#stalker!simonriley

[shinoko-oshi]

Love the trope of stalker being the person reader goes to about their stalker because they trust them not knowing they’re sitting across from said stalker likeee the enemy is closer than you think

He noticed the trouble in you long before you even had to say something.

Your twitchy fingers wrapped around the ceramic of your mug, the distant look in your eyes as you stared off, past him.

The two of you sitting inside your favorite coffee shop, the one you frequented often, but he wasn’t supposed to know that yet, love, you hadn’t told him but you would, soon enough.

“I didn’t know who else to go to” you finally said, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes.

“I trust you” Sure you do, love, and that’s exactly why he had to watch over you. You were just too sweet, too trusting of the wrong men.

“I think I’m being stalked.” You bit your bottom lip, already raw and chapped from the how many times you’d licked it in the past five minutes.

“I don’t know- I just- I feel a pair of eyes on me at all times. Especially when I’m walking home alone.”

The look in your eyes was one of hope as you searched his face, hopeful he wouldn’t think you were crazy. Not that it ever did much anyways, since his expression never changed from unreadable.

He gave a quiet, sympathetic hum and reached over, laying his hand over yours to show his faux support the best he could.

“Don’t worry, love. I can take care of that”

“How about I start by walking you home, hm?”

[fictionalmenobsessor]

RULES ─ MASTERLIST ─ REQ BOX

contents: no smut, just simon being an absolute creep towards reader, somnophilia IF you squint

stalker!simon, who lurks in ill-lit alleyways, prowls on corners near your house. protecting you from unwanted harm that weird creeps like him would cause.

he makes sure you’re safe at all times too. even if that means walking behind you, at a reasonable distance, when he’s not deployed, or on base.

there were potent signs that he was always present. you could often smell the light scent of nicotine and gunpowder in the air. imbedded into your sinuses like a bad cold that never leaves.

he succumbed himself to the discomfort of sitting in tight and uncomfortable booths when you’re out at clubs. examining everything minor detail around him, from the loud music to the eerie creeps who sat in the corners. waiting to pounce on their next victim.

which unfortunately was you.

he veered forward in his seat, watching how one man decided to approach you; the leather seating beneath him creating artificial squeaks as he shuffled impatiently.

you were so bubbly and happy to talk to him too, which made simon want to pummel that guy’s head into a brick wall until it turns to pulp.

until, he notices your entire demeanour shift—an uncomfortable grimace spreading across your face like wildfire as you finally caught onto what that guy’s real intentions were.

luckily, you fend off the man without any retaliation as he was one of the nicer lads out of the group.

that didn’t mean simon didn’t follow him out of the club 10 minutes later to have a ‘chat’ about respect (unrelated to you of course but thats not the point).

simon followed you the whole way home. like always. but tonight could be considered for a good cause.

the neighbourhoods real life ‘superhero.’

i mean... he was just looking out for you.

and he was loved by all of the old people. and single mothers…

he gently rocked the window of your room open a few hours later; the splintering wood creaking as it went all the way up to fit his large frame.

thank god, you were a heavy sleeper.

his gaze rolled over your form—supple, soft skin exposed as you lay splayed out on your bed.

a cool breeze set over your curtains, calmly blowing the ends of the fabric further into your room. he strode over to the side of your bed, pulling the covers over you to prevent the chill from accumulating.

he gently stroked a piece of hair out of your face, twirling it around his thick, gloved fingers before letting it go.

god, you were perfect.