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mindmelter · 1 month ago

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Turn A Bully Into A Drone

The moment Ethan stepped into the empty locker room, he knew his plan had worked. The shower was running and there he was—Jace, his high school tormentor, standing under the water, his white dress shirt completely drenched and clinging to his muscular body while wearing black speedos. His chiseled abs and big, perky pecs were fully visible through the soaked fabric, and his face... Blank. Emotionless. Obedient.

Ethan's hands reached out and unbuttoned Jace's shirt, revealing his big pecs.

Ethan’s heart raced as he took in the sight. It had all led up to this. The months of planning, the late nights spent perfecting the nanorobots, the careful engineering to ensure they would only activate upon contact with Jace’s skin. He had spent years enduring Jace’s cruel pranks, his cocky smirks, and the way he strutted around the school like he owned it. Jace was feared by everyone, and this granted him the title of the leader of the most arrogant group of jocks.

But now he was standing motionless, allowing the nerd he used to bully to enjoy the sight of his muscular body.

It had been easy for Ethan. Despite being a troublemaker, Jace was the golden boy of the swim team and would spend hours in the pool every day. All Ethan had to do was introduce the microscopic machines into the water supply and let them do their work. The moment Jace dove in, the nanorobots detected their target and swarmed toward him, slipping through his pores, traveling through his bloodstream, and finally settling in his brain. They rewrote his brain cells, stripped away his arrogance, his free will, and molded him into exactly what Ethan wanted.—His personal drone.

And the proof was right there. A small tattoo of a triangle behind Jace’s ear—a mark left by the nanorobots once their work was complete. Ethan had spotted it this morning when Jace took a swim, when he stepped out of the pool, his usual swagger was gone, his movements just a little too stiffy, his eyes just a little too empty.

Ethan watched as the swimmers all went to the locker room, and went home after getting dressed. Jace was the only one who stayed behind.

And now, here he was, standing under the shower, waiting for Ethan just like the nanorobots were programmed to do.

Ethan stepped forward and reached out, slowly pressing his palm against Jace’s broad, wet chest, feeling the firm warmth beneath the wet skin. Jace had always been built, his swimmer’s body honed to perfection. He would have never allowed a guy like Ethan to touch him, but now there was no resistance, no cocky smirk, no taunting insult. Just stillness.

Ethan let his fingers roam lower, finding one of Jace’s nipples. He gave it a testing pinch, rolling it between his fingers. Jace shuddered. A small, involuntary gasp slipped from his lips, but he didn’t move away.

“You like that? You arrogant prick,” Ethan murmured, squeezing his pecs harder. “From now on, these are mine. You understand?”

Jace’s lips parted. “Yes… Master. These pecs are yours.” His voice was distant, dreamy, like a zombie.

The triangle mark on his neck glowed with blue light for a few seconds, indicating that a new command had been installed in Jace's brain.

Ethan grinned. “You’re gonna be my obedient toy now, Jace. No more bullying, no more acting like you’re better than me. From now on, you’re gonna crave my touch.” His hands moved with purpose, pinching both of Jace’s nipples and twisting. Hard. Jace let out a strangled moan, his legs trembling. Ethan felt a rush of power, of pure satisfaction. This was what he deserved.

Before, Jace would have punched Ethan just for looking at his pecs. Now, all Jace could think about was how those slabs of muscles on his chest weren't his anymore, but now belonged to Ethan.

“My touch makes you so horny,” Ethan cooed, rubbing slow circles around Jace’s hardened buds. “Your pecs are so sensitive now. So sensitive that from now on, you can only cum when I play with them.”

The triangle mark glowed again, Jace gasped, his entire body quivering under the shower’s stream. “Please…”

Ethan smirked. “Please what?”

"Please make me cum, Master!" Jace let out a desperate whimper, but Ethan wasn’t feeling generous. He pinched harder, twisting cruelly, and Jace let out a deep, shuddering moan. His whole body tensed, and his cock thobbed inside his tight speedos—then he came, his face contorted in helpless pleasure.

Ethan chuckled, stepping back to admire his work. Jace stood there, panting, his dick printed in his speedos, still leaking cum. The triangle mark behind his ear was a permanent reminder of who he belonged to now.

“You're such a pervert, Jace. Now kneel and suck me off. Play with your nipples as you do it.” Ethan ordered.

The triangle was glowing again, Jace’s blank eyes slowly focused on him, and for the first time in his life, there was no arrogance, no cruelty—just need. Desperation.

And from that day on, Jace changed. He stopped shoving Ethan in the hallways, stopped laughing at him with his friends. Instead, he was always walking beside Ethan, his eyes pleading, wanting him to play with his pecs all the time. And Ethan would whenever he wanted.

Ethan would use Jace's pecs to jerk off, suck, or simply to torture the once-arrogant jock. One time, Ethan used a waterproof marker to write 'Owned by Ethan' on Jace's chest just before his turn in a swimming competition. It became the school's only talk for a whole week. It was all anyone at school talked about for a whole week.

Ethan even made Jace kneel in front of him in the hallway and beg him to play with his "tits" right in front of his jock friends... let's say he wasn't their leader anymore after that day, but Jace couldn't care less, all he cared about was Ethan using his pecs for his pleasure.

______________________

Seven years had passed since high school, and Ethan had long since moved on from his past with Jace. The nanorobots, however, had not. They remained nestled deep in Jace’s brain, an unseen force that still bound him to the programming Ethan had left behind. Ethan wasn’t cruel—he had allowed Jace to live his life normally. He could date, he could have sex, he could go about his days as if nothing had changed. But there was one thing he could never escape: he could only orgasm when playing with his pecs and thinking of Ethan.

It had been a failsafe. A final act of control that ensured, no matter where life took Jace, he would always belong to Ethan in some way.

Ethan had thrived since high school. College had been a playground for him—his intelligence, his experiments, and his confidence had expanded. In just a few months of college, the hottest jocks also displayed a triangle mark on their necks. Ethan had built an empire of control. A harem of jock drones, each under his influence in one way or another, devoted to him in mind and body. Ethan was living his fantasy.

And then, one afternoon at the beach, he saw him.

Jace was out in the ocean, carving through the waves on a surfboard with practiced ease. He had become a surfing instructor, and the years had only made him more impressive—He wore a tight surfing fit: a tight-sleeved compression shirt unzipped just enough to reveal a teasing glimpse of his pecs and compression pants that clung to every sculpted muscle, outlining the power he carried between his legs. Ethan smirked. Jace was still as hot as he was in High School.

Ethan watched from the shore as Jace finished his lesson and walked up the beach, shaking out his wet hair. When their eyes met, recognition dawned in Jace’s face, followed by a wide, genuine grin.

“Ethan! Damn, it’s been forever, man!”

Jace’s voice was warm and genuine. He gave Ethan a tight hug, burying his face between his pecs... whether intentional or not, Ethan wasn't complaining.

If Ethan didn’t know better, he would’ve thought the years had erased the past. But he knew. He knew because Jace’s eyes lingered on him just a second too long, because the way Jace's pecs flexed with his face buried between them, told Ethan that deep down, the nanorobots were still just as strong in his brain as seven years go.

“Jace,” Ethan greeted, pulling his face away from Jace's pecs, pretending at camaraderie. “You look good.”

Jace laughed, wiping sweat from his brow. “Thanks. You too, though. You look... different.”

Ethan smirked. “Yeah, life’s been good to me.”

They caught up for a bit. Jace seemed completely normal. He had a job now, a life, a routine. In High School, Ethan always thought Jace would end up in a gang or having a shitty life, but thanks to the work the nanorobots did to his brain, Jace had a second chance in life... even if he was a mindless drone now.

But Ethan knew better, as normal Jace looked now, he was just a ticking time bomb waiting for the right command. And then, casually, as if he were simply making an observation, Ethan said.

“Activate Standby Mode.”

Jace stopped mid-sentence and the mark on his neck glowed. His muscles stiffened, and then—nothing. His arms hung loosely at his sides, his chest rising and falling in slow breaths. His face, once animated with conversation, went blank. Emotionless. His eyes stared ahead, unfocused, waiting.

Ethan took a step forward, tilting his head as he observed his former bully, now reduced to a mere puppet again, after seven years. He ran a finger along Jace’s chest, watching for any sign of resistance. There was none.

He reached for Jace's bulge and gave it a slight squeeze. “I missed playing with you, Jace,” Ethan murmured. Jace remained still, completely at his mercy. Ethan’s smirk widened. After all these years, Jace was still his. "You see Jace... I turned into a drone almost every hot jock at my school, yet, none of them had such perfect pecs like you."

And now, it was time to remind him of that fact. "Follow me."

Ethan led Jace away from the beach, guiding him toward the rocky outcrop where Ethan would have the privacy he needed. Jace followed obediently, moving without hesitation, his gaze vacant. He was still deep in standby mode, awaiting only Ethan’s next command.

When they reached the secluded area behind some rocks, Ethan pushed Jace down against the stone, positioning him just as he wanted. Ethan unzipped the tight, long-sleeved compression shirt, peeling it open to fully reveal Jace’s sculpted pecs that he missed so much, then he pulled down Jace's compression pants, revealing his tight black speedos.

The sight made Ethan hard—Jace’s blank face, his perfect, meaty chest and the massive bulge in his speedos... Suddenly, all the memories of the fun he had with Jace in high school started to flood back.

Ethan climbed onto Jace’s lap, his legs straddling the thick thighs beneath him. He gently pressed his palms against Jace’s pecs, kneading the firm flesh before lowering his mouth to one of the stiff nipples. He licked at it first, tasting the salt on Jace’s skin before closing his lips around the nub, sucking hungrily.

Jace remained motionless, his breath deep and steady. Ethan soon felt the twitch beneath him, the involuntary jerk of Jace’s cock pressing harder against his ass through the tight speedos. Smirking, Ethan bit down on Jace’s nipple, twisting the other between his fingers as he felt the cock beneath him throb in response.

“I see my command is still holding strong,” Ethan murmured against Jace’s chest before moving to the other nipple, sucking, biting, and flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. Each movement sent an electric pulse down to Jace’s cock, making it strain harder against its confines.

Ethan reached down, tugging down the waistband of Jace’s speedos. His thick, heavy cock sprang free, standing rigid and leaking.

Jace was too big—9 Inches hard. Ethan would need lube to take him fully. That's when Ethan remembered about a special command he would often use during High School. Would that still work? He asked himself. There was only one way to find out.

"Activate lube production mode," Ethan said. He waited a few seconds, a wicked grin formed on his face when he started to see a transparent sticky liquid oozing out of Jace's nipples.

During High School, Ethan would often pull Jace to a secluded room and fuck himself on Jace's big cock. To make it easier, Ethan gave the nanorobots a trigger word to produce a cum-enhanced lube that would be produced by Jace's pecs.

Ethan had completely forgotten about this trick until now, and he began to wonder what else he might be forgetting...

Ethan gave Jace's pecs a squeeze, making the transparent slippery liquid ooze faster. He then put some on his hand and coated Jace's dick with the natural lube.

Ethan’s own arousal was unbearable now, his own cock aching as he positioned his ass over Jace’s slippery shaft. With one slow movement, he sank down onto it, letting Jace's cock stretch him open.

A moan tore from Ethan’s lips as he adjusted, his hands bracing against Jace’s chest. The thick cock inside him pulsed, but Jace’s face remained blank, obediently waiting for direction. That only made Ethan hotter. He rocked his hips, setting a slow, deep rhythm, his fingers never leaving Jace’s pecs, smearing the slippery lube all over his chest making it glisten. Each time Ethan twisted or pinched a nipple, the cock inside him throbbed, reacting as if the sensations were directly wired together... Ethan knew they were.

Ethan rode him harder, his moans turning into gasps. He ground his hips, his fingers working Jace’s pecs mercilessly, alternating between soft caresses and sharp twists that made Jace’s cock throb uncontrollably inside him.

Ethan was close. His own cock twitched between them, untouched but fully ready to explode. He bit down on Jace’s left nipple and moaned as his orgasm hit him like a shockwave. His cum spilled in thick ropes over Jace’s chest, painting those perfect pecs in his release.

As his orgasm ceased, he grinned wickedly as Jace’s body jerked beneath him, his cock throbbing before spilling deep inside Ethan, his load pumping out in response to Ethan's command written into his very being.

Ethan sat there for a moment, still impaled on Jace’s cock, watching the way the cum dripped down his pecs and mindless face. He dragged his fingers through it and inserted one finger inside Jace's mouth with satisfaction.

“I'm never letting you go again,” Ethan whispered, pressing a final kiss to Jace’s agape mouth.

______________________

Ethan made his way to his personal gym, a massive space inside his mansion filled with state-of-the-art equipment and his favorite drone.

The moment he stepped inside, his eyes fell on Jace, standing frozen with his eyes open in the middle of the gym. Every night, before heading to bed, Ethan would shut down the nanorobots inside Jace, leaving him stuck like statue all night.

Ethan approached with a smirk, trailing his fingers along Jace’s broad back before stepping in front of him and gripping the bottom of his tight gym shirt and lifting it, revealing Jace's thick, heavy slabs of muscle that Ethan had grown obsessed with. His pecs, round and full, just waiting for inspection.

“Good morning, Jace,” Ethan said. His hands roamed over the meaty curves, squeezing them, testing their softness. The warmth of Jace’s body and the scent of sweat were pure addiction to Ethan. He leaned in, tracing his tongue around the stiff nub of Jace’s nipple before pulling it into his mouth, sucking greedily. Jace remained in sleep mode, his face blank, his body completely still except for the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath.

Ethan gave the soft flesh a few gentle bites, just enough to leave teeth marks for a few days. He then flicked his tongue over the sensitive bud, his fingers teasing and twisting the other, eliciting a soft, involuntary grunt from Jace. The connection was undeniable—every pinch, every squeeze sent a pulse straight to Jace’s cock, hardening him instantly. Ethan smirked against his pec—Jace's body still responded to the command even when his brain was turned off.

“They're getting bigger, you're doing a good job at working out your pecs,” he praised, dragging his teeth lightly against Jace’s nipples before switching to the other side, giving it equal worship. Jace’s body responded even without conscious thought, his muscles twitching under Ethan’s control. This was his pec drone now—his to touch, to taste, to use. And Ethan had no intention of ever letting him go again.

"Turn off sleeping mode. Activate loving boyfriend mode."

The triangle mark on Jace's neck started glowing.

#mind control #brainwash #brainwashing #male puppet

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heechwe · 7 months ago

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THE BOY IS MINE | 이희승

⟢ PAIRING: lee heeseung x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 2.3k ⟢ GENRE: smut ⟢ TAGS: secret relationship au, semi-fwb, idol!reader, idol!heeseung, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), pet names (baby, love, etc.), unprotected sex ⟢ SYNOPSIS: A company costume party is not the perfect place for your relationship with Heeseung to be exposed. So, like rational people, you both decide to have a rendezvous in a closet when jealousy rears its ugly head, if only to prove to each other who you belong to. ➸ original banner (at the end of fic) created by @hobeemin ♡

A costume party for hundreds of celebrities was as ideal as expected. The lingering, dramatic stare-offs between exes with bad blood created a thin layer of tension for some partygoers. The whispers of rumored hookups in the bathrooms at parties prior to this one caused an onslaught of prying eyes. With every motion of an idol, there was a microscope ready to catch every moment worthy of gossip.

Heeseung kept to himself since the beginning of the night, only conversing with his fellow members rather than other idols and leadership teams. It wasn’t that the guy was rude, not at all; he just didn’t focus on paying attention to the engagements of his colleagues. His job was to make music, perform, and then live his life. Once he was off the clock, nobody but Heeseung knew about what went on in his bed. He preferred it that way.

“Come on, Seung. We gotta try and find some action tonight.” Jay tips his cowboy hat in his friend’s direction. The Toy Story costume did not suit him, and Heeseung made sure to tell him so when he bought it as the guys kept to the superhero theme they picked out. But, against the better judgment of his seniors, Jay tends to do what he wants. And tonight, it’s clear where his intentions lay.

“I’m not feeling it,” Heeseung responds, shrugging and drinking the beer in his glass, some of the liquid dripping onto his cowl. The plastic Batman mask itches Heeseung’s face, but it keeps him from being picked out immediately by randoms in the room.

“Seriously? Don’t be such a wet blanket, dude.”

”If you want pussy, go talk to Jake or Hoon, man.” The two aforementioned boys were chatting up some girls from a group under Pledis. With their respective Spiderman and Iron Man masks off, it’s easy to discern their place in the crowd of people. At the bar in the corner with their conversation partners, they’re on a mission to end All Hallow’s Eve with a bang.

Before Jay can respond, his eyes go wide in recognition and a smile spreads across his face. “Ah, I get it now. You’ve been waiting on her.”

Heeseung’s head turns, and he feels all the blood in his body go straight to his core. In a Catwoman costume, completely clad in a latex-coated suit and red lipstick, he may go insane and take you on the floor in front of everyone. Even in the mask that hides half of your face, he can see how your eyes darken when you capture his attention, the borders of his mouth watering at your figure.

He downs what’s left of his alcohol and readdresses his friend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

”Sure.” When Jay sees you continue your path towards Heeseung, he makes his exit in the direction of the bar. “Have fun and use condoms!”

Heeseung wants to slap Jay silly for saying his parting words so loudly, but the feeling dissipates seeing you so close.

When you first met, it was a strictly platonic environment between friendly coworkers. It wasn’t in his mind then to progress to whatever your relationship was now, a partnership that dances the lines between a sexual agreement and a full-blown relationship. But now, the feelings in his chest are ready to explode in the tiny banquet hall the company rented for the party. He wants to kiss you senseless, smear your lipstick on his face, and press his face to other parts of you, but he knows that would expose both of you to extreme scrutiny.

It was not out of the bounds of your contract to date or sleep with coworkers under the same label. Still, it was extremely frowned upon by your peers. Keeping your relationship a secret was not difficult though, burner accounts and private meetups both yours and Heeseung’s best friends.

Heeseung tries to keep his sexual appetite at bay when you finally make it to him. You pose with one hip jutting out, causing your whip to jiggle at your side.

“Selina Kyle, right?” He asks rhetorically, a smirk on his lips.

“Thanks for noticing, Master Wayne.” Your British accent causes Heeseung to emit a chest-rumbling laugh. “You look handsome.”

“And you look…” Although you’re nestled in your corner of the expansive room, he knows he can’t outright describe all the ways he wants to tear the costume off of you. Hands, teeth, the list is endless. But he settles with a simple answer that hopefully says just enough. “Incredible.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause of the spandex.”

His eyebrow quirks, unsurprised you could tell exactly what was on his mind. Six months of fucking made it easy to discern a person’s words from their tells. “I’m saying it because you always look incredible. The spandex is just a bonus.”

The tension between you is electric. Even prior to the first time you slept with him, the signs were there. You felt the buzz under your skin at his presence even if he said nothing and it was ever too brief. His gaze and body would linger during practices or studio sessions, his being too close but not close enough if you were honest with yourself.

Heeseung tries to be discreet as he attempts to grab your hand under the cover of shadows. You shuck him off in the presence of so many eyes. “Not here, Hee.” You frown, wanting nothing more than to feel his fingers in between yours, his warmth bringing an unexplainable comfort. “You know they’ll talk.”

“They already are.” Heeseung practically hears the bullshit discussions between the surrounding people. Can you believe that? They probably picked out their outfits together. How can they be so obvious?

Your initial confidence is dampened by the thoughts that Heeseung knows you both share, but he shrugs off the chitchat about you both that could be occurring nearby. “Matching costumes can just be a coincidence.”

“Is that what they’re calling it?” You laugh sadly, knowing you have to leave his side to avoid suspicions. The night may not be over, but you can’t stay too close unless you want to bring everything out in the open. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Heeseung can’t keep his focus on anything but you, conversing and laughing with gentlemen from other groups under the same label. The idiots came up with some Cowboys and Aliens-inspired costumes, and the flirting taking place between you and these men makes Heeseung scoff. How could you be impressed by a guy with a cowboy hat on?

The interactions occurring in front of Heeseung make his skin crawl, the image of you smiling for guys who aren’t him hitting like a stone in his gut. He knows he’s not your boyfriend, and no labels were ever discussed at the start of your relationship, but that doesn’t take the sting out of it. And his feelings aren’t curbed by the alcohol in his cup.

Unable to avoid his distaste anymore, he excuses himself from his conversation with the random executives who bothered him ten minutes ago to saunter over to your spot in the banquet hall. “Excuse me, gentleman. I need to speak to Catwoman for a second.”

You barely say goodbye to Jeongin and Yeongbo before Heeseung takes you by the arm and into the hallway of the building. He looks around in rapid motion, and finds an open door to shove the two of you into. The makeshift closet provides enough space for the two of you, but not much.

Heeseung takes the cowl off of his head and throws it to his side, his eyes dark due to more than just the black paint around the upper portion of his face. “Heeseung, what’re you—“

He suddenly knocks you back into the wall of the closet and slams his mouth into yours, his tongue and teeth colliding with yours frantically. Your desire spikes when he palms on of your breasts over your costume, the latex wrinkling under his touch, “Fuck, seeing you with other guys drives me insane.”

You scoff, a smirk on your lips. “Like I was happy to see you talking to Yunjin earlier.”

“Don’t be like that.” His eyes glint with mischief at your response, but it melts into pure sincerity that makes your heart kickflip. “You know I only have eyes for you.”

“Likewise.” You nip his lips and knock him down to his knees. Before he can catch his breath, you lower the front zipper at the center of your costume and shrug it off of your arms, revealing the black-lace set covering the places Heeseung knows by heart. “Now touch me.”

“Jesus.” He hooks his thumbs into the sides of your underwear to yank down, careful to not rip the fabric. “Did you plan this or something?”

“You’re the one that pulled me into this room, baby.”

Heeseung smirks and presses a kiss to the center of your midriff, testing and teasing before going in for the kill. He nuzzles his face against your clit, kissing the bundle with adoration.

In the end, when he first saw you walking over to him at the start of the night, you both had to have known it would end like this, lost in each other and away from the rest of the world’s opinions and influence. Fuck them, Heeseung thinks. If their scrutiny meant he still found himself here, in between your legs and showing you how much you meant to him, he would take every comment with a smile.

“You taste incredible,” Heeseung whispers before passing his tongue against your slick folds, lapping up the wetness like he has never eaten anything better than you. “Just like always.”

“More,” you whisper, putting your hand under his chin to look at you. Even in the low light surrounding the small space, you can see the glint of his lips from your arousal. “I want more of you.”

“As you wish.” He stands up and kisses you deeply. “Wrap your legs around me, love.”

He lifts you with ease, his muscles expanding to reveal their form even in his bulky costume. You can’t wait to feel the heat of his skin against yours later when you’re truly alone. It’s never been a one-and-done with him, going many rounds without stopping, whether you had expected it to go that long or not. His sex drive was unstoppable when he was in the mood, and it seemed whenever he was with you, he didn’t have any intentions of slowing down.

By the time he enters you, your body is already welcoming him from the previous foreplay. It makes him hiss with pleasure, the tone low to avoid any strangers in the hallway from hearing and speculating. You capture his lips with yours, letting the extent of his moan be swallowed by your lips.

“Does it feel good, baby?” He asks, the whisper as loud as any groan he could emit. He releases one of your breasts from your bra, kneading the skin tenderly. “It’s fucking incredible for me, the way you stretch around me like this.”

“Fuck, you know you’re amazing, Hee.” You scratch your hands down his arms as he thrusts inside of you, the only available skin to take hold of.

“You’re all mine, you know that right?” He captures your eyes with his stare, going slower to punish you until you give him the answer he’s looking for. Fortunately for him, you don’t mind giving him what he wants if he does the same.

“Yes, all yours.” He resumes his original speed, sucking on the skin of your neck to create hickeys only he will know about. He loves to mark you and see your excruciating attempts to cover them up, makeup only going so far before friends and coworkers asked about what had occurred the night before.

If there’s anything as strong as Heeseung’s lust, it’s his pride. And he was as proud as he could be knowing he could claim you so well, even if only the two of you knew about it.

“Hee, I’m gonna come,” you whimper, holding on tighter to reach your end faster.

“Do it baby, let go for me.” He kisses you again to swallow the deep moan that leaves your lips as you come. If only you could shout from the rooftops how good he made you feel. How he was as impeccable as a lover as he was a person, just to make every adoring fan and foe of his envious of your spot in his life.

Your body feels like lead by the time you come down from the high, Heeseung has to hold onto you harder so you don’t crumble onto the floor.

“Hold on tight.” He braces his body with one hand against the wall behind you as his pace speeds up to an exhausting degree. His muscles twitch as he releases inside of you, burying his face in your neck to not let the groan escape his throat. His breath is hot on your skin, but you love the feeling of him so vulnerable as he lets go.

You kiss him quickly when he raises his head, his eyes half-lidded. “For a cat, you didn’t scratch that hard,” he says, lips upturned.

“Fuck off.” Heeseung helps you get dressed again, zipping up the front of your costume for you while you try to wipe away the remnants of your red lipstick from his face to no avail. He’ll have to wipe it off in the bathroom before going back to the party, but you doubt he cares much. “Come to mine after?”

He feels foolish for thinking tonight may be the night to discuss your relationship status, but stranger things have happened. Like the bat and the cat joining forces, per say. He kisses you again before leaving you with, “Of course.”

@seokgyuu @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

ORIGINAL FIC BANNER BELOW ⤵

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f0point5 · 2 years ago

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Max Verstappen x bestfriend!reader Masterlist

She’s still bejewelled - Y/N finds out F1 wag pages are once again speculating she is dating her best friend, Max Verstappen

It’s (not) a cruel summer - Y/N and Max enjoy the summer break

August slipped away - Y/N does a Q&A to catch up with her followers after summer break

Burning red- Lando puts his foot in it

Holy ground - Fans discuss their excitement to see Y/N and Max interact at Zandvoort

I’m the one who understands you - A window into Max and Y/N’s home life

It turned into something bigger - Y/N’s comments about her childhood friend, Mick Schumacher, lead to a social media firestorm

They’d say I’d hustled, put in the work - A look at Y/N’s podcast, Dirty Air(time)

Shake it off - Determined to forget her worries, Y/N goes out parting with Max and Lando

They say home is where the heart is - Fans discuss how Y/N and Max love being roommates

(We’re) in the club doing I don’t know what - Fans look back on Max and Y/N’s Club Rat Renaissance

Pauses, then says, (he’s) my best friend - Y/N spends the day in Amsterdam while Max does press at Zandvoort

How evergreen, our group of friends - Snippets of Y/N and Max’s other friends on the grid and beyond

We’re faster and never scared - It’s a dramatic Friday in the Zandvoort paddock

I watch Superman fly away - The drama continues as Y/N and Mick have a run in in the paddock

Long live all the magic he made - Y/N supports Max as he equals the record for most consecutive wins

Remember the footsteps - A look at Y/N and Mick’s lifelong friendship

He has his father’s eyes…his father’s ambition - A look at Y/N’s relationship with Jos

I love your handshake, meeting my father - Fans discuss Jos’s perspective on Y/N, and her relationship with Max

And maybe it was egos swinging - Everyone speculates about the cause and consequences of Y/N and Mick’s falling out

I fell from the pedestal - Y/N becomes the subject of internet trolling after her fall out with Mick becomes public

Don’t know how long it’s gonna take to feel okay - Unable to deal with the stress and trolling, Y/N goes home to Switzerland, cutting off Max

My reputation’s never been worse so - Y/N’s absence sparks concerns amongst those closest to her

If someone comes at us, this time I’m ready - Y/N’s friends publicly support her as the hate continues

You don’t want to know me, I will just let you down

My words shoot to kill when I’m mad - Mick and Y/N finally talk

Something in your eyes says we can beat this - Max has a tough start to an important weekend, but his luck is about to change

(We) saw something the can’t take away - Y/N is there as Max wins at Monza and breaks another record

This is life before you know who you’re gonna be - Netizens discuss Max and Y/N’s enemy era

20 questions, we tell the truth - Y/N catches up with her followers after a hectic couple of weeks, and meets a man in Monaco

On a Wednesday, in a café - Y/N’s podcast with Daniel leads to some interesting revelations

Do you really want to know where I was? - Y/N and Max spend a day at the factory as rumours begin to swirl

I make it look oh so easy - Y/N and Max choose different confidants as they both attempt to avoid the elephant in the room

You’ll find me on my tallest tiptoes - It gets harder for Y/N to keep her secret

Slow motion, double vision in rose blush - Y/N gets back in the saddle while Max watches from the sidelines in more ways than one

Carnations you had thought were roses - Two of Y/N’s secrets are revealed

Didn’t it all seem new and exciting - Max leaves Y/N behind in Monaco as she reflects on her date

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time - Y/N heads to Switzerland for a special appointment as her relationship with Max is put under a microscope

I don’t wanna miss you like this - Y/N and Max deal with the distance between them differently

Your finger on my hairpin trigger - Tensions run high as Max has a bad day on track and Y/N gets defensive

Takes one to know one - Y/N’s much needed talk with Elliot is interrupted by an explosive qualifying in Singapore

I want to tell you not to get lost in these petty things - Max’s streak comes to an end and he and Y/N look ahead to Suzuka

Forever going with the flow, but you’re friction - Max asking Y/N to fly out early to Japan leads to tension and Y/N turns to Daniel for advice

I drive down different roads - Fans, and Y/N, speculate about her budding relationship

(They) knew what it was, he is in love - Netizens set out to prove that Max is in love with Y/N

(We) counted days, I counted miles, to see you there - Y/N arrives in Japan and is reunited with Max

Balancing on breaking branches - Max receives an unexpected delivery as Y/N answers questions from the media and her mother

It’s you and me, there’s nothing like this - As Max gets back to business as usual in Suzuka, wag social media does it’s thing

My (baby flies) like a jet stream - Max has a good day on track and Y/N’s Vogue article goes live

I can read you like a magazine - The internet reacts to mentions of Max in Y/N’s Vogue article

He’s passing by, rare as a glimmer of a comet in the sky - Red Bull securing the WCC is overshadowed by the revelation that Max hates podcasts

The lingering question(s) kept me up - Y/N does an Instagram Q&A

I just may like some explanations - Y/N answers more questions

How you held me in your arms that September night, the first time you ever saw me cry - Set in 2017, we learn what led to Y/N’s dad being dropped as Max’s sponsor, early in their friendship

People started talking, putting us through our paces - When Y/N is spotted out with Elliot, Instagram, Max, and Lando react

I don’t wanna touch you - Y/N finds herself short of breath on her padel date. Later, she appears on Max’s stream

(I) will never make my parents’ mistakes - Y/N’s dad hears about her dating life, and her mother weighs in

Drinking on a (yacht) with you all over me - Y/N and Max kick of his birthday celebrations with a day on the water, while Elliot changes his tune

I’d pick you up and we’d go back in time - Y/N and Max bring in his birthday somewhere special

We’re gonna be timeless - It’s Max’s birthday, but Y/N isn’t the only one planning surprises

Take the moment and taste it - Max enjoys a birthday boat day with family and friends, and Vic makes an accidental discovery

There’s glitter on the floor after the party - It’s the morning after night before. Max and Vic discuss Y/N’s letter

Movin’ on was always easy for me to do - Y/N and Elliot meet up to talk and Y/N’s friend weighs in. Y/N’s tweets irritate Max

Your eyes look like (being at) home - Y/N goes riding, Lando proposes plans, and Max has plans of his own

No I didn’t hear the news, ‘cause we were somewhere else - Max and Y/N arrive in Doha, but rumours about Max’s Monaco exploits follow them

You heard the rumours from (your friends) - Max attends Media Day while Y/N hangs out with an old friend

‘Cause they don’t know about the night in the hotel - Max’s GQ interview exposes an interesting part of Max and Y/N’s past

I was dancing around, dancing around it - Y/N and Clara celebrate Max’s on track triumphs

(You) stand up, champion tonight - Max becomes a three time world champion

This life is sweeter than fiction - Max wins in Qatar in a physically gruelling race

Life makes love look hard - Back in Monaco, Y/N is seen out with Elliot, and he makes a bold suggestion

Can we always be this close? - Y/N and Max have a chill day at home and while Twitter notice Max made an admission in an interview, Y/N makes an admission to Victoria

Inescapable, I’m not even gonna try - Y/N and Max spend a day at the factory, where both realise they may have something to work on

You go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me - Y/N’s podcast with Oscar comes out, on the same day she finally films one with Max. Meanwhile, Max uses the sim in an unconventional way

Yes, I remember what you said last night - Y/N’s plans for COTA baffle Christian, and Y/N learns an unexpected fact about the past

Take out, then take me home - Y/N prepares for Austin, and an interview with Max comes out

Love’s a game, wanna play? - Y/N tries her hand at padel after watching Max compete, and Max steams with Redline

Rosé flowing with your chosen family - Clara and Y/N spend the day together, and Clara becomes determined to finish what she started in 2017

(We are) a flight risk, with a fear of falling - Y/N and Max head to the US

Ain’t it funny, rumours fly - Y/N heads to a Ferrari gala as rumours swirl about Max’s next career move amid reports of infighting at Red Bull

As if I don’t already see (it) - The circus settles in to Texas and Y/N’s dad weighs in on Elliot

Can you see right through me? - Y/N and Elliot make a king and awkward paddock debut

I’ve been sleeping so long in a twenty year dark night - Y/N sheds light on her dating history while she and Elliot struggle to adjust to life in the paddock

It’s morning now, it’s brighter now - Y/N reaches out to an old friend for support. Meanwhile, Daniel tries to support Max

The moment I could see it - Max takes another win in Austin while Elliot reaches his breaking point

You’ll find the real thing instead - Y/N and Elliot have an honest conversation

In the name of being honest - Bonus part where Y/N answers Instagram questions after the Austin GP

I’m asking you why - More of Y/N’s post Austin Q&A

You’ve got a girl at home and everybody knows that - Y/N and Max are suspects in the wildest paddock rumour yet as they wrap up their trip to Austin

You learn my secrets and you figure out why I’m guarded - Y/N gets brutally honest with Mick as Max plays goalkeeper twice

You saw the truth in me - Max cuts it close before media day as reports surface of security threats in Mexico

They tell you that you’re lucky, but you’re so confused - Max attends a gruelling media day as Y/N deals with the heat of Mexico

Laughing with (your head in my) lap, like you were my closest friend - Everyone has a tough quali day

This is the golden age - Maxico delivers another win, and Y/N celebrates with tequila

(You would never) me darling, but who could stay? - Y/N and Max arrive in Brazil for a short break before the race

No one has to know what we do - Max and Y/N fall off the map and enjoy some private time

I can’t say anything to your face - Max and Y/N continue to leave each other flustered and Max starts press for the Brazilian GP

The way you move is like a full on rainstorm - Max takes pole in difficult conditions and Y/N gets near her breaking point

We were cards sharks, playing games - Max wins the sprint and Y/N wins games of her own

🚨I’ve had to add a second masterlist for all posts after this point. That can be found here 🚨

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen x you #f1 imagine #f1 social media au #f1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher

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sillymommy6969 · 4 months ago

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝖄OURS TRULY

Manon Bannerman x actor!fem!reader

summary: being an actress can be pretty demanding, and manon's pretty understanding of the things that came along with your career, but lately it’s feeling a little too real

warnings: slight!angst, some sm posts, jealous!manon, one mean comment, kinda used rachel zegler as a face claim only because i used those pics for the smau, harsh language

Being an actress came with lots of benefits; you travelled all around the world to film in beautiful, exotic locations, you get to meet a lot of amazing new people within and beyond the industry, and you get to do what you were most passionate about. But, it also meant every aspect of your life would be examined under a microscope, on and off set, and you would be made to post or say things that weren’t true just for the sake of promotions or publicity.

You absolutely loathed that part of your job. It has driven a wedge between your relationship with so many ex-boyfriends or girlfriends and even some friendships.

When you met Manon at your good friend and fellow Euphoria costar, Dominic’s New Year’s Eve party, you were absolutely entranced by this walking shred of heaven. Back then, she had not joined Dream Academy yet and she was just in between modelling gigs. You couldn’t help yourself, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it. You had to get to know her better, and by the end of the night you were leaving Dominic’s condo and stumbling into yours with her pressed against you.

When you begun dating, you made sure Manon knew the extents of your career. You were blunt, dating an actress wasn’t always going to be easy, especially with the way tabloids write their own narrative about your life.

a) Your job entailed partial nudity at times; you’ve been in enough movies or series to know women are always asked to strip in front of cameras. You weren’t exactly the biggest fan, but it wasn’t your artistic choice to make.

b) Your job entailed lots of cameras and eyes constantly trained on you, meaning they would spin stories and insane theories out of the most ridiculously insignificant detail. Nothing the tabloids report can ever be trusted.

c) Your job entailed doing things with your costars, i.e. kissing, making out, filming intimate scenes, etc. As somebody in the industry, you have become so desensitized by the concept of faking things for art. But you understood not many people understood the gravity of everything your career demanded from you, and it can cause lots of issues emotionally.

Manon was very reluctant about these three rules at first, skeptical of how bad things had to be for you to drop this on her the first month in. But then she got on dream academy, she then successfully debuted in Katseye, and she, herself, experienced a lot of the things you fell victim to. She understood and accepted much more than she had to because she loved you, she really did, and to anybody with eyes, the two of you were absolutely smitten.

Recently, you were onset of a new project you were cast in—a remake of Romeo & Juliet but with a modern edge to it. Everything was going good, internal reviews for what, and as you wrapped up filming, you were asked to post an ‘wrap dump’ to promote the movie. Your manager presented you with a selection of photos, and you compiled them into a post.

Liked by kitconnor, lararajj & 821,440 others

ynln Can’t wait for ya’ll to see us in six months <3

19 hours ago

user01 THE FIRST SLIDE HELLO???????

user02 yall stronger than me i would’ve fallen in love

dominicfike aye get it sis

ynln you really do be everywhere but the studio

dominicfike kys

user03 has anybody seen the leaked kiss

user04 YES OMG

user05 they’re such a theatre kid power couple

user03 DID YALL SEE KIT GRABBING HER FACE

user06 you can’t convince me they’re not tgt

user07 Is this a hard launch I’m sobbing

user08 girl you ever heard of marketing 😭😭

user09 no they’re dating

user10 THEYRE LITERALLY NOT??

user11 guys y/n’s dating manon rmb not kit

user12 they never confirmed tho so maybe it’s kit

user13 @user12 Denial is a river in Egypt…

You didn’t think much about the post, getting out of your makeup from the day before hitching a ride home with your manager. You had a couple hours to freshen up and get ready before the wrap party that night, and you were very excited to have invited Manon as your plus one.

It was one of those rare days your girlfriend had a day off that matched your schedule. She had her reservations about being seen or photographed with you at such a public event, but you assured her everything was going to be cast and crew only.

Back at her dorm, Manon was doing her makeup on the floor of her room. She had the room to herself, Lara invited some of the girls home for the weekend with her—which meant Daniela was gone as well. Only Sophia and Yoonchae opted to stay home, wanting to spend the free time they had shopping for decorations to liven up their room. She was nervous, to say the least, about meeting all the professional filmmakers and famed actors and directors you worked with every day.

A knock on her door sounded through the music blasting.

“Yo, Manon, you getting ready to go soon?” When she turned her head to catch a glimpse of Sophia poking her head through the doorway, the leader was focused on the phone in her hand, strolling in to stand behind the older member.

“Yeah, heading over to Y/N’s in fifteen-ish… why?”

“You seen Y/N’s latest instagram post?” Sophia asked.

Manon shook her head. She hadn’t been on social media since the night before, she slept in, waking up late and immediately had to throw herself into the shower to get ready.

“Well, you gotta see this shit.”

Sophia knealt, holding her phone out for Manon to peep at the tweet she had pulled up onscreen. The way she snatched the filipina’s phone was nothing short of urgent and stunned.

It wasn’t like Manon hadn’t seen you kiss your costars onscreen, she’s been to many movies watching you lead in a film. But this, watching this bag of bulging muscles in a tank touch you where she usually did, your hands grabbing his face as the two of you made out on a bed?

Manon had never, and I mean ever, felt such rage. She was experiencing so many emotions at once; some rationality, some discomfort, but mostly an overwhelming sense of rage.

She didn’t care. She was a jealous girlfriend. And she can say she understands as many times as she could, but she hated every single time you’d kiss, touch or feel anybody but her. She knew it was what you did for a living, but she couldn’t shed the way she felt like smashing Kit Connor’s face through a wall.

“That’s a wild ass movie your girl’s making,” Sophia scoffed, in attempts to lighten the tension.

Manon’s jaw clenched, shoving the phone back into Sophia’s chest before standing. She was now sad she had gotten her hair and outfit done all nice, because she didn’t feel like showing up to an event thrown somewhat in your honour.

“Manon…? Manon!” Sophia called after the Ghanaian woman, but she had already grabbed her purse and left the house.

When you came out of the shower, your hair wet and your body glistening, you were taken aback by the sudden pounding you heard from your condo’s door. You quickly put on your panties and one of Manon’s oversized shirts. Slipping into your slippers, you stumbled out your bathroom and to the door. Just a couple feet away from it, another round of thrusts throw you off. “I’m coming, Jesus Christ!”

Swinging your door open, you were ready to rip into whomever so disrespectfully made their presence known, but upon seeing your girlfriend, dressed all nice and looking pretty, your expression softened. “Baby, I thought you were coming—!”

She held a hand over your mouth, pushing you into your home before kicking the door shut behind her.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Manz, what the fu—?”

“Are you fucking Kit Connor?” She immediately barked, a hand on your bare chest, backing you up towards the couch. “I get myself all nice and pretty for your party and I find out you’re macking this hunk like there’s no tomorrow?”

Your hand rested on your chest, before you were knocked onto your ass. You glanced up at your dining girlfriend, her lips pursed and her sharp brows knit together.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’re we talking about here?”

She yanked her phone out her pocket, her fingers jabbing at her screen as she pulled up your instagram page. The photos you and Kit took on set was harshly shoved into your face, you gently cradled her hand with both of yours, carefully pulling it back so you could see. She then harshly pulled her hand back, pulling up Pop Base’s tweet of a leaked onset photo.

“When the fuck did you even get these photos taken? I mean, having to do minimal stuff for work is one thing, but letting him carry you and grab your ass and your thighs and getting all close and intimate behind the scenes when you’re not even on fucking camera is so far over the line, Y/N.” she rambled, “Then I have to see you basically dry hump this man?”

You sighed, knowing it was another one of the older woman’s jealous episodes. You tried being more understanding, to listen and calm her down, knowing it was a consequence of your job.

“Baby, please, take a deep breath, okay?” You gently grab the phone from her hand, setting it down on the couch beside you. You entertained your fingers, kissing her knuckles. “What did I tell you about the rules, hm?”

With a pout, Manon’s voice dropped low, “You’re a public figure and need to get intimate with coworkers a lot.”

You hummed, nodding. “That’s right. And y’know what the best way to promote a new movie is?”

She rolled her eyes, staring away. “Dating scandals.”

“Yes, baby, dating scandals.” You tugged at her hands, pulling her down to take a seat. Her body slumped to sit on your lap, her eyes still refusing to meet yours as you fixed a loose curl from her temple. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Manz. I never do things I don’t need to. I took those pictures on a press day a while back when Kit and I were asked to do ‘behind the scenes’ photos, none of it is real.”

“Yeah, well, it looked pretty real when you were eating his face on that bed,” she huffed, “What was I supposed to think?”

You chuckled, nodding. You wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling both of you to lie back into the couch. “I know, I know, but I’m not going to the party as Kit’s date, right? He’s not the one I’ve been waiting to see all day.” You gestured at your dripping appearance, “That’s why I wanted you to come in twenty, so I could be ready and beautiful just for you, baby.”

Manon scoffed, “Yeah, you’re lookin’ real rough right now.”

You playfully slapped her at the joke, “I promise you, I am yours, truly. I don’t even care about Kit, because all I think about when I’m at work is coming home and getting to see my ridiculously beautiful and sexy girlfriend.”

That statement seemed to win Manon over, her hands coming up to cradle your cheeks. “You better swear on your life.”

“I swear on this life and the next. I love you, Manz.”

“Mmh, I love you more,” she hummed, leaning in to kiss you softly. When the two of you pulled apart, she sneered, “Is that how you kiss him too?”

You clicked your tongue, a hand reaching under her thigh to move her body so she was straddling you. “Do you really wanna know? I’ll show you exactly what Kit and I do when nobody’s looking.” you spat, earning a gasp from Manon when your hand cupped the back of her neck, yanking her down into you for a heated kiss.

It was a long night of entertaining producing executives and crew members, but you were very happy to have your girlfriend meet the people you’ve been working with for months. When it came time for you to give Kit a hug in greeting though, Manon made sure her disapproval was made known.

You had an upcoming role in the third season of the White Lotus, you were not excited about how the Ghanaian woman would react to the scenes on that show.

#katseye x reader #katseye #manon bannerman #manon bannerman x reader #daniela avanzini #daniela avanzini x reader #lara raj #lara raj x reader #megan skiendiel #megan skiendiel x reader #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia laforteza #yoonchae

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goofygubegubler · 26 days ago

Text

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬

You’re trapped with the one person who always gets under your skin. And this time, there’s no escape—just options.

wc: 4.8k |F!Reader (Intern) x Spencer Reid (BAU) | cw: enemies-to-lovers, mutual pining, locked-room tension, flirty office chaos, bratty reader x repressed Spencer, slow-burn heat, heavy innuendo, power play lite, Gen Z banter, Hotch is so done.

A/n: This is a pick-your-ending fic — at a certain point, you’ll choose between smut or fluff, each in its own post with separate warnings and word counts. If you’re into this format, let me know! It just fits certain stories, y’know? Love and chaos—MWAH 💋

The BAU was supposed to be a serious, elite unit. You had envisioned it as a whirlwind of case files, high-stakes chases, and brooding men in bulletproof vests. What you hadn’t expected was for it to be filled with this many attractive people—or for the most infuriating one to be Spencer freaking Reid.

He was unbearable. All logic and statistics and that smug little way he corrected people, like a walking, talking Wikipedia page you wanted to shove into a filing cabinet. And, of course, he always had to insert himself at the worst possible moments.

Like now.

You were halfway up the stairs to Hotch’s office, arms full of paperwork, when Spencer materialized beside you, keeping pace effortlessly.

"You look focused," he mused, sipping from his stupid World’s Best Genius mug. The Caltech logo gleamed mockingly under the fluorescent lights.

You ignored him.

"Or frustrated," he added, tilting his head like he was observing something under a microscope. "Maybe both."

Your grip on the files tightened. "Do you ever shut up?"

"I do. Statistically speaking, though, you tend to provoke responses, so the probability of silence is low."

You stopped dead in your tracks, turned to glare at him, and exhaled sharply. "Do you hear yourself when you talk?"

Spencer blinked. "Yes. That’s how hearing works."

Your nails dug into the folder. "I hate you."

"That seems like a misdirected use of emotional energy," he replied smoothly.

You inhaled sharply, clenching your jaw so tightly it could crack. Ah, yes, self-control. A beautiful, fleeting thing. Before you could hurl something at him—your files, your shoe, your entire existence—you flipped your hair with deliberate defiance and kept walking, your heels clicking a little louder than necessary against the steps.

Truth be told, you weren’t just frustrated—you were livid. Not just because of the mountain of paperwork threatening to bury you alive, though that was bad enough. Deadlines loomed, your patience was nonexistent, and apparently, the BAU believed in torturing interns via bureaucracy. But no, the universe wasn’t content with that level of suffering. No, you had to be ovulating, too.

And your body? Oh, your body had decided to make that fact impossible to ignore. Every brush of fabric, every deep inhale around a particularly nice-smelling coworker—hell, even the way Derek Morgan smiled at people was suddenly a personal attack. And then, as if the gods of humiliation weren’t done with you, there was Spencer Reid.

Unbearably smug. Infuriatingly brilliant. And, much to your horror, the hottest of them all. It was an objective fact, but one you would sooner choke on a case file than admit.

You stomped into Hotch’s office like a woman on a mission, dropping the stack of paperwork onto his desk with a satisfying thud.

Hotch barely glanced up. "Not so easy."

You groaned. "Hotch, please."

"All intern paperwork has to be proofread and signed by a superior agent," he said, sliding the files right back toward you without even looking.

You narrowed your eyes. "You didn't even check."

Hotch finally glanced up, unimpressed. "You think I don't know when something’s unfinished? The weight is off. The stack isn’t dense enough. And if that weren’t enough, you wouldn’t have dropped it like it burned you."

You inhaled sharply, then exhaled through your nose like a bull about to charge. "I know, but every time I try, they’re too busy, and besides, Hotch, you know me—"

"Reid’s not busy," Hotch cut in. "He does paperwork the fastest. Morgan even pays him to do his, not that I officially acknowledge that particular rule-breaking."

Your soul left your body. "You cannot be serious."

"It wasn’t a question." His expression remained unreadable, but you swore there was amusement in his eyes. "Reid is your assigned agent from now on."

Your hands are clenched at your sides. "Hotch, you don’t understand. That’s cruel. That’s a human rights violation. That’s—"

"Efficient," he interrupted smoothly. "And unavoidable. Unless, of course, you’d rather I reassign you to Rossi. He loves a good mentoring opportunity, and I hear he enjoys dictation."

Your mouth snapped shut. That was how he won. Every. Single. Time. He had a way of shutting you up with a perfectly placed, completely infuriating threat that left you with no choice but to storm out with whatever dignity you had left. You inhaled, exhaled, and bit back the thousand things you wanted to say.

But, of course, Hotch wasn’t done. He leaned back slightly, fixing you with that assessing stare that made your spine straighten. "And," he added, "we talked about the skirts."

You smirked, tilting your head, letting your inner party girl out for just a second. "Yeah, yeah, you’re required to say that, but let’s be real—HR only cares if it’s disruptive, and last I checked, no one’s tripped and fallen into a scandal because of my legs."

Hotch’s lips pressed into a flat line, his patience visibly thinning. "I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that."

You grinned, victorious. "Good choice, bossman."

His stare didn’t waver. "Leave."

And because you valued your job (and, fine, maybe because getting the last word on Aaron Hotchner was a dangerous game), you spun on your heel and strutted out, thoroughly pleased with yourself.

God, if you didn’t have a massive, wildly inappropriate crush on Spencer, you’d bounce on Hotch in a heartbeat. Even if he was divorced. Even if he had a kid. Even if he was old enough to be your father. Domineering, dangerously competent men were simply your type, and unfortunately, you were surrounded by them.

As you made your way back to your desk, you let yourself fantasize—just a little. Maybe, in another life, you could have both. A little Eiffel Tower moment, if you will—

"Hey, you in?"

Penelope’s voice pulled you from your wildly inappropriate thoughts. You blinked, turning to her just as she plopped down in the chair beside you. "In?"

"For going out tonight. Drinks, dancing, chaos—our usual."

You hesitated, your attention snagged by movement across the bullpen. Hotch stood by Spencer’s desk, speaking in that low, measured tone of his. Spencer, ever the picture of unbothered intellect, nodded along, his fingers idly drumming against a case file. Hotch’s brow furrowed, and something about the intensity of his gaze made your stomach twist.

"Okay, now I know you’re distracted." Penelope snapped her fingers in front of your face, making you jolt. "What’s got you zoning out like a lovesick teenager?"

You tore your gaze away and cleared your throat. "Hotch just told me I have to start running my paperwork through Spencer."

Penelope’s eyes widened. "Oof. Condolences. What did you do to deserve that?"

"Apparently, Hotch thinks I’m not cutting the ropes as a newbie," you deadpanned. "But he likes me otherwise, y’know."

Penelope snorted. "Oh, sweetheart. That is the most delusional thing I’ve ever heard—and I’ve been in a fandom war."

Before you could respond, movement caught your eye. Hotch and Spencer were walking toward you, Hotch balancing a precarious stack of files in his arms. You barely had time to brace yourself before he stopped beside Penelope, giving her a pointed look.

"Garcia. Back to work."

Penelope pouted dramatically. "Ugh, you are such a buzzkill, you know that?"

"And yet, here I am, still insisting," Hotch replied dryly. He barely glanced at her. "Garcia. Work."

Penelope gasped, clutching her chest like he’d personally wounded her. "Rude. And here I was, ready to offer my radiant presence for a night of fun. But nooo, crushed by the oppressive fist of bureaucracy once again." With a theatrical sigh, she stood, smoothing out her skirt. "Fine, fine, I’m going. But if my sparkle dims, Hotchner, just know it’s on your conscience."

"And yet, somehow, the world survives," Hotch replied flatly. Then, without another word, he plopped a massive stack of files onto your lap. "You and Reid need to redo this entire stack before you leave."

"Oh, fantastic," you drawled, shifting the weight of the folders in your arms. "Because nothing gets me hotter than redoing paperwork with my favorite human encyclopedia."

"That’s between you and HR," Hotch deadpanned before turning on his heel and walking away.

You scowled after him. "I hate this place."

"And yet, you continue to show up," Spencer mused, already pulling a file from the stack in your hands. "Let’s see how much damage you’ve done this time."

"Oh, bite me," you shot back, dropping the rest of the files onto your desk with a dramatic sigh. "Before you start spewing unsolicited critiques, just know that I put my heart and soul into those."

Spencer flipped through a few pages, his lips twitching. "You used gel pens again."

"So?"

"So, it smudged everywhere."

You rolled your eyes. "Forgive me for wanting my bureaucratic misery to sparkle a little."

"And your phrasing," he continued, ignoring your defense. "This is meant to be objective. What is ‘a concerning amount of eyebrow waggling’ supposed to quantify exactly?"

"It means the guy was sketchy!"

Spencer gave you a long, suffering look. "You are the worst intern in FBI history."

You smirked, tilting your head just enough to be insufferable. "Aw, Doctor, you say that like it’s a bad thing."

Spencer just exhaled through his nose and turned back to the files, flipping a page with unnecessary force. "If we ever have to testify based on your notes, the jury’s going to think we’re making it up."

"Oh, please," you scoffed, leaning back in your chair. "Eyebrow waggling is a known intimidation tactic."

"According to whom?"

"Me. Obviously."

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about the downfall of modern law enforcement before refocusing on the paperwork. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking the slow exodus of the office. First, Morgan and Emily strolled out, offering half-hearted goodbyes that suggested they were thrilled not to be stuck with this nightmare. Then JJ, then Rossi—each departure leaving the bullpen quieter, the fluorescent lights humming louder.

By 6:30, even Penelope had fled, but not before dramatically sighing, "Ugh, this is so unfair! We were supposed to have a girls' night. Or at least get you drunk enough to make some questionable decisions!"

"Oh, trust me, I am questioning every decision that led me here," you deadpanned, glaring at the endless stack of papers.

Pen just pouted. "Well, hurry up and get it done so we can still salvage the night! I have snacks, face masks, and enough gossip to fill an entire season of reality TV."

"Maybe if someone would stop talking, we could actually finish this," Spencer cut in, not even looking up from his work.

The clock ticked on, relentless and unsympathetic. 7:15. Then 7:45. Then, somehow, 8:30. The bullpen had long since emptied, the low murmur of voices replaced with nothing but the scratch of pens and the faint hum of fluorescent lights.

And, of course, the sound of your own pulse hammering in your ears every time he shifted, every time he exhaled a little too sharply. The air between you crackled with something neither of you would dare acknowledge—something electric, infuriating, and impossible to ignore. Spencer was always irritating, but tonight, the sharp edges of his voice sent heat straight to your spine. His rolled-up sleeves, the furrow in his brow, the way his fingers tapped impatiently against the desk—it was too much. And he had no idea.

You shifted in your chair, pressing your thighs together, as another agonizing minute crawled by. The warmth pooling deep in your stomach was getting harder to ignore, bleeding into every impatient twitch of your fingers, every sharp inhale you tried to steady. It was making you reckless. Every movement he made—every flicker of irritation tightening his jaw, every absent tap of his fingers against the desk—sent another unwanted jolt through your system.

And you were nowhere near done.

You propped your chin in your palm, elbow sinking into the desk, twirling a pen between your fingers in a half-hearted attempt at distraction. But the numbers on the page swam uselessly in and out of focus, blurring into meaningless symbols. How were you supposed to concentrate when the biggest source of your frustration was sitting just feet away—close enough to feel, close enough to rile you up with nothing more than his presence?

Spencer’s voice was sharp, his presence sharper, and despite the fact that you supposedly couldn’t stand him, your body clearly hadn’t gotten the memo. You were existing in a frustrating limbo—exhaustion pressing at your skull, attraction setting fire to your nerves. Your skin felt too hot, too tight, hypersensitive to every minute movement across the desk. You could feel the weight of his eyes even when he wasn’t looking at you. If you weren’t careful, this night was about to get a whole lot longer in more ways than one.

It took exactly one sharp exhale from across the desk for your tenuous grasp on focus to fully snap. Spencer, who had been nothing but an irritatingly efficient machine for the past two hours, finally looked up. And oh, he was irritated. The pen in his hand hit the desk with a clatter, and he leveled you with something caught between exasperation and begrudging patience.

“Are you even paying attention?”

You blinked slowly, head tilting. “Hmm?”

Spencer sighed, dragging a hand through his already slightly tousled hair. “Your lack of attention to detail has ensured that we need the regional case file, not this—a duplicate copy.” He gestured at the offending document like it had personally insulted him. “Which means, thanks to this mistake, we need the actual original file.”

You stretched your arms over your head, arching your back slightly just for the principle of it all. His eyes flickered downward before snapping back up, his jaw tightening, but you pretended not to notice.

“And?”

“And,” Spencer said tightly, voice teetering on the edge of patience, “Garcia’s already gone for the night, so we can’t just pull it from the digital archives. That means I have to go to the file room and physically retrieve it.”

You raised an eyebrow, lazily dragging your gaze back to him. "Cool. Have fun."

His expression darkened. "The file room is in the basement."

“Sounds like a you problem.”

His jaw flexed. "The file room is on sublevel two—buried under concrete, terrible ventilation, not a single camera, and if that door shuts behind you? You're stuck until someone remembers to check."

You blinked at him, unimpressed. "So, what I’m hearing is: a perfect setting for a horror movie."

Spencer's lips pressed into a thin line. "It’s a security feature."

"It’s an oversight. The FBI, an organization that prides itself on preparedness, has a room where someone could just get stuck until an unsuspecting soul wanders down there?"

He exhaled, slow and measured. "Yes."

You grinned. "That’s insane."

Spencer, to no one’s surprise, did not grin back. "That’s protocol."

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair, stretching deliberately slow. His gaze flickered downward for the briefest second before he forcibly dragged his eyes back to your face. Oh, he noticed. And that little detail sent something devious curling inside you.

“Well, since you’re the one so concerned with protocol, go get the file."

His stare was unimpressed. "You made the mistake. You go."

You scoffed. "Oh, please. If I hadn’t made a mistake, you’d have found another reason to be insufferable. You were just waiting for an excuse."

Spencer inhaled sharply, like he was holding something back. "That’s not true."

You smirked. "No? Then what was that little lecture just now? Don’t tell me you just enjoy talking down to me. That’s kind of kinky, Doctor."

His fingers flexed against the desk, a telltale sign of irritation but also something else. His voice came out quieter, a touch too taut. “The file name is ACB-714. Basement archives, second cabinet on the left."

You gave him a lazy salute. “Consider it handled."

Truthfully, you needed an excuse to step away. The way he’d spoken to you—sharp, clipped, just on the edge of losing control—had sent your brain spiraling into places you did not need to be right now. It was bad enough working alongside him when your body was already betraying you, but the fact that he sounded that good when he was frustrated was unbelievable. Unnecessary. Unfair.

And the way he looked at you? Like he was barely keeping himself in check? Like he was two seconds from saying something neither of you could take back? That was dangerous.

You pushed back from your desk, the sharp click of your heels against the tile the only indication of certainty when everything inside you was anything but. Maybe the basement’s clinical chill would help, its walls lined with forgotten case files and the ghosts of bureaucratic neglect grounding you back into something solid. Maybe the hum of the fluorescents, cold and impersonal, would smother the slow, insidious heat crawling beneath your skin—the heat fed by too many lingering glances, too many tension-laced arguments that never seemed to resolve.

The door groaned as you stepped inside, its weight swinging shut behind you with an eerie finality, unnoticed in your distraction. The file room stretched ahead, a silent graveyard of paperwork, thick with dust and the acrid bite of industrial-strength cleaner. Overhead, the fluorescents flickered erratically, their jittery glow casting restless shadows against the endless rows of filing cabinets standing like sentinels in the dim light.

Your mission was simple—retrieve one file, ACB-714, and get out. But the second you stepped into the file room, your focus was already shot to hell.

Spencer Reid was ruining your life.

Okay, maybe that was dramatic, but at the very least, he was ruining your concentration. He had rattled off instructions with that sharp, impatient cadence, his fingers pressing into the bridge of his nose like he was physically restraining himself from strangling you. The worst part? It wasn't just the irritation that got to you. It was the way he watched you, the way he always seemed locked in on you, even in exasperation.

You wanted to be annoyed. You wanted to let it roll off your back. But your body betrayed you, heat curling at the base of your spine in a way that was neither productive nor appropriate for a professional setting.

Your fingertips skimmed over the metal cabinet labels, your eyes skimming but not really seeing. Was he always like this? So insufferably exacting? So unwilling to let anything slide? It wasn’t just the way he corrected you—it was how he did it. Precise and controlled, like he knew exactly how to get under your skin and lived for it.

It was honestly impressive.

You blew out a breath, pushing your hair out of your face as you rolled your shoulders back. Focus. Find the file. Get out. But instead, you leaned lazily against a filing cabinet, barely noticing how the movement nudged the doorstop at the threshold.

The sharp click of metal shifting barely registered before it was too late.

Your stomach dropped.

The door.

Oh, you had to be kidding.

Panic didn’t hit immediately. No, it crept in slow, slinking up your spine like a cold hand tracing your vertebrae. You turned on your heel, already knowing what you’d see before you even reached for the handle.

Locked.

Of course it was fucking locked. Because why wouldn’t the government’s precious archive room operate like a goddamn haunted house? You stared at the heavy metal door, willing it to magically swing back open. It didn’t.

Your hand flew to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose as you exhaled. This was just perfect. You had let your brain wander off into Spencer Reid–induced nonsense, and now you were locked in an FBI basement because you couldn’t be bothered to properly secure a doorstop.

And you weren’t just trapped. You were trapped while ovulating, which meant your body was already in a state of desperate, hormone-fueled hysteria. Which meant you had spent the last fifteen minutes alternating between rolling your eyes at Spencer’s condescending attitude and staring at his hands. His long, unnecessarily pretty hands, which had absolutely no business looking that good while shuffling through case files.

Great. Now you were locked in a basement, overthinking, and horny.

You slid down against the filing cabinet with a groan, head thumping back against the metal. How long would it take for someone to notice? Would Penelope come looking for you, or would she just assume you finally gave in and quit? Maybe Spencer would realize something was off. Maybe he’d put the pieces together, retrace your steps, and...

No. No way. If anything, he’d think you were just slacking off. He’d probably roll his eyes, make some condescending remark about how you were the worst intern in FBI history, and move on with his night. Because that’s what he did—he got under your skin, poked and prodded and found every little thing that made you tick.

And the worst part? You let him.

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling, determined to push him out of your head.

Then, just as you started to resign yourself to a long, embarrassing night of solitude, a noise broke through the thick silence.

Footsteps. Slow. Purposeful.

Then—finally—the sound of the door handle turning.

The door swung open, and there he was, framed by the dim hallway light, looking every bit as exasperated as you knew he would. His gaze flicked over you, arms crossed, mouth already pulling into a disapproving frown.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, stepping inside with an exasperated shake of his head. "You, of all people, got yourself locked in a room that explicitly warns you not to let the door close behind you. I even told you."

You scoffed, pushing up from the floor. "Wow, Spence. So good to see you, too. Did you miss me?"

"Not particularly," he deadpanned, but his eyes betrayed him, lingering on you for half a second too long. Then, with the same distracted precision he applied to everything, he grabbed the doorstop and wedged it beneath the heavy metal frame.

"There. Now, let's get—"

The sharp, metallic click of the door lock echoed through the room.

Silence.

Spencer froze.

You blinked.

Then, slowly, terribly, you turned to face each other.

"Reid," you started, voice calm in a way that meant you were absolutely about to lose it. "Did you just—"

"No," he said immediately, but his voice had gone slightly higher. "No, I didn't."

Your arms crossed, mirroring his stance. "Then what was that noise, genius?"

Spencer inhaled sharply through his nose, then reached for the handle, twisting it once, twice, then yanking with just enough force to confirm the worst.

Locked.

You stared at him. He stared at you.

"You," you said, pointing an accusatory finger. "Just locked us both in."

He opened his mouth, then shut it, jaw tightening. "Technically—"

"Oh, no. No, technically, Spencer. You just pulled a me."

His eyes narrowed. "Pulled a you? I think not."

"Oh, I think so!" You threw your arms up. "Because last I checked, I was the one who got us into this mess and you were supposed to be the responsible one!"

Spencer let out a long breath, adjusting his stance like he was physically restraining himself from escalating. "Okay, well, panicking isn’t going to fix anything."

"Who’s panicking? I’m not panicking." You were definitely panicking. Not because you were locked in—no, you could handle that. But because it meant you were stuck here. Alone. With Spencer. For God knows how long.

And you were already on edge.

Already warm, restless, caught in some ridiculous hormone-induced haze that had made your brain hyperfocus on things you had no business noticing. Like the way Spencer’s shirt sleeves were pushed up, revealing the lean, tense muscles of his forearms. Or how his hair was just slightly mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. Or the way he smelled—like old books and something subtly sharp, like cedarwood and coffee grounds.

God, you needed to get out of here.

"This is your fault," you muttered, pacing a tight circle.

"Oh, so it’s my fault you got distracted and let the door close on you?" His voice had that smug edge again, laced with something else—something almost amused, like he’d warned you this would happen and was now relishing in being right. It made you whirl on him, irritation flaring hot beneath your skin.

"Yes, actually! If you hadn't been hovering over me like some insufferable know-it-all, I wouldn't have lost my train of thought."

Spencer scoffed. "Hovering? I was doing my job. You were the one lost in your own head, probably thinking about something ridiculous like—I don’t know—lip gloss flavors or whatever occupies that overly cluttered brain of yours."

You gasped, shoving at his chest. "Oh, bite me, Doctor Condescension! Not all of us have an eidetic memory to store every single useless fact known to man. Some of us have normal human brains that get distracted when we’re trying to multitask!"

Spencer barely budged from your shove, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smirk. "Right. Multitasking. You mean twirling your pen and zoning out?"

You opened your mouth, ready to snap back, but the reality of the situation hit you again like a truck. The file room. Locked. No way out. You groaned, dragging your hands down your face.

"Okay, genius, how do we get out? Since you're so brilliant and never make mistakes?"

Spencer crossed his arms, the smugness practically radiating off of him. "We wait. Someone will come looking."

You threw up your hands. "Oh, great! Because getting caught in a locked basement with you is exactly how I wanted to end my night."

He rolled his eyes. "You act like this is some unbearable torture."

"It is!" You gestured wildly. "I could be out right now, drinking with Penelope, having a girls' night, doing literally anything else but this! But no, I’m stuck in here with you, arguing over whose fault this is when we both know it’s yours."

Spencer let out a sharp breath, tilting his head. "You’re exhausting."

"You’re infuriating!"

"You’re impossible."

"You—" You jabbed a finger into his chest. "—are the bane of my existence!"

"And yet," he said, voice dropping just enough to send something shivering down your spine, "you can’t seem to stop talking to me."

You faltered for half a second before scoffing. "Oh, please, don’t flatter yourself. If I had any other option, I wouldn’t waste my breath on you."

Spencer stepped closer, his presence suddenly suffocating in the small, stale room. "Funny. Because despite all your complaining, you never actually walk away."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. This was new. This was dangerous. The air shifted, tension curling like a live wire between you, and you hated that some deep, embarrassing part of you liked it. Too much.

You swallowed, forcing out a breathless laugh. "What, and let you think you’ve won? Not a chance."

Spencer studied you, his gaze flickering down to your lips so fast you might have imagined it. Then, just as quickly, he scoffed, a deliberate shift in his expression that screamed of warning more than dismissal. "See? Impossible. I told you."

Something inside you snapped. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the sheer absurdity of this situation. Maybe it was the fact that you were ovulating, and his stupid smug face was the only thing in your line of sight. But before you could even process the words spilling from your lips, you blurted out, "God, I hate how much I like you."

The silence that followed was deafening. You barely even registered what you’d said at first, not until Spencer’s entire expression shifted—his usual composure cracking just enough to reveal something startled, something unguarded. His lips parted slightly, his breath hitching just enough for you to catch it.

And then, like a freight train hitting you at full speed, the realization crashed down.

You panicked. "I mean—not like like, obviously. Just, you know, tolerate. Barely. In a work acquaintance kind of way. Like an annoying gnat I’ve learned to ignore, except I can’t ignore you because you never shut up, and—"

Spencer surged forward and kissed you.

The force of it backed you against the filing cabinets, steel biting into your spine as his hands found your waist, gripping just hard enough to steal whatever breath you had left. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was months of pent-up frustration, sharp and heated and all-consuming.

You barely had time to process it before you were kissing him back, fingers tangling in his shirt like you needed something to hold onto. Like letting go meant losing whatever the hell this was.

Spencer pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, "Shut up, for once."

You would’ve argued. You really would have. But then he kissed you again, and suddenly, there was nothing left to say.

PICK YOUR ENDING

➤ [Ending 1 – Smut]

➤ [Ending 2 – Fluff]

294 notes · View notes

heliosunny · 1 month ago

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you are familiar with Dr. Stone? Id like to request a fanfic of both Yandere Stanley Snyder and Xeno!

Reader was a military Doctor before the petrification, they were close friends with both Stanley and Xeno. Id say reader is a soft spoken person kind of like, she has this kind face, always has a small smile plastered.

She then secretly ask for a transfer to a different branch of military— aka Japan— due to “minor circumstances”. She noticed how slowly possessive and obsessive the two became towards her. So she asked for a transfer, without telling them, maybe telling the commander to keep her transfer a secret. She had to leave before anything got to drastic between the two.

After petrification, shes been revived by senku, to go on a voyage to america! She already knew it she’d meet them again eventually.

The rest is up to you!

Yandere!Xeno x Fem!Reader x Yandere!Stanley

"Contains different details from the manga. For more, read the manga—it's worth it!"

The room smelled of coffee and gunpowder. It was a scent you had grown used to, one that clung to your uniform and seeped into your skin. The base was quiet at this hour—most soldiers either asleep or out on assignment. But here, it was just the three of you.

Xeno sat at his desk, his fingers turning the pages of some scientific journal you had no doubt he had already read a dozen times over. His sharp eyes flickered to you briefly before returning to his reading. Stanley, meanwhile, lounged on the couch, his rifle resting against the armrest within easy reach.

And then there was you, sitting at the table with your hands wrapped around a warm mug. The conversation had been light for most of the night—memories of past missions, idle jokes—but you could feel the weight in the air.

“Are you tired?”

You caught the way his fingers paused mid-turn on the page and replied with a smile “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing important.”

Neither of them seemed convinced.

“You’ve been distracted lately.” Xeno leaned forward slightly, studying you in that way that made you feel like a specimen under his microscope. “It concerns me.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re hiding something.”

“I think you’re both just overthinking it.”

You knew them too well to believe they would let this go.

You had to leave soon.

----

The wind whipped against your face as you stood on the deck of the ship, the vast ocean stretching endlessly before you.

It had been years since that night, since you left them without a word. You had convinced the commander to keep your transfer classified, ensured that no information about your whereabouts would reach them. You had done everything right.

And yet, the past was impossible to outrun.

“You okay?” A familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to see Kohaku.

“Yeah. Just lost in thought.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Instead, she glanced out at the sea. “We’ll be in America soon.”

You already knew that. You had known from the moment Senku asked you to join this mission that you would see them again.

You wondered how much of the past still remained in them.

And how much they would make you pay for leaving.

The first time you heard his voice again, it was like a ghost from the past had come back to haunt you.

“Greetings. I take it this is your preferred frequency for communication?”

Even after all these years, you recognized it instantly.

Xeno.

You didn’t react outwardly, keeping your usual smile as if nothing was amiss. But inside, your heart pounded. It was too soon. You had known you would meet them eventually, but not like this. Not with him still unaware of your presence.

And then the situation escalated.

Gen was caught.

You kept up the act, playing along with the crew as they devised a plan. The moment Taiju accepted to play as the "scientist" of their group, you knew where this was heading.

You stayed close to the others as they moved, keeping your presence blended into the background. You could feel it—the moment Stanley took his position. He was out there.

And then, as he peered through the scope, lining up his shot—

He saw you.

For the first time in years, his eyes locked onto yours. His body language shifted, the steadiness of his aim wavering for just a fraction of a second. It was barely noticeable to anyone else.

As the plan unfolded, you kept your expression neutral, your small smile never faltering.

Then, Luna arrived, just as expected.

Whatever will be, will be.

You felt your heart lurch as the bullets tore through Senku, his body jerking under the force. Even though you had prepared for it, the sight still made something tighten in your chest.

Stanley never left a job unfinished. He was already on his way down before the dust even settled, moving with the cold efficiency that made him the military’s best.

Senku wasn't dead. You knew that much. His intelligence was the only thing that kept him breathing, tricking them into thinking they had succeeded. But you also knew he would need help.

You needed to get to him.

Before you could take a step, a strong hand seized your wrist and wrenched you backward, his grip like a shackle that refused to break. You stiffened, instinct screaming at you to resist—but you didn’t. You knew better. So, with a quiet breath, you let him.

It wasn’t compliance. It was strategy.

You could feel the way his grip tightened ever so slightly, like he thought you might disappear again if he let go.

You exhaled slowly, keeping your voice steady as you spoke for the first time.

“Stan.”

He pressed on, yet his fingers tightened—like a man gripping onto a ghost he feared might slip away.

The walk to Xeno’s base was silent, but the weight in the air was suffocating. The moment the doors opened, you were met with the sight of Xeno speaking to Gen.

Shock flickered across Gen's face. Not because he recognized you, but because he understood what your presence here meant. Something had gone horribly wrong for Senku’s team.

Xeno’s reaction was much more subtle, but you didn’t miss it. His eyes widened just a fraction before settling into something unreadable, his lips parting ever so slightly as if he meant to say something but hadn’t yet found the words.

The silence stretched for only a moment before Stanley shoved you further inside, forcing Gen to stumble backward slightly.

“Take him away”

Gen blinked, his eyes darting between you, Stanley, and Xeno, as if piecing together a puzzle far more complex than he’d anticipated. He didn’t resist as he was dragged away, but his parting glance was full of unspoken questions.

And then, it was just the three of you.

The door shut behind Gen, the echo ringing in your ears. Xeno exhaled, placing his gloved hands on the desk in front of him.

“I see,” he murmured. “So it truly is you.”

“It’s been a long time, Xeno.”

Xeno leaned back in his chair, “You left,” he finally said. “No warning. No goodbye.”

Stanley crossed his arms beside you, “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out eventually?”

“It was never about hiding forever.”

“Then what was it about?”

You met his gaze head-on. “I left because you two were becoming dangerous.”

“You were my closest friends,” you continued, “But you both started treating me like something to be possessed. It was only a matter of time before it got worse. So I left before it did.”

Stanley scoffed, “And now you’re with them?”

You nodded. “I made my choice.”

Xeno hummed, shaking his head. “Your choices have always been questionable. But that’s alright.”

You stiffened, just slightly, as Xeno stood up from his seat, stepping toward you with the same calculating grace he always had. Stanley didn’t move, but you could feel the way his gaze bore into you.

“You seem to have forgotten” Xeno murmured, stopping just before you, “It’s our job to educate those who have lost their way.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to recondition that misguided loyalty of yours.”

Stanley exhaled through his nose, finally speaking.

“You’re not going anywhere this time.”

Life under their watch felt suffocating.

As expected, you were assigned to treat the injured. That part wasn’t unusual; they always respected your medical skills, and Xeno, at least, had the sense to recognize that you were more valuable this way than locked in a cell.

But outside of that?

You were constantly watched.

Everywhere you went, a guard followed. Even within the medical tent, you could feel eyes on you at all times—whether it was one of Stanley’s men stationed near the entrance or Stanley himself, sitting in the corner, pretending to clean his gun while his gaze barely left you.

Before, Xeno and Stanley had been focused on conquering Senku’s group, but now? Now it felt like their primary mission was keeping you from slipping away.

You had tried to sneak out one night, hoping to reach Gen—maybe pass along a message, maybe get some information—but the second you stepped outside, a guard was already there. Stanley’s men were efficient. They didn’t scold or punish you. They simply looked at you, silent and expectant, like they had been waiting for you to return on your own.

You considered some possibilities. Maybe slipping away during battle. The risk is that you'd have to time it perfectly or else they'd catch you trying to run.

Second plan is to feign sickness. If you pretended to be sick or weak, you could manipulate Xeno into keeping you inside with fewer guards. If you were alone, you might find a way out. But he himself is a scientist. He’d check your vitals, run tests. If he caught on, he’d be even more controlling.

You had options. But each one came with a price.

And with Stanley and Xeno watching your every move, failure wasn’t something you could afford.

----

Seated across from Xeno in his study, you kept your usual smile as he questioned you about Senku and his people. You expected this. It was only natural for him to want intelligence on his opponent.

So, you answered. But you only gave him general truths—nothing that could be used against them. Senku was resourceful. Kohaku was strong. Chrome was a fast learner. All things he would eventually figure out on his own, but you knew he wasn’t satisfied.

Stanley, standing off to the side, didn’t bother hiding his displeasure.

But he didn’t interfere.

Because, no matter how much Stanley wanted results, he had his own rules.

He never laid a hand on you.

Not over something like this.

Because you weren’t his enemy.

“Tell me,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “How have you been?”

The change in topic caught you off guard.

“You left us. And yet, here you are again.” His fingers tapped against the table. “Surely, you must have something to say about all that time apart.”

Deep down, a part of you did miss them.

You missed the conversations with Xeno, the way his mind worked, the long nights spent debating theories over coffee. You missed the quiet moments with Stanley, those rare times when he let his guard down, when it was just the three of you against the world.

The battlefield. The victories. The losses. The camaraderie.

You had been through so much together.

And no matter how much you wanted to deny it, there had been happiness in that time too.

“I’ve been alright,” you finally said. “Things… changed after I left. But I adapted.”

Xeno’s lips curled in amusement. “Adapted? That’s all?”

“That’s what humans do, isn’t it?”

“You didn’t have to.”

You turned your gaze toward him, finding him watching you intently. Like he was watching a traitor.

“I did.”

“And yet, you still ended up back in our hands.”

You weren’t planning to stay.

You couldn't stop thinking about Senku. That young man brought you a sense of comfort, nothing more.

Even as you went about your duties, tending to the wounded, patching up soldiers who had no idea of the weight pressing on your shoulders—you thought of him.

Senku was brilliant. He always had a plan, always worked five steps ahead.

You knew, deep down, that he must have something in place. Some way to turn the situation in his favor.

But doubt still lingered.

Had he survived? Did he have a counter to Stanley’s bullet? Or had fate finally caught up to him?

Then came the morning.

The atmosphere was different.

You noticed it immediately—the way the soldiers moved with more urgency, the way murmurs rippled through the camp.

You were barely given time to process before you overheard the words that sent your heart plummeting:

“Today's the day we get rid of Senku Ishigami.”

You had to do something.

The tunnel plan worked faster than you expected.

One moment, you were scrambling for a way to slow Stanley’s men down, and the next—Chrome and the others had broken through, executing the plan with perfect timing. The tables turned in an instant.

And now, Xeno was their hostage.

That didn’t shake him, of course. But as you walked back with Senku’s group, checking on their injuries and making sure no one was in immediate danger, you noticed something—

Xeno had been watching you.

He saw the way you moved among Senku’s team, the way you smiled more freely, the way your shoulders weren’t weighed down as they had been in his camp.

You were happier.

Even as you checked his vitals, treating him no differently from the others, he said nothing about it. Not yet.

“You seem… comfortable” Xeno mused, watching you from where he was seated. “More than I recall you ever being.”

“I suppose I am.”

“And here I thought our time together had its charms.”

“It did,” you admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I want to go back.”

He was never one to show his emotions outright. But this was different.

It wasn’t frustration over being captured.

It was personal.

And before you could even process why, he spoke again, quieter this time.

“You favor him now.”

“What?”

“Senku.” Xeno’s gaze was sharp, “You favor him.”

You exhaled softly, shaking your head. “It’s not about favor, Xeno. I made my choice.”

“I wonder.” He leaned forward slightly, a knowing glint in his eye. “Does he even realize?”

“What are we talking about?”

You turned to see Senku approaching. He hadn’t been listening, too focused on whatever plan was forming in his mind, his attention entirely devoted to the future.

“Nothing of importance,” he mused, reclining back slightly. “At least, not to you.”

Senku just gave him a look, clearly unimpressed, before turning to you. “We’re moving soon. Think you can help me with some calculations?”

You nodded without hesitation, following him without a second thought.

And behind you, Xeno sat in silence, watching your retreating figure.

His jealousy simmered beneath the surface, unspoken but undeniable.

Because unlike him—

Senku had never needed to try to earn your attention.

----

Stanley finally caught up.

You had known, deep down, that this moment was inevitable. No matter how far Senku’s team got, no matter how many steps ahead they planned, Stanley Snyder was relentless. He was a man who finished his missions, no matter the cost.

And now, he had won.

His men closed in swiftly, surrounding you and the others with a precision that left no room for struggle. Xeno, of course, was the first to be retrieved. It was a swift, effortless transition—one moment he was a captive, and the next, he was back where he belonged, standing by Stanley’s side with that unreadable smirk, as if he had never been caught at all.

But when Stanley’s eyes landed on you, there was something different.

He didn’t ask you to come back.

He expected it.

And in that moment, you knew there was no escaping this—not without bloodshed.

So, you made your choice.

You surrendered.

“If I go back with you,” you said, “stop hurting them. Stop targeting innocent people.”

You couldn’t tell if he was satisfied or frustrated that you were giving in so easily.

“A noble request.”

“You’ll do it,” you said firmly. “Both of you.”

Stanley finally nodded.

“We’ve got what we came for,” he said simply. “No need to waste bullets.”

Relief flooded you, but it was brief.

Because even as Stanley’s men began to pull back, even as you took a step toward them, leaving Senku’s team behind, you knew this wasn’t over.

There was still one thing left.

You turned back to Senku’s group, “Before I go,” you said, “let me treat the injured one last time.”

Stanley didn’t stop you. Neither did Xeno.

Because in the end, for all their control over your life—this was the one thing they never denied you.

So, you moved through the group, checking wounds, patching up what you could, leaving them with what little you had left to give.

And then—

You walked away.

And you didn’t look back.

You didn’t acknowledge Xeno. You didn’t acknowledge Stanley.

They had won. You were here. But that didn’t mean you had to give them the satisfaction of cooperation.

And they knew it.

Which was why they lied to you.

It wasn’t until later that you realized Senku had been taken, smuggled into their hands like some rare commodity.

You stormed to find him, half-expecting to see him restrained or beaten—but instead, you found him seated casually, looking at you like nothing was wrong.

"Ah, figured you'd find out sooner or later." Senku’s voice was as light as ever, as if this was all part of some grand experiment he was running.

“They lied to me.”

“Well, yeah,” he said bluntly. “But hey, don’t take it too hard. Life as a hostage? Not the worst thing in the world. Gives me a good chance to talk to Xeno again.”

“Senku...”

“Relax,” he grinned. “I was planning to get captured anyway.”

Of course he was.

This was Senku.

Still, it didn’t make the bitter taste in your mouth go away.

Soon enough, Stanley’s men came to take him.

You didn’t get a chance to say much more before he was gone, dragged off to wherever they intended to keep him.

Which left you.

And Stanley.

“Come with me.”

You hesitated, but followed. Because even after all this time, even after everything, some part of you still wanted to hear what he had to say.

It was a mess, how your conversation is heading.

"You think you get to be mad? You left. You vanished without a damn word. And now you want to stand there and act like you're the victim?"

"I did what I had to do, Stan."

"And what exactly did that accomplish? Huh? Because from where I’m standing, all it did was make everything worse."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You started dragging people into this! You shot people, Stanley! Do you even hear yourself?"

"You think this started because of me?" His voice rose. "No. It started the second you walked away."

There it was. The weight of his suffering, compressed into sharp words.

"Stanley…"

But it wasn’t enough.

He saw the way your expression softened, and for some reason, that seemed to push him over the edge.

Because suddenly, he was too close.

Before you could react, his hands grabbed your wrist, pulling you in—

Smack

The slap came before you even thought about it.

Stanley didn’t so much as waver. Your hand throbbed, your breath hitched, but all it did was cast a deeper shadow in his gaze.

"You—"

His fingers curled under your chin, guiding your face to meet his— And then he kissed you, leaving no room for escape.

It was neither tender nor forgiving.

It was fierce, unrelenting—more a sentence than a kiss.

You struggled, but Stanley was stronger. And just as quickly, he bit down. You gasped, the sting of pain snapping you back, but he didn’t pull away.

"That’s for running away."

Then, slowly—he released you.

You stumbled back, your breath uneven, your heart slamming against your ribs.

----

Xeno called for you.

You weren’t sure why, but you went anyway. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was exhaustion from your fight with Stanley—either way, your feet carried you toward him before you even processed it.

And when you arrived, you found them. Xeno and Senku.

They were testing something. Their voices wove together in rapid exchanges, debating theories, tweaking results.

For a moment, you forgot the tension.

You had seen this before—Xeno, completely immersed in his work, in the beauty of creation. There was a time when his passion had been purer, when he had built things not for war, but for the sake of discovery itself.

And for the first time in years, you saw glimpses of that man again.

Then his gaze lifted—and met yours.

It was only for a second, but that second was enough.

Because his eyes softened.

Because Senku—smart as always, perceptive as ever— stood up, stretched lazily, and excused himself.

The silence settled between you like an old companion.

“You always had a habit of watching in silence.”

“I assume Stanley has already had his… discussion with you.”

You touched your lower lip out of instinct. Still, you didn’t reply.

“I must say, I didn’t expect to feel jealous of Senku. You look at him differently, you know. There’s a fondness there—one you used to reserve for me.”

“That’s not—”

“Not true?” He hummed. “Perhaps. Or perhaps, without realizing it, you’ve found yourself drawn to something you once admired in me. A scientist who dreams.”

You frowned, looking away. “I admired the man you used to be.”

“Then allow me to ask—if I were to return to that man… would you return to me?”

You walked away, he was always careful choosing his own words. You need to get some air, away from the mess you've got yourself in.

----

The moment you heard the news, everything else faded.

Stanley had been shot.

It was a life-or-death situation—one that immediately demanded your attention. And not just yours. Xeno and Senku, despite their clashing ideals, were both drawn into it.

You barely processed the rush of activity, the hurried movements of people scrambling to stabilize him.

All you knew—all that mattered—was that he had survived. Barely.

By some stroke of sheer luck, the bullet had missed anything vital. But the damage was still severe. His body had taken too much, and now, he lay there—unconscious.

And you refused to leave his side.

Days passed.

You tended to his wounds, carefully monitoring every breath, every shift in his condition.

When his fever spiked, you were there to cool him down. When his breathing faltered, you were there to steady him.

It was exhausting. But you never wavered.

Because no matter what had happened between you, no matter the choices he made, the sins he bore—

Stanley Snyder was still your Stanley.

And you couldn’t bear to lose him.

The moment Stanley’s eyes cracked open, you felt it.

A sharp intake of breath—his first real one in days. His fingers twitched slightly, then tightened into a weak fist.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“…Stan?” Your voice was hoarse from exhaustion, but the relief in it was undeniable.

His gaze, unfocused at first, slowly sharpened. He blinked sluggishly, taking in his surroundings—then, finally, you.

“…You look like shit”

You let out a breathless laugh, something between amusement and sheer relief. “And you nearly died.”

Stanley only grunted, shifting slightly before wincing at the pain. His body was still weak, but the fact that he was alive, awake— that was enough for now.

Your exhaustion crashed down all at once. The worry, the sleepless nights, the weight of it all—it finally caught up to you.

You barely managed to mumble, “Welcome back,” before your body gave out.

You slumped forward, too drained to keep yourself upright.

Before you could hit the edge of the bed, a hand caught you.

Not Stanley’s.

Xeno.

“You two are absolute idiots who should never be left unsupervised.”

Stanley let out a weak chuckle. “Takes one to know one.”

Xeno pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m surrounded by fools.”

But he still made sure you were comfortable, still adjusted your position so you wouldn’t wake up with a sore neck.

And despite the bickering, despite everything—

There was relief in his gaze, too.

----

You woke up to a boom.

Your body jolted upright before your brain even caught up. For a split second, panic surged through you—but when no immediate threat followed, you exhaled slowly.

A failed experiment, most likely.

Shaking off the haze of sleep, you made your way to the kitchen area. Your stomach growled—right, you hadn’t eaten properly in days. Tending to Stanley had taken up all your energy, and now that he was stable, your body was demanding food.

You weren’t exactly a chef, but your cooking was… decent enough.

So, you got to work.

The scent of food gradually filled the air.

And like moths to a flame, they came.

First, a few curious glances. Then, casual comments. And before you knew it, half the damn base was hovering nearby, eyes practically shining with anticipation.

“Whoa! This smells amazing!”

“Wait, you can cook? Why haven’t you done this before?!”

You chuckled softly as the compliments rolled in, handing out portions. It had been so long since you sat down like this—surrounded by people, eating together. It was almost enough to make you forget everything else.

Because while you were busy laughing and chatting—

Stanley and Xeno were busy watching.

They sat on either side of you, their presence suffocating yet unnoticed by everyone else.

And every time someone praised your cooking—every time someone so much as smiled at you—

A deathly glare followed.

----

The peaceful moments didn't last for long.

"You’re with me today."

Stanley always volunteered you for tasks that required your presence.

The injured near his post? You had to treat them. Checking the perimeter? You were expected to accompany him. A supply run? Not without him.

"I trust her judgment more than anyone else’s," Stanley had said casually one day. "If someone’s patching up my men, it’ll be her."

You didn’t get a say.

And Xeno?

He ensured that all medical responsibilities fell under him and you.

"Surely, you wouldn’t want an incompetent pair of hands dealing with something so fragile, right?" Xeno murmured, blocking your path with a smile. "Stay here—your presence is necessary."

You soon realized that if someone needed medical treatment, they were denied access unless you were personally dealing with it.

Then came another time when they kept reminding you of the past.

"You used to say we made a good team." Stanley’s voice was casual. "You still believe that, don’t you?"

"That was a long time ago."

"Doesn’t change anything."

"Your past decisions led you here," he mused, "I find it fascinating how fate corrects itself, don’t you?"

"Fate didn’t bring me here"

Xeno simply smiled.

"Then tell me, why do you look at us the way you did back then?"

You had no answer.

Because no matter what you said—they twisted it.

They turned your past into proof that you belonged to them.

And the worst part?

You started doubting yourself.

Aside from using your words against you, they were sure to keep their presence noticeable to you.

Stanley stood too close.

If you tried to move, he was already in your way.

One evening, after being done with work, you tried to leave the room.

Stanley was leaning against the doorway.

"Where are you headed?"

"Somewhere else" you said flatly.

You moved left—he shifted left. You moved right—he blocked your path again.

"You’re not going anywhere. Not without me."

Then came the breaking point.

You had finally snapped.

"I’m not a prisoner, Stanley!" You shoved him away, furious.

You had tried to run.

And when you returned?

Your door was locked.

"You need rest" Xeno had said, unbothered.

One day, a person in the camp needed urgent medical attention.

You rushed to grab the necessary equipment—only to find the cabinets locked.

You turned to Xeno.

"You should have come to me first"

"This isn’t a game, Xeno—someone could die!"

He simply smiled.

"Then let’s not waste any time." His fingers tapped the counter, "Ask me properly."

You felt sick.

They had made sure that no matter what happened—

You had to rely on them.

-----

The night carried an unsettling weight, pressing against your skin like an unspoken omen. Stanley’s gaze had always been sharp, always observant—but tonight, it clung to you with a purpose, a silent expectancy that made the air feel tighter.

You forced yourself to stay calm, playing along with the meal as if nothing was out of place. You ate in silence, seated between Xeno and Stanley, their presence a constant, suffocating weight on either side of you. The moment you reached for your cup, Stanley's hand overlapped yours.

His fingers, rough from years of handling firearms, lightly curled over yours.

You didn’t look at him, keeping your face blank as you slowly pulled your hand away. He let you—but only because he wanted to.

Xeno, on the other hand, was watching your every move.

BOOM

A sudden explosion from outside shook the entire building. The scent of smoke and burning wood filled the air almost instantly. The camp erupted into chaos.

“They’re here.” Xeno’s voice was eerily calm despite the situation. He knew exactly what was happening.

You bolted to your feet. Soldiers rushed past the windows, panicked voices calling out orders as another loud blast sent debris flying.

This was it.

Your heart pounded as you caught a glimpse of Gen and Chrome through the smoke—Senku in the middle of them, alive. He was grinning, even after everything. You almost laughed—of course he was.

Gen’s eyes met yours, and for a brief second, relief washed over you. But before you could take a step forward—

Again, Stanley's hand clamped around your wrist.

You barely had time to react before he yanked you back, spinning you around to face him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“They’re getting away. I have to—”

“You have to stay.”

His grip tightened just enough to bruise.

Xeno was watching, standing just a few steps away. He didn’t interfere—he didn’t need to.

You were never meant to leave.

Outside, you heard shouts of victory. Chrome and Gen had escaped with Senku.

They were gone. They’d done it. But… you were still here.

Stanley let out a slow exhale, his grip still locked around you, before his other hand rose to cup your cheek..

“You’re thinking too much,” he muttered, his thumb ghosting over your jaw. “It’s over now.”

You jerked your head away, trying to shove him off, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

“You don’t belong with them.”

And then—Xeno stepped forward.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Honestly, you two are troublesome.”

“This was never your fight, Xeno.”

“No, perhaps not. But you are.”

He reached forward, brushing a lock of hair from your face.

You slapped his hand away. “I’ll never belong to you.”

“Tell me…Y/N,” He tilted his head, “Where else do you belong?”

Senku was free.

But you?

You were still theirs.

#yandere x reader #yandere #dr stone #yandere dr stone #xeno x reader #stanley snyder #stanley snyder x reader #xeno houston wingfield

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treatmelikeasmut · 22 days ago

Text

This Journey of Ours

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Viktor x AFAB!Reader//Modern!AU

CW: Pregnancy, fluff, passing mention of postpartum

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Kind of wrote this on a whim. Just something small and cute that came to mind!

Don't forget to like, comment, and reblog your favorite fics <3

You stared at the clock, then at the time on your cellphone. Both read 11:48 PM. Of all the days for Viktor to stay late at the lab, it had to be today. Your knee bounced rapidly, impatiently. Gaze lingering on the TV, though you had no idea what was playing. Some show you swore for ages you’d get around to watching and never did. Now the volume was so low it was barely a hum. It joined the anxiety buzzing in the back of your skull.

Once again, you looked down at the object in your lap.

POSITIVE stared back at you. As it had for the last two days. No matter how many times you put the test down or hid it away in a box, that word remained. For two days nerves wrapped you in nausea, or maybe that was just the morning sickness talking. You were pregnant. The reality hardly set in. It just couldn’t seem to sink into your brain with any form of permenace. You were growing an entirely newly life that hadn’t existed before. That grew from two microscopic halves and would eventually become a whole new being.

You checked the clock again, then your cell phone. 11:53 PM. You had texted Jayce that morning, asking for him to muscle Viktor out of the lab early. You didn’t tell him a reason, only that you wanted your husband home before midnight. He had replied that it would be easy. Given the hour, it appeared it hadn’t been.

Chewing the inside of your lip, you looked at the test again. POSITIVE was still there. What would Viktor think? Children were a subject that was danced around in your household. The stance on it should’ve been made clear before your marriage. But was never established.

11:57 PM - the sound of a key being jammed into the front door lock. It was still three minutes to midnight, Jayce got lucky this time. A muttered curse came from the entry way. Then the uneven gait of Viktor’s footsteps as he came down the hall. They stopped at the entrance to the living room.

“Love, you’re still awake,” Viktor observed. He came up behind the couch, kissing the top of your head. “It’s late, you need your rest.”

“I like to stay up and wait for you,” you told him, praying your voice was steady.

“You don’t have to do that.” He came around and sat on the couch, leaning his cane against the arm. He looked at you with that smug expression you loved. “Though, I will admit - coming home and seeing you so immediately after a long day is my favorite.”

You smiled briefly, and Viktor’s expression changed. The test was pressed between your thighs, keeping it from sight. It was a hard rigid against the soft flesh that grew more uncomfortable the longer he stared at you. Your husband was sharp as ever, even as tired as he was. You never could keep anything away from that sharp gaze.

“Something is wrong,” Viktor stated, eyes searching. His hand sought yours, holding in on the cushion between you. “What is it?”

You drew in a shaking breath, staring down at your woven fingers. Your heart was in your throat, clawing at your ribs. You were sick with it. Even the tips of your ears burned.

“What…” you started. “What do you think about kids?”

Viktor sucked in a sharp breath, stilling in his seat. His fingers clamped aorund yours a little harder. “In general? Or…as in us?”

You swallowed, mouth tacky. “Us.”

“I…well, I -” He couldn’t seem to find the words, gaze wandering to the TV. The grinding of the gears in his mind almost audible. He muttered something under his breath. Then said, “I thought I had the count wrong. But I did not.”

You knew Viktor tracked your menstral cycles. It was even on a calendar on your fridge. He must’ve been doing the math in his head. Even being semi-irregular, your period exceedingly late.

“You’re pregnant,” he stated, turning back to you.

There was no doubt in his face. He was as sure about this as if he’d told you the sky was blue. In response, you pulled out the test. It still said POSITIVE. He took it from you with a shaking hand. Viktor was quiet for a long time, just staring at the digital screen. Like he was daring it to change its mind. You knew it wouldn’t.

“I know we didn’t talk about it before,” you admitted. “We should’ve…so, what do you think?”

Viktor didn’t move, replying sensibly, “That we will call the OB in the morning to set up and ultrasound and ensure all is well.”

You nodded. “And…other than that? I’d like to know what’s going on in Husbandland right now.”

Viktor’s eyes bounced to you, holding your gaze for but a moment, before they turned back to the test. “Do you think we are ready?”

“They say you’re never really ready for kids.”

Viktor’s mouth pressed into a flat line. “If I ask something, will you be truthful, my love?’

You squeezed the hand you were holding. “Always.”

“Will I be a terrible father? You know I never -” He cut himself off at the thought.

“I think the fact you’re nervous about it means you’re already a good one.”

The corner of his lip twitched, but his face remained blank. “I always figured if it was meant for me, then children would come. If it was not, then I would be fine with that too. - The same as before I met you. I thought that if love was meant for me, then it would find me. If I was to remain alone, then I would reconcile with that as well. Yet we are married and this test tells me that a little one will come. There is a surprising amount of fear in that.”

“I think you’re going to do great.” You scooted across the couch until your legs touched. Then leaned your head against his shoulder, your folded hands resting on your thigh. You stared at the test with him now. The only sounds in the room the murmur of the TV and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

“Jayce will be stupid excited,” Viktor finally uttered. Louder, he asked, “But what about work? Long nights in the lab cannot be avoided forever. They will happen. You will be alone.”

You shrugged. “We’ll figure it out when the time comes.”

“That is not fair you.”

“It’s what happens when I have a brilliant scientist as a husband.”

Viktor hummed. “I will need to do better…”

“You and I will figure it out down the line.” You squeezed his hand again.

Viktor’s cane clattered loudly as it slipped from its resting place. You both flinched. Viktor stared at it. “I will not be able to run with them. To do many things other fathers can.”

“Viktor,” you cooed, coaxing him to look at you. Panic was leaking through a careful mask. His eyes were wide, breathing a bit more rapid. You took his face in your hands, he leaned into the touch. “Our kid isn’t going to care about the stuff you can’t do. But they’ll always remember the things you can.”

“Like what?”

You leaned in a kissed him chastly. “Like vinegar and baking soda volcanos, and showing up to their games if they’re in sports, reading to them before bed - that sort of thing. They’ll just want time with you, how ever you can. - I’m also scared. What if I mess up? What if they don’t think I’m someone they can trust and come to when they get older? What if I accidentally feed them something they’re allergic to? I’m terrified of getting postpartum and doing something heinous.”

“I have no doubt you will as wonderful a parent as you are a partner. Whatever you need, I will do my best to accommodate.” Viktor cupped your cheek in one hand, running his thumb lightly across your skin. “I let you down enough as it stands. I don’t want to let the little one down, too.”

“You never let me down,” you whispered, a clot building in your throat. You swallowed against it. You were not going to cry right now. “You’ve frustrated me, sure - but never let me down.”

Viktor chuckled, the panic finally easing up. His eyes wandered back to the test. “So, it’s real and truly.”

You nodded. “I peed on two boxes worth of tests in the last three days, it was like Juno in here. They’re all stashed in a shopping bag under the bathroom sink if you want to see them.”

“That’s a bit overkill, don’t you think?” he teased, smirking.

Warm relief flodded through you, all your muscles relaxed for the first time in days. You laughed, shrugging. “Maybe - I wanted to be sure. Really sure before I told you. It’s like one of your experiments, right? You have to be sure you can replicate your results before you announce your findings.”

Viktor laughed rather heartily at that. “I suppose.”

“I’ll call the OB in the morning.”

Viktor nodded. “And I will make a list of questions for her. I have much to learn.”

“I’ll have to warn them when I make the appointment,” you joked, rolling your eyes. “You’re going to go overboard on research, aren’t you?”

“I would never dream of it,” scoffed Viktor, “I just want to make sure we are prepared. There is nothing wrong with that.”

You kissed him again. “Just make sure to enjoy the journey, too.”

Tentatively, Viktor placed a hand on your stomach, gently rubbing it through your shirt. You didn’t have a bump yet, but he seemed mesmerized all the same. He leaned his forehead to yours, then pressed a kiss to your lips.

“As long as the journey is by your side.”

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noneorother · 1 year ago

Text

I bought Aziraphale's Bible so you don't have to.

Am I insane? Yes. Was it worth it? Maybe. In most* of both season 1 and season 2 of GO, there's a very specific Bible on a bookstand next to Aziraphale's desk. It's a vintage illustrated plate book by Harold Copping, known as the Harold Copping Bible, published by the religious tract society in London in 1910. It features some of the most well known Old Testament stories, summarized and annotated by the Bishop of Durham at the time, and illustrated by Copping, who was freshly returned from a sojourn in the middle east. Ironically, It was meant as a lay-person's version of a comic book, short, exciting by use of exotic illustrations, and easy to read.

But my (expensive) gain is now your gain! As I've collected here every visible page in both seasons for your reading and viewing pleasure.

Season 1: All episodes Adam & Eve Genesis iii (1:3) / HCB page 10

Season 2: Episode 1 Joseph known to his brethren Genesis xlv (1:45) / HCB Page 28

S2E1 14:21, S2E1 17:41, S2E1 39:45

Season 2: Episode 2 Jacob's vow Genesis xxviii (1:28) / HCB Page 22

S2E2 5:49

Season 2: Episode 2 Joseph known to his brethren Genesis xlv (1:45) / HCB Page 28

S2E2 13:38 (see S2E1 above)

Season 2: Episode 2 The Brazen Serpent Numbers xxi (4:21) / HCB page 36

S2E2 16:12, 43:40

Season 2: Episode 2* Bible on the desk, Magazine on the stand Annuel L'art Pour Tous, Cover (1861-1880 most likely)

S2E2 22:10

The French L'art pour tous industrial design periodical will have to be a story for another post. For now, just enjoy this 1880 edition copperplate of cherubs discovering a microscope...

Season 2: Episode 2 Imaginary page from HCB, Job KJV Job (18:1) / HCB N/A

S2E2 22:29, S2E2 40:05 Obviously, the plate illustrations and text look different here than in the real bible, because they were created for the show. But there are a few more particularities here. For one, this layout with the thin grid around the text, as well as the paragraph symbol next to the first title, indicate that this would have been a printer's proof copy, not a finished book. It shows you the layout grid and can be annotated for changes. Second, there seems to be a war going on between fonts. Where the "chapter" of Job begins, we get a font and a style similar to the original bible, which gets rudely interrupted by a dropped capital (from the real book) and a Gothic-style font/verse numbers like in the original King James version of the printed Bible.

Season 2: Episode 3 The Brazen Serpent NUMBERS xxi (4:21) / HCB page 36

S2E3 1:18 (see episode 2)

Season 2: Episode 5 By the Rivers of Babylon Pslam cxxxvii (19:137) / HCB page 52

S2E5 21:20

Season 2: Episode 6 Bible missing, L'art pour Tous on the stand Annuel L'art Pour Tous, Cover (1861-1880 most likely)

S2E6 10:21, 17:21, 18:15, 34:28 (see episode 2)

Season 2: Episode 6 Closed HCB, L'art pour Tous on the stand behind HCB page 0

S2E6 37:58, 44:20, 48:08

#good omens 2 #art director talks good omens #good omens meta #go season 2 #go meta #good omens season 2 #good omens season two #good omens #go2 #good omens prime #aziraphale #crowley and aziraphale

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beatrice-otter · 6 months ago

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[image description: chart titled Talk Like A Technician: The Use of Technobabble.

Technology in Star Trek is complex and works in scientific concepts and principles that are far beyond what the majority of Players and Gamemasters are knowledgeable in. Throughout the collected media, Starfleet officers discuss technology using terms that most Players are not going to know. Instead of expecting Players to study and memorize technical manuals and reference books that have been published over the years we've provided an easy way to talk like a Starfleet engineer. Anyone can do "technobabble"!

To use the chart simply gather and roll d20s and consult the chart below for technical new terms and concepts.

Occasionally portions of the chart may not be applicable to the scene or circumstance. In that case simply omit that portion of technobabble!

The chart has six columns, Roll, Action, Descriptor, Source, Effect, and Device. Each has 20 rows.

Roll: numbers 1-20

Action: refocus, amplify, synchronize, redirect, recalibrate, modulate, oscillate, intensify, nullify, boost, reverse, reconfigure, actuate, focus, invert, reroute, modify, restrict, reset, extend

Descriptor: microscopic, macroscopic, linear, non-linear, isometric, multivariant, nano, phased, master, auxiliary, primary, secondary, tertiary, back-up, polymodal, multiphasic, tri-fold, balanced, oscillating

Source: Quantum, positronic, thermionic, osmotic, neutrino, spatial, resonating, thermal, photon, ionic, plasma, nucleonic, verteron, gravimetric, nadion, subspace, baryon, tetryon, polaron, tachyon

Effect: flux, reaction, field, particle, gradient, induction, conversion, polarizing, displacement, feed, imagining, reciprocating, frequency, pulse, phased, harmonic, interference, distortion, dampening, invariance

Device: inhibitor, equalizer, damper, chamber, catalyst, coil, unit, grid, regulator, sustainer, relay, discriminator, array, coupling, controller, actuator, harmonic, generator, manifold, stabilizer.

/end id]

#star trek

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spicy30 · 6 months ago

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Modernness of 1400s 003

Pairing: HOTD x Fem!Modern!Reader

Extra: The reader is noted to be bilingual (Spanish speaking) and is familiar with the majority of Latin-based languages, No use of Y/N

cw: alluding to r@pe, misogyny, brief mention of drugs

Rating: 18+

Not proofread

Tags: @fan-goddess @meowmeowmothermeower @bunxia @your-favorite-god @coolalienstatesmansports

WC: 6.2K

Aegon Targaryen

Watching a strange woman enter the Throne room with strange attire (not that Aegon minded the extra show of skin and the fact that he was able to ogle the figure without a dress obscuring his view. Aegon Targaryen most definitely did not mind) was definitely not something he was expecting, along with the death of Vaemon Valeryon. He'd rather look at you than the severed head of the Valeryon.

However, watching you and hearing the way you spoke to his uncle and his father. It was most amusing. You were easy on the eyes (even if the under of your eyes was a little dark) as well so just watching you was good even if you weren’t doing anything. However, the more you spoke, the more his smile faded. It was a shame such a fine woman such as yourself was not right in the head. You spoke of all these places and even claimed to call everyone uneducated. It was clear you were mad. Though Aegon was never one to discriminate. He’s never had a mad woman before, what excitement you would bring. His fantasizing about you was cut short when his father was taken away and you once more opened your pretty mouth talking about ‘drugs.’

“Did you know, there are only two drugs that can kill you if you just quit them? Opioids, which is what your ‘milk’ is, and alcohol funny enough. Once your body becomes dependent on it, or in other words, you get addicted, if it is ripped away from the addict. The body will go into shock, thus killing the addict. Just a little fun fact to think about if you feed him that stuff every day.” That made Aegon think just a bit. Aegon wouldn’t say he had a problem with wine. He could stop if he wanted to, he just doesn’t want to. Besides, what would a mad woman know about such things?

“You think you know more than the Maesters?” His grandsire asked. Aegon was not much of a fan of Otto but made his points. A small smile grew on Aegon's face wondering if you really thought you knew more than the Grand Maester.

“Well…if my ears do not mislead me and I heard you still do leaching or bloodletting. Then I think I just might.” Aegon saw a smug smile grow on your face. You were definitely a mad woman. What education could you possibly have that would outclass the Maesters?

“If anything, you’re doing more harm than good. While leeches can be used in other ways that would be beneficial, this is not one of the ways. Your idea of leaching and bloodletting comes from the notion of bad blood or good blood right? Something along those lines. Well, there's no such thing as bad blood or good blood. What there is in the body is something called bacteria. It's on a microscopic level, don’t think you’ve discovered it yet, that's okay. Misinformation is common these days. Well in any case, when you bleed the patient, I’m pretty sure you deprive them of white blood cells and then force the body to focus on the cut instead of the actual issue that the body is facing. White blood cells are kind of like the fighters, they fight off the bad bacteria. Well it might not be exactly because of that reason, but it's one of the many reasons why it doesn’t work.” Aegon scoffed. Nonsense you blabbered out. White blood cells? Fighters? Inside the body? You were unbelievable. You were the hot, unbelievable, mad woman. Would you be as fun as you were mad? Aegon must have you. He decided there and then he would have you. Maybe give you a bastard or two. Mad children with their mad mother.

His fun ogling ended when you left with his elder sister. Of course, only women would be so stupid to believe you. A shame that the future Queen fell under that category.

The next time Aegon saw you, you had a red and bruised lip. Your hair was all in a mess and blood trailed down your chin. Such a pretty face, even when struck. He didn’t get to see you for long before you walked past him. Everyone bowed with you as the exception as he and his brother passed. He watched you pass by with a smile on his face. He turned to take a look at your backside. Those trousers did wonders for you, the round bottom was perfectly hugged and the shape of your thighs looked lascivious. He had seen countless women naked, though somehow the covering of your body only served to excite him. Leaving everything for him to imagine and feeding his lustful gaze, but just barely.

“All women who look like her should be made to wear trousers if their arse looks like that.” He grinned and told Aemond tearing his eyes away from you and looked forward as they went to go meet their mother. However, his younger brother, even the dull one, did not respond.

As they both reached their mother Aegon did not pay much attention to what she had to say though he heard the loud cries of his father inside the room. A grim fate. Aegon hoped that whatever his father had, he would not inherit the dreadful disease. Aegon focused his gaze on the ground. He narrowed his eyes as he stepped back noticing that he was stepping over specks of blood on the floor. Disgusting.

Soon enough after enough of his mother’s rambling, he quickly headed off to his chambers, schemes in his head started to play out of ways to get you. Normally he would just take you by force, but it seems that his elder half-sister has taken you, so unfortunately, that was not an option anymore. He sat down to pour himself a cup of wine. Before he began pouring your words echoed in his head.

“Did you know, there are only two drugs that can kill you if you just quit them? Opioids, which is what your ‘milk’ is, and alcohol is funny enough.”

He paused looking at the dark liquid before shrugging and pouring. “Words of a mad woman.” He hummed out drinking his wine happily. He sat in his own chambers trying to think of ways to perhaps woo you. He was a prince. That title came with perks. Surely he could impress you somehow. You were commonly born, a simple act should do the trick. Perhaps a necklace. Women seemed to enjoy those. No, you were common born, he should give you something that didn’t cost him anything, but just enough to get you to drop those trousers for him.

He grinned as an idea popped into his head. A dragon ride. A common born riding a dragon, that would make any swoon for him.

Gulping the rest of the wine down he stepped outside. He assumed you were somewhere in the west wing of Maegor’s holdfast, that was the way you were headed. Making his way over there he ran across a cute little maid, he could stop for a quick fuck, right?

“You there. Stop.” He called and grinned as she looked up towards him with scared eyes. But his attention was instead brought to a black piece in her arms, she clutched it closely to her chest. “What is that?”

“Something belonging to the Lady that came in today. I was assigned to deliver it to her, your grace.” The young maid finished and suddenly he decided that no, he did not have time for a little fun. Here you were missing one of your belongings. It would only be right for it to be returned to you. It would earn him some points with you.

“Give it to me.” Aegon extended his hand. The young maid hesitated but a look from Aegon had her quickly handing it over. “Where is she? I’ll give it to her.”

The maid gave the answer and Aegon dismissed her. The maid did not need to be told twice before she scrambled off. Aegon tugged to try and get the bag open. It was a strange material and something held it closed. Like metal stitches. He shook the bag vigorously trying to get the things inside to fall out. A small metallic tube fell out. Aegon was quick to pick it up. He shook it. There didn’t seem to be anything inside. He held the top and it came off showing a… red stick? He didn’t know what it was. He smelled it and it gave off a mint-like smell mixed with something else he couldn’t name.

He swiped his thumb over the red stick, though it showed pink and glossy on his thumb. It was some sort of pigment? Aegon looked around before he licked his thumb. It didn’t taste like anything, maybe just a little mint, but nothing else. He played around with it a little more before he discovered if he twisted the bottom more of the red stick would come out. Aegon does know how long he stayed in the hallways playing around with this red stick. Finally, he capped it and put it back into the pockets of the bag. He saw a little metal piece at the edge of the metal stitching. He pulled it and the metal stitching became undone. A child-like curiosity took over Aegon as he continued to play with the metal stitching, enjoying the sound it made when he opened it and closed it.

Then he reached inside, curious as to what he would find. His hand touched something cold and firm. He pulled it out. It was a strange small box. He pulled it out and shook it next to his ear, but nothing sounded. He opened the top and found two small things inside. He opened and closed the top over and over again. How did the top stay on without a latch? He wondered. Aegon pulled at one of the things inside the box and to his surprise they came out with no effort. He put it back and it fell back into place.

Aegon knew it was stupid, but he put his hand out as he flipped the box to see if the pieces would fall. He assumed they would, but to his shock, they didn’t. He shook it a bit, but they didn’t fall out. He let out a sound of amazement before taking out one of the pieces and inspecting it. He didn’t know what to make out of it. He let the thing fall back into its place before he let the small box fall back into your bag. He dug back into the bag and felt another cold firm box. He pulled out and inspected. On this box, there was no opening, just a black reflective thing on the front, with circles on the back. He tapped on them and nothing happened.

Aegon used the black piece on the front as a makeshift mirror to look at himself, though he much preferred the mirrors they had. As he observed it more, it looked like it was made out of some sort of metal. Aegon began pressing the buttons on the side of the box thing. Nothing happened. He tried again. Once more nothing happened. He hummed and shrugged, dropping it back in. It definitely wasn’t as cool as the other box he picked up before.

He felt something thin and weird. He pulled it out and it was a white line…it looked like a rope. He pulled out two others with another box thing. You sure did love boxes. This box had two metal things protruding out of it. They weren’t sharp, so if they weren’t used as weapons, what was this for? He looked around it, nothing to open this one either. He dropped it back inside before inspecting the weird-feeling ropes. On one it had two metal parts protruding out of both sides. Observing the shape he grinned and pulled out the last box. Looking at both shapes, he inserted one metal piece into the hole the box had. It clicked and he gave a triumphant grin. However, if this box was a rope holder, what good was only one entrance? Shrugging he moved onto the second rope. This one had a circle at the end. It had an indent on one side, but flat on the other. It had a sleek feel.

He wondered what it could possibly be used for. A whip? Why would you carry a whip? Then he remembered you were a mad woman. Dropping it back inside he dug around some more before pulling out a circle. He clicked the top of it and it popped open. Inside was a very clean mirror. It looked new and polished. Only those of wealth had mirrors, however, none in such pristine condition. Aegon began to second-guess himself. Perhaps, you were not commonly born at all. He dropped the mirror back in and walked to where you were staying. He gave a knock before he opened the door. It smelled sweet and fruity. How you had managed to get your room to smell better than the entire castle was beyond him.

He looked up and he felt his pants tighten against him as he looked at your small clothes. They were unlike anything he’d ever seen. Yes, leaving your body to the imagination was nice, but nothing beats seeing you in these salacious small clothes.

You gave a surprise yell before covering yourself. A shame, he would’ve liked to look longer.

“Is this what women wear where you’re from?” He asked. If it was, Aegon knew where wanted to go once he was free to leave this keep. Once he claimed you, he would ask to take him where you were from and perhaps you would take him there and Aegon could live happily.

You yelled at him to get out. He tossed you your purse before trying to get one last look before leaving. Mid-way back to his room he stopped. Damn! He had forgotten to ask you if you would want to go on dragon back. Aegon Targaryen was a man who lacked much shame, however, he still did have some, and going back to ask you would be taking away the little shame he did have. It was of no matter, it’s not like you were going anywhere.

Later that night at the dreadful family dinner, Aegon was pleasantly surprised when you came. He admired the dress. You did look good in green. It complemented his own suit, though by extension also his dreadfully boring brother, Aemond. Though the longer he looked towards you, the subtle differences he saw. For one, the bruise that should be on your face was not there, and your lips were shown as if they were coated in a pink-red honey. It reminded him of the thing in your purse he was playing with earlier. Though what you had on your lips shone brighter than when it was on his thumb.

The dark under your eyes that was there when he first saw you was also gone. Your eyelashes seemed longer and darker than he recalled. Your eyes looked bigger and overall, if he thought you were easy on the eyes before, well now it was just better. Certain parts of your skin shone under the light highlighting your face. You looked unreal to him. This only served to encourage him further.

Aegon Targaryen had to have you, even if it was just once. (He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it at just one)

Throughout the night, the both of you smiled at each other and Aegon took every shred of attention you gave him. Even when you did laugh at his expense, he took it. His one goal tonight was to have you, or at least take a step closer to sharing your bed sometime in the near future. So when his cousin; Jacaerys, took his wife to dance, he couldn’t bring himself to care too much. Though, it did irk him just a bit. So standing he went to ask for your hand to dance, never noticing he just saved you from a night of drowning in pity.

“A dance my lady?” He asked.

“I don’t know how to dance the way y’all dance.” You answered and he picked up the informality you spoke with. How were you not commonly born? What was ‘y’all?’ Aegon ignored it in favor of trying to get a dance from you.

“How do you dance to this music?” He tried though from the corner of his eye he saw Jace and his wife dancing and once more just a little pin of annoyance stirred in him.

“Waltz maybe? I don’t know” You responded and Aegon found himself asking what a waltz was. Nevertheless, Aegon persisted.

“Teach me then.” Aegon took your hand and pulled you from your seat. He wouldn’t allow you to say no. As you rise from your seat Aegon is positive that inviting you to dance was the best decision he has ever made. You smelled heavenly, it was almost unreal and he had to physically restrain himself from hugging you and burying his face into your neck and simply inhaling you.

For a split moment, a thought of a monogamous relationship entered his mind. Having only you by his side he’d become addicted to your scent and honestly, he doesn’t think he could ever stomach any smell from any other woman in King’s Landing. He inhaled deeply trying to get more as you both walked to the dance floor.

You took him by surprise as you got closer to him and once more your sweet scent invaded his nose. Everything about you smelled heavenly, even your breath smelled nice, which was rare. He hoped the wine would be the only thing you smelled from him. “The best I have is from Cinderella.” You whispered and took his arm and placed it around your waist and you held his hand.

“I don’t know what Cinderella is, but if it means you’re this close to me, then I think I’ll like it,” Aegon spoke in a light manner, but he meant every word. Any dancing that would allow him to be this close to you, he would gladly learn “So what now?”

As you taught him the steps of this dance he relished having you in his arms and soon he felt as if the rest of the room faded away. You completely engulfed him and the entirety of his being. Perhaps, with you, he would become mad as well. Now that he had you in his arms and looked at your impossibly perfect features, he doubts any other woman would be able to compare. He would go mad if he did not have you. Some way, somehow, Aegon Targaryen would make you his, permanently.

Jacaerys Velaryon

The first time Jacaerys was able to really look at you, it wasn’t under the most favorable circumstances. For one he was fuming at the insinuation Aemond had made. Secondly, you had just been pushed into him and he nearly fell on top of you. Despite all that, the only thing he could really focus on was your features and the scent you emitted. You had smelled quite nice before, but the way you smelled now, combined with the way you looked. It was enough to just have him staring at you shamelessly before he would look away when you looked towards him. As you continued to hold him back and he held you due to helping you up from when you fell on top of him his eyes subconsciously traveled down to look at your exposed skin and it almost seemed that you had specks of gold across your skin giving it a shine that he has never seen before. Not even the wealthiest Lannister shinned as your skin did.

Unfortunately for Jace, Aemond just had to make another comment and once more Jace was angered looking away from you and glaring at Aemond. Though to his surprise you came to his defense. Never once had Jace spoken a word to you and the only word you ever spoke to him was ‘stop.’ He watched you face Aemond with a glare, but as you moved the scent from your hair hit him in the face. He fought the urge to inhale and as if you were torturing him, you turned once more to look at him, or at least that is what he assumed. In the midst of having you in his arms, he felt you stiffen and rip yourself away from him. He turned and saw Daemon and then your cautious look. You looked as if you were ready to run away at any given moment.

Though Jace understood. He had threatened to kill you if you could not heal the King, but anyone could see he was beyond saving. It was an impossible mission and you just happened to be the poor soul who would bear the punishment. He watched as Daemon grabbed your face and held it so tight that blood came from your lip.

For the second time that day, Jacaerys looked away from you as you seemed to plead for help from anyone. When he looked up again he saw Aemond taking you away. Not once did you glance back.

That night he and his brother sat inside their mother’s chamber while she tended to his injury on his sword-holding hand. Luke had asked what happened earlier but Daemon did not give them an answer.

“I will go make preparations to see you both sent home, then I will return on dragon back.” His mother spoke and Jacaerys was the first to oppose the idea. He didn’t want to go home, not yet. For one he was just promised to Baela and would like to talk to her just a bit more and of course, there was you, whom he was ever curious about. Both he and Luke made their cases about wanting to converse with their betrothed to pressure their mother into letting them stay.

Luke really ended up winning his mother over by making the excuse that Rheana would not see her grandmother for quite some time and that it would be cruel to only let her see once under such grim circumstances.

Both Jace and Luke walked out of the room happy with themselves as they both went to their own respective rooms.

The next time you crossed Jace’s mind was when he overheard the maid talking about you.

“There is something wrong with her!” One of them whispered.

“All of those things within her room! I don’t even want to touch her sheets!” Another spoke.

Jacaerys watched as another maid ran over to them explaining what she saw this morning. “I saw white foam in one of her cups!”

“Is she rabid!?” The other quickly speculated and while Jacaerys wanted to roll his eyes at the insinuation, why would there be white foam in a cup in your room of all places?

“She does not drink much water or eat much, all signs of it! The girl is rabid!” And just like that Jacaerys witnessed the birth of a rumor that spread like wildfire around the keep.

All around you were the topic of such terrible gossip. From tales of madness because they heard you yelling or strange melodic sounds from your room. Then of course there were the strange drinks you fed to King Viserys. As strange as it might be, the King did seem much better from what his mother told him. For a whole week, he stayed away from you and the wing that held your room and instead was with his betrothed.

“Let's go to the west wing,” Baela said while smiling. In this past week, he had seen that Baela was more mischievous than he would’ve thought.

“The West Wing? Why?” Jacaerys asked. He knew exactly why but he honestly did not want to confirm such rumors that flew around you.

“Just come on!” Baela pushed and she walked off without him and reluctantly Jace followed. As he entered the Castle walls, it was hot and humid. He pulled his collar just a bit to try and get some airflow through his thick clothing. As they reached closer to the west wing they found it completely empty. Had you really driven everyone out of this wing? As they neared your door they heard giggles from the other side and faint sounds of clapping. Both Baela and Jace turned to look at each other as they neared the door putting their ear against it.

“Nikola Tesla who?” A squeal of happiness was heard. Who was Nikola Tesla? Jacaerys wondered. He had never heard a name like that, much less the last name. Just then they heard the door moving. You were opening the door and both Jace and Baela stepped back and looked away. Though he was facing away he knew when the door opened. A familiar scent of you invaded his sense of smell and once more he was taken back to the night where he held you, your glossy lips that seemed unnaturally pigmented though they suited your face nicely and of course the shimmering your skin.

“Your grace? Graces?” You questioned. Both he and Baela turned to face you. Upon seeing you he immediately averted his eyes to the ground. You were in your night clothes, it was mid-day.

“My lady! You are a nightgown!” He heard Baela speak in a shocked tone.

“Oh, so that's what this is called. I thought it went under the dress.” You spoke in a nonchalant tone as if you did not care that this was nearly as bad as inviting a man into your room. It was most inappropriate though occasionally and unwillingly his eyes traveled to parts of your exposed legs. He quickly looked away reprimanding himself, but he did a second-take when he saw your toenails. They were…white? Then he looked up to take a look at your hands, and to his surprise your nails were also painted white and they were rather long. He wondered how he had not seen that before.

“No, you wear those to sleep. My lady it is midday.” Baela spoke once again, clearing her throat.

“Oh really? I guess time does fly by. Anyways I wear this all day, it provides good airflow, but I’m guessing this is not appropriate attire by his reaction….” He could practically hear the purses of your lips and could imagine the reaction you had on your face. “Well I came to ask the maids to deliver me breakfast or I suppose lunch now. I do have a lot of work to do.”

“Breaking your fast? At this hour?” Baela asked and Jacaerys saw the shift in your stance.

“Yeah, they got me slavin’ me away. The work I’m doing right now takes priority and I’m allowing myself a small break to eat a bit.” You spoke in such a carefree way even though you were in your nightgown. It was certainly something to see or hear in his case.

“Okay well… if you see any maids.” You snapped and he lifted his head to see you pointing at them both. “Send 'em my way.” And with that, you turned around and went back into your room.

He turned to see Baela already facing him with a disbelieving smile. She gave a scoff before she led him away and they did send the first maid they saw to you.

…

Jacaerys stood outside the dragon pit waiting for a carriage. Your carriage. He didn’t know how exactly this wager came to fruit, but he felt extraordinarily excited for what was to come.

All he knew was that one moment he was walking along the West Wing (Ever since he had gone there with Baela he found himself frequenting that area much more than he should.) and the next you were next to him walking around the Maegor’s keep.

“So you grew up here with Aegon and Aemond?” You asked and Jacaerys found himself wondering how familiar you were with his uncles to call them by their names without using their titles.

“Yes, though after the death of Lady Laena, we moved to Dragon Stone.” He explained as you walked next to him.

“Who is Lady Laena?” You asked looking over to him and Jacaerys turned to look at you. Once more you looked slightly different once again. Your skin tone seemed more even than last time, and your eyelashes once more looked more defined giving you the appearance of bigger eyes. Your lips seemed more pigmented as well, but as always you smelled heavenly.

“She is my Aunt and mother of Princess Baela and Princess Rheana.” He watched you nod in understanding. “Princess Baela is the one I saw last time, right?” You asked and he nodded.

“Is the late lady Laena your aunt on your father’s side or mother’s?” You asked once more after a moment of silence.

“Father.” Well by technicality, Laena wasn’t his aunt at all. More like a distant relative. Though you didn’t need to know that.

“Prince Daemon…?” You purse your lips trying to figure out his family. It would take quite a while for you to learn all of his family and how they were each connected. He shook his head. “No, Daemon is not my father. My father is Ser Laenor Velaryon. He passed not long after his sister.”

“Oh…my condolences.” You looked away from him, seeming embarrassed you had brought it up. “Thank you, but do not fret my lady. It happened long ago.” He tried to remedy your guilt.

“Okay let's choose a new topic, what do you want to talk about?” You asked and he drew a blank. No one had asked him that normally conversations had a purpose and once it was fulfilled they would go their separate ways. It was always like that except with his brother, but that was his brother. “I do not know. What would you wish to converse about?”

You stopped and he turned to face you watching you tap your chin while you smiled and looked up thinking. “Oh! Tell me more about this place.”

“Maegor’s holdfast?” He didn’t know exactly how it was made but everyone knows the story of Maegor the Cruel.

“Sure. Yeah, tell me about Maegor’s holdfast.” You began walking once more and he followed your lead.

“I must confess my lady, I do not know much about how Maegor built this place, only that it was secret pathways and that every builder that made his holdfast was sentenced to death by him so that no one would know all the secret passages.” He explained as he looked around the grand walls of the holdfast.

“Woah, that's a bit much no?” You spoke and turned towards Jacaerys who nodded in return. “He earned the name Maegor the Cruel. Everyone knows the story.”

“Not me.” That was all you said and Jacearys explained the infamous story of the cruelest king the Seven Kingdoms has ever known.

“Wow. His story reminds me of Henry VIII. He certainly has the wives for it.” Jacaerys had never heard of him before.

“Henry? Who was he?” He asked and you smiled towards him.

“One of the most infamous Kings of England.” And with that another long hour of you explaining the history of Henry VIII to Jacaerys. He lost track of time as you both walked in circles throughout the holdfast.

“I can certainly see resemblances, though Maegor was never on friendly terms with the citadel,” Jacaerys spoke as he watched you touch the walls around you.

“Yes, Anne Boleyn is a beloved and iconic figure in history.” You gave him a smile. It was clear you favored her.

“Quite cunning she was.” He offered.

“When you get a man to divorce his wife, which wasn’t accepted then, and then get a whole country to break faith with a religion majority practice. You’re a lot more than cunning. In the end, her daughter became the second Queen England ever had and her rule was considered one of the most glorious in English history. Then she promptly ended his lineage, the Tudor lineage, and a new fraction in the English monarchy came.” Yes, certainly more than cunning Anne Boleyn was. All the struggle in his life only for his line to end as revenge for her mother, was ironic. Though his thoughts hung on the way you spoke of divorce. It was hardly accepted here either and was usually a taboo topic, though you spoke as if it was something normal.

“Is divorce common where you come from?” He asked you and to his surprise, you nodded.

“Most couples that marry end up divorced. It is more than common, it’s the norm.” Divorce here was unthinkable, even if the woman was barren or a husband happened to father many bastards, it was always scandalous when divorce was spoken about.

“You look surprised.” You told him with a smile. “I promise that is the least surprising thing about where I come from.”

It was a challenge. Throughout the entirety of your conversation, never once had he said something that truly had you surprised like how your comment about divorce had him.

“You don’t think King’s Landing has things surprising or interesting.”

“That's an ugly way of saying it. I’m just saying that nothing here isn’t something I already know about. I guarantee whatever your most advanced version of the technology is, I can come up with something that outclasses it.” You gave a cocky look. “I’m a pretty smart girl.” You grinned as you walked ahead.

Jacaerys smiled and ran to catch up with you. “I think I could show you something that would surprise you.”

“Are you, Prince Jacaerys Valeryon, proposing a wager?” Jacaerys watched you stop and place a hand on your hip with a smile.

“Only if you accept my lady.” He reciprocated your smile.

You let out a hum and pursed your lips as if thinking over his suggestion. “What do I get when I win?”

“Is it when already?” He scoffed out. A dragon ride, he doubts you’ve ever been on a dragon and if he must, he’s sure Vermax will agree to do a couple of tricks.

“Oh yeah. I think I know a little something that’ll outmatch anything you got.” You shot back with a little laugh.

“Well if you win, I will complete one request, anything.” It was a dangerous game to play, but so be it. Jacaerys would like to see your reaction to Dragonback.

“Anything? Thats dangerous. You’d best rethink that.” You warned and he saw a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I’m confident. Anything, silver, gold, a title. Anything you name it.” Jacaerys stood behind his word.

“You got yourself a deal.” You grinned and extended your right hand. He took it and you gave a firm shake. “So when do I get to see this…grand thing.” You spoke as you gripped his hand.

“Tomorrow morning. Wear trousers, you’ll need them.” He held your hand tight unwilling to bend to you.

“Noted. Where do I meet you?” You asked with a brow raised.

“The dragon pit.” He answered confidently and he saw your brows shoot up with a smile as you tilted your head. Already a small victory, a showing of what was to come.

“Dragons? Like Komodo dragons?” That made Jacaerys backtrack a bit. His confidence dimmed just a bit.

“You have dragons?” His tone gave away his hesitance and he cursed himself.

“Well, they’re not traditional dragons. No wings, but they are the largest lizards in the world and have one of the most venomous bites in the world. Pretty fearsome, I didn’t think you’d have them here.” You answered with a thoughtful smile.

With that, his confidence returned. Jacaerys kept quiet and only smiled. He was definitely winning this wager.

So now here he stood waiting to receive you. It wasn’t long before your carriage stopped in front of him. You opened the door and you stood there with a black cloak on your shoulders and on your face sat an unhappy expression.

“My lady.” He greeted helping you down. You got down and turned away from him holding onto the carriage.

“Yeah, just uh…give me a second,” He saw your shoulders shake. Had you gotten sick in only a day? “Sorry, motion sickness, and the city doesn’t exactly smell the best.” Jacaerys nodded, not that you could see. You smelled so different from anyone else here, it was no wonder you were sensitive to smell. If he would only smell you all day, he’d be sick smelling King’s Landing too.

“You’d like it better on Dragon Stone.” He shouldn’t have said that. Jacaerys Valeryon was promised to Baela Targaryen. He knew there was an implication in his words, but for now, to make himself feel better, he would not acknowledge it.

You simply gave a hum before turning to him. Taking off the hood you smiled. “Sorry. Okay now, let's go see about that wager.” Jacaerys offered his hand with a smile and you took it. You walked to the Dragon pit.

“I want you to meet my dragon: Vermax.” He spoke in low tones before nodding to the dragon handlers. He turned keeping his eyes on you. As the ground shook your smile faded as your mouth opened in shock.

“IS THAT A DRAGON!?”

Note: I think it's funny having Aegon play with AirPods and lipsticks also him not knowing how magnets work or zippers. Also Guys, pls talk to me 🥹 Ask me things.

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