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astraloverflow · 17 days ago

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Good Cop, Bad Cop (They're Both Bad)

Basically cop!König and cop!Ghost pull you over Since my current König post is going to take a while, I decided to cook up this little post for you guys, I hope you enjoy it :) If there's enough traction, maybe I'll make a part 2, lemme know what you guys think <3 TW: power dynamics oh my, manipulation, implied smut, implied non-con/ dub-con WC: 4046 MDNI

The asphalt stretches ahead, darkness swallowing far beyond your line of sight. Your dim, aging headlights carve a soft path through the void for your eager eyes to make out, their yellow glow flickering against the cracked asphalt; trees loom on either side, their twisted branches reaching, almost as if to grab you. The night is thick and quiet— too quiet. Each bump in the road rattles through your hands on the wheel, a reminder that you’re alone out here. Or at least, you should be.

You push your foot on the gas, watching the speedometer climb up, noticing an abandoned car on the side of the dirt as you whiz by it. It’s customary to see at least one on these long deserted back roads. You’ve always wondered what ends up happening to these cars that are left behind by their owners. Do they rust away, staying on these streets? Do they get towed away? Broken into? Stolen?

You don’t think much more of it and continue tearing up the road, tapping your finger idly on the steering wheel, mimicking the music beating loudly through the speakers, wanting to get home as fast as possible. You’ve never been a fan of driving at night, especially not this late and alone.

Suddenly, the headlights of this so-called abandoned vehicle come to life in the distance, flashes of red and blue catch your attention from the rearview mirror, and your heart sinks in dread, “fuck.”

The police car eases its way off the gravel that lines the side of the street and onto the concrete. For a moment, the car gets smaller and smaller, your speed creating distance between the array of flashes, and you hope that this distance consumes the car straight out of your sight. To your dismay, the vehicle starts to speed its way to you, lights becoming more pronounced and more difficult to ignore.

You curse yourself and pivot your foot from the gas onto the break, slowing your vehicle down steadily. Due to the sheer speed you were driving at, it takes a moment for the car to decelerate. The dial on the speedometer shifts counterclockwise and you watch as the numbers slowly crawl down, as if dying. After a few seconds, the car is slowed enough to pull it onto the shoulder of the road, tires crunching as they make contact with the gravel, the car rolling to a stop. Your heart is pitter-pattering in your chest, and your hand that was shaking from the sudden rush of adrenaline reaches for the transmission to push upwards on the knob, parking the car, doors unlocking with a click at the gear change. Your foot lifts off the break, and the car steadies itself with a small roll, tires locking. Instinctively pressing down the red and white triangle button on top of your audio system, the hazard lights flick on, imitating the tick of a metronome to illuminate the crushed rocks beneath the vehicle slightly. You’ve never so much as stolen anything before, being pulled over and having to face authorities in these conditions makes your stomach sink into a pit. As you ruminate, the police cruiser slows behind you, parking itself, lights still flashing wildly. You lament the situation, thoughts flooding your mind about how stupid it was for the cops to be here in the first place. It’s practically empty almost all of the time on these backroads, especially at this hour of the night; it doesn’t make sense to you why any kind of law enforcement would wait for a driver to pass by just to nail them with a ticket.

You almost forget that you’ve been pulled over, sucked into your thoughts, until you see a large figure exit the vehicle from the rearview mirror. Your heart jumps at this, and you quickly reach for your glove compartment to grab your vehicle registration, closing the door with a thud. A sharp knock at the window makes you jump and turn your head. He was fast, you thought you had at least a few more seconds. The officer bends at the hip after a moment, leering into the car, and you push down on the window switch, watching the glass disappear into the driver's side door.

You strain your eyes trying to make out his face in the dark, noticing that it is obscured by some sort of cloth, the only part visible being his eyes. You’ve never seen an officer hide their face before, let alone with a piece of fabric.

“License and registration,” he says, accent cutting through the silence like a knife, reaching your ears.

“One second, sorry,” you stammer, grabbing your wallet in the middle console, unzipping it and pulling out a plastic card. You hand him both the registration papers and your license, and he takes them, gloved fingers brushing against your own for a fleeting second. Your heart jumps at this contact, already overstimulated by being pulled over— you retract your hand, placing both your palms onto your lap, beginning to think of excuses.

He stares down at the card, holding it in his large hand. Your name leaves his lips as he repeats it, reading it off of the thin piece of plastic, “Do you know how fast you were going?” His eyes flick up, boring into your own. The dark makes it hard for your brain to construct his eyes, but the light from your dashboard is enough to see the cold expression he holds in them, blue irises a thin line around his blown pupils.

“Uhm.. no officer,” you hesitate, a bit quieter than you had hoped for your words to come out.

“About thirty over,” he states matter of factly before looking into your car, eyes catching your outfit, “What are you doing out this late?”

You feel your mouth go dry at this. The truth is you were just at a house party, celebrating the end of a successful-ish semester. It was about 1:30 am now as you sat in your car trying to come up with any semblance of a believable story. You told yourself you weren’t going to drink, not having a ride back home, being forced to take yourself back to your place through the outskirts of the city at the end of the night. You told yourself. You even made sure to reject any and all alcohol until a close friend of yours urged you, drunkenly begging you to take a shot to celebrate finishing classes. “One can’t hurt, just drink some water after, you’ll be fine, please, for me?” Your friend’s words ring in your ears, and you wallow at yourself for being guilted into taking two more after their initial coercion. It’s been an hour since that, but fear creeps up at the thought of a breathalyzer test. Although you felt sober, you knew the test would not reflect that, and would get you in trouble with the bulky officer staring down at you from your left. It was best to just not act suspicious, take the ticket, and reap the consequences to your bank account later.

“I was just at a friend’s house. Stayed up too late watching a movie, so I decided I needed to get home,” you respond, lying through your teeth, hoping it was convincing enough, feigning a small smile nervously.

The man hums in thought and you feel relief, thinking he bought your lie. He pauses before speaking up again, “Wearing that?”

You look down at your outfit, a pair of jeans and a tiny top that did little to preserve your dignity. You wish you brought a sweater. Arms almost immediately wrap around your waist, insecurity filling you whole. “Yes...” You murmur, hoping he won’t question you further than that.

He breaks eye contact and motions towards the vehicle parked a few feet behind yours, almost like he was calling someone. You watch from the rearview mirror as another figure steps out, this time from the passenger's seat. Their silhouette looked almost entirely black, except for the white on their face that reflected the red and blue lights spinning on the top of the car. The figure’s boots made contact with the ground and crunched softly as they made a few strides towards the other man. “Ran a check, looks good on my end. Yours?” His voice was deep, with an accent behind it that you could only assume was from somewhere in England, something rough and commanding in its tone.

“Can’t say the same,” the taller man speaks out, eyes flickering to yours for a brief moment before quickly shifting away to meet the man standing beside him. The officer with the white mask makes his way toward the other, and as he closes the gap, your mind scrambles to make sense of his appearance. Squinting, you notice that the mask covering his face is white, with strange grooves etched into it that resemble the jagged shape of a skull, deep and haunting. His eyes are like dark, void-like holes that seem to bore right through you as he passes, there’s something unnatural about the way he carries himself, something predatory, and you can’t seem to pry your eyes away.

“What’ve we got ‘ere?” The shorter man, not to imply that his height was by any means unimpressive, chimes, his voice oddly casual. He leans towards the open window of the car, placing one forearm on the side of the metal encasing you safely, almost like a prison.

“Suspected intoxication,” the hooded man speaks up, his tone flat and emotionless. His words hang in the air, each one settling in your chest with an increasing heaviness. The other hums, eyes scanning you once more, but unlike the cold blue ones of the officer standing behind him, his gaze isn’t as icey, there’s something deeper in it, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“You been drinkin’ sweetheart?” His voice is laced with a syrupy sweetness that makes your stomach flip. The term ‘sweetheart’ rolls off his tongue like a curse, and the word itself feels out of place as if he’s using it to control the situation, to unsettle you. The question hits you hard, and your stomach drops with the weight of an anchor. The unease in your gut tightens into full-blown dread. Something about this doesn’t sit right with you. This isn’t how any regular traffic stop should feel, is it?

When you don’t immediately answer, his voice shatters the silence again, colder now, sharper, “Talk to me.”

You feel your throat tighten, words barely escaping your lips as you answer meekly, “I haven’t..” It’s almost a whisper, barely audible against the growing noise in your head. The man at your window continues to stare at you, eyes piercing, trying to get a read of the situation, searching for any information he could use against you.

“Ghost.” The voice calls from behind him, a demand. The man you now know as Ghost turns, his posture stiff, his gaze flicking to the other looming behind him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismisses, voice laced with annoyance. Shaking his head with a slight scoff, turning back to face you, his eyes crinkle in the corner softly, and you imagine that behind his odd display of a face, is a smile— though something about this situation makes it feel like a threat.

Watching this play out is frightening, to say the least. You feel your pulse quicken, and every second that passes tightens the knot in your stomach. You don’t know if this is the experience most people face when pulled over at night, or if it was just your terrible luck. You don’t have any prior experience to compare it to, but something in your heart screamed at you that this was wrong, something was terribly wrong here.

You stare at Ghost, now leaning forward slightly as he tilts his head. His voice breaks through your racing thoughts, low and silky, “Why doncha step outta the vehicle for us?”

Your body freezes. You aren’t entirely sure why you reacted this way; regardless of what it was, the suffocating feeling, the lead weight against your chest did not waver. Every single instinct inside you is telling you to get out of this situation.

“Did’ja hear me?” His voice shatters through the silence again, sharper now, and the calm, almost bored tone from before disappears, replaced with a command, “Turn the ignition off, n’ step out, love.”

The instructions linger in the air like a final warning, and despite every fibre of your being telling you to refuse, your shaking hands reach for your keys nestled in the ignition and you twist, the engine dying, along with the lights at the head of your vehicle. Holding the keys in your hand, you step out of the car, hesitantly. Ghost steps back to give you space to open the car door and exit. You stand and immediately notice how he dwarfs your height, looking down at you through his skull mask, arms crossed over his police vest. The red and blue spinning on top of the police car creates a cast of colours, allowing you to still make out the scene in front of you despite the darkness that engulfs the scenery. You notice a dark streak across the white letters that read out ‘POLICE’ across his chest. In blue light, it looks almost black, but as the red circles back around, you make out a faint scarlet colour.

Blood?

Your eyes focus on it, your heart skipping a beat. Though the thought barely forms in your head before he speaks again, “Hands against the car, love, turn around.”

You blink, not understanding or comprehending the sudden demand, “What?” You ask, almost automatically, surprised at his sudden order.

“Gonna search’cha. Turn around, hands on the hood of the car. It’s standard protocol, isn’t that right König?” He remarks, turning to look at the man behind him. His words are so casual, so rehearsed, and it takes you a second, but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the looming presence of the larger man, König, who just nods in approval.

You aren’t well versed in what your rights are exactly, despite seeing countless posts online urging you to become aware in case some cop tries to take advantage of your ignorance. You think back on those moments you’ve scrolled past and feel regret, maybe you should have been more cautious, should have taken some more time to read up on it. The thought of outright saying no flicks through your mind, but it’s gone just as quickly as it came; you’re not entirely sure if you have the right to refuse, so you comply and turn to face your vehicle slowly, moving your arms to place your trembling hands on the hood, still warm from the engine. “Good girl,” he whispers with a growl from behind you.

The words make your skin crawl, sending a wave of nausea through your gut. You want to turn around, stand your ground, and demand answers. You want to scream at him, ask why he pulled you over in the first place, especially here, in this deserted, dark stretch of road. But your body is frozen, your limbs heavy with a deep, paralyzing dread. You can’t speak. You can’t move.

As you find the courage to open your mouth and protest, a wall of muscle presses up behind you— the air is forced out of your lungs in a sharp, startled gasp, and all that escapes your throat is a choked sound, trapped and desperate. It dies instantly at the pressure as if your body knows it’s powerless to stop what’s happening. A nudge from something stiff, something heavy, something warm, presses against your lower back, and the sensation almost makes you fall forward, but you keep your hands on the car, shakily. “What are you doing?” You ask, heat rising to your ears, your voice quiet and cracking, breaking under the weight of the situation.

“Just gonna check ‘ya angel, no need to panic.” Ghost’s voice is smooth as his hands start to move along your sides, gliding over your trembling skin with cold precision as he pushes his hips into you, eliciting another small yelp from you that serves to bring heat straight to your face at the feeling of his hardness against your spine. He then slowly moves down each leg, bending at the knees to pat down your thighs, not before grabbing at the skin, and moving to your ankles. You’re humiliated, and you have to stifle the urge to ask him why this is even necessary. Your top is small, and your pants are tight against your skin, they’d be able to see if you had anything in your pockets, concealed away. His leather-clad hands are along your body. And then, he stands back up, his hands lingering near your stomach, just shy of touching your chest. You can feel the tension hanging between you two, the thin line between a normal pat-down and something much worse. His fingers hover, almost hesitant as if testing the waters, “You don’t mind, do ya?”

You blink at this, your head spinning. Is this normal? He asked for permission, didn’t he? Maybe you’re overthinking. Maybe he’s just doing his job, and you’re just nervous. But the doubt gnaws at you. You’ve heard of cops acting imposing, standing tall with a panoptic gaze, demanding submission without ever needing to speak a word. You’ve heard stories of them using that authority to cross boundaries with people— no, to break them entirely.

You’ve always struggled with confrontation. You’ve tended to let things slide before and made excuses for bad behaviour. It’s like a habit, but this, this is different. This is too much. The unease deepens into something darker. Something inside you screams to fight back, to speak up, to demand that they stop.

But all that comes out is a whisper, barely audible, “I’m a little uncomfortable.” The words feel weak, but you force them out, your voice trembling. You hope that’s enough— that the honesty will be enough to make him stop.

He was teetering the edge of patting you down, and groping you; you’re not sure if this is what a standard pat down is considered to be. You’ve seen people get checked at the airport after stepping through the scanners, lighting up with a flash, at the indication that something was out of place— it was quick, fast, non-invasive. But this. This felt like he was about to grab at your very soul, so tightly that it might as well burst in his hands, deflating any sense of pride or dignity you had left with a harsh crack and spill of the contents. “Poor thing’s uncomfortable,” Ghost murmurs with a frown, turning to look at König.

The other man doesn’t say anything at first, his towering figure casting a long shadow over you, but when he speaks, his voice is commanding, “Enough, Ghost.” Relief surges through you as Ghost steps back, his lips curling slightly in irritation as he clicks his tongue, finally, some distance. But your pulse doesn’t slow; it races, your heart still pounding in your ears, as the confusion and fear hang thick in the air, choking the space around you. Maybe they’ve decided to let you go now, but something in you tells you this isn't over.

Your thoughts are silenced as your hands are suddenly grabbed from where they were resting, being maneuvered roughly behind your back. The sudden action makes you lose balance and fall forward with a yelp. When you make a move to straighten your torso up, a hand reaches the nape of your neck to keep you pinned to the hood of your car roughly, your chest and side of your face becoming dirty with the dust covering your vehicle. The taller man leans over your body, and you’re brought to your tippy toes as he does this, his erection pushing harshly against your ass. The cloth on his face drapes over your shoulder as he brings his mouth close to your ear, “You’re too soft with her, asking if it’s okay if she doesn’t mind. Slut like her doesn’t care about shit like that. Look at what she’s wearing… Begging for it, on display for us.” The way he spoke into your ear made your heart seize up. He spoke directly to you, but referred to you in the second person, dehumanizing you even further, not even addressing you as equal to them. This was beyond humiliating, beyond anything you would have expected.

“Get off of me,” you protest, with a tone less than convincing. The one holding you down laughs, a chuckle breaking through his throat.

He thinks this is some kind of joke.

“Fuck, Ghost,” he chortles, the sound low and sinister, dripping with mockery. “You should see how she’s trembling under me right now. It’s pathetic,” His voice cuts through the stillness, like a sharp blade, and the way he savours the words makes your stomach churn. Each laugh feels like a slap to your senses, echoing in your skull, ringing louder than the panic surging through your veins.

“Fucking bitch doesn’t even know we aren’t actually cops,” he says, and just like that, the ground shifts beneath your feet and your entire world is upside down. Your breath has ceased, and your lungs feel as if they were taken straight out of your ribcage. “We put on a good show for you though, right? Pulling you over like that? Saying you were going 30 over, Ghost saying he ran a check on you.” A laugh spills from his lips again, thick with satisfaction, and every syllable feels like it's pulling you deeper into a pit of dread.

It’s as if time stops. The world tilts sideways, and your body goes cold. The weight of his words presses down on you, and you realize, with sickening clarity, that everything you thought you understood was a lie. The badge, the uniforms, the flashing lights— all of it was just a performance. A sick game.

“Cops in this area have no backbone,” König starts, with a sickening satisfaction lingering on the ends of his words, “They were so easy to take down too, Schatz, you have no idea.” Another laugh billows out from his chest, “Where else do you think we got this uniform from? The cruiser?”

Your heart is pounding so loudly, and everything starts to click. The blood on Ghost’s vest, you should have known. You want to move, to escape, but your body feels like stone. The world around you is suddenly too small, suffocating like the walls are closing in with every laugh, every word. You want to scream, but the sound won’t come. A tear runs down the bridge of your nose and König hums, leaning in close to you to breathe in the scent of your fear, “Love breaking girls like you, fuck.”

Ghost remains silent in the corner, his eyes watching, but you can’t tell if he’s complicit or detached from the cruel charade. You’re too far gone to care now. All that matters is the cold truth sinking into you like a heavyweight. Your mouth goes dry, the room spinning as the sick realization settles in harshly. You weren’t just caught in a trap. You were the prey, and every moment of this has been designed to break you, to twist you into their game.

Your eyes look backwards to meet Ghost’s, and you plead to him with begging eyes, for him to say anything, to get the man on top of you off, give you some sense of respite, some room to breathe, some time to process what is happening. As you thought you were starting to make progress, looking at Ghost with such a sad, pleading look, König notices and glares down at you. He leans into your ear again and speaks words that make you feel like you’ve died, a million times over and over again, “Oh Schatz,” he chuckles with a small sigh, sounding almost disappointed at your display, “Don’t look at him like that, he’s just waiting his turn.”

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eu-nicola · 4 months ago

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christmas village

summary: a car accident leaves you and Rafe stranded during a snowstorm in a remote cabin in Woodstock.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 9315

author's note: english is not my first language, I LOVE CHRISTMAS

The car moved slowly along the snow covered road, the white landscape stretching out on either side like an endless canvas. Inside the vehicle, the atmosphere was far from calm. You were sitting in the passenger seat, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the window, deliberately ignoring the presence of Rafe Cameron at the wheel. Your parents had insisted you travel with him, arguing it was safer than going alone, but so far, it had only been a test of patience.

Rafe, his hands firmly on the wheel, wore an expression of boredom mixed with irritation. He didn’t seem particularly thrilled about the company, and it was hard to forget that you two had once been something more. The relationship had ended turbulently, and although time had passed, the tension lingered in the air. Every now and then, he broke the silence with some sarcastic remark.

“If you’re going to stay quiet the entire way, at least put on decent music,” he said, rolling his eyes when you didn’t respond.

You didn’t bother to look at him, simply adjusting the volume of the audio system slightly so the playlist you had chosen at the start of the trip kept playing. Of course, you knew he was doing it just to annoy you, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of reacting.

The snowstorm began as a light drizzle, but soon the gusts grew more intense. The car's windshield was covered with snowflakes that seemed to multiply by the second, and visibility started to decrease.

“This doesn’t look good,” Rafe muttered, adjusting the windshield wipers to their maximum setting.

“Can’t you drive slower?” you asked, your tone sharper than you’d intended.

He gave you a quick glance, his jaw tightening.

“I’m already driving slow. If I go any slower, we’ll finish the trip next year.”

You responded with an exasperated sigh, looking at your phone even though you knew there was no signal. The winding road seemed endless, and the treetops lining the way were starting to bend under the weight of the accumulating snow.

Suddenly, the car skidded. It was a brief moment but intense enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Rafe!” you exclaimed, gripping the edge of your seat.

He cursed under his breath, turning the wheel sharply to try to regain control. But it was useless. The car swerved to the side, and before you could react, it crashed into a snowbank by the roadside. The engine shut off, and the silence that followed was almost deafening.

Rafe slammed the steering wheel with both hands in frustration.

“Great. Just what we needed.”

“What are we going to do now?” you asked, trying to stay calm.

“First, we’re going to get out of here before the car freezes,” he replied. He opened the door, but the icy wind that rushed in almost made him retreat.

Both of you got out of the vehicle, facing the relentless cold. The storm had worsened, and it was clear you wouldn’t make it to the town on foot. That’s when Rafe pointed at something among the trees.

“Look, there. It looks like a cabin.”

Your eyes followed the direction he was pointing, and sure enough, a small wooden structure could be seen in the distance. It didn’t look like much, but at that moment, it was your only option.

“Let’s go,” he said, not waiting for a response.

You walked silently through the storm, trudging through snow that now reached your knees. When you finally reached the cabin, the door opened slowly, and the warmth inside immediately enveloped you, a stark contrast to the freezing cold you had endured outside. Inside, an elderly woman with gray hair and kind eyes looked at you in surprise, wrapped in a thick shawl. She seemed to have been sitting by the fireplace, as a blanket lay draped over a nearby chair and a cup of tea rested on a small wooden table.

“Heavens! What are you two doing out here in the middle of this storm?” the woman asked, her hands clutching the edge of the door as she scanned your faces for answers.

“Our car went off the road,” Rafe quickly replied, his tone tired but respectful. “The storm caught us, and we saw this cabin from the road.”

Still shivering from the cold, you added, “Sorry if we’re intruding. We didn’t have any other option.”

The woman shook her head and opened the door wider to let you in.

“You’re not intruding at all. Come in, come in! You can’t stay out in this cold.” She extended a hand toward you, as if to help brush the snow off your shoulders.

You stepped inside, grateful for the warmth provided by the small stone fireplace in the corner. The cabin was simply decorated but had a cozy feel. Knitted blankets hung over the backs of chairs, and the walls were adorned with old photographs and handmade Christmas garlands.

“How far is your car?” the woman asked as she grabbed another blanket from a chair and offered it to you.

“Not far,” Rafe said, shaking snow off his boots near the entrance. “It’s stuck in a snowbank by the road.”

The woman sighed deeply and nodded.

“The storm isn’t going to stop tonight. They’re saying on the radio that it could last until tomorrow afternoon. It’s too dangerous to go out now.”

“Is there any way to call someone to come get us?” you asked hopefully.

The woman nodded, her eyes lighting up.

“Luckily, I have a guest cabin just across the road. It has a landline you can use. You’re welcome to stay there tonight.”

“Are you sure it’s not a bother?” you asked, feeling a little guilty for accepting so much kindness.

“Of course not” she replied with a smile. “In fact, I wouldn’t feel right knowing two young people are stuck in this storm without a roof over their heads.”

After making sure both of you were bundled up warmly, the woman guided you to the guest cabin. The snow was still falling heavily, and the path was slippery, but the light from the flashlight she carried illuminated the way. When you arrived, she opened the wooden door, revealing a small but cozy interior with a fire already burning and an atmosphere that seemed straight out of a Christmas postcard.

You stepped inside eagerly, thrilled by the contrast between the cold outside and the warmth within. The first thing that caught your attention was a Christmas tree in the corner, decorated with bright lights and ornaments that looked handmade.

“Look!” you exclaimed, pointing at the tree with a genuine smile. “It has a decorated tree!”

Rafe, who was behind you, let out a mocking laugh.

“What, have you never seen a Christmas tree before?”

You turned to look at him, but instead of arguing, you simply ignored him, letting your enthusiasm speak for itself.

“It’s beautiful” you said, more to yourself than to him, as you walked closer to examine the details.

The woman smiled at your reaction.

“I decorated it a few days ago. I didn’t know if anyone else would see it, but I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s perfect” you said, your eyes still on the twinkling lights.

Rafe, meanwhile, dropped his backpack next to a chair near the fireplace, clearly less impressed by the tree.

“Perfect, sure” he muttered, though this time in a lower tone, as if he knew he wouldn’t succeed in annoying you.

The woman, ignoring the dynamic between you two, made sure you had everything you needed before saying goodbye.

“You can stay as long as you need. The phone is on the table, next to the lamp. If you need anything, my cabin is just across the way.

You thanked her sincerely as she left, closing the door behind her.

Silence settled in the cabin once you were alone, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the sound of the wind outside. As you hung your coat on a hook near the door, you felt Rafe’s gaze on you, but when you looked at him, he had already averted his eyes.

“I guess it’ll be interesting to see if we can survive without killing each other tonight” he said with a half-smile.

You sighed and sank onto the sofa in front of the fireplace, letting the warmth relax you.

“If you don’t talk too much, I think we’ll manage.”

Rafe chuckled softly and took a seat in a nearby chair. Although there was still tension between you, something about the warm, festive atmosphere of the cabin made the situation feel less unbearable than you had imagined.

The heat from the fireplace barely managed to chase away the chill still lingering in your bones as you approached the phone on the table. The oil lamp illuminating the corner cast flickering shadows across the cabin, giving the place an intimate, almost surreal air. But you didn’t have time to admire the details; you were anxious to contact someone, anyone, who could get you out of there.

Rafe stood behind you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching you with a mix of expectancy and exhaustion.

“Do you even know who you’re going to call?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as you picked up the receiver.

“No, but someone has to know what to do” you replied, dialing your parents’ number first.

The line rang, but no one answered. You tried again, pressing your lips together in frustration as the repetitive sound continued without response. Finally, you hung up with a sigh and searched for another number on your phone.

“Any luck?” Rafe asked sarcastically, tilting his head slightly.

“Do you want to try?” you snapped, turning to look at him. “Cause if you’re just going to stand there making useless comments, you might as well help.”

He let out a short laugh and stepped closer, taking the receiver from your hands before you could react.

“Let me show you how it’s done.”

You frowned and crossed your arms, watching as he dialed a number. His confident expression shifted to annoyed when he too got a ringing line with no answer. He tried another number and then another, but the result was the same. Finally, he hung up forcefully, clenching his jaw.

“Great. Looks like no one’s available.”

“And now who’s unsuccessful?” you remarked, unable to resist the opportunity to throw his sarcasm back at him.

He turned to you, his blue eyes shining with something between irritation and defiance.

“Do you have some brilliant plan, or are you just going to stand there being annoying?”

You got up from the sofa, stepping closer to face him.

“Annoying? You’re the one acting like this is all my fault!”

“Because you always have to make things more complicated” he retorted, his tone louder than necessary.

“Complicated?” You laughed humorlessly, gesturing toward the phone. “I was the one trying to come up with solutions while you just stood there criticizing.”

Rafe took a step forward, closing the distance between you.

“Solutions? Like randomly calling people who clearly aren’t coming in the middle of a snowstorm? Great idea.”

“At least I’m trying something, unlike you, who just complains.”

The tension between you was palpable. His height and dominant attitude would normally intimidate you, but in that moment, the heat of the argument and your exhaustion pushed you to stand your ground.

“Look, princess, if you’ve got a magic plan to get us out of here, go ahead. Enlighten me with your wisdom” Rafe said with an exaggerated gesture, as if ready to hear something brilliant.

You glared at him, feeling frustration build in your chest.

“You know what? I’m not going to argue with you. Being stuck here with you is bad enough without having to deal with your crap attitude.”

You turned and went back to the sofa, letting yourself fall onto it with an exasperated sigh. Rafe remained silent for a moment, probably surprised by your reaction. Finally, he ran a hand through his hair and sank into the chair by the fireplace.

“This is ridiculous” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You stared into the fire, trying to calm yourself. The cabin, which had felt warm and inviting before, now seemed much smaller, as if the space was shrinking under the weight of the tension between you.

The silence stretched, broken only by the crackling of the firewood and the howling wind outside.

The quiet in the cabin was almost tangible, broken only by the crackle of the fire in the fireplace and the whisper of the wind rattling the windows. Both of you had fallen silent after your brief argument, each lost in your own thoughts. But you knew you couldn’t keep going like this; being trapped in the middle of a snowstorm was uncomfortable enough without adding the tension of your constant bickering.

You took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the fire soothe your frustration before speaking.

“Look, Rafe” you began, turning toward him. He was sitting across from you in the wooden chair, his head slightly tilted toward the fire as if studying it. His eyes flicked to you, glowing in the firelight, but he said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“I don’t know how long we’re going to be here” you said in a calmer tone. “Maybe until tomorrow, maybe longer. But what I do know is that we can’t keep this up.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of interest and skepticism.

“Keep what up?”

You sighed, leaning your elbows on your knees as you looked directly at him.

“Fighting over everything, throwing sarcastic comments at each other every five minutes. We’re stuck here, alone, with a snowstorm outside. If we don’t make an effort to get along, this is going to be unbearable.”

He let out a small laugh, though it didn’t seem mocking almost reflective.

“Getting along? You and me? Is that even possible?”

“It will be if we both try” you replied firmly. “And if you stop being so...”

“So what?” he interrupted, leaning forward with a lopsided smile that both annoyed and challenged you at the same time.

“So you” you said, crossing your arms.

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a soft chuckle.

“Fine, I deserve that.”

That took you by surprise. You hadn't expected Rafe to admit something like that so easily. You decided to take advantage of the moment.

“Then let's make a deal” you proposed, keeping your gaze fixed on him.

“A deal?” he repeated, tilting his head with curiosity.

“Yes, a deal” you reiterated. “While we're stuck here, we set our differences aside. No fights, no unnecessary sarcasm, no acting like kids.”

“That last part is directed at you, isn't it?” he teased, but his tone was lighter this time.

“At both of us” you said, rolling your eyes. “What I mean is, let's try to be... I don't know, civil. At least until someone comes to find us.”

Rafe looked at you silently for a moment, his blue eyes studying your face as if trying to read your intentions. Finally, he nodded slowly.

“Alright, deal.”

You extended your hand toward him, hoping to seal the agreement symbolically. Rafe glanced at your hand and, for a second, seemed to hesitate. But then he leaned forward and shook it with his own.

“Although” he added as he released your hand “I can’t promise not to be a little... me. It’s part of the charm, you know?”

“Sure, the charm” you muttered sarcastically, though there was a hint of a smile on your lips.

He leaned back in his chair again, relaxing a little more.

“Alright then, where do we start with this attempt to get along? Got any brilliant ideas, or are we just going to sit here in silence watching the ice melt off our boots?”

You looked at him, crossing your arms in a thoughtful gesture.

“We could start by not insulting each other every time we open our mouths.”

Rafe nodded slowly, as if considering your words with more seriousness than you expected.

“Fair enough.”

For the first time since entering the cabin, the atmosphere felt a little less tense. Despite how irritating Rafe could be, there was something almost amusing about the idea of trying to cooperate with him, even if you knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“Well, let’s see how long our deal lasts” you said finally, settling onto the sofa and gazing at the fire.

“That depends on you, princess” he replied with his typical smug smile, but this time, instead of annoying you, you just shook your head and chuckled softly.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d survive this storm together without going insane.

Night fell quickly, darkening the white landscape surrounding the cabin. The wind continued to lash at the windows, but the warmth of the fireplace created a cozy contrast inside the shelter. Both of you knew you needed to eat something, but neither seemed willing to take the initiative.

Finally, you broke the silence as you looked toward the small makeshift kitchen in the corner.

“Do you know how to cook?” you asked, crossing your arms as you looked at him with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

Rafe, sitting in one of the wooden chairs by the fire, glanced up at you with a teasing smile.

“Would it surprise you if I said yes? I learned after we ended things.”

“Interesting” you admitted, raising an eyebrow.

He stood up from the chair with an exaggerated display of confidence.

“Well, get ready for the best feast this cabin has ever seen.”

You followed him to the kitchen, skeptical. Together, you started rummaging through the shelves and the small pantry, which held only a few supplies: a package of pasta, a couple of cans of soup, some stale bread, and a bottle of olive oil.

"I’m not sure if this counts as a feast, but you can give it a try” you said, leaning on the counter as you watched Rafe examine the ingredients.

“Trust me, princess” he replied with a wink. “I’m about to turn this into culinary art.”

You just rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile a little. Rafe got to work with an energy that seemed almost too much for the humble menu available.

“Can you pass me that pot?” he asked, pointing at an old saucepan on a high shelf.

“What happened to "please"?” you retorted, but you grabbed it and handed it to him anyway.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

He started boiling water for the pasta while you checked what was left in the cupboards. You found a small jar of spices and a can of crushed tomatoes.

“What about this?” you asked, showing them to him.

Rafe looked at them with an expression that tried to be serious.

“Perfect. Let’s call this... frozen cabin pasta.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though you tried to hide it.

As you worked together, there were several awkward but almost amusing moments. When you tried to open the can of tomatoes, the can opener got stuck, and in your attempt to fix it, you ended up splashing yourself with some sauce.

“Impressive” Rafe commented, trying not to laugh too loudly as you shot him a glare.

“If you laugh, you’re cooking alone.”

“I’m already cooking alone.”

“I’m helping!” you replied, exasperated, as you wiped the sauce off your shirt.

“Sure, helping is splashing sauce everywhere” he teased.

Despite the sarcasm, you started noticing that the atmosphere between you was becoming a little more relaxed.

Eventually, you managed to put together something resembling a pasta dish with improvised sauce. You served it on the only two plates you could find in the cabin and sat down at the rustic table by the fire.

“Well, it’s not a feast, but it could be worse” you commented as you tried the first bite.

Rafe watched you closely, as if waiting for your verdict.

“Well?” he asked, leaning in slightly.

“Not bad... for someone like you”

you said, feigning a casual tone.

“Someone like me” he repeated, smiling. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You both ate in a silence that, surprisingly, didn’t feel awkward.

When you were done, Rafe got up to wash the dishes.

“What are you doing?” you asked, surprised.

“Washing the dishes. Or is that too noble for me?”

“I definitely didn’t picture you doing that” you admitted, smiling slightly.

“Well, I’m a man full of surprises.”

As you watched him work, you realized that, for the first time since the storm started, you didn’t feel as tense. Rafe seemed less arrogant, almost... human.

You leaned back in the chair, watching the storm continue to rage outside.

“Maybe this isn’t so terrible after all” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

“What did you say?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Nothing” you replied quickly, looking away.

While the storm kept roaring outside, covering the world in a seemingly endless blanket of snow, the warmth of the fireplace remained comforting. But the cabin was still small and a bit cold, so you both knew you’d need more blankets to get through the night.

“Do you know where the blankets are?” you asked, as you checked one of the shelves near the fireplace, trying to find a cabinet or a place where they might be stored.

Rafe was nearby, looking at the makeshift beds, but he didn’t seem to find anything.

“I don’t know, maybe over there” he said, pointing toward the back of the cabin, where there was a door that looked like a small closet.

The two of you headed over without saying much. The space between you was small, but the atmosphere was different, as if something was hanging in the air a soft yet palpable tension that neither of you wanted to acknowledge. As you brushed past him, your shoulders accidentally touched, and a shiver ran through your body a small contact that, despite being insignificant, left a strange feeling behind. It was as if the air between you had become charged with electricity.

You both stopped almost simultaneously, staring ahead, avoiding eye contact.

“Sorry” Rafe said, his tone softer than usual, though there was no need to apologize.

“It’s fine” you replied, not looking at him, but with the feeling that something had shifted between you. The tension, though slight, seemed to linger, more present than before.

The two of you kept searching for the blankets, but every little movement felt strange. As you reached up to grab a blanket from the highest shelf, your fingers brushed against his for a second, and that spark that had been ignited didn’t fade it intensified. This time, neither of you said anything, but the air felt thicker, warmer, even with the storm raging outside.

Rafe was the first to pull away, handing you a blanket with a gesture rougher than he likely intended, and you began to wonder if it was all just a coincidence. But as you glanced at him briefly, you caught him looking away, as if he, too, was wrestling with the same feeling.

And as the storm continued its relentless howling, the two of you stood there, a little closer than before, the tension between you undeniable.

“Thanks for… the blanket,” you said suddenly, breaking the silence, and you realized that your voice had come out a little quieter than it normally would have been.

“You’re welcome,” Rafe replied in a tone that sounded almost sincere, although his face was still hidden in the shadows of the cabin.

A small sigh escaped your lips before you could stop it, and, upon hearing it, Rafe looked at you for a moment, but didn’t say anything. It seemed as if you were both caught in the same confusion, but not knowing how to continue.

The atmosphere was still electric, but neither of you openly acknowledged it. However, there was something different in the way you looked at each other. The space between you was not as full of hostile tensions as before, but something more subtle, more ambiguous, something that neither you nor he could define.

Finally, you both settled down on the floor, leaving the blankets over your bodies to try to get some warmth. No one else spoke, but the proximity was new and felt uncomfortable in an almost pleasurable way. Every time their arms or legs accidentally touched, a prickling sensation in the air seemed to follow them, without them being able to really ignore it.

The silence that followed was so thick that even the crackling of the fire seemed softer. They were both trying to rest, but they knew that the storm outside was not the only thing that kept the cabin in a state of restlessness.

The next day came with the same monotony of the storm that did not seem to let up. The snow continued to fall, covering the landscape with a thick, white layer that made everything even more isolated. The cabin, although cozy in its warmth, was still small, and they both knew that being trapped there with no company but each other was not the ideal situation.

The sun barely filtered through the small windows, making the light dim, almost gloomy. They both tried to distract themselves with simple activities: you walked over to the fireplace to add some more firewood, while he looked out the window, watching the wind push the snow into spirals. No one else had passed by all morning, and the radio, although tuned to different frequencies, brought nothing but static. The heavy silence between them was a constant, interrupted only by the sound of the wind outside or the crackling of wood under the flame in the fireplace.

At first, they tried to call each other on the phone, but the signal was nonexistent. Communication with their families was scarce, and the answer they both received from their respective homes was the same: "We're busy, we'll send help when possible, but we don't know when." That promise would take hours, even days, and frustration slowly grew within the two of them. Without a clear plan and with time at a standstill, all they could do was wait.

The first part of the morning was awkward. They both tried to find tasks that would keep them busy without having to confront each other too much. You sat in the corner reading one of the few books the cabin had, while Rafe checked the electronic devices once more, as if the batteries in his phone could magically fill the void between you. Every time your gazes met, something in the air tensed, and you both quickly looked away, as if you weren’t ready to acknowledge what had changed in the atmosphere between you.

As the day progressed, the atmosphere became slightly less charged. The need for coexistence made them both begin to share the space more naturally, although there was still an invisible barrier that neither of them wanted to completely break down. Lunchtime came without many options, but they tried to make the best of what they had. Together they prepared something simple, a warm soup from a can, and although neither of them felt too much like eating, they both knew they didn't have many alternatives. They ate in silence, sitting near the fireplace, the sound of the ladle against the can and the soft crackle of the fire creating an atmosphere of uncomfortable intimacy.

After lunch, they decided to try to explore the cabin to see if they could find some way to make the wait more bearable. But every corner, every nook and cranny of the place, seemed to be saturated with the feeling that nothing more was going to happen. Time continued to move with an almost unbearable slowness, but the storm remained the same, with no sign that anyone might come to rescue them soon.

Rafe began to move in a more restless manner, pacing back and forth, while you stood still, watching the tension build up in his shoulders. Sometimes he would stop to look out the window, as if he could make the wind and snow stop with a single thought. However, reality was relentless. Neither of you could do anything to change the situation, and that became an unspoken truth that hung in the air. At some point, you both decided to go out onto the small, snow-covered terrace, hoping that the cold air would clear your minds a little. You covered yourself with a coat, and Rafe, although more reluctant, followed you outside.

The snow fell relentlessly, enveloping the world in a blanket of silence and whiteness. The landscape seemed deserted, without footprints, without a trace of life. You stood at the door, watching the storm form patterns of mist in the air, while he leaned on the door frame, looking out at the horizon. Neither of them said anything, but the fact that they were outside, in the storm, with the pressure of the situation, made them feel that at least they were sharing something at that moment.

The rest of the day passed in a back and forth of small efforts to ignore each other and, at the same time, pass the time in the best way possible. At one point, Rafe suggested playing a game, as if they could at least transform the tense calm into something more bearable. They found a deck of cards on a nearby table and sat down to play, their fingers sliding clumsily across the cards, while the sound of the wind slid around the walls. Amidst the jokes and attempts at sarcasm, time began to flow in a more natural way, although there was still that strange spark in the air that they both tried to avoid.

The afternoon faded and night fell quickly again, covering them in an almost complete stillness.

The night had fallen with the same heavy calm as always, but this time, the silence was not so unbearable. As the storm raged on and the hours seemed to drag on endlessly, the cabin was safe in its warm shelter. They decided, after a while, to look for something to do, something that could break the routine and relieve the tension that had been hanging between them all day.

It was Rafe who finally opened an old cupboard in the corner of the living room, and with a slight grunt of disapproval, pulled out a dusty box. Opening it, they found an old board game, with worn wooden pieces and a board that was already showing signs of use. It was one of those classic games, the kind one finds in forgotten country houses, but at that moment, it seemed like a lifeline to both of them.

With a slight smile that barely managed to hide his surprise, Rafe offered the pieces to you, suggesting that you play. The game, though simple, was the beginning of a change in the atmosphere that neither of you expected. The rules didn't matter too much; what really mattered was the space the game took up in the room, and the way that, with each joke and each move, the two of you began to relax, even if only a little.

The first few rounds were clumsy and full of sarcasm. You both sat in front of the board, moving the pieces more roughly than necessary, and joking about how, apparently, neither of you were an expert at that type of game. However, as the game progressed, the jokes became more natural, and the laughs began to come out without either of you meaning to. Rafe even began to let out a few genuine smiles, something that would have been rare to see before.

At one point, during a silly turn where a piece almost fell out, you both burst out laughing, unable to contain yourself. It was a liberating laugh, as if the weight of the day and the situation had lifted a little, if only for an instant. There was something in the way you both looked at each other, as if, for the first time since you were trapped in that place, you felt a little more human, less disconnected.

The night went on, and the laughter continued. It was then that, checking the fireplace again, you realized that it had gone out a little. You tried to adjust the wood, but, as expected, you couldn't manage it alone. Rafe, who had been watching with a mocking look, stood up without saying much and came over to help you.

"Do you need help or would you rather make another mess?" he asked in a sarcastic tone, but without malice.

Without saying a word, you accepted his offer and together you tried to rekindle the fire. You both crouched down near the fireplace, moving the branches and wood with a little more urgency, and as you did, a small burst of ash flew towards you. You both let out a startled cry, and before you knew it, Rafe was covered in ash on his face, while you, equally surprised, also had a light layer of grey dust on your hair and shoulders.

At first, the moment was a chaos of nervous laughter and narrowed gazes, and the tense air was finally broken. The two of you looked at each other for a second, completely covered in dust, and the scene, in its clumsiness and unexpectedness, provoked more laughter. Rafe tried to brush the ash off his face, but only managed to spread it further.

“This is a mess,” he said between laughs, while shaking his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, you don’t look so bad anyway,” you replied between guffaws, trying to brush the ash out of your hair.

The situation was absurd, but for some reason, it was perfect. The sense of bewilderment and tension that had defined the whole situation from the beginning had vanished, and what remained was something lighter, a sort of awkward but sincere camaraderie. They both sat down again near the fireplace, much more relaxed now, and continued playing, with no one talking too much about what had just happened.

The mood in the cabin was changed. The laughter they had shared a few moments before, the accidental brush of hands while playing, all of that had created a different atmosphere between the two of them. The spark that had been left in the air, that unconfessed tension, had become something palpable, almost unbearable. They both knew it, although neither of them was willing to admit it. Silence filled the room again, but it was no longer awkward. It was a silence that vibrated with something else, something nameless.

They were sitting near the fireplace, the flames crackling softly, while shadows played on the walls of the cabin. Rafe was staring into the flames, his fingers drumming against the table, his breathing a little heavier than usual. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel like there was something different about him, something that made you not want to look away. But, at the same time, you couldn’t allow yourself to give in to it. Not after everything that had happened between you.

Suddenly, without warning, Rafe leaned forward. The movement was so gentle and so sudden that you didn’t even have time to react. Before you could process it, his lips found yours, with a gentle but determined pressure. The kiss was unexpected, a clash of sensations that left you breathless for a second. It was something neither of you had planned, but at that moment, it seemed inevitable. The warmth of his mouth mixed with the coldness of the air around you, creating a tension in the air that enveloped you.

The kiss wasn’t tender or delicate. It was intense, full of everything that hadn't been said, everything that had been floating between the two of you since you met in the storm. It was like that kiss was trying to express everything that neither of you dared to say out loud. But, at some point, everything stopped. Time seemed to stand still, and in that instant, what had once been a mix of confusion and desire became something much clearer. You couldn't let things happen again. Not again.

Suddenly, a knot in your stomach made you pull away from him abruptly. The distance between you both became instantaneous, as if simply moving away from him could dispel what had just happened. You stood there, breathing heavily, looking at Rafe, who hadn't moved, but whose eyes reflected something you hadn't seen before: vulnerability, surprise, perhaps some regret.

You didn't know what to say, but the feeling in your chest was clear. You couldn't let things go back to the way they were. Not after everything you’d been through with him, everything that had happened before, when unspoken words had left scars. You couldn’t let that history repeat itself, couldn’t risk everything you’d learned to protect crumbling again.

“I don’t want to go through what I went through with you again,” you finally said, your voice shaking a little. The words came out stronger than you’d anticipated, and you were surprised that you could say them so clearly.

Rafe didn’t answer right away. His eyes didn’t leave yours, but there was something about his expression that unnerved you. You could see the conflict in his gaze, the internal struggle he was having, but it didn’t matter. You had been clear. You had stepped away, you had put up a barrier, and you weren’t willing to take a step back.

Silence fell between you again, heavier this time, denser. The fire in the fireplace continued to crackle, but the warmth of the room wasn’t enough to melt the cold distance that now separated you. Rafe finally moved, but only to get up and walk away to the window, looking outside as if that could give him the answers he couldn’t find in you.

The air in the cabin was still heavy with the tension of the unsaid, with the emotions neither of you wanted to face. But in that moment, you knew you had made the right decision, even if your heart was pounding and you felt empty inside. You didn’t want any more of that confusion, of those moments of desire and regret. Not again. And, although you couldn't predict what would happen next, you knew that the barrier you had put up was the only thing that could protect you.

The following days were a mix of awkwardness and uncomfortable silence. Although the snowstorm continued to lash against the cabin's windows, the weather inside was colder than ever. Even though circumstances kept them together, conversations became short, almost forced. The night of the kiss continued to weigh on both of them, like an invisible cloud, and although neither of them mentioned it, the tension was palpable in every small gesture.

They had breakfast together, but the conversation never went beyond what was strictly necessary. During the day, they tried to distract themselves, looking for some way to pass the time, but there was always something in the air that kept them at a distance. Sometimes, one of them would make a casual comment, but what had once been a simple chat now became uncomfortable. The simple act of looking at each other felt like a challenge, as if there was something invisible separating them.

Frustration began to build, and though neither of them would admit it, they both knew there was something they couldn't ignore any longer. The tension was building, like a taut thread about to snap.

It was on one of those afternoons, as they both tried to find something else to do in the cabin, when the bomb went off. They were looking through the few books the cabin had, looking for something to read, when Rafe, with his characteristic dismissive attitude, made a comment.

"You know, I don't understand why you can't just relax and enjoy this. It's like you're expecting everything to be awkward, like..." he paused, looking away, and then, with a sarcastic smile, added, "like you're expecting everything to be a romantic comedy or something."

The comment was the straw that broke the camel's back. There was something in his tone, something in the way he made fun of the situation, that made you lose patience. You couldn't let it go any longer. At that moment, everything you had been holding in, everything you had been trying to ignore, came to the surface.

“You know what? It’s not about that, Rafe,” you replied, your voice tense but determined. “It’s not about me wanting everything to be perfect, it’s about me not being able to stand you trying to make everything harder than it already is.”

The argument quickly began to escalate. The atmosphere in the room became charged with unspoken words, with pent-up resentments. You both knew there was something more, that what was between you was not just the awkwardness of the moment, but something much deeper, something neither of you dared to face.

Rafe, for his part, was not far behind. His face hardened, and suddenly, his mocking tone faded, giving way to a suppressed fury.

“Oh, no? So what do you expect from me? To apologize for everything I’ve done? To tell you that all of this hasn’t affected me too? Because it hasn’t, do you understand?” His voice became rougher, and for a second, the arrogant Rafe that everyone knew disappeared, revealing someone more vulnerable, someone who was also struggling with his own demons.

The impact of his words left you silent for a moment. It was the first time you saw Rafe so... human. That facade of a self-assured boy, of a boy who controls everything, was crumbling, and it was doing so in front of you.

But it wasn't just that. You felt the same too. You couldn't keep hiding what you felt, you couldn't keep pretending that everything was okay when it wasn't. The frustration of the previous days, the tension that had been left hanging in the air, was now almost unbearable.

“I don't understand it, Rafe” you finally answered. “All of this, this situation, you... you've never given me a reason to think that things could be different. Everything that's happened between us has been... a mix of misunderstandings, of things left unsaid. And I'm confused too, I don't know what to expect from you, or from myself.”

For a moment, both stayed silent. The noises from outside the wind hitting the windows and the snowstorm were the only things that could be heard in the cabin, while the weight of the words hung in the air.

Rafe looked down, his hands shaking slightly, not from the cold, but from something deeper. He was fighting with himself, with the part of him that he had never shown to anyone, that part that he feared, that felt vulnerable. After what seemed like an eternity, finally, his words came out.

"I never wanted things between us to be like this," he said in a low, but sincere voice. "I don't know how to handle it, I don't know how... how to deal with this. I've always been... well, I've always closed myself off, and I don't know how to make things different. But it scares me." I’m scared of what I feel, scared that this will all end badly, like it always does. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

You were surprised to hear Rafe speak with such vulnerability. The boy who was always so sure of himself, so unflappable, now looked so… fragile. And, for a moment, something inside you changed. The wall you had put up, the one you had built to protect yourself, slowly crumbled.

“I’m scared too,” you admitted, feeling the words slipping from your lips, unable to stop them. “I’m scared that this is nothing more than a mistake, that we’ll end up hurting each other. But I’m also scared that if we keep acting like everything is okay, we’ll miss something that could be different. And I don’t want to live with that doubt.”

The air between the two of you changed, it became heavier, but also more real. For the first time, the two of you looked at each other without the barriers of indifference, without the defenses you had kept between you. At that moment, you both knew there were no easy answers, that what you felt was complicated, confusing, and terrifying. But what had just happened, what you had just shared, was the first step toward something more, something neither of you could control.

The tension that had defined the previous days was no longer as present, replaced by a shared vulnerability that connected you in an unexpected way. Though there were no words, there was something much deeper in your gazes, a silent understanding.

Rafe took a step toward you, his eyes still filled with that internal struggle he had just revealed. There was no more sarcasm, no more games. There was just him, without the layers of arrogance that used to define him. He was genuinely there, in that moment, and you couldn’t stand the distance between you, not when you felt so clearly what was between you.

With an almost imperceptible gesture, he took your hands, his fingers cold but soft to the touch. And before you could say anything, he moved closer. On his face, uncertainty was present, but there was also something else: a shared need, a force that was driving him towards you. And when his face leaned towards yours, it wasn't the rushed kiss from before. It was slower, more cautious, as if both of you were measuring every second, every inch.

The contact of your lips was soft at first, a touch that almost felt like a sigh. But that soon changed, as if the fear and doubts from before faded away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of desire and mutual need. Both of you let yourself be carried away by the emotion, by the intensity of what you had just shared. There was no room for anything but that connection.

When the kiss ended, both of you took a deep breath, almost as if you were waking from a dream. But the emotions didn't fade. On the contrary, they intensified. Rafe looked into your eyes, as if searching for something in your expression, something that would give him the answer he already knew, even if he didn't say it. And you felt the same: a mix of nervousness, confusion, but also a certainty. Something had changed between you, and there was no turning back.

Without saying a word, you came closer again, and this time the kiss was deeper, more urgent. The need to be close, to feel complete with each other, was too strong to resist. Rafe's hands began to explore your back, pulling you closer, while you hugged him too, losing yourself in the feeling of his body next to yours.

In the blink of an eye, everything fell apart. The barriers you both had put up fell like sand castles, and you found yourselves in the bed in the cabin, both with your hearts beating hard, your breath shortened by the emotion of the moment.

The cold of the storm outside didn't matter anymore. Inside the cabin, the heat between you grew more and more intense. Every touch, every caress, was an act of shared vulnerability, of desire that had been hidden beneath the surface for so long. And as their bodies met in a slow, emotionally charged dance, the confusion of the previous days faded away completely, leaving them with only what they truly wanted from each other: to be together, without fear, without reservation.

The first contact was timid, as if both were afraid that it would break something, destroy that fragile connection they had just discovered. But soon, the need grew stronger, and the movements became more confident, more intense. Rafe looked at you with eyes filled with something more than desire. There was something deep in his gaze, something that told you that it was not just desire that was driving him, but something deeper. And you, without being able to help it, reciprocated in the same way, with your heart racing, but without the same doubt.

Time seemed to stop. The reasons or the words that were left hanging in the air no longer mattered. The fear was gone, and in its place, there was only the presence of each other, in that bed, in that cabin, surrounded by the storm, but more connected than ever.

The hours passed without the two of them realizing it. The outside world ceased to exist, and only the warmth of the cabin remained, the accelerated beating of their hearts, and the feeling that what they had just shared was not only a physical need, but also an emotional one. The vulnerability they had shown each other, the words they had said and those they had not, were now present in every touch, in every look.

Finally, exhausted but closer than ever, they stayed together, side by side, the silence enveloping them, but without the heaviness that had been there before. The cold no longer mattered. Only the warmth they shared mattered, the space between them that, although charged with complicated emotions, now seemed to be the safest place for both of them.

As you both lay in bed, snuggled under the blankets, the air in the cabin seemed to have calmed down. The storm outside was still raging, but inside, the warmth shared between you was all that mattered. The sound of the rain against the windows and the wind howling outside failed to penetrate the small shelter that had witnessed so many changes between the two of you.

The silence was comfortable, but also fraught with slight awkwardness. Despite what had happened, despite the intensity of the moments before, it was still uncharted territory for both of you. Words didn’t seem enough to describe what you felt, and vulnerability was still hovering between you, never quite fading away.

Rafe was lying on his side, staring up at the ceiling, eyes half-closed and a small sigh escaping his lips. He didn’t say anything, but there was a palpable tension in his posture, as if he was waiting for the next step to come in some way he couldn’t control. Meanwhile, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions. Everything that had happened seemed unreal, but the truth was that the two of them were there, and that changed everything.

Finally, you decided to break the silence. Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you said something, not quite sure how it would be received.

“I think this is the strangest thing that’s happened to me in a long time,” you said in a soft tone, almost as if you expected him to respond with one of his sarcastic jokes, the usual way he had always handled things between you.

Rafe, without taking his eyes off the ceiling, let out a small laugh, but it wasn’t his usual mocking laugh. This time it was a lower laugh, as if he was acknowledging something he couldn’t ignore. However, the next thing he said was unmistakably sarcastic, one of his classic responses.

“¡Help me, I’m feeling! It’s a lot for me,” he said, his voice heavy with irony, but there was a glint in his eyes that made it sound more like a way to try and lighten the mood rather than a taunt.

Immediately, you couldn’t help it. You laughed, not at him, but with him, because you knew that even though he was trying to hide his own fears and doubts with sarcasm, you decided to act instead.

With a goofy grin on your face, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him, hugging him tightly. The laughter that came from your chest was warm and genuine, without the barriers that would normally have stopped you.

“Merry Christmas, Rafe,” you said, as you clung to him, the words escaping as if they were an unexpected gift, the first of many.

Rafe tensed for a second, surprised by your gesture, but before he could react the way he normally would, you moved closer, feeling the closeness of his body, the warmth that enveloped you. His expression went from surprise to bewilderment, and in that instant, without thinking too much, you leaned towards him. A soft and quick kiss, but full of meaning, slid between you. It was not an impulsive or hasty kiss, but something tender, a way of responding to what you both felt, without the need for words.

The contact of your lips against his paralyzed him for a moment, and when you separated, you stared at him. You were both breathing heavily, but this time it was not because of the tension. It was because of something much deeper, because of a shared feeling that neither of you had expected, but that was growing between you.

Rafe, for a second, didn't say anything. He was looking into your eyes, as if he were evaluating what had just happened. The softness of that kiss had broken some of the walls you had both tried so hard to put up for so long, but there was still confusion in his gaze.

“You have a way of making everything complicated, you know that?” he finally said, his voice a little lower than usual, but without the sarcasm he usually used to protect himself.

You pulled back a little, shrugging and smiling again.

“You’re an expert at making everything more complicated too,” you replied, but this time there was no harshness in your words, just an acceptance of what was happening between the two of you.

Rafe just stared at you for a moment, before letting out a sigh, his chest slowly rising and falling. And even though he didn’t say anything else, there was something in his gaze that told you he felt the same way too, though maybe he wasn’t ready to fully admit it.

The atmosphere between the two of you had changed once again. Now, without the weight of sarcasm and tension from before, there was something else. A bit awkward, yes, but also deeply human. You leaned against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his breathing, and for a second, everything seemed to make sense, as if the missing pieces of the puzzle of this strange relationship were finally starting to fit together.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #obx rafe cameron #obx x reader

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caraudioexpertaustralia0 · 5 months ago

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Headunit With Carplay For Ford Ecosport 2018+ HIGH | 10INCH

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valtsv · 11 months ago

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can you explain what's the silt verses or what is it about? i saw the god-bitten post and got curious

the silt verses is a speculative fiction/folk horror audio drama based on the premise of a society built on polytheistic worship of gods, which are empirically real and tangibly affect the world the characters live in. these gods, and the sociocultural and political frameworks surrounding them, are used as a narrative vehicle for themes of anticapitalism, body horror, alienation, the nature of humanity, relationships between people and how they form and fracture, grief, consumerism, cycles of abuse, and the idea of power, among other things. it draws inspiration from true detective season 1, the works of horror fiction writers such as robert w. chambers, existing folk horror stories such as the wicker man, and of course real life. the primary protagonists you follow are are carpenter and faulkner, two worshippers of an outlawed river god - one a naive, zealous neophyte, the other an old, jaded child of the faith - but supporting cast gradually take up paths that widen the scope of the narrative - paige, a disillusioned marketing executive who wants to find a way to use her skills as a driving force for real change; hayward, a cynical law enforcer aware and resentful of his own dead-end existence; shrue, a controversial electoral candidate hoping to reform the system from within; and VAL, an experimental sentient weapon with her own perspective and will.

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gamerwoman3d · 1 year ago

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Please Be Bi-Han 🙏

🔞 An MK1 x Reader 🔞

You aren't supposed to be in this timeline.

And to you, this timeline shouldn't exist. But it does. And this timeline is particularly exploitable, given the things you know which no one else in this timeline does. You slip into the timeline and abuse your knowledge to unethically gain just enough wealth to live very, very comfortably. And you laugh because this timeline is literally just a game to you. Admittedly, you came here to try to seduce the hotties. But when you figured out just how easy it would be to game the financial system here, you did that.

Imagine not being shocked at all to see Liu Kang at your doorstep with his Lin Kuei goons. You could laugh. You know him. You know all three, no, all four of them; your attraction to them is what initially drew you to this timeline. The fourth you knew by smell alone; the campfire scent in the air proved that Smoke was with them, somewhere ready for action yet invisible to your eyes.

Imagine closing the door to your beautiful private mansion in their face before any of them even speak. Imagine bolting it, locking it, chaining it, only to tell them through the speaker, "Whoever breaks this door down and finds me first gets laid."

🔞 Spicy/Explicit after the cut 🔞

Now you, you have installed several small panic rooms throughout your mansion with which to play hide and seek. So you go do that, smirking to yourself as you watch the group through the security cam app on your phone. But back up a moment to just before these guys arrived.

Liu Kang smirked as he collected his warriors at the edge of a portal that would lead conveniently into a hidden driveway outside the privacy walls near your garden.

"I have a fun little mission for us today. Geras discovered someone manipulating the financial trajectory of our timeline that isn't supposed to be here. We need to go get them, and convince them to stop, without violence."

"Respectfully, Lord Liu Kang - If you don't need violence, why did you call us? If we can't stab it, it's most likely someone else's problem," Smoke said out of turn.

"There are other methods of coercion, Smoke. And if Geras' revelations for this mission are proven true, then methods of seduction are on the table," Liu Kang responded flatly.

Liu Kang wanted to laugh. The synchronized single-eyebrow raise of the three masked ninjas before him was too cartoonish to seem real.

Fast forward.

You get a good run, scrambling to your hiding place.

"I thought this might be the case," you hear Liu Kang say in your earbud, from audio played through the phone collected from the front door security recorder.

"Seduction really is the game this evening," Scorpion said, "even with you saying as much, I am still surprised."

"Are we making a competition of it? Or am I the only one that will be chasing after that cutie?" said Smoke from seemingly nowhere.

"Don't blow your cover, brother. We're not sure if we're being recorded. It could give us an advantage if you'd keep quiet," Sub-Zero said.

"It's a competition," Scorpion interjected before slamming his boot into the door, rattling it in it's frame.

A few kicks, body slams did nothing. Sub-Zero guided the others out of the way, froze the door handle in it's place, then pulled the mechanism - deadbolts and all - through the crystallized steel. He tossed it to the side and booted open the door, which swung freely and hit the interior wall with such force that one might have expected the crash to come from a vehicle accident.

You bounce in your place, trying not to giggle as you watch the men through your tablet. You had hoped Bi-Han would breech the door first, but now the men crept inside and began to hunt for you. You saw all except Smoke, just before the power went down, taking your security feed with it.

You were in the dark, now, lit only by the glow of a tablet that showed the wifi disconnected. You swiftly realized that Smoke must have gone to cut the power - and had the foresight to cut the backup power first.

Smart of him, you thought. But now, in the dark, there was nothing left to do but wait for one of them to discover your hiding spot. Every little noise you heard made your heart jump in anticipation of being caught.

"Please be Bi-Han, please be Bi-Han," you chanted in a whisper under your breath.

FOR PART TWO - LINKS BELOW POLL

...

And now I'll be a bit evil.

ADVENTURE TIME. C'MON GRAB -

Part 2a(i): Sub-Zero discovers F! Reader

Part 3a(i): Sub-Zero toys with F! Reader (to be read after part 2a(i)

Part 2b(i): Smoke discovers F! Reader

Part 2b(ii): Smoke discovers M! Reader

Part 3b(i): Smoke fucks F! Reader (to be read after part 2b(i)

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vmantras · 5 months ago

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Audi Q8 e-tron 55: The Luxury Electric SUV Redefined

₹1.27 Cr The Audi Q8 e-tron 55 is a flagship luxury electric SUV that showcases Audi’s expertise in blending cutting-edge electric technology with premium comfort, safety, and performance. This analysis delves deeper into its specifications and what makes it a standout in the electric vehicle (EV) market. Design and Build The Audi Q8 e-tron 55 embodies Audi’s signature design language, refined…

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bbonnenuit · 1 year ago

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The Smiths.

notes: chrollo is yandere, although the fic is lighthearted. the biggest warning is the fact that chrollo looks like he'd listen to the smiths /j, another bigger warning is that reader is an avid the smiths hater. im not tho, all for fun. female reader.

“Daydreaming again, I see?”

It would be a lie to say that Chrollo’s voice isn’t at the slightest bit pleasant to hear. It’s soft and smooth, but accompanied with a confident low timbre that you think might be the source of it’s charm.

You often wish you both don’t share a language to speak over, so whatever he speaks would be foreign yet pleasant gibberish in your ears. And maybe you’d be able to close your eyes and sleep. You’d be able to treat him as the background noise of some radio host talking about something as mundane as today’s newest dramas.

You don’t find the need to chase the impossible ideal this time. One doesn’t need to be a linguist expert in order to know no malice or warning is present in his voice, though one might need a bachelor’s degree and over four decades of experience in psychology to know he truly means nothing behind his calm demeanor.

You sign yourself to a fate you’re unsure of, and though it’s foolish, there’s nothing you can do anyway. You’re stuck with him, in a moving four-wheeled compartment, that’s also stuck in traffic.

“The music’s good.” Is all you say, and he hums in understanding.

Silence falls over the two of you again.

You almost brought back the colorful reverie you were in before he decided to interject, until he reached for his phone to change the music. Oh, bluetooth, the convenient technology you are. His phone is located on the right of his steering wheel, far away from your reach. If he had reached for the audio system you would’ve been (maybe) able to slap his hand away.

“Hm, I’d rather you pay attention to me.” The lilt in his voice is unmistakable. And you almost gag, was that an attempt in flirting? Blegh.

“I’ll just stare at the cars,” Headlights and astigmatism can make a good duo, you remind yourself.

Chrollo hums again, You can almost laugh, so being stuck in your own daydreams and practically doing nothing is unacceptable, but staring at cars is alright?

You stare at a car, observing the way the light that emits from it’s headlights become blurry in your sights, they almost take shape of stars in your opinion.

So you set your sights on a particularly small black car in front of you, must be a Toyota or Avanza or something. You can’t tell, it’s got four wheels and headlights, so it’s a car. You could care less about what it is. That is why you weren’t all so interested when Chrollo took you a look into his….Rolls… Rolls what? Oh, right, Rolls Royce. It’s a fancy one, you can tell. He was exuding quite an air of importance when he was leading you towards the high-end vehicle located in the restaurant’s parking lot, there were some on-lookers around that spot that expressed interest at the car. It means something when even people of the middle-upper class are showing interest.

Whatever ego that had probably swelled within Chrollo must’ve popped like a balloon, or so you hope, because you did nothing more than give him a thumbs up before letting yourself in the passenger’s seat. You also didn’t miss the way he was preparing to tell you about the car’s compartments and specialties that made it cost years of labor. Ah, you’re certain he didn’t gain this vehicle from labor, though.

Fancy car or not, everyone’s equally stuck in this traffic.

Fancy car or not, doesn’t determine that the song played inside the compartment is free from your judgment or not.

“What song is this? You ask, although you know the answer. You somehow need an assurance that he is lucid.

“Please, please, please, by The Smiths.” He says, pleasant with his song of choice.

What an ironic song and artist of choice.

It’s harder to hide in a cackle than a scowl, you’d almost forgotten. Any voice you let out threatens to come out as sharp laughter and any breathe you intake threatens to become a wheeze. You could hardly contain yourself.

“Oh…” Is all you say before pausing, afraid anything else you will say will turn into a rowdy session of laughter. Unsure if you should speak further or not. But the inquisitive look he offers you somehow serves as a push rather than something that usually wants you to further seal your lips shut in fear you would say the wrong thing and earn his silent ire. It’s far, far harder to hide a cackle than a scowl, but months of training yourself to hide certain expressions whenever Chrollo is around has paid off. “What about Frank Sinatra?”

Chrollo smiles. Is he delighted that you find interest in one of his favorite artists? Though he’s never said it outloud, every long night drive has its silence filled with at least one Frank Sinatra song.

“Would you rather I change the song, dear?” He offers. And you would say yes, but this is one of the rare, rare moments where you are given the opportunity to take a jab at him. Although it’s nothing as deadly as anything a leader of the Phantom Troupe has faced, you won’t kill him or even hurt him for very long. But you are willing to do anything, at this point.

You feign the most pleasant voice you can muster, “Hm… That’s not really what I meant. I just didn’t think you’d listen to The Smiths.”

He lets out a small laugh, “Really? I have always listened to older songs around you, I suppose. I wouldn't say I like it… Hm, but it’s an interesting band.”

So he does like it!

“Why do you think so?” You inquire further before adding, “Do you like this song a lot?”

“Are you intending to interview me, (Name)?” Chrollo cocks his eyebrow, but it is only meant to tease you.

“Must’ve picked it up from someone.” A relentless pursuit, you press on further, “Okay though, but answer my question.”

Silence falls over him, as if he were in his own state of thinking so deeply, but you know it’s mainly a pretense. Whatever he wishes to say after, you know it must’ve been something he had thought of before. In any other situation, this silence often serves as to let a dreadful situation simmer in your mind. But this time… Ah, you’re quite unsure.

Chrollo finally speaks, “I’ll answer you of course.” The smile he gives you is anything but nice when you are very much aware of the condemnation those same lips bring you, “On the condition you’d kiss me after.”

“Okay.” To his surprise, you agreed rather quickly. If that’s the sacrifice you need to make, then so be it. A kiss to soothe his soon-to-be sour, scorned face!

He is satisfied, you can tell. He puts his elbow against the steering wheel, resting his face against his palm. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly interested, whatever designs you have in your head… Hm, I’ll know of it soon.”

No one fucking asked damn. You internally deadpanned, impatience is gnawing at your throat. He reminds you of how you’d write your essays when you have to reach a certain minimum word count by relentlessly dragging around a topic and beating around a bush so much that you end up writing a novel rather than an assignment. Ah… To make him anything alike to you doesn’t sound very right. Whatever, you digress.

Chrollo finally, finally starts. And you’re excited, elated, jovial- ah every synonym of the word happiness comes into mind. You can put any thesaurus at shame by now. “I remember the first time we met, you called me something of a hopeless romantic. At that time, I had only laughed because I found the sentiment rather off. Such nonsense. Me? An idealist of love? Love has always been a tool for me. You could only dream.”

You cut to the chase,“Mhm, although you’ve found a contradiction because you actually enjoy those sappy songs right? Okay, what’s next?”

“You know me very well (You smile, excited). But that's not all (you frown, deflated).” Sweet, saccharine drips off of his voice. “I’ve never paid attention to such things, not for myself at least. I don’t ‘relate’ to those kinds of songs. But ever since I met you, it felt as if the world had shifted for me.”

He doesn’t stop, and for once you are glad he isn't, “My world has shifted and taken a hole in itself, one that has been carved into the shape of you.”

It is interesting how he is able to muse so freely about you, in front of you. Where is the shame and decorum?

“And I do quite like this song, in all honesty.” His gaze meets yours, and grey eyes bore into your soul. “It really does remind me of the one I love so dearly.”

Please, please, please, let me get what I want… Those lyrics loop in your head over and over again. You should be sick with the abundance of affection he has for you that makes you seethe. And you would claw at the leather seats, avert your gaze, and try to block him out as much as you can. But tonight, you feel fucking amazing.

You can barely handle it.

“Dude, come on,” Your voice is off by an octave and you swear you can burst. Chrollo on the other hand finds satisfaction melting off of his face over the term being used to refer to him, outright calling him a bastard or a monster might be better. You make it a mental note to call him ‘dude’ more. “The Smiths is for losers.”

…

“Pardon?’

“The Smiths is for losers.” You repeat yourself before adding, “It’s for guys who can’t get any, for guys who waddle in sadness for something they can’t get, guys who are always up their own ass. Condescending guys who are secretly insecure, manipulative guys, guys who play guitar and get sad then do weed…” You are kind enough to give a long-winded further explanation. Chrollo does not share the same sentiment.

Chrollo’s countenance seems unchanging at first, but it is not a waste, for you saw a split second of confusion, then something of offense written on his face before it smoothes out into the uncannily still expression he always wears. His lips open, then close, as if he’s mulling over an answer.

“Are you insinuating I am that type of person, dearest?’

"I mean if the shoe fits...? Well, what do you think?"

He sighs like it’s obvious, “That you made the wrong accusation over baseless data.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything!” You hold your hands up in mock defense, “Just telling you something everyone kind of agrees on. Things don’t have to be written in numbers or books… Sometimes it’s just a consensus. Everyone and their mom agrees on it."

You are relentless tonight, so you continue again though Chrollo prompts nothing from your newfound talkative nature tonight, something you’re sure he would actually love in a different situation.

“These are the kind of guys girls avoid you know? People call it something of a warning. Like, ‘avoid guys who listen to The Smiths’. I don’t mean to generalize or anything, but guys who listen to songs like that don’t end up to be very well in the head. And I also don’t mean to believe rumors but… Well…” You cough awkwardly, but it’s meant to deliver an unspoken message you know will only further test his ire. But you think you have had enough fun for tonight, you don’t wish to turn the night sour for you after all.

…Or so you thought.

“So I’m just trying to say that you should treat me a little better, you know what I mean? I’m putting up with a lot” Everything you say here are meant to be a 50% insult, 30% jab, and 20% jokes. But the last thing you said, you can’t lie and say that you hope he’d take further thought on that. You yearn to hopefully be able to get out of the hotel room that serves as your grandiose cage more, and when you do, you aren’t being watched by an unknown amount of eyes that you know trail on to you by the shadows. That is all you wish for, really. That is to say, you can only wonder what his standards are for ‘treating you better’.

Ah, the smile he has on his face is different from before. This one is a sign that your fun is coming to a quick halt.

“So that’s what you’re getting at? Resourceful little minx you are.”

Why is he sounding so delighted over your insults, is he a masochist? Is he stupid? It’s your turn to cock your eyebrow.

“Have you enticed me in this long-winded conversation simply because you wanted to be treated a little better? And the way you had agreed so quickly to that kiss… " He puts a hand to his chest, a mockery of an apology. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blind to your need for affection. You've gone through lengths to communicate your need, I'm very grateful."

You let out a humorless laugh, “Pardon?” He is just truly-! Argh, whatever! “Did you not hear anything else I said?” You make sure to enunciate your words properly, afraid he might have some sort of hearing problems, well he does and you’re certain it has a name. What was it again? Oh right, an unfortunate combination of delusion and selective hearing…

“I know you tend to turn a little childish when you can’t get what you want. That’s not a quality many men like either. So, be a little kinder to me, won’t you?”

“Women don’t usually like mass murderers either. Anyone in their right mind, actually.”

He hums, “That orange container of pills by your nightstand says otherwise. Not the best defense, try again?”

“You'd have some too, you just don't have any because you don't go to therapy."

“Hm, keeping up that attitude won’t make me kiss you any sooner.”

“Then I’ll gladly keep this attitude!”

Unfortunately you don’t. You’re angry enough to have the energy to spew a million insults at lightspeed against him, but too angry to form a coherent thought that you’re certain would give him a decent jab. And to be frank, you’re rather spent. When you (reluctantly) asked Chrollo what time it was, thankfully he gave you a proper response. A quick tap of his phone showed that it was two and a half hours above your usual bedtime. The clothes you have aren’t the most comfortable either, while it’s not short they certainly expose areas where the wind would have too much fun dancing over.

Traffic is clearing as you can see the hotel you are both staying in come into view. You relax at the sight. You can almost feel the warm bath you will be soaking yourself in, what scent will you choose tonight? Rosemary, lavender… Ah, you can smell them already. You prompt to close your eyes for a moment of rest, but you find yourself sleeping on the rest of the way back.

You feel fingers combing your locks stirring you awake, they’re Chrollo’s, obviously. Although you are half conscious, you recognize that scent of sandalwood and amber anywhere, as much as you’re ashamed to admit it.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Chrollo asks, and you murmur something in between a noise of annoyance and a ‘no’. He chuckles at this sight. “Alright then.”

He gives a soft peck on your lips, it’s warm. You almost lean in when the warmth of his lips leave yours, this half-conscious state gives him a moment of your vulnerability he has set his eyes on, the one he relentlessly pursues after so much. But you know that even when he has a grasp at your vulnerability, it won’t stop him from digging for more. Greedy, ruthless man that he is, he will never stop.

“You are absolutely precious, you know that? Even if your mouth tends to run without care” Is that condescension or admiration in his voice? Pity, you can’t tell in the state you are in. You’re drunk from the lack of sleep and the future victory you have in mind.

“Before I answer that…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, Chrollo merrily leans in closer to hear you. Your lips ghost by the shell of his ear…

…

“Name five songs from The Smiths. Are you like an actual fan or is it just FOMO?”

He just sighs.

header from https://id.pinterest.com/pin/334040497376021340/

#chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo imagine #hxh chrollo #hxh x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo brainrot #chrollo is a loser #reader insert #yandere hxh x reader #yandere x reader

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twstgarden · 2 years ago

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❁ ❝ 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘆 𝗿𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗽 ❞

━ third years and gn! driver! reader (reader can either be yuu or an oc/twstsona) ━ going on a road trip all around sage's island with the third years until it unexpectedly rains, leaving you with no choice but to park somewhere and have a conversation with the third years. (f/n means first name)

do not steal or translate without my permission.

"oi, are you sure you can drive?"

leona's inquisitive question along with a raised brow made you scoff as you spoke proudly, "relax, leona. i can handle it~ be a passenger princess for now, will ya'?"

"he can hardly be a proper prince, what makes you think he'd do well as a passenger princess?" remarked vil as he looked at leona with a nasty gaze. "i'm surprised n/n has a car in the first place," added cater as he laughed a bit before connecting his phone to the bluetooth audio system of the car, "an 11-seater suv out of all cars..."

"quite a large vehicle," mumbled malleus as he looked around the interior of the car, sitting by the window with lilia beside him. the older fae chuckled at malleus' curiosity before looking at your eyes through the rear view mirror, "where are we heading, little one?"

you let out a hum as you inserted the key in the ignition, looking at lilia through the rearview mirror as you spoke, "just around the island."

"so, wasting petrol?" mumbled idia as he sat in the furthest back seat. he initially did not want to come, but lo and behold, ortho did his little negotiating and now, here he was, seated beside trey in the last row of the back seat.

"...no, not wasting petrol. we'll just tour around the island, y'know? stop by at some restaurants, look at the scenery, pass by the beach near rsa..."

the moment you mentioned rsa, a series of groans were heard in the car as you sighed to yourself. "relax, we won't park anywhere near rsa, if that's what you guys are worried about," you spoke as the engine started and you were now prepared to start driving, "and anyway, this ain't my car. i rented it somewhere nearby."

"...that sounds suspicious," spoke vil as he sat properly on the middle seat, looking at you through the rearview mirror before looking ahead as you started driving. "don't worry, professor crewel was there to rent it out for me... as long as i won't break the car, i'll be fine," you reassured as you started driving, leaving the gates of night raven college and slowly ascending down the mountain where the school was located.

"be careful. you're in the presence of royalty," snickered leona as he looked ahead on the road while you continued driving. you rolled your eyes at his remark as you spoke, "don't worry, i'm not a reckless driver. i will make sure malleus won't get hurt."

malleus smiled at your words, while leona sneered. "i meant me. i'm the one in the front seat. who cares what happens to vil and that bastard back there, i'm the one with higher risk," spoke leona. you weren't sure if he was messing with you, but you still smiled as you found it refreshing to know that he was comfortable enough with you to say such things. on the other hand, malleus and vil glared at the savanaclaw dorm leader for his remarks.

"oh, magnifique! isn't this a wonderful time to bond? a road trip around the beautiful sage's island with them as our personal driver!" cheered rook as he seemed to be very happy. "let's just hope we're alive by the time our road trip ends," added vil as he gave you a teasing smile through the rearview mirror, knowing that you can clearly see him there.

you scoffed at his words as you spoke, "now you guys are just being mean~"

by the time you drove around the street, passing by a few bakeries and shops, you looked at your rearview mirror and noticed how idia was only looking out the window in silence, which made you reduce the volume of the song playing through the bluetooth car stereo.

"hey, ids."

his eyes immediately met yours through the rearview mirror as you spoke, "wanna buy some snacks? i can stop by at a convenience store or a bakery."

"a-any's fine..." mumbled idia, looking away as he hid his face in the backseat, making trey glance at idia before looking at you through the rearview mirror. "i won't mind visiting the bakery, f/n," said trey as he smiled at you politely.

"no problemo, mister good-looking."

the heartslabyul vice leader chuckled softly at your words as cater spoke, "i wanna go to the bakery, too!" you nodded as you drove to the bakery that the first-years loved, parking nearby as you pulled up the handbrake after setting the stick shift into park mode if you were driving an automatic vehicle, or turning off the engine with a foot on the brake pedal if you were driving a manual car.

you and the rest of the third years then got out of the car and once everyone was out, you locked the vehicle before walking inside the bake shop. however, you paused by the door as you looked up and noticed that the previously sunny sky was now covered with grey clouds.

"n/n, come on! why are you still standing there?" questioned lilia as he grabbed your hand and pulled you inside the bake shop where the rest had already fallen in line, looking up at the menu as some of them started discussing what they should get.

"is there anything you want?" asked malleus as he looked down at you. you let out a thoughtful hum as you eyed the menu, opting to go for a beverage and pastry of your choice. as you voiced out your order, malleus nodded as lilia took note of your orders with the diasomnia dorm head insisting to pay for your purchase.

by the time everyone had their chosen treats, some of you sat by a nearby table as you nibbled on your pastry. malleus was seated across from you, sipping on his black coffee, while lilia was beside him as he took a bite out of his plain butter croissant.

"i can see why ace and deuce wanted to invite us along with riddle to this bakery. this place is sooooo magicammable!" cheered cater as he started taking pictures of the place, their pastries, their beverages, and even your table which had your order along with the rest's laid out on top. he and trey were standing behind you as they sipped and bit on their orders.

"hey now, drink your tea," spoke trey as he took a bite of his muffin, humming softly as he eyed it as if inspecting the treat.

beside you sat vil and on your other side was idia, you glanced at the ignihyde dorm leader and noticed his head was down as he bit on his truffles, not bothering to initiate eye contact or converse with anyone. however, he did notice your gaze on him, making him take a quick glance at you.

you smiled at him as you asked softly, "did you enjoy that?" idia hummed as he replied in a voice that only you could hear, "yeah. their truffles are hella delicious, n/n. i should probably take a picture of this place so i could show it to ortho..."

"you should," you encouraged as you took out your phone, "we can take a picture of the bakery from my phone." idia nodded and you started taking shots of the bakery, including idia's truffles on the table. then, you opted for taking a sneaky selfie of you two, you posed with your usual smile and a peace sign, while idia covered his face with one hand but still let himself be seen in your shot.

"hey, unfair~ how come you two are the only ones taking a selfie? join us, too!" exclaimed cater as he leaned his head down until his chin was inches above your shoulder, posing with a peace sign as you brought up your phone and took a picture with him.

idia returned to consuming his truffles as you pointed your front camera to you and vil, making the pomefiore dorm head raise a brow at your actions before smiling at the camera. once you took a picture with vil, he spoke, "if you're planning to post that, it'll cost you."

"don't worry~ it's for my eyes only," you spoke as you switched your front-facing camera to back-facing, pointing it ahead of you which took malleus and lilia in the frame as they were seated across from you. they noticed the camera and smiled, making you click on the shutter button as you took a picture.

sometime later, you all returned back to the vehicle and this time, rook is the passenger princess, so leona had to sit beside vil. rook then took out his camera as he took pictures of the view, but by the time you were about to leave your parking spot, the sound of thunder roaring was heard followed by the pitter-patter of the heavy rain.

"ah, it's raining," mumbled trey as he looked out the window.

"is it safe to drive back?" asked vil.

"doesn't seem safe... our school is on the top of the mountain and the road up the mountain must be slippery with how heavy the rain is..." you replied as you looked around the area, mumbling to yourself, "there must be somewhere around here where we can park safely under a shade... or an open garage..."

"there might be one nearby the crane port," spoke leona. "if not the port, we can find a parking shade nearby a hotel or residential area," added vil as he looked out the window on his left as it was a free seat, leona was on his right and behind leona was cater, behind vil was lilia, and behind the free seat was malleus. behind malleus was idia, behind cater was trey, rook was the passenger princess seated in front of leona and you were the driver seated in front of the free seat beside vil.

you started driving slowly out of the bakery's parking spot and drove around the area to look for a parking shade. it seems the gods were smiling down at you as you found a parking shade nearby a famous hotel in the central town of sage's island.

"holy shit, i found one."

a sudden flick on your shoulder made you yelp as you quickly turned to look behind you before driving towards the parking shade. it was vil who flicked your shoulder as he spoke, "watch your language." you grumbled under your breath as you parked under the parking shade, turning off the engine of the car and sighing softly as you slumped on your seat.

"sorry you guys had to be stuck under the rain in an suv..." you mumbled, looking up at the ceiling of the vehicle as rook turned to look at you, "non, non. there is no need to apologise. it's a rare experience!"

"yeah! plus this gives us more time to chat with each other before separating ways back on the campus," added cater as he and rook gave you positive smiles. "ah... extroverts..." mumbled idia to himself as he sighed softly.

"we have some leftover treats from the bakery, no? we can all sip on our drink or nibble on our treats while waiting for the weather to clear out," suggested trey.

"sure, but don't make a mess, everyone..." you said as you sat properly on your seat before turning around to face everyone else, smiling at them as you spoke, "so... did you all unwind? i know you guys have a lot to do, especially since you're all third-years."

"it was a wonderful experience," said malleus as he smiled at you. "yes! driving around with friends is really an amazing experience. i had fun. thank you, little one," added lilia as he sipped on his drink.

"how are you feeling?" asked vil as he sipped on his green tea, "you've been driving us around for almost two hours." your eyes drifted to vil as you gave him a grateful nod, "i'm alright, vil. driving is somehow therapeutic to me sometimes, so i'm all good! thank you for the concern, queen."

and so, you and the third years continued chatting for a while as the rain poured down sage's island, drenching all the streets and everything else under the sky with a pitter-patter sound. despite the gloomy weather, you were having a lighthearted conversation with the rest of the third years as smiles and laughter were seen on your faces.

'hanging out with the third years is always a pleasant experience, even vil and leona's bickering can be quite endearing every now and then...' you thought to yourself before your gaze went to malleus, 'ah, as for leona and malleus' bickering, that's still something to get used to...'

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