#plusizereader

Something about the Bookstore | masterlist

Simon doesn’t want help. He doesn’t need it. But when the Captain assigns him a book to read during his mandatory break, he isn’t about to disrespect orders. That’s how he ends up in this “cozy” bookstore, staring at the same shelf for almost an hour while a restless, starving Soap keeps reminding him how hungry he is.

Enter Bookseller Reader, who’s been watching the two men struggle and quietly laughing to herself at how determined they are not to ask for help, despite clearly needing it.

Who knows? Maybe Simon will find the book on his own… or maybe bookseller reader will have to come over and give him a little push in the right direction.

18+ AU, fem!reader, plus-size reader, bookstore AU, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, slowburn, mutual pining, Touch-starved Simon, Simon is down bad for reader but just doesn't know how to express it

✉️ ᴿᴱᴬᴰ ᴼᴺ ᴬᴼ3

Status: ongoing Initial post

| Masterlist | @motherofdicks here you request a Bonnie Gold x Plus size reader hope this turns out to you're liking.

Summary- You were Bonnie Gold Partner, and you were heading to one of Bonnie biggest match, and you had really bad body images, but in the audience, you heard A drunk Arthur talk about you're weight and when Bonnie saw you left with tears in his eyes he was mad.

warning - cocaine and fat shaming

Paring - Bonnie Gold X Plus size reader. 

Entering the Boxing arena from the back of the place to see Bonnie before the most important match of his life, you knew how nervous he was and you were too. You never enjoyed seeing your boyfriend getting beat to a pulp and all bloody, but you knew that was something he loved and that was your job to be supportive. Looking around the halls, and try to remember where he and his father was. Burning the cigarette on the wall, letting the orange flames fall to the ground hearing Bonnie voice, you smiled running to hug him "Hey tiger" You put your hands on his sweaty cheeks, he was practicing before this match A large hand-laid in on your inner waste witch made you shiver " You made it " Bonnie planted a small kiss on your forehead, making you chuckle " Like I miss you Handsome, you been talking about it for months" you grin and saw Mr. Gold walk in next to his son " Hey" You gave Mr. Gold a hug you had always loved Bonnie, farther he had always treated you like someone in the family, He was like the only family you had Bonnie heard people rumbling to the arena, to set their bets or going to the bathroom and snorting a line to get hyped before the big match. Bonnie turned around and listen to his father " Love you Princess I got to get ready" He winked toward you giving you another kiss on your head. Waving goodbye to Bonnie, and Mr. Gold you took a deep breath not liking the clothing of the material you zipped up for this evening, nothing you bought fit you so you made all your clothes, but the date, of the match change than the normal one it was set so you did not have time to make a dress. Walking to the bathroom, lucky there was no one in the bathroom, anxiety filled the air and your hands went a little sweaty. Taking the White crystal powder out of the bag and a dollar bill you folded, it up and take a line of it. Feeling the nerves slightly die down, hearing the whispers of the other people entering the arena, you open the door from the girls' bathroom almost screaming you felt hands on your waist, ready to swing you saw Bonnie dodge it breaking out in laughter "easy their princess " he says. You were shocked hitting his chest "you idiot why are you not with your father or in the arena?"

Bonnie smiled strongly and whistled " I need my good luck time" He smirked the roll of your eyes was clear on your pretty face and grabbed him by the neck, kissing his lips, it was a soft passionate kiss you both heard Mr. Gold yell from the halls to get Bonnie over here. After Bonnie had finished his goodbyes with you, and wishing him good luck you saw Ada, you grew up around the peaky family, and they had always treated you like their own sibling, but Ada and you were bot best friends and acted like sisters, she knew about how much you struggle with your appearance, and knowing that it haunts you every day, thinking that Bonnie would stop loving you cause of it but that would never happen. Ada cocked an eyebrow to see your face heated from when Bonnie had come over she nudged your shoulder blade, "You are madly in love you crazy girl" rolling your eyes for the last time feeling like you did it again you may just die. Heading to the arena space, you told Ada about anything that came to your mind, knowing that you guys both had lived and did not talk together.

Sitting in the front of the row, hearing the mutters of the other, them talking about the bets and who gonna win, but you already knew who was gonna win and it was Bonnie, this was never your scene Bonnie, knew it hearing the person on the mat saying the match was ready. It was odd seemed like eyes were on you or after they were moving away from you so the person behind the sneaky eyes did not get caught you blew it off smiling at Poll, and Linda, who had to join the rest a rush of excitement made you grin there it was again those, damn eyes staring at you but nothing you did not want to make a scene so you blew it off. "Y/n" Ada saw by the look of you that you were in the wrong head space " I am fine," You said the way too quickly before you could even tell her what was wrong, the two men enter and screaming of both of the men made you get up clapping "Go Bonnie!" sitting down being your man's number one cheerleader, but hearing a familiar voice, it was Arthur. You never thought those words would come out of his mouth it made you feel discussed, but smelling the alcohol on his breath from one seat behind her clarified why he said that. "She such a pig happy none, of my brothers dated her" damn asshole again, you brushed it off your shoulder.

Seeing Bonnie and his opponent head-on made you smiled but the nerves you had were taking the joy, out of what was happening, and with what Arthur had said dented a bummer, on it Shocking that you could hear what the drunk asshole, but none of the other ladies did. zoning out of the ring of the bell, making Bonnie and his opponent square up you have been to all of his fights, but this one was special to you. Come on Handsome, you mentally scream in your head, than BANG Bonnie, got hit square shoked jar gasping and again, Arthur and is grose friends, were talking about your weight, knowing all what they wanted is you too leave , but you didn't give in once again, seeing Bonnie ontop of the man and that when Arthur made one more remark, making you're whole body freeze in response you saw Bonnie, looking at you tears were threatening down you're face and through the bag of your on his chest, looking over you're shoulder you saw Bonnie stoping right in the middle of his match, tears were threatening to come out of you're eyes, walking through the line of people, and the crowd of them.

Leaning on the wall of the hallway, the smoke going into you're lungs, and the inscurities of what Arthur said to you and no one coming to you for you're sake. Hearing a thud made you see Bonnie, You're eyes when wide with anxiety dropping the ciggeret band stomping on it running over to see Bonnie, having Arthur by the neck his shoulder blade holding the drunk Arthur in place. "Baby!'' you screamed and pulled Bonnie off and grabbed him by the hands, he had blood all over his face, it seemed like he won the match beacuse when you turn you're head you saw the other man getting dragged away and you smiled "you won my love, you won" Bonnie glared at Arthur a blabbering mess Arthur was that when Thomas takes his brother away "it normal, baby what he said I am a big girl." Bonnie still was angry but you being there calm him down, running patters on his biscep when Bonnie lean on laying ok you're shoulder, not one bit you cared about the blood.

Something about the Bookstore | simon riley x plus-size female reader

Chapter 1: A Good Book and A Bad Attitude

First glance. First touch | AO3 . MLIST

a/n:  Hi everyone! Thank you so much for the love on my last post. I decided to turn that random daydream into a series that I hope you'll all love! This is my first fic that I've published, well... besides the ones I posted on Wattpad when I was 13, but that was 10 years ago. So this is my first one as an adult, so I appreciate any feedback on how to make my writing better because I really love writing fiction and hope I can post more of my other work! (But please be nice!!) Anyway, I hope you all love this and have a great day!!

Please like/share/comment/repost!  I’d really appreciate it!! <3

“How long does it take to find a bloody book?” Soap groaned out, looking at the shelves for what seemed to be the 100th time. At this point, the titles were starting to merge.

Simon ignored his whining as he tried to find the book his captain told him to read during his mandatory break.

Simon did not want to read.

Hell, reading was the last thing on this list of things to do during this “mandatory break.”

‘Break my ass, making me do even more work,’ Simon thought as he recalled his captain telling him he needed to find a hobby, and how going to the gun range does not count as a hobby. Honestly, he didn’t know what was up with the captain lately; he’s been talking about “mindfulness” and “contemplative practices,” whatever the fuck that means, and Simon blames it all on his captain’s wife. He was a killing machine for fucksakes, how does one “meditate” after snapping someone's neck and eating freeze-dry military food?

“Why can’t you just order it off Amazon or something? Who the hell even goes to stores anymore? Come on LT, you need to get with the times.” Soap huffed out, shaking his head in disapproval and patting Simon’s shoulder.

“You chose to be here,” Simon grunted out, rolling his eyes. He was fine going alone; in fact, he was planning on going alone, but Soap decided to pay him a random visit, talking about how they needed some “bro bonding time.”

What the fuck is up with guys lately? He’s glad Gaz is still normal.

…Well...

He did catch Gaz doing some “yoga” or whatever the fuck that was that other day, but Simon chose to ignore it. Anyways, Simon told his sergeant no to his “bro time” but as he got into his car, Soap decided to hop in the passenger seat and kept yapping his ear off. Now here they were at the bookstore for almost an hour staring at the same rows of books.

“Do you guys need any help?”

Simon flinched just a bit when he heard the unfamiliar voice. He was never the kind of guy to be caught off guard. Not ever. Especially in his line of work, being caught off guard meant life or death. He didn’t know what caused him to not be overly aware of his surroundings, and how someone could just sneak up on him. He blames Soap for his distraction. He didn’t even bother to look at who the voice belonged to. By what they said, it was probably just a worker. Someone who's obligated to talk to him.

Simon just kept looking at the shelves in front of him. “No,” he said sternly, which to everyone else they would have taken what he said and immediately backed away at how intense he sounded.

“Are you sure? Because you’ve been eyeing this section for a while now. If you tell me what you’re looking for, I can-”

“I’m fine.” Simon interrupted, this time turning to see who was talking, hoping his black mask and intense stare would scare the person away.

Simon’s eyes looked down to see you. There was a smile on your face, unfazed at his rude interruption. You had a blue denim dress with a green knitted cardigan, which looked homemade, and brown boots with a lanyard cluttered with stickers and pins related to books and your other interests.

You were cute.

Soft. Plush. Delicate.

Definitely someone who needs to run away from Simon. Just being around him looked off. Yet, when Simon looked at your face, there was no fear in your eyes.

Odd.

“Alright,” you said, still smiling, but it didn’t seem forced. “But if you change your mind, I’ll be right around the corner,” You said, turning around to go back to the book you were shelving.

‘Finally,’ Simon thought. Why is everyone trying to help him? It’s so fucking annoy-

“Actually ma’am, we could definitely use your help!” Soap called out for you, making Simon shoot a glare at him. “My friend here is looking for a book,” Soap said.

You giggled, walking back up to the two men, “I mean, I sure hope so. Do we know what the book is called? Or the Author? Or even a rough idea of what the book is about?”

“That is a good question, lassie! Ghost, why don’t you tell the nice lady the book you’re looking for?” Soap said in a tone that sounded like a father coaching his son to talk to people. The mocking did not help with Soap patting his shoulder as “encouragement.” Simon was going to get back at him for this.

“The Creative Act or something,” Simon muttered.

Your eyes lit up, “The Creative Act? That's such a good book! I love that book! It has helped me get through some very dark times and has helped me during my creative burnout. I love recommending that book to people who need a little reminder on why they create art or if they need a little wisdom on life itself.” When it comes to you and books you love, there is no stopping you from talking about them. “What's funny bout the book, at least in this store, is you would think it would be here in self-help or even in the art section, maybe even references, but the book is actually in our philosophy section. Weird, right?” You said, and honestly, Simon was having a hard time trying to keep up with what you were saying. A huge infodump on the book he was looking for was not what he expected. Especially with how you’re talking to him like you both are friends.

Equals.

He was a customer, and he was expecting the fast way out of this. Customer service smile with a customer service voice. The whole song and dance, not this casual and teasing one-sided conversation going on.

“That is weird,” Soap said to fill in the silence. Soap was used to having to keep up conversations with himself around Simon and was used to the long silence, but he knew the general public was not, so to not make things awkward, Soap would sometimes fill in for Simon.

“I actually have the audiobook along with it, just because books like these I do best with someone else reading with me, because there is a whole lot of information for me to keep up with. So if that is your case, I’d definitely get the audiobook version along with the physical copy. Anyways, right, so we are in the wrong section so if you follow me...” you trailed off leading the two men to the other side of the store “You know if you like The Creative Act there are a couple other books you can also try there is Rest is Resistance or The Artist’s Way but I don’t want to overwhelm you with all that so I’ll just stop right here.” You continued making sure to look back occasionally, looking at Simon. Like you were only talking to Simon. Not Ghost or even just Soap, as most people do when Ghost doesn’t give a response back, they tend to ignore Ghost altogether and just talk to Soap. No, you were talking to Simon despite his silence.

When the three of you make it to the philosophy section, you look at the shelves trying to track the book. “Ah ha!” you said, pulling out the book. “Found it,” you said in a singy-song voice. “The Creative Act and the last one too! It must be your lucky day.” You smiled, looking at Simon.

“Lucky indeed,” Soap commented, standing behind his LT. You handed over the book with one hand on each side of the book. “I hope you enjoy the book as much as I did.” You said softly, like it was just meant for Simon’s ear.

Something just for him.

He was glad you couldn't see his face through the mask and hood well.

Simon grabbed the book and accidentally brushed his thumb with yours. And something in him kept his thumb there in a slight hover, but still feeling the warmth. After a couple of seconds of both of you just looking at each other, you spoke softly just for his ears, “Is there anything else I can help you find?” Simon cleared his throat as if to shake himself out of the trance he was in from the slight touch and looking into your eyes.

“Uh, no. That’s all,” He said with just a slightly softer voice that no one would notice.

But Soap did.

“Great! Well, I hope you have a great day,” you told him, for a second, forgetting about Ghost’s friend. You look over to Soap, “and you too!” You told him with a slight blush, embarrassed before turning around and walking back to your task.

“You too ma’am,” Soap called out, walking to Simon, putting his arm around his shoulder with a knowing smirk. “What was that all about, LT?” He teased.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Simon said, straightening up, walking to check out. “Come on, weren't you crying about how hungry you were?” Simon said, hoping that would shut him up, but Soap just laughed, following him.

Something about the Bookstore | simon riley x plus-size female reader

Chapter 6: Simon Says

A stormy night at the bookstore. A leaky roof. And no Simon in sight. How will you survive? Who will keep you company? | AO3 . MLIST

a/n:  Hi everyone! I am so so sorry for the very late chapter. I know I keep saying that I will do better and say I will update and don't, so I am sorry for acting like a deadbeat dad. I've been struggling with depression and had a very bad episode, and if you guys follow up on my post, you'll see that I am taking a slight break from uni to reevaluate what I want to do with my life and get back to creating art. So I hope you can forgive me, and I hope you like this chapter! Thanks again for the support!

Please like/share/comment/repost!  I’d really appreciate it!! <3

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

It was raining hard. The trees looked as if they were going to be blown away. You can hear umbrellas being taken away from people. Not even 7pm and the sky was dark and gray.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

You were staring at the clock. You’ve been doing this all day, and it looks like your shift was about to end. You couldn’t help but bounce your leg.

Drip. 

Drip. 

Drip.

“Your boyfriend hasn't come in yet?” 

You snapped out of the trance the clock had put you in and looked over to see your coworker replacing the bucket catching the leak. The building was old, everything was original, which is very rare, but that also means frequent leaks when it rains. It may be time to renovate the roof.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said like a broken record, getting up from your stool and grabbing the duster. With how bad the weather was, you wouldn’t expect any customers. Usually, when a bad storm is coming, the store closes early before it hits or stay closed, but this storm was unexpected. Too dangerous to send everyone home. Too late to avoid disappointment. 

She laughed, “He’ll come, maybe he got caught in traffic.” She reassured you and walked away to empty the bucket of water. 

You sighed, hoping she was right. It was selfish. It’s horrible outside and you didn’t want Simon to risk coming here just to talk to you, but you secretly hope he would. Simon has been coming to the shop at the same time, 5 pm every Thursday, without fail. He comes in, waits for you to finish with your customers if you’re busy, or helps you shelve books. You've even started a mini book club with him. 

Last week, you both discussed your second book and talked about how you would write scenes differently, what shocked you. At one point, you had a 5-minute laughing fit over something silly Simon said about a character.

“Simon.. The main character is a ghost, that’s why they didn’t end up together, it was all in his head,” you said, correcting him after he spent a good while wondering why the two main characters wouldn't just end up together. You were both in the back corner of the store, where no one goes, sitting on the floor across from each other like teenagers gossiping. 

Simon froze; he looked like he was malfunctioning for a second. “Wait wot?” he asked, “are you serious?”

You covered your mouth with your hands, trying to suppress a laugh. He looks so confused and slightly embarrassed, you swear if he wasn’t wearing a mask you would see his cheeks turn red. 

“Love, are you being serious?” He asked again with a face of disbelief like you just told him Santa wasn’t real. 

You nodded, trying to speak, but the laugh was taking over and you leaned over holding onto him like you were going to fall, having a laughing fit.

Simon didn’t flinch; he just looked down at you all smiling and laughing. He was glad he brought you amusement. A bit embarrassed, but seeing you laugh and hold onto him was worth it.

“Just because we technically aren’t a library doesn’t mean we can scream Y/N” you heard your coworker and turn your head seeing her hand on hip with a mischievous smile, there was nothing mean in her voice just light teasing and you go wipe your eyes from all the laughing “I’m sorry it’s just simon said something really funny” you explained and she raised her eyebrow looking at simon.

“Oh yeah? Did you tell her about the porn book?” She said, and Simon’s eyes widened. 

“Wait, what?!” You said, looking at Simon. 

Now you were used to the routine and didn’t want it to change, you’ve been antsy all day. Waiting by the door for Simon to come and feeling nothing but dread as the minutes go by from when Simon was supposed to be here. Now, with only 30 minutes left on your shift, you were losing hope. You felt like a lovestruck teen around him. You had your heart on your sleeve, your hopes were up, and you had a crush on him. You like how he made you feel; you felt heard and cared for. 

“Am I boring you sweetheart?” Simon teased with a smirk.

You were both talking about a romance book you've been reading, and midway through you yawned. 

“No! I just get tired around this time lately, I'm not sure why. Maybe I should bring a coffee to work.”

“What kind of coffee do you drink?” Simon asked, and you told him your usual drink order from your favorite cafe. At the time, you thought nothing of it, and you went back to discuss your book.

The next week, Simon came in with your coffee order in hand and handed it over to you. “Wouldn’t want you to crash mid discussion love,” he said with a wink. 

That gesture solidified your crush on him. No one has ever been so kind to you like that. 

“Aye bonnie lass!” you hear a deep Scottish accent call out to you. You turn from dusting and saw a tall man with a mohawk walking up to you. You were surprised to see soap here, you looked behind him to see if Simon was following up, but no one was around.

“I don’t know if you remember me, I was with a tall fella, scary looking,” Soap said, making a tall guy gesture. 

“Yes Soap, I do remember you.” You said, smiling at him.

“Ah, and she remembers my name! You can call me Johnny lass,” He said, going in for a handshake.

You shook his hand with a smile. You like Johnny, he seemed nice and funny. But you couldn't help but be disappointed that Johnny was here but not Simon. “Is Simon coming?” You asked sheepishly, you didn't want to come off as overeager, but you wanted to know.

Johnny was taken aback. Simon? How did you know his L.T.’s name? Simon had called Johnny a couple of hours ago, asking him to go to the bookstore for him. Simon was fighting a nasty cold, and he was going to say fuck it and come anyway. He didn't want to miss any time with you, but he felt and looked awful, and he didn't want to risk getting you sick. So he called Soap and told him to get a book from the bookstore at a specific time. He didn't tell him the logistics or any details about you. It wasn't that he was embarrassed of you or anything, he wasn't. Simon again was a selfish man, and he wanted to keep you all to himself. He liked having you be a part of his life and not to share. But he didn't want to just leave you hanging without telling you what was happening, so he caved, and he told Johnny to go.

Johnny didn't know his L.T. had a girl who knew his name; he just thought that Simon was getting into light reading or the Cap. gave him more homework. The only people Johnny knows who know Simon's name are the 141, and knowing Simon, he wouldn't just give out his name like that, so you must be pretty important in his L.T. life. 

“Simon ey?” Johnny smiled with interest. “No sorry lass, Simon has been struck with a cold. Couldn't get out of bed you see. Outright awful.” 

“Oh no, is he okay? Wait, no. That's stupid. Of course he’s not okay. Is there anything I can do for him?” You asked.

“Naw, he’ll get better love. Simon is a big drama queen when it comes to a little cold. Acts like he’s been shot in the chest. Don't worry your sweet head, love.” Johnny said, emphasizing Simon’s name. He found it very intriguing. “He asked me to come here to get something for him. Not sure what, but I’m sure you’ll know lass.” 

“Oh right! It probably is this week's book,” you said. 

“This week's book?” Johny asked.

“Yes! Simon and I are doing a little book club,” you said like it was any old thing.

Johnny grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Now this was definitely news. Something he would tell Gaz and the Cap. later. He couldn't believe his own ears. His L.T., the man called Ghost, a killing machine who never smiles, is in a book club with a sweet little thing like you? What alternate universe is he in? 

“A book club ey?”

“Yes, we just started it a couple of weeks ago, and it’s been fun. Would you like to join us?” you asked mainly out of politeness. You wouldn't mind having Johnny join the club, but you wish he would decline it. You wanted it to be special, just you and Simon. You were also a very selfish girl, and this was the first time you had something for yourself and you wanted to keep it. 

“Nah bonnie, I’m sure L.T. wants to keep you.. I mean the book club to himself. Wouldn't want to intrude,” he teased. “So he comes in every week? Since when?” Johnny asked.

“Uh, since you both first came in?”

Johnny was shocked; it must have been months ago…which makes sense. The times Simon would work out like crazy and leave at a certain time. Refusing to come hang with the boys and immediately shutting down the idea of finding a bird. He has his very own bird already and was keeping it to himself. 

“Ey, and so in this book club, what do you both read?”

“Well, the first week we read a horror book, and last week we read a mystery book…” You gesture for him to follow you to the counter. Johnny followed along with amusement in his step all the way to the cash register. You have saved the books behind the desk, waiting for Simon to come pick them up. You grabbed a book and handed it to Johnny. “This week is a romance.”  

“A romance?” Johnny said in shock. “Lass, I don't mean to burst your bubble but I don't L.T. would like-”

“Actually, Simon picked it out for the week.” You interrupted, “he actually really likes romance books,” you said proudly. 

Johnny raised his eyebrow, almost not believing you. 

“You know Simon says don't judge a book by its cover,” you said cheekily.

Johnny smirked, “Simon says huh? Well love if Simon says and you’re the expert, who am I to question? Best I get this to our dear old Simon now ey?” he said, paying for the book.

You helped him check out, not before stifling a yawn, which suddenly reminded Johnny of the coffee he left in the car. “Oh! hold on! I forgot something!” Johnny rushed out and quickly ran out of the store and shortly returned with a coffee in his hand.

“L.T. told me to get this, and I'm assuming it's for you.” He said, handing you the drink. You looked at it, and it was your coffee order, the same one he brought last time, the one he remembered you liked. You felt like tearing up. Even sick Simon still tried to come here and give you your drink. 

“Thank you,” you said, your heart warmed. “Uh, tell Simon I said thank you and to get better soon! And thank you for coming Johnny. Come if you want to get into reading, I'm sure we can find something for you,” you said, giving him a big smile. 

“Ay bonnie, I’ll take you up on that. I’ll see you soon,” Soap winked at you and left the store. He couldn’t believe Simon was hiding a girl like you.  

“And he’s not your boyfriend?” You hear a voice pop up, startling you.

Something about the Bookstore | simon riley x plus-size female reader

Chapter 5: Don't Judge a Book by Its Cover

You're having a really hard week, and your grandma wasn't making it any better. Now you're at work counting till you finally get to go home and cry with a tub of ice cream to feel better. Or maybe a tall masked British man with bad jokes can help you feel better? Who knows, I'm not a doctor! | AO3 . MLIST

a/n:  Hi everyone! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!! Let me know what you all think!

Please like/share/comment/repost!  I’d really appreciate it!! <3

“Nana, you need to stop pushing yourself. You don’t want another hip surgery, do you?” You’ve had a rough week. You were late to work three days ago, thanks to your car breaking down. Two days ago, you dropped your belongings in a muddy puddle while waiting for the bus to come pick you up. Yesterday, your grandma was taken to the hospital because she joined an MMA class for beginners and went crazy hard, causing her to hurt her hip. Who even let her join the class! Not only that! The book you’ve been reading had one of the worst endings possible, and your mood was ruined! 

Today wasn’t any better. You had a customer yell at you for not having a book in stock. You just got your car statement, which was crazy expensive, so you couldn’t afford it, which meant taking the bus or Uber from now on. And now you were on the phone with your grandma because she tried to escape the hospital even though they told her she needed to stay an extra day! 

“These people don’t know what they are talking about! I was fine! You have to experience pain to gain anything,” your grandma said, pleading her case over the phone. 

“Nana. Hearing your hip pop is not going to help you gain the Mortal Kombat skills you want. Do you wanna be put on a walker?” You exhaled and pinched your nose, trying to keep your voice down, but you were at a breaking point. 

“No one heard my hip pop! They are making it up! Listen, my love, you've got to get me out of here. I swear there’s a bunch of old people here! What if they infect me with their old people's germs?” Your grandma's voice pitched up like she was genuinely scared that being around the elderly would make her “old.” Your grandma was a character and sometimes difficult to deal with, but you loved her so much. She raised you alongside your mom and even helped you love yourself and be kinder to yourself, even when life wasn’t so kind.

“Nana, I hate to tell you this, but you are one of those old people.” You deadpanned. 

When your mom’s business was taking off, you saw how much joy it brought her to finally have a life that didn’t revolve around taking care of her kids. Your mother got pregnant young and married young, so she never got to experience life outside of kids. You took it upon yourself to encourage her to follow her dreams and travel more. Your mom was now a nomad, never in one place for long, but she did have a little house in the French countryside, where she stays when she needed a break. 

As for your siblings, you also encourage them to move out and have fun. You never got to do those things, though. While yes, your mom did raise you and your siblings well with your grandma, you also did a lot of the parenting for your siblings and sometimes even your own mom. You were cursed with the oldest daughter job and were always taking care of people and making sure everyone was happy and achieving their dreams before you even thought of your own. So you were still here in your hometown. Your siblings tried to help you and tell you to move out, have fun, and just be their sister, not their second mom. But with being a caretaker all your life, you didn’t know how. You don't know when you started to lose yourself and live for others. Now, with your grandma getting older, you were scared of leaving her alone, and she refuses to move in with your mom because she said, and you quote, “hate the fucking French.” She also refused to move in with you because she “needs her privacy” and “it’s embarrassing to bring a guy home and for him to see that she lives with her granddaughter,” but you still stayed, telling yourself that it’s good that you're still around in case something were to happen. But was it that? Or were you scared of not being needed and living for yourself? 

“Just stay there for one more day, or I’m telling mom.” You threaten her. 

“Do not tell your mother! She will not leave my side if you tell her.” She emphasized.

“Then stay.”

“Fine, but just so you know, you push me to drink sometimes.” Your grandma said jokingly.

“And you do too.” You hung up the phone and let out a big sigh. See? A character. 

“Who was that?” You let out a light shriek and jump as a strong, heavy-accented voice came out of nowhere. 

“Jesus, dude. Don’t do that,” you said when you started to calm down, holding your heart.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Simon said with a slight amusement in his voice, with his hands up. 

You still weren’t used to the pet names Simon gave you. After the last time you both were together, you were too busy interrogating him to notice, but now, when you hear it, your heart skips a beat, and you know your cheeks were bright red. You just hope he didn’t notice.

“You should be sorry, what if I punched, thinking you were an attacker?”  You said.

“I’d doubt I’d feel anything but proud of you for trying to defend yourself.” You could see Simon's black mask turn up a bit like he was hiding a laugh. 

“What do you mean? You don’t think these muscles would hurt you?” You teased him by flexing your biceps.

Simon shook his head, this time not hiding his laugh; it was deep yet quiet and reserved, it made you want to make him laugh more. “I'm sorry, sweetheart, you’re right, I’d definitely get injured. You know what, if I ever need someone ot fight for me, I’ll call you up.” 

“Damn right you should. Anyways it was just my grandma. She hurt herself during her mixed martial arts class or whatever, and now she’s refusing to stay in the hospital and rest as the doctors told her. You know she tried to sneak out three times before the nurse had to call me and see if I could talk some sense into her?” You could feel your eye wanting to twitch as the frustration of the day started to come back. You’ve been bottling up your frustration all week, in fact, and you felt like you were about to burst.

Simon noticed the tension. You looked tired, and you were fidgeting a lot with your hands, picking at your nailbeds. “I’m sorry? Mixed martial arts?” Simon asked, wondering if he heard that correctly. 

“Exactly my thought! She’s crazy! You know, last week she tried to enter a boxing tournament for, and I quote, “the plot.” I swear I need to take her phone away! She’s on TikTok way too much, she’s worse than a teenager!” You throw your hands up and groan from the memory. 

Simon stood there for a moment in sheer shock. Your grandma tried to join a boxing tournament? Simon was all for people doing whatever they wanted to do. He didn’t care; it was none of his business, but this was different. It reminded him of a certain neighbor who he catches going out doing crazy things despite her age. “Alright. Well. Besides that, are you alright?”

You let out a sigh and nod your head, “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Simon raised an eyebrow knowingly. Besides you being a bad liar, Simon's job relied on him knowing when people were lying. 

Folding under the slight pressure, you dropped the act. “No, I’m not fine. I just had a really rough week, and all I want to do is go home and sleep.” You didn’t want to burden Simon with your problems. You didn’t want to be too much and scare him away. You’ve been told by people that you were too much at times, and Simon was something good in your life. You wanted to preserve that, and at the end of the day simon was still just a customer; you didn’t want to push boundaries. 

Simon was also dancing on the line of the relationship between the two of you. He wanted to know more. To keep you talking. Yet, he didn’t want to get too close. But you were too addicting to let go. He opted to not push you any further, but he still wanted to see you smile. “I finished the book you gave.”

This made you perk up. You didn’t think he’d actually read the book, let alone finish it, but the fact that he did warmed your heart. You didn’t know what to do with these feelings. You were confused. Your automatic response was to take it as pity. Pity has been given to you your whole life. People pitying you for having a single mom. Pitying you for acting differently. Pitying you for looking different as well. You hated it, and when it came to men, sadly, a lot of the time, when they would show interest in you, it was just pity because you were fat and they wanted to play “hero.” So when an attractive men like simon starts showing interest in you, your first reaction was that he pity you, that it was not real, and you hated that part of your brain. You hated how it altered your brain to think that no man would actually be into you and flirting with you, and no matter how much self-love you have for yourself and the amount of therapy, that little voice is still in your brain that creeps out at the worst times. 

“What did you think of it?” While you’ve recommended books to him before, this one was the one review you were scared of. It was one of your favorite books, and you really wanted him to like it. 

“It was good. You were right. Halle does remind me a lot about you. Which means I also got to learn things about you that I didn’t know.” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, looking down at you. His height towered over you, eyeing his arms, seeing the tattoos, the veins trailing around, some scars you wanted to ask about. 

“The pacing was nice. I like getting to know both characters, and Halle and Henry make a cute couple. I think he’ll treat her right. I was surprised to read certain scenes… I didn’t know you were like that.” Simon's mask hid the smirk under it.

Your eyes widen. How could you forget the smut in the book? Honestly, you were so entranced by the love story that you forgot there was some smut. “Oh yeah.. Sorry, I forgot to warn you about that,” you said embarrassingly 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. It was good to learn from it.” Learn? What did he mean by that? “Besides that, the friendships in the story were nice. It was nice to read a realistic college experience where the students do go to class. I will say some of the other couples in the story are not my favorite. I thought the ending was sweet.” 

You were surprised by his in-depth review; you didn’t expect him to get into it. You were quiet, trying to process what happened. 

“Wot?” You thought I wouldn’t be into that kind of book?” Simon asked. It was true thought, Simon wasn’t into that kind of genre, let alone reading in general. He didn’t have time or care for it, but he wanted to impress you. 

Simon wanted to know what you like. What made you smile. What made you laugh, excited, blush. He wanted to do those things for you. Which scared him a lot. He didn’t know why he was doing these things or why he was coming around so much. His original mission was to get the captain off his back. How did it turn to him coming to a bookstore every week just to talk to you? Simon didn’t even like talking about himself or talking to people in general, but here he was having full conversations with you like it’s easy. The words just flowed out of him like nothing. He wasn’t used to this; it scared him. He didn’t like these new feelings he should just leave and pretend none of this happened.

What was he gonna do? Whisk you away like the books? Make a grand gesture? This wasn’t a romance novel. This was real life, and Simon couldn’t do any of that. He has a job that took him away for an unknown amount of time, with no guarantee that he would live or die. He wasn’t a romantic. He doesn't do loud confessions or thoughtful dates. He was nothing that you deserved. But he couldn’t stop himself from coming, his mind flooded with you. Maybe it was selfish. He should let you go, to find your prince charming, but Simon was a selfish curel man. He wanted. No, needed your attention on him. 

“I mean, honestly, no. Not to be that kind of person, I didn’t think you would have finished the book.” You were beaming. To other this might not seem like much, but to you, it meant everything. Reading and sharing books was a love language of yours, and to have it reciprocated meant the world to you. 

“Well love, don’t judge a book by its cover.” Simon was proud of that joke, even more now, hearing you laugh and seeing you roll your eyes at his cheesy joke. 

“Sorry, I should have known you were a big softy.” You smiled up at him. 

Soft. 

Something about the Bookstore | simon riley x plus-size female reader

Chapter 3: The Porn Book Incident

Stalking? No, just going to your job every day to see if you actually exist| AO3 . MLIST

Please like/share/comment/repost!  I’d really appreciate it!! <3

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Again.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four. 

The past two Thursdays, he’d seen you. Easy. Predictable. Now it’s four days after his third Thursday visit, and you’re nowhere to be found. 

It was starting to piss him off. 

One. 

Two.

“Jesus, LT. When are you going to stop?” Johnny called out as he walked into the small off-base gym they used during leave. Since Simon and Johnny didn’t live far from each other, they both tend to go to the gym together. Lately, though, it felt like Simon never left the gym. He’d been training for what had to be hours, burning himself out on purpose. He was so deep in his own head, thinking about where you might be, why he couldn’t find you, that he just kept dropping into push-ups like he could sweat the frustration out.

Simon ignored Johnny’s comments and pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his water. “Let’s go to the pub,” Johnny suggested, eyeing him. “You look like you need to burn off some energy. Maybe we can find you a nice bird who can help you with that.” Johnny nudged him with a smirk.

“Can’t. I have plans,” Simon muttered. He wasn’t lying; he did have plans. Even if Simon didn’t have plans, going to the pub wasn’t one of them today. Normally, he’d complain a little about going with the boys, but would still go, grab a drink, maybe flirt with someone just to burn off steam.

But lately? He had zero interest in any of that.

Not since he met you.

“I think you should give your right hand a break, LT,” Soap joked, laughing.

“Shut up. I actually do have plans, Johnny.” Simon smacked the back of his head as he walked past.

“Oh shit, really? What are you doing?”

“None of your business.”

“Oh, come on, Simon! You can’t edge me like this!” Simon grimaced. Ever since Soap started being more active online, he’d been throwing around internet slang or misusing vulgar terms like a menace.

“What is wrong with you?” Simon asked, pure disapproval in his tone.

“What? It’s funny!” Soap insisted.

Simon rolled his eyes and checked the time. His plans. He needed to get freshened up and ready. He walked past Johnny, grabbing his gym bag.

“Tell me how your plans work out later! I’ll be waiting for you to release me from this edging session.” Soap called, cackling.

Simon flipped him off on the way out of the gym.

He got into his car and headed toward his apartment. He could use the gym showers and locker rooms to get ready, but he hated it. Too exposed, too many blind spots. No control. Not happening.

____

When Simon got back to his place, he walked up the stairs and was immediately greeted by his neighbor. Paula was a sweet, foul-mouthed elderly lady who lived next door. Since he lived on the second floor and the elevator broke every other week, Simon often helped her carry groceries or walked her up when her hip acted up.

Their relationship took years to build. When Simon first moved in, he had no intention of talking to anyone or letting anyone know he existed, same as always. But one day, he’d heard Paula struggling on the stairs with two heavy bags, clearly needing help. Tom, another tenant, was closer to her but too busy staring at his phone to bother. He walked right past her with a disgusted look.

“Thanks for nothing, asshole!” Paula yelled after him.

Simon couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out. Unfortunately, Tom heard what Paula said and stomped back down.

“What the fuck did you say to me?” he snapped. “Hold on, Brad,” he added to whoever was on the phone, probably one of his golf buddies. Tom was the type of finance bro at a company no one’s heard of, all privilege and no substance, walking around in those freshly pressed white polos like he owned the building.

“You were in my way,” Tom sneered at Paula. “If you can’t carry your groceries, maybe you should go to a senior home or something.”

Simon had heard enough. He headed over, partly to help Paula, partly because he’d been dying for an excuse to punch Tom and ruin his hairline botox.

“Who are you calling senior, bitch?” Paula yelled, grabbed an orange, and launched it at Tom. It smacked his phone clean out of his hand.

Simon’s eyes widened. The force she put behind that throw… Jesus.

“Are you fucking kidding me? My tax dollars—” Tom started, but Simon cut in.

“We got a problem?” Simon said, stepping in behind Paula.

Tom froze when he saw him. Simon was big, much bigger than Tom, and the mask didn’t help. The anger already rolling off him made him look more like Ghost than a neighbor.

“No man, it’s fine,” Tom muttered. “None of your business.”

“It is when you’re harassing her,” Simon said, glaring.

Tom wilted immediately. “Right… my bad.” And he practically sprinted to his apartment.

“What a fucking pussy,” Paula muttered. Then she pointed at her bags. “Alright, big guy. Grab those and follow me.”

Simon blinked at her language and how easily she bossed people around, even him. And the worst part? It worked.

He wasn’t dumb; he never expected a TV-sweet, delicate grandma. He’d seen Paula pull a gun on a guy once because he “stood too close.” 

Simon grabbed the bags and followed her up the stairs.

“What’s wrong with this generation of men?” Paula ranted. “They act like princesses with no respect for anyone. No wonder women prefer being single now. I tell my granddaughter all the time, don’t date or marry a man unless he can build you a house with his own hands and his own money.”

Simon had never met the granddaughter. He was never around long enough to see her, so he always imagined someone young and terrifyingly like Paula.

“Sounds smart,” Simon replied.

Paula unlocked her door and told him where to drop the groceries.

“Thank you…” she said, eyeing him, waiting for his name.

“Uh… Simon, ma’am.” He didn’t know why he gave his real name. Even the mailbox had a fake one.

“Ah! I knew Jefferson was fake. You do not look like a Jefferson. Ugly name.”

Simon actually laughed. Paula later cooked him dinner as thanks, his first home-cooked meal in years since his mom. After that, they settled into a comfortable rhythm and developed a sort of grandma and grandson relationship that Simon never got to have. 

So seeing Paula now wasn’t unusual.

“You’re back!” she said. “Heading out to see the girl?”

“No,” Simon lied immediately.

Paula laughed. “If you don’t find her today, I’m going to assume you’ve got dementia before I do and you imagined her.”

Simon rolled his eyes, smiling a bit. “Alright, old lady.”

He walked into his apartment, still hearing her laugh echoing down the hallway.

____

This was stupid. This was so stupid.

He shouldn’t even be doing this.

Yet he checked the mirror again.

Do I look intimidating? Simon hated that he even cared. He didn’t want to scare you off, but he couldn’t change who he was. And you had talked to him more than most people ever did, so his looks shouldn’t be the problem… right?

Should I change my shirt?

He tugged at the fitted black long-sleeve he was wearing. It clung more than usual. He wasn’t stupid; he knew he looked good. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted you to notice.

She’s probably avoiding me.

That thought slipped in, sharp and ugly. His father raised him on the idea that he was never enough, never right, never wanted. The military didn’t fix that; it just gave him something to prove.

What if she quit because I scared her?

He knew women found him attractive, his face, his build, but the quiet, the blunt tone, the mask… people misread him. They always thought he was rude or pissed off. Sometimes he was, sure, but not with you.

What if I said something stupid and she left her job because of me?

“Shut up,” he muttered to himself, annoyed at his own thoughts.

He didn’t even know why he was trying so hard to see you again. Well, besides the promise he made. But also because… he wanted to. You were bright and talkative, but not in the way Johnny was, which made him want to shove sand in his mouth. Your voice was soft, velvety. He could listen for hours. You didn’t flinch at his bluntness. And your smile…

Fuck your smile.It killed him every time.

And you were beautiful. Stupidly beautiful. He wanted to feel you again, your soft body pressed against his hard one, melting into him. God, you were perfect.

He wanted to see you again.

It had been a week and four days since he last saw you. He thought he had lucky timing finding you exactly one week later. So, of course, he assumed you’d be there again this week. But you weren’t.

For the past couple of days, he had walked around that bookstore every afternoon, pretending to browse. He probably looked insane. Window shopping? For four days straight?

Finally, frustrated, he grabbed his keys and drove to the store again.

___

I was right. This is so stupid, he thought thirty minutes into his search for you.

It wasn’t even a big store. There was no reason for him to be walking in circles like an idiot.

He was seconds from giving up. Maybe he really did imagine you. Maybe you were—

“You know she’s on vacation, right?”

Simon stiffened and turned. A worker was shelving books nearby, hair in a ponytail with purple streaks, tattoos covering her arms, piercings glinting. Black skirt, band tee. He recognized her as the cashier you talked to last time. He remembered watching you two chat forever, waiting for a moment alone with you before finally giving up and interrupting.

“Wot?” he grunted. What the hell did she mean?

“Y/N,” she said with a smirk. “That’s who you’re looking for, right?”

Simon was caught.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, grabbing a random book and pretending to read.

Lucia didn’t buy that act or even that “slick” cover-up. You’d think that after years as a trained special ops soldier, Simon would be good at going undercover or pretending. And he was. But those were missions where he had no attachment, no personal stake, just a job to get done.

This was different.

“That’s too bad. She likes talking to you,” the girl said, crossing her arms while he “read” the back of the book.

Simon nodded stiffly, continuing the world’s worst act.

“She’s on vacation right now,” she added. “Celebrating an anniversary. She’ll be back in three days.” She said, “Also, if you’re gonna pretend to read something, maybe don’t pick up a book about the history of porn.” She smirked and walked away.

Simon flipped the book over.

Beaver Street: A History of Modern Pornography.

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, slamming it back onto the shelf.

Mortified, he headed out of the store.

____

She likes talking to you.

The words echoed in his head.

Talking? I barely say anything to that girl.

But his chest felt warm, strangely warm. Comfortable. He didn’t get feelings like that often, so it freaked him out.

“Y/N…” he whispered to himself. He finally had your name. He remembered you knew his call sign, but he never got yours. Now that he had it, your name wouldn’t leave his head.

He told himself the smile tugging at his lips was because he “succeeded in his mission” of finding out where you were. Safety reasons. And the promise. That was all.

Nothing else.

Nothing at all.

But he did miss your smile. And your voice. And you.

She’s celebrating an anniversary.

Simon froze.

Anniversary? Like… marriage? No, he never saw a ring. Maybe a relationship? Still, an anniversary meant someone.

Someone who wasn’t him.

His mind spiraled immediately. Maybe she’s married.Maybe she has a boyfriend.Maybe she’s—

Or maybe…

A divorce anniversary. Yeah. Whoever the man was, he probably sucked. She was celebrating leaving him.

Simon hoped that was the case.

Anything but you being with someone. Simon needed to know, and he needed to know now.

Three days. She’d be back in three days.

And in three days, he’d know.

His mission isn’t over yet.

Something about the Bookstore | simon riley x plus-size female reader

Chapter 2: A Deal Has Been Made

Long TBR's and so little time | AO3 . MLIST

a/n: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your patience for the next chapter! I was trying to get this done sooner, but I am a full-time university student with 2 jobs, so I am trying my best! Anyway, I hope ya’ll like this chapter! TW: Light mentions of eating disorder, body image

Please like/share/comment/repost!  I’d really appreciate it!! <3

This is it. 

This is how it all ends.

A story that barely began, and death creeps in. 

Dehydration.

That is how you’re going to die.

At least that’s what you thought after talking to your 20th customer during a midday rush. Who knew talking so much would leave you with such a dry mouth? But this wasn’t like any other customer service or retail job where you would ring the customer up and get them out as soon as possible. No, you, like most of your coworkers, when a customer tries to purchase a book you’ve either read or that looks interesting, you spend 5 minutes talking to the customers about the book before even ringing them up. So, of course, after all that talking and exchanging book recommendations, you will end up dying of thirst. A noble death, really.

Luckily, the rush was over, and you were able to grab your water bottle and take a drink. And boy, did you drink. 

“Jesus Christ, are you good?” Your coworker Lucia asked as she watched you demolish the water in seconds. 

“No,” you breathe out after finishing. “I thought I was going to die if I didn’t get any water.” 

Your coworker laughed, shaking her head. “Well, that’s what you get for talking so much,” she said in a teasing manner. It was pretty well known around the store that you would not stop talking, but they all loved it, mainly because the customers loved it, and it brought more people in.

“Well, how can I not? So far I have 10 books to add to my tbr list,” you said, holding your sticky note with books customers had recommended.

“Right. And what about the last 10 you bought last month thanks to customers’ requests? Or even the last couple of months? Have you caught up with those?” she asked, raising an accusatory eyebrow.

“We don’t talk about those!” you said, holding your hands out defensively. “I will get to them!”

“When?” she shot back.

“Eventually… okay! I just have to get in the right mood. Plus, I’m trying to catch up on my book club book that I totally forgot to read because I was so into writing my own book this month. I haven’t gotten around to reading much which sucks! There are not enough hours in a day!” You groaned out and buried your face in your hands.

“Hey,” Lucia softened, “reading isn’t a race. We all take breaks. And honestly? I don’t know anyone who reads as much as you. And you’re finally writing. That’s huge. Don’t downplay it.”

You looked at her gratefully. She meant it.

You’ve been writing for as long as you can remember, but you would never publish anything or show anything to the public. As an adult, writing became a childish dream, plus you never had enough time. You worked so hard to get where you are now and continue to break your back to help other people, that the only hobby you had time for was reading. Sure, you still wrote here and there, and you even wanted to write a book. One of those dreamer situations you liked to entertain the idea of, but would never pursue. You wrote little scenes of the book you wanted to write and little tidbits, but to you, it was never anything serious.

It wasn’t until one lunch break, while you were scrolling on your laptop, that you found one of your own fanfics you wrote a couple of years ago and decided to read it. You didn’t know two of your coworkers were right behind you, being nosy little things. They asked you what you were reading. You weren’t the best at lying, so you immediately closed your laptop. 

“Nothing!” You said a bit too fast. It wasn’t like reading fanfic was embarrassing; lots of your coworkers read and even wrote fanfic, so they were confused about why you were embarrassed by it.

“Is it freaky?” Lucia asked. “’Cause if it is, I need to see it. What fandom?”

“Uh… It’s not freaky or anything like that,” you said, which was true. You didn’t write smut, you didn’t know how to or have the desire. You loved romance. Pure romance. Innocent romance. The subtle looks. The lingering touches. Slow burn. Very slow burn. The kinda where your heart beats fast reading how the MMC voice slightly changes to a softer tone when speaking to his lover. 

“Then what is it?” Your other coworker, Jesse, asked, holding a coffee mug in their hand.

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid. Just something I wrote a while ago. A fic I wrote when I was bored.”

“Well, let us see!” they pressed.

“Fine,” you sighed. “But don’t make fun of me.” You opened your laptop with hesitant fingers, letting them read.

Minutes passed. Long minutes. Silent minutes.

You cracked first.

“It’s bad, isn—”

“Holy shit, dude. This is so good!” Lucia said.

Jesse nodded without looking up. “Send me this. Right now. My break’s almost over, and I need to keep reading.”

“...You like it?” you asked nervously.

“Yes!” they both said.

“Girl, you can fucking write. I’m not even in this fandom, but now I wanna be because you’ve written them so well!” Jesse said.

“Please tell me there’s more,” Lucia asked eagerly 

“Yeah, there is… if you want, I can send it to you,” You told them.

“Yes! And send it to me too!” Jesse called out as they headed back to the floor.

After that interaction, your coworkers had been bugging you about a new chapter and even passing it around, telling people how good a writer you are. Your coworkers encouraged you to keep writing and to start your book. You were glad you had such a supportive group; it made the writing process a little better. You still had doubts, but you were happy.

“How is it going, by the way? Anything I can read yet?” Lucia asked, leaning against the counter.

“It’s going fine. It’s just… I’m used to writing little short stories and stuff, and this book mapping is so insane, and it’s a bunch of learning curves. Plus, I’ve been trying so hard not to go on YouTube or TikTok and watch people’s writing process and compare myself and feel like a total failure,” you admitted. You had a hard time not comparing yourself to others. You’d been like this all your life in all aspects. It was ingrained in you, and as much as you tried with your therapist to stop or at least lessen it, it was a hard process. You had 20+ years of being compared in your system.

Growing up, your parents always compared you with your siblings, cousins, and even strangers. You weren’t societal beauty standards when it came to your body. You’d had body image issues from such a young age, an age where no child should be thinking about how their body looked. You were called so many degrading names, told to diet, and were even forced into diets at a young age. That didn’t help your teen years. You suffered from eating disorders and body image issues, yet no one believed you because you didn’t “look” like you had an eating disorder. Luckily, as an adult, years of therapy and being around people who went through similar things helped you learn to embrace and even love your body. You loved your body in all states, because it had helped you through so much. You tried your best to stay away from social media. You loved yourself, your body in all its states and forms, and you even found yourself feeling sexy at times.

Still, years of bullying and comparing didn’t go away, so you compared yourself in writing and other hobbies, but you were working on it.

“I’m trying, I’m—”

A throat cleared.

You froze, then turned.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” you said quickly, straightening up. You’d been so lost in conversation that you hadn’t noticed someone approach. “How can I help y—”

Ghost.

The man from last week. Tall, looming, wrapped entirely in black. Black mask, black hoodie, black pants. Does this man only own black? It was quite funny. It was clear he tried to be incognito, and yet he was the least inconspicuous man alive.

“Oh hey! Ghost, right? Welcome back,” you said, smiling at him. Usually, you were very bad with names; it took you ages to remember someone’s name, but hearing his friend call him Ghost, that was a name that stuck. And you’d never seen a man who only showed his eyes, so of course, Ghost was someone you remembered. (Totally not because you found his mysterious personality kinda cute.)

Ghost said nothing. His eyes, sharp, unreadable, held on to yours. 

 “Sooo… did you get around to reading the book?” you asked.

“What?” Ghost’s brows furrowed, as if he didn’t know what you were talking about.

“The book? The Creative Act? You probably forgot, but I was the one who helped you and your friend get it,” you told him.

“I didn’t forget,” 

Oh.

Something warm and stupid fluttered in your stomach.

Most customers forgot interactions the moment they stepped outside. You didn’t expect him to remember you. But he had.

“So… how was the book?” you asked him.

“It was… interesting,” he said.

“Interesting? Yeah, I totally get that. I mean, a lot of the information can get confusing, but I do think there’s some good notes to take from the book… and I’ll stop there before I go on another tangent,” you said.

“It’s fine.” He said.

This was the most you’d gotten from him. Well, frankly, you’d only had one other interaction with him, but you liked that he was talking and wanted to hear him talk more. But of course, you didn’t want to push it.

“So, did my rant about how great the book is live up to expectations?” you asked him.

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head, and maybe, just maybe, there was a light smile? You couldn’t tell if it was actually there or just wishful thinking. “It did, actually. Your, uh,  comments made me actually want to read the book.”

“Really?” you said in disbelief, but you had the biggest smile on your face. “That’s so great. I’m… I’m glad,” you said, realizing you might be a bit too out there, and you blushed slightly from embarrassment. “So what do we have now?” you asked, looking at the two books he picked out and realizing one of them was one from your endless tbr list. “Oh, hey! This book is on my list of books to read,” you said, holding up the book.

“Really?” he said.

“Yeah, but then I forgot about it because I either had to catch up on book club books or I wanted to read another genre. It’s a whole ordeal. But I really want to read this one.”

“You should,” he grunted out.

You looked at him and got an idea, a bit of a stretch, it could lead to nothing, but it didn’t hurt to try. “Alright… then how about this. You read the book first, and you tell me how it was and if I should move it to the top of my list the next time you come in.”

You didn’t think he’d agree, or even if he did, it would just be a funny joke, and he’d never come back.

“Okay,” he said, his stare unwavering, like he was agreeing to something far bigger than a book review.

“Okay.” You smiled at him and gave a confirmation nod, then finished ringing him up. After you told him his total and checked him out. “Your receipt is in the bag, and you’re all set,” you told him, handing him the bag. “I hope you enjoy your book and have a good day,” you said, looking at his eyes with a soft smile.

“You too,” he nodded, lingering just for a bit before clearing his throat and walking away.

You watched Ghost walk away like a lovesick teenager in a coming-of-age movie. You weren’t even subtle about it; you tilted your head, leaned slightly over the counter, eyes glued to his retreating figure.

He disappeared into an aisle, and a soft, embarrassingly dreamy sigh slipped out of you.

“What… was that?”

You jumped so violently that you let out a tiny shriek.

“DUDE!” you smacked Lucia’s arm. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Ow—okay, damn.” She rubbed her arm dramatically. “But seriously. What. Was. That?”

You blinked at her, trying very hard to play stupid. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t do that. Don’t be delusional.” She stepped in front of you, arms crossed, giving you the most judgmental stare imaginable. “I know how you talk to customers. I have watched you charm twenty people today. But that?” She pointed at the air Ghost had once occupied. “That was not customer service.”

“It wasn’t—”

“That was tension. Like, actual, thick, ‘oh my God should I leave you two alone?’ tension.”

You felt your cheeks heat instantly. Your hands suddenly needed something, anything, to do, so you grabbed random bookmarks and straightened them like they were critically important to national security.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumbled.

Do you know him?” she asked.

“No, I don’t know him. He just came last week, and I helped him find a book, and I happened to have read it, so I asked him how he liked it, like you’re supposed to do with customers,” you told her.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to bat your big eyes and flash a flirty smile at customers,” she teased.

“I WAS NOT.”

“Sure, sure, and I don’t want to go home and play video games. We are just all lying today.”

You rolled your eyes at her and turned back to your task, not facing her. There was a full ten seconds of silence.

Finally, quietly, you whispered:

Something about the Bookstore | simon riley x plus-size female reader

Chapter 4: First-name Basis

You're back from vacation, preparing for Valentine’s Day. What better way to set up string hearts than with your favorite customer helping you out?| AO3 . MLIST

a/n:  Hi everyone!!! Again, thank you all soooo much for your patience. I know it’s been forever for an update, and I am so sorry. I have no excuse but laziness and writer’s block. After uni break started, I’ve just been resting and recharging, but I am back to writing, and I might be working on another fic as well… Anyways, I will tell y'all more about it later. For now, enjoy this chapter!

Please like/share/comment/repost!  I’d really appreciate it!! <3

“Okay… please don’t fall,” you whisper to yourself as you carefully step down the ladder, your arms lifted just in case you need to catch your display.

The holidays had finally come to an end, and now it was time to switch everything over to Valentine’s Day. You loved decorating the store, every ribbon, every heart, every strand of lights. Your coworkers never understood it. Most of them hated dealing with the big displays that always got knocked over or the tangled lights that never worked the way they were supposed to. But not you. You liked being in charge of things. You liked knowing that when everything looked perfect, it was because of you.

As you got older, you thought you would have more control over your life in general. Instead, things rarely went according to plan. So you took control where you could, like volunteering to handle the decorations, as long as you got to decide how they were set up. Your boss had never minded. In fact, they seemed relieved to hand the responsibility over to someone who actually cared.

You adjusted another hanging heart, what felt like the millionth one of the day, though in reality, it was only the fifth. Still, your arms were already starting to ache, and you knew you had several more to go. The store was painfully quiet. Between the rain outside and the post-holiday slump, hardly anyone had come in all day. A perfect time, you figured, to get all the overhead decorations finished without anyone in the way.

You had only returned to work yesterday after your vacation with your mom. It had been just as fun as the last trip, sunny skies, warm air, and a much-needed break from the freezing cold you were now back in. The snow and strong winds felt even harsher after spending time in the sunshine. Still, the tan you came back with made it worth it. Your coworkers had already commented on your glow, teasing you about how refreshed you looked.

And they weren’t wrong, you did feel refreshed. Recharged. Ready to slip back into your routine.

You told yourself that was the only reason you were glad to be back at work.

Not for any other reason at all…

You dragged the ladder over to another section of the store, already annoyed by how difficult it was to move. This wasn’t some nice, lightweight ladder; it was old and stubborn. You had to fold it up just right, making sure the latch clicked into place so it wouldn’t collapse on you. You’d been meaning to tell your boss they seriously needed to replace it, but for now, you worked with what you had.

After setting it down in the new spot, you climbed back up, heart decoration in hand. You lifted your arms toward the ceiling, trying to hook it into place, but you were just a little too short to reach properly. You stretched onto your tiptoes, fingers brushing the hook.

That’s when the ladder started to shake.

A normal person would have climbed down immediately. A normal person would have played it safe. But you were determined. You were so close. You reached again.

The ladder wobbled harder this time, tilting just enough for your stomach to drop. Your heart raced as the realization hit. 

You were about to fall.

And in that split second, you braced yourself for it. The embarrassment. The pain. The moment everyone would talk about later. You squeezed your eyes shut.

But the fall never came.

Instead, the ladder suddenly felt steady again, solid beneath your feet, as if it had never moved at all. Confused, you slowly opened your eyes and looked down. There, holding the ladder firmly in place, was a tall man, easily over two hundred pounds, strong enough to keep the old thing from tipping any further. He wore a hoodie, the hood pulled low enough that you couldn’t see his face.

But somehow… You already knew who it was.

You couldn’t explain it. You just felt it in your chest, in the way your heartbeat suddenly changed.

Your fate hadn’t come after all.

It had been caught instead.

Your hands tighten around the edge of the ladder as you slowly look down at him.

He’s still holding it steady, one hand gripping the side like it weighs nothing, the other braced against the bottom rung. For a second, neither of you says anything. The store is so quiet you can hear the rain tapping against the windows.

“Uh…” you finally breathe out. “Thanks.”

He chuckles softly, low and warm. “Yeah. No problem. But maybe you should come down before you give me a heart attack.”

You let out a nervous laugh and carefully climb down, your legs a little shaky as your feet hit the floor. When you straightened up, you saw him.

Ghost. With his typical black surgical mask and dark clothing.

Just like you thought.

“I should’ve known it was you,” you say, trying to sound casual even though your pulse is racing.

He smirks. “You always get yourself into trouble when I’m not around?”

“Only the dangerous ladder-related kind,” you tease.

He shakes his head, arms crossing over his chest. “You know, you could’ve asked for help.”

You shrug. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Fun?” he repeats. “You almost fell.”

“But I didn’t,” you say softly, looking up at him. “Because you were here.”

For a moment, something shifts between you. The air feels heavier, warmer, like there are words neither of you are ready to say yet.

He clears his throat. “So… Valentine’s decorations, huh?”

You glance up at the hanging hearts above you. “Yeah. Figured it was time to make the place a little more romantic.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Romantic?”

You meet his eyes. “Don’t you think so?”

He hesitates just a second too long. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I do.”

You grab the next heart decoration and hold it up. “Since you’re already my hero of the day, want to help me finish these?”

He steps closer, taking the heart from your hands. “Only if you promise not to climb that ladder again without me holding it.”

You smile. “Deal.”

“So… where have you been?” Ghost asked sheepishly, shifting his weight as he stood across from you.

“What do you mean?” you replied, tilting your head in confusion.

One of your coworkers had mentioned it earlier, how a tall, broody man had been coming into the store almost every week. He never bought anything. He never seemed to find what he was looking for. And he always left after wandering around for a while, refusing help from anyone else.

You didn’t need them to say his name.

You already knew it was Ghost.

You weren’t sure why, but the thought of him coming all this way just to look for you made your heart flutter. No one had ever been that persistent before. No one had ever come back again and again just to see you. The attention felt new… and nice. And it didn’t hurt that Ghost was…well…Ghost.

You still weren’t sure what he looked like under the mask, but judging by his height, the way he carried himself, the quiet confidence in every movement, you could already imagine he had to be handsome.

And now, standing here with him, you realized something else.

You wanted to know more.

Why had he really been coming so often? Was it just for the books… or was it for you?

You had too many questions, and thanks to years of listening to true crime podcasts, you decided it was time to put your detective skills to work.

“I didn’t see you last time I came,” Ghost said simply, keeping his tone casual.

What he didn’t say was how hard it had been to stop himself from coming every single day just to check if you were there.

“Maybe that was my day off,” you shrugged. “I don’t work here every day, you know.”

You kept your voice light, intentionally vague, hoping he might slip and reveal something.

“It was Thursday,” he said. “You work on Thursdays. You weren’t here.”

That caught your attention.

You smirked, hugging the hearts you were holding closer to your chest as you looked up at him. “And how do you know I work on Thursdays?”

Ghost cleared his throat, suddenly feeling awkward. Was this flirting? He honestly couldn’t tell.

“Well… the past two Thursdays you were here,” he said. “So I just assumed you’d be again.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile growing. “And how many Thursdays have you checked, Ghost?”

He froze.

Had you already figured it out? That he’d been looking for you? That he’d been coming just to see if you were working? A normal person would probably be scared. A random man showing up over and over, asking for the same employee.

So why were you teasing him instead?

Ghost swallowed.

Maybe he really was being creepy.

There was no point in lying now.

“Four,” he admitted quietly.

“Wow,” you said, eyes widening in mock amazement. “You are a very persistent man. I must be an incredible bookseller if you’ve been coming here four Thursdays in a row just to get my help.” You placed a hand on your chest dramatically. “I mean, wow. I am just so good at my job and recommending books that you simply cannot survive without me. I’m honored. Truly. I feel knighted.”

Ghost rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips beneath the mask. “Alright, princess, calm down,” he said. “I promised I’d tell you about the book you wanted to read, and I meant it. You’re the one who tried to escape your promise.”

That was… partially true.

“Hmm,” you teased. “Was that the only reason you’ve been stalking me?”

He scoffed, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up his neck. “I am a man of my word.”

You laughed softly. “I’m messing with you, big guy.” Then you tilted your head. “So? How was the book?”

“First,” Ghost said, crossing his arms, “tell me where you’ve been. Then I’ll tell you.”

“Well, if you must know,” you replied, “I was on vacation with my mom. We were celebrating the anniversary of her business. She’s wanted to start her own company for years, but she was always scared. And after she had me and my siblings, she gave up on that dream to take care of us.” You smiled sadly at the memory. You loved your mom more than anything. She was the strongest woman you had ever known, raising you and your siblings on her own, sacrificing so much so you could have everything you needed. “So when we got older, we pushed her to finally chase her dreams,” you continued. “Now she has a pretty successful small business, and every year we celebrate the day she started it.”

Ghost felt his shoulders relax instantly.

Not a relationship anniversary. Not a marriage.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t a boyfriend… but at least it was a start.

“Just you and your mom?” he asked. “No siblings? Or… boyfriends?”

He immediately cringed at himself. He sounded like a sixteen-year-old trying to work up the courage to ask a girl out.

“No, just my mom and me,” you said. “My siblings each get their own trips with her, this one was special just for us. And… no. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Something warm settled in Ghost’s chest.

Good.

“Alright,” you said, smiling up at him. “Now you have to keep your word.”

He nodded. “Deal.”

And just like that, he started telling you what he thought about the book, what he loved about it, the characters that stayed with him, and even the small details that almost made him stop reading altogether. He talked in that calm, thoughtful way of his, the kind that made you want to listen even when you already knew the ending.

As he spoke, he helped you finish putting up the decorations. He held the ladder steady while you climbed up to hang each heart, making sure you were safe the entire time. Every now and then, you’d pause and ask him what he thought.

“Should this one go higher?” you’d call down.

He’d tilt his head, studying the space. “Yeah… a little to the left. There. That looks perfect.”

It felt easy being with him. Natural. Like this was something you’d done a hundred times before instead of something new and unexpected. The quiet store, the soft glow of the lights, the sound of rain outside, it all made the moment feel almost peaceful.

You found yourself smiling more than usual, laughing at his comments, teasing him when he pretended not to care about certain parts of the book. Somewhere between hanging hearts and talking about plot twists, you realized how much you liked standing there with him.

It wasn’t just nice.

It felt good.

And for the first time in a while, you didn’t want the moment to end.

You finished hanging the very last heart and carefully climbed down the ladder, stepping onto the floor with a small sigh of relief. For a moment, you just stood there, looking around the store. Everything was finally done. The decorations were up. The task that had kept you busy and had given him a reason to stay was over.

And suddenly, you realized something that made your chest tighten.

There was no more excuse for him to stay.

No more decorations to hang. No more ladders to hold. No obvious reason to keep him there without making it painfully clear that you just… didn’t want him to leave.

Before you could think too much about it, he spoke.

“So,” Ghost said, breaking the quiet, “what’s your favorite book?”

You blinked, surprised. “My favorite book?” you repeated. “That’s so hard. I have so many favorites, I can’t just pick one.” You laughed softly, trying to buy yourself time to think. “Okay… well, my most recent favorite would have to be Daydreamer by Hannah Grace.”

He tilted his head. “What’s it about?” he asked, and you could tell he genuinely wanted to know, not just making conversation, but really listening.

“Well,” you began, “it’s a romance about this really smart girl, always taking care of everyone else. Her whole life, she’s been a people pleaser, and she feels like she hasn’t really lived yet. Then she meets this guy, a hockey player, and they make a deal. He helps her start living her life, and she helps him with school.” You smiled. “It’s really cute. Honestly, it might be one of my favorite romance books ever.”

Ghost leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a soft smile. He could tell how passionate you were, how your eyes lit up when you talked about the things you loved. And he wanted you to keep going.

“So,” he said gently, “why is it your favorite?”

You hesitated for a moment.

“Well… I guess I really see myself in the main character,” you admitted quietly. “She spent her whole life taking care of other people, always trying to be what everyone expected her to be. And she felt like she hadn’t really lived for herself. I… I relate to that a lot.”

Something in Ghost’s expression softened.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “But I hope you know you can be yourself around me. You don’t have to feel like I expect anything from you.” He wasn’t used to comforting people; he knew that, but for you, he wanted to try.

“Thanks, Ghost,” you said softly.

“Simon,” he corrected gently.

“Excuse me?” you asked, confused.

“My name,” he said. “It’s Simon. Ghost is just… a nickname.”

You smiled and held out your hand. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Simon.”

He took your hand, his grip warm and steady. “It’s nice to meet you too, sweetheart.” Then he glanced toward the aisles. “Now… where’s that book you were talking about?”

You blinked. “The book?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I think I need a new one to read.”

“Uh… it’s in the romance section,” you said, still a little unsure.

“Then take me there,” Simon replied with that same serious tone of his.

You smiled and led him toward the romance aisle, secretly hoping you still had the book in stock. When you finally found it, you pulled it from the shelf and handed it to him.

“Are you sure you want to read this?” you asked shyly. “It’s a cheesy romance. Might not really be your style.” You worried for a second that he was only doing this out of pity. But Simon just looked at you and shrugged.

“Your recommendations have been good so far,” he said. “So if you like it… I’m sure I will too.”

And just like that, you realized he wasn’t just staying for the books anymore.