Archive of Our Own

The full moon was powerful.

Chan didn’t need to swim up to the surface to know that. She knew it from the tug in her chest, from her scales and skin pulsing with a brighter luminescence than usual, and the gaping hunger that burrowed deep in her stomach.

That hunger would be satisfied tonight, during the hunt with her siren pod.

Chan sped up to catch up to them, torpedoing through their formation with all her speed and might. Through the chaos, the five of them paused on their path and swam aside to avoid the collision. Seokmin and Jihoon found it funny, Seungkwan far less so. She made that clear with grumbled protests Chan half-listened to.

“Someone’s excited.” Jeonghan’s sharp, pearlescent teeth grinned.

Chan smiled with her own sharpness. “Excited to eat more than Kwannie this time!”

Seungkwan laughed so hard she flipped upside down on her back to clutch at her stomach, then swam up to Chan to pinch her cheeks. “Your dreams… so cute,” she simpered.

Chan swatted her hand away in annoyance. “I’ll make sure you eat your words, too.”

Seungkwan clicked. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Placing her arm around Chan’s shoulder, Jisoo came to her defense. “She’s been getting better with every moon cycle, isn't that right?”

“And yet better doesn’t mean better than me, isn’t that right?” said Seungkwan with a press of her webbed finger on Chan’s nose.

Affronted, she pushed her chest against a laughing Seungkwan. It wasn’t long until they were both wrestling and chasing each other, a common enough routine for the pod at that point. Especially on nights before a hunt, their energy was more restless, giddy and playful with anticipation.

For many turns of the tide, Chan was a solitary creature. She loved the freedom of following her own whims and desires, often flitting between pods and schools as she saw fit. Boredom typically meant she didn’t stay with a group for very long, but that changed once she met the sirens.

It was a simple challenge: if she could keep up, she could stay. Chan being Chan was never one to turn down a challenge. What’s more, sirens were rare and new ones were even rarer. Chan was determined to be the one.

The Voice was a skill that needed to be honed and sharpened much like a weapon. Either a mermaid had a natural affinity toward the skill or they didn’t; even if they did, they had to learn how to use it, and very few were willing to share their knowledge. Chan would later come to learn that Jihoon warmed up to her fast, and was welcoming and helpful because she saw her potential. The knowledge of that potential was enough for her to push through.

Her first hunt proved her worth. She did it. The thrill and the reward of the kill was like nothing she’d ever felt before then. While her diet hadn’t turned away from fish entirely, it became hard to be satisfied with that alone when she learned the taste of better, stronger meat.

And what initially started out as proving to herself and her pod that she could keep up eventually turned into an anchor. A home base. Now, she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

So even if Seungkwan was the more experienced siren between them, that didn’t mean Chan was going to give up their competition or stop goading her in the process. Besides, she made it so easy.

It’s a new night and a new hunt. Chan had to do better than she’s ever done before.

The passing shadow of a pirate ship caught the pod’s attention. Without a glance, all six of them breached the surface together and formed themselves into a ring of sound. Up here, Chan basked in the light of the full moon and craned her neck up to catch the light. The moon sung within them, hummed within their bones an ache and longing that felt a lot like hunger— a gaping emptiness that begged to be filled.

Jihoon’s first lesson consisted of a single current: sound must be felt, revered, and hearkened before it could be harnessed. Pay close attention, listen. The song was not her own, it was all of theirs to be shared, rising from the ebb and flow of crashing waves and the moon’s call; it rose in their bodies, a melody pulled from her throat in perfect harmony with her pod, the sea, and their luminous center.

In the near-distance, their song was cut off. The pirates on the ship began to howl and jeer at them upon noticing the six of them out in the open, illuminated by the glow on their skin and tails. How annoying.

Chan eyed the men whistling at them to come closer with disgust. As if that would work. In their wild desperation, some of them leaned their bodies over the ledge. It would be so easy to draw them out this way, sing their enchantments to make them jump right then and there, and get this over with, but that wasn’t as fun.

After exchanging a wry glance with the other sirens, they nodded in silent agreement and opened their mouths. This time, a soft, silvery chant tumbled from their lips. The Voice glazed the pirates’ eyes over and quieted their raucous heckling. The Voice whispered a spell in their minds: come, follow us, join us.

And thus, with a last wink in their prey’s direction, the sirens sunk beneath the water, and lighted the way to their deathbed.

𓈒𓏸‪‪ 𓇼 𓏸‪‪𓈒

Sirens, like any other aquatic creature, had strict feeding and hunting patterns. For as long as Chan joined the pod, and perhaps far before that, this large grotto had been their preferred hunting ground.

Here, The Voice echoed with a deep, hypnotic resonance. Here, the power of The Voice magnified. Here, there is only one way in and no living human had made their way out.

Settled against the rock formation, the six sirens continued their vocalizations and waited for a breach of light. In a few more heartbeats, the first lantern appeared, then another, and another, bathing the grotto in an amber glow.

In the midst of their enchantment, the pirates had sorted themselves into five rowboats, each with one man lighting the way inside the grotto.

Chan swam up to the first rowboat and fixed her eyes on one of the pirates. Through the glow of his lantern, she could see his face was striking. His wide, brown eyes stared at her like glittering sunlight on the sea.

Perfect.

Unlike the others on his boat, who donned vests and long coats adorned with shiny, gaudy trinkets, this one wore a simpler ensemble—billowy sea-foam-colored linen tucked into breeches and a brass buckle. It would be less of a hassle for her to deal with, certainly.

Chan wasn’t one to care for the presentation of her food, but in this exception, her eyes and mouth could feast all the same.

She continued to sing a melodic chant which echoed the roar of the tide, sunrise’s gold, and the open, endless sky. With Chan’s focused attention on him, his thick eyebrows raised high and his mouth hung open in surprise. The other three men in his boat dove into the water, beckoned by her song, but this one—this one—

Chan scrunched her face together in frustration. What the fuck? Why wasn’t her song working on him?

Distantly, she heard Jisoo and Jeonghan tearing at skin and immediately feasting on their game. They were ruthless and quick with their feed. Chan glanced to the side, where Jihoon and Seokmin were slowly luring in pirates from the other rowboats, drawing out their vocalizations. They enjoyed escalating their song into haunting, dramatic heights, taking pleasure in the enchantment itself as much as the kill. There was Seungkwan, who unlike Chan, indulged in playing with her food, taunting victims in the water to follow her and drown in the process.

Chan’s eyes narrowed at the pirate, who still sat in the boat despite her song, who still held his lantern up staring at her, who wasn’t jumping into the water. Chan hissed at him. She bared her sharp, bloodied teeth and screeched—that, at least, jolted him into harsher breathing—before turning back to the fresh human already bobbing in the water and satiating her hunger. She ate quickly, tearing and swallowing until there was nothing left but bone and set her maw on another to feed.

When she was satisfied with two, Chan was quick to swim back to the rowboat to try her song again. The last pirate was still there. Eyes wide, chest rising and falling faster, but not moving. What’s wrong with me? I’m better than this!

Chan didn’t know how long she spent trying out different vocalizations and songs to enchant him. It didn’t matter. The end result was the same.

Satiated from their meals, her pod swam away and this fucking pirate was still here, entirely unaffected by her siren song. With determination to get to the deep sea bottom of this, Chan placed her lips on the pirate’s, breathed into his lungs the life of the ocean, and dragged him under with her.

Chan was lost in her head as she swam. What was she doing wrong? Why was she so bad at this? She turned her head to glare at the offending human who was merciless to her grip, but then saw on the pirate’s face an expression that distinctly looked like a puffer fish’s.

“What’s wrong with you?” She demanded, opening up a mental link between them.

“You…” It was really impressive how this human’s mouth could gape open like a puffer fish. Chan would know. Still, there was something cute about it, and she hated that thought as soon as it bubbled up. “I…” he spoke through his mind, uselessly, while bringing his free hand to his mouth.

“You can breathe now, yes. But only for so long,” Chan glowered, turning away so she could flick away the temptation to bite him in a different way. How was it possible to get cuteness aggression from the motion of him tapping his head? “Until I figure out what’s wrong with my voice.”

They swam in silence for a while, Chan tugging him along, when his mind spoke again. Earnestly. “You have a beautiful voice.”

She grit her teeth. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Why?”

“Because!” Chan rounded on him and he jerked in her grip at the new proximity, but only slightly. “It doesn’t do anything to you.” 

He cocked his head to the side, like he was about to argue otherwise, but Chan’s searing glare made sure he didn’t say so. Instead, his eyes trailed over her form. She knew what he was seeing. Her long, silver-white hair. The lines on her skin, the scales on her face, neck, and tail—all of it glowed blue and bright in the darkness.

She’s not cold, of course, but an instinctual shiver wracked through her. How could he look at her with a sense of clarity and sharpness that wasn’t there with the other men? Was she losing her edge?

Chan turned away once more and swam them faster to their destination. It was nice, at least, that he didn’t seem to put up much of a fight.

Eventually, they arrived at the mouth of the cave that was their home base. Seungkwan was already there at the entrance, preparing to gloat, when she took in the sight of what Chan brought. “You brought home a snack?”

“A snack?” Came Seokmin’s excited trill from afar. In an instant she was there in front of them, also looking curiously at the human and licking her lips.

Chan’s fins flared and an appropriately ugly, territorial response swept through her. “Back off, he’s mine!”

“Oh, sorry,” Seokmin apologized. “I didn’t know he wasn’t for sharing.”

Seungkwan waved it off with an eye roll. “Fine, but you still lost to me.”

“You shut up!”

Seokmin’s announcement and their following argument had slowly heralded the rest of the pod’s presence. Jihoon and Jisoo circled around the human with sharp, suspicious eyes. Even Jeonghan, prone to spend long bouts of time relaxing after a hunt, peeped her head out from the tunnel above that led to her chamber, and swam down to join them.

Seungkwan looked to Chan. “What happened back there anyway? That was a slow hunt even for you.”

“It’s him!” When she pulled his arm to and fro to emphasize this, the pirate could do nothing more but follow the motion. “I swear, something’s wrong with him and I will figure it out.”

Jeonghan crossed her arms, intrigued. “Well, what’s wrong with him?”

“The Voice doesn’t work on him!”

Jihoon flicked her ear and clicked dubiously. “That can’t be possible.”

“It is! I tried everything.”

Seokmin frowned. “Maybe you didn’t try hard enough?” She asked innocently.

“Yeah, maybe you were just bad at it,” Seungkwan added, not so innocently.

“I said, shut it!”

“Maybe Seokmin has a point,” Jisoo said, gently. “You are… newer at this. Maybe we can try—”

“No! It’s not that.” She didn’t know why, but she didn’t want them to try. He was her responsibility, for all her failure and disappointment. “If it worked the first time, he wouldn’t still be here. Look at him. Does he look like he’s been spelled to you?”

Sure enough, when Chan turned her attention back to the pirate, he appeared to have no identifiable emotion on his face despite the situation. Even the puffer fish expression was less pronounced than it was earlier.

His thoughts rang loudly in her mind, clear and confused: “What did you all say?”

Of course he wasn’t privy to their conversation, to their frequency and form of communication.

Chan wanted to be alone and take this pirate with her. She dragged him away from their attention and led him deeper into the cave, but not before clicking at them, “I’m taking him to my chamber. Leave us alone!”

Whether it was out of pity or respect, no one argued with her further. At least she had that win for the night.

𓈒𓏸‪‪ 𓇼 𓏸‪‪𓈒

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“That!” Chan pointed at his face. Frustration made her snappy, pricked her anger toward the human silently floating in front of her. “Stop looking like that.”

She didn’t know how much more she could take. From the moment she shoved the pirate into her cavern, Chan watched his placid expression take stock of her dwelling. It wasn’t anything special—decorated with strings of crystals and pearls, colored by coral and algae. A kelp garden on the floor served as her place to rest.

The only thing more disconcerting than the lucidity that remained immovable in his eyes was how it felt to have that lucidity focused on her alone. She’s not scared of him. That would be ridiculous. But it is unnerving to be faced with an anomaly she can’t control.

“Something about me upsets you, but you brought me here instead of eating me. Why?”

Chan’s laugh was humorless. Her response, bitter. “A mystery is no good when it’s too dead to interrogate.”

“I’m a mystery to you.” He sounded surprised by that. “That’s a first. I’m an open book.”

“Not open enough.” After another moment of consideration, Chan admitted her woes. “It’s our song. My song. It doesn’t work on you.”

“But it does? You really do have a beautiful voice.”

Chan screeched, her fury rising to a peak. “No! You don’t get it! If it worked, you wouldn’t be here! If it worked, you would be spelled right like all the other men on your ship!”

The pirate fell silent.

Chan would not feel remorse about lashing out at the human—why would she, anyway?—but she felt a twinge of something unpleasant, and she turned her back away from his shining gaze. Even if that meant letting go of the grip she held him in since she dragged him under.

She didn’t expect him to secure her hold on him or what he would say next.

“Could be because I’m not like all the other men. Truth be told, I’m not a man.” He sounded deathly serious, but if she searched far enough she could locate a hint of amusement in his tone. “Never felt like a woman either.”

There was a long moment of silence as Chan tried to understand. It didn’t make any sense. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a long story but...” When Chan turned back to face him, he wore a smile. Definitely amused. “I’m an open book, remember?”

Pushing past the more curious sensation in her gut, she demanded to know more. No, she needed to know everything. Some explanation for her moment of defeat.

So he told her. The human spun a tale that was direct and composed, only flowered by the occasional tangent on the matters of his heart. What Chan learned was this: he dreamt of the sea long before he dared to make a run for it.

For too long of a time pushing through discomfort, he was a seamstress who felt limited by expectations. After growing more weary and losing drive for life and all of its beauties, he finally took the chance to escape the life that was laid out for him in favor of freedom. In secret, he binded his chest, cut his hair, dressed as a man, and made a seafarer out of himself, blending in with his pirate crew.

Chan felt relief and interest take hold of her emotions as she listened. There was a possibility she wasn’t broken or a failure at all; it’s only that the enchantment wasn’t meant for him!

Noticing that Chan went quiet, the human raised his eyebrows. “What?”

Despite the wide smile breaking free on her face, she answered: “I don’t understand!”

His chuckle sounded in her mind. For some reason, she felt proud.

“I’m not easily understood,” he said, before his face shifted.

Chan knew he wasn’t spelled, but he looked like he may as well be, like when he first set eyes on her in the rowboat. How peculiar.

Suddenly, the pirate swam up much closer than she ever could’ve anticipated, and his free hand reached out, as if to touch her mouth. He stopped himself just moments before, stunned. “My stars, these are sharp.”

Chan was confused. “Thank you, I grew them myself.”

The human startled himself with his own laugh, huge bubbles swirling above them. “Ah, woe.” His eyes met hers and flicked back down to her mouth. His expression turned serious, inscrutable. “Um, I can’t breathe. Could I have another…?” He motioned between their mouths.

Chan tilted her head to the side. “Does the Deep Breath not work the same way for you, too?”

For some reason, he laughed. “Ah, strange. Guess you’ve taken my breath away.”

Question marks floated above her head. That didn’t make any sense; in fact, she gave him breath, which should last until the next day’s moon rise. She said as much to him.

“Ohh… I see. This is all new to me. Can I see how that works again?” This time, Hansol didn’t hesitate from crossing the threshold entirely and placed his hand along her jaw, his thumb grazing along her lip.

Another breath was needless, but since he had helped satiate her curiosity she thought it was only fair for her to return the favor. Once again, she placed her lips on his and parted his mouth open to breathe the deep sea into his lungs.

Unlike before, he was prepared for it, and instead of backing away, he tilted his head to deepen the seal of their mouths. His lips moved against hers in a slow, rhythmic pressure. Instead of shying away from the sharpness of her teeth, he pricked his tongue against it, flooding some of his warm blood into her mouth. The scales on her tail flared.

He pulled away. Chan didn’t realize she was lost in her head, still savoring the taste of him, until the action of him biting his lip brought her back to herself in a cold rush. “What was that?”

His smile grew shy then. “Honestly? All I wanted was to kiss you again.”

“Kiss?”

He nodded. “Humans do it when they like someone or want to show appreciation. Interest.”

Chan looked at the shape of his mouth, the warm brown lucidity in his eyes—which no longer annoyed her now that she had a clearer idea on the cause—and found she was delighted by that.

“I want to show my interest, too,” Chan declared. “I like you so I’m keeping you.”

“Yeah?” The human’s heartbeat was fast. “How do uh, sea maidens do that?”

“Well,” Chan laughed, understanding better now. “You don’t have the right form for me to do it properly.” Her hand dipped low, untucking the linen from his breeches to run a hand along his stomach. “But if you did, I would come up close to feel…” The gills on her own torso fluttered. “Your flares against mine.”

The human’s mouth hung open. Curiously, his hand reached forward so that his fingers could lightly brush against her fluttering gills. She shivered. “Or that… can do.”

His eyes met hers, dark and delighted. “There are other ways humans show interest.”

“Like what?”

With his other hand still holding onto her wrist, he pressed her hand more firmly against his stomach. “Touching, making us feel good, like you and your flares.”

“Where?” She explored the feeling of his skin, fragile and smooth. When she raked a talon beneath the dent on his stomach, the human shuddered. Chan wanted to make that reaction happen again.

“Everywhere,” he confirmed what she was already suspecting, his eyes never leaving hers. “Keep touching me. You can—”

Chan had foresight it seems, because when her attention switched to shedding his clothes, he eagerly involved himself in the process. Fabric sunk to the ocean floor at a breakneck speed. The brass buckle was the first to go, then his breeches, and the linen covering his torso. Upon removing the binding around his chest, Chan’s curious hands wandered to the hardened points there, and she grinned at the hiss that escaped between his teeth.

Of course she’s encountered the bumps and folds on a human’s body before, but it was a different experience laying her teeth on skin without intention to tear it. Or at least, not entirely. Could you blame her if she wanted a little nibble? As she continued to explore and mouth along his skin, his body squirmed. Swimming became difficult for him to focus on, for as much as he tried to hold onto her, his grip was slacking.

Chan pulled him down and pinned him against the kelp garden with all of her strength so that he couldn't get away. His chest rose with a stuttering rhythm and his eyes were like black coral, still shining like the stars. With the range of motion he did have, he urged her mouth to his again. Chan was happy to oblige.

The human body was not the most dissimilar to her now that she was looking closer. Taking an educated guess, her hand wandered to the opening between his legs. She was rewarded with another moment of lost focus, another flood of blood from his tongue into her mouth. Her dorsal fins twitched in response. Oh, she enjoyed this very much.

“Does this make you feel good?”

“Yes—ah! More,” he pleaded.

She slid down his body and replaced her hand with her sticky-rough tongue, running it along the pearl-like hardness. Chan was fascinated with deciphering the secret behind this part of his body, which jolted more erratically as she focused her attention on it. Each time she sucked and licked along the opening, she was getting closer to the truth. His thighs tensed and Chan felt a rush of immediate heat flow into her mouth.

“You released!” Chan realized.

She swam back up to look at his face. His jaw was slack and he looked at her with the starry-eyed expression she’s come to realize she liked seeing. “I… yeah. I did.” His hand reached for her face once more, stroking along the patch of scales along her cheek. It felt nice, and she leaned toward the sensation. “What feels good for you?”

“I told you about my flares.”

“You did.” His other hand returned to her fluttering gills and Chan’s tail bucked. “What else?”

“We’re not so different after all.”

“No?”

To answer, she mimicked his behavior from earlier. Chan dragged his hand over her breasts and down to the slit buried between the scales of her tail, its opening more visible now with her arousal. The pirate curled a finger in and Chan’s tail bucked again involuntarily, only this time her full weight pressed against him, urging for more.

“Fuck,” he thought, before pounding in and out of her so fast that her own release rushed out of her in an instant.

A mermaid like Chan was only getting started. Her tail writhed against him with a quick force. His face was pinched in pleasure and something about this must feel good for him too, because he clamped his legs over her tail and rubbed against her again and again.

Chan lost track of how long they remained touching and gyrating each other with increasing need. Perhaps some humans weren’t as weak as she thought. Pleasure rose and fell between them like crashing waves, powerful and enduring.

𓈒𓏸‪‪ 𓇼 𓏸‪‪𓈒

They were both floating lazily in the kelp garden, thoroughly exhausted and exhilarated all at once, when he spoke into her mind. “My name is Hansol, by the way.”

Chan blinked, realizing they had forgotten about introductions entirely. “Hansol! You can call me Chan.”

“A pleasure, Chan.” Hansol smiled and extended his hand toward her, but instead of touching her, his palm remained vertical.

Chan stared at it. Looked at his face, then back to his extended hand. With a frown, she cupped her webbed fingers and pushed the flow of water toward him.

And then Hansol had the nerve to look at her funny!

“What?”

Hansol threw his head back and laughed, bubbles flurrying everywhere around him. It was so loud she could hear a squeak akin to a dolphin’s coming from his throat.

“What?” She repeated again. “Why were you pushing water toward me?”

Hansol calmed down soon enough and his eyes twinkled. So pretty. “It’s a handshake, Chan. This is how some humans greet each other when we first meet.” He demonstrated by curling his fingers into hers and shaking her arm.

“Oh!” She gripped his hand more firmly and mimicked his example. “I think I prefer your kissing more.”

Hansol smiled wide. “You know, me too.”

Still holding his hand, she tugged him toward her until he was laughing against her mouth.

𓈒𓏸‪‪ 𓇼 𓏸‪‪𓈒

Chan couldn’t sleep. There were many reasons for this. Among them—or rather, all of them—was because of Hansol.

When he finally admitted he was tired, she encouraged him to rest with the promise that she would keep watch. Before he said a word, Chan already noticed his eyes were half-lidded and his reactions were slower.

She claimed him as her responsibility the moment she decided to drag him under; that didn’t change once she saw him in a more positive light. One could argue she felt further responsible for ensuring his safety, well-being, and even pleasure now.

And wasn’t that ironic? She thought about it some more and keeping him alive wasn’t a difficult decision to make in the end. If she had to be honest, she felt for Hansol. It had taken herself hundreds of years to find a home in her pod; it turned out that he, too, was searching his whole life for a place to feel whole. How could she steal away his opportunity to find it now when he’s only begun? She could feed elsewhere anyway.

While asleep, Chan could spend all the time in the trenches of the sea beyond admiring his face and well-adorned features. His long eyelashes, dark brows, his soft lips that she learned she enjoyed so much. The length of his body dressed in his clothes once again, barely holding onto her so he wouldn’t drift away. Chan made sure he didn’t.

There was also:

“He’s not a man, but he’s not a woman either!” Chan announced the next morning, her voice echoing loudly off the cave walls. She didn’t need to drag Hansol around anymore but his hand still stuck to her arm as she burst into the coral lounge. “That’s why my song didn’t work and why none of yours will either!”

Seungkwan rolled her eyes from where she was braiding algae into Jeonghan’s hair. “You’re still trying to figure out an excuse for your subpar hunting? Seriously?”

“It’s not an excuse if it’s the true explanation,” Chan insisted. She puffed her cheeks up. As much as she wanted to avoid this, how else would she get them to understand? “Fine! If you don’t believe me, try it.”

Jihoon, who was lounging on the floor flicking her talons against whale bones and playing a melody, snapped her head up. Of course she was most eager to rise up to the challenge. Swimming a slow circle around them, she eyed Hansol carefully. Chan barely resisted intervening, her dorsal fins twitching.

Interested, Seokmin flipped over to her stomach and kicked her tail up, resting her chin in her hands. Even Jisoo looked up from the pocket watch she was inspecting, likely looted from a pirate during the hunt.

Jihoon stopped right in front of Hansol’s face and let out a single high-pitched note, a vibrating shard of a siren song meant to draw obedience right out of his core.

Hansol’s lips rounded into a perfect, silent ‘O’ and he nodded his head, impressed. Then, a smile. “Ay, that was twanging!”

Chan laughed. Relief and excitement flooded through her, and she let go of Hansol to flip upside down in a joyful, bubbling back flip. She righted herself again by his side. If even Jihoon couldn’t spell him, that meant it really wasn’t her lack of skill.

“See? I told you all!” She cheered. “He said ay, that was twanging!”

A huge bubble of startled air escaped Jihoon’s lips and the rest of her pod broke into chaos. All of them swam up to join their circle, marveling at the discovery that was Hansol.

“How could this be?” Seokmin gasped.

Chan pondered, “It’s just Hansol. I’ve never met someone like him before. That has to mean something, right?”

“I don’t typically meet your kind,” Jisoo hummed and grinned, projecting into all their minds. “Meat, on the other hand…”

Seungkwan sighed at her comment, but Hansol laughed.

Meanwhile, Jihoon recovered from her surprise and shifted into the same curiosity Chan felt last night. She opened a channel of communication as well to press him directly. “What did you hear then if not the enchantment?”

Hansol shrugged his shoulders. “The sound was shrill but beautiful. High and bright, like a ringing bell.”

Jihoon exchanged glances with the other stunned sirens. “We need to try more songs.”

“Well, I’d love to hear them,” Hansol responded openly now that they were all communicating in a way he could understand. “You all have wonderful voices and the way you sang last night… I felt enchanted, even if it wasn’t in the way you’re hoping for.”

It suddenly occurred to Chan. “Wait, Hansol, if you weren’t actually enchanted then why did you go on the rowboat? Why didn’t you try to row away?”

“Curiosity?” In the daylight, Chan could see a light pink flush dusting his cheeks. “My crew never listened to me even before I realized they weren’t acting right. I wanted to see more. Hear more.” His smile was lopsided when he met Chan’s stare. “I don’t have the best self-preservation, if you didn’t know.”

Chan preened. How fortunate was it that he had her to look after him in the end?

𓈒𓏸‪‪ 𓇼 𓏸‪‪𓈒

The siren pod tried everything to enchant Hansol.

They started simple, with vocal stretches and calls in the deep, muffled acoustics of the cave. Still nothing. Hansol floated there entranced, even nodded vigorously once they were finished with their first song, but once again it wasn’t true enchantment; he only appreciated their song.

Fortunately for Hansol, flattery got him far on Jihoon’s good side. How marvelous was it that he could compliment their voices with completeness, accuracy, and detail without spell muddling the full effect of it?

In the middle of a third attempt at a song, a rumble started up in his belly. “I’m starving,” Hansol admitted.

For the first time since Chan dragged him under, Hansol breathed in the fresh air upon breaching the surface of the water. It was nothing short of a miracle that they came upon the ship the pirates left behind—and it hadn’t capsized!

Chan didn’t know what she was feeling when Hansol first climbed back onto the ship and disappeared from her view. Whatever the feeling was, it vanished upon Hansol’s return. He wore new, dry clothes which blew in the wind like clouds. From her vantage point, she saw him holding a dead fish and some other items she couldn’t name.

While floating on her back, Chan’s eyes tracked Hansol as he coaxed a small flame to life. The smoke smelled terrible. But when he turned around, brows furrowed, and smiled the moment his eyes landed on Chan, smell was the last thing on her mind.

As Hansol prepared his meal and ate, the other sirens surfaced beside her. They all started up a new song which drifted up into the sky. It was much like the soaring melody they sung the previous night, though it lacked the full force of the moon in its undercurrent.

On deck, Hansol stood still. His face told a different story. A soft, genuine smile broke free across his sun-warmed face as he listened to them. For a moment, every siren forgot about their original intent and simply had fun basking in Hansol’s applause.

In the weeks that followed, Hansol’s applause became a motif and a wondrous accompaniment to each of their songs. The pod threw everything they had at him—ancient melodies, tunes of absolute lust, and the most complex choral rounds Jihoon had ever tried to create in her entire long life. They tried it below the sea, above water, and most commonly, in the echoing grotto.

Through it all, Hansol listened closely and remained immune to the siren song. But just because he wasn’t enchanted didn’t mean he wasn’t affected. The pod grew to love and anticipate his reactions, how their songs could draw sadness, a stirring in Hansol’s chest he found difficult to describe, pure admiration and joy.

For sirens like Seungkwan and Seokmin, they delighted in being able to influence such emotions even without magic, while the others viewed Hansol with incessant intrigue.

In the cave, they gathered and discussed their observations.

“It’s a fascinating flaw our magic has never accounted for,” Jihoon mused.

“What Hansol said about not being like the other men we’ve enchanted before may have merit after all,” Jeonghan hypothesized. She had never been more excited to solve a mystery. “The siren song targets the binary frequency of survival, desire… Hansol clearly doesn’t fit that. No offense.”

“True,” said Hansol with a shrug.

Chan asked, “So what does it mean?”

“It means there’s nothing we can do for now,” Jihoon said. “Humans are changing. Now we know there are boundaries to our abilities. Hansol could be the first of many like his kind, so it’s something we have to take note of. But isn’t it great, to understand our greatness?”

Hansol became a permanent, intriguing fixture by Chan’s side, who was no longer a mystery but someone they could rely on to give welcome feedback and praise. While Chan was pleased that he, in essence, seemed to become a part of the pod, the feeling she couldn’t figure out around him grew. It couldn’t be fear, she wasn’t afraid of him and never was, so why did her gills pump fast every now and then when she looked at him?

Most of the time they spent time in her cavern, but lately—like now—they split time in the grotto because there was no better place for Hansol to hear her voice clearly.

Hansol laid against a rock, eyeing her with open adoration and calm, and Chan felt like her heart was breaking. She knew what the feeling was.

Chan swallowed past a sudden, strange tightness in her throat. “Do you… want to go?”

“Oh.” Hansol looked around. “Right now? Well yeah, we can go back if you want.”

“No, no. That’s not what I meant.” She rested her hands between his parted thighs and looked up at him with a budding sorrow. “Do you want to go? Sail away somewhere else?”

Hansol stayed quiet for a long moment while he idly ran his fingers along her ear fins. “Not really,” he said. “I don’t know where else I could go, but that’s not your fault. I didn’t fit in at home or with the crew even when I thought it was what I wanted. Maybe I was always meant to be out of bounds, with you.” Chan’s stomach did a weird flip. “How could I leave when within your keeping it feels like freedom?”

Chan didn’t care about anything else. She surged up with the flow of the current, and Hansol met her half-way, kissing her fiercely. “You belong to me, Hansol.”

“Oh no, what ever will I do,” he said with a smirk.

She settled over his lap for a while, basking in his presence, and couldn’t believe that all along there was a part of her that was afraid Hansol would eventually leave. If she wasn’t already vibrating out of her skin and wanting to leap and soar across the waves, what Hansol did next stole her breath away.

He puckered his lips and whistled a tune—one of the siren songs Chan enjoyed singing for him the most. Chan’s heart slammed against her ribs like a trapped fish and in her panic, she dove back into the water and swam in circles to think because this was significant!

Hansol stopped his whistling in favor of letting out a startled laugh, especially as he was now completely soaked with the splash. “What are you doing?”

“Wait right here!” Chan exclaimed. “Don’t move! I’ll be right back.”

Chan swam the fastest she’d ever swam in her entire life to her cavern and back after gathering what she needed frantically, her mind-racing. To sirens, matching and returning a melody was an oath. A claim. Now she needed to do her part.

When she shot back up out of the water a moment later, Hansol looked back at her amused, though confusion was still hidden between his brows.

“Here!” Chan lifted her hands out of the water. She offered a necklace to him made of a single large pearl and coral fragments, bound together with kelp strands. “For you.”

Hansol accepted it and ran his fingers along the texture. “Wow! A rare prize!”

“Really?” Chan hung to his every word. “You like it?”

“Yeah, I do,” he smiled. “You made this yourself just now?”

“Good. I did,” Chan confirmed, smiling wider. She was so happy. “We’re married now!”

Hansol froze, the necklace dangling from his fingers. His mouth parted open, that long-familiar puffer fish expression returning again. “We’re what?”

𓈒𓏸‪‪ 𓇼 𓏸‪‪𓈒

Epilogue

When Hansol ran away, his feet a compass pointed toward the sea, he didn’t think much about what kind of adventure would await him. All he knew was that he needed to chart a new path and pirates were his best ride to find it. He couldn’t have anticipated that the sea held treasures beyond his wildest dreams.

On the ship, Hansol held a small knife in his hand and sliced a mackerel. Once the iron brazier was hot enough, he tossed it in to cook. In no time, he was digging into the warm meat.

The sound of a splash pulled him away from his food. Yes, the sea held treasures—like his life. His wife. Hansol’s mouth curled up into a soft smile.

“Want some?” He offered when he turned around and saw Chan floating in the water.

“It’s better raw.”

Hansol tossed her the other freshly caught fish and watched in fascination as she caught it with her mouth and swallowed it in one go. She pulled the bones out of her mouth and threw it behind her. Hansol couldn’t say he wasn’t a little titillated from watching her eat like that, and Chan knew it as evidenced by the grin on her face. “Thank you, but it’s not what I’m here for.”

Hansol mirrored her expression. “Of course.”

Leaving everything behind including his clothes, Hansol dove into the water and Chan’s strong arms caught him right as he plunged into the waves. Her lips immediately pressed against his to share the life of the ocean and then she dragged them both down back into the deep blue.

++++ Bonus Smut

Chan loved spending time with Hansol in the grotto. In the same way that he loved to hear her voice with a clearer resonance here, Chan indulged in the sounds Hansol made, the gasping breaths and high moans leaving his mouth when Chan licked between his folds.

Sometimes Chan couldn’t figure out what Hansol liked more. When she raked her nails over his skin, the tease of the lightest touch broke sobs between his lips, or after, like now, when she pushed sharp fingers into the soft, hot wetness that received them. So easy to break, yielding to her touch, and yet Hansol could never look away from her as if she herself hung the sun in the sky.

A broken scream cut through the sound of sea foam crashing against the rocks. It was a high tide morning, and even with the cold breeze blowing into the grotto, sweat gathered on Hansol’s temples.

He rolled his hips, pushing toward the sensation. He couldn’t get enough of her, but neither could she. What Chan gives and takes, Hansol accepted and returned in equal fervor.

Chan couldn’t help but laugh at his desperate, keening wails. It sounded so beautiful, so perfect. She may have never been able to enchant Hansol with her siren song, but lost and pliant to her touch, it’s as close as she could get to feeling of him under her spell.

“Wet,” Chan stated the obvious and Hansol’s eyes were wide, head nodding, lips bitten red. “So wet. All for me? You shouldn’t have.” She dipped her head low again, latching her mouth to the sensitive nub above her fingers pumping in and out.

That did the trick. How she loved the taste of his release, like the salt of the ocean. Hansol’s legs shook and his hand gripped tightly in her hair, but that wasn’t the end. Hansol was insatiable, wetness flooding into her mouth again. Chan drank him in, could do so until the sun set again, but for now lapped up the taste of Hansol until his voice grew hoarse, until he was itching to touch Chan in return to hear her sing with pleasure.