#siren gaz

[redhairedmuses]

in which a captain is finally captured by a siren...

I recently commissioned my dear friend, @imrowanartist to create a wonderful piece to really capture this moment in my Pirate/COD AU. Rowan did *such* a wonderful job I was completely awestruck by the final image. Absolutely breathtaking and beautiful.

So, without further adieu, here is an excerpt from my upcoming long-fic, Half a Creature from the Sea.

Stormy blue eyes find brown with flecks of gold and Price is not sure if it is desire or desperation fueling his veins. His heart is already threatening to burst out of his chest. He can feel the hard pounding of it against his ribs. It aches and burns in such a way he's half-tempted to cut it from his chest and present it at Kyle's feet as a sacrifice. 

Perhaps that would satisfy him long enough where these feelings, these desires, would finally leave him. 

How one man, a siren, managed to seduce him in just a few short weeks baffles him. He’s not entirely sure when it changed. When the lines blurred and he found himself wanting Kyle in a way he doesn’t deserve. But now, even as his eyes search for answers in Kyle’s golden eyes, he finds none. In fact, there are no answers to his question. He supposes that it just happened. 

His arm starts to give way, and he no longer has the strength to maintain his composure. He’s lost this battle.

The siren has him. Kyle has him. 

And like a shark smelling blood in the water, Kyle strikes, surging forward and crashing their lips together in a messy tangle of teeth and tongues, and John finds himself sinking under the waves and into the abyss.

He responds to the aggressive nature of the kiss with a quick nip of teeth on Kyle’s bottom lip. Kyle’s answering gasp adds more fuel to the growing fire between them. The air is already thick with tension and now it threatens to crack. He licks into Kyle’s mouth, tasting every inch he’s allowed until his lungs object. He ends the first of many kisses and drops his mouth to Kyle’s exposed collarbone, panting and aching for air. 

"Christ, Kyle," he rasps. He noses at Kyle's collarbone, inhaling the young man's scent again, committing it to memory. "I’m not going to be gentle with you." 

His hands, wrought with so much sin, grip Kyle’s hips, tight like a vice. He presses closer, unable to let the other man go. A hand rests at the back of his neck, steadying, grounding. It squeezes once and he almost sinks to his knees. He takes a breath to right himself. "I’m not–" He hesitates again. Words fail him. He forces himself to look at Kyle despite the gnawing feeling of guilt that curls inside his stomach. 

"I’m not a good man, Kyle," is what he manages to choke out. 

Kyle nods, so easily and accepting. He shouldn't want him, not with all the red in his ledger. "I know." 

"I’m a killer too."

"I’ve seen you in action, Captain. Quite attractive." 

John licks his lips in an effort to hide the smile that threatens to spread. "You deserve a better man than me." 

Kyle’s long fingers drift to grasp him by the chin and holds him steady, forcing him to really look at him. "Let me be the judge of that, John." 

For a moment, John is unsure if he heard Kyle correctly. In just a few simple words, Kyle has laid his heart out. Baring his intentions, his desires. He is unfazed by the killer standing in his boots. 

He knows what he is. He has always known. 

Ferocious. Ruthless. Dangerous. 

He should be soft with Kyle. Gentle. Kind. Kyle deserves that and more. He deserves a better man, but it is clear that the man wants none of that. He’s not afraid of sharp claws and teeth. John briefly forgets that Kyle is a siren too. A creature of legend, and one with a reputation just as deadly as his own. 

A thought looms in the darkest parts of his mind as he draws his eyes to Kyle’s unblemished neck where the faint lines of his gills grace his skin. The marks he is going to leave on this man will be a symbol of his prize. His victory. They will not become a bad memory. He refuses to let that happen. 

John surges forward, capturing Kyle’s lips again, mirroring their first kiss. He crowds the younger man into the door, pinning him there. Teeth clashing, tongues wrestling, and hands seeking out skin. One hand abandons Kyle’s hip, opting to grasp at the back of his neck while the other slides under his loose shirt, grazing against skin. His fingers dig into the meat of Kyle’s neck, just shy of that pressure point he knows will have the other man on his knees for him. Kyle’s hand slips from his chin to fumble at his neck. Those long fingers he’s fantasized about for far too long curl around his neck while the other is clutching his shirt sleeve. 

"Alright there, Gaz?" John asks against Kyle’s lips. He draws back to provide Kyle a reprieve and take in the bewildered and wild look in the siren’s gold eyes. 

Kyle nods, lips swollen from the kisses and bites. "Yeah. I can handle myself. Don’t worry about me, sir." 

John shakes his head briefly before leaning back in and kissing Kyle again, softer this time. "I think you can drop the ‘sir’, now." 

"And I-" Kyle punctuates with another kiss of his own. "Think you like it."

(tbc...)

[eiraeths]

so a character list for the monster-magic au:

- witch soap: full blood witch. doesn’t need to siphon magic to use it. gets energy from calories and sleep. has to hide magic cause yknow last of his kind working for the government? bad combo. doesn’t need a book of shadows. spells are said in scottish gaelic and can defy the laws of nature. even though he can summon shit like water out of nowhere it still has to come from somewhere so there’s an equal opposite reaction for everything. gets sick often due to limited magic.

- vampire ghost: mostly human looking with red eyes, pointed ears, and sharp teeth. weaker in the day and stronger at night. night vision, immortality, enhanced senses, agility. the whole nine yards. weak to fire, silver, daylight, and decapitation.

- siren gaz: scaled face, finned ears, webbed hands with long nails and webbed feet, and shark teeth. can hypnotize people or do full mind control. hypnotism means they aren’t aware of what they’re doing and mind control means they are and can’t do anything about it. gets weak if dehydrated or has low sodium. also an amazing swimmer.

- gargoyle price: dragon like wings with impenetrable skin. can’t venture too far from what he’s protecting so can always be found near a team member. can camouflage self and fly. stronger at night. heals slowly due to the make-up of his skin and has a weakness to daylight.

- gorgon laswell: SNAKE HAIR. venomous snake hair. can choose if the venom is acidic or paralytic. has enhanced smell, taste, and eyesight.

- werecoyote alejandro: shapeshifter with yellow eyes, claws, a tail, and pointed ears in human form. keeps intelligence in full shift and can be considered deadlier than a werewolf because of that. can control shifts if has an anchor (rudy is his anchor)

- sorcerer rudy: relies on a conduit, which is a ring. is the strongest tier out of all magics and has a book of shadows for spells and what not. doesn’t have unlimited energy which typically comes from calories and sleep. has to follow the rules of nature so can’t summon water out of nowhere or summon wind inside like soap can.

- manticore valeria: bat like wings with the tail of a scorpion, claws, lion’s feet. can poison people with the quills of tail although it acts like a paralytic. also three rows of teeth. can and will eat people.

- conductor graves: is the second tier of magic user. needs a bigger conduit like a wand or bracelets. (he uses a wand because he’s dramatic. needs a book of shadows and has even less energy than rudy. uses his status as a magic user to get loyalty from his shadows plus a secret :)

-shepherd is a human but there is also a secret behind that :D

[asexual-spongebob]

them :)

[imrowanartist]

Siren Gaz for @redhairedmuses! Her Pirate AU is so good and I just had to draw what I imagine Kyle looks like in his siren form. Go follow Natalie for more Pirate AU snippets! 🧜🏾‍♂️🏴‍☠️

[shyravenns]

Let’s all collectively pretend that I posted this during Mermay 🙈

[drgnflyteabox]

Malewife Gaz comes back from deployment desperate for his mean, office siren gf <3

MDNI / dub con-ish / public sex / overstim / anal play / grinding / Kyle is kinda gross lol I luv him / he eats it from the back :D / they're both switches / squirting

Reader works in an office, but it's not clear what she does. She does have her own private office though ;) you go girl!

You're ignoring him.

Your phone isn't turned off, it's not even on silent, but you haven't flipped it right side up despite the near constant buzzing. Kyle has been texting, calling, but you're cross at the moment and don't feel like having it out with him on a work day.

You should turn your phone off. It's distracting, and a little inappropriate to have it making so much noise even through the walls cushioning your personal office.

The thing is, it's a little gratifying that he's desperately trying to reach you. Part of it is the satisfaction that he's a little anxious and wants to make it up, and part of it is wanting him to be extra sorry when you gets home.

Kyle had been able to call you all through the past month despite being on deployment. At least twice a week, you'd be laid up in bed or tucked away on lunch in your office telling him about your day. A rare treat for someone of his vocation, and something you appreciated greatly. The expectation you always set for yourself was zero contact - something to keep you from being hurt or placing more stress on him. Truly, your workaholic tendencies made you perfect for somebody that spent so much time deployed. When he came back, he made you take a break. There was a balance.

Typically you'd get a window of time for when he'd be back home. Your favourite thing to do was to cook a British classic for the occasion, usually bangers and mash - his favourite. You always had his preferred beer too, a brand you noticed he copied from Price. So cute. Yesterday morning he'd sent you a message that he'd be home for 9pm, a little late for dinner but the boys wanted to catch up at their favourite pub before they separated.

Only last night you'd sat at the table waiting for two full hours by yourself before giving up. His meal was packed in the fridge while you'd eaten yours by yourself on the couch with a glass of wine, texts going unanswered.

The worst part wasn't that he hadn't shown up. Sometimes that happened, when missions ran long or he'd gotten too into his cups with his team. It was annoying, but your tradition was to spend the day together when he got back, and you didn't mind having breakfast with him instead. You just didn't appreciate that he didn't even call or text about it, and that in the morning you found him sprawled on the couch with just his boxers and a mess of clothing tossed on the ground from the door to the living room couch. Socks, pants, his tank top.

So, petty as you are, you go to work and forego the tradition. Ignoring him. You dressed nice, too, black stockings and as tarty as you could without getting a call from HR. He hadn't seen you leave, but you wanted to get home and remind him what he was missing.

Your office phone rang once, twice, "hello?" The secretary at the front of the building was a nice enough lady, but she rarely called you directly. "Your lunch is here - the deliveryman is just waiting."

"Deliveryman?" You say skeptically. You hadn't ordered lunch. You'd brought Kyle's leftovers.

"Yep. Should I send him up?" Though you probably know who it is, you tell her you'll be down in the lobby instead. You'd prefer to be safe than sorry, in case it isn't Kyle.

It is.

He looks like a kicked puppy, holding some kind of takeout bag in one hand and a coffee in the other. He knows you love Los Vaqueros, the little coffeeshop next door. It's probably a macadamia nut latte, your favourite.

"Babe," he starts, sounding a little rough. Probably battling a hangover. He's wearing your favourite shirt, a tight black compression shirt that shows off his tits. Grey running sweats. Oh, he's good. "Is your phone dead?"

"I've got a pretty busy day today, Kyle," you're a little snotty about it. Your hip is cocked to the side. You want him to work a little. "I was in the middle of a meeting."

"You can't be that mad at me. I brought you macadamia and a caesar wrap. Come on, baby." He shifts the bag into the same hand as the coffee, using the other to show you his palm in apology.

You peer at him a little warily. It's times like this you wish he wasn't so tall, so that you could look at him all judgemental secretary like. You settle for arching a brow and squinting. "Go away now, I'll see you at home. I better not see any dirty socks on my floor, either."

"I cleaned them this morning, I swear."

"Good. Now scram, and give me that coffee." You reach for the coffee, but he intercept and grabs your elbow. Pulling you closer. "What- kyle--" his hands slides up to your upper back, making you shiver. When you don't pull away, he grins like a schoolboy and starts steering you down the hall. "I have work -!"

"I know, baby, but I really wanna make it up to you. Let me make it up to you." He's speaking quietly as to not alert the secretary a few feet away. He's leading you to the bathroom.

"No! Kyle, I'm at work. Goddammit, I have things to do-"

"No you don't." When you've turned the corner and are out of sight, he slides his hand from your back to your ass, squeezing hard, making you squeak. "And I need you. I woke up so hard. I need your pussy." He's close to whining, tucking his face close to your ear, smelling your hair.

Your voice goes high pitched, flustered, not expecting him to try and cajole you into fucking in a public bathroom. At your workplace no less. "We can't!"

He used to do this when you first started dating; get needy, corner you in some barely secluded place and get you both off one way or another. Quick and dirty. He swore he never fucked anyone else while deployed, and if it wasn't the trust you had in him it was how desperate he seemed to get when he got back that assured you of his faithfulness. Sometimes it was your favourite, just how whiney and flustered he would get. As a treat, if he'd been very good during dinner, you'd wake him up by sucking him off the morning he got back. Surely he had missed that this morning, what with how fast he'd led you to the employee bathroom. Good.

He locks the door behind you, and you let him kiss you a little. You don't see him put your food down, but he must because both his hands squeeze your waist. You rub your thighs together to soothe the pulsing arousal building in your belly.

You hand goes to his chest, pushing him. He's so strong, it takes you slapping his chest and shoulders to move back, panting. "We can't, I'm serious. Do you want me to get fired?"

He licks his lips, not even looking you in the eye. "You won't get fired, baby. Just be quiet. Let me take care of you-" you interrupt him by grabbing his face and squeezing his cheeks hard, making his lips pucker up.

"Can you not think with your cock? Couldn't you have dropped lunch off and waited for me back home like a good boy?"

He slides his big hands down your waist to your hips, tilting his hard cock so its pressed against you. Despite you holding him, he walks you both forward until your back hits the wall and he can grind against you hard. "Kyle- I'm not kidding," you say sternly, but don't move away. His cock rubs deliciously against your mons, not quite where you want it, but a good enough tease that your breath shudders out in a moan.

"Please, please, let me," he begs, grinding. Pressing his body right up to yours. You acquiesce a little, moving your hand from his face to down his pants and into his boxers. "Hrmmn-nn fuck, fuck," he whines. Bypassing his dick, you feel him start to hump desperately, like a dog. He shudders hard and you're squashed against the wall as you palm his balls, playing with them a little. You feel wetness drip down your wrist.

"Did you just come?" Honestly, you're delighted, but you make sure your tone is disappointed. Mean. Your pussy squeezes, wets your panties a little more. "Bad boy. I thought you were going to make it up to me?"

"Oh fuck, thank you baby. I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you still. Just give me a second."

"No way. Get to work." It's easy to bully him a little when he's so fresh from his orgasm. You push him onto his knees and lift a heel to rest it on that big, muscular thigh.

Your tits feel squashed in your bra as you breathe hard, looking down at him. He pushes his forehead against your stomach, pushing your skirt up while murmuring something into the fabric. You palm yourself, pinch your own nipples through the fabric. Feeling empowered, your hand goes to his hair and you grind your panty covered pussy right on his nose.

"Go on."

He licks you through the fabric, long laps of his tongue. Sucks on where your clit is, wetting the fabric. Kyle grips your thighs and pulls them wider apart, making you teeter dangerously on one heel, the other digging into his leg. He mouths at your panties and bites gently at you while your scratch his scalp and neck.

He moans, and finally pushes your underwear down. You clench as your wetness is exposed to the air, cooling you. Your clit stands up, peeking out of your hood. He gives it a little lick, directly on the underside where you're most sensitive. It makes you jump, not expecting it. He doesn't let you move away, instead wrapping his lips around you and sucking, hard.

"Oh Jesus--" your knees buckle a little, "Kyle, fuck," he pulls back and turns you around forcefully, making you arch. His hand finds your ankle and lifts your leg up and out, tongue finding your cunt once again. He eats you out like he's making out with you, like a sloppy kiss. His other hand squeezes where your ass and thigh meet, spreading you open.

"I missed you so much," he says. "I missed this pretty little cunt. Oh, jesus, I'm hard again." Of course he is - his refractory period has always been quick. This is a new record, though. "Can I fuck you, baby?"

You have to really force your words out, with how he spreads your asscheeks and licks your other hole. "Nn- no. You haven't - haven't earned it yet."

Kyle doesn't say anything to that, just curls his tongue in your ass and let's your ankle go to pinch your clit between two fingers, twisting it. You shout, then go still, remembering where you are. "Kyle --!" It sneaks up on you, how fast your orgasm comes. From your toes to your nipples, electricity shoots through you and tightens your skin. You tremble violently, soaking his fingers and his face. He stands up while you go through the aftershocks, hands stroking your belly and holding you from behind, crowding you and making you feel safe.

Kyle kisses your nape, sucks your earlobe a little. Waits like a gentleman. You lean back against him and squeeze his fingers.

"I'm gonna fuck you now." He's not asking anymore, and you're boneless, so you just spread your legs and let him push his cock into you slowly, enjoying the stretch. It makes you rise onto your tiptoes, letting him take your weight. He rocks into you slowly at first, hands roaming from your stomach to your tits to your throat. Pinching and squeezing, having earned your submission.

"I missed you too," you admit finally, breathily. "I love you, big boy."

Kyle hums, sucking a mark into your neck, picking up his pace. "I love you too." He nibbles on you a little. His thumb finds your asshole again, pushing in, making you whine high and thin. "You gonna be a good girl and come all over my cock? I've been waiting for this, you know. Your pussy feels like home."

Your cunt drips on him, making wet little sounds while he fucks you hard against the wall. You're still sensitive from coming earlier, so you squirm on his cock, squeezing around him. "Come inside me, please," you beg. You need to feel it. He uses his free hand to push your face into the wall, bucking into you once, twice, then holding himself taut as a bowstring. His hips grind minutely against your ass while he comes, flooding your pussy.

Kyle doesn't let you go, just pulls his cock and thumb out quickly, taking advantage of your stupor to cup your pussy and roughly squeeze your clit. You yelp, jumping, but keep your legs spread. Your peak is building again, and he knows it. Two of his big fingers find your stretched hole and push in, curling and rubbing viciously until the pressure builds and builds and your pussy contracts, pleasure slicing through your abdomen painfully. You cover your mouth with your hands just barely in time to shout, knees buckling with your orgasm.

If not for Kyle holding you up, you'd have fallen down to the floor. You shake, feeling cored. He nuzzles you sweetly, licking your ear. His hand pets your pussy gently until you push him away, way too sensitive.

"Can I take you home, babygirl?"

"Yes please," your voice is a croak.

Kyle is a little inconsiderate in this but I hope it didn't read as angst and more playfulness between established partners <3<3 I feel like Kyle is a very noble character and he puts a lot of pressure on himself. Always worrying about what the right thing is. I figure with reader he can let go a little :') reader is a little miffed but she's soft for her man <3

Also I wrote this on my phone between shifts during a 13 hour day so please forgive any typos or grammar mistakes

[bussyyeukie]

Call of the Ocean

(poly!141x siren!reader)

part one. part two.

You were cold. Colder than you’d ever been before. It was weird, you didn’t get this cold. It felt like your eyelids were glued shut, the uncomfortable mess of your hair sticking to your skin, to your face. The side of your head hurts, your stomach hurts. Your tail hurts. God did your fucking tail hurt. Taking a shaky breath in, you peeled your eyes open. The light burning them. It was bright, too bright for your eyes. 

“What…” your voice rasped as you spoke, groaning as you looked around. You were in shallow water.

Events flashed in your mind, the events of that morning. Was it that morning? How long had you been asleep, how far had you floated out? Where had the sea taken you? Where had it washed you up?

Shallow water was dangerous, especially when you were wounded. You glanced down at your tail. The wound was not bleeding anymore, but it didn’t look good. It had barely scabbed over. The blood around your scales causing a shadowed effect under them. What looked like burns had left lines along your tail, probably from the rope.

“Oh,” you pressed a hand to your face, pushing your hair your of your face, “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Your sides and back ached. Glad you were at least in water. You had gotten away. A little worse for wear, but alive.

You were concerned about your sisters. A larger ship was waiting, hunters were in your waters. You laid back into the sand. There were no rocks, no shells, no creature scurrying about. Just you, the white sand, the bright sun, and the clear water.

You let your eyes fall shut, a heavy rest weighing down on you just wanting to sleep.

The water tasted different here. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it didn’t taste like the sea you had made your home.

Opening your eyes again, you nearly had a heart attack, a ship's dark hull forming a shadow over you. You flinched up, wincing at your aching body and burning in your tail. Nothing to hide you. No choppy waters, dark shadows, kelp beds. 

You flicked your tail, gritting your teeth at the full body burn it seemed to bring on, rising slowly to the ship, positioning yourself under it. Hidden in the shadow of the hull.

A lingering sense of dread bubbled in your stomach. This close to a ship again, it felt like your wounds flared up at the thought.

Your hand raised, pressing lightly to the hull of the ship, following along with the steady pace it made forward. As much as you didn’t like the idea, it was the best option. If you darted out from under it you could be spotted, and if you were spotted you would die. Too injured to out swim them, or fight back if challenged.

You hooked your hand into a small hole in the hull, which seemed to be sloppily plugged up from the inside. Letting your body be dragged along with the ship, your eyes regaining the heavy weight to them now that the shock of the ship had left you. 

“Don’t fall asleep…” you muttered, rubbing your eyes with the free hand, “Don’t….”

But you couldn’t help the way your eyes fell, lashes fluttering shut as your tail flicked lazily behind you. Head lolling forward as the sweet feeling of sleep sank over you yet again.

The sound of a town was unfamiliar to you. The loudness of male voices and, animals? You'd heard tales of certain creatures on land, but the cries of these were vastly unfamiliar to you.

Your hand ached, and you opened your eyes. The water was different, murkier, it tasted bad. Like mud and something spicy.

It was not the clean water of the sea you grew up in. Or even the clear blue of the water you were just in.

You looked around, fear freezing your heart as you saw the amount of ships creaking in the water. The ropes and anchors littering the water. Large posts of wood stuck into the murky ground.

You almost felt like your lungs were burning with the state of the water, rage building at the treatment of your waters.

Looking to your hand, still wedged in the ship, you pressed against the hull to pull it free, stinging as your pearly skin ripped, dark blood blooming in the water around you.

Frowning as you clenched and unclenched your fist, a cut on the meat of your thumb throbbing as it oozed blood into the water.

Sighing, you looked around more. There was a dock about ten feet out, it was shaded underneath, it looked to be sunny out. Bright under the water. 

The loud footsteps on the dock seemed to rattle the wood, booming voices traveling through the muddied water. It scared you. So many humans.

So many dangerous humans.

Shame filled you. How could you let this happen to you? How could get so out-manned and so overpowered by snotty pirates? 

You pulled yourself to the surface, face a few inches from breaching it, hands pressed against the hull of the ship, trying to see out of the waters.

Smacking your forehead against the wood as you couldn't see anything, just bare glimpses of figures above water. Looking down you sighed, pushing hair out of your face, gliding away from the hull. 

You moved as fast as you could, grasping onto the thick pole that held up the bridge, the shadows of man slinking through the cracks in it. Your eyes wide as you looked up at them. You could almost see them, the pants, the boot, the glistening metal at their hips.

Eyes falling down, you sank against the pole.

“What am I going to do?” the question seemed to spook you, “What do I do…?”

Glimpsing movement out of the corner of your eye, you froze up, snapping your head to the side. Spotting a crate jerk in the water, it looked full of something. A sweet smell drifting through the murky water as it found its way to you. Before it tumbled down, and around the side of a rock.

Glancing up at the dock, the shadows had gone, it wasn't silent, but there was no movement overhead.

Looking back to the crate, you sank down, almost to the floor of the ocean, about ten feet off, far enough down that you wouldn't be spotted, snaking your way over to the crate. Curving the rock, which dipped into a cove of sorts. 

It looked like some of what fishermen would use, only smaller. To catch crabs, lobster, crawling creatures that didn't know better.

The thought of food made your stomach cramp on itself. 

Swallowing, you shot a hand out and grabbed the crate, peeking in, your eyes widening as you spotted the three lobsters inside of it.

Blue, brown and plump.

You trilled at the back of your throat, ripping a hole in the crate, you shot a hand in and your nails grew sharp as you grasped at one of them.

The shell cracked and your mouth watered. 

Ripping it to your mouth as you pulled the shell from it, sharp teeth biting into it with such vigor that you got shards of the shell. Not that you cared, the inside of your mouth was tough, and your teeth were strong. The sweet meat almost brought a tear to your eye.

Shoving handfuls of it into your mouth as you chewed and crunched.

So wrapped up you didn't notice the crate jerking, pulling up. You glanced at it moving, and in fear of losing your meal you grabbed at it, reaching in for another lobster. Only stopping it slightly before it jerked up.

Swimming up with it to fully reach your hand in, not paying attention to how close the surface was getting. On that note, you weren’t entirely sure how those traps worked, so to your knowledge it just moved like that.

Only when the surface was bright, and you heard a sharp gasp muffled through the water, and you saw the rocks slide and trickle into the water did you look up. Your pupils turning to slits as you barred your teeth at the sudden (rippled) image of a man standing above you. Your hair, a mess floating around your head, almost creating a silhouette of your face as your skin shone opal under the water.

“Holy…”

The man reached for something, but you didn’t have time to see it.

Dashing off to your side, heart pounding, in all honesty, your tail had gone numb, just a lingering soreness throbbing throughout it. Not noticing as it smacked against the steadily narrowing rock canal you were caging yourself in. Only really noticing when you couldn’t move. In about a foot of water, and the end of your tail pinched on the rock. Stinging when you would pull. 

“No, no no,” you looked behind you, twisting, and sitting up so your top half out of the water, the air chilling your chin as your hair stuck to your shoulders, and neck and breasts. Not that you cared, modesty was different with sirens, or mermaids, a lot looser than humans. Drenched in fabrics and leathers, “please, please…”

You shot your head up, spotting the man approaching, your vision almost blurry with panic. 

Your heart had never in its life beat so fast, so erratic.

Pulling, yanking at your tail, only seeming to lodge itself further into the crevice you’d smacking it into. Resorting to smacking the rock with the butt of your palms, fear surging as the sound of footsteps approached.

“Haud on!” a male voice echoed through the silence, killing the sound of the waves, “Please, wait!”

As he got closer, you gave up on trying to run, and opted for hide. Which was hard to do, so you just curled into yourself the best you could in the water, completely submerged.

As he got closer, the man slowed down his run, panting, a wide eyed look on his face, and a stupid hair-cut. Cropped to the skull on the sides and a stripe of messed up hair down the middle.

You pinched your brows together, chest rising and falling fast with your breathing.

“Fuckin’ yaldy,” a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, running a hand over his forehead and hair. Kneeling down onto a knee. Resulting in you flinching violently, and trying to snap your tail out. Wincing as it pinched between the rocks.

The man glanced down, noticing your tail caught.

“Oh, shite, uh,” he looked to you, then to your tail, “I-I can help ya’, but, you’d have ta’ let me touch ya’, ok?”

You gulped, raising yourself slightly, pushing your head out of the water till it just lapped at your collar bone, arms tucked into your chest. A wide, frightened look on your face. Hair slick,stuck to your forehead and jaw.

Looking to your tail, then quickly back to the man, who licked his lips slightly, his brows pinched together. A look of, concern, on his face. It was strange to you. But being stuck wouldn’t do you any good. The man looked over your tail, and your abdomen, frowning.

“What,” he muttered, looking up at your face, leaning in a bit closer, and in turn you pressed your back farther against the rock, “Wha’ happened to ya’?”

You kept your mouth shut.

The man sat, waiting for an answer.

You refused to blink, not wanting to take your eyes off him for one second. He was bigger than you, and you were hurt in an unknown, dangerous area. He could be tricking you. He could be…if he was tricking you, why would he help you first? He easily could’ve snatched you up by now.

“...Man.”

Your voice fell from your throat, spilling out your mouth. It felt like it was dripping into the water around you.

The man clenched his jaw, rubbing his palms on his knees, squeezing them.

“I’ll free yer tail,” he said, looking back at your face. It felt strange how intense his blue eyes were, how easily he stared into yours despite the inhuman expression you were dawning, “if you let me help ya’.”

Everything in you told you no, say No.

But, you didn’t have a choice. You were trapped. Hurt. Didn’t know where you were.

You nodded, voice quiet, “Ok.”

He moved forward, carefully eyeing you, then stepped a foot into the water, going about to his knee. His pants tucked into his boots, which were now drinking up the water that was darkening the fabric.

The gun on his hip startled you, causing you to flinch back into the rock again, a few other items clinking along with it. He rolled his shirt sleeves up, looking back at you.

The size of him standing over you made your stomach turn, it was horrifying.

He leaned down, “A’ight then, stay still, I don’t wanna hurt ya’.”

He glanced back at you again, then situated himself, grabbing onto the rock, he tugged, barely getting it to move. He grumbled. Trying it again, placing a firm hand on your tail, causing you to shriek and squirm.

“Ach, sorry bonnie, sorry,” he looked back at you after quickly pulling his hand away, “I have’ta touch ya’ at least a wee bit…”

Your breath was shaky, and you nearly whined when you tried to move your tail, “O-Ok, fine.”

He looked back to his work, and gripped the rock at a different angle, pulling, you gasped when you felt the pressure lift off of you.

“Yes!” you pushed yourself up onto your hands, “Yes, keep doing that!”

He nodded and pulled harder, the rock crunching till it finally broke apart, the man stumbling back slightly and you quickly whipping your tail around and darting off out of the canal. Able to swim freer in the open water. The man shouting behind you. 

“Goddamn,” he tossed the hunk of rock clasped in his hand to the side. The relief you felt had you smiling, floating up to the surface of the water, and peeking your head out, seeing the man perk up, “Hey!”

You sank down a bit at the raise in voice.

He stumbled forward, climbing over rock, wetting his pants and the front of his shirt.

“Wait!”

You looked at him in silence, his eyes wide as he looked at you, almost desperate it seemed. 

“Please…” he took a step forward, almost falling into the water, not that he seemed to really care about getting wet, “I need yer help, my crew, we can help ya’, clean ya’ up, keep ya’ safe till you get home. But please, I need ya’ ta’ help me…”

The way his voice strained, and the way his eyes held a type of pleading you’d only seen in drowning men. It swayed you. Not like you had anywhere to go, and protection was something you needed at the moment.

Thinking for a second, and finally blowing a huff of air through your nose, which bubbled the water under it, you answered, “Fine. But you have to swear, that no harm will come to me by your crew.”

The strange man grinned, cheeks rosy and eyes lighting up, “Yes! Yes, I promise ya’ lass, nothin’ but pure brilliance!”

He jumped his way back to the steady shore, you staying put in the water, you couldn’t make yourself move. The man looked back, hands on his hips.

“Ma names Johnny by the wey, you can call me Soap,” he pulled a watch from his pocket and glanced at it, tisking, “Stay here, I’ll be back wit’ a ship, we’ll load yous’ up thare ok?”

You blinked at him, “Why would you tell me your name…?”

“Huh?” he looked confused, “Well, why not? I mean, we’re gonna be helpin’ each other out one wey or another so, might as well.”

Looking him up and down. He must've been stupid. But you nodded, “Ok. Just get the ship.”

The man–Johnny, nodded his head, and bounced off around the corner. You watched him unblinking the whole way, till he was out of sight, and you slowly glided over to the rocky area, resting yourself against it, worn and sore and tired. It must’ve been days that you were just floating. The food in your stomach set heavy as lead, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

Putting your head in your hands, you looked to the cut on your palm, then to your tail. Your beautiful tail, so disfigured and torn. It would heal, you knew that, but the spear wound was sure to leave a scar. You noticed the few scales missing No one else would have, but you did.

A few minutes passed, and the increasingly familiar sound of a ship creaking found its way into your ears. Your heart hadn’t slowed its beating since you woke up, ready to pop out of your chest. It made your breathing almost ragged as you watched a large ship round the rocks barrier.

The brief thought of, “This is a mistake,” itched at your head, pressing against the front of your skull.

But it was too late, you either died in this disgusting murky water, or you died on that ship.

Both options caused your stomach to twist up.

Fuck you wished you'd just passed the little boat and took a nap. You'd be on a rock, with your sisters, hands braiding hair and throats humming with enchanted song. Soft smiles and giggles floating in the air.

The creak of the ship and lapping of water drew you out of your daydream, slinking back into the water till only the top of your head was out. Eyes wide and jumping from one thing to the next.

The ship itself wasn't anything special, an old brown wooden one, creamy sails and lights graded into rope swooped over the sides. Masts high and pointed. 

It stopped in the open water in front of the lagoon forced by the rock. The sails changed their shape. You didn't see any flags, nothing like some of the larger ships you'd seen with large swords and bones hoisted high into the air.

You heard movement on the ship, and spotted three men standing on deck, against the railing. Recognizing one of them as Johnny.

He waved wildly, grinning. The light basking them in golden hues. It almost made your eyes hurt.

“Bonnie!” he shouted, voice carrying over the still water easily.

“Come! Swim over! We’ll hoist you up when you get close!” 

Never before had you felt anxiety this horrid, striking your body with fear, this was a trap. You knew it, your blood jelly in their veins. 

This was a bad idea.

But your tail flicked, diving under and you made your way over slowly, till you reached the hull, still under the water, looking up you saw the blurry image of a head leaning over the railing.

Then looked behind him to say something, nothing you could hear clearly. 

Then a rope splashed into the water.

Pinching your brows, you popped your head out of the water.

“Aye! There ya’ are!” the man grinned, “Tie that around her waist! We’ll hoist ya' up!”

Sighing you looked at the rope, then grabbed it gingerly, tying it the best you could around yourself, and gripping it tightly, looking up to the man.

“Don't drop me!”

The man laughed, beckoning someone behind him, your heart dropping as a behemoth of a man made himself shown. Face covered by cloth with a skull painted on it. Shoulders lumbering and blocking the sun under him. 

“Dinnae worry about tha’, Simon wouldn't dream'a it!”

Your mouth curled, and you looked down to your tail again, floating in the water.

“I-I’m tied!” you shouted up at them. Clenching the rope tighter as the first tug jostled you.

Near panting as you were raised out of the water, rope digging into your skin, raising up from your waist to under your breasts and armpits. Hurting your shoulders. Hair slick on your skin, water dripping off of you.

You could hear the grunting above you. Your tail now fully out of the water. In all honesty you were surprised one man was able to do this, you were heavy. Your tail was thick and long and all muscle. 

When your head reached the railing, Johnny was already there, leaning over the railing and wrapping his arms around your middle. 

“Ach we gotcha bonnie dinnae fret,” his arms were solid around you, and you grabbed onto his shoulders, his skin prickling under your cold hands, “Lift her tail…”

The masked man assisted in grabbing your tail–gentler than you had imagined–and lifted in over the railing. Both men gently set you down on the deck. Which was warm and slick under you, heated by the overhead sun. Your muscles ached, breath heavy on your lips.

As much as you tried to stay upright, you ended up laying on your side, arms slumped in front of you and hair fanned around your head. 

“Wha’ she fuckin’ dead?” a deep voice broke the silence, causing a snort from Johnny.

“Nah, poor wee thangs all beat up, look at ‘er,” he tisked and you heard the thumping of his boots along the wood. Your eyes creaked open and followed them as they stopped by your head. Body shivering and you pushed yourself up, brows pinched and gulping, throat dry.

“Get those away from me,” you snapped. Looking down at his boots, then back up to his eyes. 

“So she speaks,” you looked over, and saw the large, masked man leaning against the railing. Arms crossed over his chest. Looking him up and down, noting how covered he was, even in the heat of the sun, knives littered his body. Filling your already empty feeling stomach with unease.

“We can get ya’ water,” Johnny was now crouched down, level with you, “Dinnae ken if ya’ need’a be submerged ta’ live.”

You pressed your lips together, “I, I’ll be fine…”

“Good,” with a grunt and a heavy clomp of his boots, the masked man pushed himself off the railing, “Then you’ll be easy ta’ keep.”

You noticed his boots were much thicker than the other mans–than Johnnys.

“Ach,” Johnny chuckled, “Dinnae mind the brute, he means well, his name’s–”

“Don’t.”

The sharp tone shut the brunette up quickly, almost like he was willing the words out of existence. Goosebumps rose on your arms and you swear if you had hackles they’d be risen.

“Do not tell ‘er my name,” he sneered, looking at you then to the male kneeling, who threw his hands up in the air and snorted.

“Christ fine,” he looked back to you, “He’s a grumpy bastard, dinnae worry yer wee head.”

“I’m assumin’ you already tol’ the siren yer name?” the brute asked, stopping at a flight of descending stairs.

“Course, s’only polite,” Johnny said, winking at you. 

“Bloody dumb fuck,” the masked man muttered, shaking his head, “Get ‘er to a cell, I’m tellin’ the cap’n she’s ‘ere…and that yo ‘aven’t been seein’ things just yet.”

With one last sharp look to you over his shoulder, he grumbled as he descended the stairs.

Leaving you alone on the warm deck with Johnny. Who was grinning wide. Your arms shook as they held up your weight, freezing and damp, hair plastered to your shoulders and neck, curling up to your jaw, and waving down your back. Skin shining in the sun, and your eyes taken on a near cloudy look to them–like breaking whitewash. Sunken and hollowed into your face. Brows forever pinched in worry and your tail thumped with your heart beat.

Johnny smiled softly, “Lemme ‘elp ya’ up lass, get ya’ to a bed and clean up. Poor things shiverin’ worse than a wet dog.”

He stood, walking around you and scooping you up, a mix between a croak and a rattle rolling in the back of your throat as you grabbed tightly to the collar of his shirt. His strong arms wrapped around your back, fingers conscious of your chest, and one arm wrapped around the crook of your tail, which still managed to drag on the ground behind the both of you.

Your eyes narrowing and head falling to his chest in defeat as you saw how lifeless your scales looked. Dull, not reflective or enchanting as days previous. It pained you. They were your peoples pride, besides your voices they were the most defining part of your character, of your species. The patterns on your tail muddied in your eyes as you stared at it. 

“Quite long ain’t it?”

There was a moment of silence, before you frowned, “What?”

“Yer tail?”

“Oh, yes it is long,” you glanced up at him, the stubble on his jaw scratching your nose before you scrunched it and pulled your head away, “It’s not as long as some…”

Johnny laughed, rumbling in his chest, “Christ! Can’t imagine swingin’ that thang around all the time! Must be pretty strong to swing that the way ya do.”

“Yes.”

Your head fell back against his chest as he walked into a hallway, significantly darker, and you think it was descending, you also think you’d gone down stairs at some point. Not quite remembering. The hall was cold, with lanterns snuffed out on the walls. Cell doors facing you. He stepped besides the second one down (out of four) and booted it open with a kick. The door opening slowly as it creaked and groaned, screaming at him for opening it.

“Nicest one, hope ya’ understand lass,” he looked to you, pleadingly almost, “Safety for all of us, you can lock yer-self in if you feel the need, and we can lock you in if ya’ try ta’ eat us!”

He ended with a smile.

The thought of flesh made your throat clench and mouth water. 

It sounded good. His thick bicep, plump and sweaty next to your head. His thick, firm pec under your cheek…but you could control yourself. Eating a crew member would do you no good. Not yet anyway. Licking your teeth under your lips you looked up at him as well.

“Thank you.”

“No sweat! Got the nicest bed, right there, and I'll bring down more blankets and pillows, really get ya’ comfy,” he set you down on the bed. Which was low to the ground, and groaned under your weight, tail curled on it, dripping off the side. The thin blanket was scratchy and thin.

You didn’t really ever sleep with any of this, but some of your people had scavenged them to make other items. You were unsure what a pillow was though.

Johnny placed his hands on his hips, proud of himself, clothes still soaked.

“Make yer-self at home!” He spread his arms to the small cell. A bucket in the corner, and a small circular window-like hole in the hull side of the cell, occasional salt water spraying in, in a light mist, “I could move ya’ down two if ya’ like, that cells shittier, but it’s nearly flooded with water.”

You shook your head, “No.”

He nodded, cheeks pink with embarrassment. You continued to stare at him. In silence. 

“Thank you…” the thanks was short and quiet, but it rang like honey in Johnny’s ears.

“Of course bonnie! We’ll get’cha right in no time!”

You nodded, looking out the flat white object at the top of the bed, pushing at it softly.

“Oh, that’s a pillow,” Johnny walked over, grabbing it and smacking it, ‘fluffing it’ he called it, “I’ll bring more, these aren’t the best on the ship honestly.”

Did he forget you were both in a cell?

“It’s ok,” you said, watching as he set it down in its original place, “I won’t use it I don’t think.”

Johnny shrugged, “Well, never ‘urts to have options, plus it gets cold down ‘ere at night, can’t have our siren freezing to death!”

You nodded, freezing to death did not sound ideal. You weren’t a cold water siren with more thermally equipped skin and padding, though you wished at the moment, your body continuously shaking.

Johnny sprang into action again, “I got’cha bonnie, must be cold.”

He wrapped the blanket around you, and you stayed sitting up, he wrapped it gingerly around your shoulders, tucking it under your tail in places.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Huh?” the question seemed to shock him, his eyes wide as he straightened up, “Doin’ wha’?”

“Being…nice,” you frowned, “I could kill you.”

Johnny laughed, patting your shoulder, “No’ like tha’ you ain’t lass! You’re beat to shit!”

With a purse of your lips, you felt your eyes droop, muscles still tense and shaking.

“When does it stop?”

“What stop?”

“The shaking?”

“Oh, well when you’re warm,” Johnny said, sitting at the end of your bed, by your tail, which you pulled further to yourself.

“When is that?”

“When you’re warm?” Johnny chuckled again, rubbing the back of his head, “I’ll bring you more blankets, get ya’ good in no time. Got some thick ones.”

He stood up and walked to the door, pausing as his hand lingered on it, glancing back to you subtly, then continuing to close the door. Pausing again when he was outside the cell.

“Behave yer-self now, i’ll be back in a moment got it?”

You nodded, The darkness shadowing you further, eyes bright and teeth looking almost glowing if you flashed them. Hunched in the dark on a bed.

The sound of his footsteps echoing down the hall came as a relief, letting out a rattly breath as you relaxed your body. SLumping down into a curled position on your side. Hugging the blanket closer. It was scratchy, thin, and smelled of smoke and old boots. But it was better than nothing. Your eyes fixed on a small puddle on the floor, a steady drip, drip, drip plinking onto the floor into the puddle. Maybe one day it would drown this ship, but thankfully you won’t be around to see that day. As you thought of drowning sailors and wrecked ships, your head grew heavy, and your eyelids closed before you even knew it.

Breaths shallow and slow as you fell into the bed, sinking through the old wood of the ship's hull, and cradled back into the beautiful sea. 

(word count: 5092)

[eyelambspider]

𝟎𝟏. 𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧 & 𝐀𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐜 || 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐞 "𝐆𝐚𝐳" 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤

Day One of Kink/Creeptober! Here are the prompts & my event terms!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : tigershark!mer!Gaz x gn!reader 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : ♪ The sailor tumbles into the icy depths, not to be heard again, not by the gods or the father Posiden and his trident, but a saved by the son of the sea. ♪ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.8 k 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : mentions of drowning/freezing/near death, kissing, saliva as aphrodisiac, gaz 'accidentally' uses it

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐒. The night was black as ink, screams and orders dying under the roar of the waves and wind. The ocean spitting in the faces of men as they hoisted the ropes and tried to tie down the main sail.

The storm had descended from nowhere, leaving the crew in a blind panic to rip the canvas from its mast in a matter of minutes.

The wind howled with a force that carried the rain sideways. It didn't matter that the icy hands of the waves licked at your back or clawed down your tear ducts. All that mattered, was trying to tie down the unruly sail.

The stormy night had snuffed out all the lights on deck, the only source of comfort had come from the white lightning that crashed like cymbals in the churning sky. The following darkness creating a fleeting moment of hysteria for everyone on board that valued their lives.

"GRAB THE HALYARD!!!"

Men swarmed by the dozens to grab the drenched rope, each grabbing on, grappling out into the darkness until they had it in their collective grasps and pulled. The ship rocked like an iceberg about to tip. No guide or god to lead it through the storm. The bow moaning with every crashing wave and spluttering punch the Atlantic had to give.

Once ordered to, you rushed to help the men grab the rope, the thick cord snapping around your wrist like a writhing serpent. Pulling taught as the sail struggled to close, too full of wind and rain to give way to the men that pleaded for it to shut.

"PULL!!!"

At once, the mass of men heaved, leaning back with a ton of weight, playing tug of war against the sea herself.

But she would not yield to the likes of men.

Another bolt of lightning vaulted across the dark clouds, lighting up the ocean in a searing flash of white.

A wave, at least ten men tall, stood up and jumped overboard in a rush of salt and bubbles.

In an instant, it swallowed you whole. The current slamming you from one side of the ship to the other. The rope, now your lifeline, uncoiled cruelly from your wrist. Simply letting go and tossing you headfirst into the depths.

Time slowed, and with the next crash and boom of lightning... all you could see were the churning clouds. No mast or other bodies. No orders or distant screams. Not even your own as you tumbled headfirst into the Atlantic soundlessly. Your flesh embraced with the icy bite of the sea in a loud splash of water.

You swallowed bits of the sea, lips finally moving all too late, opening and closing like a fish out of water. The surface of the ocean slipped from your grasp faster and faster. The waves pummeling you under the current, punching all the fight from your lungs in one fell crash.

The convulsions started quickly, muscles contracting painfully without any air. Breathing in only salt water. It was all too late that you remembered to swim through the shock. Body moving on its own accord in a fight for the surface. A fight for your life.

You broke the surface with a violent splutter, salt water vomited from your lungs, choking for air that was in your grasp. Just as cold and violent as the sea was.

Another flash of lightning cracked the sky in half, the waves forcing your head back under the water. Blindly drowning you and sucking the life out of your lungs.

Nothing made sense.

The dark void around you, the distant rumble of thunder, and a sky that mocked you with one last flash of lightning to show you just how far you had slipped under the sea.

The body that once fought for you, went lax and still.

Nothing made sense.

Until you felt a weight brush against your calf as it swam by. Then, something coiled around your waist, squeezing with a sickening softness. The body around this creature was warm and blubbery, even against your icy skin.

You blearily wondered if it was a school of fish trying to eat you. Already feasting on a sailor thrown overboard.

The world went dark once more, nothing to be felt or seen.

Until the sounds of choking filled your ears.

For a few minutes, that's all that existed. Breathless wheezing and gagging. The sounds of water sloshing onto a hard surface.

Then your eyesight returned, the dark world coming back onto focus as you rolled onto your side. A rush of sea water expelling itself from your lips with a violent heave.

A hand brushed against your back, patting firmly to help your struggle. The thick rains from just a moment ago had turned into a fine mist... still falling from the sky.

The hands, not your own, rolled you onto your back again. A shadowy face appearing before a pair of warm lips met yours. Flooding your lungs with a rush of sweet air.

Through the shock, your eyes widened, finally giving you the full picture.

Your savior pulled away, still cradling your head so that it didn't smash against the black rocks you now laid on.

Sweet honeyed eyes melted against yours, searching for a sure sign that you were okay. Alive. Dark, rich skin and tousled hair that reached just above his shoulders in thick waves. Droplets of clear rain dripping tantalizingly from his brows and lashes in a way that made him look like a god.

His lips crashed into yours again and your body shook from the pain that wracked your body. The near death experience leaving a tremor in your skin and a sickening rawness in your lungs. As if pebbled coral had scrubbed against the sensitive tissues around your heart.

You tried to cry from the pain, unable to feel the tips of your fingers from the frozen Atlantic you had just been pulled from, but the strangers lips persisted. Moving against yours, pulling you into him. His warm chest pressed against yours, igniting every sensitive nerve beneath him. So close you could feel his heartbeat like your own as he shared his breath with yours.

Steady and warm... and irresistibly sweet on your tongue, like the man had just drank the sweetest cherry wine. His exhale was soft like cotton candy, and twice as addictive. A sudden buzz flowing through your icy blood, granting it a pulsing warmth you had only felt under the morning sun.

The stranger finally pulled away and inspected your face. A concern scrawled all over his features. "Are you alright?" he asked over the roar of the tide, the water still crawling over the rocks to lick at your fingertips.

His voice. It was as rich as gold, and suddenly fiery tears stung the edge of your vision. It was the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard. As if an angel was speaking directly to you.

He was beautiful, you realized.

He wore no shirt, no jacket, no sigil... he was a face you didn't recognize. That was for sure. If he was on your ship, you'd have remembered it. And the thought sent a cold jolt through your rapidly warming body.

You sat up too quickly, gasping for air with a hoarse wheeze.

The stranger let you, his hand staying on your back in a soothing manner. "It's alright, get all the water out," he assured you.

Your head dipped down, on the verge of coughing up salt until...

You saw it.

"Wha-?" The words couldn't come out of your mouth. The scream you had intended had only come out as a sharp inhale.

Right at his hips, it was like he had been eaten by a shark- No. He- he was one.

The blubbery body below his waist, the sharp fin and tail, was unmistakable. Akin to the creatures you had watched swarm around the ship, waiting for fallen food or eating the schools of fish that flocked beneath the boat.

That familiar grey-brown striped pattern on his-god!- on his tail-

A shark.

He even had gills below his ribcage, the creature not even wearing a shred of clothing that hinted at a humanity you knew.

"Yuh-You're-You're a-a" You huffed breathlessly, as if your body was trying to warn you. Trying to crawl back, away from the half-man in a frenzy of fear, but the pain ebbing in your bones was too much. The fright and fear to paralyzing. And the man held you close.

The same concern on his face still lingering for you.

"Don't move too fast!" He scolded with round eyes, holding you firmly next to him.

The struggle was feeble. Your body had given out before the struggle could even begin. Going limp in his hands as he supported you, the man suddenly jumping in worry that you had died.

"Hey! Hey! Wake up!" He patted your cheek anxiously before he leaned in and kissed you again. His breath mingling with yours, trying to force you to stay awake with a rush of air.

It was then, that the cold fear suddenly flushed out of your body. Replaced by a searing heat that shot straight into your blood. Fingertips tingling, feeling his arms and the intense heat of his skin despite the lingering rain. The acute way his body pressed against yours. The sweetness of his mouth.

It made your pulse flutter. Goosebumps crawling up your neck as he molded his body to yours. Pulling away to check again if you were okay.

The moment he did, your arm shot up and stopped him just centimeters from your face. Lips brushing his. You couldn't explain it, the need for this man ebbing below your skin like a sweet flame. You wanted him more than the last breath you had prayed for. Needed his lips, his skin, those warm eyes.

You pulled him back into your lips fiercely, tongue delving into his mouth to taste him again. Everything else forgotten and thrown to the winds. You only wanted his kiss. Again and again. Over and over until he drank the rest of the air from your lungs.

A soft groan slipped from your lips as he kissed you back. His body pressing insistently against yours, laying you beneath him on the rocks, his fin curled around your boots. Gasping for air against your lips just to crash into them all over again. With every kiss the heat intensified in your body, humming against his as his lips traced your jaw and neck.

[ghostorbz]

WYD WHEN MY GANG PULLS UP @kittysboba

[harveywritings92]

{Monster au.} R/n, singing while washing the dishes: Oh, you never see a vampire with a full grown beard, But a vampire can't see his reflection! So a lack of facial hair is unbelievably weird, 'Cause you'd think shaving would be out of the question.

{König and Ghost stare at her in disbelief while Gaz and Soap laugh.}

Soap (is a Werewolf), notices the two vamps staring: What? she’s not wrong! 

Gaz (he’s half siren-half human): For all the time we’ve known you two, we have never seen either of you shave once! And yet, the brief glimpses of side-chin we’ve seen are always smoother than a baby’s arse!

König: Hey we shave. It’s uh...It’s a hassle, but we shave!

Ghost: You mean I shave. The only thing you got going for you is that tiny patch of peach-fuzz you so lovingly call chest hair.

König:....*flips Ghost off.* Fick dich (Fck you).

[tellmealittlelie]

COD Masterlist

Secondary Masterlist:

Children with COD - Masterlist

Getting Married to COD - Masterlist

COD Halloween - Masterlist

Mer COD:

Ocean Deep - Preface

Ocean Deep - Chapter 1

Imagines:

Helpful Stalker Ghost <3

Camp counselor x 141

Ghost at the museum

Colorblindness

Mood Boards:

Ghost

Soap

[powderrr]

I do not know what is this. I was just inspired by one au (Monster 141 @bluegiragi ) and I thought it would be a good idea to have fun with different mythical creatures. Gaz siren and Alex phoenix. It's probably a one-shot, so... Sorry if this alarms you in any way.

Я не знаю, что это. Меня просто вдохновила одна ау'шка ( Monster 141 @bluegiragi ) и я подумала, что похимичить с разными мифическими существами хорошая идея. Газ сирена и Алекс феникс. Это вероятно один выстрел, так что... Извините, если это каким-то образом может вас встревожить.

[eiraeths]

new fic alert for the monsters and magic au! the brainrot is consuming me alive

SUMMARY: Soap decides he needs to do something about his silver ring and Gaz follows along, complaining every step of the way. Takes place after Rudimentary Catalyst Begin as Clandestine Stardom

WORD COUNT: 4448

[asexual-spongebob]

It’s finally finished!!!!

I present: Wail Of The Siren: Episode 1: The Stolen Salmon.

also happy ZaDr Day!!

I’ve been working my ass off for three days to make this, I’ve hope yall enjoy it.

I think it took 13 hours total to make. So that’s cool.

I may not draw the rest of the eps in iz’s style tho… bc it’s kinda hard to draw in. So yeah, sorry if that’s the case.

I hope you guys like it :) I’m very proud.

I would’ve gotten VA’s but idk where to find them. I would voice Gaz n Gir myself tho because I can actually do very good impressions of them. And also Keef probably. And hell, maybe even Tenn. But for the others, I’m not so sure. So yeah.

I think this is the longest animation I’ve ever made, other then my “I Hate Everything About You” ZaDr pmv.

Hopefully I can make these pretty frequently.

I’ll probably make the intro sometime soon.

[snootlestheangel]

Cheers to the Unknown Pt.3

Monster/cryptid au ft. Just A Dude!Ghost; canon-divergent, alternate universe. More details here (parts are not a coherent story necessarily just scenarios as they come to me !subject to change!;all tagged under "cheers to the unknown") TW: some body horror (ie eating things you should NOT eat); language

More of Ghost interacting with Lightning Nymph!Soap for the first time

The first time Ghost ever felt any fear when interacting or being in the presence of a monster was with Soap, only a few days after they had met. They had just gotten back from blowing the oil rig, and the way the Scot kept fidgeting had started to make Ghost nervous. He first tried to brush it off as some inhuman creature trait he didn't understand, but he never could be certain. After all, he had never been told what exactly Soap is.

Ghost is confident that if he had known what Soap is sooner, he would not have been afraid.

It had all happened so fast.

First, the vehicles were stopped. Alejandro seemed rather annoyed, but with a small sniff, he recognized the anxiety welling up in Soap. Ghost knew Alejandro to be a werewolf before they had even landed in Las Almas, and he was vaguely aware of their ability to smell more complicated things like emotions.

Ghost didn't miss the way Soap's fingers crackled as he rubbed them together.

They filed out of the truck, only to be confronted by Graves. Tension quickly filled the humid air as Alejandro and Graves argued. Every hair on Ghost's body stood on end as Soap stepped forward to snap at the American. The tingling sensation that accompanied didn't go unnoticed by anyone present, and it left a nauseating knot in Ghost's stomach. He looked at Soap, hoping the man could give him some sign that he doesn't need to be afraid, that he shouldn't be afraid. But he doesn't get that.

He instead got a glimpse of bright shocks running through Soap's mohawk before all hell broke loose. A gun had been fired, and before Ghost knew it, he was looking over to see Soap on the ground, the pain on his face giving away that he had been the one shot. Ghost assumed he had blacked out a bit as the need to survive took over.

He doesn't remember much after that.

Ghost couldn't help the shaky breath that left him after hearing the deep rumble of Soap's voice crackle through his earpiece. Even now, Ghost is afraid. No longer because of Soap, but for Soap.

Johnny can get hurt.

Ghost's new mantra. There was something so intimidating about the sergeant, something so ethereal it made Ghost believe he was the furthest thing from human to ever exist. But, he was clearly wrong. If Johnny can bleed, can be hurt, then he can be killed. And if he can be killed, then that blood is on Ghost's hands.

Ghost kept himself alive, kept himself moving forward, closer to Johnny. It seemed every step was agony. Luckily, the banter he found himself engaging in with Soap helped ground him. There were definitely times where Ghost could tell that Soap was injured. The way he'd drift off towards the end of a sentence, the times he'd take a second too long before answering, the occasional heaving breaths; all signs he was injured.

But then there were the times Soap seemed to be just fine, perfectly healthy and a bit manic.

Ghost never wanted to acknowledge how those moments always occurred after bright, showy flashes of lightning.

Then they were back together, racing away in a stolen truck. The ride to the safehouse started out loud; gunshots ringing all around them as Ghost frantically tried to get them the hell out of there. Eventually, they were no longer being pursued, and Soap was able to turn and sit in the seat properly. Ghost glanced at him as he let out a wince, his left arm darting up to his right.

"We'll get your arm looked at soon, Johnny." Ghost said quietly, and Soap hummed in response. Ghost swore he could feel the vibrations of the hum, but shrugged it off as adrenaline. They rode quietly until they made it to the safehouse, and Ghost allowed Soap to take the lead when heading inside.

"Something's here." Soap had whispered to him after brushing his fingers against the fuse box outside, but Ghost kept his concerns to himself. He especially didn't like the use of 'something', as it implied that whatever was inside was not human and posed a higher threat to the pair.

After giving each other heart attacks, Rudy explained how he got out of the Vaquero compound safely. He and Ghost exchanged pieces of information while Soap wandered off to the side of the room, clearly looking for something. Ghost hadn't realized the sergeant was acting oddly until Rudy leaned slightly to frown at him, and Ghost followed his gaze. Soap was currently prying a hole into the wall, albeit struggling due to his injury.

"You okay, hermano?" Rudy asked, but Soap didn't respond. He finished his supposed task, letting out a sigh of relief as he grabbed a few wires from inside the wall and pulled on them. Neither Rudy nor Ghost were prepared for him to strip the rubber cover off and bite down hard onto the copper inside. Loud sparking shot through the room and through them, leaving Ghost shaking just slightly. A nearby lamp, despite being off, blew its bulb.

"Soap, what the fuck?" Ghost snapped, not aware of how shaky his voice was. Soap looked over at them, the wires still in his mouth, barely muffling the crackles of energy. Rudy stared at him with a slightly agape mouth, clearly disturbed even despite knowing Soap is a fellow inhuman. Soap doesn't say anything, just stares at them as if he hadn't understood what Ghost had said.

"Um, Soap? Are you okay?" Rudy asked, and the Scot slightly cocked his head before his expression darkened and he looked back to Ghost. If Ghost hadn't just survived the horrors of being hunted by Shadow Company with him, he would have been convinced that Soap was ready to kill him.

"'Mere." Is all Soap said, gesturing vaguely at Ghost. Traitors. Ghost snapped at himself as his legs shook and he unsteadily made his way over. Soap watched him, blue eyes literally glowing in the darkness. His expression wasn't the usual peace and energy Ghost had grown fond off, but rather sour and filled with rage. Ghost anxiously sat beside Soap at his direction, and once again was overwhelmed with the feeling of being too close to a lightning strike for it to be safe.

"Fucker poisoned me." Soap snarled around the wires still in his mouth, and Ghost finally noticed he had been sucking on them like they were straws. He looked down at Soap as he turned, and soon the problem was evident. Soap's right arm, close to his shoulder, bore a gunshot wound, and the wound was surrounded by black bruising that dripped away like veins. Ghost swallowed past the metallic taste building in the back of his throat, past the tightness in his chest, as he reached out towards Soap with shaky hands.

Soap watched him from the corner of his eye, intense blue nearly blinding to look at, judging him as he quietly worked on getting the pieces of bullet out of his arm. Rudy took the first and largest chunk after Ghost set it down, sniffing it slightly after cleaning it of blood.

"Fiberglass is your weakness?" Rudy asked, and Soap grunted again. For a moment, it seemed Soap didn't recognize the word, or at least needed to connect it to something else to remember what fiberglass was.

"'S nae a conductor." Soap grumbled, and Ghost let out a breath as he removed the final piece. Soap looked at him again, this time a bit brighter than before. Ghost instantly knew Soap could sense his fear, sense the pounding of his heart, and wanted to do his best to assure Ghost he's not a threat.

"Thanks, Lt. Ah'll be back to mahself soon, dinnae worry." Soap muttered, clearly forcing a smile onto his face in hopes of calming Ghost. Ghost nodded softly, standing perhaps a bit too quick as he busied himself with cleaning up after the emergency procedure.

"So, you are acting weird because fiberglass isn't a conductor?" Rudy asked, clearly still just as confused about the sergeant's odd behavior.

"Aye. It's an insulator. I'm pure energy. No' a good match." Soap snapped back, and suddenly everything made a lot more sense. Ghost had even compared standing by him like the sensation one would get before getting struck by lightning. It was fitting, as the truth often can be. His usual personality had been tainted by an insulator, and it made sense, Ghost supposed. Something that would limit or damage Ghost's natural functioning like blood flow is certain to do the same, maybe not quite as drastic, but alas he is only human. He's learned that monsters and such tend to be a lot more dramatic about pain and injury. He guessed it's because they often cannot be harmed like humans can.

"I'm bloody steamin' over the fact that he knew. Graves knows mah weakness, but he shouldn't. He's a blabbering eejit an' he's nae supposed teh have access to information like that." Soap broke the silence rather suddenly. Ghost turned to look at him, and the fear he had felt earlier slowly slipped away as he took in the look on Soap's face. It was a mixture of rage and hurt, but somewhere deep in it all, there was a level of fear one would expect to see from a little child. Ghost took a deep breath as he watched Soap wrap his arms around his legs.

He was terrified.

"Soap, what are you?" Ghost asked, and the Scot snapped his head up to stare at him. He said something, a word Ghost never heard and wouldn't recognize. Rudy was equally confused, and so Soap cleared his throat and tried again.

"Lightning Nymph. What I said is the real word, but I forgot no one knows it anymore." Soap drifted off at the end of his sentence, brow furrowing in thought.

"You've been around a while, haven't you, Johnny?" Ghost asked, and Soap nodded, still keeping his eyes on the floor this time.

"Mah parents finally agreed to getting out into the world a bit more. My kind aren't exactly easy teh find these days. Much less one like me." It hurt Ghost to hear how quiet Soap spoke, but he also understood something. He understood what it was like to be different, cast out and regarded with trepidation.

Simon Riley may be human, but Ghost isn't assumed to be the same.

"One like you?" Rudy asked and Soap once again nodded.

"Aye, being of lightning was already rare. Ahm sure ahm the only one left." Soap seemingly disappeared into himself as he sank further against the wall, still occasionally drawing more energy from the wires he had exposed. Now, Ghost understood why he saw so much fear in Soap's eyes: he's new to the modern world, a rarity in every sense of the word. His fear is rooted deep, from a time long before Ghost, long before Simon Riley.

"So, how would Graves know that information? About what you are and how to hurt you?" Rudy asked, and Soap shook his head.

"Ah dinnae ken. Ah've never had somethin' like tha' happen before." Soap whispered, and Ghost found himself next to the nymph without realizing it.

"We've got your back, Johnny. Don't you worry." He muttered, and Soap's expression softened as he stared back, almost reading into Ghost's very being.

"Thanks, Lt." He whispered back, punctuating his statement with a gentle punch to Ghost's shoulder.

"FUCK!" Ghost shouted as a rather painful shock coursed through him at the contact. Soap immediately erupted into laughter, falling over away from Ghost as his shoulders shook.

"Oh, ahm sorry! I dinnae do it on purpose, I swear!" Soap exclaimed between bouts of laughter as Ghost kicked at him.

"Glad to have you back, Johnny." He mumbled once Soap calmed.

"Glad to be back."

Taglist (want added?): @tacticaltaxonomist @cthulhusstepmom @cathnoneofyourbusiness @thorougly-melted-brains @sp4z-4tt4ck @49saltpeppershakers @bluebrryice

[blingblong55]

Can I request a fic/headcanon of all TF141 (including König, Keegan & Philip Graves) reactions towards a Siren Fem reader? For example, the reader's in the gym with Ghost; she is just stretching without realising Ghost's watching whilst drooling on her (somewhere along the lines).

Sorry if it's confusing, and it's okay if you can’t make it; I understand you’re busy. TY !!

ok im obsessed with this idea

It should be uploaded tomorrow

The title will be Tear you apart, I'll eventually come back and give you a link.

Thank you for this request anon!<3333