being in my brain right now is like being in a tank that is constantly filling with water and the only way to drain the water to make sure u dont drown is to play zelda
I need to write an AU where Obi-Wan works at Dex's diner maybe during the Imperial era and Clark Kenting it. Shaved his beard and wears glasses or some other low level cosmetic thing.
Patron: wow has anyone ever told you that you look like Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi?
Obi-Wan: oh yes, after betraying the Republic I got hired at a diner in cocotown since it was the only job I could get after becoming an enemy of the state. I'm afraid I'll have to beg for your silence on the matter.
Patron: haha can you imagine? Anyway I'll have the shake and fries.
⭐
Clone Trooper: hey doesn't that guy look like General Kenobi?
Clone Trooper Buddy: no he looks completely different. He has no facial hair, he has glasses, he has tattoos. General didn't look like that.
Third Clone Troopers: it's so hard to tell them apart.
Clone Trooper Buddy: besides with the amount of businesses that legally are allowed not to serve us you think the one that had General Kenobi working for them would let us in?
Clone Trooper: ugh good point.
Regular: Ben is nice Dex, but he's kind of clumsy. (Winces as a bunch of plates shatter in background)
Stormtroopers on leave tense and look over at the middle aged man profusely apologising, they turn back to their nerfburgers.
Dex: Ben means well and he's got a kid to look after you know? Besides he's gotten way better than he was before!
CRASH
Stormtrooper: do you know how hard it is to get space mustard off armour!?
Ben: I am so sorry 😭 please let me help you.
Regular: you're a good guy Dex (shakes head)
Later:
Dex: pal you gotta bring it down with the clumsy act. I can't afford this many dishes.
'Ben': you're only mad you didn't see their faces.
Dex: well that's also true. Steal anything good?
Ben: copied a few passcodes. They were gossiping about their next station. I'll put it on a drive and you can sell it.
Dex: I'll send a copy to Organa too. Never know when it might come in handy.
Stormtrooper: I need to see your identification citizen.
'Ben' completely unconcerned: of course! Ben Kenobi (hands over very good fake id)
Stormtrooper: (stares at him) wow that's rough. Do you get hassled? You related or something?
'Ben': hassled? Oh! Perhaps a bit in the beginning, but not as much now. I thought about changing my name, but updating ID now is so complicated.
Stormtrooper: tell me about it. I got married and it was a whole thing.
'Ben': exactly! Who has the time for the line up at a Service Corscant? I find being straightforward is the best way to go about it. I'm not even related, just the same Stewjoni last name and similar build. The name is what really makes people think I look like him.
Stormtrooper: yeah I wouldn't have even thought about it. Anyway you're clear. Have a good day.
Ben: you too! 😊 (Smiles as he walks away with a bag of weapons the Stormtrooper didn't bother to check)
joshua hong has had the immense privilege of living 30 whole years without ever feeling so much as an ounce of jealousy. that is, until you come prancing into his picture-perfect life on your dumb burner account with evidence that his long-time girlfriend is cheating on him… with your boyfriend.
as he gets tangled in your chaotic plan to get back at your adulterous partners, he begins to wonder if this growing discomfort in his chest was ever even heartbreak to begin with, or if it’s something entirely new to him—something that has the ability to eat him alive from the inside out.
♫ get him back! olivia rodrigo ⟡ hot girl bummer blackbear ⟡ lackin’ denise julia ⟡ is this love xg ⟡ why can’t i? liz phair
pairing: joshua x fem!reader
cw: strong language, mentions of/implied sexual activity
tags: strangers to partners-in-crime to partners-PERIOD, joshua pov, pining, he fell first AND harder hehe, a few smau bits but mostly writing, no smut, inspired by get him back! by miss rodrigo, basically john tucker must die except joshua is sophia bush hehe iykyk
a/n: this was a request for jealous!shua and i’m laughing bc i started responding to this anon and said i was going to just answer with bullet points bc if i didn’t, this would turn into a whole thing. and here we are anyway… with a whole thing lol. i know he doesn't seem super jealous here, but consider the joshua x jealous arc a slow burn haha. anyway, enjoy this teaser!
dividers by cafekitsune!
cover by yours truly!
joshua's phone pings, and it’s one message from you, just a little over 24 hours since your last message went ignored.
he glances down and feels his stomach turn.
i have evidence.
an hour later, joshua and jeonghan are sprawled across the latter’s living room. when they’d seen your message, both of them had quickly and wordlessly vacated the cafe they were holed up in, gotten to jeonghan’s apartment frighteningly fast, and rifled through the series of messages you sent—all of them photos you took of your boyfriend’s phone screen.
at first, joshua was just annoyed at how hard snapchat made it to read messages; most of the ones sent by whoever your boyfriend was were deleted. he was ready to wave you off and call your “evidence” a reach. but then, he got to more damning photos—photos he was vexed jeonghan got to see too.
because they just proved his know-it-all best friend right. mina was a fucking snake.
he’s shocked at the lengths they went to to be able to communicate with each other without being caught.
but perhaps the most damning piece of evidence of them all comes last: a photo of a woman’s naked back as she laid on her side in a bed—that wasn’t joshua’s or mina’s—away from the camera. it could’ve been anyone. the small tattoo at the base of her neck told joshua exactly who it was.
“so what now?” jeonghan asks, both of them still starfished on the floor and staring at the ceiling after spending several minutes furiously swiping and cussing at his screen. “let’s fill all her shampoo bottles with hair remover,” he answers his own question before joshua can even open his mouth. “oh! or we can follow her around, inevitably find this dude, and kidnap him! i’m sure this y/n person will appreciate that too!”
joshua doesn’t bother entertaining his best friend with a proper response, choosing to ignore the suggestions altogether. his mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to find the point in his relationship mina might have started straying away. has it been happening the entire time? or did she recently decide joshua wasn’t fulfilling her needs to her liking?
“… his car and it’ll probably break down and explode at some point later that week?”
he frowns, realizing jeonghan has been suggesting ridiculous things they can do to mina and your boyfriend the entire time he was contemplating his relationship. it’s his first time getting cheated on, but he isn’t surprised at his best friend’s reaction to it. he’s more surprised when silence blankets over them for several long seconds before jeonghan asks:
“are you okay?” he sighs. “i know that’s a dumb question to ask. you’re obviously not going to be okay after finding out your girlfriend cheated on you.”
his frown deepens at that. it’s a fair statement. he always imagined this kind of thing would throw him into some kind of jealous rage—emotions he’s not really familiar with. rage like yours.
he wonders if he had been the one to find out about this, would he have had a meltdown the way you did? make a burner account and find you to tell you the way you did? try to find someone to commiserate with—even if it’s a stranger—the way you did?
no, probably not. he was telling the truth when he told you that all he would do is break up with mina.
and he’s incredibly confused to find that, contrary to what jeonghan is saying, he feels very okay with that. he can’t really imagine caring enough to do anything more, and he doesn’t know why. shouldn’t he care more?
if you and jeonghan were wrong about him loving mina the way he was so convinced you were, why didn’t he care more?
“joshua,” jeonghan reaches over and pokes his shoulder. “speak. you’re scaring me.”
he snorts. “i’m fine.”
“okay…” he responds slowly. “so still in shock?”
“no, i really think i’m fine,” joshua says, shaking his head at the ceiling. “i feel… normal. i guess just confused about when and why she decided to cheat.”
“you did nothing wrong. she’s just a conniving, slutty ingrate who doesn’t know that she’s throwing away the most decent man in the universe,” he assures him. “which brings me back to my initial question. what should we do now to punish said conniving, slutty ingrate?”
joshua sighs. “we’re not doing anything. i am breaking up with her as soon as she gets off work.”
jeonghan perks up, rolling over onto his stomach and crawling to him until his head appears in his line of vision. his best friend has a shit-eating smile on his face that makes him instinctively roll his eyes.
“can i be there?”
he knows he should say no. it’s an absurd request and it shouldn’t even take joshua more than a second to answer. but as he thinks about it, jeonghan continuing to smile at him like a little devil on his shoulder, he thinks it might be nice to have him there and shame mina for cheating in a way he knows he doesn’t really care to do himself.
he shrugs. “sure, why not?”
jeonghan squeals with delight, scrambling to get up. “come on, we have to make sure you look smoking hot so it hurts her twice as bad. you can borrow my leather pants.”
“leather?!” joshua repeats. “it’s the middle of summer!”
joshua texted mina to let her know he wanted to talk to her after work and he would be dropping by. she told him several times that tonight wasn’t a great time and insisted they wait until tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about her convenience, so here he is, with jeonghan practically vibrating with excitement at his side, standing outside her apartment building.
“i still think you should’ve worn the leather pants,” his best friend says, “but you look killer. she’s gonna shit herself.”
joshua recoils at the idea but thanks him anyway.
“ready?”
he sighs. “yeah, i guess. ready as i’ll—oof!”
he stumbles a few steps and right into jeonghan as someone violently shoves him, continuing to push and slap at both him and his best friend until they’re several steps away from the entrance to mina’s apartment.
“what the—”
“and what the hell are you doing here?!” a female voice shrieks.
he wants to yell at this stranger for putting her hands on him. he wants to tell her to have some manners and to get away from him. at the very least, he wants to glare at her until she shrivels up in shame and scurries away. but all ideas of even attempting to do any of that die as soon as he lays eyes on the stranger.
your instagram photos don’t really do you justice. your photos were well-taken and curated perfectly for your profile, but now that you were—for some weird reason—standing in front of joshua and jeonghan, he can confidently call your photos dirty liars. he can’t blame them, though. he has a feeling no camera in the world can capture how pretty you actually are in real life.
prettier than anyone i’ve ever dated, his intrusive thoughts remind him. prettier than mina.
“well?!” you screech when neither of them answer you, making them both flinch. you don’t notice your effect on them, though, because you’re busy frantically looking between them and the entrance of the building like you’re scared the three of you will be seen.
he knows jeonghan is thinking the same, exact thing he is because he is never rendered silent.
“i—uh,” joshua stammers for what he thinks might be the very first time in his life. “we…”
jeonghan glances at him, face twisted in amused confusion before he schools his expression and points his signature stunning smile at you. “you’re y/n! hi!”
“who the hell are you?” you turn back to them, cross your arms, and practically bark at him.
his best friend’s laugh is exaggerated and several decibels louder than it has any business being. it grates joshua’s nerves. he glares at him but jeonghan pays him no attention. “i like her,” he mutters to him before saying, “i’m jeonghan.”
“okay, jeonghan,” you spit his name like venom, obviously unimpressed, making him giggle.
joshua rolls his eyes at him and his increasing giddiness. his best friend doesn’t date often, but he shouldn’t be surprised that he enjoys this kind of vitriol. jeonghan is, at his core, attracted to the same chaos he himself is made of.
“what are you doing here?” you ask again, raising an eyebrow at joshua to make it clear you’re talking to him.
“i’m… here to break up,” he answers weakly. “with mina! i’m here to break up with… mina.”
he doesn’t know what’s come over him, but being confronted by you in person and unnervingly close in his vicinity has him forgetting how to properly communicate. the thought of blocking you was a lot easier when he had no idea if you were a real person. now, he feels like there’s no escaping you.
“what are you doing here?” jeonghan asks the question he forgets to return to you.
you ignore him, eyes staying trained on joshua as you speak, and something about you pretending like his best friend doesn’t exist forces him to fight down a smile.
“you’re not breaking up with her today,” you order him confidently, like you know saying it is enough for joshua to agree. if the way his palms start to sweat are any indication, you might be right. “she’s up there with siwoo.”
“who’s—”
“my boyfriend,” you answer before jeonghan can finish his question. “i followed him here when he told me he was getting drinks with coworkers.”
joshua’s stomach flips. he’s not really sure how anyone can even think about another person in your presence, let alone cheat on you. maybe your intensity scares siwoo, though. it definitely kind of scares him.
“you mean… they’re up there right now… and they’re probably…” jeonghan’s sentence trails off, but you’re you and you don’t shy away from finishing it.
“fucking?” you ask with a biting and sarcastic enthusiasm. “yeah, jeonghan! probably!”
joshua winces. your fury was already palpable via DMs, but it’s near suffocating in person. it grabs him by the neck and shoves his face back into the dilemma he was quietly contemplating back at jeonghan’s apartment: why isn’t he sharing the same anger? why isn't he doubled over, throwing up at the idea of mina having sex with someone up in her apartment at this very moment?
“are you hungry?” you ask joshua.
“what?” he asks dumbly.
“are. you. hungry?” you repeat, irritation laced in your voice.
“i am!” jeonghan announces.
you give him a blank stare before looking back at joshua. when he fails to say anything, you sigh, your temper appearing to deflate infinitesimally.
“they’re going to be a while,” you inform him like you’ve done this before. “there’s a fried chicken shop i like nearby.” okay, so you’ve definitely done this before. “we can eat and… talk, i guess.”
“we would love to talk. right, joshua?” jeonghan asks, pinching his side with more force than necessary. he fights to keep from jumping.
"sure," he finally agrees. "i could eat."
"thanks for ignoring me amidst my weekend-long menty b, by the way," you say sarcastically as you set down a pitcher of beer and three glasses next to the tray of friend chicken on the table.
"ment—?"
"mental breakdown," jeonghan whispers to him as he reaches to pluck a piece of fried chicken from the tray.
instead of depositing it on his own plate, he stretches across the table to put it on yours. joshua's eyes involuntarily narrow at the gesture. he doesn't realize he's glaring at his best friend until he speaks again.
"what?" he pouts at him but his eyes glint with mischief. "ladies first."
"thanks," you murmur, not-at-all sounding thankful. jeonghan snorts. "well? explain your rude behavior." he looks back over to you to find you sulking. you add more chicken to your plate even though you haven't touched the one jeonghan gave you.
"ah." joshua shakes his head. "i was just... not all the way convinced."
"and now?"
"now what?"
"i take it you're all the way convinced?" you clarify as you tear into your first piece of chicken like you haven't eaten in years. with a full mouth, you add: "i mean, i assume you are if you're here to break up with your girlfriend."
"uh... yeah..." he nods slowly, distracted.
joshua is often described by his friends as a gentleman—elegant even. with the exception of jeonghan and mingyu—the two people who know him best—he is always polite and accommodating. he's careful that his clothes are always pressed and lint-free. he always has good posture, and he does his best to remember his table etiquette, especially in the presence of elders. he tries to be buttoned up and put-together almost all of the time, sometimes even to his own detriment.
so staring at you, wiping soy garlic sauce off your mouth with the back of your hand and talking with your pieces of chewed up chicken tucked into one, puffy cheek, he should absolutely feel repulsed.
he frowns at you and knows it probably looks like he is repulsed by you. but really, he's just confused about why you look so endearing sitting there, eating like it pains you to while taking turns glaring at your drumstick and glaring at him and his best friend.
"hello?" you wave your saucy fingers in front of joshua's face. "is he always this... spacey?" you ask jeonghan without taking your eyes off him.
"i'm glad you asked! no," the man next to him answers—also through cheeks full of chicken. "i've actually never seen him this nerv—"
"sorry, what were you saying?" joshua interjects before everyone at this table, including him, has to face the fact that yes, he is very much nervous and he's unsure why.
you sigh as you wipe your fingers on a napkin. "what is it about me that men's eyes just begin to glaze over as soon as my mouth opens?" you complain, the signature rage joshua has come to expect from you in the one hour he's known you bubbling back to the surface.
his eyes widen in horror at the thought of you mistaking his fascination with disinterest. "oh! i didn't—no, i'm not—i—"
"what joshua is trying and failing miserably to say," jeonghan cuts in, sneaking him a look that screams get it together, "is that no one here is ignoring you. he's just... trying to process all of this. after all, you had all weekend to think about this, and he just realized you were telling the truth, what? two hours ago?"
you stare at jeonghan with the same unimpressed expression you’ve been forcing on him since you met him. after a moment, your gaze travels to joshua, and he gives you a meek smile. you finally hum in understanding.
“sorry, i know i’m projecting. i’m just all…” you wave your hand wildly near your temple to mimic a muddled brain. “siwoo has done a number on me.”
joshua finally gains enough composure to string a sentence together. “i’m sorry i ignored your messages… and blocked your burner account.” you cringe at that but nod an acceptance of his apology. “and i’m sorry i’m not fully present right now. jeonghan’s right.”
kind of. not really. he was processing your existence more than he was processing being cheated on, to be frank.
“i’m just… trying to understand what’s happening, i guess. for what it’s worth, i find it really unbelievable that anyone would ever cheat on you.”
he ignores the way jeonghan inhales deeply and slowly through his nose. only joshua would be able to tell it’s the equivalent of him scream-giggling and kicking his feet when he’s trying to be discreet.
your eyebrows rise like you’re shocked joshua is capable of more than grunts and one-word replies.
“ditto,” you say plainly. joshua can’t help the immediate laugh that escapes his mouth at that, and he’s pleased when you smile for the first time since you met. “mina seems dumb. and not just because she and siwoo are ruining my life. you’re very handsome. and if you blocking me on instagram so fast was any indication, you seem very loyal too.”
you say it easily, as if giving out compliments like that is no big deal to you. maybe it isn’t, but even if that’s true, he’s going to appreciate it nonetheless.
unfortunately, that appreciation manifests in a fierce blush joshua feels spreading across his face like wildfire, much to his mortification. he doesn’t remember the last time he blushed like a pathetic schoolboy with a crush. it was probably when he was an actual pathetic schoolboy with a crush.
he clears his throat, choosing to ignore the compliment. “yeah, i guess we have the same, bad taste in dummies.”
you suddenly groan, throw your head back, and blink rapidly at the ceiling like you're trying your best not to cry. both men glance at each other and fidget awkwardly at the abrupt change of mood, neither of them being great at handling a crying woman. joshua has little to no experience with it and jeonghan tends to fall back on ill-timed jokes during times of distress.
"i followed him here months ago," you tell them unprompted. “i followed him here so many times because he was always so fucking sketchy. but his lie always involved ‘one of the guys,’ so i just thought his friend lived in that building.”
“and you found out this weekend…?” jeonghan asks carefully. joshua rubs the back of his neck nervously.
you nod, squeezing your eyes shut briefly before bringing your line of sight back to them. your eyes are glassy but your efforts to keep from crying were mostly successful.
“he lent me his laptop because mine stopped working,” you explain, rolling your eyes like having a broken laptop on top of all this is almost enough to send you over the edge. “his texts are connected on there too. i was at a cafe with a friend, and one of those verification texts came through. i ignored it but a few seconds later, it messaged again and i saw that he’d replied on his phone.”
“he told her it was safe to text,” joshua says, remembering the photos you sent.
“yeah…” you breathe, hugging yourself tightly and rubbing your arms as you try to self-soothe. “and i just sat there in front of my friends, watching him make plans with her in real time… brainstorm the lies they agreed to tell us… and i just had to pretend to be normal or else i would’ve burned that cafe to the ground.”
jeonghan coughs as he chokes on his chicken a little. joshua pats him on the back absentmindedly, eyes never leaving you, even as his best friend stretches across him, still coughing, to pour everyone a glass of beer. you sniffle as you accept your glass with a small nod, your body visibly relaxing after the first sip. he tries not to gawk when you finish the entire glass in one go.
joshua thinks this is probably what someone in love should look like when their heart has been broken: drunk and sad. now that the initial shock of seeing you in person has worn off, he can see how tired you really look. there are dark, bruising circles under your eyes, visible even under your makeup, and your hair looks like it was haphazardly put up into a ponytail to avoid having to wash or brush it. your eyes are tinged pink, a little swollen, and dull, like you’ve been crying all weekend. you have been crying all weekend.
and joshua? he’s asking himself why he hasn’t felt the urge to cry at all yet because right now, he could be the poster child for soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend who is going to be okay has been okay, is okay, and will always be okay. aside from his irritation with mina and her insane audacity, today is like any other day.
he’s never had his heart broken before this, but maybe it’s just different for guys. he read somewhere that men’s emotional intelligence develops a lot slower than women’s; maybe he just hasn’t reached a level of maturity you have.
“anyway,” you say as you stifle a tiny burp that makes jeonghan giggle for the nth time tonight, “i’m going to ruin his life.”
okay, so maybe maturity is the wrong word.
“wh…” joshua glances at jeonghan for confirmation he heard correctly.
his best friend’s eyes are lit up with excitement as he leans forward with impossibly even more interest in what the pretty lady across the table has to say. joshua would slap him if they were alone. what for, he doesn’t know, but he would.
“sorry, what was that?” he asks, trying not to sound judgmental at the risk of setting your anger off again.
“she’s going to ruin his life,” jeonghan answers for you giddily. “what are you going to do? i told joshua he should fill mina’s shampoo bottle with hair remover.”
that earns the two men another smile from you, but this time joshua finds himself annoyed it was because of something jeonghan said.
“oh my god, that’s vile,” you say even though you’re grinning and obviously love the idea. “maybe i’ll add that as a little cherry on top for siwoo.”
“oh, he’ll be so ugly,” jeonghan claims like he’s already daydreaming about it.
“you don’t even know what he looks like,” joshua murmurs.
“i don’t need to,” he responds, smiling as he stares off into the distance. “a stupid motherfucker who can cheat on our lovely y/n here like that has to look like ass.”
you roll your eyes at the compliment but your cheeks turn a cute shade of pink anyway.
“well, making him bald will look like child’s play when i’m done with him,” you match jeonghan’s dreamy tone, and joshua feels a chill of fear from having the two of you at the same table crawl up his spine. why was he a magnet for agents of chaos?
“is that why you haven’t broken up?” he asks. “you’re scheming to ruin his life?”
you frown. “what makes you think we haven’t broken up?”
joshua shrugs. “maybe the fact that you followed him here and then shoved me and my best friend into next week to keep us from attracting any attention?”
jeonghan snickers and your cheeks turn a darker shade.
“ah, right.” you nod once. “sorry about that.” you don’t look sorry at all and joshua finds himself thinking it’s amusing. “i suppose that was a bit… rude.”
joshua hums like he’s contemplating your apology but he knows it’s clear he’s fighting a smile as he brings his beer to his lips.
you sigh. “anyway, yes. that’s why i’m still with him. he doesn’t even know i know. i’m trying to get my ducks in a row and figure out the most devastating way to leave him.”
jeonghan smirks. “my kind of girl.”
joshua’s foot finds his best friend’s and stomps on it as hard as he can without thinking twice about it. it almost shocks him—how much it felt like instinct—but after the day he’s had, he thinks he’s entitled to a bit of a tantrum. maybe this is how he is when his heart is broken. a little mean.
“ow, what the fu—”
“so what’s the plan?” joshua asks loudly when your eyes snap up to jeonghan mid-sip over the glass of your beer.
you lick your lips clean of foam before setting the glass down, and joshua forces himself to look away when he notices how plump and pink they are.
“well, to be honest… i haven’t been the smartest,” you admit, seeming timid for the first time since you barged into his DMs. it’s an odd look on you. “i—um. i kind of rely on him… financially.”
the explanation comes tumbling past your lips after that like you’re afraid the two of them are going to judge you if you allow even a second of silence to pass.
“i had a job! i had a great job! but siwoo’s a bit traditional, and he comes from a more conservative family that really buys into gender roles, and i mean, fuck that, right?”
you give them no chance to agree.
“i’m a feminist! i swear to god i’m a fucking feminist!” you’re practically shouting now and the two men are so stunned, they can’t bring themselves to notice or care that the other patrons of the restaurant are starting to look over. “but i was in love! and i thought i was going to marry this moron! so i convinced myself i wanted to stay home and i wanted to clean the house and take care of a man—”
you say the word with so much disgust, both joshua and jeonghan struggle to keep from laughing.
“—and he was so happy when i quit my job like he’s been asking me to, and i thought i was happy too, like, what woman doesn’t want to be taken care of by a rich man?!”
you pause to burp briefly but it still isn’t enough time for either of them to get a word in.
“though again, i was in love! i was looking at that shithead through rose-tinted glasses! he’s nothing but a spoiled mama’s boy with a rich family! that asshole doesn’t have to do anything for the wealth he has! so now it's, like, what woman wants to be fake-taken-care-of by a 30-something-year-old mama’s boy?!”
the words come with even more disgust than “man.”
“and he had the nerve to act like he was better than me because i had to make everything i had before i met him! like, dude. if your bank account is still connected to your fucking mom’s, lower your goddamn voice when speaking to me!”
his best friend’s mouth drops open in absolute joy-filled shock at your biting remark. he’s enjoying meeting someone as chaotic as he is too much.
“and what was it for?! empty promises that he would propose soon?! endless faked orgasms for a man who’s afraid to give a woman head?!”
jeonghan chokes again, this time on nothing. joshua has more decorum but he can’t help the way his face turns bright red.
“you’d swear i was harboring a monster down there the way he cringed at the mere mention of oral, like, what is he, 12?!”
joshua has to avert his eyes to the ceiling of the restaurant at the mention of your “monster,” and he can’t even get it together long enough to nudge jeonghan when he bursts into hysterical laughter. they might as well be nonexistent, though, because you keep barreling through your rant.
“i was on track to be a director before 30! i was a fucking star! and look what he made me!” you screech, words slurring.
it takes your slurred speech and yet another burp for joshua to realize with mild horror that the pitcher of beer is almost empty, and that he and jeonghan are still on their first glasses. he elbows his best friend, who’s still cackling, and motions at the pitcher. jeonghan sighs happily as the last of his laughter leaves him and mutters a quiet: holy shit, pretty aggretsuko can drink.
“he turned me into a housewife without even making me a wife! and let me remind you: I AM A FEMINIST!” you slam your palms against the table with each word to punctuate your point. joshua can see why you picked aggretsuko for your burner account. “i support a woman’s choice to be a housewife if that’s what she wants, but my dumb ass didn’t realize that this isn’t the life i wanted until this fucking weekend! god!” you groan miserably. “all of this heartache and for what?! he cheated on me and now i’m jobless and about to be homeless and completely broke, and i…”
you seem to abruptly run out of steam, slumping in your seat and looking at your near-empty glass of beer pitifully. joshua has the urge to round the table and give you a hug, but he stays put, trying to process the whiplash of witnessing what he imagines is a mini “menty b.”
you take a few breaths before quietly saying, “i can’t believe this is what being in love got me.”
something violently lurches inside joshua’s chest when you say that.
“i can’t believe something that’s supposed to be as beautiful as love blinded me so badly.” your voice cracks. your eyes well with tears and this time, you make no move to stop them as they begin to streak your face. “how the hell can love hurt this much?”
joshua’s mouth falls open to say something—anything. any kind of comfort or kindness or advice. but no sound escapes his lips as he watches your heart break into tiny, little pieces in front of him.
he’ll look back at this moment and realize this was the first time his heart learned something he, himself, didn't know yet: what he had with mina wasn’t love—that maybe, he had actually never even been in love before. there’s no world where mina would ever have the kind of effect siwoo has on you on him, and there isn't anything mina can do that would make joshua scorn the concept of love because it's something he never even experienced with her.
but for now, all he can think is that, despite barely knowing you and despite being somewhat afraid of you, he has an insatiable want to fix this for you. he wants you to stop crying. he wants to see the rare smiles they were gifted tonight on your face once more. most of all, he wants to make the man who made you cry sorry for ever entering your life.
the words are out of his mouth before he can think twice about them.
“i’ll help you.” you immediately stop crying and look up at him with wide eyes. “i’ll help you ruin this idiot’s life. and when the two of us are through with him, i promise you he’ll be afraid to breathe within a 10-mile vicinity of you.”
I want to give Robert tattoos and piercings so bad it’s like an itch. Like, I see him having most of them on his legs, the tattoos, and while I don’t think he’d have many facial piercings, both his nipples and his belly button are pierced, and I want this man’s to have dimples of Venus dermals so fucking bad man.
Started stretching his lobes a bit but stopped pretty early, just keeps the same plug size in.
And I know what I said about the facial piercings, but I want to give him just one set with pierced cheek dimples. He’d always pop his retainers in as MechaMan and he actually barely has any extra sets. He’s got maybe two other ones for his navel and one other pair of small plugs.
And the tattoos I feel like he’s got most of them on one thigh, true to being an angsty man since he was a teenager with how his life went, maybe it’s quotes and shit, maybe it’s some of the media he’s gotten into over time… maybe he has a plain font that faces him when he looks at it that just says ‘get up’.
I could see it graduating up his hip a little by the time the game starts. lol if anything pierced and tatted Robert might just make Courtney dig him harder haha.
But what about a sort of reincarnation idea? Here's what I have, Reader in his first love fell in love with yandere, but he was in love with someone else and ends up killing us. But before reader dies they profess there love or something similar and blacks out. Only to be reincarnated back to their past self with there old memories.
Aaaand you can basically take over from there if you do this request in any way you want, idk I'm not good at ideas🤷♂️
Don't worry lovely, there are no stupid requests on this blog, in fact I think this is a wonderful idea!
You hadn't expected to wake up in a sweat, laying in your own bed, like nothing has ever happened. Like you didn't just get murdered by your own crush. Sitting up and quickly pulling up your shirt, you're surprised to see....nothing. no stab wounds, no blood, just regular untouched skin. You throw yourself off of your messy bed, standing in front of a full body mirror you remember getting for a great deal, examining your face closely.
Was that all really just a dream? Just a paranoid filled nightmare? It all felt so real.....
You notice a black stripe around your left wrist. That wasn't there before.
Inspecting closer, it doesn't look like tattoo ink, you aren't really sure what it is at all, but this means that it wasn't a dream. It's all real. But how...how did you go back in time? Was that even possible or is it some sort of divine punishment? Your thoughts are interrupted by a knocking at your dorm room door, you quickly smooth your frazzled look before stumbling over to open the door, peeking out with a scared look.
A handsome man stands outside, next to your friend, Camille. It's your crush, Julian, with your friend. You vividly remember his crazed eyes as he stabbed you for 'trying to get in his way.' which was absurd to you then and now, but his eyes seem so calm now, hazel green eyes glancing down to your own before looking back to Camille. "Hey! Are you ready for our hang out?" She said, her distinct voice bringing you back to the current situation at hand.
You remember this, this was when you officially hung out with Julian, that means it must still be early fall. It was summer when he killed you, that means you travelled back a year in the past. "...right, sorry Camille, I must've slept through my alarm haha!" You replied, a nervous smile appeared on your face.
Maybe this time, things will be different.
Wrong. So utterly wrong. You've been trapped in this loop for way too long, the ending never changing. You always die by Julian's hands. Your entire forearm being covered in those back stripes, like a blackout tattoo, evidence of your repeated lives.
You're body feels tired and sluggish now, not even jolting up when your eyes open back up to your dorm room, you can't bring yourself to care anymore. You just want to sleep, preferably forever. Aggressive knocking interrupts your self loathing, forcing you to rouse up from the comforters on your bed, dragging bare feet to the door of your dorm.
This cycle, you isolated yourself, because maybe if you just stop showing up and caring, Julian won't kill you. But that would just be too good to be true, as the very man you fear is standing in front of your dorm, waiting for you to answer. Odd, a rotten feeling coils in your stomach, Julian's never here without Camille.
"Open up, [NAME]" he said with a halfhearted scoff, he's definitely been sent by Camille to try and get you out of your dorm, apparently just attending classes isn't enough for her to stop worrying. Cracking open the door, you peek out to look up at the towering man, maybe your lackluster appearance will drive him away. Julian raises a dark eyebrow at your current state, bags under your eyes, messy hair, still in your sleep clothes, and frankly you stink from bed rotting over the weekend. "Jeez, you look terrible, no wonder Camille was worried." Was that...concern in his voice? You felt paranoid, he always disregarded you in favor of Camille, him showing interest made you want to puke. In fact, you did.
Slamming the door closed, you ran into the adjacent bathroom, puking up what little you ate into the porcelain toilet bowl. Flashes of Julian stabbing you, drowning you, torturing you, all the previous ends hitting you like a freight train. It ended just as fast as it came, disorienting and disgusting you. You just wanted it to be over already, a permanent death, is that so hard to ask for?
Julian stood outside the door, confused and annoyed, what the fuck is your problem? All of a sudden you started avoiding Camille and him like the plague, more him than Camille, and it was hurting her, shes really fucking worried y'know? Even though he really didn't like you, he found his interest in you growing, and seeing you look like a hot mess, eyes staring up at him like they know what he is, cemented it for him. You're a lot more than just Camilles guy best friend.
On his walk back to his own dorm, his thoughts drifted to you, now that he thinks about it you never did show any interest in Camille. Checking his phone, he notices a text from his darling herself, immediately replying to it with no hesitance.
Cammie❤️: Jules, did you check up on [NAME]? How is he?
Julian: he's a hot mess lol
He gritted his teeth, even if you didn't like Cammie, it still bothered him when she brings you up. Julian just can't see why she's friends with you, even before the switch in behavior, you were just....odd, couldn't do anything for her like he can, and yet she's worried about a nobody like you. He's both interested and annoyed.
Julian texts back and forth with Camille, quelling her worries the best he can and redirecting the conversation elsewhere, he really didn't want to talk about you again. Throughout the day, the back of his mind was drifting to you, the strange blackout tattoo you suddenly got, the freak behavior, you seemed to really hate his guts too. Or maybe that was fear, you definitely know something, but he's covered everything up perfectly...
Just thinking about you makes him pissed.
A/N: I had some fun with this one! Maybe I'll write a part two (人*´∀｀)｡*ﾟ+ this is male centered but you could replace it with they/them instead of he/him in your head! I do think if I make this a series, this yan will be more of a... Yandere hater, for maximum slow burn!!
To everyone that sent me a nice message at the beginning of the year (and end of last year), a very big thank you! <3 I appreciate all your kind words :D Also a really big shout out to those anons who first knew me way back on DA and randomly found me again here haha. It's been YEARS and I hope you are all doing well!
I've had quite a number of asks about a BP webcomic, which is answered in the Read More :)
Quick doodle of BP version 👌🏻
😊 Good news to anyone waiting for it - I am making a webcomic for BP! I'm currently working on chapter 2 :) Not sure where I'll post it yet but i'm thinking of making a website somewhere, crossposting here and maybe on an webcomic platform but I'll see about that.
The bad news is i dont plan on posting anything until I hit maybe chapter 4 (...as i need to do more thumbnails after that). I've only managed to work on it intermittently and there's no schedule for it so i figure it would be better to have a bank of pages first to post over time |D
🥄 Haha here's just some main tidbits!
His full name is Hunter Grimshaw, which was actually a very on the nose joke name I gave him that ended up sticking. He's in his 30s, has tattoos on his upper arms, and his scar came from his line of work as a Battle Priest. Apparently gives like...tired and judgemental country outdoors vibes to my friends XD
Grimshaw's personality can kinda be understood in that as a BP, depending on what the demon is doing, he might just shoot them instead of exorcising them properly.
Because it's more efficient or he really can't be fucked.
And then not fill out the paperwork for firing the gun or tell anyone he did that (since they are supposed to be the last resorts).
Well, he is a BP so the objective I guess is to hunt down bad demons lol.
ONE VERY ENTHUSIASTIC GRIMSHAW ENTHUSIAST XD
Ok so I remember answering a similar ask before (it was more in line with HH, but i dont think it would change in BP) so here is my copy paste from that answer dump, but with Rire, Isla, Mu, Eid and Grimshaw added.
Ren: Anime OST, C-pop, Video game, Dance
Izm: Eclectic (just kinda collects anything he likes the sound of), EDM, Punk rock
.D: Eclectic (just kinda collects anything he like the sound of, likes more melodic things)
Zeke: Rock, Alternative rock, Country/Western, 80s music lol, Dance
Marcus: Pop, Rock
Caleb: Hardstyle, Heavy Metal, “Gangster” rap, basically if it’s got some hard and fast beats and loud possibly screaming voices he’d probably be into it.
Desmond: Electronic, EDM, Mashup…You know all the kinds of music you hear in a night club/rave? That.
Rire: Jazz, Swing, Electro-swing, Classical
Eid: Music that predominately features World percussion or something like the didgeridoo, Dance, Acapella (lol)
Grimshaw: Dark Country
Isla: Dancehall, Soul
Mu: (is not my charac so I asked her creator) "electroswing or something like that."
Hey Baiddy! I do enjoy thinking of associated foods for my characs and I've actually been asked about specific category ones over time :D Here are some of the more common flavours/foods etc that have been "assigned":
Ren: Lemon or lemongrass flavours, lychee [icecream]
Izm: Mint choc chip flavour, cherry [fruit], rocky road
.D: Strawberry flavour (more tart then super sweet)
Zeke: Coffee flavour, tiramisu, butter pecan [icecream], kiwi [fruit], bacon (in BP lol)
Technically, they don't earn anything. They get a living allowance from their HQ for personal expenses. It balances out due to HQ providing working expenses and other benefits.
It's possible.
Yes, demons can own legit businesses (eg Zeke's parents run an inn/lodge - it does welcome humans but their main clientele are other demons) and humans and demons can work together in the same place (eg Desmond's club). Any place with demon workers though are subject to a secondary level of scrutiny (the Battle Priests and the orgs they are connected to).
It's difficult to get things to and from the Nether so that's not a chosen business venture lol.
Ty ty! ^^ Oh man, that would be a blast from the past cosplay haha. Also I'm going to be the first to admit that...I didn't actually design the vest part with reality in mind XDD Here's a kind of "breakdown" of what that clothing set is comprised of:
XD; If I were to fake real explain this I would say that he has some random dark red/copper strands that are only really noticeable when his hair mass thins out at the longer edges like on his bangs. So if his hair got cut it would still have the red ends in similar places.
I've actually toned down how I draw his hair, it was a running joke about how his hair defied gravity in the early days haha.
I don't read fanfic for fandoms I very specifically read fanfic for whatever characters I decide I like enough to fixate on XD Which may have no basis on my interest in the rest of the media lol. For eg most recently I've been reading Marvel and old school NCIS fanfics (cos I like the Tonys, that's about it) and TF2 fanfics (cos I like the support class and the ridiculous lore that doesnt take itself seriously).
Oh for sure, mainly from my friends though 🥰 For eg here is a friend's fanfic that was written for the Royal!Au (where Izm is a prince and .D is his bodyguard set in a more medieval fantasy type setting).
I cut this ask off before it got more personal but if you happen to be reading this yes I do remember being part of that group! (though sorry I don't remember specifically who you were in the group. Which is maybe a positive thing as you probably didn't register to me as badly behaved as you think for me to be like "oh yes, that one." |D). But I am glad you have some nice memories of me at the time, and thank you for the kind thoughts 😊. It sounds like you've been getting the help you need and bettering yourself over the years, so kudos to you for that and keep it up! 🥳 I hope you have a very successful 2026!
Ah yes, the spelling of my username always seems to catch people out XD I find it hilarious though that you remembered it only because it popped up in relation to BTD lmao.
If you mean recently i wouldn't say I was being subjected to a hate campaign or anything haha. I got a rude anon that either couldnt read or just wanted to try and stir up drama for whatever reason, and the ask was egregerious enough I decided to take time out of my day to answer it which is the only reason anyone knows about it |D
You work at a nursing home in Manchester. It’s a quiet job, but you enjoy it, even if you’re just an administrator. One day, one of your residents gets a visit from a 6”2, masked, military man who bulldozes his way into your life.
Simon Riley isn't exactly what you'd call boyfriend material.
masterlist ❤️ ao3
tags: angst, fluff, referenced/implied sa (not graphic), violence, past trauma, elderly character in a care home, explicit sexual content, bdsm elements, female reader, reader has a deceased father, readers step dad is a pervert, Simon's brother is a dick, military inaccuracies, cod lore inaccuracies, dark fic
part 1/3, word count: 10.6k
“Don’t stare. That’s Mrs. Riley’s son. He won’t appreciate it.”
Your mouth was open as he walked through the entrance doors and into the reception area of the care home.
He was over 6 foot, the top of his head nearly brushing the lintel as he entered. He was as broad as he was tall, wearing tan cargo trousers, boots laced tight and uniform, and a black crewcut t shirt that showed every muscle on his torso. His biceps were large, easily the size of your head, and his left arm had a full sleeve of black tattoos. He was also wearing a black cap, with the peak facing forward, and a black surgical mask, the type you hadn’t seen on a civilian since the pandemic days. The cap was pulled low over his eyes, so you could barely make out an inch of his face.
“That’s her son?” You asked, turning to your line manager, Julia, who seemed far more interested in her chart than the militant, mysterious man who had just walked into reception. “The ‘sweet boy who looks after me ever so well’?” You quoted Mrs. Riley directly, from the conversation you’d had with her just this morning.
Mrs. Riley had moved into the care home you worked at as an administrator less than a week ago. She had no end-of-life ailments, she was just a sweet old lady who needed more care around the house than could be provided by her children. She was quiet, but also kind, and she spoke non-stop of her son, her sweet Simon, who would be visiting her any day now. You’d expected a kindly, baby-faced young man, not the hard muscled hulk of a man who was clenching his fists and surveying the reception area like he expected assassins to jump out from behind the magazine racks.
“He might be sweet.” Nicole, a young care assistant, leant over the reception desk to join in on your conversation, her eyes glued to your new arrival. “He’s hot, that’s for sure.”
“So sweet he put his mum in a care home.” Julia reminded you both, with raised eyebrows.
“He’s military.” You said. “Must be away a lot, right? Maybe there was no other choice. He’s paying for it all, apparently.”
You blinked when both of the girls stared at you.
“What?” You asked.
“How do you know he’s in the military?”
“Oh.” You blushed a little. “His bootlaces. My dad served in Afghanistan before he died.”
“No wonder you’re still single if you’re looking at his laces.”
“Nicole! You can’t say – Oh shit, he’s coming over.”
“Haha, bye!”
Julia and Nicole suddenly disappeared from the reception desk and you fought off the urge to curse them as you saw that the scary looking man was indeed walking over to you. He stopped in front of the desk, looming over it, and you. You peered up at him looking down on you, eyes shadowed under the cap and above the mask. They were brown, and hooded in a sort of resigned boredom. You felt like you were standing at the bottom of a mountain and looking up at the peak.
“Are you still allowing visitors, ma’am? I’m later than I was expecting to be.”
His accent was gruff, cockney, low and muffled incrementally by the mask he wore. It wasn’t out of place to wear a mask in a care home, and it was easy to believe that he was just being cautious, but everything from his attire to his guarded, boxy stance and the cagey look in his eyes told you he did not want to be looked at.
“Oh.” You were caught off guard by such a polite question from someone who looked like they could snap you like a dry twig – who looked like they did snap people like dry twigs on a regular basis.
You glanced at the clock. 3.40pm.
“There’s still 20 minutes left.” You opened the sign in book and pushed it across the desk with a pen. “Could you sign in here, please?”
He took the pen and you noticed that he was wearing gloves. Black gloves with skeletal hands printed on them, mimicking where the bones would be under his flesh.
He wrote his name down in the next available box. Simon Riley. Your eyes travelled over his arms while he did. They were thick with muscle, his tattoo sleeve was made up of skulls and guns, his biceps were vascular. The sound of the book being pushed back across the desk made you blink and look up. He was staring at you, his brown eyes hard as flint, and clearly unimpressed that he’d caught you staring.
“Uh, thanks.” You blushed, looking down at the book. He’d written 3.41pm as the sign in time and left the sign out time blank. Feeling guilty, you wrote 4pm down in the sign out box.
“There. You signed out at 4pm. You can stay as long as you like.”
His eyes wavered.
“Thanks.” It was a short, gruff remark and you knew that you weren’t forgiven for your misstep, but you could also tell that he hadn’t been expecting the generous action.
He walked from the desk without another word and through the second set of doors to the resident’s rooms like he’d been there before. Every single person in the reception stared at him until he disappeared and he didn’t acknowledge any of them. Maybe they were too short for him to see.
The next time you saw him was a little after 5pm. The reception was largely empty now, but even so, he was hard to miss – tall and built and intimidating. You glanced up on instinct and were surprised to find his eyes on you. He didn’t drop the eye contact, giving you a curt nod before he left through the double doors.
You blushed furiously, a result of that burning gaze.
…
He came back two days later.
You hadn’t expected it at all, bent down behind the reception desk to retrieve a file for Nicole, before straightening up and nearly jumping out of your skin when you saw the imposing figure of Simon Riley standing in front of the desk, unnaturally still like a statue. He was wearing jeans this time, and a black hoodie that was zipped up all the way, the hood pulled up over his head. He was still wearing the same black surgical mask and black skeletal gloves. You could see a tuft of blond hair peaking out from under his hood. The sight of his forehead gave you more of an indication of his age. He looked younger than you’d initially suspected. He looked different from the last time you’d seen him, too, if only for the fact that he was chuckling quietly.
“Scare you?” He asked rhetorically. The timbre of his voice struck you all over again. Gravelly. Deep. Like he’d been punched in the throat and never recovered.
“Yeah, sorry.” You shook your head, trying to not blush again and probably failing spectacularly. “Didn’t even hear you.”
He chuckled again, but this time to himself, like he was enjoying a quiet joke that you weren’t in on.
“Visiting mum?” You asked, putting Nicole’s file to the side and reaching for the sign in book.
“No, I’m here for the jelly.”
“It’s good jelly, understandable.” You joked, picking up on his sarcastic remark.
His eyes narrowed at your response, not in a nasty way, but rather like he was sizing you up.
He wrote his name down in the book and pushed it back to you.
“What do I call you?” He asked, inclining his head down to the book as you closed it and put it away.
It felt like you told him your name under duress. Did he even realise how intimidating his eyes were? How intense? Maybe they weren’t, maybe it was just particularly striking because you couldn’t see the rest of his face. You burned with the question of why he wore the mask. He was a big guy, and very attractive in a terrifying sort of way. You supposed his size and his razor straight confidence spoke to your cavewoman instincts, but then his guarded attitude and attire spoke to your gut instincts, and neither one of them could figure out what was more important.
You couldn’t imagine he was ugly, though, his eyes were too nice for him to be ugly.
He nodded in acknowledgment of your name before he took off for the resident’s rooms. You were so distracted by him that you nearly jumped again when the next person asked for your help, and you could even see them this time.
The third time you saw Simon Riley was outside of the entrance, on your way inside.
You were running late to your shift – your stupid bus hadn’t turned up and forced you to use a later service – clutching your bag, your coat and your water bottle and succeeding in tripping over your own feet in your haste to get inside.
“Easy.” It was a gruff voice in your ear and a firm hand gripping your upper arm and keeping you still as your water bottle tumbled out of your grip, rolled across the concrete ground and hit the brick wall of the building.
you recognised that coarse accent immediately and looked up to see Simon peering down at you curiously. He wasn’t wearing his hoodie this time, probably with it being a relatively warm day in drizzly Manchester. His shirt was crewcut, simple, black, and his surgical mask and cap were covering most of his face and head, the hand gripping your arm was gloved. Those damn skeletal gloves. Your eyes tracked the ink staining his skin as you looked at his tattoo sleeve, and it was only under the natural light that you really noticed the scars littering his flesh. Some of them were puckered marks and others were long, thin lines, pale white and pink and red, depending on how old and how big and how deep they were.
He released your arm and you blinked. He was unwaveringly still. You hoped he hadn’t noticed you staring at the scars on his arm, but you doubted that you’d gotten away with it. He seemed to notice everything, even now, his eyes were tracking your every movement.
This was the first time you’d been next to Simon without a desk between you and it made him so much bigger now. He was broad, he was eclipsing the sun in the sky behind him as he towered over you. You could smell him now. Soap. Deodorant. Something tangy you couldn’t quite put your finger on.
“Thank you.” You said. He grunted and looked away from you and it was like the spell was over and your brain could finally focus on something else other than endless brown pools.
You spotted your water bottle by the wall and began to rearrange your bag and your coat to give yourself a free hand. You heard boots on concrete and watched as Simon walked a few steps and picked your bottle up. It looked tiny in his hand. He didn’t hand it back to you, instead he walked to the entrance doors and stood in front of them, letting his weight trigger the sensors that opened them.
“After you.” He said, inclining his head inside, his eyes still focused on you, like you were the only thing in the world.
“Oh, thank you.” You hurried forward, pink-cheeked, and he watched you pass him and trailed behind you.
Julia stared at you as you approached the desk, so did a few others, but Simon was only looking at you as he held his hand out. You took your bottle back.
“Thank you.” You said again, not even realising that you were repeating yourself. You just couldn’t relax around him. He was too big; his gaze was too intense. His aura was off, somehow. Different to anyone you’d ever met before. It was something that made him…dangerous? You weren’t sure. Not safe. That was more accurate.
“Got the book?” He asked gruffly.
Julia passed it to you, and you tried not to look flustered as you opened it. Simon wrote his name and the time in, left the pen on the desk, nodded at you, and then disappeared through the doors and down the hall. Simon Riley was enemy number one to lingering, apparently.
“He gives me the creeps.” Julia said, inciting a murmur of agreement from your surrounding colleagues.
You walked around the desk silently. You hung up your coat and put your bag down under your chair.
“Why does he cover his face?” Someone murmured.
“Probably dental, knowing this country.” A man replied.
“Or he’s on the run from the police.” A particularly salacious suggestion. “Can you imagine?”
“Why would he be on the run from the police?”
“Fucking size of him. Looks like he’d attack anyone who got too close.”
“He’s got cruel eyes. Only part of him you can see.”
“Should we even be leaving him alone with Mrs. Riley?”
You put your water bottle down on the desk far harder than necessary. Everyone stopped talking and stared at you. You were staring at the bottle, where the metal had scuffed where it had rolled across the concrete.
“Alright, love?” Julia asked kindly. “I was worried about you when you didn’t clock in.”
“Yeah.” You said blankly. “Sorry. Bus was late.”
…
The paramedics swarmed in down the corridor and you got yourself out of the way, watching a little helplessly as Nicole hurried past you and followed them.
You went back to the reception desk, still trying to look through the doors and down the corridor like it might give you any answers.
“What’s happened?” Julia asked, coming out of the back office.
“Mrs. Riley fell.” You explained. “She got out of bed to use the bathroom and tumbled.”
“Is she okay?” Julia looked concerned.
“I don’t know.” You admitted. “I hope so.”
It was a little over an hour later when Nicole came to the desk, the paramedics filing out behind her and leaving the care home.
“Is everything okay?” You asked.
Nicole nodded before she spoke.
“Yeah, she’s fine. Nothing is broken, thank god. The paramedics looked at her heart and her blood pressure, and they don’t think she needs to go to the hospital, we just have to monitor her for the next twelve hours to make sure.”
You nodded, relieved it wasn’t more serious. She was a tough girl, Mrs. Riley, it must have run in the family.
“We should call-“
“Already have.” Nicole interjected. “He’s on his way.”
“Right, good.”
“Listen, I’ve got to check on the other residents. Sally phoned in sick and Joe got called to another home last minute. I don’t suppose you could sit with her for a little bit? I know it’s not your job, but…”
“It’s fine.” You assured her immediately. “Go, I’ll sit in as long as I need to.”
She gave you a grateful smile before leaving the reception. You headed through the doors and to Mrs. Riley’s room, knocking gently.
“Mrs. Riley?” You called softly, opening the door and closing it gently behind you. “I heard you had a little fall.”
Mrs. Riley looked fine to you, if a little drawn out and tired. She was in her 70’s, her blonde hair greyed, and she smiled when she saw you.
“Oh, hello, my darling. Yes, it’s all a big fuss over nothing.”
“It wasn’t a fuss, they were keeping you safe.” You smiled as you perched on a chair beside her bed. Her skin crinkled around her brown eyes as she laughed.
“Don’t tell me they’ve asked you to babysit me, darling. You’ve got important work to do.”
“I certainly have.” You agreed. “I’ve got to spend time with you. I thought I could sneak in here and we could watch a few episodes of All Creatures Great and Small."
Mrs. Riley’s eyes lit up at the mention of her favourite show. You sat with her for the best part of an hour while Mrs. Riley ate strawberry jelly from her food tray and you were both discussing what good marriage material Siegfried would make when the door opened and Simon stormed in. He was wearing a black hoodie, but he looked soaked through. You weren’t surprised, with the rain lashing down on the windows.
His eyes looked wild, concerned, before narrowing into slits as he walked straight past you and knelt down by the bed.
“Oh, my sweet Simon.” Mrs. Riley cooed, taking his face in her hands and pulling his hood down. He had short, blond hair. You looked away immediately, feeling as though you weren’t allowed to see. “You didn’t need to come all the way here.”
“Of course I did.” Simon’s voice cracked and your head whipped to them both, surprised by it. He was holding his mother’s wrists where she was holding his cheeks. His eyes were wide and open when he looked at her. “You scared me.”
“Silly boy.” She wiped rainwater from his eyes with her thumbs. “Sweet boy. Everything is fine.”
His eyes fluttered closed and your expression softened. It was like watching an entirely different person. That strange feeling that you’d gotten before, of danger and apprehension, it all melted away when you saw him like this, knelt and seeking comfort, a boy with his mum.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” He sounded infinitely more relaxed, his eyes still closed. “I was…”
“It’s okay. I know you’re busy. Your work is important.” She said. “I’ve been looked after.”
Mrs. Riley smiled at you, and Simon opened his eyes and looked at you, too. You swallowed, shuffling from one foot to the other. Simon’s burning gaze was one thing, but this open expression made you feel uncomfortable. Not because you didn’t like it, but because you knew you were intruding on something intimate and private and not meant for you.
“I’ll leave you to it.” You said quickly. “I’ll just be at the desk if you need anything.”
Simon turned his attention back to his mother and you shut the door and went back to the reception desk. You could hear your colleagues murmuring and you had a pretty good idea what they were talking about.
“Don’t any of you have any work to do?” You snapped. You earned yourself a few glares, and a few more surprised looks, but they slunk off and left you alone regardless.
The rain got heavier and heavier as the evening went on, so did the wind, until it felt like the building was swaying from side to side. When you clocked out, it was a little after midnight, and you were exhausted. You hated this late shift, the only one you did a week, because it was a little bit too close to the last bus of the night for your liking.
You collected your stuff and grimaced at the lashing rain as you pulled your coat hood up and walked outside. You were soaked within minutes, and halfway across the car park when you pulled your phone out, shielded it from the rain with your hand and pulled up your travel app. You groaned loudly.
“What’s wrong?”
You whirled around in the middle of the carpark. Simon was stood there, half-illuminated by a streetlight casting an orange glow down on the vicinity. If you thought he looked intimidating normally, in the rain at midnight was a different story.
“I didn’t know you were still here.” You said. He’d crept up on you again.
“Mum finally went to sleep.” He said, spitting rainwater from his surgical mask with every movement of his lips. “She made me watch a show about a goat. Or a vicar. I couldn’t figure it out.”
You laughed, losing the fight with the wind and letting your coat hood blow down, soaking your hair to your scalp.
“Why are you standing in the rain?” He asked you.
“My last bus got cancelled.” You said. “Severe weather alert.”
He might have grunted; it might have been the wind. “I’ll give you a lift.”
You blinked in surprise. He didn’t seem to be joking. Maybe you should have been more apprehensive of such an offer, maybe you might have been before, but after seeing him with his mother, you knew you didn’t have anything to fear.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
“It’s pissing down.” He grunted, fishing his car keys from his pocket. Lights flashed on something big and black a few spaces down from where you were standing. “Get in.”
You didn’t argue any further. You opened the passenger door and climbed in. It was dry inside the car and you shuddered from the chill of the rain as Simon got into the driver’s side. The screen on the dash came to life, connecting to his phone as he put his seatbelt on. You could have sworn the word Ghost flashed up on the screen before he reached across and thumbed a plastic button with his gloved finger. You made a little noise of surprise and appreciation as warm air started to fill the car. You were soaked to the bone, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to you. You peeled your coat off and stuck your hands out in front of the warm jets of air.
“Thank you.” You said.
“You say that a lot.” Simon made no move to remove his wet hoodie or wet mask. He did peel a sodden glove off of one hand with the other one and brought it up to the screen, calling up a sat nav with his bare fingertips. His hand was normal. A man’s hand. He had long fingers and scars on his knuckles from years of flesh splitting with every punch thrown.
“Where am I going?” He asked, inclining his head to you.
You rattled off your address without even thinking about it, forgetting for a moment that this man was a complete stranger, and not just a stranger, but a stranger you were fairly sure was a soldier, which meant he’d probably killed people before.
Simon drove out of the car park and you watched the little pulsing light on his sat nav as it pointed in the direction of your flat with more intensity than you’d meant to. You didn’t know what else to do with your face.
“I’m not kidnapping you.” He said gruffly, as if reading your mind. “There are easier ways to do it than this.”
“Like what?” You asked with a quirked eyebrow.
“Chloroform, plastic bag, good old-fashioned choking. No need to waste time on sweet talking.” He glanced over to you.
You shivered, and not because you were scared.
“This is sweet talking?” You laughed.
“It worked on you.” He quipped.
You shook your head with a resigned laugh, rubbing your forehead and scowling at how wet your face was. You must have looked a state.
“Should I be worried you know so much about kidnapping?”
He chuckled, eyes back on the road ahead. “You’ve got a good sense of humour for a drowned rat.” He flicked on the indicator and turned down another road. The headlights illuminated the roads in front of you. “I’ve met my match.”
“Crack a lot of jokes, do you?”
“Sometimes, when duty calls.”
You looked over at him. He was concentrating on the road, his one gloved hand and his one bare hand gliding over the steering wheel.
“You’re in the army?” You ventured.
His eyes snapped to you, and you looked at the road ahead, your cheeks burning.
“How’d you figure that out?” He asked.
You shrugged, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. “Dad was. You seem the type.”
He was silent for a long moment, and then: “I’m a Lieutenant.”
You nodded at the road, pleased that your intuition had been correct.
The conversation lapsed into silence after that, with neither of you really knowing what to say.
“Thanks,” Simon said finally. “For looking after mum.”
“Oh.” You fiddled with your fingers. “No problem. She’s lovely.”
It went quiet again, and soon after, Simon busied himself with slowing down to a crawl on your street, looking for your flat number. You opened your mouth to say that anywhere here was fine, but it only took him a moment to identify the building and pull up on the side of the road, right next to the front door.
“Safe and sound.” He said, looking at you. As soon as the car stopped moving, the rain began lashing even louder against the metal frame. It served to offset the comparative silence inside.
You gathered your sopping wet coat in your hands and thought about apologising for getting his passenger seat wet, but just the thought of the derisive look he’d give you stopped you. “Thanks, Simon.”
“Hmm.” He made a low noise, like he wasn’t expecting to hear his name. “Phone.” He said.
“What?” You asked.
“Your phone, give it to me.”
You passed your phone over with a bemused look on your face, wondering briefly if he was going to check it for bugs or something, but instead he just tapped the screen a few times and passed it back to you.
“My number.” He explained. “In case you get stranded again.”
You felt like it was a bizarre thank you gesture for sitting in with his mother, like some mafia-esque loyalty, and you were so confused by it that you forgot to realise that Simon had just given you his number.
“T-“
“Don’t say it.”
You pursed your lips, fighting off a smile.
Simon was looking you up and down, and you thought he was going to tell you something, before he apparently decided against it, looking back at the dashboard instead.
“Go on, get inside before you catch a cold.”
You hoped he’d never heard the way the people at the nursing home spoke about him. You also had no idea why that thought popped into your head at this moment.
“Yes, sir.” You smirked at him, opening the car door and hoping out. “Getting inside, sir.”
Simon shook his head, and then he laughed. “You’re a fucking nightmare, girl.” He said, and it might have been the first time you’d heard such warmth in his voice.
You gave him a stupid smile before you shut the door. You watched him drive away before you let yourself into your flat. You wanted to grimace at the wet clothes clinging to you, or scowl at how tired you were, but you didn’t.
You just smiled.
…
The days passed, and you didn’t see Simon again.
He didn’t come into the care home at all and you briefly wondered if he was actively avoiding your shift schedule, maybe regretting giving you his number, until Nicole lamented that she hadn’t seen the hot army man in a few days.
You supposed it was a little odd, he didn’t usually leave it this long between his visits, but then you didn’t really know him at all and this could have been completely normal behaviour. You didn’t look up every time the entrance doors opened, you certainly didn’t scan the car park every time you walked across it, and you definitely didn’t check his contact in your phone to see if he’d messaged you and the notification hadn’t popped up. What you did admit to doing was appreciate that you were acting like a schoolgirl, and that it needed to stop.
Luckily, the perfect distraction was right on the horizon. It was your mother’s 60th birthday party at the weekend and she’d invited you and other family and friends to a garden party at your childhood home. The forecast was for sun.
You went to the shops after work, buying her an expensive perfume she favoured, and a box of her favourite chocolates. You picked a card that was purple, with a teddy bear on the front holding a love heart that said, ‘I love you, mum!’ on it in gold print. You thought about all of the older women at the care home that spoke incessantly of their children who you’d never seen visit, and your chest constricted a little. You loved your mum, she was the only parent you had left, and you were only just realising how much you were neglecting your precious time together.
Saturday came around quickly. It was indeed as sunny outside as the forecast had predicted and you put on a cute sundress with yellow flowers and a little bit of makeup before you made your way to your childhood home. It wasn’t far from where you lived now.
You said hello to your mum and gave her her gifts. She hugged you before you went into the garden. There was a gazebo up over a table full of ice buckets, prosecco and finger food. A fair few of your relatives were already ploughing through the prosecco, judging by the raucous laughter you could hear.
“Hey there, gorgeous.” Your stepdad flung his arm around your shoulder and pulled you against his side.
“Oh, hi Clive.” You said, trying to hide your uncomfortable wince as he stroked his thumb over your bare upper arm. Your mum had married Clive a few years ago. You were happy for her, that she wasn’t alone anymore and she had someone to look after her, but you’d never exactly gotten on. He’d always lingered around you, and you didn’t like it.
Finally, he released you and you side-stepped away, nearly jumping when your mum offered you a glass of chilled prosecco, which you took and sipped quickly.
It didn’t take long for a gaggle of aunts and cousins to surround you, asking you questions about work and probing questions about your personal life because, of course, being unmarried and childless at your age was the hot topic of discussion at any event.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Your auntie asked you, and everyone in the immediate vicinity stared at you like your answer would hold the secrets of the universe.
“No, no, not at the minute.”
“There must be someone you like. Are there any nice men at that care home you work at?”
You blushed. “None under the age of 70.”
The tirade of questions began again, about how you couldn’t wait around forever to get married and how the biological clock was ticking, and Clive putting his hand on your shoulder made you jump.
“Come on, why don’t you help me check on the chicken, sweetheart?” He gave you a toothy smile and a knowing wink.
“Yeah, okay.” Goosepimples erupted on your flesh but then he dropped your shoulder and the pair of you went into the kitchen. You sipped your drink as he opened the oven and checked on the chicken roasting inside. It smelt pretty good, actually.
“Thank you for saving me.” You rolled your eyes at the absurdity of it.
“It’s okay.” He grinned. “Those vultures should know better. You’ll find someone when the time is right, there’s no point rushing it.” He lent against the counter, crossing his arms, and looked you up and down. You suddenly regretted the yellow sundress you were wearing, wishing instead for trousers and a hoodie. “You’ve grown up into a beautiful young woman, you won’t have any trouble finding a man.”
“Thanks.” You forced a smile, trying to relax. You were sure he didn’t realise how creepy he actually came across, especially when he was married to your mother. Some people were just overly friendly, right?
“Just being honest, sweetheart. You’ll attract any man looking like that.” He smirked, toothy and wide. “And not for nothing, but your tits look great in that dress.”
It was either like the planet slowing down to a stop or having ice cold water thrown on top of you, you couldn’t quite tell. Your stepdad was still grinning that lechery grin at you, chuckling at his joke. You weren’t laughing.
“Come on, let’s go back outside before anyone wonders what we’re up to.” He waggled his eyebrows at you. You started to walk outside of the kitchen like an automaton, like your feet were made of lead. You felt him walking behind you, and then you felt his hand trailing down your back. You nearly snapped the neck of your prosecco glass.
He left you alone in the garden, finding a group of your uncles to talk to, and you just stood there for a moment, wondering what the fuck you were supposed to do. Did you tell your mum? Were you overreacting? Would she be mad at you for ruining her birthday?
Your heart was thumping in your chest. You felt like you were going to be sick. After an age, you made a decision. You had to get out of there or your prosecco was going to make a reappearance. You needed to go home and then find the biggest jumper you owned and cover up forever.
“Mum.” You said. Both your mum and Clive looked up at you. He was draped over her. His eyes tracked down your chest. You held your glass strategically.
“Yes, love?” She beamed at you. You felt like the world’s biggest arsehole. Why couldn’t you just let it go?
“Um, I’m really sorry but I’m going to have to go, my last bus leaves in half an hour.” A total lie, they were running every half hour until midnight, but you couldn’t think of any other way of leaving without inevitably having to explain why.
“Oh, love.” Your mum’s face dropped.
“It’s alright.” Clive said, hugging your mum closer to his side. “I’ll drop you back whenever you want, you can stay as long as you like.”
“Oh, that’s kind.” Your mum’s face brightened up. “Isn’t that kind, sweetheart? You can stay for food. I don’t see you enough as it is.”
“Yeah, sounds great.” You forced a smile. There was no way of getting out of this now, and now you had to sit in a car with him, to where you lived, to where you lived alone.
You hovered by the drinks table, necking prosecco’s and wondering what the hell you were meant to do.
You were sure Clive would never try anything, but you sure as hell didn’t want to put it to chance. How were you meant to escape? How were you meant to convince that prick to leave you alone? You weren’t scary or intimidating.
You got your phone out and blamed it entirely on the alcohol when you pulled up Simon’s number. You stared at it for a long time. Did you really want to do this? Would he even come? Why did you want him to? You hadn’t seen him in nearly two weeks, what if he’d forgotten all about you.
He’d given you this number in case you got stranded again. He wanted you to contact him if you needed help.
The image of Simon’s brown eyes flashed across your mind, that burning look he always gave you. You were sure he’d hurt people, but not you, he’d look after you.
You dialed before you could talk yourself out of it, knowing that he wouldn’t answer.
He answered on the second ring.
“Hello?” That coarse accent. The greeting was barked.
“Simon.” You whispered into the receiver. “It’s me.”
There was a beat of silence, just a beat.
“What’s happened?”
“Can you come and get me please?” You really blamed the alcohol, you knew you’d start crying if he said no.
“Where are you?”
You were surprised, relieved, excited. You rattled off your mum’s address quickly.
“I’m on the way. Are you safe?”
It struck you as an odd question, a prepared question.
“Yeah, yes, I’m fine.”
“Don’t move.”
The line went dead but you didn’t put your phone down for a moment. You knew Simon never lingered, but was his haste because of that, or because of how quickly he was grabbing his car keys and heading out? His only hesitancy was to make sure you weren’t in so much danger he had time to reach you. You bit your lip and tried not to cry in front of everyone.
You had no idea where Simon was coming from, nor any idea when he’d get to you, so you composed yourself in the bathroom, grabbed another glass of prosecco – your fifth? – and made conversation with one of your cousins. She’d just had a baby, so you didn’t have to do any of the talking.
The party, getting louder and louder with more alcohol consumed, suddenly hushed to whispers and you turned to look.
The crowd parted like the red sea as Simon walked across the garden purposefully. His gloved fists were clenched, he was wearing khaki cargo trousers, black boots polished to a gleam and a dark top hiked up over his wide forearms, showing off a hint of muscle and ink beneath. He wasn’t wearing a mask, or a cap or a hood, instead he had a balaclava pulled over his face, with a skeletal jaw printed over the front of his mouth. His eyes were the only part of his face that was visible, blackened with war paint, narrowed and furious. He’d never looked more menacing than he did in that moment.
Every member of your family fell silent and shrank back, but you didn’t, the relief you felt was almost palpable.
He stopped in front of you, his eyes raking over you, taking in your dress and your drink, and you imagined he had a few questions about why you’d dragged him here.
“Are you ready to go?” He asked, although his voice left no room for argument.
You nodded immediately, putting your drink down. “Yes, please.”
“Love, who is this?” Your mum asked, giving you a puzzled look, and then giving Simon a horrified one.
Simon didn’t react, he didn’t move, he didn’t stop glaring and he didn’t release his fists.
“A friend, mum.” You said, the prosecco helped the words come easier to your mouth. “He offered to pick me up.”
“Wait, hold on a minute,” Clive moved in front of you, between you and Simon, puffing his chest out. “You’re not going anywhere with this man. He looks dangerous.”
Everyone was staring at you, erupting into whispers, some of them were even pointing. Not exactly the sneaky exit you’d been planning.
Simon’s eyes moved from you to your stepdad, narrowing as they did, like he had a sixth sense for picking up on exactly what the danger was. A sense, or years of experience.
“Sorry to drag her away,” Simon turned to your mother, relaxing his voice a little. “It’s a work thing, I’m afraid, it’s important.”
“Yeah, sorry mum, I’ve got to run.”
Your mum nodded, even though she looked confused and concerned. Clive shook his head, prodding Simon right in the chest.
“Listen here, mate, you can’t come onto my property and accost my daughter. I’ll call…”
Simon looked down slowly, lowering his shoulders to really peer right into Clive’s face, emphasizing the height difference between them.
“Try me, old man.” He growled. “I’ve put better men in the ground for less.”
It wasn’t even his threat that twisted your stomach, it was the growl in his voice. He was speaking a language your pussy understood and responded to with a clench.
Clive’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. Your mum looked startled. You gave her a hug.
“It’s fine, mum, I promise. He’s a friend. From work.”
Your mum nodded a little plainly, stroking your back as she hugged you. “Okay, my love, thank you for coming. I’ll see you soon?”
“Yeah, I’ll call you. Love you. Happy birthday.”
You gave Clive a blank look as you passed him, heading back into the house. You didn’t hear Simon follow you, but you knew he was, looming over you like a shadow.
When you got into his car, you watched in silence as he got into the driver’s side. He didn’t speak to you, he just peeled away from the house far quicker than you were expecting, throwing you around in the seat. The prosecco sloshed unhappily in your belly.
You peeked at him. He was glaring at the road ahead. He looked so furious that you half-expected him to throw you from the car while it was still moving.
“Thank you for coming.” You said, your voice small.
“What happened?” He barked, as if your remark had broken whatever was stopping him from talking.
You pursed your lips, suddenly embarrassed, and trying to find the words to explain yourself, to ask his forgiveness for dragging him there, for your overreaction and for wasting his time.
“It’s okay.” He assured you, his voice forcibly softer. It broke the tension like a hammer on granite. “You’re safe now.”
Your eyes welled up and he glanced over at you. His brown eyes weren’t angry, they were concerned. It knocked the air out of your lungs.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Here.” He clicked a button somewhere on the steering wheel and his dash screen started playing something quietly.
“I love Sleep Token.” You sniffed.
You heard him chuckle. You wanted to ask him so many questions, but you figured you owed him a few answers first.
“It was my stepdad.” You said quietly, chewing on your lip.
“The shrimp?”
A laugh erupted from you. Hearing that, and seeing how much bigger Simon was compared to him, made him look a lot less scary in your eyes. It relaxed you.
“You don’t have to explain arsehole dads to me.” He grunted, then ironically: “What did he do?”
“He, uh…”
Simon glanced at you again, noticing the way that you were hesitating. “Yeah?” He encouraged gently.
You didn’t know if he was actively choosing to be gentle with you, or if he wanted to be, but regardless, it made you feel safe with him.
You wiped your nose with the back of your hand. “He’s just a creep. He said something gross and…I don’t know, I didn’t feel safe.”
“What did he say?”
Your eyes hit the foot well. “He said my tits look good in this dress.”
Simon’s gloved hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“You shouldn’t have told me where he lives.” He said, his voice dangerously low.
“Why not?” You asked.
“Because I’ll kill him.”
It sent a shiver down your spine, because you knew he meant it. You weren’t even thinking about what an insane thing that was to say, you were thinking about someone going to those lengths to defend your honour. Your cheeks burned.
Simon pulled up on the side of the road outside of your flat – without putting your address in the sat nav, you noticed – and you didn’t know what to say.
It was silent, and awkward, for a few moments, until: “You look lovely.” Simon said, still looking extraordinarily pissed off. “Don’t let an arsehole make you feel bad for that.”
You blushed even harder, looking down at your dress. “Thank you.”
“Go on, get inside. Sleep that drink off.”
“You can come in, if you like.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Just for a bit.” You entreated. “He knows where I live and…” It wasn’t a complete lie. You were worried about Clive driving over in a fit of rage, but mostly you didn’t want to watch Simon drive away from you, not again, not yet.
“Fine, for a little bit.” He acquiesced, his tone suggesting he hated the idea.
You felt a little embarrassed opening the door to your flat, praying it was relatively clean and you didn’t have any errant pairs of underwear lying around. Simon trailed in behind you, standing in the hallway and looking very out of place, not sure what to do with his big body. It made you smile.
“Tea?” You offered.
“Yeah,” he relaxed a bit. “Thanks.”
“Sugar?” You asked, showing him to the kitchen.
“No,” he huffed, like it was funny. “I’m sweet enough.”
…
Simon rolled his balaclava under his nose to drink his tea, giving you your first view of his mouth. He was clean shaven, his lips looked soft, his teeth straight. You could see the beginnings of a scar on his top lip, denting it, pulling it up slightly, but the black fabric hid the rest of it from view.
You were curled up on the other end of the sofa, a pair of pj bottoms on under your sundress.
You focused on your own tea.
“Never seen the balaclava before.” You mused out loud.
There was a beat of silence.
“Wasn’t expecting to see civilians today.” He didn’t say anything else on the topic. Right. Army. Lieutenant. That explained his militant attire. You suddenly realised you might have pulled him from work.
“Oh my god, were you at a base or something? I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “It’s fine. I landed about an hour before you called. I was just doing paperwork before I went home myself.”
“Landed?” You asked, eyebrows raised. “Like a deployment?”
“Yeah, 10-day stretch.” He explained. He didn’t question your knowledge on the military; he remembered what you’d said about your father. “Fucking knackered to tell you the truth.” Your face betrayed that your brain was working overtime, and he chuckled and took pity on you. “I’m in the S.A.S.”
“Oh!” You suddenly understood so many things, and even less at the same time. So, Simon was scary – scary, then. “It might be pointless of me to ask where you’ve been, then.”
“Maybe a little.”
He hadn’t been avoiding you, then, he’d been god knows where doing god knows what. You wondered how many people he’d killed on his mission, how many people had tried to kill him, how many times he’d nearly died. You didn’t like the knot that thought created in your stomach.
“Why don’t you stay here tonight?” You said. “And don’t just say no. It’s the least I can do to thank you for today. You got me out of a tight spot.”
Simon actually looked a little relieved that he didn’t have to drive anymore today. “Thank you.” He said quietly. “Your mum didn’t look too happy to see me.”
You snorted. “You’re a single man with a working penis. I bet she was fucking thrilled.”
Simon’s head snapped to you and you froze.
“Oh, no. I just… before you came, they were saying about…me being single and…forget I said it. You might not be single. You might not have a…”
Simon smirked and you fell silent, not sure what to say.
“I’m single.” He assured you. “And it works just fine.”
You barely managed to stop blushing when you gave Simon blankets and closed your bedroom door. You put on a clean pj top and crawled into bed, but your heart was hammering as you stared up at the ceiling.
Simon was right on the other side of the wall, probably taking off his mask to sleep, maybe even slipping his cargo trousers off.
You rolled over and wrapped the duvet around yourself, trying to clear your mind and sleep.
Both were impossible.
…
You had about a thousand missed calls from your mum and from Clive, but you didn’t answer them, not yet. You were far too happy with your life at the moment, and you really had no idea why. Your relationship with your stepdad was irreparably damaged, at least from where you were standing, and your entire family had seen you walk off with a masked brute, after vehemently denying having a boyfriend. And the masked brute in question was a semi-acquaintance from your place of work who seemed to feel so sorry for you that he’d started basically babysitting you.
You didn’t care about any of that. Simon had come and saved you, perhaps in a very loose sense of the word, but he still had. He’d spent ten days abroad doing classified and almost certainly highly dangerous work and instead of going home and resting, he’d come to your aid with no questions asked. Well, one question. Are you safe?
Simon had left before you’d woken up the next morning, leaving your blankets and pillows folded up on the sofa far neater than you’d ever managed. Those military corners. You didn’t mind that he'd left. He’d just gotten back from deployment. The idea that you’d given him a place to rest, just for a few hours, made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.
The truth was that you liked him, more than you should have done. He might have been closed off and mysterious, but he made you feel warm and safe whenever you were around him, like no one could hurt you, like no one would ever hurt you again.
You found yourself daydreaming about him wrapping his strong arms around you and holding you tight, how warm and safe he’d feel, how you’d burrow in him and never come out again.
The excitement in your gut was nearly overwhelming when you clocked in. You put all your stuff away and stared at the entrance doors. You could have vibrated to the moon with how anxious and excited you were to see him again.
Nicole lent on the desk with her elbows and smirked at you. “Your boyfriend is here.”
“He isn’t my…” You lowered your voice, trying not to gather the attention of anyone around you. You imagined Simon hearing her say that, and the look he would give you. He wouldn’t be embarrassed or pleased, he’d probably be pissed off, or at best, crack some sort of dry joke about it. The cold, closed off soldier was a flirt, even if he did try to hide it. “Is he?”
“Yeah, he’s in with his mum. He brought someone along, this time.”
“Really?” You wondered who someone like Simon would bring to visit his ailing mother. Your brain immediately went to a wife, but then you remembered him saying that he was single the other night. You chewed your lip. Ex-wife, perhaps? Your stomach churned with jealousy.
In any case, you didn’t bother him in his visiting time. Instead you focused on getting your own work done: signing people in, filing paperwork, getting various requisitions signed and sent off, all that thrilling stuff, while keeping half an eye on the clock for the end of visiting time, which was dragging ever nearer.
You wondered exactly what you’d say to him when you saw him. Would you talk about the other night? Would he want to acknowledge that he’d spent the night on your couch, would he want to know what happened with your family?
You turned a corner in the corridor, heading to the kitchen for some much needed coffee, but stopped immediately by the corner when you saw Simon’s back, broad and covered with his hoodie, his hood pulled up, and talking gruffly to a man lent against the opposite wall. This must have been the friend he’d brought along. He looked older than Simon did, with dark, slightly shaggy hair, stubble on his jaw, dressed in jeans and a jacket and slumping against the wall. The two of them had similar features and similar builds, and yet looked like two entirely contrasting individuals.
“It’s a good place.” Simon was saying defensively, keeping his voice intentionally low. “The people are nice. She likes it here.”
“You put our mother in a fucking home, you wanker.”
You saw Simon’s gloved fists clench.
“What choice did I have? I could get called out at any minute and be gone for days. I might not come back.”
“She could have lived with me, arsehole.”
“No, she couldn’t.” Simon growled.
“Why not?” His brother’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”
“You’re a drunk, sorry, piece of shit.” Simon stalked forward, towering over his brother. You could only see the back of his hoodie, but you could imagine how terrifying his usually so lovely brown eyes must have looked. “You’d be in prison if your ex-wife wasn’t too fucking scared to talk to the police.”
“I can visit my own mum whenever I like.”
“Once a month, under my supervision, that’s the deal, and that’s only because I don’t want her to know anything. She’s been through enough without knowing you’re just like him.”
Simon’s brother looked away from him, and saw you stood there, half hidden around the corner.
“Hi.” He called out. “Sorry, love, didn’t see you there. Ignore us.”
Simon’s back straightened and he turned. The minute he saw you, his eyes hardened to flint. You were half-expecting to see the skull balaclava again, but the surgical mask was back. The narrowed, furious glare he was giving you made you feel like the other day at the party and on your couch hadn’t even happened.
“Sorry,” you fiddled with your jumper sleeve. You’d heard a lot of things that you weren’t supposed to have heard, and Simon knew you’d heard them. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I was just heading to, uh…”
The shaggy haired man stepped aside, clearing a path for you in the corridor.
“Tommy Riley.” He introduced himself, holding out his hand. “This scary arsehole is my brother, Simon.”
You walked forward uneasily, you could feel Simon’s eyes still boring into you, and shook Tommy’s hand. Simon glared at the contact, like it was offensive for him to see it. His fists were tightly clenched.
“We already know each other.” He barked possessively.
“Oh, you do?” Tommy raised his eyebrows and then he grinned. It was toothy and cruel; it reminded you of Clive. “You sure mum is the only reason you’re hanging around here so much?”
The situation was so uncomfortable you didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh nervously or run away. Tommy was looking at you like you were a piece of meat, what did Simon just say about his ex-wife? Simon was giving you goosebumps, and not in a good way. You felt like he was going to lash out and knock his brother out any second. He hadn’t seemed so angry up until not, not until you’d showed up.
“I didn’t mean…” You tried.
“You should go.” Simon wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at Tommy, as if daring him to move or speak, but he was talking to you. His order was barked, like a lieutenant to his soldiers.
“Yeah, of course.” You squeaked. Your wavering eyes looked at him, waiting for him to tell you he’d come and find you later, or even just give you a nod goodbye as he was custom to do, but he didn’t look at you, he didn’t say anything, and you just turned around and left.
You didn’t go to the kitchen, because that would mean you would have had to walk back down this corridor again and coffee was now the last thing on your mind. You went back to the desk, sat down in your seat and stared blankly at your paperwork, trying to process everything you’d just heard.
It was hard to think of anything except the way that Simon had dismissed you, like you’d never exchanged more than two words with each other.
He wasn’t meant to hurt you.
You weren’t very productive for the rest of your shift, but you did do as much as you possibly could do in the back office, so you didn’t have to see Tommy again when he eventually left, and so you didn’t have to see Simon dismiss you again like you didn’t even exist.
…
Your mum looked like she’d been crying.
You looked at her worriedly as she wrapped her hands around her coffee and took a sip. The coffee shop you were in was relatively quiet, but you wished for some privacy. You didn’t think you could go to her house at the moment though, not after the garden party on her birthday. You still hadn’t spoken to either of them about it, and honestly, you didn’t plan to, either.
“What’s happened?” You asked softly.
“Clive moved out.” She sniffed. “We had a row after the party. He got drunk after you left and kept hitting on your aunts and your cousins, he made a lot of people very uncomfortable.”
“Oh.” You felt guilty for not saying anything at the time. Maybe if you had, you might have saved your young cousins some pain, but then you could never know if you’d have even been believed or not. “I’m sorry, mum.”
“It’s okay.” She gave you an unconvincing smile. “I told him to. I said I needed some time to think. Things haven’t been great between us for a while.”
“You never told me.” You frowned.
She shrugged and you didn’t press her. You knew she felt weird about dating other men when your dad never came back from Afghanistan, like you’d be upset with her for moving on, or something. You weren’t at all, you just wished she hadn’t picked such a creep to move on with.
“I support you,” you reached over and took her hand. “You’re strong, and beautiful, and you can do so much better.”
“Thank you,” she sniffed again, but she smiled this time.
“I’m so sorry,” you repeated, lost in your own thoughts for a moment. “I’ve been so caught up with myself lately, I…I’ll make more time for you.”
“You don’t have to do that, love. I know you’re busy.”
“I want to. All I do all day is see people cherish the time they’ve got with their family. Why don’t we go out for dinner on Saturday night, just us? Might be a bit too early to go on the pull but it might cheer you up.”
Your mum chuckled and then her eyes lit up like you’d just reminded her of something.
“So, who was that man?”
“Oh, god.” You groaned, covering your face with your hands.
“He was the biggest man I’ve ever seen! Clive was going on and on about what a weirdo he was and I was like, you’ve clearly never seen a soldier before…”
You put your hands down and saw your mum babbling on. “He’s from work.” You finally explained. “Seriously. His mum is one of the residents. He’s been visiting her.”
“Ah.”
You didn’t want to talk about this, but it was distracting your mum from her pain so you bit your tongue.
“Are you seeing each other?”
You remembered the day in the corridor. Simon’s argument with his brother, the way he’d gotten so angry when he’d seen you standing there, the way he’d told you to go away, and how you hadn’t seen him since. Your stomach tightened painfully.
“No. It’s not like that.”
“He was so hot.” Your mum whispered across the table to you. “Did you see his biceps?” She mimicked the size of them with her hands, and you went bright red, hiding in your hands again.
“Mum!” You groaned.
…
You left the care home at the end of your shift. The sun was low in the sky, it was dusk, the air was chilly and autumnal.
He was just standing there, beside the cluster of trees next to the car park, looking like a statue and watching you.
You walked over to him, unsure what to expect, cuddling yourself from the cold as you stopped in front of him. You half-expected him to tell you to get in his car, but he didn’t, he didn’t say anything. His arms were crossed, his hood was up, and he was watching you with critical eyes. He was wearing his skull-print balaclava today, which you knew meant that he hadn’t planned on coming.
“Hi.” You said lamely.
“I shouldn’t have come.” Simon responded immediately, confirming your thoughts.
“Why did you?” You asked.
“I wanted to see you.”
You didn’t know what to say, not after the day in the corridor, which he didn’t look like he was planning on talking about.
“Why?” You asked again, a little guardedly.
His eyes wavered, like he was doubting his decision.
“I leave tonight.” He said instead, sounding robotic. “Could be weeks.”
You could only imagine what deployment in the S.A.S entailed, which meant you knew what he was really saying. I might never come back. I might never see you again.
“Oh.” You felt your eyes collecting moisture. You didn’t know why. Maybe something about your dad, maybe because you liked Simon more than you should. Maybe because, even if he didn’t feel anything for you, which he most probably didn’t, you still didn’t want him to go.
“Don’t miss me.” His eyes hardened in their usual defiant, cold stare. “We can’t be anything.”
“I know that.” Still, your chest tightened. Still, you had to wipe your eyes to stop them from betraying you.
A gentle patter hit the concrete under you both, drizzle soaking your clothes to your body. The rain became a wall between you.
“I have to go.” He said, his coarse voice carrying over to you.
“Okay.” You said stupidly. The rain dripping down your face probably disguised your tears.
Simon stepped forward, closing the space between you and reaching up, swiping a gloved finger across your cheek.
“None of that.” He said softly.
You were too close to each other. Your hands found his chest and just rested there, pressing your face against his sternum.
You felt fingers under your chin, and then you were looking up at his slackened brown eyes. You kissed eachother through the fabric of his mask. It was coarse, and wet, and your hand left his chest and pushed under the black fabric until you felt his carotid artery pulsing under your fingertips.
Simon growled quietly and yanked the mask the rest of the way up, resting the bunched up black fabric on the bridge of his nose, just as he’d done the other night sitting on your couch.
Your hand touched his jaw, and the skin-on-skin contact felt electric. His brows furrowed in need and he pushed his head against your hand, like a big cat, and then his lips were on yours.
Simon made a noise low in his throat while you whimpered, his hands gripped your hips and pulled you against his front as his lips moved against yours insistently. It was raining harder now, but neither of you seemed to care.
He pulled back far too soon, his mouth parted slightly, his wavering eyes watching you.
You trembled against him, your head fogged, your body sluggish and unresponsive.
“I don’t…” You murmured pathetically. You couldn’t even finish your sentence. I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to die. I don’t want you to leave me. “I can’t…”
Simon looked worried, and careful, but not regretful. Neither were you, even though you were still crying, and even if it would make everything hurt that much worse in the end.
He pulled you closer to him, until you could feel the fabric of his mask and the softness of his skin again.
“Close your eyes.” He breathed against your cheek.
Your eyes slid shut. You felt his hands move from your hips. You felt the cool air against your front when he moved back.
