Yandere siren with male reader who is adventure sailor who is lost in sea and now homesick trying to ask siren for help which can go bad or good depending on siren do if you want
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Yandere siren x Male! Sailor! Reader
Summary: After being lost at sea for weeks, the only company being a siren, you yearn for home again.
Content warnings: Unhealthy dynamics, slightly sexual comments, use of (Y/n) once, this post is not made in support of the unhealthy dynamics in this piece.
Word count: 2.5k
AI was not used to make this. Do not use to make or for ai.
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Seventeen months. One year and five months is the exact time you’ve been at sea. You came with thirteen shipmates and ended with seven. The oranges had gone bad rather quickly but held several of you over for a couple weeks. Only Captain Church, you, and a couple others lived well enough to continue.
The ship was quieter than ever. The singers got scurvy very early on and no one wanted to try replacing him. You can’t sing away sirens if you’re not considered ‘good’ to them.
The sky and the sea were almost the same shade at the dead of night. The orange lamplights did little to help you see anything within 50ft of the boat. The only sound of was the water and seagulls trying to find a place to stay for the night, calling to each other. No sirens, which saddened you endlessly. It only meant she wasn’t here. Late again.
You scoff as you look back down at the golden pocket watch you managed to steal from Captain Church, snatching it up from the desk in the captain’s courters.
Her song hadn’t been heard for hours. Traditionally, she’d sing a seven thirty, get to the net and be pulled up. But then she came at eight. Then nine. Now that it was ten thirty, nowhere to be seen. It’s possible she did it on purpose, knowing you, as a human, needed to sleep at night. She more likely did it to see how late you’re willing to stay up for her.
“You don’t have to be out here anymore, it is getting late,” Captain Church called from the top of the stairs. The suddenness of his deep voice caused you to tense and quickly hide the pocket watch in your palm. You turned around to see him standing in white pajamas, parts of his white beard wet from washing his face.
You nod, looking back at the water surrounding you both. Still no sign of her. “I know,” you mutter, pausing to think of an explanation, “just feeling a bit sick.”
“Well... hope it’s nothing too serious. Don’t want to keep you out here for months without proper medicine,” Church voiced with care. You managed to get a sight of his teeth before he slowly turning and heading back to the cabins. The captain’s gums were an angry red, his teeth a pale yellow smeared with blood. He didn’t have much longer, even if he told you that that wasn’t true. “Keep an eye for those fish ladies, they’ve been terrible these recent nights.”
“Yes, sir,” you nod to him, looking at the back of his head as he leaves for the stairs, hearing the whine of the wood under his foot as he trudged down each step.
“Oh, and if you see that pocket watch, make sure to get it back to me. I haven’t seen it for a while,” the captain calls from the bottom of the stairs, the creek of the door stopping you from calling back to him. He barely used it, so you having it wasn’t that big of a deal. It still made you nervous, thinking he would find you with it.
The waves crashed against the bottom of the boat, drawing the ship from side to side. The free-flowing breeze drew around you and shook the lamp light, moving your shadow as if it went against the ship itself.
The soft singing sounded like a bird, the notes getting higher to overpower the water crashing against the hard sides. The calls travelled over the sea to you, causing the muscles in your arms and legs to tense, like sores. Your hands that held the rails of the boat managed to keep you up when you lost your sense of stability with the siren’s songs.
It stopped almost as quickly as it started, powerful enough to tense your muscles but not enough to get you climbing over the boats edge. Flexing your hands and legs hastily, you quickly fixed yourself for the lady in the sea. Calliope.
Your eyes turn down to the blue abyss, finally seeing the siren. You huff to yourself about her showing up. The only way you can see her in the water was her skin, looking as light as a pearl against the blue waves. Her blonde hair laid in the water like the arms of an octopus, moving aimlessly like the curls had minds of their own. Her blue tail curled underneath her as she reached her boney hand up to the sky. Calliope reached for the net, pulling it down into the water to climb into like a swing.
“Hi, Calliope,” you called down to her, watching as the siren tilted her head up, her hair that had scattered in the water now clung to her skin, covering her bare flesh. You could feel the smile as you spoke, your cheeks warm.
“Hi, (Y/n),” she called back, baring her sharp white teeth.
Once she was well adjusted for her “swing”, you grab the rope and brace yourself.
“Captain hears you at night, you know,” you remark, smiling down at her. Gritting your teeth, you pulled the net up the side of the boat, the rope making a strained noise against your hands and the pulley. Even with working hard labor on the ship and Calliope being rather thin, her nightly song calls always made you muscles hurt a little bit.
“Isn’t that a good thing? That the old man hasn’t lost his hearing?” Calliope said back. She sat curled in the net, the blue scaley skin of her tail poked out from the gaps in the ropes. You could hear the smile in her voice.
“Sure,” you mumble to yourself, barely able to raise your voice for her.
The pulley squeaked with almost every tug, causing you to grow anxious with every screech, hoping it wouldn’t wake anyone from their slumber or that Church’s hearing had truthfully been worse than you both imagined.
Finally pulled up the side of the ship, your eyes landed on Calliope. The ropes and her tail dripped from the salt water below. Her pale skin was bathed in a sweet orange light, bringing life to her face.
Her lips were rarely never a pale blue; it happened every time she was brought up to the deck. She would shudder from the biting sea air but tell you that her lips were only blue because her blood went to her cheeks.
As though your thoughts had caused the action, Calliope shuddered from the biting breeze. She grinned to cover her “weakness” (as she claims it to be) and pulled you closer, the smell of salt on her skin.
Almost instinctively, you looked back at the stairs, making sure Captain wasn’t nearby to see her and you. He’d throw you over if he found out. Calliope looked in the same direction and grinned. “Worried someone will see?” She asks, turning your face back to look at her.
“Yes,” you answered mindlessly, moving the wet curls from her shoulders to cover her bare breast. She looked down at your movements but stayed silent for the moment. You did it every time she came to visit.
“You don’t need to do that,” Calliope says and swats your hand away, leaning into you for balance and to make it more difficult to move her hair. “Not much to see anyway.”
“Doesn’t matter how much you’ve got, it’s a boat full of men,” you scoff, smiling down at her. Her long, thin hands enclosed around a large orange, just big enough to see the vibrant orange tones between her fingers. “You brought another gift?”
“Yep,” she nodded. She took your hand and set it in your palm; it had to have been the size of a large baseball. “Just for you.”
Every meeting, even though close together, had some sort of fruit. It only ranged from oranges to grapefruits though. But if she felt very annoyed by her last visit, lemons would be brought knowing you couldn’t not eat it. It was too funny for her, apparently.
“Thank you,” you mumble. Setting Calliope down, you turned your attention back to the orange, feeling over the smooth skin with joy. Getting the fruit wasn’t a question you asked her, it wasn’t important to know. It was the fact you were getting them at all that mattered.
She watched as you prodded at the skin with your nail, knowing you were more desperate than you allowed yourself to show. She held your hand and broke the peel with her thumb nail, like she knew you needed her.
“So,” Calliope hummed, drawing your attention back to her. The white strings from the orange covered your fingers before they were tossed off the side of the ship. “Anything new?”
You shook your head. “No.”
“Oh,” she grumbled, leaning back against the pile of rope.
“One of the crewmembers died yesterday,” You remark, popping one of the orange slices into your mouth. Biting down on the slice was met with a spurt of sweet citrus, making her visit a little more enjoyable (if that was even possible).
“Oh,” Calliope says again, sitting awkwardly from the subject.
Nothing was said for several moments, granting you the time to eat more of the orange... granting you the time to think on it. The memory of your crewmate brought a sense of loneliness, knowing you would have to watch everyone else die before you. All because you were Calliope’s favorite.
“I want to leave this ship,” you pipe up, bring your hands down to rest in your lap.
“What? I thought sailors liked the sea,” she scoffed, tilting her as she studied you. Her eyes were a beautiful blue, not a deep blue like the sea below the boat, but a pale blue. Her eyes were more common to see in stories about harpies, eyes as blue as their homes, the sky. It was slightly odd to see but it was pretty.
“I miss home,” you justify, shaking your head at her words.
It was as if the words had set something off in her, but she kept herself composed... at least to the best of her abilities. Calliope knew you would want to leave at some point, but she couldn’t stand it at all. She turned her annoyance to her fingers, picking at the long white nail on her pointer finger.
“What? Don’t you like me?” Calliope huffed, an accusatory tone in her voice.
“What? No, I do like you. I just...,” you paused, looking down at her as she stared up at you. “I’m a bit homesick. I miss my family. I can’t stand being out here any longer. You shouldn’t understand that because we both are very different. I mean, you live out here.”
She pressed her lips into a slight frown, turning her head back to the sea as she ran her fingers through her curls, splitting them into smaller tentacles of gold. You wiped your face with your hands, trying to calm yourself before continuing. “I can’t stay out here forever. We barely live off the fish because you call them away whenever you visit at night. Several of the crewmembers have passed from scurvy, nearly everyone else has it,” you explain, taking her face into your hands to turn her to look at you.
“So, I’m the issue?” She blurts, crossing her arms over her chest, at no point did she try pushing away your hand.
“No! No,” You shake your head hastily, trying not to get her too annoyed. Annoying your only way out wasn’t what you needed right now. “It’s not you, I just can’t stay out here forever.”
Calliope huffed and finally left your palm, looking around the ship deck, trying to find anything interesting around her. “I take care of you just fine. Isn’t that enough?”
You pause at her words, looking down at the pieces of orange skin and where you managed to break it with your nail. She did take care of you... barely. Calliope only brought citrus fruits and wanted anything you could give her. “What you give to me is enough...,” you sigh. “Out here, it’s enough out here.”
Another awkward silence filled the space between you two, neither of you knowing what to say. Calliope relentlessly picked at her cuticles, pulling at the lifted skin to show the pink irritated flesh underneath.
“It doesn’t mean I hate you,” you assure her, setting one of the orange slices in her lap. “I can’t stay here for eternity and what we have... it won’t last. We both know this.”
Nothing but air passed her lips at your words, making you fix your posture to go on to comfort her. Calliope finally made a noise.
Her voice started soft, too soft to hurt you just yet. It was a small Irish ballad that the was swept up by the wind one day. It originally was held by Captain Church, meant to be given to the ship's singer.
She gradually got louder as she grew more agitated, violently grabbing at your arms before you could plug your ears.
Her voice travelled through the air, carrying to your ears as she wrapped her arms around your torso, pulling you to her chest. You could feel every muscle in your body tensing, like a wave that travelled from your head to your toes.
The ballad was quickly followed by another song. It was the same one the dead crewmate sang. It came from inland, a common song from the mountain range. Guess he wasn’t good enough to keep her away. It should have been obvious that that would be the case, you thought she was the most beautiful singer you had heard.
Her voice grew louder, growing angrier as if the idea that you ‘wouldn’t last’ was more terrifying than anything she could think of. It was a beautiful melody that seemed to work with the ocean and the wind, combining to make a proper tune. Nature must prefer Calliope; it wouldn’t surprise you if it always has.
Calliope’s fingers caught onto the loops and waves of your shirt, pinching it to keep you against her as she pulled and pushed. Her voice strained as she lifted you against the side of the ship, holding you there before lifting your leg and pushing you over.
The fall was quick but not for your nerves. Prickles of anxiety drew over your back as gravity forced you down into the arms of the ocean blue. Even with the fear that filled you, your eyes were still trained on Calliope, who was following you down.
The millisecond of sloshing salt water covered up Calliope’s song, but the iciness of the water caused your muscles to tighten and tense again. Your eyes managed to close with the burn of salt, Calliope’s figure being replaced by darkness. She takes the opportunity to pull you closer. Her nails clawed at your clothes, cutting through the fabric and to your skin. The bright red flowed in the water like sea foam.
Calliope pulled you down with her, holding you to her chest to keep you down. When she opened her mouth to continue her song, bubbles drew from her lips and the vibrant notes continued.
The bottom of your boat faded with each painful wretch of your limbs, reaching up for the darkness. Just as your sight grew fuzzy and closed, the bubbles of air left your mouth.
