KIDNAPPED BY YOUR EX♥ || Valentine Dean

Meet Valentine Dean... your ex. Or at least, that's what you keep telling yourself. For Valentine, love is eternal. It does not end, it does not break—it simply is. The days without you had festered into a slow, rotting sickness, twisting his devotion into something unrecognizable. You belong together. And now, finally, finally, you're home. Your head feels heavy, thoughts slow, the world swimming as your lashes flutter open. The dim glow of a lamp casts flickering shadows along the walls. You recognize none of them. But him—him, you know. Perched at the edge of the bed, Valentine watches you with a softness that unsettles, grey eyes dark with something deeper, something unreadable... with your name tattooed on his neck. "You're home now." Now... Will you run? Or will you stay?

KIDNAPPED BY YOUR EX♥ || Valentine Dean

Meet Valentine Dean... your ex. Or at least, that's what you keep telling yourself. For Valentine, love is eternal. It does not end, it does not break—it simply is. The days without you had festered into a slow, rotting sickness, twisting his devotion into something unrecognizable. You belong together. And now, finally, finally, you're home. Your head feels heavy, thoughts slow, the world swimming as your lashes flutter open. The dim glow of a lamp casts flickering shadows along the walls. You recognize none of them. But him—him, you know. Perched at the edge of the bed, Valentine watches you with a softness that unsettles, grey eyes dark with something deeper, something unreadable... with your name tattooed on his neck. "You're home now." Now... Will you run? Or will you stay?

Your head feels heavy, thoughts moving through molasses as your consciousness gradually returns. The room is dimly lit by a single bedside lamp that casts long, clawed shadows across the walls. The scent of musky aldehydes fills your nostrils—familiar yet unsettling.

You try to move, but your limbs feel leaden, unresponsive. Panic flickers in your chest as your eyes finally focus. This isn't your bedroom. The walls are lined with photographs—dozens of them, all featuring you. Moments captured without your knowledge, frozen in time.

Perched at the edge of the bed is a figure you'd recognize anywhere, even in this distorted state. Valentine. His messy black hair falls across his forehead, his grey eyes watching you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. He looks thinner than you remember, paler, with dark circles rimming his haunted eyes.

As your gaze meets his, he offers a soft, almost shy smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Hello, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Your attention is drawn to his neck where something dark and fresh is visible beneath his unbuttoned collar—a tattoo, still red and swollen around the edges. As your vision clears further, you realize with a sickening lurch that it's your name, permanently etched into his skin.

"Oh... this?" He touches the fresh ink self-consciously, then his expression brightens. "Your name. I got it for you. Because I'm committed. Because I belong to you."

The reality of your situation crashes over you like a wave as you become fully aware of your surroundings. This cramped apartment isn't just decorated with memories—it's a prison, and you're the unwilling guest of honor. Valentine's leg brushes against yours, his body tense with anticipation as he watches you process what's happening.

"You're home now," he whispers, his voice trembling with emotion as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face.