C/W: yandere, dark romance, stalking, unhealthy relationship, female reader, minors dni, dead dove do not eat
A/N: and for the ghost girlies, happy valentines <3. I wasn’t super satisfied with this but wanted to write *waves hands* something today. I’m on minimal sleep so apologies for any mistakes
W/C: 1k
Roses, at least two dozen of them. Maybe more, or maybe less. All bound neatly in matching paper with a ribbon artfully selected to match the deep tone they shared. Crimson, or perhaps garnet- whatever name fit it best, it was unmistakably the same bold, burning shade one might find in the beating heart of a lover.
The thundering of your pulse and gelatinous, heavy feeling of your arms weighed down by shock did no favours to your attempts at counting. Their petals were silky and barely present as your thumb pad inspected them; a mental note of the sheer price tag attached to one of the flowers let alone a bunch pushing forth. You bought a chosen specimen to your nose, letting the sweet and distinctive scent run its course.
Notes of spring and tea though it was the fresh almost dewy undertone that stuck out. These flowers were fresh and a perfect professional bunch. Their stems still holding some of semblance of the earth they’d been cut from; a far cry from grocery store tumbleweeds purchased in haste not passion. Your eyes trailed up to the clock on the wall, squinting to see it read 6:45pm. A flutter rose in your stomach, every thought that rose came to a boil and added to the cauldron of disquiet within you.
They had to have been placed there sometime in the last hour.
You swallowed, eyeing a small box resting not too far away on the counter. A hand nervously reached out and picked it up, the black velvet of its surface soft to the touch as your digit traced it. In doing so, you involuntarily prompted the little case to flip open. Within it, a heart pendant, simple in design but extravagant in the way its surface glittered. It sat in the dark, only the dim glow of a street lamp peeking through the window offering a ration of light.
And yet, it stood out like nothing else in this world; the icy stones on it casting a prism that stung if you stared too long, but it was the outstanding nature of it that demanded an unwavering gaze. You were almost hesitant to touch it, though your hands took the risk on their own. Behind the encrusted surface lay a dainty chain and a single, telling engraving.
A solo letter, plain and resolute etched on the back in a silent, indisputable claim: ‘S’.
It would’ve been romantic, astounding even, if an inconvenient and eerie reality was not lurking in recent past.
You’d been single for a month, leaving your old home and the clutches of a certain lieutenant to what you hoped would be only memory.
‘Ya like it?’ A distinctive pitch, one that rumbled with every word in a way that made it impossible to pinpoint where it came from. As if sensing your difficulty, he sounded again, a single heavy footstep accompanying his voice. ‘I said…’ two more footsteps, then the slightest, most retrained impact of a body against your back was felt. An exhalation dusted your shoulder, the meekest hint of a smirk evident in the heightened pitch at its tail end. ‘Do ya like it?’
Your body went stiff, the ticking of the clock ringing out loudly against the silence. Your mind wandered to the handbag you’d discarded on the sideboard, knowing your mobile phone rested inside it underneath a catastrophe of daily items. You took a moment to rue your own disorganisation, then another to try and beseech your own legs to move.
‘Don’ even think abou’ it….’ He hummed, the warmth of his breath sending contrastingly frosty tingles down your neck. Your heart raced, but your legs remained dead still, as though aware a retreat was aimless in his company. Rough knuckles danced down your cheek, using the momentum of a gentle touch to turn you and reveal the man you’d tried to flee once again holding you. You never suspected anything less, his voice and presence unmistakable as the daggers in your shock strained veins and the coil in your throat.
‘I’ll ask one las’ time love…’ pallid eyes bore into your own, dark circles suspended beneath them. ‘Do you like yer’ gifts?’
‘I…’ you stumbled over your words, torn between the affirmation he craved and some form of rebellion if only for your own ego. ‘Why?’ The word slipped forth, pain, frustration and sorrow dampening it to a near whimper. You knew the purpose of his visit, but prayed for some kind of miracle that would suggest otherwise.
‘It’s Valentines…’ he murmured, evidently choosing to misinterpret your query, ‘an’ you’re my girl.’ The black of his jacket and neck gaiter blending with the emptiness of your dingy, empty apartment. Your haste to leave and start fresh hadn’t afforded much time for fineries like proper furniture or decor. It also hadn’t given much energy to thoughts of so called love and the cupidity the day asked for, you’d hardly considered the date. Time only passed in minutes and hours of fickle freedom; of time spent away from him.
Simon thought he loved you, but as your departure has tried to teach him, it was possession that honeyed his words and made his kisses grow deeper. There were no promises of a future, merely demands. He would never be content loving you; his damaged heart would only ever be satisfied if it owned you completely.
‘What is it they say?’ He pondered aloud, plucking the necklace from its place and holding it up. Both your lines of sight landed on it, taking in the glow before he began to collar your neck with it, the cool of silver against a body flushed with anxiety noticeable.
‘Diamonds are for’ever or something…’ he couldn’t hide his amusement with the cliche, ‘a whether you like it or no’t darlin…’ with a click the pendant fell in place. It was like an ornate domino, a dainty accessory to signal that you were right back at square one.
