#jay doctor come help me🥺

[hoonvrs]

i feel sick

[storiumemporium]

In the Haze of a Crimson Lust II

Viktor/Vampire!Reader/Jayce

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(HERE'S PART TWO! I don't know that this would count as plot heavy, mostly it's just worldbuilding at this stage- partially fueled by my terrible decision to read Flowers for Algernon while writing this- but she sure does fucking HURT. Enjoy!!!)

TAG LIST:

@hikariflower4 @hr-nm-grnd-zr @queerkittycat @dreamtogether2000

(P.S. I don't know if you're still inchrested but here's part 2 of that Vamp Fic @arcanescribbles 🥺👉👈)

Viktor and Jayce attempt to stop your condition from progressing, things take a rapid turn for the worst.

Jayce has never seen Viktor look so small before.

Viktor, a pillar of pride and genius, a man who has never let the world drag him under, wilted away before him. He doesn't need Viktor to say it, he just stares with big, hopeless, frightened eyes and Jayce's stomach falls away into the void.

"Jay—" his voice breaks, Jayce sees bright, panicked tears bubbling up in Viktor's eyes as he forces himself deeper into the lab, looking for a seat. Jayce abandons his work, as if it hadn't existed.

He slams into Viktor maybe a little harder than he intends to, arms coming to squeeze the man tightly enough around the waist and back that he lifts clear off the ground, and rather than his usual grumbling, Jayce can hear his crutch clatter to the ground, left in favor of wrapping his arms around Jayce's neck. He hiccups, and Jayce's heart fractures.

"Hey, hey... We'll fix it, okay? We solved Hextech, right? We can do this too. She'll be okay."

"We- we don't have enough time, enough resources- this isn't our expertise-"

"Vik, we aren't mages either, but we did it. Have faith in me- in us."

Jayce wouldn't admit it then, not for many years- but he manages to keep a false calm entirely off the desire to protect Viktor, trying his best to be for his partner what Viktor had been for him so many years ago. The realization that you... that you were dying, it's like being forced under water- it's like he's a little boy again, caught in a blizzard.

He helps Viktor toward a chair- the one Jayce had been in himself when Viktor burst through the door, and fetches his cane as Viktor attempts to collect himself, tears spilling over silently as he wipes them with frustration.

"Where is she now? Is she...conscious..?" Jayce can hear his own fear creaking through when he asks.

"I-" Viktor runs a trembling hand through his hair. "I panicked."

"Vik..?"

"She- she was- she spoke of going to the Enforcers...of telling them about her condition."

"They would've taken her to Stillwater..."

"They would have killed her, Jayce." All Viktor could think of, in that moment, is you being snatched away from him- of you, alone in a cold, dark, prison-made-hospice, withering away, rotting while impersonal and frightened nurses and doctors poked and prodded at you, making at best half-hearted attempts to save you.

If you- if you were going to go, he wanted it to be in your bed, with him, under warm heavy blankets and in your comfortable clothes. Surrounded by things you loved, just the way he wanted.

The calm he so carefully had been trying to build up cracks again, the fragile twine of his psyche is unspooling, tears rising, and Viktor startles at the feeling of big, heavily calloused hands on his face.

Jayce is rubbing the delicate skin just beneath his eyes, a soothing little back and forth for Viktor to focus on, he can see the twinge of pink in Jayce's own eyes as he squeezes Viktor's face gently.

"I locked her in our bedroom." He finally admits, hoarse. "She was asleep when I left so I swapped the lock around. She can't get out."

"Alright...alright." He's nodding to himself now, and Viktor can see the fire start in his eyes. "C'mon, Vik. We've got a plan to hatch."

—

Viktor... you stupid, sweet man.

You're laying against the door now- crawled off your bed to it after struggling too hard to stand- having woken up to find that he's imprisoned you. You take a guess that he didn't like your suggestion to go to the authorities.

Your mind rolls back to the realization of what was happening to you, just hours before. The way he'd gone shock still and stared and stared at you like he couldn't fathom it- like every fiber of his being was rejecting the very notion, the thought that something so terrible had befallen you. The way he'd crumbled after the words left your mouth.

You understood- of course you did... But this wasn't just about you. People could die.

People have died.

You feel in some way better but also worse than you did early that night, if only because you have context for the illness rampaging through your system now, heedless of the way you're toppling down around it's wrath. Or perhaps reveling in it.

With the sun finally truly rising up in the sky, light has become fucking unbearable in a way words could not describe, the blinds and curtains zero solace- serving instead to mock the way your eyes scream and your head throbs against the assault. You'd stumbled over there awhile ago, hand clamped tightly over your eyes as you used all your feeble, feverish strength to push a heavy old bookshelf in front of the offending window. It hadn't cured the problem, but you felt like you could breathe again.

But the illness is still taking it's toll, you're hyperaware of the sun blazing in underneath the door, so harshly it feels as if you should find a floodlight on the other side instead of the lazy morning light you were used to. The kind of haze you used to wake up inside of with crusted eyes, ready to complain until you'd feel a sweet pair of lips against the corner of your mouth. It fills you with an odd anxiety, not being able to stand day like this. You don't know why you're even concerned, seeing as you're dying, but it's still there, suffocating you.

The hunger has reclaimed your stomach as well, you've noticed. Settling in against the pits like a lead weight that makes your muscles tense. Before the last twenty-four hours, you'd never felt any kind of hunger like this before, a starvation that makes you cagey and unpredictable, even for yourself.

It startled you to nausea, laying in that bathtub staring at the man you loved so, so much, to realize that the frantic pounding you'd heard had not been your own heart racing, but that of Viktor's, fluttering in his pretty chest. Your ears so keen, so sensitive now that if you face your ear to him, you could hear the blood moving through his veins. Like the disease was warping your body, adapting you to listen for the gentle sounds of life, fresh meat for the feast.

Warm blood, if the story Viktor told you is true to life.

You know, already, that this isn't going to go well, it's something you resigned yourself to the very moment you'd realized it. You had to because you knew Viktor wouldn't, and it would get out of control if one of you weren't...realistic. You're just- you're going to keep getting hungrier, and eventually the thin tresses of control you've managed to maintain so far are going to snap. Maybe, if you're lucky, raw meats will sustain you for a brief time- but not forever. It will progress.

You just hope Viktor comes to his senses by then.

The war drum is starting again, getting closer, the beat of life that makes your senses prickle, every inch of your body tightening- and then feel a bone deep fear at that subconscious reaction. Already losing your grip.

It's two sets of heartbeats, two sets of feet- and a third for a cane. Jayce and Viktor are here.

Even from the opposite end of the apartment you can hear Jayce swear- no doubt taking in the sight of the kitchen after your three A.M. fridge raid in the desperate pursuit of satisfaction.

"Vik? Jayce?" You croak out, that fever has you freezing cold and fatigued, cutting you down so that even the effort of speaking has become herculean. They're getting closer, so you slide yourself across the room, away from the door rather pathetically, propping up against the footboard of your bed as the rhythmic tick of the door unlocking meets your sensitive ears.

It's Jayce first, surprisingly, who steps into the room, he looks a bit like he's been shot when his eyes scan the intimate little haven of your home and finds you on the floor, instead of curled up among the blankets and pillows in your bed.

You look haunting, to him.

It's not your clothes and hair, that cling to you through the drench of sweat, it's not the way your pupils are dilated massively- and the way he can see them reflect like a feline, casting the light back at him, or even the fact that your skin was turning gray. No, none of that mattered, not to him.

It's how you try so hard to smile at the two men, and he can see the strain. Something that was so easy, so natural for you, and now forcing even the expression seems to exhaust. You've done nothing but sleep- far as Viktor tells him- and yet, you look so tired.

Like you're already ready to lose the fight.

Jayce approaches you slowly, not entirely sure what to expect from your behavior, only for his shoulders to slouch when he hears you giggle at him. "Not that far gone, just yet." Your voice is rough, the last time he'd heard you like that you'd wandered out in negative zero weather trying to get him his favorite drink, knowing full well how much he dreaded the snow. He'd lectured you for a good fifteen minutes, bundled up in front of the furnace of his forge, about the dangers of weather like that while you just smiled cheerily at him through the chattering of your teeth.

Your eyes, unsettling as they are, become so big and round and soft when you see him bend down, confused by what he's doing until he scoops you up into his arms. You're so small, not like Viktor who is- willowy and sharp angles, all those beautiful edges, no, you're just- tiny, and soft, and sweet, and drenched in sweat and sagging so heavily against him, face slotting against his neck.

Viktor comes up to sandwich you there against him, Jayce watches long fingers wipe away the sweat on your brow, tuck strands of hair behind your ear, check your pulse- and then Viktor's kissing your temple sweetly, and Jayce can see the way his eyes screw shut, brows furrowed.

"I'm sorry for caging you, Mouse. I just... I couldn't let you-"

"I know, Vik... It's okay." You say it softly, and your head tips away from Jayce's neck to look at Viktor through slits. "I'd be the same way, if our roles were switched."

"We need to get you to the labs," he doesn't mean for it to come out in a whisper, but it does- and you sigh, full body and heavy against him, face tucking back in against his neck. It should make him more nervous, he thinks. "It's not gonna be easy, not every day we're just carrying people into the Academy, but we should be able to manage it if we avoid the Enforcers' rotations."

Thoughts swirl around in your head unbidden, like fat, sharp claws raking against your brain.

Just how quickly did this ailment move? How much time did you have left? Is this how it will be, now? Viktor and Jayce sneaking around like criminals for you? How long until they get caught, how severe will the punishment be?

Are you worth all this?

But you aren't given an option, because to them? Yes, you were worth this, more than this, they'd burn Piltover to the ground if it could save you.

—

You're sitting in a ball on Viktor's desk in the lab. You note absently that it's even colder here than it was at the apartment, it's less an observation of feeling, and more simply a fact- like the way you know something is going to burn even without feeling the heat. You're aware of the way your body shakes, but it's not- it doesn't feel as if you are shaking, it's all sort of...out of body. Too captivated are you by the strangeness of your senses, the way the world is the same but not, bent just a little.

Your vision moves in patches of dark and bright, it reminds you of sunrays through water, moving in a hypnotic dance, like a living thing. It makes focusing hard, you find yourself wandering- drifting as you're caught up in the pretty ways the light dances, and each time your gaze snaps to some random corner of the lab Viktor and Jayce make odd expressions- but- you can't seem to hold focus long enough to piece together what it is. Your hearing is stronger than you realized, footsteps and drum-drum-drum of heartbeats, whistling and talking, sweet laughter that makes you smile, life is moving around you and you are privy of it in a way you never have been before, you decide you like it.

Even your touch has altered.

It's subtle, at least for now. The world seems to move around you wrong, liquid-y. Things push against you like waves, and you think you could follow the trails long after the thing that created them has left. It's like- you, and a pond, the pond is very very still- so still that when a droplet hits the water it ripples perfectly. You cannot tell if you're the droplet or the body of water.

You're staring at Viktor's bookshelf now, it's something you'd helped him stock for late nights in- you worried that maybe he'd get too restless trying to puzzle out some equation and not have a healthy distraction, a means to breathe.

Now it looks so different. The lights are dancing around it, catching off the books and making little lightshows that are impossibly fascinating in the moment.

You feel the ripple, and your head snaps to Viktor- who tried valiantly to not jump, but you still saw it, all the way down into his fingers, the way the muscles contract and tighten with shock. That hand is outstretched, he was going to touch you.

"Mouse..." he swallows thickly, and tries again. "Where did you go, sweet? You keep disappearing on me."

You lower your legs, slowly, and push yourself forward until your feet rest on either side of his thighs. He's smiling at you sweetly, but you can see the relentless concern there.

"Sorry, Vik. I know I'm supposed to be helping- I just-" how do you even begin to explain..? "I-I cant really uh- put it to words. Things are sort of- different."

"I'd imagine so, with the reports we've gotten." Jayce says softly, and he has it within him to even sound a little amused, something that makes you smile.

Viktor's hands wrap around your ankles, and he's rubbing softly with his thumbs. "Stay with me, mm? How do you feel?"

You nod at him, and twiddle with the laces of your stained pajama pants. The stain has taken on a...bizarre coloration.

It's not just pink anymore, but rather feathered with lilac striations that remind you of ice on a window. You watch it for awhile longer, and note with some awe that the lilac seems to be spreading before your very eyes- as if you're watching the stain age very rapidly.

"Mouse?"

Your eyes snap back up, Viktor's hands have stilled, Jayce has stilled, they're both just staring at you, and they look concerned. "Hm? Sorry?"

Viktor sounds a bit grave when he whispers your name. "Please... what's happening..?"

Your mouth goes dry with understanding, they're not concerned- just, concerned. They're scared.

"D-do you see-?" You gesture a little helplessly at the stain, and Viktor leans forward to inspect.

"Yes... I- I suspect that's from the steaks, no?"

"Not that-" you shake yourself off, your own fear making agitation rise. "Do you see the...the colors?"

"What?"

"It's- it's turning- purple, in like... these patterns." Your hands flail a bit for effect, and you're aware that every word that leaves your mouth is making it worse, not better.

"Viktor... Viktor she's- she's progressing very-"

"I know." Viktor's voice is cold. "I know."

"Is it because of where I was..?"

They both look to you, as if suddenly reminded that you are in fact there to hear this.

"I-I mean, I was next to the blast, yeah? It's why I ended up buried in the rubble. They had to pull all kinds of shrapnel and things out of me..." You touch wounds that aren't even fully healed yet. "Is it progressing faster because I got more of it than the others?"

Viktor and Jayce sink together into their mechanical minds- retreating to the safety of logic in the face of you unspooling before them.

"Yes, it's likely. More contaminants in your body, it's spreading faster."

"But would that mean we could hypothetically catch it in the process of infecting her?"

"Perhaps, yes. We could draw a sample, observe it's behaviors. Perhaps... create something to counteract it."

And that's how you see your new blood for the first time.

As expected- it comes out thicker than it should, and it's already turned several shades darker than blood should be, but by the samples littered about in this room, it was nowhere near its darkest.

Viktor and Jayce share a look, and then they're examining it under a microscope.

"Is it... Crystallizing?"

"That can't be, she would be hemorrhaging blood right now."

"Then what is that—"

You feel ill.

All the prettiness is starting to close in on you, aggressive and distressingly sudden. The ripples feel like torrents and the lights have gotten all too bright again, less like melodious ripples and more like searing tracks that should be burning the stone.

Noises, noises, noises, all around. You feel yourself panicking, it's too much- it feels like you're in danger.

And then it stirs.

The hunger.

But it doesn't make its bed within your stomach, no, it calls your chest home, and it's squeezing around your heart in a way that hurts. All those heartbeats- they call out to you, too close and too far away. You want to reach out, to grab them- sink your teeth in.

You're off the table and halfway to the labs doors when they notice.

Jayce, thankfully, is faster than he looks.

You're not moving right, he notices, it doesn't seem impeded or in any way like you're ill- it's just, odd and rhythmic, like you're dancing along to something- or maybe trying to move out of the way of things he doesn't see. Nevertheless he gets close and you notice, taking off as fast as you can for the door and he knows in that moment-

Oh.

No.

He barely gets you by the back of your shirt and you snarl, it's not an impersonation done by a human, either, it's this deep throaty thing that rumbles and gurgles and no one could make a sound like that.

Then you're lunging at him and he has to take you by your throat. You're clean off the ground and seem completely unfazed by it, scratching aggressively at his arms. Even through all the padding, it stings a little.

Viktor shouts at the sight, and throws himself into the fray.

He knows better than to try and talk you down, you're utterly vacant in the eyes- so he does something that makes him want to cry for the third or fourth time that day.

He sedates you, heavily.

You make an odd, awful noise, and then go slack within Jayce's hands. He falls with you.

You're bundled up into his arms, and he furrows his brows hard, willing the panic attack he feels coming on to go away, not now not now not-

Viktor throws something.

Several things, in fact.

All of it's heavy and metal, nothing that would break, but it clatters like gunshots all around the room and it's paired with the awful, awful cries of Viktor's rage, vicious and breaking on the edges, almost shrill. He's slamming his hands down on the table hard enough he knows Viktor's hands will hurt later, and he's swearing more colorfully than he's ever heard from the man before.

And then he slumps, and slides to the floor.

He curls partially into a ball, a hand tugging painfully at his hair, and he stares at you- at Jayce, from the corner of his eye.

The two of you could make a painting.

Something domestic, and lovely, Viktor thinks. You're still in your nightclothes and you look peaceful and gentle wrapped up in Jayce's big, strong arms. He's rocking you tenderly, and if Viktor ignores the way Jayce is twitching and the way a nervous sweat is breaking out on his skin, he could picture that Jayce is just sharing an intimate, private moment with you.

Idly, Viktor wonders if maybe you wouldn't be dying in front of him right now, if you'd picked Jayce instead of him.

"She's progressing too fast." Viktor says it with unnatural flatness. "She's not going to make it."

"Don't- don't say that." Jayce is still looking down at you, in his arms. He sees veins in your face that weren't there before, the way almost all color has left you.

"She's going to die." He croaks, and falls the rest of the way to the floor, curling up into a ball.

All it had taken was one day, just one day for everything to come crashing down.

—

When you come to you know you don't have long left.

You can feel it coursing through you, everything is getting so hard to move, heavy and unresponsive.

You're back in the apartment, and terrified.

Why would they bring you here of all places?

Why didn't they just kill you, now that they've seen you're already out of control?

Especially with what they knew you'd become, here before long.

Someone is laying next to you.

You turn your head, and in a mirror of that fateful night a mere few weeks ago, Viktor is there. But there's no Jayce to be found.

Viktor is asleep, for a moment you pretend that nothing is wrong, that this is just another one of those rare, sweet times you wake up before your Tinker does, and get to watch the way his lashes flutter, eyes roving behind lids. He was always so restless, even when he slept, it's that big, ambitious brain of his.

You stifle a gasp when you feel your heart jolt, painfully. Everything feels off and not in the way it had been before. This is more desperate, more human.

You- you'd thought- you knew you didn't have long but-

Already..?

You stroke Viktor's face, gentle, tracing the hollow of his cheek. It didn't used to be so severe, so gaunt. Not until he'd collapsed.

It was something you'd forced yourself to make peace with, months ago. Receiving the prognosis. The condolences.

Your Viktor was dying, is dying. You'd watched it, too, watched the transition as his body needed more and more support, the coughing fits and the nights where he'd wheeze so loud you couldn't sleep, so you'd stare up at the ceiling and weep.

But you knew it was okay, that you'd be okay, for him. So that he could go easily, so he wouldn't spend his last moment worrying.

You feel the tears welling up now. You let them spill over easily.

You barely speak it to the air, quiet so you don't wake him from his sleep.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry- I'm so so sorry Viktor..." Your body shakes with the effort to keep from fully sobbing.

It's the kind of guilt that makes you breathless. The cruel realization that, you'd spent all that time coming to terms with the loss of Viktor, and now you were going to die first.

You were going to leave him, to suffer alone until his illness takes him.

It wasn't supposed to go this way. Even as a selfish part of you revels in the fact that you won't have to lose him, the rest aches. You were going to be there for him, be his rock, hold him and kiss him and tell him you love him, pet his hair that way he likes, you were going to spend his last days in lazy peace, relaxed and happy and laughing over fond memories.

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

He would be alone now. Terribly alone. Growing sicker, alone. Dealing with the fear, alone. Suffering. Alone.

You hoped that maybe, just maybe, Jayce would fill in the role you'd so cruelly dumped on him, now.

The tears keep coming for awhile, staining the pillows heavy as you beg him to forgive you for this, like a religious woman might her God. There was nothing greater than Viktor, in your life.

You force yourself onto your side, heavy like lead, and kiss his forehead, his cheek, his beauty marks, and his lips. Featherlight, stopping only when he starts to briefly stir.

Then, you force yourself up to your desk, and write Viktor a letter.

When he wakes, you're gone.

[slothspaghettiwrites]

Hey Sloth! So, your girl has been sick all day with food poisoning (food for though: never eat from a gas station). To make me feel better, I was wondering if you had any headcanons on how your characters would treat, take care of, or respond to a sick reader 🥺. I know you are probably busy, so if you are feel free to disregard 😊✌️

I am currently so fucking unwell and just wanna feel babied and better. Sorry I didn't get to this sooner.

Lee Bodecker -

Doesn't take the day off work, but makes sure you are set up in bed with whatever you need until lunch time; water, crackers, a hot beverage, a crossword puzzle, medicine. He watches you take the first dose because yeah it's gross but you'll feel better if you just take it. Comes home at lunch with hot soup (weather/time of year doesn't matter, hot soup makes everything better) and sits with you while you eat it. Watches you take more medicine. Comes home in the evening with more soup. Spends the rest of the night take care of you, makes sure you take a nice hot bath or have hot shower before bed to help you feel better.

Bucky Barnes -

Full Mother Hen mode activated. At the first sniffle, sneeze, cough, tummy groan, Bucky is transported back to the 1930/40's and taking care of Steve. Instinct kicks in. He puts you right to bed and layers on the covers with very strict orders to not get up unless necessary. Some of his methods are a bit out dated, but he means well. And because he's a super soldier and doesn't get sick, he has no problem being an absolute cuddle monster when you are sick. Will carry you anywhere you need to go. Will tell Sam he can't go on a mission if you are sick.

Tony Stark -

He will go overboard. That's just how he is, but he means well. Masks and gloves will be worn until you are better. JARVIS has your doctor's phone line queued up in case you need to see a professional. Tony has definitely bothered Bruce quite a lot about what could be causing you to get sick. Tony Stark doesn't get sick, so if you are sick who knows what's happening in the tower. Everything is cleansed. Provides a lot of moral support from a distance, but gets lonely very quickly. Will cuddle you with a full surgical get up he's stolen from Strange. But hey, you're doped up on some really lush high grade meds, so that's a plus. Tony makes sure your favourite things are set up to play on the TV and that he's just one word from Jay away from you. Sends out the Iron Legion instead of going on missions, will host private and confidential meetings at your bedside.