#dark!river

He’d treated you like an ordinary mark—someone predictable and easy to read. But you weren’t just anyone. You were perceptive, sharp, unknowingly playing the game right alongside him. River had moved too clumsily, too overtly. And, of course, you had sensed him. After all, you were you—sweet, kind, with just enough naïveté but you were also smart. You were aware, in a way that excited him and that made you perfect.

This time, there would be no mistakes. He’d planned everything meticulously. The coffee shop on the other side of town was ideal—far enough from his flat to avoid suspicion but close enough to you to seem natural. It was a place you frequented just irregularly enough that his presence wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. A quiet, artistic café where the chance encounter could happen as if by fate. You would see him, and then, you would come to him. This would be the first step in a courtship you wouldn’t even realise was happening—until it was too late.

The coffee here wasn’t to his taste—too fancy, filled with intricate designs and pointless garnishes. His grandfather would’ve mocked it called in bollocks and dumped it on the floor. But you liked it, and for River, that was enough. He could tolerate any triviality if it brought him closer to you. Today, he sat with his back to the street, staring at his reflection in the ornate mirror above the table. Normally, he would’ve preferred a seat with a view of the door and the street—all the angles covered. But that would have been too obvious. This way, you’d spot him first. You’d approach him.

The air outside was biting now, autumn settling in, and he knew you’d stop somewhere to warm up on your way home. River’s grip tightened on the cup in his hands as he brought it to his lips, his anticipation rising with every moment. And then, right on cue, your familiar figure passed by the window.

He forced himself to stay composed, to act surprised. Seeing you up close again made his pulse race, even though he’d imagined this scene countless times. You moved to the counter, and he shifted slightly in his seat, pretending to be engrossed in the book in front of him. From there, you’d see him, and—

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice hesitant. “I don’t know if you remember me from last week…”

River looked up, a casual smile playing on his lips. “Of course,” he replied smoothly, turning towards you. There was a faint awkwardness in your smile, which only thrilled him more. You were standing there, so close, but thankfully, the table between you kept him from reaching out, from letting his instincts take over.

“How are you?” he asked, his voice carefully measured—not too eager, not too indifferent—just enough to make you feel comfortable.

“I’m good,” you answered, though there was a small, distant note in your tone. After a brief pause, you added, “I’m sorry about the other night… I was being silly.”

“Don’t be,” River said, his response smooth and quick. “You can’t be too careful these days.”

He wanted to tell you that he understood your caution all too well—that it was the very reason for his obsession with you. But those thoughts remained hidden for now. You didn’t need to know just how closely he’d been watching you. Not yet.

“Anyway,” you said, your voice brightening slightly, “I wanted to thank you. Could I buy you a coffee? Or maybe some cake? You could share it with your girlfriend.”

The word hit him like a punch to the gut. Girlfriend? River’s stomach clenched, but he quickly forced a chuckle. “Girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Your voice squeaked in surprise, your face flushing pink as you blurted out an apology. “I thought—I saw you with someone, Louisa, and I assumed—I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” River said, his tone gentle and reassuring. He couldn’t help but enjoy the way you fumbled over your words, how your blush deepened, and he explored just how far it went down. He wanted to see you flustered more often; he wanted to be the cause of that shy, sweet reaction. “Why don’t you sit down?” he added, motioning to the empty seat across from him. “You look like you could use a break—and this book is bloody dull.”

For a split second, River saw the flicker of hesitation in your eyes, a brief flash of wariness. But then you smiled apologetically and slid into the seat, nodding as if to accept his offer.

As you settled into the chair, River felt a rush of quiet satisfaction. It was a small victory, but a critical one. You were letting your guard down, little by little, exactly as he had planned. Soon, you wouldn’t just see him as the man you bumped into at a café. Soon, he would be an undeniable presence in your life—constant, reliable. He would weave himself into your world, as subtle and unavoidable as your own shadow.

River leaned back slightly in his chair, making a deliberate show of relaxing. His body language was open, unthreatening, as though he had all the time in the world to listen to you, to let you settle in. He wanted to make you feel comfortable, to lull you into thinking this was just an ordinary encounter—a chance meeting with a kind stranger. Not someone who had orchestrated this, who had been waiting for you.

“Rough day?” he asked, his voice soft and conversational. He glanced at your hands resting on the table, noting the way your fingers fidgeted slightly—tiny movements that gave away your discomfort.

You gave him a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I guess you could say that… things have been weird lately. Working too hard, I guess,” you said, awkwardly scrunching up your hands.

He nodded sympathetically, as though he understood. He didn’t, not really; there was a sense of guilt for making you feel this way. He was the one you felt following you, but it was for the greater good.

“I see… hope you’re taking a break, taking some time off.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, your hands stilling on the table. “That’s exactly it.”

He smiled warmly, “I guess we all need a break from it sometimes. Even just a cup of coffee can make you feel better. That’s why I like this place; I only discovered it recently. I love their foam art—it makes me smile.”

You laughed, a light, relieved sound, and River’s chest tightened. He could sense the tension starting to melt away, your guard dropping ever so slightly. He knew how to pace this, how to stretch out the conversation until you were no longer on edge. There was a pause, the kind that felt natural, and River let it stretch out, making you feel like the silence was comfortable. He didn’t want to push too hard, too fast. No, this was about patience. Building trust. Slowly drawing you into his web, one strand at a time.

“So,” he continued after a beat, his tone light, “what brings you here today? Just escaping the cold, or…?”

You shifted in your seat, your body language softening just a bit more. “Yeah, I needed a little break before heading home. It’s been one of those days.”

River leaned forward just a touch, not enough to invade your space, but enough to show he was engaged and interested. “I get that. I’ve been trying to make more time for little moments like this. Life moves so fast, you know? If you don’t slow down, it can feel like you’re just… going through the motions.”

You nodded, and River could see the flicker of recognition in your eyes. He was speaking your language now, echoing thoughts he knew you had. You would start to open up, and that’s exactly what he needed: a shared sense of understanding. He was making himself feel safe to you, relatable—someone who wasn’t a threat.

“You’re right,” you said quietly, as if thinking out loud. “It’s easy to get caught up in everything and forget to just… be.”

River’s smile deepened, his eyes soft as he studied you, as though he were seeing more than just your words. As though he were seeing you. “Exactly.”

The way he said it, like a gentle reassurance, had an effect. He saw it in the way your shoulders relaxed, in the way you tilted your head just slightly, as if you were starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, you did deserve a moment of peace—a reprieve from whatever worries you carried with you.

River kept his voice steady and smooth, designed to put you at ease, as he drained his cup. “It’s nice to run into you again,” he said, his words carefully chosen, as though this really was just a coincidence. “I wasn’t expecting it, but… sometimes things just happen for a reason, right?”

You looked at him, your expression softening. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He took that as a sign to keep going, pushing the conversation deeper but still keeping it casual and unthreatening as he shrugged on his coat. “Funny how life works like that. You cross paths with someone, and maybe you don’t think much of it at the time. But then you run into them again, and it feels… I don’t know. Meant to be, in a way.”

You smiled, but there was a small flicker of hesitation in your eyes again. River noticed it and adjusted immediately. He couldn’t afford to come on too strong.

“Of course,” he added quickly, his tone shifting back to light-hearted, “it could just be that we both happen to like this place. Either way, it’s nice.”

You laughed again, and the sound was more genuine this time. He felt the tension between you ebb further, like a knot slowly loosening. The false sense of security he was building, brick by brick. Soon, you wouldn’t question why he was here, why you felt comfortable enough to sit with him and share a conversation. Soon, you wouldn’t realise how much of your guard you had let down, how close he had managed to get. He could see it happening already. Slowly but surely, you were starting to trust him.