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Aug 15

camaraderie || Adam Frankenstein x reader || 7.01k

nutrition facts: pt. 2 of ? // pt. 1 isn't necessary, but I do recommend // angst // dubcon + attempted SA // Victor is a pervert // hurt no comfort (yet) // I forgot to mention that this was going to be a slowburn // don't crucify me // yk the drill, be a doll and lmk if I forgot anything

Slices of toast lay ready on a beautiful porcelain plate in front of you, tentatively buttered by your gentle hand. One for me, one for Elizabeth, one for Adam, one for William, one for... no. None for Victor.

You forgot again.

It had been weeks since Victor's fight with Adam. He was long gone back to his apartment in a city whose name was never verbally mentioned, but you still found yourself forgetting that fact. You'd sometimes go to his room to ask him a question or offer afternoon tea, only to remember his lack of presence on your third unanswered knock. Or sometimes, predicaments similar to your current one would occur.

You had already toasted the fifth slice of bread- a lone smear of butter on the surface. You couldn't just put it back. Throwing it out would be just as heinous. And nobody really even needed a second slice of toast with their breakfast. Not with such a rich spread to fill the rest of their bellies.

Bacon fresh from the butcher, eggs from the farm down the road, orange juice sent from one of Elizabeth's family members in Spain, and the finest pastries in all France brought back with William from his business trip.

You stare at the toast. Your thoughts meandered like the deer you watched outside or the stream you sat next to most evenings. There was no need to rush thoughts when letting them occur naturally was just as good.

You could give the toast to the cook. Or the maid. Or the butler. Or Adam. Adam ate more than you did. But so did Elizabeth and William.

You'd noticed that eating wasn't really a necessity for you. Neither was it for Adam, but he enjoyed it more than you did. You could put the extra slice on his plate, as a sort of surprise.

Would he be surprised? Would he like that? Would he give you that beautiful smile of his as he thanked you? Or would he not even notice? Oh, what fun it'll be to wait and see!

You set the fifth slice of toast on Adam's plate, then go back into the kitchen to help with the rest of the meal. "Oh, fräulein, you don't need to help," the cook says politely as you reach for the plate of bacon. "I don't mind," you insist softly. "No, no, please, we've got it."

His tone is firm and nearly reminiscent of Victor's when he would be almost upset with you. So you step back, folding your hands and smiling nicely. You only watch them work for a few more minutes before the cook turns to you again. He gives you his own smile, but it seems a bit less nice than it was previously. "Why don't you go fetch der Herr und die Frau for breakfast, ja?" "Oh. Of course!"

You leave the kitchen, beginning the long trek across the estate to William and Elizabeth's room. As you walk, you repeat the cook's German back to yourself softly. He was a lovely gentleman, the cook. A bit eccentric and tense, occasionally shy, but you enjoyed his presence. Even when he was oddly shooing you out of the room with superfluous jobs.

"Die Herr und die Frau," you murmur, prancing down the hall. You come to Elizabeth and William's bedroom and knock twice. Hands folded in front of you, the epitome of propriety, you wait.

It's William that opens the door this time and he appears startled to see you. He says your name quickly, curtly. More out of shock than anything else. A little unbecoming of a man so prominent in society.

Society and propriety have become very important to you recently. Elizabeth had been very set on teaching you the proper way to act as a young lady since that odd day with Victor. The library had been slowly transformed into a classroom that mirrored that of her own from her youth.

She taught you the proper way to walk, to eat, to speak, to act; what was private, what could be public; how to read, how to write, how to speak Swiss-German as she did and a little bit of French as most of the estate staff did.

"Good morning, William," you say brightly. "Johann sent me to fetch you and Elizabeth for breakfast."

"Oh, how good of you," he says, albeit a little tensely. "We will be right there. Why don't you go get Adam and we'll meet you both down there." William tries a smile. You return the smile much easier than William could manage, and off you go down the hall.

Adam's room is farther away from William and Elizabeth's than yours is. Lizzie had insisted that you be nearby in case of emergencies, so you were only down the hall, but Adam was in a separate wing of the estate. He'd told you previously that he did not mind being so isolated from the rest of you, but you'd seen his expressions when going off to bed- lonesome, longing. It made you a little sad too.

You knock on his door, and he answers quickly. Your chosen name falls easily from his lips with a kind smile and eyes so warm it felt like looking into a fire in the dead of December.

"Good morning, Adam," you say quickly before your breath could be taken away. You rock on your feet, propping up onto your toes as if to match his height, which of course was impossible to do. "Breakfast is ready."

"Oh, thank you. Do you mind waiting a moment and we'll walk down together?" He asks you. His tone is as warm and gentle as his gaze.

You nod quickly, excited to spend time alone with him. The dinner he had invited you to a few months ago was still yet to occur and your eagerness for time with him was boiling over. Whenever you'd ask him about it, he'd react oddly and divert your attention. Sometimes, you think you might've seen a blush on his face when bringing up the topic, but that was impossible- silly, even. Why would Adam be embarrassed? He wasn't like you. He was older, stronger, smarter. He was better.

He probably had just changed his mind, you'd rationalized, trying not to feel sad that he didn't want to have dinner with you like in those lovely and romantic books Elizabeth would read you.

Adam disappears back into his room for just a moment before returning to you. His long hair is now tied back with a silver-blue ribbon in that way you adored so much. He always looked so distinguished and handsome like this. It made your heart sing, your mind race with daydreams and other embarrassing thoughts you'd be so humiliated for him to find out.

He offers his elbow, and the two of you start down the hall for the dining room.

Both yours and Adam's appearances had been changing in the past few months. Eating and drinking water had been doing wonders for Adam's past wounds, and the mysterious bruises you had since you'd gained consciousness were clearing up. Elizabeth had gotten clothing tailored for Adam's larger frame and he no longer wore the oversized rags he clothed himself in when you first met him. And you had been brought shopping again, to expand your small wardrobe; beautiful evening gowns, lighter day dresses, soft nightgowns and plenty of shoes.

It was nice to feel pretty, even if the shopkeeper and other store patrons looked at you oddly.

Adam pulls out your chair for you, as does William for Elizabeth. This also pleases you, to be treated so importantly.

"Thank you," you say softly to Adam, inclining your head a few degrees. Not too far, but just enough to convey your gratitude. Just as Elizabeth taught you.

As Adam releases your chair to sit in his own, his fingertips brush the base of your neck. They linger for a heartbeat, then another, simply resting against the sliver of skin that peeked out from the collar of your dress.

And then, all too soon, his touch removes itself and he moves to sit all the way across the table from you.

Your heart kickstarts its eager hammering in your chest once more. Adam had become so warm recently. His skin was less and less cold to the touch as the days went on. But his touch felt almost scalding against the base of your throat. Hot with a quiet desire that the both of you possessed, but hid from one another. You were embarrassed, Adam was afraid.

Embarrassed because you recalled Adam's promises of how your relationship would remain only platonic. He'd said a few times that the two of you would be just friends, for a while at least, and maybe even forever. Adam had whispered that last part, but you'd heard it still and it replayed in your mind every time you caught yourself blushing over Adam. It was usually enough to dim your excitement back to a calm and ladylike level. But it still hurt a little bit. Why didn't he want to be closer friends, or like the people in the novels you found in the library- embracing and kissing and loving deeply. It began to fester deep inside you, a hidden worry that you weren't good enough, weren't pretty enough, to be loved by him. It was a worry so hidden that you yourself were hardly even aware of ow it affected you.

Afraid because Adam also remembered those promises and the last thing he wanted was to go back on his word. He swore to protect you; from the world, from pain, from Victor, even from himself if he had to. And getting romantically involved with you, especially when you were still mentally so young, would be the exact opposite of protecting you.

You were the same age now as he was when he first spoke with the old man. He remembered what the world felt like at that time. Looking back, with the knowledge he now possessed, Adam knew he was practically a baby. And so are you now, despite how much more advanced you are. 8 months of consciousness and you could already partly speak two languages and knew basic right from wrong. You were remarkable, but still much too young for anything that his perverted mind could want. He'd probably end up punishing himself later for touching you like that. How dare he try to taint such a beautiful and lively thing. He was just as bad as Victor.

That thought makes a tremor run through Adam's body as he brings his fork to his mouth, but he plays it down and continues eating. What a horrible thing, to be similar to his father in that way. No, Victor was not his father. Not anymore...

If Victor was Adam's father, wouldn't that make you... No!

Don't think about that while you're eating! Gosh, I'm such a pervert, he thinks, angry about his slip up and shamefully perverted nature of wanting to love you while you were still so young.

You notice Adam's tremor and try to catch his eye to ask if he's alright, but he makes a point of avoiding your gaze. It hurts a little to be ignored so adamantly. But pouting is unladylike and therefore not an option you currently possess. Just finish your breakfast and clear your dishes.

It was better this way, to keep you emotionally at arms length. It was harder to keep you physically at arms length. Especially since Elizabeth taught you of societal duties and proprieties. Being a young lady, you insisted on being escorted arm in arm every time you and he were going to the same destination. It was endearing, but he made a point to try to limit these interactions.

It was better this way.

And after all, if you repeat a lie enough times, you'll start to believe it.

"…-now and at the hour of our death, Amen," Elizabeth finishes. "Now and at the hour of our death. Amen," you repeat, completing the prayer. You open your eyes, unclasping your hands. She smiles proudly at you. "Excellent! Your first Hail Mary. I'm so proud of you." She leans over, cupping your face in her hands briefly. Her gloves are cool and silken-soft against your skin.

You beam at the praise, pleased at her approval. "I think this deserves a reward," Elizabeth says, standing. "Ooh, like what?" "Like… maybe we bake some cookies?" She offers, holding out her hand to you. "The shape ones?" "If you'd like." Your smile widens as she brings you down the hall.

At the bottom of the stairs, you turn to go to the kitchen just as a maid calls for Elizabeth.

"Madame!" The girl calls. She was a beautiful young lady; hair dark, skin fair, eyes a stunning green. You always thought this maid in particular- Madeline was her name- was the second most beautiful girl in the entire world, after Elizabeth, of course.

"Excuse-moi, Dame Elizabeth, but Seigneur William is asking for you. Something about… Monsieur Victor? He has sent une lettre," Madeline says hurriedly, her beautiful native French tongue slipping into her words in her haste.

Elizabeth's grip on your hand loosens almost immediately at Victor's name. You cast a glance at her face, surprised to see her expression was that of shock and anger.

It had been a long time since you'd seen anger on Elizabeth's face. Oddly enough, the last time also involved Victor. Maybe there was a pattern you should be noticing, but you weren't that advanced in your literary journey and reoccurring themes still seemed like coincidences to you.

"Merci, Madeline," She says, her voice tense and uncharacteristically cold. Madeline bows her head and goes back down the hall from where she came.

Elizabeth's hand falls from yours. Before you could reach for it again, she takes a step away, folding her arms across her stomach. "Darling, I must go speak with William. I'll meet you in the kitchen, okay?" Her attempt at a smile is poor.

"Okay, Lizzie," you say softly, sad at her distress. She kisses your forehead and heads down the hall. Her heels click swiftly and loudly in the empty halls. You didn't want to start the cookies without her. You didn't know the recipe as good as she did. And waiting in the kitchen was boring. Plus, the cooks always seemed like they didn't want you in there with them.

Unsure of where to go, you have a seat in the small sitting-section between the two large staircases. There were two ornate and beautiful chairs with a low table between them. Elizabeth usually sat there for her morning tea and Bible reading. William utilized the space late into the nights when old friends from school visited.

In the winters, the large fireplace behind the chairs was lit and became unbearable to sit next to. But since it was still summer, the fireplace remained empty and you could sit comfortably in one of the chairs and wait for Elizabeth to return.

Five minutes. Ten. You could hear yelling coming from the second floor West Wing. Fifteen. Twenty. Something shatters. The yelling gets louder. Twenty five. Thirty. Loud and heavy footsteps. A door slams. A voice like a crack of lightning breaks the silence of the empty estate.

"Adam!"

It sounded like William yelling. How strange. William despised Adam, nearly as much as Victor did. Of course, his dislike was quieter and more reserved, but it was still tangible if you payed enough attention to his facial expressions and vocal tones.

There's a long silence, then you hear slow heavy footsteps. Adam. You prided yourself on being able to distinguish everyone's footsteps in the house. The footsteps stop between the tops of the staircases, a mere fifteen feet above your head.

"Victor sent a letter," William says, his voice just barely loud enough for you to hear. You didn't even notice that William had come down the hall too. But it made sense, seeing as Adam wouldn't just stop in the middle of the hallway for no reason.

"What did he say?" Adam breathes. He sounds tense, nearly mad like Elizabeth was. Is. Probably 'is'.

"He is demanding to be allowed to return," William says slowly. "Demanding?" "Yes, demanding. He wants to personally come back and collect his things."

"We can send his things perfectly fine ourselves!" Adam protests, his anger growing. "Victor says that he hid things in the study."

"…Hid things?" Adam breathes. "Yes, he hid things." "Hid what things? And for what purpose?" "He didn't say. But I'm assuming it is because he was afraid of us finding these things and possibly… I don't know, being upset with him for having them?" "And this doesn't concern you at all!?"

William huffs a sigh, shuffling his feet. "Of course it does! But he's my brother." You hear a heavy groan from Adam. "Your brother, yes, of course… Pardon me, William, but I don't understand how you can still claim him as your brother." "Adam-" "No. Let me speak. He tried to lure Elizabeth away from you. Multiple times." "Who told you that?" William hisses. "Elizabeth, 0obviously."

"She had no right-," William starts, his anger bubbling higher and higher. "I had no right!?" Like thunder, rapid-fire clicks of high heels come storming down the hall. "Elizabeth!"

"I had no right to tell him of something that happened to me!?" William's discomfort is tangible, sitting in the air like a fart cloud in a church. "It happened to us, Lizzie-"

"You didn't seem to care that it was happening at all! I was forced to confront him myself! Because you, my fiance, the man who was supposed to be protecting me… you were too busy running his stupid errands for him! He could have done all of that shit himself… But you did it for him because he asked you to. Because he's your brother. And because you killed his mother and he never forgave you for that and you know it!"

That was it. The point that brought William's bubbling anger to boil over the edges of the metaphorical pot that kept him disciplined and polite.

"ELIZABETH!" William screams. "He hates you, you know that!?" She spits, her tone seeming to find enjoyment in his discomfort of the subject. "Shut up!" "Don't speak to her like that!" "I'll speak to my wife however I please!"

A loud scoff echoes off the corners of the ceiling, like his audacity was so shocking, the room itself was taken aback. "You will not treat me this way! I know my worth, as a woman, a child of God."

"Just because you were in a convent does not make you any less of a sinner, Elizabeth. You're just as bad as I am. And pretending that you didn't enjoy Victor's attention, his gifts, his time…" William kisses his teeth. You can see his expression in your mind. No. That was Victor's face on William's head hat you were envisioning. Oh, but what the Hell, it worked just the same. They were brothers after all.

"It's a sin to lie, Elizabeth," William finishes. "And we all know how you feel about sinning."

No cookies were baked that night. William did not join the three of you for dinner, and you were pretty sure he and Elizabeth did not sleep in the same room. Not for that night, nor the night after, nor even the night after.

The third day, your suspicions that they were no longer even speaking to one another were confirmed.

Not long after noon, there was a knock at the front door. You were sitting at the aforementioned seating arrangement between the two staircases. Adam sat across from you, a book in his hands. He had been reading aloud. You were quite enjoying the story. A beautiful princess, an evil step mother, magical creatures, poison, a handsome prince. But you'd never get to hear the ending.

Everyone knew who it was before the door was even answered. This knock had been expected. Plus, you could smell Victor's hair products from here; sweet, warm and slightly nutty underneath. He'd called it coconut. You'd called it delicious. That exact smell permeated the air only moments before the knock at door, and it would continue to thicken the air of the estate for a while after.

Adam's voice trails off as the door opens on its own, no maid or doorman responsible. You follow his gaze, and freeze.

In a flash that had you almost dizzy, memories flooded back at the sight of his face- memories you didn't know you had, breaking through whatever dam was hiding them at the sight of his face. An image of Victor- standing above you, his face warm and almost eager as he stared down at you with his hands resting on his belt- flashes harshly behind your eyes and you gasp softly. What was that? When did that happen? What had happened?

Victor brushes past the maid who, bless her heart, tried to stop him. He pays neither you nor Adam any mind, rushing up the stairs to the room he had previously used as his study.

Adam jumps to his feet, racing after him. "Victor!" He roars. "Don't speak to me! I ignored you for a reason!" Victor shouts back, still racing down the hall. Not too successfully, what with his prosthetic leg and all.

Quickly, you follow after them, eyes wide and confused by their fighting.

You knew Adam didn't like Victor, but they still hadn't explained why. Nor had they explained why he had left so suddenly all those months ago. All you knew was that Victor had done a bad thing, and he was no longer welcome in this house. That's what Elizabeth had told you. That was all she would tell you. Asking her about it was fruitless and a little painful, especially since she'd get such a look on her face. Your insides would always get eaten up with such guilt that you would rescind your question and leave her be for a few hours as if to make up for bothering her like that.

When you get to the study, it's already in ruin. Books lay randomly and haphazardly strewn across the room. Torn pages scatter like confetti in the breeze from the opened windows. Adam half-heartedly chases Victor around, more following than actively pursuing; babysitting his search and peering over his shoulder at everything Victor scrounged up. "Adam," you gasp, your hand pressed delicately over your heart at the sight of the mess.

Both men turn to you, their expressions of shock identical. The similarities in their facial features strike you in a sudden realization and your shock misdirects your attention. At once, they both approach you. Adam grabs your hand by your side, Victor takes the one pressed to your chest, and they're both saying your name at the same time with the same tone. Their likeness was nearly uncanny. Father in son, truly- in more ways than they wished to acknowledge.

"Go find Elizabeth," Adam tells you at the same time Victor attempts to monopolize your attention. "My dear, you must come with me," he says, trying to bring you away from Adam. They both pull on your arms at the same time. "Hey- wait," you exclaim. Your alarm does not seem to perturb them; the two continue to tug on you, hollering over your head at one another while speaking in nearly identical softer tones with you.

"Please, my dear, I was wrong to you before, I wasn't acting right, I didn't know what good I had-" "Don't you dare! Don't twist her mind like that! Darling, I need you to get Lizzie, please." "I'm not twisting her mind! I'm telling the truth! Mon cheri, look at me, I would never lie to you."

Victor's gloved hand caresses your cheek in a gesture that could almost be seen as tender, were it not for the slight mania noticeable in his eyes. Adam smacks his hand away, pulling on your arm just a little bit harder.

His hopes of discombobulating and therefore beating Victor in their little match of tug-of-war over your opinion and body were short-lived however, because Victor was not so easily overpowered, even for a man with only one good leg.

"Do not touch her like that, you have no right to touch her after what you've done!" Adam snaps anyway.

"I did nothing! Your insinuations are heinous and crude. You're butchering my reputation with these foolish allegations." Victor reaches for you again, his touch more insistent against your skin. "Sweet girl, you must believe me, I wasn't intending to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me," you assure him, quick to step in and diffuse the situation. You weren't sure of what exactly they were speaking- insinuations and reputations and allegations. All of this meant nothing to you. They were words you'd heard, but in this context, they might as well have been in anther language.

Adam seems anguished at your words. "He did hurt you! You don't remember!?" Your head swings to Adam. "What? When? How? Why?" "No! Never! I would never hurt you!"

"That's why he left," Adam talks over Victor. "He hurt you. He did something horrible. Or he tried to. Because he's a horrible person and does not deserve to be even in your presence still, let alone to recieve your forgiveness."

Victor lunges at Adam, grabbing at anything he could reach, which ended up being Adam's hair. Victor yanks and Adam drops, his center of gravity altered too suddenly. He knocks into Victor and they tumble to the ground together.

You step back quickly as they roll and grapple at each other, cursing and yelling. "Lizzie!" You scream, backing out of the study. "Elizabeth!"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Victor howls at you. For a moment, you catch his eye. He looks frenzied, manic, rabid. His eyes are wild, his teeth bared and gnashing like a beast. A monster.

You stumble back quickly, stunned by the pure and absolute hatred you saw on his face. Something heavy knocks into your back as you flounder blindly.

A weight crashes onto your head and in the half-second before your vision shorts out white, you see flames licking across the floor from the collapsed, elaborate candelabra you had knocked into.

The pain that woke you was nearly identical to that which you felt the day you first woke up. It was intense and blinding, but localized in your head instead of all across your body. You gasp for breath, dizzy and disoriented. A crown of sticky, red warmth puddles in radiant streaks around your head.

You hear your name from afar, screamed from outside the haze in your mind. It isn't long before hands raise you from the ground. You feel a weight slip off of you- a tapestry you realize. One had been hung on the wall behind the candelabra you knocked over. You didn't even know it had been laying on you, but now that it wasn't anymore, it was much easier to breathe. You must've pulled it off its hooks as you fell. "Oh, God, you poor dear," a familiar voice murmurs in your ear.

Adam cradles you like he would a porcelain doll. His large hands hold the back of your head and under your knees, careful of the gash on the back of your skull from where the heavy wrought iron came down. You lean into him, trembling slightly. Soft whimpers fall from your lips at the pain and the fear of the fire still tensing your muscles. "Adam-" you breathe. His lips pres to your hairline, whispering soft, shaking words dripping in concern.

"Mon cheri, it's okay, I've got you. I'm right here." You just barely manage to open your eyes. Brown eyes peer down at you, framed by dark curls.

Curls?

Yes, curls.

Mussed ringlets flare out in a fuzzy halo around a face you spent too much time thinking about these past five months.

Victor lifts your head closer to his, pressing both your foreheads together for a long, lingering moment. "Poor sweet girl," he whispers, carrying you through the burning estate. "I've got you, Victor's got you." "Adam-" you rasp. You squirm in his grip, trying to look over his shoulder. Your daze makes your desperate search more difficult as your eyes seem to roll in their sockets, unable to fixate on any one thing. His grip tightens on your body, holding you still as he brings his lips to your ear. "He left you," Victor says, lowly. Your heart stutters in your chest, dropping lower towards the pit of your stomach where all of your emotions seemed to end up one way or another. "Left?" Victor sighs softly. "Yes. I watched him run as the flames started, heard him call for Elizabeth, leaving you on that horribly cold marble…"

He carries you out a side entrance typically used by maids and down into the gardens. His pace quickens, his head swiveling to check your surroundings.

"I didn't mean to start the fire," you tell him softly but with purpose. "Oh, I know, sweetheart. I saw what happened. I know it was an accident. But Adam wasn't looking. He thinks you did it on purpose." Victor cuts down a path into the hedge maze and his pace begins to slow once again with the tall greenery surrounding you both. Not even Adam was tall enough to see over the shrubs. He was safe. For now at least.

"Is that why he left?" Your voice comes out as a whisper, pained at the thought that Adam assumed you had started the fire on purpose. "Hm? Oh, right. Yes… That's why he went to get Elizabeth instead of you. That's why he left you to die in those flames."

The sharpness in Victor's tone causes a physical pain deep in your chest. Your eyes widen, tears brimming at your waterline and clumping on your eyelashes.

It takes everything in Victor not to smile at the pure pain and fear written on your face. Instead, he brings up an expression that mimics your own pain, but has undertones of a cold knowledge. "I know," he sighs.

"I know it hurts. Adam is a cruel man. All I wished to do, from the moment I brought you to life, was protect you; from the world, from him. You're a delicate thing, a sweet and kindhearted girl. The world will take advantage of that kindness, of your innocence and ignorance. It's dangerous out there. And I was a fool to let Adam take you away from me. I beat myself up about it every day and night. For all I know, he's corrupted you already."

His gloved hand runs down the back of your neck slowly, then his fingers flare out, wrapping gently around the base of your throat. Your shudder delights him. Tears start their slow treks down the apples of your cheeks. "No, he- hasn't corrupted me," you protest, beginning to turn your head. The grip tightens, stopping your movement. "Yes, well, how would you know?" Victor hisses; his lips brush your ear, your temple, your cheek. "How is such a pure and virtuous creature such as yourself to know when she is being corrupted? When she is being used and abused by those stronger and wiser than herself."

The grip on your throat ceases momentarily as he turns your head at his own time and pleasure. His face is inches from yours, too close you felt, but not close enough for Victor. He sees the uneasiness in your gaze. Annoyance fills the pit in his chest at the sight, and a plan begins to form. If he was going to keep you, he'd need to find a way to turn that discomfort you felt around him into something positive. And if simple psychology couldn't do the trick, he could always poke around in your brain himself until he found something to snip and make you more agreeable. The thought makes him smile.

Then you'd be perfect. You wouldn't give him those confused and uncomfortable eyes, only gazes of happiness and adoration for your creator. Yes. That's just what he'll do.

"Don't worry, my darling, I can fix it. I can undo whatever he did," Victor promises. He presses his lips to the corner of your mouth in a chaste kiss. You can't even pull away, despite the beginnings of a grimace on your face. His grip is firm, unyielding to your sluggish fighting back. "There, there, no need to fuss, sweetheart," he murmurs, pulling away. Carefully articulated and exaggerated concern play across his face in a meticulous show of emotions as he meets your gaze. "I'm sorry. I forgot you are still disoriented. Forgive me."

Adam awakens choking on smoke and blood. He's aware of a throbbing in his skull and a burning that's spreading across his left side. He struggles to sit upright, coughing harshly. Your name tears from his lips over and over as his eyes search wildly for you. A memory surfaces; your collapsed body under the intricate, forest tapestry. As fast as his arms will carry him, Adam crawls over to the tapestry, yanking it off the ground with strength he was surprised by after his dizzy spell.

You lay there in a puddle of your own blood, eyes glassy and distant. Dead. And anguished sound builds in his throat until his vision corrects itself. No. You're not there. It was just his mind playing tricks on him, some sort a hallucination most likely. But if you're not here…

Victor.

An image flashes in his mind of Victor swinging his prosthetic leg at Adam's head and he gasps. No. Adam turns abruptly, searching for either of you. It's hard to see through the thick smoke, hard to smell past the estate burning, but he doesn't think you nor Victor are still here. Then Victor took you. Oh, God.

The anguished sound Adam had managed to stifle crawls back up his throat, tearing from his lips with an absolute and indescribably raw pain. He races down the hallway, tears beginning to fall down his scarred cheeks. He howls your name, stumbling around corners, tripping down the steps. The front door swings easily under his harsh shove. Outside he runs, straight for the stables. His favorite horse is tied in its stall, it was the biggest and the least afraid of him. It didn't care that he was taller than it, and it didn't mind that he smelled like he had been previously dead. He had named it Felix, because Elizabeth said the name meant 'Lucky' and he felt pretty lucky to find such a skittish creature that wasn't afraid of him.

And how lucky he was now to find that one of the equine trainers was going to begin lessons with Felix before the fire.

Adam quickly unties the lead, mounting the stallion easily and urging him out of the stable. Your face is the only thing in Adam's mind as he rides; through the gardens, down the field lane, into the forest, back out of the forest into a nearby town. Anyone he came across, he asked about Victor. Frustratingly, no one seemed to know anything, but he didn't give up. Not with the danger you faced. He didn't dare even think about what Victor might do to you if given the chance, the time alone, the privacy…

His heart hammers, anger and fear choking his breaths as he continues on. Through the next town, and the next, he goes. The warm afternoon turns to a cool evening, then to a cold night. The moon gives little light to Adam, often wrapping herself in clouds to further darken her glow as the night goes on.

"Who's side are you on?" Adam asks the moon, his voice and expression holding distress.

Typically, Adam liked the moon. He thought of her as a protector, a mother; something kind and warm, gifting light even in the darkest of times. But now, it felt like she was turning her back on Adam. For whatever reason, she didn't want Adam to find you or Victor. Maybe she wasn't as pure as Adam believed her to be. Maybe she was cruel and unforgiving as his creator was. Maybe she was perverted and mean, laughing to herself at his distress and dismay.

Eventually, Felix gives up, too tired to go on. Adam feels the same. He was just too stubborn to give up on his own. To lighten the load, he dismounts, walking beside his dear equine friend. He leads Felix back to the forest that cut between William's estate and the closest town. There was no way they would make it all the way back to the house. They'd have to camp out. Adam was fine with that. He'd slept outside before. Prior to your creation, Adam had slept almost exclusively under the sight of the moon and stars. That was where he had gained such adoration for the loving mother who watched over his dreams. He wasn't sure why she had turned her back on him now.

As he ties Felix's lead to a tree branch, giving him enough slack to eat if he pleased, Adam takes the time to think. He thinks of the old man, to be precise. Before you had been brought to life, he had spent more time with him than anyone else. Those weeks together in the dead of winter- learning from him, speaking with him, reading to him- it had been bliss, the most at peace he'd felt in his life at the time.

One night, the winds were howling like wolves, clawing at the roof and the walls. The old man didn't seem to mind much, but it was nightmarish to Adam. Why was nature so cruel sometimes? It didn't help that whenever he looked out the window, the moon was hiding behind the clouds. After expressing his uneasiness, the old man had begin to tell him a story to make Adam feel better.

Adam lays down beside Felix, his eyes closing as he recounts the story to himself under his breath:

"Long ago, the Moon was surrounded by darkness. She was lonely, without friends or family, but she was full of hope and creativity. She molded the sky into a ball of material, bringing the Earth to life. She drew out the lands with her finger, filled the oceans with her tears- tears of despair that she had no one to share this new creation with. But then came the first star. His name was Polaris.

"He was young and loved her creations as she did. He helped her create life, blessing her world with a purpose. And over the heads of the first people, he crossed the sky. After his day, she allowed him to rest on her Great Blanket, which she surrounded the Earth with to keep it warm against the cold of space. Every day after that, a new star found Earth and crossed the sky before coming to rest with the Moon on her blanket.

"She cares greatly for all of her children- the stars and the people and all the animals as well. Despite not birthing us herself, she is still, in a sense, our mother. Our Great Mother. Without her, there would be no tides. Animals would struggle to migrate if not for her guidance. And humans would be more vulnerable in the dark. And of course, where would the stars rest? They would be forced to continue on and on, never stopping on their tiresome treks across the galaxy. They would get too big or too small, burning out of existence. Or they'll go too fast and crash into one another, or the planets. And of course, without her, there would be no Earth. And no beautiful view to gaze upon after the sun sets. She does so much for us. She loves us. She would never wish us harm."

Adam opens his eyes slowly, lifting his gaze back to the moon. She shone warmly down on him, her light no longer dimmed by clouds. Tears brim in his eyes as he feels guilt for thinking such horrible thoughts about her. She wasn't cruel. She was loving. She always was and always will be. The old man said so. He swore by it. And why would he lie to Adam? Especially about something so delightful.

"I'm sorry," Adam murmurs to the moon. "For doubting you… For thinking you could possibly be so hostile towards us. Please forgive me… I just wish to find my friend."

The word 'friend' sits thickly in his throat, burning his tongue like bile. He didn't like to think of you as just a friend. Not now with so many emotions coursing through him. Not ever, in fact. He hated the term from the start, from the moment you'd first made eye contact with him after awakening on that cold, metal table and he realized you were the most beautiful, most pure thing in the entire world.

The second your eyes had met his, Adam was filled with a selfish and absolute desire to possess you in your entirety. He needed you. Your words, your soul, your love, your mind. You would understand him. You wouldn't leave him. You would love him. He knew you would. Because you and he were he same. The same in so many ways, but different in more. But did that even matter?

A friend did not consume his every waking thought. A friend did not make him feel as deeply as he did for you. No. You were not a friend to him.

He was hopelessly, eternally, shamefully in love with you.

a/n: everything I do, I do for a reason. it's said that everything in animation/drawing is intentional since you have to draw it, but I think the same goes for writing. at least for most writers. and if not for most writers, then for me. I am intentional. if you feel like you've caught something, a little reoccurring theme or hint, chances are you probably have. I finished this at 1:46AM, my eyes are blurry and my keyboard shortcuts are fighting me. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do. like this one? well, I've got plenty more where that came from! I even made a Masterlist taglist: @i-heartdinos @morri-draws

#adam frankenstein x reader #the creature x reader #adam frankenstein #frankenstien 2025 #frankenstiensmonster #the creature #gtd frankenstein

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