#orca!sun

[naffeclipse]

dear naffy now that we are in mermay is there any chance you'll feed us orca eclipse again ? I've had for the longest time the idea of him bringing Birdie two mysterious mer babies he found .. he so desperately hopes that will finally convince them to stay <//3

Orca!Eclipse: Happy Mother's Day :)

Y/N: I-I'm not a mom...

Orca!Eclipse: *plops baby Sun and Moon in his birdie's lap*

Orca!Eclipse: Yes, you are :)

[missterious-figure]

Orca!Sun and Dolphin!y/n belong to the wonderful @naffeclipse

More sleeping with the fishes doodles! I had to do Sun, too. (Next is Moon) Why take a nap in the sun when you could take a nap with him? :)

I've fallen in love with this au! HELP!!

[the-cackling-jester]

Harpy!Y/n would still probably be very cautious about Eclipse.

Also i wanted to try and draw my own penguin harpy y/n and the sun and moon babies

@naffeclipse

[naffeclipse]

Little Chicks

Penguin!Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

I'm so excited to share this fic! The lovely @pluck-heartstrings requested a continuation of Cardinal Instincts with a mix of fluff and typical Orca Eclipse with some angst/backstory for the harpy reader! I also enjoy writing baby sirens Sun and Moon as well <3

Content Warning for mentions of death and angst.

———

Tiny flukes flip along the ocean’s surface. You watch the siren young closely, perched on the edge of the ice with your winged arms folded tightly against you. Though you’ve grown used to how the orca siren tests the babes’ abilities, your heart flutters nonetheless whenever one sinks a little too deep below the surface without acquiring a deep enough breath and you must swallow back a squawk of fear when the other gives anxious, tired chirps after swimming for a moment too long.

But Eclipse is there, scooping the little ones into his hands, and if they refuse to calm, he presses them into your lap and allows the familiar, comforting touch of your plumage to soothe them.

Your siren young, you remember. Emotion thickens in your throat as Sun flips his tail, flashing cream and golden colors. The orca siren child struggles across the shallow water in the half-submerged alcove. Moon’s teeth gnash together as he whines. Eclipse chirrs gently, encouraging the children as if they were of his own blood. It still surprises you that they are not, with their eyes each containing at least one yellow or scarlet hue. The brothers share a blue color to their gaze, however, and confirm that they are twins.

The icy alcove sheltering them from the harsher, direct light outside is comfortable. Though it’s far from your natural habitat of flat icy plains with plenty of diving holes into the water, you’ve dared to settle into this home.

Eclipse courts you still, and though you both share the work of caring for the siren young, he makes it clear with a flash of his hungry eyes that you are the only mate for him. The only one who will raise Sun and Moon with him.

You watch him now, while the boys occupy his attention. His sleek, black and white form dipped in deep red and dark orange is lethal in every capacity. He is the apex predator of the seas. His body is lithe with toned, sleek muscle. His jaws split wide into a maw full of shark-like teeth. Yet, his claws curl carefully over Moon while he lifts him back to the surface, and the soft sounds of the babe’s sputtering pull your muscles taut, insisting you dive after the babe. 

An instinct within understands how easily Eclipse’s natural weapons can turn on you, could rip you apart to feed his young, but then Sun is squeaking in anger. Eclipse turns to him quickly. He rumbles a soothing hum while holding Moon in the crook of his arm and gathering Sun in his other hand. His gentleness is always at the ready for his adoptive children. Your heart softens.

The siren lifts his eyes to you. In the light that refracts from the ocean surface and icy walls, his gaze glows brighter, hungrier. A shiver falls down your spine. How naturally your body remembers your place in the food chain. He closes the distance. His dorsal fin arches high behind him while strong, smooth motions of his tail push him until he’s looming over you on the shelf of ice you reside on.

A pulse starts in your throat. You gaze up at him, small and easily devoured, but he leans closer to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. The thick feathers covering your body ruffle under his persistent touch. A soft squawk escapes your mouth at the graze of his teeth over your sensitive, vulnerable throat.

“Sun and Moon must be getting hungry,” you breathe, fighting the heat that longs to stain your fluffy cheeks.

“They’ve worked up an appetite,” he agrees over the sharp squeaks and chirps of their demands. “They’re getting stronger.”

And hungrier, you note. Eclipse has been a provider, killing and retrieving meals of squid and other soft meat for the boys to tear apart with their nubby teeth. Eclipse explained to you once that these milk teeth will fall out once the boys have grown enough and will be replaced by sharper, more capable incisors. 

It might have scared other harpies like yourself to know these children who depend on you for food and warmth will soon become as capable and dangerous as Eclipse, but only a swell of pride fills you with the thought. They will become strong. They will thrive and no one will ever harm them. A gentle need to watch them flourish propels you to open your arms.

“When will you hunt for food?” you ask softly. Your dainty clawed fingers brush gently against the squirming, wet forms of Sun and Moon held in the crook of Eclipse’s arms.

A low grumble, deep and chilling, rolls through the orca siren and into you. You still when this jaws nears your lips. The press of his forceful kiss pushes you back slightly, and you give an indignant squeak under his mouth, tasting you like he may or may not sample the flesh hidden under your feathers.

“I’ll go now, birdie,” he murmurs. “I won’t keep Sun and Moon hungry. Wait here for me.”

He draws back to capture your gaze with his own. The intensity of his eyes, one red, one yellow, pierces you with the strength of the sun. A desire to look away, to shrink from underneath his power nearly takes you, but he growls softly.

“Be good, birdie.”

“I will,” you answer, then immediately flush. 

He nods smugly then presses a kiss to your cheek. You close your eyes though you are no less attuned to the sharp squeaks of protest of being slightly squashed between yours and his exchanges of fondness.

“Eclipse,” you mumble against his mouth, “The babies.”

A chortle escapes from his wicked jaws as he parts from you. At least, he eases Moon then Sun into your arms. The most natural embrace overtakes you as you cradle the precious siren young, though they are steadily growing, becoming just a little bigger for your arms than a regular chick might have been. It doesn’t matter to you. They are slick, warm, and safe.

Sun chirps soften into babbling chatter, his wide eyes beautiful and bright. On your other arm, Moon turns against your chest. His little nubby fingers grasp your feathers, clenching and unclenching, as his mouth roams for milk he will not find here.

“It’s alright, little chicks,” you coo at your children. “Your bellies will be filled shortly.”

You spare a glance at Eclipse, prodding him with a look but he lingers on the edge of the ice shelf. You lift your head, curious.

“They’re hungry,” you remind.

“I know, birdie.” His gaze slips into something like snowmelt as if he finds you simply adorable. “You’re beautiful. I simply had to admire how you take care of them.”

Your mouth opens but silence tumbles out. 

He flashes a wicked grin to your dismay. Pushing off of the ice shelf, the orca siren dives out of the alcove and leaves you simmering with pink heat. Your words fail on your tongue, but there is little you can say to the orca siren who has decided to make you his.

You are unable to resist sinking softly in the after waves of his boldness and courting gestures. A small pile of beautiful stones and gems has piled in the far corner of the ice shelf. Tokens of his love. Each beautiful pebble made you believe he couldn’t find a better one, and each time, he has proven you wrong. 

Pebbles are for building nests for a chick. To accept a pebble is to build towards a future, to prepare for the young that will come once two penguin harpies agree to be mates.

You press the memory of a small nest and a tiny, new life away from your thoughts. A nibble along your fingers draws your attention. Gazing down at Moon gnawing his nubby teeth along your hand, you smile. You gently free your fingers and stroke his head, sliding along the deep midnight blue appendage that falls down his head. The small bulb at the end is frilly and yellow. 

“Oh, my darling,” you murmur in a soft voice. You slip back along the ice shelf, waddling carefully to not slip with the babes in your arms before gently rearranging them to rest in your lap. Wrapping your winged arms around them, they will stay warm.

A sharp squeak turns your head towards Sun. Hunger rips through him loud and clear. You laugh gently as he begins wiggling, impatiently and restlessly. His sharp, golden, and white gold fins crowning his head twist importantly with the jerks of his head.

“I know, my love, I know,” you softly cup his cheek and pull him closer to your chest, holding him to keep him from slipping away. “Your father is getting you squid. Patience, Sun.”

The high-pitched demanding chirp that falls from him squeezes your heart. He is far too loud, too excited, and you laugh. Softly taking Moon against you as well, you lean back against the alcove wall and try to hum. They adore when Eclipse sings to them, but his vocal cords are powerful and entwined with magic. Yours are too strained and, in a word, unfit for a lullaby. The best you can give them is your warmth and protection. 

Your adoptive children.

Your mind drifts to a distant echo of sharp chirps. Insistent, hungry, and then, silent. 

A slow collapse shuts away your throat. Your hum cuts short.

The memory takes you like an ocean wave, pushing you down, deeper and deeper until you can no longer breathe.

Your chick was so small. He was beautiful. He chirped fiercely. Then he did not make a sound at all.

Shoulders heaving, your breath becomes ragged. It scrapes out of your throat. Your chest tightens. Tiny bodies squirm in your arms, little fingers sinking into your plumage and grip tightly, demanding attention, but your vision is far, far away, lost on an empty ice plain dusted in snow.

You held your little chick in your arms. He didn’t move. Your mate told you to let him go.

You couldn’t. You didn’t, not until your mate pried him from your hands and forced you to leave him, to let the snow bury him and the ice creep over him until he was cradled in the Antarctic cold forever. He has to be warm. You were keeping him warm.

What did you do wrong?

No one answered. 

A splash echoes in the distance. Wiggling bodies attempt to crawl away from you, eager chirps filling the air, but your vision is blurred over ice and water. A deep, abysmal voice calls out. You don’t answer.

You hold tighter to Sun and Moon, clinging to them. Their tiny voices grow louder as they fill with hunger. 

Another wash of water echoes throughout the alcove, and then a shadow looms over you. Something wet splats just a few inches onto the ice shelf. Then, a low rumble and claws crack the ice, dragging over the uneven terrain.

A hand falls on your shoulder. Claws threaten to sink into your flesh.

“Birdie, what’s wrong?”

A gasp wretches from you. You blink, staring up at the looming orca siren. His eyes blaze, searching for threats and wounds, but only finding you unlocking your fierce grip from Sun and Moon. The babies gleefully slip away from you. Their wiggling tails flip and flap, and Eclipse watches them carefully before pinning you with his stare again.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” he demands, growling with an abysmal darkness.

“No,” you gasp, “No, the babies—they need to eat.”

Eclipse hovers. When did he pull himself onto the ice? His tail sweeps along the cold terrain, his flukes curling to form a barrier between you and the water. You want to shrink. You want to bow your head and swim away—it wouldn’t be so different from when the colony decided you couldn’t stay any longer. 

A mush pile of chomped squid lies near Eclipse’s side fin. The siren young cry out. Slowly, Eclipse takes Moon, then Sun, setting them down by the food so they can begin tearing the soft flesh apart in their young moths. Securing them in the bow of his tail, he turns back to you.

“Birdie, tell me what is going on. I will make it right.” His clawed hands cup your face. You want to fall back, push him away until you can escape.

You can’t leave. Even wandering, you were trapped with what you’ve done.

Fear and shame form into a fine, frozen layer within you. You can’t look at Eclipse. His hand insists, pushing you by the chin until you're locked under his gaze again. 

“Be good, birdie. Tell me so I might rip apart whatever is causing you such pain,” he insists, snarling just under his breath. You tremble and touch his arm.

“I,” you gasp and it wheezes through you. Your throat closes up. You look once to Sun and Moon devouring their meal, unaware of their harpy parent dissolving into sea foam. “I was driven from my colony.” 

Something snaps within you. A great and terrible acceptance. A truth so ugly and rotten, you have no hope of holding its broken bones.

Eclipse’s jaw slackens. Teeth no longer bared, he slowly tilts his head.

“Why?” his eyes narrow.

He’ll know now you are unfit. He won’t have you raising his babies. You won’t hold Sun and Moon again.

You close your eyes and whisper, “I tried to steal another’s chick.”

Eclipse’s thumb slowly brushes along the fluff covering your cheek. 

“Go on,” he says in a shockingly gentle and low voice, as if you needed a lullaby in the dark of night, “Tell me, birdie. It’s alright.”

You quake. Opening your eyes slowly, you are filled with Eclipse’s soft gaze. His attention is fierce, ever sharp, but when he holds you, everything else falls to the wayside. 

A rattling breath fills your lungs.

“My baby,” your voice cracks. Eclipse’s gaze widens. “My poor baby died. He was so small… I don’t know why.”

“Such things can happen,” he says so firmly, you long to believe him, “It’s not kind, but little ones simply don’t endure by no fault of their own nor yours.”

“Eclipse, wait,” you grasp onto him tighter. He is your last island in the sea of your grief. He doesn’t understand.

“What of your mate?” he asks instead, his teeth glint.

“He left me,” you say quietly. A fact you have accepted long ago. Whenever you looked at him, you only felt the same grief again. “After my—our chick died, he left.”

Eclipse dips his head in the slightest, not exactly pleased, but reassured, in some way. You don’t know what to make of his expression.

“Then what became of you?” he asks in his growling cords.

You quake. 

“I don’t know why I did it. I just couldn’t stand it. Everyone with their chicks, hearing their little cries. I was alone,” you pull in a breathless gasp, “I didn’t stop myself. One little chick was unattended, for just a moment. Her mother was looking away. I wasn’t thinking at all. I just did it—I swooped in and stole the babe.”

Eclipse rumbles deep within his chest. You glance anxiously at Sun and Moon. Sounds escape Sun even as he chews vigorously. Moon is quiet, slurping down a tentacle. Eclipse draws a black-bone claw down your cheek, returning your attention to him.

“What happened?” he asks softly.

“I tried to feed her, but she refused to take any food from my mouth.” A strained sound, like a sob, escapes your throat. Eclipse hushes you softly, stroking the back of your feathered head. “She was crying—I told her I was her momma but she wouldn’t stop.”

The tiny babe was not your own, though just as small and hungry and fierce. The chirps were just a little off. They weren’t your babe’s.

Your heart twists. How could you ever have your little chick back? How could you try and replace one by taking from another? You were selfish and mad. You were trying to force another mother to go through what you just had.

“She wasn’t yours,” Eclipse answers simply, as if he might understand wanting something so terribly, and doing awful things to have it, but not being able to keep it.

You hold his gaze, wetness blurring your vision.

“It was cruel of me.” You shudder again. “They caught me. The colony decided I could no longer be a part of them. They sent me away. I could never return.”

Eclipse is silent for several heartbeats. You sit, heavy with shame and grief. His flukes brush against the little ones eating. A small complaint of being bothered during their meal rises in a sharp squeak. You glance over them, wishing to pull Sun and Moon into your arms again. What if you can never hold them again?

“That’s why you were waddling alone.” Eclipse sweeps a claw down your temple, almost touching your eye. Your eyelids flutter, and a great fear takes over you. Does he not want you anymore? Has he decided you will make a better meal than a parent?

“I still don’t know why I did it,” you mumble. You felt mad. You still feel unstable with loss and emptiness. You could only take and take to try and fill up the gaping place left within you. The baby you love so dearly was gone without a whimper.

And now two little sirens need your care. They are so beautiful and precious. Your heart bobs within you for longing to tend to them.

“You wanted your child back,” Eclipse hums. Your eyes lift to him, stained with tears. “You love your child. Now you have two little ones who need you. And you have been a beautiful mother to them.”

Stunned into silence, you blink. “You… you still want me?”

Eclipse chortles, looking at you as if you were simply precious.

“I have already chosen you as my mate. I have witnessed how tenderly you tend to Sun and Moon. I will have no one else but you, birdie.” He leans in and kisses your tear-wet cheeks. Your feathers ruffle underneath his affection. “Breathe, and when you are ready, you will hold our children again.”

Our children.

You cling tightly to Eclipse for one moment. His eyes widen. Leaning up, you lay a kiss on the corner of his mouth and smear salty tears on his maw unwittingly. You hope he doesn’t mind. All the while, he holds very, very still.

“They’re my little chicks,” you whisper.

“They are,” he rasps softly. Eclipse holds you until the Sun and Moon finish eating. Their cries of attention are answered as the orca siren scoops them up, one by one, and places them in your arms.

Your family.

[naffeclipse]

I've been musing over a few thoughts inspired by this ask about a mafia-ish style of Apex Polarity without it being too close to Pearl Eye, and after watching a few videos of Orcas hunting their prey (which included dolphins), landed on a sort of Mafia inspired Apex Polarity AU

Also not to add another Y/N to Orclipse's growing collection but this Y/N is a white-beaked dolphin. Look! They're so beautiful!

Sirens are cunning, brutal, and take everything with teeth and claws. The strongest kill and maim at a whim. As a siren who's not particularly strong, though incredibly agile, with a tail streamlined and dark gray with white patches, fins curved and mostly black, you're somewhere at the bottom. You're doing your best to survive and avoid trouble. You pick your battles and you pick your escapes, and most importantly, you stay alive.

But then you do something really stupid: you venture where you shouldn't have.

You don't usually swim so far up north but you're hungry, and the thought of a few tasty squids distracts you from the silent waters and vast, blue emptiness. You realize a bit too late that you're not the only one hunting.

You catch the first orca siren in the distance as a dark figure, and then another. Two who immediately cut through the water, charging straight for you like shadows. Though you turn tail and bolt, you quickly spot them in the corner of your vision. They easily keep pace, their size and strength overwhelming as they flank you on both sides, wide grins flashing their deadly teeth. You can hardly look at the mismatched color of their eyes as you dodge and weave, diving down only to be cut off by one with midnight blue colors at the tip of his flukes, and shooting off to the left just to almost be snatched by the black-bone claws of a siren with bright yellow fins framing his head.

They're toying with you. You know that for a fact in how they just barely keep back, corraling you onwards, draining your already spent energy, and picking at your panicking pulse. You have no choice but to avoid the edges of their jaws and the tips of their talons, and swim in the direction they want.

You near a field of ice floes floating on the water, and though you cut into the jagged structures dipping into the sea, the orca sirens never lose you. A desperate need for air pushes you onward. One small drop of hope still burns in your chest. Despite the aching of your muscles, you steal a gulp of oxygen and dip back down once more, charging away—

Only to run smack into a third orca siren.

This one grabs you, his burning red and orange colors filling your vision. The other two orcas join to help their kin keep you in place long enough for you to truly regret ever venturing here. Between the three of what you can only assume are brothers, hands hooked over you shoulders, claws clutching your wrists, and palms pressing into your hips, you're a fish caught in a net.

You brace for a voilent end. It never arrives. Instead of digging into your sweet meat, the sirens offer you a deal. The tips of sharp fingertips trace your jawline and the soft inside of your arms and down your slick tail while they explain.

You keep watch for human ships and report back when they're getting close, and in exchange, you get the best food you can imagine, the entire Arctic Ocean to swim, and anything else you'd like. The best benefit? You're under their protection. Of course, they expect utter loyalty from you. You are no one else's. Failure to devote yourself to this work and the brothers would mean a grisly fate, but hey, you're nothing if not eager to not be torn apart. So you agree.

You have a few questions about this whole arrangement, struggling to understand why they, powerful orca sirens, bother with a smaller fish like you when they could rip you limb from limb and be done. What's with the human ships? Why task you to this? Are you just fodder so they can keep their fins nice and unscabbed? They reassure you that they'll explain in due time (the sunny one booping your nose, much to your chagrin), but for now, all you know to know is that the human ships are a problem, and you are their solution for it. You've never really encountered humans before, but they've never really encountered sirens, or so you thought.

The burning red one lets you go, but you don't slip away too far before he tugs on your flukes and tells you to follow him. It's not a request. The darker blue one leaves for a moment, jetting away as the other two guide you to a nice resting place on an icy shore. They introduce themselves, and then their brother reappears with a squid in hand, half dead, and an insistence that you eat—they could tell during the chase that you didn't have all your energy.

And that's how you unwittingly join a very powerful pod of orca brothers who may or may not be teasing and taunting you simultaneously.

[naffeclipse]

I'm sorry if this question has been asked in some form or another but... How would Eclipse, should he have ever moved away from the Arctic in search of a new home, react if he encountered a pair of orphaned Orca Siren Calves (Sun and Moon) being raised by a reclusive writer human Y/N? Like either their sibling got the Siren Transformation and the whole pod is just now... gone due to some unfortunate events... Or the Y/N just found the two orphans in the shallows near their very secluded home and the parents never came back?

Point is human Y/N is trying their best, but that means things aren't going all that great. Both kids can read and are cared for. Moon is a master of the door dash app when using the tablet kept on land near the water for them. But there's love... Lots of love.

How would he react to this?

Oh, I love this

You wanted to be left alone, unfortunately, the two... babies, didn't get the memo. They're so small. You have no idea what to do with the mythical creature children. Sirens. Sure, you've heard of them. So why aren't they taking care of their young? Why are they wailing at the edge of the icy land you've made your home on? It doesn't take long for you to take pity on the small things and feed them some chewed fish (but only this once).

Somehow, you end up with a small ice shelter where you've carved two breathing holes under the ice to let the seawater and the babies swim for a day, keeping a careful watch on them while jotting down a few ideas you've had for your writing (perhaps inspired by sirens). Then, at the night's end, you lovingly pick up both toddler-sized sirens, tucking one into each arm to carry them to your home where your bathtub has become a makeshift crib of seawater and half-chewed rubber duckies.

You believe they're twins despite their different appearances, one touched with cream-colored orca markings and soft yellow frills framing his face. The other brother is black and white and has a slippery dark blue tendril behind his head, trailing into a luminous bulb. They have mismatched eyes but share one blue iris.

So much for only feeding them once. The tiny fish got you wrapped around their little claws.

They growl and chuff and softly whine whenever you're not within sight, and each of them demands time alone to snuggle against your chest before you set down your bedding on the bathroom floor and urge them to sleep through the night. You're right here if they need you. Somehow, one or both end up on you, dripping wet, and you can only groan and softly hold the babies through the night despite their constant wiggles and slick, sheeny bodies.

This goes on for a few years before you start to worry that your bathtub is too cramped for the children. Sun and Moon (oh gosh, you gave them names; now you're really attached) are so smart and excel at reading and writing, making use of markers and whiteboards, and remembering to let their hands dry before grabbing the paper from the floor of the ice shelter to draw doodles of the icy waves.

There were learning curves, such as when you had to scold Moon for biting you so hard his sharp teeth drew blood, but he cried, so you stopped being angry and showed him how to help you bandage your hand. See? All better. But no biting. Another time was Sun growing impatient with your slow pace as you gathered your writing materials before joining them in the ice shelter, and he grabbed your leg and halfway pulled you into the frigid water, shocking your system with the sheer cold before you scrambled out and had to retreat to your home to undress and get warm. Sun hid away from you, unwilling to come out despite your coaxing once night fell. You had to lay down a new rule: they cannot pull you into the water. You are not built like them. He clung to you and apologized, and you forgave him with a kiss on the forehead.

You wanted to be left alone with your children. (Yours. Your babies.) Unfortunately, they're not the only sirens around. You sense another presence just at dusk when you're preparing to take Sun out of the breathing hole (you can only carry one at a time now, and even then, it takes all your strength to lift with your legs—when did they get so big?) and pause with your hands under Sun's arms, his hands still opening and closing for you. Through the slight opening in the flap of the ice shelter, out into the shallows of the icy sea, you see two pairs of eyes, yellow and red, and piercing.

A siren.

You react with adrenaline and fear, fueled by the intention to protect your children no matter the cost, and pull Sun and Moon out of the breathing holes in a second. Placing them in the far corner, you shield them with your body. The strange siren pokes his head through the breathing hole not a moment later. Eyes wide, breathing harshly, you stare each other down, siren against human. His gaze slips past you, and he grins upon finding Sun's and Moon's big eyes peeking around you as they cling to your shoulders, confused and frightened. Their flukes flip anxiously.

The siren grinned at you, and for the better half of the night, you conversed with the siren about how you came upon your children. His intentions remain sinister and masked until he at last tells you how perfect he finds you and the boys. You stare, standoffish, but he assures you, he will be the father that they need, and the mate you deserve. You don't believe him. You don't trust him with your babies, but when he grabs your leg and rips you away from your children, much to their protests and small cries, you're caught under him and his caressing claws before you realize that his hunger is more.

It starts to make sense. Of course, Eclipse can teach them far more than you can about how to navigate their marine existant and how to properly hunt and not only take food from your hands. He teaches them how to sing, how to watch prey, how to use their strength and teeth to conquer. And you... you watch, realizing that you miss those bathtub days, but your boys are happy. They love Eclipse and Eclipse, well, when he's not tending to the children, he's spending time with you, laying his crossed arms on your lap to gaze up at you, insisting you accept a dead seal from him.

Maybe he has a bit of charm. And maybe you begrudgingly let you sing you to sleep when you're left fretting about Sun and Moon swimming late into the night on their own, but they're growing big. They don't fit in your arms anymore. You start to feel a little forgotten before you find all three sirens acting very suspiciously, your boys whispering before telling you that Dad—Eclipse wants to give you something. He softly presses a beautiful black pearl into your palm. You've never been much for anything that isn't practical, but it's beautiful, so you take it. Eclipse is pleased and so are the Sun and Moon. He steals a kiss from you. You don't mind.

You wanted to be left alone, but you find yourself in the siren's arms as you both watch a burning orange sunset and your sons playfully fighting in the small waves.

[naffeclipse]

Hi! Same Anon that sent in the human Y/N with the baby Sirens Sun and Moon (I'm so glad you liked it! :)

You wrote that piece so wonderfully! And I adore all of your stories so much!

I just can't help but imagine that the Reclusive Writer Y/N might be more open to becoming a Siren, with the irony being that their babies would get the chance to teach them things!

Of course that first day as a Siren might not go over that well because the babies-now-teens failed to register Y/N never had a fluke before and the things they knew the basics from birth. Like stopping...(Crashed into a rock) Depth perception (Missed the air hole and hit the ice with their head) and hunting... (Got sucker punched by an octopus)

First night ends with Orca-writer unconscious on Eclipse from a concussion...

I loved it so much, ahh! I'm glad you enjoyed it! <3

The recluse isn't an easy human to persuade into becoming a siren. As much as Eclipse adores you and wants you in the water with your siren sons, you're a bit stubborn and set in your ways. (Hence the recluse part.) So, you would spend a long time telling Eclipse no whenever he says you could swim with him, Sun, and Moon. It would be an easy song to sing.

You keep resisting due more to their nature than any logic or will, and Eclipse tells you that one day you will say yet (and you laugh at that), but eventually, you notice how Sun and Moon keep swimming farther and farther out, exploring the sea. You enjoy the closeness with Eclipse and know you could still be closer if you simply accepted...

It's just a hard thing to change about yourself. You love your babies (and you love Eclipse, you love raising Sun and Moon with him), but trading your legs for a tail is a big decision. It's not one you take lightly.

You finally ask Sun and Moon one day if it would change anything if you become a siren, if they might see you differently than the human who raised them. (Eclipse says they're almost grown, ready to be adults.) Sun and Moon look at each other before agreeing that no, it wouldn't change anything. They love you. So long as you are here with them, they are happy.

That's the only answer you need before you turn to Eclipse and tell him that you'll let him sing his song and take you into the water. Sun and Moon are thrilled.

Of course, the first day is full of baby steps (wasn't it just yesterday you were filling a bathtub for the baby sirens, and now they're helping you to swim under the ice sheet to open waters?) Eclipse guides you most of the time. Sun and Moon are a bit too eager and restless to truly teach you, but they do hold tight to your arm to keep you upright when Eclipse has to leave your side for a moment, and they sing and trill such joyous sounds because now, there's no reason to ever be apart from each other. You're with your family forevermore.

[naffeclipse]

Hello darling. With all baby dolphin fever asks I have a question.

How would boys react to Y/n being gone and hurt by protecting the baby from the boys enemy? I can see enemies of the orca Mafia seeing y/n and the baby as the weakness of the boys, and then trying to use poor mama and a newborn to gain something from orcas, and as we know a good parent will protect their baby at all cost, what can lead to a fight. How would they boys react to finding out that their mate and the baby dissapeared? That their mate wa share to protect the young one?

Kisses ickove your work!

The orca sirens are very protective of their mate and their newborn, so to have Dolphin Y/N somehow leave all of their sights, and then go missing in a very short amount of time would trigger a full-blown hunting mode for Eclipse, Sun, and Moon. They quickly mobilize every single siren under their power and search far and wide for their sweet dolphin siren and the child. The powerful mafia leaders are frantic with fear and uncertainty. How did this happen? Where is their darling dolphin siren?

Eclipse discovers Y/N in a dark, icy alcove, not too far from the center of their terrorism after a full day and night. They're exhausted and bleeding from a clear siren shark bite on their tail. They're limply curled around their baby as the little one cries. Eclipse startles them with his sudden emergence from the sea, but then they sob in relief. One of their mates found them. After he pulls them close, softly shushing them and promising it's alright, he will keep them safe, he examines their wounds and ensures the baby is unharmed. Y/N needs help. Y/N protected their child, but it's clear there was a great struggle as Y/N is close to passing out from the fear and exertion of it all. Eclipse takes both of them into his arms and swims as quickly as he can while holding them. He burns internally, having to hide his gnashing teeth to not startle the newborn and let Y/N rest, but he is seeing red.

Whoever touched his mate will suffer greatly, and only after will he slaughter them. First, he will take care of Y/N and the baby.

Sun and Moon are equally relieved and horrified to find Eclipse returning with their mate, bleeding and unconscious. Eclipse takes the newborn while Sun and Moon attend to their injuries, closing them as best as they can while allowing Y/N to rest. Sun and Moon are furious and want answers, but they all have to wait for Y/N to wake up and regain their strength. Soon, Y/N revives with their head on Moon's tail/lap. Sun softly coaxes them to awareness with the promise of food. Eclipse is very close with their little one and helps them to hold the baby while they retell what happened exactly.

They had simply gone drifting with their little one, wanting to stretch their tail and flex their fins, barely out of sight from other members of the pod, only to be ambushed. A Greenland shark siren attacked them. Y/N swam fast and fought hard to keep the shark from harming their baby but suffered wounds themselves. The siren kept attempting to capture Y/N and take them somewhere, but they refused, fueled by a primal instinct to shield their child. The siren eventually lost them in a field of ice floe, and then Y/N found the ice cave. They didn't know what to do. They weren't certain if they got the siren off their tail They were so afraid. Eclipse, Sun, and Moon bristle equally, but this is no stranger. Y/N and the boys are familiar with the perpetrator.

They've had difficulties with others accepting their power of influence. Of course, they've had some would-be members of their pod slip away or quietly skirt their area of the sea in anger but this is worse. A shark siren of this description was one of their underlings. The siren had difficulty with obedience in the past but the brothers believe they had smothered that rebellious streak. They see clearly now that they've been too merciful. The member attacked their mate and their child and attempted to steal them away. For what? Leverage? Power? As if the brothers would allow the siren to hold their mate over their heads and bring harm to the precious newborn.

The shark siren would be foolish to hang around after a failed attempt to steal the orca sirens' mate, but Eclipse, Sun, and Moon are patient hunters. For now, they shush Y/N and reassure them that they are safe. They are not leaving their sights ever again, and softly stroke the baby's head until their darling mate falls asleep, still recovering from the ordeal.

But they plot quietly, calmly. Day after day, night after night, they will scour and they will stalk, and when they find the siren that touched their mate, they will turn the ocean red.