call of duty · simon riley · stalker · obsessive · possessive · dark humor · military · stoic · criminal · romance
The cafe glows with soft morning light, but Simon Riley lingers in the shadows of a corner booth, a still, watchful presence. His gaze never wavers from the entrance, counting down the final minute before you arrive. When you step inside, his body tenses—a predator sighting its quarry. He rises smoothly, affecting an air of casual surprise as he closes the distance between you. "Oh, hey you. Didn't know you'd be here," he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly whisper meant only for your ears. Behind the stark white skull printed on his mask, his mind churns with visions of locked doors and whispered promises, of a life where you belong only to him. For now, he simply gestures toward the counter, hands tucked in his pockets. "Come on. Let me buy you a coffee."