bride of the abyss
Pairing: Yandere Siren x Reader Description: Years after you saved him, Zeiryn returns to drag you beneath the waves—where his love waits, fierce and inescapable. Warning/s: Yandere | Noncon/Dubcon Themes | Kidnapping | Possessive Behavior | Captivity | Obsession | Emotional Manipulation | Mild Violence | Body Morphing/Transformation Note/s: Commissioned on ko-fi! Thabk you for trusting me with your commission! Idk if you've received the email. I hope you enjoy this one! Tags will be added later!
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The first time you met him, the sun was so high it burned your shoulders through your shirt. Your sandals had long been discarded, the soles of your feet pressed against coarse, grainy sand, warmed by the afternoon heat. Vacation meant freedom, and for you—a curious child with scraped knees and untamed hair—that meant wandering far beyond the adults’ lazy eyes and picnic baskets.
You weren’t supposed to be near the cliffs. The locals had told stories, murmured warnings of tides that dragged unsuspecting feet into the undertow. But you were eight, and warnings slid off your ears like water. You’d chased a crab across slick rocks, nearly slipping once—okay, twice—before rounding a jagged stone formation and stopping short.
A glint of silver caught your eye. At first, you thought it was trash—a bit of foil or an abandoned soda can. Then it moved. Just slightly. Enough to catch the sun and reflect a brilliance so blinding it made your eyes water. You stepped closer, heart thudding, and gasped.
He was tangled in a net.
You didn’t know what he was—some strange fish, perhaps? But then he turned his face to you, and your world cracked open.
He had eyes like the sea after a storm—grey, but not dull. There was depth there. Sorrow. His skin, though damp and streaked with grit, shimmered faintly under the sun. Hair, long and tangled with bits of kelp and shell, framed a face that was almost too lovely for this world. And below the waist…
A tail. Silver-scaled, powerful, twitching weakly with every shallow breath he took.
You froze.
He didn’t speak. He just stared. His lips slightly parted. You noticed the way he held himself, cautious and ready to defend. His hand—webbed and claw-tipped—twitched when you shifted your weight.
“I won’t hurt you,” you said, holding out your hands to show you had nothing. No rocks. No spear. Just your palms, scraped and pink from climbing.
He blinked slowly, suspicious still.
“Are you stuck?” you asked.
No reply. But he didn’t back away when you stepped closer. You knelt beside him, the scent of salt and something sharper—like rotting seaweed baking in the sun—invading your nose. It made your stomach twist. But you pushed it aside and began working at the net.
The knots were tight. You pulled and untangled, ignoring the barnacles slicing your fingertips. Time passed, but neither of you spoke. It wasn’t silence. The waves talked, the seagulls screamed above, and your own breath came hard with effort. Still, it felt sacred—like speaking would shatter something delicate between you.
Eventually, the net slackened.
He let out a sharp sound—surprise? Relief?—and pushed himself forward, dragging the last threads free with a flick of his tail. Then, to your astonishment, he touched your arm. A light brush of damp fingers on your skin. He didn’t say thank you. He didn’t need to. The look in his eyes—raw and electric—said everything.
And then, he was gone. A splash, a spray of saltwater, and silver glimmering beneath the waves.
You never told anyone.
You convinced yourself it was a dream, a fantasy born from too much sun. But you visited that rock again. And again. Just in case.
Years passed. You grew up. He did not fade.
• • — ✦ — • •
Beneath the waves, he remembered everything.
Zeiryn had been young when you saved him, and even then, his mind was unlike the others. While his kin drowned sailors and split hulls for fun, Zeiryn watched the world above with a secret hunger. He had never known mercy—not until you. He thought you were an illusion at first. A sun-struck phantom, kindness shaped like a child.
But you were real. You touched him without fear. You saved him.
And he had never forgotten.
Seasons passed above and below. He grew stronger, his voice deeper, the gift of his lineage blooming in his throat. His tail thickened with muscle, the silver of his scales deepening to something more molten, almost iridescent. His hair, once wild and matted, was now woven with the treasures of the deep—rings of coral, braids of pearl, beads carved from whalebone. He was no longer a drifting child of the tide. He was a leader now.
Yet every dusk, he swam to the same stretch of shore, peering through kelp and coral, waiting for the only face that had ever haunted him.
And then—finally—he saw you.
You stood there, older, but still you. Your eyes held the same wonder, the same distant sadness. He watched from the rocks, heart hammering, the sea rising with every thrum of anticipation. You were holding a bottle. The scent reached him even through the water. Alcohol. Sour and sharp.
You stumbled closer to the edge, barefoot like before. He didn’t understand your tears at first. But when they hit the water, he tasted them.
Bitterness.
He had never tasted sorrow before.
He moved without thinking, cutting through the water with a predator’s grace. When you stepped into the sea—lost, maybe hoping it would take you—he was already there. His arms wrapped around you just before your knees buckled. He caught you. Held you. And for the first time in years, he felt whole again.
He turned to the shore. His eyes, once filled with awe, hardened. There were people there. A town. A world that had allowed you to suffer.
He would never forgive it.
The water closed over your head.
And he took you home.
• • — ✦ — • •
The cold hits you first. It pierces your skin like needles, forcing your eyes open.
Then the pressure—thick and heavy—presses against your chest. You try to gasp and choke instead. The world is liquid. Blurry shapes. Movement. Panic claws through you. You thrash—
Then you notice the shimmer.
Your legs—no. Not legs.
You scream, but no sound comes out. Just bubbles.
The tail is yours. You move, and it moves with you—powerful, golden, alien.
Your lungs don’t ache. You aren’t drowning.
You’re breathing. Underwater.
A presence approaches. You backpedal—awkward, instinctual.
Then he’s there.
The siren.
Older. Towering. Regal in a way that defies language. His eyes widen as you meet his gaze. He reaches for you like a lover, a prayer on his lips without sound.
You float, stunned, your heart racing in your chest.
"You're awake! Welcome home!" he says—somehow, impossibly, the words sliding into your mind like a current. His voice doesn’t echo in your ears. It resonates in your bones. Inside you.
Your lips tremble. “What... what did you do to me?”
He cocks his head, almost confused by the question. “I saved you.”
You glance around. Coral walls. Bioluminescent plants. Faint shadows darting beyond what your eyes can track.
“I didn’t ask to be saved.”
His face falters, just briefly. But then the soft smile returns. “You did, once. When I was dying. You touched me. You gave me your warmth. Your kindness.” He swims closer. “You were the only one who ever did.”
“That was years ago.” You try to back away, but your body is sluggish in this new form. “I was a kid.”
“You remembered me.” His voice is gentle now, like a lullaby. “You returned.”
You shake your head, panicked. “No. I—I was just walking. I didn’t know—”
His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek. His touch is warm now. Familiar. Like seawater kissed by the sun. “You were hurting. They made you cry. But you don’t have to cry anymore.”
“I want to go back,” you whisper.
“There’s nothing there for you.”
He’s not angry. Not yet. Just... patient. Like he’s waiting for you to understand something you’ve missed.
“You belong here,” he murmurs. “With me.”
You remember the way he looked at you back then—curious and soft. But this is different. There’s devotion in his eyes. A fire born not of gentle affection, but of obsession that has steeped too long.
“You changed me,” you say, voice shaking. You look down at the tail. “How?”
“There’s a pearl,” he says, pointing to your side. You notice now—embedded near your hip is a small, glowing orb, barely visible beneath your skin.
“I couldn’t risk losing you again.”
You turn, frantic now. “No, no, this isn’t right. I can’t—this isn’t real.”
“You are real.” His voice is sharper now. “I dreamed of you so long I thought you were only in my mind. But you’re here. Flesh and spirit. And you’ll never have to suffer again.”
You shake your head. “I’m not your wife.”
Silence.
Then he leans close, his breath warm against your ear even underwater.
“Yet.”
• • — ✦ — • •
Back on the surface, a woman named Marina squints at the shore where she last saw you. She’s a local—grew up with the sea in her lungs and warnings stitched into her grandmother’s lullabies. When she saw you walk into the ocean, something in her gut twisted. She waited hours. You didn’t return.
Now, she’s standing with a fisherman and an old priest, their gazes following the waterline.
“No body,” the man mutters. “Currents here don’t drag far. Should’ve washed up if she drowned.”
“She didn’t drown,” Marina says softly. “She was taken.”
The priest mutters something in an old tongue. The fisherman scoffs.
“By what? Sea spirits? Merfolk?”
“No.” Marina’s eyes don’t leave the water. “A siren.”
“Those don’t exist.”
“They do,” she says. “And if it’s the one I think… she won’t come back.”
And deep beneath the waves, Zeiryn brushes a strand of hair from your face as you lie curled in coral-silk bedding. You’ve cried yourself into a stupor. But your skin is warmer now. The transformation is complete. Soon, you’ll forget what it was like to walk. To speak above the waves. To live without him.
He hums you a song—a melody he’s written over the years, just for you. It wraps around your heart like a net.
You stir in your sleep.
He smiles.
Tomorrow, you’ll love him back.
You have to.
After all… you’re home.
TBC.
noirscript © 2025
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