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peachesofteal · 11 months

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Mermaids

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon Riley/mermaid!reader 8.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Dark themes. Magical beings eating human hearts. Magic. Blood, Violence. Explicit sex. Blood kink. Breeding kink. Creampie. Dubious consent. Possessive Simon Riley. "And with your mermaid hair and your teeth so sharp, you crawled from the sea to break that sailor's heart" - F+TM

It begins early this year.

Earlier than usual, when your hunting ground in the mortal world was just starting to turn green, shaking its frosted and frozen branches free to make room for bright blooms and emerald leaves. Just as the steps of Brighton Pier changed from ice slick ledges to waterlogged, weeping wooden planks, and human clothing shifted from long coverings that protected their fragile membranes from the bitter wind to soft and flowing fabrics that allowed their bodies to breathe.

This time of the year the mortal world was alive. Full of rebirth and growth, strong and vibrant.

Vibrant, like the song that began early this year, the frequency echoing deep below the water’s surface to where you waited for its pull. The siren song of a true treasure, far beyond any other, the melody of your chosen, the ebb and flow of the rhythm that is not unlike the sea. The siren song of a mortal’s heart, the cacophony able to reach you and your sisters far below the swell and crash of the ocean, far beyond where the light ceases, the melody possessing the ability to pull you to the surface once a year.

Once a year, to hunt.

One a year, to dance and drink and fall in love, if only for a night.

Once a year, to sacrifice a human heart.

Your eldest sister holds you tight to her body in an embrace as the sun rises. Elegant fingers fuss with your hair, smoothing and tugging and pulling, a vain attempt at taming something wilder than her own heart. Her face is grim, a black void that reflects no joy or excitement, just dread. It is a mirror of yourself. It is a pain that you know too well.

“What bothers you?”

You are the last two left on the beach. The others have all gone, eager to stretch their legs and seek their own songs, the trill of the blood bubbling up in their veins, their bodies pulled like magnets to the source. One heart, one song, one human male for each sister, poor mortals who have no idea what awaits them today, their ignorance bliss on the last night of their lives. Your sisters, as well as you, all live for this night. The joy of the love, the thrill of the hunt, the taste of the ichor that sustains you. The anticipation of this night fills your dreams with swirls of violent songbird chords and sweet melodies of affection. It is all you talk about for cycles, leading up to the day when you leave the water at sunrise and your tail shifts and shatters to reveal two very human looking legs.

“I am weary.” She tells you plainly, an announcement that does not come as a surprise. You have watched how she fades. Watched her linger in the darkness of the caves, watched her float lifelessly on slow currents, gaze hollow, vigor lost. “My song is faint.” She pushes further, holding your hand tightly as she releases you from her embrace. “I think I may not take a heart this year.” But we must. Must we? It was a question unanswered, but one that plagued you both. How else could you live, if not for these sacrifices?

“You would choose to die.” You surmise and she gives you a curt nod, as if it is obvious. As if her admission does not rattle you down to your very bones. Perhaps you too, one day, would make this choice. Would choose not to hunt. Choose not to love and lose. The notion pains you, fills you with sorrow as it has for many, many years. This was not an unknown feeling, even though you still experienced the joy, the bliss of your hunting, of the harvesting, you still felt the pang of loss every time, stronger and stronger as the years ticked by.

“It aches now, knowing I will fall in love this night, just for it to end as the sun rises.” The sea crashes onto the beach behind the two of you, and her lips part with a smile before she leans in to graze a kiss along your cheek. “Happy hunting, my sister.”

The song encourages you onward, leading you through a maze of streets and buildings while the sun rises and lingers in the sky. You comb the city for your male, following the electric hum of the song through alleys and neighborhoods, stopping to enjoy the day, your one day on land, as often as you can. You relish in the things that are rare for you, the taste of coffee and human food, the smell of flowers in the park, the feel of grass on the bare pads of your feet. The dress you’ve chosen flutters in the breeze, allowing the cool air to caress your skin softly, and the sun beams down on your exposed limbs, warming you under its light as you indulge in mortal world. It is nice, you decide while you bask in its rays, to feel the sun as humans do. Such spoiled creatures, being so close to something that gives so much life.

That same sun begins to sink lower behind the skyline and you’re still mindlessly gazing at small insects and diving birds when your heart trills, the force of the song slamming between your ribs, a smattering of warning bells going off within you. He’s close, your blood croons, so, so close. The incessant rattle, the insistent pull is enough to bring you to your feet and anxiously smooth the wrinkles of your clothing, eyes darting wildly around while you hunt for the source, feet flying beneath you. So close, so close.

You come to a stop in front of a pub where a black door is propped open, music and revelry echoing from inside. Here. He’s here. The supersonic vibrato that hums in your own blood draws you into the dimly lit bar, and you hear the song in his veins grow even stronger when you step through across the threshold. He is not hard to find, this close, and your magic strings out before you, weaving and seeking past the bodies that dance closely on the floor, each as desperate for one another as you have grown for your mortal and his song.

He stands in the back, half covered by shadow, the dark pitch of the room matching his clothes and the mask he wears over most of his face. Everything about him is bigger than the males that have called to you in the past, his height, his arms, the width of his shoulders, even the feeling of him in this place. Everywhere you venture, every spot you position yourself in, you feel his eyes on you. He is unusual, and watches, from his vantage point, his companions, other humans, the bartender.

You perch atop a barstool on the opposite side of the room to study him. His eyes carry a ferocity, a heaviness of emotion that stirs the blood running through your own veins until it is pounding in your ears. The severity of him nearly intimidates you, the level of his awareness, the pools of his amber rich brown eyes occasionally flicking over to where your fingers wrap around a glass of beer, the heat of his gaze searing away at your skin underneath the dress. The mask confuses but does not caution you, and your own heart now beats in time with his due to your proximity. Handsome. You muse to yourself, caught up in tracing the outline of his cheekbones. Beautiful, in a dark way.

There is something about him. Something ruinous, something different. Something you cannot name.

It is of no consequence. You are the huntress. You will have your prize, your immortality, the taste of his heart on your tongue. His death becomes your life. His love, his heart, becomes yours, for eternity.

But how nice, might it be, to keep this one? It is an impossible thought, a dreamless idea, but one that still crosses your mind. The fantasy of falling in love for eternity, of having more than one night, more than the blood and violence that follows, more than the loss that would sustain you. If it were to be one, you know you’d choose this one. Your thoughts stray to your sister for a moment, imagining her alone beneath the surface, mourning the centuries of life she has lived, the centuries of love she has lost. Did she know this feeling? This hopelessness, this despair. Your lips tug downward as you consider her words. It aches. It aches, knowing I will fall in love this night, only for it to end as the sun rises. Gloom washes through you, your own yearning itching inside your soul, your desperation for your human itching at your skin. It aches. It aches, it ach-

“Hello.” Someone says from behind you, a deep, distinct voice, and you snap upwards, straightening your posture to turn into the body that crowds you. You jerk backwards on the stool when you realize how close he is, the action unsettling you from your seat, and you slip forward, nearly falling free from your wooden perch. Balance on land is difficult, and yours is perpetually off, a skill you've never mastered. A massive hand wraps around your elbow to right you, gently steadying you, and your jaw goes slack when you finally look up.

It's him.

“Hi.” You smile, trying to recover from your less than graceful impression. Your heart thunders in your chest, and the melody inside him screams for you.

“I’m Ghost.” He motions to your mostly empty beer and raises his completely barren one in return. “Buy you another?”

The indulgent smile that scrawls across your face is practically involuntary as you give your answer.

“Sure.”

His name isn’t Ghost, but he keeps his true name close and won’t give it to you. You give him a nickname, one you usually use on land, and he doesn’t bat an eye, even when you tell him it’s a pet name and not your real one with a wink. The name Ghost doesn’t strike you as odd, after learning what he does, why he keeps it tucked away, and you marvel at him while he tells gives you bits and piece of himself, occasionally peeling his mask up to drink. He’s a solider, a Lieutenant in a special task force, some of which he happens to be out with tonight. He likes bourbon, specifically from a certain region in America, and he smells like the forest. You lean closer, completely unable to stop yourself, inhaling as deeply as you can, breathing in the mossy, earthy, green scent that hovers in the air around him. It was heady, and endless, and wrapped you in a dizzying cocoon of memories that you couldn’t place, but clearly envisioned. Forests, teeming with life and glowing chartreuse from top to bottom, oceans with aquamarine waters, shallow pools for you to bathe in under the sun, the water crisp and cold, your skin eagerly soaking it up its potent brine. Sapphire skies, the beaches stretching on and on, their seas fathomless, their bounties endless. You push closer, nosing as near as you can to his skin and take a lungful of the air. Strange. You knew humans wore things to mask or change their scents, but had never encountered one so… affecting.

“Alright, love?” He brushes the lightest contact of his fingers against yours, and you straighten, eyes ducking down in embarrassment.

“Yes, sorry. I- I was… distracted.”

Unusual indeed.

One drink turns to many, and you carefully note how Ghost’s posture becomes more relaxed, shoulders less tense as the two of you indulge. He continues to surveil the room, observing and cataloguing, and you find it dangerously appealing, how in tune he is to his surroundings. How vigilant. Your hand lays gently on his thigh when you can no longer hold off the desire for physical touch, and he inclines his head to speak above your ear, the warmth of his cheek behind the fabric pressed casually to your head.

“D’ya want to go somewhere else?” Yes. You nod, and he motions to his group before excusing himself, his large body cutting a path through the packed room like he’s parting the sea.

You note the couplings around the bar as Ghost approaches his companions, leaning down to speak to one who is seated, legs spread wide on a faux velvet chair. He has a mohawk, and cerulean blue eyes that trace you from head to toe after Ghost begins to walk back towards where you're seated. You break the eye contact hastily, observing the others, pity pulling on your heart strings over a distraught female who sits in a corner, watching another with longing. The state of her broken heart is written all over face, her body rife with grief. The object of her affection, another stunningly beautiful female, dances with a different mortal, her artfully woven hair spiraling from her shoulders in tune to the way she moves her body. They have it so hard, you think. The song does all the work for us. You never have to woo your mortals, just provide them with the opportunity to find you. The song pushes them to seek you out, drives them to near madness unless they are in your company. They don’t always love you back, as you love them, certainly. But you never have to vie for their attention, never have to posture for their affection.

A large hand takes yours, warm and beating with the pulse of his heart, the rhythm of the song.

“Ready?” You open your mouth to say yes but nothing comes out, and the feeling of dread, the ache swamps you for a passing second. I think I may not take a heart this year. All you can do is nod.

As he leads you through the crowd, you cannot help but reach forward with your free hand and clasp onto the dancing woman. She pauses, eyes lighting wantonly when she sees you, but you push a sprinkle of magic through her, sparking desire in the base of her consciousness for the mournful dove in the chair.

You don’t look back at either of them as you leave, and silently pray to no one that they find happiness in love, that they relish it and keep one another, if only for you.

You bring him to the beach, as is your custom. It was where you felt safest, closest to the ocean, it’s where your power felt most pure should you need it, should something go wrong. You shiver at the thought, shoving down the memories that threaten your balance, and you clutch Ghost’s hand.

“Come down here often?” He inquires and you shrug, a response you know mortals are fond of.

“I like it here.” You offer, and he hums in acknowledgement. You tug him towards the overhang of the pier, where the shadows will shield you, where no one dares to venture. The only light comes from the moon, it’s silver glow glittering dimly through worn wooden pier slats, and you watch it catch his eye, his pupil expanding and contracting as you step closer and closer. “I want to kiss you.” you implore. “Will you remove your mask?” The song. You’re depending on the song to help you with this, depending on his desire, the power of the melody in his veins to urge him to comply with your request, and when he tilts his head like he’s considering you, you hold your breath.

It happens quickly. He removes the mask in a fluid motion, and then his lips are upon yours, hot and seeking, tongue exploring your mouth while yours opens for him, your body clenching with dizzying desire at the feel of his touch against your skin.

“I knew it.” You gasp when you pull away and trace the fine point of a fingernail down his jaw. “I knew you were breathtaking under there.” He chuckles.

“Happy you think so.”

Your mouths melt together as he holds you around the waist, your bodies getting closer and closer until you can feel the hardness of his cock in his jeans, feel the scorching heat of him through his clothes. You are desperate for this mortal, your desire to feel him moving inside of you nearly as strong as the lust you feel to taste his heart. You sink to the sand together, a dance of limbs and movements that have you panting astride him when he settles, propped up on his elbows.

“Simon.” He says mid breath. “That’s my name. Want ya to have it.” Simon.

“Simon.” You whisper it, and he nods before pulling you back to him, two large palms cradling your face like you’re a delicate creature. It makes you feel special, makes you feel cherished, like you’re something gentle to be treasured, and not a monster out for his life. You kiss him tenderly, one more time, as softly as you can manage, your heart trembling inside your chest, before your teeth bite into his lip, the ferocious intensity of the act returned by him, his mouth meeting yours full force. You bite again, and this time his flesh gives way, bright, mineral rich blood bubbling from the tiny cut and you eagerly lap at it, the ichor coating your tongue and exploding across your senses. He laughs, the echo of it rumbling deep in his chest, and you place your hand against his heart greedily, the vigor of its beating nearly making your eyes roll back into your head. The length of his cock throbs between your legs, where only the fabric of his jeans separates you, and you rut against him helplessly. Sparks ignite between you, your body shuddering when his hands hook into your hip, strong grip guiding your movements against him. Your magic swells inside of you, and your head spins.

Take him, take him. Take his heart, take his song. Have him, his love, his heart, for eternity, forever.

You push him onto his back, dress rucked up around your hips, fabric pooling around the two of you.

“I want you.” you tell him, fingers fussing with his clothes, encouraging him to strip his shirt free and then unbutton his jeans. It’s messy, uncoordinated, and sloppy but you can’t find a care. You’re too filled with want, overflowing with desire for your mortal, your desperation mounting as he stills you, tracing a finger over your ribs and then down your pubic bone to where your slick, silken folds wait to be touched.

“Simon.” you whisper his name again, the word close to begging, and he shushes you, swirling a finger down where you’re leaking, circling the swollen bud of your clit with agonizing strokes that fill your senses with electricity.

“Shhh. I know what you need.” He soothes, and deftly pushes a finger inside of you, stroking along your walls. You shiver, face dropping into the crook his neck, and he turns his head so that the soft puff of his breath wafts over your skin as you whimper. “Does that feel good?” He asks, pressing another inside, his thumb flicking over your clit in lackadaisical patterns. You moan, body welcoming his touch, and you nip at the skin of his shoulder, eager to tear it apart, to taste his blood again. His other hand pushes at the back of your head, until your teeth are flush with his skin. “Go on.” He urges, and your eyes slip closed with bliss while you break the thin membrane, blood pooling to the surface as he lets out a small grunt. Your tongue swirls in it, painting his skin ruby, and you drag your lips downward, over where his heart pounds wildly in his chest. For you. It pounds for you. It sings for you.

“I need you inside me.” He pulls at the straps of the dress, divesting you of the top, exposing your breasts to the cool air and silver light of the moon. His thumb rolls one of your nipples and you feel for him, already free from his under garment, the things humans wear under their outside clothes, and you swallow when you feel the size in your fingers.

You sink down onto him with a hiss, body stretching for the intrusion, cunt spasming around the width and length as it fights to make room. He pets your hip soothingly, and you sit straight up, letting out a cry when you feel the true length of his cock inside you, the absolute fullness of it nearly seated in your belly. When you look back down, your eyes trace the smear of blood from his lips and shoulder, and your tongue darts out against your own skin, seeking the flavor of ichor that waits on the corner of your mouth.

Something glitters in his eyes, something shifting as if he finally recognizes the danger he’s in. Even here, with you astride him, split open his cock, hips stuttering in slow circles, wariness flexes across his face as if he knows, finally, that he is the prey and you the predator.

“It’s okay, do not be afraid.” You reassure him, stroking a fingernail over his breastbone, to where his heart flutters beneath your touch. He blinks, eyes blissfully blank, the firm grip of his hand on your hip relaxing before he says:

“Will you not tell me your name?” A long sigh slips between your teeth. Mortals. So hung up on familiarity. But how could you refuse a dying man his last request? Your lips kiss the shell of his ear as you give it to him, the point of your fingernail pressing into his delicate flesh, desperate to seek the strong muscle beneath, the song in his blood echoing through your own bones with supersonic vibration. The sounds and colors of the mortal realm all increase, too bright, too loud, everything shaking like the earth is suddenly trembling and then-

Something snaps inside of you. Magic, raw and powerful, a force unlike anything you’ve ever felt spills into you, your body being washed over with the rush of floodwaters, your heart and blood now singing for him, yearning for him, desperate to be consumed by him.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

The claim burns beneath your skin, your magic twisting away into something completely new, something more powerful as your mind grapples with the changing reality.

In the next moment, you’re spinning, tumbling through the air until you’re on your back, splayed beneath him, hands trapped at your sides. Your legs are folded underneath the width of his torso, your body opened for him just so, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix, stretching the slick walls of your cunt with each punishing thrust.

“I-“ the words are cut off sharply when he seals his mouth to yours, teeth gnashing and gnawing down from your lips to your jaw and then up to you ear.

“You,” He punctuates the word with a sharp thrust, and you gasp. “are mine, little huntress.” It is a vow, snarled through clenched teeth, and your own body betrays you by tightening around him, eager and willing to be claimed. The air is hot, humid and electric with magic, the burning effects of your error travelling through your every vein, every cell of skin. The utterance of your name, the act of your own foolishness strings heavily between you, while your body tenses underneath him.

“Simon.” You breathe and he only nods, holding your cheek in a gentle palm, stroking a loving touch across your face.

“Sweet little Nereid...” He names your kind with a growl, and your heart slams in your chest, his cock thrusting into your cunt wildly, desperately. “More beautiful than the sea herself.” The laugh is crooned, like the satisfying scratch of a needle against a record, and his fingers stroke your clit while he presses himself to you, your hips pinned beneath his weight, your body immobile. “Did you truly believe me to be a mortal?” He smiles darkly, lips curling with sinister satisfaction, and you feel the cold hand of fate reaching into your own chest cavity, rooting around in your soul until magic is searing across your skin, a bending and scraping feeling digging underneath your ribs, your own magic twisting and clawing until it burns away into something new, something changed, something imbued with him.

No. It’s not possible.

“You… you’re-“

“Yes.”

Simon cares little for the mortal realm. It’s pace and its noise and its scents are all cloying to him, obnoxious and foreign, the general rush of its inhabitants and their lack of care for their world offensive to him and his kind. They do not care for their realm, and do not take care of it ether, instead choosing to let it rot and fester beneath their feet, their drive and determination to outdo one another single handedly responsible for the destruction of most of their world. They call it something here, 'capitalism', like naming it will excuse it, while Simon just calls it murder, and greed.

Mortals and their extreme indifference do allow him certain things, however. Their love of violence and obsession with wealth put even the most well-off of his kind to shame at times. His kind loved things that shone, certainly. But mortals? They loved things that bled. It was this lust for power, this ravenous streak of greed that gave him the opportunity to position himself as he has.

As a hunter. A killer. A ghost.

Simon had been hunting for the thing he loved for a very, very long time.

And tonight, he was finally going to bring you home.

The first time Simon saw you; over a century ago, it was beneath Brighton Pier. You had a human male panting after you as you walked beneath the wooden overhang, your hand cupping his cheek softly, eyes full of tenderness and love. Simon, and the man, were both entranced by your beauty, the way your body moved under the night sky, how your skin seemed to glitter against the sand. Simon watched as you led him to where the moon couldn’t reach, beneath the shield of the slats, the dark of the evening hiding you from all prying, curious eyes, except for his.

He watched you take the male inside your body, watched you lavish your tongue across his neck and chest, watched your lips form sweet words of reassurance and honey while you tasted his blood. He watched the nails of your fingers gleam in the low light, watched them sharpen and then dig, scratching and clawing beneath the threads of the male’s skin, until you held an ichor rich organ in your palm, a complex system of vessels and ventricles, it’s sinew glowing red beneath your touch. He stood in awe as you devoured it, your feeding turning into a frenzy as you consumed it piece by piece, the male bleeding out and dying slowly, all while still buried inside your cunt.

After your feast, you dragged the male’s lifeless body down the sand to the water with you, where you pulled it beneath the waves, never to be seen again. Surprised, and intrigued, he stood at the water’s edge, watching the tide that was tinged red lap calmly at the shore. He knew humans had a taste for blood, but this was another desire onto itself. What were you?

The following year, Simon couldn’t help but return to the same area in hopes of spotting you again, the creature unknown to him, a mystery begging to be unraveled. You appeared at dawn on the same day, with a horde of others, who then dispersed into the city and surrounding areas, following the sound of a song he could not hear. He became a creature obsessed, tracking your every movement, watching your every hunt and sacrifice. He stood in the dark while you made love to the mortals whose lives you would take, watched you hunt with wild abandon, watched you enjoy the small, tiny things in your eternal life that others often overlook. He began to know you, began to learn what you liked and didn't, began to learn what made you smile.

You became the brightest spot in his own too long existence, the yearly reminder of love, of vitality, of life. He loved you, desperately, recklessly so. His dreams were filled with soft, sweet visions of you, bloody moments of passion and adoring, lingering kisses that he swore he could still feel when he woke.

It took time, too long of a time, before he discovered who, or what, you were. He spent a century trying to learn how to lure you to the surface. Simon tore apart libraries, bargained favors across dimensions, granted wishes and wove powerful spells just to trade for information on you and your sisters, the Nereids, the lasting remnant of a forgotten power, reclusive magic lurking inside the deepest depths, a realm inside a realm, never to be discovered unless you wished it so. And even then, the additional answers he sought were scarce.

Every year, he returned to the human realm to see you, tucking himself away in cloaks of magic and darkness so that he could creep as close as possible to you. Every year, he watched you hunt, watched you capture your prey effortlessly and consume their heart. He watched you shed a tear for them. Watched your drag their corpses down the beach to the sea, where you carried them into the water with you before disappearing all together.

Eventually, time began to change you. He watched you regard your lovers, your mortals with callousness, and cruelty. He watched you treat them with tenderness, and adoration, caring for them, making their ends sweet and soothing their fears. He watched you stand on the beach for hours at dawn and try to fight the urge to hunt. He burned to take you away from this world, to sever you from your ocean, bring you home to him, but your kind did not live in his realm. He was unsure how to sustain your life, and the search for answers was slow. Years went by, and the soft dreams that he had always welcomed turned to nightmares, fueled by the fear he’d lose you before he even had the chance to try to bring you home.

A decade ago, he watched you falter. Your body trembled as you took your sacrifice, your cries so hysterical he was certain you’d draw the entire block to where you hid in the shadow of someone’s gaff. His own body was rigid with tense, untethered magic that sought to lash out, and he was rife with worry that you’d give yourself away, you’d be caught by some mortal force and unable to return to the sea when the sun rose. The fear he felt was unreasonable, uncontainable. He'd level the city to protect you, to keep you safe, and he nearly did. He almost took you, that night. Was quite close, so close that he was crossing the street in front of vehicles and preparing to pull you into his realm when you composed yourself and completed your harvest, the glowing organ in your hands proof of your will to live, to love.

He rarely left the mortal realm after that. Only to seek his final answer and solidify his plan, his masquerade as the masked Ghost allowing him to exist in the realm indefinitely, giving him the availability to be close for when the time was right, for when you would be ready.

A year ago, you were the last to return to the water, your steps slow and clumsy, your eyes tired and weepy. You appeared satisfied, but as you looked back on the city from the shoreline, he saw the hint of desolation in your eyes, the shadow of dejection haunting your face.

It was more than enough, to spring him into action. More than enough, to find your promised mortal for next year and steal his song, bringing it into himself by a small piece of blood magic, something so simple and obvious Simon cursed himself for not realizing sooner.

This morning, as he observed you and your sister on the beach, he knew he had been right. He could see it in your face. The pain of sadness, of loss twisting your elegance into an ache, those feelings compounded by the admission of your eldest sibling. This could be your last hunt.

It was time to bring you home. Forever.

“That her then?” Johnny nods, indicating he’s looking the same direction as Simon, watching you walk down the curb, paper coffee cup clutched in your hands, face smiling at the sun.

“Yes.” Simon answers, shifting uncomfortably. The bloody song has been heating his flesh for weeks, boiling in his veins and driving him practically mad. Nymph magic. Its incessant hum has been battling his own power, jockeying for position as it worked to pull you to the surface. Combined with his own, he wasn’t surprised it possessed the ability to bring you up earlier than normal, encouraging you and your sisters through the depths and to the shore. If his blood was singing, then so was every other poor sod’s in this city.

You cross the street into the park, dress swaying around your hips, and he indulgently stares at the form of your body, the set of your shoulders, the texture of your hair. He closes his eyes to breathe, reaching into himself to get a handle on the battle of will going on in his blood, the warring magic factions pushing and pulling beneath his skin, begging to be let out, trying to lash out. Soon. He reassures himself. She will be with him soon.

He can smell you from here. You’re ripe. Overflowing, your scent is like a flickering ocean breeze, briny and cold but full of life, of promise. You’re ready, ready to be taken from this awful realm, ready to be bent underneath his body, ready to be crying on his cock as you come while he floods your womb with himself and his power, tying you to him for all eternity.

That is, if he can get you to relinquish your name.

It is a key piece of his plan, and the one that worries him the most.

He knows you do not give it freely; knows you keep it guarded. It’s like you’re already aware that he waits in the shadows for you, watching, keeping track of every step you take, every year, from sunup to the next, until you slink beneath the water where he cannot follow.

The pressure inside his body is nearly unbearable by the time you step into the pub. Dozens of heads turn towards you, mortals’ eyes roving all over your body like you’re a treat for them, like you’re something delicious they’ll have an opportunity to taste. Foolish, greedy mortals, too busy staring dreamily at you to recognize the predator that you are, or the predator he is, oblivious to the two hunters in the room with them right now. He wonders, if you'd bathe in their blood, given an opportunity. The image makes him smile.

Johnny clears his throat expectantly, and Simon nods, casting a glance over to where Gaz sits with a pretty female on his lap, her attentions focused solely on him, her eyes heavily lidded with lust. Johnny gives him a nod.

“Good luck.” He offers and Simon waves him off. He’s no need for luck. His blood sings your song.

“Ready?” He nearly loses control when he watches your face fill with despair for a moment after his question, his aching need to soothe and comfort you almost forcing his hands out to touch you. I'm here, little huntress. You are not alone anymore. He cannot tell you this, not yet. So instead, he applies pressure to your hand gently and waits. When you nod, he breathes just a tiny bit easier.

He cannot stay in this place any longer. The eyes, the mortals, their inane thirst for alcohol and violence starting to scratch underneath his skin. He needed you, needed your name, needed to take you home to his realm, and all this noise and smoke and foul-smelling liquor stood in his way. The feeling of your hand in his soothes him, calms the anxious explosion that’s building in his chest, but it’s not enough. Nothing will be enough, until he has what he wants.

On the way out, he does not miss your little spell. He is, and has been, the most powerful creature in this room. He has felt every ounce of magic used, by you, by Johnny, by Kyle, all night long. It makes his heart swell when he feels your effort to push the dancing female into the arms of her scorned lover, makes his heart soar when he realizes perhaps, you have not given up on love, on life. Perhaps, you just need something else, something other than the hunt, to live for.

He allows you to take your time beneath the Pier. He cannot rush you, cannot allow you the feeling of anything being amiss, being off. You are so close to the sea, so close to the edge of the water that if he spooks you, it will be too easy for you to slip away. Too easy for you to be lost beneath the surface, again, just as you have been for hundreds of years.

When your teeth tear into his flesh he nearly moans, almost loses control again, but tamps down the urge to spring forward and toss you into the sand beneath him. He needs your name, needs your name so bloody badly it has his head spinning, his entire being desperately urging him to act, to claim, to take you. Your cunt is searing hot around his cock, your body shivering in his arms as you rock your hips delicately, eyes watching him half addled, crazed with the lust for his blood, for his heart.

“Will you not tell me your name?” He thrusts slowly up into you, and pity flashes across your features as you bend forward to brush your mouth against your ear. He feels your lips part, hears the intake of your breath and then-

You’re his. The magic begins immediately, bonding you to him, searing you into his soul and vice versa, the song in his blood slipping away until all he feels is the combined force of your power and his, the melding of souls and magic that will guarantee your existence in his realm, by his side, guaranteeing your survival, your ability to thrive. He takes advantage of your confusion, of the chaos that rises in your heart and flips you on your back, spreading your thighs wide beneath him and plunging his cock as deep as he can. So close. So, so close, and then you will be truly his, for as long as you both shall live.

“I-“

“You,” he thrusts harder, desperate to claim you. “are mine, little huntress.” He hisses it, pushing the words forward with the brunt of his power, and you gasp before whispering his name.

“Sweet little Nereid…more beautiful than the sea herself.” He kisses your throat, stroking your clit at a torturous pace while your confused gaze tracks his every movement. “Did you truly believe me to be a mortal?” The magic pushes through your blood and bones, continuing to stitch and sear you to him, and he can’t help the feelings of possession that come over him.

His. His. His.

His magic cuts and gnaws at your own, ripping and shredding it to bits until it’s infected with him, the strength of your name, your free admission to him, turning you inside out, changing the very chemistry of your body. He watches with dark satisfactions as your face shifts, your lips parting with understanding, eyes widening with your knowledge of the truth.

“You… You’re-“ Clever little huntress.

“Yes.” He purrs, and punches his cock back up inside of you, pressing close to your cervix, your body wet and needy, just for him. You shudder and blink hazily, confusion flickering across your features while his magic roots around inside of you and binds you to him, cell by cell. He can still smell you, smell the cool salt air of the sea that comes from your skin, smell the ripeness of your body, your willingness spilling forward in the air, the scent of sweet honeysuckle and sea holly. Your thighs tighten around his hips, your body rocking swiftly in time with him while your brow furrows, like you’re not sure what you should be doing. He licks at the stain of his blood on your lips, his tongue pushing into your mouth, and you let out a sharp whine, small hands flexing against his chest.

“No.” you admonish, face stricken. “No. No, you t-tricked me.”

“I did.” He agrees, reaching between the two of you to rub your clit in a swift circle, your breath hitching. Your face twists into something sour, but your cunt clenches around him, and his lips curl into a crescent moon smirk. “Are you going to come on my cock, sweet one?”

“Unnf.” You moan nonsense, turning your face away from him but he does not stop, hips snapping against yours, his body working to bring yours closer and closer to its climax.

“I think you are.” He hisses and grips your jaw to turn your eyes back to him. They’re wet with tears, but he doesn’t see fear in them, doesn’t see the despair. Only flares of rage, and the heat of desire, the electricity of the magic that is now shared between the two of you. He smiles triumphantly. “I think,” he relaxes his pace, dragging his cock out of you painstakingly slowly, gaze never leaving your lovely face. “you’re going to come for me, and then I’m going to breed you, little huntress.” You tense around him, squeezing his cock, the words pulling a delicious, physical reaction from you that shakes his focus for a moment. His palm lays flat over your lower belly, low enough that his thumb can feel the hardness of your clit, can stroke around it’s hood while you gasp and convulse in his arms. You shake your head stubbornly, chest heaving for breath, and he slams himself back into you, your spine curling forward into his chest.

“Gods.” You cry out, fingers scrambling for something to hold onto, finding his shoulders and sinking deep, deep enough that he knows you're drawing blood. It oozes from the tiny wounds, tracing down his skin and when you pull away, your fingers have been darkened with it.

He watches with small wonder as you slip them into your mouth, face going slack with bliss, cunt spasming around him while he strokes deep. His skin prickles, mouth finding yours again, and you moan into him, uninhibited, full of abandon.

“I have watched you for over a century, my sweet Nereid. Watched you hunt, watched you love, watched you lose.” He slows to look down at you, caressing your face with a gentle touch. “I have watched the light fade from your eyes, watched despair take over your existence.” Your gaze widens, mouth dropping open in surprise, and then closing abruptly, eyes softening around the corners.

“Simon.” You murmur, pressing your finger to the weeping wound from your teeth.

“My huntress. You will never be alone again.” He noses your jaw, licking and sucking against your skin, cold brine exploding against his tongue. Your scent crests, peaking with the honey flower and salt, your body yearning beneath him, cunt milking his cock. “Come for me.” He encourages when he knows it’s time, when he sees the glossy want all over your face. It doesn’t take much urging, another stroke of your clit and you’re coming, body locking up around him, muscles straining as you cry out, face full of bliss and legs tense around his hips. You clamp down around him, holding him deep inside your body like a vice but he works you through it, thrusting slowly inside your scorching cunt, your walls desperately trying to keep him inside. “There you go.” He soothes, fucking you through the aftershocks, your face still twisted up. “That’s just what I needed.” The orgasm makes your more pliable, more soft and less angry, and he sees in your eyes what he knows to be true. You want this. Perhaps this is not what you would have chosen at first, perhaps the magic was too strong in your veins in the beginning, but your body knows what your mind works to accept. You are choosing this, choosing him, over the hunt. Over the sacrifice. Over the immortal life of loss.

So, so close.

He folds your legs towards your chest, opening you deeper and you mewl, lips parted in dazed, post orgasm glow. He can’t help but kiss you again and again, his painfully slow thrusts forcing irritated breaths to puff from your nose.

“Something you want?” He teases, and you nod, pressing your face into his shoulder and groaning into his skin.

“Simon. Please.” You voice breaks, and he feels your cunt pool around him, liquid heat forcing him to grit his teeth in an effort to stave off his own orgasm.

Ask me for it, little huntress.

“Please, what?” He mocks, thumb pressing down on your clit hard, causing you to keen. He doesn’t move, just stays steady inside of you, your cunt working pull him deeper.

“Please, please. I want-“ you gasp when he bites the skin of your neck, and he smiles wickedly. Your cunt practically strangles him now, body working to drag his orgasm from him, magic singing in both of your hearts.

His. His. His.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

Your scent overpowers him, the swell of the ocean behind him combined with the salt of your essence pulling him harder into your gravity.

“What do you want?”

“I want your come.” You beg and he snarls, finally losing control, fucking into your eager body with abandon, hard and punishing while you moan and cry beneath him. He takes your earlobe in his teeth before whispering a vow:

“Then you shall have it.” He plays with your clit, the intensity of his strokes matching the pace of his thrusts and you pant eagerly. “You shall have it every day until you are full of me, full with my child.”

“Yes.” You moan, and he feels you moving towards another climax, your muscles spasming and eyes slipping shut.

“I’m going to breed you, give you my baby, sweetling. Make you mine, forever.” Your back arches and you wail, your cunt clamping down on him again, and he thrusts as deep as he can, chasing his release, fueling his burning desire to empty himself inside of you. He lets go completely, untethers his magic, lets it fully fuse with yours as he spills inside of you, the pressure of his orgasm working against your aftershocks, and your own magic that wraps itself wildly around him, clawing at the seat of his power, desperate to attach itself.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

His. His. His.

You fall asleep on his chest, body relaxed and sated, mouth open in a small o. He needs to get you up, needs to get you ready to travel to his realm but in this moment, he’s content to sit here, against the old wooden pier, timing the rise and fall of your breathing and planning for the future, for eternity.

“Will you care for her?” A musical voice asks from a short distance, and his head snaps up to see your sister, the one you stood with on the beach this morning, inclining her head towards your peaceful, sated body that sits snugly in his arms.

“Always.” He promises, and she nods, eyes looking down the shoreline.

“I am happy for her.” She looks sad, forlorn, not unlike how you appeared hours ago.

“It is not too late, for you to hunt. There is still plenty of time before the sunrise.” He tries to encourage, and she nods.

“Perhaps.” Simon briefly wonders if Kyle or Johnny are still in town, a sinister idea forming in his mind, taking shape before his very eyes. He pushes, just the gentlest bit of magic, the piece that’s mixed with yours, towards her. A long moment passes, and then, “I think I’ll walk.” She motions up the pier and gives a goodbye nod, as he strokes a hand down your spine when you shiver in his arms.

You do not stir until she is a speck on the horizon, and when you do, you lift your head wearily, like you’ve slept for a thousand years.

“What’s going on?” you murmur, shifting your dress so it covers your thighs. He presses a light kiss to your forehead before giving an answer.

“We’re going home now, little huntress.”

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #mw2 #ghost call of duty #mermaids #mermaids au #magic au #ghost x reader #cod fanfic

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transmascsimonriley · 4 months

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mermaid au anyone?

#these are the 2009 characters i just gave mer!ghost the skull mask because it's cool #john mactavish #captain mactavish #simon riley #simon ghost riley #john price #captain price #cod fanart #mw2 #soapghost #drawing mermaid tails is so unreasonably difficult #mer ghost au #my art

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rubysunnday · 9 months

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Simone Ashley as Princess Indira in The Little Mermaid (2023)

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one-time-i-dreamt · 1 year

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Idk why but it's so funny to me that we got the first look at Ariel and her sisters from a picture on the back of the display of their doll packaging

(also, the photo was so dark and unsaturated that I adjusted the brightness, contrast, warmth and saturation a little in PS so we could see them better)

#not a dream #the little mermaid #little mermaid #Halle Bailey #Sienna King #Karolina Conchet #Lorena Andrea #Nathalie Sorrell #Kajsa Mohammar #Simone Ashley

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lemonwrap · 6 months

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Okay, imagine: Merman Ghost and marine biologist Soap.

Soap is a young, intelligent marine biologist who is invited to study a newly acquired mermaid. Of course, the species is not newly discovered, but, like great white sharks, its proven impossible to keep them alive in captivity for more than a year or so. They’re also difficult to capture in the first place, and the only reason Ghost had been captured was because he had been injured.

Soap is introduced to Ghost. The tank is barren, with no hiding spots and not much substrate, so Soap gets an eyeful of the beautiful merman in the tank. He’s huge, with a sleek black tail, pale, scarred skin, and a matching set of gills on either side of his neck. The other researchers think that the scars are from nets, or perhaps from attacks from other members of his solitary species. Ghost swims up to the glass to investigate Soap, which surprises the other researchers, who describe him as elusive and reserved.

After being shown a tour of the facility, Soap gets started at his new job. His job is to study and observe Ghost, especially his behavior, so it’s no wonder that Soap ends up feeding him one day. Ghost pokes his head out of the water and watches Soap with sharp, intelligent eyes, but seems bored of the fish. Soap tries to talk to him, and Ghost is interested, but he doesn’t have the same vocal chords a human does, so he cannot speak like a human would.

The next week, Soap goes out of his way to get some fresh, exotic fish from a market, which Ghost greatly enjoys, judging by the happy chirp he lets out. They grow closer. Soap even picks up a book on British Sign Language and teaches both himself and Ghost so that they can communicate. Communication between mermaids and humans is unheard of, but Soap keeps it a secret because Ghost feels special to him. He knows he’s neglecting his work by not recording it, but he doesn’t tell a soul anyways.

Once he has the words, Ghost tells him of many things, from the fact that he liked the exotic fish that Soap had brought him, to that he had been attacked by a shark before he had been brought to the research center, to that he wishes he had hiding spots, to that he misses the ocean. Ghost even comes up with a special sign for his name. Soap gets him some accommodations, like a proper hiding spot and some plants for his enclosure, and tells him more about himself.

But as the time goes on, Ghost’s shiny scales grow dull, he becomes skinnier, his appetite lessens, his happy moods are much less frequent. Soap knows that his time is drawing near. It has to be. It’s been nearly a year of captivity, and the longest living mermaid in captivity had only lived a year and a half.

So he hatches a plan.

He stays late one night, and breaks Ghost out. He carries the merman out to his car and drives to the ocean nearby, and releases the ailing Ghost off of a pier. Ghost disappears in a flash, and Soap knows with an aching heart that he will never see him again.

It’s a few weeks before Soap returns to the pier where he released Ghost. He feels torn between missing Ghost, and knowing that releasing him was for the best. And then he notices something. A dark shape in the water stands out to him, and before he knows it, Ghost is peering out of the water, frantically signing Soap to him and chirping happily.

#cod #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #ghost cod #soap cod #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #lemonwrap writes #drabble #mermaids

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thesimoneashley · 11 months

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Simone Ashley attends The Little Mermaid premiere on May 15, 2023 in London, UK

Photo by Joseph Sinclair

#simone ashley #bridgerton #kate sharma #the little mermaid live action #the little mermaid #princess indira #ariel #halle bailey #daily woc #simone‘s disney princess era

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luvrlola · 1 year

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opalescence

#opalescent #mermaid #mermaidcore #sea witch #beach aesthetic #key west kitten #alida simone #luvrlo

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meowmeowriley · 2 months

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@sergeantwoods Sorry for the long wait, but here's the mer!AU

Think I'll call it Fish Out of the Sea

Ghost x Soap, blacktip reef shark mer!Soap, human Ghost, fluff, getting together (kinda)

Ficlet after the cut 😘

"No."

John sighed, he didn't seem surprised by Shepherd's hard rejection, but he kept trying. Simon had to give props to the fishing boat Captain. "You have the best mer rehabilitation facility in the country. It'd be a shame not to use it."

"You said you had a mermaid. That's not a fucking mermaid, John."

"I said I had an injured mer." He repeated himself from their earlier conversation.

"I'm not taking that thing into my facility."

"He needs help-"

"He's hideous, and aggressive." Shepherd barked. "That thing keeps lashing out, it'll scare patrons, attack my staff, and if that *thing* touches my mermaids, tries to mate with them, I'll have it put down."

"Mers are actually matriarchal, sir." The mer expert, Kyle, finally spoke up. "I've never worked with a shark mer before, but I do know he won't mess with Kate or Rosa, because they won't want him. Since they're together."

"Kyle. For the last time, the mermaids aren't lesbians. They're just fish." Shepherd was one of those who thought of mers as lesser than humans. Obviously.

Simon was standing near the door. No one had noticed him sneak in, but when he'd overheard that the mer was a shark variant, he'd needed to see it. Now, seeing the poor thing huddled in the corner of it's transport tank, curled in on itself, he felt so bad for it. He watched, any time someone went near it it flared out it's dorsal and pectoral fins. It would gnash it's teeth and charge the glass. All signs of aggression in a shark but... as soon as it finished its display it was right back to the furthest corner from the humans. It kept peeking at them over it's own shoulder when it thought they weren't looking. He quietly crept closer.

He took in it's markings, gray on it's back, white on its belly, black tips to it's fins. Claspers on its pelvic fins. A male blacktip reef shark then. His inferior end was all shark, something Simon was very familiar with, as he took care of all of the sharks here at the aquarium, several of them blacktips. His superior end, or top half, he supposed a visitor would (incorrectly) consider it, was new and interesting to him. Though he was vaguely humanoid, his skin was all two tones white and gray, like his tail. He had a wedge shaped snout in place of a human nose, a wider mouth with jagged teeth. Slitted eyes, and a black tipped fin atop his head that reminded Simon of a mohawk. Webbed gray and white hands with black claws rubbed up and down it's own arms in a self soothing gesture. One forearm had an odd angle to it, probably the injury that landed him here.

He retreated from the tank quietly before speaking, interrupting the squabbling of the other men. "He looks like a reef shark to me." Everyone else jumped. "Blacktip reef sharks aren't aggressive. Sure they can get a little iffy during feeding, but they're more curious than anything."

"He's been charging the glass, Ghost." Simon managed to suppress his eye roll at Shepherd's nickname for him. They all called him that here. "Fuck you mean 'not aggressive', you don't know mers."

"No, but I know sharks. He's injured, and defensive. You ever think he doesn't like us because it was something shaped like us that broke his arm?" John winced, he obviously felt bad about it. Not like he could've know he'd caught the mer in his net, but it was nice to see some accountability from a fisherman for once.

"Well we can't communicate with him, so he'll stay scared and defensive." If Simon didn't love the sharks, he would've left this place a long time ago because Shepherd was an absolutely abrasive cunt.

"Kate and Rosa can. And their English is excellent." Kyle spoke up again. "We have them pass on the message of our intentions, and Ghost and I tag team his rehabilitation." Of course he uses the dumb nickname too. "It's the perfect plan! And an incredible opportunity to be one of two aquariums to actually work with a shark mer. The novelty of something so rare will bring in patrons." Kyle was really leaning into Shepherd's true interests here, bringing up money.

Shepherd was quiet for a moment and then, "If anything happens, you're both fired." He then stormed out of the room.

"Thanks, Gaz."

"Of course, Cap."

Now the three of them had to get the shark mer into an appropriate tank.

***

They had initially tried to put him in with the other mers, but he'd seen the sharks in the tank across the hall and told Kate he wanted to be with his own kind. That would make Simon's job easier, anyway. Kate had explained that they needed to put a cast on his arm, and Rosa had wrestled it onto him, since the humans couldn't get too close. They decided to name him John, after Captain Price, calling him Johnny affectionately. Gaz explained to Ghost that part of rehabbing Johnny would be gaining his trust, teach him to communicate. To release him without a way to communicate could lead to him attacking humans and being a problem down the road.

Simon had a plan: ignore him. He was a reef shark, his own curiosity would get him to open up. It took a week.

Simon would feed his sharks from a catwalk above their tank, for safety reasons, dropping their food in in the mornings before they opened their doors. No need to scare any children. For the first week, any time he passed by, Johnny would posture aggressively and gnash his teeth, before snatching up his food and swimming off. When Ghost would gear up and go in the water for his evening shows, Johnny stayed far away. At night, Gaz and his mers would move over and Ghost would mostly just observe as the girls tried to teach Johnny how to speak, and he petulantly ignored them, with a little pout on his face as he refused to even make eye contact with them. It was cute.

The first time he tried to speak was also the first time Simon saw him raise his head above the surface. He seemed frantic. "HAAAH!" He startled a bit at what was most likely the first time he ever used his lungs to breath air. "HAAAAH! AH! YAAH!" he was waving with his good arm. Stretching it out towards the platform between his tank and that of the other mers, thrashing his tail with his fins tucked in. Very distressed. Simon went to check, to see what could possibly be bothering him so much, when he found their elusive fourth mer. Simon had only seen Gary once. Gaz called him Roach, because he hid in the tiniest cracks in the reef in their enclosure, why on earth the isopod mer was on the platform, and not in the water, was beyond him, but he couldn't let the poor thing suffer. He had several of his little legs caught in a grate. Simon spent some time disentangle him. He tossed the infant sized mer into the nearest tank, which happened to be the shark tank, with Johnny. The larger mer immediately dove to catch him. He stroked Roach's antennae back like one would the hair of a small child, a soothing motion. Clearly not as much of a loner as he pretended to be. From then on the little isopod mer could be found clinging to Johnny's sides or fins with his many little periopods more often than not. After that, it seemed that Gary encouraged Johnny's more curious side. The mer's language was mostly outside of the human range of hearing, but Simon occasionally caught clicks, whistles or hums shared between the two.

Simon had left a bucket with soap close to the edge once, the two mers were clearly curious about it, but he didn't think anything would come of it. Which is why it was such a surprise when Johnny stuck a webbed hand in and scooped some out, popping it immediately into his mouth. Simon knew it wasn't enough to harm him, which is why he couldn't help but laugh at the poor creatures misfortune as it sputtered and writhed, making bubbles. While laughing he let his guard down, and was surprised when something struck him, knocking him off the catwalk and into the tank. He opened his eyes and looked around, seeing only Roach, floating downward, listing side to side, tiny head in his tiny hands. He surfaced to see Johnny. "Did you just throw him at me?!" Johnny sunk down so only his eyes and cranial fin were above the water. The little shit. "Not cool, Soap!" He forced his palm out towards the mer, sending a spray of water its way. That seemed to really break down the mer's walls.

Johnny started approaching while Simon would try and clean the tank. At first, darting away if Simon caught sight of him. Eventually however, he would get closer and simply observe. He'd watch Simon work at cleaning the glass or vacuuming the sand at the bottom. It was fun to see shark behavior and mer behavior collide. If Simon sat something down, Johnny would pick it up, and without a doubt if he could get it in his hands, it would end up in his mouth.

There was a small crowd, a child's birthday party had been held over by Gaz's mer tank, the girls were always a hit with the kids, and the little show they put on with Gaz was actually pretty funny. They'd harass him as he pretended to try and do his chores. Slapstick comedy was good for all ages.

Simon had his own show with his sharks, but it wasn't for a few more hours. He was actually just trying to clean. Apparently his cleaning sponge had caught Johnny's attention, as the mer had swam up and was watching him intently. He kept inching forward, eventually crowding Simon against the glass while reaching for his sponge. "Oi!" He said into his respirator, not that anyone could hear him. He shoved Johnny away and kept trying to cleaning, but the persistent bastard just kept coming back. He could vaguely see the crowd observing them through the glass. They were probably laughing. When he'd had enough, he got an idea. He turned when Johnny got close again and placed one hand on his dorsal fin and the other on the underside of his snout. He began to rub at the sensitive underside of the mer's snout, and just like his sharks, the mer entered a state of tonic immobility. He repositioned Johnny, nose down tail to the surface, Johnny's arms hung limply down past his head. Simon quickly withdrew his hands and watched as the mer continued to float for a bit, before blinking vigorously. He shook his head before righting himself, and slapped his tail into Simon's chest as he practically fled to his little cave at the other end of the tank. When he surfaced later, Gaz informed him that the kids were raving about how cool the 'shark guys' were.

Simon had to admit that Johnny was growing on him. He looked forward to seeing him each day. Johnny began trying to get Simon to swim with him. He'd grab Simon's arms and try to pull him into the water when he was on land, or he'd push Simon away from the glass and his cleaning supplies, towards the open water. Sometimes Simon would indulge him, and the two of them would make laps around the tank.

Simon realized, when Johnny began posturing towards the sharks and getting territorial about him towards them, that Johnny was attempting to court him. Worse, he couldn't bring himself to try and put an end to the behavior either. Johnny was getting touchy, he'd run his hands along Simon's sides or chest, in much the same way Simon would to per his sharks, but it felt different. He would push Simon until he floated horizontally in the water, then drape himself across the man.

Simon knew he was getting himself into some deep shit, but he couldn't help the small voice in the back of his head that urged him to reach out, to cradle the mer's rubbery cheeks in his hands. He wanted to kiss him. He was fucked.

***

I hope you liked it! Ngl, I really liked this one. If you don't mind, I might expand on this and make it a multi-chapter fic over on AO3? I wanna explore more of society's reaction to mers, specifically interspersed relationships and where this could go. Let me know what you think, and thanks for the idea!

#ive had this one on the brain for a hot minute #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #cod mw2 #fanfic #call of duty #text post #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare #mermaid au #mer!au #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #mer!john soap mactavish #shark mermaid

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internetcowboi · 2 years

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Happy late MerMay 2022! Have some mermaid Simon, as a treat <3 Beta’d by @sillyunicorn, inspired by @subparselkie‘s fantastic art!

Teen, 2521 words: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39236187

#keegan writes #my fics #simon snow fanfiction #simon snow #mermaid!simon #mermaid au #merman!simon #professor!baz #Simon snow au #my writing #fluffy mermaid antics

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dailywoc · 9 months

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Simone Ashley as Princess Indira — THE LITTLE MERMAID (2023) dir. Rob Marshall

#simone ashley #the little mermaid #thelittlemermaidedit #disneyedit #tlmedit #filmedit #filmgifs #moviegifs #cinemapix #nessa007 #usermandie #userreh #userquel #userzil #usersavana #*#by aashna

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fishfolks · 6 months

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Concept art for Disney's The Little Mermaid (2023)

By Karl Simon

#mermaid #mermaids #merpeople #merfolk #merman #mermen #ocean #mermay #fishfolks #the little mermaid #princess ariel #ariel #disney mermaids #disney concept #concept #mermaid concept #concept art #karl simon #disney

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multific · 8 months

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Love As Deep As the Ocean

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Mermaid!Reader

Warnings: Simon's past, mention of blood, murder, abuse

Inspired by @halcyone-of-the-sea's work.

Word Count: 3K

Summary: Being one of the retired Knights of 141, Simon's only request was a small cottage close to the Ocean, when the King granted his wish, Simon hoped he could finally have the quiet life he longed for. But fate had other ideas.

Merfolk are incredibly curious and beautiful creatures.

Simon can recall hearing the stories about them when he was growing up.

Men warned each other about the creatures that lured men to danger and then killed them.

Simon heard stories as a young man that men hunted these creatures down. It was said that their scales are worth more than gold.

But then, as if they never existed, they disappeared.

Everyone assumed they killed them all, that every merfolk was gone.

Extinct.

Simon never believed in fairy tales.

He believed his eyes, not drawings or tales about creatures.

He believed what he saw.

And he never saw a mermaid in his life.

---

You thought he was a demon.

Always dressed in dark, covering his face.

You watched him as he walked along the beach every day. You saw him watching the sunset.

He was a strange man.

But again, all humans were strange to you.

Yet, somehow, this man captured your attention.

Every afternoon, he would come, walk along the beach to the rocks and sit there for hours, watching the sunset before leaving.

You heard that many humans enjoyed the sound of the water hitting the rocks.

You stayed far from him.

Always hidden, but you were also curious.

Then, one day, he arrived with a boat. A small fishing boat, you have seen many of.

He wasn't fishing, he was watching the water and the sky.

One day, you felt brave, you heard him snoring, which you knew meant he was sleeping on his ship.

You gripped the edge of the ship and pulled yourself up, Just below your belly button, your scales shined in the sun.

The man was lying on a chair, facing away from you.

You moved as quietly as you could, looking around his ship, you noticed something shiny not too far from you.

You reached over and touched the item before quietly falling back into the water with your newest item in hand. You quickly swam back to your underwater cave and looked at the item.

You have never seen such a thing before.

It was so shiny and weird.

You thought you had seen people with this item before, if you were correct they used it for eating.

A spoon?

Perhaps.

What a weird name for something.

The next day you found the man on his boat again, with the object in hand you swam up the surface and placed it back where you found it previously, or you tried to. It was difficult with him walking around the ship.

But you did give it back. And your mother taught you to not take things which don't belong to you.

Simon swore he had the spoon on top of the box, he swore he left it there before he fell asleep. And then, somehow, the same spoon appeared the next day on the other side of the ship in his basket.

He was going mad.

He bought this boat as a way to relax.

When he left the King's army, he knew he needed to take a step back and possibly stay away from people. So, he got a house with a small farm by the Ocean. The King gave him a piece of land of his choice, Simon found himself to be interested in the Ocean since he was young.

He often found himself wandering the sand as a child. Given how terrible his father had been with him, constantly abusing him, the Ocean calmed him.

Then he purchased the boat, giving him access to the deep blue.

He thought he could live his life like this. Quietly, in a nice secluded area.

But he kept noticing his things disappeared and then showed up on different parts of the ship.

One time he specifically tested it. He left a pair of glasses on his chair, the next time he saw them they were on the edge of his ship.

He suspected the birds, but the fact that his things got back to him was strange.

A week later, Simon was fishing from his boat near the rocks, it was a lovely sunny way.

He heard some water splashes. A weird sound, not the water against the rocks or his ship. It sounded as if someone jumped or dropped something into the water.

He recalled hearing this sound before, but now he was curious.

He quietly leaned back in his chair, looking at the back of his ship, he saw no one.

But then, the noise came again and it sounded closer. And this time, when Simon looked, he saw a young woman, leaning from the edge of the ship and reaching into his box, the box where he stores his tools.

He swore he stopped breathing and the woman looked at him, they locked eyes and she froze.

With her head stretched out, she just kept looking at him.

He caught her!

She was the one stealing from him all along!

But... how?

Then, Simon's eyes moved down her side and he saw the scales, and then he noticed the shine of her tail.

As if she sensed his thoughts, she moved quickly back into the water. Simon jumped up and rushed to where she disappeared, but he saw no one.

He swore she was only a fraction of his imagination. She had to be.

Simon never felt so confused in his life.

All those stories... were they true? Could they be true?

He looked at his toolbox and found nothing missing, then his eyes caught something shimmering on his boat.

A scale.

A beautiful, shiny scale.

He knew what it was worth. He knew what the King would give if he brought her to him. The King would give him his title back, he would be a noble knight.

Simon tried his best to remember her face. Hoping he would see her again.

He needed to be sure that he wasn't going crazy. The scale should have been enough, but no. He wanted to see her eyes again.

He put the scale into his pocket before heading home.

He couldn't sleep.

But neither could you.

This was the first time you saw his face.

It had been many many many years since a human saw you.

He was handsome, you concluded. But the fear in your heart didn't let you sleep.

You worried he would call people or hunt you down alone. You got too close and now, you feared the consequences.

You found yourself looking up at the surface of the water a lot.

But the next day, he didn't show.

Which really worried you.

But then, the next day, there it was.

The boat.

You debated swimming up or not.

It could be a trap.

You ended up going, very quietly you surfaced and looked at the side of the boat, you heard him wandering about, this is when you noticed an item on the very edge of the ship, the same one you tried to reach out for days before.

You looked around but saw no ships, no one was on the beach and he was alone on his ship judging by the footsteps.

You moved your hand and grabbed the object, swimming away, but staying on the surface.

As you swam back he came into view, he was looking at something in his box, now, he had his mask covering the lower part of his face, much like before.

He didn't seem to notice you for a moment but then he did.

You just watched him as he looked at your face.

"I'll need that for eating, lass." he said, his voice deep. He moved to the edge and you moved backwards. Keeping your eye on every movement, he reached out. "I need the fork."

You looked at the object in your hand then back up at him.

"Yes, that, now, give it to me, please?" you reached out your hand with the item and he took it. He moved back and grabbed his food, sitting down with his back to you, he started to eat.

What an interesting human he was.

You swam under his boat and grabbed the edge, coming up and looking at him, he stopped for a second.

"Can I have it once you are done?" you asked and you saw the shock in his eyes.

He didn't expect for you to speak.

"Why do you want it?"

"It's shiny. I will give it back later."

"And what if you drop it? It will go under the water and- oh, yeah, you could get it... Once I'm done, I'll wash it."

But then, you saw something better.

Around his neck. The shiniest silver you have ever seen. Simon followed your eyes and he soon realized.

"No, I'm not giving you that."

"It's a necklace. I like it."

"It's mine." you made a face of disappointment before going under. A couple minutes later you came back. He was now washing his dishes. You placed a beautiful shell on his deck.

"Trade me." you said and Simon almost laughed.

"No. It's not for sale." he said as he walked over, offering you the fork.

You thought about snatching the necklace but you rather not anger him, so you took the fork.

"Two shells?"

"No." Simon sat down and watched you admire his fork. "Are you not afraid of me?" he asked.

"Will you hurt me?" you asked and he shook his head, no. "I'm scared. But I feel like I could trust you."

"I thought mermaids were only a tale."

"Why?"

"No one has seen a mermaid before. Only the old stories lived."

"We hide, humans hunt us. They sent men like you, big, scary. The water was always red with blood. Every wave screamed with fear. Times changed, I might be the last one. I like you." you tilted your head before you handed him back the fork.

You turned to go back into the water when he spoke up.

"Will I see you again?" you looked at him and nodded.

Then, you left.

Simon looked at the shell on the deck of his ship before he looked at the water.

"Fuckin' hell." he said before he too, went home.

---

The next day, Simon found himself on his ship close to the rocks earlier than usual.

He wanted to see you.

And he didn't have to wait for long.

You showed up and sat on the edge of his ship, he nearly fell back when he saw you.

You talked a lot. He learned the fishes and sea creatures weren't much of listeners so you enjoyed talking to him very much.

This went on for weeks now.

Simon sailed out and sometimes, you were already waiting for him.

"There will be a big storm tomorrow. You should stay in your home." you said as he sat down on the edge beside you.

"How do you know, the fish told you?" he was joking but you had a serious expression, it was no joke.

"Not with words though. They swim differently when there is a change, which means a big storm."

"Will you be fine?"

"Of course. My cave is safe." he nodded.

"I won't see you tomorrow then."

"The day after, you will." you smiled before jumping into the water. "Stay safe," you said before swimming down.

Simon found himself watching the water after you left for longer each time.

---

The next day, it was indeed a huge storm with a strong wind.

Simon could hear the waves from his home.

He just hoped that you were safe.

Storms underwater are very different.

You felt the change in the weather, you felt the waves.

You worried for Simon.

You don't know what got into you, swimming out in such a storm was a terrible idea.

But your gut told you to go.

As you came to the surface even you struggled with the waves, thankfully there was no sign of him.

You wanted to head back to your cave when another wave pushed you and soon, you were too close to the beach. A huge wave pushed you against a rock which knocked you out.

You woke up on the sand with a terrible headache.

You sat up and looked around, you needed to head back to the water, you spent too much time out of it, your tail disappeared and now you had legs.

Legs you couldn't use and you were completely nude.

Instead of panicking, you took a deep breath.

You always knew that you could have legs, you could have learned and lived amongst the humans, you just chose not to.

You looked behind you and saw Simon's house.

With extremely wobbly feet, you walked over. But as soon as you stood up, you felt a pain in your ankle. You let out a groan as you continued, leaning against anything that came your way for support.

You stopped by the door and tried to open it but failed.

"I told you I'm not buying anything from you!" his voice came from inside and you wanted to laugh.

He thought you were someone else, the annoying man who came by every month, trying to sell him things.

"Too bad, I have great shells to sell." you replied as you tried the handle again. The door suddenly opened and you nearly fell inside. Thankfully you were leaning against the doorframe. "I think I broke my ankle."

Simon's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Since when do you have ankles?!" he asked as he scooped you up and walked you inside his house.

He put you on his couch before leaving for his bedroom, he grabbed some clothes and helped you put them on.

"You have a nice home."

"Since when do you have legs?"

"I always did, once I completely dry, I-"

"Why did you let yourself dry?"

"I didn't. Last night I got worried that something happened to you, so I swam up but the waves were too strong. I got washed out of the water and knocked out."

"You could have died."

"Why? I can't drown."

"What if someone saw you?"

"No one lives here but you. The man you complain about lives in the village near the mountain, he comes to the beach to collect shells." he finally looked into your eyes and you lifted your hand and placed your palm against his cheek.

"I will take you back to the Ocean. It is where you belong." he said as he stood up and walked into his kitchen.

"I belong with you." you said once he returned.

"You don't want to. I'm a terrible man."

"It can't be that bad."

"I killed people, for the King. I was one of his knights."

"Okay, so?"

"You are perfect. Your hair, your skin, your eyes, your shape, your tail... everything about you is perfection. You are so pure, I don't deserve something so pure."

"You told me you have felt a pull towards the Ocean ever since you were a child."

"So, you will tell me that I was drawn to it because of you? I was drawn because I had an abusive father who drank and beat me, not because of a fairy tale." he moved closer to you, it made you grab the silver around his neck. He could see the anger in your eyes as you stood up.

"What happened to you is terrible yes, however fairy tales keep people hoping, keep people going, believing. You rather see the dark in the world and people but what did you see in me? What made you come into the sea, day after day? What made you buy a house here? I was ready to give up the Ocean, give up my tail so I can be with you, but it looks like I misjudged you." you snapped the dog tags off of his neck. He was too stunned to speak or to move. "I love you. And I know you know that I love you. You can keep running away, calling yourself a monster, stuck in your past, crying over it." you walked out of his house, it took a moment for Simon to follow you, by the time he rushed after you, you were gone, he only saw the ripple in the water.

He reached up and touched his neck where you took the silver from.

You took a piece of him with you.

---

You cried your heart out.

You weren't even sure anymore why you took the necklace.

Simon Riley Knight Lieutenant 141

You looked at the engraved letters for hours. The pain in your chest never subdued.

A couple of days later, you heard his ship, the unmistakable noise of the metal and wood was loud and clear. You swam up.

"Are you here? Can you hear me? How does one reach a mermaid?!" he grew frustrated within the minute. "If you can hear me, I'm sorry. I truly think you are too pure for me. Every night, when I fell asleep I saw the blood, the bodies and the horrible things I had done. But not lately. Lately, ever since I met you, I dreamt of you. Your beauty and your scales, your smile and your excitement when I talked with you. I love you too. It's just... I'm afraid I will ruin you, I'm afraid that I will make you miserable. I cannot let myself ruin such an amazing thing like you." you heard him drop to the floor, you moved and pulled yourself up against the side, you found him sitting across from you, looking at the floor, you threw the necklace at him, it landed in front of him and he quickly looked up and looked at you.

"You have bad excuses. I forgot I have a tendency to lure men with my song and then drown them for fun. I'm not as pure as you say. I stole things from people, I sleep in a cave filled with gold and things I took. I stole men's hearts, making them fall in love and follow me into the dark depths of the water. I didn't know humans found their pasts so... important."

"You are right. I shouldn't find it so important. But I'm afraid I will end up like him." he said as he picked up the silver and ran his thumb along the letters.

"How many people did you help? When you were a knight, how many did you help?"

"I don't know."

"A few? A lot?"

"Probably a lot."

"Then why not think of them instead of the bad?" you had a point and he knew it.

After a minute of silence, you pulled yourself up and onto his deck, you crawled over to him, he pulled you into his chest, hooking his arm under your tail, he held you close as his head moved to your neck.

He took a deep breath.

"Can I still have you?" he asked and you ran your hand from his chest to his neck.

"I think you always had me. Even before we met. You might not, but I sure believe in fate." he squeezed you tighter as you moved your nose into his hair and smelled it.

"I cannot give you a bed of gold, but I can offer you my humble little cottage. I wouldn't force you to live like a human, stay a mermaid, please." he pulled back and you looked into his eyes.

"Then how would we make love?" his eyes widdened as you smiled and kissed his lips.

It felt so right.

So right to be with him, so right to kiss him and become his.

And you knew, that this was only the beginning of your life with your retired Knight.

A/N: Hi All! I really hope you enjoyed this piece. I left the ending open for potential continuation, let me know if you have any ideas. Please also check out @halcyone-of-the-sea's amazing piece with John Price! I did talk with her and she approved of me writing this piece.

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