seabysiren - Tumblr blog

[seabysiren]

Hey guys, sorry for disappearing.

College semesters been a bit rough. And one of my friends just passed away. I’m gonna take some more time to myself, but I will be continuing everything on my master list. It might just take a while.

Happy holidays

[seabysiren]

euclid

renowned, glorious. [part i. part ii] summary: the past. present. and them.

it starts with a wailing cry. one that pierces through the silence and makes the rain weep and the wind howl in terror. there's this desperate hushing noise, as a mother helplessly cradles her child to her front, her eyes darting around in terror. her precious little gem, wrapped in silks fit for a king, soiled red and dirty. an abomination. a terror of this world unseen. it vaguely resembles human. with its delicate, frail skin and the way its eyes gleam when the moonlight hits it just right. but it is unnatural, that such eyes hold competence. understanding. with claws as black as the void looking right back at her. and teeth as sharp as the fangs of a wolf. the rustle of bushes and vegetation makes her stiffen, yet she does not waver. she continues to travel in teh brilliance of the night, desperate for release. for safety.

for whom she had birthed had been a horror. one that made the village scorn her, and her husband beat her. whispers of shunning, regret, and hatred painted her back like a target. one that would become a burden. soon.

but a mother's love is one that such horrors cannot comprehend. that she will die with her hand outreached to the child who had been silenced once again.

there is no cries. for once. the forest is deadly silent.

and then.

there is nothing.

except the hatred of mankind.

and it. -

price wakes up in his bed. in complete darkness, without even a gleam of light to show him the way. his skin feels cool to the touch, showered in fresh dewdrops of sweat as he looks around.

all he can remember is sitting at his desk talking to laswell. then... rook happened.

he jolts up out of bed, stumbling over numb feet as he rushes back to his office. where the phone is left neatly on the dark wooden surface. where his computer is shut and unplugged.

where there are three angry markings cutting through the flesh of the wood. he winces as his bare feet press against sharp chips that spread over the once neat floor. there's a sudden twig of pain on his shoulder, and he absently minded rubs at it. only to feel sharp puncture marks.

he jerks his hand away and tears at his shirt, rushing to the bathroom only to stare in horror.

his skin, marred with scars and little imperfections are marked with an angry marking that stares right back at him in the mirror. teeth. blue and black bruises that litter his skin like he had been beaten bloody. but his skin is numb, and the bite only tingles when he traces the wound in confusion.

his eyes widen as he feels a ghosting of fingers against his back, yet there is no one but his pale complexion staring back at him.

he can barely hear rook's voice clawing in the back of his mind. soothing his frail, beating heart and reducing his eyes to mere black points. its a strange feeling. the way his chest tightens and his brain panics, rushing through thought after thought. yet the cool numbness soothes him. something has wormed its way into his chest and made its home. and he didn't like it one bit.

-

simon is enamored.

bewitched.

his once dead heart flutters to life once he sees you from a distance. the rook.

a mere piece on a chessboard. calculating and manipulative and full of secrets.

but for some reason, the secrecy doesn't bother him for once. even as your commanding officer, he feels like he would kill if you came and beckoned him over.

promises of eternal peace and the wanting of your presence all to himself leaves his thoughts whirling and confused.

even soap can feel something has changed in ghost.

soap, the playful and cheery sargent known on base. who cracks jokes and causes mischief and chaos at a tip of a hat.

who is also a merciless killer, an undiagnosed pyromaniac and bomb specialist. who knows the structure of buildings as quickly as a glance.

who can tell that the structure, the foundation that ghost created himself upon is starting to crumble.

ghost who is harsh and hard and maybe a bit of an asshole when he appears without noise and scares the crap out of gaz and soap.

ghost who takes no hesitation and shows no weakness.

has become strange.

soap sees him in the hallway, with his shoulders tensed and his eyes following the figure of something unseen in the corridor. ghost who seems to relax only when rook looks him in the eye for just a moment.

ghost who is strange. almost bewitched in a way.

and it makes soap curious.

what is going on between rook and ghost? it certainly isn't love. from the way that you barely glance over in their direction before going on with your daily duties. it isn't love. not with the way ghost's eyes darken and his jaw sets tight, even hidden behind the mask and the porcelain skull that shields him from humanity.

soap is curious. it shows in the way his eyes dark from ghost to you. the way his fingertips twitch in apprehension, wanting nothing more than to pull you or ghost aside and start investigating.

it shows in the way he suddenly starts hanging around you more. and you can see it.

that past his smiles and jokes, something is there. questioning you. questioning himself.

that his comrade, whom has saved countless lives, including himself and his squadmates, is hiding something that he needs to unravel.

johnny's mother had always warned him not to stick his nose where it doesn't belong.

yet here he is, staring in confusion as price calls him to his office.

price, his captain, who looks worse for wear with bruises along his arms and up his neck. almost like someone had mercilessly captured and beat him. marks and traces of violence that only interrogators held.

johnny stiffens up as price rubs his face, his signature hat thrown to the side and bottles of whiskey and cigars are left unfinished in the ash tray.

very unlikely of price, whom had once scolded johnny not to waste such good cigars.

whom only pulls out his secret stash of hard liquor in his desk when he's struggling. when he's stumped.

even in the worst missions, his captain hadn't looked so defeated. so desperate.

and johnny is so very curious. it tickles the back of the mind as price takes in a deep breath and says one thing.

"tell me everything you know about rook."

the bite on his shoulder stings as price inhales deeply, yet through the alcohol and richness of his cigars, can only smell blood and the faint smell of rook.

following him.

haunting him.

rook. a symbol of intelligence, the sign of a chariot that only rides into war when victory is assured.

rook. who is tearing this team apart and slowly stitching it back together.

rook.

you.

it. @elowynnlane @lilpothoscuttings @mintgreen24 @waves-against-a-cliff @tallmanlover @havingnonamesucks @dashigriffins @thriving-n-jiving @livelaugh-light @ripleyswife @piper570 @chloeforde

[seabysiren]

OMGOMGOMG please I know you literally just posted it but the venom!reader is just - ahakfhakdhaksh PERFECTION,, I want you to know I literally love you and your writing sm 🥹🥹🥹

awww thx so much!!

I actually saw the idea on tumblr, people were begging for it so I wanted to try to put my spin on it.

hopefully after a bit of ✨drama✨ it’ll be funny shenanigan and cute stuff.

idk who I’m shipping with the reader yet tho 🧐

but thx so much nonny!! lots of love from the bottom of the ocean 🌊

[seabysiren]

rain down on me

summary: a solo mission gone wrong, you found yourself on the verge of death when something otherworldly unearths itself.

[venom!reader]

its silent in the forest. the frozen limbs upon dead bark rustle in the heavy wind as you squint through sheets upon sheets of snow. it would've been blinding had you not had goggles protecting your eyes.

your breath puffs out in silent clouds as you slowly trek through the snow, the crunch only reminding you of the limited time you had out here.

this was it.

the last mission you were ever going to go on. no more laughing with soap and pulling pranks with gaz. no more silent nights with the reassuring presence of your captain late at night. no more scratching pen on paper as the two of you silently fill out paperwork.

no more funny, not so funny, jokes with ghost and soap. or teasing gaz everytime he tried to pick someone up at the bar after a successful mission.

because you were alone. a mission just for you to retrieve hidden intel high into the permafrost of russia.

price trusted you.

the 141 trusted you.

laswell trusted you.

yet here you were in the frigid cold, numbly flexing your hands as you kept a watchful eye out for anyone. anything.

intel said there was supposed to be a base up here. but after days of aimlessly trekking through snow and higher up the mountain, everything felt hopeless.

you didn't have enough supplies to survive weeks. the frostbite would get to you before you found anything.

but still, you trekked on.

you silently counted each step in your head, your gun feeling aimlessly heavy against your body with each step.

one.

two.

one.

two.

the fatigue that shook your body was ignored. you ignored the deadly cold that wanted to lay waste in your bones and make its home deep in your ribcage.

breath in. breath out.

keep going.

there was no radio chatter. no buzzing noise in your ear or a low, raspy voice giving you hope with his shitty jokes and cues.

you were alone.

because this was a solo mission.

get in. get out.

you were the best survivalist in the team. the one who recognized anything and everything edible in forests. who hunted in the desert when supplies ran low and thirst ravished everyone. where the sun was high and you could feel your heartbeat.

because it was you or them. and there was no chance that the squadron would perish with you besides them.

hope bloomed in your chest when you laid your eyes on tracks. not the track of deer or foxes. not the cawing of crows and their beady eyes always watching.

human tracks.

you immediately hunched over, using the brush and snow to hide yourself as you began to follow with renewed energy.

the snow beneath you didn't even crunch as you moved with precision. you didn't hesitate to bury yourself in snow once you heard voices. the harsh accent of russian made you perk as you listened, faintly translating their voices.

"...the package arrives today-" "-make sure everything is ready for the doctor" "...no screw ups..."

you waited until their lingering stopped, their voices growing harsher once another group of soldiers came closer.

this was it.

you kept your gun close as you wadded closer to doom. you laid your eyes on the whole operation. stealth planes running on cleared runways, trucks marked with the infamous russian military logo.

soldiers marching and officers checking cargo.

and there it stood before you. the warehouse and science facility. you muttered to yourself before finding an adequate place to rest. there were too many people here to go in knee deep.

so you climbed the nearest ledge covered in foliage and dropped your bag. you quickly unfolded and donned the snow terrain ghillie suit and made a suitable place to lay in.

you sighed as you propped up your rifle. seems like you were going to be here awhile before figuring out a way to infiltrate without risking your life in broad daylight.

-

it was early. the snow was bleak and tinged a deep blue since the sun went down. everything was well lit as you watched shift after shift through the scope. you mentally noted any squadrons, the officers positions and the parked cargo and army trucks.

you watched as each patrol walked. watched as each person had roughly a two minute gap before the next person would take over. you knew every way the patrol would go, and where they would check.

finally.

this is it.

you took a deep breath before situating your rifle and hovering your hand over the trigger.

your fingertips were freezing beneath the gloves, and you were faintly aware of how numb your feet felt. but you shook it off. there was no time for weakness when you were so close to the finish line.

you narrowed your eyes and stopped your heart.

the trigger was light against your finger as you quickly shot, ignoring the sudden panic that exploded with each person who fell. the blood against the snow was refreshing as you quickly picked off everyone near the runway and within the open warehouse doors.

you had no time to watch them begin to scramble. now was the time, with your gun held safely in your arms you ran.

time was of the essence as you trekked and slid down narrow cliffs, further from the warehouse and closer to the facility.

there would be reinforcements within mere minutes of where you were. but you couldn't stop and panic. there was no way to hide, the only way you were going to survive was with speed and precision.

your boots slid across patches of ice as you heard voices and radio chatter come closer. you dove into the brush and buried yourself in the snow just in time to avoid the running soldiers who were eager to shed blood.

they were getting closer to the perch you were on. but the only thing they would know are the traps and mirrors you placed to mimic a sniper.

you stilled your breathe as you quickly nailed the closest patrol officer with the butt of your rifle, watching him go down as you snatched the badge from his belt.

good.

you were getting there.

you could barely think as your body went through the motions, swiftly turning corners with your rifle ready to dispatch anyone coming across your vision.

but it was almost empty of personnel. good. going all according to plan. everyone should've been drawn to sweep the surrounding areas and look for the possible sniper, while none the wiser that you were here.

because all the important files were in the warehouse. no one would've suspected you were going after the classified files in the facility. of the latest biological weapons that were being produced in the middle of nowhere.

you busted down doors and sweaped offices and labs. bodies fell, blood spilt, glass shattered.

you finally got to the final ward. the testing facility.

your body was hot. the drastic change in freezing temperature to the sudden warmth was wreaking havoc on your body. it made your vision fog as you ripped your goggles down your face, hanging only by a strap wrapped around your neck.

your fingers and feet felt like they were on fire. yet your steps were swift and steady as you let go of your rifle and tore your gloves from your thawing flesh.

you narrowed your eyes as you typed away on the mainframe computer, plugging in a bright blue drive into the side while it scanned and pulled up all documents. the green text flashed at you as you waited with baited breath.

that was until you felt a heavy hit to the back of your head. it made your body spin and your eyes water as you growled, swiftly turning around to slam the nearest filing cabinet into their body.

you were swift as you slammed your rifle down against their torso when they fell, taking out a knife from your thigh holster to press it harshly against their neck.

you cut through the jugular and through the esophagus, wincing slightly at the splatter of blood that stained your ghillie suit.

you flinched as glass broke nearby, causing you to snap your head to the side to locate the source.

the scientist was carrying a jar filled with a strange, black goo like substance.

"the hell?" you muttered, curiosity overcoming you as you watched the almost alive thing wither on the ground before stilling. you looked at the scientist then back at the black substance when it suddenly rammed straight into your face.

"the fuck-" a strange feeling invaded your nerves as you quickly wiped at the foreign substance, flicking the residue onto the ground and wiping it on the labcoat of the deceased person next to you.

but you had no time to ponder when you heard an insistent beeping that made you turn back to the computer and snatch the drive.

you rapidly began typing as you began to install your latest program. one that was supposed to wipe everything on the system and leak every personals involvement with the hidden base.

this was what you came here for.

now all you had to do is make it back alive to the rendezvous spot.

with the hard drive tucked close to your heart, hidden deep within the inner pocket of your jacket you ran. you were uncaring about the way your boots slammed against the pristine tile of the facility. the heavy footsteps of you echoed through the empty walls when you bursted out the door.

the only thing you had on your mind was surviving. getting back to your boys. the team. the 141.

you could feel it. you were so close.

but as you squinted against the harsh light, your heart dropped into your stomach.

it wasn't a few more hours until sunlight.

you gulped as spotlights shown on you, courtesy of the dozens and dozens of soldiers surrounding the exits.

oh.

that was why the facility was so quiet. so... empty

this was it.

this was the end.

as you felt the impact of the first bullet against your vest, you roared.

you had to try. you had to struggle. you had to make it out alive. people's lives were hanging in the balance of this.

and your squad.

your family.

they would've never been able to handle the grief. price would beat himself up with how you reassured him you could do this. no backup. just a heli waiting for you.

desperation rushed through your veins, adrenaline filling your body as you took your rifle and picked off anyone and everyone you could. but the pain was getting to be too much.

it tore through your skin with ease. spilling dripping, red blood down onto the pristine snow beneath you. your breathes became heavy as your vision blurred. your body wracked in pain as everything seemed to slow down.

maybe this was what death felt like.

and as you were about to blackout, you heard a voice.

a strange, deep voice in your head that made you feel strangely at ease.

"time for a feast, little morsel."

-

you gained consciousness when everything ended. confusion and nausea set itself into your bones as you looked around. you no longer donned your ghillie suit, nor your rifle.

blood and organs were everywhere, staining the once white snow in blood and strange fluids.

you panted as you looked around. everyone was dead. demolished. ripped apart. you took a deep breathe before looking down at your gear, covered in blood and bits of flesh.

"the hell?"

your hands were dyed in blood. and as you looked around, you found your discarded goggles, and in the reflection you saw your uncovered face, smeared with blood.

"shit. shit. shit shit. what the fuck is going on!" you muttered to yourself desperately trying to wipe off the endless red stains from your face and gear.

before you stilled at a voice in your head.

just had a snack.

you whipped your head around to look for the source of the voice, but all you saw was mutilated body upon body. not a soul to be seen.

"who's there!" you couldn't stop the way panic flooded your system as you frantically looked around. for something. for an answer.

but all you heard was a deep chuckle in your mind.

no need to freak out, little human.

you looked down at your uniform and squinted at the bullet holes, but beneath was smooth, pristine flesh. without a speck of a wound or scrape.

"did... did I do this?"

there was a pause. before the thing responded.

we did this.

you felt like you were going crazy as you spoke out loud. trying to find any grasps of sanity as you tried to understand.

what was this? "and who is... we?" there was an immediate response. it was strange. having a conversation in your head.

we am venom.

"venom..." you echoed.

you took a deep breath before continuing.

"...is this what they were working on? are you the biological weapon they were developing?" no. there is nothing those lousy scientists could do to great me.

"then what are you?" we are venom. we come from klyntar. you didn't even have to voice out your questions before venom contined.

our home was destroyed. and we came here from beyond the void. we need a host in order to thrive.

"like a symbiote?"

yes.

it was strange. you could feel venom in the back of your head. his voice called to answer every question with a strange amount of patience.

that was until you realized you had to get back. the heli would only be waiting for a certain amount of hours before it would leave. with or without you.

you swore to yourself before quickly looking around. you could barely feel the cold as you began to run towards where you had stashed your bag, close to the distraction sight you were in hours ago.

unimaginable strength coursed through your veins as you ran through the snow with newfound ease. you barely felt tired from days upon days of little to no rest.

venom continued to talk as you got to your bag. you stripped through the ruined uniform and began to quickly dress in your spares. which, unfortunately were black in color.

those people made a good snack.

"what's with you and eating... people?" you shuddered as you hauled your bag onto your shoulder and began to trek away from the ruined base.

your stomach grumbled in protest as bile rose to your throat and into your mouth. you gingerly swallowed.

i need it to survive.

"so i have to eat people for you to... survive?"

you will die without me.

you stopped. dread filled you as you asked the sole question in your head.

"what?" i am keeping you alive. i am constantly regenerating your heart. without me, you would be dead.

you clutched your chest and inspected the old jacket you had worn before. truth be told, he was right.

bullet holes riddled your gear. but the most important detail was the holes that were supposed to go straight through your chest. straight through the heart.

it felt like your throat had dropped into your stomach as you traced the frayed clothing. each bullet hole would've lodged itself into your heart, your lungs, your stomach.

everywhere.

"fuck."

foreign knowledge began to flood your head as you clutched your head in pain. words and languages of the symbiote. of his origin and exactly how he was bound to you. how he was keeping you alive.

and without it...

you wouldn't get to return home to base. no more price or soap. no more gaz and ghost.

nothing.

you gulped heavily as you moved.

venom gave you strength. he gave you power.

he gave you life when you were without.

god.

how the fuck were you gonna hide this from the squad?

[seabysiren]

i will literally weep and cry if you dont add me to the taglist of your latest fic

🥺 no weeping!

of course! if any of y’all want to be added to the tag list of the series he knows me, dm or comment below on this or any of the fics!

thanks for reading my silly lil thoughts

[seabysiren]

the beast with many names

summary: the aftermath of near death leaves the team shaken. and simon? he's terrified to find out what exactly lurks behind the curtain of shadows you hide yourself in.

[part 1]

beep

beep

beeeeeep

.

price wakes up in pain and confusion. the last thing he had remembered was being surrounded and shouting over the comms to retreat. before anyone else could get hurt.

he laughs to himself and shakes his head. laswell's intel was wrong. so wrong that it could've costed his whole team. his family.

his friends.

he looks around, his eyes gazing over the way the IV slowly trickles into his arm and the stiffness around his torso and the way his arms are wrapped tightly in bandages.

a door opens. and price squints at the sudden intrusion of light from the hallway. its so bright that it makes him wince, squinting to see who entered.

his eyes widen.

there's rook.

and you look unharmed. wrapped into cozy clothing that held a monotone palette that helped you blend into the darkness. for a moment, it seemed like he wasn't staring at a human. but rather a strange creature who stepped into the darkness of the hospital room.

but as soon as he blinks its gone and your sitting on a chair besides his bed.

"captain." price takes a moment to once you over. and relief floods through his veins when he sees no bandages or casts wrapping around your limbs. the way you maneuvered around the room with ease and grace. of someone who hasn't had one scratch appear on your body after such a dangerous fight.

his voice is raspy and groggy as he clears his throat. he watches you silently get up and fill a plastic cup with water and hand it to him. he slowly drinks while closing his eyes.

flashes of the battlefield cross his mind. of gaz and ghost screaming. soap in the distance working his way closer to where they had been ambushed. he remembers the way his heart exploded in agony and anger once he saw ghost. no.

simon.

go down. with blood and mud splashing onto his falling form.

and then? after that? nothing.

yet here you were without a scratch or a wound to be seen, softly smiling and encouraging him to speak.

he presses his lips together.

"what happened out there?" price finally gains the energy to look you straight in the eyes. and he stares as you close your eyes and sigh.

"a lot of things captain. best be that you read the report rather than hear it coming from me." you take a moment to look at the time before standing and stretching, flashing price a an unnerving smile that makes something deep within his chest wither and shake.

"almost time for your pain meds. the doctor will be here soon." and as you open the door to the hallway, where the brightness seems to fight against the smokey black figure, you flash sharp teeth.

price could feel that something was wrong, but as he began to feel light headed, your words seemed to echo in his head. it reminded him of what laswell had warned about you. "price... be careful of that one." laswell's voice echoes.

and your voice? "don't go digging your grave captain. it would be such a disappointment to see you so soon in the ground."

-

beep

beep

beeeeeeep

-

simon wakes up in a panic. he knows nothing of where he is or how he got here. all he can feel is the pounding beat of his heart as he tears the needles out of his wrist. despite the pain shooting up his form, he ignores it and swings his legs over the bed.

sharp shooting pain ripples from his legs to his chest, leaving him breathless as the heart monitor flatlines.

his eyes narrow as a few people come rushing into the room. a doctor and two nurses.

ghost feels panic. he doesn't feel safe.

where is everyone?

price?

soap and gaz?

...rook?

all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears as he swiftly evades the two nurses trying to pin him back to the bed. the doctor is bigger, taller. all that makes ghost do is tackle him to the ground and quickly get up.

his eyes are dilated as he exits the room, squinting at the bright lights before turning down another hallway.

he needs to get away. he needs to find someone.

something makes him stop dead in his tracks.

a strange melody reaches his ears as he looks around in a panic. its slow and eerie, seemingly straight out of a horror movie. and he is the victim.

the lights above flicker. and as he turns around to look down the hallway, he sees it.

a figure.

a shadow figure who seems bigger than life. something in the back of his mind tells him to run.

but he doesn't

it seems so familiar though.

the large looming figure. the way the hospital lights seem to dim and fade out as it moves with a strange amount of grace and poise.

and as he looks, all he sees is a skull and those twisted horns.

and he flinches as he blinks and it's suddenly gone.

and for once in his life he screams bloody murder when that thing suddenly lunges towards him. and simon closes his eyes and let whatever it is take him. anywhere is better than the hospital.

.

.

.

bang!

simon wakes up in a panic. he looks around. the same hospital bed he had dreamed of. the same IV and needles in his skin and the constricting feeling of bandages and gauze pressed against slow healing wounds.

he looks around.

and he sees you. curled up in a chair scrolling on your phone. you look up for a moment and your face seems to lighten up.

but all he can see the haunting figure in his dream. a large sigh releases from his lips as he leans back and relaxes.

"g'morning simon." you mutter, taking your time to slowly stretch from the small ball you've curled yourself into.

you look at him with a strange look in your eyes before you continue speaking.

"how you feeling? feeling any pain?" you seemed worried, but it almost feels fake. simon can't ignore the way that something feels very wrong, but he can't seem to place his finger on it.

"what about-" you cut him off, looking at him in such a way that it makes him shiver. your gaze is like a warm blanket against his skin as he shivers. it's warm and heated and intense.

it makes him feel like your looking past his hard shell and straight into his soul.

its... almost intimate?

he looks away from you for a moment and regains his breath, forcing it to come out slowly rather than shaky and uneven.

it's a weird feeling that makes him uncomfortable as he slowly shifts in the bed.

"price and gaz have already been discharged. soap's still got a lot of burns so you and him might have to stay a bit longer."

you look at him for a moment more before hesitating. it makes him feel uncomfortable with the way your eyebrows furrow as you twiddle with your hands and press your lips together to form a thin line.

"i can stay here with you. if you want." it feels embarrassing the way that simon is fiercely nodding his head, having not found the words to say anything.

he is eager to bathe in your presence. like a moth to a flame. and you are burning so brilliantly in the dark around you.

the two of you sit in silence for a bit. simon has grown accustomed to the way your eyes seem to glow a bit too brightly for someone bathed in the shadows of the hospital. the dim lights illuminating little for the eyes to see.

the sun hasn't even awoken yet.

and yet simon can only stare at you and take you in. there's a longing in his chest that makes it feel harder to breath. the way you brush your hair out of your face. or when you smile at something you pulled up on your phone.

it seemed so natural?

maybe.

but simon cannot shake the feeling that your hiding a lot of things. he has worries. doubts.

but it all melts away when you smile at him in such a way that makes his heart flutter and his hands clench.

he's smitten.

and you know it.

even if...

there's something off about you.

but it's fine. because he can barely remember the words you spoke to him on that fateful day.

[...]

its price. he's on the phone. in the darkness of his home, sat in his office waiting for someone to pick up.

a glance on the phone on speaker says one word.

laswell.

it rings.

ring.

ring.

ring.

brrrr.

"john. do you know what time it is?" her voice comes out slow and tired, he could practically see the way she rubbed her eyes as she looked at the clock in her bedroom.

"do you have any more information on rook?" laswell pauses for a moment, and he can hear the way the fan hums in the background as bedsheets are rustled.

"what about rook?" price sighs as he rubs his head, his hands on his face as he shakes it.

"something is off. the report shows that rook had cleared everyone. everything from that ambush." he pauses for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing.

"that isn't physically possible. there were over twenty men armed to the teeth. and rook... has only joined a few months ago." there's desperation in his voice. fear. pain.

laswell sighs. "i'm going to get in trouble for this... you owe me john." there's an unspoken agreement as he hears laswell open her computer and boot it up. the faint clicking of keys slowly relieves any tension in his body.

she clears her throat. "i can't send the file to you... but i can read it."

"you've seen the majority of the file when you accepted rook as a part of the 141. but it says here..." she squints at her computer in confusion. "it says they was originally apart of o.c.e.s. the omnipotent catastrophe equanimity squadron." "the what...?" "everything else is blacked out. i... don't think i have the clearance to access anything out." as laswell's voice melts into the background, something strikes fear into price. he looks around, but all he can see is the twisting shadows right outside his office.

and...? price freezes as he hears something. breathing against the back of his neck that makes his heart pound in his chest.

"john?" it feels like he's frozen in place. there's this unbearable weight against his chest as the thing behind him moves closer.

"I warned you once captain."

its rook. "you shouldn't ask questions you aren't ready to hear the answers to..." "rook...?"

price turns around.

and all he sees is that damn skull and horns that curl around your head. your smiling.

and its unnerving the way you smile, flashing sharp canines and a forked tongue. your eyes are the most unnerving.

they have such a hue that makes price want to disappear. beg at your feet. to worship.

and then all he hears is static as everything goes dark.

-

[file update]

[loading...]

[contractors. one simon 'ghost' riley. and one john 'bravo 6' price.]

[side effect. bewitched.]

[status. questioning.]

[in progress...]

taglist:

@dashigriffins @thriving-n-jiving @elowynnlane @lilpothoscuttings

@konigsleftkidney @scxrluxxie @havingnonamesucks

[seabysiren]

he knows me

summary: the crew slowly realize that their newest member wasn't just haunted by the deaths they've seen.

their rookie was normal. surprisingly normal within an international crew of nationally funded murders. people paid to do the dirty work of the government under a guise to serve their country and become the true heroes the world needs.

but there is no such thing as a hero.

you were normal. you smiled and laughed. always cheated at poker and betting on stupid things that often had soap and gaz getting a stern talking to by price. you ate a normal amount of food. even sometimes graciously giving bits of your meat or fruit to soap and gaz if they asked nice enough. you were just... underwhelmingly normal for someone in such an occupation. ghost seemed to realize. maybe it was the fact that he knew that on the bad days soap would be angry at the world and himself. that gaz often self isolated when he felt that he wasn't meeting the standards that he placed on himself. he knew that price would drown himself in whiskey and paperwork to get to the next mission. the next adrenaline rush. the next time to dirty their hands under the guise of the higher ups.

but you were just. almost civilian. you followed orders when you were on the field. never seemingly too shaken up by the path of dead bodies that littered the hallways. you never seemed too scared or too tight and paranoid.

almost uninterested. maybe. but that's all that ghost can say. maybe it's a way to disassociate with the reality you live.

but even right now when their running drills. running laps, you seem to be at ease despite the way the sun beat down on the squad. the humidity had kicked up since the storm, and it only seemed like the weather was going to get worse.

his eyes narrowed as you laughed, maybe from something soap or gaz had stated. but your form was perfect. fine. your body didn't ache from the prolonged workout. not even a sweat littered your body. and when price had finally let the three take a little rest before moving on, you didn't gasp for air or lean against your knees to gather your breath. you only smiled as gaz gave you a bottle of water and slowly drank from it. you stilled for only a moment before turning your head to stoically meet the eyes of your lieutenant. something strange seemed to happen. your eyes in the light, seemed to grow darker for a moment. ghost felt something crawl up his spine only for a second, and his mind was screaming at him. that something was wrong. but before he could gather any more information as to why that sensation passed over him, it was gone. and you smiled and waved.

-

sparring was the same. price had partnered up soap and gaz. and that left you with simon standing across from you. you were at ease. you smiled as you looked him up and down. "gonna go easy on me, LT?"

ghost shook his head and huffed out a breath as he stretched his arms, faintly hearing his spine crack from being so still before. "not a chance in hell." you simply smiled at him. the two of you moved into action once price had barked at you to stop dallying.

ghost watched as you got into a proper stance, your eyes still eerily at ease. not like the way that gaz would squint in anticipation. or how soap's would dart over his opponent, trying to gauge the way they would strike first. nor the way that price's eyes would harden as he would hit the first strike. your eyes were normal. and something was very wrong with that. his heart accelerated as he took the first move. his movements were sharp and swift, holding a hefty weight that would bruise if you were hit. but you weren't. he had to give you props. you knew how to react to an opponent that would be able to beat you to a bloody pulp. or he should be able to. something still bothered him. the way your eyes were easily able to track his movements. how you didn't even grunt or grimace at the way his fists or leg would hit you. there was no response. and for a moment, ghost felt like he was hitting a wall. something hard and unmoving. but then you slipped up. a clumsy mistake that seemed too well placed as you let ghost easily pin you. your chest heaved. unlike before when you were running. no sweat. and a smile on your face as you spoke. "beat me, LT. was so close too."

your voice was light and airy. like the two of you didn't fight for a solid twenty minutes. and when he let you up, you were lighter. lighter than what you should be for your age and size. unnerving. -

their in the forest. covered by the shade of the long, thick branches and swaying leaves. swatches of green and yellow dot their vision as they wait out. its a mission to intercept a group of terrorists working their way through the forest. the silent air blows past his face as he watches you. you who seems to maneuver your way around the forest a bit too well for comfort. the way you had helped price over a hidden cave covered by greens and vines. you even corrected gaz when he said he saw a species of mushroom that he had saw on tiktok. it wasn't a puffball mushroom. so you had helped him from eating the damn thing raw. it had soap cackling at him and price shaking his head. the captain looked back over his shoulder and quirked an eyebrow in question. "you coming, ghost?" ghost shook his head and continued down the path.

your footsteps were silent. an amazing feature to accomplish considering all the rocks and leaves and dirt underneath their boots. you moved like you were familiar.

like you were at home. even ghost, a professional tracker had problems with making his footsteps completely silent in such terrain. price shushed the three of you as he held a closed fist in the air. the squadron stopped as everyone tightened their grip on their guns. the five of you crouched against the heavy brush as voices could slowly be heard in the air. the group of terrorists were found. right in their location. and considering the terrain and the fact that they were slowly coming closer to their location could only mean one thing.

a dog fight. price readied his gun as he nodded, and then all hell broke loose.

there were shouts in foreign languages as they scrambled to their weapons. soap and gaz had quickly followed up with several shots as price and ghost leaped into action, brandishing knives as they approached from both sides. you kept hidden among the brush, your scope quickly picking off any strays who had tried to give your squadron a quick jump.

the radio lines were riddled with noises and several familiar voices. "tango down." "three tangos down." as they got farther and farther from your position. before you were finally left alone with the bodies of the enemies in front of you. you listened for only a moment more before getting up from your crouched position. your footsteps were light and silent as you slowly approached the bodies. the smell of blood made your eyes darken. "rook! an ambush at-" the radio screamed in you ears, only the noise of feedback growling back in the silence. you frowned, ripping out your earpiece and turning the knob to the radio. there was nothing but silence. you shook your head and descended into darkness. -

all ghost can see are enemies from any all angles. their guns and knives brandishing a thirst for bloodlust and death.

but he swore that he wouldn't die. that the ghost he knew wouldn't leave his comrades in the dark as long as there was a chance that they could be saved.

so he grit his teeth and ignored the stab wound slowly oozing on his thigh. or the way his arm burned from a graze of bullets. instead he focused on slowly dispatching the enemies nearest to him.

he needed to get to soap. to gaz. to price. to someone.

but the chance of survival seemed to slowly be dwindling. and with the hoard of incoming soldiers the light was slowly dimming.

they were going to die here.

mauled and tortured by an opposing group that the government had finally decided had to be removed. because it was a hindrance to the government. not because people's lives were being held at steak. not that people were dying each day and starving.

he could hear the pained grunts of gaz as he neared, his body running on pure adrenaline. gaz was just in sight. just in reach. come on.

just a little closer.

just a bit more time.

just...

ghost could feel the way his body collapsed with each shot piercing his skin, the way the knife traced his skin and split through flesh.

he was so close.

he couldn't let them suffer like this.

oh god please not

and then everything seemed to freeze.

the shadows around him only seemed to be growing bigger.

'is this what death feels like?' ghost thought to himself, his eyes slowly blinking and clearing the tears that slowly slid down his face, unseen by those around him because of the mask.

what shielded him from reality. what made him strong and capable and what made him able to protect what he loved and cared for.

what kept his heart closed as he watched from afar.

the skull.

and its eyes.

stared straight back at him.

wait...

.

.

.

?

the rook is here.

and the way your body rips through the rough terrain is strange. but for once. your eyes are not placant. their not round and watching and at ease.

their narrowed.

and you look so... so

beautiful.

angry.

it felt like his eyes were playing tricks on him. the way a skull stared straight back at him. with deep, gleaming eyes the same color that held only beauty and patience.

its you.

but it isn't.

because right now. you are not you. with the way you move your body and maneuver around bullets and the way your hands rip down on flesh and blood and torn cloth.

not with the way the light is hitting your form as your chest heaves with effort. not the fake way you were pretending when the two of you were sparring.

not when you would faintly act upset if soap and gaz ganged up on you.

not like the way you ran forever and ever without ever tiring.

and faintly, ghost can only recall your form with a strange skull obscuring your face and what seems like horns peaking from messy, muddied and bloodied hair.

and when you approached.

you looked down at him with a look he's never seen before.

you smile. and he sees only sharp fangs and a long, twisted tongue escaping your mouth.

your form is inhumane.

but your eyes.

are still beautiful in the light as ghost remembers.

as simon remembers.

and as you speak, his eyes can only droop as black incases his vision. "you said it LT. only in hell..."

.

.

.

[the end?]

[part 2.]

[seabysiren]

inure

(v.) to become immune to unpleasant events or situations. something haunts ghost. but it isn't as unpleasant as much as he thought it would be.

ghost never knew when it started. when he started hearing and seeing things that weren't quite there. he had asked price after a quiet evening of the two drinking together, silently mulling over stacks of paper that needed to be filled out. 'price.' he looked up, cigar slowly puffing away in his mouth as he looked at ghost. straight into his eyes hidden by the black and the infamous skull mask. 'what is it, ghost?' there was a moment of silence as ghost stared at his captain for a moment, almost regretting opening his mouth as he thought. 'i haven't all day. spit it out.' price loosely gestured, setting his cigar down on the ash tray as he folded his hands around his stomach, leaning back into his chair as he waited for ghost to talk.

'do... you hear things? see things?' price raised a brow at that. he leaned forward, trying to scan ghost for any telltale signs as to what he was talking about.

'such as...?' ghost shook his head for a moment before slolwy clearing his throat. he almost sounded, uncertain. 'shadows. voices talking in the night.' price shook his head, not quite following what ghost was saying. '... like an episode?' the words were unspoken, but they hung in the air. ghost shook his head. 'not an episode. nothing like that. just the feeling of being watched... someone always behind you. whispering into your ear.'

he could practically hear their whispers in his ears right now. urging him. to set them free. to let them protect him. it only takes an oath. only an oath. and he would be theirs forever. and them his. ghost shakes his head and ignores the small voice in the back of his head. instead focusing on price's unreadable expression. price stared at him long and hard for a moment. he fiddled with his hands as he looked at his lap, almost uncertain about what to say. 'ghost, i have a good therapist you can see-' but as soon as price looked up to who he was addressing, he was gone. just like his name. a ghost. - ghost stalked through the halls. the same, somewhat unnerving presence following behind him. but every time he turned around, he was alone. tap. tap. tap. his shoes made no noise. they never did. it would cost him his life if they ever did on the field.

tap tap tap. he turned around. and there is the same person who's been following him. its strange person. dressed in a black robe and a golden and black jackal mask. their form peaked out from behind the nearest corner, watching. waiting. they stared straight back at ghost. before disappearing in a blink of an eye. ghost blinked. yes. he was just seeing things. nothing else. it was nothing. - the same figure watches him in the night. almost guarding the door. they stand right where the door meets the walls. where they lean and hum an unfamiliar tune. ghost remains, unmoving on the bed. he should be sleeping. but the stranger's songs are keeping him up. he turns on his side, his heart immediately catching in his throat as the creature comes closer, its golden eyes gazing back at him. 'sleep.' its voice is low, almost a rumble as it gently touches simon's cheek. he should be afraid. of this thing that follows him around on the field. that whispers him secrets about the latest gossip in the barracks. about how price is stressed out with his failing marriage with his life. how johnny tries to sleep around to fill the void in his heart of being wanted. but instead its voice is calm. serene. it lulls him to sleep as it continues to hum to itself. for once. he feels peaceful. - the next time it appears is on the field. its not simon. its ghost. its always ghost. no time for weakness. no time for emotions and hesitation and fear. its always following. even as he mutters into the coms that he's in position. ready to strike with soap and gaz at his side. today its a drug bust. on a cartele that they've been following for weeks. the creature's mask is always in his view. watching. waiting with a tilted head and its strange tune it never stops humming. soap breaks the silence. 'you feel that Lt.?' ghost rolls his shoulders, clutching his gun closer to his body as they wait for price's single. 'what?' 'there's something 'ere...' something that seems to unnerve soap as he shifts, his eyes narrowed as he looks around. trying to find the strange source. 'something doesn't feel right.' gaz agrees. but ghost stays silent. when had the feeling gone away? the feeling of being watched. the unnerving feeling of something always following him around. its presence used to make him fearful. it used to make his heart pound in his chest and his eyes dialate. it used to make him clench his leather gloves as he closed his hands and tried to ignore the feeling of its eyes. always on him. but before ghost could utter a word. price gives the signal. and the three are suddenly thrust into chaos. they move as a team, ghost in the front and gaz and soap on his left and right. they sweep into the building, rounding corners and cleaning with ease. until they come into the main warehouse. where their exposed. where gun men are everywhere and their guns are pointed straight at the three. the radio screeches with static, making gaz and soap wince at the noise. ghost is silent. he isn't afraid. not afraid of death at least. he's afraid of what that thing can do. the one with the mask and its tune that abruptly stopped. ghost barely registers the demands of the drug lord. or how gaz and soap slowly lower their guns to the floor. he stares. at the creature who looks straight back at ghost. it cocks its head. vageuly gesturing to the people around it. ghost gulps. and the creature nods. the mask on their face is removed. and all that remains is a monster behind the veil as it drops to the floor. no one knows what happens next. other than there's a creature on all fours with sharp teeth and nails that scrape and dig into the concrete floor. that snarls and rips into people as blood rains down. gaz and soap are fearful. simon stands, his gun slack as he watches the creature move. its strangely hypnotic the way it moves. animalistic but gracefully pulling flesh from bone, its sharp teeth illuminated in the bright yellow lights from above.

and by the end. gaz and soap has to drag their frozen Lt. out of the room. away from the creature who only shows simon its bright, sharp teeth and its menacing eyes. its the monster that follows simon. and poor simon can't help but crave its attention. how ironic.

that the ghost is haunted.

[seabysiren]

Hello!! I love your writing sm especially The streamer Au it’s taken over my mind🫶🏾 Do you have any idea if you’ll be adding anything to it? Like a full fic or something of that sort

yup! i've been a bit busy with college. but i do want to continue making headcanons of how everything slowly melds together. how simon becomes comfortable as a streamer. how we slowly add all the characters of the 141! with gaz and price. and eventually forming a content creator house with the los vaqueroz. i don't know if i would be commited to write a full fanfic for this yet. but definitely continuing with blurbs/drabbles/asks/headcanons. stay tuned for more nonnie <3

[seabysiren]

Listen I need more of the streamer au👁️👄👁️, it’s pure gold. Like are the rest of the 141 team streamers too, what about Los vaqueros. What if they form like content creator house, could you imagine the absolute chaos😭

that's what I wanted the end goal to be. unite the 141 avengers style. having our dear reader as the editor and main camera man when they start doing more in person vlogs and videos.

this may be content like exploring a haunted house at 3am in the morning! soap and gaz scared out of their minds! simon firmly doesnt believe in ghosts. johnny and gaz on the other hand... are screaming and running away at any sudden noise. you and price often stand in the dark waiting for the two idiots to approach and scaring the living daylights out of them. simon who stands in a room of what used to be a child's nursery. grimacing from the dust and gently handling the toys left with respect. even if there was no 'ghost', he respects the area and where the child had been thought to have passed away from neglect. you who just slowly walks away from the group to do your own thing. you catch doors slamming by themselves. the blue bouncy ball rolling back to you despite you throwing it away a few moments ago. you just go. nope. 'i respect you ghost dude. but like, not today.' funnily enough, the ghosts stop when you ask them to. you eventually show the feed to soap and gaz who are freaking out and shaking you back and forward. why would you do that? what if you got haunted? what if you brought the ghost back with you????

que coming back at like noon to the hotel. soap and gaz are absolutely exhausted with all the screaming and messing around they did. price just seems overall unnerved, and ghost doesn't care. he just wants to go to sleep... and possibly share the bed with you so he can hold you close and cudde-

i mean wait what? or like homemade cooking with the Los Vaqueros, Alejandro and Rodolfo. simon absolutely getting destroyed by all the spices because british food is bland af.

you had hinted at alejandro and rodolfo that simon and soap may not have that good of a spice tolerance. that was a mistake because you saw them dump a lot of red, spicy smelling herbs in when soap and ghost weren't looking.

the food they made was absolutely amazing. tamales. chile rellenos. and a spicy chicken soup (chilate de pollo). soap absolutely butchering the names because he does not, in fact, speak spanish. you smack him upside the head for that. ghost is surprisingly quiet when he eats the food. soap is howling in the background for milk, gaz is laughing at him and price is just silently enjoying his food.

ghost's face gets surprisingly red. but he doesn't complain. even goes for seconds. but when the kitchen is cleared after cleaning everything up. you see him sitting down with a carton of ice cream, digging it straight out with a spoon.

(his favorite ice cream is vanilla bean.) soap and gaz making everyone have a pretty princess remake <3. forcing everyone, including price, who just signs and drinks out of his flask of whiskey, to paint their nails and wear dresses and stuff. the reader actually getting beat behind scene because they don't have to get a makeover... that is until simon locks them into a chokehold because he wants to see you all dolled up too :))

they all gossip about each other. telling embarassing stories. stories about ghost's initial confusion about streaming. all the works. the content creator house is a mess. but its a found family that all the viewers love to see.

[seabysiren]

courting

headcanons about non-human!simon and reader in the 141.

the first time you're introduced to the 141, ghost is immediately leering at you from across the room. his arms are crossed around his chest as he practically stares into your soul.

soap, or johnny, as ghost had called him, had just said he was a little shy. shy? he didn't look shy. he looked like he was seconds away from stealing your soul.

gaz and soap are so friendly that it the strange feeling about ghost had disappeared. they had distracted you by showing you where the mess hall was. and the wing they resided in.

but you were dishearted to know that ghost's room was right across from your room. soap had even teasingly warned you not to make a racket. because ghost was a light sleeper.

when the two left you alone, you couldn't shake the unnerving feeling of being watched. every noise kept you on edge before you closed your door and began unpacking your duffle.

you shouldn't be feeling this way. you're a hard, trained soldier who eliminates people. you shouldn't be afraid...about whoever this ghost was and why he had a staring issue.

it took a while for ghost to get used to you. every time you would enter the cantine or the lounge area.

every time you entered a room he would stare at you. you couldn't see beyond his mask, but you caught onto the way his eyes narrowed or how he jerked his head from side to side every once in a while.

everytime he would speak his rough, deep voice would send shivers down your spine. and you swore each time he spoke he had a smug grin on his face.

one of the strange habits you picked up on from ghost was his eating. he was fiercly protective of his food. even when soap or gas would try to steal a slice of fruit or a piece of meat. he would practically growl in anger.

he would do simple things to get your attention. whether you had unknowingly entered a room he resided in, he would clear his throat.

in the mornings he would brew you a soothing tea to wake up. he would give you his jacket if you were especially cold outside helping train the newbies.

overall, he gave you mixed signals.

that was until you were on the field, covered in snow trying to get to the safe house a few klicks away from where you and simon were.

it was cold. freezing. but you still had to move. your breath fogged the air. when you faltered, his large hand had wrapped around your arm to keep you steady.

that was when you realized he was warm, unusually so. you had stopped and yelled through the wind.

"do you have a fever? you're burning up!" simon only responded with a grunt as he shook his head.

"m not. always like that." his silence reverberated through the air as you followed him. the wind was only getting harsher as it whipped snow into your covered face.

you cried in relief as soon as you saw the faint, deep outline of the cabin. you ran in excitement to get away from the cold that you could almost hear ghost huffing to himself in amusement.

your teeth chattered together as you looked at the fire place. it had a few spare logs that you immediately lit with your lighter. ghost had busied himself with gathering the blankets and slowly... striping his clothing? you squeaked in surprise as you saw his back. his very toned, musclar back.

"what? you're going to have to get undressed too. we're soaked with snow." you knew this. but still, it was a little embarrassing to have your intimidating superior see you bare.

you shook your head. it was just a mission. you had to get warm, or get very sick. and you hated being sick.

so you striped down to your underwear and covered yourself with a worn, but soft blanket.

you watched simon as he undressed down to his boxers and began fiddling with the blankets. you observed silently as you folded your gear as he began to sniff and place the blankets in front of the fire.

he placed the bankets down and fiddled with the location. he placed a few blankets on the ground to cushion the area, before arranging the blankets in a circle.

there was a deep sound reverberating from his chest. but you didn't know where it was coming from. he couldn't be humming that low. especially with how the sound echoed through the silence and the howling wind in the background.

he plopped himself down before looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

"come here pup." you obediently sat beside him. he looked at you for another moment with a strange gleam in his eyes before laying down and making himself comfortable.

"price said evac will be tomorrow when the storm clears. we just have to stay safe and warm in here." there was an emphasis on safe and warm.

you could barely fall asleep. but with the way simon wormed his arm around your waist and pushed you to lay down with him, you were at ease. his staring had become familar. and almost, comforting in a way.

but damn. was he warm.

it was practically a shock with how warm he was. like your own personal heater. with what little dignity you had left, you snuggled into his side. closer to the warmth, and close enough to feel the way his chest rumbled when he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around you.

you stared at him for a few more moments before shutting your eyes.

unbeknownst to you. simon was giddy. he had you right where he wanted in his nest. smelling like him. in his arms.

his chest rumbled as he purred, pulling you closer into his embrace.

[seabysiren]

when you're sick

🐬 he worries so much. the body of a god doesn't get sick. sure he could get injured, but even flesh wounds would quickly disappear when he submerges into water

🐬 but when he visits you, he can immediately sense something is off. maybe its the way your scent seems muted. or the bags under your eyes that seem a bit bigger than the last time he saw you.

🐬 he's so gentle. he gives you lots of forehead kisses and wraps you in his embrace. his large, warm embrace. and when he presses yourself against him, he's worried. you feel so much colder than he is.

🐬 it starts with just a cough. a cough that swirls in your chest and makes you hack up a lung when you sit up. the sudden noise startles k'uk'ulkan from his thoughts.

🐬 he looks at you with narrowed eyes as he holds your face in his hands. his eyes roving over your figure, trying to pinpoint the source of such an ailment. he finds nothing. no flesh wounds. no bruises. no rashes.

🐬 you have to reassure him you're fine. its just allergies. the pollen in the air. things like that.

🐬 he huffs at you. that the human body is so frail that a simple change in wind could change your biology.

🐬 the next time you see him he brings a soothing cream. something that is supposed to be spread over the chest to help with congestion. he applies it with such care as you melt under his touch.

🐬 if you have pains, he will curl around you and force you to rest in your bed. in the nest he made for you. full of soft blankets and pillows to prop yourself up on.

🐬 he'll run his hands over your skin and knead away any knots and stress. and he often presses kisses against your temple when you furrow your eyebrows. because he doesn't want you to get a headache.

🐬 he brings you lots of fruit and bread. nutritious, sweet things that are healthy for you. no foods from the grocery store or the vendors in the town nearby. just sweet, soft nectar and pulp of delicious fruit full of vitamins.

🐬 planning to work? no. physically not possible. k'uk'ulkan will pin you to the bed and force you to fall alseep. and if you're having trouble falling asleep, he will tell you stories his mother used to tell him.

🐬 if you become feverish he will panick. very rarily do any talokanil get sick. and even then they recover quick enough. but when you're feverish and aching, he does everything.

🐬 he will raid your medicine cabinet and read every warning label. every instruction. every word. in order to give you what you need to help break the fever. he brings cool water and presses a soft cloth against your forehead. he wipes down your body when you're too weak to do that yourself.

🐬 he will give you honey and strange, awful tasting remedies when he decides that the medicine you have has too many risks. too many chemicals.

🐬 the medicine he gives you is easy to swallow, but incredibly bitter tasting. he coos at you the entire time and tells you how good and brave you are.

🐬 a nervous, fretting mess when you get sick. will scavenge the earth and find any and all healers in talokanil for remedies to cure your allergies. or a headache you got from staring at your screen. or a fever and the aches that wrack through your body.

🐬 and when you get better you shower him in love and affection. other than brushing away the mess he made in your bathroom from all the medicine bottles strewn everywhere. he means well.

🐬 tl:dr. k'uk'ulkan will absolutely sell his soul to the devil in order to cure you. he hates when your sick or in pain, and will do everything in order to make sure you're safe and secure. and most importantly, healthy.

[seabysiren]

new tides

summary: as the moon rises, so does the strange behavior of k'uk'ulkan.

there was something strange in the way k'uk'ulkan looked at you. something that made your back straighten and your heart pound.

often times you would help him patrol the seas. protect the people. keeping the younglings away from the boarder. helping tired mothers take care of their children or making delectable feasts.

but when you were off duty, you still kept close to your king. because being his aid required you to be with him. in case of emergency. in case he needed advice. information. favors.

in case he needed a nurturing, guiding hand when he was lost.

but something changed in the way he looked at you.

usually you would be greeted with a soft smile, his beautiful warm eyes glistening in the light he provided for you. for his people.

his voice would be warm as he laughs. as he jokes. or as he gives out orders with a harsh tint to his voice and a stormy expression.

he would greet you with benevolence.

but something changed. no longer did he look at you in such warmth. but rather the same gloomy, stormy expression he would present when his kingdom was in danger.

a frown would slowly make its way onto his face as he absent mindedly gazes at you. his eyebrows quirked in such a way that showed deep thoughts brewing away.

you didn't question the sudden change. because you had no idea of the burden he carried as king. he must've been thinking about something important, otherwise he wouldn't be staring off into the distance so often.

you chalked up the nervous feeling that you did something wrong. that you were the cause of such a dilemma.

one thing you did note was the change in how he presented himself. the usual jewelry adjourning his chest and face had changed. from jade to vibrant vibranium colored in deep purples and reds.

from necklaces of seashells to seaglass full of light and color.

but his eyes remained the same. it held the same warmth he gifted you everytime you saw him. just with something a little darker swirling in deep, warm browns.

something that made your heart flutter and your veins fill with anxiety.

"my king." you muttered, giving him a small bow as you look at him. once again, he is in his hutt. where he paints of the battles. of his mother. of the story of his people and how his kingdom came to be.

a soft breath escaped your lips as you looked at your king. his hair, usually swept by the waves of the sea, was donning a beautiful featherpiece that gleamed against his warm skin.

the blues and greens mixed with the vibrant reds against his darker hair. his cape nearly touched the floor, woven with the same colors that matched his hair piece. the gold and jade glistened against his skin as you gulped, drawing your eyes away from his figure and up to his face.

he had a smile on his face.

"you...called for me?" you uttered, reminding him of why he asked for your presence.

"in erudito. lovely as always." you felt your calm facade slowly slipping as you bit your lip. it felt like the usually cool air around the hutt had significantly warmed. like someone had lit a fire.

you kept your mouth shut. because you didn't know how to respond. never had someone given you such a compliment. especially not your king.

k'uk'ulkan slowly approached you, his eyes roving across your figure, his eyes dark as he devoured you.

you gulped, fidgeting with your hands as he approached until he was directly in front of you.

you could almost feel his warm breath against your dewy skin. instead of focusing on the warmth that radiated off his skin, you drew your eyes to the floor. looking anywhere but him.

you were unknowing to the way he looked at you in this moment. full of tender warmth and love. adoration and kindness. something so gentle, so vulnerable that he hasn't shown to anyone. not since the time of his mother.

instead you stared at the ground.

"as you know. the duties of the king are endless." you nodded, averting your eyes to stare at the beautiful artwork painted behind you. you traced each and every stroke as he continued.

"and as time passes, so does our kingdom. but each kingdom needs more than just a ruler. a king needs..." he leaned closer, gently grasping your chin in his calloused hands.

he turned your attention back to him. he demanded it. your breath stuttered as you panicked. never had he been this close. close enough that you could smell the sweet scent of fruit from his breath. or feel warm puffs of air against your skin.

"a betrothed. someone who will rule in grace and favor." your eyes widen as you try to pull away.

"in ajawo'! i am but a mere scholar. i could not possibly be what talokanil needs..." you trail off. your voice shook in your throat as he cupped your face in both of his hands.

"my love. you are more than just a scholar." he pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes searching yours as he continued.

"you are a warrior. a brave one who will not hesitate to defend your kingdom. you are an advisor. who gives insight where others cannot. you are nurturing. patient to the younglings. a healer and a gatherer for the families who struggle."

his lips quirk into a soft smile.

"none of your degrading thoughts."

he steps back and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"you are more than a scholar. and if you let me, in amado, you shall become a ruler. with me."

you gulped. your eyes shyly tracing his figure until you came across his eyes. they seemed so warm. practically calling out for you. to hold you. to cherish you.

your voice shook as you spoke, uncertainty filling your words.

"but me? surely, you're making a mistake in ajawo'."

"it is no mistake. just as the tides beckon to the call of the moon. my love for you is eternal. pixan. it is no mistake. if i shall have someone, it must be you. and if not you, no one."

you pursed your lips together, trying to calm the fluttering of your heart as your chest exploded in warmth. of his love. his devotion.

"if... you will have me." a big smile spread across his face as he rested his hands on your hips, gently sqeezing them to reassure you.

"for eternity, in yaxil tun."

[seabysiren]

death due us part [teaser]

summary: marc relives the worst memory of his life. but this time, he remembers something that haunts him in his sleep.

the few times that marc sleeps, he dreams. nothing of the peaceful whispers and the warmth of a loving parent. nothing of the bright blue sky and the stars that stare down at him.

it always starts the same. and each time he relives it, it makes his heart ache and his eyes sting.

randall is always alive. he's smiling away in the sun as he messily scribbles over a piece of wrinkled paper, drawing one of his favorite fish. the one with one fin.

always orange. always smiling. the sun always hits his eyes in such a way that marc feels like he's staring into the sun.

and despite everything. despite everything he's been through, he still can't stop what's awaiting in the future.

or rather. the past.

there's always a sense of dread as marc moves against his will. ruffling his younger brother's hair. giving him bright smiles and the tales of imaginary adventure. danger. treasure.

marc can feel his heart echoing in his chest as he watches. almost in third person. he is marc. the older version. but he is also the younger version.

the naive one.

ignorant.

sinful.

randall's laughs echo to the top of the trees that gently sway in the wind. the branches and leaves groaning as they slowly twist. the scent of dirt is fresh, and the leaves crunch against their shoes as randall follows his brother.

marc speaks. only it isn't monotonous. its higher pitched. its warm. full. happy.

he speaks of the greatest adventure of Steven Grant. the scientist turned adventurer who saves cultures and villages away from the evil who plunder and steal.

randall intensely listens as marc waves around a branch, reinacting the latest fight that Steven Grant had conquered. of course. because the villains never win.

the villains never win.

marc never wins.

the scent of dirt slowly twists into a murky scent as the two of them enter the cave. the one where Steven Grant has had many adventures in. saving the princess. discovering ancient fossils of dinosuars and escaping from the grasps of death.

randall is alive. for now.

time passes fast. because it has no time for the small. the hopeful. the happy.

and marc wants to cry. at his ignorance. at his naivity. ignoring his mother's words of staying away from the cave. to keep randall safe.

safe. randall's never safe with marc anymore.

and then suddenly its too late.

the small body of marc is in panic. one filled with fresh tears as he drops his sacred septor (the long, bent stick randall had gifted him.)

and its wet.

everything is wet.

slippery.

marc can't help randall.

the water weighs down in a way that haunts marc to this day. it soaks through his clothing and makes his sneakers squeak with every step. every desperate, horror filled step.

his brother.

randall.

marc needs him. randall needs him. mother needs randall.

we need randall.

marc wants to cry as he watches. helplessly reliving a moment that he tries to burry in the back of his mind.

but randall's hand slips. his feet slip from underneath him. and there's a big splash.

thunder claps in the background.

lightning illuminates the scene that marc sees everytime he closes his eyes.

randall. helpless. fearful. eyes wide and his mouth open. his hand open, awaiting the touch of his brother which will never come.

his scream echoes in the cavern as his brother drops deep into the depths of the chilly water. consumed by darkness and pain.

marc is in pain.

his body aches as he watches himself dive into the water, desperately trying to grasp at his brother. his lungs burn. his arms and legs hurt. but nothing hurts more than the way his heart pounds in his chest.

there is no randall.

not anymore.

marc didn't know any better. he ran back. panic. fearful. dread.

except this time, the scene doesn't end with the dead expression of his mother. with her half lidded eyes and the scowl and those words that sting worst than her hits.

time slows down. it slows down so that marc, older and more experienced, finally move. he isn't frozen anymore.

he reaches out slowly, touching the rain drops that hover in the air without destination. the cold stings his hand.

then he hears it.

the faint sound of bells.

jingle. jingle. jingle.

crash

and he sees it. in the distance. blending in with the dark trees.

it makes his heart panic. it pulses and adrenaline washes over his body.

there he meets the eyes of someone.

someone with golden eyes glistening in the lightning. illuminated in flashes of blue and gold.

the jackal's mask stares right into his soul. glistening wet and shining obsidian.

the figure holds a small staff. something gold dangles from the top. and every time it moves, it makes that same echoing jingle of bells.

marc feels sick looking at them.

and when he wakes up. covered in sweat and heart pounding in his throat. all he can remember is the mask.

the heartless jackal's mask.

and those eyes.

golden.

and desolate.

[seabysiren]

As much as my English sucks, I need to make this request about "streamer au". I don't know, I imagine the chat a lot treating Fantasma x Reader, as a couple and Sabão, getting encuimado (jealousy of the reader), but a silly jealousy, just to provoke both. Or, the Phantom watching a Sabão x Leitor edition (romantic imprint), on tiktok, and feeling jealous? Leaving something like "Why edit them? They're my...I mean, my best friends 😃". That would be great, and funny ;)

your english is ok! it took me a few moments and the few years of spanish i took to realize this was in spanish/english.

hope u enjoy this one!

-

sometimes soap feels like the third wheel. you and ghost are so tightly intertwined by the time he joins he feels out of place a bit. sure he loves the way ghost comments on things, and egging on his dark and bad humor. but he wishes that he could get involved a little more.

ghost and you work like a well oiled machine. but with a new part in play he has to adapt.

so that means he teases you constantly.

soap is already a very touchy feely person so its really easy to subtly flirt with you without breaking any boundaries. beacuse you like hugs, and claim soap gives the best hugs once he smothers you in his chest.

ghost gets jealous about your comment and refuses to give you hugs for a few days. not that you realized that.

soap also loves the cooking streams you do. so ghost, soap, and you would all be trying to bake a cake. cue a flour fight and the whole kitchen is messy.

soap licks his thumb to get flour off your face. his face is scrunched up as he tries to wipe a little bit of flour off your nose.

or giving your cheek a kiss when he jokingly says you got chocolate right there...

'right there. you're missing it. here let me get it.'

cue a teasing, loud smacking kiss on your cheek. you gasp offendedly as you wipe his germs off your face.

ghost throws more flour at soap in annoyance.

its not really annoyance he just wants soap to stop kissing you on stream.

when the three of you have media share on. its chaotic. because you're being the moderator and filtering through all these media clips. ghost and soap have their face cams on and something a little proactive post shows up.

someone had edited and clipped the amount of times in the baking stream soap had used his shirt as a rag to get flour off his face. that meant lifting his shirt and showing off his toned body underneath. and they had your reaction of your eyes darting to his body before you awkwardly smiled.

chat ate it up. because you usually don't get embarrassed and flustered too much.

its not just ghosthound anymore.

there's a new contender.

and its soaphound.

since that first post everyone just wants to show ghost and soap all the ship art and edits made.

people are arguing which is better, ghosthound or soaphound.

after a little bit of those media ghost asks you to filter those out. because he's getting a little irritated.

because these people have to right to assume what ya'll relationship is. nor should they be shipping you and ghost or you and soap or whatever.

because deep down ghost wants to know why you have such good chemistry with soap on camera. because he thought yall had good chemistry too.

when the livestream ends and soap leaves to go back to his own apartment ghost melts into simon. and simon gets all clingy and pouty. he doesn't say anything but you can sense the shift in body language.

he sits a bit closer than he normally would when you sit on the couch. or spreas his legs farther so his knee will press against yours under the table.

or overall just stalking you and initiating contanct, which simon doesn't do often. and you just smile and give him a headrub or a pat on the head, none the wiser to the boiling jealousy in his chest.

god sometimes you can be such a himbo and soap and ghost both love and hate it.

[seabysiren]

I have an idea for "streamer au". How about the chat shipping the ghost with the reader? How do they always leave cute and funny comments whenever there is interaction between them? Or how the ghost is made silly in some situations by the reader? I would love to read this situation :) this is probably very badly written, and full of mistakes, sorry, my english sucks :/

your english is good! no mistakes or bad wording. <3

-

at first its subtle.

chat honestly thought ghost and you were very good friends. that was until he started to transition into quiting his day job to be a full time streamer. he asked several other streamers on how they keep a schedule, realistic goals, and how to keep the viewers entertained.

this meant branching out from just gaming.

ghost made his first appearance since he started the channel. you helped him black out the areas around his eyes and he donned the skull balaclava.

even though streaming would catch a lot of attention, ghost thought it would be better to keep a bit of privacy for himself. thus the mask.

you wore a plain black medical mask deciding it would be better to hide at least a part of your face for privacy.

the first thing chat picked up on was the difference in size.

they honestly thought ghost was bluffing when he told them he was 6'4.

he wasn't lying. the height difference shows when you hit him for leaning against you, arm on top of your head as the two of you chilled.

or when he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you against him. out of the way of chaotic soap as he runs around the set like a child on crack.

it was interesting to see the way that the two of you interacted, especially because for so long you only had a voice/edits made.

chat constantly says they can see ghost blushing when you tease him on his size. you think its hilarious that ghost's jacked af yet doing an overglorified office job. he lowkey flexes everytime he sees you eying his muscles.

it gets even more hectic when soap joined. you and soap constantly clown on each other and chase each other around the house. chat either eggs it on or feels bad that ghost has two leash children he has to constanly look after.

two gremlins and a tired parent trio.

but when soap's talking to you, ghost will just silently stare. straight at you. practically without blinking.

he zones out a lot when he looks at you. thinking what you would look like or how you would react if he did the things soap does to get your attention.

someone pointed it out later with a small short. putting heart emojis and stars around ghost as the camera pans from him to you laughing at something soap said.

the channel has officially adopted your 'streamer' name despite being the editor. they call you hound. because you can be so playful and easygoing, yet in games and when editing you're absolutely ruthless in your worth ethics.

ghost calls you pup.

the first time he called you that chat flipped out. it was midday when you came in with food for ghost. because he hadn't eaten breakfast in order to stream.

you had briefly popped into the face cam as you said

'here's some food.'

'thanks pup.' ghost was too focused on defeating hollow knight that he let it slip. and chat went wild.

chat calls it out everytime ghost lets it slip. soap always ends up exploding with laughter as he mockingly calls you pup.

and ghost? he just crosses his arms around his chest and sulks. most likely pouting underneath the mask.

chat argues about the ship name.

ghosthound.

houndghost.

ghound.

houst.

ghost got a donation alert that asked him about his preference one day while he was streaming valorant. the audience could hear the way his chair creaked as he leaned back and thought for a moment.

"ghosthound."

he accepted no further answers or questions about it. but that day twitter made ghosthound trend. lots of pictures and posts claiming the ship is official as people absolutely fawn over this moody giant and his happy little editor.

feeding further into the shipping, ghost had mindlessly liked a really nice fanart of the two of you hugging.

and suddenly he's getting tagged in tiktok edits and fanart.

he secretly looks through all of them in his freetime. he would never admit it.

though you have seen him scroll through those tags a few times. you pretended not to notice.

overall chat loves ghosthound and wouldn't give up anything for it.

...

except maybe another otp.

[seabysiren]

Happy new years!!

hope y’all start off the year with lots of fun. and hopefully soon I’ll post a bit more, getting over some sinus headache. don’t get sick y’all!!