her elbows and knees throbbed, but still, she played, still, she healed.

The woman didn’t appear to notice as her corresponding injuries closed over, entranced by Caecilia’s music as she was, the blood clotting and the skin knitting together as if the body’s natural healing process had been hastened. Caecilia finally stopped humming and pulled away her hand, but continued to softly pluck at the strings.

“What direction did you come from?” she asked, wincing as she probed the new cut on the side of her head. “North, south, east, or west?”

“…north….”

“Thank you.” Caecilia changed melodies again, moving from A flat minor to D major. “Listen,” she said, speaking in rhythm, “listen and obey. Go west. Be careful. And when you leave the forest behind, you will forget everything that happened beneath its leaves.”

The woman blinked in mild surprise, the first show of emotion since stumbling upon Caecilia’s rock. “But… I….”

“Listen and obey,” Caecilia repeated, more forcefully.

“…listen… and… obey….”

“Go west. Be careful.”

“…go west… be… careful….”

“When you leave the forest behind, you will forget everything that happened beneath its leaves.”

“When… when I leave… the forest… I will… forget… everything… that happened… beneath its… leaves….”

Caecilia smiled despite the anxious churning in her stomach, despite the stinging of her new injuries. “I’m sorry. Now go.”

The woman rose immediately and moved west, as Caecilia had commanded. In moments she was gone, vanished into the undergrowth, and the sounds of her passage quickly faded away. Caecilia stared after her long after she was out of sight, murmuring a prayer of safety.

Quietly, she rose and climbed back to the rock formation, where she’d left her pack. “Why have I been touched in this way?” she whispered as she wiped away the blood on her face. “Why does my music bespell those who hear it?”

She must have asked this question a hundred times. “How can I take on others' wounds? What is the reasoning?”

As always, the forest had no reply.

[bellewood222]

(via "Mermaid Tail 7" Cap for Sale by Bellewood222)

TeePublic link: http://tee.pub/lic/ociCGpLg-dk

[satorena]

satorena.. 🌞prone bone with gojo that’s it.

୭ ˚. you snatch his soul via pussy— call that soul tie or whatever.

cw. explicit content. foul language. light dirty talk. love making. prǒne bǒne. spit play. praíse kink. afab!reader. lowkey sub gojo. 900 wc.

“fuuuckk baby,” he whines, head lolling forward as his arms tremble beneath him. the plushness of your soft ass ripples against his pelvis hypnotically, your velvety walls sucking his cock in almost achingly. tousled white hairs are matted with sweat and bangs glued to his forehead, as his eyes squint shut, focusing on anything but cumming too soon. “yeahhh, take this dick, lovely. ‘s all yours— shit,”

your feet lock around the back of his knees, arms spread as your fingers tighten around the dampened sheets beneath you for stability. with a slackened jaw, you moan wantonly as your hips push back to fuck yourself onto him. shit, you think you feel him reaching your throat with how large he is— so hot, thick and invasive inside your guts, the penetration just right at your spongy spots.

your back dips into a tantalizing curve as you find a rhythm in the sound of his heartbeat drumming against his pec. you tilt your head back, chin now upwards and lips ghosting right beneath his own parted ones. his breath is warm, bottom lip tickling right above your top one.

“open up f’me,” he says breathlessly, and as if you truly know him to the core, your jaw slackens further as your pink tongue lolls out. he lands a wad of spit right onto the muscle rather slowly, cerulean eyes narrowed into the sinful sight of you. you moan eagerly, awaiting his saliva down your tastebuds. with a soft plop, you roll around his taste in your mouth before sticking your tongue out to show your obedience, “ugh, my perfect fuckin’ girl.” a trickle of spit escapes and dribbles down your chin, past your neck and right in between your tits.

your breasts jiggle in sync with the clash of your asscheeks against him, and he’s so overwhelmed in fuck ton of emotions— your pussy kegels around his dick, so painfully wet he can barely feel his own cock anymore, perfect tits bouncing in plain sight and the way your face contorts in bliss as you shamefully use him for your own pleasure.

and as your voice drips in honey, so sultry and seductive he’d think you’re a siren lulling him into the depths of hell, “mmh, you like that, huh?”

fuck,

“marry me,” he whispers softly before capturing your swollen lips within his own. he moans inside your mouth and swallows your own sounds like a thirsty man, pulling away just barely as a thin string of saliva connects between you both. “oh god— marry me, please, marry me princess,”

your giggle sounds as breathless as you feel, tilting your neck in favour of peppering kisses at his sharp jaw. he groans loudly when you pamper him at his sensitive spot, cock twitching madly inside your warmth.

you trail your tongue against the slope of his neck, “toru, shut up.” you smile softly, though you bring an arm forward to wrap your hand around his bicep. your fingernails graze at his bulging muscles tenderly, and the look in your eyes make his heart skip a beat. his pretty girlfriend with her pretty eyes and pretty lashes and pretty nose and pretty smile and pretty full cheeks,

so maybe he proposes to you one too many times during sex, but how can he not want to cuff you when you fuck him on the brink of tears? who else is he supposed to find that’ll have him surrendering his entire being to? his stomach feels in knots, whether it’s butterflies or an oncoming orgasm— he’s not too sure, but god, he knows he never wants to pull out.

“want you for a lifetime, baby,” it’s as good of an explanation you’ll get, his hips now grinding into your cunt, hoping to explain the rest of unsaid words. he smiles boyishly when you gasp at the feeling of his tip rolling around inside, clawing tightly at firm muscles. your head leans forward as your legs drop back onto the bed, and you’re biting your bottom lip, “need you for a lifetime.”

“‘m all yours, toru,” you whimper, feeling both powerless yet empowered as his sweaty chest meets your sweatier back. his hair tickles at your neck as his lips ghost over your ears, his tongue dragging all over the shell, “always have been, ngh, always will be.”

fuck, you have him wrapped around your finger. his balls are heavy and ache, begging to release his proof of undying love inside of you— where it belongs. his strokes work frantically, shamelessly desperate for more of that gooey wetness the second he pulls out. he feels that coat of your unity around the base of his cock, and at a particular angle, you tremble beneath him.

bingo.

“in this lifetime,” he aims at that golden spot again. your body quivers pathetically and he presses a kiss at your temple, “in the next,” he pistons his tip at the same area, and now you have tears rolling down your cheeks. he leans forward to lick them away, “and the one after that,” your legs flail as your heels dig into the small of his back.

the pressure is getting too much for you, he notices as your body reacts before your mind can process, instantly reaching forward to evade the overwhelmingness of his thrusts. no, he won’t let you run away. not when you’ve just said you’re his. not when he hasn’t had a chance to say—

“i’m soul bonded to you. my entire being is yours, baby.”

first attempt ever at a drabble. . . perioddd ( ? )

[imjustasugablob]

Feel Me Up

Trainer!Leon x Female!Reader

tags: trainer au, asshole!Leon, slight angst? hate sex,

part 2

Blinding fluorescent lights were the first thing you saw as you opened your eyes. A blaring alarm, almost a siren, woke you from your "peaceful" slumber, on a cold metal bed topped with a pile of cloth that could hardly be called a mattress.

Four A.M. It was time to train. You hadn't planned on joining the government. Ever since you were young, you'd always dreamt of becoming a doctor, just like your parents. You thought they used to help people, save lives. Not create the demons that made hell on earth in the form of the C virus.

That horrendous day in Tatchi. The scene was burned into the back of your eyelids, seeping behind your vision when you turned to rest, like acid slowly coursing through your brain and frying it. You didn't have much of a choice after that, did you? They thought you'd join Neo Umbrella just like your parents had. So it was either - live a life under constant surveillance from the government, or join them to win back their favour.

Shaking your thoughts loose, you made your way to the bathroom to clean up before reporting to your trainer. Skennedy's gonna eat me alive if I'm late.

It was a terrible nickname, but you couldn't take the credit for it. Your teammates had come up with it after day 1, when Leon had successfully traumatised anyone who was getting cold feet about joining the DSO. The batch went from 51 trainees to about 23 that day. For good reason - Leon was not going easy on anyone.

For the past month, all of you had been coming back to the dorms covered in scratches on every piece of skin left exposed, and bruises on skin that wasn't. When you first saw the grape coloured mark the size of a palm on your ribs, you thought you were dying. You didn't even know bruises could be that dark. Or outlined in green.

But it wouldn't be fair to say that everyone was going through it. Cause Leon particularly hated you. Every quip, every correct answer, every successful parry only seemed to piss him off further. As if he wanted you to fail, to cry in front of everyone and quit. Others had noticed it, too, but no one wanted to say anything out of fear of coming in his line of fire. But you never gave him the satisfaction.

Grabbing some food from the dining hall, you made your way to the training room.

"You're late." Leon's voice had an icy edge to it this morning.

There were 5 others who weren't there yet. But you were used to it by now.

"It was four thirty on the dot when I walked-"

"Don't. Talk back to me."

Taking a long stride, he was right up to your face in an instant. His voice had dropped in volume and in pitch. A silent threat for only your ears to hear. You could practically see him foaming at the mouth. You didn't back down, however, keeping your chin up and staring straight down his eyes. His intimidation tactics didn't work on you. You hated his guts too much to offer him respect unless it was forced out of you.

You noticed the colour of his irises was a soft blue, like the morning sky, hardened around the edges by the years who had been unkind, more to his mind than his body. It felt like they were the only thing holding back the demons inside his head. You wondered how much shit he had seen, all the way from Raccoon City till now.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?", you could hear your friends whispering. You didn't have the guts to say anything back to Leon. Not today. You didn't wanna lose a limb. He slowly retreated back to the centre of the room, on the training mat.

"Everybody, pair up. You'll be fighting each other today. You will be ranked on the basis of your scores. I hope everyone knows that your ranks will affect your position and assignments after joining."

"And since there's an odd number of you,", he looked straight into your eyes, "you'll be fighting me today."

Well, fuck.

You watched impatiently as one by one Leon called out the names of your peers, watching them beat the shit out of each other on the mat. Nobody was "friends" inside the training room, that was for sure. Blow after blow landing over flesh, you could hear a few bones crack even from a distance. One of them called for timeout as their nose broke, bleeding profusely, staining his white clothes with scarlet.

"No." Leon's voice echoed in the big hall, ceasing all the jeers and cheering from everybody egging the fighters on.

"No? What the fuck do you mean, "No"? He broke his nose, the fights over", called out his opponent.

"The fight isn't over until one of you is physically incapable of continuing. Carry on, otherwise you know where the door is."

Leon's demand was met with silence. The young man took a moment to catch his breath, looking at his partner with pity. He pulled him to his feet, maybe so he wouldn't feel as bad about what was about to come next. You couldn't bring yourself to watch, so you turned your eyes away. A sickening crack resounded in the silence, before the man landed in a heap on the mat, knocked out.

"Next." Leon's voice was curt and neutral, completely devoid of any sympathy or emotion. You didn't expect him to be wallowing at the sight in front of him, but a little humanity would have been appreciated.

"It's you", Leon called out.

Just then, the sirens blared again, signalling that training was over for the day. Was it already eight? But of course he wasn't gonna let you up that easily.

"You'll be staying back. The rest of you may leave."

Holy shit. Was he seriously gonna challenge you to hand to hand combat? You know you didn't stand a chance against the seasoned veteran he was - trained by Krauser himself, had more than 10 years of experience on the field. You felt the hair rise up on the back of your neck at the thought that it would just be you and him.

He could destroy me right now and no one would stop him.

You slowly walked towards the centre of the mat where he was standing, inhaling deeply. It's okay. You got this. He's fucking old. And big. I'm faster.

You tried not to dwell on the fact that he was almost twice your size, and that his biceps were almost the circumference of your whole head. He could crush you like a grape if he wanted to.

You swallowed, and Leon wasn't gonna let a sign of weakness go unnoticed. "You scared?", he asked in a mocking tone. "Let's not act like this is a fair fight, shall we?", you snapped back.

"Look around you. You think anything in this fucked up reality we're living in is fair?" His voice shook slightly as he spoke. It was the most emotion you'd seen out of him.

You paused for a second, biting back the quick retort that rose to your mouth.

"Why do you treat me differently? You think I'm not cut out for this line of work?" He was quiet, almost taken aback at your question. He didn't expect you to ask it upfront.

"Let me tell you something, Mr. Kennedy, unlike the others, I'm not here by choice. Hell, you couldn't pay me enough to complete this stupid training and fight those monsters out there. I'd do anything to be free and leave you to your job. But I can't. So here I am. And you're not making it any easier by being a prick."

You breathed out, hard; his silence only making you regret your decision to speak your mind. With each passing second you only grew more and more uncomfortable, when suddenly, he grabbed your hand. You instantly raised your other hand to fight him off, before realising that he wasn't attacking you.

He was tracing the lines on your fingers with his own.

"Look at you. Skin so fucking soft, like you haven't worked a day in your life."

What the hell is happening?

You didn't trust yourself to say anything so you kept quiet.

"I used to be like you, you know. Bright eyed, bushy tailed, take on the world with hope and determination, yada yada. It's all such bullshit."

"Well then what makes you still fight for your life? You must have something to live for, or you'd just walk away, wouldn't you?"

He chuckled a little. More like a sigh leaving his lips. He looked so good like this.

What?

Before you could process your thoughts, he suddenly twisted your arm, putting you in a chokehold.

"Well these days it's been getting to see you fight like a little lamb, so adamant against accepting your fate", he whispered against the shell of your ear. It was your fault for giving in to his manipulation. You should have known better.

But even now, instead of trying to fight him off, you stood completely still, frozen in place. His breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine, as every molecule in your body screamed DANGER, as if you were teetering on the verge of a cliff. Except the cold waters at the bottom enticed you this time, inviting you to jump in, even if it was to your death.

"You've been such a little brat lately, refusing to give up. You think winning here or impressing me is gonna win you points in the real world?" His voice was like explosives on your nerve endings, making you gasp out loud.

You pawed at his arm desperately as his grip on your neck tightened, making you struggle to draw air. He laughed at you.

This motherfucker has the audacity to laugh right now. It was all a game to him, isn't it? Well, two can play, Leon.

He flipped you onto the mat, pinning your arms above your head, with his knee between your legs. God, he looked good on top of you. His golden hair shielding you from the harsh white light above, forming a halo around his head. His eyes were playful, teasing, yet somehow pleading, begging you to make a move.

You almost wanted to forget how much he had tortured you over the last month, how you had been limping back from training sessions like an old hag.

You wanted to scream at him. Go fuck yourself, or something of the sort. But the words died in your throat. You hated the effect he had on you. He was leaning over you, pressing his whole body weight down, but his weakness was exposed. One good kick to his shins and he would lose balance, leaving you free to slither past and regain your footing.

A mistake a beginner might make, not someone like Leon. As you gazed into his eyes, you realised he was aware of it. He was giving you an out. You could oh-so easily tackle him down, and be done for the day. But his lips looked so fucking good right now.

"Goddamnit", you managed to choke out, before reaching your head up and trapping his lips with your own. His mouth melted against yours, finding a steady rhythm. It was a messy kiss, your teeth clacking with his as he nipped at your bottom lip, threatening to draw blood.

His free hand roamed over your torso, slipping under your shirt and grasping at your hips, digging his fingers into the supple skin. It was driving you crazy, as could be proven by the heat pooling between your legs.

You struggled against his grip on your wrists, silently pleading him to let go so you could touch him, too. He broke free from your kiss and looked down at you, panting. "Such a needy girl, hmm? You're a little slut for me, aren't you?" He smirked.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd been in such a haze, driven only by your primal need to satisfy the ache between your legs. Leon's teasing was not gonna be tolerated tonight. So you did what you should have done from the start.

Aiming for his leg, you quickly pushed your knee up. As your leg met it's target, Leon let out a grunt. You hadn't hit him hard enough to hurt, but just enough to surprise him. Taking the opportunity, you flipped him over, sitting upright and straddling his waist. From this position you could feel his semi under your clothed cunt, straining against his trousers, begging to be released. Leon groaned at the unexpected contact, closing his eyes. He looked ethereal from this point of view.

Without missing a beat, you slowly began rocking your hips against his, creating much needed friction for both of you. You let out a soft moan as you paced yourself, throwing your head back in pleasure. Now that you had the reins, Leon had nothing to do apart from looking up at you completely hypnotised. He had never experienced a woman trying to take control voluntarily from him, most of them simply wanted to be fucked dumb, or be taken care of.

But the way you were using his body for your own pleasure flipped a switch, triggering something animalistic inside him, making him instantly rock hard. He let out a low growl. You looked so fucking pretty like this, your chest rising and falling rapidly, beads of sweat trickling down your temples. The soft moans that left your mouth were like music to his ears. You looked down at him, seeing him almost cross eyed as he gazed at you, his pupils completely blown out with lust.

You smirked at the sight, and leaned down to whisper against his ears, "Enjoying the view?" Your hips never faltered, steadily increasing in speed and fervour, trying to rub your sweet spot against him. Leon's brain had completely short circuited. He was only focused on you, meeting your movements with his own thrusts, trying to chase his own high.

"You act so fucking self righteous all the time, like you're some kind of saint. Look at you, Leon, tryna' fuck a girl half your age. Anybody could walk in right now and catch us, but that probably just gets you going even more, right?" You spoke against his ears, your dirty words setting Leon off. But you weren't gonna let him have it.

Suddenly, you became completely still and stood up, walking away from his body. Leon yelled out, "What the fuck? Where're you going?"

guys I've written part 2 but I'm still editing it so I'll upload it tomorrow if this post gets like 10 likes lmao. You guys should also get teased like Leon, hehe. Am I too evil?

"Well training's over so I'm going to dinner. What else?", you spoke so nonchalantly, throwing him for a loop. You had to admit, it had taken every ounce of self control to walk away from that temptation of a man. But you weren't gonna let him win again. Not this time.

part 2

Its the first work I'm uploading so please give any feedback or things you would have liked seeing in this story in the comments. you can be harsh, i really don't mind, as I use this platform to improve my irl writing. I wanna figure out all the cutesy banners everyone else does but im still getting familar with tumblr rn :)

[sanjisleggy]

the siren and the sun (portgas d. ace x reader) [pt2]

a/n: i have been very obsessed with Ace recently :0c anyways here’s part 2! 

contents: brief mentions of death, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, pining!Ace, kidnapping (+ rescue), allusions to human trafficking

wc. 3.3k

wanna be on my taglist?

part 1 || part 3

i. 

you’d entered the forest hoping to die.

only a week had passed since your parents set sail on the open seas, claiming their yearning for adventure was far too strong to ignore any longer. “we’d bring you with us but you’re too young,” they said but even at the young age of eleven you knew they were more than happy to leave you behind.

the air was fresh–much fresher than the usual stink of the Grey Terminal–and dotted rays of sunlight shone through the thick canopy of leaves above. you could hear the faint running of water and feel the breeze brushing past your skin.

it was a pleasant experience but you still wished to die.

instead, you came face-to-face with a boy who had large round eyes and a straw hat atop his head.

you’re gently woken up from your sleep by the feeling of your mattress dipping and the sound of sheets rustling. the room is still dark, only barely illuminated by the moonlight shining through your window, and yet it doesn’t take much effort to recognise the culprit.

Ace crawls across the length of your mattress, tossing your blanket out of his way as he moves. his hair is tousled and his signature orange hat is nowhere to be found. once he’s close enough, he slumps forward and spreads his arms out–one of which plops right across your chest.

“y’know they’re just gonna drag you out again, right?” you mumble, shifting slightly to lay on your side to face the boy whose face is now planted downward on one of your pillows. Ace mutters something you can’t quite make out as he hooks his arm around you to pull you closer before his muscles visibly relax, preparing for sleep.

you learned the boy’s name was Luffy and that his caregiver had a habit of adopting stray children. upon sharing with your new friend your desire to no longer be alive, he’d simply called you silly and lent you his straw hat. you kept it on your head as he held your hand and led you deeper into the forest.

Luffy spoke the entire trip to Dadan’s house and had practically shared his entire life story by the time you reached the cabin. you didn’t share anything about yourself, content with simply listening.

Dadan yelled at Luffy for bringing home another random kid but stopped once she laid her eyes on you. though she maintained her scowl and crossed arms, you could tell she wasn’t truly as angry as she was pretending to be.

“whatever,” she said with a nonchalant wave of her hand, “stay if you want. you can’t possibly be as troublesome as Ace and Luffy are anyway.”

that night, without saying a word, she handed you a fresh set of clothes and a sleeping mat and pillow.

you listen as Ace’s breathing slows down and evens out. as usual, he’s out cold within the span of several seconds. you’d love to go back to sleep yourself but if the past week has taught you anything, you know someone else is about to show up in just a few more seconds.

right on cue, your bedroom door slams open and there stands a bleary-eyed Marco in his pajamas.

“how many times do we have to do this before you stop?” he groans as he shuffles over to the side of the bed where Ace is sleeping. the older man grabs Ace by the collar of his shirt–much like a mother cat would pick up their cub by the scruff of their neck–and yanks him off the bed.

“let go of me, you fuck!” Ace yells a split second after he’s startled awake. through half-lidded eyes, you watch him struggle to break out of Marco’s iron-grip as he’s pulled across your room like a sack of potatoes towards your open door.

“Ace can sleep with me, Marco, it’s alright,” you say, already missing the warmth, but all the first division commander does is shrug.

“Pops’ orders. ‘night, (Y/N),” Marco yawns before he shuts your door, completely unbothered by the young man wriggling in an almost feral manner. he swings his flaming fists around threateningly but makes no actual attempt to start a fight. 

you can’t help but drift off to sleep with a smile on your face and a funny tingling feeling deep in your chest at the thought of Ace’s desperation to sleep simply beside you.

Ace hated you the moment he laid his eyes on you. though he kept it to himself, not wanting to ruin Luffy’s fun of having a new friend, he despised your presence. no matter how he tried to look at the situation, he couldn’t help but feel as though you were trying to be Sabo’s replacement.

he hated how you tried to keep talking to him every day, gradually growing more bold over time despite his repeated rejection. 

he hated how Luffy loved swinging through the trees with you (he’d invited Ace before but the older boy called it childish and dumb). 

he hated how you actually listened to Dadan and helped out with household chores. 

he hated how you were so clumsy and awkward whenever Luffy invited you to explore the forest with them. 

he especially hated how you never cried even after falling down or spraining an ankle.

“let’s go fishing, Ace,” you chirped one day with a wide smile on your face. there was a bruise on your forehead from the day before when you tripped over a root. the boy merely scoffed and turned away, already feeling the burning in his chest that manifested everytime you tried to spend time with him.

“yea, let’s fish!” Luffy cheered, grabbing both your hands before taking off towards the nearest river. Ace didn’t fight it, telling himself he relented just because he didn’t want to disappoint Luffy. 

if his younger brother wanted so badly for you to join then so be it. Ace didn’t care.

it didn’t take much time before Ace realised he did kind of care–but only because for some reason you were so much better at fishing than he was and Luffy thought that was super cool. 

he gritted his teeth and stewed in his anger for a while longer, determined to keep his rising frustration under control but your laughter intermingling with Luffy’s just pissed him off. if looks could kill, you would’ve dropped dead from his glaring ages ago.

“you’re so fun, (Y/N)!” Luffy giggled and something inexplicable within Ace snapped. 

before he knew it, he’d snatched your fishing pole out of your hands and broke it in half before tossing it into the river. ignoring his younger brother’s pleas for him to calm down and be nice to you, Ace grabbed your shoulder and pushed you towards the cold running water. as you stumbled backwards, your ankle collided with something hard causing you to fall. you yelped from the shock and pain as you felt your clothes get soaked with freezing river water. 

Ace’s anger had mostly dissipated by then, only to be replaced swiftly by a deep sense of guilt. it felt like cold, frigid fingers were gripping his heart and squeezing with all their might. he could hear Luffy yelling at him but everything sounded muffled except for one thing: your crying.

ii.

there’s a bet amongst the commanders on how many attempts on Whitebeard’s life will it take for Ace to finally give up and join the crew.

it’s only been a little over a week since your reunion but most of the commanders have already lost since they made their bets assuming Ace was a sane person. the only three left in the game are Marco, Jozu and Vista–though, judging by the ruckus coming from inside Whitebeard’s room, you suspect Jozu might be out soon. 

the newly-replaced door flies straight off its hinges and into the ocean as Ace is once again thrown out of the room, his back slamming into the deck railing with a sickening thud. breathless, he lays on the ground for a few minutes, completely ignored by passers-by–at this point, it’s just another Thursday afternoon.

“hey,” you call out from where you sit on the deck floor with a book in your hands, just a few metres away. you can’t help but smile when you see how he perks up almost instantaneously. getting on his hands and knees, Ace shuffles over until he’s sitting right beside you, his thigh pressing against yours.

you were avoiding him and a part of him wished he didn’t know why. if he was in the dark, he could at least default to being angry but it was hard to ignore the guilt nagging at his brain whenever he saw the way you limped or the bruise that had blossomed on your shoulder.

Luffy had been mad at him, too, for the rest of the day for hurting his new friend. he’d only warmed back up to his older brother after nightfall when the two spoke in uncharacteristically hushed tones under the blanket. Ace wasn’t afraid to admit he’d done something wrong and that he felt bad about it, he just didn’t really know what to do next.

“how’s killing Pops’ going?” you ask, setting the book aside on the floor before you reach out to brush some stray strands of hair out of his face. he always looks so messy after trying to kill your captain, it’s endearing only because you know it’s probably the one thing he’ll never succeed in.

“not great, clearly,” he sighs as he leans against you while absentmindedly playing with the hem of your shorts. “i knew it wasn’t going to be easy but not this hard… why don’t we just leave together? we can find my old crew and you can be my second first mate.”

you chuckle at his offer. “i didn’t know it was possible for you to become even more stubborn than when you were a kid.” Ace’s pout grows deeper so you decide to appease him by combing your fingers through his hair–a habit you picked back up pretty quick after reuniting with him, much to his visible pleasure. “you already know i’m never leaving this crew. they’re my family.”

“i thought i was your family?” he replies, though he knows deep in his heart that’s not the most accurate word he’d use to describe your relationship–even back when you were children.

Makino was surprised to see a familiar face enter Partys Bar on a random Tuesday afternoon. thankfully, it was a slow day for business.

“how do i… say sorry to someone?” Ace asked, perched on one of the barstools with his eyes glued to his hands on his lap. Makino couldn’t help but smile at the innocence in his question.

“well, it depends,” she replied. “what did you do?”

“i hurt (Y/N). i got mad and pushed her and she fell.”

“did she do something to you?”

“... no.”

as much as she wanted to chide the boy for his actions, she could tell from the look on his face that he’d beat himself up over it more than enough already. besides, he came asking for help righting the wrong, who was she to deny such a request?

that night, Ace ran back to Dadan’s cabin with a handful of wildflowers clutched carefully in his hand. his heart pounded not only from the running but from the sheer nerves of what he was about to do. he rehearsed the words he practiced with Makino in his head over and over until he was certain he could recite them in his sleep. 

when he’d finally reached his destination, though, he was greeted by a panicked Dogra and Magra.

“(Y/N)’s been taken. Dadan and Luffy went looking for her!”

“of course you’re my family,” you tell Ace as you continue to scratch his scalp, chuckling when you see his eyes flutter close as he leans into your touch. “you know you’ll always be my best friend.” he ignores the sudden pang in his chest. “i just owe too much to Pops and the others. i know they won’t stop me if i try to leave but i’ve found my place here. this could be your place, too, y’know?”

Ace doesn’t reply but he doesn’t reject the idea entirely either like he would’ve done a week ago.

iii.

Ace is startled awake when he hears the sound of the door creaking open. setting his hand ablaze on instinct, he readies himself for a fight. ‘this is it,’ he thinks to himself, ‘the cards are off the table now. i knew the Whitebeard pirates were just putting up a front to get my guard down.’

“chill out, dude,” your voice floats across the room in a frantic whisper as you quietly close the door behind you. “it’s just me.” the flames engulfing his hand disappear instantly as he feels his initial apprehension melt into relief.

“what’re you doing here?” Ace asks in his own whispered tone, scooting over to make space for you on the small bed he’d been given as Whitebeard’s ‘prisoner’. “won’t your Pops get mad?” he feels his face heat up as he watches you make yourself comfortable, eventually settling down with your face just mere inches away from his as you both lay on your sides.

“Pops’ll never get mad at me, i’m his darling daughter,” you reply half heartedly as you snuggle your face into his pillow. the action causes your loose shirt collar to slip off your shoulder enough to reveal a scar Ace hasn’t thought about in a long time.

without a second thought, he reaches out to trace his finger across the marred skin. it’s a jagged line from the base of the side of your neck, perpendicular to your collarbone, ending just a few centimetres below it. it’s a weird place for a scar but he knows it’s real: he was there to witness the injury that caused it.

he’d found you trapped in the arms of an unfamiliar man as he held a knife to your neck. Ace could see the sheen of sweat covering your skin as you trembled, your fingernails dug into your captor’s forearm in a futile attempt to make him let go.

“drop the knife, asshole,” Ace warned, pipe at the ready.

“fuck off, kid! she’s mine! i’m gonna get off this fucking island and bring this bitch to Sabaody.” he laughed in an almost manical manner. “if her limp’s permanent, it might reduce her value but i know the Celestial Dragons love pretty girls.” 

you couldn’t help but let out a sob at the man’s crude words as well as the pain shooting through your re-twisted ankle. it was close to full recovering when you were snatched from the riverside where you sat earlier in the day, only to get hurt all over again in your struggle for freedom. 

the sound of your cries set something in Ace’s chest ablaze as he felt rage cloud every thought in his mind other than one: save you. with gritted teeth and boiling blood pumping through his veins, Ace charged at your kidnapper and swung his pipe.

“that was a crazy day, huh?” you mumble, feeling goosebumps ripple across your skin as he continues to trace his index finger over your scar.

“if i wasn’t so reckless, you wouldn’t have been hurt.” he bites down on the inside of his cheek as a familiar wave of guilt washing over him. you sigh and grab the hand that’s touching your skin, maneuvering it so that your palm presses against his. through the darkness of the room, you can see him smile a little as he curls his fingers, interlocking them with your own. as you expect, his skin feels warm.

“technically, your recklessness saved me from a lifetime of being a Celestial Dragon’s pet,” you point out. “i don’t think he was prepared to fight off a feral child.”

“how dare you call me feral,” he laughs.

“you were super feral! both you and Luffy. i was the only sane one, just ask Dadan.”

“sure,” Ace replies with a roll of his eyes, dragging out the word in a playful manner. 

“i really mean it, though. you saved my life that day, Ace.” you lower your interlocked hands to rest in between your faces on top of the pillow. “so you better stop getting all mopey whenever you see the scar.”

the man laid on the forest ground, beaten to a pulp. if it weren’t for the occasional rising of his chest, you would’ve thought he was dead. Ace heaved as he stood over the unconscious man, the pipe he used as a weapon now coated in blood and dented in several areas.

it had been a few minutes since the fight ended but the boy still breathed heavily and his hand still gripped the pipe in his hand so hard his knuckles were deathly pale.

“Ace?” you called out apprehensively from where you sat a few metres behind him, voice slightly hoarse from crying. you could see him tense up but he remained silent. “are you okay?”

the pipe fell to the ground with a muffled thud as he turned around, eyebrows still deeply furrowed. his eyes flickered to the hand you kept pressed against the junction between your shoulder and neck. without saying a word, he closed the gap between him and you before dropping to his knees.

“here,” Ace said, pulling out a handful of crumpled flowers. he held them up to you expectedly. “i’m sorry i hurt you the other day. i was mad at something else and took it out on you. please forgive me.”

dumbfounded, you found yourself staring at him for a few silent seconds. his lip was busted and his entire body was littered in little cuts and blossoming bruises. he’d nearly killed a man; and yet here he was.

Ace gulped when his apology went unacknowledged. he nearly even started to panic when he realised Makino hadn’t told him what to do if you chose to not forgive him. 

thankfully, you reached out and took the flowers as a smile stretched across your teary face.

his heart, which had been calming down after the intense fight, revved back up again as he felt something burst in his chest. a strange tingling feeling spread across his entire body and suddenly all the pain from his injuries melted away. Ace felt a warmth envelop his face and he nearly covered his cheeks with his hands–stopping himself only because he knew it would make it too obvious.

you’d fallen asleep with your hand still in his. your face was so close to his own he could feel your gentle breaths brush across his skin. although he himself feels the pull of sleep, he resists the urge for a little while more, needing time to gather his thoughts.

Ace thinks about his experience so far on the Moby Dick; how he’s been trying relentlessly to kill Whitebeard and yet everyone’s been treating him with such patience. hell, they’ve never threatened to slap sea prism stone cuffs on him even once. 

he realises he’s already familiarised himself with some of the commanders, namely Marco and Thatch; and how even though he’s been acting like such a brat, the two older men have still been nothing but kind. as much as he hates that Marco takes up so much of your time, Ace can’t deny how much chemistry you have with the whole crew and how much they seem to love you so sincerely and unconditionally.

could i have that, too, one day?

he recalls something you said during a conversation earlier in the day.

“i’ve found my place here. this could be your place, too, y’know?”

and suddenly the answer seems so simple. 

gen taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui @paraparakiss

series taglist: @captainportgasdace @mitskisaveme @graveyardsweethearts @vaniiiavengeance @stuckinmymind22

[moonstruckme]

Girlllllll I'm literally obsessed with emt!Marauders. Could you maybe write one where the reader is at their apartment for dinner or something, and starts to have a panic attack, and thinks they're dying and gets the Marauders because they believe they're having a heart attack? Thanks :)

Thanks for requesting love!

cw: panic attack

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

At first you mistake the pounding on the door for your heartbeat. It thunders in your chest, beating against your rib cage like it's vying for escape. But then the sound comes again, and you remember than you actually did go through with making the call. 

You go to get the door, opening it to find a startlingly attractive paramedic wiping his shoes on your mat. Dark eyebrows rise, disappearing behind a mop of curly hair, when he sees you. 

“You look a bit young for a heart attack,” he says. 

“James, don’t fuck around.” Another man, taller, shoulders past him carrying a medical bag. “You called emergency services?” he asks you. You nod mutely, having discovered over the phone that talking only makes your chest hurt worse. “Alright, can we come in?” 

You nod again, backing away from the door to give them room to enter. A third paramedic follows, immediately taking you by the elbow and guiding you over to your own couch. “Hi, doll, I’m Sirius. What’s your name?” 

You wheeze out an answer, sitting when Sirius encourages you downward. He seems unperturbed by your agitated state, smiling as he crouches in front of you. Any other time, the effect would be heart-stopping. You wish it worked like that now. 

“Y/n, do you have a family history of heart problems? Any pre-existing conditions?” You shake your head no to both, and he nods calmly. “Okay, but you think you’re having a heart attack, huh?” 

You press a hand to your chest, tears invading your vision as the other paramedic—James, you’d heard him called—squats beside Sirius, looking at you concernedly. 

“It hurts,” you croak out. 

“Got it,” James reassures you. He passes a pair of gloves to Sirius, who begins wiggling them on. “When did it start to hurt? Did anything happen that might’ve caused it?” 

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head. Your lungs feel like they could collapse in on themselves at any moment, but James holds your gaze, grounding you. “It just—I was making dinner, and it just started.” 

“I understand,” he says, voice soothing. “Okay, I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on here. You’re having a panic attack, sweetheart.” You must look anguished at the lack of validation for your hurt, because James sets a gloved hand on your forearm, rubbing comfortingly. “It’s really scary, I know, but you’re not dying. We’re gonna get you feeling better, alright?” 

You want to trust him, you really do, but everything in your body is contradicting him right now. You’re dying, you know it. You can feel it in your bones. A tear spills out of your eye. 

“It’s all right,” he promises you. “Listen, this here is Remus, he’s going to help get you breathing a bit better for us, yeah?” The second paramedic, the one who’d come in with the bag, sits down on the couch beside you. He gives you a small smile, the myriad of small and large scars across his face shifting with the movement. James gives your arm a solid pat. You try not to jolt. “You’re in good hands, I promise.” 

“Hi, are you comfortable?” Remus asks you. He has a gentle sort of voice, a bit raspy but soft where it counts. 

You’re sitting with both feet flat on the floor, your hands in your lap like you’re a guest in someone else’s house. This all seems a bit more polite than you were expecting. It’s missing the urgency of blaring sirens and shouting voices you’d forced yourself to mentally prepare when you’d made the call for help. You feel horribly stiff, but you nod at Remus anyway, because you’re not sure comfortable is something you can find right now. 

A small furrow appears between his brows. “Are you sure? You can sit however feels best for you, love, we’ll move around to accommodate you.” 

You shift around awkwardly, bringing your feet onto the couch with your knees near your chest. Remus gives you a rewarding smile. 

“Good, good. Okay, we’re just going to try to slow your breathing down a bit, yeah?” He takes your hand in his kindly, touching your palm to his chest. “It might be hard at first, but try to copy me, please.” 

He inhales deeply, and you manage maybe half of what he does before the air comes whooshing back out of you. A sob works its way up in your chest. You don’t know how there’s still room for anything else in there. 

“It’s okay, you’re fine,” Remus says. His thumb strokes over the back of your hand. “We just have to keep going, it’ll get easier.” 

You want desperately for him to be right, and he is. You’re not sure how much time passes with Remus holding your hand to his chest, breathing for the both of you, but eventually you’re able to mimic him. He starts counting, four in, hold for four, and then four out, encouraging you every step of the way. 

You feel a pressure on the inside of your wrist. You look down, but Remus catches your chin in his hand. “You’re all right, love, James is just getting your vitals. You’re doing so well, keep going.” 

You do your best to keep focussed on him, ignoring the occasional prodding or the feel of cool metal against your back. The pain in your chest eases to a dull ache. Soon, you’re no longer straining to hear over the blood rushing past your ears. 

“Alright.” Your concentration breaks at the sound of a voice to your left, and you look over to see Sirius coming through the door. You hadn’t realized he’d left. “We’re all set in the back, how are we doing in here?” 

“Pretty good,” Remus says, giving your hand a kind squeeze before letting it drop from his chest. His voice takes on a wry quality as he turns to Sirius. “Could’ve been better if you hadn’t distracted her, but now I suppose we’ll never know.” 

“Sorry.” Your voice sounds hoarse and torn up. 

Remus looks at you with something close to alarm, but Sirius speaks before he can. “Oh, it’s nothing to do with you, dollface, he just likes giving me shit.” He steps forward, peering at you. “You look tons better. No gurney, then?” 

“Don’t think so,” James says, and you look down to find him crouched at your side, draping a stethoscope back over his neck. “Heart rate’s coming down with breathing, and it doesn’t seem like anything else is amiss. Should be an easy ride.” He looks at you, warm brown eyes melting you like wax. “Think you can walk out to the ambulance, sweetheart?” 

“I—sure, yeah.” You stand on shaky legs, and both Remus and James stand with you, hands hovering in case you need them. You feel so pathetically frail you almost want to laugh. “Um, why are we going to the ambulance?” 

“We’re just going to bring you to the hospital to make sure there’s nothing else wrong,” Remus says. “It’s nothing to worry about, just precautionary stuff.” 

“But I’m—I’m okay, right?” 

“We think so,” James reassures you, taking your elbow to help you off the curb by the ambulance. “Do you not feel okay?” 

“I feel better,” you say uncertainly. “It’s just…” You bring your hands up closer to your face. They’re trembling gently, just like the rest of you. “I can’t stop.”

“That’s totally normal,” Remus promises. James abandons your side to hop into the ambulance, reaching down to help you up, and Remus’ hands ghost over your waist as you clamber inside. He climbs up after you. “You might also have some muscle soreness, nausea, fatigue. It’s probably all just your body coming down from the attack, but you should still tell us, okay?” 

“Okay,” you echo, nodding. “Yeah, I’m really tired.” 

“That’s fine, sweetheart.” James rubs your shoulder warmly, encouraging you to sit on the gurney in the center of the ambulance. “You can take a little nap on the way if you gotta. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

[alesandraelin]

𝚙𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚜 - 𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚊 𝙿𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

description: Reader takes in two puppies

The city was alive with the rhythm of the evening rush hour. Y/n, lost in a sea of suits and buildings, navigated the throngs of pedestrians with a sense of purpose. It was the kind of day where the cacophony of honking horns and distant sirens seemed like a distant hum against the focused rhythm of her thoughts. Yet, amidst the chaos, something small and unexpected caught her eye.

Two puppies, barely old enough to walk on their own, huddled together under a bench in a narrow alley. Their tiny bodies trembled from the cold, their fur matted and dirty. Y/n’s heart clenched at the sight. There were no signs of a mother or an owner, just two poor creatures in need of help. Without hesitation, she crouched down, her fingers brushing gently over their fragile forms.

“Hey there, little ones,” she whispered softly, her voice soothing. The puppies looked up at her with wide, trusting eyes. She knew she couldn’t just leave them there. With a determined nod, Y/n scooped them up, one in each arm, and made her way back to her apartment.

The journey was filled with cautious steps, careful not to jostle her tiny passengers too much. Once inside, she prepared a cozy corner in her living room, laying down a soft blanket and setting out some warm water and kibble she had on hand. The puppies seemed to recognize their temporary haven, and they curled up together, their bodies pressed against one another for warmth.

Hours later, Y/n had given the puppies a warm bath. She gently cleaned the grime from their fur, which revealed their true colors: a golden retriever mix with bright, curious eyes. The larger of the two had a slight limp, but otherwise, they appeared to be in good spirits despite their rough start.

Y/n’s heart ached with a mix of worry and affection. She knew that taking them in was not without its complications. The apartment wasn’t particularly suited for two growing puppies, and there was Alexia to consider. Alexia, her partner of three years, had always been the more practical one between them. Y/n admired her for her discipline and sensibility, traits that often balanced Y/n’s spontaneous nature. However, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Alexia might not be thrilled about their new houseguests.

As evening approached, Y/n busied herself with preparing a light dinner. Her mind kept drifting to the puppies, their little faces looking up at her with unwavering trust. She found herself lost in thoughts of how she could convince Alexia to let them stay.

The front door clicked open, and Y/n’s heart raced. Alexia walked in, her face flushed from a long football training session. She was clad in her team’s gear, her ponytail bouncing with each step. Alexia’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the scattered dog toys and the unmistakable scent of puppies.

“Hey,” Alexia greeted, her voice warm despite her exhaustion. She dropped her gym bag by the door and looked around, noticing the freshly cleaned puppies curled up on their blanket. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Hi,” Y/n replied, trying to sound casual but failing to mask the underlying anxiety in her voice. “So, I, um, found these two little guys earlier today.”

Alexia approached, her expression shifting from shock to curiosity. She knelt beside the puppies, her fingers gently stroking their soft fur. “They’re adorable,” she murmured, her tone softening. The puppies wagged their tails weakly, their eyes blinking up at her in sleepy recognition.

“I know,” Y/n said, joining her on the floor. “I was hoping we could keep them. I mean, if you’re okay with it. They’re just a little malnourished.”

Alexia looked up, her eyes meeting Y/n’s. There was a moment of silence, and Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest. The uncertainty of Alexia’s response loomed large in the quiet room.

"I mean, it's okay if you don't want them here, I'll take them to the shelter tomorrow or find a friend that can take them in." Y/n said when Alexia looked up at her.

“I’m not going to lie,” Alexia said slowly, “I didn’t expect this. But… they need us. And I can see how much you care about them. I wouldn't mind having some company with us.”

With those words, Y/n's eyes lit up and a big smile came onto her face. She all but threw herself onto her partner. "Thank you so much Ale." Y/n pressed kisses onto Alexia's cheek and forehead in gratitude as Alexia wrapped her arms around the girl.

Over the next few weeks, Y/n and Alexia settled into their new routine. The puppies, whom they had named Ollie and Remi, quickly became a beloved part of their lives. Ollie, with his playful antics and endless energy, was always on the move, while Remi, smaller and more reserved, preferred to cuddle up close.

They had now become a family of 4. Alexia & Y/n would take them out on walks in the evening after Alexia finished training and even have them eat dinner at the foot of the dining table when they ate. Y/n and Alexia adapted their schedules to accommodate the needs of their new furry family members.

[usedtobecooler]

something about edging eddie until he's crying <3

tw: dom/sub undertones, orgasm denial, cumming without permission, handjobs, dacryphilia, scratching, one singular slap to the leg.

"please, please, baby — need it, baby. fuckin' hurts— aah, aah, nngh,"

eddie's gasps of pleasure send ripples of goosepimples up your spine, your hazy eyes glancing up from where they were glued to the almost purple tip of his cock. it kicks up slightly, a blurt of precum spilling from the slit as you squeeze just ever so slightly harder around his balls and the base of his length, clamping your thumb and middle finger like a makeshift cock ring, squeezing the soft flesh until he's wailing.

"one more?" you coo, using your other hand to stroke up the fuzz of his inner thigh until the muscles spasm under your tender grip, his leg kicking out, "one more, i promise. then you can cum, okay?"

you watch with morbid fascination as eddie's neck strains, his wild hair fanning out over the pillows and matting to his forehead with sweat, clinging to his temples as the tears begin to roll. the tendons in his neck pop as he grits his teeth, struggling to hold it — panting and gasping when you release the tight hold, once you know he's coming down from the impending orgasm you just cruelly denied him.

"colour?" you ask, just to make sure as your pre and lube slick hand wraps around the thick, neglected head of his cock again, startling a growl from deep in eddie's chest as you do. he hisses, arches into the touch, spine curving up from the mattress.

"green," eddie grits out, bitchy and annoyed as he bucks his hips up, tries to get you to just move your fucking hand, "so fucking green, i promise."

you hum contentedly, your hand that was once soothing his thigh coming down to crack lightly across the sensitive skin, shocking a yelp from him, "hips down, stop being a brat. let that be a warning."

your dominant hand slowly starts to pump up and down eddie's shaft, eliciting soft little whines and cries from him as your pace quickens, squeezing the hardened flesh the way you know he likes.

"so fuckin' desperate, please, please," he's a squirming, begging mess, clinging onto the bedsheets with bitten, polish chipped nails. he buries his face into the pillow, biting down on it and moaning into the fluffy lining when your palm swipes over the head.

you're working eddie over in a way that you know will send him spiraling, a small smirk gracing your features, knowing you'll be snatching it away from him soon, just as he reaches his high.

his hips jerk uncontrollably into the slickness of your hand, the squeaking bedsprings adding to the loud slap of flesh on flesh that bounces around the walls of your bedroom — rhythmic, dirty, filthy, even.

you watch under hooded eyelids as eddie's arms strain, veins protruding from the backs of his hands up to his elbows. a red flush of colour spattering all over his chest, back arched like a bitch in heat. he's ethereal, a fucking siren beckoning you and luring you in, making you lose all inhibition without even realising it.

you know it's going to happen before even he does, he's too slow to tell you he's close, and you're so dazed and hazy from watching his pretty face contort in pleasure that your reaction time isn't quick enough. you're not able to snatch your hand away before his cock is pulsing in your grip and the first shot of cum lands in his curly bush of pubes.

"sorry, sorry—nggh," eddie's whining, whimpering and crying as his load coats your hand, spurting up his stomach and making a fucking mess. his back arches and straightens up just as quickly, like a bow once the arrows been shot, as he tries to wriggle away from your tight grip.

you can't look away from his soft tummy as it twitches and quivers from the sheer force of his orgasm, ropes of cum splashing his pale skin and marking him up, painting the pretty purple bruises you'd left behind with a harsh mouth earlier.

it's stunning, almost painful to watch and listen to as your insides burn with arousal. your hand works him over as if on autopilot, your ears only just catching his wet gasps, his pleading for you to stop or keep going, you're not sure.

"baby, baby," he babbles, arching away from your touch and crying wetly when you thumb up over his sensitive tip, rubbing over the glans until he's thrashing his legs, "m'so sorry, baby. didn't- didn't mean to—"

"you didn't warn me," you cut him off, words coming out a bit more choked and soft than they usually would've when he disobeyed you, "so now, i'm going to work you over until you're hard again, okay? and we'll start from the top. colour?"

eddie sobs wetly, wincing as he stares at you with big, glassy orbs. your own eyes soften as your gazes lock, and he whimpers, breathy and desperate when your other hand ghosts down his thigh, nails bluntly scraping the skin in a scratching motion;

"green."

[aludraslytherin]

A few moments before "Suffering"

Crew member 1 : Hey Captain, I know that the wax should make it impossible for the sirens to lure you into the water, but hum... Crew member 2 : You keep saying that you miss your wife Crew member 1 : And would die for her. Odysseus *failing to see where this is going*: Just spit it out, I don't follow you Crew member 2 *deep breath before showing the chain he hid behind his back the whole time* : Just make sure you won't jump at the sight of your wife... Crew member 3 : So hum, would you agree to have this on your ankle? It'll be connected to the mat Odysseus *flabbergasted*: ... Odysseus : You know what, that's valid, gimme the chain

Inspired by : @letsplaythermalnuclearwar 's post

[princessbrunette]

hyperfem! reader w jj pleaseee

writing them in lil bullet points cos it’s easier to format hehehee 🎀

• swatching makeup on his arm in the store when you’re tryna find the right shade and he’s just all like “baby. how do you know i’m not like — super allergic to the ingredients in this thing. do you know how many chemicals go into makeu- infact, lemme see- no i’ll give it back i just wanna read what it says— trust me! i saw this video on instagram reels—” and he’s fighting the foundation bottle out of your hand so he can read the small print on the back listing the ingredients even though he has no idea what he’s talking about.

• he’s got beef with the plushies on your bed. unfortunately. “so this is the guy you get all cozy with when i’m not here?” he’s laying on his back on your pink frilly bedsheets tossing the plushie between his hands like a football. “guy? jayje that’s obviously hello kitty.” you pout, kneeling on the bed to take her away. when you place her back on the sheets he catches your wrists and pulls you down so that you fall on top of him with a quiet yelp. “agh, there you are. get in here.” he’s grinning, wriggling to make space for you.

• enticing you into joining the group on their wild pogue adventures. “babe, i literally got you a pink life jacket so you can come out with us on the boat— don’t make that face at me.” he standing on the pier clutching the neon pink life jacket in one hand, the rest of the pogues waiting on the boat, staring at you happy as clams with hopeful grins. “jj i don’t need a life jacket.” you frown, letting him help you up onto the pier by the hand. “uh— yes y’do. i’m dragging you into our shit, i’m gonna make sure you’re safe alright? now come here.” he’s manhandling you in that thoughtless jj way so he can fasten your life jacket on you even though no one else is wearing one. princess treatment, of course.

• when you and the pogues inevitably get yourself into shit, running from sirens down a street of a town you’ve never visit before, jj is constantly pulling you along and making sure you don’t fall behind. “come on baby, move your ass!” he yells, and you rip yourself free of his grasp when you come across a puddle— the rest of the groups continuing through, splashing across to the other side. “jj, these are my favourite shoes!” you whine. he slams to a halt, opening his mouth to argue but seeing the police car round the corner before he can. he simply grabs you and either throws you over his shoulder and carries on running (hes a strong boy) or straight up yanks the shoes off his feet and puts them on your feet as fast as humanely possible.

• forever fascinated by the lengths you go to in your beauty routines. enjoys watching you carefully apply a face mask in the mirror whilst he sits on your bed, eyes jumping around to the girly decor in your room. you’re nothing like him, and he wonders sometimes what you even see in him. his hands are rough from ropes and climbing things he shouldn’t, his hair is often matted and unclean from the ocean, whilst you were soft all over and always smelling like a bakery. that not to say you didn’t try and involve him, atleast smearing spf on his face whilst sat on the boat together, batting away his fussy hands. “jj, you’re in the sun just unprotected all day… y’gonna age like milk.” you mutter, rubbing it into his cheek as he squints one eye closed. “i’m white n’blonde. you can’t fight the inevitable, babe.” he moves his face away, wiping his cheek on the back of his hand.

• sometimes lets you paint his nails if he’s bored and wants an excuse to watch you close up, all cute and concentrated, his smile growing even when you tsk at him, lips pouted and brows creased. “you moved!” you accuse quietly, grabbing his hand and holding it still. he’s not looking at his nails, hell— he couldn’t even tell you what colour they’re being painted, staring at your pretty face instead. “my bad, gorgeous.” he smirks, watching the way your eyes flick up to his, blinking away the flustered feeling.

• like i said, princess treatment. makes you cream around his fingers, hand stuffed into the waistband of your delicate pink panties whilst he paws greedily at your tit. “whats a pretty girl like you doin’ with me huh? jesus, you cum so much baby. fuckin’ love it.” he whispers, dick hard against your thigh as you whine.

• loves when you initiate, watching JJ sat at a table, maps and other crumpled up artefacts you didn’t understand scattered about as he spins his cap around to face backwards, concentrated and serious as he reads. you know it’s important to him, but he’s been at it all day and there comes a point where you just want his attention again. which of course, is how you end up straddling one of his thighs, panting and whimpering into his neck as he tries to concentrate on the maps and not your grinding on him. “jayge, just miss you…” you mewl nonsensically, tired and infuriatingly horny on his lap. he cups your lower back, pressing a distracted kiss to your temple (with a raging hard on) “doin’ good, baby. lemme finish this up n’im all yours, needy girl.”

• thinks you look adorable leaving lipstick/lipgloss prints on his cock. he strokes your head with a lazy smirk, watching your brows furrow slightly as you bury your kissy face against his shaft, pulling back to admire your work. “pretty.” you mumble to yourself and he chuckles. “you’re damn right.”

• notices when there’s something new about you. new hairstyle? he’s approaching you and holding you gently by the face so he can get a proper look at you. new dress? best believe you’re hearing “alright, do a spin for papa J, that’s it pretty lady.” with that shit eating grin of his. he’s just that attentive.

[moeitsu]

The Dark Tide Siren!Arthur Morgan x Reader Modern AU Ch 3 - Salt Remembers The Sea Summary: You and Arthur share an intimate moment as you connect on a deeper level, he allows you to explore him with curiosity and reverence. Arthur, slowly beginning to open up, reveals fragments of his painful past, shedding light on the trauma he's endured. wc: 6.5k tw: detailed monster anatomy, exploring body parts, slight nsfw, 18+ Swim Back! ↞ ﹏𓊝﹏ ↠ Sail Ahead!

AN: This is the chapter where things really start to get a little strange. You thought it was weird before? Just you wait. Its about to get very....wet. This is your warning :)

My sleep was about as good as it could get, considering my bed was nothing more than cold, unforgiving tile. My body ached, stiff from the awkward position I had curled into, but I had grown used to nights like this—odd hours, odder sleeping arrangements. Late-night emergency rescues often left me dozing off in Charles' office chair or curled up on the lumpy couch in the breakroom, a crumpled jacket serving as a makeshift pillow. None of it was comfortable, but exhaustion had a way of making anything tolerable.

Still, sleep hadn't been kind to me. My dreams were fragmented, restless. I was back on that beach, watching Arthur bleed out in the sand, his dark hair matted with salt and blood, his body broken beneath the weight of the cruelty inflicted upon him. Then, suddenly, the scene shifted—I was in the water, a sharp, searing pain lancing through my side. Panic constricted my chest as I tried to swim, but something unseen wrapped around my limbs, pulling me down, dragging me backward toward something vast and inescapable. I was running—no, swimming—but the ocean had turned against me, trapping me in its endless depths. A crushing sense of isolation settled in my chest, raw and suffocating. I wasn't just afraid. I was alone.

I jolted awake, my breath coming in short, uneven gasps. A dull ache settled in my spine as I stretched, my limbs protesting the movement. The fog of sleep still clung to my mind, blurring the edges of reality, but the cool morning air against my sweat damp skin grounded me. Sunlight streamed through the open skylights above, casting golden beams onto the tiled floor and into the gentle water of the pool. Reflecting off its surface like molten crystals. The soft cry of gulls outside mingling with the rhythmic crash of waves against the rocky shore. The steady hum of pumps and filtration systems filled the space, a familiar and constant background noise of the facility.

And then, through the haze of morning light, I saw��him.

A pair of deep blue irises, locked onto mine. Watching. Waiting.

Arthur.

The weight of the night before came rushing back to me in an instant, the exhaustion, the surgery, the quiet unspoken bond that had settled between us. My heart tightened at the sight of him, submerged in the water, his body still but aware. He hadn't taken his eyes off me. And in that moment, I was reminded exactly why I was here.

Sitting up, I twisted my spine, relishing the satisfying pop of my joints as a deep groan escaped my throat. My muscles were stiff, my body sluggish from a night spent on cold tile, but none of that mattered now. As I shifted forward onto my stomach, tucking an arm beneath my chin, my gaze locked onto the creature watching me just as intently.

Arthur's presence was quiet but heavy, the weight of his stare pressing against my skin like the ocean depths. Only his eyes remained above the waterline, gleaming pools of deep blue, unreadable and vast. The rest of him lay submerged in the shallow pool, his massive form hidden beneath the rippling surface. I had the distinct feeling he was mirroring me—lying on his stomach as I was, observing with the same patient curiosity I felt toward him.

For a while, neither of us moved, allowing the early morning stillness to stretch between us. The air was thick with the scent of saltwater and antiseptic, the distant cry of seagulls filtering through the facility's high windows. The quiet hum of filtration pumps was the only reminder that we were not somewhere out at sea, but here—together, in this strange, shared limbo between two worlds.

Tentatively, I reached out, letting my fingertips trail through the water, tracing aimless patterns across the surface. The warmth surprised me, smooth and welcoming against my skin. It felt like the ocean at sunrise, still and peaceful before the day stirred it to life.

"Good morning, Arthur," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "How are you feeling?"

I wasn't expecting an answer, but the words felt natural, as though speaking to him was no different than speaking to any other patient under my care. And yet, this was different. He was different. I extended my palm toward him, driven by some unspoken need—to touch him, to feel his skin beneath my own, to reassure myself that he was real. That this was real.

To my surprise, he moved closer.

I kept my hand still, letting him decide. My lips twitched into a small smile, reminded of how we taught children at the touch tanks—hold your hands still, let the creatures come to you, let them explore you on their terms. Arthur was doing the same.

His gills flared as he inched forward, hesitation battling curiosity. I watched the way his body tensed, his movements cautious yet deliberate. He reminded me of a skittish sea pup, torn between instinct and intrigue.

His face came within an inch of my palm before he suddenly grimaced. His pupils contracted, his gaze darting between me and my outstretched hand. A subtle shift, a flicker of alarm or confusion.

Then it clicked.

Ah. The sweatshirt.

I had forgotten I was still wearing Charles' hoodie, the heavy fabric still clinging to me from the night before. To Arthur, I must have smelled foreign—like another male, unfamiliar and wrong. Dangerous even. Nothing like the woman who had held him the night before. I mentally noted that he was incredibly scent driven, like a shark or an octopus.

Without hesitation, I peeled it off, letting the cool morning air prickle against my sweat-damp skin. Clad only in my sports bra, I settled back onto my stomach, dipping my arm into the water once more.

"That's better, huh?" I mused softly.

Arthur's eyes flickered down the length of my arm, tracing over my bare skin before settling back on my face. I smiled. I could feel him studying me, the same way I had studied him last night. And I let him. I wanted him to.

I wondered, Did his species have a way of communicating outside of words? Did they swim in pods, share gestures, brush against each other like this? Or was he always alone?

Before I could dwell on the thought, Arthur reached for my wrist.

I tensed, not out of fear, but out of sheer surprise. His webbed fingers moved with delicate precision, his claws barely grazing my skin as he began unraveling the damp, bloodied gauze wrapped around my wrist.

I swallowed a wince as the fabric peeled away, the dried blood pulling at the torn skin beneath.

"Guess I should have Charles take a look at that today," I muttered, more to myself than to him. "Probably needs stitches."

Arthur didn't react to my words—only to the wound itself. His pupils contracted slightly, his nostrils flaring. Smelling my blood. Committing my scent to memory.

Somewhere deep in my chest, I knew I should have been afraid. Blood was a trigger for predators, a primal lure that awakened the basest instincts of the hunt. I had seen it countless times in the wild—how a single drop in the water could send sharks into a frenzy, how wounded seals would attract the silent approach of something lurking just beneath the surface. Even the most docile creatures could turn savage at the scent of it, driven by an ancient, unspoken law of survival.

But Arthur didn't move like a predator.

There was no sudden tension in his body, no sharp intake of breath like he was fighting the urge to lunge. No flicker of hunger in those deep blue eyes. His grip remained careful, deliberate—his webbed fingers barely grazing my wrist as if he were handling something delicate. As if he didn't want to break me.

It was a contradiction, this creature with the power to rip me apart, yet holding me like I was something worth protecting. He was watching me, not like prey, but like something fragile. Something he didn't want to break.

And yet, as I watched him open his mouth, as I gazed upon the pearly white rows of razor-sharp teeth that were almost human, I couldn't pull away.

There was no fear, no instinct screaming at me to recoil. Only a strange, electric stillness settling over my body, a deep-rooted certainty in my chest that he would not hurt me.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for what he did next.

A long, dark blue tongue unfurled from his mouth, ribbed along the sides and top, an evolutionary marvel designed to grip and manipulate prey—but as it slipped past his lips, I realized it was something far more intricate. The ridges along the surface flexed with a sensual fluidity, the textured muscle curling and undulating as if tasting the very air between us. It was long, sinuous, almost serpentine in the way it moved, tapering to a fine point that flicked out experimentally before retracting.

There was nothing predatory in the way it reached for me, yet I couldn't ignore the way it twitched and pulsed, slick with warmth, glistening under the morning lights as it hovered tantalizingly close to my skin. It was slow, deliberate, exploratory—intimate in a way I didn't yet understand.

And then, he licked me.

Warm. Slick. Wet. The hard muscle dragged over my wrist, gliding over my open wound with an almost reverent touch. I sucked in a breath, heart hammering against my ribs as I watched, entranced. His breath fanned hot over my skin, and after that first taste, his lips parted further, his mouth closing around my wrist.

I should have been terrified.

Instead, I shivered.

Viscous saliva pooled over my cuts, coating them in a thick sheen, and his tongue worked methodically, spreading it deeper into my skin. The sensation was... indescribable. A pulse of heat shot through me, curling at the base of my spine. My body reacted—not with fear, but with something darker, something instinctual.

The act was so tender, so gentle, it completely betrayed his monstrous form. Arthur was the one in pain, the one suffering, and yet he was the one tending to me. Cleaning me. Marking me.

A soft noise slipped past my lips, and an ache settled low in my stomach. When he finally pulled away, a thick strand of saliva connected us, catching the light like a thread of liquid silver. And then—gods help me—he kissed it. A chaste press of his lips to my wrist, as if sealing his work, as if telling me you're mine to heal.

I exhaled, trembling. His pupils were blown wide, the black nearly swallowing the blue, his expression unreadable. But I could feel it—the weight of his gaze, the intensity in the way his fingers twitched toward me. The moment stretched, charged, thick with something I didn't dare name.

It wasn't until I caught the faint, flickering glow beneath his skin that I finally pulled my gaze away. His veins were lighting up again, faint but unmistakable, bioluminescence dancing beneath his flesh like phosphorescence in the deep.

I barely had time to wonder what it meant before I looked down at my wrist—

And choked on my breath.

The wounds were gone.

There was no trace of blood, no broken skin, no sign that I had ever been wounded at all. In its place, four iridescent scars shimmered beneath the dim lighting, their color shifting like polished opal, contrasting against the natural hue of my skin. They looked just like his own—etched proof of pain, survival, and something far stranger.

Had he... had he healed me with his saliva?

I stared, my breath caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. My fingers trembled as I brushed them over the fresh scars, the skin smooth and cool to the touch, as if it had been untouched by injury. The realization sent a shiver down my spine, my stomach twisting with something I couldn't comprehend.

"A-Arthur wha—"

"I'm real sorry for hurtin' ya."

The deep, gravelly timbre of his voice sent a jolt of shock through my body, rooting me in place. My gaze snapped up to him, my pulse hammering against my ribs. I hadn't heard him say more than three words in the past twelve hours, and now he was apologizing to me?

"H-holy fuck, you can talk?!" My voice came out breathless, stunned.

Arthur only nodded, his gills flaring slightly. His expression was unreadable, but something about the way he held my gaze—steady, cautious, yet unguarded—made my chest tighten. Had I been too forward? Had I ruined my only chance to hear him speak again?

I exhaled slowly, trying to gather myself, to settle the erratic thrum of my heart. "Sorry, that was rude of me," I admitted, lowering my voice. "I just—I didn't think you could speak more than a few words. How do you know English so well?"

I waited, desperate to hear his voice again, to break the fragile silence hanging between us.

"Been 'round people long enough." He spoke slower this time, deliberate, like he wasn't used to stringing so many words together at once. "Picked up on it eventually."

Holy shit, he has an accent.

That drawl—low, thick, undeniably Southern—rolled through me like a gentle tide, and I felt its weight settle deep in my bones. It was rough around the edges, worn down with time, and yet, there was something almost soothing about the way the words left his lips. But the mention of people sent a ripple of unease through me.

Had he been around them by choice? Or had they kept him?

I had so many questions, but I forced myself to rein them in. Pushing too hard could make him shut down, and I wasn't willing to risk that.

"I see," I said gently. "Must have been really hard for you to talk last night, with all the pain you were in."

Arthur gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable. His slitted pupils flicked down toward my wrist, the scars still catching the dim light, before shifting back to my face.

I took him in, really looked at him. He seemed healthier now, stronger. His color had returned, the luminous sheen of his skin no longer dull and lifeless. For the first time, I realized just how much I wanted him to heal.

"You're looking much better," I admitted, offering a small smile. "The color's come back to your skin... maybe soon we can let you go home."

The words felt like a betrayal the second they left my lips. I didn't want him to leave. And I knew how selfish that was.

Arthur's expression shifted, his jaw tightening just slightly. "Don't have a home."

His voice was quiet, but the weight of those words crushed the air from my lungs.

I swallowed hard. "What about a family? Could they be looking for you?"

His pupils narrowed slightly—whether from fear, memory, or something else, I wasn't sure. But then, with a slow shake of his head, he answered me in silence.

That hurt more than I was prepared for.

I bit my lip, fighting against the ache settling in my chest. I had a feeling pressing him further would only make things worse, I didn't want him to shut down or feel overwhelmed. So instead, I softened my tone. "Would it be alright if I checked on your wound?"

For a moment, I thought he'd refuse. Now that he was awake, fully aware, maybe the fragile trust I had built last night would vanish. Maybe he wouldn't let me get close to him like that again. And yet, the ghost of his touch lingered—his tongue, warm and slick, lapping at my skin, the slow press of his lips leaving a phantom heat that refused to fade. Even now, my wrist tingled where he had kissed it, the memory of it searing deeper than it should have.

But then, those soft lips parted, his voice rolling over me like a slow-moving tide.

"Sure."

It was a lazy, drawn-out syllable—more like shoar—and something about the way he hollowed his mouth around the word made heat creep up my spine.

I smiled, trying to shake the feeling, and stood up, stretching until my muscles loosened with a satisfying sigh. "I'll go change into my wetsuit."

Arthur watched me, those deep blue eyes tracking my every movement. There was something unreadable in his gaze—something that made my pulse quicken just a little too fast. I turned on my heel before I could overthink it, heading toward the locker room, my mind still reeling from the way his voice curled around a single word.

⋅─⊱༺ 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ༻⊰─⋅

Arthur sat on the lip of the pool, his tail partially submerged, the sun catching on the water's surface and throwing shimmering reflections onto the walls. The early morning light illuminated his body in a way the dim fluorescents of the facility never could. His scales, now clean and glistening, shimmered with a brilliance that nearly stole my breath. Blues and purples interwoven like the Milky Way on a clear midsummer night, scattered across the vast ocean of his skin. He was beautiful. Otherworldly. Ethereal.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. The facility would be opening soon. Hosea would arrive to check in, expecting an explanation for the frantic call from last night. And when that happened, everything would change. No more quiet moments, no more stillness between just the two of us. The world would come crashing in, demanding answers, demanding that Arthur be studied, tested, examined.

Selfishly, I already mourned the loss of our solitude.

I shook the thought away. That wasn't my concern right now. My focus was on him, on making sure he was healing properly. Whatever came next—I'd deal with it then.

From my position beside him, I traced my gaze down the long expanse of his body. I couldn't help but admire the way his tail gleamed as if the constellations themselves had been pressed into his flesh. As if sensing my fascination, he suddenly flicked his tail, sending a playful spray of water in my direction. Droplets pitter-pattered against my skin, cool against the morning warmth.

I gasped, swiping a hand over my face, then looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "Oh, real mature—"

But then my breath caught.

Was that...a grin tugging at his lips? Or just a trick of the light?

The idea of Arthur—cautious, guarded, pained Arthur—smiling at me made something flip in my stomach.

"You're quite a sight, Arthur," I said before I could stop myself, voice softer than I intended. "You put all the pearls in the ocean to shame."

For a fleeting moment, the iridescent glow beneath his skin flickered again. I was sure that it meant something. But before I could ask, he scoffed, brushing off the compliment like it was second nature.

"Oh, darlin', you ain't seen too many pearls then. I'm 'bout as pretty as the underside of a sunfish."

I lifted a brow, my lips twitching into a smirk. He winked. Not a trick of the light. A full-on, deliberate wink.

Was he...flirting with me?

A flutter of nerves ran through me, heat curling in my stomach. The tone of endearment, the teasing lilt in his voice—it sent warmth creeping up my spine, made my chest feel lighter. I had no idea what this was between us, but I knew I liked it.

I grinned, tilting my head, tracing idle patterns in the water with my fingers. "Oh, so now you're an expert on beauty, huh?" I teased, letting my gaze drift over him in exaggerated scrutiny. "Because I hate to break it to you, honey, but I've seen plenty of sunfish—and none of them have eyes that glow like starlight."

His gills fluttered, his bioluminescent veins pulsing faintly again, and I knew now it was a response to something. A reaction.

Shaking his head, he huffed. "They also don't got teeth like mine," he drawled, flashing me a sharp grin, "or a tongue that can make a grown man cry."

Heat flared up my neck at that remark, and I barely smothered a choked laugh. "Oh yeah?" I shot back, arching a brow. "And exactly how many grown men have you made cry, Arthur?"

His pupils widened slightly, something playful, something darkly amused lurking in those deep blue depths. "Wouldn't you like to know, pretty girl," he murmured, voice dipping into something rich and slow, something that sent a shiver rolling down my spine.

I sucked in a breath.

Pretty girl?

The most beautiful creature I'd ever seen was sitting right next to me, calling me pretty? The one with glowing veins, eyes like the ocean at midnight, and a tail that shimmered like the galaxies above thought I was beautiful?

My stomach flipped.

I swallowed hard, feeling warmth creep up my neck, and cleared my throat. "W-well, I'll be sure to keep my wits about me then," I managed, aiming for breezy, casual—but failing miserably as my voice wavered slightly.

Arthur just watched me, gaze steady, unreadable. My heart was hammering in my chest.

Gods help me, I was enjoying this way too much.

Looking down his torso, I reminded myself to focus on the task at hand—his wound. But as my gaze traveled over his long body, I found my thoughts drifting. I wondered what it would feel like to press my ear to his chest again, to listen to the steady rhythm of his tandem heartbeat's, that soft purring sound vibrating through his skin. I couldn't help but admire the way his muscles flexed, the subtle dusting of sandy hair leading down from his chest, tracing the curve of his abs.

There was something undeniably captivating about him. He had that rugged, raw appeal—the kind of man you'd find at the bar at the end of a long, hard day, sitting quietly with a drink in hand. His whiskey-smooth voice still echoed in my mind, and I found myself drawn to him in a way that felt all at once comforting and dangerous. There was a quiet strength in his presence, an unspoken promise of safety.

Shaking my head, I forced my attention back to the wound I had been avoiding. His mating slit, once gruesome, had begun to heal faster than I expected. It almost looked... normal again, as normal as I thought his reproductive organ could look. The swelling had gone down significantly, and the irritation had vanished, leaving behind smooth, unblemished skin where it had been torn.

I couldn't help but marvel at it. "This is incredible, Arthur," I whispered, a note of awe in my voice. "It's almost entirely healed."

Without thinking, my fingers hovered just above the area, drawn by a mix of curiosity and the desire to help, to feel for myself how much progress had been made. Would the stitches need to come out already? But as my hand hovered, I stopped myself. What am I even doing? It felt too personal, too intimate, to touch him like this so casually.

Before I could pull my hand away, Arthur's hand closed gently around my wrist, guiding it down his body, towards his slit. His voice was soft, almost reassuring. "You can touch me," he said, his tone quiet but firm.

I barely managed to get the words out. My throat tightened with his movements. "O-okay..." My voice caught as his hand led mine to the smoothness of his skin, the heat of him still radiating through the water. It felt like silk, like liquid warmth.

Arthur leaned closer, his breath brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "I like it when you touch me," he murmured, voice low, filled with something I couldn't quite place but was undeniably erotic.

Oh, I'm so fucked.

A rush of heat flared through me. The careful distance I'd tried to maintain was crumbling beneath his gaze and his touch, replaced by a raw, intense need to be closer, to understand him more. And it frightened me. But I couldn't pull away.

Letting go of my wrist, he leaned back, and I felt my curiosity surge, pulling me under like a fierce undercurrent. I hesitated, drawn to the curiosity that had been gnawing at me since the moment I first saw him. My fingers traced the raised edge, gliding over the surface with a touch that was both deliberate and tentative, smooth and featherlight. The flesh here was softer than expected—more pliable—and strangely different. It was nothing like the taut muscle or the hard scales I had touched before. This was an entirely different texture, unfamiliar yet intriguing. Despite his hips being above the waterlevel, the area was wet, slick beneath my touch. And warm like melted honey.

I became acutely aware of how close we were, of the delicate balance between curiosity and respect. I dragged my middle and ring fingers down the center, carefully adding pressure, testing the entrance. The stitches were deeper inside, where the harpoon tip had once lodged between muscle and skin, leaving its mark in ways I could still barely comprehend.

Suddenly, Charles' words echoed in my mind, clear as if he'd spoken them just moments ago: The slit opening is where you'd expect female reproductive organs. I thought of my own, of the delicate way my body mirrored the things I had just learned about his own. The comparison felt surreal, yet there it was—more striking the longer I stared, more connections forming with every second. The shape was longer, more...animalistic in its own right. And then it struck me. The outermost part, thick and full, resembled the labia majora. And as my fingers slowly parted the skin, I realized that what lay beneath—hidden and delicate, like the petals of a water lily—was akin to the labia minora.

How incredible.

This hunk of a beast, this creature who resembled so much of a man in his upper half, shared the same organ as I did. The thought twisted through my mind, unexpected yet indisputable. I couldn't argue with the science right infront of me. Before I could stop myself, my thumb found its way to the top, gently moving over the soft skin, searching for that familiar, pearl-shaped bundle of nerves—one that could make a grown woman cry out in sheer euphoria.

Arthur's breathing hitched, growing rapid, and that thick, wet sticky substance coated my fingers. But I couldn't stop. I didn't want to. My thumb pressed deeper into his slit, pushing past the softness until I felt it—there, hidden beneath the surface. And oh, Arthur felt it too. I bit my lip as a shudder rippled through him, his body trembling in response, releasing a delicious, low moan that made my throat tighten. My knees wavered as his tail subtly twitched with the rhythm of his pleasure.

The sound of his moan snapped me from my trance, and I glanced up.

His eyes were closed, his face soft and serene, as though lost in the bliss of the moment. His veins glowed with an otherworldly light, a natural show of warmth that could rival Christmas lights in their brilliance. He was breathtaking in his vulnerability, in this raw display of emotion and trust.

And as the reality of the situation sank in, I suddenly realized—I was the one arousing him.

I didn't want to stop, but at the same time, I didn't know how to keep going. How far were we supposed to take this? Did he—did he want to finish? Could his species even do that? Christ, what the hell was I doing? I was fingering a man I barely knew—a species I hadn't even known existed until last night!

"What do they mean?" I blurted out, halting my movements. I could hear the faintest whine escape his lips, the sound so soft, so intimate, it almost felt like it was meant just for me. I quickly pulled my thumb away from his clit. "T-the lights, I mean."

Arthur's pupils were wide with arousal, and something deeper, more primal. He glanced down at his body as if he hadn't fully realized what was happening. "Ah, sorry if that's weird. Can't control 'em."

He thinks that's what's weird about this?

"N-no, it's not that," I stammered, trying to steady my breath. "It's just—is it a stimulus response? I've seen you do it a few times since last night." I explained, my words rushed but genuine.

He scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish gesture that only made him seem more vulnerable, more real. "Yeah. Like I said, I can't help it. They're always goin' off this time of year."

"This time of year?" I echoed, not quite processing it yet.

"Mmhm," he rumbled, the sound coming from deep within his chest, vibrating through the air around us. "Mating season."

I couldn't move. I felt stiff, like a statue, unable to shift or look away from the reality unfolding before me. This wasn't real. None of this could be real.

Mating season?! Gods above, I was dabbling in forces I scarcely understood.

Not knowing how to respond, I quickly pulled my hand away from his slit. My nerves were painfully obvious, but I couldn't help it. I'd only had one partner in my life—what the hell made me think I knew how to pleasure a siren? And during his mating season, no less. What the fuck was I thinking?

Staring down at my fingers, I noticed they were slick with the same sticky substance that had come from his mouth earlier. "Is this how you healed so quickly?" I asked, hesitant. "The mucus from your...uhm..." I couldn't finish the sentence, the words feeling foreign in my mouth. "It's the same stuff you used to heal my wrist, right?"

Arthur nodded, unfazed, as if my question was nothing new to him. Then, with the grace of someone who'd done it countless times before, he pushed himself off the lip of the pool and slid smoothly into the water, his head now level with my torso. The water lapped gently at the edges of his face, he looked totally nonchalant, as though he were casually offering up his body as a mystery I could unravel at my leisure.

His openness was undeniable, his body offering itself for exploration in ways I could barely process.

I started to connect the dots. He had some kind of magical property in his mucus—something that allowed him to heal rapidly, not just himself, but others as well. And yet, despite that power, his body was covered in scars, each one gleaming with an iridescent sheen, much like the mark on my wrist. His ability to reproduce on his own was extraordinary, but clearly, someone had tried to take that ability from him. During a time when his body was vulnerable, overwhelmed by hormonal changes. Was this same person trying to harness his power for their own gain? The same one who struck a harpoon through his body?

My breathing quickened, and my heart hammered in my chest. Arthur noticed the shift immediately. His large hands wrapped around my waist, grounding me in the moment. Oh god, it felt so good when he touched me, as though his very hands could steady the chaos within me.

"Oh, sweetheart, I didn't mean to scare ya," he murmured soothingly, his voice a deep balm that somehow settled the storm in my chest. I almost chuckled at the absurdity of it all—this creature, this beast, with claws and teeth that could tear through human flesh like it was wet paper, yet here he was, coddling me.

I ran my hands up the length of his forearm, the delicate fins beneath my fingers sending a strange thrill through me. His skin was so smooth, almost silky, yet there was an undeniable strength in the way he held himself. "You didn't scare me," I said, my voice soft. "I was just trying to make sense of it all..." I inhaled deeply, steadying myself for the next question. "Arthur, why would someone do this to you?"

I felt him shift, the tension in his body telling me he was about to pull away. But before he could, I sank down to my knees in the pool, the water rising to my chin, pulling us back to eye level. Looking into those deep blue eyes, I felt as if I were drowning in them—yet strangely, I didn't want to come up for air. I reached up, cupping his face gently in my hands, my fingers brushing through his beard, marveling at its softness.

"I can't help you if I don't know the truth," I whispered, my voice thick with the weight of my words. "You can trust me." Slowly, I traced my thumb over his lips, the gesture feeling both intimate and natural, as if we had always been this close. "These hands will never hurt you." I repeated the words from last night, when he had been bleeding out on the sand, his body trembling and begging for my touch, my reassurance.

Arthur moved closer to my face, and for a brief, breathless moment, I thought he might kiss me. Do sirens even do that? But before I could find out, he spoke, his voice low and heavy with something I couldn't quite place. "Got caught up with some disagreeable men, that's all."

"That's all?" I echoed, my voice trembling. "Honey, there was a harpoon lodged inside you. They tried to take away—"

He cut me off, his words sharp and bitter. "I know what they did. It's what your people do best." The venom in his voice wasn't directed at me, but it still stung. I bristled at the thought of being lumped in with them, with those people.

A deep, weary sigh escaped him, as though he were surrendering to the weight of his own history. "My father was human, and my mother was a siren. He took me from her when I was still learnin' to use my gills. Lyle sold me to a man who promised him a fortune—and promised me a family." The word 'family' slipped from his mouth like something vile, something toxic.

"For as long as I can remember, I was poked, prodded, and exploited. He was some kind of businessman, workin' with new-age scientists who wanted to harness my ability to accelerate cell regeneration. He told me it was love. Said I was helpin' folk, that it's what families do. And I believed every word. I gave him everything."

His eyes darkened, and the sadness that swirled within them carried a weight of betrayal so profound it nearly stole my breath. The intensity of his gaze shook me to my core. My pulse quickened as the realization hit me—he had used that same healing ability on me so freely, when his entire life had been spent with it exploited. Without thinking, I reached out, my fingers trembling as I threaded them through his hair, pulling him closer. I traced them gently down from the base of his skull to the curled tips of his shoulders, offering him the only comfort I knew how. I urged him, silently, to continue.

"As I started to get older, the lead scientist suggested that I produce an offspring, so they could continue their research once I was gone. Told me I was passin' on my legacy. So..." He paused, his voice faltering, and when he spoke again, it came out in a whisper, laced with raw emotion. "So I gave 'em a son."

Oh no.

Gods, please. Please don't let this end the way I think it's going to.

Arthur shuddered, his entire body tensing as though he were bracing himself against an onslaught of painful memories. I saw the tears well up in his eyes, and before he even spoke, I knew what he was about to say.

"Isaac didn't have his old man's ability to heal people, so—" He let out a humorless chuckle, the sound ragged and broken. His tears spilled freely now, tracing down his cheeks in silent testimony. "So, they took him from me..."

My heart shattered, the weight of his words crashing down like a wave. He didn't need to finish the sentence to confirm my suspicion. They had killed his son, stripped him of his only remaining piece of hope, because he served no purpose in their eyes. They saw Arthur as nothing more than a tool, something to be exploited, not someone with a heart, with feelings, with dreams, with goals of his own.

"Oh, Arthur..." My voice cracked as I reached up, using my thumb to brush away the tears that spilled from his eyes, cradling his handsome face in my hands. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." The words felt hollow, inadequate. Christ, how could I console someone who had faced such unimaginable loss? What could I say that would ever ease this kind of pain?

He leaned into my touch, his cheek brushing against my palm, the intimacy of the gesture both tender and heart-wrenching. His veins flared with their familiar, ethereal glow again. But this time, despite their beauty, there was something different about them—a sadness, a heaviness that lingered in the air around him. He hadn't been joking when he said his body was sensitive during this time of year.

"You're safe here. I won't ever let those men hurt you again," I promised, my voice steady despite the uncertainty that churned inside me. But even as the words left my mouth, I knew how hollow they felt. I had no idea how I would protect him. Hell, I could barely comprehend the danger we were facing.

Arthur shook his head slowly, his expression hardening. "I ain't safe here, darlin', I ain't safe anywhere." His voice was low, heavy with resignation. "That harpoon was just a desperate effort to control me, but it won't be their last. They'll come for me. They ain't gonna let their prized pony go so easily."

I wanted to argue—a harpoon through the mating organs wasn't exactly a quick or easy way to let go. But the words stuck in my throat, too raw to speak.

"Who, Arthur?" I asked, my voice tight with both fear and curiosity. "Who is the man that thinks he has some kind of ownership over you?"

His ocean-blue eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. The weight of his words hit like a slap, and the fury in his gaze sent a chill down my spine.

He spat the name thick with venom and years of bitter history.

"Dutch van der Linde." 

AN: This chapter had me all over the fucking place. I was blushing, i was giggling, i was horny, then i was crying. However, despite the rollercoaster i really enjoyed how this came out and i'm honestly shocked i pulled it together because now i feel like i have some kind of real plot to work around! Yippee! But i must ask, chat, how do we feel about arthur being intersex and the reader exploring that female anatomy. Tbh, i wanted to do that first because i found it the most 'taboo' and wanted to explore it further. Literally. If you're uncomfortable with this, i do apologize. But there will be more fingerfucking of arthur's cunt. So be aware :)

I love you freaks <3

[bellewood222]

(via "Mermaid Tail 5" Bath Mat for Sale by Bellewood222)

TeePublic link: http://tee.pub/lic/ociCGpLg-dk

[wintfleur]

𓈒 ୭ৎ ˖˙ ᰋ ── JULIETTE LECLERC PROFILE !

au masterlist - everything for the AU is under #🍂 ͡ ꒱ Juliette Leclerc

ꪆ୧ BASICS .ᐟ

name: Juliette Celeste Leclerc 

nicknames:

Julie (everyone) 

Lettie (family and close friends) 

jules (everyone) 

ette (brothers( 

lilo (her best friends) 

juliebug (mat and quinn) 

birthday and zodiac: November 15th 1999, Scorpio

location: Monte Carlo, Monaco (birthplace, current) 

ꪆ୧ ABOUT  .ᐟ

personality: julie has a complex personality, some say it resembled an onion; you have to pull back the layers before truly understanding her. The media and new people assume that she's cold, and honestly a bitch just because they truly don't know her. But in reality, she's honestly a very sweet person, she is on the quiet side, she's very confident in herself and her beliefs. She is very charming, charismatic, and flirty! When she's around the people she's comfortable with, she can be a little bubbly and giggily (mostly with mat and quinn). She has a very dry humor but it honestly just makes people love her more! Can be very sarcastic at times, is witty 

good traits: determined, loyal, hard-working, honest and loyal, protective of her family and friends, trustful, doesn't take shit from anyone 

bad traits: very self critical, can be too bold, brutal at times, distances herself when she's overwhelmed or emotionally hurt, 

quirks: having a resting bitch face, intense eye contact, spaces out when bored, rolls eyes, smiles sarcastically, 

likes: rain, musicals, going to ballets, trying out new restaurants, ranch life, swimming, buying swimsuits, her yacht, spending time with family, hot tubs, sightseeing, 

dislikes: rude and invasive fans, the paparazzi, stalkers, people who disrespect her family or friends, most f1 media, drive to survive, traffic 

hobbies: singing, running, baking, dancing, riding horses, music, hockey, playing tennis and golf, reading, journaling 

fears: being a failure, dying alone 

strengths: how hard-working she is, she never gives up, confident, tactical and her strategy, how smart and witty she is, her quick thinking 

weaknesses: perfectionism, talking about her feelings, self critical, can have a short fuse at times, 

languages spoken: 100% French, 100% English, 100% Korean, 36% Spanish. 

occupation/profession: f1 driver for redbull, singer, model, actress 

ꪆ୧ CAREER !

Profession  f1 driver

Team   Red Bull Racing

Debut Australia 2019

Trainer  Gabriel Guerrero

Race engineer   Théo Beaufoy

Manager  Anya DuPont

Assistant  Beatrice Roux

World championships   1 (2022)

Sponsors  Gucci

ꪆ୧ RELATIONSHIPS  .ᐟ

parents:

Hervé Leclerc 

Pascale Leclerc 

sibling(s):

Lorenzo Leclerc 

Charles Leclerc 

Arthur Leclerc 

best friends: max verstappen. lando norris, george russell, alex albon, hailee steinfeld, shawn mendes, victoria de angelis, lily rose depp

friends: most of the f1 grid, most of quinn and mat’s teammates, jack and luke hughes, ross lynch, zendaya, tom holland, lewis pullman, and many more 

love interest: Mathew Barzal and Quinn hughes 

pet(s): none yet 

ꪆ୧ MORE .ᐟ

scent: she has a large collection of different fragrances, from brand deals, pr, etc. she prefers aromatic fragrances, so she uses mostly Chanel and Gucci perfumes, her most used one is Chanel number 2, it's one of her signature scents!

outfits: it really depends on what she's doing, if it’s a casual day she likes wearing low waisted jeans, corset vest tops, mini skirts, sweaters, sundresses, it really depends! She loves wearing black, reds, and earth tones! She likes adding fishnets, lace and tights to her outfits, long scarfs, jean or leather jackets, she likes wearing blazers, definitely has an office siren aesthetic! She has a lot of clothes and she's always wanting to try something new, and is definitely known for her fantastic outfits! here's a link to her closet! 

accessories:  she loves accessorizing, she loves anything involving fashion really!! She has a large collection of different types of bags and sunglasses(she loves collecting them), they are definitely her favorite thing + jewelry, to accessorize with. She also has quite a lot of hats, mostly ball caps, beanies and berets. She also really loves utilizing long and thin scarves when she's wearing a short skirt or shorts. She also occasionally will wear a headband, heavily inspired by Blair waldorf. In the colder weather she's almost always rocking ear muffs. She absolutely loves wearing bayonetta glasses, she has so many pairs. Honorable mentions are leg and arm warmers. 

jewelry: she's a silver girl!  She loves rings, she usually has about four on at a time, small ones, chunky ones, one with crystals or gems, any type of rings really.  She loves layering necklaces. She also occasionally wears anklets and waist chains, it really depends on her outfit. With bracelets she wears all different types, charm bracelets, friendship bracelets, cuff bracelets, again it really depends on her outfit. 

makeup: isn't really the biggest fan of makeup, she prefers her bare face! She has her own personal makeup artist who does her makeup for her when she goes to events etc. but when she does do her own makeup, she really only does her eyes and lips! She prefers darker eye makeup, red or nude tones for her lips, sharp eyeliner and highlighter! 

scars: none 

sexuality: bisexual 

Height: 5’7

piercing(s): 1 in each ear, bellybutton

tattoo(s): she has this one on her lower back, and this one on her left arm. She wants to get more! 

face claim: Dua Lipa 

ꪆ୧ FAVORITES .ᐟ

food(s): pasta, sweets, almonds, pomegranates, cherries, steak, macaroons

drink(s): cherry coke, water, redbull, hot chocolate, shirley temples 

color(s): black, reds, earth tones 

animal(s): horses, cats, sloths 

bands and artist: måneskin, rihanna, ciara, lady gaga, gwen stefani, the weekend 

show(s): gossip girl, supernatural, game of thrones, criminal minds 

movie(s): the devil wears prada, scooby doo, mamma mia, lotr, twilight, 

person: her mom and younger brother arthur 

ꪆ୧ BACKGROUND  .ᐟ

julie was born on a rainy day in monaco, on november 15th, 1999

julie was a very quiet child, her parents worried that she would have trouble making friends so they put her in ballet when she was 5. 

julie was naturally very talented at ballet and she enjoyed it very much

she started karting when she was 6, still also doing ballet

she started equestrian sports when she was 12 and stopped when she was 15. 

julie quit ballet when she was 17, giving karting/driving all her attention. 

she had her debut in in f1, in 2019 for the team mercedes 

It was a fantastic year, she got four wins and 326 points. 

but she left Mercedes after one year, signing with redbull. 

in 2020 she dropped her first single 

she created her youtube channel in 2020, she now has surpassed 10 million followers 

her modeling career started in 2022, and it instantly kicked off, becoming a very successful and sought after model 

ꪆ୧ FUN FACTS  .ᐟ

Juliette drove for Mercedes in her rookie year, she got four wins and 326 points . . . fans of course were not happy that a female was dominating her rookie year, so of course a nasty rumor was created. The rumor that spread like hot fire was that Juliette was having an inappropriate relationship with Toto Wolff.

Which was false, Toto was like a father figure to Juliette but the fans didn’t care, booing her and trending hate for her on Twitter.

Juliette drove for Redbull for the next season, and is still driving for Redbull.

Juliette is known for being one of the most influential drivers on the grid, for the wide range of her career.

Juliette has dropped a few albums, some singles and ep’s, she’s a model, an ambassador for Gucci, and she has a YouTube channel with over 10 million subscribers, where she posts all different kinds of content, she’s walked on runways.

The interviewers love her (besides a few) a lot of fans say she’s like seb with how she has the habit of flirting with the female interviewers.

She is quite the flirt, confident with herself

She’s a party girl, in a club or on a yacht, she loves her parties !!

A lot of people assume she’s a bitch because of her resting face, her confidence and the way she doesn’t take any shit, but she’s genuinely a sweetheart.

Besides Lewis she is the driver that has the most celebrity friends

No one is surviving eye contact with her, in the words of lando “she has a really strong gaze, very alluring — like a siren yeah”

The amount of dating rumors Lando and Juliette have is insane, but they are simply just best friends !!!

She loves swimming, she loves visiting tropical places

Everyone swears she’s a mermaid/siren for her love of the water

She has stated many times that her favorite sport besides f1 is hockey.

She has been seen coming to many hockey games, even having many friends that are hockey players.  (Trevor Zegras, Cole caufield and more)

She loves baking

She owns several houses all over the world

She is a major passenger princess

SHE IS THE IT GIRL

She hates coffee

She definitely loves going out and partying, but she also loves staying in.

She was such a daddy’s girl

She talks to her mom every single day

She loves and I mean loves running

No matter how hungover she is, she’s always having her morning run.

She loves and I mean loves horses !!

Her dream is to retire, buy her own ranch and just get a ton of horses to take care of and love, maybe her own vineyard.

Her most prized possession is her yacht . . .  That’s crazy to say omg.

She has kept all of her relationships a secret!

She loves doing collaborations

A character she’s most like is Blair waldorf

She’s a very strong woman, but sometimes things really get to her and she just needs space.

She has a bad habit of distancing herself from others when she’s hurt or upset

She’s been to 3 met galas

She will kick anyone’s ass in golf

‘The princess of Monaco’

She is very open about her crush on leighton meester

She’s a switch

She has a great relationship with everyone on the grid !

Her and Pierre have a love hate relationship

She has such a flirty personality, she loves making people flustered.

She’s a fantastic driver, and won’t let anyone tell her different just because she’s a girl.

She has said her grid son is ollie bearman

Yuki loves her sm! They are such a underrated duo

She loves hockey, but she’s a terrible skater

She hates drive to survive, they like to make her and max look like the villain.

She secretly can’t stand one driver on the grid.

She loves sleep sm

She’s genuinely such a family girl

She was the troublemaker of her family

She hates cold feet

Her brother’s friends have always had a crush on her and she loved teasing them about it.

She keeps her music taste a secret from the public

Lewis will always have her back no matter what, she’s his grid kid.

The public goes crazy for post race Juliette

She loves her team, she’s extremely close to all of them !!

She alternates from black to red hair a lot, but her hair is very healthy !!!

Doesn’t go anywhere without a pair of sunglasses

Macaroons are the way to her heart

A lot of people get surprised by how friendly she is

She loves game of thrones

She is not a lightweight

Is a really good dancer !! Did ballet for a long time

Low waisted pants are her best friend.

The only one who can rock Jorts

Always has red or black nails

She’s a silver girly

her instagram is @/JulietteLeclerc

Has a private Instagram ‘@/lettiesworld’

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lovings4turn )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( so this is the introduction to juliette !! I really hope you guys like her, omg I’m so excited for this AU !!! I didn’t mention Mat and Quinn because they will have their own profile !!! Oh I’m so excited, please let me know what you guys think !!! )

©️WINTFLEUR

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

complicated

bucky barnes x reader

summary: things had been uncomplicated between Bucky and you, then things ended. Now he’s seeing you again after months and he realizes he never wanted things to end. Do you feel the same?

“...and if my wishes came true, it would have been you.”

Sirens rang in Bucky’s ears; the flashing lights illuminated his face as he stared straight ahead. Agents’ mule around in the background as Sam talks to a few – Bucky never did the talking and he was glad about it, especially now. He hadn’t seen you in what felt like years, but months would be more accurate. You stood tall but looked stressed; hands firm on your hips as you listened to what he assumed was a subordinate. Nodding as they spoke to you, he didn’t know your division was working on this case too. But why would he? He wasn’t a man in the loop, and he liked it that way; Sam was the one that did the planning and arranging, he just showed up for the job.

Bucky couldn’t stop staring, everything around him went dark and it was like there was a spotlight shining down on you. Face stern, hair brushed back behind ears. He knew the look of concentration on your face and for a moment, he smiled. His head ached a bit, he had been bleeding from his head earlier but now everything was dried and matted on his skin.

“You’re staring too hard.”

Bucky blinked and looked at his partner. “You didn’t tell me she would be here.”

Sam shrugged. “Need to know basis, remember?”

Right, his own policy.

“You should go say hi at least, better than staring like a stalker.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

Bucky frowned when his friend patted him hard on the back, leaving him to his brooding. He stood among the crowd of agents, deciding on whether it would be okay to say hello. The two of you hadn’t talked in so long and the last time you did, things didn’t feel right. It wasn’t like you were a couple, it had never gotten that serious. Things hadn’t gotten the chance to even become serious – workload and ambition had gotten the best of you, he tried to be understanding. While you were in this lifestyle for want, he just was around because what else was someone like him to do?

It started off innocently enough – flirtation over beers, blowing off steam with Sam and others in the field. A gang of friends turned family, but things never got complicated. A kiss led to another than he had you in his bed, sometimes in your bed and most times, in hotels while on the job. It had been light, free, and sweet. Then he started to get attached, he felt himself going in a direction that didn’t seem to even cross your mind. Bucky started to crave you in ways more than sex; he wanted to hold your hand, share a meal with you, scratch your back until you fell asleep beside him.

It started to feel dangerously close to love and it scared him.

The sirens died down and that’s when you noticed him. Bucky’s heart flinched when you met his gaze and he couldn’t bring himself to smile, even as you started towards him. His eyes followed your every step and when you finally stood in front of him, he still couldn’t smile.

“Bucky.”

He wanted to smile then, but he just asked how you were. Your face softened; a sigh rolled off your shoulders. “Tired as shit. I’m glad this case is over; I need a vacation.”

The notion of you vacationing finally made him crack and he smirked. “Have you ever taken a vacation?”

“Yeah, when I was twelve.”

Bucky stared at you and then the two of you shared a laugh, and it felt wonderful. It felt like air finally whistled down his lungs and he could breathe. You grinned and touched his shoulder, smile fading as your eyes fell. His shoulders slumped as he held your arm by the elbow, asking what was wrong. It could see it in your face, that you were crumbling from the inside. He recognized the look because he saw it every morning in the mirror.

Your fingers touched the lapel of his leather jacket. “I’m sorry…”

Voice quiet, shameful.

He stood quietly among the noise.

“…I was scared because things were starting to feel different. I started to feel differently about you, Bucky.”

Oh, he frowned. This is where you were going to break his heart. You were going to explain why you had stopped taking his calls, ‘ghosting’ him as Sam explained. Even stopped talking cases with the pair, switching agencies to get away from him. His mouth dried as you looked at him and he wanted to walk away, cover his ears. He didn’t want to hear what you had to say because then he couldn’t go on with his delusion. That you just weren’t ready, that if circumstances had been different, the two of you would be together today.

That everything would be different.

“I was falling in love with you…”

The word love struck him awake and all his senses warmed his body, catching your hand as it fell from his jacket. His fingers gripped around your wrist and his eyes examined your face – trying to understand what you were saying to him, right to his face.

“…I didn’t think you felt the same, we always kept things uncomplicated, and I thought you liked it that way. That’s why I stopped coming around.”

“Shit.”

The word slipped through his lips, and he was instantly annoyed at himself, but you laughed. “Shit? We haven’t seen each other in months, and I just poured my heart out to you – in front of all these people, mind you and all you can say is shit?”

Bucky dipped his head back and took a deep breath, holding onto your hand so you wouldn’t dare leave. He wasn’t going to let you leave his life again, not ever again. Warming his smile, he carefully pulled you closer as if that would give the two of you some privacy. He reached for your face with both hands and grinned.

“I want complicated.”

Your chest ached in delight. “You do?”

Words careful and concerned.

Bucky nodded, face serious. “I love you and I’ve missed you.”

Forgetting that you were a known hard ass among your peers, you practically leaped into Bucky’s arms. He embraced you, lifting your feet off the ground and holding you tight against his body. His warmth engulfed you and all you could do is think of a vacation with him. Lounging in bed, talking walks on the street – hand in hand. Sharing meals and falling asleep to the feeling of his fingers dragging against your back. All the things you had been earning for all these months, were finally going to come to fruition; and when his lips brushed against yours, you didn’t care if the whole world was watching.

Pulling your head back after a moment, you beamed at Bucky.  “I love you too.”