Could you do f/f of a pirate x siren? I love all your snippets and I'm going through your whole blog! 💞
Something poked her side.
“I’m still alive,” the pirate growled, kicking blindly. She wasn’t plankton food yet. She was slumped on a piece of drift wood, her ship smearing a ruined sunset of flame and smoke on the horizon. Sinking slowly into the churning sea.
“I found your hat,” the voice said. “You have a magnificent hat. You always wore it.”
It was a wonderful voice, a captivating voice, the type of voice that a girl could listen to for days. The type of voice that could make alphabets riveting.
The pirate blinked, and turned her aching head to look. The heat of battle, of the pounding sun, was like a cannonball inside her skull. Already the thirst tugged at her too. Dizzy, nauseous. Everything hurt.
But she didn’t think she was quite so insensible yet as to hallucinate the lovely creature in the water beside her. The siren had streaming fronds of hair, pale as Caribbean sands, twisted up in seashells like battle armour. Pretty lips. Gills. She wasn’t human by any standard, and she wasn’t beautiful in the way that sailors always described the creatures in port taverns.
She was like the ocean. Far larger than the pirate, perhaps three metres in length, with a strong tail and a sinuous body. Sleek. She was like the ocean - words never quite described it properly, sublime and astonishing, and forever calling at the pirate’s heart.
“Hi,” she said dumbly, barely above a whisper. Raspy.
“Hello.” The siren smiled at her and set the captain’s hat plumed and magnificent on the pirate’s head where it belonged. “I’m glad you’re still alive.” Her eyes narrowed, and her head tilted. “I worried, when I saw the battle.”
The pirate worked her way sluggishly through the conversation. “You knew about my hat.” She’d been watching? How long had she been watching?
“I wanted to know who was doing all the singing,” the siren said. “You have an entrancing voice.” Another smile curled her lips.
Entrancing. Coming from a siren. The pirate blinked again. She didn’t feel quite so entrancing right then, she felt far more like the plankton fish she insisted she wasn’t. She couldn’t stop staring.
The siren reached out a hand. She traced her finger along the line of the pirate’s aching throat. Up close she smelled like salt, like the seaside.
The pirate’s vision swam.
“You’re hurt.” The siren’s lovely face crumpled a little and she cupped the pirate’s jaw, stroking it. “My brave, beautiful captain.”
Maybe she really was insensible, possibly she was dead. This was, perhaps, heaven for pirates and sailors. How else could so exquisite a creature be murmuring such things to her?
The siren was close now and she didn’t kick. An arm wrapped around her water-logged clothes and pulled her close, away from the fragile safety of the driftwood. There was only sea now. Sea, and her.
“My ship.” She wanted to be brave, she did, she was known for being fearless. She blamed the smoke for getting in her eyes for the way they felt hot, watery. “My crew.”
“Shh,” the siren soothed. She hummed in the pirate’s ear, other hand cupping her hair now. “Save your voice. It’s okay, you’re safe. I’m going to look after you now. Take a breath.”
The pirate came to with moonlight on her face, cool as an ocean’s kiss, washed up on the shore like she’d been gifted to the island.
Her lips tasted like salt.