#badstalker!simon

simon kind of sucks at being a stalker but it's because he doesn't really want to scare you, he just wants to be around you

he doesn't even really realize what he's doing at first, tells himself that he's only trailing you in his car as a random act of kindness, who knows what could happen to you in broad daylight walking 2 streets over to grab a coffee

he finds your number too easily, and even pays some sketchy site $20 after a pop-up promises to scrub your information from sites like the one he's on now. wouldn't want someone finding out all the information he did

you suddenly are getting way less spam calls/emails, and chalk it up to being lucky

it goes on for months, you have no idea who he is and that you're being stalked. the only inkling you have of anything weird going on is you're having terrific luck lately.

obviously, the luck is a huge war-torn man that can't seem to stop making your life easier

like one day it's raining hard after work, and you have prepared yourself to get soaked on your way to your car.

that is until you see an umbrella leaning against the building, a note with running ink that says "free" on it. talk about right place right time!

or the time your cat gets sick from eating a hair tie and you spend almost all your money on surgeries and medicine. you're starting to worry that you'll be short on rent when a literal child knocks on your door with an envelope full of money saying that he has a youtube channel and chose you randomly to give $5,000 to. what the fuck?

you're still standing motionless in your doorway with a stack of money in your hands when the kid rounds the corner, looking up at simon expectantly. "the lady took the money dude. where's my xbox?"

simon chuckles a little, handing the kid a bag from gamestop with the newest xbox in it. the little kid runs off, yelling thank you as he leaves.

then simon ramps it up a little, starts sneaking in at night to watch you sleep and go through your little trinkets. homeboy just wants to know every little thing there is to know about you

he starts showing up to the place you get coffee, where you grocery shop, etc

you start feeling like you're being watched, start hearing things at night that make you sleep a little lighter.

you figure out you're being stalked a few months later. you had started feeling so off that you began seeing a therapist, worried that some mystery mental illness is starting to creep in.

simon starts noticing that you're not sleeping as well, not smiling as much from the paranoia. so he does the next logical step of leaving you notes of reassurance

the first one is when he's watching you sleep one night, on his way out he trips over your cat who seemingly came out of nowhere. he catches himself on the wall, a dull thud echoing throughout your home.

the next morning you find a note, that simply states "sorry about the noise last night, i tripped on your cat. i'll try to be more quiet next time. yours, s."

you immediately start tweaking out. someone was in your house? and they left a fucking note? apologizing of all things?

then you realize that this has probably been going on for months

for some reason it calms you, you've been living in ignorance all this time and you always knew something was off, at least you knew what it was now

and as far as you knew your stalker hadn't done anything dangerous besides, you know, stalking you

so you stay quiet. mostly because you feel insane but a part of you also worries what would happen if you broke your stalker's routine. would he start becoming violent? would the police even have enough information to stop him?

simon takes that as acceptance and an invitation for more contact. so he starts calling you.

the first time is when you're about to leave for work. you answer with a bright "hello, this is y/n" and almost jump when a deep gravelly voice responds. "hi luv. take backroads to work today, there's an accident on the freeway, it'll probably make you late."

before you can respond you hear the "call ended" tone. you rapidly look around your street, seeing no one out of the ordinary. you say fuck it and take the freeway, not wanting to be lured into a trap or something. lo and behold, you're almost 20 minutes late to work.

the calls stop freaking you out when you realize one night, almost dazed, that whoever this man is actually helping you. like a lot.

just the other day after a girl's night out you had been struggling to find an uber around, cursing when the driver canceled on you after waiting for 15 minutes.

you're already about to cry when a black suv rolls up, a middle-aged man with impressive facial hair popping his head out of the window.

"y/n?" you hesitantly say "yes?" and take a step closer to the car.

"i'm your uber, stupid app canceled while i was on the way here. hop in." he opens his own door, tall frame making his way around to the door closest to you, opening it and waiting.

you're admittedly really drunk. and you realize that this might be a horrible idea, but for some reason the story makes sense, and you find yourself slipping into the back of the man's car.

"temp all right for you luv?" you freeze a little, the pet name feeling familiar somehow. you stay quiet, looking at him through the rearview mirror. he makes eye contact with you and suddenly you're blurting it out before you can stop yourself.

"you're not an uber driver, are you?"

he holds eye contact for a second, surprised when he doesn't see fear in your expression, just desperation for the truth. he sighs deeply and looks back at the road.

"nope" your heart leaps into your throat.

"are you..." you didn't even know what to say. "are you, him?"

price knows what you're asking. when ghost called and asked him to pick you up, he knew he shouldn't. the stupid fuck was stalking you for god's sake. but price has a soft spot for his broken LT.

"no. i'm not him."

"do you know him?"

price hesitates. "yeah. i know 'im."

you're quiet for a few minutes, briefly realizing that you're a few streets away from home. you didn't know what you expected, but actually being dropped off unharmed wasn't it.

price turns down your street and suddenly you have a million questions.

"does he hate me? does he want to hurt me? why me? what does he want?"

price puts the car and park, kind of irritated at ghost for putting him in this position and not being normal and just taking you out on a date.

"he's not gonna hurt you, y/n. he just wants to take care of you, make sure you're safe." you stare at him like he's an alien.

price decides that's all he's going to say and leans over the seat to unbuckle you. "time to get to bed youngin."

you slowly grab your purse, grabbing the car handle. you sit for a second, before turning back to the man. "thank you for the ride. and tell, him, thanks, i guess." you don't wait for a response, just get out of the car and walk up to your house.

you turn around and watch the man pull out of your driveway, speeding down your quiet street. you unlock your front door in a daze, still half expecting to be murdered at any second.

your phone rings and you answer without looking at the screen.

"y/n?" it's him. he had gotten a call from price, recapping his drive home with you and started panicking when price shared that you had clocked him not being an uber driver. he didn't know what else to do but call you and try to explain and not lose you.

"it's you."

"y/n, i-" you cut him off.

"i want to meet you."

you get home safely, with soap, and you don't say a singular word. just kind of dumbly stare out the window and then at him when he helps you out of the car and into your house.

you can't stop thinking about ghost, and the fact that you quite literally cornered yourself into going on a date with your stalker

you really chalk it up to having some type of third response to danger, fight, flight or say the most ridiculous thing you possibly can. obviously you chose the third.

you go to bed that night with your cat in your arms, as if they can protect you from you're own stupid decision. you're shivering no matter how warm you try to get, and your cat throws you irritated side eyes.

you wake up with no sign of ghost. no calls, no texts, no emails. you try not to think about if he was in the house while you slept, like he had been before.

you try to have a normal day, but you're plagued with anxiety and anticipation

you decide to go outside, walk to the little coffee shop that's nearby to get fresh air and be somewhere you knew ghost hadn't been

you spend a few hours out, window shopping and trying to clear your head. you head back when the sun starts to go down, not keen on being out after dark.

what you come back to is almost comical.

you stumble through the door, eyes snapping to the huge figure in your kitchen. he turns around suddenly, and your cat is in his arms, rubbing her face against his mask. you only see it for half a second before he's setting them on the counter faster than you can blink. your cat lets out an irritated meow, and somehow even through the mask, ghost looks guilty

you laugh, you honest to god laugh. "oh my god. you fucking traitor." you whisper at your cat, trying to suppress your giggles. yeah, add this to the list of danger responses.

ghost straightens, and then you notice your surroundings. there's roses in a vase on your table, and he's cooking, there's at least 3 different pans and it smells incredible and you're dumbfounded. you stare at him, unable to say anything.

"welcome to your date love." he turns back to the stove, and you're grateful, because you feel like you can't move while he's looking. like one wrong move will make him snap and your worst nightmares will come true. you keep reminding yourself that nothing has happened before, and you take a seat in the chair at the table closest to the door.

"um, the roses are nice." you can see him cooking at this angle. "glad you like 'em. dinner will be done in a few." he doesn't turn around. he doesn't know how this will go, he's expecting you to run out at any moment, screaming bloody murder. he's trying to help you feel safe by turning his back, giving you the upper hand (or at least the illusion of the upper hand).

underneath that worry though, ghost was thriving in this scenario. it was like watching all of his fantasies come true, he couldn't help but preen under your compliment, and the ability to show you he can provide

you're still a little in shock. you don't say anything as ghost serves you dinner, your favorite, not surprising. you watch as he rolls up his mask, and takes a bite. it still doesn't convince you of the possibility of it being drugged.

"it's alright dove, not 'ere to hurt you, just 'ere to give you the date i promised." as he says it, your cat jumps onto the table, knocking over a glass of water. ghost stands, and looks down to find all the water had made it directly into his lap.

you find yourself laughing for the second time of the night. here your stalker is, looking like he peed himself. he chuckles himself, and you have to look away when you see his lopsided smile. you stand and grab a towel, temporarily forgetting the situation you were in. it was way too easy to see this as a real first date, awkward parts and all.

"thanks." he sits back down, clearing his throat. the proximity to you was intoxicating, but he was still worried about running you off.

you sit back down too, and take and slowly take a bite of the food. it's delicious, and you still can't believe the absurdity of the situation. "this is really great ghost. really." your voice is small, and music to his ears.

"thank you. m'sorry about breaking in. swear 'm just trying to make your life easier."

you decide to start testing boundaries, as one would. "maybe, since this is going... okay, you can stop coming in when i don't know? like maybe we can just keep doing this every once in a while?" damage control is all you can think of.

ghost thinks for a moment. "i dunno about that one love. how 'bout i give you a heads up when i do come in?"

"no more coming in here while i'm sleeping. and you still have to tell me when you're in my house."

"alright," he crosses his arm and leans back on the chair. do you hate how big he is because you're scared, or because you secretly like it? "i tell you when i come over, and no more coming in at night. but you 'ave to promise me one date a week."

you can't believe you're negotiating with this man. "okay." you concede.

he smiles and pulls his mask back down. he makes his way over to you, stroking your hair for half a second before clearing your plate. "look at us. arguing like a proper old couple already. "

as he does the dishes, you ask him more questions. he's answers as truthfully as he can, leaving out details here and there. no need to startle you.

you learn he was in the military, that the two men are some of the only people he's close with, that he trusts. besides you, of course. you feel like he throws that in to tell you to be wary of using this information against him.

from what you can tell, this is just a severely damaged man. the actions he was taking against you was just his reaction to loneliness, and his need to provide.

against your will, you feel the need to help him fill that hole. the need to tread lightly dissipates by the minute, and against your better judgement, you find yourself enjoying his company. and hey, he made dinner and did the dishes. that has to speak to his character somehow

later, he grabs your hand and runs rough fingers over your soft knuckles. promises he'll call, and then leaves.

you're still reeling days after your talk with your stalker. ghost, you think to yourself. a fake name or nickname, no doubt, but at least you have something to call him. a name to put to the silhouette.

he hasn't reached out since the video call, but you know he's most likely still around, whether he's making it known or not.

you're miffed, and starting to think the man has avoidance issues. it's probably one of the tamer things wrong with him.

then one night you're on your porch, lounging with a cup of tea, minding your own business when a black suv rolls up, much like the one that had picked you up the night you were stranded.

you stand when a man steps out of the car, mohawk emphasizing the height and overall largeness of him.

you watch him warily; he walks up to the fence and rests his palms on the edge. you half expect him to open the gate and waltz right up, confidence oozing from him.

but he stays there, giving you a small smile. "you still wanna meet 'im lass?"

of course it was one of his people. you numbly wondered how he knew the biggest men you've ever seen in your life. you know ghost can't be small himself, you'd put that much together seeing how his shoulders were almost bulked out of frame on the video call.

"you're with him?" you hesitate a little, clutching your mug closer to your chest, "with ghost?" he nods.

you're silent, and he lets you be. lord knows he's not planning on taking you kicking and screaming, sure you were a pretty little thing but he about backhanded simon when he found out about you. of course the big idiot was "accidentally" stalking a much too curious woman. he really knew how to pick 'em.

you weigh your options. you know the man is here to take you to ghost, you could infer that much. it's a dumb idea to go, but it was a dumb time last time and it turned out fine. you could tell him to fuck off, send him on his way. he'd probably listen.

you're not ready to admit to yourself that you'd grown use to ghost's presence, and that part of you would miss it if one day he decided to wise up and leave you alone.

you make a decision before you can really realize it. "can I grab my purse?"

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

he opens the door of the car for you, and it makes your head spin, you're about to meet your stalker and here you are being treated with the utmost respect. it made no sense. you clutch to your keys, fingers seeking out the self-defense items in the pockets of your purse, trying to ease your anxiety.

he hasn't hurt you yet, not really. you remind yourself. violated an insane number of boundaries, yes, but if anything, you're the safest you've ever been. you even take walks at night now, knowing deep down he's somewhere close keeping you safe from everything. everything but him.

your lost in thought as soap watches you from the rearview. he's starting to see why ghost was so fond of you, you're brave and a little naive. like a kitten against a pitbull. headstrong no doubt, probably a downright brat at times. the thought stirs something in him, and he briefly wonders if simon would be up to sharing one day.

he parks the car and you realize in your anxious thoughts you didn't pay any attention to where you were going, too overwhelmed. and you were already here. your entire body flashes cold, sweat prickling the back of your neck. you cannot fucking believe what you had gotten yourself into.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

ghost had been pacing for the past 20 minutes, fighting the urge to tuck tail and run. he shouldn't be nervous, he was grown man with hundreds of kills under his belt, he shouldn't be shaken at the prospect of meeting some girl.

but you weren't some girl, you were his woman, he was sure of it. something deep in his bones and at the forefront of his brain just knew.

he goes still when he recognizes the sound of the suv rolling down the driveway. he had chosen some random abandoned building, not ready to let you into his own apartment in case things went wrong.

he forcefully exhales, pulling his mask down and taking a deep breath in. it was now or never.

you step out of the car shakily. an abandoned property. nothing serial killer about that. your heart drums in your ears as you follow soap up the steps, avoiding the jagged pieces of wood that stuck up in every which way.

he gets to the door, glancing back at you, offering you one more out. you meet his gaze and hold it, and he figures that's answer enough. he pushes the door open, stepping to the side to let you in.

your first steps inside you don't see him, eyes adjusting to the low light. and then you see a figure in the corner, still as a statue. he's fucking huge, is the only thought that pushes through the panic rising in your chest. you didn't know when you had started shaking. you can see his eyes, carefully watching you.

soap awkwardly clears his throat after almost a minute long staring competition between you and ghost. a kitten and a pitbull indeed. it almost makes him smirk. "right then, i'll be in the car." he promptly shuts the door, wood scraping against wood making you wince.

ghost speaks first, finding himself almost wheezing the words out. "'ello luv." you just stare at him. you seem shellshocked, almost as still as he is, save your chest rapidly rising and falling. he cautiously crosses the room, not wanting to spook you. not when he was this close.

he's standing right in front of you, and your neck aches as you peer up at him. you still can't find the words. something primal in you screaming to run, hide, punch kick, anything. you shake even harder. simon raises his hands to your cheek, effectively smooshing your face between them. its clumsy and he's borderline using too much pressure, but it's grounding for some reason. "breathe." it's said like an order.

you take a deep breath. "this is fucking insane. you're fucking insane." he lets out a puff of air. "i know. i could say the same about you, showin' up 'ere." you give him a look. "i guess you got me there." you catch yourself blinking when you realize he has long, blonde lashes and blue eyes.

he's staring back, eyes roaming your features. it's the first time he's touched you while you were awake, first time he's been able to see your eyes up close. he finds warmth spreading through him, and it's almost too much. he drops his hands and takes a step back, instinctively crossing his arms.

you hate that you miss the heaviness of his hands on your face, and blame the warmness in your cheeks on lingering warmth from his gloved hands.

"i don't know what to say." you really don't. you had a million questions, practiced how you would chew him out and interrogate him. it's all lost now. he shifts on his feet a little. "i feel responsible for you.'" he blurts.

you stay silent, hoping he elaborates. after a few moments he does. "there's not many good people left in the world. i've seen the worst of 'em, downright evil 'n selfish." you can see his jaw clench through the mask. "you're not like 'em. you're kind, pure. go out of your way to be a good person. only right i show you what it's like to be taken care of fer once."

you stare at him, and you know he's telling you the truth. this truly was his fucked-up way of courting you. you scoff a little, not able to contain yourself. "you know there are other ways to be in someone's life, right? without breaking dozens of laws in the process?" he shrugs.

you swallow the lump in your throat, widening your stance subconsciously. simon finds it adorable. "you can't keep doing this. it's wrong." you hate that your voice is shaking and hate even more that the words feel wrong as soon as they come out.

his eyes darken, and he's on you before you can blink. one of his hands is on the nape of your neck, applying slight pressure, scruffing you like a cat. he brings his mask covered lips to your ear.

"you're mine, you hear that? i'm here to help you, to make sure you don't ever have to struggle again. you have my word i'll never hurt you, but you gotta understand that i'll do everything to stay close to you until my dying breath. i'm 'ere to stay luv."

your mind is reeling at the low growl in his voice, dangerous and way too attractive given the situation. he could wrap his hands around your neck easily, choke you until the vessels in your eyes pop and your lungs ignite. but he doesn't, he's just demonstrating the pure control he has over the situation. he's telling you that he cares for you, keep you safe, but that it's at the price of being at his mercy. part of you doesn't mind the idea. you've been at his mercy for almost 6 months anyway, you really only had the illusion of control. would it be that bad to submit to him?

you're sick, you have to be. but can anyone blame you? in almost all your relationships, romantic or not, you were the caregiver. constantly bending over backwards and people pleasing until your heart ached. give give give. it was the story of your life. and here he was, offering you to take for once, only asking you to be receptive in return. it's so fucking tempting.

"take me on a date first at least." you say airily, afraid he can hear your heart thumping against your rib cage.

he leans away from you slightly, looking into your eyes. he keeps his hand tangled in your hair, fingers twitching when he sees the silent challenge in them mixed with a healthy speck of fear. he wants to throw his head back and groan. this was guarded acceptance of the circumstances he had put you in, the last thing he thought he would get from you.

"alright." you blink at him. "what?"

"i said alright luv. we'll go onna date."

you can't believe your ears. nervousness scratches at your chest, you almost regret your offer. maybe leaving him in the shadows would've been for the best, you had no idea what gate you had opened by showing up here in the first place. your mouth is agape, only capable of staring incredulously at him. he takes a step back, two fingers gripping your chin and closing your mouth. "you'll catch flies."

you glare at his little jab. he rubs a finger over your bottom lip, eyes lingering there for a second. "i'll giv' you more answers then too. promise."

"okay." you say timidly. you're at a loss for words. you suppose there's not much to say.

"soap'll take you 'ome. i'll let you be for the night, gather your thoughts." he puts a gentle hand on your back, guiding you to the door. you shiver at how well he read you. he must know you well. you know almost nothing of him.

he opens the door, sending a nod to soap as he starts the car up. your back is to ghost, feeling dazed and stupid. so so stupid. ghost leans down once more, hand sliding to rest on your lower back. whispering. "we'll talk soon. get 'ome safe."

simon isn't someone to be stunned. the dude has seen some shit, not much has the capacity to knock the air out of his lungs.

except you, of course. "i want to meet you."

what in the actual fuck.

the words rattle around his skull, and he has to actually brace himself against the wall.

there is actually no way. he shouldn't be surprised, really. despite the fact that you didn't even know his name, he knew everything about you.

he knew the reason you started seeing a therapist wasn't because you were afraid of something happening to you, it was the fact that you didn't know what was going to happen.

above all else you really just hated not understanding what the "why's" in life. of course you weren't going to the police. only you would be primarily focused on figuring out why he was doing what he was doing, personal safety aside.

simon has no idea how to respond, so he simply hangs up. he's suddenly overwhelmed by the consequences of his own actions. he hadn't covered his tracks well because he somehow simply missed the severity what he was doing.

to him his motive was simple; he found you to be one of the only good things left in this world and it was only natural that he tries to protect you from the bad.

but then he realized that to you, some strange man was interfering with your life and literally sending personal drivers to your rescue seemingly out of nowhere.

again, simon thinks, he's completely fucked.

he weighs his options, like he has any. so far, you've taken the situation relatively well, and it seems like the only way he could do any type of damage control is to give you what you want.

on the other hand, he wants to run for the hills. to ghost you, essentially. but he knows he can't for the same reason he started this whole thing in the first place.

simon had an undeniable need to keep you safe and close.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

when the line goes dead, you audibly say "what the fuck!?" to no one. he's the one stalking you, and he hangs up? what a dick.

then, as you begin to sober, you realize how much of a fucked up situation you're in. you contemplate calling a friend, spilling your guts about everything. then you realize it's 3am, and you should probably go to bed.

the following week you kind of just... go on as usual. you still feel watched, but for some reason you don't feel it as intensely. you wonder if you spooked your own stalker, and the thought almost makes you giggle.

then you come home one day and you immediately know something is off. your cat doesn't greet you as quickly as usual, (something that started when simon started coming around, he knew how much you worried about the thing being lonely, so he took it upon himself to drop by and give it attention every once in a while).

then you see it, a box of pastry on your kitchen table. you drop your purse on the ground, approaching it like it was an explosive.

a pretty little bow is wrapped around it (simon had seen your pinterest, he doesn't understand the bow obsession, but he knows you would like it)

you open the box, a note taped on the lid. it was your favorite croissants from your favorite bakery, and you shiver a little when you realize the box is still warm.

you snatch the note from the lid, shooing your cat away from sniffing at the croissants.

"i'm sorry. we can meet soon, i promise."

you roll your eyes. you can't believe he's suddenly back with a note and pastries like he's an ex you broke it off with.

and then it sinks in, he said you would meet soon.

almost as if on cue, your home computer chimes.

you pick up your cat, clutching to her like she would be any help in the situation. you open your inbox and pale when you see a blocked email.

you open it, almost dropping your cat when you see that it's a zoom link.

your stalker just sent you a zoom link like you were about to have a business meeting. you click the link before you can change your mind, seeing the little pop up that informs you one person is in the meeting.

there was no way you were about to have a meet and greet over zoom with your fucking stalker.

you immediately close out of the tab and walk away, setting your cat down and laughing at the absurdity of the situation. you laugh like a psycho for a long time, your cat throwing you judgmental looks.

then you stop laughing, and you find yourself sitting in front of your computer with your cursor hovering over the 'join meeting' button.

you check one more time that your camera is turned off and will your shaking hand to click the stupid button.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

simon watches as you laugh, and it does nothing to help calm his nerves. he silently hopes that you choose not to join the stupid video call because he's not even sure he could get any words out if you did.

the zoom was soap's idea, saying it might take the edge off (and the risk of you calling the cops). simon thought it was stupid but reluctantly agreed at the prospect of being one step closer to you.

he's pulled from his thoughts when the annoying doorbell chime lets him know that you did it, you actually joined the meeting. with your camera off, of course, not that it mattered when simon had your whole place bugged anyway.

his heart stops, he sees you staring at the screen, taking in a scarily large man in a mask and hood. he doesn't know where to put his eyes, much less what to say.

you break the ice for him, "this is way fucking weirder than just meeting you in person."

he wants to laugh, but stays silent, watching as you instinctively lean farther and farther away from your screen.

he watches you for a second before responding. "thought it would be easier like this."

for you or for him, you have no idea. you don't ask about the mask, assuming he just didn't want you to be able to identify him.

"yeah okay. um," he watches your face screw up as you try to find the words.

you settle with a simple "what the fuck?"

you watch him as he shifts in his seat, room dark and giving you no hints as to who he was.

"name's ghost." you scoff.

"i-," he stops and collects his thoughts, "i don' wanna hurt you."

you raise an eyebrow. "then what do you want?" he stays silent.

his silence irritates you, and you spur on. "what's the endgame here, ghost? because it's starting to get real fucking weird, i mean if you're gonna murder me eventually just get it over with because these little acts of kindness are driving me fucking insane."

his callsign coming from your lips sends a thrill through him, and he has to really concentrate to respond.

"...didn't really think about it. just know i want to keep you safe."

you balk at him. you had no idea why you thought he would spill his whole manifesto and confess his every thought to you.

"you know what you're doing is wrong right? being in my apartment, following me around? despite the good things you do for me?"

his entire body warms when you acknowledge the small things he's done for you, he revels in the fact that you know he's taking care of you.

"'spose so." a beat "then why are you doing it?"

he doesn't have an answer for you. "listen, ghost. you're going to meet me in person and you're going to have a lot more answers or else-" you find your voice wavering. "or else i will go to the police."

you don't give him time to respond, you simply end the call and or good measure unplug your computer, like it will somehow distance you from what happened.

you go to your bedroom, sitting on your bed heavily. you were shaking, uncontrollable shivers wracking your body.

you had just dug your grave deeper, in your childish and immature quest to understand you had just given your stalker an open invitation to come to you.

simon was constantly around, lurking in shadows. and when he couldn't be near you physically, he was watching you through the cameras, stalking socials, you name it

he didn't really want to admit it to himself, but he felt guilty when he was deployed or was otherwise taken away from you.

that's really where the (strange) acts of service started, he was trying to ease his guilt of not being there to protect you by doubling down with his affections when he could

it started with things you would never know about, trailing you home to make sure you got back safely, watching your house as often as he could to make sure no one broke in, one time cleaning up after your cat broke a glass while you were gone. "bad cat arn't ya" he had mumbled, "gonna giv your mum a heart attack one of these days when I ain't around."

then he was leaving you umbrellas when he had watched you forget one in the morning as you left for work. linking prepaid cards to some of your random bills, smiling to himself as he watched you discover you "magically" had a few extra dollars left over at the end of the month and bought yourself something special.

hated seeing you sad, thought you deserved nothing but pure happiness 24/7. called and complained to corporate about a fellow employee you were having issues with, making up some lie to get them in trouble all to prevent you from dealing with the stress of workplace drama

he can think of dozens upon dozens of times he silently showed his devotion to you. it always left him with a whole feeling, like he was finally doing something right.

he didn't realize it, but being silent and distant stopped being enough for him when he was sitting in his bunk one night, drowning out soap's god-awful snores with your voice drifting through his cheap earbuds.

you were on call with a friend, and simon couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips when you giggled at something dumb your friend had said.

"i'm serious! this has to be my year or something, i'm having the best luck ever and i have no idea why."

he went a little rigid at that, feeling the overwhelming need for you to know it was him making your life so good, not some mysterious force of the universe.

it got worse after that

he'd watch you sleep, adjusting you when your neck was in an uncomfortable position, (bad time to be a heavy sleeper), shooing your cat away from bothering you, re-cover you when you'd seek out the blankets you had kicked off 10 seconds prior.

started hanging out in your house a lot, desperate to be as close as you as possible. military training would kick in as he would silently organize forgotten corners of your house, cleaning spaces you wouldn't have bothered with because you never see them

even replaces the batteries in the smoke alarm when he realizes there were none, knowing you had probably taken them out to make it stop chirping and forgotten to replace them. hides a carbon dioxide alarm too, just in case

he was feeling particularly desperate one day and took a shower, lathering himself in your scented body wash while working his fist up and down his swollen cock, imagining you were with him. you were mortified when you return home to see drops of water still dripping from the walls of your shower.

he flies too close to the sun, getting sloppy. you're suddenly more on edge, casting more glances over your shoulder. he stops making as many visits to your house when you start seeing a therapist.

that doesn't stop him from reaching out in other ways though, leaving notes, calling you, sending texts and random gifts.

this time his advances scare you a little less, and intrigue you more than they should.

he almost wishes he had been more careful. almost. he can't deny the thrill that goes through him at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he isn't deluded, and this could actually work.

he'd just have to wait and see.