Civilian!Reader X ToxicBF!Simon (Part 2)
Content: Toxic and manipulative behaviour, mention of blood, swearing.
When Johnny invited you to the bar that day, you were reluctant to go. Even though you could use the night off, the mere thought of seeing him paralyzed you in fear. Two weeks ago, Simon came to your flat to keep you company. The two of you had ordered takeout and eaten it while you talked about your life. Simon was always so attentive, his eyes looking at you with pure worry and care, and it made your insides twist every time you felt yourself under his gaze.Â
Your whole life you had wished, dreamed, ached for someone to look at you the way Simon did. But at the same time, it felt like a paradox. Simon saw you, but he didnât see you. You knew he didnât feel the same way about you because Simon Riley never needed anyone. Not only did the two of you have nothing in common in terms of lifestyle, you also had completely different expectations for a romantic life.Â
You wanted someone to live a movie romance with, someone who would crave you just as much as you did them. A man who was rough around the edges but melted when it came to you, fighting off the whole world while holding you tight to his chest. And every time you looked at Simon, it was a sour reminder that you had all you ever wanted within arms reach, but were never able to grab it.
He was from a different world, where people were tough, solved problems with their fists, and faced their fears with all their might. Someone as strong as Simon would never go for someone as fragile as you. What could I ever give him? The question would pound in your head when you felt lonely, a reminder that you had nothing to offer but timid confessions and a feeble mind. But even knowing that, you still came back to him, because he was the silver lining on your cloudy days.Â
So you tortured yourself, over and over again, spilling your guts out to him over tea, movies, and walks in the park, entertaining the idea that he needed those moments as much as you did, only to come back to the darkness of your flat and coldness of your bed. Alone.
You found yourself whining about your problems again, that fateful day, two weeks ago. It wasnât uncommon for Simon to go to your house to comfort you, and instead of dismissing the pity party, you would bake the cake and provide the entertainment. Sometimes, Simon would get a phone call or a text, but he never stopped your rambling to pick it up, opting to quickly look at the name on the screen before putting his phone on silent.
You had been talking about your coworker, who you were sure was stealing your pens, when he said âHold on, I have to take thisâ. Amidst your shock and neglect, you managed to capture a name on the screen of his phone. Sarah. You could feel the knot forming on your throat, while simultaneously feeling like you were about to throw up all the food you had just eaten. Fucking Sarah? Who the fuck is she? A party wrecker, at least. Setting in flames the walls of the scenario you had built. This wasnât a date, it was a favor a good soldier did for the helpless girl he met. You were hopelessly attached to him like a leech on a vein, feeding from another beingâs nurture, just to be pulled without courtesy from your shelter and chucked to the side to rot under the scolding sun. Â
The longer he spent on his phone, the more visible the tethers that united the two of you became, and with each laugh he let out, the weaker they became, falling on the floor like loose and meaningless strings. That day you realized you needed to stop this parasitic relationship before it got worse. The two of you were just friends after all, yet there you were, wanting to rip your hair out every time you heard the other womanâs voice coming through the speakers on his phone.Â
Your luck hadnât been good lately, in fact, it had become increasingly worse since you started ignoring Simon, two weeks ago. You couldnât deny that talking to him was like having someone take all the weight off your shoulders, but it was time to be a big girl and move on. You needed to learn how to live without him and deal with your own problems, instead of dumping them on someone else. Besides, alcohol was always a good friend when times were bad, and you knew you could never say no to going out with Johnny, especially because he always paid for your drinks.Â
So you put your best clothes on, styled your hair, and did your makeup. That way, even if you saw Simon, you wouldnât look like a complete loser, even though you had been soaking alone in your own misery all this time. Your problems were piling up throughout the day, resting above your bed during the night and avalanching you in the morning, now that you didnât have Simon to magically make them go away. So, if you were to start dealing with your problems by yourself, facing him should be on priority on that list. It took all your strength not to cower and go back under the comfort of your covers, but you put your high heels on and made your way to the bar.
You took a breath to calm yourself down before opening the doors of the bar, not giving yourself time to change your mind and⌠Oh, how you regretted your decision the moment you walked in and saw Simon sitting at the table, a glass of whisky on one hand and a womanâs waist on the other. But it was too late to turn around because a certain Scot had already seen you.Â
âAye, lass! Over here!â He said, bearing a smile so wide you could see all his teeth. âI told ya she would come.â He turns to Simon for the last sentence.
Simon takes a sip of his glass, hiding the small smile that escaped his lips, visible due to the small folds he had made on his mask in order to place it on top of his nose. But he knew you would come. He had dealt his cards carefully so that he could safely bet on your return to him. He wraps his arms tighter around the other womanâs waist as you approach their table. âThis is Sarahâ, he introduces her to you. âSheâs a Sergeant.â
You want to barf at the sound of pride in his voice. It doesnât help that the woman in front of you is gorgeous, exactly the type you knew Simon would go for. You can see her defined muscles under her shirt, and her impeccable posture. She has a tall pint of Guinness on the table in front of her, and a small scar on her left eyebrow that somehow makes her more attractive. The tone of her voice is confident as she introduces herself to you, making an effortless conversation the whole night. Not only that, but she makes Simon laugh. You feel yourself wanting to jump across the table and grab her by the neck, even though she would probably knock you out before you even made it to her side.Â
Simon watches you with silent joy, noticing the venom that seeps from your mouth with every smile you make toward Sarah. He can sense the longing in your voice when you talk to him, desperate for his attention, and itâs like music to his ears hearing you after so long. He knew it would be a hard couple of days, or however long you could handle without talking to him before falling back into his arms. It was a risky game that he had played with excellence - leading you to believe you were in control of the situation, choosing to distance yourself from him. It was all calculated, letting you see Sarahâs name on his phone, telling Sarah you would be free to call at that time when he knew he would be with you. It had hurt him to see your suffering, but he needed you to walk away to realize how much you would miss him, and he could see that it had worked. Every crumb of attention he gave to you now was like watching a drug addict relapse into their first high.
The jealousy that seeped from your pores was the best part, he thought. It was a result of pure, unaltered desire, condensing into spikes on your skin that you mentally flicked into Sarahâs direction. Watching his innocent girl fight the urge inside her to go ballistic was a delight. Because you were his girl, even though you didnât know it yet. He sat comfortably in his chair like he was in a movie theater, spectating from the front row all the conflicting emotions that you screened on your face.Â
âIâm going out for a smoke.â He said after some time, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket. He didnât have to look back to know you were following him, probably after delivering some bullshit excuse to the table. He welcomed the fresh air outside the bar and walked to a corner, your footsteps following behind him. He lit his first cigarette as you approached him. âSmoking now?â The humor is clear in his voice, but you donât fall for it.
âStarted last week. Not that you would know.â You say a blatant lie, holding out your open palm for him to give you a cigarette.Â
âI donât know what this fuss is all about.â His tone is dismissive, knowing where the conversation was heading so he acted like you were making a situation out of nothing. âYouâre the one that started ignoring me for no reason.â He gives you a cigarette and you take it to your mouth, both of you fully aware you donât smoke. But youâre not backing out of any challenges tonight, so when he lights it, you take a long drag of smoke, holding it in your lungs for a few seconds before letting it out.Â
âHow long have the two of you been dating?â He laughs at your question, shaking his head while he takes a drag of his cigarette. âHow long?â You insist.Â
âYou really think that I would date her?â
âThatâs exactly the type I think you would date.âÂ
âReally? How so?â Heâs in front of you now, centering you between him and the wall. He smiles sarcastically while he turns to blow the smoke away from your face, acting like this is all some joke.
âBeautiful, strong, same job as youâŚâ You trail off, fidgeting with the cigarette on the tip of your fingers. âThe list goes on.â
âDoes it? It seems like a pretty short list to me.â He shrugs, and you canât help but notice how his muscles flex under his shirt. âHow have you been?â
You scoff at the sudden change of topic. âLike you care, Simon.â Deciding youâre done with the conversation, you drop your barely smoked cigarette to the ground, using your foot to put it out, a motion youâve watched Simon repeat a thousand times. Whenever he smoked, he always made sure you were okay with it first - and if it were anyone else, you wouldnât be, as you loathed the smell of nicotine. But with him, it was different, everything was. You would watch as his arms flexed, the details of his tattoo poking out from his sleeve as he put the cigarette in his mouth. Hypnotized by his lips, you would try to be discreet, observing the smoke dissipate in the air when he exhaled, dreaming of what his mouth would taste like if you were to kiss him at that moment.Â
Before you can leave, he puts his hand on the wall at the same height as your head, caging you with his body. You hold your breath, wide-eyed, looking up at him in surprise, as he disposes of the cigarette with his other hand.
âOf course I care.â Simon loved catching you by surprise, relishing the look in your eyes as you waited for his next move, completely frozen. He adored how you surrendered all control to him without ever noticing it, inert until his gestures gave you permission to move. It was almost like a dance, as you helplessly waited for him to guide you into the next step.
He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with his free hand, taking time to observe each feature as he let his hand follow down your face, finally landing on your lips. Resting his hand on your chin, he runs his thumb over your soft lips. He wondered what your lips would taste like if he were to kiss you at this moment.Â
He could see the rapid movement of your chest, your sweet heart thumping under your ribcage. You dry-swallowed as you tried to calm down your breathing, fear mixing with lust in your veins as you came to the realization of how much power Simon had over you, not just physically, but emotionally. You knew then that there was nothing you wouldnât do for another chance to have him touching you like this again, so delicately, so intimately. You couldnât care less if he were to kill you right now, it would have been worth it just for having him look at you like you were the only woman in the world.Â
âStop lying to me, Simon.â He hadnât even kissed you, yet you knew no other man would ever make you feel that way. You wanted to hate him for leading you on, for listening to you like no one else ever had, knowing it didnât mean the same to him. But you couldnât, because this one-sided relationship had been all you had thought about since the two of you had met.Â
âLying? Love, why would I ever want to lie to you? Do my actions not speak louder than my words?â He asks with fake innocence, knowing well enough that you didnât know about his actions. A good girl like you could never imagine all the things he had done, all the work he did in the shadows, covered in blood and gunpowder so you could sleep safely at night. So he could come back to you with peace of mind, knowing he got his hands dirty so you wouldnât have to.Â
âI canât do this.â Youâre talking to yourself at this point, confessions slipping from your lips in the heat of the moment. âI kept lying to myself thinking that I would be okay with you being with another girl, but I canât Simon. I canât handle the thought of sharing you with someone else.â
âYou are so oblivious.â He says, taking a step forward and closing the distance between you. His hand moves from your chin to the nape of your neck, intertwining his finger with your hair and softly pulling it, securing you in a firm grasp. âYou really think itâs been the Universe solving your problems all this time, huh?â He chuckles, clicking his tongue. His other hand moves down to your waist, grabbing it with a firm grip as he presses you against the wall. âLet me give you a hint. The Universe didnât beat your bloody ex-boyfriend into a pulp.â
If your eyes could have physically widened more, they would have. Your mind is brought back to the day Simon showed up at your flat at 5 am, his fists bloody and covered in bruises. He had told you it was from a bar fight and you believed him. You had taken him to the kitchen, where he sat on the isle while you positioned yourself between his knees, wet cloth in hand. You took care of his bruises and washed the blood off his hand, not realizing until now it was your ex-boyfriendâs blood. You fell asleep on the couch with Simon afterwards, while you ran your hands through his hair and told yourself that whoever he had hurt must have deserved it. When you woke up to your friend calling you to deliver the news that your ex was in the hospital, beaten beyond recognition, Simon shushed you and convinced you to go back to sleep in his arms.Â
It made sense now, why sometimes the coffee shop would charge cheaper for your order because of the âskull guyâ, but with the ownerâs thick accent, you didnât think much of it, assuming it was a foreign word for âdealâ or âpromotionâ, sipping your coffee mindlessly as you left the shop.Â
Not even when your boss made the sign of the cross and muttered âghostâ every time he crossed your path did you ever realize it had been Simon pulling the strings all along.
When you think back to every problem you had told him about, only to wake up to it magically solved, you finally notice that Simon had been looking out for you all this time, not ever worrying about getting credit for his deeds or the consequences they could ever cause him.Â
âHow could I not care about you, princess? I would kill for you. All you have to do is askâ.Â
