#Siren!reader

[iydiamartinx]

SOMETHING BENEATH THE DARK

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune & @iydiamartinx word count: 1.1k synopsis: After a brutal fight leaves Nightwing broken and sinking beneath Gotham’s black waters, something finds him as he drowns.

Gotham’s harbour was a graveyard after midnight. Black water churned against rusted pylons, and the sky above crackled with a low, rolling storm. Rain kissed the surface like shrapnel, turning the world into a blur of metal and shadow.

Nightwing had followed Killer Croc across half the city, down into the sewers, through the rusted veins of Gotham’s forgotten underbelly. He should’ve known it was a trap.

The fight had been brutal.

Croc’s claws tore through kevlar like it was paper, each swing backed by brute, animal strength. Dick was fast—he always had been—but even speed had its limits. A rib cracked. Then another. A vicious gash split open along his thigh, blood pouring warm down into his boot.

And then came the final blow.

A savage strike to the gut that lifted him clean off the ground and hurled him through the crumbling barrier at the dock’s edge.

He hit the water like stone, the impact stealing away the last of his breath.

Darkness swallowed him.

The water was frigid, a thousand knives piercing every inch of skin. He sank fast the weight of his gear dragging him down into the abyss. The deeper he fell, the quieter the world became. Muffled. Cold. Endless. He was surrounded by darkness and the little light from the surface was fading quickly in the dark murky water. 

His limbs moved sluggishly, muscles trembling with the effort to do anything. Blood drifted in clouds around him, curling through the water like ribbons of red silk. His mind flickered—memories, regrets, faces. Bruce. Jason. Tim. Damian. 

Above him, the surface blurred into nothing.

Below him, something moved. 

A flicker of silver and green through the murk.

His chest seized.

For a split second, he thought Croc had followed him down to finish what he started. That the beast would drag him deeper into the dark, tear into him beneath the waves, and leave nothing behind for his family to find and mourn.

His eyes fluttered closed.

Cool fingers brushed against his cheek.

He barely opened his eyes to see a hauntingly beautiful face staring back at him.

A face hovered before him—eerily beautiful, otherworldly in a way that made reality bend at the edges. Her features were sharp and striking, softened only by the slow drift of her dark hair, fanning around her like tendrils of ink. Her eyes, aglow with a spectral green, locked onto his with unnerving focus. Not hostile. Not kind. Curious.

The faintest shimmer danced across her skin—silvery scales catching fractured light, scattered like constellations along her cheekbones and collarbones, disappearing into the sleek line of her body. A long tail coiled below her, smoothly moving back and forth through the water.

He should have been afraid.

Instead, he stared—entranced.

Even as his heartbeat slowed. Even as darkness crept in at the edges of his vision. He couldn’t look away.

And neither could she.

The siren studied him like a riddle she hadn’t decided whether to solve or devour. Something about him called to her, some unnamed pull that echoed through the deep. He was broken. Bleeding. Mortal. But beautiful. There was strength in the lines of his face despite the pain. 

Her webbed fingers drifted up his side, glowing faintly in the murky dark as they passed over splintered ribs and torn muscle. He gasped, the water rushing in, choking on pain and salt. Her hands cradled his face, tilting it toward her. She stared down at him, unblinking.

And he wondered, even as the world blurred, if she was Death. If this hauntingly beautiful creature was the last thing he’d ever see. He’d caught a glimpse of the teeth behind those full, plush lips—razor-sharp. Predatory.

Then, she moved.

Without a word, she slipped an arm around his torso, her touch strangely gentle for something not quite human. And with a single, powerful flick of her tail, she carried him upward—through the heavy dark, past rusted pillars and long-forgotten wreckage, toward a surface that felt impossibly far.

The storm greeted them in fury. Lightning tore the sky apart.

She dragged him through the shallows, water frothing around her as if the harbour itself was reluctant to let him go. The current fought her, but she was stronger.

They reached the rocks near the old shipyard.

She laid him there with surprising gentleness, his body collapsing against stone slick with rain and seaweed. He coughed violently, water and blood spilling from his lips in choked bursts. His mask was cracked, his lips pale, body shivering violently from the cold.

But he was alive.

She lingered, half-submerged in the shallows, her arms still braced around his shoulders, steadying him as he struggled to lift his head. Her eyes roamed over him—taking in the battered lines of his body, the bruises blooming across his skin, the slight furrow of his brow that remained, stubborn, even in pain. There was something to him she didn’t understand. Something that made her stay.

She leaned in closer, the dark fall of her hair dripping water onto his chest.

“You… saved me,” he rasped, voice frayed from water and pain.

Her head tilted, a flicker of curiosity flashing across her sea-glass eyes. Not confusion—interest. As if the words themselves were strange to her, yet somehow he knew that she understood him. 

Slowly, hesitantly, her hand rose.

Webbed fingers, delicate yet not completely human, reached for his face as though drawn by instinct. Her touch brushed against his jaw—cool and smooth. Both curiosity and intelligence swirled in her gaze.

But before she could memorize the feel of him, a distant voice echoed from beyond the docks. “Nightwing!”

She flinched, the spell broken. Her hand snapped back like she’d been burned, her body recoiling into the water.

Another. Closer. Urgent.

“Dick?!”

The blare of a siren followed, distant but growing louder. The unmistakable thrum of the Batwing overhead. Footsteps pounded against steel and stone.

Her gaze flicked toward the sound.

Then back to him as if conflicted. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak, like she wanted to say something.

But the words never came.

With one last look, she slipped into the water, disappearing beneath the darkness of the rough waves. 

By the time Jason and Tim reached the rocks, all they found was Nightwing—broken, dazed, and wet to the bone—lying alone at the edge of the harbour.

Later, when he tried to tell them, they’d exchange glances. Offer faint smirks. Tell him the blood loss, the cold, the trauma—it must’ve made him imagine her. That there was no one there. No figure in the water. No glowing eyes. Not even the faint flash of silvery scales.

But in his heart, even as pain dulled his senses and voices filled his ears, he knew better.

Something had found him in the dark.

Next Chapter →

[nemesyaaa]

from the sea // pirate!rafe cameron x mermaid!reader

summary ; he was the too scary captain of the ship, and you were the too gorgeous mermaid of the sea. you were on his way, he was on your territory.

but mostly, you were not allowed to go on the surface alone since your mother's death because of dangerous and killer men like him. so when you unfollowed the rules of your father, you faced the consequences.

genre ; fantasy blurb. siren x captain dynamic.

warnings ; fantasy story ? possession. rafe has whip scars/and one eye. fear enthousiast. slight of violence. reader is a mermaid with tail. light gun play mentions and using. smut. gaslighting. dubcon. no shells on breasts reader. webbed fingers. lust as a sin.

author's note ; it's a 3k words. no songs inspiration for this one. i just wanted to make a fantasy au.

you were that kind of beauty that aspired to make all men go crazy over you, and it was for this reason that you had taken so many pirates adrift, to their bodies to their ships. you were beautiful and indeed the bewitching and seductive creature that legends and tales spoke of, but you were also the dangerous monster that the captains with monstrous scars on their faces and marks on skin who had survived your man-eating canines were whispering about in the back of a tavern to overly curious and drunk sailors.

you were the wife of all the gods but above all, those who defended their oceans. but only since your mother's death, your father firmly forbade you from going to the surface, either alone or accompanied. you were forbidden by the all-powerful sovereign of the seas. and his law was indisputable because he was the king and the monarchy. one day as his daughter, you will also be the head of the kingdom, and hold the power as him, even if you're not interested in it.

but like all girls your age, you had trouble listening to your father. no, you had this innocent and blind thirst to chase men. and, you had never had an incident before, so what could stop you ? you only had to slip into the clear waves, and let your magical and fairy body disappear through the eddies of the water which made your flowing silhouette as fast and shiny as a shooting star. the feeling of diving into the soft waves that play hide and seek with your sparkling and enchanted tail while the water gently embraced your mermaid skin was always the best.

you were the only dazzling thing of the perfect blue. the sweet and salty waves kissing your nakedness and long mermaid tail illuminated with colorful reflections ran alongside the rest of your bared chest in the flapping of a fin. you looked nothing like a fish that fishermen wanted to eat, but you looked like an underwater creature that captains wanted to capture.

one stormy evening, you decided it was time to go to the surface. you needed to break the rules to survive. with all the youth and rebellion of your free will, you had left the abyssal depths to face the dangerous world.

the sea was raging, and the waves were decidedly uncontrollable and violent. the shadow of a boat disturbed by the marshy assault of the storm on the waves wavered from one end to the other. that meant you were going to be able to have fun. you could also hear from here the agitation of the crew, the fear and the tension building. you easily spotted the captain because he was much taller and broader, the one who didn't frown a single eyebrow, and who remained calm as if it was the storm that should be feared. his voice shouted orders that you couldn't hear because of the raging sounds of the hard weather. he had a parrot on his right shoulder, and bangs stuck to the sweat of his forehead lightly sweeping his face. he looked delicious, you licked your bottom lip, flicking your mermaid tail to move.

you barely lifted your head out of the water in a crashing entry, emerging from the water by sending your hair flying back, a splash of water falling noisily into the waves and attracting the attention of the sailors above of the boat.

“ captain, captain, look !! there’s a siren ! ” said a sailor who pointed a finger toward you.

“ she's gorgeous ! ” replied another.

“ those tits…”

“ stop being horny, that creature can kill you. i don't pay all of you to do all the work so everybody on the ship move his fucking ass before i throw you all on that storm. am i clear ? and if i don't hear a yes right now, i will let that siren eat every single piece of yours. . ” warned the captain with a deep and somber tone.

“ captain yes, yes captain. ” echoed all the sailor voices.

“ man, you can't say that when you have a fucking boner while looking at her. ” commented a sailor.

“ shut your mouth, barry. it's not her at all. ”

“ do you think i'm dumb to think it's one of the men on the ship ? come on, you can lie with that mouth but that hard dick in your pants betrays you. don’t worry, nobody is immune to tits, especially when they're wet as a fucking pussy.”

“ mind your business. ”

“ as you want, captain. ”

a smile appeared on your soppy lips, as you disappeared again into the tormented waves. you had surrounded the ship, swimming only around the boat. you loved it when everyone was fascinated by you, catching with their eyes all your flawless moves as a show.

water being your domain and your home, you took the initiative to do some twirls by immersing your entire body in the water to bring out only your tail as you leaped to the surface with some back flips and observing your audience. you stood on an icy rock, resting your webbed and manicured fingers against the stone.

“ someone is gonna fucking do his work here ? ” shouted the captain. he was actually running out of patience because of his crew being so attracted by the siren. “are you all dumb on purpose ? this is exactly what she wants, to get all of your attention, and kill you. ”

“ captain accept there is nothing you can do. that woman is too stunning. ” cutted one man, literally drooling over his huge beard, giving up his activity for you.

“ do you think she cares about you ? you're just a prey for her. but right, this is not my problem. you can leave my ship and die. ”

once comfortable on the rock, , you begin to open your mouth to sing a sweet song that would bring them as well as this storm to their doom. your voice was just a trap to lure men.

you had no shells on your breasts as the tales loved to tell. actually, you were completely naked from the top, water running down your chest to your mermaid glowing tail. your skin was still cold and damp, like your eyes. but it shone through the moon, and the white pearls on your body lit up every inch of your flesh like stars. you were of a beauty that had thrown more than one sailor into the water. you were in the image of no god, no man, no woman, you were the angel of the sea. you had a throne in every wave, a kingdom wherever you swam.

your hair fell deliberately on your shoulders, and your angelic voice currently pierced all the foam. the storm was raging, and you appeared as their savior, a halo of light projecting above you to cover your superb figure. you were beautiful and unrealistic like a work of art.

when you weren't expecting it, one of the men you had guessed to be the captain had lowered a boat. he was certainly tall and imposing, a long coat covering his entire frame, and immense leather boots with roughly tied laces on his feets as he approached you. he had a pistol stuck in his glistening and leathery belt, and above all an eye patch over his face. you took a look at the cross scar hidden in his shirt of which you only saw the scary top of the burned mark of the probably iron.

he rowed up to you, until you felt his scent replacing the salty smell of the sea. you quickly understood that there was nothing like the other men you had managed to charm. not unlike the others, this man seemed to be able to corrupt anyone, men and women, humans and mermaids alike.

he placed his boat near the rock to look at you more closely.

“didn’t your father warn you not to come near men like me? i’m sure he did gorgeous, i bet you’re just not smart enough to listen to him. ”

you backed away but he put his gun on the tip of your tail to stand you still, making you shake. “y’know what that means? I’m in charge here. ”

“let me go!” you responded, waving your tail limply, but he pushed his finger against the trigger of his gun to scare you.

"you'll leave when i decide. so stand still because from now, all your rules are made by me. ”

“you should fear my father, he will kill you.” you replied.

he laughed in a mocking tone, and moved closer to you with a smirk. “you could kill me too though, couldn’t you mermaid ? but look at you, shaking like prey ready to die by my hand.”

“are you going to kill me?”

“ is this a question or a wish ? or maybe a dirty mermaid fantasy ? ”

“i don’t want to die.”

“If that pretty mouth can sing like it does then it can beg too, don’t you think? If you want me to spare you, you’re gonna have to be a bit more convincing.”

he lowered his gaze towards your glossy and watery body, his weapon buried in the flesh of your stomach, before slightly moving up to your breasts, your nipples arching against the gun. you shivered at the contact of the metal against your skin.

he slid the gun up to your throat, pushing the barrel against your vocal cords. you coughed, and placed a hand around his.

he had sworn "oh fuck...legends don't tell all the things siren can do to a man…"

your webbed fingers, surrounded by tiny fins, had found their effect on him. you looked so sweet and innocent, but you were a creature who knew how to be machiavellian so he had to keep an eye on you.

“you don’t want to die?” he asked, repeating your words.

rafe was not a man of morals, he made fun of laws and conventions. and above all, why would he deprive himself when a beautiful mermaid was willing to do whatever he wanted just to be spared.

you were desperate, and frighteningly attractive. rafe would be lying if he said it didn't stimulate him. his cock was clearly hard and painfully stretched against the leather of his pants, forming a bulge just below his belt. and it was starting to be so uncomfortable. he only wanted one thing, it was to fill your soppy mouth surrounded by divine dripping lips until he felt your throat tighten around his dick, because his girth prevented the air from passing into your cavity.

oh yes rafe cameron was cruel. he wanted you to die, but in a completely different way.

and what he wanted, he got. he was a captain admired and respected by all and who had a high reputation both on the seas and on land. he was rich and miserly. he had as much money as he had girls.

he pulled down his pants, freeing his thick length to reveal it before your eyes. you'd be lying if you said you'd seen one before. It was the first time you saw something that big, it was terrifying. you didn't even know what this sailor wanted you to do with it so you looked at him with curious and desperate eyes.

oh that innocence burning in your gaze had shot a charge through rafe's body and his cock had twitched, letting precum drop on your face and the blood inside him completely heated.

"open your mouth...yes, like that. show me your tongue, i'll help you, gonna tell you how to do it.”

he had thrust himself into your mouth before giving you instructions, telling you how to make him feel good, while his dick found a way to your throat. you were even wetter inside than a real woman and it felt perfect and insane. you started to suck him, your lips vibrating around his throbbing girth that stuffed you real quick.his tip was slightly salty from the precum dripping from it that you had swallowed, making the ship captain above you groan.

pushed by his grunts and his tight grip through your hair, you pumped him faster because you were starting to understand how it worked. he never tired of your lips that foamed, and fully encircling his cock which as you licked got bigger and bigger, your naked tummy spiraling as the growing feeling.

with one hand, he had plunged himself completely into you, your head completely trapped between his firm fingers, and your nose buried in his pelvis. you gagged on him, a spurt of drool coming out of your mouth when he pulled out, as you gurgled strongly . your saliva hung from his glistening tip down the length of his hardened dick, all the way to his heavy balls.

he re-positioned himself inside you, his massive dick now dripping inside your soaked mouth as you continued to suck and lick with the fear knotting in your stomach of being killed. but you could feel that his body was relaxed, his muscles were loose, and you could hear every deep sound of pleasure coming from his lips.

he was both fascinated and over the moon, because your wetted tongue twirling around his hot cock was perfect. oh if he could have fucked you, he would have. he couldn't help but fantasize about how he would have fucked you on this rock, his large hands on your tits caged them like bra and pressing them against his thick fingers that would easily crushed them.

he also loved how your throat was so capricious, clenching around him while your tongue hungrily brushed his entire growing bulge. the feeling was intense, and you could hear his breaths become harsh.

that's what he liked about corruption, you were too good for him, a creature blessed by all the gods who had nothing to do with a mortal as rich as him, because you were too divine , too wonderful but at that moment, you were in the same rank. you were at his mercy.

you placed your wet hands on his hips, leaving trails of water on his body and impressive marks of whip that left scars on his skin. rafe could have sworn it was the gentlest touch in the world. the tiny fins around your fingers, tracing the straight line of his waist, down to his firm ass as you sucked him to death, drove him so crazy with your long soaked tongue that made him gasp.

and even if he was not a believer, he was convinced that heaven could not be so wonderful.

a few minutes later, his dick had convulsed around your mouth, and you felt large hot streams filling your throat down to your tummy. you swallowed, and he smiled before stroking your hair gently.

“ good job, little mermaid. don’t you deserve a reward for that ?”

you didn’t really know what that meant but you nodded.

he had taken a long pearl necklace from his pocket. “turn around. let me help you. ”

and you complied. he had hung the expensive and luxurious jewel around your neck, the length of which was so long that he had to make several turns until a hundred white pearls covered the entirety of your bust, dangling around your handsome tits.

“do you know what that means?”

you moved your head to say no, and he responded. “that now you belong to me. you’re my prized possession. you need to understand that now you can't leave. without me. ”

he had found a treasure and he was going to keep it. after all, he was a pirate, he stole everything the ocean had. and sirens were not an exception to the rules.

“i want to see my father.”

“mermaid, you are mine, and mine only.” he responded while caressing your soppy cheek. “ you don't need your dad anymore, just me. ”

you lifted your gaze to meet the most beautiful blue eyes you ever met. he was handsome as the devil, and you couldn’t deny it. but you were a mermaid, you belonged to the ocean, not to a man.

you tried to run away but he stopped you by placing his leather boot on your mermaid tail with a smirk, before leaning forward to grab you by the throat, your upper body was arched, his biceps caged your vocal cords tightly, his thick fingers pushed further in your mouth to forced you to behave, your drool dripping over your hanged jaw.

“what did I tell you about making silly moves, huh? behave, unless you want to die. you know what’ll happen if you act up? what you did earlier, with that pretty mouth, we’re gonna do it again. except this time instead of my cock, it’ll be my gun and if you stop, I shoot. And I know you don’t want that, right?”

" no…”

“ yea ? better to be alive. ”

you nodded. because it was true.

"now i have my men waiting for me. but don't worry, you're coming with me.”

“ that's a kidnapping — ”

“ do you think i care ? because listen to me, i don't fucking care. do you know what it means ? that you can pout, cry, scream, whatever tantrum you want to shout, it will not change anything. ”

you shivered when his hands stroked your shoulders, the icy metal of his silver rings brushing your skin. “ don't you want to be cherished ? see that world ? look up, because it can be yours. ”

“ you're not afraid that i can eat you ? ”

“ didn't you see my scars ? i fear nothing, even if you dig those canines in my skin, you will be the only one to be scared of what i can do to you. because babe, be mean to me, i dare you to, and i will be meaner. ”

“ where are your scars coming from, they're huge. and it's not sirens. ”

“oh, it’s a horrible story for a little mermaid like you. stick to your fairytales. so are you gonna come with me willingly or do we have to do things the hard way?”

“ sound like a trap. ”

“ sound like you're smart. ” he mocked.

“ i'm gonna follow you. but don't be too happy, my dad will find you before sunrise. so you're soon a dead man. ”

“ such a mean baby, already wishing that i'm dead. but careful, don't make me correct that mouth myself. it's not the kind of thing you will like. ”

“ because there is a good thing you can do with my mouth ? ” you were curious.

you turned your gaze toward him, and he lifted a brow, not believing your words. “ mermaid, you never kissed a man ? ”

“ show me what kissing is. ”

“ Why would I kiss the mouth that curses me ? ”

“ Should i ask those men on the ship? ”

because of his possessive side, categorically refusing to share you with his crew full of grotesque men, he had leaned down to grab your jaw and press his lips against yours.the feeling was so strange, but your mermaid tail was waving on the cold stone. “seems like you enjoy being kissed. ” he said, as his tongue swirled with yours. “ want to be kissed endlessly ? yea ? then don't make me repeat myself and move that fucking tail to the ship. ”

[riddlesrizzler]

Kiss me on the mouth, and love me like a sailor

summary:“I’d rather drown in you than live safe and hollow without you.” characters: sailor! mattheo. siren! reader warnings: mentions of drownings word count: 2.8k a/n: fourth week of festival of aus! i was originally going to write for a knight and princess but this has been lingering in my mind forever!

The cove curled inward like a secret kept too long, cradled by crumbling cliffs that bore the scars of wind and tide. It was a place the maps forgot, where time breathed slower and the sea spoke in lullabies and laments. Salt hung heavy in the air, spun into lace by the breeze that threaded through seagrass and the gnarled fingers of driftwood.

Here, the morning rose in watercolor-peach and periwinkle bleeding into the silver foam as waves pressed tender kisses to the shore. The sand was cool, soft with memory, scattered with shells that shimmered like forgotten coins from a sunken kingdom.

Gulls cried overhead, not out of hunger, but as though bearing witness to something sacred. The world beyond the cliffs blurred like a half-remembered dream, and in the hush between wave and wind, it was easy to believe that the cove itself was alive-ancient and watching, waiting for the next soul to wander in and listen.

Mattheo Riddle knew the cove like he knew the sound of his own breath-quiet, constant, edged with something unspoken. He had sailed these waters since boyhood, his hands calloused by rope and salt, his skin sun-kissed and wind-marked. The sea had raised him, rough and tender, and the cove had always been her gentlest offering.

His boat-a slender, timeworn thing named Nox-cut through the dawn-lit water with reverence, as if it, too, understood the holiness of the place. Sails furled like the wings of a resting bird, he let the tide guide him into the hush of the inlet, where the world fell away and memory rose to the surface like foam on a swell.

He dropped anchor in the shallows, boots echoing softly on the deck, eyes scanning the familiar curve of shoreline. The cove had not changed. Not truly. The stones still whispered beneath the waves. The air still tasted like brine and old magic. But each visit felt different, as though the cove greeted him not as a place, but as a presence-shifting, waiting, watching.

Mattheo stepped ashore, and the moment his feet touched the sand, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding slipped free. He belonged here, more than he had ever belonged anywhere else. Even the ghosts seemed to nod in recognition.

He ran his fingers along the jagged edge of a rock, where moss grew in thin, delicate veins. “You remember me,” he murmured, not to the rock, but to the cove itself. “Don’t you?”

And the waves, as always, answered.

He waited along the shore, boots half-buried in the wet, cold sand, his coat caught in the breath of the sea breeze. The tide crept inward like a secret spilling itself, inch by inch, wrapping around his ankles in cool ribbons. Mattheo didn’t move. He never did, not when he came here for this.

The cove shimmered with stillness, the kind that came just before something began-or returned.

He told himself he shouldn't be here. Not again. Not after last time. Not after the way the song had wrapped around his ribs and tugged, not after the way he'd staggered back to the Nox hollow-eyed and trembling, her voice still echoing in the salt of his blood.

But reason had never had much of a voice in this place. The cove silenced logic, softened resolve, and turned longing into a current too strong to swim against.

He knew what he was waiting for.

Not a what, but a who.

A presence stitched into the water like silk threads through seaweed. A shadow beneath the foam. A voice that haunted the deep and curled itself inside his bones. She never came quickly. No-she liked to take her time, as if savoring the way anticipation made him unravel.

And he let it.

Because no matter how far he sailed, how many ports he docked in, or how many skies he slept beneath, this place, she, always called him home. Not with words, but with that quiet, aching pull-an invisible hook lodged somewhere behind his sternum.

He sat down in the sand, elbows on his knees, eyes cast toward the horizon where the sea melted into sky.

“She’ll come,” he whispered, half to the waves, half to himself.

The moon had climbed higher now, pale and watchful, its reflection stretched long across the cove’s still waters. It glowed with that same soft, silver fire that had lit the sky the night he first saw her-the night everything changed.

Mattheo’s gaze fixed on it, and time slipped. The present thinned, giving way to memory like the tide pulling back to reveal what was buried beneath.

He had been younger then-reckless, curious, still believing he could outpace whatever haunted him. The sea had been calm, but the air strange, charged with a hush that pressed against his skin like breath on the back of his neck. He’d anchored in the cove for shelter, unaware that something was waiting beneath the lull of the waves.

He hadn’t meant to go into the water.

But something had drawn him, something soft and sorrowful, almost human, yet not. It sang to him in tones too ancient for language, tugging gently at the frayed corners of his soul. And so he’d gone-boots discarded, shirt clinging damp to his back, wading until the water lapped at his chest and the world behind him fell away.

That was when he saw her.

At first, just a shimmer beneath the surface-light bending wrong, as though the sea itself had opened its eye. Then hair like kelp and silk, trailing behind a face too lovely to be safe. Eyes deeper than the ocean’s darkest trench, glowing faintly, mournfully, knowingly.

She hadn't spoken.

She hadn't needed to.

Her song had already wound around his heart, tethering him with invisible thread, soft as a promise, sharp as a blade.

He remembered how the moonlight had caught on her skin, turning her into something ethereal, something unholy. He remembered the sudden, sharp ache in his chest-not fear, not even desire, but something older. Recognition, maybe. Or fate.

That was the night he stopped belonging to the world above the waves.

Back on the shore now, Mattheo blinked, breath catching as the memory faded into the crash and hush of the tide. The moon had not moved. It still hung there-silent, round, complicit.

“She remembers too,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, thick with salt and sleepless nights.

And out past the breakers, something moved.

The water stilled.

No breeze stirred. No gulls cried. Even the waves seemed to hesitate, as if the sea itself were holding its breath.

Then, she rose.

Not all at onc-never all at once. First the shimmer, like moonlight caught in the tide. Then the curve of a shoulder, pale and glistening, breaking the surface as if the ocean reluctantly let her go. Her hair fanned out around her, dark as kelp, threaded with salt and secrets. The shadows clung to her, soft and reverent, as she stepped onto the shallows without sound, the water barely rippling at her touch.

Her eyes found him in the dark.

“Mattheo,” she said, his name like a sigh the sea had been holding in for too long.

His heart surged, every beat a storm tide.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice quiet-firm, but laced with something tender, something breaking.

He stood, slow and steady, like any sudden movement might make her vanish. “I know,” he said. “But I can’t stay away.”

She looked at him then, truly looked-like she was trying to memorize the shape of him, or maybe find something in his face that could save them both.

“That’s the problem,” she whispered, moving towards him, as far as the ocean would let her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Mattheo swallowed hard, salt sharp on his tongue. “Then don’t.”

Her expression faltered. “It’s not that simple.”

She reached out, fingertips hovering just above his, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his skin. But she didn’t touch him. She never did.

“I’m not human like you,” she said. “Not entirely. I was made to lure, to ruin. And you… you make me forget that. You make me want to remember what it’s like to be something else.”

The waves curled around her ankles like they were trying to pull her back.

“But you do remember,” he said. “When you’re here. With me.”

She closed her eyes, and for a moment, Mattheo thought he saw a tear slide down her cheek-but it could’ve been seawater, it always could’ve been seawater.

“That’s why it’s dangerous.”

The wind returned in a hush, brushing past them like it, too, didn’t want to interrupt. The sea lapped gently at the shore, a soft, rhythmic pulse beneath their silence.

Mattheo stepped forward, slow, steady, his voice raw. “You think I’m lying.”

Her gaze dropped. “I know you are.”

“I’m not.”

She shook her head, just once, but it carried the weight of a thousand tides. “You’re human. You feel things in bursts-flares of light that burn out just as quickly. You don’t love me. You’re enchanted. Entranced. You don’t know the difference.”

“I do,” he said, more fiercely than he meant to. “I know it when I’m sailing in silence and I still hear your voice. I know it when I wake up in a crowded harbor and reach for you like a fool. I know it when I look at the sea and it doesn’t feel like freedom anymore-it feels like you.”

Her lip trembled, but she turned away, as if the shape of his words was too much to bear.

“You think I don’t know what you are,” he said, softer now, stepping into the foam where she stood. “But I do. I know the stories. The songs. I know how sirens end. But I also know what I feel when I look at you-and it’s not fear.”

“You should be afraid.”

“I’m not.”

Her breath hitched. “You will be.”

“I’d rather drown in you than live safe and hollow without you.”

She looked up at him then, eyes wide, luminous, full of something old and aching. “Why would you say that?” she whispered. “Why would you say something like that to me?”

“Because it’s true.”

Her hands fisted at her sides. “You say you love me-but I can feel your heartbeat. I can feel the way it rushes when I’m near. It’s not steady. It’s not safe. It’s not love.”

He stepped closer, inches from her now. “Then tell me what it is,” he said. “Tell me what else would make me come back here, again and again, knowing it could be the end of me. Tell me what else would make the sea feel empty unless you’re in it.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. The tide lapped at her tail, a slow, silver breath between them.

And then-quietly, almost brokenly-she said, “Don’t make me hope.”

She pushed herself back, as if his closeness might unravel her completely. The moonlight caught on her skin like silver fire, but her eyes were darker now-wide, wild, and wounded.

“Even if I wanted to,” she said, voice barely more than breath, “you’re human. And I’m…” She paused, swallowed hard. “I’m a siren. We could never be.”

Mattheo was quiet for a long moment, watching her. Watching the way her hands trembled, the way she kept her chin lifted like a shield, the way her voice cracked around the edges of truth. She wasn’t just pushing him away.

She was scared.

Scared because she felt it too.

That changed everything.

“No,” he said, gently. “Not ‘could never be.’ Just… afraid to be.”

She flinched like he’d struck her, and that’s when he knew.

He took a breath, slow and sure, and reached for the buttons of his coat. “You want proof?” he asked, voice low, steady, the kind of calm that only came in the eye of a storm.

“What are you doing?” she asked, the pitch of her voice rising like the tide.

He didn’t answer. His coat fell first, then his shirt, left to the sand like old armor. The cool night wind kissed his bare skin, but he didn’t stop. His boots followed, then his trousers, until he stood at the water’s edge clothed in nothing but moonlight and the look in his eyes-a look that said I choose this. I choose you.

She took a shaky step back. “Mattheo, don’t.”

He stepped into the water.

Every inch he waded deeper, the sea welcomed him, slow and cold, until it hugged his ribs and whispered up his spine. He moved toward her, not like a man chasing something wild, but like someone offering himself to it completely.

“I don’t care what you are,” he said, the water curling just below his shoulders now. “Siren, myth, storm-I don’t care. I love you. And if that means walking into the sea every night for the rest of my life, I will.”

She shook her head, but tears slipped down her cheek-—undeniably hers, not the sea’s. “Why would you do this?”

He paused then, chest rising and falling with the rhythm of the tide, and said the only thing that mattered:

“Because I think you love me, too.”

She didn’t answer-not with words.

But her expression shattered.

And then, slowly, beautifully, she sank beneath the water.

Mattheo froze-until a hand, soft and sure, reached up through the surface.

She was waiting for him.

The water stilled around him as her hand broke the surface-pale, glistening, fingers outstretched. For a moment, Mattheo just stared at it. Her hand looked so human, so gentle. But he knew it wasn’t.

Nothing about her was ordinary.

And yet, everything about her felt right.

He took her hand.

The moment his fingers closed around hers, the sea shifted-welcoming, not wild. A sudden warmth pulsed through the cold, like the water itself recognized their bond. And then, she pulled.

Not violently. Not to drown. It was a beckoning, a surrender-his and hers.

He let go of breath, let the air leave his lungs as she drew him beneath the surface. The sea swallowed him whole, the moonlight fracturing above like shattered glass.

She was there, inches from him. Eyes wide and endless. Hair like ink spilling through water. Her hands found his shoulders, sliding up the curve of his neck, anchoring him as though she feared he’d drift away if she didn’t hold tight.

And then, clear as a bell in the deep hush of the ocean, she spoke.

He didn’t understand how-it wasn’t through ears or sound, but through thought, through soul, like her words had always existed inside him.

"Kiss me on the mouth, sailor."

His heart surged. He didn’t hesitate.

Their lips met like a current-soft at first, reverent. Then deeper. The world fell away. Time stilled. Her mouth tasted like salt and sorrow, like longing and eternity, like the answer to every question he hadn’t dared to ask.

She held him close as the water danced around them, glowing faintly with their magic. His hands slid around her waist, pulling her to him like he was afraid she’d vanish. But she didn’t. She stayed. She kissed him like she meant to stay forever.

And for one perfect moment, under the sea, under the spell of something older than stars-

-they both forgot how to be afraid.

The kiss broke like a wave.

Softly. Slowly. A breath parting from a body. A flame dimming in a storm.

Mattheo kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, letting the memory cling to his lips, letting her presence linger in the space between heartbeats. The warmth of her hands still ghosted over his skin, her touch like silk spun from moonlight and tide.

But when he opened his eyes- She was gone.

Only the sea remained.

Dark and endless. Empty.

The water was colder now. Deeper. The glow that had shimmered around them had faded into shadow. No trace of her. No ripple, no silhouette, not even a glimmer beneath the surface.

Just the slow, steady pain of silence.

He turned in a slow circle, searching the vast blue-black void, lungs burning, heart heavier than the ocean pressing in on all sides. He wanted to scream, but the sea would only drink the sound like it always did.

She’d vanished. Again.

Stolen away by the very water she’d come from. Just like that night beneath the same moon, just like every time before.

But this time, she’d let him in. This time, she kissed him. This time… she felt it too.

He kicked toward the surface, breaking into the open air with a gasp, chest heaving, eyes scanning the empty cove. The moon still hung there-unbothered, unknowing. The tide whispered at the shore like nothing had happened.

Mattheo pulled himself onto the sand, the water falling away from his body in sheets. He lay there, soaked and shivering, staring up at the stars as if they might tell him where she went.

She had kissed him.

And she had left.

But she always did.

And still-he would wait.

Because the sea had her, But his heart did, too.

[deadghosy]

Sebastian && Ominis with a siren/mermaid!reader hcs

🐚 ྀ࿓immediately when it was spread around how the new fifth year was a half merfolk. Sebastian was amazed while ominis was a bit skeptical. He never really believed in those kinda tells. 

🐚 ྀ࿓even after getting to know you a lot. And how Sebastian described your tail when you went in water, Ominis still didn’t believe until he felt your energy shift. Felt your tail scales, heard you talk in your own language. But also when he heard first years say that an actual mermaid or siren perhaps was in the water.

🐚 ྀ࿓sallow most definitely watches you swim through the window to the ocean. He finds you magical. He may even playfully draw a heart against the window only to feel his heart swell at how you made a heart air bubble

🐚 ྀ࿓those two always wait by the window to see you. Well mostly seeing from Sebastian while Ominis is just there for your presence.

🐚 ྀ࿓Sebastian would put his feet in the water while you are full on mermaid mode whilst Ominis is just relaxing, bathing in the sun.

🐚 ྀ࿓your two slytherin boys heart melts when you give them sea treasures. Immediately they want to gift you some things as well.

🐚 ྀ࿓Sebastian who sometimes thinks if you get water poured onto your arms you would turn into a mermaid accidentally on land. He told this to Ominis who didn’t worry much as you told him yourself you have to be in ocean water fully.

🐚 ྀ࿓Ominis who just feels the ocean for you when you are in there. He likes how you hold his hand and not pull him in like a jerk.

🐚 ྀ࿓these two Slytherins are very protective. They don’t even let a single male student talk to you. In fear of them not being your favorite best friends. They personally say that they are your boys.

🐚 ྀ࿓ “can you speak fish?” Sebastian says as he plays with your hair in charms class. Ominis scrunched up his face hearing that question while you snickers. “Sebsatian. Please be quiet” Ominis says, which makes you laugh out a little bit.

🐚 ྀ࿓Sebastian who makes you try to talk to a fish only for you to slap the back of his head and tell him no yourself

🐚 ྀ࿓you three sometimes get into mischief if a person tries to sale you. Only to know you got two protective Slytherin boys by your back. Ready to harm anyways trying to harm you. Especially Sebastian.

🐚 ྀ࿓if you can sing just like how sirens and mermaid are told to sing. Except Ominis and Sebastian standing over you in your bed wanting you to sing them to sleep. It was Sebastian’s idea, dragging Ominis in this.

🐚 ྀ࿓Sebastian makes you a sea shell bracelet..it was garbage but hey, it’s the thought that counts.

🐚 ྀ࿓gaunt is an excellent boy who loves to just sleep by the window if you choose to sleep with the sea critters. He doesn’t care for odd looks. He likes your attention and presence most.

🐚 ྀ࿓Sebastian definitely has a field trip when you two prank Ominis. He can sense your energy, yes but he can’t sense it with you deep under water.

🐚 ྀ࿓it’s all love as Sebastian says sorry along with you just agreeing. Head out of the water as well. You three go back to the house and relax like the trio you are.

[sunsbaby]

when dean falls for the oldest trick in the book, a sirens song...

or you begin to feel things for your prey, things you do not yet understand which come crashing down unexpectedly

﹏﹏﹏

dean winchester x siren .ᐟ reader now playing...

! mentions of death. stalking. blood. kissing.

𓂁

dean found himself by the shore, baby parked by the sandy beach and a beer in his hand. he needed an escape from whatever hunt they were on. he couldn't remember what it was they were hunting. his feelings were eating him up from the inside out and sam was no help. he watched the moonlit waters crash against each other. losing himself in the bottle.

you swam beneath the blue waters–now almost black in the night. stalking your prey was usual, especially if they were as skilled as a hunter was. though, this one was not alert, instead he stood completely vulnerable. his hands clenching a bottle and with a troubled look decorating his handsome features.

you found yourself perched on top of a rock, after endless days of watching, it was time to act.

songs spewing from your lips in irresistible melodies. his eyes spiraled into a dazed look, his form immediately walking towards yours. a sinister smile formed on your face.

you had him right where you wanted him.

once dean had stood in front of you, his eyes glazed over and the beer was long gone from his grasp.

your hand gently came to his face, caressing the skin with surprising gentleness. long nails tracing patterns into the skin, you felt almost something human in his presence. it was both irritating and addicting; however, in all honesty you found him quite pathetic.

a hunter as known as him falling for your songs, which had been in stories told all over the world was unheard of. you wondered what his dear brother would think if he saw him in this position.

yet, you didn't dwell on the thought. using your strength to pull him into your cavern, which was filled with shells and bones–which could only be named as your previous victims.

tying him up with precise motions, keeping it tight and secure. riding his pockets and boots of any sharp objects, marveling at the shininess of them.

you normally kept whatever you found on the men you captured as a little present, a good job to yourself. afterall self love was key in success. 

wandering around your cave to keep busy, until he woke up of course, then you would have your fun.

dean stirred, eyes blurry as he blinked away the sleep. his heart immediately jumped, his first thought was to escape. tugging on his restraints harshly, though it did no good in helping–only in hurting himself.

your ears picked up on the noises, walking back towards him quickly. “dean! you're awake.” you chirped cheerfully, hands clasping in front of you.

he practically stared into your soul, a look that could kill. and he wanted to kill you. “who are you–better yet, what are you?” his voice was strained and raspy, filling your body with a warmth you weren't used to.

you pushed those feelings back, fingers slowly trailing down his cheek. cutting him up slightly, licking your lips at the sight and smell of the crimson liquid.

by now he should've been dead, you usually weren't one to waste time when it came to meals. but there was something about him, something that lit a fire inside of you that wouldn't let itself be put out.

“oh, dean..” your words came out almost breathless, face coming close to his, foreheads touching. the skin-to-skin contact set that fire ablaze. “you fell for the oldest trick, my songs.” you hinted at what you were, being one for trivias and all.

"a fuckin’ siren, perfect, just what i need.” dean spat out, tone laced full of venom that stung.

your eyes widened as his words pierced through you, forcing themselves straight into your heart. somehow tears welled up in your waterline, awaiting to be set free. to flow down your cheeks, evidence of your sadness.

but you were stronger than that, opting on letting him free. you couldn't take it, his words, and harsh gaze that burned holes into your form. stronger than the fire that went ablaze anytime you smelt him, or even looked at him. how could a human man – a hunter – have this effect on you. 

dean let the ropes fall from his body, greens eyes lingering on your form, seemingly stalking your every movement–just like how you'd stalked him. his face softened from it's hardened look, calloused hands coming to gingerly grasp onto your waist.

“hey, it's alright. next time, don't drug and kidnap the guys you find attractive, yea?” he teased, trying to lighten the mood and lift your spirits. he couldn't believe he was doing this, for a monster no less. but he felt his soul tug towards you, his face stung from the cut, yet it never deterred him from you.

the tears flowed graciously down your cheeks, turning your head to catch a glimpse of him. as soon as you did, his lips captured yours in a calming kiss. the taste of alcohol lingered on his. while the salt from the sea was all he tasted on yours and to him, it was the best thing he's ever had the privilege of tasting.

sunny's note! HII everyone, this is my first little fic that I'm posting. I know it's probably short but I wanted to continue with another part like their life together after!! please lmk if you'd be interested in reading that! <3

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[betweenstorms]

The Tide That Binds Us Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Siren!fem Reader

“The tide drags us together, lover and monster alike, until our reflections blur upon the water, now I cannot tell where your hunger ends and my surrender begins.”

Simon Riley knew that he had been raised by the sea herself.

His lungs had been shaped by her salted breath, his skin weathered by her touch, both cruel and kind, both lover and executioner. His hands bore the scars of her temperament, the rough callouses of a child she had never coddled, only forged.

He had seen all her faces, too, her serene hush, when the morning tide kissed the shore like a parting lover, whispering secrets in the language of shifting sands. He had also known her rage, the way she screamed in the throat of a storm, a wrathful goddess tearing at the sky, drowning the world in fury. She was treacherous and tender, devouring and divine.

And Simon knew better than most that the sea had no mercy.

She gave as much as she took, offered salvation in the same breath she whispered death. Men like him belonged to her in ways those bound to the land could never understand. She did not love, not in the way a mother should. But she kept him. She had taken men stronger than him, smarter than him, much more cunning than him, pulled them beneath her surface with greedy hands, but she had let him live.

Perhaps the sea had been merciful because he had always served her.

He was not like the others, those who fought against her, who defied her will, who prayed to false gods to spare them from her wrath. Simon had never begged her for favor, nor cursed her for cruelty. He had accepted her as she was, giver and taker, mother and monster, and she, maybe in return, had allowed him to stay, to bathe in her glory.

The lighthouse was his domain, his duty, the golden eye of its beacon sweeping across the darkened bay each night, a silent warning to those who dared trespass upon the inky waters. The men who sailed these shores, fishermen, drifters, wanderers with salt in their veins and wounds on their skin, depended on it. On him. On his care. They never saw his face, only the steady rhythm of his work, the light that cut through the darkness.

Simon’s days were predictable.

Ritualistic even.

He fished in the mornings, pulling silver offerings from the sea’s embrace, his hands deft and unthinking as he worked. He maintained the beacon, tended the building, ensuring the gears moved as they should, oiling the great lantern’s heart. When the skies were clear, he watched the stars, mapping the constellations that stretched above him like scars across the heavens.

The nearest town was miles away, across the bay, little more than a scattering of homes and shops clinging to the coastline. He rarely ventured there unless necessity demanded it—a new coil of rope, a crate of provisions—but even then, he lingered only long enough to make his purchases before returning to his solitary world.

Simon preferred it that way.

Isolation suited him.

The sea had always been his most faithful companion, the only one who knew the language of silence, who understood the weight of solitude without seeking to fill it. She never asked anything of him beyond his devotion, never demanded more than he could give. And yet, beneath her endless surface, beneath the lull of waves and foam, she harbored secrets.

Dark things. Forgotten things. 

Monsters.

One of those monsters haunted him that night.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon grunted as he closed a window due to the heavy wind. The sea was uneasy, restless in a way that only those who truly knew her could feel.

That day, sometime after dusk, the wind had shifted, rolling in from the east with an eerie stillness that pressed heavy against the world, the kind that foretold an oncoming storm. Above, the stars burned brighter than they should have, their cold, ancient light stark against the vast abyss. The moon hung low and swollen, full and watching, a silver god casting its glow over the churning water below. The waves lapped against the massive cliffs, carrying secrets meant for no human ear. Dark and murmuring.

They rose and fell like a monster’s sigh.

And then he heard it.

A siren.

He was a man nearing forty, and he knew well the witchery of the sea. The stories whispered in dockside taverns, the warnings etched into the faces of old sailors, the superstitions woven into every knot of a fisherman’s net—he had heard them all. The sea was no gentle mistress. She was a realm of monsters, of unholy things that ruled the waves with claws and teeth and songs that could drown men without a drop of water touching their skin.

He knew of krakens, their tentacles rising like black towers from the depths, wrapping around ships and pulling them into the darkness. He knew of beasts with too many eyes, blinking in eerie unison from the shadows beneath the waves, their gazes filled with unknowable intent. 

And he knew of sirens, too.

Their otherworldly voices were spun from the marrow of dead sailors, their songs as sweet as they were lethal, beckoning men toward ruin with the promise of something beautiful, eternal and inescapable. He had seen one once, when he was just a boy—too young to understand, but old enough to remember.

He could still recall the way his father’s harpoon tore through its body, the way it bled black, ink and brine spilling into the boat, staining his hands, his boots, his memories.

They were wretched things, their bodies tangled with moss and pearls, their scales slick as oil on water, shimmering and shifting, catching the light in unnatural hues of purple, blue, and silver. Their eyes were the worst of it—milky and hollow, pits of white that seemed to pierce and yet see nothing at all.

No pupils, no soul, no mercy.

And their teeth, too sharp and too many for his liking, gleaming like a reflection of the waves themselves, something meant for rending, for devouring, for dragging men into the deep and never letting go.

“Never trust what comes from the sea,” that was what his father had said as he carved into the corpse, his blade slicing through the slick flesh with the practiced ease of a man gutting a fish, stripping it bare from its makeshift jewelry. “Nothin’ that comes from it is ever yours, son. Not her pearls, not her beauty, not her mercy. You take what you need and leave the rest. If you don’t, she’ll take you instead.”

This was the only truly useful thing his father had ever said to him.

But this one—this siren wasn’t singing.

It was crying.

The sound was heartbreakingly beautiful, a sorrow spun from salt and wind that rose from the darkness and wrapped itself around him like a mother’s embrace. It wasn’t the seductive pull of their song, that honeyed, venomous promise of blissful destruction he had steeled himself against countless times before. No, this was different. It was raw, fractured, a sound that felt like it didn’t belong to the world of the living. It was haunting, the way it seemed to call for him and only him. The sound wasn’t human, couldn’t be, and yet it burrowed into his chest and made his heart tighten.

Because it was not a call.

It was pain.

And goddess help him, it was beautiful. It prickled his skin, sent a cold whisper down his spine, not with fear, but with something worse—recognition. As though the grief in that voice did not belong to the sea at all. As though, somehow, it belonged to him.

And Simon, against all reason, felt himself being drawn to it.

His first instinct was to shut the other windows, too. To bolt the lighthouse doors and to wait for the storm he knew would come crawling over the horizon by morning. The sea always changed before a tempest, the air thickening, the tides rising, tense and starved. Simon had learned long ago that no good ever came from listening too closely to what lurked beyond the shore.

And yet—he hesitated.

Something inside him rebelled, some nameless part of him that ached at the tempting sound, that tightened in his chest like an iron fist gripping his ribs. And against his better judgment, he picked up his lantern and left the lighthouse.

Unguarded.

The descent toward the shore was treacherous, even for a man who had known these cliffs all his life. The rocks jutted out like broken bones, slick with sea spray, the pathway winding and deceptive. He knew all too well that every footstep here mattered, knew how easy it would be to fall and disappear beneath the tide, swallowed whole. But he pressed on, lantern swinging in his grip, his breath harsh against the cold wind.

And then the crying stopped.

Simon slowed, heartbeat heavy in his ears. He scanned the shoreline, his keen eyes adjusting to the silver-washed darkness. The sea stretched before him, an endless mouth yawning wide beneath the moon, and the wind howled, but the sobs had ceased, leaving only silence.

He was being watched.

His grip on the lantern tightened.

Simon felt it before he saw it, the unmistakable sensation of something pressing against him from the inside out, an invisible weight that made his breath come shorter, his pulse pound against his freezing skin. He swept his gaze across the rocky shoreline, the lantern's glow flickering weakly against the dark. The tide rolled in sluggishly, dragging kelp and shattered shells and rubbish onto the sand, leaving behind gleaming trails of brine that shimmered like veins of liquid silver. The scent of salt and something faintly metallic filled his lungs.

Then he saw it.

Or more like her.

“Bloody hell,” was all he could muster.

Shimmering scales gleamed under the moonlight, their iridescence shifting, broken and glistening in the pale glow. Empty, sightless eyes stared at him, the gleam of too many teeth bared in silent warning. Her hair was woven from the night itself, strands of pure darkness clinging to her face, tangled in the glistening scales and skin. Braids coiled through the wild locks, adorned with shells and pearls that had long since lost their luster—just like the ones his father had torn from a creature like her.

At first, Simon thought she was nothing more than a trick of the light. A specter conjured by the approaching storm, a cruel illusion spun from shadow and tide, a barbaric joke of his goddess. But then—

She moved.

Not much, only the faintest shift of her webbed fingers against the sand, long nails digging in the grains, but it was enough. Enough to confirm that she was no mirage, no phantom rising from the sea’s depths to mock him.

A siren.

But something was wrong.

Her body lay sprawled on the shore, draped across the wet sand like a broken offering, her black blood pooling beneath her, seeping into the white foam that hissed and whispered as the waves lapped hungrily at her failing form. A ragged wound marred her tail, a savage, gaping bite that had torn deep into her flesh, revealing pale muscle and splintered bone. It was raw, violent, the kind of wound left by a predator—something larger, something hungrier.

As if something had tried to eat her.

Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her translucent throat fluttering with each rattling gasp, as though she were drowning on land, suffocating in air that was never meant to sustain her. But she didn’t look like she was drowning. More like suffering.

Simon stood frozen, the chill of the night pressing into his skin, however, he felt nothing but the pull of her gaze. Those empty eyes, devoid of pupils, locked onto him with a stillness that could unmake a man. Misty and milky white, like pearls rolling in the tide, and yet—they saw him, he was sure of that. Saw through him, into the space where his soul should have been. A shudder coursed through him, sharp and biting, like the cold of the sea itself wrapping around his spine, threatening not to let him go.

He had seen her kind before, but not like this.

Never like this.

Because the sirens Simon knew were born from hunger, nightmares carved from the abyss, their beauty a deception, their cruelty boundless. They did not weep and they did not falter. They were the sea’s daughters, forged in the salt and blood of drowned men. They hunted in packs, gliding through water like living specters, their songs curling through the mist, laced with promise, soaked in death. They spared no one—unless they had need of them. When their numbers thinned, when their kind dwindled, they would let men live long enough to take something from them.

Daughters born with water in their lungs.

Nothing hunted sirens other than humans.

Nothing could.

And yet—

Black tears streamed down her pale, bloodied face, tracing paths across her scales, dripping onto the torn flesh of her body. They mingled with the ink of her, pooling in the sand like an oil slick. The sound she made was not the haunting melody that had drawn countless men to their deaths, not the sweet, treacherous song that pulled sailors into their waiting jaws. It was softer. Raw.

Eerily human.

A fractured sob, torn from something deep and ancient, something that should not have been capable of grief, spilling into the night like the last dying breath of a storm.

It was not meant for Simon to hear.

His feet moved without thought, his boots sinking into the wet sand as he stepped closer. She snarled weakly, her lips peeling back to reveal two sets of teeth, as sharp and long as broken glass. The sound was instinctive, a threadbare defense, but her strength was failing her. Her fingers scraped at the sand, pulling her body toward, or perhaps away from him.

He could not tell which.

Her fear wasn’t for him.

It was for something else.

Simon’s gaze flickered downward, to the wound carved into her tail, the jagged edges of torn scales and raw, glistening muscle. A bite. No clean cut, no wound from battle, but the ruinous mark of something that had devoured and been left unsatisfied. Whatever had done this had been merciless and ancient. It was a claim—one that had not yet been fulfilled.

And she had escaped from it.

Sirens did not flee. They did not beg, did not tremble, did not seek shelter on land, away from the dark cradle that had borne them. They belonged to the abyss, yet this one had crawled to shore. And the terror in her sightless eyes told him why.

She had not really escaped it.

She had only bought herself time.

Simon’s fingers twitched at his side. He should end it. He knew he should. Should put her out of her misery, should stop whatever this was before it became something. But his hand would not move, would not reach for the creature’s neck to kill her. The tide rose, licking at his boots, reaching for her broken body, and yet, she did not fight it. She just looked at him.

He should have ignored it.

Should have let the sea take her back.

But he didn’t.

Simon Riley had never been a man of mercy.

The sea had taught him that early. However, Simon slowly knelt in the sand, his knees pressing into the wet earth, water and blood creeping through fabric, sinking deep. The vastness whispered at his back, the wind curling through his dusty blonde hair like ghostly fingers, urging him away. Goddess, he knew better than to get close—knew what those claws could do, what those teeth had done to men who had come before him. And yet, his body betrayed him, moving against every instinct that screamed at him to turn back, to leave her to whatever fate awaited, to give her back to the sea.

Still, he lowered himself.

His hands rose, palms up—

—a gesture as ancient as the sea itself.

It was foolish, a reckless thing born of madness, a man bowing to the unknown. The sea did not deal in peace. She did not barter in mercy or forgiveness. The sea dealt in flesh and bone, in the sharp edge of hunger and the endless churn of fear.

Just like her daughters.

Simon knew this.

And still, he reached for her.

He spoke before he thought better of it. “You understand me, yeah?”

Her opalescent eyes narrowed.

A response, however weak. Her black tears continued to stream down her face, carving rivers through the salt caking her colorful scales. Her mouth parted, rows of jagged teeth meant for rending flesh stared back at him, but she did not lunge. Did not snap. Did not drag him into the abyss where she had surely taken so many before.

Simon licked his lips, tasting salt and blood. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

The siren bared her teeth again, but there was no strength behind it. Simon only nodded, taking that as an answer.

At least she understood him.

“Listen, creature,” he murmured, shifting his weight slightly, the sand scattering beneath his boots. “If I touch you, don’t want you bitin’ my fuckin’ fingers off, understood?”

She did not speak.

Only watched.

Those empty eyes fixed upon him, hollow as the moon yet brimming with something deeper, something more knowing than they had any right to be. It was unnerving, the way she beheld him, as if she could see past flesh, past bone, past the mortal entity that he was.

As if she already knew him.

But then again, the sea had always known him.

She had claimed Simon long before he had words to name her pull, long before he understood why he would always return to her, why the land had never been enough. He had been raised in the cradle of her bays, rocked by her violent lullabies, shaped by the call of distant waves. He was hers. Her son. More than his own mother’s, more than anyone’s.

And this monster before him?

She was part of that vast, unknowable force.

Another piece of the great and endless goddess. Perhaps this was her wish. The sea had never asked anything of him before. They had provided for each other, mother and son, bound by the quiet understanding that the sea would take as much as she gave.

But perhaps, at long last, she was calling in a debt.

Perhaps this was a favor, whispered in the language of droplets, carried by the hush between the waves—a mother asking her favored son to save her favourite daughter.

Perhaps that was why his hand did not shake as he reached for the siren laying before him.

“Bound by restless waves, I cannot tell if your touch drowns me in desire or devours me in ruin. Which of us wears the mask of the hunter, and which of us the prey?”

betweenstorms (masterlist)

[nillosgarden]

``𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞. - sukuna.,,

▪︎ 𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: true form!sukuna (heian era) x siren!reader.

▪︎ 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1,745 words.

▪︎ 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: mentions of death.

▪︎ 𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: Sukuna is a feared king, and when he heard about something more powerful than him, he decided he would burn it to ashes, and destroy everything correlated to it. But all went wrong, at the moment he found a beautiful... Woman?

``𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳.

`` 𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱, and English is not my first language! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. <3

There was a time when everyone lived with fear, being affected by horror and all of the sins that made their scary nightmares. The cause of these so-called fear and horror was the King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna. A terrifying man who turned himself into a powerful curse, making himself the owner of people's minds, looting villages, taking women like prizes, and turning them into his concubines. All of the sorcerers that tried to win a battle against him were only turned into shreads and bathed Sukuna in their filthy blood.

But, the tales once said something about a magic lake that could clean your soul, turning all of your dust in the most beautiful gold, and send away all your sins. People tried to find this place, only to crumble and rot in their disgrace, doing all of this to relieve their conscience about their crimes whilst mortals. Nobody found this lake, centuries passed, and nothing. But the awful man decided that he would find it and kill all of the magic that he could see there, only to watch the light fading. He couldn't stand something more powerful than him.

Walking across the land, the king only found death and desperation in his way.

"It was meant for give people some hope, but it only killed them and their disgusting dreams of freedom. These damn fools..." He said with an wicked grin in his lips, his eyes showing no remorse or compassion for the people who died in their try, his crimson orbs glowing in the dead of the night.

The forest that he walked in was dense, dark and unforgivable, its trees had no leaves, the roots snaked their way in the ground, making it more challenging not to trip. The sky was nowhere to see, covered by the rotten branches that dared to fall in someone's head. There was a whistle made by the wind that danced between the tree trunks, making a shiver run down whatever spine that was in the way. A feeling of sorrow, a sadness that made the heart ache, the eyelids got heavy, the vision started to be foggy. It looked like the forest was moving, creating a labyrinth of its own to trick anyone's mind, driving them insane second by second.

But the powerful king was not someone who was so easily mistaken or lost, he had a mind that could envy anyone who dared to look inside it. The rote he took was found to be full of dead bodies, rotting into the damp ground, their faces were hopeless. He could almost feel sorry, but he was obviously not, he didn’t feel that kind of emotion, he couldn't. After all, he was the King of Curses, he wouldn't feel remorse or guilt over some trivious thing.

Trespassing by the corpses, walking some miles ahead, he found a ground that had grass, sakuras with blooming flowers, a smell of life in the air, and now the sky could be seen with a beautiful and shiny sun. The wind doesn’t whistled anymore, it singed a sweet lullaby, like it tried bring some peace into a traveler's heart. But all of it couldn't stop the chaos and the storm that was seeping beneath the skin of the King of Curses, urging to be released. Oh, how he would destroy every piece of happiness that existed in this annoying place.

Then, there it was. The Lake of Redemption, its waters were cristaline, so clean and joyful, so... beautiful. Some butterflies flied above it, the birds were chirping happily, and the sun bathed the water, making it look heavenly.

A little ahead, a curious pair of eyes looked at him, above the water. Admiring his form: four arms, two faces, four crimson eyes, pinkish hair, and those tattoos... Well, for them, it was a sight to be seen.

Feeling eyes over him, he searched for the owner, finding (eye color) orbs. Squinting his eyes to the being, he saw it disappear in the water. A few seconds later, a woman with long hair rested her arms in the edge of the lake, showing her upper body to him. Captivated by her form, he couldn't tear his eyes from her. But, he saw something moving in the water, and checked himself. A long siren tail, moving happily, like the woman was happy to see him.

Lowering his body, he sat by the edge, crossing his legs and resting his jaw in the left hand, fascinated by her being, he felt like starting a conversation.

The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, because they were both admiring each other's features, drinking in the different type of beauty that they had. Lost in the track of time, they were hopelessly gravitating around the strange feeling that pumped in their hearts. Sukuna wasn't known for being such a dedicated admirer, but for her... He would do anything he could to see her face everyday. The woman, suddenly came with a thought, sharing with him.

"You are here to kill me, aren't you?" Her voice was quiet, soft. It sounded like a whisper, because she wouldn't dare to indulge him in such actions. The siren was curious, because... Why such a creature with such an powerful aura came to that place? He didn't show any guilt, or remorse... Unlike the other beings that came a long ago to the magical lake.

His expression was unreadable, almost if he was thinking of how he would put it in words: should he tell her first? Or just kill her and burn that damn place to ashes? It made the king overthink. And he didn’t liked it. Not at all.

"My plans doesn't belong to your knowledge, little one." These were the only words that came out of his mouth after the long minutes of waiting for an answer.

"...I understand." Her face became a little serious, but she lifted her hand to touch the tattoos that painted his arm, the thoughtful face became a little admired. Her touches ignited a spark in him, like it left warmth where it has passed. A smile spread across her features, while he looked at her attentively, enamored by her.

"Come with me."

Her face became a little shocked, her eyes widen a little, the surprise evident. She looked at him incredulously, like he was telling something absurd.

"I'm sorry, but why? And... How? How can... How can I -" Interrupted by his hand cupping her face, he brought it closer to his own. The crimson eyes looked more inviting than scary, and she never knew that feeling before. Before she could ever think about his intentions, he pulled her off the water. Her tail became a pair of legs because of the lack of spell, spell which was created by the lake to give her a tail and make her his guardian.

... A while ago, a young woman was wounded by a group of curses that hunted her. Running between the tree trunks, she looked to the trail she left behind, scared of the demons that were after her. She ran for her life, for her own sake. She was just a little traveler who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Running into the depths of the forest, she found herself lost in the woods, and the worst was that a storm was approaching. The more she ran, the more desperate she came. Her breath came in small pants, her feet were bleeding because of the rocks on the ground, her face was damp with sweat, and her clothes were ripped in so many places.

She couldn't breathe, she couldn't stop. Only run, run, and run. She ran into a cliff, and before she could stop herself, she fell from it. Crashing into the ground, rolling down the hill... Down and down. Her body was limp, she broke a few bones, but she rose from the ground, still fighting for her life, dragging her body across the floor while her legs refused to move. The more she moved, the more her broken bones hurt. Everything seemed bad until her eyes found a lake. A lake full of life, but at the same time, seemed to lack it. So, reluctantly, fighting for a little more time, fighting for more life, she went to the edge of the lake, and as she dipped her hands to drink some of the water, she realized that the bruises on her fingers and wrists were healed by a kind of... golden light. Without thinking twice, she threw her body in there, and when she least expected it, the impossible happened.

Laying in the big man's arms, she looked confused by all the memories that suddenly came into her mind.

"You suddenly looked scared, little one. Some came up in your mind? Or are you just scared of me?" Sukuna said, his voice lacking the sarcasm it used to have.

"Scared of you? Why would I be scared of you?"

Looking deep into his eyes, she saw something she couldn't describe. He seemed to know something she doesn't, and it consumed her thoughts. What could he know? And why does he wants me so suddenly?

"You don't know who I am?" He asked her, looking somehow pissed. How could someone in this land don't know who the King of Curses is?

"One day, one woman told me of a god in land. One that made everyone else fear him, and be in debt with him. He destroyed villages and killed people, and was an ugly monster with a rotten heart."

[Your name] said it with doubt, testing the seas before diving in. All she received from him was a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes, making everything more confusing. "That lady said the right thing. And what you think about it?"

Her eyes held something he didn’t know, but it made him feel things he didn't wanted before.

"You don't look like a monster to me, and ugly? Far from it. You are beautiful, something divine. An enticing and rare being in this world, dare I say."

After these words, he couldn't bear the feeling that bubbled hot in his skin. Some kind of feral desire, because the innocent and oblivious look she gave him, praising him at that level... Stirred something deep inside him. And he wouldn't hold back anymore.

Sukuna was obssessed with the light he was supposed to kill.

[nethhiri]

| Ongoing | Word Count: >31k | Zoro x Siren!Reader | Warning Summary: Violence, Murder, Sex, Blood Consumption/ Bloodplay |

A hunter of man sets her sights on the hunter of pirates. Why does she feel like she wants to savor this meal in particular?

Read on AO3 (Full warning list)

Lore and Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter26

Chapter 27 (Coming Soon)

[iydiamartinx]

SOMETHING BENEATH THE DARK II

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune & @iydiamartinx word count: 2.5k synopsis: After a brutal fight leaves Nightwing broken and sinking beneath Gotham’s black waters, something finds him as he drowns. warning: graphic depictions of violence

It had been weeks since the storm. Since the harbour. Since he was rescued by a creature in the water.

Dick had healed—at least physically. The bruises faded. The ribs stopped aching. The limp from the thigh wound vanished somewhere between rehab and stubbornness. But the memory of your face never did.

You had been real. He could still feel the chill of your hand on his face. Still see the way your sea-glass eyes drank him in with utter awe and curiosity. The same way he had felt when he gazed upon you. 

But no one believed him.

Tim had tried to humour him at first, pulling up satellite footage from that night, checking thermal scans, even dragging a drone out to the harbour with sonar. Nothing. No strange shapes in the water. No heat signature. Not even a scale.

“Gotham’s harbour is basically radioactive sludge,” Tim had said with a dry snort. “If there was a mermaid, she’d have at least three eyes and probably looked more like a swamp monster than a pretty woman like you’re describing.”

Bruce hadn’t said much—but the downward tilt of his lips told Dick, his adoptive father was also having a hard time believing his story and was on the same page as the others who were chalking it up to blood loss. Oxygen deprivation. A hallucination brought on by drowning and the concussion he sustained.

Dick could hear them whispering behind closed doors. Worrying that perhaps the injuries he sustained were more severe than they thought. Wondering if maybe he still wasn’t as recovered as he looked.

But he knew what he saw.

And he wasn’t letting it go.

So that night, when the clock struck one and the manor fell quiet, he left under the guise of patrol. He followed memory more than instinct, back to the place it all happened.

The harbour was quiet, the only sounds being the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. His gaze dropped to the rocky edge, to the faint speckles of rusted red staining the stone—almost gone now, fading with time and tide. That was where his brothers had found him. Broken. Barely breathing. Alone.

But he hadn’t been alone.

He stood at the edge for a long time. Eyes fixed on the water. Hoping to catch a glimpse of silver beneath the surface, a shimmer in the dark. But there was nothing. Only the endless stretch of darkness. 

“I know you’re out there,” he said softly.

Silence.

He crouched, letting his fingers drag through the water. “You saved me. I wasn’t hallucinating. I saw you. I felt you. Everyone thinks I made it up, but I didn’t. I remember your eyes.”

Nothing.

Minutes passed. Then more.

The wind picked up. A gull cried overhead. The chill sank deeper into his bones.

He finally let out a sigh. Maybe they were right. Maybe it had just been a dream.

He straightened up, brushing off his hands, only to suddenly freeze when a small, barely there ripple disturbed the gentle water.

Then another. Larger. It looked to be getting closer

Just past the rocks, where the water dipped darker, something moved. A shape. A shadow. A head—barely above the surface. Hair like oil. Eyes glinting in the dark.

His breath caught.

She was there.

His siren.

Exactly as he remembered her—silent, watching, half-submerged in the same waters that nearly stole his life.

His body moved before his mind caught up. He stepped into the surf, boots sinking into wet sand as waves lapped higher—up to his knees, then thighs.

“It’s you,” he whispered, chest tight with relief, wonder, something dangerously close to hope. “I knew you were real.”

He hadn’t even realized how deep he waded into the water until the cold water was up to his chest. His breath hitched as he watched her move closer too.

Slowly, fluidly, she drew closer—her form rising from the depths with effortless grace, propelled by the slow, deliberate sweep of her tail. The silver glint of scales caught the moonlight as she surfaced higher, until they were nearly chest to chest, with only the waves between them.

She was just as he remembered.

Not fully human—if at all but no less hauntingly beautiful.

Her dark hair floated around her shoulders where part of her was still submerged, weightless and wild, and her eyes—those eyes—still glowed with that spectral, sea-glass green. Watching him not with suspicion or fear, but with wonder. Like he was the strange one.

Her head tilted, just slightly, the gesture feline in its curiosity.

Then—slowly, as though testing both his courage and her own—her hand rose, webbed and tipped with sharpened claws.

She pressed her palm lightly to his chest, just over his heart. The tips of her claws didn’t dig in, but they rested close enough to remind him of what she was. What she could do if she decided.

His gaze dropped, drawn to the place where her hand met his chest—small and reverent, webbed fingers splayed over the damp fabric of his suit. Unbeknownst to him, she was listening. Measuring. Reading the rhythm of his pulse like it was language. The thrum of life beneath his skin was steadier now than when she’d found him broken. He’d recovered well—for such a fragile thing.

His eyes continued to drift lower. Scales, shimmering and iridescent, traced the gentle curve of her chest, wrapping along her hips and trailing downwards into the darkness. He could barely make out the powerful tail beneath the water—coiled and tense, a gleaming shadow beneath the surface. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he whispered, voice hoarse and low in his throat.

Her eyes met his once more, sea-glass cool and unblinking. What a strange creature he was—to seek her out. If it had been any other of her kind to have found him, he’d already be sinking to the bottom of the harbour, lungs full of salt, flesh being ripped from his bones.

Her hand moved again—curious, unhurried. It drifted up from the strange armour clinging to his chest and continued upward, finally brushing against skin. He was warm. So warm. Her own blood ran cold as the depths she called home, but this… this was something else. His heat soaked into her fingers, into her bones. Touching him reminded her of the heat of the sun, not something she had much of a luxury to indulge.

Dick hadn’t even realized he was leaning in until his breath mingled with hers, their lips a whisper apart. Her gaze didn’t drop, didn’t shy away. She just watched him, those eyes a mirror of still water and something deeper stirring below.

And then—everything changed.

A ripple.

Barely there.

Her pupils contracted, eyes narrowing in a sharp snap of instinct. She whipped around before Dick could even blink, her body cutting through the water with a flash of tension. A low, feral hiss escaped her throat—more beast than human—as she moved protectively in front of him, the tips of her claws flexing just beneath the surface.

For a moment, Dick thought it was him. That he’d misread everything. That maybe he’d gone too far—that the almost-kiss had been a mistake or that he’d somehow offended her. But then he saw it.

Another ripple.

Something else was moving through the water—closer now, moving just beneath the surface and drawing near like something was swimming closer. Until a head emerged.

At first glance, this new comer looked like you. The same sleek tail. The same hair, dark and slick, trailing like kelp in the current. But the resemblance faded quickly the longer he looked.

This one was wrong.

Her features were sharper, more inhuman. Eyes too wide, eyes pitched black. A nose too small that was almost like slits. Her teeth, when she smiled, it wasn’t just her canines that were sharp, long and needle-thin—made for tearing. Her skin bore that same silvery sheen—but mottled, tinged with green like algae clinging to bone.

“You found food,” the creature hissed, voice low and serpentine. “Humans are such a delicacy these days.”

A chill sliced through Dick’s spine.

You let out another warning hiss. “He’s mine.” You snarl, barring those sharp canines in warning. 

Your hand slid back, just enough to brush against his abdomen, nudging him subtly toward the shore.

Go.

His human body wasn’t made for the water—not like yours was. The siren before him—this twisted reflection of you—could reach him in seconds. Could drag him under, tear him to pieces before he ever broke the surface.

He wouldn’t stand a chance.

With another more insistent nudge to his abdomen, you told him again.

Go.

Yet, for some reason Dick couldn’t get his body to move. He almost felt as if he was entranced.

Your voice was silvery and melodic—eerie, yes, but strangely beautiful. It stood in stark contrast to the creature before him, whose every word dripped like venom. Her voice was all hiss, almost like nails scraping against a chalkboard. Whereas yours was fluid, almost gentle in comparison... more human.

The second siren tilted her head, eyes narrowing like a shark circling wounded prey. Her grin was wide and cold, but it never touched her eyes.

“Oh?” she cooed, oily and amused, mockery curling at the edges. “Since when do we claim them? I didn’t realize you were keeping pets.”

Her gaze flicked to Dick, then back to you.

“You’re not even feeding on him, are you?” she purred, drifting closer with near-perfect stillness. “Strange little thing. You’re protecting him.”

Then she inhaled, slow and deep. The faint outline of her pupils expanded.

“He smells fresh… and familiar,” she murmured. “His blood has tainted these waters before. The clan will be disappointed to know you’ve stolen their meal.”

Dick felt your hand tense against his stomach.

Not from fear.

From control. From restraint.

Because you were on the verge of attacking.

Realization hit him, you had saved him that night. Not just from Killer Croc but from her.

From them.

And now, you were doing it again.

“Weak little halfling,” the other siren spat, voice dipping into a low growl. “We should’ve killed you long ago.”

She bared her jagged teeth in a wicked smile, dark eyes glittering with hate.

“You always were too soft,” she sneered.

And then she lunged.

Water exploded as she propelled forward with terrifying speed. Claws out. Jaws wide.

You met her halfway.

The collision was violent—two bodies crashing together with a snarl and a wave that rocked the sea. The impact sent a shockwave through the surf, and Dick stumbled back, the force knocking him off his feet. Cold water surged over his head as he went under, his breath ripped from him in a single gasp.

When he surfaced, sputtering, the world was chaos.

The water churned around him—frothing and wild, streaked red in places. The air was filled with shrieks and the sharp, wet sound of claws tearing flesh.

He couldn’t see much.

Only flashes.

Scales slicing through moonlight. Limbs twisting. A tail whipping across the surface. Guttural hisses and the unmistakable, stomach-turning rip of something sharp meeting flesh.

You were locked in a brutal tangle—moving too fast, too deep, disappearing and resurfacing in bursts of violence. At one point, you had her head locked in your arm, your fangs poised at her throat. You made the mistake to look to him, where he was still in the water. 

“Go!” you hissed over your shoulder. Dick finally snapped into action, turning and slogging through the water toward the safety of land.

But that glance—that single lapse of attention—was all she needed.

Her claws raked deep across your abdomen—four brutal lines that tore through scale and skin alike. Flesh parted beneath the strike, blood spilling out in thick, black-red waves into cold sea. A pained shriek tore past your lips, the sound not at all human, pain burned through every nerve.

But Dick was almost to shore.

And she saw it.

The attacker released you, slipping from your grip and darting past in a blur of motion—toward his back. Toward the exposed softness that was human skin and slow, breakable limbs.

“No—!” you hissed, breath a ragged snarl of fury and fear.

You moved before the thought finished forming.

Even wounded, you were faster.

You slammed into her from behind just as her hand reached for his ankle. She shrieked, thrashing, but you didn’t let go. Your claws tore into her side. She bit down on your shoulder, but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t. You drove her back into the rocks, again and again, until her grip weakened.

Until you could end it.

Your teeth found her throat and with a brutal jerk of your head, your tore flesh from sinew, cartilage from bone. Her shriek turned into a wet gurgle, her body convulsing once—twice—then falling still.

She sank slowly, the light fading from her eyes.

The water around you bloomed red—both from her blood and yours. It was everywhere. Turning the already dark tide darker with blood.

You hovered there, suspended in the sea, your breath harsh and shallow. Every pulse of your heart bled more into the waters. The pain blurred your vision. The rocks, the surface, even Dick’s silhouette—it all spun.

Dick who had finally reached the shore turned, chest rising and falling, horror written across his face as he saw the state you were in. You could see the desire in him to wade back out into the waters but with all this blood it wasn’t safe for him. You raised a single webbed hand. 

“Stay there,” you rasped.

Somehow, you pulled yourself forward. Clawed your way from the surf, dragging your shredded body onto the shore where he worriedly waited.

Your arms gave out just a few feet away from him, the water gently lapping a your weak form

Blood smeared the rocks beneath you. The gash across your stomach pulsed with every shallow breath, painting the shoreline in vivid red. Dick dropped to his knees beside you, hands immediately pressing to the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding.

“No, no, no—stay with me,” he breathed, voice cracking. “You’re okay. You hear me? You’re okay.”

You blinked up at him, eyes unfocused, lips parting as if to speak but only faint, ragged wheeze was heard. 

His eyes darted to the gills fluttering along your throat.

“Oh shit…”

You couldn’t breathe. Not like this. You needed water—but if he put you back in, you’d bleed out before help ever arrived.

Panic surged in his chest as he fumbled for his comm.

“Nightwing to base—someone get to the harbour now! I need evac, med supplies—something!” he snapped. “She’s—she’s dying.”

You were trembling now, violently. Your tail twitched, curled tight, and then—

It started to change.

Right before his eyes.

The iridescent scales along your hips began to vanish, receding like the tide. Your gills fluttered a final time before sealing shut. The long, powerful tail that had coiled through dark water began to shift—shortening, splitting. Legs emerged, slender and trembling, curling instinctively towards your shivering body. 

Your gasping stopped. But your body kept shaking, blood still leaking between his fingers.

You were human now— or something close enough but you were still dying in his arms.

He didn’t hesitate.

Sliding one arm beneath your knees and another around your back, he lifted you carefully against his chest. Your head lolled weakly against his shoulder, skin cold and clammy.

Determination surged through him. He would save you like you saved him.

← Previous Chapter

[prettydaisygirl]

Congratulations on 500 followers love!! Could I possibly request a siren AU with James and the prompt “it wasn’t your fault” 🌼 please?

Once again congrats on 500k!! So deserved 💛

omg nonnie I have never thought about writing for sirens/mermaids before, but I used to be soooo obsessed when I was a kid. Thanks so much for requesting, hope you're having a great day/night <3

🌼 daisy (innocence, loyalty, pure love): pick a character and an AU from the lists above & a prompt from this list and I will write a <500 word drabble

daisy's 500 follower celebration bouquet

James Potter, siren, and "It wasn't your fault"

cw: fem!siren!reader, pirate!James, reader saved James from drowning, mention of dry heaving/gagging

°˖✧✿✧˖°

James comes back to the world of the living hacking his lungs up, desperately gasping for air. His body hurts, like he’s gotten into a skirmish, but he doesn’t think he has. He’s also soaking wet, dripping from head to toe, and once the stinging subsides and he regains sensations in his skin, he can feel the sand of the beach underneath him. 

He finally forces his eyes apart, a grittiness like grains of salt under his eyelids. And above him is the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, your hair blowing gently in the wind. You look like an angel, even better than an angel, but James doesn’t have the words to describe it. 

“Am I dead?” He asks, his voice a hoarse croak and his throat is raw and scratchy from throwing up salt water, evidently. 

“I hope not,” You say, hands sliding up the side of his neck. He finds his heart racing even more at the slick touch than it had when he’d woken up choking, thinking he was fighting for his life. “Otherwise, all of my efforts saving you would be a waste.”

You help him sit up with a groan. James can still feel the sea water lapping against his legs, his eyes focused on your face, watching every blink and studying every detail. “Are you sure I’m not dead?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” You say with a small smile that has his head spinning. Or maybe that’s the nausea. “I’m sorry that it was even a possibility.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” James finds himself saying, then he’s coughing again. A little more seawater comes up and you both cringe.

“Actually, it was,” You correct him, kind of awkwardly patting his back as his body tries to heave the water out of his lungs and stomach. “It’s only that it wasn’t intended for you.”

Once James has control over his breathing again, slowly feeling himself rejuvenating, he’s questioning you softly. “Wasn’t intended for me?”

“No,” You shake your head, and brush a wet curl from his forehead. “You were merely an innocent bystander. That’s why I saved you.”

He blinks, and finally notices the odd shimmer of your eyes. His own dark orbs trail down your figure, and finally land on your tail, half in the water still. He gulps thickly.

“Oh.” He says, and when he looks at your face again, he wonders how he didn’t notice before. You have gills. “I mean… why? I thought sirens were evil…” 

“We are not evil.” You correct, and James almost feels bad for the accusation at all, seeing your face downturn. “We hunt evil men. And you are good..” You tap a finger over his heart, four times. tap tap tap tap. “I can tell.”

James’ body must feel mostly regulated again, because he blushes. “Oh, well… thank you.”

You nod, eyes gazing over his features once more. Maybe there’s another reason why you saved him. You clear your throat, slowly moving back toward the water. Your voice is quiet before you slip back beneath the surface, a warning.

“Try not to sail in these waters with any more unsavory characters, yeah?”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[daylighted]

ㅤTHE SON OF THE SEAㅤandㅤTHE DAUGHTER OF THE DEEP.

SUMMARY ㅤtwo sirens walk into a bar . . . ㅤWARNINGSㅤ( 18+!! )ㅤsiren ! dean & siren ! readerㅤDEAN IS SO ARROGANT 😭ㅤhooking up in a bar bathroom which is icky gross :/ㅤunprotected p in v (they're half fish forgive them </3)ㅤNOTESㅤsorry ive been slacking on writing lately i have no excuse except to blame the economy. pls have this as an apology it is a silly lil idea i got

there was something about you that dean winchester could not fucking shake.

moe's seaside grill was always his place, you know. he'd walk between those saloon style doors dragging in sand clinging to the bottom of his newly acquired golden tan legs, he'd ruffle his saltwater curled deep blonde hair with a hand that must have shimmered in the light, catching the very small peeks of iridescent black scales that he never truly bothered to hide, and the women who frequented the place just for him would fall to their very knees.

some guys, too, though dean didn't pay them much attention unless he was starved and knew he could get away with ditching their bones along with the other litterings of fish skeletons and crab shells and lobster tails in the dumpster outside of the grill.

you were a new face. dean loved new faces. the girls got so boring because the song and dance that they fell into trying to peacock around him was always the same. the siren call of his voice and invitation of his green-gold eyes couldn't give the same targets variety, and it wasn't their fault or his fault that there basic instincts, without fail every time he walked in, were to just repeat their same routine.

he'd tried to ignore you. really, he did. he didn't like when girls stared too long without approaching him, and you were seriously lacking respect in that department, not even bothering to hide the way you studied him. studied! as if there was more to him that mattered to you besides what his cock felt like inside of you.

the problem with dean was that he thought he was hot shit. he wasn't one of these people in this little tourist trap on the shoreside of the ocean. he wasn't even a local. he popped out of his little home in the sea when he got hungry or desperate or both, and he picked and chose like the world was a frequently changing menu. he did not consider if they had families, or if they had spouses, or if they were here on spring break or using well-earned vacation days.

he cared that they wanted to fuck him, and he was always trying to quelch that eternal thirst within him, never quite getting there. that's why he devoured the men, see; it was just wrong to eat a woman in a way that wouldn't make her squeal in pleasure and curl her toes into the wet sand as if the ocean cared about what a woman who posted bikini pics in its waters just to piss off her ex did.

no, the ocean answered to him. the ocean liked him. it fed him, gave him sanctuary. and because he'd effectively scared off any other siren like him to find their own turf, he thought he could command the rest of the world to bend to his will, too.

except for you. which pissed him off a little, considering dean was actively sparing your life. he could eat your heart out. he could suck the life source out of you through your mouth or through your pussy and leave you as nothing but a husk of a person, left to rot and die. but he didn't. wasn't that so nice of him?

and all you could do as a thank you was stare at him like you knew his legs were only temporary, like you knew he had a special rock tucked away out of sight where he'd made love to more women than you'd probably ever met on - and devoured more men than you'd probably ever have the misfortune of meeting, too.

it was some grace of god miracle that he got you away from the crowded bar and into a bathroom stall. he'd seriously never had to work so hard to seduce someone in his life. even then, he wasn't certain that you weren't just playing along with his games, still, considering you hadn't once tried to rip off his cloth shorts yet. he was seriously supposed to just... take his time? savor this?

"your eyes are so..." you break apart from his mouth once more, and dean thinks he could actually fucking cry. this was not supposed to be slow and patient, he was supposed to be balls deep in you, kissing your open mouth just enough to swallow the traces of your pleasure down into his throat.

dean deadpans, giving you his best attempt at a smile. "i know."

"no, i mean--"

"no, i know." he catches the bottom of your dress in one hand, eyebrow raising as he starts to lift it up. "off?"

you don't protest, instead giving him a little smile as you nod, which is at least some sign that you were into him. kind of? at least into this. maybe he needed some sort of pill or something to get his allure back up, which would be fucking crazy, and even if that was the case, you wouldn't catch him dead taking that. no, he just needed a little time. a little extra effort, and he'd have you salivating over those eyes you were drawn to.

he's not slow or patient, so off really meant lifted, and your dress spilled over your thighs and his waist as he tugged his still in tact shorts down to midthigh and slammed between your legs in one fell swoop.

maybe he should have went for the hard-to-get ones more. you felt so fucking good wrapped around him, your wet pussy squelching around him through each tight thrust of his hips. the metal stall's door rattled in its hinges, only held steady sometimes when you clenched your fists around the top of it.

you were really pretty like this. he was so damn distracted. first he couldn't seduce you with his abilities, had to rely on the old trick of the trade human interaction to get you into this stall or whatever, and now he couldn't draw his eyes away from yours.

this was a sick joke. it's not your fault that he's having a bad day, but the slam of his cock into your fluttering walls would make you think he was punishing you. dean doesn't even bother to stifle the mewls or the sharp moans you let out, either - let everyone in this place know how good he could treat a pretty girl who made him work so hard.

your hand falls down to his shoulder, digging into his skin with your pretty painted nails, and dean hisses under his breath, hoisting your legs up higher around his waist to fit in between them better. his head tips forward to hide between your shoulder and your neck, tongue darting out to taste the traces of salt on your skin.

you tasted so damn good too, as pretty as you looked, and now he wasn't even paying any mind to the fact he was supposed to be feeding from you. he was supposed to lick into your mouth and let you finally take the bait of his siren call, giving your everything to him just to make him happy. he was supposed to savor this part, the part where he went and he went and he went, until your legs gave out and you couldn't string together a sentence, just so he could get the most he could from you.

he was staring at your eyes. gold in them, in the light. if he wasn't so distracted by how tightly your cunt squeezed around him, he'd have put it together sooner, but alas, he's just a man. not just a man, but one who actually needed pussy to live. in a way. well, there were certainly other ways to keep him afloat, but he really liked the way where he'd get to fuck someone.

you nudge his head up to kiss him, and he's seriously done for then. his back hits one of the stall walls, his thrusts slowing, as he let you fuck yourself against the aching cock buried inside of you. forget whatever the hell he wanted. seriously. he'd give you every single thing on this planet to see your eyes glitter like they were.

he tilts his chin up to kiss the corner of your mouth, his dark eyelashes fluttering as he takes in every inch of your face and your expressions. "your eyes are so..."

"so...?" you ask, tilting your head to the side, and the smile you give him is devastating. so completely devastating. like this was a first date, and your fingers brushed over the table -- not like you were torturing him with the slow grind of your hips up and down his hardness.

"i don't even know."

you kiss him again, slower, like you're savoring every taste of his saliva whereas he was drowning. on his lips, you say, "i'm really close," panting it into his mouth like you were dazed, those parted lips of yours just round enough to fit his cock between them, if you wanted him to.

hell, he was a mess. he barely drew enough awareness back into himself to focus, to understand that those words were exactly what he wanted to hear but also not, because he wanted this to go on longer, he didn't want to stop until he physically couldn't.

your back hits the other side of the stall wall again, and he's stepped back behind the reins again now. your legs are secured around his waist and his palms hold your hips in place as he rams himself into you, over and over again, the obscene sound of skin against skin and the drenching of your juices making the invasion that much easier.

he knocks his forehead against yours, never close enough to you, his mouth brushing against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck tightly to keep him there. it's not much longer later that you choke on a scream, barely muffling it into his mouth when you steal one final kiss.

there is something about that kiss. he's not usually so easy to get off, never really focusing on himself until the very end of a very long night since he didn't get fed from his own arousal. that'd be too easy.

but your lips touch his and your tongue laps at his and, seriously, he came on the spot. he's never done that before. he's not a teenager, especially not a fucking human one. but here he was, arms somehow going weak from the force of it, as he tries to stay coherent enough to lazily push his hips up and up into you so it stayed inside.

"that was really fun," you say, so fucking giddily like his lungs didn't feel raw and his cock didn't ache, somehow. one round? seriously? was he genuinely going to have to get some sort of siren arousal pill to keep up like he used to before this?

dean gives you a weak little laugh. "yeah, yeah," he breathes, and you slip off of him like that act alone wasn't too fucking much when he was this sensitive. he was a goddamn wreck. "hey, so what's your--"

you adjust your dress again, and he watches the shift in your eyes, how they once glimmered gold and had now melted back into something more mundane. you were still dropdead gorgeous, but there was something about you now than two seconds ago that felt a little more human.

his face falls. your grin widens.

"i'll tell you next time," you say with a wink, sauntering toward the locked bathroom door with so much arrogance in your strut that he can't look away. dean hated you, he thought. no one should be that pretty and so damn manipulative.

but, really, same could apply for him, so he didn't voice any of that out loud. his irrational hate would just exist inside of him where his soul was assumedly supposed to be. big gap to fill. it was perfect.

"and dean?" you're half out the door, the gold gleam in your eyes back and captivating, so utterly, devastatingly, captivating. "it's not nice to scare the rest of us away. some of us have sharp teeth and bite back."

well, it was going to happen eventually, wasn't it? he just didn't expect the siren most offended by his possessive dictatorship here at moe's to be so pretty.

he'd have to exercise these legs more often. just in case you came back again. especially if you came back again.

notes. siren!dean has been in my head for like 2 days now pls I JUST THINK THIS IS SO FUNNYYYY 😭 i love him down bad i'm afraid. everyone cross ur fingers that this short lil thing pulls me out of this writing slump & i can get back to daddy dadsbsf!jackles soon

tags. @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @figthoughts @bejeweledinterludes @funkycoloured @whyyouegg + anyone else i have to redo my taglist so sorry if u aren't listed </3

[dreamlandcreations]

Imagine Aaravos sacrificing his last connection to the real world for you...

Imagine Aaravos sacrificing his last connection to the real world for you, for your wish to have the power for revenge.

As you float in the waters of the Sea of the Castout, you fight with all your strength and magic to stay alive. Not for anyone or anything you love. No, all that was destroyed not far, by the Ruins of Elarion, where your people hid from the rest of the world which wouldn't accept mixed-bloods like you.

Unaware that someone was listening to your pleas, you slowly start to drift away from your home and the land of the living. In the last moment, you feel the water's energy shift into something more powerful, a power that seeps into your very being, transforming you into something else, tethering you to the physical world as an undying spirit of the water who is ready to unleash her wrath on those who wronged her.

Centuries later, the being who made you what you are comes to collect the debt...

Inspired by TANIWHA ( Get in the water )

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Yandere Euron Greyjoy w/ Siren!Reader

Euron grew up hearing the tales of the children of the sea; the sirens who sang their songs and all the men they lured to their deaths, along with their ships. He’d always dreamed of coming across one, catching it and having it for his own.

The thought of having his siren never strayed far from his mind, everytime he was at sea it was all he could think of. He would swear he felt something deep in the water watching him. Following him. Studying him. Teasing him. He knew they were out there, waiting for him. And this only ignited his need to find his siren all the more.

Usually most ironborn take a share of the plunder from their pillaging, especially the captains but not Euron. No, he knows there is a much more valuable treasure out there. Something far more worthwhile. Something only for him.

When the day finally comes and Euron hears that hauntingly beautiful song, he knows he’s got his siren and he’s not going to lose them. Whatever plans, whatever destination there was before is quickly forgotten in place of finally getting what belongs to him.

And what a sight you are to behold when he does finally catch you. You’re beautiful, so frighteningly beautiful. But he’s not scared, after all this is Euron we’re talking about, on the contrary he’s excited. Very excited. You have him feeling euphoric and he loves it. The look of complete shock, anger and fear at finally being caught that washes over your mesmerizing face has Euron feeling even more euphoric. He likes that look on you, he likes it a lot.

As much as Euron has grown so accustomed to this drawn out game of cat and mouse, a game that he has come to take much excitement and anticipation in, he couldn’t be more thrilled to have finally caught you. A part of him almost wants to throw you back into the sea just to be able to chase after and catch you all over again but he’d much rather finally claim what’s been rightfully his all this time.

People said he was mad, that the seas had corrupted him but he knew better than to listen to them. After all he’s got you now, the proof to his unrelentingness. And he can’t bring himself to take his eyes off of you. He doesn’t want to miss a thing; every part of your being, Euron wants to memorize it all.

He’s already prepared a place to keep you, a tank he had specifically made just for you. Quite a well crafted and spacious enough little home where he can watch you whenever he pleases and you’re entirely unable to hide away from his prying gaze. You are his trophy, his gift from the sea that he has waited so long to receive. Of course he wants to be able to look upon you whenever he wishes, it’s his right after all. After everything he’s done to get you in the first place the least he deserves is to see his catch in all its maddening glory.

And maddening you are. He thrives on the hateful look you send his way, the gnashing of your teeth whenever he gets too close, the way you thrash your beautifully scaled body against the thick cage-like glass of your new habitat trying to free yourself. Euron isn’t stupid, of course he’d have your new little home be thoroughly enforced. He may not exactly know what all you are capable of but he has a few ideas and your immense strength was certainly one of them.

After all this time it’s no surprise that Euron would be addicted to your voice, to your song. He’s only ever heard it a few times in his life but he saved it to memory, he would’ve been a fool not to. Euron even took up whistling a similar tune, primarily to draw you out but it was something that just stuck and he never let it go but nothing could ever compare to the real thing. So once he finally had you that song, your song, was all he ever wanted to hear. And he had nothing to interrupt it, no other noise to take away from it. He’d made sure of that when he cut out all his crewmens’ tongues. You may not have necessarily been the sole reason behind his decision but you were one of them. And if he didn’t have to bark out orders he would have taken their ears too.

As much as Euron would love to have his precious little siren wrapped around his body, he knows they’d break him without a second thought. They’d rip his throat out and spit it back in his face with a sharp toothed grin. Don’t even get him started on the drowning bit, not like he isn’t use to it given his being an Ironborn, if anything it excites him more. But none of these things could possibly strike even an ounce of fear into Euron, I mean he’s committed so much worse with his own bare hands, instead it all captivates him all the more. You truly were meant for him and only him, weren’t you? He’ll make sure to take real good care of you, his Queen of the Sea.

[king-dumbasz]

hi !!!! if you haven't already, could you do siren-like reader x mammon and reader accidentally enchants mammon ?

You sing like an angel

Siren! Reader x Mammon

Sorry if it's short, but it's 1AM

A Hellborn or a sinner, whatever you are... You're a siren.

When Mammon saw you for the first time, he noticed your beauty and made you sign a contract that made you work for him.

Now you work for him, congratulations i guess.

You're funny, gorgeous, and have this angelic voice that makes everyone fall for you...

perfect for the fuckrobots! _________________________________________

One day, you're preparing to get on stage, when one of the technicians starts to flirt with you, touch you and make you uncomfortable

"Go away, please..."

You say, but they don't listen and continue

"C'mon~ a beauty like you is still single? I don't believe it. Why don't you come with me and show me how single you are, hotstuff~"

They say, touching your arm, until you feel something behind you

"Hey! Leave them alone, c$nt! They have a show to do and don't need ya to f$ck the anxiety out of 'em!"

Mammon was behind you, tall and intimidating. The technician runs away scared.

You look back at Mammon

"Thank you, sir-"

"No need to talk, you're late!"

And he drags you on the stage.

--------------------------------------------------

After the show, you go back to your changing room to relax a bit.

You decide to sing because that's what makes you relax

Mammon was casually passing by when he hears you sing and gets under your spell... He falls in love...

Mammon never felt like that and doesn't know how to act

He peeks at your door, looking at you sing

"Ahh-AHH!"

You see him-

"Sir! What are you doing here?!"

"You sing like an angel..."

Yeah, just like the angel he was...

"What?"

"Fuck me-"

[urdepressedslut]

Love Me to Death (masterlist) ♡

✧ Pairing — Avengers!Bucky Barnes x Siren!Fem!Reader

✧ Series Summary — The avengers compound receives a new recruit. She’s a siren who can make anyone fall deathly in love with her with one word. Bucky immediately takes interest in her as he discovers she’s mute, for good reason of course.

✧ Series Warnings — light angst, hints to past trauma, mentions of bucky’s trauma, hints to PTSD, hints of anxiety

(SERIES ONGOING)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | SERIES 18+

* You are responsible for your media consumption. Please do not proceed reading, if you have any kind of problem with any of the above written warnings.

✧ Chapter One

↳ The avengers compound receives a new recruit. She’s a siren who can make anyone fall deathly in love with her with one word. Bucky immediately takes interest in her as he discovers she’s mute, for good reason of course.

✧ Chapter Two

↳ coming soon.

✧ Chapter Three

↳ coming soon.

[zepskies]

The game begins...

Yes, I'm extra lol. After seeing this lovely music playlist by @venus-haze, she gave me the inspo to do one for Lost on You (Soldier Boy x Supe!Reader).

🎙️ LOST ON YOU PLAYLIST: YOUTUBE || SPOTIFY

But watch out! Here's Side B:

"Interrupt the flow, they better not dare..."

And for those who made it this far, LOY Part 2 drops tomorrow, friends! 💚💜😘