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Oh but there’s just something about simon who has been MIA for a good few months, maybe even a couple of years until he finally appears on your doorstep again one random day
but he’s not the simon you remembered. he’s not the same man who used to put socks on your feet whilst you slept so your toes wouldn’t get cold. or the man who would cook a completely seperate meal to his own if you didn’t like what he was having.
his eyes are empty. his touch is rough. callous even. sometimes you wake up in the night and he’s just sat in the corner of the room, staring at you through the darkness as you slept
your friends have stopped inviting you places out of fear that you’ll bring him along. his cagey erratic behaviour is not fun for them. the way his eyes flick around the room, landing on any potential threat. fingers flexing at his side, ready to grab his boot knife if needed
he scares you, but he still fucks you so good and makes sure you’re fed and warm
You're the one who taught Simon how to be soft in the first place, and once in a while you see that version of him creep through the wall that was built by whatever trauma he survived while he was missing. You never say anything when it happens, you know he's on a hair trigger these days. The times he doesn't realize he's being soft are great. Words can't explain how much you missed the little things, like the way his thumb would mindlessly trace shapes on the side of your knee while you were sat on the couch with your legs across his lap. Never in a million years did you think something so small could mean so much. When he does realize, though, he reacts almost violently. Stands up so abruptly you almost go toppling off the couch. He'd feel bad about that if he wasn't in full fight or flight mode. If he was the man he used to be. If the version of Simon you helped create hadn't been left in some dark hole in some foreign country.
If you're lucky he's just going to lock himself in one of the bathrooms for the rest of the night. Pacing until the the sun cracks the horizon the next morning. Sitting in the bath tub, staring at the wall as he comes down from the panic. You'll manage to get into the bathroom the next morning and find him there. Eyes bloodshot as he dissociates, seeing god knows what against that tiled wall. You'll be able to coax him out and into bed eventually. He apologizes just once, a single tear rolling down his cheek. That's all he's capable of anymore.
The nights that aren't lucky, he grabs his keys and disappears. You don't sleep these nights. You're the one left pacing until dawn. Some of these nights, you'll get a call from one of his teammates. He's on base. He's running the track, he's on the shooting range, he's running drills, something, ANYTHING, that helps him realize that he's still got the skills to keep himself safe.
Some of these nights you reach out to anyone and everyone you can think of. Nobodys seen him. Nobody knows where he ends up on these nights and you struggle with the thought that maybe he'll end up doing something he really can't come back from this time. The first few times this happened you spend the entire night panicking. Screaming, crying, throwing up, damn near ending up in the hospital because you can't bear the thought of losing him AGAIN. After a while you become somewhat numb to it. Settling for pacing the living room all night, checking out the window for his truck or his bike. Sometimes he stays gone for days at a time. You don't sleep. You don't eat. You just wait. And wait. And wait. He always comes home eventually, both of you now worse for wear. He pulls you into a crushing hug and both of you end up sleeping like the dead for several days afterward. The way he fucks you after that, it's like he's fighting his demons back into whatever cage he keeps them in inside his head. It's rough, it's messy, it's so good you forget how much you suffered while he was gone. You end up bruised and sore, but you're both put back together as well as you can be these days, and you know it'll be a while before he has an episode like that again. He never apologizes after these episodes. You know he's sorry anyway. It never gets brought up again. You go back to living life as normally as possible, which is to say, barely normal at all. He jumps at shadows, you pretend not to notice. Eventually the cycle will repeat.
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♯┆ Your body slowly bagan to crumble despite Rafayels best efforts. You learn what exactly he is and he makes a decision that will change your lives forever.
The sun had long since crept over the horizon, peeling away the last remnants of the storm with a soft, indifferent glow. The sky stretched open above you, pale and cloud streaked, promising a warmth it never delivered. Each minute dragged its heels, leaving you stranded in your own skin. Raw and blistered and beginning to ache in places you didn’t know could hurt. But he hadn’t come back.
You’d stopped glancing towards the waves at the second hour. The sound of the waves brushing against the rocks had grown intolerable - mocking in its constancy, how it refused to change no matter how desperate you felt. The rock formation beneath you had lost any hint of mystery or mercy. It was just hard now. And hot. And sharp in all the wrong places.
Your legs refused to hold your own weight again when you tried. The pain came first, sharp and blistering like a scream in your nerves - and then the nausea, rising steadily as your vision started to blur around the edges. The seaweed he’d wrapped around your injured leg was dry and brittle now, its faint green edges shriveled under the sun. What little salt clung to it had leeched into your skin, into your mouth, into everything. You picked at it earlier, chewing absently but the taste was unbearable. You spat it out, but the salt only made the thirst worse.
Your tongue felt thick now, lips cracked when you tried to lick them. And your thoughts that were once sharp with fear had begun to soften around the edges, unraveling into quiet panic.
He had left.
The idea took root in your mind and festered. Maybe he'd meant to kill you and changed his mind. Maybe your tears had bored him. Or maybe he’d grown tired of the game, of your revulsion and your refusal to eat the fish was his last straw. You weren’t sure if you were a burden or a failure, but you were starting to believe that you were both. A mistake not worth repeating.
The sun rose higher and your arms trembled when you tried to sit upright again. Every part of you ached - Your skin stung from where the salt had dried up against it, your throat burned like sandpaper and somewhere inside, a dull ache pulsed - not quite hunger, not quite grief. It was something in between.
You rested your cheek against the stone, willing yourself not to cry. Tears were a luxury your body couldn’t afford anymore.
Still no sign of him.
The sun had vanished without a trace, its final light swallowed by the sea like everything else. In its place, the world turned cold again, but not the violent cold of the storm - this was the quiet kind, seeping into your skin inch by inch until even your bones felt waterlogged. The clouds that once cloaked the sky were gone now too, torn apart and forgotten, leaving the sky wide open above you.
You didn’t know how much time had passed since you stopped trying to sit up. Minutes, hours... There was no difference anymore. Your limbs had grown heavier with each breath, the ache in your body dulling into a distant hum, the one you don’t even flinch at anymore. You had run out of food sometime that noon, and the seaweed’s lingering salt had only made things worse. Your mouth was dry enough to sting when you swallowed, tongue thick and clumsy behind cracked lips. Even blinking felt like too much work.
It took everything that you had left to shift onto your back. The movement sent a hot ripple of pain through your leg and ribs, and for a moment you weren’t sure if the ringing in your ears was your pulse or the ocean. But once you were there - flat on your back, staring up into the dark - it became easier to let your body go quiet again. The stone beneath you was uneven, slick with water and salt, but you welcomed its indifference. At least it was solid.
Above you, the sky stretched wide and endless, black velvet stitched with stars. They had come in full, scattered like frost across the dark, their light distant and cold, but still so achingly beautiful. Without the storm clouds, there was nothing to hide them and for the first time in what felt like forever, you could see clearly. The constellations blurred in your vision, but you didn’t need to name them. Just knowing they were there was enough for now.
You lay there breathing shallowly, watching the sky as if it might offer you some kind of answer, some final comfort. And despite everything, you felt a strange kind of peace settle over you. Not safety or hope, just peace. A quiet acceptance that maybe this was it.
You thought of your childhood, the lull of your mothers voice humming through the house, the way your father’s hands had felt when he lifted you too high and you laughed until you cried. You thought of warm beds and how your grandparents always tucked you in after that day, of books you never finished and conversations that ended too soon. You surely hadn’t lived a remarkable life, but you lived one that was so undoubtedly yours.
And if this was the end, maybe this wasn’t such a terrible place to go. Not to drown in panic or flames on the ship, not to fade away in the corner of a hospital room, but here - beneath this sky and surrounded by nothing but the sea and stars. The thought made you smile faintly, even if your lips split with the effort.
You didn’t want to die. You still clung onto the ache of survival, to the small part of yourself that still whispered maybe. Maybe someone would come. Maybe you’d make it another day. But that voice way getting quieter by the minute, and as your eyes drifted shut again, you stopped fighting the weight of your own body.
If this was how it ended, at least it ended peacefully and underneath the stars.
A soft splash nearby broke the silence.
You couldn’t even flinch, but your eyes opened just enough to see the water shift. The sound hadn't been violent or urgent enough to ripple across the silence like a breath held too long. You blinked slowly, your mind too hazy to form words, but somewhere deep in your gut, you already knew that it was him.
He didn’t announce himself with a grand entrance, not a single word muttered when he surfaced at the rock formation. The water peeled back like it welcomed him home as he stared you down for a moment, studying your features with interest. When he reached the edge of the rocks, he didn't climb up this time. Instead, he lifted one arm and held something out toward you.
A hollowed conch, its pinkish, spiraled rings glinted in the moonlight. Inside it sloshed with water - clear, fresh and precious.
Your lips parted on instinct, your throat already tightening at the sound of the water moving, but you hesitated. There was no reason to trust him, not really. You didn't even know why he was here, why he’d came back or what he expected in return - but still, he came back
Your gaze trailed up from the conch to his arm where scratches and bruises painted the skin like careless brushstrokes. A deeper cut across the side of his shoulder still bled, the blood seeped into the ocean like red ink on paper. He didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t flinch or wince. He only climbed up then, pulling himself from the sea in one smooth motion and settling onto the rock not too far from you.
It was the first time he had ever fully emerged from the water, the first time the moon gave you permission to fully look at him, which you did.
His torso was sculpted and lean, carved with lines that didn’t seem to follow human symmetry. There was something off about the way he moved, the way his skin shimmered under the moonlight, just like oil over glass, And then your eyes dropped lower, to where his tail began.
It was long with iridescent scales that caught the light with every small shift, not in a rainbow glow sort of way, but something colder - Opalescent, but it felt wrong. The tail curled around the edge of the rock, the fins at the end twitching slightly with each ripple of sea breeze. It was inhuman, beautiful and grotesque all at once, but he didn't try to hide it. There was no shame in the way he stretched it, as though inviting your gaze. He knew what he was - and he was proud of it.
You sat up just enough to rest on your elbow, wincing at the pull in your ribs, your gaze flickering between the conch and his face. Still, he said nothing. He didn’t urge you as he patiently held it out for you, watching you with curiosity because you didn’t reach out right away.
"Whats the price?" you rasped, voice dry and almost too soft to hear.
Rafayel tilted his head at your question, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He looked almost amused.
"There isn't one. It's a gift." he eventually said with a low and even voice, urging the conch more towards you.
That wasn't exactly comforting, knowing you'd owe him something after. But his tone lacked malice. Just like before, there was only that odd mix of interest and something harder to place. He didn't pity you - Sirens didn't understand pity after all. But there was a certain focus in the way he watched you, like this was all part of some experiment that he hadn't figured out yet.
You eventually reached for the conch, your fingers brushing against the edge of the shell. It was colder than you expected and the water inside sloshed again and this time you didn't pull back. You hand shook as you brought the conch to your lips to drink the sweet, cold water within.
The taste hit you instantly, earthy and a little bit briny, but unmistakably fresh. It slid down your throat like salvation and your body responded before your brain could catch up, your chest hitching in relief. Your shoulders sagged as you finished it, your eyes fluttering closed for just a moment.
When you opened them again, he was still watching. His tail shifted silently in the water, fins stirring up the surface with idle movement. You wondered how long he'd been gone, how far he went, just to bring you that water. Although, the wounds all over his body told you more than enough.
"Why did you come back?" you asked quieter this time. The weight of the night and the stars still burning cold above, seemed to press the question further into the air.
He looked away, out towards the water as his expression shifted into something unreadable. "Curiosity," he said eventually, almost bored. "You're... Strange." He didn't mean it insulting, but it was the truth. Humans were strange in his eyes.
You let out a soft laugh, weak but genuine. "Thanks. You too."
After that, a moment of silence followed but his posture remained relaxed, the line of his tail glinting softly underneath the moonlight. Still, nothing about him looked casual. He studied you like a puzzle, and maybe you were just that to him - fragile and strange, needing things like food, warmth and words to feel whole.
"What exactly are you?" you spoke up again, your voice rough but steadier now. "You're not... not like in the fairytales. Not like the mermaids in books." You pointed out and he almost laughed at the pathetic comparison to a mermaid.
Rafayel only tilted his head slightly, not even looking at you.
"No," he said quietly, "I'm not." he thought that you probably wished he would be one - kindhearted and gentle but his nature is everything but.
You blinked, frowning as your brows furrowed and you leaned just a little closer. "But then why did you help me? Twice at that. Why bring me water and keep me alive?" You questioned, needing to understand him better.
A pause stretched between you like tension in a wire. His mouth tugged into something like a smirk, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Maybe I'm bored," he offered, his tone light and almost mocking. "Or maybe I like watching you suffer." His words lacked any and all bite so you didn't rise to the bait.
You simply stared at him for a long moment, letting the silence build up again before you spoke. "You're lonely."
That made something shift. The faint amusement drained from his face within a fraction of a second, not completely but enough to notice. Rafayel scoffed, eyes flicking away as though the horizon has suddenly become far more interesting. "I'm not." He mumbled and it reminded you of a child, pouting and with their arms crossed.
"You'd rather spend your time here," you pressed with a softer voice. "With me. A human. That doesn't strike me as someone with places to be and a family to take care of."
His jaw tensed slightly. "You assume too much." was all he said, cold and sharp.
You only hummed at first but decided to speak anyways "Maybe... But it don't think I'm wrong."
He didn't answer to that, his gaze didn't return to you either, eyes staying locked at the waves as the hair tugged at his damp hair strands. The only sound for a while was the soft lapping of the sea against stone and something in your chest ached with how clearly he refused to admit the truth.
A noise in the distance startled you. It wasn't close but it broke through the quiet like a crack in glass. A second sound followed only a few moments later, farther away but louder. Your heart lurched in your chest, instinct gripping tight and unthinking as your body shifted towards him. You didn't even realize that you had moved until the side of your arm nearly brushed his.
Rafayel looked down at you, eyes narrowed - not in anger, but in curiosity. Yet, you didn't move away from him.
"It's just whales," he murmured, bored but not unkind. "Hunting probably. Nothing to fear." He reassured you, amused by your fear to everything that was so normal to him.
You swallowed, your mouth dry again despite the water. "I didn't think whales would be this... loud." You admit and felt the heat rush to your cheeks at how stupid you must sound to him.
A strange hush settled over the rocks again. The kind that felt oddly safe, like the breath you hold when something terrifying passes by. The kind that follows a storm but precedes another kind of danger - quieter, slower.
You weren't sure what it meant, this closeness and the eerie comfort you found in his presence. But for now you were still alive and he let you look for protection in him, or at least you thought so since he hadn't moved away.
You didn't speak for a long while after that. The waves lapped in lazy strokes at the rock while the sky hung low above you. Rafayel still sat nearby and you could tell that his shoulders were still tense, figuring it must be the pain causing his muscles to react. Some of cuts on his arms and torso still trickled with fresh blood but he didn't seem to mind it. The air between you had shifted into something less guarded, yet more aware as if the silence itself was listening.
You really didn't want to break it but you were too tired, too exhausted to keep anything in.
"I'm scared to fall asleep." You admitted in a hushed voice. "Feels like I won't wake up again."
The words escaped before you could think better of them, but they hung there now, clinging to the dusk with too much honesty. You didn't look at him, didn't dare to, although you knew that he heard you.
Your lips cracked as you spoke again, the words once again barely more than a whisper. "It's stupid, I know. But I feel like that if I close my eyes, that'll be it. I'll just... disappear." You allowed yourself to be vulnerable. There was nothing left to lose after all.
For a moment Rafayel thought about it, weighed words on his tongue but decided to swallow them down. Without any warning he began to hum. The sound was low and seeped inside your body like smoke filtering through cracks. It wasn't a melody exactly, not at first, just a thread of tones curling beneath your skin, slow and dense like the sea pressing in from all sides. You startled slightly, your body recognizing before your mind caught up.
The fear that had been coiled so tightly inside your chest began to unwind, piece by piece. Your limbs, which moments ago felt on the edge of panic, now grew heavy. Your thoughts dulled into something soft, each breath growing more shallow than the last, more rhythm than will. You tried to resist, you truly did. But it was like being pulled into warm water after drowning in cold.
The realization hit as your head slumped against your forearm and the world was quiet. He's a siren.
Rafayel watched you. The gentle rise and fall of your chest, breath steadied beneath his song, your lashes damp with salt water or tears - he couldn't tell. He didn't touch you, as much as he wanted to let his curiosity take over. Your body leaned towards the sound on its own. You'd folded into the music as though it had called you from the beginning, resting right next to him.
He didn't sing for your sake, not entirely at least.
He had needed the quiet. Needed your mind to stop spinning in circles of need, panic and pain, because he didn't know how to answer any of it. He didn't know how to keep you alive. Didn't know what you were to him - only that something about your presence soothed a hollow in him that he learned to ignore in all the time it festered.
You shivered in your slumber and the sight of it stirred something inside his chest. He knew, with a creeping ache, that his body couldn't help you. His touch would chill more than it would comfort, and there was no fire to warn you here either. You were breaking down slowly, minute by minute, under the weight of exhaustion, fear and your surroundings. And the only way to help you, was to take you back. The idea clawed at him and stung more than any of his wounds could.
He could already see how your feet stumbled into the surf, your hand braced on some foreign stone and your body melting back into the crowd of your kind. Your face would no longer be turned to the sea, your voice no longer speaking to him. And he hated the idea of never seeing you again, although he didn't knew why.
The sea had always been enough for him. At least that's what he told himself for years after the pod cast him out. He wasn't weak, nor did he need anyone, least of all a fragile human. But lately, that lie has started to crumble and now that you were here, he wanted to hold onto something, anything really to fill this hole inside of him.
Rafayel had shifted, the scales of his tail shimmering softly in the moonlight, luminous and flawlessly. He leaned forwards ever so slightly, just enough to hover a hand over your face, his fingers suspended in the air as if he's torn between waking you up and keeping the moment intact. His palm never touched your skin, but his breath caught when you curled tighter at the cold of it, another shiver rippling through your body.
You wouldn't last much longer and he knew it. Of course he didn't want you to die, but more than that - he didn't want you to leave.
His voice was barely a murmur, rough at the edges and filled with disdain, like he couldn't quite believe the words as they passed his lips.
"I'll take you back tomorrow."
The admission tasted bitter on his tongue. But even as he said it, his mind was already turning. He'd take you back to the shore if he must, let your feet touch land and make you feel safe. But you wouldn't stay there. Not now that he had found you. He'd lost you once before and the ocean returned you to him, but now he refuses to let you leave.
If you wouldn't return on your own, he'd make sure you did. One way or another...
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"i hope death is like being carried to your bedroom when you were a child & fell asleep on the couch during a family party. i hope you can hear the laughter from the next room"
She was an American in a fanfic written by someone British; I was a Brit in a fanfic written by someone American. She came to me and said "will you help me with my maths? I need to get a good grade to stay on the American football team"; I told her "I'll bloody well help you parse math".
Apparently my stepdad and I are fucking psychically linked because ?? every single time he makes chili for dinner I get a migraine. Without fail. And it became like a ha ha running joke because it happened so many times but now I’m living 3 hours away from my parents and I just texted my mom and
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You're a six foot Sylus main and sad because MC stops at his chest? Guess what? He is actually seven foot one and you also stop at his chest.
You're bigger and worried Zayne's shirts won't be baggy when you put them on?
Yes they do fit. And you drown in that shit like a toddler putting on their parents clothes.
Caleb can lift you. Like it's nothing. Dude's evol is gravity don't you dare come here quoting weight.
Oh wait... you're spending money money on the game? Then they are exactly what the fuck you say they are! Canon be damned. It's your mother fucking money!!!
Your main is whatever the fuck you say it is. Why should your delulu have limits when you're paying for it? Absolutely the fuck not. You earned that shit.
"He would never"
YES HE WOULD. AND DID.
Don't let that skinny, short heffer put pressure on you (im sorry MC you still my baby girl lmao).
Which is ironic coming from my short self but at least I got some thickness going on okay. My ass fat.
The point is, dont get sad if your body doesn't look like hers. Adjust the pixelated men's specifications to suit your needs. Infact, if you like a short king and less abs, then the sea god has a dad bod and is five foot seven and no one is allowed to tell you otherwise. Not even Infold. Not on your dime honey.
You think they'd be better as women?
Ok then your AU is deepspace fluctuations and they all become mommy.
Reality is already pressure. We are not gonna do that in the fictional world too. Nuh-uh. You're already obsessed with a fictional dude, don't suddenly hop off the delulu train now. Commit to that shit.
tangentwithtanner
andulkaphoto
gummygunk
2087
ellievsbear
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
