#mer!buck

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god

🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️

⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️

💋

33 for 🧜🏼‍♀️:

---

Buck mounds some wet sand together to keep his arm elevated, and his head. It’s all he can do like this. 

He could wait, out of the water, until he can shift back. Then he could carry the man to safety. Theoretically. But that’s a long walk, in the cold, and Buck won’t be in proper gear. He doesn’t even have shoes. 

So what? What are his options? 

All of a sudden, Buck hears the nearby whir of helicopter blades. Above him. Not far off. One of the LAFD choppers; Air Rescue. They’ll be over him in half a minute. If that. Buck scrambles away from Hank, back into the water. He can’t let them see him. His tail. He needs to get deep enough out. 

But as he swims away, he realizes… This could be what saves Hank. If he can get this chopper’s attention, they can save Hank. Buck can take off before they see him. Maybe. Hopefully. 

...you have to promise me if it’s between this man and you getting caught, you choose yourself...I am not losing you that way, Buck. 

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

No. Okay. He can do this. He can get out of dodge quickly enough. He won’t forgive himself if he doesn’t try.

---

33 for ⛰️:

---

But Eddie doesn’t have the experience with Jaylin to confirm that. And Buck? Well, he mumbles something to the affirmative, but Eddie can tell he doesn’t really believe it. He’s still scared this child will grow up half a stranger to him. 

Eddie understands the fear. It’s not like Eddie can say that won’t happen with any credibility. How close did he come to watching his own son walk out of his life for good? Too damn close. And Buck watched it all go down. He’s never had a relationship of any value with his own father. Most of the men in his life don’t either. Of course he’s scared.

Fuck.

Eddie needs to help him. He needs to boost his morale somehow. 

“Let’s move in together,” Eddie blurts. 

The idea slips out of his mouth before he’s done thinking it through. But even as it does, he doesn’t find anything wrong with it. It makes sense. Perfect sense. 

“What?” Buck asks, eyes bulging. 

“I know, I know,” Eddie says. “It’s fast. Except, it’s also not. Because we’ve known each other for years and spent all this time together, and… And we know each other, right?”

“Right…”

“So move in with me,” Eddie says. “We’ll get a bigger place. Three bedrooms. Your son will have his own place with you. With… With us.” 

[bigfootsmom]

do you think he’d make good sushi?

[daffi-990]

Mer!Buck for @hippolotamus’s mer!Buck au 😘❤️

[spotsandsocks]

🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Hello my dear thanks for inspiring me, this is a lot of sentences and things may change but here we go…

🧜‍♂️ merman pirate au (the other one under cut) tagging those who also chose at least one of these @tizniz @jesuisici33 @eddiebabygirldiaz @dangerpronebuddie @sunflowerwemadeit also @dr-shortsighted-owl cos I think the mer title prompt was yours ‘time and tide’

Rules are not for him. Not anymore.

There’s nothing of him visible apart from the bridge of his nose, his eyes, the wet curls on his head.

The effect of him is more visible, but isn’t that always the way with him; the ripples on the surface of the ocean circle outwards from his body, caused by the slow but powerful movement of the muscles in his tail as it moves in circles. It’s a good tail, strong, powerful. Usually it keeps him moving, moving further and further away from there which is the best decision he ever made. Today it’s keeping him in one spot because he likes the view.

The ripples are a tiny risk, they wouldn’t even be visible if the sea wasn’t so calm and still today, but it is.

It doesn’t matter, there’s no one to see any part of him anyway. Unless of course there’s someone in the house that nestled on the side of the cliff top. Someone in that small, warm looking building, looking out in exactly the right direction at exact the right moment to see something small and inconsequential bobbing around in the middle of the sea, almost impossible to spot but there all the same.

Buck sometimes wonders if he wants to be spotted. Is that why he keeps coming back to this particular cove? He tells himself it’s because he likes the fresh air on his face, the wind in his hair. He tells himself he just likes the view. The cliffs are tall and majestic, they call to him, bobbing just under the waterline Buck wonders what it would be like to climb them. Maybe one day he might try. He’d like to look in the window of that house one day, see who lives there. One day, not today though. Not today. The eyes and the curls vanish, leaving only ripples behind and then not even them anymore.

*

The ripples are back. Eddie watches from the window. He’s seen them before, only on calm days like this it’s true but he thinks that maybe whatever causes them is there on stormy days too. He hopes so. Once he thinks he saw something more than ripples, a splash, a flash of blue, the light catching on something that shimmered. It must have been made by something large. Larger than a fish, maybe a seal, maybe a shark. Ta

😈 demon!Prince Eddie

He’s been petitioning for an early intervention programme up top. Try and improve things before it was too late, helping before the rot sunk in too deep. Try and do some good. The pilot project he wanted got approved a few centuries ago. He’d been allowed to visit an author in the early 19th century, England he thinks it was, he’d given him an idea for a book. Ghosts and the similar, a cautionary tale about hoarding wealth and miserly habits. He’d had high hopes for it. He’s heard It’s still quite popular, gets talked about in schools and then swiftly forgotten once people start earning money. Shame, but still there’s always hope, even after all this time. Who knows maybe he’ll get the approval to take it into the next stage at some point but he’s still waiting for approval to get through the right departments. Bureaucracy is something down here and up there have in common.

Feels like he’s been waiting forever. Maybe he has, but recently he’s been feeling it more. There’s a restlessness inside him and it’s growing. The last few days have been particularly peculiar, it’s like he’s forgotten something or lost it. He keeps looking over his shoulder expecting to see someone watching him. There’s never anyone there. Except that’s not quite true, once he thought he saw a figure, shimmering at the edge of his vision. He’d talked to Lena about it, thought maybe she’d sent one of the subdemons to keep an eye on him. She scowled back at him and said she was worried about him but not worried enough to waste a spy. He’d believed her, and he’d noted that she now looked even more worried than she had at the start of conversations. Admitting to seeing things that aren’t there is never a particularly comforting thing to hear, especially in Hell, where the line between bad and worse things is thin.

He’d claimed that he was probably just tired. There’d been an influx of ‘guests’ to his department recently, a super yacht had sunk in a (possibly) freak storm. After that a private jet had crashed, the pilot survived but the multi mega millionaire using the jet to pop back home for a party (a round trip of 70k ) had not. Before that some submarine had imploded. Weird times.

He keeps meaning to go check with the weather team. Apparently they have two new member of staff, in the natural disasters department. One of them appears to be called Chimney but Eddie’s not at all sure that can be right.

[hippolotamus]

Hit me with mer Buck 💙💙💙

Hello, my love 💙

A previously posted, but reworked, snippet for you 🧜‍♂️

“Mom! Dad! Look at th–” Evan cuts himself off when he enters the cave and notices his parents. They’re talking quietly, their backs turned towards him and their heads bent close together. From this distance he can’t hear what they might be saying. His mother’s face, what little of it he can see, is contorted into a grimace, her eyebrows furrowed together. She’s upset again, carrying that sad, weary expression she often has. The one she denies, claiming Evan ‘doesn’t understand’ the burdens that grown ups – parents – have to bear.  He wants to understand more than anything in the world. Even more than he longs to know what the surface world is like. Because he can read about what happens beyond the ocean, he can learn that way. But no book or map or shiny trinket will tell him why his own mother can’t look at him sometimes. Why she bursts into tears as if he personally caused her distress.  If he did know, then maybe he could help her feel better. Not even asking Maddie about it has given him any insight. She gives him a fleeting, conflicted look before gathering him in a hug and reassuring him it will all be okay because she loves him.  He never asks the natural follow up question, about why his sister phrases it that way. If it’s because their parents don’t actually love him. But why wouldn’t they? He’s their son and aren’t all parents supposed to love their children?

npt some other interested beloveds @daffi-990 @tizniz @loveyouanyway @diazsdimples @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming 🫶

[screaming-universe]

a light on the sea

[magdaclaire]

i would like to thank emerson vernon, the artist formerly known as wolfi, for sponsoring my today meal three years ago

[randoluker293883]

Mer Buck Help

Dear 9-1-1 fandom,

If Buck was a Merman, what color would his tail be? Would be be unique or based on an existing fish? What color would his tail be? What would his fins look like? What color would his tail be please for the love of god im suffering-

Signed a pained artist,

please help me akdhskajhdajks

[witherby]

hey 😏

just wondering if you have anymore mer reader in the works 😏

also! i hope that your doing well!!

and can i be 🌕 anon? :)

You can absolutely be 🌕 anon! And, I do! Here's the final installment of:

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader

Part 9

Masterlist is Here!

"I'll need everyone's attention before we continue into the next exhibit, please."

Damian's voice is clear but firm, no room for argument in his tone, and his tour group all quickly quiet down to watch him. He rewards them with his well-practiced Customer Service Smile, nodding once.

"Thank you," he says. "This final exhibit is the pride and joy of Gotham Aquarium: the Mer tank. I can already see hands raised, and I'll open the floor up to questions in a minute. We're going to cover the rules first."

He holds up one hand, raising a finger as he goes.

"Rule number one: absolutely no flash photography. Take as many pictures and videos you want, but you have to leave the flash off. Our mer's eyes are sensitive to highly-focused levels of light, and you could temporarily blind them. Rule number two: do not knock or beat on the glass. It is several inches thick and reinforced, but you can still startle and disturb the mer. Rule number three: please...please stop flipping off our mer. They've learned to mimic their handlers and some of the guests, and it took weeks to make them quit it. If I see a bird, notice a flash, or catch you banging on the glass, everyone will be asked to leave."

He drops his hand, looking at every guest expectantly.

"Got it? Everyone say yes, Damian."

"Yes, Damian," the crowd echoes back, a mixture of amusement from the adults and excitement from the children reaching his ears. He gives them another practiced smile and reaches for the door.

"Great. Then step right in. Fan out and look around as much as you want. You can ask any questions now."

"How long has Gotham Aquarium had the mer?" One adult immediately asks, examining the seaweed on the bottom of your tank.

"Almost two years," Damian replies. "The anniversary of their arrival is in a month. We've got a small party planned to celebrate."

"What's the mer's favorite color?" A child asks him, gently tugging on Damian's pant leg to get his attention. His smile becomes more genuine.

"Green," he replies. "They love green things. I see your hair clip is green. They'll probably stare at you when they come out."

The little girl gasps, eyes wide. "Really!?" She turns and runs to her dad. "Hey daddy! The mer likes green, and my hair clip is green! The mer will like me!"

More questions come that Damian answers with ease. He paces along the floor and casts his gaze upward, examining all the little ways your tank has been changing overtime.

Your rock collection has grown substantially since Damian started painting more for you. He gives you a new one every day, and you have them proudly scattered all along the floor to decorate your enclosure. You've also taken to moving your seaweed around; instead of one, big stretch of it to hide and sleep in, you've uprooted it and made it into a series of little hiding places. He can also see some weighted toys lying around that one visitor asks about, happy to explain how you use them for enrichment.

"When's the mer come out?" Another one asks, leaning against the glass. His eyes are practically glazed over from disinterest. "Is it sleeping or something? These tickets were like forty bucks and I'm just staring at rocks and water."

There's a loud thud against the glass behind him. The man yelps and whips around to find you with your hands pressed against the wall, eyes wide and teeth bared as you stare right at him.

"Oh, shit!"

Damian sighs, but he's smirking. You love startling unsuspecting guests; it's your second favorite activity. He watches the others flock to you once they realize what happened, and you perk up and examine them all with a much more pleasant smile.

"Daddy, I can't see," the girl from before complains. Her father gently hoists her up onto his shoulders, and you immediately take notice.

You push off from the glass and swim around the edge of the tunnel to examine her as closely as possible. You tap one claw on the glass, then gesture to your head, and the little girl gasps and beams.

"They see it!!! They see my hair clip daddy!!" She chirps. She tugs it off of her head and holds it up for you to see better. Your pupils widen and your tail swishes gently back and forth, deeply intrigued.

"Obviously, this is our mer," Damian speaks up, and he tells them your name. "Their breed is found in shallow, fresh water. They thrive in warmer temperatures, and they're very rarely alone. You can typically expect them to travel in pods of at least three, though more commonly up to six or seven."

"But Gotham Aquarium only has one mer?" A guest asks, while you make playful grabs for the clip to no avail. "Aren't they lonely, then?"

"There was a big adjustment period for them when we first acquired our mer," Damian nods, "but they have a dedicated team of caregivers that ensure they aren't lonely or bored. They've bonded with several of us very well. Even though they recognize that we don't live underwater, they still see us as pod-mates."

"How long did it take to bond with them?"

"Great question," Damian says. He watches you give up on snatching the clip and start swimming around the tunnel to examine the other visitors. "It took them about ten months after arriving to learn to trust me. We started off slow: I would use a remote-controlled robot to deliver their buckets of food and then dump it into the water. Then I would enter the room where the top of the tank is, and hand it to them with a long pole. Then I got rid of the pole and set the bucket on the lip of the tank, and stood back while they retrieved it. When they got used to me being around, we started working on small tricks."

Damian lifts his hands, wiggling his fingers to catch your attention. You lock eyes with him and give a knowing nod, swimming up until you're positioned directly above him. He waves his left hand clockwise, and you swim in slow, clockwise circles. He waves his right arm next, and you switch and start spinning counter-clockwise.

"This is all done humanely and voluntarily, of course," Damian explains while the guests watch on with rapt attention. "If there's a trick they don't want to perform, they simply won't do it. We don't force them into doing anything, including coming out during tours if that's not what they want. Some days they just aren't up to saying hello, and that's fine."

He drops one arm and uses the other to make a broad waving motion. You mimic the action. He points at one of your toys, gesturing for you to grab it and bring it over. You glance at the one he wants, then ignore him and decide to go back over to the little girl and admire her hair clip some more.

"As you can see, they like shiny objects, especially if they're green. They've got a small collection of aquatic-safe objects in their hideaway. All breeds of mer tend to have hoarding tendencies, and ours is no different."

Damian gives the group a few more facts about you and your general behaviors, answers some more questions, and then inevitably has to call it when the same guy complaining about ticket prices decides to photograph you with the flash on. You flinch and rub your eyes, then dart away out of sight.

"All right, everyone, please come this way," he calls, in that cordial but no-nonsense tone again, and holds open the door. "This concludes your tour of Gotham Aquarium. Please exit this way in an orderly fashion."

"Aww.."

"Nice job, jackass. We were supposed to be in here for at least twenty more minutes."

"I didn't think he was serious! I forgot to turn the flash off, so what!"

"That was kinda cool. Sucks we couldn't stay, though."

There's a tug on his pants again. Damian looks down at the little girl, who fidgets nervously.

"Um...is the mer gonna be okay? Are their eyes hurting a lot?" She asks. Damian knees down to her height and offers her another smile.

"They'll be fine," he promises. "I personally check on them every day. What's your name? I'll tell them you said hi."

"Um!" The girl blushes, eyes wide. "It's Rosie! Thank you mister!"

"You're welcome, Rosie. I hope you had fun today."

"So much fun!" She agrees, then turns to her dad and reaches up to take his hand, walking out of the tunnel. "Daddy, daddy! When I grow up I wanna take care of mers, too!"

"Okay, honey," her dad chuckles, "but you're gonna have to do your homework if that dream is gonna come true."

"Aw, man!....okay. I'll do my math sheets for the mers..."

Once the room is cleared, Damian closes and locks the doors. He hangs around just long enough to ensure no stragglers try to swing back around, then drops the Polite Tour Guide persona and heads for the staff elevators with a scowl. It's a matter of minutes before he's in the locker room, swapping out the Aquarium polo and khakis for his wetsuit and then trudging into your tank entrance.

"Rule one!" He complains to Jon, who is already sitting on the lip of the tank and filling a puzzle cube with treats for you. "No flash! It's the first rule, and someone breaks it almost every single day we're open! One day I'm going to hit my limit for these witless miscreants and start punching people."

"So, tours didn't go super well I take it," Jon says, not even sparing him a glance. He's heard different versions of this rant at least five times and doesn't react to it anymore, having quickly come to understand that Damian is just Like That. "You gonna go do the eye exam already or should I call my dad? Y'know, the actual vet?"

"He's never as thorough as I prefer. You know that. Also: shut up, who asked you?"

"You're a joy and a delight to work with, Wayne."

Damian ignores him and grabs a rebreather and situates it over his mouth, ties the bag of eye equipment around his waist, steps up onto the edge of the tank, then dives. The water swirls around him, an all-encompassing and welcoming pressure. He starts pedaling his arms and legs, headed for the direction you sped off at the end of the tour.

He finds you in the middle level of your tank, about a floor down, curled around an underwater tree limb and rubbing your eyes. You squint at him when you notice his presence and trill, the water vibrating slightly around you.

Damian quickly goes to work, pulling out one tool at a time to check on your eyes and how well you can see. You're perfectly fine, just annoyed, but he considers having his father enact a total ban on any cameras in the tunnel when tours come by. Just because you're fine now doesn't mean it'll stay that way every time.

He points upwards, to the surface, and you nod. You take his hand and pull him along, your powerful tail carrying him faster than he ever could on his own, and soon you're both above the water and treading it calmly.

"Welcome back!" Jon grins, waving your puzzle toy at you. "Refilled this for ya. Your record for getting all the treats out is six minutes. Think you can break that today?"

Your eyes narrow and you reach for it eagerly. You can smell the squid and shrimp tucked into each compartment, which are your favorites; absolutely you will be getting those out in six minutes or less.

Damian pulls himself up to the lip of the tank and both boys watch you poke, pull, and prod at the components of the puzzle box. It's not long before you're collecting your spoils and eating them triumphantly. Jon checks his timer and notes that you beat your previous record by over a minute and a half.

"Are you surprised?" Damian huffs. "They're brilliant. They could learn to do just about anything with enough time and practice."

You preen, chittering your agreement. That's why Damian is your favorite caretaker; he's never doubted you since getting to know you, not ever.

He did forget something, though. You toss the puzzle box back at Jon and make grabby hands, face expectant.

Damian immediately clears his throat and looks at Jon, cheeks turning the barest shade of pink. "I need you to go and fetch the shears. The vine growth on the middle level of the tank is beginning to obscure vision and easy travel."

"You didn't bring them with you?" Jon frowns. "Dude. They're all the way on the bottom floor in the maintenance closet. It's gonna take me like twenty minutes to get back here."

"Then you'd better make haste."

"Why can't you do it?"

Damian scowls at him. Jon throws his hands up and climbs to his feet.

"Fine! Haven't gotten my ten thousand steps yet anyway," he grumbles, heading for the door. "Don't play hide and seek without me! I've just gotten good at finding spots I can fit in!"

You chitter and chirp, amused, then focus on Damian again once the doors go your enclosure snap shut.

Damian faces you, the pink in his cheeks worsening. He fiddles with the bag tied to his waist and avoids your gaze.

"I, ah..." He starts, working his jaw in thought. "The girl whose clip you liked. She says hello. Her name is Rosie."

You blink, waiting patiently for him to get to the point.

"I was asked about how you've adjusted to life here without pod-mates. I told them you have a pod in us. That you're not alone here despite being the only one of your kind in Gotham Aquarium." Damian swishes his feet slowly in the water, following the same rhythm as your tail. You drift a little closer.

"And you've adjusted very well, Princess," he continues, voice turning soft. "I can't thank you enough for giving me a second chance to care for you. I want you to know that it means everything to me."

Damian meets your gaze again, and there it is. There's that pair of gorgeous, emerald eyes you adore. You drift even closer, resting your palms on the backs of his calves, and smile up at him. He smiles right back.

"You noticed I don't have another rock for you," he says. You nod. "It's because I didn't bring you a rock this time."

You frown, huffing. Damian chuckles.

"You know I kept the scales you gave me," he admits, recapturing your attention. Your eyes widen, heart starting to pound in your chest. Was he about to give them back? You didn't want them back. "They're beautiful, Princess. I keep them in a jar in my bedroom, and I look at them all the time. They make me happy every time I see them. I wanted to give you something like that in return."

Your heart pounds faster. It sounds like he's about to do what you've wanted from him for what feels like forever. Your grip on his calves tightens, wide eyes searching his own.

"I don't ever want you to doubt how much I care about you again," Damian says, pulling your gift out of the pouch on his waist.

It's a beautiful, emerald pendant on a gold chain, the jewel the same shade as his eyes. You're immediately captivated, reaching up with a trembling hand to cradle the necklace to your chest and admire it more closely. The gentle, rippling water of your tank reflects against the surface and makes the shine of it seem to undulate all around you. It's the most wonderful gift you've ever gotten.

"I hope... I hope that you'll accept this token of courtship," Damian finishes quietly.

You look up at him with tears in your eyes and trill loudly enough to make his ears ring. You tug frantically at his legs and he obediently slips back into the water, letting you wrap your arms around him and squeeze tight, tight, tight. He squeezes you right back, resting his chin on top of your head.

"I love you," he mumbles into your hair. You warble it back as best as you can, nuzzling into him, then lean up and gently press your lips against his. He presses right back, shivering but not from the chill of the water.

Jon finds the two of you like that when he returns with the shears twenty minutes later. He just sighs and rolls his eyes.

"First of all, finally. The will-they-won't-they drama was killing me. Second of all, you could have just said you wanted a moment alone, dude. It took me forever to find these! Do the vines even need trimmed down?"

Damian just smiles and hides his face in your shoulder. They don't.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

60 / 3.9k / part 4 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap with human!reader

kinktober keywords: dubcon, monster mermen, monsterfucking, teratophilia, overt predator/prey dynamics, hypnosis/hypnokink, praise

...

Gaz's hands slide back down, and his palms are warm and rough over your belly and hips. It's all he can do not to crush you against his chest and take what he wants. He can't stand how helpless you look.

Soap's eyes are on your legs. His hands nearly engulf your calves. He hooks his fingers under your knees to open your legs further.

You watch them softly, offering yourself to them in your trance.

nsfw ⬇

Gaz watches Soap dip his head and run his teeth over your calves. "Stay still," Gaz repeats. "It's easy to do what we ask. Isn't it?"

"Uhm..." You shift your hips at the ticklish feeling Soap's mouth is giving you.

Soap glances up from your legs to your face. Your eyelids droop, breath steady and body warm. He strokes your leg with his thumb and then slides his hand higher, making a low sound in his chest. "You don't need to answer yet."

"Okay."

Gaz's hands shift lower. His claw-tips brush the waistline of your shorts. "I’m curious. You said before--humans mate for fun just like mer do." Gaz's voice is still low and sweet, and his hands slide up and down your lower stomach. He pushes your shirt up an inch. "How long had it been since you've mated with another human?"

"I dunno." A lazy, obvious lie.

"Yeah?" Gaz's fingers move ever so slowly up to your chest. "Have you never been mated before? You want to know how it feels?"

You look away and watch Soap, who in turn watches Gaz lift your tattered shirt higher on your body.

"Or it's been a while," Gaz murmurs. "Long enough for you to be needy."

Soap, to his credit, keeps his nature in check. As much as he wants to seize what he wants with both hands, he's stock-still. His eyes are ravenous at the edges of your torn clothes.

Gaz strokes the hair back from your ear. You're dimly aware of the cold air and sea spray reaching your chest as he pulls your tattered shirt away. His hands feel so good. Soap leans forward, and his tongue, rough and warm, slides up the swell of your breast and scrapes against your nipple. You jolt. But Soap’s weight in front of you and Gaz at your back keep you where you are.

Gaz studies you as you surface briefly and squirm. He’s enthralled with you the way he is with everything else he can see from the water but never touch. Rare and prized. A human--something he's wanted in his grasp for so long, and now that has you in his greedy hands, he's determined to smudge his fingerprints across every shiny inch.

"Let him feel you," Gaz murmurs, a hand sliding up and under your neck, tilting your head up until his breath fans down your neck. "Let me see."

Soap's tongue drifts down your sternum and against your belly as he lowers his head. You shift. The urge to stir within this pleasant dream grows the more their hands and mouths run over you. It’s too good. Gaz's hypnotic suggestions can't quite quell your body's natural instincts to buck and move with idle pleasure under their touches. Your eyelids flutter. Your limbs are full of mercury, heavy and liquid. Gaz's voice floats over you, and his hands roam every inch that Soap hasn't already covered.

Gaz's hand slides from your neck into your hair and pulls your head back to kiss your open, panting mouth. The movement makes your back arch. Soap takes full advantage. He nips at your tits with shark teeth.

You gasp, hips jerking forward, and momentarily surface from the trance with Gaz's tongue in your mouth, Soap's teeth on your chest, his hands squeezing your tits, and two of Gaz's fingers pressing down on your core through your shorts. You're already pushing your hips up against his fingers, waking up in the middle of the act your body has already acquiesced to.

Your groan of confusion is swallowed by Gaz's mouth on yours. He keeps your mouth open and your chin tilted up as his fingers work you over your shorts. You can’t hide how you respond--your hips move to press more sensitive nerve endings against his claws.

Soap feels your chest push out as you swallow your complaints. "She supposed to be waking up?" Soap mutters drunkenly with his mouth full of tits.

But Gaz isn't shocked. "She likes this," he replies. "Feel."

Soap's hand joins Gaz's, and you feel his thick, rough fingers push against your core alongside Gaz's. You're already wet and responsive. He groans a curse against your skin.

As Gaz pulls away, your hips keep circling and your eyes begin to close again. Your wet folds stick to the fabric of your panties, slick and cold. "Nn, what's happening?"

Gaz looks down at your half-lidded expression. "I'm afraid we're taking our time with you."

"Hard to keep your eyes closed when you enjoy it so much," Soap says. His hands slide up your thighs and back down again like he’s deciding what part of you to touch next.

Gaz's thumb slips down against your core again and presses down harder. You pant and let your head fall back against his chest. You try to remember why you shouldn't be doing this, but it just seems so much easier to let it happen. To let it feel good. They're just curious about you. About your human body. Right?

You feel Gaz's hand slide around your torso again, pulling you closer. He guides your legs open and you feel Soap slot his body between them. His body is so warm and heavy. Gaz rubs you from behind you as Soap's mouth works your chest again, all slick tongue and mouth.

Gaz’s clawed fingertips hook the tattered fabric of your shorts and pull gently. The fabric begins coming off in downy strips. Soap's mouth is on your core before it's all stripped away, tongue lapping at you between strings of saltwater-soaked polyester.

Gaz’s chest vibrates behind you again, and his hands slide over your legs and hips. Soap's mouth works between your legs, and Gaz slides his fingers through your hair and over your shoulder. "How does she feel?"

"S'all soft," Soap mumbles. He slides his hands under your thighs to keep you open.

You wriggle against the odd sensation of Soap lapping circles around your hole and finally sliding in. His tongue is so big and wet. It goes so deep. You feel dizzy.

Gaz watches--feels--your hips moving against Soap's mouth with half-open eyes and parted lips. You grab Gaz's arm with one hand, digging your nails into his forearm in your haze. Your other hand goes to Soap's hair, grasping the wet strands roughly. Soap groans against you. His fingers dig into your thighs and he pushes your hips back to him. He wants more. He wants to pull you against his mouth and work you harder, but it’s difficult with you in Gaz’s lap. He hands slide up to grip your hips.

"Ah..." You feel Gaz's cock emerge from its sheath underneath you and squirm, dizzy. You should pull away, but then you feel yourself tightening up around Soap's tongue. "W-Wait, I can't--"

The plea turns into a cry as an unexpected climax seizes you. You clamp down hard on Soap's tongue, your legs trying to squeeze together despite his hands holding them apart. He doesn't stop. Not until Gaz pulls you away from him to lay you on the gravel on your side, your back still pressed to his chest.

You remember again you should protest. But at what? In his hands or Soap's--it should make no difference. Your pussy felt so good with Soap’s tongue inside it. His saliva is all over your slit, mixed with your fluids, coating your thighs.

Gaz’s lust makes him restless. He wants to leave his mark on you. He nips the shell of your ear, his hand sliding to your hair again. You bump back against his cock, standing ready so close to your pussy. Your hips shy away, but he doesn't let you go far.

He bites and grinds against you. The friction isn’t enough. His hand slides down to your hip, his nails sliding along your lower belly.

He wants you but he doesn't want to break you. He has to compromise. With his hands on your hips, he slides his length through your slippery thighs.

You gasp at the feeling against your oversensitive outer core. You stare down to see him poking out from between your thighs, glimmering with your slick and Soap's spit. He's big. So big. Maybe too much to handle. But you can't hide your real thoughts as he slides his hand lower to rub your poor swollen clit and feel how wet you still are.

You squeak and gasp. Every roll of his hips is going to skewer you, you just know it.

"Gods, human," he growls. It has nothing to do with the shark-like parts of his brain. His chest rumbles against your back, and his breathing is heavy in your ear. You have him so riled up that it's all he can do not to bite you hard enough to draw blood now. "I'd hurt you if we did this," Gaz whispers, his breath hot against your neck. He groans softly as he slides through your slickness. "We'd hurt you, wouldn't we?"

You're sensitive and wet and close, and you don't want his perfect hands and perfect voice and perfect length to go away. "No, ah--! Put it in!"

He grips your waist and pulls you harder against him. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"Put it in, please.” You try to angle your hips back toward him even while he stops you.

He makes a sound of heated irritation. The vibrations resonate through your body and make your thighs clench harder.

"You might regret this," Gaz says. The more you beg and plead the more his mind is clouded by the need he feels.

But the look Soap is giving you. Like he wants you just as badly as Gaz does but in a dozen worse ways. And you know he knows what you're asking for, too.

Gaz must see you looking at Soap, because he snarls and thrusts between your thighs, jerking you back roughly in time with his movements. You cry out in surprise and delight. The gravel bites into your arm and hip, but you're too dazed and ecstatic to care.

"Use me," you pant.

Soap looms closer. His hands slide over your body and he licks a hot path up your neck to your jaw. He mouths your earlobe and his shark teeth graze your neck. "You wanna get hurt, hen?"

"Mm!"

Soap pulls your face up to meet his. It's a chaotic kiss--teeth, tongue, open-mouthed and messy the way he likes it. He can't get close enough.

All the while, Gaz's hands are on your hips, your waist, your thighs. He's biting at your neck and shoulders and growling into your ear. "We don't want to hurt her," he hisses. But his claws leave tiny pricks in the skin where his grips you.

You're lost between them. Soap bites your bottom lip and it stings with saltwater. Gaz angles his hips up to keep himself from sliding inside you, and you moan desperately for more stimulation.

You're so close to having him inside. You know how much he wants he wants to stretch his way inside. And Soap's teeth are on your neck again, his hands exploring, wanting to touch so much of you as your mouth is occupied with his. You're so small and soft, so warm and receptive. He wants to do whatever will make you feel good. He's dizzy with it all.

You squeeze your thighs together around Gaz's length. If he won't use you the way you want, you'll just make him feel good like this. You have to.

Gaz groan of pleasure blows through your hair. His hypnosis was too effective. Not only are you docile enough to let them play with you--you want this so bad it's driving him over the edge of his cratering willpower.

Soap's teeth are sharp and his tongue is warm, and for a moment you just lean back to let him take control of your open mouth. He's got your chin tilted up with the pressure of his lips alone, and his tongue slithers along yours to pull the taste of you from your mouth. One hand comes up to squeeze your jaw, keeping your head tilted forward, and your body is so small—so easy—that it's so natural for his other hand to wrap around your neck.

As soon as his hand tightens gingerly, you moan. Gaz tenses up behind you. Then he starts railing your thighs for all he's worth.

They both feel the moment change. It's like a switch is flipped.

Gaz feels how wet you get once Soap's hand tightens around your neck, and he leans down and kisses you. Gaz's lips graze your neck, too gentle at first, and then the kiss turns into a bite. His teeth sink in, breaking the skin and making you cry out. He empties himself between your thighs, thrusting furiously.

You squeal with pain until his movements grow languid. The sharp pain clears the fog in your mind somewhat as his mouth unlatches from your shoulder. Your neck is stinging, your skin and muscles protesting. Gaz kisses the mark he left. Your hips are going to be sore and covered in bruises come tomorrow. You push on Soap's chest, trying to get your bearings.

He hardly notices your comparatively small human hands pressing against him and doesn't budge. He laps at Gaz's bite mark on your shoulder. He needs more. He pulls you forward into him to press his length against your core.

"Help me help you," he says, voice low and rough.

"Wait, it's--” Your voice wavers. Too big. You think it's too big--he wonders if you really mean it, or if you're just afraid. It's big, and big is dangerous. But you're not supposed to say no. You're supposed to agree. You're supposed to let it happen.

Soap glances up at Gaz with an expectant look.

Gaz looks down on you, laid out under Soap, with dark eyes. "Don't fuss," he murmurs. "You remember why?"

You gasp as Soap ruts against you. Your mind is tattered, buzzing with the desire to lay down and be easy--but just as much with the need to orient yourself, Gaz's hypnotic voice be damned.

"Just lie back and let Soap feel how good you are," he says. His voice feels distant now. Your thoughts are scrambled, and it's still too hard to listen to your instincts.

You arch as Soap ruts again, your struggling turning into pleased overstimulation.

He feels the fight going out of you. It's about time. You need relief, he’s certain. You need someone to make the right choice for you. Soap flips you onto your stomach. His hands are all over you, dragging down your sides, shifting your hips, spreading your thighs. "Such a convenient place for a hole," Soap says, smirking. He circles your entrance with a big fingertip.

Before you can decide whether to protest or not, he sinks his finger into your tight heat. You gasp, pitching forward with your forearms onto the rough gravel.

Soap slides his finger back and forth curiously. He plunges another inch every thrust. You're so wet he doubts you can feel anything but the size of him. You certainly don't seem to mind how big his fingers are. Or his claws gliding past your walls. In fact, the deeper he goes, the more you press your hips back into his hand. His smirk turns into a crooked grin. "Think she likes this, aye?"

"No argument there," Gaz says. He coils in front of you on the gravel and pulls your chin up to look at him. With your head angled up, he sees the flush on your face and the dazed look in your eyes. He tucks some hair behind your ear. Your neck is marked where he bit you. It's not even bleeding, but it's bruised and shiny. His eyes darken.

His teeth marks span most of your shoulder. His hands, too, are bigger than yours. He could wrap the entire lower half of your face in his fingers to keep you in place. To guide your mouth where he wants. The idea is more than a little attractive. "She's so small we can touch everything at once," he muses.

"Think she’d like that?”

Gaz looks at him and smirks. "She doesn't seem to be doing a lot of thinking right now."

You gaze up at him as best you can. Your eyes are half-lidded. You grasp his hand with one of yours, your tongue slipping out of your mouth to run up his fingers.

"So, so small," he says. His thumb and index finger pinch your jaw. "Careful," he murmurs, voice low. "Watch those teeth."

His thumb goes to your plush bottom lip, slips into your mouth, and rests gently over your tongue. You hollow your cheeks. The suction is too gentle to stimulate him the way he'd need, really. He shifts to lay out in front of you and presses down on your tongue to keep your mouth open. "You've got no room for me in that pretty mouth of yours, do you?"

"Ahn?" you reply dimly.

Your pink tongue and tiny human teeth fascinate him. He can't believe something so small and harmless is dangerous enough to have earned you a place at the top of the food chain on land. He's even more fascinated by the way you're sucking on his thumb and rubbing it against your tongue’s rough, warm surface. He chuckles and shifts his hand under your chin again to hold you in place. "No, a little human thing like you hasn't got room for one of us," he says. "All I'd have to do is push a little, and you'd be full up."

Soap groans. "Fuck, yes." He worms a second finger into you and you squeal.

He's careful--he really is. Soap might be a bit rough sometimes, but this is nothing compared to his usual way of doing things. Gaz's eyes follow the line of your throat you arch back.

He looks up at Soap and his smirk turns vicious. "You getting something out of this?"

Soap's gaze flicks up. He adds another finger and you whine. "What, it's a competition?"

"When is it not?"

While they bicker, you bend yourself into position after position to better take Soap's fingers. You finally manage to ease all three in and grind your hips back against him with a heavy breath. You're dripping--not just with Gaz's spend, but with your own slick.

Just then, right as you’re starting to rapturously enjoy all three fingers, he's pulling them out of you and positioning himself between your legs.

Soap puts his hands on your hips and looks up to see the stare Gaz is giving him. "I was playing fair," Soap argues, dropping back into the mer-tongue. "You weren't."

"Watch your size," Gaz warns. "Don't play too much and hurt her. She's small."

"Why? You want another turn after I'm done?" Soap says.

It’s not that. That's what Gaz's eyes say. In fact, he doesn’t much care for Soap having a turn at all. Gaz wants to fill you full by himself and keep you that way.

But his lips stay clamped shut. Soap gives him a knowing, sly smile.

"Don't get greedy," Gaz says. There's bite in his tone. "She’s my catch."

Soap lets it go for now. His attention drifts back to you and all the things he could do.

You rut backward impatiently. "What are you talking about?" you ask.

"Don't mind us," Soap says, grinning. "We're just figuring out how we're going to play with you."

He pushes himself against you and the size difference is enough to make him pause. He could just press you into the gravel without any effort. He would love to use you in so many ways, but he's holding back. He doesn't want to break Gaz's apparent hypnotic hold on you.

You sigh and push back against him. You manage to catch his tip in your folds, but you can't quite make it go in. Soap hisses softly at the feeling. It's all he can do to keep from pushing all the way in to your wet warmth. Instead, he leans forward and plants his hands on the hard ground, surrounding your body with his arms and waiting for you to move.

You try bouncing backward, riding his tip, determined to take him in. You don't fully understand how much trouble that will be until you ease yourself back enough to stretch your pussy as far as three of his fingers had. You glance back to see you haven't taken him all in yet--not even close. Then you feel a strange bump up against your clit and look down to see him sporting not one cock, but two.

"Oh," you say in a distant voice.

"Not too observant for a human," Gaz says. But then, it's partly his fault you're too focused on trying to bury some cock in you to notice they both have two.

Your gasp turns into a long, breathy moan as Soap pushes into you a few more inches. You're slick and ready inside, but you slide your legs apart further, needing to take more but unsure how you'll make it fit.

"Easy on her," Gaz says again. "She can't take all of you."

Soap looks back at Gaz, his eyes dark. "You seem awfully concerned about her all of a sudden."

Gaz scoffs. "I just know you. I know how impatient you are."

You ease back and circle your hips until you've seated him as deep as you can. Then an inch deeper. Soon enough you're rocking back and forth, fucking yourself of on him and making terse, dreamy sounds of need. Soap lets out a ragged breath. It's a squeeze, but worth it. So worth it. How'd Gaz find one that feels so good?

You spread your legs as far as you can to accommodate his girth. You feel air-tight, like it should hurt, but every tiny movement you make sets your nerve endings alight. There's pain in your palms against the sharp gravel, dull scraping against your kneecaps, and an impossible heat burning in your lower stomach. Pleasure-pain glazes your already-distant eyes.

Soap begins fucking you slowly. Not that he holds much concern for your strange human senses and boundaries--it's more that he wants you nice and tame. Gaz notices that hesitation despite being distracted with your moaning and begging and wiggling as Soap spears into you steadily over and over.

"Thought you wanted to break her," Gaz says. He speaks your language to taunt both you and Soap.

Soap grins. "You went to all this trouble to hypnotize her. Wouldn't want to jostle her too hard, aye?"

Gaz smirks. "Don't worry about that, mate. You know there's no way to hypnotize someone who's unwilling."

Your breath hitches. "What?"

You hear Soap smirking as he says, "You aren't going anywhere, are you now?"

He presses into you with a long, deep stroke that turns your protest into a shuddering moan.

"Told you she wouldn't run," Soap says.

After that, you can't manage much coherent thought at all.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / [part 4] / part 5

more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

u already know hehe 🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜���‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️

OF COURSE! 1k for 🧜🏻‍♂️:

TW for some sort of quiet transphobia from healthcare providers.

---

Buck rides in the back with him. He looks at Eddie with big, watery eyes. He looks like a puppy that’s been caught peeing on the carpet. 

“Don’t do that,” Eddie says, teeth still chattering a little.

Buck does not follow instructions. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice practically quivering. “I should have been able to-”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “Not salt water. Too dangerous.”

Buck doesn’t look absolved by this.

“Please,” Eddie says. “Don’t. I don’t blame you. It doesn’t help.”

Buck sighs. “I’m sorry. How are you feeling?”

“Cold,” Eddie says. 

“Other than cold,” Buck says. “Are you… You must be scared shitless.”

Well, yes. But not in the way Buck is probably thinking. He’s not thinking about the panic of being trapped. Of nearly drowning. Of thinking he’d die alone. Yes, that had been terrifying. Yes, his body is aching with the physical memory of it, and will continue to do so for hours, he thinks. Days. But that’s not the main thing. 

The main thing is that he almost left Christopher an orphan. The main thing is that, if that happened, Christopher would be ripped away from here, back to Texas. Back to the parents Eddie left. He left them for a reason. So his son didn’t have to grow up the way he did. The pressure. The conditional love. The endless scrutiny. That will not be his son’s life. 

And then, there’s the less pressing, but still frightening thing. The selfish thing. 

He has to go to the hospital.

It’s not like Eddie is scared of hospitals. He’s not. He’s spent enough time in them, between his own injury back in El Paso, Christopher, and his friends’ injuries as a firefighter. He can be in them just fine.

He’s just scared of being a patient. 

Maybe it seems cowardly, but Eddie thinks it’s a reasonable fear. Even if he won’t say as much to anyone. See, if he was a cis guy, it wouldn’t be an issue. He’d go, get checked out, and wouldn’t think twice about it. But it’s not that simple for Eddie. He knows. He’s had enough experience. Between Chris and shrapnel in his leg after a call gone wrong, he knows. And he’s not looking forward to it today.

“I’m good,” he tells Buck anyway. “I’ll be fine.”

🌊

Buck watches the triage nurse that admits Eddie walk on eggshells around him. The moment he discloses. Like he’s some medical anomaly, not just a guy who needs a quick look over. He watches Eddie shrink into himself more than Buck has ever seen. It’s all very uncomfortable. Well, it’s uncomfortable for Buck. He can’t imagine how it is for Eddie. 

“She’s being really weird,” Buck says when the nurse leaves the room. 

“Yeah,” Eddie mumbles. 

“Is it always like this?” Buck asks. 

“Usually worse,” Eddie says.

Buck feels a tight coil of anger and protectiveness. 

It takes a long time for anyone to follow up. Like, long enough, that if Eddie did have anything serious going on - hypothermia, head wound, etcetera - it might have become a problem. Buck goes out twice to check and see if anyone is coming. If the ER was really busy, Buck would get it. Eddie isn’t super high priority. But it’s not. They’re just sort of avoiding him. 

When a doctor does eventually come to see him, the experience feels a bit more normal. But maybe that’s because it’s a doctor, and their decorum is usually rushed and uninterested to begin with, when stuck in an ER at night. Buck can’t be sure. Regardless, Eddie is fine. Cleared to go home. Which is a relief, except for the fact that it looks like the hospital visit really took it out of him. 

“Should we… I don’t know… Complain or something?” Buck asks on the drive back. 

“No point,” Eddie says. “They didn’t actually do anything wrong.”

“Well, no… But they could’ve if-”

“Honestly, it’s fine,” Eddie says. “It’s been way, way worse.”

“That doesn’t actually make this better,” Buck protests.

“Buck, I don’t want to talk about it. I love you, and I appreciate that you care, but can we just not?”

“Okay,” Buck says quietly. “Sorry.”

“S’fine,” Eddie mutters back.

Buck feels like he put his foot in his mouth somewhere but he’s not sure where. He also knows that he might be projecting, just a tiny bit. He’s been terrified of being found out, himself, in the hospital. Of being treated like a creature or a medical marvel. Obviously it’s not the same for Eddie. This is a reality for Eddie, not a hypothetical fear. 

And still, Buck hates how useless he’s been about everything Eddie has gone through today. He hasn’t been able to help at all. He feels entirely useless.

🌻

Eddie can’t sleep. Not for long, anyway. 

Despite being tucked under many, many blankets, dressed in his warmest pajamas and sweater, and having Buck as a human heater beside him, Eddie still feels cold. He’s not sure how much of it is psychosomatic. But he still feels like shivering. 

Maybe it’s something else. Something more pressing than the cold. An unchecked blindspot that nearly caused a fatal error tonight. 

He can’t stop thinking about it. 

What if he had died? 

ii.

For days after Eddie’s near brush with death, Buck is feeling off at work. It’s the sort of sudden burst of insecurity that he hasn’t felt since he was a probationary firefighter. Since he lost someone who let go on that damn rollercoaster. Since he couldn’t save body without becoming other than himself. Like there’s just something fundamentally insufficient about him.  He knows that he’s overreacting, probably. Making it about him. Bad habit. He should only be thinking about Eddie right now. What Eddie’s going through. What Eddie needs. How to be a good boyfriend to Eddie. Not that Eddie is unhappy with him. He hasn’t said or acted like he is. Though, he’s been off, too.

[bigfootsmom]

Eddie loves …cuddling with his mer boyfriend

See what Eddie is really up to over on ao3

Inspired by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels mer!buck fic <3

[emolionsrawr]

buck: meradith grey can do better than mcdreamy

tommy: what do you mean babe?

buck: well, he didn't tell her he was married, he didn't chose her, when he broke up with his wife he got with a different woman even though he was in love with mer, she deserved better

guy with a stab wound: he's right she did deserve better

chimney: sir please don't talk i'm trying to save your life right now

tommy: maybe we should talk about this later babe?

guy with a stab wound: please don't it's distracting me from the pain

buck: okay, oh my god and IZZIE?! i hated her! god what is her deal she spends ages angry with alex, gets with denny then cuts his LVAD wire, then marries alex and runs off, then years later gets in contact and ruins alex's relationship with jo?! what a bitch!

tommy: agreed

[squad-724]

Part 3 of Crosshair first days in the Pabu Sea Sanctuary

Once again written by the lovely @pinetree-tbb send them love!

Part 1 | Part 2

"Echo, I don't know." Phee said to the mer, but he just typed quickly on the pad wich voiced out,

"I. Do." while Fives nodded along. "Can. Get. Through. I. Know." He looked at her with a determined look.

"He's been in this hole for two days now Echo, he will starve." Kix said and crossed his arms.

"More. Time. Please." The pad voiced. Phee and Kix looked at eachother, than back at the twins.

"You better be right about this Echo." Kix said and handed him the bucket of fish standing next to him. He quickly signed a few 'Thank you's with his one hand while scooting towards the bucked. He picked out a few good looking fish, threw one towards his brother, who gladly bit into it, shoved the other under his arm and dived back into the water happily, Fives coming right after him.

"Hold this" Echo said and shoved the fish into Five's arms, then picked a bit of seaweed, took food again and wrapped them together quickly. "Come on, this time he'll eat, I can feel it!"

"What's your plan vod?"

"You'll stay at a distance and I will try to talk to him."

"I'm not gonna leave you alone with him, what if he attacks you?"

"I'm planning to not get to that point, I believe he won't do anything if I won't invade his personal space." Fives let out a small grunt.

"And why do I have to stay behind?" Echo smiled, not wanting his brother to worry.

"Because I hope that seeing only one individual will make him less hostile, plus I don't look like much of a threat." Fives gave him a worried expression

"Fine. But I will stay close."

"That's okay, just stay hidden." Fives nodded, still not looking all that convinced, and gave him the other fish and swam away to hide nearby.

Echo took a breath and swam to their new friend. Arriving at the stone pile, the one armed mer put the other few fish behind a rock and secured them, then repeated his steps. Laying down the food, putting a stone on them so they won't float away, poking a hole through the sand in the entrance and swimming away. He didn't leave this time though, instead he sat down on top of the rocks and waited. He heard shifting and soon after, the pile of sand began to move. Echo heard a low growl, then saw the tip of a tail flick the two fish away.

"You can eat them, they are for you." He heard nothing. "Don't worry, they are just normal fish." Echo slowly swam down towards the fish and picked them back up and moved towards the hole. He couldn't really see inside but saw two glowing eyes reflecting the sunlight. "See?" he bit a chunk out of one of the fish and held it out towards him "Just fish."

Echo smiled and put the food in the entrance and gave the kid a bit of space. No movement from inside, so he swam up again and pushed the fish into the hole, watched as it sank down, and backed off again. After a moment the fish was flicked out again, and Echo felt a little flush of frustration but also pity.

"Come on buddy, I know you are hungry..." Once again he swam closer, picked up the fish and ate it, looking into the hole. "See? Not poisoned."

"Go. Away." The curled up teen finally spoke, spooking Echo with his raspy and weak voice. The beta mer froze for a second, but gathered himself quickly and decided to start building their mutual trust and relationship.

"Only if you eat something." Echo said not intimidated, took a bite out of another fish and let it sink into the hole. The eel mer just grumbled and the fish came back. "Look. I'm trying to help you, okay? If you don't eat soon you will die, and then what?" Echo said and let out compassionate little whistles. "Please... I don't want you to die."

"Why do you care?" Came out from the hole with another hiss.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You are just a human pet that for some reason cares for a random mer who really doesn't want or NEED helping"

"You're kidding right?" Echo shook his head confused "Phee, Kix, Riyo and all the others, brought you here and treated your wounds because helping someone in need is the right thing to do. We are not their pets, me and my brother, we’re their friends."

"Where is he?" The kid hissed.

"What?"

"Your brother."

"He's... around. I figured you would feel comfortable with only one of us talking to you." Silence. "Look, it looks like you've been through a lot and you don't trust anything at the moment. But you can trust us. You don't have to right away but I want you to know that you can. "We only want you to be safe, and most of all to be alive." He placed the fish in front of the hole again. "Please, eat it. We don't want you to starve, and you won’t be able to leave without regaining some strength."

There were a few more minutes of silence, then Echo saw a white hand gingerly reaching out of the hole, taking the fish and pulling it back in. Echo smiled.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Crosshair checked the fish carefully. This mer bit into it and ate the other one, so it was most likely safe to eat? He already wanted to throw the fish out again when his stomach ached painfully.

In the end he took a little bite out of it, and the taste was better than he remembered! He ripped out a bigger chunk of the fish and let out a desperate groan which he couldn't hold back. The food was gone in seconds.

"You want more?" the same voice came from the outside, and Crosshair wriggled closer to the entrance

"You... got more?" He asked hesitantly. He would probably throw all of it up soon enough, but the feeling of a full stomach was too tempting.

"Sure do." The betta mer turned around and reached behind a rock, returning with a handful of fish. Crosshair felt a tingle on the back of his neck and his tail twitched impatiently. The guy came closer and placed two fish before the hole and swam back to his rock. The teen waited until he settled down again, then reached out to get the food. He gladly munched down on them, all gone in a moment.

"I still got a few." Crosshair peeked outside, the mer held another fish in his one hand. This time he did not leave them alone, instead he sat in front of the pile and waited. Crosshair hesitated, he knew the betta was trying to lure him out. "You can have them all, you just have to get them." The mer murmured, not even twitching suggesting if he was willing to back off or lounge once Crosshair swam closer. "I'll stay here, don't worry." As if his words meant anything.

Crosshair thought for a moment to stay put, but his hunger got the better of him. He slowly, very slowly, came out of his hideout, eyes fixed on the mer, who just smiled at him. It was the first time he actually looked at the older mer, and was shocked to see that his tail was made out of a milky white material and wire, wrapping around the stump that must have been cut or removed. On his lower stomach and sides of head sat round pieces of metal, seemingly fused with his flesh. His right arm was also missing above the elbow. What could have happened if this betta survived such an awful accident? Did the humans above the water do it to him? Or did they save him, giving him a new tail and a safe place to live?

Hesitantly, Crosshair reached for the one fish, stuffed it in his mouth, took the other and quickly retreated back.

"Still got two left." The mer said and placed them at the same spot at the others. Crosshair came out again and reached for the first fish. "My name is Echo." He froze. "My brother is called Fives." Crosshair, back underneath the rocks, took a bite out of the fish.

"I'm-" he swallowed "I'm called Crosshair." He grumbled with full mouth.

"Pleasure to meet you Crosshair. We'll bring you more food later." Echo looked absolutely ecstatic and swam away, moving weirdly with the fake tail. Crosshair watched him waringly, then let out a relieved sigh. Finally having something in his stomach Cross yawned, the pleasant fullness making him tired. He rolled himself up and settled in the soft sand. Maybe he could trust this Echo... Only maybe, enough to know he wouldn’t bite or poison him. With that he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

I am so happy with what you created Pine, and can’t show my gratitude enough for this amazing piece of work!

[hippolotamus]

Sunday Sentences 🧜‍♂️

Tagged by the oh so lovely and talented @elvensorceress and @bidisasterevankinard for this fine Sunday (go check their words if you haven’t!) 💖

Some more mer!buck. Follows this snippet (one day I’ll write myself out of this section…)

“You ‘nly h’ve two.”  “What?”  “Sorry,” Evan says again, taking his hands away. “I said ‘you only have two’. Like, just two pointy teeth.” Eddie’s grin widens, showing them off, running his tongue over them. They’re so…. odd and he can’t help wanting to get closer.  His parents are always telling him to stop being so rude and curious, but he can’t seem to stop himself. It’s like there’s a mechanism built into his body, constantly compelling him forward. If he could find the off switch that would make him behave and fit in, he would flip it in an instant.  “Really? Just two? What good is it only having two?” Maybe there’s more further back that Evan can’t see. He uses his arms to push himself up, allowing him to flop his whole body on the sand next to Eddie. Despite their looks the teeth feel almost dull under his fingertips as he gently presses them, making Eddie laugh.  “Oh.” Eddie’s laughter dies, but not in the frightened way it had before.  “Oh?” Triton, what’s he done now? Ever so slowly a half smile returns, lighting Eddie’s features up with awe and fascination. “You have a tail. Because of course you do.”

np tagging @actuallyitsellie @epicbuddieficrecs @doctorkinney @a-noble-dragon @tizniz @diazheartsbuckley @eddiebabygirldiaz @midsummersmorn @bidisasterevankinard @shipperqueen6 @spotsandsocks @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley @stereopticons @kitteneddiediaz @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @your-catfish-friend @thekristen999 @filet-o-feelings @wikiangela @rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @jesuisici33 @dr-shortsighted-owl @imtheiliad @bi-buckrights @bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @beyourownanchor6 @indestructibleheart @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1 @statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @thelikesofus @welcometololaland @wildlife4life @eowon @rewritetheending @spaceprincessem @bekkachaos @bucksbignaturals @mmso-notlikethat @holidayslinger and anyone else who wants to😘

[screaming-universe]

It's International Whale Shark Day so here is Buck!