More Stalker!Simon Riley imagine because I'm still editing "Honey Pie"
content : stalking , break-in , over-casualization of dastardly deeds , he's being a criminal - this is illegal
I love the idea of Simon stalking you with zero intentions. Just right place, wrong time on your part.
I love the idea of this innate security he has in himself and his actions, you know? He was trained for this. For stealth and precision.
Men were molded into silent weapons and most still couldn't pin him. You were just some random civilian he'd found himself following on a Tuesday. It wouldn't be obvious to you because, well, he didn't have a real reason to be doing any of this. Not to you specifically.
There was no vendetta, no violence, he didn't wanna rob or hurt you or grab your attention. He just kinda liked you when he saw you on the train. Thought you looked nice. Wanted to know what you were up to but didn't really want to ask.
He just needed a bit of enrichment, that's all. A pretty wee thing like you to keep him from losing the plot. There was so little to look forward to in the day. So little in the world that was soft and bright after all that he'd been through. All that he'd witnessed.
It spiraled a bit out of control after the first day. It was supposed to just be the one instance. Big man, too curious and bored and nosey for his own good. But then he saw you on the same route a few days later and he had time to kill. And then he kept seeing you everywhere and he kinda just . . . tripped into it. Like a bear trap.
Better him than anyone else, though. It's not like he had any plans. He wasn't going to do anything to you. Just liked to follow you sometimes, learn about you, catalogue. The repetition—the routine, it was good for him.
It felt like a reward whenever you'd deviate and he'd get to learn something new about you to add to the arsenal. Like your favorite brand of leave-in, or what produce you preferred. There was something Pavlovian about it. Gave him that little dopamine rush he'd gotten used to not really feeling anymore.
And sure, maybe a few months after he learned where you lived and memorized your patterns enough to predict your routes, he'd pay your place a little visit. Initially, he'd refused himself the luxury.
Going in your home was going too far, right? He stuck to writing things down, organizing them in his ratty little notebook whenever he was feeling particularly heavy or lonely or empty. He didn't even read it most of the time, unless he was working on it. At first.
He kept his distance, he watched from afar, he didn't make it as personal as it could've been.
This was light. A casual outlet. A hobby, even!
Following you around a little, making tally charts of the snacks you frequently bought to decipher which were your favorite, that was baby stuff. He had no real goal, no desire to further anything . . . entering your home didn't feel very hobby like.
But he doesn't resist the pull for very long. What was that saying? About the cat and its curiosity?
Simon liked to be inside of a space that didn't feel so cold and empty. It was a bit much for his taste, the way you decorated, but it was nice to be in a building that felt lived in instead of just occupied. His flat was kind of . . . nothing-y, yeah? And your place was so warm and full of things to fiddle with and touch, and it had a nice scent and he liked looking through your photo albums to guess who was related to you.
Obsessed wasn't the word he'd use. Fascinated was more like it. Fixated. Curious.
He loved spending time in your house, mostly in bed, just. . . resting. He could actually get rest there and it would recharge him. Not like how he tossed and turned in his flat, sleep slipping through his fingers. It made him feel closer to you in some way. Made him feel seen.
Oh, and he was seen. Because Simon was too comfortable from the jump. It had been so long that he didn't question everything like he used to. Like he should have. Of course, he was vigilant, and ever so careful—considerate even. Took off his shoes so he didn't make tracks, used a very neutral body wash that didn't interrupt the aroma of your home, made sure no one saw him come or go.
But when you expect to see a normal person, and you see a normal person, it's easy to write off minute details in favor of the bigger picture.
So the cameras in your place, teddy cams that fit amongst the millions of other trinkets and toys you kept, went overlooked. There was a time where he glanced dead at one of them, you know? And you were so frightened that he'd find out and stop coming all together!
But if he knew, he didn't say anything. And he didn't stop coming back.
Your little boy-toy, so sneaky, going through your things and napping in your bed. He was so polite too, putting everything back the exact way he'd found it.
You loved how clever he thought he was. Loved seeing him figure out the new ways to access your home that you silently fed him—he clearly needed the enrichment.
Wasn't he so sweet? And so handsome whenever he'd lift that mask above his nose and tuck his cheek against your pillow for a nap!
He was like your very own pet, willingly climbing into his cage <3
a / n : hooray! being crazier than your stalker! <3 I wrote this in the middle of the night half asleep!
