Kinda tweaking cause I got like three fanfics on the go :3
Victor Gideon x Infected Reader - Slowburn?
WARNINGS
This chapter contains mentions of Violence, Blood/Gore, Cursing.
Synopsis ; Working under Doctor Gideon is hard work, you took the job despite its oddities because it pays well. Yet its you whose about to learn that its really you paying a heavy price.
You were hired onto a small research team working under Doctor Victor Gideon, at the Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Centre after its establishment in 2003.
Working for Doctor Gideon was not for the faint of heart, the work he had you do was certainly a challenge.
Often you found yourself with one of the lead researchers in the basement of the facility, in a room they liked to call the Corpse processing chamber. It always smelt of a pungent rot, you had to smear peppermint jelly on the inside of your nose to tolerate it. The suffocating stench permeated the room, no matter how much you tried to scrub the floors at the end of the day you could never get rid of the smell.
The job consisted of collecting viable flesh and blood samples, occasionally bones, then a thorough autopsy of the deceased followed by the disposal. Usually you would write up the report as your superior conducted the sample collection and autopsy, afterwards you would dispose of the body. Near the end of the day you would run the reports up to the research labs along with the collected samples.
You had only ever met Doctor Gideon in passing, though you would avert your gaze out of politeness. Assuming that his condition was the cause for the strange experiments conducted in the lower level of the basement facility, a large part as to why you didn't really question your job, pays well enough anyways.
One early morning the scientist you worked with, Doctor Williams was working on a body as you wrote up the report nearby, though the corpse you had received wasn't quite dead as it seemed. It jolted alive with a vicious growl lunging for Dr. Williams, as he fell to the floor the gurney was knocked over as the not so dead man threw him off balance, the tray of tools scattered across the floor.
“Fuck! Help!” he cried out trying to keep the gnawing maw from sinking teeth into flesh. One hand squeezing the base of its neck the other trying to push its stomach, the decomposed skin splitting open easily. Viscera and organs spilling over Dr. Williams and tile surrounding him.
You dropped the clipboard and pen, dashing forward gripping the back of the monster's torn shirt, you yanked him back off your coworker. Dr. Williams hand seizes a scalpel amongst the mess of tools and guts.
The monster turned his attention to you, a hulking form making you stumble back first into the wall, a strangled noise escaping you, as the wind is knocked from your lungs. Hands pressing harshly against his chest while his snapping jaw was mere inches from your face. Struggling to keep him from tearing your face apart, Dr. Williams hops up onto his feet rushing to grab the undead creature, nearly slipping on the blood. Skewering its neck with the scalpel, black decaying blood spilled on you. But the creature was relentless, one hand pulling at the protective gear at your waist the other on your forearm.
Dr. Williams grappled the undead thing pulling him away from you, the sound of tearing cloth and its angered growls.
He slammed its head against the overturned gurney repetitively, he didn't cease the action until the monster stopped moving. Its brains and viscera splattered all over sufficiently making a mess of the room, the both of you huffing trying to catch your breath.
“W-what the fuck was that” you were exasperated and confused, adrenaline was rushing through you, hands shaking. “I thought we only dealt with the dead! B-but he was alive?” gawking at the now dead corpse.
“Nevermind that.” His response was harsh. He kicked the body “Just clean yourself up, then take those reports upstairs to Doctor Richardson” his demeanor was far too calm after the events that had unfolded, your stomach twisted and suddenly you felt nauseous.
As you followed the decontamination process, stripping off all your protective gear, tossing it into a laundry shoot built into the wall. You lock the bathroom door behind you as you go to clean yourself in the shower. you go to pull off your tank top, fingers grazing just above your hip, a stinging pain shoots through your side, instantly you freeze.
Slowly looking down, pulling up the fabric of your top to reveal the angry red scratch. As you gawk at your side, you notice it. The same black veins and decay you saw on that corpse, just barely there, barely noticeable but it's there. A massive wave of dread washes over you, the color drains from your face. you silently plead that you are hallucinating.
Suddenly turning to find the first aid kit under the bathroom sink, tearing it open as quickly as you could. Spilling its contents into the porcelain sink, searching for the small bottle of alcohol, all but violently ripping its top open, you pour a generous amount over the wound. Vision spotting with stars as you nearly topple over from the searing hot pain “Oh God!” legs nearly giving out on you at you lean against the sink, forehead pressed to the glass you look at yourself through blurring tears.
As you rise back to an upright position, your gaze falls to your side again, the wound is even more red, irritated and scorching hot. The black veins did not go away, anxiety soared in your head.
“Please, Please no” came in a breathless whisper, the urge to vomit became overwhelming.
After a poor attempt to re-collect yourself, you staggered down the halls to find Doctor Richardson to deliver the reports. You had done a decent enough patch job on the wound but you still felt uneasy, fear and anxiety churned in your stomach. The hallways felt as if they were closing in on you, too engrossed in the way the room was spinning you almost failed to hear the voice calling out to you. Hand grabbing the wall for support, you look up to see who called you.
Victor Gideon stood a few feet away, observing you, the thin layer of sweat on your face, the distant look in your eyes. He hummed tilting his head, a scrutinizing stare hidden by his headgear.
“Are you feeling unwell?” the soothing tone of his voice did nothing to ease you “You look as though you might faint.”
“I'm fine.” you managed to squeak out “Just bringing the p-papers to Doctor Richardson, is all.” giving him a forced smile.
“Mhmm, you mean those papers?” he points, your gaze following his finger to the floor, where the papers were scattered about the hallway floors.
You hadn't even noticed you dropped them. While staring starstruck at the floor, you barely heard his heavy footsteps approach. Slowly looking up to see he was right there, in your space. Bringing his hand up to brush away the hairs sticking to your sweaty face, placing the back of his hand on your forehead you flinched at the contact.
“You have a fever” one hand cupping your face, tilting upwards to examine you better “Why don't you come up to my office, I can give you. . . .a proper examination.” he gives a gentle smile, snake like tongue licking his lips. Your face feels hotter than it already was, your body is shaking now unsure of the cause. Whether it's fear or the scratch.
What if he discovers it?
What if it kills you?
What if you turn into a thing like that corpse?
You are hyperventilating now, barely registering that Dr. Gideon's hands are now securely on your shoulders. His voice is muffled by your swirling thoughts. Likely trying to calm you down, before you know it darkness engulfs your vision.
I messed up today so I'm going to shrivel up into a ball of shame for an appropriate amount of time and will not be out in the general public for at least a few business days
The International Association of Public Safety Devil Hunters would like to remind you that all Devil Hunting agencies around the world need your help and are always hiring!
The benefits and pay are astounding; better than most any government job! Lots of paid time off and vacation days. Start your career now!
Please discard the rumour that most devil hunters quit or die by the six month mark.
Ok, this time I'll tag everyone who ever asked!
@the-bagel24, @regalbootie, @tundra1029, @thoroughly--confused, @lilsmeaux, @poorwritingandstalecoffee, @alder-saan
Thank you so much, lovelies 💛
And of course, the person behind all of this @anti-bright-places 💛💛
This one was very fun to write, Morticia is the spice we needed to get a move on and realize our dumbass feelings (more or less)
Word count: 3k words
Of course Larissa had issues about pretending to date you. She didn’t like you; it was clear from how she treated you so professionally and never sought to know you before all this. If she didn’t outright dislike you, at least she didn’t care for your existence and wasn’t thrilled to spend her weekend with you by her side.
It all made sense. She could tolerate being physically close but dismissed kissing as soon as you suggested it, the best she could. You had drunk an entire bottle of wine the first time before getting close. With just a few fours of bourbon, she wasn’t nearly as welcoming to your advances. These were the thoughts plaguing your mind for hours after you left her office and hours after you woke up the next day. The day of your trip. She only indulged you when she was drunk, and what did that make of you? Taking advantage of her like that? If it weren’t so on the spot you would have sent her an e-mail pretending to be sick to get rid of going.
You spent the entire morning in your room and didn’t go out for lunch, not wanting to risk seeing her in the corridors or, even worse, in the staff’s kitchen. You could wait until three p.m. to eat.
You would leave at four, arrive before dinner and spend the night at the Addams’ Manor. You felt nauseous simply thinking about it. You would dine together, pretend to be a happy couple, and then go to your shared room and sleep in the same bed. All that against Larissa’s better wishes.
She chose Vlad because she was comfortable with him. On the other hand, you barely knew each, and she couldn’t mask her unwillingness even when it was only the two of you. The whole thing would probably go wrong before dessert.
At least then you wouldn’t have to deal with feeling this awful.
Before you knew it was only half an hour for you to part. You hadn’t eaten and rushed to take a shower and look presentable before going down to the entrance where she would be expecting you.
Larissa rented a 1960’s Phantom V and you thanked god for the small mercy of not having to travel four hours in the academy’s van.
When she saw you, you could feel her immediate hesitation like it was a material wall between you. Her posture was impeccable, her hair meticulously done and her make-up flawless; she looked like the picture of the perfect woman, including all the incommodiousness that brought.
“I can help with your bag.” She said calmly, taking the heavy thing you were carrying and easily putting it in the trunk. Everything seemed calculated; civility 101.
“Thank you.” You only managed to mumble before opening the passenger door and avoiding her altogether.
She didn’t try to chat, which you were grateful for. Starting the engine, she focused solely on driving and left you alone in your own world.
It was hell. You were hungry, tired, sad, and pretty much in love with Larissa Weems. While you looked outside the window, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest, the only thing you wanted was for her to hold you and kiss it better. When you were seconds away from asking her to pull over and call off the entire thing, she spoke.
“I cannot do this anymore.”
Oh, so you both wanted to stop.
“What can’t you do?” you asked, trying to facilitate it for her.
“I can’t force you to come with me when you’re so obviously distressed by it.” She stopped the car in a roadside grove and turned to look at you candidly. “If you want to go back, I’ll drive you. I can say I came alone again, it’s what I should have done in the first place.”
You were surprised and uncertain. She was denying her own feelings and making it sound like you were the one to not want this. She was being kind.
“I just wanted to help you…” you started, but she interrupted you.
“You see, I wanted that to be possible. But I cannot ask you as my employee to do something like that for me. It’s unprofessional, unethical and bordering on assault.” She was so agitated and had such a pained expression on her face that you felt almost guilty.
She left the car in a sudden move, leaning against the door after closing it. Probably can’t stand being near me, you thought, but she couldn’t run from the conversation, try as she might.
You left as well and walked around to her side, her face was covered by her hands, and she was taking deep breaths. She seemed so stressed, on the verge of crying or screaming. Maybe you weren’t the only one who couldn’t sleep thinking about the disaster of last night.
“I hoped you could do it as a friend.” She said behind her hands, her voice weak and muffled. She let them fall to look at you once again, her eyes were clear, the blue lighter than a morning sky, but she wasn’t crying. “But you clearly cannot,” she admitted as if it was true.
You didn’t know what to tell her at first, seeing her so distressed and, apparently, fully convinced that it was you the one rejecting her company.
“I would like to do it as your friend.” You whispered, walking closer to be in front of her.
A small line formed between her eyebrows as she shook her head looking puzzled.
“I would,” you continued, “I just didn’t think you saw me as one. I can barely believe I already consider you mine after so few meaningful talks.” The bittersweetness of the sentence left a bad taste in your mouth, but you yearned to say it again, in another context, another world, really.
She seemed deep in thought, surveying you with care before saying, “Do you mean any of that, truly? It won’t change anything in our professional relationship, I want you to understand that.”
“Why do you think I’m so scared of you treating me differently?” you snapped, more frustrated than angry, “I know you, Larissa. I know you’re professional and would never abuse your power or make me feel uncomfortable at my place of work! If anything, you are the only boss I’ve ever had whom I trust not to be like this.”
You were so sick and tired of her checking in on you, asking if it was truly all right. You said it from the beginning and didn’t understand why she was so hung up on it.
“You do?” her confusion only baffled you further.
“Of course, I do! Why would I agree to something crazy like this if I didn’t trust you?”
She nodded as if understanding your point. Honestly, it would be adorable if it weren’t so exasperating.
“Now can we resume our trip? I’m hungry and as soon as we arrive I can finally eat,” you confessed.
“I brought some sandwiches if you’d like,” Larissa said, and you could kiss her, “They’re in the back seat.”
“I’ve never loved you more, woman.” You said before quickly opening the door and getting the food from the container you didn’t notice before.
The principal seemed satisfied with that, less tense and actually smiling at you devouring the goods.
“If that’s your reaction to sandwiches I definitely cook for us when I need to soothe things over,” she mused and your chest hurt at the thought.
“That’s good for cute anecdotes if someone asks,” you smiled to mask the forlornness you felt, and eating the rest of your food suddenly turned into a difficult task.
When you were finished, you put away the container with the other sandwiches and plastered an actual smile on your face before looking back at her. You did feel better on a full stomach. Less tired and a lot less sad. She wanted to be friends and if that was all you got you were happy with it, at least she didn’t despise you.
“So, are we getting back on the road?” you chirped, and Larissa gave you an earnest smile.
“Only after you give me a hug to prove everything’s fine.”
You weren’t expecting it, but you would take whatever you got, so you went right to her arms. She held you tighter than anticipated, resting her chin atop your hair, and you felt tingly and content when you parted.
“Alright!” You went back to your side. “On we go, then.” You opened the door and slumped on your seat; it wouldn’t be so horrible as you thought.
The next three hours passed easily. Time flowed when you and Larissa started talking about work, the students, idle musings about Jericho and hot spots in Burlington that you never thought of going to. You learned each other’s taste in music, preferred weather, hobbies and general things a partner would know, but the funny thing was that you hadn’t planned to, it wasn’t for the sake of pretending; it was just conversation. You had to remind yourself time and time again that you weren’t on a road trip date or getting to know each other in any other capacity besides Larissa wanting to be friends with you.
Her interest in your PhD dissertation was exhilarating and she was very polite to not mention your ridiculous excitement and incessant babbling about it.
Overall, you didn’t see the pass of time, and suddenly you were entering the gardens of the Addams Family Mansion.
“How do you want to be when we leave the car?” you asked, looking at the imposing building and noting someone opening the door.
“What do you mean?” she was busy parking and adjusting whatever it was in the car buttons – not many on an old model like that one. You knew she was just trying to look busy.
“Do you want to hold hands? Maybe I can loop my arm in yours… hold your upper arm?”
“Oh…” for someone who had been so relaxed just a few moments before, she seemed a second away from restarting the engine and getting the fuck off.
You decided to be brave for a change, and clicking free of your seat belt, leaned over her to kiss her cheek. She was looking straight forward, so it was difficult to see her expression, but her shoulders did lose a bit. You put a hand over hers in the parking brake, gently squeezing until she took a long breath and nodded, appearing to have returned to the land of the living.
“Yes… I think the looped arm will do,” she said vacantly.
You left the car and a giant pale-grey man walked close to you – he was even taller than Larissa, around five or six inches so – and from behind him a dark sauntering figure emerged, Morticia Addams.
“Lurch, be a dear and take Larissa’s belongings to the second guest room,” she said in her smoky, forcedly charming voice. You didn’t want to be the bitter girlfriend, but you couldn’t help the pang of annoyance she instantly sparkled in you without doing so much as look at Larissa. “I didn’t know you were bringing someone,” it wasn’t a question, but her arched brow and higher tone at the end prompted a presentation.
“Pleasure to meet you,” you said with the world’s fakest smile on your lips, “I’m Y/n L/n, Wednesday’s chemistry professor and Larissa’s partner.” You reached a hand for her to take, and she only lightly touched your fingers out of forced politeness.
“I believe we met briefly at Nevermore,” she gave you a nauseatingly sweet smile while looking at you from top to bottom and back up.
You grabbed Larissa’s arm more from the need to have something to hold and ground yourself than to pretend at intimacy. You needed some sort of reassurance to keep you from jumping at the woman’s throat.
“Yes. Wednesday likes to pilfer some things from the lab every now and then,” you chuckle at the thought. You didn’t mind it as long as she wasn’t getting herself and others in danger, which sometimes was the case. She never took big quantities to be a real problem anyway. Larissa disagreed.
“I try to keep her under control, but you know how they are at this age,” she said, looking truly regretful, and you felt a bit of sympathy for her.
“Yes, I deal with about a hundred of them. I don’t mind it, don’t worry,” you smiled, and Larissa mumbled in, sounding peeved as you would expect.
“Doesn’t mean she can do it. One day she’ll create a hazard and it will be your responsibility, I won’t defend you to the board, do you hear me?” she was adorable when irritated; especially by silly things such as those.
You only scrunched your nose at her, trying to keep your smile at bay, before Morticia asked you to accompany her inside. Lurch had already vanished and the darkness was thickening at every passing moment.
You were shown to your room, where you both were to shower and prepare for dinner. Your things were on the bench at the end of the bed, both suitcases carefully piled not to fall.
“So,” Larissa walked into the room after Morticia closed the door, “What do you think?”
“Of what? Her? The mansion? Answers may vary severely.”
“Entertain me with your reasoning.” She arched a brow and sat on the bed, looking more relaxed than a few instants before and clearly amused.
“First, if we were together, I would have killed that woman already,” you began, and she laughed.
“Jealous, much?”
“You don’t understand! The way she looks at me and talks to you makes my skin tingle, not in the good way! Someone has to teach her good manners, you’re mine!” it slipped, it completely slipped, and you scrambled for something to say to fix it, “Supposedly, I mean!” you felt your cheeks already burning, “You know what I meant…” you descended, defeated. With any luck her mind didn’t even go there in the first place.
“And second, the mansion is creepy paradise. I love it. I mean who has on-suit bathrooms in their ‘second’ guest room? Are you kidding me?”
Larissa hummed, taking off her shoes and letting her hair loose, “Morticia did marry into a good life,” she mused.
She looked so beautiful like that, you couldn’t speak for a while. She was the picture of homely comfort, of domesticity. You felt so privileged to see her in anything other than her professional self. You had to acquire Vlad some AB Positive to thank him.
“Do you want to go first? I’d like to rest a bit before getting ready,” her voice was soft, and you were engulfed by the need to kiss her silly into the comfortable-looking bed she sat at. However, you only nodded stiffly and went to the bathroom, leaving her to lie down and decompress for a while, she would need it if Morticia planned a five-course dinner as she said.
The bathroom was almost half the size of your quarters at the academy, with a bathtub and separate shower space, double vanity and an enormous mirror with a black gothic frame. You were torn between feeling amazed and vexed at the blunt display of wealth, but the thrill of having it at your disposal overpowered all else.
After a long, hot shower, your muscles were singing praise to Morticia and all her descendants, blessing them for expensive supplies and relaxing steam.
Just before entering the bedroom, you remembered not taking any clothes with you. There were two tidily rolled robes between the sinks, so you wouldn’t leave completely bare, but the thought of wearing close to nothing in the same space as Larissa made your stomach turn. It would have to do.
You steeled yourself before opening the door, taking a deep breath and tightening the belt. When you entered the room, all the air you took escaped your lungs in a slow, fond realization: she fell asleep. Larissa had taken off her jacket and lay on her side across the bed, one hand close to her face and the other loose over her middle. She looked so peaceful. She must have been tired from driving; that and the bad sleep you probably caused her by making her think you wanted out of the plan. It was becoming more and more difficult not to kiss her, hug her, lie with her and smother her with love and care. You thought it was all just a passing fancy for your boss, but every second that passed made you question if that was all it really was.
Cleaning your throat, you busied yourself with opening your suitcase. “I’m done, Larissa… if you want to go now, you can” you tried to sound less strangled and only half-succeeded.
Her adorable “Hm?” right before fully waking made your heart clench.
“Right, yes, thank you.” She said absentmindedly before getting a change of clothes, like any normal person, and going to the bathroom.
While you were readying yourself, a knock came at the door. Larissa was still in the shower, so you prepared to ask whomever it was to wait.
“Mrs Addams. Hello,” it was Morticia, of course.
“I just wanted to pass and see if you’re comfortable. Is Larissa inside?” she tried to look over your shoulder into the room.
“She’s having a shower,” you felt suddenly protective and half closed the door so the only thing she could see was you.
She arched an eyebrow at your comment. “So you aren’t…” she smiled, looking off into the distance for a while as if her musings were much more interesting than finishing her sentence or you understanding what she meant.
“We aren’t what?” you snapped, not meaning to sound so annoyed.
She shifted her gaze at you instantly, looking surprised with your intromission. “Aren’t intimate enough to have it together.” She only smiled at that, smugly, and turned to go. “Oh, and dinner will be ready in half an hour, so tell her, you know, through the other side of the door, to hurry.” And then she was off.
