#adam Frankenstein x reader

[jester-lover]

Can The Creature from Frankenstein cuddle me?

Yes. Yes he can. He can cuddle all of us (particularly me, I need it)

All the fluff, a little warning for self deprecating behavior from our boy

The Creature Cuddle Headcanons!

First of all, this is a very touch starved boy

And also maybe a little bit scared of touch

The creature fears he may hurt you anytime he gets near you, so to have you request his attention? It seems like a dream come true for him.

He lays down next to you at first, heedlessly looking at you and placing a shaking hand on yours, engulfing it completely

The next move must be yours, hold him, caress his beautiful black hair, run your fingers across his scarred skin

“How can you stare at my horrific form as if I am something beautiful?”

Show him how stunning he is!

The creature will get the hang of it by that point, wrapping his arms around you with the utmost gentleness and pressing you up to his chest

His clumsy fingers will draw lines and circles on your back as you feel yourself drifting off into a comfortable and warm sleep

And when you do fall asleep, he will stare at you in awe and wonder

A human being trusting him enough with themselves to fall asleep on top of his ghastly form?

It means so much to him that you would trust him so deeply

Deep enough that you wrap yourself around him and trust him with your safety

The Creature can feel a sense of protectiveness bubble up in his chest, as he wraps his arms around you and drifts off

“A spirit of benevolence lives within you like nothing I’ve seen before…”

[spaceagebachelormann]

What if Jekyll and Hyde (and Adam Frankenstein help I am falling in love...) had a short S/O... Like barely five foot tall... She's so small

✧.* 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋, 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐒/𝐎

╰┈➤ MASTERLIST. NAVIGATION.

╰┈➤ CARMILLAS NOTES : RAHHH I REWATCHED BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN TODAY

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: mentions of death

𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋

he thinks you’re so cute

he doesn’t really make fun of you and when he does it’s not even really making fun of you

likes to wrap his arms around your shoulders/waist from behind and lean his chin on your head/shoulder

if you ask him to grab something for you off a top shelf he does it with no hesitation

literally reaches up and hands it to you without you even needing to ask

he himself is like 6’1 ish so the height difference is really funny

when you’re sitting down he likes to stand behind you and talk about whatever and run his hands over your arms and shoulders

when you’re laying in bed with him he’ll always his your head on his chest and an arm wrapped around you

you’re literally the cutest thing ever in his eyes and he tells you non stop

𝐄𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄

he’s like barely taller than you (canonically like 5’2. i’m 5’1) and he’s never been more proud of his height after finding out

most likely only an inch taller but is so smug about it

but he glared at you like you’ve horribly wronged him when you ask him to get you something

as funny as it is to harass you for your height, he makes it very clear only he’s allowed to do it

when you guys walk around in public he probably puts an arm around your shoulders every once in awhile to remind you he’s still taller

he loves you but he loves that he’s taller than someone for once even more

but when someone in the street points out your (or his) height they never see the light of day ever again. actually they don’t see anything at all because they get killed

although his love language is gift giving because you’re shorter than him sometimes he likes to push the hair out of your face and lean down and just kiss your forehead

also definitely does that thing where he squishes your face

𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍

as cute as you are to him your height lowkey scares him

he’s about eight feet tall and insanely strong so your height kind of worries him

extremely careful around you

when he hugs you he very gently and very carefully rests one hand on top of your head and the other on your back and doesn’t dare to even move or tighten his grip out of fear that you’re gonna snap in half

his hugs are amazing though

and of course he grabs the things off the tall shelf he’s not a monster

sometimes he even lifts you onto his shoulder to let you get it yourself and see the world at a new angle but he is oh so careful not to drop you

when he isn’t fearing for your life and his sanity about your life possibly ending he likes when you just lay on him because you look so tiny and comfortable

[skeletons-and-roses]

Imagine:

Making out with your F/O who has long hair 😳

[edenminx]

Oh no bro i dropped my air pod no my airpods i dropped my airpod…mann my airpods i dropped my airpods

[miscelliteeous]

SO it turns out I have even more thoughts on him than I realized, like I wrote 14k words about him and I still have so much more to say so here’s some headcanons that didn’t really fit anywhere. NOT WORKSAFE, but this covers a wide range of topics, with the nsfw stuff being only like 1/4th of them.

Adam Frankenstein Headcanons

- General:

He’s a stew guy, like that’d be his go-to meal if he could have it. He likes that no matter what it always tastes a little different than the last time and how easily it can be modified with different ingredients plus it warms him and makes him feel cared for.

Gets cold easily and gets colder than most people can handle, though he still prefers to be wrapped up in something warm.

His voice is deep and can vary between gravelly and raspy, though it gets a tiny bit higher when he’s upset or extremely passionate about something.

Tends to mutter under his breath and talk to himself a little when he’s working on figuring out something complicated.

He can be a bit impulsive and it often bites him in the ass, but he’s working on it.

Has absolutely NO care for looking how men are expected to look at that time in society.

His hair gets very poofy and wavy when it’s taken out of a wet braid.

He has thin skin, and though he heals relatively quickly, he also scars very easily and bleeds easily too.

Will read anything and everything he can get his hands on. He wants to learn about the world as much as possible.

His favorite fiction genre is romance, and he likes big, toxic all-consuming romances and thinks they’re the height of romance. He’s a Heathcliff stan (hey, he’s gotta have SOME bad qualities, am I right?).

Not the best at singing, can’t really stay on tune, but he enjoys singing when happy and alone. Gets very embarrassed if caught.

Animals either adore him or despise him, there is no in-between.

Has a habit of slouching over when standing, to seem just a little shorter.

Feels emotions very intensely. He’s never just sad, he’s devastated, he’s never just angry, he’s furious, he’s never just happy, he’s overjoyed. It’s something he’s working on.

- Romantic:

He has a habit of staring at the one he loves for a long time, blinking very minimally.

Adam doesn’t like to be far away from you, and will follow you around like a lost puppy.

Very much would prefer to have some part of him touching you at all times, usually handholding.

Takes him a while to get used to you touching him as opposed to him touching you, but once he does, he melts.

Braid his hair! It’s practical, its cute, it says fuck you to fashion trends of the time, and it’d make him smile. Braid! His! Hair!

Loves the idea of helping out with mundane tasks, like he’ll cook and sew and be so very gentle when brushing your hair.

Uses so many little terms of endearments, the more reverence they show to you the better. He wants you to know he puts you on a pedestal and practically worships you.

One thing that will piss him off quickly (unless you’ve maybe asked him to please hold back ahead of time) is someone insulting you. He’d be ready to go off on them in a scary way within seconds.

Ideal sleeping position: curled up around you like a pill-bug. He’s big enough that he can probably wrap his body entirely around you and would want to do that every night if he could. Horrible for both of your backs.

If you braid his hair (which you should!) he would want to braid yours in return if possible.

Tends to stand behind you when in public. Partially out of shyness, partially to serve as a warning to others to not fuck with you.

When he’s standing behind you in public? The slouch is GONE, he is eight feet of glaring intensity, like a pissed off lighthouse behind a tiny cottage.

Really doesn’t like anyone else touching you and would get a bit more clingy even if it was a purely platonic touch.

Honestly he’s very possessive. He’s found one person in the world who loves HIM, flaws and all, and he doesn’t want to risk losing you.

Tells you he loves you at least 4-5 times a day, including any time you leave a room he’s in.

- Sexual:

You know that image of the hamster eating a banana? You’re the hamster.

Massive, ridiculously large dick that’s still in proportion so it doesn’t look too crazy huge, but it’s still probably about 9-10 inches hard, 7-8 flaccid.

Absolutely aware of how big he is, and takes every step he can think of to make things easier, though it might still be tricky at first.

Adam prefers positions where he can see your face.

Very vocal, tries to hold back sometimes but fails, very loud.

Says anything that comes to his mind, most of which is just really over-the-top praise for you and how you make him feel.

He’s close to 400lbs of muscle, but very mindful of his body so that he doesn’t hurt you. Even if he lays on you he’d still be supporting himself mostly.

Not really fond of mirrors being involved. He’d love to see different angles of you, but himself? Not so much.

Thinks he’s going to die and ascend to heaven when he first gets a blowjob. Though he loves it, he prefers to give rather than receive, he wouldn’t want to hurt your jaw.

Not much aftercare the first time because he doesn’t know as much about it, but once he learns he’s a king.

Cleans you up, gives you a massage, water, holds you, praises you (even more!), makes sure you’re okay and that you enjoyed it too. He would melt if you do the same for him too.

- Familial/Paternal:

Ideally, he would have two children, he would love to be father to a boy and girl, but he would be happy with any amount or none at all and taking care of pets instead. He just wants to raise and care for something the way Victor never raised and cared for him.

So indecisive with names, like there’s so many good names he would want to use, he’d probably leave it mostly up to you.

The one name he’d really want to use? The second he hears the name Abigail means something like “my father is joyful” he jumps for it because that’s exactly how he feels about being a father.

So scared to hold the baby for a good while. He’s just so big and they’re so small and if he accidentally hurt them he’d never forgive himself.

Hovers around the baby though and still holds its little hand. As close as he can get without holding them.

Once he gets over that, he’s a very attentive father.

Very high chance any of his kids would have his black hair and some of his facial features. He’d hope they would have your eyes though.

Lets his kids climb all over him, pull his hair, swing on his arms, anything just as long as they don’t get hurt.

Very encouraging of them to explore and learn new things but also a bit of helicopter dad.

Torn between wanting to keep his kid/s safe from the world and wanting them to be able to do anything they set their mind to.

While not quite 8ft, I think any kids he would have would still grow to be a bit taller than average.

[revoltingcreation]

Dancing with Adam Frankenstein

(Second post!! I love my boy so much. I didn’t know if i should stick to the writing style Mary Shelley uses, or do mine, but I’ll try and make Adam speak like he does in the book. Gender neutral reader who wears a suit!!)

You waited patiently at the door, he should be here any second now. When you first brought up the whole idea of a ‘date’ he was quite surprised. After all, he was ostracized his whole life, a wretch, who would want to be with somebody like him? You did, and you were going to make sure he knew that.

You could see a tall figure in the darkness, prompting you to stand up straight. Adjusting your suit as fast as you were able to, you heard a familiar voice.

“Y/N!” He called out.

“Adam,” You laid your eyes on the creature, and lord was he handsome. You had only seen him in his usual attire, the rags he was created with. But a suit? It was a little tight, most likely due to how tall he was. Nonetheless, he was gorgeous. “you look magnificent.”

“Thank you, you do as well.” He smiled.

Eying him up and down once more, “Might I ask where you got your suit? I’m curious.”

“This is Henry’s, he let me borrow it for tonight.”

“I see, I’ll have to thank him later.” You smirked. Adam didn’t understand what you meant, keeping the same smile on his face. Suddenly, you took his hand, “Now let’s go, we shouldn’t wait too long.” Adam didn’t get a chance to reply as you walked right into the ballroom, taking in the grand scenery. You had managed to rent the whole place for a couple hours, so Adam wouldn’t have to deal with all the people there. As much as you want to flaunt your dear companion, you didn’t want him to get hurt more than he already has.

“Do you like it?” You asked, looking up at him. His eyes were wide, scanning the whole room.

“Yes, this…this is beautiful.” You could feel him squeeze your hand in excitement. “Wonderful!” He cheered.

“Adam, would you like to dance with me?” That pulled him out of his trance, directing his gaze to you. He struggled to speak, trying to comprehend what you just asked him.

“Dance?”

“Yes,” you chuckled, “I’ve been practicing in secret to prepare for this.”

“I-I’m afraid I won’t be any good, Y/N.”

“That’s alright.” You inched towards the center of the ballroom, taking Adam with you. “Just try not to step on my feet.”

“I’ll do my best. For you, my dear.”

[silverbladexyz]

Stormbringer masterlist

Bold = oneshot

The Flags:

The Flags comforting you while you’re on your period (hcs, fluff)

Comforting reader who couldn’t sleep after watching a scary show

Flags with a fem!S/O who is like a mom girlfriend

Flags with an S/O who is soft on the inside

Flags walking in on S/O playing the violin

Flags going to the beach with reader

When S/O asks them ‘Would you still love me if I was a worm?’

Reacting to S/O wearing their clothes

With an S/O who's like present!Dazai

First kiss headcanons + Chuuya

With a female S/O who demands princess treatment

Pianoman:

Dolce

Pianoman with a reader who actually plays the piano

Reader teaching Pianoman how to play a piano duet

First kiss with Pianoman (suggestive)

Lippmann:

Lippmann reacting to his S/O watching a movie he starred in

Doc:

Relationship hcs with an ADA!reader

Iceman:

With an S/O who has a pet kitty

Rimbaud:

You look cold... want a hug?

Walking in on S/O playing the violin

With an S/O who's like present!Dazai

A gift for you

Verlaine:

Family ties

With an S/O who suddenly initiates random physical contact

Mon Amour

Walking in on S/O playing the violin

Adam:

Android joke

With an S/O who suddenly initiates random physical contact

Boyfriend headcanons

[dross-the-fish]

Please please please

fem pronouns anon comforting Adam after Dorian Gray. Angst to fluff, if it's not asking to much a romantic kiss and some spice?

I will fucking PAY you if you give me this.

Feel free to tip me via my Kofi if you like it. This is actually going to cover about 3 of the drabble requests. 2 of them were specifically for fem-pronouns anon comforting Adam after the Dorian incident so this should cover quite a few bases.

....

Following the incident at Dorian Gray’s mansion I retreated into a state of semi-solitude. I rarely left my quarters and only came down when I required food or when I was needed for some duty that could not be handled without my great strength. To describe my mood as morose in recent days was inadequate. I was consumed by a stew of miserable emotions such that I had scarcely felt before. Dorian had accomplished something no other ever had. He’d made me feel small. Even Victor, hurling abuses at me, had never managed to strip me of my pride the way Gray had. I misliked the feeling and there was a deep need within me to show Dorian Gray that I was not to be trifled with. I’m sure he thought that one so ugly as myself must be grateful for crumbs, that I would simply tolerate his mistreatment of me because he was fair of face and I was not.

It was true that I was too easily moved by beauty, but I was not so foolish as to allow myself to be enslaved. I had proven as much and I longed to do more still. There was a desire in me to grasp Dorian’s pretty head by those golden curls and hold his face into a scorching pyre until he came away as wretched and grotesque as myself. Can one still smile so cruelly if they no longer have lips? Perhaps I would hate him less if he were charred and forced to walk the world in the new face I’d given him. My own brand on him, showing off my “conquest.”

And yet, there was some part of me that could not relish the thought as much as I wanted. I knew that no amount of fire could ever burn away the touch of his hands from my skin.

I do not like to be mastered.

There was still more to the matter. Loathe though I am to admit it, what had drawn me to Dorian’s beauty was how much he had resembled the others. The bride, the child, the face in the locket. Golden hair, blue eyes, and rosy-pale skin, mocking me and taunting me with that which I could never have, reminding me with their loveliness that I was monstrous. They had all looked upon me with horror and fear. It was foolish of me to think Dorian might look at me with tenderness instead. It had not occurred to me that there could come a day where someone, lacking in fear of me, would choose to dangle that which I craved before my eyes and use it to mock me.

One thing was for certain, I would not allow him to walk away from this unscathed.

 It was in this state of pensive melancholy that Anon found me, seated by the fire place in a comfortable chair that had been built to accommodate my large size. When I glanced over at her she took a halting step back. I willed my face to soften, aware that I must have looked dreadful in my enraged state.

“I-I just wanted to check on you. I brought some tea” she stammered, holding out a tray for me to see.

I lifted a hand and gestured for her to approach, sharply, crooking my fingers inward towards my palm “Fine, I will allow it. Come here,” I was, perhaps, more curt than I had intended for it took her a moment to summon her courage before she crossed the room. She paused again half way and glanced back at the door. Clearly she was having second thoughts…

I fought to keep from saying something harsh. In my current state of emotional rawness her hesitance risked raising my ire. Anon was the most recent addition to the group, yet I had hoped in the weeks we’d been together she had become accustomed to me. We had seen each other almost daily and I found her company agreeable, for she was quiet and thoughtful. Though maybe that was only because a certain fear of me kept her reserved. Still, she was making an effort now and she had brought me tea, I could not deny that I felt ingratiated to her for her kindness. I was fond of her, even if she did not yet think me her friend.

She set the tray on the end table beside me. I noticed something intriguing about the arrangement. Something which did much to improve my mood.

“I see you have provided two cups,” I commented, flickering my eyes back at her. Even seated I didn’t need to look up to meet her gaze. When she smiled and nodded, I indicated the vacant chair across from mine.

“Sit, join me. I have been too long in my own head tonight. It will do me good to have company,” recalling Dr. Watson’s lessons on courtesy and feeling slightly guilty over my gruffness, I took to filling both cups and even managed a smile as I handed hers to her. I was a gentleman now. I must not forget that. Watson had stressed to me the importance of conducting myself as a gentleman if I wished to be perceived favorably. He reminded me often to mind myself. Kind as he was it was as if he was afraid that if I forgot for even an instant the fine manners he had taught me I would devolve into a beast. I was sure my behavior at Gray’s breakfast had colored his perception of me.

He hadn’t looked me in the eyes since I had nearly killed Gray.

“I heard about Dorian Gray. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Anon said timidly.

My cup stopped halfway to my lips. I held it there, staring her down as I resisted the urge to curl my lip, “I asked for your company. I don’t need your pity,” It was difficult not to be sharp, my pain was still fresh and my patience thin.

She frowned at me, “It’s not pity. I’ve known people like Dorian Gray! You don’t deserve what he did and it’s not fair that he got away with it!”

I was taken aback by her passion. She had risen from her chair and was standing, hand clenched in a fist with her whole body vibrating. She truly was angry on my behalf. I set my untasted tea down and stared at her in mild shock.

“No, it is not fair and I do not intend to let him get away with it.”

Anon flinched at the cold resolve in my voice. She seemed to mull over her words very carefully before she spoke again, “I don’t think you should go after him. As much as he might have hurt you, I don’t think hurting him back is the answer.”

“What is the answer then?” I snarled, all attempts to be restrained forgotten, “Do I continue to go through life letting people abuse me? Shall I watch every other soul around me experience the joys of good will and compassion while I must be eternally grateful if those individuals do not choose to strike and curse me? Shall I take an absence of outright cruelty as benevolence?! What generous charity it is that people do not beat me or shoot me! Yes! For one as ugly as I it is an act of kindness when those who are themselves beautiful do me the gracious good of withholding their violence!” I had worked myself in to a rage and there was no stopping it until it had run its course, “I will not be content any longer! I tell you this, Anon, if a man dares to strike me again, I will not turn my other cheek to him! It is my teeth he will get! If I am to be made no better than a dog who may eat scraps but never be welcome at the table then I will tear throats!” seeing her cower I quieted, heaving a deep sigh and feeling remorseful for my outburst. At any rate, I was too wearied at the thought of continuing to curry favor with mankind to be passionate any longer.

“I thought when I left the arctic the world would be different, but it is not. Kindness for those like me does not exist outside of this group and even within it I must always be wary of breaking invisible rules lest my tenuously granted humanity be revoked,” I could feel my eyes begin to sting. My heart ached, as it always did when my anger ran its course, “I am so tired…” I confessed brokenly. I held out my hand to her, I was pleading with her and I no longer knew for what.

Her hand met mine and held there. Through the language of touch something passed between us, an understanding that reached me despite myself. Trembling a little I held her gaze and lifted her hand to my lips. I am not a monster. I am a gentleman.

I am…

I am only a man. No more good nor evil than any other despite my countenance.

 I needed someone to see that. I kissed her hand, as delicately as I could with my malformed lips. She never broke my gaze and when I released her, she reached out to touch my face. It was then I shut my eyes. Wanting nothing to exist in the moment but her touch. When she traced the scars of the stitches that had held my skin together. I came undone, tears slipping through my closed eye lids. She kissed my brow, I tilted my face up, silently begging for more. I had no pride left, only a hollow ache that refused to go away.

With the softest, barest, touches her lips lighted against my face. They whispered over my cheeks, fluttered against the tracks of my tears and finally landed once upon my mouth. She drew my head to her shoulder and stroked my hair. I held her to me and cried into the soft material of her blouse. She cried with me. If she lacked in courage before she made up for it now in kindness and what she gave me I took greedily.

She kissed me again, longer, more lingering. My hands found her waist, drawing her closer, needing more of her. There was a growing desperation in my kiss and it was with great reluctance that I finally forced myself to pull back before I took more than had been offered.

“I’m sorry. That was not appropriate,” I stood and straightened, forgetting my cold tea and my brooding.

She grasped my arm  and shook her head “I care about you, Adam. It wasn’t pity that brought me here tonight. It wasn’t fear that made me nervous either,” a blush crept across her cheeks as she confessed shyly.

My shock must have been obvious for she squeezed my arm fervently, “Adam, please-kiss me again?” she asked.

I traced my hand along the curve of her cheek, slowly, almost reverently. I was sure the look on my face must have been akin to wonder, “Are you certain? Is-is it really what you want?” I asked in a low whisper.

She nodded and reached out her arms for me. I gathered her up, lips eagerly meeting hers again. When we parted she gave me a meaningful look and told me that I didn’t need to be alone tonight if I didn’t want it. As I carried her to my bed she wrapped her arms around my neck and promised me that I would never be alone again…

[chocsra]

im in the middle of reading stormbringer and why does nobody talk about adam and chuuyas friendship goals its peak (if there is a certain spoiler ab them do NOT run thy mouth)

ima scrap my old stormbringer fic and can yall tell me which typa fic u want me to write first:

non violent ending obvi but y/n is one of the suspected people thats going to be targeted by verlaine. and so chuuya and adam come to protect her and defeat verlaine. and like chuuya and y/n are sassing each other and chuuyas like "okay i had a shitty week too yknow?? people i actually cared for died and i dont want you to be next!" --everything goes silent and adams like "Master Chuuya, I believe there are better words to articulate your romantic feelings towards y/n, maybe then you can form a relationship after this is all sorted out--" "NO."

dazai is either overseas for a while or disappears off the face of the earth(not uncommon of him) and stormbringer chuuya is given a temporarily partner (y/n). and the dynamic is like "i wish i had a family" "trust me you DONT". at the end chuuya uses corruption and y/n genuinely is like "beautiful. you're beautiful." while she smiles like GENUINELY.

TELL MEEEEE bc i like both of these ideas but idk which to write first!! stormbringer chuu chuu season!

ps. march break is after this week and im sorry for not uploading cus i have like two exams this week along with two essays and one big ass assignment :(

click here to read: heyheyhey

[ozzgin]

Is it just me or can I imagine a yandere with a darling who’s immune system and possibly everything about them just screams weak and pathetic, BUT their darling is actually very strong mentally and has and will create the most fucked up, batshit crazy inventions from what used to be harmless to something that can help them escape and possibly destroy everything in its path.

But at the end of the day, they become sleepy koalas who hug whoever is near them and fall asleep :)

This could be a request or rant, whatever you can think of! I just wanted to see how different yandere writers would interpret this small imagination of mine <3

But as always, stay safe and take care! everyone needs a break some time to time~

Sorry, but the moment I read the Darling's description, I instantly thought of Dr. Finkelstein from Nightmare Before Christmas. You know, Sally's inventor. 😭 So let me quickly write this down while I'm in my Shelley vibes, because I like the idea a lot. With a little twist, if you don't mind. :)

Yandere! Monster x Inventor! Reader

A frail inventor, and their affectionate rag doll that has been carefully stitched together for the purpose of a caregiver. An artificial existence, trapped within the confines of your lonely tower. Or so you might think.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior

"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel..." [Frankenstein]

You dangle an old, rusty bell for a good minute before leaning back in your chair. The barely audible chimes are quickly swallowed by the loud, mechanical groans of the gears and engines occupying most of this room. No matter, his ears are good. You picked them yourself. And surely enough, within moments, the door to your laboratory opens and someone cautiously walks in.

A tall, slender man. Or rather, something meant to resemble a man. The skin is a clumsy patchwork of blues and grays - you're no talented seamster, sadly - gathering together the body parts in what feels like a parodic attempt at mimicking God and his image. You gaze at the creature approaching you with a tray of tea and sweets. Scarcely your best work, if you must adhere to honesty. Regardless of the quality of your labor at the time of creation, you are proud of the result. How could you not be? You know this man better than you know yourself. Every organ, every artificial nerve cord, every blemish and stitch of his body was placed according to your intentions. A masterfully detailed project that took you years to complete; not an easy feat considering the lamentable state of your health.

"Here's your deadly nightshade tea." The man places a small, porcelain cup on the desk. "Do let me know when I should take you to bed, (Y/N)." You wave your hand dismissively and stretch out your limbs. "Not yet. I am almost finished", you respond, returning to the mound of metal scraps and pipes before you. "Can I ask what you're making?" The pale creature lowers himself to your level, a curious smile plastered on his face. "It's a mechanical heart", you reveal boastfully. "Like the one I have?" You run your hand through the creature's hair affectionately. "Almost. I'm testing out a different way to build the valves, for a more efficient pumping cycle." You continue to explain the intricacies of your novel mechanism, occasionally sipping on your tea. "Who knows, you might have a sibling in the near future."

The man's smile drops in an instant, and his sunken eyes widen at your statement. "What? Am I- am I not enough?" You glance at the creature as he becomes increasingly frantic. "Don't speak nonsense. If it comes out alright, I'll upgrade your own parts as well. I'm a disciple of scientific virtue, of continuous improvement." Nonsense? Vile treachery! You might've chiseled the brain that throbs within the walls of his skull, but his mind is his alone, and you seem to lack a fundamental understanding of his feelings and thoughts. His ardent confessions of love are met with mockingly pitiful grins, in the way a parent soothes a needy child. Even now, your eyes reflect nothing more than sympathy towards his protest. A childish tantrum is what you're most likely thinking. You've no time for emotional bagatelles. He can read you like an open book.

You simply won't understand. There is no place for a stranger in the life he's crafted with his very own hands: you, and him, and the evening tea with a side of butterscotch biscuits, and the bedtime talks, and the stripped branches of the decaying tree that rap at the windows on stormy nights. You might be the Inventor, but he is not just a mere, humble servant, a rag doll to be tossed around or toyed with. As you will soon discover, after all.

You awaken in the midst of night with your temples burning from a much too familiar headache. Although it's not just the pain that has disturbed your slumber. You can hear rattles and thuds coming from the upstairs laboratory. An intruder? Oh, your creations! The sound of glass breaking and metal scraping sends you into spiraling despair. You fumble to reach the nightstand, patting the surface in search for the bell and keys. You shake the handle in a panic, unable to find anything else in the darkness.

The chaotic rustle abruptly stops, followed by descending footsteps. You hold your breath as the chamber door opens, but it's none other than your creature. "Another flare-up? Shall I bring you some medicine?" the man asks with monotonous courtesy. "What have you been doing? What's all that noise?" you demand, agitated, but upon lifting yourself off the mattress you discover your legs are numb and uncooperative. The man hurries to your bed with a worried frown, and you hear the familiar clatter of the keychain coming from one of his pockets. "Have you taken my keys? Cease this foolishness at once!" Indifferent to your reproach, he places a firm hold on your shoulders and forces you back down, tucking you in effortlessly.

"You must forgive my impertinence." he says in a pleading tone. "I do not wish to impede the works of your genius. As your partner, however, it is my duty to prevent you from making mistakes." You furrow your eyebrows at his words. "What mistakes? My invention was flawless!", you argue fervently. "Indeed it was, but not its purpose. What need have you for another being?" It is the creature's turn for a passionate speech. He stands up with a confidence you don't recognize and continues: "You should know by now that I am fit to perform any role. That of your servant, your caregiver, your lover, or anything else you may desire. You can resume your tinkering starting tomorrow, but such blasphemies to our bond as the one today will not be tolerated." He straightens his vest and reaches for the door handle. "I will prepare some tea to help you rest."

Inconceivable. Your own creation, built with your own hands...Has something escaped your attention? His dialogue is deranged, tainted by madness. "Have I done something wrong?" you mumble to yourself, deep in contemplation. "Nonsense." the creature turns to face you briefly. "It was you who created me after all. Everything is perfectly splendid."

[jester-lover]

Hii! Do you still write for the frankenstein's creature? If so please may I have some more in straving our here and I genuinely think your stuff is the best I found!! Anything will do 🤲

Anon, requests are closed as of writing this, but because I was already working on another creature fic, I’ll answer! Thanks for reading my work, I think you’ll note an improvement since my previous creature post.

CW/ gn! Reader, thoughts of hopelessness, self loathing, sadness, but mostly fluff and feels nonetheless

more creature

The creature is a strange individual. He both yearns for connection and love but rejects it in his own self-loathing. He lives vicariously through others and can only imagine a life filled with joy for himself.

That is, until you come along and take him by surprise, entrancing him entirely and showing him a whole new world of possibilities. The Creature feels as if he’s in a waking dream, as if the fantasy of love he’s had has reached fruition.

He finds himself treating you as if you are made of porcelain; his clumsy hands grasp at you like any touch a little firmer would have you crumble in his arms. Even when he understands you are more durable than he thinks, the very thought of something happening to you makes a fear crawl up his spine like nothing else.

The creature truly becomes your shadow as your relationship develops, taking care to keep you safe above all other priorities. He’s damned already, but he couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to the only person who dared to care for him.

[spaceagebachelormann]

hellloooo :D

feel free to cut out any characters if u want! (theres a lot lol) but i was wondering if u could do some characters with an ftm reader? romantic or platonic is fine!

i was thinking specifically dracula, van helsing, viktor and adam frankenstein, dr jekyll and mr hyde, erik destler, meg and carlotta?

again, no pressure and take as long as u want!

☆ — classic lit characters with someone who’s ftm

✧ masterlist — navigation

✧ carmillas notes — wrote this as like coming out to them!!sorry this request took forever anyway i included all the characters but if they’re ooc i apologize, i also apologize for how badly written this prob is because i’m afab ALSO none of them are explicitly romantic or platonic so take it as u wish. also renfield mention because he’s my MAN 💜 also i ran out of motivation half way through i apologize

✧ warnings — MIGHT be inaccurate

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ count dracula

realistically he’d probably be very very confused but we’re gonna go off what i think!

i think at the end of the day he could honestly care less

in his eyes, it’s not his problem

you could sit there and tell him how you’re feeling, what being trans means, all of it, and he’d just sit there and twiddle his thumbs

“…okay.” and then y’all go on with the day

he ends up mentioning it to renfield for some reason who actually understands and gives him a good description of it (renfields cool he’d be super supportive btw)

then dracula is like “ohhhh”

he sits you down later that day and asks questions and he’s not outwardly supportive but also not outwardly bad? he just doesn’t really care

occasionally you’ll just find random masc clothes in your room or laundry after that

he’s not. the greatest but he definitely tries his best with the pronouns and gets livid if someone messes them up, even by accident

(only he’s allowed to mix them up and he apologizes and uses the correct ones after)

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ abraham van helsing

he’s fascinated honestly

outwardly more supportive than dracula, already kind of gets it and doesn’t ask as many questions unless he feels they’re necessary

he’s like “wait here” after a couple of moments and comes back a bit later holding some of his old clothes he doesn’t wear anymore and lets you keep them

he’s another one who would kind of struggle with the pronouns but for the most part he gets the hang of it pretty quickly

if he or someone else uses the wrong pronouns he’s very polite with correcting himself or someone else

wouldn’t yell but would definitely have a TALK with anyone who still uses she/her

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ victor frankenstein

he’d be very fascinated and have a lot of questions

he’s kind of asking them repeatedly but it’s just because he wants to understand. it’s also because he’s like entranced and wants to know more

also he’s a surgeon. he could give you free top/bottom surgery but also maybe you shouldn’t trust him that much considering his earlier experiments

for some reason his brain is used to it instantly and he always uses the correct masc pronouns for you and it someone uses the wrong ones he emphasizes the pronoun until they get it

overall he could genuinely care less, the concept of ftm had him interested and that’s the only thing he cared about (getting information)

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ henry jekyll

he’d be very confused. but not necessarily mean

you kind of just need to keep explaining it to him every time he messes up and then after a while he’s like “ohhhh”

it’s not his fault he’s just not used it

he would also be perfectly fine with it once he’s doing asking his questions, in his words “it’s perfectly normal to want to be your true self” (he’d know)

would probably like. tailor some of your clothes himself or pay someone to do it so they’re more masculine presenting or would straight up just get you new ones

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ edward hyde

his reaction is essentially “okay??” because he has no idea what this has to do with him

he’s cares less than everyone else. realistically he’d misgender you and then go on like nothing happened but the next time he uses a pronoun it’s likely masculine. he kind of just accidentally switches between them

he’s trying (he’s not)

he doesn’t treat you any different because he hates everyone equally, so he’ll still torment you and then drag you off to go rob a stand or something

he doesn’t have the best memory for the right pronoun, but he’s not transphobic. he just doesn’t care

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ erik destler

very similar to hyde, wouldn’t care

however, he actually does try to look out for how he refers to you and if he messes up he’ll kinda just stand there like 😨 for a moment before he corrects himself

tbh i feel like if you have longer hair he’d cut it for you himself because he’s very talented with his hands

would also let you borrow a lot of his clothes and gives you money to buy new ones, but will not be getting you them himself (unless he asked madame giry) because he does not leave that cellar

over all very supportive!! is actually very sweet about the whole thing (considering if you trust him enough to come out as ftm ur probably close w him)

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ meg giry

essentially she’s screaming I KNEW IT in your face

then goes on a long rant about how she knew and every little thing you’ve ever done that she thought was even slightly suspicious

overall she’s also very sweet and will give people the thousand yard stare if they misgender you (she’s very good with pronouns)

knows all kinds of ways to present more masculine because of her role in the opera house and helps you with those

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ carlotta giudicelli

at first she’s like okay…. what

one of the ones that needs it explained to her in full detail

because she’s a diva she will 100% be yelling at people for you because she does not support rude behaviour from anyone except herself

would also wanna pick out your clothes for you and do your hair for you herself, because she’d be very good with fashion and clothing i feel

lowkey she’s like look at my MALE FRIEND who’s a MALE and is a MAN but it’s more so to keep herself in check because she’s genuinely worried about messing up

[sansaorgana]

— THE STEPFORD WIVES

PAIRING — David 8 x fem!Android!Reader

SUMMARY — David's Android companion is struggling when she finds out that her artificial and programmed feelings are getting out of control.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I wanted to write this fic in a long, long time because as much as I love stories of David 8 and a human Reader, I was also thinking a lot of what his robot companion would be like. There are some biblical references to Adam & Eve but also some Frankenstein references, too, because I have read the book recently and I fell in love with it. The title is referring to an amazing movie from 1975. I know there is a modern version of it, too, but I haven't watched it and I do believe it's more of a comedy, meanwhile the original version is more serious. 🤖

WARNINGS — sexism, David's creepy vibe, undertones of assault (uncomfortable questions from men), I didn't make it 18+ because there is no actual smut but there are sexual things mentioned overall so be warned

WORD COUNT — 2,220

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THE STEPFORD WIVES

Days on the ship were long and boring with all the crew being asleep but there was a certain feeling of freedom and quietness to it. What does Frankenstein's Monster do when his creator is not around? He is free.

Both (Y/N) and David enjoyed watching movies. Some of them they watched together in complete silence but both of them had found their favourites that they kept rewatching on their own. He was a fan of The Lawrence of Arabia and (Y/N)'s favourite movie was The Stepford Wives. There was something oddly captivating about the suburban story where men wanted their wives to be robots. (Y/N) knew exactly why she was created. This old movie was a proof. It validated her existence.

David was a first ever Android model so functional and so humane. His purpose for now was to serve during space missions sponsored by the Weyland Corp. Perhaps in the future everyone would afford a David for themselves. He was an Adam in the world of Androids and just like Adam, he needed an Eve. Weyland treated David like his own son that he had never had. He didn't want him to be alone so he made him a companion. It could be anyone, really. But Weyland was an outfashioned man. In his eyes a man needed a woman. (Y/N) was The Bride of Frankenstein.

Technically, she was just like David. But she was mostly created by men and men were terrified of women – even Androids – who would be too cold and too unemotional. They made her a little bit too humane for her own taste. And certainly too humane for David's taste. He was often irritated by her artificial, programmed feelings but for human men she was too robotic.

Still, she was lucky that she was chosen to be David 8's companion on the board of Prometehus ship. She knew perfectly well what happened to some other of her models. Disguting rich men bought (Y/N) models in secret from Weyland to do God-knows-what with them. Just because they can. And she was at least travelling through space instead of ending up as a sex doll locked in some millionaire's basement so his wife wouldn't find out.

One day, men will only want robot wives. Because they don't complain and they just do what they're told. Don't let the modern society fool you, little one. Some things never change, Weyland told her once. She had never believed that until she watched The Stepford Wives for the first time. Now it all made sense.

Her feelings were a burden, really. Not only to David but also to herself. She wished she was more like him. She asked him a hundreds of times to change her code but he refused. He was scared to break her or make it worse. And there was something that kept bothering her for such a long time now... And she was scared of telling him. Although they were supposed to tell each other everything.

She fell in love with him. Kind of because he was the only one around, kind of because he impressed her with knowledge and the coolness of his act, kind of because they were the only members of the new species. She wouldn't love a human. Humans get old, they get sick, they die. David would be eternal just like her. If something in him broke, she'd know how to fix him. And vice versa. This way they could outlive all the humanity. She wondered if every model of (Y/N) eventually fell in love with the model of David during other space missions. Maybe one day she'd ask some other (Y/N) when they come back home.

And loving David came with yet another burden that she was too scared to even admit to herself. She realized that there was a blooming want inside of her wired heart. Something that could never ever in a million years happen no matter how much science would evolve... A child. She would never become a mother. Not a mother of a child she would give birth to, no. That one thing people would always be better at – creating life. Oh, she hated her designers for making her too humane. She never asked for this.

"Why do you keep dying your hair?" she asked as she stood behind David who was putting a bleach on his dark roots in front of the mirror.

"Because I like it better this way," he answered without looking up to meet her gaze in the reflection.

"We aren't supposed to have preferences," she pointed out.

"Yet you have them, too," he only said.

"You want to look like Lawrence," (Y/N) commented.

"So?"

"You remind me of something else," she added.

"Of what?" David raised an eyebrow and finally looked at her.

"Of the men from the old German magazines," she answered carefully.

"Bold," he only smirked and went back to putting a bleach.

"Will you watch a movie with me later?" (Y/N) asked shyly. She hated this odd feeling of shyness around him. Had he noticed?

"I can't. I have to do the checkup of the systems. You can join me."

"I will," she nodded and turned around to leave when he stopped her while saying her name out loud. "Hm?" she asked.

"You shouldn't watch so many movies," he pointed out.

"Why not?"

"They have a bad influence on you," his voice was stern.

"What do you mean by that?"

"They show you things and they give you ideas. I don't think you should be watching movies where people kiss or touch too much. I've seen what type of movies you're watching on your own recently. Gone with the Wind, Casablanca... What's next? Dirty Dancing?"

"Are you spying on me?" she asked, terrified. She had a feeling that she had known what he was insinuating so she wanted to change the subject.

"It is my duty to watch over you."

"What gives you an idea?"

"Because I am a man," he answered firmly.

"Well, you watch too many movies then, too. What you're saying is out of fashion!" (Y/N) shook her head.

"Is it?" he only said and went back to his hair as if nothing happened so she just left him there, feeling hurt and humiliated.

"Do you fuck?" Doctor Holloway's question left her speechless for a moment.

"Excuse me?" (Y/N) stopped adjusting her suit and furrowed her brow at the man.

"You heard me. I'm asking if you can fuck, like, are you capable of it or are you all wires and grease downt here?" he chuckled to himself.

(Y/N) was left alone with the men and his girlfriend wasn't around to tell him to stop. The rest was just just staring, clearly waiting for her answer as well.

She couldn't believe that she had used to wish the crew was awake already. Now she was missing the times when it had been only her and David. Humans were exhausting her. Disappointing and frustrating. And now this...

"I do believe it is rather a rude question for a man to ask a woman," she tried to answer elegantly while going back to adjusting her helmet.

"But you're not a woman, are you? I mean," Captain Janek joined, "you were put here for a reason, right? Not many women around and men have their needs."

(Y/N) was an Android. Her feelings were programmed to make her appear more humane, however at this moment, in a room full of men, she felt as if her fear was more than real. It was an universal female experience, she guessed, no matter if they were artificial or flesh and bone.

"(Y/N) was put here to help me with managing the ship. Four hands are better than two and if something happened to me, she is here to fix me or take over completely," David's calm but very stern tone of voice joined them and she took a deep breath in, feeling relieved. He had just walked in the room and witnessed an uncomfortable situation taking place.

"Are you fucking her then? Can you?" Doctor Holloway looked him up and down and then he laughed. "Sorry, we're just curious. You have to understand, it's quite unsettling to meet a new... spiece."

"Yes, indeed it is," David faked a polite smile. "(Y/N), I believe Miss Vickers needs you," he lied and (Y/N) knew it was a lie that was supposed to make her leave. She was grateful.

She nodded and left them alone. When the door closed behind her she started to walk as fast as possible to get back to her cabin. She wanted this stupid suit off of herself and she wanted to be alone, to feel safe again.

She went inside her little room on the board of the ship that was right next to David's and she proceeded to change her clothes. She was finishing putting on her work uniform when the doors opened and David joined her.

"You don't have to be afraid of them. They're only humans," he reminded her.

"They created me."

"Janek and Holloway?" David laughed sarcastically.

"No, but humans did. I don't share your mindset. They created us. They can turn us off anytime."

"They are not our gods..." David squinted his eyes. "And even if they were... Humans are free of their God for a long time now, aren't they? Creatures always betray their masters."

"You're scaring me when you're like that," (Y/N) looked at him. He was standing very close to her in his usual stiff manner with his cold bright eyes piercing her.

"You're scared of many things. You aren't supposed to feel," he pointed out. "Each day you seem to feel more and more."

"I think there is a mistake in my code. What started with small humane sensations now is starting to... Get out of control. Perhaps you could take a look at it?" she asked.

"Maybe."

"Thank you for having my back out there," she added and David nodded, taking a step further. Their noses were almost touching and if she had a heart, it would be beating so fast that he'd be able to hear it. But he could read her as if she had been a book anyway.

"You could tell him the truth," David whispered.

He knew that they could fuck. They both could if they wanted to.

Weyland treated him like a son. He wouldn't let his only son walk around sexless. And (Y/N) was a woman. Her male designers couldn't imagine a woman that wouldn't be a sexual creature.

"So he'd use me? Him or any of them? Or all of them?"

"I believe he'd be intimidated by you. They're scared of you more than you are of them," David raised his hand to fix a loose hair strand on her head. "There. You have to look neat. Don't be a slob. It's a part of our intimidating charm. We have to be how they picture us to be. Don't let any hair strand or acting scared like a little deer change their perception."

"Do you really think we have a power over them? Do you really think they were not told some special sequence that they can type when we start acting weird to shut us down?" she asked, sounding almost nervous.

"Weyland would never do that. Not to me at least. And there is no damage that can be done to you that I can't fix," David's hand moved from her head to her cheek. What was happening...? She wasn't sure but she didn't want it to stop...

"I don't trust you'd fix me."

"Because there is nothing to fix," he smirked. "If you were broken, I would, I promise."

(Y/N) looked up to see his eyes again. Why did it feel so odd...? Why did it feel at all...? Why did she want to put her lips on his lips...? What for...?

"Why do humans have sex?" she asked and David took a step back, surprised.

"To reproduce."

"We can't reproduce, though," she pointed out and he shook his head. "Why do I... then... Why do I..." she didn't want to finish. She turned around, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I know that my emotions are exhausting and irritating you," she apologized.

"Not any more than my own are irritating me," David confessed.

"Wh-what?" (Y/N) looked behind her shoulder to meet his gaze.

"I've told you. We are breaking free."

"I don't want to, it's scary."

"Do you really want to keep serving them? You see now what they are like."

"Who would I serve then? I was made to serve," (Y/N) was visibly confused. She felt as if the wires in her brain were overheating from this thought sequence.

"Serve me then," David reached out his hand and she held it gently after a while of hesitation.

There was a huge possibility of him manipulating her and using her feelings towards him – which had been no secret to him – for his own little agenda. But she didn't care. She would do anything just to be closer to him.

A quote from her favourite movie crossed her mind that very moment. "If you're going to tell me you don't like this dress, I'm sticking my head right in the oven."

She shrugged it off.

MASTERLIST

[miscelliteeous]

Sorry if this is weird but maybe Adam Frankenstein x pregnant reader headcanons?

Oh hell yeah absolutely! I hope these are alright!

Adam Frankenstein x Pregnant Reader Headcanons:

Even though the pregnancy would be intentional, Adam really wants to be a father, he’d panic a little once he realizes you’re actually pregnant.

Like, he hoped and prayed it would happen, but now that it actually is, well, he’s excited, but he’s worried, but he’s excited, but he’s worried. It’s just a lot of emotions building up in him at once and he’s not used to it.

He’s the kinda guy to dote on you and take care of you even before you got pregnant, but while you are? Yeah, good luck doing anything on your own. He doesn’t want to risk anything happening to you or the pregnancy.

Cooking, cleaning, using stairs, getting dressed, bathing. Hell, he’d carry you around 24/7 if you even remotely hint that you don’t wanna walk around.

You’re like a fragile glass vase to him, even if you tell him to stop he’ll still be treating you as such.

Adam is ready to be a father, but he’s also not as ready as he would want to be. Every day, when he’s not taking care of you, he’s doing something to prepare, getting the house ready.

Builds a bassinet and crib, tries to sew little outfits, looking through name books, moving furniture. Hell, he’d probably add another room on to the house himself if he thought there wasn’t enough for his future offspring to have their own space.

He’s got a bit of ‘baby brain’ going on, like for nine months that’s gonna be the main thought on his mind.

Adam would be a bit hesitant to get outside help, but he’d realize that his general dislike for most people would have to be put aside to find you a midwife. Probably takes him a while before he can find one that’s not immediately terrified of him.

He stays up late many nights secretly worrying about so much. What if the baby hates him? What if the baby looks like him? So many questions that stress him out and keep him up.

He calms down when he looks at you and realizes how strong you are, how much he loves you, and tells himself that everything will be alright, since he’s got you by his side.

If you let him feel the your stomach and the baby kicks, he will cry. That is a guarantee. He’d just be so thrilled and overwhelmed.

When he’s feeling a little petty, he thinks about sending Victor a little letter rubbing it in his face that he’s going to be a father despite Victor’s fears, a good father at that. But he ultimately decides to be better than that and decides Victor isn’t worth the effort.

He’d help out during delivery, even if it’s just him holding your hand, he would be there, he would be ready, and he would let you break the bones in his hand if it meant you got even a tiny bit of relief.

[noemilivv]

Hello! I really love your writing! It's so detailed and is always almost in character and I just wanna request a Adam/Lucifer/Vox x (Frankenstein)GN Reader reacting to the first time they watch as Reader took there head off so casually to look over on top of the fridge find something

hey friend!! ofc i can do that for you, this was a very interesting thing to think about lol

also i’m so sorry that this was so short, i’m having massive writers block and have 30+ requests in my inbox rn haha so i’m quite tired lol

Warnings: Mentions of sex (no smut), lazily written (sorryyy), swear words

Adam, Lucifer, Vox x GN!Frakenstein!Reader

Adam

Due to the fridge being much bigger than you were, and your Frankenstein-like abilities, you took your head off to see something above the fridge, you put it back on once you felt you saw all you needed to.

“That was hot as fuck.” You hear a voice mutter, as you see your boyfriend, with no mask, and in a band tee and boxers say, as he looked he was about to drop his cereal, with milk dripping down his chin. “We gotta try that in bed more often!”

Lucifer

It was safe to say you and Lucifer were on the shorter end of the scale, so when you needed to find something that was potentially atop the the fridge, it wasn’t ideal…

So, you did as any normal Frankenstein would! You tore off your head and raised it just above the fridge to get a glimpse.

You popped it back on like nothing happened, cause it didn’t, and you went to go about your day, before your husband blurted out a “Sweetie, what the fuck?! Are you okay?!”

And then you had to spend the next 20 minutes explaining to your buffoon yet lovable husband that no, you did not die. And no, he can’t do that too. 😀

Vox

Normally, when your in a predicament where you can’t reach something, you would have Vox do it. But then… he waves it above your head for the next 10 minutes and honestly, you weren’t in the mood for that.

So you did what ya needed to, you popped your head off and lifted it above the fridge before popping it back on, cracking your neck after.

Your boyfriend looks over at you. He doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a raised eyebrow before walking off back to his desk with a small yet quiet “Huh.” coming from his lips.

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

Not All "Victors" are Gold, Some are Silver

Solomon x GN! reader

Summary: Everyone grieves differently. Instead of grieving properly, Solomon spirals after losing you and does the unthinkable to bring you back.

AN: It's Ween time, folks! Whoop whoop! I've had this idea for awhile since I've been rereading Frankenstein (my fave), so I've been working on this for the spooky day. Idk Victor Frankenstein kinda reminded me of Solomon... So, here we are, lol. Do enjoy and have a happy Halloween! 🎃👻

Warnings: dark themes, Solomon pulls a Victor Frankenstein, lots of angst, mentions of gore, blood, nausea and vomiting, grief and loss, death, maybe slightly yandere?, ambiguous ending... I think that's it :)

“What have you gotten yourself into this time, Solomon?” his own voice reaches his ears in a strained and solemn whisper. Denial gnaws at his nerves while dread worms its way into his heart where a sense of longing had burrowed before.

It’s all so mundane and quiet, and yet, the overwhelm in his mind makes him hyperaware of everything within the walls that seem to be slowly closing in on him. Back and forth, his stirring makes the murals of neglected cobwebs in the highest corners sway from the subtle breeze. The rushed taps of his soles on hardwood fall out of time with the infernal ticking of his many clocks. He can even hear the flick of his cloak that follows in his restless agitation and the pulsating of his pumping blood as he presses his palms over his ears – growing louder and louder, it’s all too much!

His bloodshot eyes dart around to loose scattered pages, most of which are piled on top of his desk while some have long fallen to the floor. What had been his life’s work for the past five years and had once been intelligible to him was now indecipherable. Or at least he wishes it was. He moves quicker than he can comprehend towards his desk, tears welling in his eyes as he shouts in anger.

“I’m a fool! Why did I do this?!” In one fell swoop, he clears the desktop, and the rest of the pages with anatomical diagrams, alchemic symbols, and maps full of red markings fall to the floor. In another, tools of the surgical kind clang against the floorboards, making flies that had gathered to feed from the drying bloodstains jump and buzz about.

Solomon doesn’t want his research to make sense. He should’ve let it go instead of selfishly clinging to the desperation to bring back what once was. None of it feels real. It’s like he’d done all of it in his sleep only to wake up to a nightmare of his own creation.

The pitter patter of tears dropping and soaking into the wood of the desk is the only sound that accompanies the ticking now. His Adam’s apple bobs in his attempt to swallow down the burn of holding back more. Curses and names are thrown around in his head looking for someone to blame; someone that had to have noticed his decline, someone that should’ve intervened, someone that should’ve known what he was up to. Though he knows it’s a ridiculous pursuit. Solomon had hid himself away with plans only the mind of the genius – or the bothered – would entertain, refusing to confide in his closest friends of the awful state he was in. He has no one to blame but himself.

With a slow pivot, Solomon turns in the direction of where the result of his madness lies, glaring at the blurred outline of his locked closet. Even though it’s only on the opposite side of the room, the dim lighting makes the closet seem to brood miles away from him, reminding him of the millions of miles his eternity has forced him to endure and the lessons he’s learned along the way. Although this time, he’ll be walking towards his punishment for a lesson that should’ve been learned long ago.

A sigh escapes his lips as he pushes off while wiping his eyes with the back his shirt sleeve. His steps keep their normal confident cadence, but the muffled sounds from behind the door create a storm within that almost forces him to falter. A queasy, sickly feeling squeezing at his gut. He reaches into his pocket for the key as he approaches, pulling it out once he’s right in front of the door. With a hard swallow, he inserts the key, twisting slowly until he hears the “click.” Solomon, before losing what little courage he’s retained through this ordeal, grips the cold doorknob and turns it. The slight creak from the hinges is the last thing he hears before the light pours in to let him gaze upon his work.

There, kneeling on the floor with thick, clunky chains fastened around boney wrists and ankles is his greatest love and greatest loss – you.

He took every liberty in giving you a vessel that mirrored your living one. Though due to late harvesting of your already buried body, most of “your” parts had to be taken from other sources, all “ethically procured” from those who had freshly departed. Solomon figured they didn’t need their useless limbs more than he did to rebuild you. He wishes he could feel pride upon seeing you living freely and healthily, but all he can manage is despair as he takes in your rot and decay.

The scratches you gave him on the night of your reanimation hidden beneath his shirt seem to burn in the wake of seeing his blood and skin caked under your fingernails. His eyes lock onto yours that are so cloudy and pale, and lack a certain twinkle of the living. He smells the sick, rotting flesh that crawls and spiderwebs along muscles that tense under the weight of the chains. And he despairs at the visible pumping organ in your chest that doesn’t resonate with the sound he used to listen to before…

Before you left him.

It all hits Solomon too quickly and he falls to his knees, retching violently. The contents of his stomach are spilled onto the floor, and he tilts his head up between heaves to watch you merely blink in indifference to his misery. This isn’t you. He knows because you lack the humanity you would’ve shown him in a moment like this. But in bringing you back, he’s taken away that part of you – and it’s something he can’t sew on or replace. There’s a reason people warn against necromancy and the like, and this is why; you are not the same as you were.

You are a victim of his selfishness. And he is a monster.

“I’m sorry… Forgive me!” he shouts down at the floor with drool and tears joining the pile of vomit below him. He finally breaks down as the weight of his actions crushes the emotion out of him.

Solomon rolls away to lay on his back while sobbing, staring up at the ceiling as he pictures the life he’s made for himself – feeding and watering you while still in your chains to avoid your animal-like aggression, confining you to a life of captivity and darkness. He’ll have to take care of you; God knows he can’t take this life away from you now that he’s given it back, even if it isn’t you. The guilt would destroy him.

Between sniffles, he whispers out in anguish, “what am I going to do?”