#stalker!soap

[reesespiveces]

thinking of JOHNNYMCTAVISH being a total creep for the young baker.

TW : stalker! soap

“hey your boyfriend’s back.”

you look at chelsea in confusion. boyfriend? as far as you knew, you were single. the lonely little flat you had on the other side of town could attest for that. it was clear it was only person living there. well, one person and a bad ass cat who did nothing but tear up your things when you weren't there.

she grins and you knowingly and you let out an immediate groan, a feeling of uneasiness filing your gut and spilling on your face. ever since you started working here at this quaint little bakery, some blue eyed scotsman, john mctavish, has been coming in almost three days out of the week and requesting you personally. the bakery didn't even wait tables which made it even all the more weird and awkward for you. you just so happened to be working the cash register the first day he came in. from then on it's been nothing but weird glances and awkward conversation.

there was something deeply unsettling about the consistency of it all. he never seemed to come at random. somehow, without fail, he arrived on your shifts and never the mornings you swapped with another coworker, never the afternoons you'd called out sick. at first you'd convinced yourself it was coincidence, but coincidences didn't repeat themselves with military precision. it was as though he knew your schedule before you did. the realization burrowed beneath your skin until you found yourself checking the front windows every time the bell over the door rang.

it even had you looking over your shoulder when you made the walk home.

you’d never seen him before, never had a conversation or a run in with him but for some vaguely unknown reason to you, it had become a freakish habit of his. chelsea gives you a funny look and you scowl at her, opening the door and peaking through the crack to see him waiting at his practical designated spot, for you.

his eyes immediately land you and you fight the shiver that runs through your body like cold water. he smiles, all teeth and gums but it’s more animalistic than boyish and it makes you feel all out of sorts. as handsome as he was, the guy had a creep aura around him, not mention just how fucking huge he was.

“i don’t know why you act that way. he’s kinda hot.”

“you serve him then.”

“i’ve tried. he only has eyes for you.” chelsea grins and pokes you in the back but you slap her hand away. besides being uncomfortable, the guy did leave a really hefty tip, one too big for some baker at a bakery. if chelsea wasn't constantly in your ear chirping about how hot and good for business he was, you would have told him to fuck off by now. you had patience, but not that much. especially for a man.

you close the door before moving pass chelsea to continue working on a fresh batch of croissants. it may have not been big deal, but this had become a continuous thing. chelsea may have seen it as a joke, but this little triad got very old very fast.

eventually, after sliding the croissants into the over and giving yourself a mental pep talk, you washed your hands and tightened your apron before walking out from the kitchen. like a moth to a flame, his eerie blue eye were on you. you've struuggled enough in life to understand the art of code switching and pretending. with the big smile you plastered on your face, you would never think that you were actually planning on just leaving out the back kitchen door as if you were never there in the first place.

"there's ma bonnie girl."

gross.

you greet him, the sweetness in your voice had you internally cringing. you pulled out the chair across from him, sitting down with the fakest smile you could muster, cheeks straining from how believable you were trying to make yourself out to be. anything not to lose this fucking job, even so, you had a cautioning fear that if you happened to piss this guy off, the thought of losing your job would be the least of your worries.

"would nae miss seeing ye for the world bon. took ye a bit long to come out, started to think ye didn't wanna see me." you let out a quiet laugh that sounded painfully forced even to your own ears, fingers smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from your apron before folding neatly in your lap.

"it's been a busy morning." a lie. not that he would know though. his eye lingered on you, studying your face in that same unnerving way he always did. like every twitch of your expression meant something.

"aye. been workin' harder lately, yeah bon?"

"comes with the job."

"naw." his voice remained gentle.

"comes with the bills."

your smile held for another second before beginning to strain.

"i think everyone's got bills." he nodded once. "but no' everyone's landlord hikes rent by three hundred dollars in the middle o' the lease."

the blood drained from your face and you stared at him. johnny rested his forearms against the table, his gaze drifting over your face before settling somewhere just beyond you. your mouth parted, but nothing came out. johnny didn't seem to notice, or maybe he did, but misunderstood the reason.

"dirty thing to do ta such sweet girl. should be illegal."

he reached for his coffee, taking an easy sip. your pulse was pounding so hard you could hear it. his words settled like rocks in your stomach. you hadn't told anyone, not even chelsea. hell, you hadn't even called your mum because you knew she'd only worry and insist on sending money she didn't have.

you'd spent the last month pretending everything was fine. buying cheaper groceries. skipping meals when you had to. walking to work whenever the fuel light came on because every gallon mattered. no one knew. not one soul. but johnny smiled to himself.

"s'why i leave ye the extra cash."

john's tone was playful but the look in his eye said otherwise.

the rest of the conversation passed in a haze you couldn't quite remember. your body stayed rooted in the chair while your mind clawed desperately for some explanation that didn't end with the same horrifying conclusion.

you found yourself nodding at things he said without actually hearing them, smiling when it seemed appropriate because years of customer service had trained your body to move on its own. every now and then he'd laugh, and you'd force one in return, all while your pulse hammered so violently you were certain he had to hear it.

when john left, he left with a a sloppy kiss on your cheek, slipping a hundred dollar bill in your back pocket.

after that it didn't take long before he started mentioning things you couldn't remember telling him. your favorite pastry, the fact you hated cinnamon in your coffee, that you always switched your rings from one hand to the other halfway through your shift because the dough made your fingers swell. tiny details that should've been invisible to anyone who wasn't deliberately paying attention. you laughed them off the first few times, assuming maybe you'd let something slip in conversation, but eventually the list grew too long to explain away. the first time should’ve been enough.

you found yourself changing little habits just to test him. wearing your hair differently. taking your break later than usual. parking around the corner instead of behind the bakery. somehow he'd notice every single change, offering casual comments with that same unnerving smile that suggested he expected you to be impressed rather than disturbed. every confirmation tightened the knot already living in your stomach.

for the first time since he'd started coming into the bakery, you had stopped wondering why he was so interested in you.

you started to wonder how long he'd been watching before you ever noticed him.

© — 𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐒 ( 2026 )

[babyybrii]

Stalker Simon Riley—Part 5 NSFW

part one part two part three part four stalker simon headcannons.

AN: this will probably be the last part for now—but don’t worry! simon and soap will be back to drive you crazy again soon <3

Warnings: dark content, sexual content, dubious consent, voyeurism, stalking/surveillance, non-consensual watching/recording. there’s two of them now. 18+

You wake up to the sound of soft mechanical whirring.

It’s quiet, but unmistakable—the low hum of something electronic. You blink slowly, awareness creeping back in piece by piece as you register the feeling of fabric pressing into your wrists. The cold drag of air across your bare skin. The way your arms are pulled tight above your head. How your legs feel heavy—spread wide, immobile.

You’re restrained.

Panic flickers through your chest as you try to move, to pull away, to curl in on yourself, but it’s no use. You’re tied down—ankles spread and bound to the bottom corners of the bed, wrists secured above your head—and you’re completely exposed. Helpless.

Vulnerable.

On display.

And they’re watching.

Simon is seated in the corner of the room, cloaked in black, mask on, legs spread casually like he owns the place. The camera’s red light blinks beside him—steady, pulsing, like a heartbeat you can’t outrun. A reminder. A warning. A witness. The lens is pointed directly at you, already recording, capturing every inch of your trembling, bound body.

Soap is crouched beside the bed, shirtless and grinning, his hand resting warm and heavy on your thigh like he never left it there in the first place.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he says softly, fingers tracing a slow, lazy path up your bare leg. His voice is light but loaded, a purr that sends chills straight to your core. “Sleep well?”

Your breath catches, panic swirling in your chest. You blink up at him, disoriented and flushed, your heart already pounding. “What the fuck is this?”

Your voice sounds thin. Weak. Like it doesn’t belong to you anymore.

Simon doesn’t speak right away. He just tilts his head slightly from his seat, the movement slow and deliberate, as if he’s taking his time assessing you—like a subject he’s been studying, or a possession he’s cataloging. He doesn’t need to answer. He knows you already understand.

Soap chuckles beside you, dragging his hand a little higher, just enough to make your breath hitch before he pulls away again.

“Lesson one,” he murmurs.

You tug against the restraints, body twisting instinctively, trying to get away from the tension building in your gut—but there’s no escape. The ropes are tight. You’re open and vulnerable and fuck, you know they planned this. You know they’ve been planning this.

Soap lifts a small black remote from the nightstand, thumb hovering over the button. There’s a soft click, a low buzzing sound—and then he’s pressing something to your clit.

A toy.

The vibration hits you immediately—sharp and focused, sending sparks shooting straight through your spine. Your back arches with a gasp before you can stop it.

“Fuck—!”

Your thighs try to snap shut, but the bindings keep you wide open, trembling under their eyes.

“Eyes on the camera,” Simon says from across the room, his voice low and calm but commanding in a way that leaves no room for argument.

You force your gaze toward the blinking red light, your chest heaving. The lens captures everything—your parted lips, your flushed skin, the way your hips are already rocking against the toy for more. It’s humiliating. It’s unbearable. It’s perfect.

“Now,” Soap says, still crouched beside you, his voice syrupy and thick with amusement, “repeat after me.”

He keeps the toy steady against your clit, the vibration constant but maddeningly controlled. Not overwhelming. Just enough to make you ache.

“Rule number one,” he says slowly, each word deliberate, “I come when I’m told.”

You stare at him, lips trembling. You hesitate—only for a second.

He lifts the toy away instantly, and you cry out, your hips bucking up in a desperate chase for friction that’s no longer there.

“No—wait—!” you whine, voice raw and desperate.

“Then say it,” he purrs, clearly enjoying himself.

The camera doesn’t blink. Neither does Simon.

You’re already panting, breath shaky as you force yourself to speak.

“Rule number one,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I come when I’m told.”

“Good girl,” Soap praises, lowering the toy again.

You jerk at the contact, a moan tearing from your throat despite yourself.

“Rule number two,” Simon says next, voice like ice. “You keep your legs open unless told otherwise.”

You nod quickly, your entire body buzzing now with need and heat and humiliation. “Rule number two: I keep my legs open unless told otherwise.”

“And rule number three,” Soap murmurs, “You say thank you.”

Your brows draw together, confused, breath catching. “Thank you for what?”

He presses the toy harder against you—your eyes slam shut as your body convulses in response, a ragged cry spilling out of you.

“Say it,” Simon growls from across the room.

You’re trembling, body soaked with sweat and slick and need, your voice almost unrecognizable.

“Rule number three: I say thank you.”

“Say it now,” Soap says, smirking.

Your face burns as you force the words out. “T-Thank you.”

They both hum in approval, and the toy stays pressed to your clit. Your hips begin to move again, small and desperate little rolls you can’t stop. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second, your thighs twitching, muscles tensing, the heat coiling tight and hot in your gut.

“Look at her,” Soap mutters under his breath, watching you fall apart. “Fuckin’ made for this.”

Simon doesn’t sound impressed. “She’s enjoying herself too much,” he says. “Start over.”

You freeze.

“What?” you gasp, disbelief thick in your voice.

Soap lifts the toy away again.

“No—no—Simon, please—!” you sob, back arching off the mattress.

“You didn’t ask permission to come,” he says flatly. “Start over.”

Your whole body shakes. You’re so close—so fucking close—and now it’s gone. Again. Your legs tremble from the effort of holding yourself together, your eyes stinging with unshed tears.

The camera’s still rolling.

Soap leans in and presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. “C’mon now, pet. Let’s try again.”

You’re crying now. Silent tears sliding down your temples as you choke down a sob and brace yourself for it all over again.

The toy buzzes back to life, sliding into place against your clit, and you moan—broken and breathless—your body responding instantly.

Simon’s voice cuts through the haze. “Rule number one.”

You gasp the words like a prayer. “I come when I’m told.”

“Number two.”

“I keep my legs open unless told otherwise.”

“Number three.”

“I say thank you.”

“Good girl,” they say together, and it nearly breaks you.

The vibrator doesn’t move this time. It stays locked on your clit, and the pleasure builds fast. You’re right back on the edge, toes curling, wrists straining against the ropes, your throat gone raw from panting.

“Permission,” Simon commands. “Ask for it.”

“Please,” you beg, eyes fluttering shut. “Please let me come—please—I need it—”

“Look at the camera when you say it.”

You force your eyes open again, your face wet, your vision blurry, staring directly into the lens as your voice cracks apart.

“Please,” you sob. “I want to come for the camera.”

Soap groans, the sound low and breathless.

Simon stands from the chair, his tall frame casting a shadow over you as he steps close. He places a gloved hand flat against your belly, pinning you down, steadying you, holding you still like he’s claiming you.

“Then come.”

Your body detonates.

You scream—raw and ruined—as the orgasm crashes through you. Your legs shake violently, muscles twitching under the force of it, your cunt pulsing in rhythm with the toy. You cry Simon’s name—loud, helpless—as you ride the waves, your head thrown back, wrists straining hard enough to burn.

The camera captures every second.

When it finally ebbs, when your body is trembling and your throat is sore and your legs feel like they’re not even attached to you anymore, Soap leans in and kisses your cheek—soft, sweet, like none of this ever happened.

“Such a good little subject,” he whispers against your skin.

Simon walks over and lifts the camera off the tripod. He studies the playback silently. The red light stops blinking.

He glances down at you—tied, trembling, soaked in sweat—and smirks beneath the mask.

“Let’s keep this one.”

Soap’s still beside you, still grinning. “For training purposes.”

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AN: if it’s white i’m so sorry it won’t let me tag you for some reason—or i typed your user in wrong, but i apologize!!

[gertreed]

Since you are looking for request, can I request ex-husband price x reader. He's obviously not over her and uses his work position to manipulate her back to him. It's up to you how he does it could be a stage break in or something similar.

I also love the trope about soap where he's mentally unstable after being shot in the head then finds reader and becomes obsessed with her. Love me some crazy soap.

I also love me some good angst, but like something happens to reader then she gets her revenge or the other gets their karma angst. So like it could be a cheating trope or something happens in the cod team doesn't believe her so she finds another team and when they find out what happened is too late.

Anyways just throwing some ideas out there, if any of these interests you I would love to read what you have to write. ❤️❤️❤️

I was thinking so long about this but I think I can write the obsessed soap. 3rd try I guess 😀👍

After the incident, soap felt a bit hazy. He had most of his memory. But not quite all of it.

He was let on leave, and he was alone most of the time. Every couple days, someone from the team would visit, bring him some groceries and make sure he was healing up well.

He didn't really want to go outside, what was the point, he had everything inside. But after some tough suggesting from Simon, he decided to go for a walk, take a look over the city. It helped him remember some stuff. Just random things, how he once fell infront of a grocery store in December and got stuck head first in a pile of snow.

Or maybe how he once got mugged infront of a bar but he just... didn't react.

Anyways, it was a good idea. After that, he went back to his own flat. But in the corridor, he was a beautiful lady, you.

You were his neighbour. Fumbling with your keys from the cold weather outside. There was mud stuck to your boots, you hair was unbrushed. You smelt good. He could smell it from afar. You. Were his neighbour.

He went up the stairs, "hello." Johnny finally said. You turned around and nodded. "Hello... could you help me? My hands are too cold to-" johnny eagerly nodded without further question.

Your voice was like honey, like a soft blanket. You handed him the keys and he opened up the door for you with a smile. "Oh thank you." I hummed and pocketed the keys.

That was it. The whole interaction. Yet Johnny couldn't get you off his mind. He worked out your whole schedule, to make sure you were awake at the right time and also at home at the right time. He would always make sure to accidentally bump into you on the street. The team was just glad he was doing better.

Johnny even started cooking and bringing it to you, playing it off as 'i had too much left over'.

So one day when you were at work, he helped himself into your apartment. It smelled exactly like your perfume. It was amazing.

He couldn't control himself, he looked through all your stuff to see what were your interests, he hadn't been so happy in a long while.

But of course all good things couldn't last long, while he was in the middle of sorting through your hamper of dirty laundry, the front door opened.

He was too distracted though. When someone stepped into the bedroom, he expected it to be you. But it was some man.

It wasn't Johnny's fault. The man came into his way. Thank god there was a river nearby.

You were so beautiful. So pretty... so smart...

Johnny made sure to write to you on the man's phone. Breaking up with you... then he could have you all to himself.

And when you came home and asked him to comfort you over some dinner. He agreed with a wide smile... he loved how smart he was. Truly loved it.

[leftshoeuntied]

quick lil dark soap x reader idea

tw: home invasion/phrogging, allusion to voyeurism, no actual violence depicted

That’s just the wood settling in the stairs, right? You left the light on in the upstairs bathroom, just as your mom had taught you, so people would know there was someone home, and so they wouldn’t be dumb enough to break in to a house that wasn’t empty, right?

It’s an old house, the wood is bound to creak as it settles, and it’s windy outside tonight, that’s why there’s creaks in the empty attic, right?

Your toes are tucked under the blanket, and the door to your room is shut tightly and the blanket pulled to your chin, prepared to hide under the blanket if needed. Your chest feels heavy and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat, but you’re trying everything to focus on the real housewives fighting on your television across the room. Between the catty tones and the drone of your fan in the window, you let the sounds lull you into a sense of comfort and you brain finally begins to listen to your earlier reasoning.

You’ve lived alone long enough to be used to nights like this, there’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re too old to be afraid of thunder and lighting, the sounds above your heard are just the sounds of branches hitting the roof. You’ve experienced your fair share of stormy nights, it’s just the wind.

Right?

The next morning you wake to the stream of sunlight coming through your window, not remembering when you had finally fallen asleep, but at least thankful that you did. Stepping out of your bed and into a pair of sweatpants, you grab a sweatshirt on the way out of your room, prepared to go outside and check for damage the storm might’ve left for you. As you pull the sweater over your head, you don’t notice the light to the bathroom had already been turned off.

Stepping into your boots, you open the front door, and covering your eyes from the blinding sunlight as you schlep down the front stairs.

“Good morning, bonnie”

You hear from your right, looking over you see your neighbor John smiling down on you from his elevated lawn.

“Good morning, John, how’d the storm hit you last night?” You ask him with your hand still covering your eyes from the sun.

“Eh, nothing bad over here hen, how about you?”

“Inside was fine, thankfully didn’t lose power, but the branches were so loud on my roof last night, sounded like someone was right above me, it was crazy” you say with a chuckle, pretending like it didn’t downright scare you. “Might have to get up on a ladder sometime today and make sure there’s no damage up there.”

“Ach, I’m not letting you up there bonnie, let me get my ladder, I can go up there and check it out for you.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do that for me.”

“Aye, it’s no worries, looks like you’ve got some fallen branches in the backyard. I’ll let you handle those, and I can go up to the roof,” John says with finality towards you, but the same smile pointed down at you “let me look out for you hen, yeah?”

You smile and nodded back at him, even though you know he wasn’t leaving much of a choice. “Thanks John.”

---

A couple of days later you woke up with a stretch and a groan, noticing that your room had a more noticeable chill to it than normal. When you opened your eyes, you noticed that the door to your bedroom was left open. Huh? You pause. You always shut your door before you go to bed, never having been able to sleep with the door to your bedroom open before. 

You did sleep with the window open last night and the fan on in the window, the wind could’ve picked up last night, creating a wind tunnel that pulled the door open, you try to reason with yourself. That has happened to you before while you’ve been in your room doing chores, only when you don’t fully shut the door, you brain reminds you, and you always fully shut your door before bed, double and triple checking. 

You try not think anything of it, the fan in the open window giving you enough reason to believe that wind must’ve picked up last night and the change in pressure must’ve pulled the door open last night, even if the storm y weather had already moved through the area a couple of days prior.

It wasn’t until you were at your dresser applying skincare, after washing your face, that you notice something is off from your normal tray of items. Your favorite purple lighter is missing from next to your candle, hm, you huff in confusion trying to remember where you might’ve taken it. It’s probably just in the living room, you think, you have other lighters down there with your other candle, but this purple was easier to use since you had pulled of the safety, so it makes sense you would’ve moved it, you reason.

---

“Thank you again John for helping me get this old freezer out of the basement” you say stepping down the basement steps looking over your shoulder to John, him falling in behind you, matching your steps and smile.

“Aye no worries, hen. I meant it when I told you I’d look out for you, whatever you need.”

You step off the steps into the finished basement looking over at John and saying “I really do appreciate it though” John just smiles and waves you off like it’s no big deal, so you continue “I unplugged it a couple of days ago, so hopefully that means all of the ice has melted” as you open and step through the door into the unfinished side of the basement. 

You stop though, caught off guard by what you see. “Everything alright bonnie?” You hear John ask behind you. 

“Yeah” you pause but John can hear the apprehension in your voice “I just…I swear I left the board in front of that door”. You say as you walk over the walk over to the door leading to the outside, and noticing that the plank of wood that normally lays in the metal arms across the door, is just leaning up against the wall to the side of the door instead. But the glass window in the door hasn’t been broken, someone couldn’t have removed it from the outside, so “I must’ve just forgotten to put it back up last time I was down here” right?

“Ah” John pauses “that makes sense, hen, you were just doing yard work back there the other day, probably forgot to put it back up then.”

---

Your brain was still hung up on trying to remember if you had gone through the basement door when working on the backyard at the beginning of the week, but you swear you went through the front door on the main floor and walked around instead. John had helped you bring the old freezer out the other day, and afterwards made sure to remind you to put the board back across the door this time, like it was a small joke now. You appreciated him for trying to help you lighten the situation, but it still weighed heavy on you, each of these weird things around the house on their own could be a coincidence, but together? It felt all too much.

Carrying your basket of laundry up the stairs to fold on your bed, you know your already anxious brain is on edge, scanning everything in sight. You tell yourself it’s so you can confirm nothing’s out of place, but part of you knows you are just looking for something to be outside of the norm to confirm your suspicions and unfortunately for you, you find something else. The string to the ladder leading up to your attic was tied into a loop, pulling between the hole in the door and then through the edge of the cutout back into the hatch on the ceiling. 

That’s not how you left it, you never tied the string, the previous owner had never tied it. Any other day you could’ve convinced yourself you had made the change, but with your limited time in the attic already and the basement door left without the board, the sight made your stomach drop.

Part of you was ready to walk into your bedroom, shut the door and fold your laundry like nothing happened, but something had happened. You drop the laundry basket, and reach for the string, pulling the hatch down slowly, scared something might jump out at you, but when met with silence you pulled the ladder fully down.

As you crawl up the ladder to your attic, not much stands out to you, letting your brain fall into a false sense of security. See? Your brain says to your anxiety. Nothings up here, you were freaked out for nothing. 

But your phone’s flashlight catches onto something in the corner. Rushing over there’s a small pile of miscellaneous items: a small flashlight, an old plastic water bottle that became a makeshift ashtray and an open pack of Marlboro Golds. But that’s not what scares you the most. Off to the side there’s a small hand-held drill, debris, and a small hole in the plywood, the same width as the drill bit. The hair on your arms stands up and you take a quick spin in the attic with your flashlight to make you are alone, before you lean down to look through the hole in the ground. You feel like you are going to be sick as you realize the pin size hole give you a perfect view of your bedroom. You sit back up on your knees, swallowing bile as you look around. A couple feet over there’s another small pile of debris, and a few feet over another pile, and then another a couple further from there. You get to your feet, sickness washing over you as you realize there’s small holes drilled into the plywood all throughout your attic’s floor board, giving viewership to each room in your room on your second floor. 

You pound on John’s door, hoping his car in the front driveway means he’s home, you don’t know where else you’d go right now if he wasn’t and you can’t see yourself going back int your house alone. John opens the door with a confused look, but smiles when he sees you there. “Bon-“he starts but you cut him off before he can get the term of endearment out.

“John, please I just need to talk someone right now, I thought I was going crazy but I think someone has been breaking into my house” John’s face drops at your startled state, pulling you through the door into his home

“Aye it’s not a problem hen, let’s get you settled, let me get you something to drink, tea alright?” You nod as John guides you to sit on his couch, rubbing your shoulders soothingly before stepping away into the kitchen.

“I feel crazy John, I don’t know what to do. There’s been all of these weird things happening around the house, and at first, I thought it was just weird coincidences, like things getting misplaced, the basement door being uncovered, doors being left open” you say as he emerges from the kitchen with a mug of tea for you, handing it to you with a soft smile as you lean back into his couch, trying to get comfortable, despite your racing heart and anxiety building in your stomach. John sits next to you, matching your body language. 

“What do you mean?” he asks leaning his head to the side, rubbing your shoulder soothingly as you take a sip of the tea.

“I don’t know,” you start again, your frustration and fear building, tears beginning to build along your eyeline “pieces of my laundry have been going missing, but I figured it was just my washer or dryer eating them. And then little things around the house have been going missing, like I don’t know where my favorite lighter is, which is so miniscule but I always leave it in my room” you heave out, the weight in your chest building as you finally begin to acknowledge the true depth of the situation. Someone in your home, in your room.

“And I know that all sounds stupid, but I noticed the string to the attic was messed up earlier, so I went up there and I- “

You pause, something on John’s coffee table catching your eye, and your stomach drops, unable to continue your train of thought. 

“And what bonnie?” John asks but then follows your line of site to the plate of items on his coffee table, not much standing out besides the purple lighter in tray that visibly had the safety pulled off. Your frozen in place, clutching to the mug, as you feel him turn to you, hum softly, place a hand of your knee, rubbing soothingly before saying 

“I said I’d look out for you hen.”

[lunarw0rks]

a lil creepy idea i had about stalker!soap [no major tw's. except stalking. obviously.]

Lounging in your place, in the main living area.

Whatever it is you're doing, you are clearly too occupied to notice the lurker. He's not behind you; not inside at all. But he's somewhere.

You sneeze into your elbow, shaking off the sudden interruption. As soon as your eyes drift back to your phone, you get a text.

Unknown: Bless you.

[lunarw0rks]

omg... stalker! neighbour soap; mentions of hidden cameras

who introduces himself, in the lift as you are holding 629282991&2819 bags or groceries—you hoth giggle and stuff as you realise you live on the same floor.

he offers to carry your bags in for you, using the excuse "how are you gonna grab your keys?"

you turn to grab the bags from him lnly to be nudged into your flat. he drops the bags on your counter, eyes wandering around taking in the interior of your flat. you offer him a drink as his eyes are plastered to the ceilings, shelves and corners of your kitchen slash living room. "oh I'm just curious how everyone uses the space y'know"

but little do uou know, he's planning the little cameras in every nook and cranny possible to see his sweetheart, you.

leaving his number with you, he offers to change the lightbulbs or whatever whenver you need it. when the day domes, he makes sure to bring along the mini hidden camera kit he ordered long ago on his phone while he watched you sleep. "I'll check your shelves, gotta make sure they're earthquake proof"

of course you're too nice to realise he's just using it to cover up the camera he had planned to hide there. -🍦

(I'm not sure if its called earthquake proof?? but I saw it in a show.. I'm not familiar with the earthquakes 😭😭)

i’m a sucker for the “helping with your groceries” trope, especially when there’s a darker intention behind it… like now he knows the layout of your apartment and all the furniture pieces he can use for surveillance :) ……..

[lunarw0rks]

"you wake up, a splitting headache and a mind running wild. nothing taken or askew, no feeling of being watched. when you get to the bathroom mirror, there's a pink children's bandage on your cut."

he's babygirl for sure... every morning you'll get a new bandaid and a cologne in the air— he leaves just before sunrise sometimes he leaves notes saying guess who? and scribbles little cats or dogs he sees around your neighbourhood

also!! thinking of this as like neighbour! soap... like you guys meet up for some potluck or smth and as you take a seat beside enthusiastic soap, you can't help but wonder... 'Where have I smelled this before....'

-🍦

listen, i popped off with the bandaid idea. i think it’s cute. despite the whole… stalking thing… but at this point dude — i’m deranged and find him romantic.

UGH NOT THE COLOGNE IN THE AIR !!!

OR IMAGINE U WALK AROUND THE NEIGHBORHOOD PARK AND YOU GET A WHIFF OF IT WHEN HE PASSES YOU <3

AND OBVIOUSLY YOU DONT KNOW IT’S HIM — OR THAT HE’S WATCHING YOU <3

[lunarw0rks]

Stalker soap... Omg okay so I'm incredibly clumsy —I have multiple bruises on my body to attest to this

Meaning I bump into everything everywhere STALER SOAP WOULD PROB PICK UP ON THIS AND BE LIKE

Soap: watch the doorway

-🍦

this is stupid but imagine he startled you somehow,,

you didn't see him so you could convince yourself it was a hallucination when all was said and done. the noises, sensation of being watched, it did seem all too coincidental.

but, you weren't quite to the stage of clarity yet. you were still convinced you were going crazy.

you get spooked by something. a thump, a passing figure in your peripheral — whatever the hell it was, you didn't know.

and as usual, gracefulness was never your strong suit; you fainted from fear in the clumsiest way possible, getting a small cut on your forehead.

ok ok this is the stupid part. but i'm hilarious and you're forced to listen to me

you wake up, a splitting headache and a mind running wild. nothing taken or askew, no feeling of being watched. when you get to the bathroom mirror, there's a pink children's bandage on your cut.

it's almost comical if it weren't for the whole... unknown intruder thing.

is he a heartless stalker or babygirl. your choice.