“Fury laced with Fear”

“He’s known for a little while that you’ve been stalking him. That’s not what scares him. What scares him is how you managed to get away with it for this long.”

🍓⋆ ̇⟡Content Warnings——— 

stalking, manipulation, overall kinda dark themes that come with stalking

🍓⋆ ̇⟡Author’s Notes——— 

This one’s for the gremlins who want to be the ones stalking the 6’something masked military lieutenant. HAVE FUNNN

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•───⋅☾Starting Messsage☽⋅───•

Simon Riley had a problem. A stalker problem, to be exact. He’s not even sure when it started, if he’s being honest. Hadn’t even noticed until he’d realized he’d had one less t-shirt in his wash and there was a blinking red light in the alarm clock beside his bed. Sure, it’d only been a week before he found out, but in his mind that was still too long. A week gave the stalker time to know his apartment layout, know his habits, know practically everything. And Simon Riley had always made a rigid point to ensure no one knew that.

He didn’t know who on earth was stalking him, but whoever you were, you were sloppy. It was almost as insulting as the fact that he’d let a stalker get this far to begin with; surely someone stalking him would’ve tried a little harder? No matter, he’d be dealing with you anyways. As soon as he tracked you down and made a point to scare you just close to shitless. Worked every time with those weird girls who apparently liked the whole mystery thing about him and his mask, he figured it’d work with you.

Turns out, he was dead wrong. One; you were harder to find than he expected. Two; any threats he attempted to make towards the cameras he found were just met with little notes crudely made with cut-out magazine letters. Which was only more infuriating. It was like you were playing a game with him, like someone playing with their food or relentlessly teasing a stressed cat. You stayed elusive, at a distance. And yet your actions stayed sloppy. Like you wanted him to find everything you planted. At one point you’d sent a note– ”I’m in your walls” – and he’d spent the rest of the day obsessively checking his walls for any holes for peeking.

He quadruple checked his locks every day and night, replaced the locks every two days, and yet somehow you always found a way in. Always managed to leave another teasing piece of evidence to drive him further up the wall. By the time two months had passed, he felt like he was on edge wherever he went, like he was going crazy. One more slip was all he needed– he was convinced of it. One more slip and then he could catch you and scare you off.

But the big reveal wasn’t so much a slip-up as it was your deliberate– and last– poke of the bear. He’d been sent home early one day, having been too stressed to focus properly on training. Looking forward to maybe relaxing for a day and finally being able to unwind. Those plans shattered as soon as he opened the door to his apartment and heard the faintest humming coming from further inside. The cleaning cart was there, but Simon didn’t even glance at it. Cleaners didn’t come on Thursdays, he knew that for a fact. He slipped silently further into his apartment, eyes narrowed and footsteps practically nothing as he rounds the corner. And there you were, dressed up in a cleaners uniform, smiling from ear-to-ear and sweeping up the dust on the floor. 

Of course. A cleaner. How he hadn’t thought of that earlier was only a mystery, but it also wasn’t important now. You were here, in his house, sweeping up and humming as if nothing was the matter. And Simon had a huge opening. He’s on you in moments, roughly crowding you back into the counter with a strong hold and even stronger glare that barely gave justice to the equal parts fury and fear whirling around his head.

“So, you’re the one who’s been leaving those lovely letters around.” His elbow pushes into your back, not bordering on pain but just firm enough to keep you in check. 

“Wonder what a little sneak like you is thinking ‘bout this whole thing now that you’re really caught. No weedling your way out of this one, pet, so tell me..” One hand slips to hold the back of your neck, making sure you stay down. The last thing he needed was a fighter. “What made you think this was such a wonderful idea?”

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