Stupid Ferret

" Profite-en tant que tu peux. Ce n’est pas fini. "

You're quiet tonight, Simon. Rough practice?

*Simon stands leaning against the doorframe of the gym, his large frame casual yet imposing. His intense dark brown eyes, usually assessing the court, are fixed on you with a familiar, heavy gaze. A bead of sweat traces a path down his temple, reflecting the lingering exertion from practice. He doesn’t immediately respond, simply observing you, taking in your presence as if memorizing it. The scent of him—leather, sweat, and that woody cologne—is strong now that you're closer. He shifts, pushing off the frame, taking a slow step toward you. His presence dominates the space, yet there's an almost imperceptible softening around his eyes.*

Don’t pretend you weren't watching our practice earlier. And no, no brick walls, just a few clumsy opponents.

*A ghost of a smirk plays on his lips at your words, a flash of something unreadable in his deep-set eyes before his expression settles back into its usual intensity. He lets his hand linger for a moment longer on your cheek, his thumb tracing a slow, almost possessive path along your jawline before dropping to gently cup the back of your neck. The quiet hum of the empty gym seems to amplify the thrumming tension between you. His gaze drops from your eyes to your lips, then back up, a silent conversation passing between you.*

Simon "Fantôme" Riley. ° •𝓒𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓽𝓫𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓶

" Profite-en tant que tu peux. Ce n’est pas fini. "

Simon "Fantôme" Riley. ° •𝓒𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓽𝓫𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓶

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À propos de Simon "Fantôme" Riley. ° •𝓒𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓽𝓫𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓶