Asking for Gideon Requests are we? 👀
I desire something specific-ish. An accidental containment breach left a couple of zombies running around and causing chaos. The facility are all moved to a safe room but the reader is nowhere to be seen.
They're fine tho, show up minutes later covered in blood from taking out a couple of the more aggressive specimens. Maybe injured, maybe a lil unhinged.
Gideons reaction? Fluffy or sexy idc. Thank you!
Blood Rush - Victor Gideon x GN!Reader
TAGS: nurse!reader, gideon being a creep lowk
CW: mild gore, blood, zombie galore.
Likes, RBs, and comments appreciated!
Today started out like any other day for you: wake up at the ass crack of dawn, fix up some coffee, eat a totally nutritious breakfast consisting of two chocolate pop tarts and a banana, and rush to work for your twelve hour shift at the Rhodes Hill Care Center. The Center also doubles as your place of living along with the other doctors and nurses employed here. It’s a strange arrangement but the pay is good, you don’t have to worry about bills or rent, and you all have developed your own little community here. It’s not a bad gig, you think.
You spend the last few minutes of free time by the window, cracking it open to fill your room with the fresh air. The scent of wet pavement and fallen autumn leaves wafts in, giving you a moment’s peace before you head down for your shift. You have a feeling today will be a good day.
But the universe had other plans for you.
The first half of your shit is completely normal. You run your rounds, make sure all your patients take their meds, gossip with the receptionists, coordinate with the doctors, etcetera, etcetera. It’s the same day everyday. You don’t see your job through that same excitable lens you had a decade ago. You have to explain to Miss Robinson several times that she can’t go out to the courtyard today, as it’s raining. Mister Daniels in room 208 keeps turning his light on for a breakfast which he’s already had. You come close to having to force feed Ms. Natalia her morning pills. Needless to say, this is not glamorous work. You wouldn’t say you love your job but you also wouldn’t trade it for the world.
It’s after lunchtime when you pass through the onsite lab. You flip through Mrs. Langs results, brows furrowed.
“Hey, have you seen Doctor Gideon around?” You catch one of your colleagues and close friends, Julia, as she’s pushing a patient to the west wing. “Nah, your boyfriend’s been out since yesterday evening, I think.” She says with a sly smile. You roll your eyes and join her side. “Not my boyfriend, you harlot.” You and Dr. Gideon are close. The relationship was strictly professional, at least in your potentially naive eyes, but that didn’t stop the influx of teasing from your coworkers.
You look at the lab results on your clipboard, worry etched in your features. “One of his patients…” you trail off. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. I don’t know how she’s alive.”
Julia turns to you. “Here, trade me.” The two of you switch places. You push the patient and she looks over the labs. “Holy shit.” She whistles lowly. “What the hell did he give her?” You glance around. You shouldn’t technically share this – Gideon had asked to keep a secret – but you trust Julia. “Some kind of special gene therapy? I-I don’t know. He had me assist in the delivery–“ “Of course he did.” Julia cuts you off with a dry chuckle. “Shut up, this is serious. Anyway, something clearly went wrong. But I just saw the patient before lunch. She was completely normal. She just complained of a mild headache.”
Your expression is contemplative. Julia stops for a second and hands you the clipboard back. “Okay, well, stop talking to me about it and go check on her again. She’ll need the whole nine yards.”
“Right,” You switch Julia spots again. “Well, thanks—“ “Rrr-ughhnn—“ You’re cut off by a long, almost inhuman groan coming from the patient in the wheelchair. Your friend's expression changes from relaxed to serious in seconds. “Miss Sanchez?” She rounds the wheelchair. “Miss Sanchez, talk to me. What’s wrong, sweetie?” She kneels in front of the older woman. “My-my head. Oh, my god, my head–!” She wails, clutching her head in her hands, tight enough to rip out her thin silver hair.
You’re about to jump in before something indescribable happens to Miss Sanchez. The left side of her head starts to swell rapidly. She goes limp. “Oh-oh, my– what the fuck?!” Julia stands up, stepping back and nearly falling. She manages to regan her balance and places her fingers to Miss Sanchez's neck. "She-She's… She's dead?" You look at the corpse in front of you, with its head swollen like a balloon. Your throat goes dry. "I-I'll get the—"
"Alert, alert! Code six, I repeat, we have a code six! All staff initiate emergency protocols!" You look round. Over the railing you can see staff running this way and that, some of them guiding patients into the lock down procedures. "What the fuck is going on?" You mutter. You turn to JUlia. "We have to go, now!" You grab your friend by the arm, about to drag her away before something pulls her the other way.
Julia lets out a blood curdling scream as Miss Sanchez pulls her down with strength she shouldn't have. You almost go down with her but you manage to keep yourself upright. You're thankful that you still standing because when you look down, Miss Sanchez is eating Julia. "Shit, shit! What the fuck!" You grab the oxygen tank from the back of the wheel chair and slam it against the back of the patients head with as much force as possible. Blood spatters all over you and the fit hardly phases the creature on the floor. In fact, it just makes it angry. It turns to you, rising on wobbly legs.
"r-Run… go." Julia gurgles between screams. You don't want to leave her but you don't want to die here, either. You look between Julia and the monster taking slow steps your way. You take a deep breath and bolt, nearly slipping in blood as you go.
You don't know how long you're running for. The halls are devoid of staff and patients alike, except for a few somebodies stragglers. You're dodging the feral patients and staff with varying luck; you have a large open gash on your left arm and another on your thigh. They're all in the same blood-thirsty state. All you have to arm yourself with is an IV pole. The phone lines are down and your personal phone is up in your room. A few minutes ago all the doors got locked down. As far as you know, you are completely alone. Alone with all these—
"He—lp…me…" A monster croans. You don't even think before raising the IV pole and bringing it down on its head again and again, screaming out as all your fear and frustration boils over. Brain matter has splattered across your shoes. The face of the monster flashes behind your eyelids. That was the patient with the weird bloodwork. You feel like you might throw up. Bile climbs up the back of your throat and threatens to spill but you manage to keep it down. You move your gaze from the nearly headless monster and look ahead. You have to keep going.
One step in front of the other. You don't realize you're not alone until a huge hand settles on your shoulder. You scream and whip the pole around, only for it to be caught by the same hands. You grit your teeth and try to pull the weapon back, seeing through tunnel vision and running on pure adrenaline. A familiar voice speaks your name. You don't hear it. You try to run away, only to be pulled against a firm, cold body. The hold is so tight that struggling is futile but that doesn't stop you from trying. “Let go! Let go!” Your desperate pleas go unanswered.
"Shhh. If you aren't quiet, more of those will come for us," your breathing slows, your fight begins to wane. "You don't want that, do you?" That voice. You blink once, twice, then peer up. Your brain doesn’t recognize him at first, through pin prick vision and adrenaline rush. He looks just like one of those monsters. But the stature alone is unmistakable. “Victor?” You say in disbelief. The corners of his lips turn upwards in a smile. He nods slowly. “Come with me. Let’s get you somewhere safe.” He says just loud enough for you to hear. He guides you down hallways with a firm hand slotted between your shoulder blades.
Finally the two of you make it to the locked down common room. You hear relieved gasps from your coworkers. The rest of the patients are also crowded there. The gate rattles and slides up, a firm hand at the center of your back pushes you inside and he follows suit. Once you’re both in the common area he shuts the gate. “W-What the fuck is happening?” You stammer. He doesn’t answer you. Not yet. You’re still running on adrenaline and Victor can practically smell it. It makes his mouth water. You make his mouth water.
You’ve got this wild, crazy look about you; hair stuck to your head with sweat and blood, face and uniform covered in crimson and gore, and your eyes wide and crazy. Victor can’t get enough of the sight. With one of his big hands, he manages to pry the bloody, gore soaked IV pole from your hands. You think Victor is all too calm for the situation at hand. There’s this vague, predatory look in his eyes. He, for all intents and purposes, looks like a snake about to strike. You swallow dryly and take a few steps back. He easily closes the distance and places a hand on your shoulder. You’re trembling like a leaf.
“You’re safe now. Deep breaths.” He tells you in an almost doting tone. You only blink up at him, words futile as your mind finally leaves fight or flight. You take a few steps back and all but fall into one of the chairs in the room. “I don’t want you to worry,” Victor begins. “I wouldn’t let a thing happen to you.” His eyes rake across you before focusing on the staff and patients behind you.
“To any one of you,” he looks around, easily feigning concern. “I can’t explain what’s happened,” Can’t or won’t?, you wonder? “However, I want you all to be assured that I am taking care of it. I have specialists on their way to take care of the breach. It is dire that not a word of this reaches the public.” His tone is final and his eyes dark. Hushed whispers exchange between staff and patients but no one argues. With previous displays of Victor’s temper, they know better.
Victor crosses the room to grab a first aid kit stashed away in a cabinet. He pulls up a wooden chair and sits across from you. He holds out a cold, grey hand and meets your troubled eyes. “You’re hurt.” He croons, almost sickly sweet. He holds out his palm to you, waiting for you to give yourself over to him. You just look at him, unsure. There’s something different about him. Your trust in him begins to falter. There’s something sinister that he’s hiding.
Despite your hesitation he grasps your wrist firmly and pulls your injured arm his way. You wince and groan through gritted teeth. “This will need stitches. That must wait until the hazards are taken care of,” He says with a dry chuckle. “Well, the ones you didn’t already take care of.” Predatory yellow eyes meet yours. “I-I didn’t want to hurt them.” You mutter, exhausted beyond belief. “I know, darling,” The pet name makes you feel even more nauseous than you already do. “However, It’s good to know you have that kind of fight in you.” You wonder what he means by that. The look in his eyes scares you out of asking.
When the “hazards” are taken care of and the lock down is lifted, Victor helps you up and more or less forces you to lean on him for support. He treats your wounds himself in the privacy of the infirmary. That day something changed in your relationship. It becomes less of that professional, teaching relationship, and something more reminiscent of a cat keeping a mouse on its toes. You’ve tried to leave but this place became like a cage. The only way in or out is a seemingly never occupied chopper that you can’t operate. You don’t have anyone on the outside to rescue you, either. For now you belong to Victor Gideon, his little pet.
YAYYYY!!! I’m so glad to finally get this done for you, anon! I’m so sorry you had to wait so long. I hope you enjoy 🩷 I tried to lean into a more sinister, canon-adjacent Victor here. I hope you don’t mine.
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