Galaxia

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✮⋆˙ Before we begin!! ˙⋆✮

☆ I don’t believe it’s been confirmed whether Vox is entirely mechanical/robotic, so I’m going off the assumption/headcanon that he is a mixture of both technology and organic body parts. (If this has been confirmed anywhere PLEASE send me a link!!!!)

★ This means Reader is more of a technician/engineer as well as a paramedic!!!! (VoxTek LOVES women in STEM)

☆ I imagine she also works for the company as well. Vox probably wouldn’t trust the usual paramedics because of his technological intricacies, and also because he thinks he’s “above them”. 

★ ALSO please let me know if you have any other thoughts or headcanons about Vox’s bodily anatomy! I’m really curious :) 

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The call came in at precisely 5:02pm. Two minutes after you’d clocked off for the day—or so you foolishly thought. 

Barely five minutes later you were in the back of a VoxTek branded ambulance speeding down Pengatram City’s hellish streets. 

When you pulled up, Valentino’s grumbled Spanish could be heard even in the back of the vehicle as you feverishly rushed around to jump out of the back. Upon the two doors being swung open, you were greeted with the overlord’s angry face. 

“About fuckin’ time!” Valentino hissed. 

You scoffed and pushed past him. “Where is he?”

Valentino only gestured off to the side, where Velvette was crouched by Vox, not-so-sneakily taking selfies with her injured associate. You rushed over, Velvette scoffing at getting brushed aside, and knelt down beside him. Your eyes immediately caught on the large red patches of blood that seeped through the layers of his suit. 

“He–ey, sweetheart.” He glitched. “This is a li—itle embarrassing.” 

“Fucking hell...” You cursed under your breath just as your coworker arrived with the bed. Together, the two of you hoisted him on top and you rolled him into the back of the ambulance. Vox grumbled the entire time about not needing the help but he made no move to refuse assistance. 

It was unusual to see Vox in such a vulnerable position; stuck on the bed and completely reliant on your hard-earned skills to keep his systems running. His hat tilted backwards, falling off his head and hitting the bed as he tried to cock his screen to the side so he could look at you. His smirk  was glitched out and he watched you with piercing red eyes. 

“How am I lo—oking, doc?” 

You startled a little at his voice and your frantic mind took a second to catch up with you. 

“Not good.” You said bluntly, eyes flicking over the red stains in his clothing. It pooled in his abdomen and shoulder, having trickled down his right arm and had already begun to colour the white sheets beneath him. 

“Just what I li—ike to hear.” 

He followed your gaze and raised a brow—or, well, tried to. It was hard to see when his screen flickered and he laid flat like that. You pretended not to notice the look he gave you and started on removing the layers of his suit, to which he all but revelled in. 

“Woah—woah! Take a ma—n out to di—inner first!” 

You bit the inside of your cheek to refrain from cursing him out, working on trying to stop the red that only seemed to darken the closer you got to the wound. Couldn’t he just shut up and let you do your job? You took a small blade and tore it clean through the middle of his clothes to give you easier access to his torso. 

“Ha—ang oN!”

He tried to protest as you ripped his once-white shirt open to reveal the dark blue of his skin and immediately applied pressure on the gaping wound. A pained groan vibrated in his throat, glitching his systems even further. His claws clutched onto the bed, tearing through the sheets and thin mattress. 

Blood seeped through your gloved hands, running down your knuckles as it trickled through the gaps in your fingers and left a trail of crimson in its wake. By now, the vehicle was well on its way back to Vee Tower, and you were getting increasingly worried as the blood didn’t seem to slow down.

“Fu—uck.” Vox hissed to himself. “Y’know, if I we—ren’t dying, this wo—ould be pretty hot.” He attempted a chuckle, but it proved to be too painful, ending in a slight whimper. 

You shot him an unimpressed look. His life was literally in your hands and he was cracking inappropriate jokes. With a shake of your head you turned your attention back to the matter at hand. 

Quickly, you removed one of your hands and fumbled with your supplies until you found something to soak up the blood with. You held the pressure as firmly as you could and flicked your eyes over the rest of his body to try and identify if there were any other areas of concern. Luckily, it seemed it was only the one bad injury. His code would be a pain to fix up later, though. 

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By the time the ambulance reached Vee Tower’s hospital wing, the bleeding appeared to have slowed down to a manageable rate. A couple of the other nurses rushed out to aid in getting him out of the back and into the hospital as quickly as possible. You remained by his side, keeping a steady hand on his wound. 

As the bed was rolled into the clinic’s emergency department, you heard the faint sound of foreign curses growing louder. It seemed Valentino was already somewhere in the building getting tended to as well. You also picked up on a low staticky sound that pulled at your brows slightly. The lights flickered as the you and the nurses rushed Vox down the hallway, and the usual hum of electricity throughout the building faltered. The cooling system spluttered, the chill airflow stopping and starting up again. 

In a matter of minutes, your station was set up and the other nurses left. Although it was just you and Vox in the room once more, you knew you had a team on standby in case things went sideways. 

You got to work on preparing his injury for stitches, biting on the inside of your lip as you worked. Though, you were acutely aware of Vox’s gaze trained on your every move. 

“Has anyo—one ever told you that you b—ite your lip when you’re focus—sed?” Vox piped up. He attempted to prop himself up on his elbows but you pushed him back down with a huff. A smug look took over his features at the action. 

“It’s cute.” He buzzed. “You’re cute.” 

Your movements faltered ever so slightly. If you weren’t literally stitching him up he wouldn’t have known. But he certainly felt the way your fingertips lingered on his skin for the briefest of moments. 

“That’s a bit inappropriate, don’t you think?” You replied casually. You didn’t bother to look over at him and instead focused on threading the suture through his skin. 

“I’m the bos—s, swee—eetheart.” His voice lagged a little and you tried to stop the amusement that threatened to pull the corners of your mouth up. 

“Not right now, you’re not.” You tied off the stitch and gently rubbed a soothing cream over the stitched skin. His fingers twitched a little at the sensation, and you weren’t sure if it was from sensitivity to your touch or the coolness of the cream. Either way, the sound of his whirring systems was unmissable. To finish, you layered a bandage over the top to protect it. 

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You gathered your notebooks and chucked them in your satchel, then wrapped one of Vox’s arms around the back of your neck whilst you supported him in the middle. He was heavy and grumbled in your ear for most of the trip up to his office, muttering how embarrassing it was for him to be seen like that. Internally, you took pride in seeing him get knocked down a few pegs. 

He insisted that you finish the job in his office, having gotten all the physical injuries out of the way. Although you were skeptical, you couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled within you at getting access to all of his technology and advanced systems. You may have had a passion for nursing, but you had an even bigger one for IT. Being able to pursue both at VoxTek made for an easy deal. You couldn’t wait to rub it in Baxter’s face later. 

When you entered his office, you immediately took in the familiar darkness of it all. He’d called you into his office plenty of times before, so being there was nothing new. It was having to help him get into his chair that was the most unfamiliar part. 

He slumped in his chair, holding onto the armrests a bit tighter than normal. It was a stark difference to the usual composed, upright demeanour he usually had whenever you were there.

He directed you around with a glitched voice as to where the cords were, and he vibrated slightly every time you slotted one into the back of his head. His screen was hot beneath your fingers as you gently moved it this way and that to get the cords in right. You tilted his head forward for the last one, and a high-pitched squeal of metal against metal pierced the air once you inserted the final cord into him. You paused, afraid you’d messed something up already. 

“Sir?” You asked cautiously. “Is everything alright?” 

Blue electric sparks flew from him as he tried to compose himself. 

“Ye—es. Ev—Everythi—ing’s fi—ine!” 

You frowned as his glitches grew more intense, and you could only just make out the words beneath the lagged tone. He was only getting worse by the second, and you knew you had to get to work quickly. 

“Okay, I’m going to have to power you off now. Ready?” 

You ran your fingers under the bottom of his monitor until you found the power button. A low noise from his throat was cut short, and you heard the slowness of his systems as they came to a stop. 

You began with inspecting his hardware, replacing burnt or torn wires and fixing any other injuries to his technology. The inner workings of Vox was something that always intrigued you. Seeing that he wasn’t entirely organic nor a robot, you wondered how he would have recovered from battles like that day if you disagreed to work for him. 

As strange as it was, you wanted nothing more than to pull him apart piece by piece to fully understand how technology and biology worked together under his skin. You had a rough idea, sure. Your years spent with the man built your knowledge of how his body works, but even then he never liked to elaborate much. Your questions went unanswered and he would gloss over them like you’d never asked in the first place. 

With his outer workings all patched up, you turned your attention to his software. 

You plugged in your keyboard and mouse, propping your notebooks by your side in case you got stuck. You’d studied all of his systems inside and out, and even helped create some of them as he rose higher in Hell. You knew you wouldn’t need them—you haven’t for years—but it was a comfort knowing the information was readily available for you when Vox wasn’t. 

You quickly got through the usual firewalls and security measures and started working on the broken codes that were interfering with his functionality. The deeper you dug, the worse it got. How he was even still functioning was beyond you. 

The only sound that filled the room was the usual steady hum of technology that surrounded you, the occasional swish of water from Shock.wav, and the tapping of your nails against the keyboard. You found peace in the solitude and calmness of everything. 

Until the pop ups started.  

Little blue text boxes that would try and hide themselves in the corner or blatantly pop up in the middle of the screen. 

U R A Q T <3

U + ME = DINNER ? 

And the worst, when you managed to rebuild a major chunk of his deteriorating code;

GOOD GIRL. 

You muttered to yourself at Vox’s interference, grateful he wasn’t there to witness the warmth blossoming in your cheeks. 

Once satisfied with your work, and after many more inputs from Vox, you initiated the software self-scan to determine whether there were any more issues that went unnoticed within his system. 

Whilst the progress bar inched its way to completion, you turned your attention to his busted up face. The screen was cracked to the point of being almost completely shattered. It threatened to crumble as you swapped the glass out for a fresh, shiny one. And just like that, he looked brand new. Well, almost. 

His suit was still torn, hanging loosely from his shoulders and putting his torso on display from the way his body was slouched in the chair, knees pulling away from each other and spreading his legs open. It was the first time all evening that you really took him in, eyes catching on the chiseled shapes of his torso. The line that defined the middle of his abdomen. The prominence of his collar bones. 

A sudden hot wave washed over you and you had to look away. You were suddenly feeling shy and unwilling to face him. You silently cursed at yourself for feeling that way. Why now? You’ve seen him shirtless countless times before and it never had an effect on you. 

A quiet beep pulled you from your thoughts as the self-check completed and Vox powered himself back on. Your breath caught in your throat as his screen lit up once more in its usual blue, his eyes blinking a few times before he lifted his head to look over at you. 

“There she is.” He grinned and finally found the strength to straighten up in the chair. Without the continuous glitch in his voice, you were once again met with the familiar cockiness of his tone. 

His movements shifted the loose fabric of his clothes, and you had to look away as he did so. You decided to busy yourself with packing up your things. 

“Feeling better?” You asked, not looking him in the eye. 

“Mm.” He hummed. “Much.” 

“Good.” You stuffed your notebooks into your satchel again.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you, but his gaze burned through you. 

“I never got an answer, y’know?” 

You frowned, picking up your keyboard and mouse. “For what?”

There was a noise off to your left, but you ignored it. As you turned to put the remainder of your things in your bag, something snaked around your waist and curled upwards around your body to move your head in Vox’s direction. The wire wasn’t tight on you, but it wasn’t gentle either. 

“Dinner.” He replied. 

“Huh?” Your face flushed, and you hated the way his smirk widened at the sight. 

“Let me take you out.” He said simply, tilting his head and leaning on his hand. “As a thank you.” 

“Wh—Vox, I don’t think…” You stuttered over your words for a second, but he cut you off. 

“Or maybe you’d prefer… other forms of gratitude?” 

A jolt of adrenaline ran straight through your body and your eyes widened for a moment. 

“Sir, with all due respect, you’re still injured.” You gestured at his bandaged abdomen. “You should be resting.” 

He shrugged. “I can make it work.” Then he leaned back in his chair again, giving you a view of his lap once more. The thought of what he was implying made your head spin.

“Besides, if anything happens you can just stitch me back up again.” He winked.

You let out a breath, but it came out shakier than you intended. “That’s really not a risk you would like to take. You barely survived as it was.” 

He chuckled lowly. “Well, isn’t it lucky that I’m in good hands?” 

You wriggled your way out of the wire and picked up your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. 

“Please rest up, Sir. If there are any issues, please don’t hesitate to call me.” 

“Oh, I won’t.” He purred.

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Lowkey thinking about a part 2.... Vox calls reader into his room... it's an 'emergency'... reader has to watch out for his wound.... mmm.... vox is so pathetic but so dominant....

WHAT WHO SAID THAT

anyway

★ Request Guidelines

I am in the operating room getting top surgery right now. I can't wait to finally feel comfortable in my body! I am so lucky to have support and live in an area where I am able to do this.