I'm Shannon, 30, ♀️, Autistic, an artist (Hobbyist) and I love all things Horror. I have an obsession for Pennywise, Franco Barbi, Dr Victor Gideon, Bubba, Vecna and many more characters. 《《MDNI!》》
Obsessions of a Cruel Heart {Victor Gideon x Female reader} Chapter 4 Part 1
Hello my lovies!!! How is everyone doing!?!?!? I've missed chuss!! :3 :3 So sorry again for the delay in releasing these chapters! Studies have been stressing me out againnn!! I wanted to give you Chapter 4 Part 1 of the Victor Gideon x Female Reader~!!!!! As I said before in the first chapter, This is going to be more about his obsession of you and him doing anything to get to you. Now this one is going to be divided into Two parts because I literally wrote so much that I didn't want to overwhelm you with so many pages (literally this is 37 pages long and Im shookithhhh and its still going lol!). But my goodness I know yall are going to love this chapter because I've made it so juicyyyy even I was shocked by the delicioussssness!! Lol jkjk! But I really do hope yall love this chapter lovies! Thank you all again for your continued love, support, and being the best ever!! Yall are awesome!! I am still writing the Day of the Jackal series so stay tuned; there maybe be an early release by the end of the upcoming week! :3 :3 Thank you again everyone! And love yall! Enjoy!!!! :3 :3
Check out the first, second, and third parts:
Obsessions of a Cruel Heart {Victor Gideon x Female Reader} Chapter 1
Obsessions of a Cruel Heart {Victor Gideon x Female Reader} Chapter 2
Obsessions of a Cruel Heart {Victor Gideon x Female Reader} Chapter 3
Warnings: mention of blood, cursing, nothing too graphic.
『37 pages』 『10, 135 words』
Chapter 4 Part 1: My Beloved
The stranger slowly raised his hand, using the back of his fingers to gently brush against your tear-stained cheek. “I knew you would surrender eventually.”
You remained silent, not wanting to utter another word because you were out of options and every avenue of escape had been stripped away.
Your mind drifted back to Leon’s final words…..
“Y/n….what if I can’t get to you in time?”
The memory struck like a knife through your heart. Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you wished he was here to save you from this nightmare.
The stranger’s expression softened, “Oh….my beloved” his voice remained unnervingly calm.
“Do not cry, I’m here now” at the sound of his command, the flower creature slowly loosened its vines.
The moment the creature released you, your knees nearly gave out. You stumbled forward, clutching your injured arm as violent tremors coursed through your body.
Your breathing came out in uneven gasps, feeling as if the environment around you was suffocating you.
“Easy….” the stranger stepped forward just as you began to lose your balance. He caught you before you could collapse. One hand rested lightly between your shoulder blades, the other steadied your arm.
He then began to gently rub slow circles across your back.
Your breath caught in your throat, not because it was comforting, but because you recognized it. Your stomach twisted at the recognition, those were Leon’s movements, the same patient rhythm, the same reassuring pace, the same quiet gesture he always used whenever panic overwhelmed you.
“....No” a horrified whisper escaped your lips.
“What troubles you, beloved?”
“You….” tears freely spilled down your cheeks. “Stop…don’t….don’t do that…” you began to sob.
“I only wish to comfort you” the stranger looked almost puzzled.
“You don’t get to do that!” your voice broke almost instantly. “You don’t get to stand there….after everything you’ve done….and pretend to be him.”
Silence settled over the room and for the first time, the stranger’s smile faded only slightly.
Then it returned with a quiet chuckle, “I am not pretending” his eyes never left yours.
“I’m simply showing you what he never could.”
“You…will never….be Leon Kennedy” your voice lowered.
The stranger’s smile slowly faded, their jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. “You believe I wish to be him?”
A low laugh escaped him, cultured and measured. The sound vibrated unnaturally, carrying Victor’s unmistakable rhythm beneath the stranger’s own voice.
“What a curious conclusion. Why would I ever aspire to become a man so painfully ordinary?”
Another quiet chuckle followed, “A man whose greatest achievement has been arriving moments too late.”
His eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction, “He chases shadows while I reshape the future.”
“And unlike Mr. Kennedy…” an eerie smile formed across his lips. “....I have never once forgotten you.”
His smile sent a chill down your spine again as your gaze flickered towards the door.
The stranger noticed, of course he did. A knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, “Still searching for an escape?”
Your gaze snapped back towards him, wondering how he noticed your subtle shift so quickly.
“My beloved….” he let out another amused laugh. “....There is nowhere left for you to run.”
“I know there is nowhere left to run…” you nodded, gradually advancing towards him.
The stranger’s eyes narrowed in suspicion at your sudden change in attitude.
“But…you forgot one thing, Victor” you smiled, gently cupping his cheek.
“What could I have possibly forgotten, my beloved?” a slow smile spread across the stranger’s face.
Through the hive connection, Victor felt every sensation as though it were his own. The warmth of your hand, the tremor of your breathing, the racing beat of your heart, he savored every inch of it.
Your trembling hand then moved and came to rest against the stranger’s chest.
Victor’s pulse quickened, “My beloved….I’ve longed for this…” he whispered, utterly convinced you had finally yielded.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of your lips, “Leon was a great teacher.”
Victor frowned, “...What?”
Before he could react, your knee drove upward with every ounce of strength you had left.
“Argh!”
The stranger doubled over instantly, a strangled cry escaping his throat.
Miles away, Victor lurched forward in his laboratory, one hand instinctively grabbing the edge of the operating table as the pain reverberated through the hive connection.
For the first time….his composure shattered. “You little-!”
Not waiting for him to recover, you shoved the stranger backward and bolted towards the door.
The stranger slowly straightened, his face twisted with restrained fury, his eyes burning with murderous intensity.
“Get her!” his voice shouted.
The flower creature unleashed a deafening roar before its massive vines burst across the room, tearing through the overturned equipment as it charged after you.
“Fuck…fuck…fuck!” you screamed as you got onto the platform and typed away at the computer as you did before and it began to ascend.
The flower creature tried to reach you before the platform began to ascend, but it was too late.
“Come on…” you mumbled underneath your breath as you reached the top floor where you had entered from.
Once the platform stopped moving, you ran out of the door and down the halls with defying speed. Your heart raced as each step you took echoed along the walls.
“Get her!” Victor’s voice rang along your ears. That voice….it frightened you……
Before long, you burst through the same doors you had used to enter and fled the center. You stopped, looking back at the building, your breath coming out in fast, heavy gasps.
You had made it out, by yourself and without Leon’s help. You felt proud for surviving on your own until….a warm sensation slowly trailed down your cheek.
Instinctively, you raised your trembling hand and brushed your fingertips against it. When you pulled your hand away, you noticed a crimson stain.
“Oh shit…” you gasped.
“Y/n!”
You turned around toward the familiar voice.
Leon was sprinting across the courtyard. Relief washed over his face…until he saw the blood. His expression immediately changed from fear to pure fear. His pace quickened as he charged towards you.
“Y/n!” he called your name again.
You tried to answer, lips parting slowly, “I…” a thin stream of blood escaped your nose. The pressure behind your eye became unbearable that your knees began to buckle.
“No…” you let out a shaky breath, everything around you slowly beginning to fade.
The last thing you felt was a pair of strong arms catching you before you struck the ground.
“Y/n!” Leon pulled you tightly against his chest, his gloved hand gently cradling the back of your head as he searched your face for any sign of awareness.
“Stay with me..” his voice trembled despite every effort to steady it.
“Come on….open your eyes!” he called to you, but it proved useless as only terrifying silence answered him.
Leon swallowed hard, his heart pounding against his ribs, “....Who did this to you?”
Slowly his gaze rose towards the direction of the center in front of him, the rain pelting him from above.
In the distance, a lone man stood at the entrance, their smirk unmistakable.
“Son of a bitch…” Leon uttered underneath his breath.
The stranger raised their hand and began to wave to him as if he was a long lost friend.
Leon quickly grabbed his requiem weapon and pointed it towards the stranger, but they had disappeared completely, sending a chillful wave down his spine.
“Fuck!” he snapped, holstering his weapon and lifting you off the ground to carry you away.
“He can’t protect you from me.”
“What if I can’t save you y/n?”
“He is weak…..and when I’m finished with him….there will be nothing left!”
“Ah!” You screamed, your eyes flying open.
“Hey, hey!” Leon gasped as he shot up from the chair in your bedroom and went to comfort you.
“L-Leon…” you gasped, tears forming in your eyes.
Leon’s eyes softened at your tearful expression, “I’m here” he cooed, sitting beside you and pulling you into a gentle hug.
“Leon” you cried his name again, tightly embracing him as if he would disappear.
“I’m sorry that I… didn’t make it in time.”
“No…I’m sorry for….leaving my home without telling you” you trembled against him while gripping onto his jacket tightly.
Leon let out a shaky breath as he pulled you in tighter, his jaw tightening at the way you trembled against him. He never wanted to see you like this, especially after what you had gone through for the past few days.
“Who hurt you?” he murmured.
You flinched slightly at his question, not wanting to tell him who was really behind the chaos that was plaguing this city and your loved ones.
“Y/n” Leon gently cupped your cheeks, encouraging you to look at him. Those familiar blue eyes searched desperately for yours, “Look at me.”
Your trembling gaze finally met him as his expression softened. “Who…” he paused, carefully choosing his words.
“....did this to you?”
You slowly shook your head, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “I can’t…”.
Leon’s jaw tightened again, “Dont.” His voice remained calm. “....don’t protect them.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, “I can’t tell you…”.
“Y/n” his forehead rested gently against yours.
“I need a name.”
Silence.
“I swear to you…” his voice dropped lower. “...whoever did this…I’m going to stop them.”
“No…” you grabbed the front of his jacket with trembling fingers.
“He’ll hurt you, Leon….”.
Those words made him freeze, “He?”
You nodded weakly, “He said…” your voice cracked. “....he said everyone who gets close to me…..dies.”
Leon remained silent, his expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes hardened, a quiet resolve.
He then gently brushed a tear from your cheek, “Listen to me” he spoke with a steady voice. “I’ve faced monsters before” he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.
“And I’m still here.”
You shook your head frantically, “You don’t understand, Leon” your breathing became uneven.
“He isn’t like the others. He watches me through other people. He knows who I talk to.”
“He…” your voice faltered. “....he makes them sound like him.”
For the first time, Leon’s expression shifted, not of fear but of recognition. Pieces of the investigation suddenly began falling into place. The altered surveillance footage, the strange encounters, the impossible coincidences, none of it had been random.
His eyes narrowed as the dots began to connect, “....Doctor Victor Gideon.”
You looked up at him in shock, “No…no…no….Leon please!”
“He was the one that murdered Diedra, Diana, and Walter, wasn’t he? The one spreading chaos across the city and attacking you?”
“Leon you can’t fight him….he'll hurt you” you begged him.
“He won't y/n, I promise you” he gently rubbed your arm.
“How can you be so sure, Leon?”
Leon's lips curled into a soft smile as he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss against your forehead.
“Get some rest.”
“But-” you bite back your tongue, watching him stand from your bed and head towards your door to leave. Why didn't he answer your question? Why was he so sure of himself? He must know something that you don't.
“Hmm?” You sighed softly, re-adjusting your position on your bed once he left and closed your eyes to sleep.
Outside your bedroom door, Leon grasped his left hand tightly, a soft grunt escaping him.
“Fuck me..” he murmured underneath his breath as he pulled off his glove and looked over the dark veins that spread across his skin.
He was infected with the T-Virus for a long time and he didn't want to worry you more than you already were. He had to do everything he could to protect you from Doctor Gideon, even with his last ounce of strength.
“I promise I'll protect you, y/n” he whispered behind your door and then headed downstairs.
“Is….is she okay?”
Leon didn't answer immediately, his silence said enough.
“....No.”
The room fell silent.
Xander rubbed the back of his neck worriedly, “Leon….I wanna apologize.”
Leon finally looked at him with a hard expression, “For what?” His voice was calm, too calm for a man who almost lost someone he loved dearly.
“For letting her go by herself? For losing sight of her?” Leon's words became sharper with each sentence.
“She nearly died.”
Xander lowered his head, “....I know. I should've-”
“You should've stayed with her.”
Xander looked down in shame, feeling awful that he allowed you to get hurt while under his watch.
“Leon…we were trying our best,” Ben intervened.
Leon looked between the two of them, “I trusted both of you.”
Silence.
“I asked you to keep her safe…” his eyes hardened. “And somewhere along the way….it stopped.”
“We were following a lead about Gideon. She seemed like she was going to stay at home and look over some documents.”
“Don't assume what she was going to do, Ben…” Leon sighed deeply.
“Can you two at least watch over her while I follow up on that lead?”
“Yeah, we won't leave her side for a single second” Xander promised.
Leon ushered past them towards the front door but paused in his steps before he could reach it.
“Please…keep her safe” he begged them and then left through your front door.
Xander and Ben stared at your front door for a minute, despair washing over them. You wouldn't have gotten hurt if they just stayed put.
“Fuck…” Xander used his hand to wipe his face and head towards your kitchen to get a glass of water, leaving Ben to himself so he could gather his thoughts.
“Sherry, I've arrived at the location” Leon spoke through the comms as he exited his car.
“I see your ping Leon, you're good to go inside” Sherry said enthusiastically.
“Did you notice any movement before I arrived?” He questioned.
“Not that I'm aware of, but be careful Leon. I don't know if Dr. Gideon is inside.”
“Understood” Leon took a hold of his Requiem weapon and checked to see if it was loaded before heading inside the Chronic Hill Care Center.
Once Leon entered, he scanned his environment, converting every detail to mind.
“Mr. Kennedy?” A woman's voice spoke from behind him.
Leon turned around to face the woman who spoke to him. “Yes?”
“Welcome. Dr. Gideon has been expecting you.”
“Funny, I don't remember getting an invitation.”
“Well, he's waiting for you.”
“Can't have that, can we?” Leon cracked a small smile and approached the woman.
“Follow me please” the woman smiled as she led him towards a set of doors.
“Lead the way” Leon followed alongside her.
“So how long have you worked for, uh….Dr. Gideon” he glanced behind him quickly when he noticed the doors closed on their own.
“Not long. I just recently joined the team” the woman shrugged.
Leon nodded to himself and continued to follow her, listening to her speak about her time here in the Center.
“We care for quite a few long-term patients here, all undergoing experimental therapies developed by Dr. Gideon.”
“Experimental therapies? May I ask what they are?”
“I’m sorry Mr. Kennedy, I am not inclined on revealing confidential information” The woman let out a soft chuckle.
“Eh, worth a shot” he chuckled as well, following her down a corridor and into a big room that led to a small room.
“Please, wait here” the woman gestured for him to take a seat by the desk.
Leon nodded, scanning the room carefully to check for anything out of the ordinary. He then approached a desk and sat on it, a photograph catching his eye. Reaching out, he took the photo and noticed a tall figure he presumed to be Dr. Gideon, along with his medical team.
“Hmm” he set the photograph down and checked his watch for the time.
“Code six. Code six. All staff, initiate emergency protocols!” A voice on a loud speaker announced.
The same woman from before quickly burst through the doors, “Mr. Kennedy, we need to leave immediately!”
“What’s going on?” Leon asked with concern.
“I don’t know what’s happening. Some kind of mass hysteria. The hospital is on lockdown.”
“Doctor?” the woman gasped when she was approached by one of the doctors.
“Cut…out…” the doctor groaned in an inhuman way, his hand reaching for the starter on the chainsaw he was holding and pulling it.
“Ah!” the woman screamed, turning around to run but it was too late as the doctor pierced her body with the chainsaw.
With quick thinking, Leon kicked the chair by the desk towards the doctor after he charged towards him.
He then maneuvered around him, dodging his attack with the chainsaw, “I think I want a second opinion.”
“How…” A low, rumbling growl escaped a familiar voice. “....did he find this facility?”
Philip kept his eyes fixed on the surveillance monitors, watching Leon engage one of the center’s mutated doctors.
“Y/n led him here, Doctor. She was accompanied by two DSO agents.”
“This is….unacceptable.”
Gideon’s gaze lowered, his fingers slowly tightening around the edges of the laboratory table as he watched.
“He won’t remain a problem for long, Doctor Gideon. I assure you.”
“And how do you arrive at that conclusion?” Gideon’s eyes shifted towards Philip.
“He has interrupted my work and continues to interfere with reclaiming what is mine.”
Philip remained composed, “I don’t wish to overstep, Doctor…but y/n is currently isolated.”
“She has only two inexperienced agents guarding her” he folded his hands neatly behind his back. “I could enter her home unnoticed. Once inside, I can bring those two agents into your hive connection.”
“Then…” A faint smile crossed his lips. “...you may speak to her through me.”
Gideon’s interest was immediately piqued.
“Give her a choice. If she refuses to lure Leon Kennedy to the island in Spain…” he paused in his words.
“...he becomes the next casualty.”
Silence.
Then a slow smile spread across Gideon’s face. “My….” a quiet chuckle escaped him. “I had no idea we thought alike.”
He looked at Philip with unmistakable approval, “Then again…perhaps we do” his smile widened ever so slightly.
“Very well, go to her. Allow me to speak through you. I want her to understand…” his serpentine eyes narrowed.
“...that every path before her has already been closed and there is only one remaining.”
“....Me.”
“As you wish, Doctor” Philip bowed his head respectfully and turned to leave the laboratory.
Behind him, Gideon returned his attention to the surveillance feed. Leon continued fighting through the facility, unaware that the next move had already begun.
A quiet, satisfied smile crossed Gideon’s face.
“Run while you still can, Leon. It changes nothing. My beloved always finds her way back to me~”
“Mmm, hey, what are you guys doing here?” you smiled, rubbing your eyes and trotting down your stairs.
“Hey miss sleepy head” Xander was the first to stand from the couch, rushing over to you to help you down the steps.
“I’m okay, you don’t need to walk me down the steps like I’m an old lady” you joked, taking a hold of his hand anyway to stabilize your sleepy self.
“I know you ain’t old girly, I’m just making sure that you don’t bust your ass on these stairs.”
“Screw you” you pushed Xander playfully and looked over at Ben, noticing how red his eyes were.
“Hey, you okay Ben?” you worriedly asked.
“Yeah…um…just my allergies are…uh….fucking up my eyes” he lied.
“I didn’t know you had allergies?” you narrowed your eyes in suspicion.
“Yeah he does” Xander intervened, trying to distract you from the fact that Ben was crying.
“Oh….uh…do you want some Zyrtec?”
“I grabbed some already from your cabinet, but thanks though.”
“Oh….okay” you nodded, walking over to your couch and plopping down on it. “Did Leon leave?”
“Yeah, he said he’d be back in a little bit.”
“Mm” you nodded, rubbing your arm in discomfort.
“You okay?” Ben sat beside you.
“Mhm, just feeling a bit of pain” you shrugged it away and grabbed your phone from your pajama pocket to check if someone had messaged you back.
“Do you want some aspirin?”
“No thank you, Xander” you smiled at how kind he was, setting your phone down on the coffee table.
“But, I do have a question though, for you two?”
“Shoot” Xander nodded, leaning against the wall by your television.
“You guys work for Leon, don’t you?”
“Uh..” Ben choked on his saliva and began to cough non-stop.
Xander’s eyes widened at your question, “What? Us? Working for Leon? Naaa!”
You shook your head softly, already seeing through their lies, “Oh come on, don’t lie to me guys!”
Ben finally managed to catch his breath, “...Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “You got us.”
Xander sighed in defeat, “There wasn’t much point in hiding it anymore.
“So…” you looked between the two of them. “You’ve been working for Leon this whole time?”
The pair exchanged an awkward glance, “...Since the beginning,” Ben admitted.
Your eyes widened, “So when you both applied to work under me…that wasn’t a coincidence?”
Xander gave an apologetic smile, “No, it wasn’t.”
You stared at them in disbelief, “So everything…the interviews….the lab….the late nights…you were assigned to me?”
Ben nodded, “Leon asked us to keep an eye on you. He said you had a habit of throwing yourself into dangerous situations without thinking about your own safety.”
A small laugh escaped Xander, “His exact words were….” he cleared his throat, doing his best Leon impression.
“She’s brillant…but she’s going to get herself killed if nobody watches her.”
“He actually said that?” you couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“Word for word” Xander shrugged with a chuckle.
“So….he’s been protecting me…long before I ever knew” the laughter faded from you as this new realization settled over you.
Ben’s expression softened, “He wasn’t trying to spy on you, y/n. He just…wanted to make sure you always made it home.”
“But how would he know I was in danger? This whole situation is so sudden. It’s not like I was being watched for years” you couldn’t fathom the thought.
“We don’t know” Ben gently placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.
Suddenly, your doorbell rang, “Oh that must be Philip.”
“Philip?” Xander’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Who the hell is that?”
“Oh sorry, it’s my friend Philip. I haven’t texted him in a while and I wanted to let him know what was going on.”
“Can you trust him?” Ben stood from the couch and pulled out his pistol from his holster.
“Woah, woah! Yes! I trust him!” You gasped, quickly standing from your couch as well once you saw Ben pull out a gun.
“I’ll keep an eye on him. We can’t trust anyone, not even close friends” Xander turned to head to the front door and opened it.
“Oh I’m sorry…I didn’t realize y/n had company” Philip paused in the doorway, his smile pleasant and harmless.
“You must be Philip, huh?” Xander flashed him a cocky grin, hoping to send a chill down the man’s spine.
Philip’s smile never wavered, “And you must be…?”
“Xander” he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Oh?” Philip tilted his head curiously. “Funny…because I can’t say the same.”
A brief silence settled between them.
“Xander come on” You sighed softly and pushed him aside. “Hey Philip!”
“Y/n!” Philip's face immediately brightened the moment he saw you. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah I’m okay, just a bit shaken up” you shrugged, pulling him into a tight hug.
“Jesus, why didn’t you fucking tell me this before! I would’ve dropped everything” he pulled away from the hug to check to see if you were hurt.
“I know I should’ve told you, I just didn’t know how to tell you” you gestured for him to come inside.
As Philip entered the house, Xander quietly shut the front door behind him. The deadbolt clicked into place and his eyes never left Philip. Something about him...he couldn't explain it. But every instinct told him not to let the man out of his sight.
“You could’ve still called me, y/n. Even if I was working, I would’ve told my clients to fuck off and let me see my best friend” he entered into the living room and noticed another individual who sat on the couch.
“....Who’s this?”
Ben gave a small wave, “Ben” he stood and offered his hand.
“Friend of y/n’s.”
Philip accepted the handshake with an easy smile, “Philip.”
“It’s good to finally meet the new friends you’ve made, y/n.”
Behind him though, Xander remained standing near the entrance to the living room, watching, waiting, unable to shake the feeling that something about Philip wasn’t quite right.
“Argh!” Leon groaned, a hand snapping to his arm while his breathing seized.
The monstrous creature in front of him roared after it had slashed at his arm, readying itself to charge at him again.
“Son of a bitch!” Leon quickly reloaded his requiem weapon and fired a lethal shot to its head.
The towering creature let out its last roar before falling limp to the ground, a pool of crimson blood spreading out on the floor from its head.
“Ah…ah…” Leon panted heavily as he slid down the marble wall, glancing over at his wound and noticed the deep gash.
“Fuck me…” he leaned the back of his head against the wall and shut his eyes tightly.
“Leon, are you okay?” Sherry’s voice came through his earpiece.
“Y-Yeah been better…just…fuck….just hit a bump in the road…that’s all.”
“You need to get out of there!”
Leon slowly pushed himself back onto his feet, one hand pressed firmly against the wound, “I’ll live.”
“Leon-”
“I have to find Gideon” Leon’s blue eyes lifted towards the corridor ahead, his expression hardened with determination. “This ends today.”
Leon took another step forward before suddenly stopping.
“...Leon.” Sherry’s voice returned through the earpiece, but this time….it trembled.
“What is it?” Leon frowned.
A few seconds of silence followed, then…her voice came through. “...He’s not there.”
“What?”
“I’ve just finished cross-checking the security feeds we recovered from the facility” her breathing became uneven. “There isn’t a single trace of Victor Gideon entering or leaving the Chronic Hill Care Center.”
Leon slowly lowered his hand gun, “No…how…how is that possible?”
“It gets worse” Sherry swallowed hard. “The doctors and creatures you’ve fought, they were all connected through the hive strain…..they were decoys.”
Leon felt his stomach sink and then his eyes widened as everything suddenly fell into place. “It was all to keep me occupied….so I’d never realize…”.
“....that Gideon was making his real move somewhere else” Sherry finished the sentence for him.
“Y/n…” Leon’s heart nearly stopped and without a word, he bolted down the corridor, ignoring the pain tearing through his arm and the blood soaking through his clothes.
“How’s the tea Philip?” you chuckled, taking a sip from your cup.
“It tastes like ass,” Philip joked, flashing a devious smirk your way.
“Stop fucking lying!” you laughed, glancing over at Xander who remained vigilant of the whole situation.
Ben noticed too and did a slight gesture with his hand so he would ‘calm down’ because he looked stressed out of his mind.
“So, how are we going to take down this fuck-tard?”
“Who?”
“Victor Gideon? Who else?” Philip set down his cup of tea on the coffee table.
“Oh…uh…Leon has that covered. I’m supposed to stay here and…just let him-” your words trailed off, worry filling you because you didn’t want him to get hurt.
“Hey, you okay?” Ben leaned close to you and placed his hand on top of yours.
Philip’s eyes looked down, noticing the subtle touch, the sight before him enraging him. “I’m sure he will be alright, beloved.”
Your heart sunk deep in your chest, your head shooting towards Philip’s direction, “W-What did you just say?”
“I said he will be alright?” Philip narrowed his eyes in confusion.
“No, no, no you just said-” your mouth dropped further, your hand quickly grasping the couch cushion tightly.
“Y/n seriously, are you okay?” Xander intervened, confused at what was going on.
Philip’s lips slowly curled into the same unsettling smirk that Victor Gideon always wore whenever he looked at you.
Your heart skipped a beat, “...Philip?”
He didn’t answer, instead, his head tilted ever so slightly, in the exact same manner Gideon’s always did.
A cold chill raced down your spine, “No…”.
Philip rose calmly from the lounge chair, letting out a slow, almost content sigh as he smothered a hand through his hair. Even that gesture, it wasn’t Philip, it was Gideon.
His eyes settled on you with an unsettling warmth, “My…you truly are brilliant, my beloved” his smile widened.
“But…not quite quick enough to save your friends” A quiet chuckle escaped his lips.
Before anyone could react, his hand slipped beneath his jacket, a compact needle pistol flashed into view.
Pfft! Pfft!
Two darts shot across the room in rapid succession.
“No!” You screamed as you lunged toward Ben, trying to prevent him from getting shot but it was too late.
The tranquilizer darts struck their targets before you could reach him.
“Argh!” Ben and Xander cried out in agony as their hands instinctively clutched at their chests, their breathing becoming ragged and violent because of something alive that was crawling beneath their skin.
“No! You monster!” You screamed at Philip as you yanked the dart from Ben’s arm before examining the small vial attached to it. Only a few crimson droplets remained.
“I have warned you countless times, my beloved” Philip’s voice remained calm while he smiled. “No one around you will ever be safe until you choose me” he spread his arms as if presenting a masterpiece.
“And now…look at where your defiance continues to bring us.”
Your trembling gaze darted between Ben and Xander as they writhed across the floor.
Philip let out a soft hum, “I wouldn’t remain so close to him if I were you. Once that strain takes hold….he won’t know friend from foe.”
Fear gripped your chest as you immediately threw the empty vial aside before stumbling backward. Without another thought, you turned and sprinted upstairs, straight for your bedroom to grab the handgun that Leon had insisted you keep beneath your bed.
Philip watched you disappear up the staircase, a quiet sigh escaping him. “...Why do you always run from me, my beloved~”
Behind him and in front of him, a sickening crack echoed throughout the living room.
Crack! Crunch!
Xander’s body convulsed violently, his spine arched far beyond what should have been possible as bones shifted beneath his skin. Ben wasn’t far behind, his entire body seized before twisting with a horrifying series of pops and snaps.
Their heads slowly rolled backward….until….SNAP! Both their necks lurched forward in perfect unison. Their pupils had almost completely disappeared, only dark, hollow eyes stared back.
Philip regarded them with quiet satisfaction, “Excellent” he folded one leg over the other before calmly settling back into the lounge chair, as though nothing extraordinary had happened.
“Bring her to me~”
Immediately, Ben and Xander’s head jerked towards him, the command needed no explanation. Together, they turned towards the staircase, and began climbing after you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” tears began to overtake you as you scrambled to grab the gun case from under your bed.
Soon enough, you head the doorknob to your door beginning to jiggle uncontrollably, a sign that someone was trying to get in.
“Shit!” you trembled violently as you opened up the gun case and began to load the weapon.
Without warning, your bedroom door slammed open, Xander standing there ominously, looking as if something had overtaken him.
“Stay back!” you screamed, bolting upright and pointing your weapon towards him.
Xander slowly strolled inside, Ben doing the same and standing beside him with a blank expression.
“Guys please….I-I don’t want to hurt you” you begged them, but they remained silent, only Xander taking the first step forward.
“I’m sorry...” you cried, firing your pistol at Xander, his head snapping backward as a result while his body fell limp to the ground.
Ben turned his attention to Xander falling to the floor and then he looked towards you again.
“S-Stay back….I’m warning you.”
A predatory grin spread across Ben’s face, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
Without warning, Xander gasped for air, his body shooting upward as if he had come back to life.
The bullet wound that rested in the middle of his forehead had suddenly disappeared.
“What the fuck....” you gasped, as you continued firing but it was no use.
Ben lunged forward, grabbing you by your neck, trying to get you to release the gun.
“N-No let go!” You cried out, dropping your gun to try and pry his hand off of your throat.
Xander stalked over to you, his head tilting in an inhuman manner, watching you struggle against Ben’s grip.
Ben then pulled you down to his level, his hand still tightly wrapped around your throat, “Hmmm.”
Xander gestured with his head to Ben as he turned to head out of your room to bring you to Philip.
Philip’s gaze rose when he saw Ben carrying you over his shoulder, “There you are, beloved~”
“Ah!” you winced as you were thrown onto your couch.
You let out a shaky breath, slowly pushing yourself upright while clutching at your aching shoulder.
“Thank you” Philip rose gracefully from the lounge chair and made his way toward you with unhurried steps.
He lowered himself onto the couch beside you, his posture calm and composed, as though the chaos unfolding around him were nothing more than an ordinary afternoon.
Meanwhile, Ben and Xander silently walked towards the front door, without even exchanging a single word, they took up positions on either side of it.
“Oh my beloved, you are far more beautiful each time I see you” Philip raised his hand to push a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“Don’t touch me” you hissed, slapping his hand away before he could reach for you.
Philip’s jaw tightened when you slapped his hand away, but tried to remain composed.
“The tea was delightful, beloved. What flavor was it?”
You stared at him in disbelief, “Mint.”
“Mmm, what an interesting choice” he nodded thoughtfully.
“Stop acting like this is normal, Victor! What the fuck do you want from me!” You shouted at him.
Philip let out a soft chuckle, “Isn’t it obvious?” his smile widened every so slightly. “I want you~”
Tears began to overflow your eyes as you lowered your gaze, “If I go with you now, will you promise not to hurt Leon.”
Philip studied you for a long moment before gently hooking a finger beneath your chin, encouraging you to meet his gaze.
“It depends….. on whether you’re willing to do exactly as I ask.”
“W-What do you want me to do?” you swallowed nervously.
“I want you to convince Leon that you’ve found me” he spoke each instruction slowly, almost savoring every word.
“You’ll tell him I’ve returned to Valdelobos, Spain. That I’ve resumed my research. That the only way to stop me is for the two of you to go there together” he paused, only continuing once he was certain you were listening.
“When you reach the laboratory there, I’ll leave clues. They’ll guide you exactly where I want you to go.”
“And when Leon steps into that containment corridor” his smile deepened. “Seal the door behind him.”
Your heart pounded against your chest, “You really are a monster Victor….asking me to betray the person I love…”.
For the first time, Philip’s expression hardened. “You don’t love him” he snatched the back of your neck, forcing you onto his lap.
“You merely believe you do” his tone remained eerily calm but his eyes never left yours.
“I have protected you far longer than Leon Kennedy ever has.”
Your hands trembled against him, fear taking hold of you quick.
“There is nowhere left for you to run, my beloved…except to me~”
A defeated sigh escaped your lips, “....Then promise me” you raised your tear-filled eyes to meet his.
“Promise me Leon won’t be harmed.”
Philip hesitated just for a moment as somewhere beyond the hive connection, Victor Gideon silently considered your request. Leon Kennedy had become an inconvenience, a thorn buried deep beneath his skin. Yet, if making this promise meant finally bringing you back to him, it was a small price to pay.
“Very well, I give you my word that no harm will come to him, so long as you do exactly as I’ve instructed.”
Relief washed over you upon hearing him agree, “Thank you” you cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
Miles away, Victor Gideon felt every second of it through the hive connection. A quiet groan escaped him as the warmth of your lips resonated through Philip’s body and into his own consciousness. It ached deep within him. He wanted you now…but patience had always rewarded him far more generously than impulse ever could.
Philip inhaled sharply, the connection had become overwhelming. Victor’s emotions, his longing….they bled into his every thought.
“Ah…” a shaky breath escaped him before he instinctively reached for you, pulling you into an impulsive kiss.
“Mmm!” you gasped in shock, your hands quickly pressing against his chest.
For a brief, confusing moment, a familiar warmth stirred within you. Not because it was Philip, but because through him, you could almost feel Victor.
“V-Victor…” you whispered his name as you pulled back, the last trace of the kiss disappearing between you.
“My beloved..” his voice trembled with restrained emotion. “My hunger for you has only grown~”
“Victor….” you let out a shaky breath as you pressed your lips against him again, tightly wrapping your arms around him, conflicting emotions churning violently inside your chest. Part of you wanted to pull away while the other, the lonely part that had missed Victor’s voice for so long, wanted to remain exactly where you were. You hated yourself for it, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to move.
“Philip…” Victor’s voice thundered through the hive connection. “What in God’s name are you doing!”
Philip’s entire body stiffened, “Ah!” he immediately pushed you off his lap, clutching at his head as though waking from a dream.
“I…” his breathing became uneven. “...Forgive me, my beloved” he lowered his gaze, shame briefly crossing his face.
“Doctor Gideon does not wish for me to touch you” the words hung heavily in the silence because despite everything, Philip hadn’t acted on his own. For one fleeting moment, Victor’s longing had become so overwhelming, that even the hive connection could no longer contain it.
A deep blush formed across your cheek as you realized what you had done, “Oh….” you looked away in embarrassment.
“Sir, Mr. Kennedy has arrived. What are your orders?” Xander approached with measured steps, hands clasped neatly behind his back.
Philip’s lips slowly curved into a knowing smile, “Hmm, it appears your white knight has finally arrived” he glanced towards you from the corner of his eye.
“Leon” you gasped happily, your heart soaring at the mere mention of his name.
Philip’s smile faltered almost instantly at your reaction to his name, “I wouldn’t sound so relieved just yet, my beloved. He’s injured.”
“What? What did you do to him?!” your eyes widened in horror.
“Nothing…yet” Philip merely chuckled, rising gradually from the couch before turning his attention towards the two men.
“Ben. Xander. I want you two to act naturally. You are not mindless creatures. You are her trusted friends. Blend in, speak, smile, think. And above all else…” his eyes drifted back to you.
“....see to it that my beloved follows every instruction I’ve given her” Philip approached you and leaned in close to press a venomous kiss to your neck.
“Ah” you let out a soft moan.
“Go on my beloved…your leon is waiting” Philip’s smile widened ever so slightly.
“Let’s see how far he’s willing to go to save you” And with that, he disappeared out your back door.
“Y/n?” Leon’s trembling voice called to you.
“Leon!” you called his name, bolting from the couch and towards the front door.
The moment Leon saw you standing there, the tension drained from his body. “Jesus…” he let out a shaky breath before holstering his weapon.
“You’re okay….”.
“What happened to you?” you gasped, rushing towards him and placing his uninjured arm over your shoulder.
“Nothing much” he made a joke, wincing as he gripped his injured arm.
“Shush” you tried to contain a chuckle that nearly escaped your throat.
“Leon, what happened?!” Xander approached quickly, acting completely normal.
When Xander approached, you stared at him, jaw tightening in anger but you couldn’t say anything. Leon’s life rested in your hands, if you so much as spoke a word of Victor being here…it would be over.
“Let me get the med kit. Y/n, where do you keep your first aid kit?” Ben worriedly asked.
“Uh…under the sink in the guest bathroom” you handed Leon over to Xander who helped him onto your couch.
“Argh” Leon winced as he rested comfortably on the couch.
“You shouldn't have gone alone” you softly whispered, helping him out of his jacket.
Leon couldn't form the words he was looking for, all he could do was stare deep into your eyes. He was afraid that if he blinked, you would be gone.
“Leon…” You gently placed a hand on his thigh.
“Gideon didn't come here, right?” Leon changed the subject, wanting to know where he could be.
“No…” You shot a glance towards Xander whose expression hardened. “...he hasn't come here at all.”
“Good” he nodded, placing his hand on top of yours. “Are you okay though?”
“Yeah, I’m fine Leon. You don’t need to worry about me” you chuckled, soft tears dripping down your cheeks.
“Got the med kit here” Ben interrupted the moment and knelt in front of Leon to patch up his wound before it got infected.
Pulling your hand away, you opened up the med kit to assist Ben in patching Leon up.
“Jesus….this wound is deep. What the hell did this to you?” Ben grabbed the bottle of peroxide, soaking a fresh piece of gauze before carefully pressing it against the gash.
“Hng…” Leon squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenching as the antiseptic burned.
“A big-ass, motherfucking itsy-bitsy spider…” he let out a pained grunt. “That’s what did it.”
“A giant spider? Are you serious?” you gasped, not believing him for one second.
“Yeah” Leon opened his eyes to look at you.
You shook your head softly, standing from the couch and rushed to the kitchen to grab some pain meds.
After grabbing the bottle, you opened it and broke the seal. As you went to dispose of the foil seal, you noticed the same two darts that Philip had shot at Ben and Xander resting in your garbage can.
You let out a shaky breath, wanting to grab it to show Leon that Victor was indeed here.
“Looking for something?” Xander’s voice whispered against your ear.
You jumped violently at Xander’s voice, “N-No I was….I was just throwing away the foil seal…..from the pain meds…” you gulped.
Xander opened up the garbage can, noticing the two darts that rested inside. A playful glint lit up in his eyes before his lips twitched into a smile, “Were you thinking about showing Leon this?”
“N-No, I swear I was just throwing this away” you whimpered when he viciously grabbed your wrist.
“You do know that Doctor Gideon is watching you through me? He can read you far better than you realize. Every lie. Every truth. He knows the difference.”
“I swear to you! I wasn’t-”
Xander swiftly clamped a hand over your mouth, his eyes narrowing as Gideon’s irritation bled through his expression. “Do you take me for a fool, my beloved?”
A cold chuckle escaped him, “I know exactly what you were planning. You were going to show him those.”
You looked up at him in terror as your body trembled, “Mm…mm…” you mumbled.
“You had better hurry and explain the plan to him. Or that deal we made will cease to exist.”
Once he released you, you rushed out of the kitchen and towards the couch where Ben was putting the finishing touches to Leon’s bandages.
“Everything alright?” Leon suspiciously asked.
“Yeah, everything is okay!” you forced a smile as you shakily opened the bottle of pills. “Oh shit I forgot the-”
“Water” Xander’s voice interrupted you.
Leon turned.
Xander was already standing behind the couch, holding out a glass of ice-cold water. A pleasant smile rested on his face, yet there was something strangely empty about his eyes.
“....Thanks” Leon accepted the glass cautiously before taking the bottle of the pills from your hand. He swallowed the medication before handing the glass back.
“Appreciate it.”
Xander simply nodded, “My pleasure.”
Leon watched him for another second, then turned back towards you, his brows furrowed. “Y/n…are you sure you’re okay?” His eyes searched yours. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Yes…I just..” you tried to answer, but your eyes instinctively drifted toward Ben and Xander. Both men were watching you, completely still, neither of them blinked. Their expressions remained neutral, yet something about their gaze sent a chill racing down your spine.
You swallowed hard before forcing yourself to look back at Leon, “I’m just nervous because I know where Victor Gideon is.”
Leon’s expression changed, “What?” his exhaustion vanished almost instantly. “You know where he is?”
You slowly nodded, “I do, and I know exactly where we need to go.”
Leon’s blue eyes narrowed, “...Where?”
“....Valdelobos.”
For just a heartbeat, no one spoke, not even Ben or Xander. But somewhere behind Leon, a slow smile crept across Xander’s face. This was exactly as Gideon had planned and everything was coming together beautifully.
“Did you guys know about this?” Leon asked Ben and Xander.
“She told us a couple hours ago, when she was searching through the files we brought her” Ben stood from the floor while holding the med kit.
“Yeah, we thought it was best that she told you first” Xander turned around to wash the glass in the kitchen.
“How did you find this?”
“Just like Ben said, I was searching through the files from my job and found it.”
“Y/n…” he said quietly. “Can you give me a little more than that?”
Ben disappeared into the guest bathroom, carefully placing the supplies back under the sink. Although, he paused in the doorway, remaining perfectly still. He didn’t look back, he simply listened. Gideon’s presence pulsed silently through the hive connection, urging him to remain still. If you uttered that Victor Gideon was here, he would know.
“I found the location on some recovered files. Apparently, the security breach at my workplace wasn’t random. Victor was the one who hacked into our secure database. He was searching for information on….”.
“On what? And what does that have to do with Valdelobos?” Leon frowned.
Your words came out shaky and uneven, “The Cody Virus that I created years ago. The intrusion originated from a server located in Valdelobos.”
“I traced the breach back to its source…that’s how I found the location.”
“...The IP address.”
You slowly nodded, “Yeah.”
“Shit..” Leon rubbed a hand down his jaw, struggling to find the words.
“I’m sorry Leon, I know that place is bad…a-and you lost someone there-”
“Stop…..”. The single word was quiet, not harsh. It was just enough to make you fall silent.
You immediately lowered your gaze, afraid you had reopened a wound that had never truly healed.
Leon let out a slow breath, “You don’t have to apologize for anything, y/n. I did lose someone there, but none of that is your fault.”
He shook his head, “Victor Gideon is the one responsible. For the chaos….for the pain….for everything that’s happened.”
His uninjured hand slowly rose to cup your cheek, “So don’t carry that burden.”
“I-I know we have to go to Valdelobos…” his thumb brushed gently across your cheek. “But I need you to promise me something.”
“What?” you held his hand that was on your cheek.
“No matter what he says or what he does….promise me….that you won’t let him take you…”.
“I…” your lips trembled, your mind playing over and over again of what Victor had instructed you to do.
“I promise” you lied, shifting closer to him and hugging Leon tightly.
Leon let out a soft breath as his arms tightly wrapped around you, not wanting to let you go for a single second.
“I love you Leon, thank you for always being there for me~”
“I always will be” he whispered close to your ear.
A few hours had passed as Leon waited by the front door for you, his arm feeling better than ever after being patched up and after taking those pain meds.
“You sure you don’t want us to come?” Xander asked, leaning against the wall.
“I think it’s best if we stay Xander, we don't need to overwhelm Leon with our presence” Ben responded to Xander’s question.
"Ben's right," Leon admitted quietly. "I don't want any more people getting caught in this... especially if I can't protect them."
“Okay, I’m ready” you smiled as you rolled your [Favorite color] suitcase closely beside you.
Everyone turned their heads towards you, their expressions soft and filled with warmth that took you aback.
“What?” you blushed softly.
“You bringing your stuffed animals with you in that suitcase?” Leon playfully joked.
“No, I’m bringing extra clothes, pain meds in case you bust your ass, and other things that’ll help us.”
Leon chuckled as he walked towards you and grabbed your suitcase, “Alright, let’s get going then.”
You nodded, following closely behind him and took subtle glances at Ben and Xander.
“Be careful” Ben and Xander spoke in unison.
“Thanks” you gulped, quickly rushing out of your home towards Leon’s Porsche.
After arriving at the airport, you sighed deeply, looking up at the screen with the flight list.
“Still nervous?” Leon’s voice broke your train of thought.
“Just a little” you smiled up at Leon who handed you a [your favorite boba flavor] drink.
“What’s this?” you chuckled, taking the drink from him.
“They had a Boba place just around the corner and I wanted to get you something” he sat beside you and began to take a sip of his coffee.
“Thank you” you grabbed the straw of your drink and began to take little sips. “Mm, fuck…this is so good!”
“I know I’m delicious. You don’t have to announce it to the whole world, y/n” Leon’s lips curled into a devilish smirk.
“Your mom” you laughed while playfully shoved his shoulder.
As you continued to take sips of your drink, you turned your head towards Leon. “Hey uh…I need to tell you something.”
“What’s that?” he looked up from his phone to give you his undivided attention.
“About Victor-” your eyes shot up when you noticed someone in the distance staring at you.
“What about him?”
Your voice caught in your throat.
A woman sitting across the terminal. She wasn’t reading the magazine resting in her lap anymore, she was looking directly at you without blinking.
“Y/n?”
A chill crawled up your spine as you turned towards the large windows overlooking the runway.
A janitor slowly pushed his cleaning cart across the terminal and halfway past, he stopped, turning his head towards you…just staring.
Then you looked to the right, noticing a woman in a navy business suit also staring at you. She wasn’t waiting for someone, she was simply watching as well. Although, the corners of her lips slowly curled upward, not into a friendly smile, but into his smile.
Your stomach churned when the woman slowly lifted one finger and placed it gently against her lips.
The woman blinked, then calmly returned to her phone as though nothing had happened.
“Hey, are you feeling okay?” Leon turned his body to face yours and gently placed his hand on your lap.
“Y-Yeah….sorry I just thought someone was looking at me” you tore your gaze away from the woman and forced yourself to look at him.
Leon lifted his gaze from you to search around the airport terminal. He only noticed passerby’s reading, eating, and doing what they normally do. But he didn’t see anyone staring at you.
“I don’t see anything?” his gaze returned to you.
“I’m probably just imagining things. What I was going to say about Victor was that where do you think we would find him?”
“Oh” Leon removed his hand from your lap and shrugged. “Most likely in the labs on the other island.”
“There’s more than one island?”
“Yeah, there was the first island with the castle and the village. Then there was the second island which was more like an industrial area where I am sure they conducted their experiments. And where-” Leon paused in his words.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. That’s where Luis worked.”
“He was the one that you lost, right?”
"Yeah." His gaze drifted toward the airport window. "He wanted to make amends for the mistakes he'd made. He was..." He paused, a faint smile touching his lips. "...he was a good man."
“I’m sorry that you lost him, Leon.” You sympathized with him.
“Now boarding, Flight 246 to Valdelobos, Spain.”
“Guess that’s us” Leon stood from his seat and quickly finished his coffee.
You did the same, finishing your boba and tossing it in the garbage near you. You then turned around to grab your backpack and headed to the line that formed at your gate.
“Do you want the aisle seat or the window?”
“I’ll take the aisle seat in case I need to use the bathroom” you chuckled, waiting for him to get inside first.
After Leon sat down, you pushed your bookbag in the overhead storage and got into your seat.
“Is it gonna be a long flight?”
“Just a little bit but make sure you get some rest” he smiled.
“I’ll try” you giggled, buckling your seatbelt until a stewardess approached you two.
“Welcome aboard flight 246, I wanted to let you two know that there is a complimentary bottle of champagne for you that I will happily serve you once we take off.”
“Complimentary?” Leon’s brows narrowed in suspicion. “By whom?”
“I am sorry sir, I can not reveal their identity. But please do enjoy” the stewardess straightened to her original height and went down the aisles to check if everyone was strapped in.
“That was odd” Leon looked at you in a confused manner.
“Yeah, wonder what that was about?” you shook your head and took out your phone to scroll what videos you were going to watch during the long flight.
Once the aircraft was airborne, the stewardess came down the aisle to serve you both a glass of champagne.
“Here you are sir.”
“Thanks” Leon reluctantly took a hold of the glass.
“And…” the stewardess carefully poured your glass and leaned forward to hand it to you. “...for you beloved.”
“Thank y-” you paused in your words when you heard the stewardess.
The stewardess’s eyes glinted a yellowish color, sending a fearful wave down your spine. It was Victor... He was still watching you no matter where you went.
“There’s also desert for you my dear, if you want it. Let me know” the stewardess whispered against your ear before she went about her duties.
“What’d she tell you?” Leon took a sip of the champagne and let out a satisfying hum once the sweet taste hit his tongue.
“Uh…she said there’s desert for us if we want it” you nervously chuckled and hesitantly took a sip of your champagne.
“Huh, first time I’ve ever been pampered on a flight before.”
“Yeah, same” you nodded, letting out a deep sigh.
Victor had won, there was no way out of this, no matter how hard you tried. And if you so much as utter a single word to Leon about him, he would be dead within minutes.
“I’m gonna use the restroom, I’ll be back” you smiled as you set your champagne glass on his tray table and stood out of your seat.
“Alright,” Leon nodded.
As you walked down the aisle and towards the front of the plane, you noticed that the bathroom was occupied.
“Oh come on” you sighed in annoyance and waited by the cockpit exit door.
Unexpectedly, the same stewardess that attended you before appeared. “Oh, hello sweetheart, are you waiting for the bathroom?”
“Yes…” you looked at her with terror written across your face.
The stewardess let out a soft giggle as reached over and drew the curtains across the aisle behind her, shutting the two of you away from the rest of the cabin.
“While you wait,” she asked sweetly. “Would you like some dessert?”
“No I’m….I’m fine…” you shook your head.
“Oh don’t be such a party pooper” she flashed a tight, strained smile, her lips pulling back from her teeth like a mask. “It’s your favorite.”
“My favorite?” you frowned.
“Yes, [Your favorite cake flavor] cake.”
“I told you I’m fine. I don’t want to eat, I just want to use the bathroom” you bluntly spoke.
Without acknowledging your refusal, the stewardess carefully placed a slice of cake onto a porcelain plate. She picked up a fork before turning back toward you. One slow step, then another.
“Come now, beloved” She murmured, her voice no longer sounding entirely like her own. “...Open wide~”
“P-Please….I-I don’t-” You gasped as your back hit the exit door.
"Ah," she cooed, opening her mouth in an exaggerated demonstration, just as a mother might to encourage her baby to eat.
“Victor…stop” you begged, tears beginning to drip down your eyes.
“I said….” Her smile never faltered as her voice grew lower. “...open wide.” She nudged the fork against your lips, smearing a thin ribbon of frosting across them.
You let out soft whimpers, turning your head to the side because you didn’t want to open your mouth for him.
The stewardess set the fork back on the plate before lifting her free hand to gently cup your chin, turning your face towards her.
"My, my..." she sighed softly. "What am I going to do with you? You've managed to get frosting all over yourself."
Before you could pull away, she leaned in, her tongue swept the frosting from your lips.
“Ugh…” you let out a disgusted groan as her tongue swept up the frosting from your lips. It lingered for just a heartbeat too long, unnaturally long and unnervingly smooth, carrying an almost serpentine quality that sent a chill racing down your spine. It reminded you of nothing you had ever encountered before.
The stewardess drew back, a satisfied hum escaping her lips. “Mm…” her smile widened ever so slightly. “...So sweet~”
“Phew” a voice came from the bathroom after they opened the door. “Sorry I took so long, I was just freshening up a bit.
The stewardess quickly pulled away from you to pretend she was eating the cake on her plate. “Mm, no worries hun, we all need to freshen up sometime, especially on this long flight.”
“You got that right!” The woman laughed as she opened the curtain and walked down the aisle to head to her seat.
The stewardess closed the curtain once again and turned towards you, pointing to the bathroom with the fork. “Go on, before someone comes to use it.”
You cautiously maneuvered past her and into the bathroom, shutting it quickly behind you and locking it. You gripped onto your chest tightly, feeling as if you were having a panic attack.
“Leon…” you cried his name, wishing that this nightmare would be over.
Time had slipped away quickly after you and Leon arrived at the airport in Valdelobos, Spain. This was it, the moment where you were going to betray Leon and give yourself up to the man that has been plaguing you for the longest time.
This idea was directly inspired by a post by @local-twat go support them!!
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T//W: Sex, fingering, reader had vagina, no protection, power difference, boss on worker, sex on a motorcycle, pregnancy briefly mentioned , reader is a Victor Gideon glazer, this is an 18+ fanfic.
This is not proofread so excuse any mistakes
W/C:2,209
Rhodes Hill was an established medical sanatorium as well as your place of employment.
You loved working there, taking care of patients, you felt like you were making a real difference.
The doctors you worked with were all so accomplished, you were often told about the medical strides they made here.
Tonight you had taken care of your patients and now you were working on some paperwork.
Although you loved the work you did, you were not a fan of doing paperwork.
The night seemed to drag itself out, the East wing was almost silent.
Most of the other doctors had already gone home or you assumed that they had.
You let out a yawn, you couldn’t wait to go home.
The day had been long, yet you felt so proud of yourself, your parents were so impressed with your work and you were constantly bragged about.
There was one slight issue.
Recently you had developed a small crush on the director of the facility.
The esteemed doctor was a tad unusual appearance wise, but your other colleagues told you he was ill and you couldn’t help but feel pity towards him.
Plus looks weren’t what interested you, he was so intelligent and he cared so much about his work.
He was so perfect!
The sad part was Dr. Gideon barely spoke to you.
You tried to impress him with your work but it never seemed to play out how you wanted it to.
The reasonable part of you knew that this was unprofessional, but there was nothing wrong with a small work crush…
As you finished the last of your paper work you noticed some loud noises coming from the patient ward.
It wasn’t surprising to hear patients causing a ruckus; however it was odd to hear it when barely any other doctors were around.
“Hmm that was weird….”, You decided to just pack up your stuff, one of the nurses on the night shift would take care of whatever was going on.
Finally, you finished grabbing your items, you could clock out, then go home.
The walk to leave the facility was quite long and if you were being honest the clinic was a little creepy at night.
Especially with how suddenly silent it was again, not a soul in sight or so you thought.
You did have to admit the sanatorium was gorgeous, even if it was old and scary at night, you could appreciate all the beautiful architecture.
You were quite close to the entrance area when you abruptly heard footsteps from behind you.
Without a second thought you spun around to see none other than Dr. Gideon.
It was so rare to just see him without warning, what was he doing?
“Oh um good evening Dr.Gideon.” You fumbled to get the words out.
“Good evening I presume you’re leaving?” He stepped closer, standing out against the white and blue marbled room.
“Yes sir, I finished everything for the night.”
This was your chance! You could actually speak to him one on one, no other doctors, maybe if he got to know you better you could be able to get into his trusted circle.
You heard rumors that other doctors had special privileges and had access to advanced research if they were esteemed enough for it and knew Dr. Gideon well enough.
That was what you presumed anyway.
“I see, I was just coming out of the patient ward, would you like me to walk you to your car?”
Dr. Gideon offering to walk you to your car? This had to be a dream come true. Although you walked and took the bus to work…
“Oh! Um- thank you sir, but I usually walk to the nearest bus stop, but I appreciate the gesture, and-“
He cut you off, “Would you like a ride home?”
For a moment you stood there, more surprised than you ever had been.
The doctor who all your colleagues admired, who you adored, just asked to give you a ride home?
The sentence came out faster than you expected it to, “I-I would love a ride home- I don’t live too far away, I uh can give you my address.”
Dr. Gideon stood close to you now, he was very large, to most his presence would be imposing and you had to admit it sometimes was, but he was always so calm and collected that you always felt so comfortable around him.
Even with his odd appearance, the goggles he wore did look weird but you assumed they were just really high tech, he wore a thick snakeskin jacket, you liked snakes too so you thought it was unique.
“Well then, you can follow me to my vehicle, located in the parking garage.”
You could practically shake from excitement.
You had never seen Dr. Gideon give or offer anyone else rides.
Plus none of your coworkers mentioned it, maybe it meant he really did like you or he would offer you a promotion.
You closely followed behind the doctor trying to seem as calm as possible.
“Are you enjoying your position here?”
“Yes sir, I really love this job, I’m honored to be here.”
You hoped he was impressed with your work after-all you did exceptionally well in college, surpassing the bar and you tried your hardest to be useful in your daily work.
“I was quite surprised with your last report, it was all very fascinating.”
Oh wow! Dr. Gideon was giving you compliments!! He definitely did like you, maybe you could talk about other things besides work.
You both reached the exit to the parking garage, he even opened the door for you, this day couldn’t possibly get any better.
The parking garage was almost empty, the remaining vehicles most likely belonged to the night staff.
Finally, Gideon and you arrived at a vehicle, but it wasn’t what you were expecting.
Dr. Gideon had a Motorcycle or some sort of bike. You weren’t quite sure.
The bike was large, it was clearly made for a man of his size, it also looked somewhat worn, like it was an older model.
“U-um thank you again for offering me a ride home Dr.Gideon, it means a lot.”
You watched as Dr. Gideon gave you a smile, “Would you like to get a feel of it?”
“I’ve uh never been on a bike before.”
He let you a dry laugh, “I assumed so, would you like to get on first?”
“Are you sure? Wouldn’t it be harder for you to get on?”
Gideon looked down at you, his demeanor shifted.
“Would you like a promotion?”
“I-i’m sorry um what?” Your brain stopped functioning for a moment.
“You’re quite obviously with it, begging for my attention.”
Your face blushed into a shade of dark red, the embarrassment taking over your body.
“Maybe you want me to notice, or maybe you’re just slow.”
You stood there suddenly shy and unsure of what to say.
“I can give you that promotion, you have the skill for it, but nothing comes for free.”
Still in shock you looked at him confused.
“Sit down on the bike.”
You were scared but you didn’t know what else to do.
The bike was a bit hard to get on but you managed to.
“That was easy enough for you, wasn’t it?”
Nervously, you nodded.
“I find it amusing you tried to impress me with your weak attempts, however it’s endearing I suppose.”
You watched the doctor move closer, he mounted the bike, the weight of him shifting it in place.
“You wanted my attention, now it’s all yours.”
Your body felt so hot, you could feel Dr. Gideon pressed up against your back.
“I-um t-this isn’t uh professional- um.”
Your words were quiet and shaky and deep down you didn’t mean them.
“I think you hardly care about professionalism.”
You felt the doctors’s hands on your back.
“Would you like this?” His hands were still rubbing against your jacket.
“D-Dr. Gideon, I r-really do like you- but m-my job-“
“Hush, your job is safe, in fact I’m considering you for my upcoming project , you would make a perfect addition.”
This had to be a dream, or some sick prank, but Dr. Gideon wouldn’t do that.
Plus his hands felt really nice on your back and the distance was so close, you’ve wanted this forever, maybe this was your opportunity.
“D-doctor, um what if someone comes..?”
You felt him laugh against your back, “No one is coming down here at this hour.”
His hand was slowly dragging down to your pants, the large hand found its way into your lap.
Never had you thought you would be in this position, with your boss, in the middle of the night, in a parking lot no less.
His other hand moved to your chest, it enveloped your chest his finger rubbing over your nipple.
The stimulation felt so foreign yet so good.
He began to fidget with your jeans, undoing the button.
You leaned closer to him, laying your head under his chin.
His fingers moved under your jeans then your panties until he found what he was searching for.
“Oh, what’s this? Is someone getting excited?”
You nodded, your hair brushing against his chin.
The doctor’s hand squeezed your nipple making you let out a surprised squeal.
“D-dr. Gideon, this f-feels really nice, p-please, I’ll be good.”
His fingers were larger than anything you had ever seen, you were a bit scared of what was to come.
He let out a grunt, feeling the slick along your folds.
The other hand continued on your nipple, rubbing and every so often giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Since you want to be so obedient, I’ll be as gentle as I can be.”
He slowly slipped his lone finger inside, trying his best to not rush you.
Even with only one finger you could still feel it inside you.
“p-please.” You desperately whimpered at him.
The doctor obliged your plea and slowly inserted another finger.
The stretch was noticeable, but it wasn’t as painful as you would have thought.
Once Victor felt you were accustomed to him, he began moving in and out of your folds.
You did your best to not be too loud, as a part of you worried a doctor or nurse would suddenly enter the garage, but the dual stimulation felt so good.
“Is this the attention you wanted pet? Your boss stretching you open?”
The only answer you could muster was a pathetic whine.
He quickened the pace, sliding in and out with ease, his other hand continued the pleasurable tugs on your chest.
You tried to grip into the metal bike, hoping it would be stable enough to hold you both.
Your body finally reached its climax, the warm, sticky feeling taking over.
Victor pulled his fingers out, they were covered in fluids, soaked down to his hand.
“Such a good little thing, however we’re not quite done yet.”
Still trying to catch your breath, you could hear Dr. Gideon undoing his belt, the leather of his pants squeaking.
You were exhausted from only his fingers so you were unsure of what to expect from under his belt.
Victor’s arms pulled you onto his lap, you could feel him under your jeans.
He struggled to pull your jeans down enough for access.
After much effort he managed to pull them down enough.
“Much more difficult in this position I fear, but it does make it more exciting.”
You could feel him, he was large just by touch.
“I think you’re prepared enough, but this may hurt.”
He once again hoisted you up, letting your body slowly slide down onto it.
This time the stretch burned, your walls were struggling to take him.
You let out a pained cry, squeezing the bike like your life depended on it.
“Shhh your body will adjust pet, let me do the work.”
His hand moved down on your hips, gently starting to move.
The stretch still hurt but slowly it was becoming bearable to handle.
Victor moved your body like it weighed nothing. He knew what he was doing and how to do it.
You hadn’t noticed, but your knuckles were turning a different color due to how hard you were gripping the bike.
You could hear Victor letting out quiet groans, as well as the bike making loud sounds of squealing and metal squeaking.
He pumped faster trying to reach his peak, your body felt so limp against his.
You once again felt the warm, sticky feeling starting to take over and you knew your climax was close.
For a moment you felt like your body was on fire then came the feeling of pure bliss and you hoped Dr. Gideon wasn’t far behind.
His movements started to slow down as you felt him holding onto your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your skin.
He let out a final groan before you felt your body clenching around him.
“W-wait- doctor I’m not on a-anything.”
Victor was breathing slightly heavy, “I’ll give you something tomorrow, you did so well.”
Your worry subsided, fidgeting with your jeans, trying to pull them back up.
“Now I’ll give you your ride home.”
Dividers by: https://anastasiatheshifter.tumblr.com/ Go support them!!!
Victor is often accused of negligence – like, why did he leave Grace all alone and unsupervised in a hospital full of zombies if she's so important to him? And I think I have a solid defense for him.
Sure, Victor made plenty of questionable choices throughout the game, but in this case, people are missing one key detail: there are security cameras installed all over the clinic, and Victor has direct access to them right from his visor. This is clearly demonstrated to us the moment Leon arrives at Rhodes Hill.
He keeps an eye on Grace through the cameras the exact same way, sees that she can hold her own, and therefore doesn't intervene. But there was one instance early on when Grace couldn't handle it – the Girl grabbed her, slammed her against a radiator, and dragged her into the dark. And at that exact moment, when Grace was in real danger, Victor was already rushing to her rescue. But Leon beat him to it.
If you recall the cutscene, Victor was standing right in that same hallway, staring at Marie's shot-up head. He was just a second too late. If Leon had been delayed even slightly, Gideon himself would have been the one rescuing Grace from the monster. Which actually sounds pretty fascinating.
Summary - Once again finding Dr. Victor Gideon splayed out on the autopsy table before you, today's session is one which will see you testing the limits of that impressive body of his. (2.8k)
“Today, I will be testing your limits.” With your hands planted firmly on your hips, you gaze down at your favourite subject with a loose smile. “And, trust me, the irony isn’t lost on me either.”
Standing to the side of the reinforced autopsy table, you have to bite down a fuller smirk at just how much shameless excitement fills Victor’s expressive face as he watches you slowly circle his laid-out positioning with his unflinching, golden gaze.
“I will be an ideal patient, little bird.” His voice is low and smooth, coloured by arousal as his exposed cock visibly stirs where it sits heavily against the wide thigh. “My body is yours for whatever testing you wish to conduct.”
“Good. Your compliance will make all testing much simpler.” You parrot the familiar words back at him, having heard them many times when your positions were reversed. Truthfully, it was rare for Victor to be in high enough spirits to allow you to fully have your way with him but you cherished the opportunity as it soothes the more sadistic side of your sadomasochistic desires.
Victor’s eyes blink at you slowly, his breathing measured as he asks the question you were hoping he would, “What do you plan to do with me? Talk me through your proposed examinations.”
Stopping by his large arm, you raise your hands slightly to make his job easier as you throw a quick demand at him, “Lift me.”
Victor complies in an instant, his strength making the task as simple as could be as his hand locks around your waist and lifts you high enough that you are able to splay your thighs and straddle his stomach. His body is cool beneath your cunt and you don’t doubt for a second that he can feel the arousal which dampens your pubic hair as you press your heated flesh into the skin of his stomach for a little relief.
“First, I will be testing your throat. I want to see how deep that odd little gag reflex of your goes.” Your fingers trace along his chapped mouth, stroking along his lower lip as you feel the very tip of his tongue daring to press out and flick along the pads of your digits, “I want to play with it because watching your eyes water and your throat retch around my fingers will make me laugh. Do you understand?”
Practically vibrating with the effort which it was taking him to remain perfectly still beneath your straddling frame and not pull you down to grind into his cock, Victor’s chest visibly heaves as he issues a soft reply.
“Yes.”
“Then, we’ll move on to opening you up. Not with a scalpel and not up in your chest this time,” you shuffle slightly as your lean back and drop your fingers much lower to delve between his thighs and tease along the sensitive space which sits just above his asshole, “but down here.” You press a teasing thumb to his hole. “I want to see how much you can take. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” The same word again, but this time much more strained as his whole body shudders against the table, his pupils blown so wide that the black almost swallows the gold. His cock is fully hard against his thigh, neglected, and even more aroused for it.
“Then let’s begin.”
Pressing your fingers to his lips with a firm insistence, Victor parts them immediately and you slide your digits across his tongue. The texture is as odd as always, rougher than a regular human tongue and wickedly thin, but he accepts the fingers with some dignity and you marvel at the saliva which quickly gathers within his mouth as his body responds to the unnatural invader. There’s something very intimate about the way which Victor allows you to explore his mouth, digits teasing along his gold-capped, uneven teeth as they map out the strange sensation of them, that you take your sweet time in indulging the experience.
“A golden smile for such a terrible monster.” You mutter, more to yourself than anything but Victor’s lips curl up in delight at the words. He looks smug, too smug, and you decide to wipe that look from his face as you sharply push two of your fingers towards the top of his throat – bypassing his tongue entirely as you touch the skin at the back with a gentle brush of your fingertips.
Victor gags instantly, his tongue flaring and the back of his throat constricting around your fingers as it tries to expel them in the only way it knows how. Clearly not expecting the sudden assault, his eyes flare wide and his head jerks to the side in a vain attempt to escape the betraying sensitivity of his gag reflex as he retches pathetically.
Moving in tandem, Victor’s hands fly to your outer thighs, gripping the flesh there roughly enough that you gasp in discomfort. Without thought, you pull your fingers free of his spasming throat and draw the open palm of your hand across his cheek. It’s like striking marble but it gets the point across as the faintest flush of colour rises in the struck skin and Victor’s hands lessen their grip of your legs.
“How dare you touch me without permission!”
“I apologise.” Victor states but makes no effort to pull his hands free fully. “You bring out the worst in me, little bird.”
“You haven’t seen the worst of me yet.” You threaten him lightly, more a tease than anything else. “But you’ve disappointed my first test so I think I will just skip ahead to the main event.”
Slipping off his body and leaving a definite smear of arousal across his greyed stomach, you stand by his side once more as you clap for his attention and wait for his blown gaze to meet your own.
“Flip over and present yourself for further testing.” The words are a demand and you turn your back to him long enough to pick up a nearby latex glove and a thin bottle of silicone lubricant.
“Gloves?” Victor asks and the word is practically a whine, his disappointment shining through as he carefully adjusts himself to lay flat on his stomach and watch you pull the glove on with a practised hand.
“Yes.” You nod. “After that performance, you don’t deserve to feel the warmth of my touch yet. You get the cool latex or nothing, Victor. So, what’s it going to be?”
“Gloves.” He answers quickly, the reply almost sulking in how low it comes out.
“That’s what I thought.”
Lubing up two fingers, you warm the gel between them for only a moment before bringing your ungloved hand down on Victor’s ass so hard that the crack of the contact echoes around the quiet examination room.
“Ass up.”
Your demand is strong, voice hiding the sudden discomfort which is stinging your palm as it recovers from hitting Victor’s ass so roughly. But Victor does comply shakily, the table groaning under his impressive weight regardless of how reinforced it is, and he brings his knees up a little to raise his ass for easier access. There was something delightful in how quickly he followed instruction where it counted and you privately wonder if it has anything to do with that submissive little nemesis parasite which has bonded to him on a molecular level.
“Mm, I’m going to enjoy stretching you out.” You tease him slowly, pressing your two lubed fingers to his asshole and admiring the way in seems to flex beneath your touch. “You know that, yeah? I’ll hollow you out and leave you nothing but a sobbing, gaping mess. Then you’ll thank me for it and beg me to do it again. What do you think?”
“Please, do what you want with me.”
Knowing what he likes, you thrust the two fingers within him without warning or mercy and delight in the way which the sudden intrusion makes Victor’s entire body jerk. His enhancements blurring the line between pleasure and pain, sensation for Victor is so ambiguous that you know he can take whatever you want to do with him and he will take it beautifully.
“Two fingers to begin, Dr. Gideon.” Twisting the digits, you take note of how subtle the shake in his thighs is as he widens them to allow you easier access to his ass. “And then we’ll work our way up.”
“You spoil me, little bird.”
And spoil him you do as you slowly build up a steady rhythm with your fingers, curling them against the fleshy inner walls of his ass as you stroke along the sensitive nerves to spark as much pleasure as possible. Your mind wanders to the nights where your positions were reversed, Victor’s tongue and cock using your much weaker body as little more than a doll as he wrung every ounce of sensation from your screaming frame until you were ready to pass out from the overwhelming stimulations.
The favour is yours to return and you do so with a wicked smile as soft gasps and humming grunts issue from between Victor’s lips in a steady stream. He is loving your touch, you know that much, and to have such a terrifying monster brought to submission by little more than your fingers is an intoxicating feeling which rolls through your veins like adrenaline.
Victor unleashes a sharp, decisive moan as you insert a third finger, it doesn’t take a genius to work out what is happening and you coo in mocking delight as you watch thick spurts of Victor’s release arc splash across the metal gurney beneath his body as his cock hangs so heavy that it’s not quite able to sit flush against his skin.
“You’re soaked like a whore, Victor. Coming like a teenager who’s just discovered his cock can do more than piss. And you didn’t even have to touch yourself. Hey, maybe I won’t touch your cock ever again if it’s this easy to make you come.”
“Please, mistress.” He begs, words catching in his throat as you continue to pump your fingers within his ass. The title is new and you find that you like it as it sparks a fresh throb of interest in your neglected cunt.
“Quit whining because we both know you can take more, Victor. This body of yours is so incredible, so dangerous, that you will take more.”
Adding your pinkie finger to the mix, your swirl and scissor all four fingers with a steady rhythm – spreading them wide to try and stretch his hole as much as possible before laying them flat and twisting them around the rim of his ass. Still sensitive from his recent orgasm, the added pressure pulls a fresh series of noises from Victor’s throat as his wide hands grip the sides of the gurney with so much strength that you are surprised the metal hasn’t started to give way.
“Are you ready to take it all?”
“Use me.”
Tucking your thumb tight to your hand, you push the whole fist against his ass and slowly work your way to the thickest part of your knuckles. The added girth snatches a growl from Victor as he greedily pushes back to try and force you to give him what he wants, his natural selfishness so great that he is physically incapable of waiting patiently.
Using his own strength against him, your fist slips past the ring of muscle with a satisfying pop and you gasp as you find your hand swallowed by the tight warmth of his walls. His head pressed against the gurney, the noise which Victor makes as he feels your hand enter him fully is somewhere between a wheeze and a yelp – a desperate keening noise which makes your cunt throb as you drop a finger to circle your clit in a wicked tease.
Without giving him time to adjust, you twist your hand into a fist and push it deeper within his ass; only pausing when you feel his body tense and then pulling it back until your fist is pushing against his hole from within. The pressure no doubt terrible and wonderful in its intensity. Using a rough estimate, you twist the knuckle of your thumb and slowly begin to drag it across the inside of his ass as you seek out that sweet little spot which will prove to be his undoing.
You know you have found it when Victor’s body jolts as though you fired a shot of lightning through his veins and you purr with sheer delight as you immediately focus your attention on his prostate. The sudden onslaught of pure stimulation makes Victor howl as his back arches and his cock swings violently against his stomach. It only takes a few moments of the rough massaging before Victor’s entire body seems to curl in on itself and you steel the fingers of your other hand against the side of his ass as you hold on and prepare for his peak.
Victor’s breath catches in his throat as he comes, this release much more brutal than the first as he rips one hand from the gurney to wrap it around his cock and pump the huge length through its pulsing orgasm. His release splatters to the gurney, the load larger than his first and you wonder if it has got something to do with the prostate stimulation as you continue to work him over. His body writhes and jerks through his orgasm, the knuckle of your thumb continuing to rub wicked circles against his prostate until his keening whines grow hoarse and his knees seem to give out from under him.
Taking a moments pity, you turn your hand slightly to keep the pressure off his overstimulated g-spot as an odd noise, almost like a sob, reaches your ears.
Glancing up at Victor’s head with a calculating look, his face is turned away from you, forehead pressing into the cool metal of the gurney as his body visibly twitches with the residual aftershocks of his release.
“Look at me, Victor” You call out, voice steady but soft. His head turns, craning over his own shoulder and pure surprise jolts through your system as you take in the dampness of his gaze and you blurt the question before you can stop yourself, “Are you crying?”
“Not quite.” He confesses, in a slow, measured tone. “My enhanced physiology had dulled much of the sensitivity of my external nerves so the internal sensations sparked by stimulation can be overwhelming. My body is responding accordingly. This is what you reduce me to, little bird.”
Soaking in that praise as you rub your damp thighs together, you slowly pull your hand free of Victor’s ass – smirking at the small whimper which escapes him as your fist pops out – and you make quick work of removing your gloves as you come around to stand by his body once more.
“Lie on your back.” You encourage as your fingers trace shapes into the base of his spine. Watching him comply immediately as he presses his own ass into the wicked mess which he had so deliciously left across the gurney, you tap at his hand and repeat your earlier instruction, “Now, lift me up again.”
Without hesitating, Victor’s thick hand and arm wrap around your hip and he uses his leverage to pull you from the ground with little effort – depositing you atop his lower chest as you quickly shift your legs to straddle his wide frame once more.
“Now,” pressing your palm hard into his sternum, you feel the rough skin of his jagged chest scar rubbing against your hand as you tease along the old wound, “you’ve had yours and it’s time for my reward. In a moment, I’m going to move up and sit on your face. Then you are going to thank me until my legs don’t work the way they should and you have to carry me back to my room. Do you hear me, Dr. Gideon?”
“Fuck.” The word huffs from him in a solid breath and your lips quirk at the choice language, “Yes. Please. I need- need to taste. It’s almost enough. My perfect little bird.”
You wrap a hand within his silvery hair and tug at it roughly, the sensation enough to force some fresh awareness into his hazy, submissive desperation.
“Do you understand, Dr. Gideon? Until my legs don’t work.”
His pupils so blown that his eyes are almost completely blackened, Victor gazes up at you like you are the one to hang the moon in the sky as his thin tongue flicks at his lips – tasting your arousal where it sits only a foot away from its intended destination.
You sit at Victor's desk, going through next week's schedule. "You have an opening next Wednesday at 4:30 PM. Also, next Friday around 8:00 AM, you have a patient consultation."
Victor puts his pen down and stares at you. "Next Friday, we must make an early departure. I have something special planned."
You look back while cynically replying with a giggle, "Hopefully you're not planning on tying me up and subjecting me to experimentation. What do you have planned?"
Victor gets up to walk around his desk to face you. "If I told you, it would ruin the surprise, now, wouldn't it? And we can't have the element of surprise ruined now, can we?"
He leans over top of you, placing each hand beside your thighs, boxing you in, then slowly moving your legs open before gripping your hips and pulling you in one solid motion to the edge. Your tight pencil skirt starts rolling up, exposing your thighs, causing your skin to cling to the wooden desk, as he slides you closer to him.
Your breaths deepen while your heart flutters, feeling like it's about to break through your chest. Victor, now only inches from your face, smirking, you feel your face start to flush as you look up into his eyes
"You look flustered, dear... what's got you all bothered? Do I frighten you?"
synopsis: After surprising your boyfriend, Victor Gideon, with your new navel piercing, he gets jealous you succumbed to a needle other than his own.....and wants to give you nipple piercings himself.
includes: Victor Gideon/AFAB girlfriend reader, smut, possessive behavior/sex, needles and piercings, nipple play/torture, bodily fluids, medplay, piv sex, slight voyeurism at the end, heavy on the dubious consent, and a toxic Victor Gideon but we lowk knew and expected that
words: 5k
a/n: yes, this was written to procrastinate my multi-chapter wips (neither relating to Victor, but both Chris)
no, as much as it may seem, I don't actually have a needle fetish and am actually quite scared of them (but can imagine how this COULD be erotic)
AO3 Link
Your boyfriend was nothing if not a fashion fannatic. He's almost forced to customize his own clothing, as being a 7ft tall snake-man-hybrid puts quite a limit on his shopping choices. But nevertheless, each piece of his polished leather was adorned with stainless steel jewelry. Clasps to fit his vest, a custom snake belt buckle, and even engraved rings to match: Victor couldn’t be caught without his metal swag.
So when you decided to get your navel pierced, you were dying to show him your new jewelry. One that you never told him you were getting done.
Victor knew you had an interest in jewelry, but you wanted this to be a cheeky surprise for him. The kind that he wouldn’t discover until he unwrapped you before taking you to bed.
That of which, lead you here, pushing Victor onto your shared bed. Where his hands clenched around your waist as you pressed one last kiss to his swollen yet cracked lips.
“I have a surprise for you, my love. Why don’t you help me out so you can see?” You repositioned his hands on the hem of your shirt, encouraging him to take it off.
His large fingers dipped beneath the fabric for a moment, dosing himself with your plush skin that he’s itching to expose.
Knowing how greedy Victor’s gaze can be, you press a slow kiss under his jaw so he couldn't wander his eyes until the shirt was completely off. He lets out a soft hum at the gesture.
Sitting back so he can slip your shirt fully over your arms, you puff your chest to emphasize the lacy lingerie you had hidden from him. Victor lets out a gasp, softly chuckling to himself as he runs his hands down your body, riding your curves under the delicate fabric.
“You can be quite the vixen sometimes, little one. You know that?” Victor tuts, too busy eyefucking you to look down and see the REAL surprise. He gives your chest a soft squeeze before lowering his touch to grab your waistband. On the way down, he bumps the fresh navel piercing yanking a wince out of you.
Victor pauses for a moment, mentally evaluating you for a source of the pain. His eyes land of the piece of stainless steel perched inside your navel. “Oh…..I see…..” His expression remains unfazed. Disdained, almost.
“I know how much you like your jewelry, and dressing me up in it……so I thought I’d get this piercing I’ve always been wanting. Do you like it?” You fold your arms behind your back, fully baring yourself to your boyfriend.
He scrunched his mouth, as if we were swishing words around in his mouth to conjure a less than hurtful response.
“I can’t help but feel jealous, little one. You subjected this precious body under someone else's needle…….instead of my own?” Victor stands, slowly circling you until you’re the one sat on the bed. “I don’t know what kind of expertise these…..professionals have. Where they got their tools from, how long they’ve been practicing….if they even know how to disinfect a simple wound......”
You just roll your eyes at him. It’s not unlike Victor to get jealous, but you just wish he wouldn’t do it at a time that you were trying to relax and have fun with him.
But, he’s a perceptive man. He notices your defeated demeanor and shifts his angle.
“Tell you what, little one…” he lifts your chin to meet your gaze, still standing over you. “…the body can handle up to three new piercings at once. Are there any other…particular placements you’ve been wanting?” His free hand brushes against your navel, slowly trailing up your sternum to softly tug at your nipple through your bra. Silently trying to coax you into a very specific answer.
Good thing you already wanted your nipples pierced. And him trying to play coy? Two could play at that game.
You smirked at him and leaned backwards out of his grasp to sprawl yourself against the bed. Putting on a bit of a show, you trail your own hands on the path his just took: circling your navel and running up your torso to fish your breasts out of your lacy bra. “I have been thinking about two piercings in particular…..ones that..... only you could see?” You trace your nipples with your thumb, physically outlining your answer.
Victor returns a smirk, briefly flashing his golden teeth. “That’s my girl.”
He unclasps your lingerie bra, circling his hands to pinch your nipples under the fabric before removing it completely. “I can’t help but imagine these perfect tits with MY jewelry in them. Just when I suspected you couldn't get more beautiful.” Snaking one hand under your skull and the other around your waist, he lies you back against the plush bed.
Anticipation prickles your skin, but you can't form goosebumps due to Victor keeping the room way too hot to accommodate to his cold-bloodedness. You’ve had plenty of piercings before, but it’s different when you know that your piercer looks at your body through an anatomical, professional lens. Victor’s used to ravaging you, leaving your body in shambles and unable to hold its own weight. He’s borderline glued to your flesh, always sinking his fingers into your skin and sucking the plushness into his mouth the second you’re alone. Being under the needle is already so vulnerable, and you don’t even have clothes this time to hide under. Victor always has your best interests in mind, but despite him wielding a needle, you know he’d look at you with nothing but lust.
You’re not going to question that he keeps a set of surgical tools in the bedside drawer. There are far stranger things about Victor (his appearance and stature for one). But you watch regardless as he squeezes his oversized hands into latex gloves. The squelching of the straining rubber reminds you of how oversized and abnormally strong he really is.
The bed dips around you as he crawls to straddle your torso. You can’t help but be reminded of the other, more sensual times he’s taken you beneath him. You lean up on your forearms to see the tools he’s brought over, but he quickly ushers you back down.
“Ah, ah, ah, just lie back for me, sweetheart. I’ll be gentle with you, I promise.” He gives a soft smile, tilting his head to admire you.
Right. Like he’s ever been gentle about anything. Your cunt would beg to differ.
Your chest heaves slightly, adrenaline pumping your heart in double time. The rubber of Victor’s glove barely graces up your side, the near absence of his touch making you shiver.
“What’s wrong, you don’t seem cold, darling. Your nipples are far too full for you to be shivering.” He softly thumbs a circle over your left breast, almost methodical in the way he gropes the tissue.
“I do, however, need them a little more taut so my needle has something to slide through.” Victor carefully sets the needle back onto the tray on the nightstand, not wanting to prick you during the prep. He leans down to rest his chin on your ribs just under your right breast, purposefully fanning hot air across your skin. Maybe he just wants to see you shiver again.
“May I?” His split tongue darts over his lips as he nods towards your breast. You let out a sigh and nod, thankful that the needle wasn’t coming just yet.
Victor swallows your nipple in an instant, enveloping the peak between his split tongue. Pleasure rushes to your head as you arch deeper into his touch.
“A-ah….Victor~”
You thread through his hair to grab his scalp, guiding his head to where you feel the most sensitive. He pulls his head back, slipping your nipple out past his lips just for him to suckle it back in again. Each pull perks the flesh while pooling warmth in your core.
Just as he felt you rub your thighs together to ease your swelling need, Victor pulls back completely off your chest.
“fuck, Vic, c’mooooon.” Your hand still hangs loosely from the back of his head.
“I don’t know what you mean, little one. I’m just trying to prep your body for the procedure. That’s all.” Victor gives you a knowing look, being purposely dense just to get you more riled up.
“Yeah, a-huh. Sure. I bet you treat all your patients like this.”
“No, not all of them…..” Victor leans over you, pressing his nose to yours. “….just my favorite ones.” His eyes flick to your mouth, grabbing the needle off the nightstand before sitting back up.
He’s lucky he’s such a good boyfriend.
Victor quickly swabs your right nipple with an alcohol pad to clean off his saliva. You were already sensitive from his mouth, so the cool cotton dragging across your skin sent shivers down your spine. Just the alcohol alone twinges your skin, and you haven't even gotten the needle yet.
“You’re so....extraordinarily reactive, what am I going to do with you? I trust you’ll stay still, but we both know what will happen if you don’t.” As appealing as it sounds to be tied to the bed, now was NOT the time.
Victor pinched your nipple, smirking at your soft grunt before placing the clamp around it. Your blood instantly went cold as you watched him align the needle with it. Stomach churning in on itself, you were pouring every ounce of your focus into taking steady breaths in fear you’d pass out. Supposedly getting your nips done is one of the most painful piercings, and it’s the main reason you haven’t gotten yours done sooner.
Victor paused for a moment, and you watched as his eyes trailed over your near-squirming, naked form. You felt his bulge start to grow against your stomach as he towered over you.
“You look so beautiful with my tools on you, little one. Flesh quivering and desperate to be pierced, I’m not sure whether you wish to lean in or pull away from my needle.”
Victor paused again, taking a deep breath to reel his own excitement back in. “I’m going to have you count for me, mmm? I won’t pierce you until you tell me to, how does that sound?”
You hummed, your voice cracking as you nodded. You were quickly failing to appear calm to the large man.
“Whenever you’re ready, my dear.”
Both of Victor’s hands were steadied over your breast, busy with tools. But you needed something…..HIM to grab onto. You gently brushed the back of your fingers against his scarred face, settling once you trailed to the back of his neck. You took a few more steadying breaths, careful not to expand your chest so far that it would collide further with the needle. “Ok. Just-………on three.”
Victor gave you a curt nod.
“One….."
"Two……”
Another deep breath.
“THREE”
Your flesh instantly screamed around the needle, feeling like trails of fire bloomed in its path. It sunk through you as quickly as it slipped in, yet the coldness of the metal constricted your skin so tightly it felt like the instrument was forever trapped inside.
Your exhale came in small bursts, with your teeth grit to keep yourself from screaming. You couldn’t even swallow your own spit, your body forgetting how to function around the searing pain. Your eyes stayed squeezed shut, not even because you were horrified to look. Rather, in hopes you could blink the pain away. That by the time you opened them, it would all be over and Victor would be cuddling you while you wore your new bling.
But nothing happened.
The pain pulsed throughout your breast, and your body slowly regained awareness as it radiated through your chest. You tapped the back of Victor’s neck, hoping it would signal him to hurry up.
Still, nothing happened.
You started to feel lightheaded, fingertips tingling the foggier your brain felt. The pain had literally ripped the air from your chest, and kept you chained in an exhale. Your body decided it for you, worried an inhale would expand your chest into the source of pain.
The only thing that grounded you again was the soft roll of Victor’s hips into yours.
“Victor, what the fuck??” You cracked open your eyes, squinting at him in disbelief as he purposefully kept both hands off the tools that were sunk deep into your flesh. His jaw was slack, his wide eyes looked down at you in awe. While you were paralyzed by pain, he was paralyzed by admiration.
“I do apologize, little one. I can’t help but admire how beautifully vulnerable you look with my needle inside you.” He emphasized each sentence with another roll of his hips, soaking his bulge with your slicked cunt. Since when did he remove your underwear?
“~fuck~ Victor, please….I don’t know if i can stand it much longer….” He just rolled his hips in response. A steady string of whines leaked from your clenched jaw. You both couldn’t tell if they were from his heavenly grinding or from the pain of the needle.
Your cunt started tingling with pleasure, each slow drag of Victor’s hips upping your sensitivity. Your head spun from the stark difference between your pierced nipple and your slick cunt. Both were testaments to how much power Victor held over you; how instantly he could make you succumb to him. Your mind didn’t know where to focus or how to feel, settling on a strange blend between pleasure and pain.
“I’m so sorry, little one, I really am. But I simply must feel you while I pierce the second one.”
Fear returned to wrack through your body. He wasn’t going to remove the first needle before doing the second??
He quickly zipped down his leather trousers, fishing out his swollen cock.
“Victor, wait-“
He spread his sticky pre along your slit, borderline just toying with you now. Victor knows you wouldn’t move with the needle in you, and he fully planned to use it to your advantage.
You could never resist an opportunity to fuck Victor, very rarely telling him 'no', but you needed that needle out NOW. Needle now, dick after.
“Aren’t you gonna take the first needle out? It hurts so bad, PLEASE. I can barely feel my nipple anymore, I think it’s going numb.” It wasn’t even supposed to be in this long to begin with…..who knows how badly your body would react to the prolonged pain.
“I will, darling…….~nngh~….I promise…..~nngh~……I just need….~nngh~…..you to count me down again…” He could barely pull his gaze from the needle piercing your flesh as he rutted his thick cock through your pussy lips.
You took two deep breaths as he rested his wrist on your breast, mentally preparing for the jewelry switch.
“One……"
"Two……"
"THREE, PLEASE, THREE”
Victor sank his cock into you, bottoming out instantly. His hand left your breast, the needle neglected and still in tact.
You started begging, borderline screaming at him as his thrusts repeatedly stole your breath. “VICTOR…….W-W-WHAT THE F-F-F-UCK??!??!!” Tears rolled down your cheeks that you didn’t even realize were welling in your eyes.
“God, I’ve never felt you this tight, little one…I’m starting to think you like this…..”
“I thought you were going to take the needle out, not fuck m-“ Victor cuts you off with a rough thrust, consequently jiggling your breasts by sheer force. The pain quickly resurfaced as the needle jolted around under your nipple. Pain that quickly became tingly, stimulating your nipple from the inside. Still a, maybe conditionally delicious, sting that had you whimper nonetheless.
“See? I knew you’d like it. It's because I understand you better than anyone could fathom, little one. I don’t want any piercer’s grubby hands over your precious body, understand?” Victor maintained shallow, soft thrusts to keep the needle rolling in your bouncing breasts. “Your body is mine to dissect. Mine to customize and tear apart at my will. I will give you whatever you want, dress you however you want, but it cannot be provided by anyone but me.”
His prodding at your gummy walls empties your brain completely. But soon enough, all you can equate the sensations to, pain or pleasure, is Victor.
He gives a slight tap to the side of your face, attempting to ground your consciousness again. “Answer me, dear…..I need to hear you say it….”
“Yes, Victor……all…..yours.”
“What is mine?” He slows his thrusts so you can focus well enough to speak.
“Me…..my skin….however I dress…..my body, my mind….all of it, just......please. I need more, Victor.” You don’t even know which sensation you’re begging for at this point.
“So good for me, little one. Such an obedient listener. Now, one last time, count down for me."
What for? It didn’t matter. Whatever he wanted from you was already his anyways.
“One…….."
"Two…….."
"thr-EE”
The second needle jabbed into your unoccupied nipple. Ten times more sensitive than the first time, you felt all the blood in your body flood to the sight of the injection. Whatever daze your head was swelled with quickly dissipated, all focus honing in on the searing tunnel underneath your left nipple.
You just squeaked at the pain, and Victor moaned at it.
“Uugh. Your cunt grabs onto me so tight when I pierce you. Do you know that, little one?” He thumbs soft circles under both of your stabbed nipples, acting like the needles aren’t even there.
“You act like I can think about anything….nngh….anything under than how fucking bad this goddamn needle hurts….ughhh” you thrash your head back against the now tear-stained pillows.
“I couldn’t ask for a better patient, or even a better lover…” he continues his shallow thrusts, this time using his thumbs to intentionally nudge the needles to wring more whimpers from you.
There’s something exhilarating about being under Victor Gideon. A near 7ft tall monster of a man, if he even is man anymore, who could easily dismember you if he wanted. Someone with extreme medical expertise that would know exactly how to hurt you, and exactly which places would hurt the most. Knowing that there’s even a possibility that he could care for you. But on the alternate, he has the medical knowledge to cure people and heal them. He’s never been physically abusive to you, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of it. That doesn't mean whenever he raises a hand too high, that you won’t flinch in fear he could knock your lights out. So to be pinned beneath him, willingly submitting everything to him, fills you with overwhelming excitement of which option he’ll choose. Especially under his needles, pinned down like a taxidermied butterfly, it’s exhilarating to know that you won’t get the chance to leave until HE says so. Putting your head in the lion’s mouth just for the thrill of what happens. Even if you know the lion will coddle you and pamper you afterwards. Nonetheless, doesn’t mean that lion still won’t have the innate instinct to bite.
Victor borderline purrs at you as he finally grabs the jewelry off the nightstand. You’re too caught in overwhelming, whatever you're feeling, to catch him snapping a photo of you trapped under his needles. “You’re doing so well for me, little one, I just have to switch the jewelry out then the procedure is complete.
The dual stinging amps as the metal slides under your flesh, the rims of the barbells catching your skin as they enter the fresh wounds. Only an aching, throbbing pain remains as Victor screws the ends onto the jewelry, his nails gently scratching the flesh beneath it as he does. Each nipple receives a soft peck from the doctor, inflicting once last ounce of pain before he fucks the pleasure back into you.
For the first time in, however long this process has been, you fully open your eyes and feel mobile enough to raise your arms and wipe away the tears. But subconsciously knowing you can move your chest freely, you break back out into heavy sobs. Almost as if the rollercoaster of emotions finally plateaued, releasing the floodgates.
Victor, the deviant that he is, just grins down at you and punctuates each of your sobs with a strong thrust. Sculpting your breath into hiccups as soon as you can manage another inhale. You don’t even have the energy to reach out and touch him as he relentlessly fucks you. You just splay your arms across the pillows above you, like a dog rolling onto its tummy to submit to a trustworthy predator.
Victor stares down at you, eyes riddled with lust as he gathers the needles into one hand. The other digs into your hip to direct his groin into yours. You watch helplessly as he rolls out his split tongue, dragging the instruments across it to savor your blood stained on them. He lets out a deep groan.
“That is one thing I love about my medical tools, precious. It’s comforting knowing that we’ve both been inside the marvelous wonder that is your body.” He lulls out his tongue again, dragging the needles between each muscle to get another taste. You swear his length twitches against your walls as soon as the metal graces his tastebuds. Victor, getting a little too reckless with fucking you, knicks his tongue with the needles. He doesn't even flinch, the taste of your blood mixing with his own only turns him on more. Victor pounds harder into you, pummeling against your spongey sweet spot. It wells heat in your core, and radiates the remaining pain in your bouncing chest.
“I feel a bit envious, that even an inanimate object such as these needles have the fortune of penetrating you, my dear. But at least I get to be the one holding them.”
Victor tossed the instruments back onto the nightstand, leaning completely over you to drive into your impending orgasm.
“Victor…..please….you’ve been teasing me for…..~AH~ so long…..s'close...please….”
He draws a hand over your cheekbone, so delicate that you almost can’t believe they are the ones that stabbed your nipples earlier. “shhhh, sh, sh, sh. I know, darling, I’ve got you. You’ve been so patient, I’ll reward you.” Victor feverishly devours your neck, suckling the sweat and tear stains off your skin. Running your hands along his back, you grasp desperately onto his leather vest. His lower belly grinds across your clit with each thrust, sending hot pleasure crackling up your spine. This time, you do clench onto his length intentionally.
“That's it, little one, let me have you.”
And just like that, your whole body constricts around the man, pleasure ricocheting throughout your muscles and making your head spin deliciously. Victor followed shortly after, pumping heavy ropes of cum into you with deep grunts. Each spurt sent another wave of tingles throughout your cunt.
You’re just happy to be filled with him, whether it’s with his needles or his hot cum. Your body will bend to it, feeling whole either way.
Victor keeps a very strict healing regime for you. He helps you flush all three piercings with saline every morning and night. He can’t help but make comments that if the navel heals weird, it’s because you 'so foolishly' chose someone other than him to perform the piercing.
The strangest of all, however, is that he won’t let you wear a shirt.
“We can’t risk anything, even clothing, snagging against your fresh wounds. If I can’t so much as brush over them without you recoiling in pain, no fabric should come anywhere close to your piercings.”
But you swear he was just doing it to fuck with you. Especially when he knows that having your tits out turns you on. That he does it so that every day when he comes home after work, you’re always topless and wet enough that he can slide right into your awaiting cunt.
To be frank, with how painful getting them done was, you’d rather not risk them healing wrong either. Personally, you’d opt for some baggy shirts….but you also know you’d get your ass handed to you if Victor found you disobeying his post-op instructions.
That doesn’t mean you were thrilled with the situation, especially when Victor practically begged to bring you to work to keep him company. It started with sharing lunch in his office, and maybe sorting through a few of his documents while he was attending appointments. But quickly, it became a time for Victor to drag you around like a trophy wife for all his staff to see. Topless form and all. Given that the ends of your barbell jewelry were made to resemble snake eyes, ones to match his ring, it was like he was demonstrating to the whole hospital that you were HIS.
You had only met the nurses on a few occasions, maybe knowing two or three by name. But they all felt like an uncharted sea once you walked, topless and exposed, hand in hand with their superior. No matter how hard you tried to inconspicuously cross your arms over your chest, giving yourself even the slightest bit of decency, Victor would always coax you back out of your shell.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, little one, I assure you. Out of all the horrors my staff has seen, from zombies to rotting flesh, you think some cute tits will be what deters them? Be the good patient....the good girl I know you can be."
Seeing Victor grin to himself as he guided you, his prized possession, through the halls did give you an odd sense of pride. All of the patients and nurses to make their way through Rhodes, endless options falling under his power, and he still chose you?
And Victor did nothing but inflate your ego whenever a conversation did strike with his colleagues. The way he’d rave about your ‘procedure’ to them, tracing your exposed wounds as your nipples pebbled in the cold, sterile air. How he’d compliment how well your flesh took to his needles, claiming you’re healing ‘quicker than expected’. Because of course, he wouldn’t choose 'anyone but the best, most promising candidates' for his procedures.
Even the soft way he’d ask you to ‘show them for me, darling’, prompting you to clasp your hands behind your back when you met a different nurse…….it all felt strangely intimate. That you were special to be praised by such renowned medical professional. Even if you knew deep down that he just loved showing off your body; showing off what HE owns to others, it was still flattering nonetheless.
And whenever you passed an empty closet or waiting room in Rhodes, Victor would always reward your compliance by suckling your new piercings. From the outside, you wouldn’t believe the soft man begging to kiss your nips was the same that sadistically sunk needles into them while fucking you.
“You’ve been so good to me, sweetheart, can I return the favor?” His hands on your waist twitched, giving away his quickly welling need. Victor couldn’t help it, after staring at you topless for an entire shift.
“Victor, baby, you know how sore they’ve been today. And you must’ve yanked on em a hundred times with all the nurses we’ve talked to.”
He bent down, sitting on a nearby container to get eye-level with you. “Of course, little one, but I fear you don’t realize how…..irresistible your tits look. Especially when fitted with that shiny jewelry. They’re practically calling my attention glimmering under this light. And you know we must always listen to what our body is telling us.....” Victor’s goggles were already torn off so he could give you his biggest puppy dog eyes.
He very well could’ve just taken you however he wanted, but deep down he knew he shouldn’t play with them and just let them take the time to heal. But if Victor baited you into asking for it yourself? Well then he could never say no to you.
“Vic, honey, I thought you said they had to heal?” You already knew this song and dance, but any opportunity to get a little power over him you’d steal in an instant. You softly cupped both of your breasts, kneading the flesh in front of his face.
“See? This one even looks a little swollen today. It's got a little bit of pus, too.” You pressed closer to him, rubbing gentle circles around your left nipple. You felt like a god watching such a monstrous man sit and drool in front of you, waiting for the order to pounce.
Victor suddenly snapped out of it, and he met your gaze under hooded eyes. His thumbs replaced yours as he pretended to maneuver your breasts to examine your wounds. “Hmmm, this one does has some fluid today. I’d be a poor doctor if I didn’t give a proper inspection.”
His warm breath fans over your nipples as he speaks, intentionally sending a chill up your spine. "See? They even appear to have an increased sensitivity today." He knows damn well you're reacting to his touch and not the jewelry.
Victor held eye contact with you as he licked the pus from your wound, consequently easing the dull pain that your breasts have been banking throughout the day.
Your soft moans rung from outside the closet as Victor nibbled on your flesh with extreme care and precision. The Rhodes staff were, unfortunately, accustomed to hearing your shenanigans at this point.
When face to face, you could tell they were tired of it. Most of them just nodding mindlessly at Victor, hoping he'd get the hint and wrap it up. For you? The pleasured thrill of it all just kept you indulging.
But behind your back, the staff had bets on whether or not Victor could keep his mouth off of you long enough for the piercings to actually heal.
Warnings: eventual sex, dubcon, noncon, anxiety, enemies to lovers(type shit), gore, maybe ooc, size difference, size kink, power indifference, mentally ill reader, dacryphilia, agoraphobic reader, bdsm elements, reader is fem coded, age gap, reader is a complicated person, negative talk and thoughts about mental illness and mental health clinics
A/N: Sorry no update, I have some other things I’m working on and my cat suddenly passed so this chapter was cut down.
W/C: 1,213
Gideon’s office was full of elaborate details like the rest of the facility.
The walls were lined with wet specimens, his desk full of papers, which you assumed were other patients files.
You were seated in a large leather chair. The leather felt cold to the touch, you practically sunk into it.
“We won’t be here long, I want to examine you as soon as possible.”
He was standing at the edge of the desk, delving through the mess of papers.
Staring at him felt impolite, but you couldn’t help yourself. You’d never seen anything like him. Everything looked comically small in his hands, except his office looked like it was made for him.
It seemed he had found what he was looking for. He walked towards the door, “Would you follow me?”
Stumbling out of the chair you moved closer towards him.
Standing next to him made you feel so small, literally and figuratively.
He moved through the clinic with authority, doctors and nurses passing him would only offer him a nod, out of respect or out of fear, you couldn’t tell.
Finally, you stopped at what you presumed was the examination room.
He opened the door for you, you slipped past him, brushing against him slightly.
The room appeared like a normal exam room, x-rays, medical equipment and a large metal table.
“You can have a seat on the table.”
Hoisting yourself up, the table felt freezing underneath your hospital gown.
Gideon shifted closer to you, “Could you raise your arms please?”
You slowly raised your arms, watching him get gently moving his arms to press at your sides.
“Any discomfort?”
Not the medical kind, his hands felt cooler than the table. The material of the gown was already thin, you could feel goose bumps forming on your skin.
“Um no, none.”
He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a stethoscope.
“Your nurse informed me that you haven’t been feeling well.”
The cold metal pressed against your chest, “A little bit, I can’t sleep.”
You could hear him let out a breath, “It’s normal to be homesick, although agoraphobia makes it quite debilitating.”
“How do you know for sure I have agoraphobia?”, watching him move around the room.
“Your symptoms are very easy to diagnose, even though we don’t know each other very well.”
He smiled at you, “It’s not as complex as you may think.”
You wanted to squirm on the table as he continued to stare at you.
His hand grabbed a small needle or at least it looked small in his hands.
“What’s in that?”, the words came out as a mumble.
“It’s just a sedative, you’ll feel better afterwards.” He stalked closer to you.
“W-wait, I d-don’t want it.”
You backed away, the frigid metal brushing against your legs.
The needle was close to your skin, without thinking you kicked at his arm.
The action shocked Dr. Gideon, for a brief moment he paused.
Suddenly, his other arm grabbed your ankles. your body fell back against the table.
“Hold still won’t you?” His hand was huge, consuming the flesh of your ankle.
Squirming against him wasn’t working. It felt like fight or flight and your body was choosing fight.
He was trying to find a vein of some sort, he’d done this a million times, but you were making it so much more difficult.
Attempting to shove him away wasn’t doing much either so as a last resort you scratched at his face.
Big mistake.
The needle flew out of his hand, the glass breaking against the floor. He let go of your ankles.
Your body was screaming at you to move, run, anything. Finally you pulled yourself off the table trying to run.
The escape was cut short when you felt the familiar hand yank you back. You slammed against his body, an unmovable object.
What scared you the most was how eerily silent he was.
You felt his hand on your shoulder as you stood there, your back against his front.
“You have certainly made a scene, I do hope you don’t continue to.”
By now you were fed up with the clinic, fed up with the doctors, & most of all fed up with Gideon, no matter how big or scary he was.
“Get your hands off of me.” Your voice didn’t come across as commanding as you wanted it to be.
“Sit back down on the table.” His voice was still calm, but you could feel he was getting frustrated.
“I don’t need your drugs, I’m fucking fine.”
His hand moved from your shoulder to your neck, a lingering threat of violence.
“You say that, yet you’re still here, aren’t you?” His fingers brushed against your neck.
Your stomach felt weird and it wasn’t from anxiety, you would deal with that later.
“Why don’t we just talk?” His hand became looser around your neck until he finally let go.
You moved back, facing him now. His face had a small scratch, the blood looked so deeply red it wasn’t almost black.
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
He let out a ‘tsk’, you both maintained eye contact for an instant.
“Our deal was for us to converse, then you get to go home.” Dr. Gideon reached into a medicine cabinet for what you assumed was something for the mess.
“Unless you’ve grown fond of the routine?” The smugness and smirk practically oozed from his words.
“I haven’t, you and your staff are just unreasonably.” His back was turned towards you, he blended into the room with his dove white coat.
“How so”, he responded, reaching for the item he desired.
“I’m practically ignored until you or your nurses want to play doctor, you constantly want to drug me and your staff acts like I’m an unreasonable child.” You got lost in ranting you didn’t realize he was staring at you once more.
“I would rather you be unmediated, if that’s what you truly want.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Attention it seems.”
Gideon moved closer to you, “My apologies I bruised your arm,” he handed you a roll of gauze.
Your arm, you hadn’t even noticed.
“Um yeah I guess so, I um sorry about scratching you.”
You could see the gold in his mouth as he smiled, “I’m happy we spoke today, is there anything else you need from me?”
“I-uh no.”
”Do you want me to wrap your arm?”
The only thing you could manage was a nod.
Once back in your room, you had two things to think about. Gideon’s touch and his comment.
The second bothered you more.
Attention sounded like you were lonely or worse you wanted Gideon’s attention.
Yuck, you really didn’t want to think of the subtext of that.
Your bed looked extra appealing to you after your long day.
The excitement from the day must have worn away on you as you felt exhausted, but wasn’t that every night?
You curled up in bed, your arm felt sore, the gauze was wrapped taunt against your skin, Gideon seemed to have wrapped it in such a way that it would impossible for you to take off.
That meant you would have to see him sooner or later.
Can you write headcanons about Victor with a wife!reader, how would their everyday life would be, how would they spend time together, would they plan children etc
Would really love to read something like this ‘cause I don’t think I saw something similar on tumbler🧐
The Logic of Love
T/W: pregnancy , suggested intimacy
A/N: this is beyond the cutest thing I think I have written a obsessed. Don’t worry I will do head cannons to get a little bit more deeper into it like parenthood and everything that I really like this, and I hope everyone enjoys this.
Shameless Plug: Celebrate Good Times
Three years. One thousand, ninety-five days. That's how long it had been since you and Dr. Victor Gideon had crossed the invisible line from colleagues to something infinitely more complicated, yet breathtakingly simple. Working within the sterile, secretive halls of the Umbrella Corporation was its own special kind of hell, but navigating it with Victor as your secret, your anchor, made the monochrome existence bearable, even vibrant. The separation between work and home was a carefully constructed wall. At Umbrella, Dr. Gideon was your immediate superior. He was the brilliant, imposing head of the research department, his face a mask of professional focus as he directed his team with an authority that was second only to the executives themselves.
You were a junior researcher, competent and well-liked, known for your sweet disposition and collaborative spirit. In public, your interactions were limited to professional courtesies, data reviews, and the occasional shared glance across a crowded meeting. But the cracks in your professional facade were there, subtle as they were. A lingering look during a briefing. The way his fingers might brush against yours as he handed you a datapad. The shared lunches in the otherwise sterile commissary, where conversations that began with viral vectors would seamlessly shift to the latest episode of a sci-fi series you both enjoyed.
Your colleagues noticed, of course. They weren't blind. But they chose to look the other way, a silent understanding born from respect for Victor's position and affection for your universally kind nature. Victor was your perfect counterpart. He was a fortress of stability, something your chaotic past had never provided. He understood the complexities of your mind, celebrated your intellectual curiosity, and provided a safe harbor in the tumultuous sea of corporate espionage and bioweapons. In return, you were the warmth to his cool logic. You were the one who laughed not just politely, but with genuine delight at his niche scientific puns that left others baffled. You were the one who dragged him out of his laboratory for things he claimed to detest, like a crowded reptile expo (which he secretly loved, analyzing every creature with an academic's fascination) or an afternoon at the beach, where the simple, unpredictable rhythm of the waves challenged his meticulously controlled worldview. Today, however, was different.
It was a Saturday. A sacred, glorious weekend. And not just any Saturday. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, your schedules had aligned perfectly. Neither of you was on call. Neither of you had a looming deadline or a last-minute experiment to monitor. You had a full, uninterrupted twenty-four hours together, and the possibility alone made you giddy as you woke up in your shared apartment. You had just finished making coffee when Victor emerged from the bedroom, already impeccably dressed in dark trousers and a crisp button-down shirt, though the sleeves were still unrolled. He accepted the mug you offered, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "I have something planned for us tonight," he said, his tone even, betraying none of the excitement that made your own heart flutter. "Oh?" you asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Something more thrilling than watching you catalog your cross-section samples?" A rare, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Infinitely. I want you to be ready by seven. Wear something truly... beautiful." A spark of anticipation shot through you. This was his language. Not grand declarations of love, but carefully orchestrated surprises. His stone-faced ambition at work was a stark contrast to the deeply romantic heart he reserved only for you. You never knew what to expect. It could be a reservation at that molecular gastronomy restaurant you'd mentioned once, or tickets to a private concert, or something else entirely, something that only his brilliant, multifaceted mind could conceive. "I can do that," you replied, your voice bright with excitement. The hours melted away.
By six o'clock, you were in the bedroom, standing before your closet. After careful deliberation, you chose a floor-length emerald gown. The silk cascaded over your curves, the deep green fabric catching the light as you moved. It was elegant, sophisticated, and made you feel like the main character in a romance novel. You paired it with delicate silver heels and the diamond earrings Victor had given you on your two-year anniversary the first time he'd ever shown you a crack in his professional armor. You swept your hair up into an elegant chignon, leaving a few stray curls to frame your face, and applied just enough makeup to enhance your features. At exactly seven o'clock, your phone buzzed with a new message. I'm outside. A wide, uncontrollable smile spread across your face as you took one last look in the mirror. You felt beautiful, confident, and filled with a dizzying sense of love. With a final deep breath, you grabbed your clutch and headed for the door, ready to step out of your quiet life and into whatever extraordinary world Victor had prepared for you tonight.
The soft click of the apartment door closing behind you felt like the start of something magical. Victor was there, a vision of dark elegance against the dimly lit hallway. His usual white lab coat was gone, replaced by a sharply tailored black suit that fit his broad frame as if it had been engineered for him, which it probably had. The stark white shirt was open at the collar, a subtle deviation from his usual rigid perfection, and his dark hair was styled with an effortless precision that made your heart ache.
A genuine, warm smile lit up his face as he took you in, his eyes traveling from the silver heels on your feet all the way up to the chignon in your hair. "Absolutely breathtaking," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. "I was going to make a joke about the periodic table, but none of the elements seem sufficient to describe you."
A soft laugh escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor. "Oh, that was a new one. I'll have to think about which element I am. Maybe Francium? Highly reactive?"
He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound. "I was thinking more like Berkelium. Exceptionally rare and remarkable." He extended his arm, and you took it, feeling the solid warmth of his bicep through the fine wool of his suit. "But if you're reactive, that works too. I do enjoy your reactions."
He walked you toward the elevator, his hand resting possessively over yours on his arm. The ride down was silent but charged with a comfortable, electric anticipation. When the doors opened to the building's underground garage, he led you to a sleek, black sedan that was as impeccably maintained as everything else in his life. He unlocked it with a subtle click and moved to the passenger side, opening your door with a flourish that was both gentlemanly and achingly romantic.
"Your chariot awaits," he said, his lips quirking into a half-smile.
"You're too good to me," you sighed, settling into the plush leather seat. As he walked around the front of the car, you couldn't help but watch him. The way the low light of the garage caught the sharp lines of his jaw, the confident set of his shoulders. He slid into the driver's seat, and the small space was instantly filled with his presence the clean, crisp scent of his cologne, a hint of sterile lab air, and something uniquely Victor.
He started the engine, the car purring to life with a sophisticated thrum. As he navigated out of the garage and into the city's evening traffic, you allowed yourself a moment to simply admire him.
"You look incredibly handsome tonight, Victor," you said, your voice soft but clear. "Truly dapper. You clean up exceptionally well."
You saw it happen. It was fleeting, almost imperceptible, but it was there. A faint pink tinted the sharp line of his cheekbones, and he cleared his throat, his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead. Dr. Victor Gideon, a man who could debate the ethics of viral mutagenesis with boardroom executives without breaking a sweat, was blushing. It was your favorite secret, the one you kept tucked away in your heart. For all his confidence, his ambition, and his razor-sharp intellect, he was unused to being on the receiving end of genuine compliments.
He didn't respond verbally for a moment, instead reaching over to the center console. His fingers brushed yours as he selected a track from a playlist you knew he'd curated just for you a mix of classical cello pieces and moody, atmospheric electronica.
"Thank you," he said, his voice a little quieter than usual. "You're... very good for my ego."
"I'm good for more than just your ego," you teased gently, reaching over to place your hand on his thigh. He tensed for a second before relaxing, his own hand coming to rest over yours, his thumb stroking slow circles against your knuckles.
"So," you began, changing the subject to spare him further discomfort. "Are you going to tell me where we're going? Or is it top secret, need-to-know information?"
A slow, deliberate smile spread across his face, the blush having subsided. "That," he said, turning his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours, "is a surprise. And you, my brilliant, reactive, beautiful girl, are going to have to wait patiently to find out."
The city lights blurred past the windows, painting streaks of gold and crimson across the interior of the car. The mysterious destination, the soft music, and the warm weight of his hand in yours created a bubble of perfect intimacy, a rare and precious moment stolen from the demands of your double lives. Whatever he had planned, you knew, with absolute certainty, that it would be perfect.
The city lights bled into a warm, golden haze as Victor navigated the car through the winding streets of the historic district. You knew this part of town well, with its cobblestone roads and buildings that held more stories than most of Umbrella's classified files. A flicker of recognition sparked in your chest as he turned down a narrow alleyway, and when he pulled up to the curb in front of a small, unassuming restaurant, your breath caught in your throat.
"La Grotta del Fiore," you whispered, reading the elegant, cursive script on the sign.
This was it. The tiny, family-owned Italian restaurant, tucked away from the main thoroughfare, its windows glowing with the soft light of candlelight. It was where he had brought you for your first official date three years ago. You remembered it with perfect clarity the wine, the conversation that flowed from virology to vintage sci-fi, the moment you both realized this was something more than just a workplace dalliance.
You turned to him, your eyes wide. "Victor... is this...?"
He put the car in park and killed the engine, the sudden silence making the moment feel more profound. "I thought it was fitting," he said, his voice steady, but you saw it then—the subtle tells. The way his fingers gripped the steering wheel just a little too tightly, the almost imperceptible tension in his jaw, the slight gloss of sweat on his brow that had nothing to do with the drive. He was nervous.
He was out of the car and at your door in a flash, opening it for you and offering his hand. As you stepped onto the cobblestones, the heady aroma of garlic, fresh basil, and baked bread enveloped you, transporting you back in time. The maître d', a man with a face as wrinkled and kind as old leather, recognized Victor immediately and led you to a secluded table in the back, the very same one you had occupied on that first night.
The candlelight danced in your wine glasses as you sat across from each other, the world outside the restaurant's cozy walls fading away. After you had ordered, you couldn't contain your curiosity any longer.
"Victor, this is... this is amazing," you began, reaching across the table to take his hand. "But what's the occasion? Is there an anniversary I've forgotten? Did you get a promotion you haven't told me about?"
He looked down at your intertwined fingers, his thumb stroking over yours in a repetitive, almost meditative motion. When he finally met your gaze, the depth of emotion in his eyes stole the air from your lungs.
"There's no specific occasion," he said softly. "No promotion, no deadline met. I just... I wanted to celebrate us."
"Us?"
"Three years," he clarified. "One thousand and ninety-five days of navigating the absolute madness of our lives together. I wanted to remind myself of where we started. And more importantly," he added, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper, "I wanted to celebrate you."
Your heart swelled, a tender warmth spreading through your chest. But the observant part of you, the part that had learned to read every microexpression on his brilliant face, was still registering his unease. You had seen him face down the most formidable figures in Umbrella without batting an eye. You remembered with perfect clarity the day Ozwell E. Spencer himself, the reclusive god of their world, had deigned to visit the research department. Victor had stood straighter, his presentation flawless, his confidence a palpable force in the room. He had been cool, analytical, and unshakable.
This was different. This was more raw, more vulnerable. The hand holding yours was tense, his gaze flickering just slightly.
"Victor," you said, your voice gentle. "You seem... nervous. More nervous than when Spencer came to praise your work." You squeezed his hand gently. "What's on your mind?"
A humorless, breathy laugh escaped him. He broke eye contact for a moment, looking at the flickering candle as if it held the answers to the universe. "Am I that transparent?" he murmured, more to himself than to you.
"You're not transparent to anyone else," you assured him. "Just to me. So, talk to me. What's going on in that brilliant, complicated mind of yours?"
He took a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction as he looked back at you. The raw, unguarded vulnerability in his eyes was something he rarely showed, a privilege you knew was reserved for you alone
"It's just..." he started, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tonight feels... significant. It feels like a crossroads. And I suppose I'm afraid of choosing the wrong path."
Before you could press him further on what "crossroads" he was referring to, a discreet cough interrupted your charged silence. The waiter, a man with the quiet efficiency of someone who had worked here for decades, arrived at your table. He wasn't carrying a tray, but in his hands, he held a bottle of wine that made your eyes widen slightly a Barolo, from the same vineyard and vintage as the one you had shared on your first date. It was notoriously expensive and notoriously difficult to acquire.
"Dr. Gideon," the waiter said with a respectful nod, uncorking the bottle with the soft pop of well-aged cork. "A selection to complement the evening."
As he poured a small amount into Victor's glass for the customary tasting, the main courses arrived, carried by another waiter. The aroma hit you first rich, slow-cooked osso buco for Victor, its glistening bone marrow peeking from the tender meat, and a delicate, saffron-infused risotto for you. It was all so perfectly orchestrated, so thoughtfully chosen, that it momentarily derailed your train of thought.
"Oh, Victor," you breathed, completely distracted. "You didn't."
He managed a tight-lipped smile as he swirled the wine, bringing it to his nose and then his lips. He gave a curt nod of approval to the waiter, who then filled your glass. "Only the best," he said, but the sentiment lacked its usual conviction.
You wanted to dive into your meal, to savor every bite, but your focus kept snapping back to him. He picked at his food with an uncharacteristic lack of appetite. His hand, usually so steady when holding a fork or a scalpel, trembled ever so slightly. Then you saw it the subtle, almost unconscious movement of his thumb rubbing repeatedly against his index finger. It was a tell-tale sign, a tic he only ever displayed when under extreme pressure or deep in thought. It was the same gesture you'd witnessed once during a particularly grueling twelve-hour surgery simulation.
You forced yourself to eat, making small talk about the food and the wine, but your concern was a low, steady hum beneath the surface. This was more than simple anniversary nerves. Victor was a man who thrived on control and precision. This fidgety, unsettled version of him was as jarring as a discordant note in a perfectly composed symphony.
The dinner, despite the exquisite food and romantic ambiance, felt strangely truncated. He paid the bill with a flick of his corporate card, and soon you were back in the sleek car, the city lights once again blurring past.
"Where to now?" you asked, his earlier words about a crossroads still echoing in your mind.
He turned his head slightly, his profile illuminated by a passing streetlamp. The tension in his shoulders seemed to have eased, replaced by a new kind of resolve. "My house," he said, his voice firmer now. "There's something I need to show you. Something we need to talk about."
A thrill, different from the one you'd felt earlier, shot through you. Victor's house. You adored his house. It wasn't a sterile, minimalist bachelor pad like you might have expected. It was a sprawling, modern structure, but it was a library masquerading as a home. Shelves lined every wall, overflowing with first-edition scientific texts, ancient philosophy, classic literature, and obscure medical journals. Interspersed between the books were pieces of art a mix of stark, anatomical drawings and stunning, vibrant canvases that spoke to a side of him he rarely let anyone see.
And then there was Cassiopeia.
His pet was an albino Burmese python, a creature of impossible beauty with scales like polished moonstone and eyes like tiny, intelligent rubies. Her enclosure wasn't a mere terrarium; it was a palace of glass and controlled habitat, taking up an entire section of his living room. It was warm, humid, and meticulously maintained, a testament to his scientific precision and the surprising tenderness of his heart. You adored Cassiopeia, and she, in her own reptilian way, seemed to adore you, often pressing her smooth head against the glass when you were near. You loved watching Victor care for her, his movements gentle and respectful, speaking to her in a low, soothing voice.
As he pulled into his garage and killed the engine, the familiar sense of comfort and excitement washed over you. He was nervous, yes, but this was Victor. Your Victor. And you were about to be in his sanctuary, surrounded by the things that made him who he was. Whatever he had to say, you were ready to hear it.
Your question hung in the air, a heavy, uncertain cloud in the otherwise peaceful sanctuary of his living room. You watched him, waiting for the analytical answer, the calculated response, the scientist weighing the probabilities of success and failure.
But Victor didn't answer.
Instead, he did something you had never seen him do in all your years together, not even in the most dire of circumstances. He pushed himself up from the couch, and with a clumsy, almost graceless movement, he sank down onto one knee on the plush rug before you.
Your heart stopped. The world narrowed to the man kneeling at your feet, his face a canvas of raw, unfiltered emotion you had only ever glimpsed in fleeting moments. The fidgeting hand finally emerged from his pocket, but it wasn't holding a small box anymore. It was holding a small, velvet box. And with a trembling hand, he flipped it open.
Nestled against the dark satin was a ring. It was breathtakingly simple and impossibly elegant: a platinum band set with a single, flawless, emerald-cut diamond that seemed to drink the light of the room, its facets reflecting a thousand tiny stars. It was perfect. It was you.
"Victor..." you breathed, your voice catching in your throat as happy tears immediately began to well in your eyes, blurring his image into a soft, watercolor focus.
"I... I'm..." he started, and the sound that came out was not the clear, confident baritone you knew. It was hoarse, uncertain. He stumbled, a true falter, the scientist's perfect control finally shattering. "I've been trying to say this all night. For weeks, actually. I've rehearsed the words, analyzed the syntax, but it all feels... inadequate."
He took a deep, shuddering breath, his gaze locked on yours, his own eyes suspiciously bright.
"Three years ago," he began again, his voice gaining a sliver of its strength, "my life was a series of predictable, sterile equations. A controlled environment. I was content in my isolation. I believed my purpose was in the work, in the pursuit of knowledge, and that human companionship was a... chaotic variable I couldn't afford. I told myself I didn't need it."
A single tear escaped and traced a hot path down your cheek. He reached up with his free hand, his thumb gently brushing it away.
"And then you happened," he continued, his voice dropping to an intense, reverent whisper. "You weren't a variable. You were a fundamental constant. You were the one thing in my life that made every chaotic, unpredictable, terrifying aspect of this world make sense. You get my jokes. You challenge my intellect. You dragged me to a reptile expo and stood there, smiling, while I explained the evolutionary niche of a crested gecko for twenty minutes."
A watery laugh escaped you, and he smiled, a true, unguarded smile that reached his eyes.
"I thought, in my entire life, I would never find a partner so compatible. Someone who could exist in my world and still make me want to escape it. You gave me something stable, a foundation I never knew I was missing. But more than that... you changed me. For the better. I was a man of logic and data, and you taught me about... warmth. About feeling. You are the most brilliant, compassionate, and remarkable person I have ever known, and the sheer, statistical improbability of finding you, of you choosing me... it's the only miracle I'll ever need."
He was openly emotional now, his composure a distant memory. The man who faced down corporate titans and deadly viruses was undone by the simple, overwhelming act of baring his soul to you.
"So," he said, his voice thick with emotion as he held the ring up, its diamond catching the light and sparkling like a promise. "To answer your question... what happens if we collapse the wave function and it collapses the wrong way? I don't know. But I do know that I cannot spend another day in this parallel existence. I don't want a performance. I want a life. I want a single, integrated system with you."
He looked up at you, his eyes full of a desperate, hopeful love. "Will you marry me?
The tears were flowing freely now, silent, happy rivers of joy streaming down your face. You couldn't speak, you could only nod, over and over again, a frantic, ecstatic motion as you choked out a whispered, "Yes. Yes, of course, yes."
A sound like a sob of relief escaped him, and in one fluid motion, he was off his knees and pulling you into his arms. He held you so tightly you could barely breathe, burying his face in your hair as you both trembled with the force of the moment. The proposal, the fear, the love it all coalesced into a single, perfect point in time. He wasn't just asking you to marry him he was asking you to build a new world, one where you no longer had to hide. And you had never been more certain of anything in your entire life.
The euphoria of his proposal settled into a warm, comforting glow that seemed to permeate every corner of Victor's house. You stayed wrapped in each other's arms on the couch for what felt like hours, the uneaten crème brûlée forgotten on the coffee table. He was no longer the stoic head of research or the nervous man on one knee; he was simply yours, his guard completely down, his forehead resting against yours as he murmured about a future he had never allowed himself to imagine.
"We should tell them," you said softly, your voice still thick with emotion.
He nodded, pulling back just enough to look at you. "My mother first," he said, a decisive glint returning to his eyes. "She's been... insistent."
You laughed, a light, happy sound that filled the room. "She likes me, doesn't she?"
"She adores you," he corrected, a rare, full smile gracing his lips. "She says you're the only human being on the planet capable of 'humanizing her little science robot'." He paused, his thumb stroking your cheek. "She's not wrong."
The calls were a whirlwind of joyful tears and excited exclamations. Your mother wept with happiness, instantly demanding to know every detail and what color the bridesmaid dresses would be. But it was the call to Victor's mother that was truly unforgettable. A woman of sharp intellect and even sharper wit, she answered the phone with her usual formal greeting. When Victor said, "Mother, I have news. We're getting married," there was a beat of profound silence, followed by a single, crisp, "It's about time, Victor." By the end of the call, she was already planning the hors d'oeuvres for the reception, her approval and happiness a warm, grounding wave that washed over you both.
One Year Later
The year that followed was a blur of controlled chaos, a paradox that perfectly mirrored your new life. The days were a relentless march of progress at Umbrella. Victor's department had reached a new, groundbreaking milestone in viral vector research, a feat that secured his position and cemented his reputation as a visionary. You, too, had flourished, your own contributions earning you a promotion and a place on his most trusted team. You became a true power couple, your professional synergy so seamless that your colleagues could no longer ignore it, instead regarding your partnership with a kind of awe.
But at home, in the quiet moments you stole for yourselves, you were just Victor and your fiancée, navigating the intricate, often overwhelming world of wedding planning. You both agreed, with a shared sense of relief, on a small, intimate ceremony. Neither of you had a sprawling social circle your lives were too consumed by your work for that so the guest list was mercifully short. It was a celebration of family, of the people who had shaped you, the foundation upon which you would build your own.
Victor, to your endless amusement, approached the wedding planning with the same methodical rigor he applied to his research. He created spreadsheets for guest lists and seating charts, analyzed catering options based on nutritional data and logistical efficiency, and debated the merits of various floral arrangements with the intensity of a scientist presenting a peer-reviewed paper. You, in turn, infused the process with the heart and warmth it needed. You chose the flowers based on their scent and the color of the tablecloths based on how they would catch the afternoon light, reminding him that some things couldn't be quantified, only felt.
You found your wedding dress in a small boutique a simple, elegant sheath of ivory silk that made you feel like yourself, but more so. Victor's input was a single, decisive nod. "It's perfect. It's you."
The venue was chosen not from a catalog, but from your shared history. A beautiful, sun-drenched conservatory at the city's botanical gardens, a place you often escaped to for a quiet lunch, surrounded by the same vibrant life and controlled beauty that you both found so fascinating.
It was on one such evening, a month before the wedding, that you found him in his study. He wasn't working. He was standing before his bookshelf, staring at a space he had cleared between a first edition of Darwin's On the Origin of Species and a comprehensive text on molecular genetics. In his hands, he held a simple, silver-framed photo from that night a year ago the two of you, flushed and happy, your eyes shining with tears, moments after he had proposed.
He turned as you entered, a soft smile on his face. He gestured to the empty space on the shelf. "I was thinking this would be a good spot," he said. "For our wedding photo." He reached out and pulled you into his side, his arm wrapping around your waist. "The most important discovery of my life doesn't belong in a lab. It belongs right here. With everything else that matters."
The week before the wedding was a symphony of controlled chaos. The final flurry of preparations created a buzz of energy in both your apartment and Victor's house. You spent your evenings confirming RSVPs with family, while Victor spent his with a meteorological app open on one screen and a blueprint of the botanical gardens' conservatory on another, ensuring the ambient temperature and humidity would be optimal, not just for the guests, but for the specific hybrid orchids he had personally requested for the centerpieces.
"You know," you teased one evening, finding him staring intently at a doppler radar map, "for a man who has tamed the T-virus, you seem awfully concerned about a ten percent chance of afternoon showers.”
He didn't even look away from the screen. "A ten percent chance is statistically significant when the variance could compromise the structural integrity of the flower petals and the comfort of our elderly guests," he stated, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. "I am eliminating variables."
You couldn't help but smile. This was your Victor. The same man who would meticulously calculate the trajectory of a rogue virus was now obsessed with the trajectory of a potential raindrop. It warmed your heart in ways you couldn't articulate. Through it all, he remained resolute in one thing he had not seen your wedding dress. He didn't even know when or where you had bought it. He wanted the moment he saw you walking down the aisle to be a pure, unadulterated data point, an experience unfiltered by prior knowledge.
One afternoon, as you were finalizing the playlist with the live music, you found Victor standing before Cassiopeia's vast enclosure. He was murmuring to her, his fingers tracing the glass as the large albino python followed his movements with her unblinking, ruby eyes. He had a wistful, almost sad expression on his face.
"What's wrong?" you asked softly, coming to stand beside him.
He sighed, a rare show of melancholy. "I just wish she could be there. It feels wrong to celebrate the most important day of my life without my other most constant companion."
You looked from the magnificent snake to the man you loved, and a mischievous, yet genuinely thoughtful, idea sparked in your mind. "Well," you said, tapping a thoughtful finger against your chin, "she can't exactly come to the conservatory. I don't think they'd appreciate her sampling the floral arrangements. But... what if we brought the conservatory to her?"
Victor turned to you, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Explain the physics of that."
"We could set up a laptop in here, facing her enclosure," you elaborated. "And we can have the Orchestra live stream the ceremony on the TV. That way," you gestured to the snake, "Cassiopeia gets a front-row seat. She'll get to see everything."
The expression on Victor's face was priceless. It was a slow dawn of realization, followed by a look of pure, unadulterated delight. It was the kind of expression you usually only saw when he was on the verge of a major scientific breakthrough.
"That's... actually an excellent idea," he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "A live feed. The audio might be beneficial, as well. Serenades have been shown to have a calming effect on reptiles." He was already in full problem-solving mode, but the sparkle in his eyes was all for you. "You're brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."
Seeing the sheer joy this brought him, the simple act of including his pet in your union, made your own chest ache with love. This was the man you were marrying. A man of towering intellect and unexpected, tender heart.
Later that evening, curled up together on the couch, the pre-wedding jitters began to set in. It was a quiet, nervous energy that hummed between you. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heart.
"Victor?" you whispered into the dimly lit room.
"Hmm?"
"I'm so excited I can barely stand it," you admitted, your voice thick with emotion. "I just... I can't wait to not have to hide it anymore. To be able to walk into Umbrella on Monday morning as your wife. To be officially Mrs. Victor Gideon."
He shifted, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you with an easy strength that never failed to surprise you. He adjusted you both so that you were lying face to face, your legs tangled together, your bodies pressed close in the darkness. He spooned you from behind, his chin resting on the top of your head, his arms a secure, unyielding circle around you.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. "Victor Gideon... it's a good name. But it will be a great one when it belongs to you, too." He paused, his embrace tightening slightly. "You know, I spent my life believing that the concept of a 'soulmate' was a romanticized neurological fallacy, a chemical trick to encourage procreation."
You laughed softly. "And now?"
"Now," he said, his voice dropping to a low, sincere whisper that vibrated through your entire being, "I know I was wrong. I have the data. I have the empirical evidence. You are my true and only soulmate. The one variable that makes every other part of my existence make sense."
Tears pricked at your eyes again, but these were different. These were the tears of a profound, bone-deep certainty. In his arms, surrounded by the scent of his books and the quiet hum of his home, you knew, with every fiber of your being, that you were exactly where you were meant to be.
The air in the private dressing room at the botanical gardens was thick with the scent of hairspray, champagne, and happy tears. It was a small, sacred space, filled with the most important women in your life. Your mother was meticulously adjusting the line of your ivory silk dress for the tenth time, her eyes shimmering. Your sisters were flitting around, one handing you a glass of water while the other fanned you with a program, both of them gushing in equal measure.
"You look like a dream," one sister sighed, dabbing at the corner of her own eye.
"A dream who's about to make Dr. Gideon the happiest man on the planet," the other added, winking.
And then there was Victor's mother, Eleanor Gideon. A woman of formidable intellect and quiet grace, she stood a little apart from the flurry of activity, observing with a knowing, profoundly fond smile. She was the one who had gifted you the "something old" a delicate, antique pearl necklace that had belonged to Victor's grandmother. It rested cool and elegant against your throat.
"Oh, stop, you're all going to make me ruin my makeup," you laughed, your voice wavering slightly as you looked at your reflection. The woman staring back was both familiar and entirely new. The dress was simple, but it was perfect, flowing over your form in a way that made you feel ethereal.
Eleanor stepped forward, her hand gently coming to rest on your shoulder. "He is going to cry," she stated, not as a question, but as a fact. "My Victor. That boy has faced down boardroom tyrants and biomechanical horrors without a single change in heart rate. But the moment he sees you..." She shook her head, a soft, nostalgic look in her eyes. "He's going to be a mess."
Her words sent a wave of warmth through you.
"I am so incredibly proud of the man he has become," she continued, her voice softer now, meant only for you. "He was always so... self-contained. So focused on his work that he built a fortress around himself. I watched him for years, fearing he'd never find anyone who could understand the complexity of his mind and the depth of his heart. He never showed a flicker of interest in anyone. Not a single one." She squeezed your shoulder gently. "And then he brought you home. It was like watching a dormant plant finally get water and sunlight."
Your own tears started to well up, and your mother quickly handed you a tissue.
"Thank you, Eleanor," you whispered, your voice thick.
She leaned in conspiratorially, a mischievous glint in her eyes that was pure Victor. "And I must admit, now that the fortress has been breached, I am very much looking forward to becoming a grandmother. No pressure, of course," she added with a wink, making everyone in the room dissolve into soft laughter.
The garter, your "something blue," was a simple band of pale blue silk, a secret promise nestled high on your thigh. It was a private joke, a hidden treasure for Victor's eyes only. The "something new" was the dress itself, and the "something borrowed" was a delicate diamond bracelet from your sister, sparkling on your wrist.
A soft knock echoed on the door, and your father's voice, full of emotion, came through. "It's time, sweetheart."
A collective, shaky breath was drawn by everyone in the room. Your mother and sisters fussed over your veil one last time. Eleanor gave you a final, heartfelt hug. "He's the luckiest man in the world, dear. Remember that."
As your father offered you his arm, you took a final, steadying breath. The nervous energy you'd felt all week was gone, replaced by a profound, unshakeable calm. You weren't nervous anymore. You were ready. Ready to walk down the aisle, to see the man who had called you his soulmate, and to begin the next, most beautiful chapter of your life.
The heavy oak doors at the far end of the conservatory drew open, revealing a sun-drenched tunnel of lush greenery and vibrant, blooming flowers. The first few notes of the Wedding March floated through the humid, sweet-scented air, and every head turned. Your grip on your father's arm tightened, and you took a deep, centering breath.
Then you saw him.
At the end of the aisle, standing under an elegant arch of intertwined white wisteria and Victorian orchids, was Victor. He was a vision of stark, breathtaking perfection in his tailored black tuxedo, a single, flawless white rose pinned to his lapel. For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you. The soft murmurs of your guests, the gentle rustle of leaves, the distant chirp of a bird it all faded into a silent hum.
As your father began to lead you forward, Victor's lips curved into a smile. It wasn't a small, polite smile. It was a wide, radiant, unguarded expression of pure, unadulterated joy that you had only ever seen in the most private, intimate moments. It was the smile he saved only for you, and today, he was sharing it with the world. His eyes, dark and intense, were locked on yours, and with every step you took closer to him, the love and adoration in them only grew.
The short walk felt like an eternity and a second all at once. When you finally reached the arch, your father placed your hand in Victor's. The contact was electric.
"Take care of her, Victor," your father said, his voice thick with emotion.
Victor's gaze never left yours as he replied, his voice a steady, unwavering vow. "I will. For the rest of my life."
He brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to your knuckles. "You look... absolutely perfect," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper, thick with an awe that made your heart ache. "So beautiful. Like you were carved from starlight."
And then you saw it. A single, glistening tear escaped the corner of his eye and traced a slow path down his cheek. He was so completely, overwhelmingly happy that he didn't even notice it was there. The sight of that single tear, the only crack in his composure, was the most romantic thing you had ever seen. It was his heart, on display for all to see.
The ceremony was a beautiful, sacred blur. You spoke your vows, your voice clear and steady as you promised him your future, your mind, and your heart. When it was his turn, he didn't recite memorized lines. He spoke from his soul, his voice raw with emotion as he promised to be your partner in every equation, your constant in every chaos, your home in any world.
"...and so, by the power vested in me," the officiant concluded, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."
Victor didn't hesitate. He leaned in, one hand cupping your jaw with a tenderness that belied the desperate passion behind the kiss. His lips met yours, and it was not a chaste, ceremonial peck. It was a deep, consuming, passionate kiss that stole the air from your lungs and spoke of three years of pent-up love, of secret glances and shared dreams. It was a promise sealed with fire, a declaration that the performance was over and the rest of your life had begun. The room erupted in applause and joyful cheers, but you heard none of it. You only felt him, solid and real and yours.
When you finally parted, your foreheads rested together, your breath mingling in the small space between you.
"I'm so happy," you whispered, your hands still clutching the lapels of his tuxedo. "I really, really love you. Victor, I have never loved anyone as much as I love you."
A soft, happy laugh rumbled in his chest. He raised a hand, gently wiping away a tear you hadn't realized had fallen from your own eye. "I know," he murmured, his dark eyes shining with a love so profound it felt like coming home. "Because, my love, I feel the exact same way. Mrs. Gideon."
The sound of your new name from his lips was a wave of pure, unadulterated joy, and you knew, with absolute certainty, that this was just the beginning of everything.
The grand, chaotic wave of a traditional reception was replaced with something far more your style an intimate, candlelit dinner in a private alcove of the conservatory. A long table, adorned with the same orchids from the ceremony, was laden with exquisite food and overflowing with wine and laughter. It was perfect. Your family and his, once two separate entities, now melded together seamlessly. Your father was deep in a discussion about theoretical physics with Victor's Uncle, a retired engineer, while your sisters were charmed by Victor's younger cousin, a shy astrophysicist who blushed furiously whenever one of them smiled.
After the plates were cleared and the toasts had been made each one more heartfelt than the last the small string quartet that had provided the ceremony music shifted into a soft, classic waltz. Victor stood and offered you his hand, his eyes sparkling.
"Our first dance, Mrs. Gideon," he said, his voice a low, intimate purr. "Unless you're afraid I'll step on your toes."
You placed your hand in his with a confident smile. "I'll take my chances."
As he led you to the small, cleared dance floor, a memory surfaced, a forgotten piece of trivia from a late-night conversation long ago. He had once, very reluctantly, admitted that his mother had forced him into dance lessons as a child, a desperate attempt to socialize the boy who preferred the company of books. He had claimed he'd forgotten everything, but as he took you in his arms, one hand firm on the small of your back, the other lacing with yours, you knew he'd been lying.
He was magnificent. His movements were fluid, confident, and impossibly smooth. He guided you across the floor with an effortless grace, his body a perfect counterpoint to yours. It was the cutest, most surprising thing, seeing this brilliant scientist transform into a dancer. The world melted away, leaving just the two of you, the swelling strings of the orchestra, and the soft glow of the fairy lights woven through the conservatory's ceiling. Between every few steps, he would lean in, stealing a soft, lingering kiss, each one a quiet declaration of his love.
Across the room, you saw your mothers talking animatedly, their heads bent together in shared conspiracy. Victor's mother, Eleanor, gestured towards you, a look of pure delight on her face. You saw her say something to your mom, and they both laughed, glancing over at you with identical looks of maternal pride. A moment later, Victor's father, a man of few words and a dry, acerbic wit, joined them. He watched you dance for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. You saw Eleanor lean over and whisper something to him. He raised an eyebrow, took a long, deliberate swig of his beer, and then gave a slow, impressed nod. It was the highest form of praise you could have imagined, and it made you smile against Victor's shoulder.
The camera flashes were a constant, gentle sparkle throughout the night, preserving every smile, every toast, every stolen kiss. It was, in every sense of the word, a good night.
As the final notes of the waltz faded away, Victor pulled you even closer, his arms wrapping securely around your waist as you swayed gently to the soft, ambient music. He rested his chin on your head, his body a warm, solid weight against yours.
"I've been thinking," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "About all the traditions."
"Hmm?" you hummed, content to stay in his arms forever.
"Something old, something new, something borrowed..." he paused, and you could feel the playful curiosity in his tone. "I accounted for all of them. But I've been puzzling over the something blue."
A slow blush crept up your neck, warming your cheeks. You tilted your head back to look up at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, did you now?"
"I have," he insisted, a serious pucker forming on his brow. "I've analyzed the visual data. The pearl necklace is old. The dress is new. The bracelet is borrowed. There is no blue visible."
You bit your lower lip, your heart starting to beat a little faster. You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper meant only for him.
"Well, Dr. Gideon," you murmured, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Some traditions are meant to be a private discovery."
His eyes widened slightly as the implication dawned on him. A slow, wickedly handsome smile spread across his face, the scientist recognizing a new, exciting data set to explore.
"Is that so?" he asked, his voice a low, thrilled rumble.
You just nodded, your blush deepening. "You're just going to have to find out later."
The evening air was cool and carried the sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine as Victor led you from the conservatory. Tied to the back of a stunning, vintage 1965 Aston Martin a car you knew he'd restored himself with painstaking precision were a line of tin cans. And trailing from the last can was a simple, unapologetic banner that read "Just Married."
"Victor," you gasped, a laugh of pure delight escaping you as you took in the sight. "Really?"
He grinned, opening the passenger door for you. "Even a scientist must concede to certain sentimental variables. Tonight, we embrace the chaos."
The drive was a blur of city lights melting into the dark, open road. The Aston Martin's engine was a low, throaty purr, a sound that seemed to match the thrum of anticipation in your veins. You rested your head on his shoulder, his hand finding yours on the center console, his thumb stroking lazy circles on your skin. You weren't paying attention to the direction, content to simply exist in this moment with him, a married couple finally free from the shadows.
When he finally turned onto a winding, tree-lined road, your curiosity piqued. He pulled up to a discreet, stylishly retro motel, its neon sign reading "The Starlight Motel" in a fantastic, looping cursive script. A smaller sign beneath it read "Honeymoon Suites Available."
"Victor... what is this?" you asked, your voice filled with intrigue.
"A departure from data and analysis," he said, killing the engine and coming around to open your door. "An experiment in pure, unadulterated romance."
He led you to a specific door, using a real, old-fashioned key to unlock it. The moment he swung it open, you gasped.
It was magnificent. A perfect, lovingly curated time capsule from the 1970s. The walls were papered in a muted, gold and orange geometric pattern. Shag carpet, impossibly plush, covered the floor in a deep avocado green. But the centerpiece of the room was an enormous, heart-shaped bathtub, situated directly in front of a panoramic window that looked out onto the starry sky. Beyond it, resting on a raised platform, was a bed so lush and wide it looked like it could swallow you both in clouds of velvet and pillows.
"This is..." you started, turning to him, completely overwhelmed.
"Vulgar? Tacky? A triumph of questionable aesthetic choices?" he supplied, a playful smirk on his lips.
"It's perfect," you finished, laughing as you threw your arms around his neck. "It's the most wonderfully, perfectly tacky thing I have ever seen."
The atmosphere shifted, the playful energy melting into something deeper, more intimate. You were no longer in a public space; this was your sanctuary. Your shared space. He moved to the small, retro bar, expertly popping the cork on a bottle of chilled champagne with a soft foomp. The effervescent golden liquid fizzed into two elegant coupe glasses.
He handed one to you, his fingers lingering on yours. "To my wife," he said, his voice a low, intimate rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.
"To my husband," you replied, your voice thick with emotion as you clinked your glass against his.
You took a sip, the dry, crisp bubbles dancing on your tongue. Then, he produced a small, white box from the mini-fridge. Inside were a dozen of the most perfect chocolate-covered strawberries you had ever seen. He plucked one from its container and brought it to your lips.
You met his gaze, your eyes fluttering closed as you took a bite, the sweet, juicy berry and rich, dark chocolate melting on your tongue. A drop of juice escaped, trickling down your chin. Before you could move to wipe it away, he leaned in, his tongue gently catching it, the gesture so intimate and possessive it made your breath hitch.
You took the next strawberry from the box, holding it up to his lips. His eyes, dark and burning with an intensity that was both familiar and thrillingly new, never left yours as he took a bite. You did this again and again, feeding each other, the air between you growing thick with a desire that was both familiar and electrifyingly new. This wasn't the hurried, desperate coupling you sometimes shared after a long, stressful week. This was slow, deliberate, and suffused with a profound, earth-shattering love.
He set down his glass, taking yours from your hand and placing it on the bar. He framed your face with his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones.
"I have waited a very long time to have you like this," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. "Completely and entirely mine.
You leaned into his touch, your entire being thrumming with need. "I've always been yours, Victor," you whispered back. "You just had to make it official."
His lips claimed yours then, a deep, searing kiss that tasted of champagne, chocolate, and a promise of forever. His hands moved from your face, sliding down the silk of your dress to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the hard, solid length of him through his trousers, a clear testament to his desire.
"Tonight," he whispered against your lips, his hands beginning the slow, torturous process of undoing the buttons down the back of your gown. "I'm going to find that something blue."
And as the dress pooled at your feet, leaving you standing before him in nothing but the garter, you knew that this honeymoon suite, with its heart-shaped tub and vintage charm, was about to become the center of your universe.
Time ceased to have meaning in that heart-shaped universe. Hours dissolved into a single, breathless moment of pure, unadulterated connection. The suite, once a pristine tribute to vintage kitsch, now looked like a battlefield of bliss. Your wedding bag lay forgotten on the floor, its contents spilling out beside discarded clothing and torn champagne foil. The box of chocolate-covered strawberries had been knocked over, leaving a few smeared prints of juice and chocolate on the avocado shag carpet. The room held the sweet, musky scent of sex, champagne, and your combined bodies.
You were a wreck. A glorious, sated, beautiful wreck. The carefully styled chignon had long since given up the ghost, your hair now a wild, tangled halo around your head. Your makeup was a distant memory, likely smudged across his face and the pristine white pillowcases. And you had never felt more beautiful in your life.
Victor was no better. The pristine, controlled scientist was gone, replaced by a primal, adoring creature. His chest, his shoulders, his back they were a canvas of your passion. Angry red scratches from your fingernails trailed down his biceps, and a constellation of deep, purple bite marks dotted his neck and collarbone. You had marked him, claimed him, and he had worn your possession with a guttural, feverish delight.
Now, in the quiet aftermath, you were both tangled in the luscious, tousled sheets of the big bed. You were resting on his chest, your ear pressed against the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heart. His skin was damp with sweat, his body a warm, solid foundation beneath you. One of his arms was wrapped securely around your waist, holding you flush against him. The other hand was idly toying with the pale blue silk of your garter, which he had finally discovered with a triumphant, predatory grin.
A profound, blissful silence stretched between you, broken only by your soft, contented breaths. It was Victor who finally spoke, his voice a low, husky rumble that vibrated through your entire body.
"That was..." he started, then paused, as if searching for the right word in his vast lexicon. "That was statistically improbable."
You lifted your head, propping your chin on his chest to look at him. His hair was a mess, a few stray strands falling over his forehead. A faint, purple bruise was already forming on his jaw from where you had nipped him, and his dark eyes were heavy-lidded, soft, and glowing with a post-coital light you had never seen before.
"Improbable how?" you asked, your voice a sleepy, satisfied murmur.
He shook his head slowly, his gaze distant as if he were analyzing data from a particularly profound experiment. "The intensity. The... synaptic resonance. We've always been compatible," he conceded, his thumb still stroking the garter. "But this... this was different. The feedback loop was unprecedented. I've never felt anything like that."
A slow, languid smile spread across your face. You leaned up, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to the center of his chest, right over his heart.
"It's a husband and wife thing," you whispered, the words a sacred truth in the quiet of the room.
He looked down at you then, and the raw, unfiltered adoration in his eyes made your breath catch. He understood. The scientist in him had just stumbled upon a variable he couldn't quantify, an equation that didn't follow the laws of physics or biology. It was the alchemy of two souls becoming one, the sacred chemistry of a marriage bond.
"A new paradigm," he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I think I'm going to enjoy studying this."
You chuckled, snuggling deeper into his embrace, your hand coming to rest over his heart. "Me too," you sighed, a wave of pure, unadulterated bliss washing over you. "Me too."
You lay there in the tangled sheets, surrounded by the beautiful chaos of your love, and knew that this was just the first of many, many experiments you would conduct together in your new, shared universe.
The luscious silence stretched on, a comfortable, sated blanket you were both happy to remain wrapped in. You traced the faint, reddish lines your nails had left on his chest, your touch light and possessive. A thought, a snippet of conversation from the whirlwind of the wedding day, surfaced in your blissfully fogged mind.
"Victor?" you murmured, your voice muffled against his warm skin.
"Hmm?" he responded, his hand stilling its stroking of your garter, his attention fully on you.
"You know, your mother pulled me aside yesterday," you began, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "She was telling me how proud she was, and how glad she was that you'd finally found me..." You paused for dramatic effect, lifting your head to look him in the eye. "...And then she said she was very much looking forward to becoming a grandmother soon."
You watched, fascinated, as the blush crept up his neck, a slow tide of pink that colored his sharp cheekbones. He cleared his throat, a flicker of his earlier nervousness returning.
"She's... always been preemptively enthusiastic," he managed, his gaze darting away for a second before returning to yours.
You propped yourself up further, your curiosity piqued. "It got me thinking, though. I don't think we've ever really talked about it. How many kids do you want, Victor?"
The effect was immediate and endearing. The cool, analytical scientist, who had just passionately and thoroughly claimed his wife, became utterly flustered. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, his usually silver tongue suddenly tied in knots.
"I... well... the optimal number... that is..." he stammered, his free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in a gesture of pure, unadulterated self-consciousness. "A big one," he finally blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I want a big family."
You stared at him, genuinely surprised. In all your years together, discussions of the future had revolved around career trajectories and shared intellectual pursuits. The notion of children had always been a distant, abstract concept, something for an undefined "someday." He had never, ever expressed a desire for a large family.
"Really?" you asked softly, encouraging him. "Why? I never took you for the... paternal type, at least not on a grand scale."
He relaxed slightly, your gentle prompting allowing him to shift from emotional reaction to analytical explanation, his comfort zone. He looked down at you, his eyes soft and serious.
"Because it was just me," he said, his voice quiet but clear. "It was my mother, father and me. A few relatives we saw on holidays. I was... an anomaly. An only child in a world of dual-income families. There was no one else. I want my kids to have a built-in support system. I want them to have siblings to rely on, to argue with, to conspire with against their parents. Logically, a larger sample size... a bigger family... increases the probability of strong, lasting interpersonal bonds. They won't have to be alone."
Your heart swelled with a wave of love and understanding. It wasn't just a desire; it was a solution he had engineered for the loneliness of his own childhood. He added, almost as an afterthought, "Plus, pragmatically speaking, we are more than financially equipped to provide a substantial number of offspring with an excellent quality of life."
You couldn't help but grin, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "Well, Dr. Gideon, when you put it like that..." you murmured against his skin. "I'm not opposed to having a big family." You pulled back, your eyes sparkling with a newfound mischief. "Besides, it means more nights like these."
His eyes darkened instantly, the scientist replaced by the passionate husband. He growled low in his throat, rolling you over so that he was hovering above you, his knees nudging your legs apart. "An insatiable appetite," he mused, his lips trailing down your neck. "I must remember to include that variable in my ongoing research."
You laughed, a breathy, happy sound as you arched into him. "And we'll make really cute kids together, you know."
He stopped, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at you, a considering, almost analytical expression on his face. "Yes," he conceded, a slow, wolfish grin spreading across his face. "Our combined genetic material would likely result in a statistically significant level of aesthetic appeal. We have very strong bone structures."
You giggled, pulling him down for another searing kiss. It seemed your honeymoon suite wasn't the only thing about to get a whole lot bigger.
A month into your marriage, life settled into a new, exhilarating rhythm. Mornings at Umbrella were a shared secret, a knowing glance in the elevator, his fingers brushing yours as he handed you a datapad in a meeting. But now, there was a new, subtle difference. You were Mrs. Gideon. The name change had been Victor's idea, a meticulous process he managed with the same efficiency he applied to a research grant. He'd sat with you in your shared home office, helping you fill out the endless forms, his hand resting possessively on your thigh.
The reaction at the office had been a wave of warm congratulations, a quiet, collective sigh of relief that the office's worst-kept secret had finally, happily, resolved itself. But the moment that truly made Victor's week came in a small, cream-colored envelope, hand-delivered by an internal courier. It was a card, with the embossed, elegant script of Ozwell E. Spencer himself. The note was brief, formal, but to Victor, it was like receiving a blessing from a god. "Hearty congratulations on your nuptials, Dr. Gideon. A stable personal life is the foundation upon which great discoveries are built. Well done." Victor had actually beamed, a rare, uninhibited display of pride that made your heart swell.
That evening, you were curled up on the couch, your head in his lap as he read a dense astrophysics journal. A familiar, low-grade anxiety began to prickle at the edges of your contentment. You'd been tracking your cycle with the same precision you applied to your lab work, and you were late. Unusually late.
"Victor?" you said, your voice quiet.
He hummed in response, not looking up from his journal.
"I'm late," you stated simply.
He bookmarked his page, his full attention immediately shifting to you. "Define 'late'. The standard deviation for a typical twenty-eight-day cycle can be plus or minus—"
"Very late, Victor," you interrupted, sitting up. "Too late."
A flicker of understanding crossed his features. He was a scientist. He followed the data. "We were using contraceptives," he stated, his mind already working through the variables. "During the honeymoon."
And then it hit you both, a simultaneous, shared moment of jaw-dropping realization. The champagne, the strawberries, the desperate, passionate rush of it all... In the haze of your newlywed bliss, in the thrill of finally being free, a critical, biological detail had been completely overlooked.
"I'm not on birth control," you whispered, the enormity of the situation settling in. "I haven't been for years."
He stared at you, his dark eyes wide with a dawning comprehension. "And I..." he paused, his own memory replaying the events with stark, analytical clarity. "I didn't wear a condom."
The room fell silent. The two of you, two of the most brilliant scientific minds at Umbrella, who could calculate viral mutation rates and spool genetic code in your sleep, had made the most fundamental, human error of all. You stared at each other, a look of pure, unadulterated shock on both your faces. You were awestruck. It was as if a lightning bolt of pure, uncalculated probability had just struck your lives.
"We... we were just so..." you started, unable to finish the sentence.
"In the moment," he finished for you, his voice a strange mix of awe and disbelief. "An unprecedented lapse in protocol."
His shock quickly gave way to his signature decisiveness. He stood up, grabbing his car keys from the table. "Let's get a test."
The drive to the pharmacy was a blur. The next morning, you stood in your pristine, sterile bathroom, the plastic stick feeling heavy and impossibly significant in your trembling hand. The two pink lines appeared instantly, stark and undeniable.
Victor was right there, his arms wrapping around you as you stared at the small plastic window. He was silent for a long moment, his hold on you tightening.
"The sample size is too small," he murmured, his scientist's brain refusing to accept a simple test. "We need to confirm. I'll call Dr. Aris. We'll go in tomorrow for a quantitative beta-hCG blood test. We need to measure the actual concentration of the hormone. It's more reliable."
You just nodded, leaning back against him, your mind reeling. The next day, you sat in a sterile exam room, your hand clenched tightly in his. When the nurse came back in with the results, Victor sat forward, his posture rigid and focused.
"The results are positive, Dr. Gideon," she said with a warm smile. "Congratulations. You're definitely pregnant."
The word hung in the air pregnant you looked at Victor, and the shock on his face was finally giving way to something else. A slow, wonderous dawning. The man who had wanted a big family, who had engineered a solution to his own lonely childhood, was staring at the first, miraculous data point. The experiment had begun, and the result was a universe.
The first few days after the confirmation were a strange, surreal blend of shock and euphoria. You moved through your lives in a kind of daze, the word "pregnant" echoing in your minds like a new, unfamiliar mantra. It was happy, profoundly so, but it was also... fast. A small, unbidden part of you, the part that had meticulously planned the first year of your marriage, had wanted more time. More time just being his wife, more lazy Sundays and late-night talks before stepping into the monumental role of motherhood.
But as you watched Victor, you saw the shock in his eyes slowly being replaced by a fierce, burgeoning joy. He looked at you differently, with a new kind of reverence, as if you were the most miraculous scientific discovery he had ever encountered. This shared joy, this overwhelming excitement, was more powerful than your quiet trepidation.
The calls to your parents were a joyous, tear-filled affair. Your mother cried. Your father, a man of few words, cleared his throat repeatedly and finally managed a gruff, heartfelt, "That's my girl." But it was Victor's call to his parents that truly cemented the reality of your new future.
You could hear Eleanor's ecstatic shriek from across the room. Victor held the phone away from his ear, a long-suffering but deeply fond smile on his face. "Yes, Mother... Yes, we're sure... It's confirmed with a blood test, the beta-hCG levels were... No, I don't know the sex yet, we have to... Yes, of course, you'll be the first to know... We'll call you tomorrow." When he hung up, he let out a long breath. "She's already designing a DNA-based mobile for the crib. She says it's 'never too early for neuro-sensory stimulation."
Eight Months Later
The world had tilted on its axis and settled into a new, wonderful, and often nauseating, reality. The first trimester was a blur of morning sickness that lasted all day, a rollercoaster of mood swings that left you both exhausted, and a craving for pickles and ice cream that Victor, bless his analytical heart, tried to chart for correlation with your hormonal fluctuations.
You were both officially on paternity leave, a status that Victor had secured with the same unwavering determination he applied to all his research. He was a pillar of support through it all. When your feet swelled, he would sit with them in his lap, his strong, skilled hands rubbing them with a gentle precision that always soothed the ache. When the thought of food made you ill, your mother would appear on your doorstep with containers of her homemade soup, the smell of which was the only thing that could break through the nausea.
And Eleanor... Eleanor became your partner in crime. She took you shopping for baby clothes, a task that Victor considered "an illogical investment in garments that will be rendered obsolete by rapid growth within weeks." But Eleanor knew better. She held up tiny, soft onesies and miniature sweaters, her eyes shining. "This isn't about logic, dear. This is about hope. And these," she said, holding up a pair of impossibly small socks, "are for the feet of my grandchild."
Now, in your eighth month, you were in the final stretch. The babies' room was a work in progress, a domestic project that Victor attacked with the same fervor as a groundbreaking experiment. You both stood in the center of the room, dressed in old clothes, paint smudges on your cheeks. The air smelled of fresh, non-toxic, "gender-neutral" paint a soft, calming sage green.
"Are you sure this is the optimal shade?" Victor asked, tilting his head as he critically surveyed the wall he'd just finished. "Studies indicate that a muted, blue-green spectrum is most conducive to infant cognitive development."
"It's perfect, Victor," you laughed, leaning against a paint can. "And it matches the mobile your mother is designing."
He smiled, setting down his roller and coming to stand beside you. His hand instinctively went to your stomach, a gesture he had become prone to. He loved feeling the kicks and somersaults, a tangible connection to the new life you were creating. His other hand moved to the small of your back, his touch protective, grounding.
"You shouldn't be standing for so long," he murmured, his brow furrowed with concern. "The gravitational pressure on your lumbar spine is significant. You should sit."
"I'm fine, I promise," you assured him, leaning into his touch. "Besides, I want to help finish this."
You reached for your own roller, intent on tackling the final wall, but he gently intercepted your hand. "Allow me," he said softly, taking the roller from you. "There are certain variables I can control in this equation. Your well-being is the most important one."
He kissed your forehead, a simple, domestic gesture that still made your heart flutter. You watched him finish the wall, the sight of this brilliant, ambitious scientist Dr. Victor Gideon, head of Umbrella's research department carefully painting a nursery a more profound and beautiful sight than any scientific discovery he had ever made. This was your new equation you, him, and the soon-to-be, perfect unknown. And you had never been more ready to solve for the answer.
One sunny weekend, about a month before your due date, you and Victor returned from a leisurely walk to find your house bustling with a surprising amount of activity. Cars filled the driveway, and the moment you stepped inside, you were met with a chorus of "Surprise!"
Your parents and Victor's had descended upon your home, armed with mountains of gifts, enough food to feed a small army, and an overwhelming amount of love. They had planned a surprise baby shower. It was chaotic, loud, and utterly wholesome. You sat on the couch, opening presents ranging from the practical a top-of-the-line baby monitor from Victor's dad to the hilariously sentimental a hand-knitted blanket with a double helix pattern from your own mother. Victor, usually so reserved in group settings, was relaxed and happy, laughing at his father's dry jokes and watching his mother coo over a tiny pair of shoes with an expression of pure, unadulterated adoration. It was a perfect, loving snapshot of the family your child was being born into.
The last month was an exercise in shared, heightened anxiety. You felt enormous, every movement a careful negotiation, every breath a little shallower. Your nesting instinct had kicked into overdrive, and you found yourself organizing the nursery for the tenth time, even though everything was already perfectly in its place.
Victor's nervousness manifested in the only way he knew how: data-driven over-preparation. The hospital bag had been packed for three weeks. It sat by the door, a testament to his meticulous planning. Every night before bed, he would unzip it and run through his checklist.
"Overnight bag: check. Change of clothes for both of us: check. Approved toiletries, non-scented: check. Snacks, high in protein and complex carbohydrates: check. Fully charged tablet with downloaded scientific journals for myself and comfort media for you check. The obstetrician's credentials and success rate have been triple-verified. The hospital's neonatal unit is top-tier. We are prepared for ninety-seven percent of all foreseeable contingencies."
"Only ninety-seven percent, Dr. Gideon?" you'd tease from your position on the couch. "What about the other three percent?"
He would just sigh, a worried line etched between his brows. "We are working on it."
He was terrified, though he'd never admit it. He was terrified for you, for your comfort and safety. And he was terrified for the baby, this small, unknown variable who was about to enter the world. His obsession with control was at war with the beautiful, uncontrollable chaos of childbirth, and it was making him edgy.
That night, you were cuddled in bed, your back pressed against his chest. His hand rested protectively on your stomach, feeling the gentle, rhythmic roll of the baby beneath his palm. The house was quiet, the world outside asleep.
"I can't believe it's almost time," you whispered, your hand covering his. "I'm so ready to meet them."
"Me too," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. "But not a moment before the forty-week mark. Full-term gestation is optimal for lung development."
You were just about to drift off when you felt it. A sudden, warm rush, a strange and distinct internal pop followed by an undeniable trickle of fluid. Your eyes flew open.
"Victor," you said, your voice tight with sudden shock.
"Hmm? What is it? Is it a kick? Braxton-Hicks? The timing is a bit irregular, but—"
"My water just broke."
He shot upright in bed, his body rigid. "What? Are you sure? The phenomenon is often misrepresented in popular media. It could be—"
"I'm sure," you interrupted, just as a sharp, powerful contraction seized your entire abdomen, stealing your breath. "Oh. And that's definitely not Braxton-Hicks."
Every ounce of color drained from Victor's face. For a split second, the scientist froze, overwhelmed by the sudden, visceral reality. But then, his training, his love, and his sheer force of will took over. He was out of bed and moving with a swift, calm efficiency that was awe-inspiring.
"Okay. Okay," he said, his voice steady. "Don't panic. Breathe. We have a protocol for this." He grabbed the pre-packed bag from the corner of the room, then swept you up into his arms, one arm behind your back and the other under your knees. He carried you as if you weighed nothing, moving with purpose through the house and out to the garage.
He settled you gently into the passenger seat of the car, his hands moving with practiced precision as he clicked your seatbelt into place. As he slid into the driver's side, his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He stared at the garage door for a moment, then turned to you, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and exhilaration.
"This is really happening," he breathed, the words a quiet, reverent fact.
A wave of your own fear washed over you, sharp and cold. The pain of another contraction made you gasp, and tears welled in your eyes. "I'm so scared, Victor," you whimpered, all your bravado gone. "It hurts so much."
He reached over, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear. He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a low, urgent whisper, a string of sweet nothings meant only for you.
"Hey, look at me," he commanded gently. "You are the strongest, most brilliant person I have ever known. You've conquered complex organic chemistry, you've navigated the political minefield of Umbrella, you've tamed me. This? This is just biology. It's just a process your body is designed for. You are going to be amazing. You are going to do great."
He kissed your forehead, then your temple, his lips a soft, constant reassurance. "I am right here. I'm not going anywhere. I've got you. Just breathe with me. We're a team, remember? Our new, expanded system. We've got this."
You closed your eyes, focusing on his voice, on his touch, on the unwavering belief in his tone. He was your anchor in the storm, your constant in the chaos. As he backed the car out of the driveway, heading toward the new, unknown chapter of your lives, you knew he was right. Together, you could handle anything.
The drive to the hospital was a controlled sprint through deserted city streets. Victor drove with a calculated precision that was both terrifying and immensely comforting, his focus absolute. Every time a contraction hit, a vice-like grip that stole the air from your lungs, his hand would find yours, his thumb stroking steady, grounding circles on your knuckles. He didn't speak platitudes; he provided data. "Breathe through it," he'd murmur. "Thirty seconds peak, subsiding now. You're doing perfectly."
The moment you arrived at the emergency entrance, Victor transformed. The loving, anxious husband was eclipsed by the commanding presence of Dr. Gideon. He was out of the car and opening your door before the orderly could even approach.
"My wife is in active labor," he announced to the triage nurse, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Her water broke approximately twenty minutes ago. Contractions are currently ninety seconds apart and lasting forty-five seconds. She needs a delivery room, now."
The medical staff, recognizing the authority and sheer panic in his eyes, moved with an efficient urgency. They helped you into a wheelchair, and you were being whisked down a corridor of sterile white, Victor jogging beside you, his hand never leaving yours.
The delivery room was a hub of controlled chaos. They helped you shift from the chair to the bed, and the next few minutes were a blur of activity. A nurse was gently inserting an IV into your arm, his touch practiced and light, while another was placing adhesive monitoring pads on your chest and stomach. As the nurse reached for the fetal monitor, Victor's clinical mind kicked in.
"Use the dual Doppler," he said, his voice firm. "It's more efficient for simultaneous monitoring."
The nurse nodded, attaching the wide belt around your belly. He smeared the cool gel on your stomach and moved the wand. A moment later, a sound filled the room a fast, steady, rhythmic whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. It was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.
"There's baby A's heartbeat," the nurse said with a smile. "Nice and strong."
As he moved the wand to find the second position for placement, another sound joined the first. A slightly different rhythm, a slightly faster tempo. A second, distinct whoosh-whoosh-whoosh echoed through the room, a harmonic counterpoint to the first.
You and Victor both froze. You looked at him, your eyes wide with confusion, and saw his own face was a mask of stunned disbelief.
"Wait," you said, your voice breathless as another contraction began to build. "Is that... is that an echo? It's... it's not just one heartbeat."
The nurse paused, listening intently, a frown of concentration on her face. He moved the wand again, trying to isolate the sound, but it was undeniable. There were two. Two separate, perfect rhythms.
Just then, the anesthesiologist arrived, and the doctor, Dr. Aris, stepped in. "Okay, let's get you that epidural, help take the edge off."
But you could barely focus. "Doctor," you said, your voice tight with pain and mounting shock. "The monitor... I hear two heartbeats. Am I... am I having twins?"
Dr. Aris, a woman with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor, glanced at the monitor, then at the nurse. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face.
"Well, it seems there was a variable we all missed on the ultrasound," she said gently. "Congratulations. It appears you're having two babies."
The world tilted on its axis. Twins. Two. The word ricocheted through your mind, a stunning, unbelievable revelation. You turned to Victor, who was staring at the monitor as if it were displaying the secrets of the universe itself. His mouth was slightly agape, his analytical mind visibly recalculating every single plan, every expectation, every piece of data for the last nine months.
The anesthesiologist began his preparations, but the fear of the needle was suddenly insignificant. "Twins," Victor whispered, his eyes locked on the two flickering lines on the screen. "Two concurrent, synchronous heartbeats. Two distinct systems. It's... magnificent."
Fear, cold and sharp, tried to pierce through your shock as you saw the long needle. "Victor," you whimpered.
He snapped back to the present, his focus immediately returning to you. "Hey, look at me," he commanded softly, his face a mask of fierce, protective love. "Just look at me. Two babies. Think of that. We're a system of four now. It's perfect. Don't look down. Just look at me."
He held your face in his hands, his palms warm and firm, as the anesthesiologist worked. You focused on his dark eyes, on the shock and awe and absolute devotion swirling within them. You barely felt the cold swab or the sharp pressure as the epidural was administered, your mind too busy reeling with the new, magnificent, terrifying truth.
When it was done, you lay back, the pain fading into a distant ache. Dr. Aris returned to check your progress. "Well, this explains why you progressed so quickly," she said with a warm smile. "Let's see how we're doing." She performed a quick, gentle examination. "Excellent. You're at nine centimeters. Baby A's head is in a perfect position. This is going very smoothly."
Victor translated, his voice still laced with awe. "That means the cervical effacement is nearly complete. The dilation is optimal. For two subjects."
Dr. Aris laughed. "Exactly what he said. We're almost there. Maybe an hour, and it'll be time to start pushing. You just rest for now. Build up your energy. You've got two little ones depending on you."
You lay back against the pillows, your hand resting on your stomach, trying to comprehend that two separate lives were growing within you. The room was quiet now, filled with the duet of your babies' heartbeats, a beautiful, complex harmony. Victor sat beside you, his hand covering yours, his eyes still fixed on the monitor as if trying to solve the most beautiful equation he had ever seen.
The hour passed in a haze of rhythmic breathing and guttural pushes. Victor was your anchor, your constant. He stood beside your head, his voice a low, steady stream of encouragement and data. "That's it, perfect push. Ten seconds, hold it... excellent. The fetal heartbeats are stable. You're doing all the work, they're just along for the ride."
When Dr. Aris finally gave the command, "Okay, (Y/N), with the next contraction, give me everything you've got," you felt a primal, overwhelming urge take over. You bore down with every fiber of your being, a final, monumental effort that felt like it could split you in two. And then, in a rush of fluid and a sudden, startling pressure, it was over.
A moment later, a sharp, indignant cry filled the room.
"It's a boy!" Dr. Aris announced, her voice full of joy. "A beautiful baby boy."
But there was no time to rest. Even as the nurses were cleaning your first son, Dr. Aris was already speaking with calm urgency. "Alright, (Y/N), we're not done. Baby B is ready to make his debut. As soon as you feel the next contraction, let's push again."
You were exhausted, every muscle in your body screaming in protest, but the sound of your son's cries was all the fuel you needed. One more, you thought. One more push. With the next contraction, you gathered your remaining strength and pushed again. It was quicker this time, a second, familiar rush, and then, the air filled with the sound of another cry, slightly higher in pitch but just as full of life.
"And another boy!" Dr. Aris laughed. "You've got two sons!"
A wave of profound, bone-deep exhaustion washed over you, but it was quickly eclipsed by a tidal wave of love. After a few minutes of being tended to, the nurse gently placed two small, blanket-wrapped bundles in your arms. One, then the other.
You looked down, and the world fell away. They were perfect. Absolutely, breathtakingly perfect. The first had Victor's dark hair, a shock of it already visible on his tiny head, but your eyes. The second had your features but the unmistakable, serious brow of his father. They were a beautiful, seamless mixture of you and him, a living, breathing equation that had solved itself. They were your family. Your newly formed, perfect family.
Tears streamed down your face, silent, happy tears of pure, unadulterated joy. You gently stroked their cheeks, their skin impossibly soft. You traced the tiny line of their noses, marveling at the miniature perfection of their fingers. You made first contact, your touch greeting theirs, and their small hands instinctively curled around your fingers. In that moment, you were no longer a scientist, a wife, or an individual. You were a mother.
Victor had been standing by your side, frozen in a state of silent awe. You had never seen him so utterly still, his usual analytical stillness replaced by a profound, reverent shock. He watched you, his eyes glued to your face as you interacted with his sons.
After a few long moments, you looked up at him, your heart overflowing. "Do you want to meet them?"
He seemed to snap out of his trance, his eyes wide as he nodded slowly. You shifted carefully, turning the first bundle toward him. "This is your son," you whispered.
He reached out with a trembling hand, his hesitation palpable. He had handled volatile biochemical agents with more confidence. His fingers gently brushed against the baby's cheek, and when the baby didn't startle, but instead turned his head toward the touch, a sound caught in Victor's throat. It was a choked, half-sob, half-gasp. He never thought he would ever be a dad. This was a role he had never dared to imagine for himself.
You carefully handed the first baby into his arms, guiding him to support the tiny head. Then you offered him the second. He stood there, a man who commanded boardrooms and terrified his underlings, holding two impossibly small, fragile lives in his arms. He looked down at his sons, and the sheer, overwhelming love that flooded his features was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
"They have your eyes," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he looked at the first. "And your determination." He glanced at the second. "And your quiet strength." He looked from them to you, his own eyes shining with a brilliant, unshed tear. "They're perfect."
The hospital room became a revolving door of well-wishers, a constant stream of love and congratulations that both overwhelmed and sustained you. Your parents and Victor's were the first, their faces alight with a pride so profound it was almost tangible. Eleanor, Victor's mother, wept openly as she held one of her grandsons, whispering about the strength of the Gideon bloodline. Even Victor's father, after a long, silent appraisal of the babies, cleared his throat and declared, "Good bone structure," before patting Victor on the shoulder with a gruff, "Well done, son."
Friends and family came bearing gifts enough blankets and tiny clothes to outfit an entire nursery. A few of your close coworkers from Umbrella, your fellow scientists, stopped by, their expressions a mixture of awe and camaraderie. But the most notable arrival was a massive, elegantly arranged fruit basket, accompanied by a simple, cream-colored card. On it, in the familiar, embossed script, was a message from Ozwell E. Spencer himself. "Congratulations on your new heirs, Dr. Gideon. A legacy is the most important discovery of all."
Victor stared at the card as if it were a holy relic. His idol. The man he revered above all others had acknowledged his sons. He looked at you, his eyes shining with a pure, unadulterated joy that you didn't have the heart to tarnish by mentioning that Spencer likely sent an identical basket to every high-level employee who spawned offspring. Let him have this. You knew that, for Victor, this was personal.
Bringing them home was an exercise in controlled pandemonium. The quiet, orderly house you had shared was instantly transformed. The air filled with the scent of baby powder, warm milk, and the faint, sweet smell of your sons. The meticulously curated schedule you had both lived by evaporated, replaced by the demanding, unpredictable rhythm of two tiny humans.
The first few weeks were a blur of sleepless nights and exhausting days. You were a machine of feeding, changing, and soothing. There were moments when you were so tired you could barely see straight, moments when you'd sit on the floor in the nursery at 3 a.m., with one crying baby in each arm, and wonder how you would ever make it through.
But you did. And slowly, miraculously, you began to fall into a new kind of rhythm. It was chaotic, yes, but it was your chaos. You learned to differentiate their cries, to communicate with looks across the room, to function on three hours of fragmented sleep. And through it all, Victor was your rock. He was no longer the untouchable head of research he was a father. He changed diapers with scientific precision, he paced the hallways at night with a fussy baby on his shoulder, murmuring soft lullabies that his mother would sing when he was younger. He was fiercely protective, his hands constantly resting on them, on you, as if to anchor his new, expanded universe.
One evening, a few months in, you found him in the nursery. The babies were asleep in their cribs, bathed in the soft glow of a mobile that Eleanor had indeed designed a beautiful, swirling DNA double helix. Victor was standing between the two cribs, just watching them sleep. His posture was relaxed, his expression one of pure, unadulterated contentment.
You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your cheek against his back.
"Hey," you whispered.
He covered your arms with his own, leaning his head back against yours. "They're incredible," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Two perfect, independent systems that rely entirely on us. It's the most complex, rewarding project I've ever been a part of."
You smiled, pressing a kiss to his back. "You're a good father, Victor."
He turned in your arms, his hands coming up to cup your face. He looked at you, his dark eyes full of a love so deep and so vast it still took your breath away. "We're good parents," he corrected. "I never knew... I never thought I could be this happy." He looked from you to the sleeping babies, then back to you. "This is it. This is the answer. The solution to every equation. You. And them. My family."
He kissed you then, a deep, tender kiss that tasted of sleepless nights, unwavering devotion, and a chaotic, beautiful, perfect love. Your life was no longer the quiet, predictable thing it had been. It was a loud, messy, demanding, and utterly magnificent adventure. And as you stood there in the soft light of the nursery, with your husband and your two perfect sons, you knew, with absolute certainty, that you had never been happier either.
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