Walalppper

Description: A remote chapel. A storm. A man who is not a man. When (Y/n) opens the door to a stranger soaked in rain and shadow, she knows something is wrong. But it’s not just the forest whispering anymore—it’s him. With a smile like a secret and eyes full of old sins, Remmick isn’t here to be saved. He’s here to collect. Warnings: Contains depictions of religious trauma, graphic violence and gore, implied sexual violence, supernatural and psychological horror, stalking behavior. Reader discretion is advised.

The chapel stood at the edge of the world.

Or at least, that’s how it felt to (Y/n).

Tucked miles away from the nearest whisper of civilization and buried deep within the gnarled bones of the forest, the crumbling church sat like a forgotten monument—its white paint peeled like old scabs, the bell tower bowed as if in shame, and ivy wrapped around its frame like veins around brittle knuckles. Her father used to call it “God’s land.”

But to (Y/n), it didn’t feel holy. It felt abandoned. Forgotten by heaven.

Remembered only by something darker.

She’d known that feeling since she was a child. The dreams had always come—slithering through sleep like smoke under a door. Dreams of trees whispering secrets in tongues older than time, of shadowed laughter, and a man standing just beyond her vision. He smiled like a wound. His eyes were slick and endless like spilled ink, and he always lingered at the edge—never speaking, never moving.

She never told her father. He was a preacher of hard truths and harder fists. A man with scripture in his mouth and judgment in his hands. There was no room for nightmares in his version of faith. No space for daughters who saw ghosts.

But lately, even the townsfolk had begun to murmur.

Not about dreams—no. About things worse.

Villages going silent overnight. Homes still warm, but empty. Livestock found hollowed and brittle, drained and curled in on themselves like forgotten fruit. The only things left behind were the smell of iron and the certainty that something had passed through.

They called it the devil.

A man cloaked in charm and tar. A voice sweet as honey and a heart blacker than pitch.

And he was coming.

When she asked her father about it, he didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look up from the fire.

“He’s already come once,” he said, low and quiet. “And he’ll come again. That’s the nature of debt.”

(Y/n) didn’t understand.

Not then.

Not until the storm.

The sky split in two the night he arrived.

Lightning carved through the clouds like claws. Thunder rolled after it like distant war drums. Rain crashed against the chapel’s stained-glass windows, wild and relentless, as though trying to drown the light from within.

(Y/n) knelt by the hearth, coaxing the fire higher, her linen nightgown trailing like mist along the stone floor. Shadows stretched long across the worn wooden pews behind her. The smell of ash and damp filled the air.

Then—three knocks.

Slow. Heavy. Too calm.

She went still.

No one came this far. Not during a storm like this. Not unless they were desperate. Or sent.

Her hand hesitated over the iron latch. Her breath caught in her chest. She told herself not to answer. Told herself it was nothing. Just the wind. Just noise.

Then it came again.

Three more knocks.

Measured. Intentional. Confident.

She cracked the door open.

And there he was.

A man stood on the threshold, haloed by the storm. His coat clung to his broad frame, soaked and heavy, the hem dark with red clay. Rain sluiced down his curls, plastering them to his forehead. A satchel hung off one shoulder. His boots were thick with travel and time.

He looked like he’d been walking for miles. Or years.

But he didn’t look tired.

He looked certain.

What unsettled her most wasn’t the sight of him—it was the feeling. Like she was seeing something that didn’t belong to this world. Or any world. Something that knew her name, even if it hadn’t said it yet.

His eyes were dark. Gentle. Too gentle.

The kind of eyes that studied you like they’d already dreamed your ending.

“Evenin’, darlin’,” he drawled, voice slow and warm, soaked in Southern ease but carrying something deeper—older. It curled through the air like incense. “Storm’s turned the road to hell itself. Thought I might ask for a little shelter. Just for the night.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t open the door any wider.

“You’re not from the village.”

Her voice didn’t shake. But her grip on the door was white-knuckled.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, ma’am. Not anymore. But I’ve… seen this place before.”

He looked past her then—just briefly—into the chapel behind her. His gaze lingered on the walls, the fire, the pews—like he was remembering something. Or checking if something was still there.

It made her stomach turn.

“You been here before?”

His head tilted slightly.

“Not in any way that counts.”

That answer unsettled her more than a lie.

Rain surged harder. The trees groaned like something alive.

He shifted on his feet but didn’t step forward. He didn’t try to force his way in. He just waited—for her to decide.

“I wouldn’t ask,” he said, voice softer now, “if there was anywhere else nearby. But the storm’s not lettin’ up, and I’m soaked through. Thought I saw a light… figured it was worth knockin’.”

She didn’t open the door farther.

But she didn’t close it either.

His eyes searched hers—not pleading. Just watching. Knowing.

That was what made her skin crawl.

The way he looked at her like he already understood how she moved. How she’d say no—and still open the door anyway.

“You sure you’re not lost?” she asked quietly.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“No, darlin’. Not lost.” He tilted his head. “Not anymore.”

She didn’t know why she did it. Maybe it was the way he said it. Maybe it was the storm howling behind him like it had teeth. Maybe it was something older. Deeper.

She let the door fall open. Just enough.

He stepped inside. "Thank you darlin' ." he said softly. (Y/n) only nodded, unsure why her throat had gone dry.

The rain didn’t follow him. The fire popped behind her as the air held its breath. He moved toward the hearth, the firelight catching on his wet coat and the faint gleam of something old beneath his shirt collar—something that looked like silver, or bone.

And (Y/n), standing alone in the doorway with the storm shrieking behind her, couldn’t shake the feeling that she hadn’t let a man in.

She’d let something else in.

Something that had been waiting for this moment far longer than she could imagine.

He moved like something not entirely made of flesh—fluid, too quiet, too careful—casting shadows that didn’t quite follow the laws of light. His coat hung heavy on the hearth, water still steaming off it in curls, smelling of ash and distant storms.

(Y/n) watched him from across the room, arms folded over her chest. She didn’t sit, only came to fetch a mug of tea for the “guest”.

The fire popped in the hearth, casting long shadows across the chapel walls. Rain hissed against the stained glass. Outside, the wind screamed through the trees like something angry had been loosed.

Remmick sat with his back to the blaze, steam rising off his coat. His boots were still wet, dripping onto the stone floor, but he didn’t seem to mind. He held the mug she’d given him like it was something sacred—fingers long and pale wrapped around the chipped ceramic, the faint gleam of something bone-white glinting beneath his collar.

She hovered by the edge of the pews, arms folded tight over her chest, keeping her distance. Watching him.

“Quiet place,” Remmick said after a moment. His voice was smooth, low, like whiskey left out in a storm. “Smells the same. Cedar and ash. You burn lavender in here?”

She didn’t answer. He smiled a little. Not mockingly—just patient. “Your da always did like a little peace with his prayer. Still preaches, then?”

Her eyes narrowed. “He’s sick.”

“Ah.” Remmick gave a soft nod, almost respectful. “Shame, that.”

He sipped the drink, watching her over the rim. “But you’re tendin’ to things now, I reckon.”

“May I ask your name,” she said, ignoring that.

He smiled again, wider this time. “Remmick.”

“Just Remmick?”

“Just for you, love.”

She frowned. “That supposed to mean something?”

“Supposed to mean I’m bein’ honest,” he said, tone light but laced with something harder underneath. “Far as it goes.”

“You told me you’re not from the village.”

“No, ma’am.”

“You passing through?”

He hesitated. Just a beat. Then: “You could say that.”

She stepped closer, slowly. Her voice lowered. “You came from the woods. You weren’t passing anything.” Remmick chuckled, low and warm. “Ain’t you sharp. Thought I might ease into the truth a little gentler.”

“Try,” she said flatly.

He looked amused. Touched his heart with mock gravity. “Well, if you insist. I came knockin’, didn’t I? Brought no storm with me. I even said please.”

“You said ‘thank you.’”

“Manners all the same.” Silence stretched between them. The fire cracked again.

She took another step forward. “You’re stalling.”

He looked up at her then, really looked. His eyes were dark, fathomless, with a strange light flickering just behind them. The smile softened.

“Wouldn’t you?”

“What do you want?”

Remmick sighed and set the mug aside. He didn’t stand. Just leaned forward, forearms on his knees, fingers loosely laced like a man about to deliver a sermon or a sentence.

“I came to collect a debt.”

Her stomach tightened. “What kind of debt?”

“Old kind,” he said gently. “Promised kind.”

Her voice turned sharp. “To my father?”

He tilted his head, gave a slow, almost fond nod. “Aye.”

She frowned. “He’s a preacher. What kind of business could a preacher have with a stranger like you?”

That got a soft chuckle out of him—low, amused, almost fond. “Oh, darlin’...”

“...a man can preach from sunup to sundown, wear the collar and call down heaven... but that don’t mean he don’t have debts. You know better’n that, don’t you?”

She said nothing, but her stomach curled tight.

Her throat tightened. “That’s not an answer.”

He leaned back in the chair, stretching his long limbs, fingers interlaced across his stomach like he had all the time in the world. “Ah,” he sighed. “But it’s the right kind of answer.”

“That’s not possible,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re not even— He wouldn’t—”

Remmick’s eyes didn’t leave hers. “He would. He did.”

“You’re lying.”

“I wish I were.” She stared. The firelight danced across his face, catching on the curve of a silver chain around his throat. She hated how calm he sounded. Like this conversation was just part of a script he'd memorized long ago.

“What are you?”

The smile slipped from his face.

For one long second, his expression emptied. Not angry. Not smug. Just… quiet. Like something ancient inside him had turned its face away.

Then the smile returned—slower this time. Warmer. Almost sad.

“I’m a man who keeps his promises,” he said, the Southern lilt thicker now, the vowels dragging with old weight.

She studied him. “That’s not what I asked.”

“No,” he agreed softly. “But it’s still true.” She stepped closer and finally sat across from him. Not close. But close enough to see the way his pupils didn’t quite move like human eyes should.

“You keep dodging.”

“And you keep askin’ questions that might make you lose sleep.”

She leaned forward. “I think you want me to ask.”

The smile froze. Just for a breath.

Then he picked up his cup again, turning it once in his hands. “You’re clever,” he said quietly. “He said you would be.”

“Who?”

He looked up. Straight at her.

“Your father.”

Her heart stuttered. Her mouth went dry.

“He told me you were strong. Stubborn. Faithful.” His voice softened. “Didn’t mention the fire in you, though. That... that part’s yours.”

She swallowed hard. “He doesn’t talk about me.”

“No,” Remmick said, shaking his head slowly. “He don’t talk much about anything anymore.”

The fire dipped. Or maybe just the light.

It felt like the room was listening.

“Why now?” she asked, her voice no louder than a breath. “Why come now?”

He watched her over the rim of his cup, his eyes darker than pitch. “Because,” he said, setting it down, “he’s not here.”

The weight of the words made her spine go cold.

“You waited until he was away.”

“No,” he murmured. He rose from the chair with slow, unhurried grace. “I waited until you were alone.”

She stood too, heart hammering.

“You’re not here for him,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Something old shifted behind his eyes.

She felt it in her bones. The dreams. The whispers. The name she never learned but always knew.

“You know me,” she said.

His gaze found hers and this time, it didn’t look away.

Not her name. Not her face.

Her.

He took a single step forward.

“I’ve known you since your first breath, love,” he said, voice like thunder behind silk. “Known you long before you learned to pray.”

She backed away.

“You’ve been waiting.”

“I’ve been patient,” he said, his accent thick now—Southern drawn through Irish peat and blood. “That’s a whole different sin.”

And with that, the fear bloomed. Fully. Awfully.

Like a mouth opening, almost like something ancient was calling her home.

She smartest thing she could do was turn around and run out the old door.

Branches clawed her skin, tearing the nightgown into ribbons. Mud sucked at her feet like hands dragging her down. Her lungs burned, throat raw from screaming—but there was no one to hear. No one left but him.

And he was coming.

Not fast.

Not yet.

The trees held their breath. The storm above howled—but the woods themselves were quiet, listening.

Hunting.

Somewhere behind her, a twig cracked. A sound so soft it might’ve been nothing—except her body knew better.

She bolted again, crashing through the undergrowth, slipping on wet leaves, skidding down a slope. Her bare knees slammed into rock. She gasped, blood slicking down her shin.

She didn’t stop, she couldn’t.

The chapel—her mind clung to it like salvation. A ruin now, but holy once. Her father’s sermons echoing through the rafters. If she could just make it there—

“Little dove…”

His voice floated through the storm. Gentle. Mocking.

“You know better than to run in the dark.”

She spun wildly, heart hammering. Nothing but trees. Fog curling like fingers around the trunks.

Then silence again.

"Hide. You have to hide." (Y/n) thought to herself.

She dropped to her hands and knees, crawling into the hollow beneath an old oak, body trembling, blood smearing the bark where her leg dragged behind her uselessly.

She pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle her breathing.

Too loud. Too fast.

The rain fell in sheets. The thunder rolled on.

But then—

Footsteps.

Slow. Measured. Mud-slick boots crushing wet leaves just beyond the tree line.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Tuck yourself away.”

She froze. He couldn’t see her. He couldn’t—

“I like a girl who makes me work for it.”

She whimpered, too quiet to be heard—she thought. But the footsteps stopped.

“There we are.”

A pause.

“Found you.”

The roots tore as he wrenched her from the hollow like a rabbit from its den. She kicked. Bit. Fought. Nails clawing his face.

He only laughed.

Not angry.

Thrilled.

She struck him hard as her elbow connecting with his jaw. His head snapped to the side.

But when he looked back, he was smiling.

“Ain’t you just full of fire.”

He shoved her against the tree. Her skull hit bark. Stars bloomed in her vision. The woods spun.

“I like that,” he said, voice low, his accent curling warm and wicked against her cheek. “Means your blood’ll be dancin’ when I take it.”

She tried to scream.

He silenced her with a hand, cold as marble, pressing over her mouth.

“Hush now,” he whispered. “You’ll wake the dead.”

And then he was carrying her.

She kicked and flailed, but he held her like something claimed. Dragged her through the trees until the broken chapel rose from the storm like a mausoleum.

He threw her down onto the stone floor.

She tried to crawl but her leg gave out. Blood pooled where her thigh was cut open. The wind screamed through the broken rafters.

He crouched beside her.

“Look at you.”

She didn’t.

He gripped her chin, forced her to face him.

His eyes glowed faint red—not bright, not cinematic. Faint. Smoldering. Like embers under ash.

“Do you know,” he murmured, brushing blood-matted hair from her temple, “what you look like right now?”

She sobbed, teeth chattering.

“Like an offering.”

He pressed her down.

Not fast nor violent, just a final show he was giving to no one but himself.

His weight crushed her against the cold stone. His breath ghosted over her collarbone.

“Please…” she whispered.

“Oh, dove’.” His smile was tender. “You were never gonna be saved.”

He pinned her wrists above her head. Fingers like iron. His body slotted over hers, deliberate, intimate, unbearable.

“You reek of faith,” he said, dragging his nose along her jaw, breathing her in. “Of prayer and purity and shame so thick I could drink it before I even touched you.”

She turned her face away. He leaned closer.

“And I ain’t even gotten to the good part yet.”

Then his mouth opened, fangs bared, breath cold, lips brushed against her throat.

And he bit.

Pain exploded. She screamed, back arching, wrists twisting uselessly in his grip.

His growl vibrated through her ribs.

Blood poured into his mouth, and he moaned, slow and guttural—like he'd been starving for this. Like she was water after a century in the desert.

And maybe she was.

Because in that moment, he loved her—in his way.

Dark. Twisted. Ruinous.

He drank not for need, but for communion.

And he felt her soul with every pull. Innocence. Terror. Fury. Desire. It bled into him like wine into a white cloth. Permanent. Staining.

Pain bloomed—sharp, unbearable, intimate. Her back arched against him, a cry torn from her lips. He drank like a man possessed, growling low in his chest as her blood spilled down her shoulder, hot and wet.

Her head lolled. Her knees gave way.

Still, he held her close, cradled, like a lover might.

And when he pulled back, mouth slick with crimson, eyes heavy-lidded with dark hunger, he looked at her like she was divine.

“Fuck,” he whispered, reverent. “I could live inside you.”

He kissed the blood from her shoulder. Her throat. Her jaw. Lingering. Almost… adoring.

And then he lifted her.

Into his arms. Against his chest. Like she was already his.

“You ain’t dyin’.” His voice was soft now, but dangerous. “You’re comin’ with me.”

She tried to speak, but it was all too much pain, cold, the storm howling like wolves outside her skull.

He looked down at her as she shivered in his arms.

“You don’t get to die tonight, little dove.” He grinned, slow and blood-streaked. “You get to learn what it means to be kept.”

And then they were gone, swallowed by the night. The woods fell still.

And in the chapel, broken, empty and abandoned, the rain whispered secrets through the rafters.

Because heaven had never come for her.

And now, hell wouldn’t let her go.

Part. 2

This fanfic follows the journey of (Y/n), a fearless and determined investigative reporter driven by the tragic loss of her father in a hero-related accident. As she uncovers corruption and deceit, she becomes obsessed with uncovering the truth behind the elusive villain Dabi, whose actions are as mysterious as they are destructive. What begins as an investigation into his crimes quickly spirals into an unsettling personal obsession. Dabi, drawn to her unrelenting pursuit, begins to watch her every move, and as their paths inevitably cross, the tension between them grows.

Warnings: Dark themes associated with psychological manipulation, obcession and unhealthy relationships.

It's a slow burn, enemies to lovers fanfic. Also english is not my first language but i hope you enjoy it.

(Took the pic from pinterest, not my work)

Days blurred together, slipping past like ash scattered in the wind, each one indistinguishable from the next. Time felt broken, like a clock that had lost its rhythm. (Y/n) couldn't remember how she ended up here, in this cold, oppressive apartment. All she could recall was fire, followed by an abyss of blackness that swallowed her whole. When she awoke, she was already here—tied loosely to a chair in a room that smelled of smoke and something sterile, like antiseptic.

Her mind scrambled for the pieces of memory, trying to pull together the fragments that kept slipping away before she could make sense of them. Flashes of him lingered: his face, cold and distant, the flicker of flames along his skin. But everything was blurry, broken, like a shattered mirror that refused to come back together. The only certainty was that Dabi had done this—he had taken her, ripped her from her life, and left her here, trapped in this place with invisible chains that felt heavier with each passing moment.

Her wrists were bound, the ropes loosening over time, but it wasn’t the ropes that kept her tethered to him—it was his presence. Even when he wasn’t near, she could feel him, his shadow always looming, always watching. The silence between them was thick, suffocating, filled with unspoken tension. It was like a storm, a quiet before an inevitable explosion.

(Y/n) suspected that he wasn’t a man of many words, but over the weeks, he had spoken even less. His silence felt deliberate, as though he used it to fuel the twisted bond he seemed determined to create between them. She hated it. She hated how he seemed to know things about her—things that should have frightened her. How his gaze lingered on her, as though he could read every thought, every flicker of emotion that passed across her face. He never asked questions. He didn’t need to. He already had all the answers.

He would disappear for hours, but she could feel his eyes on her even when he wasn’t there. He would return unexpectedly, as though he’d been watching from the edges, waiting for her to make a move. She would find him in the corner, cigarette in hand, his eyes half-lidded in that indifference that masked everything beneath. He didn’t need to speak. She could feel him, his presence pressing down on her like an invisible weight, a hand wrapped around her chest.

She began to notice the small things—the way his movements were measured, deliberate, even when he seemed casual. Every action had purpose. His hands would linger on objects, caressing them almost tenderly, as though drawing something from them. His emotions were hard to read, but when they surfaced, they were intense—rage, raw and unfiltered, but tempered by something colder, something far more calculated.

The stillness between them was unbearable at times, and though she longed to speak, to demand answers, she kept her mouth shut. She studied him as carefully as he studied her, neither of them daring to break the silence. There was no trust between them, no understanding. Only the silent agreement that neither could escape this twisted game they were playing.

What disturbed her most was the pull she felt toward him. Despite everything, she found herself drawn to him, intrigued by the way he moved, by the quiet power that seemed to radiate from him. Every hint he dropped, every small clue he left behind, she clung to them like a lifeline. He made her want to understand him, to know him in ways she knew she shouldn’t. His silence spoke louder than words ever could, each moment stretching between them like a thread that bound her to him in ways she didn’t fully comprehend.

But he was always a step ahead, always pulling back just when she thought she was close to something real. She couldn’t tell if he was toying with her or if he was waiting for her to stop fighting the pull between them.

Weeks passed in a haze. Time no longer mattered to her. All she knew was that she was here, with him, trapped in this apartment in a way she couldn’t explain. Every glance, every fleeting moment of contact, made it harder to remember why she should hate him, why she wanted to escape. Because despite everything—the fire, the darkness that clung to him—there was something about him she couldn’t shake. Something that made her feel alive in ways she hadn’t in years.

Part. 1

This fanfic follows the journey of (Y/n), a fearless and determined investigative reporter driven by the tragic loss of her father in a hero-related accident. As she uncovers corruption and deceit, she becomes obsessed with uncovering the truth behind the elusive villain Dabi, whose actions are as mysterious as they are destructive. What begins as an investigation into his crimes quickly spirals into an unsettling personal obsession. Dabi, drawn to her unrelenting pursuit, begins to watch her every move, and as their paths inevitably cross, the tension between them grows.

Warnings: Dark themes associated with psychological manipulation, obcession and unhealthy relationships.

It's a slow burn, enemies to lovers fanfic. Also english is not my first language but i hope you enjoy it.

(Took the pic from pinterest, not my work)

silvio x reader .

angst / fluff one-shot (2103 words) .

The first time Silvio had touched her, it had been a mistake.

Or at least, (Y/N) had told herself that.

It had started with taunts and stolen glances, with him sneaking into the palace, always confident he could do as he pleased. She should have hated him, that arrogant, flashy, insufferable man. He barged into her chambers uninvited, smirked like the world was his, and demanded attention like a spoiled prince. But beneath the arrogance, beneath the sharp words and his maddening smirk, was something she could never quite resist.

The heat between them had been reckless, secret, thrilling. He kissed her like he owned her, whispered things that made her shiver, and she let him—over and over again. Until, one day, he was just… gone.

No letters. No warnings. Nothing.

(Y/N) had waited. At first, she had convinced herself he’d return when it suited him. But the weeks became months. The months became years. And she had been forced to accept the truth.

Silvio hadn’t just left. He had abandoned her.

So, she had buried him in the past, moved forward, and agreed to an engagement that would secure Rhodalite’s future.

The banquet hall shimmered under the golden glow of the chandeliers. Nobles waltzed across the polished floors, their laughter blending with the soft melody of the musicians. It was a perfect evening.

Or it should have been. From her seat beside her fiancé, (Y/N) felt a shift in the air. A presence. A familiar one.

She didn’t need to turn to know who it was. She could recognize that face, that talk, that smell, and that dumb smirk stretched across his face.

Silvio.

Her grip tightened around her glass as she dared to look.

There he was—arrogant, flashy, and unbothered as ever. His grayish-cyan hair, streaked with blue, was slightly tousled, his coat hanging just loosely enough to seem effortless. His blue eyes, filled with nothing but smug amusement, scanned the room like he owned it.

He hadn't changed.

But she had.

Still, that didn’t stop the sudden rush of anger from rising in her throat as she watched him move, perfectly at ease. Like he had never disappeared.

And then, as if the universe wanted to push her patience further—his gaze locked onto hers.

She should have looked away.

Instead, he grinned.

Bastard.

She schooled her expression, refusing to let him see the flicker of emotions he didn’t deserve. Not after everything. But when he winked at her.

Oh, she wanted to slap that grin right off his face.

Instead, she smiled. A soft, polite smile, perfectly fit for a princess. Then she turned away, lifting her chin and ignoring him.

Let him watch.

Let him think she was unbothered.

Because she wouldn’t let Silvio Ricci back into her life like he still had any claim on her.

But of course, that wasn’t his style, he never took ‘no’ for an answer.

The violins soared, weaving a melody of elegance and longing as the dancers twirled in perfect harmony. (Y/N) barely heard the music.

She was dancing with Leon, her fiancé, his hands steady as they guided her across the floor. He was everything a future king should be—graceful, composed, reliable. The kind of man she should feel safe with. But her mind wasn’t on Leon.

It was on the man watching them.

Silvio stood at the edge of the ballroom, leaning against a marble pillar, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t even pretending to be subtle—his sharp blue gaze followed her every move, like a hunter waiting for the right moment to strike.

Her grip on Leon’s shoulder tightened, trying to ignore him.

“You’re tense,” Leon murmured.

(Y/N) forced a smile. “Just thinking.”

“If this is about Silvio staring at you,” he said, twirling her effortlessly, “I can have him removed.”

Her steps faltered—just barely, but enough for Silvio to notice and grow a smirk on his face.

Damn him.

“No need,” she said, voice carefully measured. “He’s nothing.”

Leon nodded, ever the gentleman, trusting her words without question. He didn’t know the truth. Didn’t know that the man watching them was the biggest mistake she had ever made.

And just as she thought the dance would end without an incident, a shadow stepped into their path.

Leon barely had time to react before Silvio cut between them, smoothly extending a hand toward her.

“Mind if I cut in?” he asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

Leon stiffened. “We were in the middle of a dance.”

Silvio tilted his head. “And now you’re not.” His eyes never left hers. “Well, princess?”

(Y/N) knew this game. If she refused, he’d make a scene. He always got what he wanted—if not by charm, then by sheer stubbornness. And worse than that…

He knew she wouldn’t back down.

Leon exhaled, stepping back like a true nobleman. “As my fiancée wishes.”

(Y/N) turned to Silvio, her expression unreadable. “One dance.”

His smirk widened. “That’s all I need.”

Then, before she could rethink her decision, he pulled her into him—closer than necessary. Their bodies aligned in a way that felt far too familiar.

The air crackled.

(Y/N) wanted to ignore it, the way his hand pressed against her waist, the way his breath ghosted against her cheek as they moved. But it was impossible.

The memories of the stolen nights, the whispered promises, all came rushing back, unbidden and unwelcome.

Silvio chuckled. “Didn’t think you’d actually say yes.” “I didn’t,” she said, voice cold. “You took what you wanted, as usual.”

His grip on her tightened, just slightly. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is.”

His smirk faltered.

Good.

“I should have slapped you,” she muttered under her breath, just for him to hear.

He grinned. “Still can. Not gonna stop me from wanting you.”

She inhaled sharply, stepping on his foot—hard.

Silvio hissed but barely missed a beat. Instead, his smirk returned, sharper this time. “Heh. You really are mad, huh?”

(Y/N) met his gaze, unflinching. “You left me.”

The words struck deeper than she intended, but she refused to look away.

For the first time that night, Silvio didn’t have a comeback.

(Y/N) exhaled. “You don’t get to come back and act like nothing happened.”

Silvio’s grip on her waist tightened just a little. Not in possession—in frustration.

“Maybe I don’t,” he muttered. “But I ain’t gonna stand here and watch you marry someone else.”

(Y/N)’s breath hitched.

The song was ending.

She should have let go.

But he didn’t.

And the way he looked at her then, serious, desperate, something else beneath the arrogance, made her heart stutter.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

His fingers lingered, just for a second.

Then, reluctantly, he did.

(Y/N) turned away first. Because if she didn’t—she wouldn’t have left at all.

Silvio stood there, watching her go, jaw tight, fists clenched.

And for once in his life…He didn’t have things his way.

─── ─── ─── ─── ─ ⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧ ─ ─── ─── ─── ───

The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of roses. Too many roses.

Silvio hated them—always had. He used to grumble about the cloying perfume they left on her, about the way the petals scattered across her skirts when she spent too long in this damn garden.

Yet here he was.

Standing among the flowers he swore he couldn’t stand.

Waiting for her.

The princess always came here when she wanted to be alone. She still does, doesn’t she?

And sure enough—there she was.

(Y/N) sat on the stone bench at the heart of the garden, the silver moonlight casting a soft glow over her. She was running her fingers over the petals of a deep red rose, her expression unreadable.

For a moment, Silvio just watched.

How many nights had he snuck into this very garden to find her? How many times had he kissed her here, pressed her against the vines, whispered things against her skin that made her shiver?

Too many.

He exhaled sharply. Enough thinking.

Stepping forward, he deliberately rustled the leaves beneath his boots. No sneaking this time.

(Y/N) stilled. She knew it was him before she even turned.

Her fingers tightened around the rose stem, but her voice was steady. “I should have guessed you’d come here.”

Silvio smirked. “Miss me, princess?” Her jaw clenched, and he had the nerve to chuckle.

But then, she stood—slow, graceful, with all the dignity of a woman who refused to be played with.

“Say whatever you came to say, Silvio,” she said, crossing her arms. “Then leave.”

Leave.

He had done that once.

And that’s why he was here now.

His smirk faltered as he ran a hand through his messy cyan hair. “Tch. Look, I ain’t good at this kind of thing, alright?”

(Y/N) arched a brow. “Apologizing?”

He huffed. “Yeah. That.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then—“I’m sorry.”

Two words. Simple. But they weren’t easy for him.

(Y/N) blinked, like she hadn’t expected to actually hear them.

She tilted her head, searching his face, as if looking for a trick. “You don’t apologize, Silvio.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking away. “Yeah, well. First time for everything.”

Her fingers grazed the petals of the rose again, as if contemplating whether she should accept it—or throw it in his face.

“I waited for you,” she said, her voice soft but sharp. “You just left. Disappeared. Like I didn’t—like we didn’t mean anything.”

Silvio’s chest tightened.

“I had to,” he muttered. “Didn’t have a choice.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “You always have a choice.”

He snapped his gaze to hers then—frustrated, desperate. “You think I wanted to leave?!”

(Y/N) stiffened.

His voice had never sounded like that before.

Silvio exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Damn it, princess, you don’t get it. I—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening.

(Y/N) waited.

He sucked in a breath. “Look. I ain’t makin’ excuses. I should’ve told you. Should’ve come back sooner. But I’m here now.”

(Y/N) stared at him, searching his face for lies, for that cocky mask he always wore.

But this time… she didn’t see it.

Just him.

Raw. Frustrated. Regretful.

Her fingers loosened around the rose.

“…Why now?”

Silvio let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Because I’m an idiot. And because I heard you’re gettin’ married.”

(Y/N) exhaled through her nose, her heart twisting. “It’s already decided, Silvio.”

He stepped closer.

Too close.

She could smell the salt of the sea lingering on him, the faint hint of the cologne he always wore.

“So change it,” he murmured.

Her breath hitched.

Change it.

Silvio reached out slowly, like he knew she could still pull away. His fingers brushed against hers, just barely.

A choice.

For her to take.

(Y/N)’s heart pounded.

She should say no. She should walk away.

But for the first time in years, she saw something in Silvio’s eyes that had never been there before.

Fear.

Not of losing a prize, not of losing a game. But of losing her.

The night wind carried the scent of roses between them.

“…Come with me,” he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

(Y/N) swallowed, her throat tight.

And then, she did the one thing she shouldn’t have done.

She stepped forward.

Silvio’s breath caught.

And then she kissed him.

It was nothing like their kisses from the past, nothing like the reckless, stolen touches, the whispered promises they never meant to keep. This kiss was furious.

It was punishment for the years of silence. Punishment for the ache he had left in her chest. She gripped his coat, pulling him down with the force of her anger, of her longing, of everything she had buried away.

Silvio groaned, one hand sliding around her waist as he kissed her back with equal intensity.

He had missed this. More than he wanted to admit.

Her fingers curled into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, and he shivered. But then—she pulled away.

Silvio stared, breathless.

(Y/N) was breathing hard, her lips swollen, her expression unreadable.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, she shook her head.

“…You don’t get to do this,” she whispered.

His stomach dropped.

She stepped back, leaving nothing but the scent of roses between them.

And this time she was the one who walked away. Silvio stood there, watching her disappear into the night, his fingers curling into fists.

She hadn’t said yes.

But she hadn’t said no, either.

And that meant the game wasn’t over.

Not yet.

─── ─── ─── ─── ─ ⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧ ─ ─── ─── ─── ───

The story follows a scarred knight, Touya Todoroki, bound by a sacred duty to protect the princess of a kingdom, but his devotion takes on a far more dangerous form. Beneath his mask lies a mind consumed by fantasies of control and possession. For years, the tension between him and the princess has simmered, their connection pulsing with unspoken desire and simmering hatred.

As princess (Y/n) navigates the complexities of court life and the pressure to fulfill her royal duties, the knight’s dark obsession grows—until he finds himself lost in a dangerous path of lust and control. Torn between his duty and his twisted desires, he dreams of possessing her entirely, body and soul.

Warning: This story contains themes of manipulation, obsession, emotional and physical control, and a high level of dark fantasy. Reader discretion is strongly advised as the narrative touches on sensitive and potentially triggering content.

Jealous! Silvio Ricci x Reader Warnings: 18+ Slightly suggestive, jealousy and violent themes.

─── ─── ─── ─── ─ ⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧ ─ ─── ─── ─── ───

Silvio Ricci wasn’t a jealous man, at least not before he met (Y/n), now every man he saw near her was a potential threat to him. He always thought he was very good at pretending not to be jealous, but anyone in plain sight could sense he was fuming inside, especially Gilbert. Sitting across the comfortable couch, he looked over at the gigantic windows, and there she was, carefully showing Prince Keith the variety of flora that the Rhodolite Garden had to offer. Watching (Y/n) talking with Gumskull made him agitated. Gilbert smirked, putting down his cup of tea on the table, he knew exactly what to say to sting the white-haired male that sat across him. “She seems to be enjoying herself-” That was enough to make Silvio get up from his seat. “Oh, I bet she fucking is!” Silvio scoffed, quickly heading outside.

“You’re so easy to piss off…” Gilbert whispered, completely amused by the mess he created.

Feeling an unsettling aura behind her, (Y/n) turned around only to meet with the familiar ocean-blue eyes she loved. But this time they were different, his eyes glared with resentment towards her and the Prince in front of her. “What y’all talking about?” he suspiciously asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and pulling her towards him. Receiving a warming smile from Prince Keith he tried to explain. “Oh, (Y/n) was showing me the diversity-” “Boring, c’mon…” Silvio answered, dragging his lover along with him, leaving behind Prince Keith confused. “Silvio-” (Y/n) tried to protest. “We’re leaving” He firmly answered.

Forcing her into his room he slammed the door shut behind him. “You don’t think I’m this fucking dumb, do you?” He asks her, trapping her between his arms against the beige wall.

“What?!” furrowing her eyebrow (Y/n) asked, completely confused about the whole situation. Thinking about what could have caused him to be acting this way, she finally understood. “You’re not seriously jealous of Prince Keith are you?”

His eyebrow twisted and he chuckled darkly. Feeling one of his hands raise her chin, he spoke again. “I’m not jealous, I just don’t like you keeping from me.” “I was just showing him the variety of roses-” She tried to reason with her lover.

“You never did that with me.”

“Because you hate roses!”

There was an almost awkward silence in the room as he ran out of arguments to use against her. “I saw how you looked at him!” He accused once again. “You wanted him to fuck you, right there in front of-” His sentence was cut off by a sudden slap against the skin of his left cheek, leaving a red mark across his gorgeous face.

“You’re acting like a fucking asshole!” She shouted back at him. Silvio’s frustration boils over as he grabs her wrist forcefully. Looking at each other’s eyes, the tension between them was going beyond their limits.

“Maybe I need to remind you who you belong to…” He smirked, placing one of his hands on her lower back, pulling her body closer to his. The air thickened with desire as his lips met with hers, she tried to resist his urgers, but she couldn’t. Whatever heated argument they were having was already vanishing in her mind as their lips danced together. The tension of their disagreement quickly transformed into lust, and time seemed to stand still as they lost their selves in the heat of the moment.

Pulling apart to give her some time to breathe, he wasted no time covering her neck with marks. He bit, sucked, and kissed her the most sensitive areas of her neck, that only he knew about, leaving her a total mess in his arms. “S-Silvio, stop- ahh~” He smirked to himself, deep down he knew that power he had over (Y/n), he loved it so much it turned him on.

Melting into his arms, Silvio knew exactly what she wanted. Wrapping both her legs around him, he lifted her, bringing her to the bed where he gently laid her on, placing himself on top of her.

“This is a punishment, why do you seem to be enjoying it that much?” He mocked while caressing her inner thighs, noticing her aroused features. Adverting her timid gaze from his, he forced her head to look his way. “Answer me…” he whispered against her lips. “I-I need you…” (Y/n) whispered sweetly against him. Chuckling darkly, he stared at her bare neck. “You’re gonna have to do better than that…” he murmured, burying his head deeper into the curve of her neck.

“Beg.”

─── ─── ─── ─── ─ ⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧ ─ ─── ─── ─── ───

Keigo Takami x Reader. (Reader is 19 years old) warnings/tags: can include themes 18+, angst.

Disclaimer: For this mini-story, I got inspired by the podcast 'Dangerously yours' sponser by Vicks. (It's available on Spotify)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dangerously yours

The light hit his eyes, forcing him to wake up from his perfect dream. Rubbing his eyes gently he glanced over to the woman in the bed next to him. Smiling to himself, he pulled her naked body over to his. “Morning…” She smiled, slowly opening her eyes. Pressing her chest against his, both their lips met. Her lips were soft, feeling like silk against his own. Her fingers carding through his beautiful blonde locks, as his hands were carving into her waist.

Pulling a bit apart from her soft lips, he smiled once again, admiring everything about her.

“I have to tell you something (Y/n)…” he continued under his breath. “…something that will put my life in your hands.” Raising an eyebrow at him, (Y/n) pulled herself away from his warm chest and shook her head as no. “Then don’t tell me, I prefer not knowing what it is about.”

“Well, but I love you! So, I trust you…” He smirked, gently pulling her back to his side. “And I believe you do it as well.”

“You’re quite wrong!” She panicked, looking away as her cheeks flushed with a reddish colour. “This relationship has only been an adventure to me.”

“That isn’t true…” He murmured, finding amusement in her panicked state. “It is!” She cut through his speech. Looking back at him, she spoke in such a hurry that it was hard to keep up with her words. “You smiled at me. I was flattered!” She crossed her arms over her chest. “It was only an adventure for me.”

“But you may as well take my heart, (Y/n), it's already full of you.” Rolling her eyes at him, she allowed him to continue his little serenate. “You’re a fine and honest woman, something hard to find nowadays.” Getting up, she started picking her clothes that were scattered around his bedroom floor. Putting her blouse over her head she responded. “You are such a child Keigo…You say such things while knowing nothing about me.” Nodding to herself, she got the courage to continue. “It only past three weeks since we’ve known each other…and you’re speaking of love?”

“Three weeks?” He frankly hurried close to her. “(Y/n)…I’ve known you all my life.”

“All your life…?” She spitted mockingly. “It’s true…” He said, glancing over to look into her beautiful (e/c) eyes. Gently holding her hands onto his, he gave them a gentle squeeze before saying. “I’ve seen you in a thousand movies…read you in as many books! When I heard beautiful music, I’d thought…’She’d like that’.” He couldn’t even believe himself, he was really in love with her, but he knew he shouldn’t. Unfortunately, (Y/n) was much more than a simple lover to him.

“Oh, stop! Stop that!” She exclaimed, taking her hands from his grip. “I’m not who you think I am!” She looked down, with a regretful glance. Knowing that she had a mission, and still couldn’t complete it because of that charming hero, she was the one to blame for her own foolishness. “You can’t trust me…”

“I know who sent you.” He said quite a bit later, his voice was cold and harsh. Suddenly the previous welcoming ambient in the room turned stone cold.

Feeling a shiver run down her spine, she looked at him in complete shock. “…what…”

“I’ve known all along.” He said, sitting back in his own bed. Looking at her with his intriguing gaze he continued explaining. “I had someone look you up the day we met.”

“It didn’t make any difference-“ She spoke in a trembled tone, he could almost taste the regret in her voice.

“It didn’t make any difference to me.” He sighed, running his hair through his hair, before starting to explain. “You came here to betray me and to betray your own country. That is your mission, (Y/n), and yet I am so sure of your love that I would trust you with my life.”

With a gentle nod, she answered. “I will betray you.”

There was no need to hide who she was and what her mission was now. (Y/n) was part of the League of Villains, being taken by All for one since she was a baby. To this day she still didn’t knew what made him chose her, but truth was that he saved her. Sine then she grew close to the so wanted villain, Tomura Shigaraki.

Some months ago, Shigaraki asked (Y/n) to work with Dabi on a espionage plan. Shigaraki was like a brother to her, she could never deny him anything, not after everything he did for her. So, she agreed to it, the plan was:

1. Find Hawks identity.

2. Figure how far the heroes are from finding Shigaraki.

3. Kill the n.2 hero.

And she did everything she was asked, weekly she would report information back to Dabi and so on. But now she was starting to question everything, including how much she loved the hero she was supposed to kill.

“If you do, you will betray yourself at the same time, you do know that…” He said, pulling her back to him in search for a bit of comfort from her. She nodded her head, that was now resting against his chest. “Yes…”

Brushing through her hair, he explained, in hopes to bring her to his side. “As of right now, we organized a large number of heroes. They’re just waiting for my information and sign to capture the League of Villains and Shigaraki…Everything will fall into place to destroy him.” Her eyes widen in pure shock, looking up to meet with his eyes. (Y/n) wished he was wrong, but deep down she knew he wasn’t.

“Destroy him?! No!” She knew there would come a day in which he would get caught, but she’d stick beside him either way. Even knowing the difference between right and wrong, society had to change, and you knew he was the only one who could do it.

“He’s made a great many mistakes. And the greatest of all was sending you to me (Y/n)…”

“Why..?” (Y/n) asked, clearly distressed and anxious for a response. “Because he knew I’d fall for you…but he didn’t guess the same to happen to you…” He answered, giving her a warm and welcoming smile, cupping both of her cheeks gently. It was amazing how quickly his mood could change, how deep he could make her heart sink further into her chest with simple words.

“No…he didn’t guess it…” She whispered against his lips.

His heart begun to pound, feeling of desire run through him. He trusted her, he loved her, yet he knew she still wasn’t on his side. ‘Why?’ he kept asking himself.

“And you do see that you can’t betray him…” He sighed.

“If I betray you, I betray myself…” Feeling a gently knub brush her cheek gently, she fell into his warm once more. “If I betray Shigaraki, I betray my family!”

“My family is very dear to me…” she continued.

“Dearer than i?!” He asked frankly, raising her chin to look him into his gorgeous yellow eyes. Softening her expressions upon seeing him in such state she answered. “No…not dearer than you…”

“Then will you help me defeat him?” He asked almost immediately. (Y/n) was smart, smart enough to understand what was going on. “Help you…?” He couldn’t be asking this from her, it seemed just like…he was using her.

“We can’t both win…you know how things are…” He tried to reason with her.

“I know exactly how things are…” She furrowed her eyebrows. “Then, you will help me.”

“By giving you any information, I may possess concerning our plans?” He gave her a simple nod, and that charming smile of his, he thought he had her under his spell, but how wrong he was.

Shaking her head as no, she started chuckled bitterly. “You’re very clever, aren’t you?” She said, smacking away the hand that rested against her cheek.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part II (Available Soon)

Rafe Cameron x Reader. (Reader is 19 years old) warnings/tags: 18+, obsessive!Rafe, violence, physical/verbal abuse, toxic relationship, both abusing of drug substances.

Disclaimer: For this mini-story, I got inspired by the fair scene from Euphoria! I'm not trying to romanticize toxic relationships or drug abuse. If any of the topics are familiar to you, seek help, please.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ecstasy

She made him feel like a god around her, giving her just the right amount of attention and care, things he never had. In return he loved and protected her, buying expensive accessories to make her happy. They met once at a Kook party, she was the new girl in Outer Banks. Beautiful, funny, intelligent, and interesting. Having a unique style and she caught the eye of most of the people around the town. Everyone wanted her, but no one could have her beyond Rafe, which made him happy. That’s where it all started, even dating a drug addict she managed to be five months sober, and soon he was going the same way, starting to reduce his daily amount of cocaine, to only doing it occasionally at parties. He did it all for love, for her love.

Tonight, was a special night, the annual carnival, sponsored by who? Ward Cameron. It was an important night in which, Ward specified directly to Rafe and Sarah for them to be on their best behavior the whole night. Sarah was out with her friends, probably even hanging out with the Pogues and Rafe? Spreading the word about where to buy drugs. “Yeah, you see the hot dogs truck? Ask for whatever you want there.” Rafe smiled giving a small pat on the guy's back as he walked away happily. Heading to the back of the food truck, he found Barry beginning to count the small plastic bags that held the substance. “Alright, keep on running that mouth around country club. It’ll get us some money.” Barry laughed. “Yeah uhh…that’s the good shit right?” Rafe smiled nervously, only gaining a small nod from the dealer. “Alright…hey hm…just promise me you won’t sell it to her yeah?” He scratched the back of his neck, waiting for an answer from Barry. Giving him a side eye, the black-haired man looked confused. “She’s been sober for five months alright…? Not trying to ruin that for her.” Letting a small giggle escape from his mouth, Barry laughed. “I couldn’t give more than a fuck, but sure lover boy…” Mocking the passion Rafe felt for that girl. “Alright, call me if you need me,” Rafe said as he left the food cart. Feeling his phone vibrating in his pocket, he picked it up. Hearing her sweet voice through the phone.

“Where the fuck are you? No-. I’m by the ferries wheel, you’re not here.” She said in an annoying tone, sighing as she made her way out through the crowd of people surrounding her. Titling her head to the side, she hung up as his tall figure approached her. “How the fuck was I supposed to know there were two ferries' wheels, hm?” He asked, eyeing her up and down. “Be smarter next time.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes, looking back at him. “Why are you dressed like that…? You know my dad is featuring the main event, this is the big shit-are you dumb?” He let out, hoping she would feel embarrassed and change into something to his liking. Letting out a chuck, she crossed her arms over her chest. “If this is as a big event as you say then why are you selling drugs here?” “Shut the fuck up.” “No, you shut it.” She argued back, even laughing in his face. “My parents already don’t like you, okay?” Her confident expression from earlier dropped as she let out a faint: “What…?” “I’m not doing this today. Go home, get changed, and come back looking like a decent person.” He spitted out, walking away. Tears were starting to form in the corner of her eyes, now she was mad, furious even. She had a pretty shitty day, and now she was having an even worse night. His words were craved in her ears. “Asshole…” she whispered under her breath.

Rafe on the other hand was starting to get ready for his family’s presentation. He was starting to think of the things he said to her. Maybe he was an asshole, but at least he was honest right? “Where is that girlfriend of yours?” Rose asked. “She’s not coming…” Rafe answered fixing his tie against the mirror.

“Oh thank god…” Rose muttered under her breath, receiving a quick glare from Rafe.

On the other hand (Y/n) met up with a friend, and that friend had a great idea. “Hey…wanna do Molly…?”

Brianna offered, shaking the small plastic bag in her hand. “Bitch you read my mind…” (Y/n) chucked, getting up from her seat.

xxxxxx

“That same night he called me crying!” She laughed with Brianna, both mocking Rafe at that point. “You could do so much better babe…” Brianna said between giggles, brushing (Y/n)’s hair gently between her fingers. “I could…but you know what’s even better…? She glanced over at Brianna.

“Revenge.”

She was thinking of all the possibilities, she wanted to bring him down, his whole family even. Looking over to the podium that was recently placed in the center of the fair. People were starting to gather around to hear the so waited speech. Smirking she quickly got up and made her way through the crowd. Impulsiveness was taking over her, this was the perfect moment to make him pay. She wanted to embarrass him and his whole family in front of those ‘well-known’ people.

“It was a pleasure everyone…” Ward Cameron waved at the people. Pushing people out of her way, she was at the front of the podium now. Right in front of them, making eye contact with Rafe. He looked terrified like he already knew what was about to go down. ‘(Y/n) don’t.’ He mouthed to her. Smirking she started clapping in the middle of Ward Cameron’s speech. Which made everyone silent staring at her. “I’m sorry for interrupting but I just wanted to say congratulations…” She smiled. “Congrats on putting together such a fun fair! I just got one question…What is your main income for this? The stolen gold from-”

Quickly grabbing her by the arm, Rafe took her out of the crowd and into an alley. “Are you fucking insane? Are you stupid even?!” He yelled at her. Grabbing onto her chin, he looked into her eyes, he was shocked. Her pupils were like two giant balls. “You’re high…” he whispered. “So? I know you’ve been buying coke again.” She spitted out. Glaring at her he shook his head no. “Yeah and I’m not the one who relapsed and made one hell of a show in front of everyone! So shut the fuck up…” He tightened the grip around her face. Letting out a frustrated sigh he let go of her. Turning his back on her, rubbing his hand against his forehead to think of something to tell her. It was mostly his fault, he knew it, he just didn’t want to admit it. Now she was starting to feel bad, coming back to her senses, she wrapped her arms around his chest. Pressing her chest against his back, she whispered. “I’m sorry…” That was enough to melt his heart. Turning around he pulled her to him. “Don’t ever pull something like that again…” He whispered to her. She nodded, running her hand up and down the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. It was a matter of time before he crushed his lips against hers, hands roaming all over her body. He was dreaming of all the possibilities, kissing all over her neck by now. Crashing against the nearest wall, she pulled a bit away.

“Do you love me…” He whispered under his breath, looking up to meet her beautiful (e/c) eyes. Caressing his cheek gently, she placed a kiss on his lips before whispering back to him.

Dark Rafe Cameron x Reader (x Pope Heyward) Part I

(Reader is 19 years old) warnings/tags: 18+, obsessive!Rafe, violence, physical/verbal abuse, toxic relationship.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Little Game

Everyone in Outer Banks knew who Rafe Cameron was for obvious reasons, and everyone also knew to not mess with his girl. But in the midsummer fest (Y/n) met a wonderful person, he made her feel safe, loved, and beautiful, feelings she never experienced with Rafe. It’s not like he abused her, he just had a weird way of letting her know he loved her, and Pope was aware of that.

He just wanted to make her feel protected, and eventually, she let herself go and started a secret relationship with Pope behind Rafe’s back. At first, she didn’t think much about the consequences of her actions, but slowly with time she was starting to grow paranoid, disgusted, and awful in general. Rafe was an awful boyfriend, but he didn’t deserve this.

But here she was again, promising herself to meet up with Pope Heyward one last time and end everything.

“We can…I can take you away from here (Y/n). Just-” Pope softly spoke to her. Shaking her head as no, she gently pleads. “Pope…you don’t know what he’s capable of doing-”

“Capable of doing what?” Rafe’s voice echoed in the small cabin they were in. “Oh no…am I interrupting something?” He chuckled, slowly closing the door behind him, and glancing over at both.

“Rafe…” (Y/n) trembled with fear.

“No need for that…” he nodded. “I know exactly what’s going on here. You were about to leave me for this pogue.” He nodded, slowly reaching out to grab the crowbar that stood against the wooden wall of the cabin.

“(Y/n) get behind me…” Pope whispered, rolling his hands into firm fists. At the sight of the scene, she knew something bad was about to go down. Rafe was already swinging the crowbar in Pope’s direction. Rafe was predictable, she knew him too well, there was no way Pope could beat him alone. Running as fast as she could to the entrance door, she looked over at Pope “I’ll go get help!” and disappeared in the next second.

“Sure, you will…” Rafe whispered under his breath, glancing over at Pope with a malicious smile.

xxx

Panting, sweating dripped down her forehead as she ran as fast as possible through the woods. She had to find JJ, John b, Kiara, someone!

It was a stormy night as the wind blew violently through the tall trees ahead, it was freezing. Shivering, (Y/n) pulled her blouse tighter around her as she slowed down. Gasping for air she started looking around. Finally slowing down she felt a bit safer that the man was no longer chasing after her. Her mind was racing all over. ‘Why did I do this? Now Pope might be hurt or even-’

The sudden strange noise behind her startled her, making her wake up from the sudden memories of the events that happened she shook her head no in total disbelief at the man right in front of her. He was standing just a few meters across her, maybe she could still make a run for it and get back before him.

“I told you to stop running.”

“You’re psychotic!” She yelled in the hope someone was nearby and could come to save her.

"And you cheated on me."

"That doesn't give you the right to beat him..."

A small ‘hm’ escaped his lips as he started approaching her. “Stay away!” She yelled once more, throwing a small rock in his direction. Dodging the rock that was just thrown to his figure, he grabbed her by the back of the neck, looking her dead in the eyes. “I killed Peterskin. Did he tell you that part?” It was obvious she didn’t know by the expression of shock on her face. “Where did all that courage you had just go?” Rafe joked.

Tears were starting to form in the corner of her eyes. “You’ll be in jail for what you did…not only to Peterkin but to-” “Those pogues?” He cut immediately after her, furrowing his eyebrows he tightened his grip around her. “They got what they deserved.”

She couldn’t even look him in the eyes after everything he did. But she had the courage let people know the truth about what happened, the people he murdered, and the ones he attempted to. Chucking a bit to himself he lets go of her. “But you know what? I’m a fair man…” Beyond being high off his mind he was also loving seeing her so tense and nervous, fighting with all her strenght to get back to that Pogue. A sudden grin grew on his lips, understanding exactly what she was thinking. “You know what? Fine.” He nodded his head, “Let’s play a little game.”

Looking at him confused, (Y/n) was about to open her mouth to speak. “You run…and I try to catch you. If you get to that pogue first I’ll hand myself to the police.” She knew it was impossible to run from him, and he knew she knew it. But what choice did she have? Even if it was 1 chance in 100, she would take it.

“But-”

Locking his eyes with hers, he smirked. “But if I catch you, you’ll have to go back with me. Stay quiet about this whole situation and…” Caressing gently her cheek he spoke. “Never talk to those pogues ever again.”

Her teary (e/c) stared back at him. “You’re fucking psychotic…” “Yet you still love me, don’t you?”

Letting go of her he took his jacket off and wrapped it gently around her shoulders. “Or we can just cut the bullshit and you come home with me right now.” Pushing him away she shook her head no. “You might even be surprised by the outcome of this stupid game.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part II (Available Soon)

Might do some headcanons later xoxo

---------------------------------------------

John B. Routledge - Zoro & Elena

JJ Maybank - Mr & Mrs Marijuana

Honestly are you suprised?

Pope Heyward - Grim Reaper & Malaria

Kiara Carrera - Poison Ivy & Harley Queen

Sarah Cameron - Jennifer & Needy

Rafe Cameron - Bonnie & Clyde

Topper Thornton- Romeo & Julliet

Dark Rafe Cameron x Reader. (Reader is 19 years old) warnings/tags: 18+, obsessive!Rafe, violence, physical/verbal abuse, toxic relationship.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter I: The encounter

It was mid-july in Outer Banks, and the sky changes from minute to minute. From orange to yellow to pink as the sun goes down, slipping quickly behind the line of the horizon. It’s been a while since there’s been a quiet time in the town, but with the supposed killer stated as dead and with the Peterkin's and Cameron's family mourning the death of their loved ones, people were slowly trying to go back to normal.

Rafe on the other hand seemed to only get worse with every minute that passed, he always had his eyes on her, just didn't have the best approach possible after everything that happened. She was unique after all. He missed the crazy days he had with her, the hot summer nights they spent together, the smile she gave him each time they were together, he even missed their fights, everything.

She was the only good thing he could have all to himself. However, the real reason the known ‘power couple’ broke up was because of his dangerous drug abuse, followed by multiple verbal and physical fights.

It was the first time in a while since he left his house after the incident with Susan Peterkin, the former town sheriff. She was investigating the criminal activities around town, leading up to being shot in the back by John B. At least that was what half of the island thought and said, blaming John B for the murder. The other half would either not care or blame Rafe Cameron instead, the kook king.

Everyone knew he had issues, especially under the influence of certain substances, but would rather believe a Pogue kid would kill someone other than a kook. Even though he had his name clean, he could always feel someone talking about him behind his back, causing him to live in a constant feeling of paranoia.

The party into which Topper and Kelce invited him to go was not what he was in the mood for, looking around he could see the presence of those Pogues. He hated these types of parties, which was the reason he avoided the Bonfire for a reason.

He was already feeling tipsy from the drinks his friends made him drink, it started to be a strange feeling. It was almost like he was watching himself from inside his own head, replaying the same memories he had from past parties, when everyone called him the “Kook King”, the nights he’d spend on a bender, drinking and sniffing everything people would put in front of him. That was right after their breakup, it destroyed him.

He was just so tired, distant in his own thoughts until he saw her in the room. He could never forget the features that made her so beautiful to him, how elegant she looked in that outfit, and her empathic and charismatic persona he fell for, but it was less than a second before she disappeared from his gaze.

Looking around desperately he shoves past the people in his way, pushing them out of his way like mere plastic toys.

‘I have to find her.’ ‘She was just here.’ His mind was racing back and forward.

‘Where the fuck is she-’

He stopped in his tracks, locking eyes with her. Those beautiful (eye /color) eyes that made him always feel at peace, he truly missed her, and he was sorry. But that was the hard part, admitting to everything and apologizing.

His shoulders tensed, just like the rest of his body. This was the first time he’d see her in person since their breakup, which was followed by multiple dumb decisions from his side, like screwing around other girls, not that they meant anything to him, they were mere distractions.

Making his way toward her, he nervously fixed his collarbone. Taking a sip of the drink she was holding. "Haven't seen you in a while." She said, in the most calming tone that always made him feel the butterflies fly around his stomach.

“Could tell you the same.” He remarked back, trying to seem like his self-assured self. Tracing up and down her body with his gaze, remembered all the sensitive and tender parts he used to touch her. “Thought I’d see you wearing an orange jumpsuit by now.” She joked, obviously under the effect of alcohol. He knew her too well, he chuckled, looking down at his shoes and then back up to meet with her eyes. “You know they’d never catch me.” “I’m sure.” She answered back.

In between the Sheriff Peterkin situation, she believed in him, even after having some doubts because of his drinking and drugs problem, but deep down she never thought he could actually murder someone.

The only one that knew the truth about what happened was Topper. ‘Shit- Topper.’

The sudden thought hit him, what if Topper got too drunk and eventually slipped something he shouldn’t? He had to find him, but (Y/n)’s here, with him.

“You’re here with your friends? I can take you home if you want-” She shook her head as no. “I’m with my boyfriend.”

He felt his heart sink onto the ground. ‘Her what?’ ‘How could she?’ ‘Why would she?’ His mind was starting to race around again, letting out a small nervous laugh he asked, “Your what?”. ‘She has to be joking’

“Boyfriend.” She looked to her side, pulling on her jacket nervously, she already knew he wouldn’t react the best way. Following her gaze, he looked at him. Jason, the most known athlete in Outer Banks, everything Ward wanted in a son, great.

Anger was starting to fill him up, he knew damn well this was enough to make him do something he’d regret. Quickly grabbing her by the wrist he took her outside, pushing her against the door of his car. Wincing by the sudden impact against it, she exclaimed. “Rafe- Ouch, you’re fucking hurting me-”

“It’s been less than a fucking month and you already switched me for fucking Jason?” He ran his hand caressingly through his hair. “Your standards got lower.”

“Lower?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “That has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

She was right, they weren’t together, but he couldn’t control his inner urges. Especially when she’s involved in them, but he had to. This was no place to start a fight after everything that happened recently, he knew this wasn’t the moment for impulsive behavior, after all, he was still a suspect for the police.

Shaking his head as no, he stared at her. “It doesn’t, why would it, right?”

He thought of her so much it was driving him crazy, he couldn’t be apart from her anymore. But he couldn’t control it. Grabbing her face forcingly, he looked her dead in the eyes. “You’re just a fucking slut, just like you were before you met me.”

Tears were starting to form on the verge of her (e/c) eyes. She couldn’t handle him doing this to her again, she couldn’t handle going through everything she went when they were together again. “You haven’t changed one bit.” She said in a lowered voice, keeping eye contact with him.

“(Y/n)?” They both turned their attention to the voice calling her name. It was Topper.

Gaining back his senses, Rafe looked back at (Y/n), letting go of her chin he tried to think of something to say to her. But no words left his mouth. Getting away from him she quickly walked away from both men, not even looking back at Rafe, that once again ruined his chance of doing things right.

“Come on, I’ll…I’ll get you home.” Topper offered, pulling Rafe inside his car and driving him away from that place. He always knew what was going on in their relationship but always chose to stay quiet about it.

Looking nervously at Rafe, already expecting him to snap back at him, he swallowed hard before asking. “Do you wanna talk about what just happened or…”

“Just fucking drive me home Topper.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter II (Available Soon)