Hello angels, welcome to my multifandom blog! My name is Magdalene and I love writing, reblogging cool fics and arts.
My fics usually contain dark themes, so please, procede with caution and read the tags carefully! ♥︎
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Just letting y'all know that I'll be on hiatus for a couple weeks, maybe a month, in case someone would get worried why I'm inactive agh! Partially because of the exam session, and also because I'm drained both mentally and physically. No worries though!
I'll read the fics I'm tagged in, or the series I'm still currently reading once I'm back.
Anyways, love you all, stay safe and see you soon! <33
Read the rest of the series here: Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 ᯓ✦ᯓ✦ᯓ✦
Synopsis: The mystery of the séance continues as Victor reveals the story of the dark angel. Reader brings Victor home for the first time, plays with his hair and gets him a little choked up.
Who's here: Victor x afab!reader
What to expect: ❤️🔥 (explicit); 🌀 (slightly fantastical)
Content (warnings): seance, dark angel, nudity, amab masturbation, nipple play, hair-pulling, consensual choking, Reader doesn't get off, no use of y/n, not beta read (please excuse any typos)
Word count: 3k
🐦⬛ ✨ I would be honored to tag you! Please just ask. ✨ 🐦⬛
"Red! Red! All red! Blood red! I am the angel to whom you pray! I am the angel who guides and guards you! Fear me not, lest you fear your maker! For maker and you are one and shall be once more! Rise and receive your call!"
Lady Killigrew's ominous words hung heavily in the seance room.
An otherworldly wind whooshed through you. Its uncanny chill left you shivering beneath your many layers of garments. You and the other guests sat in silence for several minutes. The only noises you heard came from Lady Killigrew, the medium. She panted irregularly. Her fingernails scratched the polished wooden table.
The wind blew through you once more. In the darkness, your eyes slowly adjusted to the vague shapes and outlines of the people and candles. You started to doubt your senses as, beyond all belief, you saw movement inside the largest candle at the center of the table. No, it couldn't be! First, a thin, blue color emerged at the wick. Then, a yellow, an orange, and, finally, a fiery red. A new flame danced within the candle and illuminated the possessed medium and the transfixed man across from her.
Victor stood rigidly staring at the writhing and groaning medium. Palms still on the table, his tented, clawing fingers were a mocking simulacrum of the other guests' hands around the table. He leaned forward and shrugged his shoulders into the back of his worn waistcoat. Mouth slightly agape, he narrowed his eyes and contorted his face, as if to peer more closely at the creature within Lady Killigrew.
You watched him reach one of his hands towards her. Is he trying to beckon the thing?
Just as Victor opened his mouth wider to speak, Lady Killigrew took a sharp, loud inhale. The guests seated around the seance table flinched. Gasps echoed round the gathered crowd. You held your breath.
Lady Killigrew's neck snapped back. Face turned toward the vaulted ceilings, her lips formed a silent scream. Corded veins in her neck popped and protruded. Trembling hands crawled up her chest to her piqued face. She pulled at her skin and covered her eyes with her fingertips. Then, she collapsed onto the table.
Shrieks emanated from the crowd. The seance guests clung to each other and looked away from the crumpled body. Some of your stablemates rose to approach the lifeless medium.
Victor, though, continued staring. You sat by his wide, head whipping between the medium and this strange man (growing stranger by the second, it appeared).
Maurice, your friend and Lady Killigrew's assistant, rushed to her. He checked the pulse in her neck with two frantic fingers. Then, he rose to meet the eyes of the frightened crowd.
"The seance is over, everyone," Maurice projected confidently, yet you noticed the quiet quivering of his words. He, too, was afraid. "Should you like to stay, please move to the sitting room. Lady Killigrew's servants will provide you with refreshment."
The crowd merely stared at Maurice.
"Now!"
Clattering boots and swishing skirts rang across the parlour and receded as the guests disappeared into the sitting room.
Maurice shot Victor a befuddled look. Get him out of here! He mouthed at you.
You tugged at Victor's sleeve. "Come, now, we must go. She needs privacy."
He darted his eyes toward you. His hard, focused expression softened once he met your gaze.
Victor nodded his head and loosened the grip of his hand nearest you off the table. He held it out, palm first. You interlaced your fingers and lead him to the front door.
ᯓ✦ᯓ✦ᯓ✦
The two of you walked silently, hand-in-hand, as you approached your personal carriage. Your chauffeur did a double-take when he saw you: harried, exhausted and dragging beside you a dazed Victor.
"You're back early," he called out to you.
Words escaping you, you shrugged. How do you explain that your new friend/new lover/possibly mad and definitely mysterious un-barron-like Barron conjured a ghost powerful enough to scare away half of Edinburgh?
The chauffeur lowered from his seat to the ground and helped you and your companion into the carriage. Victor, wide-eyed and staring at nothing, kept your hand firmly squeezed in his.
As you travelled on in the direction of your family's estate, the silence served as a comfortable cushion between your fidgety awkwardness and Victor's continued bewilderment.
A few miles in, you spoke. "Would you like to talk about it?"
Victor simply replied with a shake of his head.
How funny, you thought to yourself as the carriage pulled into your private entrance within the estate. We have seen every part of each other, yet this is the first time we ride in a carriage together. It struck you as odd how mundane and utterly normal this moment felt, despite the exceedingly odd circumstances of Lady Killigrew's party.
By this point, Victor had appeared to be enlivened a bit. His eyes, once wide and fixed, had softened round the creases. They resumed their careful, deliberate, searching stare. His hand, though still in yours, loosened into a comfortable position. Exiting the carriage, he gave a brisk nod and brief expression of gratitude to the chauffeur. He no longer shuffled, but rather strode, out of the carriage and down the walkway to the estate.
You realized Victor's ability to change from state to state, mood to mood, within minutes was intriguing, yes, but also unlike anything you had ever known.
He gazed at the estate and took in every detail of the rich, ornamented, delicately-carved architecture. "So, this is where you live, then?" He spoke flatly; for him, your family's estate was merely another piece of data in the construction of you and your life. It was mere observation.
"Indeed."
You tightened your hand around his and tugged him toward the door that led to your quarters.
You heard the slight smile in his voice as he asked, "Is this really very proper or ladylike of you, Madame?"
"I would most certainly hope not," you responded and knocked at the door.
A tight-lipped servant whipped the door open, as if she had been standing there all night awaiting your return.
"Poppy," you greeted her.
"You're back early."
"So I've been told."
Poppy stepped away from the doorframe to let you pass. Victor looked toward her, but she saw straight through him. He frowned in dismay at her rejection, and you stifled a giggle. You had an arrangement with Poppy: pretend as though any and all late-night guests were invisible, and we will get on swimmingly.
"Quite rude, isn't it?" Victor grumbled to you as you climbed the two flights of stairs to your chambers. "Not even a 'good evening' to spare."
"Perhaps she didn't see you, Victor." He groaned. You enjoyed ribbing him.
You and Victor arrived at your chambers. As you paused at the mahogany door to turn the handle, you turned back to peer at Victor. He seemed nervous, almost giddy, in anticipation.
You opened the door. You swept your arms in the direction of your room and allowed Victor to enter first.
He took in the room: the fixtures, the art upon the walls, the prepared fire roaring at the hearth, the soft bed encased snuggly in white linen sheets. He continued standing and staring. This must be how he spends much of his life, you thought. Standing and staring.
"Victor," you called to him. Like an obedient dog, he turned his head. You shut the door with a click.
As if transfixed by the context (you, your room, alone, at night), Victor began unbuttoning his waistcoat.
You inhaled, physically responding to the sight of him shedding his clothes, and forced yourself to find the right words. You approached him and put a tender hand to his chest. He lowered his hands to his waist.
"Victor," you tried again. "I know you said you do not want to discuss what happened--"
He shuddered slightly. Blood rushed to his face and stained his cheeks crimson.
You found his hands once more that evening and held them.
"--But, we really must. I cannot rest here with you, let alone do anything else, until you give me some sort of explanation for what happened. Even one sentence, one word, would do. You needn't tell me everything."
He cast his eyes downward to his shoes. He gave your hands a firm squeeze.
"The dark angel," he began, choking a bit on his words. "The being that spoke through the medium, your friend, tonight.... It is the same entity that has visited me throughout my life."
He cleared his throat and continued. "Since the death of my mother, the dark angel has come to me in my dreams. It begins as the same life-size statue of St. Michael that resides in my bed chambers--"
You blinked forcefully at that last sentence, but you decided to let it go for now.
"But, then it morphs into something...different. It animates and stretches itself before me. It removes its placid face and reveals a ghastly skeleton underneath."
He shuddered again as you listened intently.
"The dark angel always visits me at the time something important, something impactful and life-altering, happens in my life."
He bit his lip and shook his head before turning to meet your gaze.
"You believe me, don't you? I have never told a soul, not a soul, about the dark angel. How the medium could have known that.... I am a man of reason, of logic and science. If those dreams are not only dreams, I.... I don't know who I am, or what I am, anymore."
You sighed and kissed his hands. "I believe you, Victor."
All was silent for a moment. Then, you spoke again, "You know, I never believed that my friend The Great and Mystical Lady Killigrew could commune with the dead or the otherworldly. I thought it was fun--a parlour game, a delightful and indulgent delicacy for the mind and senses. But, now, I am not so sure...."
You met his eyes again. "But, I do know for certain that you are safe here with me. Thank you for telling me."
He shrugged and leaned forward. You accepted his invitation and allowed him to place a kiss upon your forehead. You tugged at his half-unbuttoned waistcoat. "Come, now. Off to bed."
You changed in front of each other shyly, mindful of the vulnerable parts you wished to hide from the other. You both kept your eyes downcast. When they did meet, you giggled with embarrassment. How strange to be so intimate in some ways and yet still not know each other at all!
You wore a floor-length nightgown with a loose opening at the chest. You crawled into bed, your back against the plush pillows. Victor, you realized was still naked. You felt yourself blush. Blush!
"Forgive me that I do not have any nightclothes for you, Victor, unless you wish to borrow my gown." They were all loose shapes, anyways. Nightgowns were akin to potato sacks, and he could easily fit into whatever you had.
For a moment, he looked puzzled. "No, why? I always sleep nude," he explained as he crawled into bed with you.
You watched him as he looked down upon the opening of the nightgown at your chest. You were veritably surprised when he turned to lie on his side, snuggle into you and lay his head upon the soft skin below that opening.
It felt instinctual to raise your hand to his inky curls, made even more disheveled by the humid rainy evening and the bizarre turn of events at Lady Killigrew's place, and massage his scalp.
He sighed contentedly as you moved your hand down to the strong planes of his back. Your fingers worked the irksome knots and muscles below his soft skin.
As you did this, he traced his fingers over the exposed skin of your chest beside his head.
"I don't know much about you, you know," he said wistfully, almost dreamily and almost only to himself.
A surge of defensiveness and dismissiveness overcame you. That's because I don't want you to know about me, you thought.
You took a breath. "If you play your cards right, maybe you will." It was a cheerful turn of phrase that had worked in the past when your lovers started drifting too close to the real you.
He huffed in disapproval. "No, I don't think that will work for me. The next time I see you, I demand you tell me one thing about yourself. Something important. Something vulnerable. Not your favorite colour or whatever."
You scoffed. He looked up at you expectedly. "Yes, alright, Victor. One thing."
He harrumphed. "Good. And, we really should be getting back to the figure study project. We have become quite lax, indeed."
You playfully smacked his arm. "You drew me just last week!"
He sighed in mock despair. "It is simply not enough. Ouch!"
You had smacked him again.
Moments passed in slow, languid silence. Victor rested on your chest as you traced the smoothness of his back. Absent-mindedly, you reached up to play with his hair once more.
Unaware of the strength of your hand and the pressure applied, you tugged firmly on his curls. A low moan escaped Victor's lips. At first, you thought you had unintentionally hurt him. A growing firmness below Victor's belly told you otherwise. You bit your lip. His cheeks grew red and he looked up at you sheepishly.
You looked down at him and tugged at his hair again. He moaned once more and squeezed the side of your body with desire.
"You like that, don't you?"
He nodded in affirmation.
You felt your nipples hardening under your linen nightgown. Victor noticed them, too. He licked his lips.
You adjusted the looseness of the dress's opening. Victor let out a shaky breath as you uncovered your chest. You grabbed at your breast and squeezed it. You pinched your nipple until you began to moan. Victor had grown fully hard against your thigh. Unawares, he started to rut against you.
Your hand still in his hair, you brought his head to your chest. He groaned and sucked eagerly, greedily. The vibrations from his throat brought forth cascading ripples of pleasure against your sensitive skin. He hollowed his cheeks to take as much of you as he could, and he beat his sharp, quick tongue against your hard bud.
You rolled your head back and ushered Victor to your other side. Blood rushed to your most delicate parts. A low throbbing occupied the space between your legs.
"Victor, I want you to do something for me."
He nodded vigorously.
"Give me your hand."
He raised his palm to you. Taking it in your free hand, you licked across his palm and spit into it.
"I want you to touch yourself as I play with your hair."
Victor groaned as lowered his hand and grasped his length. His breathing quickened as he entered a pleasurable rhythm. Your breathing quickened, too, as watched him. You were enraptured by the movement of his body and, as you tugged on his hair, how quickly you could turn him on.
Victor turned to lie on his back. You leaned over him. His cheeks were flushed, and his face looked both relaxed and concentrated. You released your hand from his hair, and the relaxation faltered for a moment. He whined impatiently.
You shushed him and brought your thumb to the softness of his full lips. He opened up for you and eased in your thumb with his tongue. He sucked hard on you, and his eyes fluttered in delight.
An idea came to you. You wrapped the curve of your palm to Victor's neck. You pressed your fingers down gently, and he shivered under your touch.
"Do you like it when I touch your neck like this?"
Again, he nodded vigorously.
You dragged your thumb out of his mouth, leaving him slack-jawed. Then, you covered your hand over his throat and gave him a light squeeze.
Victor moaned and raised his hips. You smiled coyly to yourself.
"Can I do that again, but a little harder this time, Victor?"
"Please, yes, please."
You squeezed harder this time. His eyes rolled to the back of his head.
You gasped. Power and pleasured seized your body. You acted almost involuntarily, as if your body knew exactly what to do next.
You modulated the pressure around Victor's neck. Tighter, softer, faster, flower. As you choked him, he continued playing with himself.
His breathing became more labored. His hips moved faster on the bed.
Then, his voice, low with desire and aching with lust, said, "Your sheets.... I don't want to--"
"I want you to. I want to keep you on my bed. Please, Victor. Please."
With that, the promise of his permanence on your bed, he moved his hand faster and harder against himself. You wished to lower yourself onto his aching cock, but you could not will yourself to let go of control over his perfect, smooth neck.
Victor let out a cry and released himself on your white sheets. He collapsed, panting and glowing, on the bed. Completely out of breath, he closed his eyes and grasped for you. He held you tightly and burrowed into the nape of your neck.
You reached for his hair again. This time, you did not tug or pull. You simply caressed his curls gently and tenderly as the two of you languidly drifted off to sleep.
I was so obsessed with "Silence of the Lambs", I fear it has become a part of me...
Not sure if anyone remembers a post I made about wanting to write a very deranged psychiatrist x reader!patient fic and I lowkey imagine that our obsessed psychiatriast looks like Oscar Isaac (especially when he played in "In the Hand of Dante" yummmmm),,, I just wanted to draw the guyyyy, posing like Hannibal...
Looking at the scene, it seems as though our psychiatrist committed a crime... not sure what kind of... but sureeelyyyy, he's a doctor, he knows what's best for his beloved patient...
Writing about this freak is kind of therapeutic ngl (definately not because I'm writing a consultation scene where he's psychoanalysing the reader nuh uhhh—)
(modern) Yandere!Leto Atreides x reader (NSFW/MDNI/SMUT)
contents/warnings: obsessive and possessive leto, boss x employee, murder, kidnapping, kind of stockholm syndrome, a lot of manipulation, oral (f. receiving), face sitting, unprotected sex (leto refuses to put on a condom), p in v, creampie, leto has a breeding kink
a/n: this is darker than my usual yandere fanfics (or any of my fanfics in general). as the author, i am not responsible for the content you consume and for any warnings you ignore. if you do not like it, scroll and move on.
w/c: 3.8k
You wake up in an unfamiliar room. The walls are grey and decorated with paintings. You rub your eyes and sit up, vision still blurred. The bed is comfortable and large. You still don’t know where you are.
“You woke up, finally.”
You jump, turning your head towards the man sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. It’s Leto, your new boss.
You had been hired a few weeks earlier as his secretary. He was nice to talk to and also very, maybe a little too kind. You thought it was your imagination, but he treated you differently from the other employees. He was much more protective of you, not letting anyone get close to you.
“Where am I? What have you done to me?” You move back on the bed and hit your back against the bed frame behind you.
“You’re in my house. Don’t worry, I haven’t done anything. The last thing I would want to do is hurt you.” He stands up and walks towards you. He extends his hand to touch your face, but you swat it away in fear.
“I told you, I don’t want to hurt you. Don’t be scared of me.” His tone is harsher this time, more commanding, but his touch is soft. You stay as still as possible, your heart hammering in your chest.
“You look gorgeous, especially while you sleep. You look like a queen.” He traces the outline of your face before running it down your neck. He gives it a soft squeeze and stands up, heading towards the door.
“There’s breakfast in the dining room downstairs. There’s clothes for you in the drawers.” He closes the door and leaves you alone. You stand up and walk around carefully, running your hand across the walls. You open the drawers.
Shirts, pants, skirts, and even underwear all in your style and size. Some of these are ones that you keep at home for special occasions. You get ready quickly and step out of the room.
Holy shit, you’re in a mansion. The house is humongous, you could easily get lost in here. You head downstairs and spot Leto sitting down at a table with various foods. You sit at the chair across from him trying your best to avoid his gaze.
“How are you feeling?” He asks as he watches you inspect the food on the table before taking a careful bite out of it. “The food isn’t poisoned or anything, it was made by the chef.”
“How did I get here?”
“Simple, I brought you here while you were sleeping.”
You nearly choke on your food before struggling to swallow it. You take a gulp of water and continue to speak.
“You kidnapped me?! I was hoping I got black out drunk and you happened to bring me to your mansion.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily call it kidnapping, I’m protecting you from the lusting eyes of others. They don’t know what I’ll do to them if I catch them.”
He continues to stare at you as you eat, not letting his eyes drift away for even a moment. When you finish, he calls over a maid to pick up all of the plates and leftovers.
“I have to go to work now. You’re free to walk around the house, but you cannot leave under any circumstances whatsoever. You will have unwanted punishments if you do so, punishments I do not want to inflict.”
You gulp in fear, and feel your legs tremble as you stand up from your chair.
“Don’t be so scared, I would never harm you.” He walks over to you, cupping your cheeks and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’m doing this because I love you. You belong to me and nobody else.”
He heads towards the door. “Goodbye now, feel free to explore the house.” He leaves, and you’re frozen in your tracks.
Oh goodness. What are you going to do now? You could make a run for it, and get as far as possible, despite the warnings you had just received. You walk towards the door and put your hand on the door knob, you turn the-
“One more thing I forgot to tell you.” Leto looks at you right in front of him, and you quickly step back and put your hand behind you. He raises his eyebrow, but continues to speak. “Your phone is in one of the drawers in your room. You can speak with your friends, family, and go on social media, but everything is monitored, so be careful about what you do.” He leaves again, this time without a goodbye.
You walk back upstairs, and head towards what you assume to be the bathroom for you. It has an unopened pack of toothbrushes and toothpaste, along with hung towels and loofahs. You look around and inspect every mirror and decoration in it, even the lights. There seem to be no cameras, you hope. You brush your teeth and wash your face, in hopes of somehow uplifting your mood. It didn’t.
You walk out of the bathroom and walk around. The rooms are mostly empty guest rooms. You reach a closed door at the end of the corridor. You try to turn the knob, but it doesn’t budge. It’s Leto’s room, you think, and not some creepy sex dungeon. You walk back to your room and open your drawer to find your phone in it. You lay down and open it, everything seems to be normal at first glance.
Then, you look through your messages, specifically the ones with the guy from work you were hoping to go out with. Dozens of messages from last night that you didn’t send were coming from you. Ones about talking to meet up to talk about something important. You didn’t say any of this. You panic, and quickly send him a message. It doesn’t go through. You get a message from Leto (whom you hadn’t had saved in your phone) after you read the messages.
“Don’t bother texting him. He’s long dead already. He should’ve known better.”
You open his text, but don’t reply to him. How the hell did you get wrapped into this situation? How do you explain it to your parents? He probably already lied to them anyway. You sigh as you feel your eyes tear up, trying not to sob. You want to leave, you don’t want to be here. Goodness knows what he’ll do to you. He said he would never hurt you, but who knows if it’s just a bluff to get you to be calm?
Before you know it, tears start to pour out of your eyes, you feel your heart threatening to escape your chest. You’re scared, you have so many unanswered questions. You close your eyes, and drift away to sleep after managing to calm yourself down. You plan to sleep throughout the whole day until Leto comes back.
-
The sound of the door makes your eyes open quickly, and you sit up on your bed. You hear footsteps up the stairs and coming closer to where you are. Leto opens the door slowly, and walks in when he sees you.
“How was your day?” He sits down next to you, and you subtly move away from him.
“Why did you kill him?”
He sighs, turning his head away from you to look at one of the paintings on the wall. “I did it for you. Because I love you near and dear to my heart and soul. Now, answer my question. How was your day?”
You scoff and roll your eyes. “Boring. I slept the whole day.”
“You have this whole mansion to explore, with a pool in the backyard and everything, yet you still decide to sleep in? What else do you want me to do?”
“Let me leave.”
He turns to you, a look of held back frustration on his face. He grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him.
“You know I cannot and will not do that. Perhaps in a few months we can go out together, but you know you are restricted to the constraints of this house. You’re lucky I’m so generous and kind, as any other person would’ve already hurt you.”
He lets go of your chin, but continues to look at you with a steady gaze. “I love you more than words can describe. In due time, you’ll realize that I am the only one worthy of you, worthy of loving you in a way nobody else can.”
He stands up and walks towards the door. “Dinner is already ready, take a shower and then head down.”
Once he leaves, you grab your clothes and go to the bathroom, turning on the water and making it the perfect temperature.
You finish showering and head down. Leto isn’t at the table, instead, he seems to be in the living room. You eat in silence, and you can hear the sound of the TV faintly. The maid picks up your plate once you’re done, and you head back up to your room.
-
The next few days are the same. You try your best not to upset Leto, while coming up with ideas on how to leave. All of these plans are discarded immediately, as every time you try them out, something or someone stops you from leaving. All of the doors leading to the free world are barricaded, and there’s maids and butlers that stop you from leaving.
He’ll do practically anything you ask him to, except letting you leave the property. He hasn’t hurt you, but you can tell when he’s angry with you when you ignore him or push his buttons.
Today, you’re watching TV in the living room. Scrolling through an endless selection of movies and tv shows. Nothing seems appealing.
Your mind drifts back to when you worked for him. He seemed to be very interested in you. He was always buying you food and things you wanted but couldn’t buy because they were out of your price range. He knew everything about you. Things you didn’t and did like, your routines, hell, he probably tracked your cycle as well.
You hear the front door opening, which snaps you out of your thoughts. It’s Leto coming back from work. You pay no mind to him as he approaches you, which seems to mildly annoy him. He’s nice and patient with you, sure, but he still has you trapped in here. You have a multitude of things to do in here, but you only want one thing: freedom.
He sits down on the opposite side of the couch from you, looking at you and sighing. “I’m trying everything to make you smile again, you always seem so upset with me.”
“You know why I’m upset.”
“But why? I give you everything you could ever ask for, but you have your mind set on one thing. One foolish thing. You have everything, you’re just being selfish.”
You turn to face him fully, now beyond upset with him. “I’m the selfish one?! You kidnapped me because you want me all to yourself. I’m surprised you don’t have me trapped in your room with you.”
“I won’t force you to do things you do not want to do. I’m being patient because I love you. You don’t think you love me, in fact you must think you hate me, but you’re just in denial. Just accept my undying love for you, and you’ll see how your life will get so much better.” He moves closer to you, cupping your face and kissing your forehead softly.
“What if I don’t, huh? What’ll happen to me then?”
“I’ll keep trying and trying, if I can’t have you, nobody can. I’ll kill everyone who’s between us.” He grabs the tv remote and puts on a movie about who knows what. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in close. He’s warm, and very comfortable to lay on. You want to leave, but you’re practically caged in.
-
You wake up the next morning still in his arms. You blink a few times, and see him looking at you.
“You sleep with your mouth open.”
“No I don’t!”
He chuckles and brushes a few stray hair strands out of your face.
“Don’t you have to go to work?”
“I’ve decided to stay in today with you.”
You sigh. There goes your plan to execute escape attempt #48. You get up and stretch, and head upstairs to your bathroom. Leto watches every step you take, looking at you with adoration. He gets up as well, and you see him head towards the locked door at the end of the corridor and head inside.
You wonder what’s in his room that he has to lock it. You’re allowed to go anywhere else, but not his room. You finish getting ready and head back downstairs. You eat breakfast with Leto, and a few words are exchanged between bites.
“What would you like to do today?”
“Go outside and shop together?”
“Nice try. Maybe later along the line we can go out together, but everything we do has to be on my property.”
At least you tried. “Fine, we can play Mario Kart or something together.” He smiles at your response.
You two spend the whole day playing games together, and you even went out to the pool together. It was a treat seeing Leto shirtless and all wet. His salt and pepper hair sticking to his hot, tan skin. You might hate him, but you can’t deny the man is absolute eye candy.
“Oh my goodness Leto, you absolutely suck at Mario Kart.” You laugh as he ends up in last place, behind all of the bots.
“I’m not good at these types of games.” He says as he scratches his beard. He looks at you, and smiles at you having fun with him.
“You look so beautiful when you smile. I told you living here with me isn’t so bad.”
Once your laughter dies down, you realize that you really haven’t thought about leaving this place all day after breakfast. Maybe it really isn’t so bad.
You two continue to laugh and talk, and you go back to your room to sleep once it’s past 12. You lay down and look at the ceiling. He’s right. You have everything you could ever want in here. And you also have a hot man you can drool over.
You feel like a completely different person. Something in you has definitely changed, but you don’t know what.
-
Over the next few days, Leto continues to stay home from work to hang out with you. He’s friendly, but commanding and strict when he needs to be.
You can’t exactly pinpoint when it happened, but your feelings of hate and resentment towards him slowly developed into feelings of love. You don’t want to admit it, but you feel your stomach flutter whenever he holds you close to him. Your commitment to find freedom has died down, and you don’t know if you really want to leave anymore. You still keep in touch with your friends and family via text messages, although it’s sometimes a bit hard to come up with an excuse as to why you can’t leave.
Currently, you and Leto are watching a movie on the couch. You’re snuggled up next to him, and he’s holding you close.
“Why don’t you come sleep in my room with me? No funny business if you don’t want to.”
“The locked room at the end of the hallway?”
“Yes, that one.”
Who knows what’s in there? He said he wouldn’t do anything without your permission, but it’s still a bit scary.
“Sure, okay.”
He turns off the tv once the movie is finished and tidies up the couch. You follow him up the stairs and watch him unlock the door. He opens the door for you and you walk in.
The room is huge. Much bigger than yours with a balcony and a built-in bathroom, which is also very big. Your eyes drift to an open closet. Is that a shrine? Of you? Are those your favorite pair of panties? Where did he get all of those pictures from?
“Ahem. You weren’t supposed to see that.” He closes the closet door and locks it. He clears his throat and points towards the bed. “You can sleep on whichever side you want, I have extra pillows and blankets if you want more.”
You lay down and put your head on the pillow. Wow, even the bed and pillows are better than yours. So comfortable. He lays down next to you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and kissing your neck softly. You play with his hair, running your fingers through it.
“Took you a few weeks to finally accept that you love me.”
“I haven’t said anything yet.”
“Would we be wrapped up like this if you didn’t?”
You smile as you continue to play with his hair. You trail your hand down his face. You lean in, and place a soft kiss on his lips. He smiles, and kisses you back.
What was a soft moment between you two quickly turned into a heated makeout session. You’re straddling Leto, and feel a very prominent bulge nudging your thighs. When you try to pull his pants down, he stops you.
“No, I’m starting with you tonight.” He lifts you up to take off your shorts, leaving you only in your shirt and panties. He runs his fingers through your soaked underwear, making you gasp.
“You’ve been aching for me, haven’t you? Look at how you’ve been denying her my attention and devotion.” He slides them off, the cold air hitting your core and making you shiver. He motions for you to sit on his face, and you work your way up and hover above him.
“Sit.” He squeezes your thighs and swallows, his eyes on your dripping cunt. You go down slowly, and he nearly slams you onto his mouth. His beard is surprisingly soft and comfortable to sit on. You moan as you feel his tongue lick you up and down, lapping all of your juices up. Your hands find his hair, and you pull it softly when you feel his tongue prodding at your entrance.
“Leto.. Leto!” You moan loudly as he enters you, exploring you and finding all of your sweet spots. His hands are on your ass and thighs, groping and squeezing whenever you spill your praises for him. His groans into your cunt, his eyes meeting your watery ones.
His tongue circles your clit, giving it a few swipes, determined to push you over the edge. He coaxes out a loud, satisfied, moan from you. You clamp your thighs around his head, but it only seems to make his tongue work faster and harder. He’s extremely focused on making you orgasm, hitting every single one of the spots that make your thighs nearly suffocate him.
Without a warning, you snap, moaning loudly and singing praises for Leto. He laps everything up, not letting a drop to waste. He continues to lick your folds gently, careful to not make you too overstimulated. You lay down next to him, trying to catch your breath. He kisses you, letting you taste yourself on your tongue. You trail your hand down, cupping his bulge that’s threatening to pop out of the confines of his pants.
“You were great. Are you ready?” He says while kissing down your neck, taking off your shirt.
You nod, and without hesitation, he has you under him. He releases his thick cock from its confines, and rubs the tip along your slit.
“Wait! Can you use a condom, please?”
Leto sighs and shakes his head. He continues to press the tip against you.
“I’m not on the pill and I’m not sure if I want a kid yet.”
Leto kisses your cheek and whispers in your ear. “Let me see you swell with my kid. I’ll take such, such good care of you. I’ll be there for anything you need me for. I’ll even let you go outside with me. Let everyone see who you belong to.”
You hesitate, and squeeze his arm softly. He continues to rub his tip against your entrance temptingly. The offer sounds amazing. He’ll even let you go outside.
“Please, I need to fill you to the brim, you’ll be dripping with me for days. I need to wrap my arms around you, and feel our baby kicking in your belly.”
You take a deep breath. “Okay, go ahead.” He gives you a kiss and pushes himself in slowly, but easily due to how absolutely soaked you are. You moan once he’s in fully.
“You’re taking me in so well. Tell me how much better it feels when there’s no pesky condom on, hm?” He continues to thrust, picking up a faster pace.
“It feels-, so fucking good.” You moan out loudly as he bites your neck, soothing the bite with his tongue. He nearly folds you in half, trying to get even deeper inside you. Your walls clench around him. This feels better than everything else you’ve ever had.
He moves his hips quickly and moans into your neck. He hits every spot in you, as if he has your body mapped out in his head. He squeezes your nipple softly, making you yelp and moan.
“Let me hear those sweet moans. Don’t hold back.”
You do as he says, although you get a bit embarrassed when you think about the other people in the mansion, and you hope they can’t hear you.
You feel yourself getting close to climaxing again, and dig your nails into Leto’s back, which gets a sweet moan out of him. Your walls spasm and clench as you orgasm, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. You feel him twitch inside you, and he goes even faster than before.
He kisses you as he comes, filling you up and making you feel warm inside. He softens inside you, but doesn’t pull out. He lays down on top of you, kissing your skin softly. You both pant, skin hot and sweaty.
“If it doesn't take, we’ll keep trying and trying until it does.”
“You’re really hung up on that, aren’t you?”
“I’m surprised you aren’t, you’d do anything to go back outside, wouldn’t you?”
You feel your finger twitch, but you don’t pay much attention to it.
“I think it’s pretty comfy living in this mansion actually.”
“Wow, it’s almost like I was trying to tell you that all this time.”
You both laugh, and silence comes soon after. You feel Leto breathing softly on your neck with his eyes closed.
This whole thing has been a rollercoaster of emotions for you. You’re not too sure if you’re the same person that first woke up in this unfamiliar mansion weeks ago.
Leto treats you well though, giving you everything you could ever want (apart from leaving of course), so that makes it fine, right?
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hii , I'm an artist and I love your fanfic I was wondering if I could draw the fanfic sense for you , if you wouldn't mind , I would be glad if we talk about this
HI DARLING, thank you so much for your praise, it means so much to me!🥹
You absolutely can draw anything you want from my fic if that’s what you want! I’d be honoured to see what you have imagined while reading it! <333 (That goes to anyone who are wondering as well teehee)
Pairing: Victor Frankenstein x fem!doctor!reader
Summary: Victor's family invites both him and his beloved woman for a visit.
Word count: 6.4k
Content warnings: POV third person, dark romance / gothic romance, doctor!reader, manipulation, psychoanalysis, obsessive / possessive behaviour, intellectual debate, slight body horror / gore, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns for reader-insert.
A huge thank you to my dear to my lovely beta-reader: @the-quick-red-fox <3
Taglist: @spvderwxb @lilcrazygirlieee @jojooasis @roguevenus @have-you-seen-my-sanity @poedameronsgirlfriend @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @biasalvatores2-blog
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A/N: hi, I finally found the time to finish this chap somehow! Studies and life have been eating me alive lately, I'm super stressed and anxious, desperate about everything, but I'll live!! Pray for me :,)))!!
Anyway, this was a very chill chapter that fed Victor's delusions, it's gonna get nasty... Be warned... And oh nooooo, this chapter was definately NOT very much Hannibal inspired, I fear it's NOT my ultimate brainrot.
Also, I'm planning to do 10 chapters in total, plus a mini epilogue, so you're more than halfway done with this fic, congrats and huge thank you to those still reading, that's insane! :,,)) Muah muah muah! <33
“Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.”
—Peter 5:8
“My dearest brother,
I thank you for keeping me and my dear wife, Elizabeth, in your thoughts. I know that you are greatly preoccupied by your own troubles and hope you have time for meditation in your labours. I beg of you, try not to exhaust yourself.
I am in good health, as is Elizabeth; we are soon to return from our honeymoon. Our union brings me immense bliss and I am convinced to have married the greatest woman God could have granted. She bestows tranquility upon me, and I pray that the pleasant pace of our lives combined brings ease upon not only me, but us both.
Enough about me, I am thrilled to bear the joyous news in your life! Oh, brother, glad am I to read of this passionate regard and fondness you describe for the subject of your admiration! From your account of this woman, I am convinced that she is of the same intellectual brilliance as you, and I would never have expected you to seek out a lesser companion. I hope that her genius will inspire your own.
Though I wish to inquire, as you seemed to be in a hurry, are you engaged? For I formed an impression of such fortune. And I suspected that it was for this reason you wrote to me. However, my judgement could be wrong, for I had difficulty reading your letter, as the words were slightly smudged and your handwriting seemed shaky. Forgive me for my rudeness, but it could simply be my imagination. Your handwriting always resembled our father’s; it could be the very effect of the arduous study of medicine as well!
Regardless, I digress. I and Elizabeth would be delighted to invite you and this charming lady to our temporary residence—Herr Harlander’s, of course. I need not remind you of the address, but all three of us would gladly meet her, whom I pray to be my sister-in-law.
However, I must go now. Our carriage has arrived, and I and Elizabeth are to travel to Edinburgh.
We shall meet soon. Please respond as soon as possible. I eagerly await the date of your arrival. I ask you both not to reject the invitation, I insist!
I and Elizabeth send our best regards from one of our many stops. We wish you well, and hope to see you soon and in good health.
I sincerely miss you, brother.
Yours,
William.”
The elegant clopping of the horses’ hooves over the stone ground, and the rustling of the moving carriage accompanied the voice of Victor’s beloved. “Are you eager to reunite with your brother after not having seen him for so long?”
The pair sat side by side within the carriage, their bodies parting by a few inches.
Throughout the ride, Victor had felt a growing sense of frustration. They had not even once spoken of their previous liaison, though he had desperately attempted to broach the topic. She persisted in redirecting the conversation when it came at hand, and she seemed to purposefully torment him with the withdrawals of his sincerest affection. His arduous trials of pressing his lips to hers, of hugging her body, or caressing any part of her were heartlessly rejected, as if nothing truly happened between them.
Victor could not understand the reason behind her coldness; he dared not call it modesty or a want of propriety, for he considered those characteristics long since erased in her once their passion merged that evening.
He felt as though their shared moment was no more than a dream, an illusion—so unreal.
“Well?” she prompted once more, re-capturing his attention.
“I am indeed, Miss,” he answered at last, straightening his spine as if to prove he was grounded in the present moment.
She hummed, observing his face intently for a moment—it made him shudder. “Tell me, what must I expect of your family? I do wish to make a good impression.”
“I assure you, they will be fond of your company, regardless of whether you try to comply with their taste in people, as long as I am the one bringing you in.”
“My, then I shall try my earnest to not bring shame to you. I pray not for you to regret the decision of presenting me to your beloved ones,” the woman chuckled, looking out of the window. Due to the annoying bonnet she wore, her face was fully hidden from his eyesight.
He moved closer, trying to catch a glimpse of her. “You were invited. I should say, today you are our guest of honour.”
“You must have told your brother much about me for him to invite us both, I hope not the worst.”
“No, not at all! I would never,” he insisted, following the lines of her silhouette with his eyes while she watched the passing houses. She sat tall, composed and, perhaps, even somewhat prideful.
Victor could no longer resist his urges, having succumbed to them once before. His arm swung over her shoulders, pulling her close to him. It must have caught her off guard as it forced her to face him.
“I am glad that you shall meet my family,” he whispered into her ear.
“What has suddenly gotten into you?” she asked. Though not out of concern, nor was there anger or annoyance in her voice, but curiosity.
“Oh, you most certainly know the reason.” He sighed, brushing the tip of his nose against her cheek while he breathed into her ear. “You certainly know my motives, but you choose to feign ignorance.”
“Well then, do explain my ignorance,” she cooed softly, challenging him with an intense gaze and an angelic smirk.
Victor needed to test his hypothesis before accusing her of something more, to test whether his beliefs were true. The only way to examine it was by conducting an experiment. Therefore, his lips neared towards hers, and his hand gently caressed her thigh, though her dress and the raincoat covered the yearned flesh—
Then the carriage stopped at the most inconvenient timing; the horses neighed loudly, stomping with their heavy hooves in place out of fatigue. The driver called out that they had arrived.
Victor cursed under his breath, glowering through the window at the high walls of Harlander’s residence.
Without uttering a word, the woman climbed out of the carriage, and he felt the sting of salt burning the open wound in his heart.
Even while walking alongside her to the door, he dared not to touch her again, not to question her opinion of his boldness. He presumed that she might have felt offended by his intruding on her space, but it was hard to identify her true emotions from his sidelong glances. Her face was as still and reserved as ever. He wondered whether she was mentally preparing herself for the meeting, thinking of all possible scenarios for conversations, or dreaming of the kiss they could have had.
Even while in his daze, Victor knocked on the door with the elegant door knocker, unable to lower his gaze from the face of his beloved.
He could not recall the door opening and a familiar voice greeting them, “Brother! Come in, come in!”
He could not even recall coming into the house, or hugging his dear brother tenderly, or hearing his beloved and William exchanging polite introductions, slowly becoming more familiar with one another.
Victor was entirely absorbed in the woman, the shadows and light dancing within her irises, the curl of her lips, every movement of her muscles, a stubborn strand of hair poking out of her desired hairstyle.
He could not suppress the stab in his chest that radiated to his guts; the tingle that spread through every single branch of his nerves.
He did, however, remember entering the salon, seeing Elizabeth stand up from the sofa to greet her guests. He flinched as she kissed the woman on the cheek.
Victor felt obsessed, territorial, and he despised the fact that these emotions had integrated into the very marrow of his bones. He was taken aback by the intensity of his suffering as jealousy coiled in his veins, as his beloved spoke to Elizabeth, giving the other woman all her attention, and not even sparing him a glance. His hands clenched tightly into fists and his lower eyelid even twitched as he stalked the pair.
Perhaps he even regretted presenting his woman to his family.
The hosts and their guests were seated at a large dining table, ready to feast and to converse with one another. However, Henrich was still nowhere to be found.
“And what have you served us?” the woman queried, observing the plate placed before her.
“A lamb,” William answered with a bright smile, clumsily covering his thighs with a napkin. “Freshly harvested, roasted and rubbed with spices from countries of the East. We hope it pleases your palate!”
“Please, do not doubt it. I am very grateful for your consideration,” she replied politely, following the etiquette as the others did.
All of them indulged in the merriment with loud conversation, pouring each other cups of tea or wine, though one preferred to drink milk. The cooked lamb with the mingling aftertaste of the spices from faraway lands added to the ease, modifying their voices to jubilant and relaxed in the happiness of the union. Even the light of the candles on the table fluttered along with their laughter.
However, Victor’s mind drifted away from the blissful atmosphere, though he did remember asking his brother and his wife a polite question: ‘how was your honeymoon?’, to which his beloved added: ‘where have you been, and what have you seen?’.
William had huffed and blustered, unable to contain himself from reminiscing, seemingly excited to share his experiences from the honeymoon, sometimes tenderly patting his wife’s hand. Willam’s face had brightened and a new, healthy flush splashed it; though Victor could not recall much of his narrative.
He was much more interested in analysing Elizabeth, seeing her for the first time after so long. He had noticed the shift in her demeanor: she was paler, more modest and subdued. William’s touch did not uplift her spirit, and yet, she was not bothered by it either. It seemed as though her inner light had died, as though she repressed herself; her gaze was now lifeless as she stared at the wooden floor with narrowed eyes.
However, once Elizabeth’s eyes rose to meet his—they were burning, piercing right through him with a passionate disdain hidden in their depths. It made him instantly avert his gaze.
And Victor noticed: he no longer felt those butterflies fluttering in his chest while looking at her. All of his affection had since shifted to his beloved.
His woman’s voice brought Victor back to reality. “You seem displeased, Missis Frankenstein, is the taste revolting?” the woman began once William was out of words.
“I apologise if I ruined your appetite, yet it is not the taste that is revolting,” Elizabeth replied politely, staring at the meal. She chewed as if eating a rock, and seemed to struggle swallowing the food. “It is the thought of a life I am consuming.”
“Tell me, how does it make you feel?” the woman asked, locking her eyes onto Elizabeth who avoided meeting hers.
Elizabeth’s brows knitted as she thought. “I feel disgust, guilt, grief… As though my mouth is filled with dirt.”
The woman hummed softly, taking a careful bite of the meat. “Yet, we are now following the natural order of life. One must consume the other to survive.” Then her gaze fell to the red cross resting against Elizabeth’s neck, and then back to her face. “After all, even God encourages us to eat his lambs.”
The hostess’s eyelids flickered at the bold claim, forcing her to look up. “In Eden, the first humans did not consume meat. They only began the practice following the Great Flood. It was an act of necessity, not of free will.”
“If words of encouragement, given in the Old Testament, are not enough, I can give you more instances. God, the Father, accepted the burning of the lambs as a sacrifice in the Old Testament. Jesus, the God Son, ate meat, importantly lambs, in the New Testament. Did they not?”
Victor shuddered uncomfortably, feeling a bit tense at the sudden change of direction in the conversation. He worried that this might ruin his family’s perception of his woman. Sweat began to bead at his collar beneath his white shirt.
He was not the only subject of her observations.
“I am willing to understand the implications of your words— Are you insinuating that God is cruel? God is vulgar?” Elizabeth pushed the plate away from herself. A spiteful spark beamed brightly in her dark eyes.
“God is just.” The woman replied. Victor resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow in surprise; he sensed that William had also subtly pulled back.
“Indeed, yet God does not bring unnecessary suffering,” Elizabeth said slowly, as though choosing her words carefully. “We should not excuse ourselves in His image.”
“But are we not created in God’s image?” The woman took a sip of wine, washing away the meat. “If God is allowed to consume meat without remorse, or disgust, guilt, grief, why should we?”
“God is not a human, and we must not compare ourselves with Him,” Elizabeth replied briefly, yet dismissively, clearly disliking the quoting of her own words.
“Of course, yet, we portray God,” the woman continued, as though adrenaline made her speak onward, yet her state was calm and collected. “The thought might not change your feelings towards the act, but it might grant you a different perspective on its morality. Eating meat is not immoral.”
“By your rationale, perhaps eating a human is morally grey?” Elizabeth exhaled as if laughing, folding her hands neatly on her thighs, though she leaned closer to the table.
William coughed quietly, embracing his wife’s hand beneath the table, silently begging her to control her rising temper. Victor felt inclined to follow his example, yet knew not to interfere.
“Is it not done by God also?” the woman replied with a smirk on her face while cutting through the flesh on her plate. “Remember, God did accept human sacrifices. God refers to humans as ‘lambs’. He praises his lambs, nourishes them, and in the end—eats them, though metaphorically. He kills. A murder is an act of violence, but if God commits it—it is just.”
Elizabeth’s head inclined to the side. “Do you believe in God, Doctor?” Coldly uttering the woman’s title, eyes narrowed at her as though she were trying to see right through her guest.
“Why of course.”
Elizabeth halted, ignoring William’s desperate signalling. “Are you playing God too, Doctor?”
“I sense that you are referring to Doctor Frankenstein’s work. In that case, then no, I am not the same,” the woman answered, grinning slightly wider than usual. Victor thought that the challenge, or rather ‘insult’ amused her; he swallowed his pride and remained silent.
“Your words are a double-edged sword. What do you seek to portray?”
“That I, unlike Doctor Frankenstein, do not experiment with death. I am not interested in deceiving God and disrupting His order. I respect His design: Death is the gift for humankind, and we may only allow ourselves to push it further away, yet respectfully, until it inevitably comes to us. However, stopping it permanently is simply illogical,” the woman spoke ever so slowly while chewing, fully aware that talking with a full mouth would be considered rude.
Elizabeth chuckled; Victor felt as if the pair of them had formed a bond at that very moment. It made him feel hurt: he wanted to argue, but his beloved continued before he could open his mouth:
“However, this meal is quite symbolic. It represents our connection to God and His wrath towards the lambs that do not follow the herd. God is not afraid of punishing, bringing plague and horrors of the Earth upon those who ignore Him. The lamb should be our reminder: to obey, to follow the herd, and to be sacrificed if God wills it. To live and to die when God commands. To be afraid, as you are followed by His watchful eyes. To never forget that you are but a lamb.”
Elizabeth’s gaze sparkled with curiosity, unknowingly if in a good way. “That is God’s design. He must keep order; otherwise, the world would crumble.”
“Absolutely,” the woman agreed, licking the remnants of sauce from her lips.
Victor knew that Elizabeth must have greatly disliked his beloved after the pointless arguing and the poor attempt to change her mind. However, he remembered his own first debate with Elizabeth and realised: she was intrigued, though suspicious and critical, perhaps even hateful, but interested.
Regardless, Elizabeth placed her elbows on the surface of the table, supporting the weight of her upper body. A playful smirk plastered her lips, and a rosiness even appeared on her previously pale cheeks. “Do you consider yourself an equal to God, Doctor?”
The last bite lingered on the woman’s plate.
An unfamiliar expression flashed across her face—Victor thought that it was a glimpse of a true emotion. The mask of politeness, that subtle angelic charm fell, replaced with a hint of something more sinister, though it was only a light grin. She even forgot to blink.
The change was fleeting, yet vital—he had never seen it before.
The woman peeled her eyes away from Elizabeth as she stabbed the last piece of meat. It was like a part of her was finally heard.
“Well, if one wishes to be an equal to God, one must create one’s own path, flee from the herd, but God hates disorder. Therefore, one must hide from God. Otherwise they will be devoured, as we are now eating the lamb. In this instance, the lamb died not due to natural causes, but by obeying the order.”
She inhaled meaningfully. Her gaze lingered at the piece of meat skewered on the fork, opening her mouth to finish it. Then her eyes rose to Elizabeth, concealing her intent with an unmoving smile—the expression Victor was so accustomed to. “I believe in God, I respect God and His vision; however, I do not hide from God.”
The two brothers sat beside one another on the sofa in the smoking room, enjoying some grapes and fine drinks. They spent their time reminiscing about their childhood, though Victor had the lesser pleasure of indulging in the past, and only awaited for the return of his lover. The ladies had retreated to Elizabeth’s study, as the woman had expressed an interest in seeing her collections of insects.
During their conversation, Victor saw the glowing aureola surrounding his brother’s golden head. There was the familiar undercurrent of mild disdain; unfair, involuntary, but there. William was the sunshine boy from birth, absorbing all of the happiness his environment could offer. Even a simple, yet honest talk, but with a brother whom he truly loved, uplifted his spirit to a higher degree.
However, after some time, William’s light intertwined with gloom, or rather worry, as leaned closer to his brother. As though he feared someone could be listening in. “Victor, is everything alright?”
“Brother, I am in love,” Victor answered, his lips curling upwards with these words—they sounded so unbelievable, but so pleasurable to spell out loud.
“That I can see,” William agreed, his voice slightly vibrating, as though in disbelief.
“I plan on marrying her,” Victor added, watching the increasingly shifting reaction in his sibling’s face.
William blinked a few times, with a smile similar to Victor’s spreading across his face. “Have you proposed to her already? Your letter was quite unclear and I wished not to intrude as long as our guest was in the room.”
The brothers were so different, from their appearance to their careers and personalities, yet the similarity of their facial expressions connected them both.
“No, I wanted you to meet her before I would commit to the intent,” Victor chuckled, finishing the remaining cup of milk and helping himself to grapes with the other hand.
“Oh.” William joined to feast on a ripe, curiously staring at his brother. Then he stopped chewing to think for a moment. “Do you wish to know my opinion of her?”
“Go on,” Victor replied simply.
William appeared a little hurt by his dismissiveness, but regardless, still chose to answer. “I think she is... Peculiar. Handsome and intelligent, with a way of thinking that is specific to her; however, our interactions have been too brief to form a coherent opinion. Well, considering your interest in her, I believe she is a woman you could possibly dream of marrying. Though…”
Victor nodded joyfully until the last remark. “What is it?”
“I am not questioning your judgement.” William raised his hands in mock surrender. “For only you know whether you truly love her or not. Yet… Are you certain of proposing to her? Is your decision well thought out?” One of William’s eyes squinted, afraid to hear his response. “Yet again, I am insulting you, but I might think—”
“Yes, it is well thought out. Surely, there is a bond between us, you must have noticed,” Victor interrupted, roughly patting his brother’s cheek while feeling the blood flooding his own. “I will need you to be my best man.”
“Well…” William murmured, smiling widely. Rosiness coloured his cheeks. “I would be honoured. As long as you are happy, I will also be happy for you.”
Victor smiled to himself proudly, placing his cup on the coffee table.
“Victor,” William suddenly whispered, drawing his brother’s attention to himself again. “You have changed.”
“Have I?” Victor replied, wiping the droplets of milk off his lips with the back of his hand.
“Yes, though I cannot name it, you are far more relaxed, yet somehow anxious, distracted even. I wonder, have you even listened to what I was speaking about before?.. Perhaps love has truly changed you. You are not the same man I once knew.” Then William giggled, ruffling his blonde hair. “Ah, please, pay no attention to my silly words. I know not what I speak of also…”
“Ah, look who has finally come to see me,” a reedy voice whispered slowly, once Victor’s face peeked through the doorframe to a luxurious room. His tremor sounded disheveled and fairly quiet, weak.
On William’s suggestion, Victor decided to visit a person whom he had once somewhat appreciated, but now held so much resentment for.
After all, it would be rude not to meet the master of the house—Henrich Harlander.
Since their last meeting months ago, syphilis had destroyed him entirely, consuming the remaining parts of his body. One could hardly recognise him by his facial features, as the disease had eaten away at his nose and lips, and his bare teeth shone brightly. His skin was red with flush and rashes and burned hot, yet it had a sickly grey tone, blemished by bumps and deep wounds that revealed the holes in his facial bones. The ridiculous wig with which he had once hid his bald head was now long gone, revealing the deep ulcers that penetrated into his cranium.
His once determined and hopeful eyes were covered by a milky layer of mist, and also decayed like anything else.
Death was a natural order of life, Victor’s closest companion, but even then—seeing a once bright man now lying in a bed, covered by multiple blankets, surrounded by pillows and all, a prisoner in his own body made Victor uncomfortable. It was like a grotesque inversion of his own work. A rotting corpse which still breathed and spoke and moved, as though it had forgotten to die, but teetering on the brink.
“You did not join us for the meal. I was worried,” Victor spoke up, subconsciously averting his eyes from the man’s face from time to time.
Henrich took a breath in; it sounded like his weak lungs would collapse at any second. “Consider yourself lucky. My appearance, I fear, would only ruin your appetite. I myself would be greatly uncomfortable dining with someone in my condition.”
“We separated on bad terms last time.” Victor sat down on a nearby armchair, ignoring his once-patron’s response. Victor felt pity towards the man, just as he had when he first discovered his condition.
“I wonder who was at fault…” Henrich chuckled, moving his head only slightly to get a better glimpse at a once-friend.
“You know my reasons, I simply had no other choice. I could not put my life’s work at risk for the sake of fulfilling your wishes when there is only one possible outcome. It would be a waste of the money you had spent, as well as the last moments of your life, and my time.”
“Even now, you refer to my body as a waste?” Harlander huffed, but it seemed like he had tried to laugh. “Luckily, my heart is pure, and I carry no ill thoughts of you, only respect, Baron. That reminds me, how is your project? Well, I hope?”
“Very well,” Victor replied automatically, but only out of politeness, turning his head to the window. “However, I do not think badly of you either. How are you holding up?”
“Barely,” Henrich hardly exhaled the word, unable to blink due to the decay of his eyelids, though the flesh twitched as if he had intended to. “I am paralysed. I can no longer move. The most I could do is move my head. I am undeniably a burden, but glad to be in the care of my dearest niece Elizabeth. Yet, my suffering is immeasurable; I am rotting from the inside out. And to think that all of this could have been prevented if only you…”
Victor nodded, slapping his thighs. “Well then, it was lovely seeing you. I wish you… Good health—”
As Victor was about to stand, Henrich wailed out in pain. It spooked Victor so much that he flinched and rushed to his bedside, fearful of seeing this man die before his eyes.
However, leaning over Heinrich, Victor realised the shaking and wheezing coming from his was laughter. He leaned away from the bedridden man, glowering down at him. It was only a clever play.
“Sit down for a little longer, will you not? It has been a while since I last spoke with you,” Henrich said gently, slowly, as to protect his vocal cords from tearing.
Victor sighed, out of both relief and annoyance. “I believe I am needed—”
“Trust me, you are not. Now sit.” Though Henrich’s voice was fragile, the demand sounded threatening, making Victor flop on the chair again.
The childish grumpiness in his face made the sick man gargle out a chuckle. Then Harlander grew serious, his now dull eyes boring into Victor’s. “I wish to inquire, what do you think of my doctor? My caregiver?”
Victor raised a brow and shrugged in the armchair, wishing to be far away from the grotesque skull of a visage somehow still the man whom he once was fond of. “I would firstly prefer to know who your doctor is, only then can I state my opinion.”
“Well, it is the Miss whom you have visited with.”
Victor could not hide the surprise in his face, yet he sat still. “Her? How?— Then… Why… How could William not have recognised her?”
“You see, they have just recently returned and, once they left for their honeymoon, I had occasion to change my doctor. The previous one irritated me, not necessarily for being a bad doctor, but I grew tired of his nervous disposition. The new doctor I had chosen was our dear guest’s father; however, you see, the man is quite busy, overbooked and overworked, so he referred me to his daughter. And you know me, I am a man for science, I am all for innovations, therefore, I was curious to see a woman performing the task.” Henrich paused, coughing dryly. “Please, water.”
Victor did as asked, picking up a glass from beside the bed and assisting the man in taking a sip. Victor was patient, daring not to speak, fearing that the man might lose a thought. He wished to gather every single word about his beloved.
“So, now she is my caregiver, my doctor. She visits me every few weeks; therefore, Elizabeth and William have not had occasion to meet her before today. I think she is extraordinary, a true artist of medicine, and I must admit, I have never been treated as humanely as she treats me, once I was diagnosed with syphilis. If only my illness had approached me later, perhaps she would have found a way to cure me! She would have found a way for me to live.” He remarked and sighed dramatically, shifting his trembling head to a wall. “Alas, I can only dream of a different scenario, my fate was sealed before I was born…”
Victor shook his head, digesting his monologue for a bit, ignoring the veiled insult. “Well, if you are content with her service, I am delighted to know of it—”
“And you, Baron, what is your view on her?” Harlander interrupted, staring at him again with those soulless eyes.
It was as though death itself was staring back at Victor.
At first, he did not want to answer, but then he thought carefully, opening his mouth once more, “She is remarkable.”
“A worthy opponent to the Victor Frankenstein?” Henrich laughed, coughing afterwards.
“A companion, I would say.” Victor shook his head, failing to conceal a prideful smirk. “I intend on marrying her.”
“Ah, good luck.” Henrich laughed weakly.
“Thank you—”
“You misunderstood me: good luck.”
“And I heard you clearly…”
“Why would you not ask for my reasoning for wishing you good luck?”
Victor groaned, slapping his palms against his thighs again, and rolled his eyes, making sure to express his clear irritation. He had forgotten the cocky attitude which his then patron possessed. “Go on, enlighten me.” He leaned back again, arms crossed over his chest.
“You know, your tone is quite rude. But fortunately for you, I will ignore it,” Henrich cackled. “I do recall your disinterest in conversing with high society. Well, do you know that you are not the only intelligent man my doctor has bewitched in the past?”
Victor’s lower eyelid twitched, though he acted unbothered by knowing his beloved’s previous relationships. He half shrugged and forced his voice into a tone of unaffected calm. “Is it a bad thing? She is a brilliant woman, surely, intelligence alike could only attract her. I perceive it only as something natural.”
“The problem is that these men she previously entranced were brilliant—just like you. Proud. Influential with their novel ideas, their way of thinking. They attempted to define new laws of nature, and yet every one of them has since lost their minds. Every one of them changed after meeting her. Except for those whom she works with… Baron, I fear she hunts men like you—”
“Nonsense!” Victor snapped with a bark of laughter. He stood up swiftly and strode quickly across the room. “I was never keen on gossip, and my judgement on it shall not change. I will not allow myself to believe the lies of those scandalmongers who have also previously judged me!” He spoke imperiously, voice dripping with venom. “Oh, I wonder, how do they speak of you? Only well, I hope? Especially concerning your syphilis?”
“You have not changed at all!” Henrich exhaled painfully. “I only told you as I still consider you a friend, and you see me as a foe! I only wanted to advise you to converse with other men of your field, perhaps they might provide you with better insight?”
“There is no need. I doubt not her affection towards me,” Victor laughed, but it sounded more hysterical than genuine. His hands pointed to his heart. “We are meant to be!”
“Believe what suits you best, your mind I might not change. But do me a favour, do not tell her of what I have said, alright? I do not wish to lose a good doctor…”
“Trust, I have not the faintest interest in telling her such a thing. It is insulting, really!” Victor huffed, stomping towards the door.
“Baron! Stay!” Henrich called out weakly, coughing again painfully. “I have yet one more question to ask!”
“What is it? You still have a mouth, a tongue, a long one in fact, so speak!” He turned to the dying man again, showing off a deep frown.
Though Harlander’s lips were dissolved, he managed to grin like a Cheshire cat. He had caught the attention of his prey again. “It is more of a request. I would like you to consider: if death never brought you to God, perhaps a woman will?”
Victor inhaled sharply. “Laugh as much as you want, you bald-headed— You do not have much time left!—”
Suddenly, the door swung open.
He grew pale, as if seeing a ghost walk past him.
“Ah, there is my doctor,” Henrich chuckled, seemingly unaffected by Victor’s offence and taking delight in his shock. “I am glad to see you again, Miss. Is it the time of our consultation? I assumed we would meet again in a fortnight?”
“You are not mistaken,” the woman replied, walking past Victor and sitting down on the edge of her patient’s bed. “How are you feeling?”
“A man with a condition like mine could only feel a single way, but with you here, Doctor, I feel much better.”
The woman looked back at Victor over her shoulder with a delighted smirk. “Give us a moment, please.”
And Victor felt defeated, only able to remove himself from that dreadful chamber. Once he stepped to the other side of the door, his legs gave out, and he barely could have held himself together out of anger, jealousy and pity. So many emotions boiled within him, and only a firm drag of his hand over his face helped somewhat relieve them.
When the woman finally left Henrich’s room, it was a signal that it was time to leave.
While expressing their farewells, Victor noticed that his beloved had formed an unlikely bond with Elizabeth as both of them tenderly squeezed each other’s hands with a glimmer of mutual understanding in their eyes. It made him feel uneasy yet again, jealous.
The pair decided to walk for a little longer before hiring a carriage, for their legs felt stiff after sitting.
The sun was settling down, and fewer people walked the cobbled streets.
The smell of rain reached their nostrils, warning of the oncoming change in the weather. However, now it was pleasant and warm, with the last rays of sunlight playing with their shadows.
Peaceful moments like this increased Victor’s heart rate as their arms barely brushed one another, and when his beloved did not place them behind her back, even their hands would occasionally touch. It felt so intimate, creating a tingling in his fingertips. An ache to bring her closer. Even then, he chose to respect her modesty, taking pride in his self-restraint.
“After your… Claims, I thought that Elizabeth would find you distasteful,” Victor started after moments of walking in silence.
She nodded carefully. “Believe it to be true, she does loathe me. Yet, kinship may be discovered in the most unlikely circumstances, along with the loneliness that approaches young intelligent women.”
“She feels lonely, you say?” Victor asked; a part of him took cruel pleasure in knowing of Elizabeth’s suffering.
“Why yes, she lacks a friend of similar intelligence and interests. Your brother is a good husband and very supportive, she says; however, he does not understand her fascinations, though he earnestly tries.”
Victor squinted his eyes, listening to his intuition momentarily. “Have you offered her something?”
Briefly, their eyes met. She seemed pleased to hear of his suspicions.
“I did, indeed I did.”
“And? What is it?”
“I offered her to join a society of women that are pious, while also in sciences. I pray she will meet a like-minded lady and form a friendship which she truly longs for.”
“How very generous of you,” Victor chuckled, and he did not notice her eyes scanning him up and down. “Then I am glad to know that she does have a sense of respect for you.”
“Do believe: she does.”
Silence fell over them for a while, and only the quiet clicks of the pair’s heels disrupted the songs of the birds. Yet curiosity itched at Victor’s brain. He could not contain himself from nudging her on a particular question:
“Could you tell me as to why you would assist Henrich Harlander, when both of us are fully aware of his inevitable death?” Victor asked gently.
Their shoulders brushed against one other by accident, making Victor step closer so it might happen again.
“Everything I do is for a reason,” she replied simply.
“Is it so discrete? That not even I may know of it?” Victor’s brows furrowed.
“Well.” She smiled to herself, gazing at the horizon. The dark houses towered over their heads, lit windows appearing like eyes in great stone faces. “The body may be incomplete, destroyed by a disease, and yet, the mind operates until its last breath. The mind completes the body. However, the body is incomplete without the mind. A human is a human not only in physiology, but also in cognitive abilities. I need you to think keenly on your own ‘human’ that you are creating, will his mind complete the large body?”
“There is no question about its cognitive abilities. It will be as intelligent as a grown adult can be.”
“I doubt it, but only time will tell,” she answered dismissively, interfering quickly once again before Victor had the chance to argue. “Returning to Herr Harlander, I sometimes wonder: how exactly does disease affect the mind? What is the relationship between the body and the mind?”
“You will see, it is destructive. The disease may only destroy the mind.”
“Of course, and I am observing the exact changes to the psyche of my patient,” she agreed, but then she gazed at him, hiding her pupils in the shadows of her lashes. “Yet, I will correct you. I refer to the disease not only as the illness at hand, but also as the turmoil within the patient. Tell me, can a person destroy themselves by their internal suffering? Can the mind think that bodily suffering is a way towards healing?”
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