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eunandonly · 1 day ago

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BOYNEXTDOOR AS KILLERS

in the end, no matter how you run or hide, you're already theirs

( 対 ) boynextdoor + gn. reader 1087WC · thriller? tbh idk what this is contains! language, death, homicide, substances / archive

은 : this idea came into my head during calculus and i cringed the whole time i was writing this thing. have fun reading some cringy ass shit that's hopefully entertaining!! hope you guys still enjoy ~ also, a quick disclaimer that my writing does not reflect the real personality of the idols!!

myung jaehyun

you’d like myung jaehyun. everyone does. he walks into a room and fits in seamlessly, his presence neither too bold nor too forgettable. people gravitate towards him, drawn to his warm voice, the way he listens just enough to make you feel important. he’s friendly–a little too friendly. he’s the kind of person you’d trust without realising why, and that’s exactly what he wants.

his work is quiet, meticulous. he infiltrates, observes, gathers information piece by piece during seemingly innocent conversations until you’ve handed him everything he needs without ever suspecting a thing. by the time you feel like something’s off, by the time you feel the shift–when his eyes turn cold, when his presence settles in a way that makes your stomach sink–it’s already over.

his kills aren’t messy. there’s no need for amateur dramatics. a swift movement, a blade between the ribs, a whispered apology that means nothing no matter how much you try to pretend it is.

if it makes you feel better, myung jaehyun doesn’t enjoy killing you.

it’s just that that’s his role, and he’s really damn good at it.

“it’s not personal. but if it makes you feel better, you can pretend it is.”

park sungho

park sungho doesn’t get close. why would he when he doesn’t need to? his work is done from rooftops, from miles away, from places where no one even thinks to look.

clearly, you didn't think to look either.

everything in his world is measured in distances, in calculations, the exact weight of the trigger against his finger. wind speed, bullet drop, breathing patterns–he keeps all those factors in mind without hesitation. killing isn’t personal to him. it’s not some cliche act of vengeance or cruelty or whatever shit you've seen in movies. it’s just science, and he’s perfected it.

you would never never see it coming. one moment, you’re alive and breathing, caught up in whatever meaningless thing you’re doing. the next? your world turns black. no struggle, no warning. just the soft whisper of a bullet finding its mark. and sungho never misses

people talk about luck. they call his skill unnatural, but there’s nothing unnatural about inevitability. a bullet for you will always find its way.

“if you heard the shot, it wasn’t meant for you.”

lee sanghyuk

you don't eve realise he's there. but he's watching. always watching.

lee riwoo doesn’t need a weapon. doesn’t need to be in the same room. doesn’t even need to exist.

his world isn’t flesh and blood–he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty like that, no. it’s code, data, systems meant to be impenetrable until he decides otherwise. cctv footage glitches at just the right moment. bank accounts drain in seconds. entire case files vanish from police databases, as if they were never there to begin with.

he exists everywhere and nowhere at the same time. a name whispered in law enforcement circles with no face attached, no records, no proof. they search for him, try to pin him down, but how do you catch something that isn’t real?

he sees more than he speaks. listens more than he moves. he knows everything about you before you even realise he’s watching. passwords, addresses, the embarrassing text you deleted five years ago. he keeps it all tucked away, waiting. and if you become a problem? he erases you from existence, just like he does with those cctv footages and case files.

“funny. you really thought you were off the grid?”

han dongmin

you hear the stories. the ones about a killer too smart to be caught.

you tell yourself it’s just a rumor. that he’s not real. that people like him don’t exist.

but then you meet han taesan. and suddenly, you’re not so sure.

he watches you, studies you, make a game out of it. his kills aren't random–he doesn't just blindly pick a random person on the street as his next victim–and they're never sloppy. han taesan doesn't kill because he has to. he kills because he enjoys it. because it's fun. and he's really fucking good at it.

his murders are carefully orchestrated, a masterpiece. he leaves just enough clues to make you think you're close, just enough hope to make you believe you'll figure it out, only to rip it away at the last second. he's loves watching you scramble, loves knowing you'll never catch him.

han taesan always wins at the game.

“they always think they’re smarter than me. it’s kind of cute, actually.”

kim donghyun

you don’t even feel it at first. that’s the beauty of it.

it’s not a gunshot, not a stab wound, not something dramatic. no, kim leehan doesn’t do theatrics. his kills are quiet, elegant. a tasteless drop in a glass of wine, a slow-acting toxin hidden in perfume, a lethal dose disguised as medicine. by the time you realize what’s happening, it’s already inside you.

he specialises in making deaths look natural. a heart attack, an allergic reaction, an unfortunate accident. even the most skilled doctors find nothing suspicious.

kim leehan enjoys watching. he watches as you sip your poisoned tea whilst you laugh, unaware that it’ll be your last. he watches as panic sets in, as your body betray you. and then, when you finally realise what’s happening, he simply smiles before giving you a little finger gun at your last gasp of breath.

“i wonder how long it’ll take before you figure it out.”

kim woonhak

you think you’re strong. that you won’t break.

you’re wrong.

kim woonhak enjoys the process. he’s patient. he takes his time. it’s not just about the pain–it’s about control. the way people break at different speeds, how fear changes the way they breathe, how the ones that claim to be the strong and tough are always the ones who beg the loudest in the end.

those type of people pisses woonhak off.

he doesn’t ask questions right away. that’s too easy. instead, he talks. he jokes. he makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’ll make it out of this. he leans in close, tilts his head, smiles like he’s curious about you. and for a second, you think he’s not so bad.

but then the real work begins.

he knows exactly how much to wait before pushing just a little further. it’s not about the information. it’s about watching the moment you break, knowing he's the one who did it.

"you’re shaking. are you scared? or are you finally realising how much fun i’m having?"

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jellybeanium124 · 2 days ago

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What a shitty shitty shitty shitty shitty shitty shitty shitty shitty shitty shitty shitty shitty shitty shitty shitty shitty day. Can’t wait to go home chug half a bottle of Gatorade fill it with vodka shake it together and get a little drunk 😐 I don’t wanna be at work anymore I spilled food on my fuckin shirt and I’m sitting in the break room waiting for my wet cleaned-best-I-could shirt to dry thinking about how this guy who I thought of as a very close friend lied to everyone and will probably never respond to my dms coz why would he did he even like me at all or what. Did he care about the themes and messages of the show or what. “Our flag has made me feel more able to be myself” DID IT?? DID IT REALLY ATTICUS?? You loved it so much you decided to be a race faking plagiarist??? You could’ve been yourself and nobody would hate you. Nobody would’ve hated you, nobody would’ve looked at you and said “there’s that stupid piece of shit with his crappy fics we all hate.” Nobody was saying that to you but yourself. And now a lot of people do hate you, and you brought it on yourself. Because you decided that you needed more oppression points or something. Because you didn’t think you were a good enough writer to come up with ideas yourself. Go to therapy and APOLOGIZE TO ME!! APOLOGIZE TO EVERYONE!! And you’re not getting the sea pancake plushie by the way lmao. Just in case there was any doubt in your mind. I’m giving it to someone else.

I hope you look at the four sharks on your shelf and remember that you used to have friends here and all of this is your own fault. And if you can’t keep them, because you’re a coward, then give them away so that someone else can love them. You don’t deserve the surprise sharks I gave you. I loved you like a big brother, man… you were a close friend. I trusted you. I sent you money when you said you couldn’t afford to eat and I cheerleaded for you when you felt down because I thought you deserved it. Well now we all know why you felt so horrible all the time don’t we? Coz the guilt was eating you up inside. I don’t think you’re a psychopathic narcissist, you are just a sad little man who hates himself and ruins his own life.

I hope one day you can apologize.

I hope you learned something.

Bet writing your phd will be easier now that you’re never gonna write another fic lol. Well maybe you should. Use a bit of fiction to process your trauma. But you ain’t posting no more that’s for sure.

Whenever you wanna apologize I’ll listen. Idk if it takes you years I’ll still listen. Idk about anyone else tho. I’m not mad, not really. I’m hurt, I’m upset, and I’m tired.

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fidogo · 1 day ago

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severance au! john price x reader | wc: 2K | warnings: none but the usual stilted childish flirting via severed people lmao John P takes his coffee break in your department. a/n: idk im still thinking about severance part 1 part 2 part 3

The coffee is always perfectly adequate. You’ve learned to wait so it’s not too hot, and you drink it fast so it doesn’t get too cold. Rwandan blend, high quality.

On the days you don’t work very long, your coffee break is easily the highlight of your day. The severed floor is never too hot, never too cold, but you find satisfaction in holding a warm mug regardless.

The stock room is empty, save for Farah. If you stay quiet enough, you can hear her typing away on the stock room’s internal access terminal. Ever diligent, she’s always a step ahead, chasing the moment she shifts out of consciousness and slips into a void deep in her outies mind. The calm stillness that comes with nonbeing. You are not as brave as Farah, not as at peace with not existing.

So you drink your coffee, relishing the moment and the fact that Nikto isn’t here to stare at you until you stop annoying him with your slurps. This may be a bleak and brief existence, but it’s yours. You were going to exist as much as you could.

You stir your coffee with a stir stick, watching the opaque liquid swirl. It’s almost the same color as the embellishments on the carpet by the front desk.

The desk sits vacant now. Mr. Graves sent a notice that manning it would no longer be necessary as all requests would be filed via Admin or Wellness. No reason to sit at a desk in an empty room that no one will visit. The clock keeps ticking regardless.

The door to the stock room opens quietly, but you hear it nonetheless. You hold the stir stick in place against the current of coffee you’ve made. Farah’s typing pauses.

It’s not unusual for Admin or Wellness to come quietly and grab what they need. But you strongly dislike it when Mr. Graves is in your space. You prefer him at the front desk or in the Admin office. The way he stares sometimes makes you…perhaps uncomfortable.

A wide grin stretched tight across his face, all-seeing eyes that burn bright yet cold. He’s your greatest line of defense from the other departments and perhaps one of the worst parts of your little life.

“Hello?” A gruff voice, that is very much not Mr. Graves, echoes through the stockroom.

You bolt up, quickened footsteps echoing as you speed walk to beat Farah.

“Hello John P. of MDR,” you say, words feeling stone-heavy and clunky as you rush to get them out. He’s looking around at the stock room, towering shelves and dim lighting. Rows and rows of paper, pencils, and everything needed to make a grief kit.

John says your name solidly, the permanence of it making your stomach due a somersault. As if you don’t disappear every time you leave this place.

Farah’s quick steps increase in volume the closer she gets. There’s a heaviness in them, and you glance down the dimly lit rows, trying to spot her.

In your peripheral, you notice John tense. It’s so subtle, it must be involuntary. The slight movement raises an alarm in the back of your mind; makes your spine straighten and nerves prickle.

“Why are you back here?” Farah asks, finally exiting from the shelves. Despite her neutral tone, you can tell she’s on the defense, ready to pounce. John straightens a little, able to acknowledge your department head with the respect she deserves.

“MDR needs binders. Figured it would be most efficient just to come here myself.” John being here goes directly against Admin’s most recent declaration, but his logic holds true to the handbook. It’s uncomfortable to think, that Admin’s decisions may not be accurate to the core principles of Lumon.

The air feels thick and usually warm as Farah stays quiet, deciding. There’s a small twitch in her brow. Annoyance.

“I can help him,” you blurt out. You really don’t want him to leave yet. “You can keep doing inventory, and I’ll have him out as soon as I can.” She stares at you, head tilted in thought. “He’s already here, and it won’t take long to fill his request,” you say, hoping to sway her decision in your favor. She eyes you, something sparking in recognition in her eyes.

Farah gives you a brisk nod.

“Okay. Just make sure you go through Admin next time,” she says to John. Her eyes drift back to you. It's only from working with her for so long that you can tell there's a fondness in them. “And don’t let your coffee get too cold.” She disappears back into the stacks, heading towards the terminal tucked away in the back.

You shift a little awkwardly on your feet, very much aware of John next to you.

“So binders…” you say, letting your words trail off into the stock-still stockroom.

“That can wait. No need to let your coffee get cold.” You look at John hesitantly, making note of the small, polite smile he has on. You return it, nodding slowly.

He looks too big in your little kitchenette. He certainly can’t be larger than Nikto, but he just feels like he takes up more space, like his presence demands more attention.

You let the coffee maker kick back on. Might as well get him a cup too.

“How’s MDR today?” You ask politely, methodically placing the coffee filter in the machine.

“Good,” he grunts. “At 89% completion of my file, which puts me ahead of quota.” You nod, pouring the coffee grounds into the filter.

“That’s good.” He hums in agreement.

“Means I can take a break. Might as well take it here.” You turn away from the machine, listening to it gurgle to life. The smile’s impossible to keep off your face, and he seems pleased at that.

John leans into your space, one of his palms splayed out on the counter to your side. Butterflies spring to life in your tummy and the warmth you felt early returns tenfold.

“Where’s the big fella?” John asks, letting his eyes roam your face. You’re not entirely sure what the sun feels like, but it must be something like this.

“Nikto’s not working today,” you say, but your voice feels like it’s all the way in another department. “They’re cutting back our hours.”

John frowns at that, and you pull the sleeve of your shirt nervously.

“I mean at least down here,” you amend. You just want him to go back to looking at you like he had been. No one's ever looked at you quite like that before as if you knew the secrets of their outies life.

“What do you mean by that, love?” He prods gently. Love. Oh. Your skin prickles with goosebumps. Interesting.

“Our outies also do some work. On delivery day.” The butterflies you had been so happy to nurture dissipate, and you turn back to the coffee maker. Nearly done.

“We don’t know what happens on delivery days, but we all report in right after and everything’s sore. So despite our outies choosing to be severed, they still do a little work on the outside.”

John stays quiet at that. It’s 100% understandable. The whole point of the procedure is for your outies to not remember work. It feels counterintuitive to do, well, any work for Lumon on the outside.

You pour piping hot coffee into a clean mug and turn to hand it to John. He’s blatantly staring at your body, pearl blue eyes watching the way you twist and move.

It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and you feel the urge to run and peek at him from the safety of behind the shelves. But you can’t deny the odd warmth the pools in your stomach.

His eyes track up your body slowly as if he’s trying to burn it into his memory, before ultimately landing on the mug you're offering him.

When he takes it, your hands touch; this time, you don’t pull away first.

He drinks his coffee slowly, savoring it. Yours is lukewarm by now, but you sip at it anyway, slightly slumped against the table.

“D’you believe in all of the Kier stuff?” John breaks the silence. Your heart races, eyes jerking to the ink-black bulbous camera in the kitchenette’s ceiling.

Mr. Graves is most definitely watching right now. He has to be. A refiner is sharing coffee with you? You can practically picture Mr. Graves on his way to reprimand you for something that’s not your fault.

You eye John warily, before plastering on a polite smile.

“Of course. We are children of Kier, and to serve him is our greatest purpose.” You sound distant, even to yourself. You feel distant too, watching as John’s face pinches up unpleasantly. In a split second, the look is gone.

He’s fast, moving to the chair next to you. He leans in, crowding you, tethering you to the present. He feels all-consuming, inevitable. Life’s so much more vibrant when he’s here.

John’s eyes get soft, and he looks as desperate as a refiner can be. His eyes are so pretty…

“Don’t gotta do that. S’okay. Promise, Love,” he says in a rushed manner, trying to pull the truth out of your throat.

You stay completely still, the air between you mere inches, and yet it’s as viscous as the honey Nikto puts in his tea. Syrupy and sticky, impossible for you to move through. He’s so close to you right now, eyes silently pleading.

“I find parts of the handbook interesting, but I don’t…” you pause to gather your thoughts. Your right-hand makes a fist, nails digging into the fleshy meat of your palm. A trip to the break room would be less than ideal. “I much prefer thinking about what my outie’s like.”

It feels like a safe answer, one that will maybe let him know your thoughts without getting you in trouble.

John treats you to a tiny smile.

“Yeah?” He asks, eyebrow quirking at you. He looks pleased. You smile back.

“Yea,” you whisper, still smiling. “What about you?” He leans forward just the tiniest bit more; you bask in his attention. Something inside you panics, an alarm rings in your head, but you forcibly silence it. This feels too good, too perfect to distance yourself from.

“About the Kier stuff or my outie?” John asks, something playful slipping into his tone.

“Both,” you say overeagerly, craving more.

“Don’t care at all for that book.” He snorts, lip curling in disdain. You grin at him as if he just told you a huge secret. “And sometimes. ‘Bout the outie. I try not to too often, don’t want to set a bad example, but sometimes.” His voice gets a little soft as he goes into his dreams of the outside.

“We could know each other,” you whisper. His gaze locks back in on you, sharp and focused.

“Could get coffee before work every morning,” he says before taking a sip. You feel a little wired at that thought.

“That’d be something, huh? ‘No sugar, just a dash of cream.’” Your pretend ordering voice goes up an octave and makes you laugh. Farah always rolls her eyes when you laugh at your own stupid jokes, but John just laughs with you. It feels nice.

He pulls back, leaning back in his chair, and just watches you. It’s a nice moment. Quiet. If you concentrate hard enough, you can hear Farah continuing to type away and log inventory. And then the moment’s gone, coffee cold, the clock still ticking away.

Your chair scrapes against the floor as you get up.

“I should get you those binders. I’m clocking out soon.” John nods sharply and rises with you.

“Not working a full day?”

You frown, leading him to the stock room. Aisle 1, Bin 15. “I think with the new Admin approval system, it’s gonna be a lot slower.” Aisle 1, Bin 15. “It’s okay. All will be well.” Aisle 1, Bin 15.

You pull a selection of binders out for him, and he thanks you politely. A professional air surrounds the two of you, company-approved.

You walk him to the door, watching as he departs.

But John stops at the threshold of the doorway. You stay very still, not wanting to frighten him out of whatever he’s about to do. He looks at you over his shoulder, a playful glint in his eye.

“I hope our outies do something fun today.”

#cod x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #severance au #once again writing my own nonsense LOL

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charmed-asylum · 1 hour ago

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GIRRRRRL ONCE AGAIN IM SNAPPING MY DIVA FAN OUT AND SNAPPING MY GOD DAMM FINGER OOOH GIRL I WAS THINKING THE SAME THING LORD MMM MMMM MMM. Nah bc she ain’t that stupid and with Sarah and Wheezie. Lets me realistic give the bene of doubt . What if Ward wanted the land and dad like no whole time. Makes sense why Rafe ain’t moving in to her land but snatch her up and shit. Like if it’s a real thing why didn’t they discuss this with the will or something no out side party to approve of this. You want the land I’m giving you money which again if Ward was doing so much why didn’t they not sale the horse why did they not gain the staff of what not others had and can share if it in fact a REAL THING. Also Rafe you can’t be more idk non bull in a china house shit. What would few days even do huh nothing ain’t nothing but a shit on a cracker. Huh.

Let be realistic you know not only did Rafe lose his shit seeing her in her outfit but I bet even Ward did a 👀. “The long-sleeve, cropped sweater that featured a soft ruffle trim that barely grazed your midriff, paired with a high-waisted, flowing skirt that swayed with every step” I feel bad because again he manipulating her to do stuff but she justifies it with things like oh I like to do it anyway and a thought of what happens if I don’t and do. “ You certainly knew how to get dolled up, like Rafe said, and lucky for him, you liked makeup and clothes that made you feel breezy and feminine” even at the end all he doing is manipulating her I’m sorry but I’m adding the fact that yes they just met but out of all the girls OUT OF ALL OF THEM he choose her so someone some how she got pick he could go to a shit tone of people but he went to her and they just met how the fuck does Wheezie know shit about her and she don’t know shit about them two days two days she knew them. That’s it.

Again out girl may say she a bimbo bc she got bimbo ways but girl yesssss remember that shit .” When the room grew quiet, Rafe’s words rattled around in your head. You’d always done what your father had said, let him lead you in all aspects of your life, because you trusted him. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how your father expected you to trust someone else. In the end, he was the reason you were here now. He’d handed you over to someone else, like, what? A trade deal? The whole thing was completely unreal” I wonder what was the convo between John B and Rafe. Girl don’t be looking at his goods it’s a trap 🪤

Weee we meet wheezie omg thank you father of god huh use her girl use her a s shield. “ You liked her instantly “ When she was talking about what Sarah never had time to do I wonder if reader become that sister wheezie always wanted also what did they tell her regards the reader bc she acting like she should know a shit tone then she does. Does she know of anyone from the neighborhood.

AGAIN OUT GIRL AINT NO BLONDE HAIR BIMBO WOO WOO” It wasn’t urgent, but you had hoped to speak with Ward sooner rather than later. Part of you wanted to officially see the contract he’d wrote up with your father. Could two men really decide together that you should be married off? Was that still legal? “

Do you think the look Rafe gave reader was of possession more than shock or pleasure. Or his tone, Rafe’s voice cut through the growing tension, his tone firm, almost possessive. He makes me huh “ You won’t need to be over there, it’s no place for a woman “ Like 1st chapter I got better things to do now it’s MINE ERRRREREEEE WOOF WOOF 🐶

Sarah ain’t waiting for nothing lol

Rafe touch and firmness Man U need to go tho a year book and jerk off or something. Like damn he in that much of a rush I have to say even Ward should be a little worried like don’t this seem a little unstable and with Sarah calling bullshit even Wheezie shim in like damn .

Rafe sure as hell went from it’s a duty to know it’s about legacy with a puff out chest. Idk I feel he so calculated that what part real or not real it’s like an abusive man or a criminal trying to reason on why they do what they do. I just feel bad bc this reminds me of what she said in part one about family and shit he must of teacher diary ( something I can see him doing) once start talking about this bit I’m like yup he got the biggest breeding kink if I didn’t ever seen one. I’m just huh this shit got me getting high blood pleasure and I read it again I get mad again

rough hands, soft chains [2] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, arranged marriage, rancher au, manipulation, size difference, DUBCON, loss of virginity, rafe is HUGE, breeding kink, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

a/n: i only tag people who reblog the fic AND let me know their thoughts, thank you :)

In which you meet your new family, the Camerons, and learn Rafe's true intentions.

word count: 5.1k

part one

rafe cameron masterlist

The spare outfit you’d packed for your failed escape attempt was a delicate two-piece set in white. The long-sleeve, cropped sweater that featured a soft ruffle trim that barely grazed your midriff, paired with a high-waisted, flowing skirt that swayed with every step. The lightweight fabric was a reflection of your usual preference for comfortable clothes. A handful of other items hung in the closet, clearly not yours, but you couldn’t bring yourself to accept whatever offering the Camerons had left for you.

After giving your reflection a look, you turned your attention your room. You floated over to the vanity, a rustic wooden display decorated with gold trinkets. You’d only packed the essentials, meaning you’d limited yourself to mascara, concealer, blush and lipgloss. You slid onto the matching stool decking to touch up your makeup, wiping away the smudged mascara and applying a fresh coat of lip gloss. Lip gloss always had a way of brightening your mood, even now. You certainly knew how to get dolled up, like Rafe said, and lucky for him, you liked makeup and clothes that made you feel breezy and feminine.

When the room grew quiet, Rafe’s words rattled around in your head. You’d always done what your father had said, let him lead you in all aspects of your life, because you trusted him. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how your father expected you to trust someone else. In the end, he was the reason you were here now. He’d handed you over to someone else, like, what? A trade deal? The whole thing was completely unreal.

Something caught your attention outside the large windows. Rolling pastures stretched out before you, dotted with fences and patches of wildflowers swaying gently. Your gaze drifted toward the yard below. Rain trickled down slowly but you realized the figures moving in the distance, behind a tall white fence, were Juliet and John B. Making his way to the fence’s edge, now adorned in a work jacket and dark hat to protect from the rain, was Rafe.

They were soon deep in conversation. Your eyes lingered on Rafe’s figure a little too long before shifting to Juliet, whose movements were graceful and unbothered. She had been alone for so long, your father had been forced to sell the other three horses your family owned years ago, and her care had undoubtedly suffered as your father’s health declined. Surely, the Camerons had at least a hundred horses and the resources to ensure Juliet was well cared for and had proper company. For a moment, you wondered if she might be happier here, happier than even you.

You were grateful for the distraction when a knock came at your door an hour later. You expected it to be Rafe, but a fleeting thought made you pause, would Rafe even bother knocking?

When you opened the door, you were surprised to find a dark-haired girl standing there, no older than fifteen. She was smiling, her eyes full of curiosity.

"Hey," she said, giving you a once-over with a playful look. "I’m Wheezie, Rafe’s little sister.”

So this was the other Cameron sibling? You smiled instinctively and offered your hand. "Oh, hi! I’m Y/N."

You blinked, studying her more carefully. She looked nothing like Rafe, and in that moment, she seemed almost... approachable. Less intimidating. Her warmth, however, felt almost out of place given the situation.

"I like your outfit," she said, her gaze scanning your clothes and makeup. "And your makeup. Ugh, I wish I could do mine like that. Sarah never has time to show me how."

“Sarah?” you asked, a little confused.

"My older sister," Wheezie explained, raising an eyebrow as if surprised. "Rafe’s never mentioned her?"

You shook your head, realizing she might think you'd known Rafe longer than just today. “Uh, no. He hasn’t.”

"Well, there’s three of us," Wheezie continued, her voice casual. "And Rose, our step-mom."

“Oh, okay,” You nodded, taking in all of the information. You weren’t at all used to meeting new people, “It’s nice to meet you. Can I ask you if Mr. Ward is home yet? I kinda need to speak with him.”

Wheezie’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of disappointment flickering in her eyes. “Him and Rose have been gone all day. Cattle auction, I think. They probably won’t be back until dinner.”

You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. It wasn’t urgent, but you had hoped to speak with Ward sooner rather than later. Part of you wanted to officially see the contract he’d wrote up with your father. Could two men really decide together that you should be married off? Was that still legal? Wheezie, sensing your hesitation, brightened up and added, “I could show you around the house in the meantime.”

You thought about it for a second, then smiled. “Sure, that would be nice.”

Joining Wheezie out in the hallway, your tour began. Wheezie led you to Rafe’s room first, just beside yours. “He likes to keep it locked,” she said with a grin, “Or else I’d totally snoop around with you.”

You liked her instantly. Moving down the hall, you passed Ward’s study, a room that felt both timeless and functional. It had a desk covered in papers and shelves filled with books. Next was the master bedroom, a room with dark wood furniture and soft linens.

Finally, Wheezie opened the door to the library. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled the room, and large armchairs were scattered around a grand fireplace. It felt like the perfect spot for quiet moments.

You couldn’t help but feel small in this place. It held the warmth of a family home but it was massive, the ceilings too high, and had decor that screamed “we’re wealthy”.

Downstairs, the living room was the first stop, a grand space with towering ceilings. Soft leather sofas and enormous windows that offered a breathtaking view of the stretching land and mountains in the distance.

Moving through the open archway into the kitchen, you took note of counters made of polished stone, dark wood cabinets, and the appliances all state-of-the-art. The kitchen was bustling with a couple of workers, one chopping vegetables at the counter, the other pulling something out of the oven. You noticed a door that led out to a terrace.

“These are all Rose’s renovations. She’s really into interior design, and all that stuff.”

“And the people. They work here all the time?” you asked, intrigued.

“My Dad can grill, but Rose doesn’t cook at all. So they get help,” Wheezie explained with a shrug. “I think she likes having everything perfect, you know?”

“She does have really nice taste,” You spoke genuinely, fumbling with your fingers as you looked around.

Past the kitchen was the dining room, where a long, weathered table was set for what could easily be a dozen guests. The chandelier above was massive, its crystals catching the light and casting a glow over the room.

Wheezie led you into the garage next. The space was expansive, with polished concrete floors and a collection of vehicles parked neatly in their spots, sleek trucks, a few SUVs, and a couple of classic cars you assumed were more for show. Near the back of the garage, you spotted a few horseshoe-shaped saddles hanging on the wall, alongside an array of hunting gear. There were rifles and ammunition neatly organized on the shelves, a few pairs of boots stacked by the door, and weathered hunting jackets hanging from the walls. It was practical, but still had the polished look of the rest of the house, like nothing here was ever out of place.

“Do you ride?” Wheezie asked as you took in the details of the room.

“Yeah, I have a horse named Juliet,” you grinned. “Do you?”

“I can,” Wheezie replied with a shrug. “I’m not great at it. Sarah’s better, and Rafe—well, he’s good at things like that.”

“Does Sarah live here too?” you asked, curious.

“Yeah, but she’s been MIA for two days.” Wheezie’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You can’t tell anyone this,” she continued, glancing around before leaning in closer. “She and John B. are a thing. And she hangs out with his friends.”

“It’s a secret?” you asked, intrigued but still unsure of the family dynamics at play.

Wheezie nodded, her eyes flicking to the door as if checking for eavesdroppers. “My dad wants her to be with someone whose family is... more prestigious, if that makes sense?”

You processed that for a moment, nodding slowly. “But my family’s not... prestigious. But Ward wants me to marry your brother.”

A mischievous glint sparked in Wheezie’s eyes. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, clearly enjoying the tension in the air. “Is it true that Rafe got you pregnant and that’s why you have to live with us?”

You froze for a split second, then blurted out, “I am not!” You suddenly realized how loud you’d been and lowered your voice, grabbing Wheezie’s hand as you whispered urgently, “I am not.”

“Other people don’t think I’m pregnant, do they?” You continued, “Because I don’t think I’ve done anything that could lead to that…”

You questioned yourself for a moment, feeling a pang of uncertainty. You’d learned about the birds and the bees just once, when you were eleven, and it had been before your mother died. After that, your education had been limited, and anything beyond what she'd explained was a blur of confusion.

What you were certain of, though, was that the kiss with Rafe couldn’t have led to that. You had never heard of anything like that happening from a simple kiss. To your knowledge, you needed at least to sleep in the same bed for that to happen, and you and Rafe hadn’t crossed that line. Before your mind could wander to that possibility, Wheezie spoke.

“I’m not trying to be rude, just curious,” She said with a smirk, her tone light and teasing. “No one around here tells me anything.”

A few hours later you entered the dining room again with Wheezie. You’d spend a good amount of time in her room and she’d explained more about her family, including more details about Rafe. You learned that she was Rafe’s soft spot. That he was cold to almost everyone except her. Ward had a lot of expectations for him and Rafe did about everything he could to appease his father.

“I think Rafe just wants to do things his own way,” Wheezie had mused. “But, you know, my Dad has other ideas. He’s been trying to get Rafe to be more... ‘like him.’”

Kindly, you’d accepted her request for you to help her with her makeup. You’d done hers like yours, with bright blush and shiny lipgloss. She was so excited that she practically skipped down the stairs after, her happiness infectious as she bounced in front of you. A part of you couldn’t help but smile. Was this what it was like to have a sister? The feeling was new and strange, but warm, like something you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

Rafe looked you over, as if he was offended by your choice in clothing, “What did I do?” You asked, innocently.

Maybe he didn’t think your outfit was cute.

“Come sit next to me,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with something possessive, as if he were commanding you rather than asking. He waved you over.

You hesitated, looking at Ward, who gave you a reassuring, welcoming smile, and then at Rose and Sarah. Sarah’s gaze was sharp, watching you with a kind of calculating curiosity, while Rose barely seemed to notice, her eyes distant and uninterested.

You exhaled slowly, making your way over to the seat next to Rafe. Your knees brushed against each other but he didn’t move his.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. I’ve known her family for years, and after that everything’s happened, she’s going to stay with us. She’s been through a lot.”

“Mm-hmm,” Rose murmured, almost absentmindedly. “It’s lovely to have you here with us.” Her tone wasn’t cold, but it certainly wasn’t warm, either.

Ward’s words seemed genuine, but you didn’t understand fully why he spoke so kindly. The two of you were practically strangers. Wheezie smiled brightly in reaction. Sarah, on the other hand, was looking you over even more closely than Rafe. You could see the thoughts swirling in your mind.

“I have a question-” She blurted out.

Ward interrupted, “I’d watch yourself, young lady.”

“I just want to make sure everything’s clear,” Sarah said softly, her voice quieter now. “I’m just... trying to understand why, that’s all. A marriage seems a little bit rushed, don’t you think? They didn’t even know each other before today.”

“They didn’t?” Wheezie raised an eyebrow.

The pressure in the room increased, “Sarah,” Ward began to warn her but it was Rafe who spoke up next.

Rafe’s voice cut through the growing tension, his tone firm, almost possessive. “It’s not rushed, Sarah,” he said, turning to look at her. “It’s just what it is. No need to complicate it.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the sharpness of Rafe’s gaze making you shift uncomfortably in your seat. He answering for you, as if you didn’t have a say in how things were perceived.

Sarah didn’t flinch. Her eyes held a quiet defiance. As if to change the subject, Rafe continued, “What is that on your face, Wheeze?”

“It’s called makeup,” She shot back, annoyed, “Y/N did it.”

Rafe turned his head towards you, “It’s a little much for someone her age, don’t you think?”

“I think she looks really pretty. I started wearing makeup way younger than her,” You responded quietly but honestly, “That’s how you, like, get good at it.”

“See,” Wheezie stuck her tongue out at her older brother.

Suddenly, you felt Rafe’s hand touch your knee underneath the table. The warmth of Rafe’s hand on your knee sent a jolt through you, and for a moment, you couldn’t quite focus on anything else. His touch was unexpected, as though he’d done it without thinking, and yet, there was something deliberate about the way he kept his hand resting there.

Dinner was officially served moments later. Rafe’s hand remained there on your knee as you all began to eat the carefully prepared steak, potatoes and asparagus. Your steak was already cut into a pieces, a luxury that you didn’t even know others experienced.

Sarah pushed around her asparagus, “How do you feel about moving in with us so suddenly, Y/N? I mean, do you really know what you’re getting yourself into?”

You paused, unsure of what to say, your gaze instinctively shifting toward Rafe. His hand was still on your knee, but the grip felt firmer now, like he was holding you in place, keeping you from saying something that might upset the balance of things.

You bit your lip, trying to gather your thoughts, but when you opened your mouth, it all just came tumbling out. “It’s kinda overwhelming,” you started, your voice soft but a little unsure. “I miss… I miss my Dad. And you guys have all this land, and this house is so huge, it’s hard to wrap my head around it all.” You glanced at Sarah, then back to your plate. “And, like, I didn’t think I’d get married this young, but… if it’s really what my Dad wanted…”

You trailed off, feeling a little embarrassed. Sarah’s gaze softened slightly, “It’s a big step. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Up until that point, you hadn’t realized you had a choice in all of this. You could see she wasn’t questioning you out of judgement. She almost looked concerned.

“Enough, Sarah,” Ward spoke sharply, “This is bigger than what one person thinks is right. I don’t expect you to understand but it’s about responsibility. Rafe is growing up and he’s decided to take on new responsibilities. I don’t see why you can’t be supportive.”

“I just think she deserves more time to decide,” Sarah said.

“There isn’t a rush. I’m not rushing them, that’s for certain. Rafe and Y/N will take the time to get to know each other.”

The room fell quiet for a moment. You could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. You glanced at him and noticed the subtle shake of his head, as if dismissing the entire idea. “What’s the point in waiting? You can plan a wedding in a few weeks, right?”

“Rafe, son, don’t you think two should spend some time together?”

“No, Dad, we’ll get married as soon as possible. If Y/N wants to have a real ceremony, Rose can plan it, but I’d be down to just go to the courthouse.”

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Rafe,” Sarah leaned forward in her seat, “Are you actually crazy?”

How did we get here? You had no answers, just a rush of emotions you couldn’t quite put into words. Maybe you should’ve said something, but the lump in your throat made it hard to think.

“We’ll figure it out” Rafe said, cutting her off. He turned his attention to you, his gaze intense but unreadable. “Right, darling?”

The way he looked at you made your stomach twist. It was as though he was asking you to confirm something you didn’t fully understand yourself. You opened your mouth to respond, but Wheezie chimed in before you could.

“Dude, that’s like, so not romantic!” she exclaimed, scrunching her nose. “You haven’t even proposed yet!”

Sarah seized the moment, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “Exactly. At least ask her properly, Rafe. Or are you afraid she’ll say no?”

The air at the table grew heavier. You glanced at Ward, who looked ready to intervene, but Rafe beat him to it. His lips curled into a tight smile, though his eyes flashed with something darker. “You think I’m afraid of that, Sarah?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

All you could think about was the way Rafe’s hand hadn’t left your knee, his grip steady, as if anchoring you to him despite the chaos swirling around the table.

“Can we drop it, please?” Rafe asked, his tone deep and final.

“I want Y/N to stay,” Wheezie decided.

“We all want Y/N to stay,” Ward clarified.

“Well, good,” Rose chimed in, her smile polished and hollow. “Then it’s settled.”

At the end of dinner, Ward leaned back in his chair, addressing you, “You’ll find we take care of our own here, sweetheart. Anything you need, you only have to ask.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure what else to say.

“We should get going,” Rafe announced abruptly, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. His hand left your knee, only to find the small of your back as he helped you up.

Wheezie pouted. “But we haven’t even had dessert!”

“Next time, Wheeze,” Rafe replied, his tone firm. “Come on, Y/N.”

You followed him out of the dining room, feeling the eyes of his entire family on your back.

“Where are we going?” You asked, trying to keep up with Rafe’s long strides. He’d given you his jacket and asked you to put on your boots, before guiding you out the front door. You clutched the jacket tightly, the night beginning to turn cool. The sky was still heavy with the remnants of rain but an orange and pink sun began to lower in the sky, peaking behind soft, gray clouds, “Rafe?”

High grass tickled the bare legs hidden beneath your skirt as you walked into the fields, “Just for a walk. That okay with you?”

“You know, sometimes I think you really don’t care what’s okay with me.” Rafe flashed you an amused look, “Oh yeah? Maybe I like making decisions for you.”

You snorted in disbelief but your heart fluttered nonetheless.

"What's the real reason you brought me out here?" You asked, pushing the conversation forward despite the tension.

Rafe stopped and turned to face you, his expression unreadable for a moment. He studied you, like he was considering his words carefully. "Maybe I just wanted to see you without all the noise around us. No distractions. Just you and me."

The ranch stretched out before you, vast and quiet. The ground beneath your feet was soft as you walked, fast enough to follow Rafe’s steps. A faint hum of crickets began to rise in the distance.

A modest building tucked near the tree line, far from the main house came into view, “That’s the ranch hand’s quarters,” Rafe explained, “You won’t need to be over there, it’s no place for a woman.”

The sun continued to hang lower as you walked, casting a golden hue over the land. Rafe led you further into the sprawling escape, pointing out different landmarks, “This land’s been my family’s for generations. But my Dad was the one who made it what it was today. It’s very important to me. This land and all the hard work that’s put into it.”

“My dad’s tough on me but it’s his legacy, you know? It’s more than just making money or raising cattle. I don’t know, I just want to protect what I have. Make sure my kids and my grandkids have it, ya' know?”

He didn’t look for your understanding, his words genuine, but the look on his face was guarded. He paused, his jaw tightening slightly, “You don’t to get to be part of something big and not feel like you’ve got to give everything you have to it.”

“What if…” Your voice trailed as you tried to collect your thoughts, “How do I know it’s something I want to be apart of?”

“As my wife, you’d stand beside me. You’d build with me. Raise our children. Make a home. You’d make everything that I’m working towards, worth it. That’s a life with purpose, yeah?”

As he spoke, his voice deep and steady, you found yourself drawn to the way his features seemed to soften, despite the intensity of his words. Those blue eyes were focused on you with an intensity that made your throat go dry.

He stood taller now, the weight of his words pressed in on you and you could see the full picture he was painting. It wasn’t just the land. It was you. It was him. It was a family.

“Yeah,” You agreed, the word leaving your lips before you could stop it. Your gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, to his lips. They were slightly parted, the edge of his mouth curling just a bit as he spoke, and for a moment, you forgot where you were.

“Yeah,” Rafe agreed, a knowing look on his face, and his hand found the small of your back, “I owe you something, don’t I?”

“Owe me?” Your voice faltered. What was he talking about?

Rafe didn’t answer right away. Instead, he simply pulled you forward, his hand firm against your back as he guided you through the tall grass. You didn’t have time to question him before the two of you reached a secluded barn, tall and clay-colored, tucked far away from the main house. The air smelled faintly of hay and wood, the earthy scent of the ranch settling around you. But you barely had time to take in your surroundings before Rafe was pulling you into him. His hand slid to the back of your neck, drawing you closer, until his lips were on yours.

The kiss Rafe Cameron had promised you.

All those thoughts you had about the land, the future, everything he’d said, it all slipped away.

Someone, something, had overtaken you. Something ached inside of you, a part of your very being that had never been satisfied. You felt like an animal, desperate, grabbing at Rafe’s shirt, wanting him closer. He was already pressed tightly against you but deep down you wanted more.

His lips weren’t as gentle as you remembered, they enveloped your mouth, his tongue tasting you, his arms keeping you where he wanted as he explored you.Without warning, he tugged you into an empty stall, the scent of hay and leather thick in the air. His hands were at the edges of your jacket now, pulling it open, his fingers brushing against your skin as the cool air of the barn nipped at your exposed flesh.

A startled yelp escaped your lips as you felt his hands bunching up your skirt, the fabric sliding higher until it was gathered above your hips. Your eyes flew open, but Rafe was relentless, his mouth still claiming yours with fervent, unyielding kisses. You didn’t know exactly how babies were made but you had a feeling you were getting closer than you’d ever had before. Before you could process it, Rafe lifted you effortlessly, his hands sliding to cup your bottom as he held you tightly against him. Part of you began to panic.

Then, with deliberate care, he laid you down. not on the rough ground but on his jacket, which was spread beneath you. Darkened eyes met your panicked ones. This was much more than a kiss. Although you’d enjoyed that part of the exchange, you weren’t sure you wanted more, “Rafe,” You whispered, your voice uncertain, as he moved his mouth from your lips to the sides of your mouth. Your mind raced, trying to keep up with the whirlwind of sensations. You pushed at his chest and felt you were pushing against a boulder. There would know way to get from underneath him, even if you tried, “Are… you gonna put a baby in me?”

He paused, lifting his head to look you in the eye and you had to remind yourself to breathe in that moment, “Jesus Christ. You’re something else, you know that?” Rafe grinned and some of your uncertainty went away. His reaction made the moment feel more lighthearted, like there wasn’t a boundary being crossed, like his intentions were innocent.

“I like the kissing,” You admitted, “It feels good b-but I’m scared–”

Rafe shushed you, peppering gentle kisses along your jawline, until he reached the side of your neck. Your thighs clenched tightly, your head tilted back, and you couldn’t control your moaning. Rafe spread your legs with his own, his jeans brushing against the smoothness of your thighs. He pressed his lower half into you and you felt something as hard as a rock, rubbing against your panties. It was then, your core started to feel like it was on fire.

“Don’t be scared, it’ll just hurt for a moment,” Rafe spoke against your skin, huskily, his voice almost sounding like he was in pain, “You’re just gonna lay still for me, I need you to help me to take care of something.”

“Hurt?” You questioned, your mind hanging on that word. Then you thought back to your question. He hadn’t really answered.

He seemed to ignore you again, his mouth moving lower on your body. He pulled your shirt down, and as your breasts spilled from their constraints, he left kisses on your nipples. Your head tilted back again when he took one of your nipples fully into his mouth, “Rafe,” You whispered but the sound of his name only seem to push him further. His fingers traced the edge of your panties before he slipped his fingers inside, brushing over your folds. You were wet down there, you realized, and mostly out of embarrassment, you started to pull away, “Please don’t touch me there.”

You watched his pupils dilate as he stared down at you intently. He kept one hand in your underwear and wrapped his other around your throat, quickly, as if his body was reacting instinctively to your defiance.

“Don’t tell me that,” Rafe said, almost growling, and your hands wrapped around his wrist, trying to push away his hand as you struggled to breathe, “I have to touch ya' here, darlin’. I’m gonna be your husband. This belongs to me, understand?”

Your eyes widened as he rubbed circles over your sensitive skin. Your hips bucked in reaction and you silenced your moans, knowing you only had so much air to breathe, “Say you understand. Say yes.”

You nodded your head quickly, “Yes,” You whispered.

You were grateful when he loosed his grip around your throat, “It’s a good thing you’re wet. Nothing to be ashamed of. Just means this is what your body wants, baby. You already want to make me happy.”

You weren’t quite sure at what moment your body decided to freeze. Your nerves were overwhelmed, of course, and it seemed like you’d come out less scathed from the situation if you did as Rafe said. You could stay still and take it. There was something happening with Rafe you didn’t understand but he was acting as though he needed something and you were only one who could provide it. You could stay still and take it if it would make him happy, right? It’s a good thing to make other people happy.

You focused on the kisses on your lips, the way his soft mouth moved methodically over yours. The faint jangle of metal pulled you back to the moment, a sound you barely registered until you felt the press of something impossibly hard, slowly pushing against a place you hadn’t realized could take him. His manhood, you assumed, what made him different from you. It hurt like he said it would but not for just a moment. Were all manhoods this size? This is what your body really wants?

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing despite the edge of strain. His hand brushed over your trembling thigh, steadying you as your body tried to accommodate him. “You’re okay. I promise.”

He started to rock into you once you felt completely full to the brim. Initially, it felt even worse than him pushing all the way inside you. Tears fell and your breath grew rapid, “It hurts,” You whimpered, “It really hurts.”

“It’s okay,” He said, maintaining his pace, “You’re okay, darlin’. You’re doing great. It’s just your first time. Gotta get used to me, that's all.”

“Are-are you putting a baby in me, Rafe?” You asked, your voice an innocent whisper. His grip on you tightened as his rhythm grew more deliberate, his words spilling out in a low growl.

“Fuck yes, darlin’,” he said, his voice thick with unrestrained desire. “I’m gonna put a baby in you.”

His hands, his words, the pain between your legs that was slowly turning to pleasure, it made you dizzy, and you couldn’t keep track of your thoughts. You belonged to him? A baby? It didn’t make sense, but part of you felt comforted by the intensity of him. You trusted he knew more. Everything’s okay. You were okay. It felt like something you were supposed to be, so you let go and let him have you.

a/n: i only tag people who reblog the fic AND let me know their thoughts, thank you :)

1K notes · View notes

silverbrain · 22 hours ago

Text

Your Light Can Thaw the Ice in my Veins

Author’s note- Xavier x Zayne idk why, this was rotting my brain so I had to get it out. MC is a side character, sorry.

Words- 3.4k

Xavier first met Dr. Zayne during his annual cardio checkup organized by the association. It was a routine thing, but his heart rate had caused the doctor to raise his eyebrows in concern.

"Was it like this last year?", he asked.

"I think so?", Xavier replied awkwardly.

"Do you ever feel dizzy or have you fainted?", Zayne asks, levelling his gaze with the hunter.

"No?"

Zayne looks at him questioningly. How the man was doing fine with a heart rate of 45 was confusing him.

"Have you had an ECG done before?"

"Yes", Xavier replied. "It's in my medical files...I think"

Zayne looks through the brief medical file on his table, sent by the Hunters Association. The last ECG had similar readings.

"I will have to send you to do another ECG and then...we'll decide what to do based on the results"

Xavier had thought much of it, but that hadn't helped his frustration when he had spent another two hours at the hospital. He felt fine. He should've been home two hours ago, napping. When the receptionist called out to him, he knocked on the pristine white door to Zayne’s office. Zayne's face had twisted even further in concern.

"Your heart is beating really slow", Zayne begins.

"We need to find the cause and fix it"

Xavier frowns. He knows it's because his heart beats with Philos' energy, not Earth's but he doesn't find it necessary to go around telling people he's an alien. Sure, Dr. Zayne could prescribe whatever tests he liked. He was never going to show up to them anyways. He gets an appointment for the next week, another ECG. "If it doesn't find anything, we'll use a 24-hour monitoring method", Zayne had explained but Xavier was too busy thinking about the hotpot he was going to eat on the way home.

The week passes in a blur, and Xavier is exiting the association building on a Saturday evening, having happily skipped his Thursday appointment. He nearly runs into the doctor who turns a corner sharply.

"Oh, hello", Xavier greets politely.

Zayne nods politely before his eyes light up. "Xavier, right? You didn't come to see me"

"Uh...yeah, sorry. Work was...busy", he lies. It seems like the best option anyways.

"You really shouldn't ignore your health", Zayne says quietly, keeping his voice low. He's about to elaborate before MC exits the lift and calls out to him.

"Zayne!" And then, "...Xavier?"

Xavier had quickly taken his exit then, but luck was not going to allow him an easy escape. The Association sends him a notice regarding his health checkup which hadn't been submitted yet and it has him wandering the hospital's Cardiology ward on a Tuesday evening.

The ECG had been slow. Again. So, he had been sent to do an echocardiogram. It was getting ridiculous, really. Plus, he's lost. After finding his way back to Zayne’s office, he knocks. He confirms with a receptionist, who insists Dr. Zayne is free to see patients, so he knocks. Twice. Thrice, before he turns the handle to feel a biting cold waft through.

Did Zayne leave the window open? Even if he did, it's March. It can't be that cold.

Xavier sees the doctor sitting in his desk chair, leaning back, eyes closed, hands resting on the handles, stuck there by a thick layer of...ice? He can't help but watch. Shards of ice surround the doctor's body, and flurries of snow fly chaotically in the room. A grunt snaps him out of it. Zayne moves, almost imperceptibly, but enough for Xavier to see the way his throat hitches against the particularly large chunk of ice, the point nearly digging into his skin.

Xavier steps forward. "Doctor?" He grabs Zayne’s arm, and shakes him, only for the doctor to grunt and frown as if the action had caused him terrible pain. He moves, and Xavier brings his hands up to place them between the ice shard and the doctor's neck. "Doctor Zayne!"

Zayne seems to awaken then, jerking awake and breathing heavily. Green eyes dart across pale blue ones. "It's okay...I think you were having a nightmare?"

Zayne tries to sit up, keyword tries, because the ice restrains him, and his throat comes into contact with a warm hand instead. "Wait" Xavier wraps his hand around the icicle and breaks it. He continues breaking away pieces of ice as Zayne assesses the damage to his room.

"This was all you?", Xavier finds himself asking.

Zayne’s eyes meet his, and Xavier doesn't see fear. He sees...shame? Why would the doctor be ashamed?

They clean up in silence, before Xavier drops the file on Zayne's table. "Sign my health report...and I won't tell MC about this"

Zayne cannot believe the young blonde with blue eyes and a heartbeat too slow to be healthy is threatening him.

"You can't...", he begins. Can't blackmail me, can't tell her, but Xavier is already turning to leave.

"Also, you can...take a workshop at the Association, you know. To control your Evol? "

Zayne stands at the centre of a circle. Why did he agree to this? He had thought long and hard when Xavier had left him that day. Mayve it wouldn’t hurt to take some classes on controlling his Evol. He didn’t want to, no, not at all. It took him back to his university days when Evol was the only class he barely passed. He thought about it all evening, when spending time with Miss Hunter. If she knew, she would…Zayne isn’t sure what she would do, but he tries not to dwell on it. Plus, it would make him a hypocrite for not ‘taking care of himself’.

So, he’s here. Taking a crash course in Evol control organized by the Hunter’s Association. He’s carefully chosen a day when MC is off work. It goes alright. Turns out he’s not as bad as he thought he was. He just needed to practice something that was very akin to meditation and hypnosis which would help get his Evol more in check. He’s briskly walking towards the exit of the building when the corridors seem to circle into themselves and Zayne finds himself standing outside the elevator, wondering where he needs to go.

He's nearly relieved when he sees the blonde hunter walk by, “Dr. Zayne”

“Xavier…where is the exit?”, he asks.

“Oh. It’s on the first floor. You’re in the basement right now. Come, I’ll show you”

Zayne nods. He follows the man into the elevator. “So, here to meet MC?”

“No, I…I’m taking the Evol course”

“Oh”, Xavier turns to look at him, his eyes betraying the surprise he feels. “Good”

Zayne clears his throat. "Thank you for helping me that day", he says politely. “And…you can’t blackmail me. You’ll have to complete your tests”

Xavier sighs. “I…can’t. What if…I know the cause?”

Zayne looks at him in confusion. “The cause? Of your bradycardia?”

Xavier smiles. “Yes. My slow heart. I promise I’m okay”

The doors open and Xavier steps out, followed by Zayne. He follows the man out into the cold, crisp night air. “How about, I tell you over some hotpot?”

Zayne is caught off guard by that. Why would he accept to dine with his patient? A patient who had, not one week ago basically threatened him. But Zayne was a curious man, so he decided to give the man a chance. “Okay”

Steam wafts across the table at the hotpot place. Zayne nurses his food, waiting for Xavier to speak.

Xavier opens up an article on his phone to push it towards Zayne. He looks through it.

“Philos? The planet 80 light years away?”

“Hm”, Xavier hums in agreement over his mouth full of a soup dumpling. He swallows before continuing. “I’m from there”

Zayne looks at the man, unsure if he’s joking. “I’m not joking. And your reaction is why I don’t like to tell anyone this.”

Zayne simply eats his food to stall for time. “So…, you’re a time traveller?”

Xavier smiles. “Yes”

"I'm sorry. That day I was..." Blunt, threatening? "I just...didn’t want to be called an alien”

Zayne huffs a laugh. “Who’s called you an alien?”

“People”

Zayne shakes his head. “So, you’re…not human?”

“I am! Just not from this timeline”

“Oh”, Zayne says, and then “How did humans evolve to have slower hearts?”

Xavier laughs, then he shrugs, “I don’t know, doc.”

Zayne signs off Xavier’s documents that evening, ignoring the hundreds of questions that still stir his mind. He tries to avoid it, he really does, but he’s a curious man, after all.

Zayne: Sorry if this is rude, but is your hair naturally silver?

Xavier replies to him the next morning.

Xavier: Can’t get enough of the alien huh?

Xavier: Yes, it is

Zayne is sweating. This Evol class is being a particularly tough one, since his teacher today is using some sort of Mind control Evol. Zayne thinks he can see the needles in his brain. He’s seeing visions of blue and his forearms feel cold, but the Hunter insists he should ‘fight it’.

He doesn’t pay any mind to the two hunters who slip in to watch him. The classes are held in a stadium like area, with seats towering in rows around them. A few hunters take their lunch breaks there, munching on a sandwich as they watch the chaos below them.

He had eventually ended up telling MC. He had conveniently hidden the frosty situation Xavier had found him in, and had explained that it was just something he had wanted to do.

The two Hunters watch him eagerly. Zayne fights his mind, while the Evolver attacks his mind with waves of fear. When he’s done, he sees two figures in the distance. MC waves at him and he finds his way over, squinting slightly.

“You’re doing great!”, she cheers happily. Zayne smiles. “You are”, Xavier adds.

The compliment means a lot to him. Over the past few weeks, Zayne has been asking Xavier so many questions. It started with curiosity and slowly spiralled into Xavier sending him medicine memes which made Zayne snort with amusement. He also sent the occasional, ‘r u still at work?’ when Zayne sent a particularly oddly timed text, and Zayne found it incredibly endearing. In turn, he told Xavier a little bit about the nightmares, a little bit about how his Evol sometimes felt like a curse instead of a power.

Zayne would certainly call Xavier a friend. He wasn’t sure if the hunter thought the same, though. Xavier, who was literally light personified, who people flocked to for help, who seemed so kind and nice, who would have so many friends, did he need another friend in his life? The thought caused Zayne to hold back on the texts sometimes.

So, when Xavier complimented him openly, it was new. It felt like he was sharing some of his light.

Zayne felt like his world was falling apart. His pager had beeped and he had been met with MC, who had injured herself yet again. She lay on the bed, unconscious. There had been an explosion, someone says in the background. A wound sprawled across her left shoulder, nearly exposing the bone.

“She’s lost a lot of blood”, the nurse informed him as they wheeled her into emergency surgery.

Zayne can only wring his hands and wait as he observes the operation. As her primary care physician and an expert in Protocore syndrome, he was supposed to be there, but there was hardly anything he could do in repairing a set of shattered bones.

Even after she had been patched up, Zayne paces the ICU with frenzied energy. It’s only when Dr. Greyson forces him to the cafeteria to sit down that he catches the news of the explosion. Zayne’s eyes widen at the size of the explosion. It looked so much worse than just a Wanderer attack. He’s staring at the screen when his blood runs cold. “Greyson…was she alone? Where’s her partner?”

“Who?”

Zayne stands up, feeling sick. He marches his way to the ICU to check the list of patients that had been admitted. He nearly breathes a sigh of relief before he goes to Emergency Surgery. Zayne has to physically remind himself to take a breath when he sees the name on the file- Xavier.

It had been a simple Wanderer attack. Then, it had turned into a difficult fight. Before you knew it, it had turned into a Security threat for Linkon. The Wanderers had attacked very close to the Linkon Research Lab, which had stored a great amount of rare protocores. The frenzied energy had nearly taken out the left wing of the building completely, and the energy released had caused a massive explosion, sending debris flying in all directions. Gravity Evolvers had tried their best to mitigate the damage, but the energy burst had dimmed all of their Evols. MC and Xavier had been in the midst of it, of course.

When the surgeon exits the operation theatre, Zayne is already busy in dealing with casualties, but he’s told a nurse to let him know. He rushes over immediately. “What’s the news?”

“You know him?”, Dr. Eron asks. “It’s…difficult to say”, he says quietly.

“What do you mean?”, Zayne asks, his voice quiet.

“It’s bad. We’ll just have to wait for him to wake up”

Zayne sits down. He has to, or he thinks he’ll faint. Both the people he loves, so badly hurt.

“Can I see him?”

Zayne isn’t sure if he can. He eventually makes his way over, after throwing himself into work for the next five hours, when his mind is numb and his body can barely move, but he stands at the end of the bed, staring at the chart.

He doesn’t know if he’s ready. Eventually, his eyes rake up to the figure lying in bed, amidst a dozen tubes poking out of him. A scrap of metal had cut down his hip and across his leg, leading to the blood loss. Plus, he had burns on the left side of his body from the explosion. Zayne looked at Xavier's face- the muscles relaxed unnaturally as his soft hair lay matted and dirty. He reached a shaky hand out to clasp Xavier's, guilt and fear curling inside him like a coil.

"Get better. Please...", he couldn't hide the way his voice shook. "Please get better, Xavier"

When MC regained consciousness, Zayne was by her side immediately, making himself as useful as he could. He tried his best to control the shaking in his voice when MC asked about him. "Is he okay?"

"He's going to be fine", Zayne replies. He has to be.

A month later.

Xavier had recovered. So had MC. The two had got significant time off and despite having most of it under control, Zayne found himself driving over to the two whenever he was free. It only helped that they lived in the same building. Tara and Simone had set up camp at MC's, so Zayne made his way to the fifth floor, knocking once before opening the door to Xavier's apartment.

After a particular day when he had been knocking on his door in a panic, Zayne had convinced Xavier to give him a spare key to the place. He caught sight of a lump of blanket and a head of dishevelled hair and smiled.

The disaster had forced Zayne to step back and reevaluate. It had made him confront it. It had made him realize how much he cared. He cared so much about his man. The days after the accident had been steeped in guilt and restless nightmares for Zayne, ones in which he couldn't save the two. Ones in which he didn't even know Xavier had been injured at all, and he only found out after it had been too late.

In the past month, Zayne had found himself volunteering to help the man take a bath, or examine his wounds, and Xavier sheepishly accepted the help. It had been difficult to move with his whole leg stitched up, after all, and Zayne seemed eager.

Zayne places the box of takeout on the table and sits down at the edge of the couch, watching the blonde sleep peacefully. He was alive. He was so alive. Zayne busies himself with something before Xavier stirs awake. He raises his head from the blanket to look at Zayne blearily. "Zayne?"

"Hey, yeah you're awake", he tries to ignore the way his heart thuds in his chest. "I brought food"

Xavier's eyes travel to the bag on the table before he huffs quietly. "You didn't have to"

"Yeah, but you know, I had some free time, so I brought your favorite dumplings", he says.

"Really?"

Xavier sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "You should've warned me. How long were you sitting there?"

"Not long", Zayne answers. His body itched to move closer to him, he didn't know why. Would hugging him be too much? Why did he want to hug the man?

Before he can think further, the doorbell rang to reveal three Unicorns hunters.

"Xavier!! How are you! And-Oh! Dr. Zayne"

Zayne feels incredibly out of place all of a sudden, among all the hunters. Xavier invites them in and they sit on the couch, Zayne shuffling closer to the man as much as he could, while Tara, Simone and MC sat down. Words flowed easily. Tara and Simone more than made up for Xavier and Zayne’s quietness, and MC knew them all, she was bubbliest of them all; soon the five were chatting cordially. Zayne slowly found his personal space being invaded by the hunter on his left, who had leaned over to show him something on his phone. Zayne found his attention shifting from the screen to Xavier's long eyelashes before he caught himself, wondering what the heck was happening to him.

Xavier’s hair was a little bit longer than usual and it hung shabbily on his neck. Zayne wanted to touch it. He swallowed nervously. It was more, it was so much more than care he felt for the man, and he was scared of what it meant. A flush crept up his neck at his own thoughts and he willed himself to look away.

The next week Zayne is sitting on Xavier’s bed, drying his hair. Not because he asked him to. He wanted to, of course, but Xavier wasn’t the type to ask for help. He had held the dryer up and winced in pain before continuing quietly, and Zayne had simply offered to do it for him.

Zayne allows himself to run his hands through the silver strands and wonders what it would feel like to just say it. The feelings are going to choke him. He swallows. “Are you going for a mullet?”

Xavier laughs. “Is it that bad?”

“No, it’s not bad”, Zayne assures him. The last thing he wants is to make the man feel self-conscious. “If anything, it’s cute”

He feels Xavier’s shoulders tense below him, before his fingers reach for a pack of Kitty Cards to fidget with. “Cute like a cat is?”

“Yes” And more, Zayne wants to say.

“You want to play cards?”, Xavier asks and who is Zayne to refuse him, really, so he sits down on the bed beside him.

“See now that’s just cruel”, Xavier laughs as Zayne destroys his cats for the third time in a row.

“What, you thought I’d go easy on you?”

“Wow, the doctor’s kindness only extends to the hospital doors”, Xavier complains.

Zayne laughs and Xavier watches. He had been watching for a while, now. At the way Zayne’s calm hands dressed his wounds, at the way his chest rumbled when he laughed, at the way his green gold eyes darted to his own when he made another dry joke.

Xavier leans forward, slowly, his hand resting on Zayne’s thigh, right above his knee, before he kisses him. Zayne feels his world stop. Xavier- powerful, beautiful Xavier- Xavier, who shone like light, was kissing him.

Then he pulls back a little too quickly, and Zayne realizes that he had frozen. He drops the cards, his hand coming up to grab the back of his neck snugly as he presses another kiss to his lips. And another. Till he’s smiling too much and Xavier is giggling softly.

“I like kissing you”, Zayne says, breathlessly, dumbly.

Xavier laughs breathily, “That’s good”

usually i don't ship the Lis but these two are so quiet and gentle and i couldn't help but do this, was it alright?

#lads #lnds #lads imagines #snowstar #xavier x zayne #zayne x xavier #lads xavier #lads zayne #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #lnds xavier #lnds zayne #silver writes #it's been silver #slvrwrites

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lynnie-s3all · 1 day ago

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i ain't saying my name but with the help of ur Forsaken fics i'm getting my sister into Forsaken I CANNOT KEEP MY HCS N AUS INSIDE I NEED TO SEE THEM KISSING. I NEED A GOONER WITH ME WHO KNOWS THE LORE PLEASE I HAVE NO CLUE HOW BUT SOMEONE SHOWED HER GUEST AND SHE WENT INSANE LIKE SHE WANTS THAT MAN BADLY AND I'M TRYNA SEND EVERY FORSAKEN FANFIC BUT I CAN'T FIND ONES FOR GUEST. WHERE DO I FIND PEAK ROMANTIC GUEST FANFICS TO GET HER INTO THIS DAMN GAME PLEASE I NEED UR HELP

with love, Elliot's femboy husband!

DAWG ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

Okay but I'm for real, i would help you out dw

(sorry if i forgot to finish it, I think I'm too prioritized on other requests and my oc lore)

Guest x reader headcanons???

(out of canon and based off my AU)

Well what would i imagine if his wife died without him knowing, or maybe that she didn't know that he has a second partner, which is you.

Well even if you think about it, since he's married and all. Wouldn't that make sense considering that he's cheating on his wife for you? Weird...

Okay out of all, why do you like this man actually?

Okay maybe I should give some headcanons if you don't imagine him having a real partner and he's just alone:

I know his personality is a bit stoic, because he deeply cares about saving people's lives and to let them be free and have a happy life.

Since he's been through much, a soldier of course.

If you thought about dating him, then probably don't consider yourself lucky because it takes time to get through the process.

I mean, you can give him flowers, maybe small reassurance about his struggles... sorta like that, cause you need to start small. Maybe becoming friends with him or helping out.

The more he trusted you, the more closer you guys are. And eventually, you two work it out to help around the whole round whenever the killer was on a chase with the survivors.

I couldn't really say much about how he would personally give affection but i don't think he does like pda in public, especially the survivors. It's just odd for him to do that.

Idk if you want to kiss him, but it's up for you to decide. I don't take rules, it's my headcanon anyway.

Well if you're thinking you wanna fuck him or something, i suggest not to do that... Again, i wouldn't even DARE to make a nsfw headcanon about this since... I'm scared of his wife.

i didn't bother to change the way i edit out my blog because ofc its not pretty.

#forsaken x reader #roblox #forsaken #guest 1337 forsaken #guest forsaken #forsaken c00lkidd #007n7 forsaken #c00lkidd #1x1x1x1 #sketch #chance forsaken #two time forsaken

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kit-screams-into-the-future · 1 day ago

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kit reads a comic: untold tales and alternate timelines, issue 1 (part 1)

due to popular demand (like 5 guys and some likes on the post) i have decided that on top of all the other stuff i have going on, i should add reading a bunch of comics and yapping about them to the list. now, i'm not exactly the most articulate of guys, so there's probably not going to be anything particularly insightful throughout this whole thing (the closest we'll get to that is probably going to be screaming and several emoticons) but! what i lack in brain power i make up with bingo! that's right i'm also going to be playing bingo as i read HAHA

to kick off the series of comic readings and subsequent yap fests and bingo checking, we have issue 1 of the IDW comics! the titles of the stories in this one are "when marty met emmett" and "looking for a few good scientists", so i guess the first one's going to be the comic's version of marty breaking into doc's garage! the second one i'm not as sure about, mayyybe it's doc being recruited into the manhattan project? bc i know the comics touch on that

i've never read these before so my following comments will be in real time, more or less, but. i will say. i know about and already have Opinions on the comic's version of how marty meets doc.

pre-conceived opinions and more under the cut!

so the comic begins with doc working on the time train before clara and the boys walk in. we get this exchange:

he wants to say the title of the franchise he's in sooo bad. also i love the little model on the side

he goes on to explain a condensed version of his life story to his sons, which includes his house burning down. i've only ever heard of it being an accident or his own doing for insurance money, but interestingly he suggests arson as a reason for it burning to the ground! thinking about this a little more, this still lines up with doc doing it himself bc that is still arson, and that probably was the intention with the line? but now i'm thinking if someone else besides doc himself burned his house down? never thought of that before idk why. someone could do something interesting with that i think

HE CALLS HIS GARAGE AN AUXILIARY STRUCTURE LMAO. anyways doc's starting on his "how he met marty" story now

marty.... my boy.... he really loves his red tshirt and jeans combo huh

needles comes in and demands his interocitor tube for guitar reasons, they scuffle, it breaks, he needs to get one back or else needles is going to beat the crap out of him, all that jazz. oh and also needles confiscates his guitar. just to be even more of an asshole

also this blonde chick needles hangs out with reminds me of spike from griff’s gang in 2015. mcflys are always getting harassed by blonde bullies it seems. get your mitts off him girl!! also also the third cronie’s face in this panel is so funny to me. dawg is thinking about getting taco bell or something his ass is NOT present in the conversation

on his quest to get another tube we spot red the bum. hi red

turns out doc bought all the tubes so now marty has to go to his garage to get them. marty cracks the password riddle to doc's fence (after getting electrocuted by it gbkgbjkg), to which he responds "kid's stuff." which is really funny to me for some reason. what a dork. marty i've got terrible news for what you are (a kid)

NEURON ACTIVATION

do the walls just keep closing in? will he know if he’ll ever win?

he's a very polite trespasser. no broken property from this boy! marty finds a key and worms his way into the window, where he comments that it's a good thing he's not as big as needles. being 2 apples tall does have its uses after all

HE GOT RUBE GOLDBERGED </3

oh the iconic "auugh". "aiigh" edition. my man’s in air jail </3

marty frees himself from Air Jail and immediately gets tackled by einie. doc emerges from wherever and tells him congrats! he passed the test! doc says "it's about time" which implies that he's just kind of been waiting around for some guy to solve his puzzles? like that rube goldberg was primed for a While. he wakes up in the morning and goes man i hope i get someone with my rube goldberg today. does he have to navagate around that thing? he's got a dog loose in the garage auxiliary structure. has he accidentally rube goldberged his dog? has he accidentally rube goldberged himself? the active rube goldberg at any given moment is really funny to me.

oh he put up a job listing as an assistant that's why he set up the whole thing. i thought he just did that. for fun. wait i knew this already why am i surprised? anyways he thinks marty figured out his employment ARG and asks him when can he start.

by the way. not me going "how can i make this about him being transgender" quite predictably. but i don't think once marty's name has been said by anyone so far? it's just been "mcfly".

he starts with his last name which everyone calls him, then realizes this is probably as safe a space as you can get and gives him the name he picked out for himself! his name's not just mcfly, it's MARTY mcfly, emphasis on the marty. and doc immediately uses it!

also unrelated to this tangent look at einie. he sits so polite. marty's "uh." of confusion at einstein's name too GJBGJG

putting this entire bit here bc i have things to say about all of this:

1st panel: this is like the one thing i like about this version of this event. einstein likes him! he's an excellent judge of character! he smelled Friend and oh yeah that is a Friend alright. good boy

2nd panel: moment IMMEDIATELY ruined. do NOT try and tell me this is how doc got his nickname!!! i know in my heart of hearts marty 100% came up with the "doc" nickname himself naturally and completely randomly one day and you can pry this hc out of my cold, dead, over-used and under-stretched hands. i’ll be so fr this is the bit i have the most problem with out of this entire version of their meeting LMAO. sure whatever you can have the inexplicable rube goldberg. you can zap people who try to ring you up and hide a password in there. but you can’t have this!! i refuse to believe!!

the whimsy in doc's step is amusing though.

3rd panel: bro looks devastated...... he was here to rob him :( ? his employment ARG didn't work after all :pensive: marty petting einie and clarifying that he would've asked "very politely" is very cute though. like i said, most polite trespasser

they're relating their interests...... excellent. "i never discuss it!" is really funny to me for some reason. bro is so cheerful about his wretched Work which he cannot disclose for any reason. also einstein's food thing was just always Like That i guess. gross, doc

ok wait so doc Was actually just waiting around to see if he'd catch a guy in his rube goldberg. freakish behaviour tbh /aff. also marty seems genuinely upset that there's no job! he wanted to hang out with that old man so bad :(

(i’ll be so fr. i kind of laughed when that second panel came up. it’s so dramatic for no reason BDJDBDJ.)

ends up doc just wanted the box the tubes came in. im sure there must've been a better way of doing this, doc. also when asked about pay negotiations bc doc offered him the job anyway, marty says he's just "happy to be the guy who knows doctor emmett l. brown!" which i think is cute. his payment is friendship <3

anyways marty hands over the tube to needles and goes oh yeah i stole this from doctor brown. to which needles holds it like it's a bomb LMAO

also MANHATTAN PROJECT REFERENCE ??? ? ??

also they drew this pic!! so cute

verne fell asleep through the story </3 so sad. guess you'll have to start over doc

i don't like how convoluted they make the breaking and entering thing, i feel like doc would not really be all too concerned with rube goldberging someone breaking into his garage to be friends with after they solved his riddles two. i think he's fully committed himself to the recluse life at this point. after reading all that, this opinion has Not changed for me in the slightest, but it was still fun to read! i can dislike the story direction and still think it's cute. we accept all sorts of doc and marty first meetings in this household. if you want to know how i personally think it went though i have this ask i answered once

originally i was going to do the second story in this same post but i think that's enough comic for me today. here's how the bingo sheet is turning out so far:

no bingo alas. recently i figured out that the story needs time travel or at least the delorean in order to get a bingo (where i was playing it with something else and got literally every square except any of the time travel ones and had like four almost bingos) and im going to pretend i did that on purpose bc im pretty sure i didn't LMAO. master bingo maker right here

next on kit reads a comic: we search for a small amount of decently qualified scientists

#back to the future #bttf #LIVE KIT REACTION #<- tag i will be using for these in particular #ill be so fr this is very much inspired by knickynoo's reactions to the bttf cartoon and books hahaha #i had a blast reading those. hopefully you guys also find my much less cohesive thoughts enjoyable as well!#first post of this nature and it's already going to be a two-parter sighs.....#kit yap session

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