#pirate! hobie brown x siren! reader

[the-kr8tor]

A Pearl

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Siren! Reader

Word count: 6.1k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing and siren traits), pirate AU, Siren AU, CW blood, TW death, CW eating human flesh, CW injury, CW food mentions, CW alcohol mention, Pirate captain! Hobie, a touch of hurt/comfort, Fluff!

Requested by @brokeaesthetic — Hello, this is my first time sending a request to you. Hopefully this is a good one to request for my first time. Okay, hear me out Sea clay & Epsom salt in a heart-shaped bottle❣️. Okay, so reader is a siren and Hobie is a pirate. And for many years reader has lured sailors, pirates and fishermen to a watery grave. But one day, when a pirate ship sails into her territory, she prepares herself about to lure them in until she sees Hobie and she's immediately infatuated. She stalks the ship for a couple days before hobie notices. Like something falls overboard, and she throws it back up. He thinks She probably wants something so she he throws down something shiny for her to keep. But she takes that as flirting(she has a huge crush now). So when one day the ship is attacked and Hobie falls overboard, she saves him. And then he develops feelings blah blah blah. I actually wanna draw this😭😭

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Katy's one year celebration 🎉

Your siren song echoes throughout the fog-covered sea. Together with your kind, you lure seafarers into their watery graves with your angelic voice that pushes them into a haze until their bodies splash overboard. With each tone you sang, more bodies hit the cold depths below. As the fog dissipates, so is your cover. Diving below before the survivors catch wind of what transpired, you swim towards the nearest drowning sailor.

Bubbles rise up from his lips, and you swim faster towards your meal. Another siren comes your way, and you have to hiss and bare your sharp teeth at her so you'd get your food. As she tries to fight back with her own growl, you smack her away with your tail, fighting for what's yours. With a yelp from the other siren, you don't waste time sinking your teeth into their fleshy neck.

Warm crimson flows from their skin, body thrashing against your own but your sharp nails dig further and further into their body as you eat your fill. Suddenly, their eyes turn the shade of seafoam, and his body is still. You open your maw and you bite into him.

This has been your life ever since your kind was forced to flee into the deep waters of the sea. Food is scarce, fish and birds shy away from the small rocky islands you've called home so you're forced to eat naive sailors rather than starve.

As you leave the cold waters and into dry land, your tail ebbs away to make way for a pair of legs. Shaking off the salty water, you head into your cave, hands wiping away all the blood and guts from your lips. Your home is small, cozy and away from the others. You keep tiny trinkets picked up from the waves, some you've taken from unlucky sailors. The wind chime you've made yourself that's filled to the brim with shiny human things twinkle in the night. The sound helps you sleep, the various knick knacks are the only things that keeps you going. It's survival of the fittest out in the open ocean, especially when you're being hunted down to extinction.

As you lay your head to sleep, you dream of better things where you don't have to hide amidst the rocks and the salty waves.

A loud rambunctious commotion wakes you up in the middle of the day. Their loud cheering can be heard from far away out into the sea. With bleary eyes, you blink at the odd ship, its red sails earning a curious tilt from your head.

You're still full from your last meal, there's no fog to hide you if you so desire to lure them. And surely you can't go back to sleep now that you're fully entranced by the hooting and hollering out in day break. Usually seafarers are quiet around these parts, only the eerie songs about the lingering death hidden beneath the waves are sung on deck can be heard at any hour of the day.

So with a curious raise of your brow, you head back into the sea. It's against better judgement, and you're in danger of getting caught or worse if you're ever found, but if you're careful enough, you'll find out more about humans than anyone in your kind has ever known about. Maybe you'll learn their tongue too.

Racing against the tides, you make it to their ship in quick time. You raise your head above water, enough to take a peek and listen in on their conversation.

“I told you our captain can do it!” An excited voice exclaims. “Three fucking cheers for the crimson spider!”

A roaring cheer echoes out, and it has you more curious than ever at who this captain could be. You spot the anchor dangling just above the water, so with a determined huff, and with curiosity fueling you, you head towards it to climb the ropes holding it up.

Your tail soon turns into a pair of legs, and you climb faster and quieter up on the rough rope. Finally making it above, just below the deck and still hidden from everyone's view, you see a whole crew of pirates dancing and drinking on the deck. Their laughter warms your chest, and their jolly music has you smiling at their human celebration. Whatever it may be.

“C’mon, lads, it was nothin' special.” Someone says, the crew surrounds him, all grinning at the man.

“Nothing special?!” The one with a sloshing cup full of wine says. “You blasted the fucking admiral to smithereens!”

“Ned's right, Hobie, they're going to need a bloody shovel just to scrape him off the floor.” Another happily says, clasping what you surmise is the titular captain. “If it weren't for you, James and I would've died. Not to mention the new crew managing to not piss themselves while getting us all out.” The raven haired woman smiles, nudging him and toasting her cup against his own. “You did good, cap’n.”

“Right, stop inflatin’ my ego.” Hobie, you think that's the captain's name, shakes his head with a smile. He's handsome you think, hands painted with ink that reminds you of sea life, and a face that looks chiseled by the goddess of the sea herself. You've never seen a pirate not quite like him. His smile single handedly brightens up the already merry ship, and instead of toning down the festivities, it loudly continues on. “We still have shit to do!”

“No we don't!” A blonde girl exclaims as she dances with another crew member as music plays.

A bout of laughter follows, and Hobie surrenders and joins in on the party after giving the sea a glance over. He's probably on the lookout for danger while everyone is too busy partying. He's not just handsome too, but also smart and practical as he secretly tosses the wine overboard to remain sober while everyone else drinks their fill.

You grow ever more curious at the captain. His hair stands out, beautiful wicks all tied together in a ponytail to keep the wind from messing it up. His sleeves are rolled up as he navigates the wheel, dozens of ink drawn on his arms, each having different designs that your otherworldly eyes have never seen before. And his eyes, his brown eyes are aglow with happiness, as if he's at his peak in his seafaring life. He doesn't gloat or bask in the compliments, rather, it seems to motivate him more to do better for his crew; unlike the other captains you've seen so far. He truly cares for them like they're his family, they could be as he looks at them all with fondness.

Morning soon dips into the afternoon, orange hues kissing the pleasant blue of the sea. The party is long gone, they've retreated back into their cabins, probably snoring away all the wine they've drunk. Hobie's alone on deck, save for a few pirates snoring on the floors while clutching at wine bottles and even their blunderbuss.

He looks like he's genuinely enjoying the quietness, letting the sea sing to him its primordial song. His hands relax against the wheel, eyes glittering like the water below. Sighing, you admire the captain beneath the orange glow and how it illuminates his handsome features.

You daydream about what life could be for you if you were a pirate sailing the seven seas. Would you even be good at it? Would you find precious treasures on your adventures? And would the captain praise you for your heroics just like the crew have done for him?

A loud clattering of something metallic takes you back to reality. A rolling coin heads your way, threatening to fall into the depths. Hobie follows right behind, boots thumping as quietly as he can but frantic enough to get the coin before it falls.

Your eyes widen, immediately plunging down into the water before he could spot you dangling on the anchor. As you splash down, the coin drops into the sea, its gilded metal glimmering in the water.

“Shit.” You hear his muffled curse.

Without thinking, you scoop up the coin before it plunges down deeper. Admiring the simple thing, you wonder what's so special about it to have the captain run after it in haste. You've seen a hundred of these, and you still have no idea why humans fight to the death just for it. You seem to not think things through as you rise above the water and throw it back on deck. If it was so special to him, you'd rather have it be back in his hands than on your own.

“The fuck?” His shock is evident in his voice. As you hear the familiar footsteps, you duck back inside the water to hide and then you see his face peek from above. His eyes scan the water, finding nothing out of the ordinary. “I thought I heard somethin’”

You can't help but giggle at his confused expression. Bubbles rise up from your smiling lips, and Hobie knits his brow at the weird occurrence.

With curiosity, he throws the coin back into the water and watches it plop down. You catch it underwater, looking up at him as he anticipates for it to jump back up on its own.

He waits and waits, but after a full minute, he leaves the side of the ship. You smile, preparing to throw it back to the deck. But before you could leap, he comes back to take another look, as if he could catch it moving mid air.

You laugh, hands clasped over your lips. He scratches the back of his head, and blinks the tiredness away.

“I'm goin’ bloody bonkers out ‘ere.” He says, going back to the upper deck to steer the ship once again.

“B–Bonkers.” You repeat with your own voice, giggling to yourself at the word. “Bonkers!” Your tail swooshes happily, coin grasped tightly in your palms.

With a teasing look above, watching the ship as it sails, you decide to throw the coin back on to the ship. This time though, you don't hold back. Swimming deeper to gain momentum, you quickly swim back up and leap into the air, and toss the coin right on the highest deck. It hits him right on his head.

His startled scream and the crew's more terrified yells was worth the effort of doing that. A string of curses erupt throughout the whole ship as they wake up one another with their earth shaking screams.

Hobie races to the bannister, but you're already long gone and swimming back to your tiny island, laughing as you swim.

—

Night comes and you're still asleep because of this morning's activities. A startling boom wakes you up, followed by yelling and the crackling of fire. You know the smell well, a mixture of blood and gunpowder floating in the salty sea.

You look outside of your home, finding the same red sails burning and crashing down into the water. Your heart plunges down, and you've got only one person in mind— Hobie. Without sparing another second, you swim as fast as you could towards the fighting. You expertly dodge corals, seaweeds that threaten to entangle your tail and sea life that parts for you. It's further than you thought, but you continue on with hope in mind.

The second you get there, you see fellow sirens gathering and taking chunks out of the ones that have fallen deep enough in the water. There's no saving the ones who are long gone, so you desperately search under the heat of the fire and wreckage for the familiar face.

While you swim around, you see a small dinghy rowing a few ways away from the fight. A single oil lamp guiding them in the dark. As you look closer, you find that it's a handful of Hobie's own crew, and they're fighting a couple of sirens who are trying to grab hold of them to pull them down into the dark depths. You race over to their side, not to go help pick them apart one by one, but to hiss and fight your kind.

With a show of your teeth and a few scratches along their scaly arms, they scramble away, leaving the crew behind. Looking back at them, you find that they're already staring at you with wide eyes. But you don't care as you search each of their faces for the captain, leaping over to the side of the boat as it sways side by side. When you don't find him, hopelessness clings to you like seaweed.

“Ho–Hobie?” You manage to let out with few resistance from your throat. Their faces can't be painted as they look at you with a mix of awe and fear. “Hobie!” Your yell startles them more. But it's effective as the same blonde you saw earlier points back towards the ship where you can briefly see his silhouette still on the deck. “Thank!” Swimming away, you leave the puzzled crew members behind.

Swimming with all your might towards the blaze, your arms are raised in front of your face to protect you against the blaze and the bodies floating around. you leap up into the sinking ship without sparing another minute, legs carrying you towards him the second your feet hit the slippery wood.

Hobie's fighting a much bigger man than him. Both evenly matched as swords clash amidst the flames, and the moon bears witness to it all.

Just as you get closer to them, the man strikes Hobie's side with a dagger that was hidden underneath his sleeve, drawing blood from the captain.

“No!” Your guttural yell takes the assailant's attention, giving you enough time to pounce on him and rip his face with your teeth.

His screams fill the night, and as he falls harshly into the floor of the sinking ship, you quickly make your way towards Hobie's side.

“Wha–who?” He gasps for breath, red staining the floor underneath him.

You point at yourself, “I…will help.” You manage to find the right words to convey your feelings.

“Help?”

“Yes,” grabbing him, you effortlessly carry him over your shoulders. “You will live.” Turning around to look for his crew members, your eyes hone in on the small boat getting farther and farther away. If you tried to swim there with him in tow and him weighing you down, he wouldn't make it. So in a last minute decision, you dive into the water towards your small island.

—

Hobie groans in his sleep, and your hands smell of herbs. You haven't concocted something like this in years, but your memory still serves you right as his wound is healing well. He's still unconscious, but at least he's alive.

None of his crew has come to take him home, so you kept him safe from the other sirens, kept him warm and hydrated by simply wetting his lips with fresh water from a river further into the island. It's been a few days since the fight, and his breathing is much better, and everytime you place your ear by his heart, it beats normally. You might not be human, but you've lived long enough to know about their anatomy. Well, you've eaten their anatomy.

“I…” your brows knit in frustration from not finding the right words. You've been practicing lately so when he wakes up, you can explain yourself to him. “...I eat.” That sounds wrong. “No, I don't eat…you.” You smile after you think that you've translated it correctly. “Yes, no eat.”

Patting his arm gently, you test if you could wake him up. You're growing quite impatient. With a sigh and not even a stir from the pirate captain, you go back to shore to bask in the water. The night is calm and there's no fog or other ships abound, so you sit and wait and watch as the tiny crabs burrow themselves in the sand. The sky stretches before you, stars twinkling beside the moon as you reach up with your hand to look at them between your fingers.

A groan echoes out in the cave, and as you stand up, you come face to face with the captain you've grown fond of.

Hobie's eyes widen at the sight of you. Your scales glow iridescent light from how the moon shines upon you. The makeshift clothes you wear that consist of shells, fishing nets, cloth from broken sails that sticks to you like wet paper, and rope tying it all together has his eyes squirming away to look at your face instead. As if looking at the face of a goddess is way better for his poor heart.

“Hello.” You enunciate.

He doesn't know what to say.

You take his reaction as fear. “Oh no, I will not eat.” Taking a step closer, you expect for him to flinch away but he doesn't. “No eating captain.” Smiling, you're proud of yourself for managing the words.

“Why? Do I not taste good?” He jokes, one that flies over your head. “‘m a bit offended by that, love.”

You slow blink at him. “Love?”

“I think that wasn't very funny either. Sorry.” Hobie chuckles nervously, “why did you help me?”

“Oh I know!” You come closer to him, hands clasped in front of you out of excitement. Pointing at his chest, your smile makes him smile, albeit nervous at how sharp your teeth are. “Bonkers!”

Hobie breaks into a bout of laughter. “You saved me because ‘m bonkers?”

You nod in quick succession. “Yes! And.” Inhaling, you gather all your strength to muster the correct word. “Pretty.” You remember that word from a sailor who once whispered it to you before you sank your teeth in him. “And!” You pat his pockets, he squirms away before you find what you were looking for within a half second. “This!” Showing him the coin, his face morphs into understanding.

“That was you?” You nod and He smiles softly, eyes darting from your face and at the waves as he rubs at his eyes. “And you think ‘m pretty?”

“Yes, and a good cap’n.” You mimic the exact words you heard his crew said to him.

“Now you're the one inflatin' my ego.” He shifts his weight, eyes meeting with your own. “I think you're pretty too.”

Smiling, you giddily bite your lower lip from the compliment. “Thank.”

Hobie chuckles, “you're good at this already, love.” He gestures towards his patched up wound. “And this. Thank you for the help.”

“Thank you!” You grin bigger, and he's slowly getting used to the rows of sharp teeth. *Slowly.

“Right, goddess, I have to build a raft to get to my crew.” He says and you're having a hard time deciphering his words. “Ah shit, you look even more adorable with that confused face.” His tone is laced with endearment.

“Thank you?”

“You're welcome.” He grasps at his injury as he wobbles further into the island.

“No,” you carefully take his hand, stopping him from going further. You're careful not to scratch him with your claws. “They will eat you.”

“Who's they?” As he looks towards the trees, he sees a dozen or so glowing eyes blinking at him. “Fuckin' hell.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” You mumble back.

Hobie side glances at you, lips curling into an unsure smile. “I'll think of something else to do then.” He walks back with you following close by. “For now at least.” Mumbling, he stretches his aching body from the prolonged idleness.

“Morning, they sleep.”

“It's safe in the mornin’?” You nod, a bit unsure but a nod nonetheless. “Alright,” he sighs, stomach grumbling. “Do you have food?”

“Only human.”

Hobie swears under his breath, not completely understanding whether you only have human food for him, or that the only food available is actually human. He has a long night ahead of him.

—

You have grown accustomed to the situation at hand. There's no rest for the wicked now that Hobie is in siren territory. You keep a close eye on them as they watch you with their glowing eyes at night, their appetite is insatiable even though they had their fill a few days ago because of the recent sea battle. Hobie's well enough to craft weapons for the two of you, so he made a spear that he whittled down, and a small dagger that he sharpened just for you. Your claws are the best weapons for you, but you still took it gladly. He made it especially for you so of course you'll keep it. No one has made you anything before, and you cherish it together with the trinkets you've collected over the years.

Days go by, more and more sirens leave you and Hobie alone in your tiny corner in the island as they've given up on hunting him down. You've proved how strong you are over the years of living alone. He's much better now that the wound you've relentlessly tended to has healed in record time. He keeps thanking you for it, but you can sense the melancholy in his eyes everytime he looks towards the sea. There's no sign of his crew coming to rescue him. You feel for him and his longing.

You and Hobie have some sort of schedule now, he picks fruits in the morning, then he teaches you human language in the afternoon after he gathers materials for the raft he's making. You've gotta hand it to the captain, he's quite good at surviving. You guess that he has done this before. And sure enough, when you asked him about it, he told you of a story that he was once stranded on an island, only surviving on fruits and crates of chocolate that had washed up on the shore. You wonder what that tastes like.

You're slowly liking the peace he brings to the island, there's no more petty squabbling between you and the rest of the sirens now that they've fully left the two of you. He's not liking the fruit and nut diet the island has an abundance for him though. Because of the lack of fish and birds that pass through the island, out of fear for the nature of the creatures that live there, other species avoid the place. He has to opt for a less filling meal everyday, it doesn't help much with energy as he needs it in building the raft. But he strives through it, chatting with you as if he's not trying to survive day by day. He even introduced you to fire and the warmth that it brings, not just the destruction you've seen it do.

You're carnivorous in nature, so one day, out of curiosity whilst he boils sea water to drink and roasting tree nuts over the fire, you asked if you could have one of the fruits he's holding onto.

“You can eat?” You point at the brown hairy fruit.

“Yes,” Hobie chuckles as you scooch over to him. Knee to knee as the campfire cackles through the night. The flames make the iridescent scales on your arms and legs sparkle. “It’s called coconut, and it's sweet.”

“No poison?” With the pad of your finger, you curiously touch the white part of it.

“No poison—” he starts to give it to you, only to realize something that might be crucial. “—Actually, it might be for you.” He moves the coconut away from you, worry etched in between his brows.

“Oh.” Your shoulders deflate.

“Sorry, I jus’ don't want my saviour dyin’ from a coconut.”

“I won't die, I'm strong like you.” You proudly say as you poke his chest.

Hobie smiles, the golden flames illuminating his handsome features. “I know you are, pretty. But you're afraid of it bein’ poison and there's probably a good reason for that.”

“Why?” You tilt your head, wide eyes blinking at him.

He can't help but think you're adorable, despite the sharp teeth and nails. “Species usually have a natural fear instinct of things that could kill ‘em.” Chuckling, he shakes his head. “What am I talkin' ‘bout? My mate Ned can explain it better for you, lovie.”

“Are you…” He waits patiently for you to continue. You're still getting used to human speech, but Hobie quickly found out that you're a quick learner. “...afraid of me?” You ask in a small voice, a stark contrast to how you sing your deadly song.

Hobie shakes his head with a gentle smile, palm patting your forearm briefly. “I used to, not anymore.” You've proven your friendliness to him more than once, he knows you're good too.

You feel like the boulder stuck in your throat is gone just from his reassurance. “Thank you, Hobie.” His smile grows wider at how much you've improved with your Language in such a short time. You clear your throat, waking up from a haze when you stared too long at his eyes. “Is Ned a friend?”

“Yeah, you'd love him. He's smart just like you.” Hobie looks into the fire sadly.

“Can you… tell me? About your friends?”

“You want to get to know the crew?” He stares at you fondly, the same look he had towards his crew back then. You nod with a smile, you're all ears. “Alright then.”

He tells you stories of life out in the sea and on land. The places he has been, the people he met and lost. And of course stories about his crew members and how they fought well, what their jobs are on the ship and what they dream of. With each word he utters about them, his face blooms into a more joyous one. But your own smile fades as the realization that he would leave your little island one day— And you in turn. Your heart aches at the thought you'll be left alone again.

Sometimes you wish that you don't understand humans as well as you do for this to hurt less.

—

Days fly by, turning into weeks as you two fall into a rhythm on the island. Each day that passes, Hobie's inevitable departure gets closer and closer, and you're already dreading the day he'll row away from you and the life he built there on the island. Your speech has gotten a lot better than before thanks to Hobie's teaching. In between the busy days and quiet nights, the two of you make time to just be yourselves. No lessons, no building the raft, just laughing at nonsense that Hobie has told you, or telling him stories of your time under the sea. The things you've seen in the depths always have him on the edge of his seat.

He even surprised you one day with a tiny display shelf to place all your collected knick knacks in. The way you jumped up to embrace him almost had him falling down into the waters. And in turn, you made him a necklace made from beads and seashells you've found, he never takes it off since then.

The two of you found affection for the other. A friendship that transcends despite the differences.

Morning comes once again, and the waves come to visit the little island you call home. You feel energized, finally having slept well without waking up in the middle of the night. After taking care of the unconscious captain, and fighting fellow sirens, this was the first time you've actually slept through the night. You're used to waking up to the moon, but with Hobie being with you in your cave, you've also taken to sleeping at night and waking up at the same hours as him. Sure you're missing out on sailors, but there's always scraps left for you in the morning with it floating in the water, small scraps, but food nonetheless. Yet, you're still starving.

Cracking one eye open, you see the empty spot next to you. Jumping out of bed, you worry that Hobie got eaten in the middle of the night, the feeling subsides when you see him weave ropes on the sandy beach.

“Mornin’ pretty.”

“Morning.” Your voice cracks with sleep. “Have you eaten?”

“I have,” he smiles, gesturing at the pile of coconuts he left on the half finished raft. “I didn't see you hunt yesterday. You okay?”

You shake your head without hiding your true feelings. “Starving.”

Hobie can practically feel your weakening form tremble from where he sat. “I can try again with the fish—”

Stepping closer, your irises have grown into slits, teeth bared in front of him. “There's no fish, Hobie.”

Nodding, his breath gets stuck in his throat as you get closer and closer to him. His natural instincts tell him to run. “I think I saw a bird fly over an hour ago, maybe I can—”

Your sudden sobs stun him in place. Cries echoing around the island as you hide your tearful eyes away from him. All your worries collapse on you, add the fact that you haven't eaten in days is a recipe for disaster.

“Shit—” he slowly steps closer, trepidation in each footstep upon the sand. “I don't know, love, maybe I can set up a trap in the water.” With an arm reaching towards you, you quickly step back in a hurry.

“Don't!” You yell, sniffing and wiping away at your tears. “I might eat you.”

Hobie chuckles, tensed shoulders relaxing and trying to reassure you with a single smile. It doesn't work when you frown deeper. “Right,” he walks closer to you, but you walk backwards and into the side of the cave. Now caged in as he cups each of your tear stained cheeks. “I know you won't eat me, love.” His thumb brushes along your tears, wiping it away as you look at him through your sticky lashes. “‘sides, you haven't eaten in days, if you wanted to eat me you would've done it days ago.” Smiling, he tilts his head. “Seriously, I think you don't find me appetisin’”

You sniff, eyes downturned only for him to duck to meet with your eyes. “I'm sorry for crying, I'm just hungry.” Gently laying your head against his clavicle, he chuckles and welcomes your warmth with open arms. “I'm sorry for eating people too.”

“Don’t be, they probably deserved it.” He pats your back while the other cradles the back of your head. “You can have a nibble on my arm—”

You smack his chest lovingly, giggling against his skin. “No.”

“You sure?” Hobie laughs atop your head. “Maybe I can make some sort of sauce to pair with me.”

Chuckling, you embrace him tighter. You don't know when you'll be able to hug him again so you take your time in squeezing him. “I'll survive, don't worry.”

He hums, getting a whiff of sea salt as he presses his nose on your hair. “I don't doubt that, love.”

Eyes closed, you remember the fruits and nuts on the island, maybe if you try it, it might satiate your hunger. You know your kind’s diet didn't always consist of human flesh, but that was before your time. So maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't hurt to give it a nibble.

When he went out to gather more wood for the makeshift raft, you grab a handful of nuts and a coconut from his stash. You sit cross legged inside the cave, heart thudding in your chest. Eyeing your herbs that you placed right next to you just in case you start bleeding out of your eyes, you take a deep inhale and immediately carve out a part with your nail and take a bite out of the fleshy part of the coconut.

Chewing, you let the sweetness spread on your tongue. You don't feel any different than before, no tingling sensation or blood dripping from every orifice. So you swallow down and wait for a minute.

Sitting there frozen, you feel fine. With a bout of loud laughter, you start eating the rest of Hobie's food, waiting a few seconds in between to test if it has any effects on you. The next thing you know, you've eaten your fill. Coconut juice is left on your lips and hands, the shell from the nuts are spread all over the floor of the cave and your burp echoes inside the place. Chuckling, you hear the sound of clattering wood right in the entrance of the cave.

“What—!?” Hobie quickly makes his way towards you, panic settling in his bones as he opens your mouth with his fingers. “Did you eat it? Love, you need to vomit it out!” He's considering shoving his hand in your mouth.

Your garbled words have him thinking that you're choking. “Fuck no!” His fear gets to him as he hugs you from behind and squeezes you in quick succession. He doesn't know siren anatomy, but maybe it's not so different with his own. So with determination, he tries to dislodge whatever you’ve eaten. “Shit– fuck!”

“I'm alright!” You let out instead of the food he was trying to squeeze out of you. Twisting around, you pat his cheek, giggling with amusement. “See?” Spreading your arms, you show off your still-alive self.

He heaves, palm placed atop his heart. “You're fine?”

Nodding happily, he finally lets out a sigh of relief. He feels like he's the one who's about to collapse. You guess you can stop eating human flesh now, maybe you should tell the others about your findings.

Hobie lays his forehead on your shoulder, hands placed on your hips as he levels his breathing. You pat his back, cradling him and letting out a laugh with every sigh he lets out.

“There there, captain.” You teasingly say. He could only groan in reply.

—

The day has come for him to leave. It's earlier than you thought it would be, you hoped that he could stay for a week or two more, but with the sight of a ship with the familiar red sail floating a few miles away, it has Hobie preparing for the short trip.

You help him with the final preparations, tying the last rope around the wooden planks, and securing the bundle of coconuts on the raft. Your heart weighs heavy, but you can't keep him away from where he's supposed to be.

The sun shines brightly above, but you don't feel its warmth against your skin.

Holding the dagger he gave you atop your chest, you watch him push the raft from the beach closer to the shore. Your lips wobble as he grins wider at the ship from afar.

“They're waitin’ for me, I knew it.” He turns towards you, and you hide your sorrow with a forced smile. “Love.”

“Keep safe, captain.” You manage to say without a broken sob. “Stay away from here, you might not be…” you inhale shakily, “...so lucky next time.”

“Come away with me.”

His hand reaches towards you as the waves lap on the beach. You stare at his stretched hand, tracing the scars along it with your tearful eyes. He whispers your name softly, beckoning you closer.

You hug the dagger closer to your chest. “They’ll hurt me.” His hand grasps gently at your chin, raising your face to meet with his eyes. “Just like how I've hurt people.”

“You told me you saved ‘em. And you saved me.” He shakes his head, eyes softly looking into your own. “I won't let them hurt you, I won't let anyone hurt you.”

“I'm different, Hobie. Not human enough.”

“You're human enough for me, love.” Leaning closer, he nudges his forehead against yours briefly. “Come away with me, let me show you the world.”

Your eyes close as he moves closer, lips brushing nervously atop your own until you make a move. His lips taste of fruits, sweet and gentle on your own lips. You're careful of the sharpness of your teeth, but he doesn't mind as he kisses you like it's the last time he'll ever taste you. It might as well be if you decide to stay. It'll break his heart, but if that's what you want, he'll give it to you. If you want the world, he'll put it on a silver platter just for you.

You've captivated him without your siren song, but he's more than ready to dive into the depths if you so will it.

Leaning away, you open your eyes to his shining ones. “Will you have me as I am?”

Hobie grins and kisses each of your cheeks until you're smiling. He nods, “with everythin’ I have.”

With one final look at your home where your collections of human things lay, you leave it all for the pirate you have in your arms. Hopefully you'll see more in your adventures.

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| viii. eight | soulless dreams

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: mentions of self-harm. slightly obsessive behavior. nudity. slightly suggestive but nothing crazy.

↳ ❝ you knew that if you could dream you would dream of Hobie ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

It is said that sirens do not dream. That, to dream, one must have a soul. It is said that sirens eat the souls of people so that maybe – just maybe – they could steal their dreams for themselves and know what it means to truly be human.

You’ve never had a dream in your life and you always wondered if it meant you didn't have a soul. You tried to feel it, your soul, or the lack of it. You wondered if the emptiness you felt within the cage of your chest was where your soul was meant to rest. You wanted to cut yourself open, wanted to search for it between your organs that always seemed to slosh around uncomfortably. Would you find it nestled between your heart and your lungs? Or would you find the cavity where some higher power meant to place one.

For many years, you wandered the endless seas in search for your soul under every rock and within every human trinket. And by fate, you had been harpooned through the shoulder by a royal navy ship and brought abord. You were shoved into a cage and days later, you were rescued by the most beautiful human you had ever placed your eyes upon. You knew it the moment you saw him that you had found your soul. 

That empty space in your chest had all at once been filled with admiration and a devout dedication to this pirate. You owed him your life and you were more than willing to give it to him even if he didn't seem to like you much.

But you knew that if you could dream you would dream of Hobie. 

You awoke curled up in the sand, your body unfurling from its fetal position to stretch your limbs. You blinked once, twice, the fluttering of your long lashes casting the sand from your eyes. A great yawn erupted from you as you sat up and looked around. Most were still sleeping in their drunken stupor, others were groaning and grumbling about the “damned sun in their eyes”. But among all of them, Hobie was nowhere to be found.

You got up and stood to your feet. You figured you’d go for a quick swim before the ship departed for sea again. You haven't had the chance to swim often these days, being injured. But Hobie and his crew had been taking great care of you and your shoulder was healing up nicely. You tried not to think about it, how once you were healed you’d be made to leave. How could you leave? Leave him? Leave all the friends you’ve made.

You walked into the sea that welcomed you with open arms and warm waters. The only mother you have ever known. She had birthed you, from seafoam and salty mist, and adorned you with pearls and made you beautiful. She made you empty, made you incomplete, but she made you beautiful.

You swim briskly, with your head still above the water in search of your beloved you weren't quite sure felt just the same. Your eyes scanned the beaches and it wasn't long before you found him in the secluded cover you had been in the night before lamenting over what he had done to you.

Hobie was standing in the water, bare of any clothes which he had left on a rock on shore. He had covered himself in oils made from fruits and flowers of the island, smelling of sweet peaches and lovely hibiscus. He stood with his back turned to you, the subtle curve of his spine leading up to broad shoulders. He turned but he didn't see you. He was lean, slender but built.

He could have easily been a siren himself with his unshakable beauty. He could seduce just as well as one. With his eyes and his lips and his lovely adornments.

You felt your face flush with blood at the thought of swimming over and touching him, helping him rub oil into his back, over his chest. The scars in his skin from being stabbed, shot – a long, hard life. You wanted to kiss them, his scars, heal them with your adoration, like using gold to fix a broken pot and make it hold again.

You watched him, you head just barely above water. In a daze, you hadn't noticed Hobie had turned in your direction. He noticed your head peeking over the water, milky eyes staring, daydreaming of a world where you had the confidence, the voice, to ask to help him bathe, to worship him.

Hobie chuckled softly, snapping you out of your lovesick daze. “Ya wanna get ma back fo’ me, pearl?” He meant it as a joke but as you poked your head up further and began approaching closer, Hobie choked and backed away. “‘M jus’ jokin’, luv.”

Flustered and embarrassed by your own eagerness to be near him even in his most vulnerable state, you tucked away under the water and swam away in your humiliation holding your cheeks that burned.

Hobie didn't hold it against you. He laughed about it on the ship as they sailed away on the island and gently chuckled with you as if you were any other member of the crew. You moved your head to look at him, your cheeks heating with the rush of blood to your face. Even the fins of your ears were tinted pink.

Hobie was kinder to you than he was before, in the beginning of your strained relationship. Everyone spoke of how Hobie was starting to return to his usual, carefree self. Yes, he was kinder but he was still an ever elusive character in your lonely life, never fully letting you get too close, always maintaining distance, never letting the two of you touch.

You sat on deck with your oranges, watching the sun set slowly over the horizon. Hobie was ordering people around, preparing them for their first night back at sea and you watched in admiration. He was cast in golden light, his necklaces and rings glinting under the fading sun. You sank your teeth into an orange and hoped that maybe he’d look at you, come sit with you, talk to you.

Instead, Gwen came and blocked your view of him. “Hey, you mind if I sit with you?” She looked down at you, smiling with a lopsided grin.

You liked Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr. They all treated you kindly, accepted you as one of them without a hitch, more than the others. They were young. They knew little of beasts and monsters. All they knew, in their innocent youth, was of sweet kindness. You adored them. They were your friends, whatever that may mean to you.

You glanced around at Hobie who caught your gaze from just a moment, looking at you with something softer than before. But a crew member distracted him and he turned away from you. You could hear him murmured under his breath, but could not discern what it might have been. You nodded and shuffled to the side to make space with her on the stairs leading up to the forecastle.

The two of you sat in silence for a long while. You are your oranges, licking your sticky lips, watching Hobie while you did so. Gwen fidgeted beside you with fingers twirling her half-shaved head and shifting eyes. She looked as if she meant to ask you something but didn't know how, didn't know if she even should.

It took her many more minutes to say anything, working up the courage to ask what was on her mind. She came out with it in a quick babble. “Do you like Hobie?” She was sure to be quiet so as to not capture the attention of anyone around you, especially not Hobie himself. “I mean…the way me and Miles like each other.” She added on to differentiate platonic “like” from romantic “like”.

You slowly ate the rest of your orange and swallowed it with an obvious bulge in your throat. You nodded slowly and turned your face away, your cheeks hot and stinging, maybe from the sugar of the orange, maybe from the thought of Hobie being close to you. ‘Me no think he like me.’ You signed.

“I don't think that's quite true.” Gwen saw the way he interacted with you, the way he reeled from your touch not from disgust or hatred but from fear. Fear you might find out what he hides beneath that shell of his, fear that you might peel away his skin and find his soul already displayed for your taking, fear that he may already be willing to give it to you if you so asked.

“He's different now.” More accepting of his circumstances. He did not fight his life like it was not his own as much. “I think he likes you. He just isn't sure he knows it, I think.” Gwen looked at Hobie who stood talking to Miles, offering firm pats on the shoulder. He always took a liking to Miles, saw a lot of himself in the young boy.

“I'm not sure how it would work between a human and a siren but Hobie’s never been one to follow the rules, I guess.” She shrugged. You looked human enough, beautifully inhuman but your anatomy was close. You could kiss, you could hold, you could love. “I think it could work. Doesn't hurt to try.”

You listened to her words carefully and nipped at your bottom lip with your fanged teeth. Your eyes lingered on Hobie, still, your fingers tingled with the desire to touch and caress. Your innocent love for him, so tender. You wanted to hold him. You wanted him to find his soul within you too. You wanted him to dream of you.

You could not perform siren mating rituals even if you wanted to. For sirens, singing was the source of everything and to attract a mate, sirens would sing their most beautiful songs to each other. You were born wrong, your throat slit in the womb of the sea, cursing you to a life forever alone.

You lowered your gaze with disappointment and touched carefully at your hair to soothe yourself. You tried not to think of your brokenness, your soullessness. The sea had made you incomplete. You were meant to be human. You were meant to dream. You were meant to have a soul.

The next night, you sat outside of Hobie's cabin, waiting for him to retire for the night. In your hands, you held a small gift for him, fiddling with them to make them look presentable in your palms.

“Pearl.” Hobie had known you would return to his door at night the moment he apologized to you and for the first time, he didn't mind it. He saw that you held something in your hands, close to your chest, and knelt down beside you. “Whatcha go’ there?”

You pouted softly, shy to show him what you had so meticulously collected for him. Slowly, you opened your hand to him and showed him a few black pearls you had meticulously and delicately taken from a few clams while you were swimming beneath the boat. You were sure to only choose the most perfect ones for him and to thank the clams for their pearls.

Hobie took them carefully from your soft palms. “They’re beautiful, pearly.” He murmured softly, examining them for any flaw. There were none, not even a warp in the surface.

‘For you.’

“For me?” Hobie sat down beside you with the pearls in his palms. His eyes were soft, his calloused hands were softer. You looked at him and imagined a world where you’d have the courage to place your hand upon his cheek and him do the same to you. “Yer quite sweet, pearl. Thank ya.”

Hobie took your hand and gently placed his lips up on the ridge of your knuckles. It was the most intimate he’s ever been with you. The first time he's ever voluntarily touched you in ages. You felt your heart soar, beating against the cage of your chest so hard you thought it might tear through. You face was hot, you felt lightheaded. You smiled.

That night, when he left you — this time, offering you pillows and a blanket — you fell into a slumber full of fanciful dreams of Hobie and you, dancing together under the moonlight.

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱: @lovelyygirl8 @humungus-mythology-geek @shutingstar @pixieofthesun @hobiesbf @gayaristocrat

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| iii. three | pearl

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: blood, crying, kissing

↳ ❝ and how you glowed, like a pearl ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

The silence was eerie.

The silver waves that washed up on shore and lapped at his feet made no sound. Cicadas did not buzz ceaselessly in the trees and the grasshoppers did not sing their mating sounds to each other. There was nothing at all but the full moonlight and the glittering stars that seemed to wane and falter almost as if they struggled to mark their existence.

It was as if the world had stopped and all that could be said for it was the cool breeze that carried the saltiness of the ocean and the water crashing on the rocks.

Hobie stood there, swaying with the waves. In and out. It was easy to get caught up in it all if you didn't possess the knowledge to understand that the sea was dangerous and her children were not forgiving. He closed his eyes, felt the grains of sand beneath his feet, between his toes, and the cool water rush over his ankles like wind carried children home.

And then he heard her. How easy it was to know home when you hear it. The sweet lullaby his mother would hum to Hobie to lull him to sleep. It echoed in his ears–in the space around him as well, like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It sounded just like her, like when she held him in her arms and rocked him back and forth, humming in his ears like a songbird sings to her young.

“Mama?” He could almost see her silhouette in the distance, sitting on a rock. Her hands reached out and motioned him towards her and like a string at his hand, she tugged and he came. One foot after the other into the water. “Mama, ‘m comin’.”

He knew that wasn't his mother, deep down, he knew. But how could he care when what could be waited for him with open arms and sounded like home?

Hobie waded through the water, murmuring, “Mama…Mama….Mama. Come home…lemme come home.” It rose to his waist, then his chest, then his neck. The water was frigid and seized him like the cold hands of death wrapping around his throat. But no matter how much he wanted to stop, he could not. Hobie walked until his feet were no longer on the ocean floor and he was simply floating in open water.

He was drowning, but it didn't feel like it. He did not thrash or fight his fate. It was easier to accept it and just float.

But he turned in the water and saw you beside him, floating with him. You looked at him with those pearl eyes, your seaweed and decorations floating about in the space around you. The moonlight found you beneath the water and something about you looked phantom-like.

Hobie was not scared or unsettled as he usually was. He stared into your eyes and saw comfort and warmth in the cold. You reached out and touched his face. Your palm cradled his cheek and he did not flinch from your touch. He felt…seen. As if a creature like you could know how pain moved through the body.

You moved closer to him and he did not back away. His eyes somehow watered and glazed and he wept with uncontrollable tears of sorrow. You stared at him and somehow displayed empathy. You wrapped your arms around him and embraced him, and he let you.

You pulled away just enough to look him eye to eye and you leaned, slowly yet with confidence. His mother's humming faded away into void, muffled mumbling. Your skin under his fingertips, your hand on his face again, your eyes fluttering closed and his doing the same. 

Your lips touched his.

Hobie’s eyes shot open. He blinked once, twice, chest rising and falling with the rocking of the boat, then carefully began to look around.

It was still dark but it was clear that the sun would be showing its face over the horizon soon. The sky wasn't as dark, she was already beginning to start her path across the sky. Soon her rays would spam across the sky and wake his crew from their barracks.

Hobie remembered you. How could he possibly forget about you after the dream he just had? He was puzzled more than anything but one thing remained consistent, you needed to get off of his ship and get out of his life for good. You’d find your way out of his dreams soon after.

You kissed him. What would possess him to dream about the likes of you kissing him? You were already infecting him with your seduction.

It was just early enough in the morning that he was sure no one would be awake yet. It was the only time he would have to swiftly show you your way off of the Mary Jane and far away from him. He couldn't afford to have another dream about you, apply meanings to them where there weren't any.

But your lips felt so soft against his. He could almost feel the phantom weight of them on his lips, his neck, his chest. He felt so dizzy.

Hobie scuffled out of his bed and dug into his eyes with the heels of his palms as he stumbled about his cabin to search for his boots. He found them when he sleepily tripped over them. His face was hot, mind all hazy from his dream. He was flustered of all things and it perplexed him to no end. Hobie shook his head and shoved on his boots with an eagerness to be rid of you.

He left without his dagger in his haste, running his hand down his face as if to wipe away the sleepiness while he made his way through the hull. He was good at remaining quiet, his tall, slim figure slinked in the dark, tiny spaces that lead to where he had left you. He made little to no sound amongst the shadows, his hands palming at the walls he knew well to guide himself down into the hull expertly avoiding the few stray nails that stuck out of the walls.

Hobie expected to find you exactly where he left you, hidden behind a few barrels, sleeping soundly beneath a sack. But when he dragged the barrels out of the way, his heart sank to his stomach and boiled in his stomach acid. You were gone. Fuck– you had to be somewhere. Maybe you had left on your own fruition and saved him the effort. But that was wishful thinking.

Hobie took his time to go through each part of the ship in search of you. He looked in each dark corner, under each sack, between barrels of food and ale. And when he didn't find you anywhere below deck, he made his way to the hatch that led to the upper deck. He prayed to a God he didn't believe in that you had simply left. It would be easier that way. He’d never have to spend another second thinking of you again.

Hobie opened the hatch and poked his head through it, his keen eyes eagerly searching for your figure. It was easy to spot you on the forecastle at the stern, your shimmering patches of scales and glistening pearls hanging off your body like teardrops and sorrows. You were leaning against the railing, your hands supporting your head as you looked out at the horizon as if waiting for the sun to rise.

He only saw your backside. The curve of your spine. Your body draped in just enough seaweed to keep you modest. Your hips, your shoulders. Every piece of you designed to lure.

Hobie climbed out onto the deck and let the hatch close just loud enough for your finned ears to hear. You jumped, something of a squeaking yelp left you and your head shot to him. Your chest heaved, eyes wide and startled, you placed your hand on your chest, webbed fingers splayed open as you clutched yourself.

For some reason you calmed up on seeing him. As if you knew for certain he was no threat to you. Hobie could not say the same about you.

You took a step towards him and he reached to his side for his dagger. He felt nothing. He had forgotten it in his cabin and there was no use in going back to get it. So he straightened up, adjusting the sleeves of his billowy blouse and took a step back to maintain distance. “Don't come any closer.”

Your soft eyes framed by long lashes, fluttered. Your lips pouted. Your bandage was still firmly wrapped around your shoulder but was slowly bleeding through the cloth. You drew closer still, your bare feet padding against the wood of the deck. You almost looked like an apparition, floating, your pearls and scales shining as if you were transparent.

You stopped toe to toe with him and tilted your head slightly to the side as you gaze up at him. You’re close. Too close. Hobie felt his face flush with blood. Your lips looked more supple than before. “Ya need t’ leave now.” He murmured in a slight daze. “I helped ya ‘nough. Ya can' stay.”

Your eyes suddenly shifted from blank and ditzy to all at once pleading. You pointed to your shoulder bleeding through the bandages and with a single hand reached out to touch him. Hobie was quick to step out of your reach. “Don' touch me. I‘ve done ‘nough.”

He could not let you stay. He liked his life simple–raids, drinking, smoking, more raids–and you were anything but. You would bring unneeded drama into his life. He would not let you stay, not after the dream he had. You were an enigma. You terrified him. And it seemed so ridiculous to say so. Someone as delicate as you, dangerous? Laughable.

Your brows furrowed, your lips pursed. You lowered your head and looked at your feet. Hobie almost felt bad. Suddenly he felt like the bad guy. Where would you go? The thought never concerned you before but now, you looked so vulnerable. You were a siren with no voice, you were injured.

You turned and looked out at the horizon again. The sun was beginning to peek out over the water, red like blood. You were suddenly shining gold. Your glassy eyes spilled soft tears of liquid jewels. When you looked back to Hobie, you seized his hand, letting him flinch at your cool touch.

He let you lead him towards the edge of the board, mesmerized by the beauty of it all. You could have pushed him over the side of the boat for all he knew. But you did not. You let him go and leaned against the railing, looking down at the water that seemed just as dark and gloomy as it had the night before.

He suddenly found it odd that you just happened to be in the water when you were. Hobie figured you were following him for days on end before he spotted you in the water the night before.

“Ya ‘ave nowhere t' go, do ya?”

You shook your head slowly, tracing circles with your nails into the railing. You looked almost ashamed to admit it.

How was Hobie supposed to shoo you away now? How was he meant to show such cruelty? His hands gripped the railing, turning his head away from you in hopes to keep his sanity. He could feel you looking at him, hoping that maybe he would let you stay.

What would the others say? What would they tell him to do? In many ways they were his consciousness. They never steered him wrong. They’d tell him to let you stay. They'd tell him that you were no different from the rest of them. You were in need of help, a place to stay, some medical attention. And he was in the position to give it.

“Fine.” He almost gritted out as if it physically pained him. “Ya can stay, only ‘til ya heal. Then ya gotta go.” He was firm in his resolution. He couldn't have you sticking around long enough to cement yourself into a permanent position on his ship. He didn't trust you as far as he could throw you.

You wipe your tears slowly and look back up at him. His skin was gold under the sunlight, slender and regal yet rough around the edges. His eyes – one blue, one brown – looked at you with mistrust. He looked almost like one of the gold coins you’d find on the ocean floor and tuck away with you. Like precious metal, like all the human things that fascinate you.

“Ya gotta name then, luv?” The low baritone of his voice almost made you smile. He was acquiescent in his tone but the nickname he attached to the question was nothing more than his pirate mannerisms. He hadn't meant to let it slip.

You shrugged. He took that as a no. “Fine, then. You’ll be…” He looked at you, your eyes, your scales, your pearls. It came to him immediately, like a divine revelation. It just clicked into place as if it was always meant to be. “Yer gonna be ‘pearl’. Ya understan’?”

You were quick to nod with swift enthusiasm, your lips curling into a smile. Pearl. You liked the sound of it. You never had a name before. Not a real one. Just “monster” or “beast” and you never thought them fitting.

Hobie sighed and ran his hand down his face once more, this time with stress. “How ‘n the bloody hell am I gonna explain ya t’ the crew?” And when he looked at you, you stood there with that daft little smile.

And how you glowed, like a pearl.

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| ii. two| rough voice, gentle hands

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: smoking, blood, fire, mentions of nightmares, crying, treating wounds

↳ ❝ the battle of wanting to be a good person and the fire of revenge ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

Hobie felt as though he was suffocating. Sweat clung to him like a second skin against his flesh. Sleep eluded him every time he so desperately reached for it. The sway of the ship did not comfort him as it usually did. It did not lull him to sleep like being held in his mothers tender arms and rocked slowly into slumber. It did not hum in his ear the tune of his childhood and offer the respite of home.

He stared out of the window beside his bed. The moon was full and partly hidden behind pale clouds. It shone so softly on the calm waters and made it sparkle like silver under the light. His fingers traced imaginary shapes on his tummy to soothe the turbulent thoughts plaguing him. Closing his eyes was not an option. Closing his eyes meant being haunted by the sight of two pearls, white and glassy and dead. He wasn’t sure who they belonged to. You or his mother.

Anxiety ate away at Hobie. It carved pieces of his soul, whittled away at the contours of his being with the intent to leave nothing behind. He trembled as if he were cold but the thin film of sweat layering his body said otherwise. Nights like these were not uncommon. If he wasn’t having a nightmare about his mother, he couldn’t sleep at all. He wasn’t sure which he preferred, if any.

Hobie sat up and sat off of the side of his bed, running his hands down his face with a heavy sigh. He thought of you, of your weeping frame in that cage looking up at him with those haunting eyes. He thought of the way you looked at him, the way you lingered, the way you looked so much like his mother in a way— helpless.

Hobie gripped his sheets and looked out the window once more. It was stifling in his cabin. The air was thick and hot with humidity. He needed fresh air and maybe a cigar to soothe his nerves enough to find some peace in sleep. Ale would be nice, drink himself to sleep so even if he did have a nightmare he wouldn’t remember it. But everyone was asleep below deck and he didn’t want to stumble about in the dark, risking an angry, sleepy crew member cursing at him.

He got up and grabbed a lanturn. He took his time lighting it and placed it carefully on his desk. It cast just enough light to let Hobie look through his desk for a stray cigar he had in one of the drawers. Once he found it, he took the lantern and his cigar and grabbed the dagger he never went without before he left his cabin.

The deck was eerily silent. Every creak of the wood under his boots made him wince. The air was cool, the wind was salty, and the moon shone so brightly that the lantern was mostly unneeded. The Mary Jane swayed softly with the calm water that kissed and caressed her sides and kept everyone in her hull fast asleep except for her captain who made his way towards the side of the ship.

Hobie placed the lantern down on the ledge and took out his cigar. He leaned against the side of the ship, placing the end of the cigar in the small flame encased inside the lantern to light it before taking it between his full lips. He took a drag with the wind, embers burning away at the end. And as the smoke passed between his lips, he let go of the tightness in his shoulders and the knot in his stomach. The smoke was musky and rich and eased Hobie's nerves more than the comfort of any human other than his mother.

His mother, you, his mother, you. He couldn't close his eyes. Eyes, white eyes, pearls hanging off your hips, his mother's corpse, the tremble of your lips, the decaying of her jaw, half her skull exposed.

His fingers gripped the edge of the ship, lip curling. Hobie took another long drag of his cigar and held it in a tight grip between his lips. He shook his head and rubbed his face. Burying his face in the palms of his hands, he groaned loudly with frustration. This was a torture Hobie wished on no one.

Hobie sat there with his face in his hands for a long while, occasionally bringing his cigar to his lips to smoke from it. His head ached, his chest tightened, and he longed for a home that no longer belonged to him.

There was a splash in the water. Swiftly, Hobie took his hands from his face and looked over the side of the ship down into the dark waters below. It must have been a fish, nothing more. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars behind his lids and then white. Shakily, he took another drag from his cigar and let the smoke tumble from trembling lips.

Another splash. Hobie opened his eyes again and almost dropped his cigar into the water when he saw a head peeking up through the darkness just enough to reveal completely white eyes staring blankly at him.

It was you. Even in the darkness, he knew for certain it was you lurking in the waters, staring at him now with the same eyes that kept him from sleeping. He couldn't quite believe it was you and for a moment thought he was dreaming. This must have all been some elaborate scheme conjured up by his mind, set out to ruin his life and drive him into insanity.

He rubbed his eyes again, pinched his arm, and you were still there. You looked at him with an almost child-like wonder, your head breaching the water a little more to reveal the rest of your face. Water rolled down your cheeks like the tears had before, shimmering under the moonlight like little droplets of pearls.

Hobie looked towards the door that led below deck. It was still quiet. He almost wanted to retrieve Gwen to ensure his mind wasn't making fantasies, to ensure he wasn't dwindling into madness.

He looked back to you, his lip curling with distaste. “Wha’cha doin’ here?” 

You stared at him, your head tilted subtly to the side as you waded closer to the ship. Hobie sneered at you. “Are ya daft or sometin'? I let’cha go free. Get outta here.” He waved you off, attempted to shoo you away like one swats away a pest but you remained, moving ever closer to the ship.

You placed a clawed hand against the hull of the ship. Hobie watched in horror as you used your claws to grapple into the wood and climb your way up the side of the ship.

Hobie stumbled back, his hand retrieving his dagger as you climbed onto the ship and placed your feet aboard his deck. You glanced at his knife and trembled, whimpering softly.

Hobie had almost forgotten how ethereal you looked. Memory did your beauty no service. You were something handcrafted, something so meticulously designed it almost made him believe in a higher power. But he couldn’t let your deadly looks make him lose sight of what you really were. A danger.

“What do ya wan’?” He bared his teeth at you, fingers white-kuckling his dagger. His eyes were sharp with caution, shooting up and down your decorated body covered in pearls, seaweed, and shells. Your patches of scales almost twinkled with iridescent light. How could something so gorgeous be capable of such mass destruction and devastation? Nature was a cruel mistress.

“I let ya go. I coulda killed ya but I didn'. Ya gotta death wish or sometin’?”

You were clutching your shoulder; the one that had been injured before. You were shivering, looking so soft and vulnerable. It was clear you needed help. You had only wrapped up your shoulder with seaweed but it was bleeding through with the strenuous task you had just done.

You fell to your knees before him and looked up at him. You were tired and in pain. It would be easy to kill you now and be done with it. No one would know of his sin. You would plague him no longer. He would sleep well at night knowing you would never destroy anyone with your beauty again.

But how could he harm such a defenseless thing? If you wanted to kill him and his crew there were easier ways to do it. No– you were asking for help from him of all people. Maybe you figured that because he had helped you before he’d help you now when you needed it most.

Hobie should kill you. He knows he should. Your kind takes entire ships down indiscriminately, lure innocent people into the ocean to never be seen again or to wash up on shore days later with bleeding ears and whitened eyes. He had every reason in the world to kill you and let you rot out at sea like your victims.

But a softer part of him, the part who took in strays and gave them a home, asked him, ‘Is this who you really are? Killing someone that's so clearly asking for your help? Is that who you want to be?’ The battle of wanting to be a good person and the fire of revenge.

This was not right. Killing those in need of help would make him no better than the sirens he despised so much, no better than you and your kind. Hobie’s lip curled into a scowl. He would help you but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He’d be better than you, better than the whole lot of you. 

Hobie took his dagger and shoved it away into his belt at his hips. He raised his hands as if to surrender to you and got down low to show that he was no threat. You watched him slowly approach and something in your eyes told him you were scared. “Look, ‘m no’ gonna hur’cha.” His voice came off a bit abrasive though he tried to be gentle. You whimpered at him as he placed a hand on your shoulder, your lips pulling back to bare your teeth at him.

He backed away a bit. “You wan’ my help or no’?” He bit back at you. “You can go back t’where ya belong if no’.” His eyes were sharp and his lips were pressed, holding back a sneering frown. He made it clear. He did not need to help you, didn’t even want to in some sense. If you didn’t want it, he wouldn’t go out of his way to convince you to accept his help.

Your gaze shifted, you looked away for a moment. You were considering it. Finally, you yielded and stood, allowing Hobie to come close enough to touch you. Your skin was cool to the touch, water droplets clung to you, rolling down the dips and valleys of your body, your decency just barely hidden by coverings of seaweed.

His fingers slid over your skin, over the scales and fins of your forearm. You shivered, trembled so subtly under his warm touch. Your extra appendages were sensitive, his fingertips just barely grazed your fin. You almost tore your arm from his hold, but Hobie took your hand, taking a quick look at your webbed fingers carefully grabbing it. He stood before you, tossing his cigar over the side of the boat and into the water. You looked at him but he never seemed to look at you straight on. He’d catch quick glimpses of your gaze before letting his snap away elsewhere.

“Stay quiet.” Hobie’s voice was firm. “Do ya understand?” He grabbed the lantern from the ledge and held it up between the two of you to get a look at your face. You were pretty. Soft and delicate looking. He always expected sirens to look more…severe, more sharp and lethal-looking. The light reflected off of your eyes and made them glow gold. You nodded wordlessly.

Hobie guided you by your hand and led you below deck into the hold separate from where the rest of the crew slept. The dim fire from the lantern served as your only light in the darkness. It only illuminated the first few steps before you before the darkness swiftly rushed back in, biting at your heels.

He took you to where the few medical supplies they had were stored and brought up crates where you could sit with the lantern while he got bandages and a bottle of whiskey. Hobie placed the lantern down beside the two of you, it’s dim light glowing just enough that he could see your glittering frame.

“How’d ya get this anyway?” He grumbled, reaching out with tender fingers to carefully unwrap the seaweed you had haphazardly tied around the wound. “Harpoon or sometin'?” You nodded slowly, fingers mindlessly twiddling with each other in your lap. Your eyes keenly watched him, traced the contours of his face. Hobie pretended like he didn't feel your gaze grazing his face.

Eyes flicking between your exposed wound—bloodied and irritated by the salt water—and your eyes, tracing the lines of his being with endless bounds of curiosity, he swallowed. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey. “Hold still. And don't bite.” Using his teeth, he popped open the cork of the bottle and poured the liquid inside over the wound.

You flinched away from him, fangs bared just for a moment at the sting. A low growl erupted from your chest somewhat instinctively.

“Growlin’ a’ me will get’cha nowhere.” He set the bottle down and grabbed the strip of cloth he was using as a bandage. Your lips formed into the smallest touch of a pout. You wiggled and writhed away from him. Hobie scoffed. “Gettin’ pouty won' get me either. Now stop movin’. Makin’ this much harder than it needs t’be.”

His voice was rough but his fingers were gentle. He traced over your skin with tender care– bandage in his hand– and began to wrap it tightly around your shoulder. He made you lift your arm a little so he could wrap it under the hinge of your arm. Hobie leaned in close. He was sure to focus his gaze on your wound though he could feel the burning gaze of your pearl eyes on him, lingering.

“Ya got a starin’ problem or sometin’?”

You did not grace him with a response. No shake or nod of your head. You simply stared. You did have a problem.

Hobie finished up wrapping your bandage with a quiet, “there”, and leaned away from you to hopefully get some space and breathe. You sat with your hands on your thighs, staring with wide, bright, white eyes. He was disturbed by you. Your vague allusion to human-ness made him uneasy, the way you stared made him uneasy, you made him uneasy.

“Leave. Ya got whatcha came fo’.”

You did not budge. You sat and stared with your head cocked to the side a little. You almost looked like a puppy, confused, eager, a bit ditzy.

Hobie almost wanted to be endeared. Instead he got annoyed. “Did ya no’ hear me? Go!” He pointed towards the hatch that led up to the deck. “Ya don' belong here ‘n ya know i’.” It was harsh, cutthroat, as if he had taken his dagger and jabbed it through your chest.

Hobie looked at you and could see the beginnings of tears glossing over your eyes. Your full, bottom lip trembled in a way all too familiar to him. Your tears reflecting in the light, tears like the pearls that hung off of your frame. Even if you couldn't sing, you were a siren in your own right. Your tears were your song and could lure even the toughest of sailors to their doom.

Curse you.

“Fine, fine, just– stop cryin’ would’ja? You can stay here fo’ the night but ya in the mornin’. Ya hear?” Rough voice.

You nod vigorously with understanding. You watched tearfully Hobie stand up with the lanturn and take your hand in his. Gentle hands. “Come on, we gotta hide ya. Don't wan’ my crew knowin’ ya here. Yer gonna give ‘em a fright.” He tugged and you stood, stumbling along behind him further below the ship into the hull.

Hobie took you to the room where they kept all the gunpowder and ale and moved a large barrel to the side so you could lay in the corner behind it. He looked around and found a sack of potatoes he summarily dumped out and tore apart so you could use it to cover yourself through the night.

“Don't leave this spot ‘til I come get ya in the mornin’. Understand?”

You nodded and grabbed the sack, looking at it in confusion. You slept underwater or on rocks. You’ve never used anything of the sort in your life. Hobie took it from you and made you lay down before draping it over you. “See, t’keep ya warm.”

Hobie moved the barrel back into place to hide you in case any of his crew came in to grab any ale in the morning. He’d come back for you as soon as day broke over the horizon before anyone woke up to usher you back off the ship and out to where you belong.

He was going to just walk away when something in him made him turn around and tell you, “good night”. Something soft and human. Something sympathetic and understanding.

And you purred a little tune along the same lines.

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| i. one| pearly white eyes

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: blood. death. decompostion. mentions of person being eaten. reader is caged. mention of selling reader.

↳ ❝ If only the sea would love him back. How unrequited his adoration was ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

“Da ocean is no’cha friend, ‘Obie. It’ll chew ya up ‘n spit’cha ou’ ‘n there won’ be a trace of ya left.” His mother would grab his chin when he was young and gazed at the ocean for too long, hypnotized by the lapping waves at the shore, like it was coaxing him toward it. He’d stand there, body swaying with the sea back and forth back and forth, its song luring him closer. She’d try to hurry him along as they made their way to the market from their little home.

But Hobie would linger, feet bare against the ground, toes digging into the sand. The salt of the sea carried by the wind across his nose. He closed his eyes and listened—listened to the song of the sea. The crash of the waves against the rocks below, the seagulls cawing in the distance, the ripple of the salty wind against his face. He could taste it if he stuck his tongue out.

He knew that this was what it felt like to be completely at peace.

He let his eyes flutter open slowly and suddenly he was on the beach, taller, dressed in clothing that didn’t feel like his own. The sun had barely begun to set over the horizon, painting the sky in broad strokes of lilly pink and tangerine orange. The sea was calm, gentle waves washing up on shore. It was foamy and white, wetting his leather boots. Then it was pink, then the unmistakable brown-ish color of old blood. He looked out at the sea. Red, all red.

“‘Obie.” The calming voice of his mother. Low and thickly accented. Hobie looked back down at his feet and there she was, his poor mother, lying in the wet sand almost as if she had been washed up onto shore. The sea had spit her out. Half decomposed, half eaten, with blood coming from her ears. Her eyes were open, milky white, not a single spark of life to be found within them. But she spoke, her half exposed jaw opening. “‘Obie.”

“Mama?” He couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move? Why couldn’t he help her? Why was he so useless? Why couldn’t he save her?

“I’s time t’wake up, ‘Obie.” She crooned so softly, almost singing to him. 

Hobie stared down at her, unable to look away as her body slowly withered away and turned to seafoam. Unable to do anything to stop it. “Mama, ‘m sorry I couldn’ save ya. ‘M sorry. Please forgive me.” He wanted her to hold him, even if she was decaying before his eyes. He wanted to know her kindness, her warmth, her forgiveness, just one last time.

But she just looked at him vacantly, with those dead eyes of hers. Just before her face melted away into nothingness, she spoke one last time.

“Wake up.”

Hobie shot up in bed, his eyes vigorously searching about his surroundings– wide and wild with panic. He was no longer on that beach he had known so well in his youth. He sat in his cabin, aboard his ship, The Mary Jane. His mother was nowhere to be found. She hasn’t been for years. He knew that already.

He was layered in a thin film of cold sweat, his chest rose and fell with the sway of the ship. His skin glistened under the golden rays of dawn stretching her fingers across the sky to mark a new day. It caressed him, told him it would all be okay. But it offered no comfort. He reached up and wiped away a stray tear from his cheek. Hobie figured there was no use in going back to sleep. He didn’t want to go back to sleep, didn’t want to run the risk of another recurring nightmare.

Hobie left his bed, disheveled and disgruntled. He grabbed his billowy, off-white tunic shirt from off the floor and slid it on over his head before grabbing his boots to shove onto his feet on his way out of his cabin. Tossing the door open, Hobie used his arm to cover his eyes from the rising sun. His face scrunched, grimacing at the abrupt brightness that overtook him. His lip curled with distaste. He was not a morning person.

“‘mornin’, Cap’n. How’d you sleep?”

Hobie looked up at the crow’s nest where one of his crew sat happily perched, looking down at him with a smile almost brighter than the early-morning sun. His skin was a deep caramel and his dark brown hair fell over his face, only tied back by a blue scarf. Pavitr had been placed on look out and by the looks of it, he'd been up there all night. He looked tired but was trying to hide it by being energetic.

Hobie only grunted and that was all the answer Pav needed to know that he had another nightmare. Everyone on the crew knew he had them but no one had the gull to bring it up to him or try to talk to him about it. He wasn’t the type to want to talk about and no one wanted to upset him. He had given them all a home aboard The Mary Jane and asks for nothing in return besides that they never talk to him about the things they’ve heard coming from his cabin.

“Get down from there ‘n get some rest, Pav.” Hobie motioned him down as he walked away.

The rest of his crew roamed about on the deck, either preparing their swords and guns or cleaning. There wasn’t much to do between raids besides prepare for the next one to float along their path. Most delegated chores amongst themselves simply out of sheer boredom. They all nodded their heads respectfully or greeted Hobie with a quiet, “‘mornin’, Cap’n”. They must have all known. Either he had been yelling again or they could tell just by the way he carried himself with a heaviness they could all feel, he cared not for which.

Hobie made his way up to the forecastle deck where he could feel the sea wind the best. He leaned against the railing and closed his eyes as he always had when he was a child and took in the beauty of the sea through the rest of his senses. The smell of salt and fish burned his nose and the breeze kissed his slender cheeks. He could feel the coolness of his rings against his knuckles and the layered chains around his neck almost restricting him. And he loved it all.

If only he could close his eyes and make it last forever. If only the sea would love him back. How unrequited his adoration was. He’s learned to despise the ocean and her children for everything it has done to him. And he’s vowed to conquer it. In a way, that's how he loved it.

“Cap’n.” Hobie didn’t open his eyes nor did he answer but he knew who stood beside him. She tried again. “Hobie.” He opened his eyes and glanced to his side where stood Gwen, a small blonde with brilliant blue eyes and a fierce attitude. She looked up at him sympathetically, the only one willing to take the risk to talk to him about his nightmares. “How were things last night? You were talking rather loudly in your sleep.” Her fingers twiddled with each other in front of her but she never stopped looking at him.

Hobie turned his head away, his jaw tightening with discomfort. “There’s nothin’ t’say. Y’all heard i’.” He dragged his tongue along the soft inner flesh of his cheek. “I don’ think i’s something’ we need t’talk ‘bout.” He retracted. It was easy to pull away from others. No one on deck knew him like Gwen did though, but even she had limited knowledge about Hobie’s life before he took up a life at sea.

“I won’t force you to talk, I never do. But I want you to know I’m always here if you need to talk. I’m your friend before anything else.” She placed her hand on Hobie’s shoulder only for him to shrug her away. “‘M fine. Where’s ya boyfriend, Gwendy. Go bother him.” He didn’t mean for his words to come off as harsh as they had but it didn’t seem to deter her.

She leaned against the wooden railing beside Hobie and sighed, looking out at the open sea before them. The sun was rising quickly, still red. The sea was as red as freshly spilled blood. She opened her mouth to speak but paused. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she looked out into the distance. “Is that a ship?”

Hobie perked up and squinted his eyes as well. It was indeed a British royal navy ship, the sails only half unraveled, just wading through the shallow waters entirely directionless. There seemed to be no one on the deck. There was something off about it. If he could see them with just his bare eyes then they could certainly see The Mary Jane, so why weren’t they attacking? They were certainly within range.

“Prepare the cannons but don’ fire jus’ yet. Ge’ ready to board.”

Gwen gave one firm nod and marched off to direct the rest of the crew who jumped up with enthusiasm and began scuttling about the deck in preparation. Finally, some excitement.

Hobie took his place at the helm of the ship, steering closer to the navy ship with an air of caution settling over the deck. “Fire a warning shot.” He commanded with authority that everyone respected. Within minutes there was a fire shot at the ship and before they knew it a white flag was being flown over the navy ship. They had given up without so much as a fight.

He was sure it must be a trap, a farce to get him to lower his guard. Hobie grabbed his sword and gun and rounded up some of his crew to board the navy ship with him while the others stayed behind to protect the Mary Jane from attack. He gathered Pav, Gwen, Miles, as well as a handful of others and took them with him.

Hobie boarded the navy ship with a heavy thump of his boots, his saber unsheathed in preparation for an attack. His eyes shifted back and forth, ringed fingers gripping the handle of his sword with a hold so tight his knuckles paled. He was soon followed by the rest of his crew, all equally as cautious.

“Search the ship, bring me everyone you can find.”

His crew split up and began to scour the ship for any people or loot they could find. Most of the crew were still asleep and were summarily caught with their pants down. Quite literally, as some were brought to Hobie in only their underwear. Including the captain or the ship who was tied up and brought before Hobie, shoved to his knees.

Hobie held the tip of his sword to the captain’s throat. He was an older, pale man with graying hair, round and fat with lack of work. He looked cowardly, afraid of the fate that lay before him. “We surrendered, take whatever you please. But leave us our dignity.” The man pleaded dramatically and Hobie found himself wanting nothing more than to slit the man’s throat and be done with it. He was not in the mood for being merciful after the night he’s had.

“Why did y’surrender so easily?”

The captain trembled. “We were raided by pirates just a day ago. We were in no position to fight. Most of our men were lost. Please, I beg.” He laced his fingers together only for Hobie to press his sword to his throat and draw the slightest bit of blood. “I wonder why I don’ believe ya.” His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Cap’n.” Miles came from the hold below the deck and motioned Hobie to come. “You’ll want to see this.” He shifted with distress and urgency. His golden, brown eyes shifted between Hobie and the lower deck where he, Gwen, and Pav all resided.

“Watch all of ‘em.” Hobie commanded the rest of his crew. “Don’ hesitate to kill anyone who ge’s outta line.” He looked back down to the white man before him before marching past him in firm strides towards the hold. Hobie followed Miles down, his sword still drawn.

It was dark in the hold and the smell of stale ale and old fish stung in his nose. The dim light of a lanturn offered just enough light to see exactly what Miles had beckoned him down for. He had seen you.

You were the most hauntingly beautiful thing he had ever seen. Pav and Gwen stood around the cage you were in; Miles joined them, all of them staring with something of wonder or horror, it was hard to tell which. Maybe it was a bit of both. Maybe they were one in the same.

You had eyes like the freshest milk he's ever seen, eyes like pearls, white and sparkling, all wide and framed with long lashes that stuck together with the tears that ran down your cheeks and over quivering lips that undoubtedly hid the horror of your fanged teeth. Shimmering scales like iridescent pearls showed up in small patches over your skin, on your shoulders, your forearms and your calves. You were akin to a human, minus the scales, your finned ears, and the fins that stuck out of the backs of your forearms and legs. You were covered in strings of pearls that hung around your neck and over your hips, shells, and coverings made of seaweed. 

You were something divine, something not of this world, something so terrifyingly gorgeous. Hobie knew exactly what you were.

“I’s a fuckin’ siren.” Hobie marched forward, his face stone-like with dispassion. He grinded his teeth almost to dust. His lip curled with disgust and his eyes lit up with fury. “Open the cage so I can kill the tin’.” They all looked at him with something of fear and worry. They had never seen him so furious about anything.

“Shouldn’t we think about this?” Pav stood between you and Hobie, his brows furrowed. “It’s hurt.” He looked back at you and saw the dried blood caked onto your skin originating from a large wound in your shoulder. “Shouldn’t we ask more questions? Why do they have a siren locked up in the first place? We should all be dead right now but we’re not.”

“Plus, sirens are useful. They cost a lot on the market.” Gwen piped up.

They were right. Hobie didn’t want to admit it but they were right. Siren's blood was highly valuable and was used to heal illnesses and injuries. Their scales were used to make jewelry as well. They were highly sought after and would make a good bounty but hunting them was incredibly dangerous. It’s rare that anyone actually captures one. They're known to bring entire ships to the bottom of the sea where they’d eat their victims.

Hobie sighed. He’d save himself a lot of trouble if he just killed you before you drowned the whole lot of them. “Keep them in the cage for now.” He turned on his booted heels and made his way back onto the upper deck. Everyone was just where they had been. He stood before the captain of the ship once more and glowered at him. “Wha’s with the siren? Y’should all be dead righ’ now.”

“I- We captured it for his majesty…he wants to make a zoo of the things, but it’s broken. Can’t sing. Figured…we jus’ might sell it on the market for parts. You– you can have it. Just leave us.” He smiled as he offered you to him, wearily and desperately. Something about the offer disgusted Hobie. The selling of flesh, even if it wasn’t that of a human, was morally reprehensible in his book.

With one swift motion of his sword, Hobie slit the captain’s throat and watched as he fell to the deck, choking and gurgling on his own blood. Blood splattered onto Hobie’s face at the initial spray and down the rest of his body as the captain collapsed.

He stepped on the captain’s body as he made his way back down to the hold to figure out if he should do just the same with you. Your kind killed hundreds in your lifetime, thousands even. Your kind lured people to their deaths by way of seducing them with everything they desired in life. There was something quite despicably sinister about it.

Hobie came back and stood before you, your frail, injured body. You looked up at him with those milky white eyes that almost made him flinch. He couldn’t bear to look at you, the way you wept, as if you were crying for your life. How could such a thing look so perfect while crying? He cursed his feelings, his empathy, his humanity. Would a being like you even understand something like that? Something as complex and beyond comprehension as human emotion? He barely understood it himself.

“Let it go.”

Gwen and Miles fiddled with the lock until they managed to break it open and let you free. You didn’t move for a bit, your eyes flicking from side to side at all of them to see what they would do. You trembled with fear, you sobbed in choking gasps. Hobie knew that sirens were meant to be alluring, that’s how they captured their victims, but he didn’t know one could look so pretty while crying.

After a while of stillness, you finally began to move. You crawled out of the small cage you had been locked in, wincing at the pressure put upon your injured shoulder until you stood up. You were a fragile thing, looking between the four of them as they all stood back and watched you. They were waiting for the moment you’d flip, the moment you’d sing your hypnotizing song and convince them to all jump ship.

“You’re free.” Hobie moved out of the way, sheathing his sword to show he meant no harm. He did it despite all signals in his mind telling him this was a terrible idea. “No one will kill ya, no one will sell ya. Yer probably gonna die from ya injuries anyway. Jus’ go.” If you remained in his presence any longer, he may just lose it. Your kind stole innocent people from their families. Monsters, the whole lot of you.

But you didn’t move, you just stared at him, blankly, blinking with those pretty lashes of yours. Your lips formed into the smallest pout.

Hobie sighed. “Don’cha understand me?” Sirens were meant to understand all languages.

You nodded, tears still streaking your pretty face.

“Then go, go now, before I change my min’.” He gritted his teeth and pointed towards the door, moving further out of the way to give you more room to leave. You hesitated just for a moment before beginning to walk on shaky legs and bare feet. You look at them all as you pass them but you stop in front of Hobie and stare– just stare for a long, drawn out moment. You stare even when he turns his face away from yours because he can’t bear to look into those eyes.

That’s when you begin to run. You scramble off up the stairs, soon followed by Hobie, Miles, Gwen, and Pav, and they all watch as you climb and stand on the edge of the boat. You look back one last time at Hobie before turning back towards the sea and diving overboard.

They all rush to watch you swim away. All except Hobie, who can’t stop thinking about those pearl white eyes.

[eyesxxyou]

𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔞 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱🏴‍☠️🐚

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶

hobie brown never wanted to be a pirate, with a love for the ocean and a hatred for her children, he never intended on rescuing the thing he despises most in this world. a siren.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱

pirate!hobie. mute!siren!reader. blood. death. graphic descriptions of killing. mentions of people being eaten. fighting. decompostion. Slightly suggestive but no smut. kinda enemies to lovers if you squint and turn your head sideways.

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰

| i. one | pearly white eyes

| ii. two | rough voice, gentle hands

| iii. three | pearl

| iv. four | oranges

| v. five | to weave a basket

| vi. six | over the hill, between the palm trees

| vii. seven | F-R-I-E-N-D

| viii. eight | soulless dreams

𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔱

pls feel free to send in fanart if you want!!!

from me (@eyesxxyou)

siren!reader by @eyesxxyou

pirate!hobie by @eyesxxyou

siren!reader by @vkeiclover

siren!reader & Hobie's Mother by @tinythingstrawberry

siren!reader by @nyumeii

Siren!reader by @cantomatos

Pirate!Hobie by @flashlights-coming-down-the-way

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| iv. four | oranges

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: orange eating, gwen being nosy (i love her), hobie and his emotional distance

↳ ❝ you come back orange ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

After quick deliberation, Hobie figured that the best place to hide you would be his cabin. No one went inside without his permission which meant no one would have to know of your existence while you stayed. He’d just let you out at night while everyone slept. It was humane…kind of. More humane than letting you fend for yourself out at the ocean with such a severe injury. Sure– it wasn't the best plan but he had to come up with it on the fly.

“I nee’ja t’stay here, okay?” Hobie said, tucking you away into his cabin just as he heard shuffling within the hull. He watched as you wandered about his small cabin, picking up trinkets and treasures he had lying around. Coins, jewels, strings of pearls that made your eyes glow as you added them to your collection on your body. You admired them, fingers tracing methodically over their grooves and dips. You were distracted, far from listening to anything he had to say to you. You picked up all his pretty things and purred with satisfaction at them.

Hobie snapped his ringed fingers at you. “Oi! Listen t’me.” You turned to him with a gold coin half way in your mouth, still purring. You spat out the coin onto the floor and opened your mouth, only to let out a squeak. You motioned wildly. You were trying to communicate but you didn’t know how.

“Look- ion understand ya.” He could hear muffled speaking. He had to leave soon. “You stay.” He pointed to you and then made a signal with his hand. “This means stay now, yea? Ya stay.” It was simple enough. A sign language of sorts.

You were quick to catch on. Your brows furrowed. You pointed to yourself and shook your head. ‘Me not stay.’ You signed rather stubbornly. You pointed to him then to the door, then to you and to the door. Hobie thought it meant that you wanted to leave too. He shook his head and carefully touched your shoulders. “Ya have t’stay here. I’ll come back.” He made another sign with his hands. “Come back.” He applied meaning to it.

You calmed down ever so slightly. Your hazy eyes softened and your lips parted to hum. ‘Come back?’ You signed, tilting your head to imply you were asking a question. It was soft, vulnerable. You were scared. You didn’t want to be alone.

Hobie nodded and signed it again. “Come back. I’ll come back, pearl. Just stay here.” He backed away from you slowly and you did not try to follow him out. You stood there, staring, waiting, like a dutiful dog in a way. He almost felt bad leaving you there but it was for the best. 

Leaving his cabin, Hobie made his way to the galley where the rest of his crew began their day with rather watery soup for breakfast. It was a small space for so many people to be packed into, some sitting on barrels, most on the floor. Everyone nodded to Hobie as he passed, grabbing a bowl of soup and an orange for you to eat. Did you even eat fruit? He’d find out soon enough.

When Hobie returned to his cabin, you had made yourself rather comfortable on his bed, your hands and face pressed against the window as you stared out at the water splashing with fish. You turned to look at the door and smiled at him with your fanged teeth. ‘You come back. You come back.’ You signed quickly, excited to see him. You clamored off of the bed and padded over to him.

Hobie closed the door behind him. “I brough’ ya food.” He placed the bowl of soup down on the shelf beside him and extended his arm to offer you the orange. You looked fascinated at it and carefully took it from his hand to examine it. “I’s an orange.” He came up with a sign for it. “Ya eat it.” He came up with a sign for eat too.

You stared at it for a long moment and then opened your mouth and took a bite out of it skin and all. You didn't seem to mind it, not that you’d know any better. You were clueless. Soft and sweet and innocent and so so clueless. How wonderful it must be to be so unaware of everything.

“No, no, no!” Hobie reached out and took it from you. “Ya gotta peel it first.” He demonstrated, tucking his thumb under the skin and peeling it off to reveal the inside. When he handed it back to you, you did the same, tucking your thumb beneath the skin and peeling a piece off. You dropped it to the floor and peeled off a second piece. Piece after piece until the orange was bare. You looked at him, ‘Eat?’

“Yeah, ya can eat i’ now.”

You wasted no time sinking your teeth into the flesh of the orange and taking out a small chunk of it. You looked satisfied, closing your eyes and smiling with glee as you chewed. A bit of juice dripped down your chin and Hobie’s hand twitched as if to reach out and wipe it up. Instead, he bent down and picked up the orange peels.

He would need to be careful around you. You were making him let his guard down. It was in your nature.

“Good?” He signed again, making up signals on the spot he’d have to remember later. You nodded vigorously and took another bite out of it, finishing it off. ‘Good.’ You signed back. ‘Good. Good. Good.’ You licked your lips and smiled with juice still on your chin. You licked your fingers and swiped at your chin to get the juice there.

You were rather endearing in a way. Letting out noises that Hobie thinks are giggles while the fins on your ears wiggle subtly. You purred and giggled and squealed with glee. The sun hits you just right as it always does through the window and you’re so golden Hobie might have mistook you for treasure. If only he knew that you thought the same of him. You liked him. He looked pretty too. Layered in jewelry, rings, necklaces, and cuffs of the smaller locs in his hair. His face slender and defined. How gorgeous for a human.

‘You come back orange.’ You sign to him, your eyes softly pleading at him. Hobie could not look at you, your soft face, your pearl eyes. So he looked at your hands, signing at him again and again. ‘You come back orange.’

It took him a moment to understand what you were trying to say. “Ya want more oranges?” Your face brightened and you nodded, reaching out for him. Hobie stepped away out of your reach. He did not want you touching him. He knew it was best to maintain distance while you were here.

“I’ll get'cha more oranges.” Hobie assured you from a distance, holding his hand out to keep you away. You understood he didn’t want you to touch him and you took a step back. 

‘Come back?’

“I’ll come back.”

Hobie left quickly to get another orange for you. Everyone noticed his swift return just to drab a single orange but no one said a word about it. Nothing about it seemed too out of the ordinary. Maybe he was just trying to prevent scurvy. Until he came back for four more oranges minutes later.

Gwen noticed it first. Miles and Pav were less observant, too busy throwing around a small rock between the two of them. She noticed him looking about rather suspiciously as if he were afraid of being caught. He tried to play it cool but there was nothing cool about stealing a bunch of oranges before tucking back away into his cabin which he usually hated being in. Hobie couldn’t stand being alone in his cabin alone where his mind swarmed with thoughts too dark with comfort.

“I can’ get’cha anymore. This is i’.” You were sitting on the floor now, looking up at him. He dropped the oranges in front of you and you drabbed one to begin peeling. You were fiendish and eager, tossing peels on the ground around you. You were giggling and signing, ‘Good, good, good.’ Your toes were wiggling, so were your ear fins. You were happy. Such a sweet joy.

You looked up at Hobie as you chewed and grabbed the last orange to peel. You had managed to get it down to a record time, a science. Using your thumbs, you sank them into the soft pit of the orange and spilt it in half. It split unevenly. You offered the bigger half to him. It was an act of friendship, a tender kindness he hadn’t known your kind were capable of.

Hobie took it from you carefully, your fingers brushing. A spark. You both pulled your hands away swiftly.

“Thanks.” Hobie looked away in a sheepish glance. He ate the sticky sweet fruit and felt his cheeks sting. He wasn’t sure it was from the fruit or from you. 

‘You come back orange.’ You blinked at him and smiled sweetly with your juice-glossed lips and pearly eyes. Hobie shook his head. “I told ya, no more. Ma crew needs ‘em. Scurvy ‘n allat.” He waved his hand dismissively at you. Your soft face fell into sorrow and your dulcet giggles faded into rather loud whines. You’d get yourself caught at this rate.

Hobie rushed to you and pressed his large fingers over your mouth. His fingers were cool against your sticky lips. Your flesh was soft and warmer than he had remembered. “Shhh, are ya bloody crazy? I’ll get’cha one more bloody orange if ya keep quiet, okay?” You understood, nodding slowly, smiling against the calloused palm of his rough hand. 

Hobie backed out of the door, watching you all the way up until he closed it. He turned on his heels only to run right into Gwen. Her petite figure stood before him with her arms crossed and a raised brow questioning him. “Who do you have in there?”

He should have accounted for her. Gwen was smart and even more nosy. She would have found out sooner or later, he just never imagined it would be sooner. Hobie stood between her and the door. “No one. Why are ya so nosy?” He poked her slender, button nose. She swatted his hand away. “Then what was the sound I heard? Who were you talking to? Why were you taking so many oranges?”

Damn you, Gwen and your observant nature. A different Hobie would have been proud. This Hobie is regretting every decision he’s made today. There was little point in trying to hide it and Hobie was no liar. It would be better if she knew. Maybe she could help him with you. The more help, the faster you’d be back to where you belong and out of his hair.

“If I show ya, ya have t’ promise no’ t’ tell the res’ of the crew.”

Gwen straightened up, her face firming with seriousness. “Show me.”

Hobie let out a pitiful sigh and opened the door to his cabin. You were still on the floor, eating your half of the orange you had split. You were looking at Hobie, only at Hobie, as if Gwen wasn’t even there. You grinned you toothy, fanged grin and carefully signed, ‘You come back.” Your eyes searched his hands and found that they were empty. Your full, sweet lips pouted.

'Orange?’

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| vi. six | over the hill, between the palm trees

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: mentions of death. mentions of running away. hobie crying. mentions of Hobie and reader not talking.

↳ ❝ dis life we got, it's too short fo’ you to ‘old on to dis rage ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

The chatter of the market made Hobie remember how much he missed being surrounded by people. Oh, how much he loved humanity. The merchant men trying to make a decent living for their families, selling clothing made by their wives, and fruits and vegetables cultivated from their farms by their children. It was harvest season and everyone presented their very best.

He and his crew had made their way to land for more supplies. It would be a brief visit. A single night and they’d be off at sea again. Spending weeks upon weeks out at sea meant that just the idea of being on solid land excited everyone. The entire ship buzzed with the news for days. Life at sea was often boring and draining. Sea sickness of the mind set in and soon one was ready to toss themselves off the ship to escape the monotony. It was easy to get excited over something as small as standing on something other than wood.

Two young children rushed past him, their bare feet stirring up dirt as they ran and let joyous laughter escape their fruit-filled mouths, markings of a happy childhood. They ran to an older woman who he presumed was their mother who held their hands and walked them through the market. For a moment, he mistook her for his mother. The same silhouette, the same scolding face, she even wrapped her head the same way. But he knew better.

Hobie lowered his head and kicked a rock in front of him before turning around to go find the oranges he was looking for. You had eaten all of them, sneaking them in the night and eating them alone in the storage room where you slept. You did not come back to Hobie's door. He never tripped over your curled up body again.

You and Hobie did not speak for the last 4 days you were out at sea. It was a rather difficult task–avoiding each other. There were only so many places the two of you could be at once that didn’t happen to be where the other was. For once, you turned your pearly gaze from him every time he entered the same space as you and he ignored you as if you weren’t even there.

Did he feel bad? In an odd sort of way. But that song was sacred and triggered something within him, something primal. You had no business even knowing it, much less letting it rattle in your throat. But maybe he shouldn’t have snapped at you so harshly. There was no use in apologizing though, he figured. Your wound was healing. Your bandage (now managed by Gwen) was no longer spotted with blood in the mornings. You’d be gone soon and at this rate, you’d be more than happy to leave.

Hobie walked through the market he knew well in his youth. No one seemed the recognize him. He had changed so much over the years from a hardened life at sea. He was grateful for it. Didn’t need anyone asking him where he went, where he’s been, bringing up the unfortunate fate of his mother. A tragedy that still seemed to linger around the island. Hobie heard mothers scolding their children about going near the water. “Ya don’ wanna end up like tha’ poor woman.”

He rounded the corner only to bump into a small woman, knocking her basket to the ground.

“Oh, ‘m sorry.” Hobie rushed to pick up her things and place them back into her basket. The lady stood there, staring at him. She was old, petite, with a wooden cane and graying hair peeking out of her headwrap. “‘Obie?”

Hobie hadn’t heard that voice in many years, since he ran away from this small island and became a pirate. It was a bit fraile now, but just as recognizable.“‘untie?”

His Aunt Maya had taken him in when he was just a boy after his mother walked into that ocean and never came out. She was not blood related but she was family all the same. It was a shame that he had left her but he could not bear to remain on this island anymore longer.

He stood up with her basket, towering over her small fragile frame. “‘untie, I didn't tink–”

“Dat I still be ‘live, huh?” She smiled with the coy playfulness she always seemed to display. She lightly slapped him on the arm. “Look a’cha. All big ‘n strong now. Wha’ happen to da wee lil’ boy I cared fo’?” She looked him up and down, examining him. She felt his arms and stomach and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “You no’ eatin’ ‘enough, ‘Obie. Why don'cha gimme a hand and take dis stuff back ‘ome? I’ll make us some tea.” She turned and began to walk and with an obedience he hadn’t had in a long time, he followed.

Maya still lived in the very same place he remembered, on a hill tucked between palm trees ripened with coconuts. She grabbed him for stability as they hiked the hill together in silence and made their way to her home. 

The door was still partially broken. It got stuck easily. Hobie immediately went ahead of her and barged the door open for her as he did when he was young. He held it open, watched as she waddled passed him with her cane, setting it down beside the door. “Now, put dat down ‘n gimme some love, boy.”

He put the basket down beside the door and gave her a long, warm hug. So small, he could have picked her up off the ground if he wanted to, she hugged him back as if he were her very own. She raised him the same way. It contained all the love and acceptance of being hugged by a mother. Hobie would not insult her by calling her a surrogate, she was far more.

When he released her, she waddled away to start a fire. “No ‘untie. Lemme do i’. You sit down.” Maya shooed him dismissively with her hand and grabbed some wood from the corner. “Don' treat me like ‘m old. I been doin’ jus fine wit’cha gone. Si’ down.”

The words sent a pang through his chest. He had left her with her so much as a proper goodbye and fled in the night to board a random ship to take him to sea. He was young and stupid. He never thought of how that would have affected her. He lowered his head almost in shame. “‘m sorry, ‘untie.” It was a shameful thing what he did, leaving her so unceremoniously.

She shuffled about with her small fire. “Don't ‘pologize. Ya did wha'cha had t’. I though’ you was dead fo’ a while bu’, I had faith that you was okay. You always been a survivor.” She placed a pot of water over the fire and fanned her hand over the smoke to keep it out of her face.

Maya wasn't mad at him though she had every right to be. She mourned him for many years and with time she learned to understand his decision. He was young and he was scared in a world without his mother, what was he supposed to do? Stay? Let the memories haunt him? Pass his mother's home on the way to the market and mourn for the rest of his life? He needed to leave to free himself.

“Yer no’ mad?” He asked softly, looking at her with a disgraceful frown, brows furrowing.

Maya shook her head. Her lips  “‘m no’ mad. But I hafta wonder wha’cha come back fo’. I expected to neva see ya ‘gain.” She came and sat with him while the water took its time to boil. It was just as it was before, as if he never left, as if his departure had been all but a blip in time.

Hobie thought of what to say for a long while. “I jus’ missed ya.” This island was not the closest to them when he decided they needed more supplies. He went out of his way to come to this one. Against all odds, he missed home. “‘m a cap’tn of a ship and I came here for supplies…”

“‘N t’ see if I was still here,” she finished. Hobie nodded slowly. He felt like a child again, fingers fiddling and tugging at each other. “An’ t’see if you was still here,” he echoed.

There was silence. Hobie took his time looking around the home he had spent such a brief part of his childhood. Nothing had changed, everything was just the same. His eyes lingered on the unfinished basket in the corner, his mother's. The basket that would never be finished.

“Ya still got this ting?” Hobie got up and went over to it. He picked it up with a grunt and felt the brittle fragility of it in his hands, like it would wither to dust if he held it too hard. He pressed it close to him as if he’d be able to feel the lingering presence of his mother on it. Her fingers fiddling with the straw and weaving it with such meticulous care.

Maya sighed softly to herself and shook her head. “How could I eva get rid of i’? It means so much t’ya. ’M surprised ya didn' take it wit’cha when ya left.”

“Had t’travel ligh’.” Hobie murmured distantly. He was back in front of that fire with his mother, working diligently on this very basket. The very last thing her nimble hands touched.

He remembered it so clearly. Falling asleep in her arms and waking up to a distant melody. He mother was gone, nothing left of her but the basket and her headwrap. He tugged at it, hanging from the belt around his waist. He carried it around with him, always.

The water was boiling over now, Hobie nodded to it and Maya got up to tend to it. “Take i’ wit’cha. Was made fo’ ya afterall.” She took the water off the fire and got some hibiscus to let it steep.

Hobie looked at this basket and thought of you. Your destroyed basket, the fear in your eyes, the anger in his voice, the broken lantern. He wanted to yell again. He wanted to destroy the godforsaken basket like he destroyed yours, he wanted to toss it into the fire. He wanted to cry. He wanted to burn. There was rage in his eyes, it exuded from him like a wave. His hand tightened against the basket. Maya could feel it.

“Da anger you got ‘Obie, you need to le’ i’ go.” She hummed with a voice meant to soothe. “‘T do ya no good. ‘T will ’old ya back. Dis life we got, it's too short fo’ you to ‘old on to dis rage.” Maya poured the tea into a small cup and shuffled over to Hobie, frozen where he was with tears streaking his dark cheeks. She took the basket from his hands and replaced it with the tea cup.

With gentle hands, Maya reached up and wiped his cheeks. “Fo'give. Yourself and whatever took ‘er from ya. Le’ ya self live. Do ya some good.” She lightly patted his cheek and took him by the arm. “Now come sit ‘n drink ya tea. ‘M sure ya can' stay long.”

So Hobie sat with Maya and spoke to her of his many adventures at sea, carefully working around the very real siren he was housing on his very own ship in fear that she may simply pass away due to the excitement of it all. He enjoyed the small taste of home and almost wept again with the emotion of it all.

He stayed for hours, until the sun began to set over the horizon. “I can't stay, ‘untie.” It broke his heart to leave her but Maya seemed quite fine with him going. She made her peace with the way things are. Hobie had to learn to do the same. He lived in too much regret, lingered in the past. He couldn't let go. But he could learn to.

“I know ya can' but come ‘n visit more of’en, boy.” She reached out and pinched his cheek endearingly. “Take tha’ basket wit’cha. She would've wan’ed ya t’ ‘ave i’.”

He took the basket with him as he left, holding it in his arms with the tenderness something so old and sacred deserved. Walking down the path back towards the harbor, he looked over the horizon painted in broad strokes of peach and tangerine.

And in the distance, over the hill, between the palm trees, he could see his mother's old home sitting over the horizon.

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱: @lovelyygirl8 @humungus-mythology-geek @shutingstar @pixieofthesun @hobiesbf

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| v. five | to weave a basket

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: light drinking. vague mentions of death. descriptions of fire. hobie kind tweaks out in this one. yelling. glass breaking. reader gets scared.

↳ ❝ but there were ways to bring home back in the darkest of nights ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

The crackle of the fire popped in Hobie’s ears. The heat radiating off of it kept his shivering at bay as he sat under the open night sky, twinkling with stars winking at him with secrets shared between them. His mother sat at his side, weaving a basket she had been working on for a few days. The fire crackled again, and popped with embers that just narrowly missed Hobie’s toes. He wiggled them into the sand.

He yawned and curled up into his mother, slowly climbing into her lap from under her arm. She welcomed him in as any mother would. She wrapped her arms around him and let him rest his head on her bosom as she continued weaving her basket before the fire for light. Her hum rattled her chest. Hobie thought he could hear the tune through her ribcage.

Hobie could hear the ocean just beyond the fire. Her white waves crashing into sharp rocks and rounding out their rough edges. He wanted to be crashed into, rounded out, made soft. But he was young, he had no sharp edges yet, no hardened heart. He was just a boy with his mother.

That basket would never be completed. He’d never hear her hum her tune again. They’d never sit next to their fire and enjoy each other's company.

If only Hobie could realize that this was the last time he’d ever be truly happy.

Childhood ripped from trembling hands that so desperately reached out for it. His mother's scent still lingered in his nose, her warmth on his skin, her song in his ears. He rocked back and forth slowly and breathed deeply in hopes that maybe –just maybe– he could fall back into slumber and experience his last moments of real joy.

Hobie trembled violently in his bed. His eyes glossed over, tears swelling in his eyes that he quickly blinked away for his own sake. Crying would do him no good now. What's done is done.

But he could mourn. He could mourn what could have been. The life he could have had, taking care of his mother who would be old by now. Instead he was out at sea with no home and with a responsibility to his crew. He was a captain of one of the most fearsome crews in the region but with great power comes no future.

After the sorrow came the numbness. A drink would do him some good. It was just late enough into the night that no one would be awake to bother him. Whoever was in the bird’s-nest would probably be asleep too, lazy bastards. He loved them all dearly.

With quivering hands, Hobie went around his cabin, pulling on the clothes he had left strewn about the night before in his haste to get some rest. How naive to think that this would be the night where that would be a possibility for him. All sleep was restless and a waste of time. Always haunted and traumatized by what he had seen in his short, little life.

With his clothes on and a lantern in hand, Hobie opened the door to his cabin and just narrowly missed tripping over the curled up body on the floor. He always forgot about you and you quirk of finding your way to his door in the middle of the night like a dutiful pet. Slightly annoyed by it, Hobie nudged you with his foot to get up. “Come on, pearl. Ya can' sleep ‘ere, ya know tha’.”

You had a habit of sleeping just outside his door. Ever since the crew found out about you (Gwen couldn't keep her mouth shut) he’s made you sleep in the storage room. But you always managed to find your way back outside his door every single night. You couldn't be separated from him. No matter how much distance he attempted to put between the two of you, you were in a constant fight to close the gap.

You hummed and purred and rolled over like a cat, your eyes slowly fluttering open. They glittered under the dim light of the lantern like gold coins. You sat up slowly, looking up with him with your puppy-like gaze, sweet and soft with a tenderness Hobie hasn't seen in many, many years.

You stood before him with all your precious beauty. The flickering flame of the lantern made you glow so subtly. How ethereal. “Go back t’slseep where ya belong.” Hobie muttered before walking down the small corridor to make his way to the galley. You stood watching him, a pout on your lips and your droopy eyes softening. You were signing but with his back to you, you might as well have been signing to the wall. It probably would have been a better listener.

You were quick to follow after him, walking so closely he could hear the rattle of your pearls against the softness of your body and the long, seaweed clothing dragging against the wooden floors. The flick of your finger signing. He ignored it all and walked into the galley before finally turning back to you. “Wha’cha still followin’ me fo’?”

You had nothing to say to him now. You stood there with no good reason as to why you were still following him. Maybe because you liked him. Maybe because you thought he was so pretty how could you possibly put him out of your sight? Maybe because he saved you. Maybe because when you look at him something in your chest aches a little. You’ve been alone all of your life and now you've attached yourself to the very first person to show even the smallest bit of kindness to you.

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth and looked up at him with those sweet eyes of yours. Hobie quickly shifted his gaze from yours. “Sit down then. ‘m ‘avin’ a drink.” He placed the lantern down on the table in front of where you decided to sit.

You watched him get some ale and grab a few oranges for you before walking over and sitting down at the table across from you. He placed the oranges in front of you and watched your eyes come alight with joy while he sipped on his stale ale.

You peeled one orange and split it in half to share with him. “Nah, pearl. Ion wan’ any.” He gave it back to you and happily, you began to eat his half, sweet juice squirting out over your lips and fingers. You smile with a quiet joy, giggling to yourself.

Hobie watched you from behind his wooden mug. The small lantern flame made your look soft, your giggling made him smile. You were…cute. Your cheeks were full and with oranges, your giggling was like eating candy for the first time. Like a sugar rush. Blood flooded his cheeks, his pupils were dilating.

It would be his secret. No one had to know that he thought you were the prettiest little thing around. Not even he needed to know. Hobie would push it into the recesses of his mind and let it linger there, fester until he'd be forced to deal with it. He had to get you off this ship before it became a problem. Before you became a problem. You had only been a mild inconvenience for him so far, barely even that. You were loud without speaking, always standing exactly where he needed you not to, and ever since you’ve found a way to communicate you’ve been signing to no end. You’ve made yourself likable and endearing to the crew in a matter of 2 days.

You might've been pretty, but he knew what hid just beneath them. Your supple lips hid fangs. Your long lashes and glittering eyelids hid the eyes that some could say were the last things they’ve ever seen. Soft hands held sharp claws. The soft valleys of your body meant to hypnotize.

The silence between the two of you was soft and quiet. The Mary Jane groaned with the rock of the waves pushing her side to side. The subtle smack of your lips. Your eyes looking up at him. He still can't bear to look at them without thinking of his mother's terrible fate.

His mother. You. His mother. You. His sight flickered.

How utterly lonely Hobie felt. On a ship in the middle of the sea, stranded. It was ironic really. He offered a home to so many, and yet, he could never go back home himself. Surrounded by so many yet completely and terribly alone.

But there were ways to bring home back in the darkest of nights.

“Have ya ever woven a basket before?” Hobie asked, his voice breaking through the tender silence between you two. You blinked, once, twice, then shook your head slowly. ‘Never.’ You are the last bit of your orange and licked your lips slowly, sucking on the pads of your fingers. You barely even knew what a basket was but you were more than willing to find out if he’d be the one teaching you.

You have been practicing signing with Hobie and his crew. Now you can communicate a great plethora of words. But it’s Hobie who understands you the best. You only really bothered to talk to him. ‘Me want learn.’ 

Hobie raised a brow at you. “Ya wanna learn?” You nod with the sweetest little smile on your lips. ‘Yes. You teach me please.’

He nipped at his bottom lip. It wouldn't hurt to teach you. Maybe it would help him. He hasn't woven a basket in many, many years, but he could still do it with his eyes closed.

Wordlessly, Hobie grabbed the handle to the lantern and stood up. You watched him walk towards the small stars that led out of the galley. You had learned by now that whenever Hobie left you, he usually didn't want you to follow so you stayed with learned obedience. It was only when he turned to you and motioned you to come that you got up and rushed up to him.

You followed him into the storage room where there happened to be straw on the floor. “Ya wanna grab as much straw as ya can. We’re gonna use i’ t’weave a basket.”

Hobie was uncharacteristically tender with you. He showed you which straw you should use to weave so that the basket isn't too weak but also flexible enough that you can bend it without it breaking. He placed his hand on your shoulder, careful not to press too hard into your wound. You looked at him, his concentration, the sharpness of his side profile. A jem. This feeling called desire. You wanted to be close to him. You wanted him to like you. You wanted to be what humans called a “friend”.

Once you collected a sufficient amount of straw, Hobie coaxed you to make your way to the deck where the two of you sat at the helm and placed your straw before you.

“Ya wanna start like this.” Hobie was slow to demonstrate to you, crossing one straw with another. You followed him, watching with careful eyes. It was quite easy at first but with each crossing of the straws it became harder to keep up with.

You let out something of a distressed cry. Tossing down your misshapen basket, your eyes welled with tears of frustration.

Hobie set his basket down to move to your side to help you. “Hey, hey, ‘s okay, lil’ pearl. Lemme see.” Suddenly before the fluttering lantern fire you two had huddled close into, you were pressed side to side. With his arm pressed into yours, his knee against your chaste thigh, he leaned in close and took your basket into his hands. Nimble fingers skillfully reweave your mistakes while he croons at you. “You were doin’ well. Ya just need t’ leave a bit tighter.”

Hobie felt like his mother teaching him to weave for the first time. He wanted to be tender and patient like her. To offer the kindness she had afforded him to you.

He looked up only to find you were already staring at him. Your faces were rather close for comfort and for once, Hobie looked you in the eyes. You were pretty, so very pretty, tragically so. How many men have looked at you and thought the very same thing before being dragged into the ocean never to be seen again? How many mothers have thought you a child and reached out to help you only to be taken from their families.

Hobie cleared his throat and moved away from you. “Ya should be good. Jus’ remember to keep i’ tight.” He moved back across from you and went to work on his own basket.

Things between you fell into silence. The strain of the straw, the waves against the side of the boat, the utter silence of night. Hobie remembered how it was to be alone with his mother before a fire, weaving, nimble fingers occasionally stroking his hair.

Your voice broke through the silence. It was strained and almost choking but it was in the distinct tune of the song his mother used to hum. You were trying to replicate it. Hobie recognized even so and froze in the middle of weaving in a piece of straw. He dropped his basket and looked at you, eyes wide and hostile. “How do ya know tha’?” He was quiet at first, hands curling into fists.

“I said, how do ya know that?!” He was yelling now, standing so swiftly that ke knocked over the lantern and shattered it. The flame went out, smothered by the glass shards landing on it. He snarled at you with a ferocious, righteous fury.

It was stupid of him to think he could get close to you, be kind to you. He should be grateful. You reminded him of just what you are. He was mistaken to think you could be anything more than what you were. You took his mother from him. How could he ever treat you with more than the bare minimum of kindness.

You whimpered, curling up and wrapping your arms around yourself. You meant no harm. With trembling hands you began to sign. ‘You sleep sing loud. Please no hurt me.’

You thought he was going to hurt you. You were fortunate that he was a man of his word. He swore to himself that no harm would be brought to anyone who sought refuge on his ship. That included you.

Hobie dragged his tongue along the soft inner flesh of his cheek and placed his face in the palms of his hands. You were still whimpering, curled up in a quivering ball in the dark. The stars watched the way you two fell apart at the slightest touch. All it took was a song for whatever semblance of friendship you two had to completely decay.

He marched away, stepping on his basket as he went, destroying it under his boot. Hobie murmured, almost growled at you.

“Go t’sleep, pearl. And don' come t’my door again."

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱: @lovelyygirl8 @humungus-mythology-geek

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| vii. seven | F-R-I-E-N-D

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: drinking. mentions of gambling. very light religious talk.

↳ ❝ a beauty so indescribable, undeniable, that it could bring tears to one's eyes and make them find religion in you. ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

Night came quickly up on The Mary Jane. With the ship fully stocked with enough supplies to last them the next few weeks, the crew had found a secluded beach along the shores of the island to spend their night drinking ale around a fire and entertaining themselves. It also gave you a chance to leave the ship you had been cooped up in for days hiding from those who wouldn't take too kindly to your presence.

The fire raged, golden tendrils reaching up into the night sky. The crackle and pop drowned out by drunken laughter and slurred singing of sea shanties. Miles and Gwen were dancing together while Pavitr clapped and sang in rhythm with the rest of the crew with a girl. Gambling went on between those who hadn't already gambled away their treasures. Everyone seemed to be having a good time amongst themselves.

Hobie sat a little ways away from his crew, chugging ale and gazing out at the sea that took everything dear to him. The sea he longed to love him the way he loved it. The way a woman loves her abuser in many ways. All it does is take and take and still, he’d give everything for that slim chance that his adoration might be returned. He took a large mouthful of ale and swallowed it with a woeful sigh, his finger tracing amorphous shapes into the sand.

He thought of what Aunt Maya said to him. His life was too short to hold on to this anger he had in him. But how could he possibly let go? How could he find it within himself to forgive what was taken from him? He mourned the person he could have been, the life he could have led, a future stolen from him before he even realized it was right under his feet. 

He was so angry at the world that he took it out of innocents. What did you ever do to him besides exist? You were not the one who luref his mother into the ocean. You did not leave her to wash up on shore days later. You were just a siren, a siren without a voice, who could do no harm. Who wished no harm on those around you.

No, you didn't deserve what he did to you. You deserved an apology. Even if you wouldn't be here long. It was the least he could do. Something as delicate and dainty as you was not capable of the harm he thought you were.

Hobie stood up, dusted the sand off of his pants, and began to walk barefoot past his crew who were starting to become more rowdy the more ale they consumed. A few did not take so kindly to losing at gambling and began pointing swords at each other. He told them all to get their acts together or they’d be left here on the island until they could behave.

“Pav, ya know where Pearly is?” Hobie nudged Pavitr with his leg to get his attention. The boy turned to him but continued clapping. “Over by the water behind those rocks.” He chipped. “I think they wanna be left alone, Hobie.” 

He ignored the last part and began walking in the direction Pavitr told him. There were rocks in the water that blocked off part of the beach and made a small cove. Hobie remembered going there when he was a teen when he needed to get away from everything and clear his head. He figured you had found the same use for it.

Climbing the black rocks, he spotted you standing in the dark, shallow waters waist deep. You were facing the ocean, staring up at the moon with your pearl eyes glowing under the pale light. Your strings of pearls floated in the water around you, your scales glimmered like jewels. You swayed with the gentle waves washing in and out to shore, in a trance. Hobie almost felt bad for disturbing you.

He slid down the side of the rock and landed in the sand behind you. The thud of his feet hitting the ground alerted your sensitive hearing and you flinched ever so slightly. You turned around just enough to see that it was Hobie and lowered your head before turning back away from him. You were no longer excited to talk to him. You did not rush to him, did not follow at his heels like a loyal animal. He saved you but at the end of the day, humans would always act like humans. Unkind, ungrateful, and belligerent.

He had snapped at you, switched on you so quickly you hardly had a chance to understand where you had gone wrong. Humans and their mood swings confused you.

“Can ya come to shore, pearl?” Hobie asked as tenderly as he could muster up. He knew you could hear him beyond the waves and the chirping of cicadas, but you remained where you were, swaying with the water, fully ignoring him. He sighed softly as he tried to keep his impatience at bay by reminding himself that you had every right to be upset with him. “Please, I jus’ wanna talk. I’s yer choice if ya wanna lis’en.”

You were still for a moment, fingers twirling your seaweed coverings floating in the water. With an acquiescent sigh, you began to make your way towards the beach with you soft eyes, flickering anywhere but him.

You emerged from the water like a deity of the sea, sparkling with droplets of water and perfect pearls draping your hips and neck and arms. You glowed and you were beautiful, so undeniably so. Beautiful like seeing God for the first time. A beauty so indescribable, undeniable, that it could bring tears to one's eyes and make them find religion in you.

You came and sat down a great distance away from him in the sand. You pulled your legs up to your chest and wrapped your arms around yourself, pressing your face into your scant knees. You buried your toes in the sand.

Hobie considered if any of this was a good idea. You seemed all but ready to leave whether you were healed or not. You'd risk royal navy ships a thousand times over than talk to him it seemed. He didn't blame you. He’s been more than an asshole to you since you've been in his care.

He came over and sat down beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you had been when he was teaching you basket weaving. You shuffled away from him a few inches and Hobie didn't bother to move closer. He didn't want you to run away from him.

There was silence between you two for a long stretch of time, filled with the gentle crashing waves that tickled your toes and the cicadas in the distant trees buzzing about ceaselessly. Hobie tried to find the right words, opening and closing his mouth to begin a new sentence but failing every few seconds almost like a fish gasping for air. 

Maybe –he decided– it wasn't as hard as he was trying to make it. Hobie was trying to think of all these grandious words to say to you to get you to forgive him for his transgression, but he’s never been one to hide his goal with thinly veiled means to butter someone up. So he decided to keep it simple, straight to the point. Say what he means and mean what he says and whatnot.

“‘M sorry.” He let the baritone of his voice fill the silence between them. He signed it too. A palm to his chest where he rubbed in slow circles. “I shouldn't’ve yelled at’cha. I shouldn't have destroyed everything. Ya did nothin’ wrong. I’s just…tha’ song means a lot t’ me. My mama used t’ sing i’. I’s sometin’ very special t’me.” His voice was soft, tender with a sort of kindness he rarely afforded you. Maybe he would start doing so more often.

Maybe he could learn to let go.

You looked at him without moving your head, lips pouting and rolling with consideration. You nipped at your plush bottom lip and turned to him. ‘You sorry?’

Hobie nodded and signed it again, moving closer to you as he stood on his knees. “‘M very sorry. I shouldn't’ve scared ya like tha’. Ya didn' deserve i’.” He touched your good shoulder with care and sat down beside you, side to side. You didn't move away from him like before. You looked at him with those mystical, mysterious eyes. And for once, he looked back at you. “I hope ya can fo’give me, pearly. I understand if ya don', been a grade A arsehole t’ya.”

Your lips pouted and you looked away as if you were considering it. Hobie leaned into you. “Awe, come on, pearl.” He nudged you. “’ll let’cha ‘ave all the oranges ya wan’. Got extra jus’ fo’ ya.” You broke out into a coy smile you tried to hide behind your knees. Hobie couldn't help but to smile with you. “Why don' we go back wit' the crew, aye? I’s cold ‘n ‘m sure they’re wonderin’ where we are. Don' wan’ them gettin' the wrong idea.”

You looked slightly perplexed. What idea was there? ‘What idea?’ Hobie shook his head. “Nothin’.” He stood up and offered a hand out to help you up out of the sand. You took it, without a moment of hesitation, and let him help you to your feet. You didn't mind the gritty sand against your legs or in your hair, you’d wash it off later when you went for a swim.

The crew was just as Hobie left them, singing, drinking, and gambling to their hearts desire. Gwen and Miles had taken a break from dancing to watch the stars together and Pavitr was busy nervously talking to a young island girl by the bonfire named Gayatri he had invited to spend time with “the crew” (him) before they departed in the morning.

The whole crew drunkenly called for Hobie to join them and by extension, you. You were swift on you feet, eyes full of fascination at the glowing light before you. You’ve never seen fire before, being a water creature and all. You walked around it for a moment before dropping down to your knees in front of it and reaching out to touch it. It flickered and licked at your fingers and quickly you retracted your hand. You let out a startled gasp of pain and held your hand to your chest.

You turned to Hobie, who was already rushing over to get you away from the flame, and signed, ‘hurt’, before frowning.

“Yeah, fire hurts if ya touch i’. Keep ya distance, mate.” He coaxed you away from the fire and made you sit down beside him with his mug of ale. You sat beside him, watching the flame as if it were a star in the sky come down from the heavens above to grace you.

And then you looked at Hobie, the way his face glowed and the contours deepened. He was prettier than anything you had ever before seen. Decorated in jewels and metals you rarely get to see at the bottom of the ocean. You liked his rings, his necklaces, the way he wore his hair, the way he decorated his locks with cuffs and trinkets. You wanted to touch them, touch him, admire him. You wanted to drag him to the bottom of the sea and keep him forever, your favorite trinket.

You watched the other crew members dance before the fire, glowing in their carefree joy. Before you knew it, you were up on your feet again, looking down at Hobie who would have been more than content staying where he was and drinking until he passed out. But you offered your hand to him and pointed to the others dancing. You wanted to do the same.

“Ya wanna dance now?” Hobie lifted a brow at you. You nodded fervently. ‘Please’, you signed, begging. ‘Please, please, please.’ You grabbed his hand and tugged at it to get him up.

With a sigh, he conceded and placed his ale down to get up and dance with you. You practically dragged him to the middle of the beach, his feet leaving marks in the sand where he dug them down and resisted. He was hardly a dancer. He preferred instruments to anything else but he would not oppose to it, especially when your eyes glowed like that and you were squealing with delight. How could he deny something like that?

You were laughing as much as your vocal cords could allow you to as you hopped around on nimble toes to the rhythm of the song. The crew cheered for you, whooping and howling with joy as Hobie took your hand and twirled you about until you fell into his arms. He dipped you. You smelled of sea salt and oranges. You looked like a sea goddess under the light.

And when the song slowed down into nothing more than the fiddle and a slow hum, you remained in his arms, dancing before the fire as your witness, swaying under the pale moonlight with the sand between your tones and your eyes looking into his.

‘Me make-up new sign.’

Hobbies hummed softly. “What's tha’?”

You pulled away just a bit to show him. Your hands coming together to hold each other. It looked soft, intimate. Hobie wondered, “Wha’s i’ mean?”

You moved back into him, took his hand into yours palm up. And with your fingertips, you spelled out a single word. F-R-I-E-N-D. Friend. And then you signed it again. “Friend. You my friend, yes?” You learned what a friend was from Gwen, Miles, and Pav. They had told you a friend was someone you cared for, someone who looks out for you, someone who you’re close with but not too close with. You figured it was something like a mate. Hobie’s called you “mate” once or twice. “Friend” must just be the human term for it. Gwen and Miles were “friends” and they were rather close, stealing glances and holding hands. You wanted to be Hobie’s friend.

Hobie thought about it for a moment, swaying with you before the fire. He looked out at the open, silver sea, and slowly, he spoke.

“Yeah, pearly, we’re friends.”

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱: @lovelyygirl8 @humungus-mythology-geek @shutingstar @pixieofthesun @hobiesbf

[eyesxxyou]

also I know you’re working on confessions but do you have any thoughts on like,,,, characterization for pirate!hobie cause he’s sooooo intriguing to me

Of course, I've been thinking of this a little bit since I plan to work on that after confessions. Here are some little facts and tid-bits that may or may not make it into the story itself.

Pirate!Hobie is a cocky bastard. Pirates historically tended to be daring in their raids and Hobie is just that. He only really attacks ships that are owned by the royal gov and does so to make a point. It seems that he goes in without so much as a single thought of planning, but he's meticulous with his actions.

His family is from the Caribbean, but the Spanish government at the time was colonizing it and in the process his family died from the disease they brought over. He hates the government, loathes them, and attacks any ship bearing the royal insignia.

Pirate!Hobie who takes in anyone who needs help. Sometimes members of his crew are temporary, sometimes they chose to stay, either way, he provides them food and shelter in exchange for loyalty. Most of them are young and lost, needing direction in life. Hobie tries his best to make sure they don't end up dead. Sometimes he even just gives rides to travelers who need to get from one island to another. Now he has a lot of people undyingly loyal to him.

Pirate!Hobie who's ship is a stolen one from the royal government with a few modifications. He removed the insignia and replaced it with his own symbol of liberation.

Pirate!Hobie who has no problem killing colonizer scum, he burns ships, puts them at the bottom of the ocean with the captain tied to the wheel. Every captain should go down with their ship. He stands by that, and often spares the captain last so that they die alone in whatever way Hobie chooses to take their ship down.

Pirate!Hobie who loves to share some ale with his crew late after a raid and sing late into the night getting drunk out of his mind. That's how he ends up meeting you which might be the best or worst thing that's ever happened to him in his entire life.

[eyesxxyou]

Pirate!Hobie 🤝 siren!reader

Hatred for the colonizers who ruined their homes

[eyesxxyou]

Okay now I gotta figure this shit out for pirate!Hobie x siren!reader. I have no idea where to start or end, what should happen during it. Any suggestions in my inbox woul be VERY welcome! I ain' tryna have it be like the little mermaid now

[eyesxxyou]

Tryna write this pirate!Hobie x siren!reader and it just doesn't feel right. Like- I suddenly don't like the plot. I feel like it could be better.

I SWEAR IM GONNA GET THIS OUT YALL, IT'LL JUST TAKE A MINUTE 🤞

[eyesxxyou]

A little bit ago you said something about siren!reader being able to turn into a human who couldn’t talk and i was imagining Hobie seeing reader in human form and immediately knowing that they’re the same person as the siren who accidentally almost killed him that one time and like… trailing them through some city or something while his crew is increasingly convinced he’s losing his mind because why else would he be convinced that this human is a siren and even if they were a siren why would he want to see them so bad

That's unironically hilarious. Just his crew thinking he's losing his absolute marbles but he knows she's there. This would be a good idea , especially if the reader has no idea if he's seeing shit or not either

[eyesxxyou]

plssss hobie x siren!reader where reader is just as enchanted by hobie’s singing as he is with hers 😭 like reader hangs around his ship at night to hear him and his crew do pirate sea shanties or whatever tf

Why do you all have such good ideas????

My going plot the siren hears Hobie singing with his crew one night and thinking that he's the same as her, sings back, but the reader, being a siren, almost kills him and is so distraught that they run from him. But Hobie is so enchanted by their voice that he goes on the hunt trying to find them. I have no clue how they'd end up together tho so I still have to figure that part out. My ongoing idea is that sirens can transform into beautiful women as will but as a result, cannot speak, sorta like a kitsune in Japanese mythology who, they get men to drown themselves through seduction but she's like, genuinely in love with Hobie. Y'all I'm so excited