Awesome, if you'd be down to write for butch!r that'd be greatly appreciated! Thank you for hearing me out <3 (if you dont like it you can tweak things as you want or scrap it altogether)
My idea was something along the lines of Reader being a beginner med student who is (perhaps because they're butch, not allowed to study medicine so they resort to) shadowing Victor and learning from him to become a surgeon
(Victor clearly isnt fond of people but he maybe agrees because he sees Reader has every intent on becoming great and is also a bit of a black sheep, being an outcast in the medical community)
Reader only finds out about Victor's experiments around the time Brona/Lily appears and even if a little horrified they're in awe of this medical miracle so they stay on
Im thinking a bit after Lily starts becoming more integrated Reader feels awful and since they've grown to care for her, stick by her side (like Dorian if you will but with more morals - at least than him - and helps her escape Victor and become independent)
lily frankenstein x butch!reader
i have literally been itching to write these penny dreadful requests!! i’ve watched 10 episodes in 5 days so i haven’t completed the show yet but i need to write these omfg 🤤 also i studied victorian surgery at school so i know ball 🙂↕️
victor’s creations evoked fear in you.
the way he toyed with life and death made you feel physically sick. it was far from what you’d anticipated when you started working alongside him.
he had reluctantly allowed you to form a partnership with him a few weeks back after admiring your ligature skills. you had steady hands, he’d noticed, firm but meticulous in their movements.
something that he’d figured may come useful. especially right now.
victor stood awkwardly at the sink, lily’s head was leant back into the basin— a halo of auburn locks rippling in the water. her gaze was soft and intent as she mindlessly admired the wooden ceiling. you’d occasionally glance up from afar, hands coated in the blood of an animal specimen, studying the miracle that victor had brought back to life.
lily didn’t frighten you as much as mr clare.
you knew it was wrong to judge others from appearance, christ, you were a victim of that yourself. but the contradiction between mr clare and lily was striking.
he was broad, brutish in his gait, and you’d been a firsthand witness of his strength.
lily however? she’d only been alive a day, but she was already living up to her name. she was delicate— you’d quickly identified. just like a flower— a lily, of course.
and victor didn’t know how to manage delicate. the most careful you’d ever seen him be was when he was tinkering away with some catgut.
“y/n?” victor’s voice snaps you away from your reverie. his voice shook, not with fear, but awkwardness. his hands gripped the edge of the basin, not daring to tend to lily’s hair. “y/n, i don’t suppose you could… assist me in washing lily’s hair?” he pauses, the trepidation in his voice painfully obvious. “i’d wager i’m much less experienced than you. surely you had sisters to tend to when growing up?”
you watch the scene before you quietly force yourself to nod. with a clink, you lay down your scalpel and approach the pair. lily’s eyes drift to you in an instant, wide and soft, like a curious puppy. your heart gives an unfamiliar twist which you were quick to shun down.
“of course, victor.” you nod politely at the man and he responds with a grateful look.
victor moves away, scurrying back over to the far end of the lab to return back to his work. god knows what he was up to.
lily watches him leave, a pout crossing her pale complexion. “victor?” she croaks hoarsely.
“he’s still here.” you’re quick to reassure the confused woman, voice uncharacteristically soft. “just… he’s busy.”
“oh,” she breathes softly with a nod before repeating, “busy.”
“yes…” you mumble, hands hovering over lily’s hair. long locks of the most stunning auburn splay in the bowl before you, a watercolour of browns and reds. “i’ll… tend to your hair instead.”
lily nods singularly, dipping her head further back into the bowl for you. exhaling your nerves shakily, you lower your bloodied hands into the water. the crimson washes off, tinting the water a pinkish colour before you reach for the cleaning solution. you take it carefully, squeezing a dollop into your calloused palms before beginning to soothingly massage it into lily’s hair.
the texture is soft beneath your hardened fingers, wet locks slipping beneath your touch as you lather the bubbles into the strands. your hands soon slide up, moving to scrub the bubbles into her scalp with practiced ministrations.
lily finds herself melting at the sensation, red eyes fluttering shut as her cracked lips part to allow a soft groan to escape.
immediately, your hands still and lily’s groan of delight turns to one of disappointment.
“no…” she utters dryly, “don’t stop… nice.” she mutters, tongue kissing her teeth as she speaks, “it’s… nice, y/n.”
how strangely it affected you to hear her say your name in that way. gripped by emotion, you could neither move nor speak. her hand suddenly falters towards you, creeping upwards until smothering the back of yours. her touch made you want to weep, but you quite needed to function.
you nod, throat too dry to respond, before continuing with your lathering. your fingers dig and nuzzle her scalp, soothing and coaxing the untouched skin. lily starts to groan again, and this time victor glances up from across the room.
his piercing green eyes meet yours, blooming with a sense of recognition that almost felt uncharacteristically fond for victor. his knowing look soon fades as he returns back to his work.
you glance back down to lily, only to discover she had twisted around in her seat to face you. her damp hair soaks her shoulders, running down her skin and dripping to the floor with a repetitive drip, drip, drip. she gazes up at you softly with those strangely alluring red eyes, almost like a newborn doe, intent and curious. slowly, she reaches a hand up— delicate fingers trace your jawline, teeming with an intense fascination.
all you can manage is to swallow thickly, too scared to move as lily continues her deep analysis of your face. her head tilts slightly, damp hair flopping as she utters breathlessly.
“you have gentle hands, surgeon mine.”
