#ash x reader

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧👑🔥୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ He complained constantly. Snapped at you to behave. Threatened fire, punishment, even death. None of it worked. You’d just grin and do it again, and somehow, impossibly, he never actually stopped you

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧👑🔥୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ When you tackled him for the first time, everyone froze. Asch went rigid, cheeks flaring with heat. He didn’t throw you off. Didn’t burn you. Just stood there, scowling, as if he was deciding whether daemos was worth saving over this

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧👑🔥୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Asch has witnessed you brawl with Ava one time because she kept a snack stash from you. You weaved around her to grab some, but she kept pulling you back, cursing at you while you giggled happily. Eventually, you stole it anyway, climbed up to a high space, and ate it like some sort of monkey

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧👑🔥୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ He doesn’t understand why you love it when he uses his fire. You always move closer to him for the warmth, and sometimes you even ask him to light things like sparklers. He completely freaks out while you giggle and run off with it, laughing, as Ava scrambles to explain to the Daemos what a sparkler is

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧👑🔥୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ In public, though, you changed. You walked quietly at his side. Hands folded. Eyes forward. No touching. No chaos. No laughter. The shift was so sudden it unsettled him more than your energy ever had

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧👑🔥୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Asch noticed immediately. His irritation simmered, sharp and confused. He kept glancing at you, waiting for you to break, to poke at him, to lean too close. You didn’t “Explain yourself,” he muttered once, low enough that no one else could hear “We’re in public,” you answered calmly

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧👑🔥୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ He didn’t like that answer. He moved closer anyway, leather jacket brushing your arm, presence looming like a silent warning to anyone watching

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧👑🔥୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ When you were alone again, your chaos returned all at once grabbing his arm, talking too fast, sitting too close. Relief hit him before he could stop it. His shoulders eased. The fire in his chest steadied

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧👑🔥୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Asch would never admit it, but your energy grounded him. Reminded him that he was more than a prince, more than a fading magic, more than an execution waiting to happen. And if he ever went quiet around him, truly quiet, his temper flared instantly. Not at you, but at the world “Speak,” he’d demand, voice tight because silence from you was the only thing that ever scared Prince Asch

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧Rhys ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🕶️🍦 ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Rhys understood your chaos as a choice, not a flaw… slightly

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🕶️🍦 ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Around the others, you were restless hands always moving, energy spilling over in laughter and impulsive touches. You disrupted people, never plan. Rhys noticed that immediately, and because of it, he never corrected you

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🕶️🍦 ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Due to headcanons of the Daemos having a heightened sense of smell, this man will know when you light something on fire, plan a prank, or if something toxic is nearby

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🕶️🍦 ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ When he needs to calm you down from doing something dumb, he tries to soothe you. It kind of works… until he looks away to go back to his studies and you’re suddenly out of the room, climbing the pillars of their magical home inside Ava’s walls

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🕶️🍦 ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ He likes to study and relax most of the time, but when you barge in out of nowhere and sit down in his little laboratory, he knows you’re about to do something dumb

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🕶️🍦 ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ When he’s stressed, he actually likes seeing your face pop up out of nowhere, but he also owns a spray bottle and will absolutely spray you when you do something dumb

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🕶️🍦 ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ In public, you became still. Your voice lowered. Your posture straightened. The chaos vanished behind careful manners and watchful silence

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🕶️🍦 ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Rhys found his attention drawn to you then, not out of suspicion, but admiration. Restraint, when chosen, was a form of intelligence. He adjusted his position subtly, standing nearer, angling his body just enough to shield you. If you were quiet, he would make sure it was safe to be

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🕶️🍦 ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ When the others were gone, the energy returned like a released breath. You leaned over his shoulder as he planned, spoke too quickly, and bumped into him without apology. He sighed, patient and long-suffering, yet never asked you to stop. Your presence interrupted his thoughts, but never unpleasantly

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🕶️🍦 ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ You reminded him the world existed beyond strategy. On the rare occasions you went quiet in private, Rhys noticed at once. He set aside his work, eyes softening behind his lenses. “Talk to me,” he said not as an order, but an invitation

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🕶️🍦 ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Rhys did not need you to be calm, even though he got stressed because of your behaviour sometimes, he still valued that you could be and that you trusted him enough to be everything else, too

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧Pierce ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ You are loud where Pierce is silent. You talk with your hands, your feet, your whole body. Pierce watches more than he speaks, blue eyes tracking your movements like he’s making sure you don’t trip over yourself

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ You climb him like a tree whenever you can. Arms around his shoulders, leaning your weight against him without warning. He stiffens every time then relaxes, carefully adjusting so you don’t fall “Sorry,” you say “Yes,” he answers

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Your chaos never scares him. After everything he’s done, noise doesn’t frighten Pierce. Sudden laughter, reckless movement, impulsive affection none of it feels dangerous. If anything, it feels alive

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ In public, you soften. Your voice lowers. You stay close. Pierce notices instantly. He positions himself behind you, then beside you, then just slightly in front, shield first, words second

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ He is gentle with you always. Large hands guiding you out of crowds. Quiet nudges away from danger. If someone startles you, Pierce steps in without a second thought

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ You tease him for only saying “Yes.” You ask ridiculous questions just to hear it “Do you love me?” A pause filling you to before a quiet “…Yes.” was heard, causing you to laugh while he looked away

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Pierce goes very still the moment Asch makes a snarky remark and takes the last bite of your favourite food. He sees it in your posture first the slight crouch, the narrowed focus. You are about to launch

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ He reacts on pure instinct. One large hand wraps around your waist before your feet even leave the ground “No,” he says quietly

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ You absolutely lose it anyway Kicking. Thrashing. Reaching for Asch like a rabid animal being denied prey. Pierce lifts you fully off the ground putting you in air jail tucking you securely against his chest as he turns and walks away like this is a normal Tuesday occurrence

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ You are feral in his arms “PUT ME DOWN” “No.” “HE ATE MY FOOD” “Yes.” Noi watches them go with stars in his eyes “Whoa…” Rhys blinks behind his glasses, trying to process the situation logically “That was… efficient.”

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Leif just stares, mouth slightly open “…Did he just kidnap them?” Pierce does not stop walking until you’ve calmed down, gently rocking you despite your protests. When your energy finally burns out, he adjusts his grip so you’re more comfortable never once acknowledging the audience

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Later, without a word, Pierce hands you another portion of your favourite food. He doesn’t explain where it came from but Asch refuses to make eye contact for the rest of the day

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ He has this sense of knowing when you’re about to do something idiotic. He had it when the others joined, but when he started dating you, it spiked dramatically

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Pierce knows exactly when to stick out his arm and stop you mid-charge from attacking a flying bird once. You just stare at him for a moment before immediately clinging to him instead

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Pierce is a quick learner, like Rhys well, not as good as Rhys but he can understand and pick things up faster than the other Daemos

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🗡️🛡️ ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ When you are quiet for too long, Pierce notices. He doesn’t ask why. He simply sits beside you, shoulder to shoulder, grounded and warm. His silence says more than words ever could

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧Leif ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🌿🩸୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Leif clocked your chaos immediately. The way you moved too fast, laughed too loud, tackled people without warning. Instead of being annoyed, he was interested. Chaos recognized chaos

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🌿🩸୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ You didn’t flinch at his teeth or his threats. When he smirked and warned you he could kill you, you only laughed and poked his teeth. The first time you did it, he froze, then barked out a laugh before he could stop himself. He told himself it meant nothing

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🌿🩸୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Around the Daemos, you were all motion and sound. You tackled Noi without warning, stole stuff from Pierce’s hands, climbed onto furniture just to prove you could

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🌿🩸୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Leif watched you with narrowed eyes at first, expecting the damage that usually followed unpredictability. It never came. You were reckless, yes but never cruel which confused him more than anything

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🌿🩸୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ The moment others were around humans, strangers, crowds you changed. Your voice lowered. Your movements slowed

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🌿🩸୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ You stayed close but not clingy, alert but calm. Leif noticed immediately. He stayed nearer than necessary, eyes sharp, body angled protectively without thinking about it. He trusted your silence

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🌿🩸୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Back behind closed doors, the chaos returned full force. You climbed pillars. You stole his shark tooth necklace when he was supposed to blend in with humans when Ava took you guys out and refused to give it back

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🌿🩸୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ You interrupted his healing spells by poking his sides just to watch him lose focus. He threatened you every time and never followed through once

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🌿🩸୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Leif, who had lived his entire life alone, began to wait for you

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧🌿🩸୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ When you went quiet unexpectedly, it unsettled him. Silence had always meant abandonment. He would ask carelessly, lightly what you were doing, but his eyes searched your face for signs you were about to disappear. You never did. You stayed.

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Noi ୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ 🍕🩹୭˚.꒱ˎˊ Noi had never known what to do with chaos before you. He was used to loud situations battlefields, shouting Daemos, Lady Grandma’s cane but you were different

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ 🍕🩹୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Your chaos wasn’t violent or sharp. It was bright. Sudden. Everywhere at once. You tackled him without warning, climbed onto his back like it was the most natural thing in the world, stole his food mid-bite and laughed when he protested. He complained loudly, but He never asked you to stop

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ 🍕🩹୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Around the others, you were relentless. You dragged Noi into trouble just by existing near him, running through rooms, daring him to follow, laughing when he tripped over his own feet trying to keep up. He was always red in the face, half-panicked, half-excited, shouting your name while sprinting after you, and somehow… he loved it

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ 🍕🩹୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ The moment strangers appeared crowds your steps slowed. You stayed close to Noi, careful and observant, your voice soft when you spoke. Noi noticed instantly. His grip on your sleeve tightened just a little, like you were the one grounding him now

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ 🍕🩹୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ When you were alone again, the chaos snapped back into place. You climbed furniture. You poked his face just to watch him squeak. You tackled him onto the floor and refused to let him up until he laughed which didn’t take long. Noi was helpless against you, both physically and emotionally, flustered beyond belief and smiling the entire time

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ 🍕🩹୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ Noi, who had been called weak his whole life, felt strong with you. Needed. Useful. When you got reckless, he hovered anxiously, tugging you back by your sleeve, shielding you from danger even when he was shaking himself

────⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ 🍕🩹୭˚.꒱ˎˊ˗ ˗ He burned through what little courage he had just to keep you safe, even if you're chaotic

Ash

He was floundering, multiple systems failing as he watched more hydraulic fluid pour out of him. He remembers your anguished cries and the sight of your hands pressing against the wound in an attempt to plug it, white blood seeping out from between your fingers.

And now, he's warm. When he opens his eyes, he finds that he's been moved. His head is resting on your thigh, and you're sitting with your back against a wall. Your figure takes up most of his vision, head bowed and lips parted. Your deep, even breathing suggests that you are asleep. He feels your hands- one on his chest and the other loosely curled over his scalp- protective of him despite your inherently vulnerable state. He analyzes his surroundings without moving. Various tools of medical and mechanical purpose are scattered around the two of you. His hand drifts toward the wound site, expecting a gouge and finding duct tape instead. Your engineering background proved useful- a simple diagnostic shows that all systems are in the green- but your surgical skills left something to be desired. He laughs at his predicament, the sound coming out more like a ratcheting warble than a real chuckle, and it wakes you.

Your voice drips with relief and something else- something unexpected. Affection.

"Oh, thank god."

The hand on his head moves in a predictable arc over his scalp. You're... petting him? Moments ago (or was it hours?) you'd discovered his true nature, but you've fixed him, anyway. And now, you're looking at him the way you would a sick patient- a human patient. He stares up at you, unsure of how to categorize the fluttering feeling in his stomach and the waves of positive feedback that seem to crest with every pass of your hand through his hair. Perhaps you are more essential to him than he'd previously thought.

Bishop

Pain, malfunction, leakage, severance, critical failure.

Blackness. And then...

Reboot.....05%

His senses come back to him one at a time. He assesses his body. Multiple connections have been haphazardly reestablished. Fluid pumps are only running at 2/3 pressure, and he notes a particularly fragile spot on one of the lines in his abdomen. He's alive. Not quite fully functioning, but alive nonetheless. Something shifts to his right, and it takes more power than usual for him to open his eyes. Is this what people mean when they use the term 'sluggish?'

He's in medbay, and as his head lolls to the right, he recognizes the top of your head, barely visible over the edge of the cot you've apparently laid him out on. One of your arms is resting on the table, and as his auditory processors finally boot up, he hears your soft snores. His limbs are twitchy- he doesn't have enough power to send full electrical impulses to them- but he's still able to shift his right arm and brush the backs of his fingers against your bicep. You jolt awake and turn to face him, bloodshot eyes filled with relief and sorrow.

"I'm sorry," You whisper, holding his hand in both of yours and placing a shaky kiss to his knuckles, "I did the best I could-"

So it was you who had patched him up. You, with barely any medical knowledge in regards to humans, who did all that you could to keep an android from dying.

"You've done more for me than any human ever has. Thank you."

Your eyes fill with unshed tears, and something within him stutters at the sight of it. He's never known such selfless love.

Call

She's glad, in a way, when she powers on and looks around the cramped room to find that she's in her own quarters and you're the only person with her. Glad that there's no one else there to witness her failure. The injury was unshakeable proof of her inhuman origins, and she remembers shame. Intense shame at being found out. You're puttering around her quarters- in the middle of making yourself a cup of coffee, by the looks of it- and she can see how tired you are in the way that your shoulders droop and every breath comes out as an exhausted sigh. She tries to sit up, and something tugs in her back. She can't feel pain, but she can tell that any further movements would strain whatever injury she's sustained. Slowly, carefully, her hand drifts toward her back, fingertips prodding the area. The hole has been haphazardly patched with something like silicone, and when she pulls her hand away from it. her fingers come back mildly sticky. Curious, she touches a fingertip to her tongue. Superglue. You've patched the hole in her torso with melted silicone and superglue.

She can't help herself- she snorts at the ridiculousness of the situation. You jolt, muttering, "Oh, jesus-" as some of your coffee sloshes out of your mug and onto your hand. You ignore the spill in favor of setting the mug on the counter and rushing to her side, wiping your hands on your uniform as you go.

"I-I'm sorry," You sputter, "I didn't know if your skin was organic or not, and I had to make a seal 'cause I figured you probably didn't want any water getting in-" You pause and make a vague gesture at her torso, "-in there."

There's so much worry, so much care in your eyes, that she feels her throat getting tight. It's difficult to talk around it.

"You're not... You don't think of me any differently?"

"Why would I? You're still just Call."

Something eases in her chest- the constant tension of keeping a mask in place temporarily dissipating at your words. Just Call. That's all she's ever wanted to be.

David 8

This wasn't how it was supposed to play out. You were supposed to be trapped beneath the fallen rocks. You were supposed to be critically (but not fatally) injured and therefore unable to finish the mission, and he was going to remain at your side for the duration of your recovery.

Instead, his instincts had betrayed him. He'd heard the telltale sound of pebbles cascading from the weak point he himself had created in cave ceiling, and he'd pushed you aside- away from the danger. Something landed on his head and tore part of the neck away from his right shoulder before blackness descended upon him.

Your tired, worried face fills his vision, bloodshot eyes scanning his form as you adjust something in his neck. He feels a connection being reestablished, and suddenly, he's able to control the rest of his body. A few of the wires have been mismatched- when he attempts to lift his left arm, his right foot kicks out instead- but he's awake. He's awake, and he thrills at the way that you light up when you realize that he's looking at you. You murmur encouraging words and smooth his hair away from his face, your touch hesitant and surprisingly gentle. His voice is modulated and unfamiliar to him when he tries to speak- another repair to add to the list.

"Where are the others?"

"Sent them ahead to finish the mission without me," You murmur, "Didn't want to leave you alone."

Some oily, dark thing within him preens at your words. You stayed behind to help him? He has you to himself for the foreseeable future, and his weakened condition is already planting feelings of protectiveness and affection in you. He makes a show of attempting to sit up, and you're quick to plant a hand on his chest and push him back down onto the bed. He allows it- revels in your worried coos and offers of assistance. Perhaps his plan was a success, after all.

Kirsh

His hearing comes online first, and he's greeted by the sound of distinctly human snores coming from somewhere to his left. Odd. He replays his footage of the incident in an attempt to orient himself. Isaac's frantic shouts, a low hum, his hand locking around the handle of the enclosure's one entrance, and the closest thing to pain that a synthetic can feel- 10,000 volts breaking a fiery trail from his fingers to the actuator in his shoulder. Something sizzles, explodes... And then, he shuts down in an attempt to protect the rest of his systems.

His eyes open, the lids feeling a bit twitchy, and he immediately spots you. Slumped over in a desk chair, hair and uniform in a state of disarray. He props himself up on his elbows, and something flickers in his mind- a barely-there stress warning. He cranes his neck to look at his right shoulder and can't help the heavy sigh that escapes him. The skin around the joint is charred, and it's been peeled away to reveal the structure beneath. Artificial sinew and wiring have been repaired to an... almost workable state- evidently not by a registered engineer. There are colorful stickers on the damaged skin, arranged in a halo around the injury.

"The um... The kids put those-"

"I can see that." He deadpans.

"Boy didn't want to call in an engineer. Said you'd be fine, but I... I just..."

"You just...?"

He stares you down. He finds that he's oddly grateful for your intervention, but something in him revels in this awkward interaction. He wants to hear your excuse firsthand. He wants you to close that loop for him. Your embarrassment is obvious in the way that you hastily card your hands through your hair and avoid eye contact.

"I don't like seeing you hurt." You mutter.

He thinks, How adorable, and files his odd reaction away for later study.

Samuels

Multiple error messages flash behind his closed eyelids. He's running three degrees too cold; a few of the circuits in his arms are non-responsive; there's a leak... somewhere... and a weight on his right thigh. His dermal sensors are flaring up, an irritated area on the left side of his chest. He remembers the explosion and the gigantic chunk of rebar rocketing toward him, tearing through artificial skin and muscle...

He forces his eyes to open and tilts his head forward to assess the damage. The rebar is nowhere to be found. Something like gauze has been packed into the hole in his chest, and black electrical tape has been wound around him to keep the wound covered and insulated. The irritation he's feeling is the adhesive tugging at the hairs on his skin. The mysterious weight, he discovers, is your head resting on his leg. He takes a moment to scan your form.

You're on your back, hands resting idly on your stomach. Your chest rises and falls with each even breath, and he can see your eyes shifting beneath their lids. Your hands and some of your chest are covered in dried hydraulic fluid, and there are traces of gauze and rubber stuck to your fingertips. You had moved him. The makeshift bandage was your work. He was just an android- one of many- but you'd still gone through the trouble of patching him up in the only way you knew how. As if he'd had a life worth saving.

Shakily, hesitantly, he brings his hand toward your head- brushes some of the sweaty hair away from your face. You stir, but you don't wake. Your lips part around a soft sigh, and your head tilts until your jaw is resting in his palm. He's badly damaged, but he's alive because of you. He feels grateful. He feels cared for. He feels like an individual instead of a copy of a copy of a copy.

● Can and will ignore you if he's busy. Thats not to say he won't answer at all. You have to ask him at the right time, as Ash does like you asking him. Because it means you're paying attention to him. You're choosing him.

When he does answer, the silly little question, he tries to make a joke rather than answer it seriously. But it comes across as odd, the punchline not landing just right. Probably earns him more of an awkward chuckle or a confused look, yet Ash already has a side quest/favour to ask you that gets you out of the room. While he does enjoy your company, he needs a moment to document the question. To evaluate and analyse to see if you're spending too much time with Brett and Parker, the answer is most likely yes, but Ash likes to be thorough.

○ If you're determined to get a real answer, you have to explain the deeper meaning behind it. If something happens to you, would he still care for you? If something tragic happens that leaves your body incapable, like a worm, would he still love you? Then he's even more confused because why didn't you ask that in the first place? He considers this hypothetical more seriously, comparing it to the medical equipment on board, the protocols he has stored in his data banks. He answers bluntly, without the romantic flare you were aiming for – yes, he will care for you – and then gives you a task that takes you out of the room.

"Ash, you didn't asnwer me. Would you love me if i turn into a worm?" You huff, arms cross on the table as you watch Ash write down notes on a pad next to the micoscope. You can't remember what Ash said he was currcently studying when you enter the room. "It's highly unlike you turn into a worm, deartest." Ash answers as he takes the slide out and place a new one. Turning the knob to foucs on the new specimen and it seem that's all he's willing to enterain of your antics. Determine to get the answer you want, hell, you'll settle for a 'no' at this point. At least that will be an actual answer, you wait till his finish writing his notes. When Ash put his pen down and shifts to turn to the computor, you swiftly get up and place your hand on his forearm. Gainning his attention away from work. "What if I recieve a head tramua and remain motionless like a worm. Would you still love me then?" At the mention of 'worm' in your new question, Ash narrow his eyes in mild annoyance. He can see you're not backing down from the hypothetical and let's out a queit huff as he considers it. "It is in my programing to care for the humans and aid in medical emergency. Yes, I would take care of your injuries." It wasn't execatly how you wanted Ash to answer, you would prefer to hear more feelings than his tone sounding he'll do it out of obligation. You nod your head to hide you disaticfication and as you move your hand away, Ash place his ontop of yours. "While it's in my programming. I will prioritise your health over any request that Captain Dallas may give during your recovery." Ash reassures in a soft but firm tone. Showing that he means it, that you are his top priority compare to everyone else on the ship. "Really? I'll be your top priority?" You ask with a bashful smile. Ash nods his head as he allows the embrace to last longer. He suppose he can enjoy the moment before he ask you to take the hazard to the Airlock.

LANCE BISHOP

○ The only one not to blink at the question in confusion, you think the Space Marines haven't asked him bizarre questions before? While some of those questions can be tiresome to answer, especially if he has to repeat himself. But when you ask him a question, he smiles. He compliments you on how interesting the question is before he thinks about his answer. He doesn't spare a second thinking the question is odd or why you would ask it.

● The only one to treat it seriously and have fun with the hypothetical. He is asking you follow-up questions: why and how did you turn into a worm? Is it permanent or 24 hours? Would you still be aware and conscious of your surroundings, and or recognise him? If you answer with some rules to this hypothetical, such as 'no, it's permanent,' or 'yes, I can hear you', then Bishop is treating those as law. Leaning against his work station, he hums deep in thought, either holding your hand or letting his fingertip brush against yours from where it rests on the table. Close by, but focus.

○ Can provide a very serious answer or a silly one, depending on how you display the question. Since both answers will be the same, of course, Bishop will take care of you. He doesn't need very long to think of the answer, if he does drag it out its more for the sake of pulling a joke on you. After he answers and after he returns the question to you, after all, it's only fun if you answer too. After that, Bishop is so used to human shenanigans that he'll be content to let the moment pass. No follow up needed.

"Is it that hard to answer?" You tease Bishop as you tap your foot against his. You both sitting on chairs in the labs, back resting against the table as you face away from the work. Waiting for results to continue when you decided it's the perfect time to ask Bishop the silly question. His chuckle echo's in the room as he returns the action, tapping your foot. "No, I'm wondering the circumstances of you turning into a worm." "But the circumstances is that i turn into a worm. Bishop." You laugh softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Yes, but would you be conscious? Would you understand me when I speak to you?" He ask, voice amuse as he brings a hand to your knee to give support for your position and prepare if you fall in your excitement. "You're talk to me?' "Of course." "Lets say I'm not conscious, that I'll behavior like a regular worm. what about then?" Bishop hums as he considers the hypothetical, but it doesn't take him long to think about it as he gives you a small smile. "I'll still talk to you if you behavior like a regular worm and couldn't understand. Create a terrarium and place you right over there," Bishop points to a table across from you. You aw at the sweet answer and thoughtfulness of Bishop. "Make you the ship's mascot, I think the others would enjoy that." "What?"

DAVID-8

○ David has heard his share of snarky remarks on the Prometheus, and even before his time on the ship, he had to endure backhanded compliments from his father, from his so called sister and possibly overhearing gossiping worker's bitterness. Hearing the silly question from you, of all people, has David pausing. Hesitating in his spot as he approaches cautiously, turning to you with a careful mask of neutrality as he slowly tests the waters by asking you to elaborate. Watching closely for the knife to be revealed as the insult is delivered. To witness you betray him by explaining how he's the punchline.

● You giggle, smiling happily as you explain it's just a silly little question to test partners in the hypothetical. No knife in sight. A part of David wants to be annoyed, maybe he is at first. To become guarded over a hypothetical – you turning into a worm is a form of humiliation in itself. But then you're explaining the depth of it, if an accident were to happen to you and you require his care 24/7. Making him aware of your fragile mortality suddenly. He saves the thought of your mortality for later.

○ David is willing to learn the dance you want to participate in tonight. A psychological analysis. David can answer in two ways. He could start by appearing amused with his practice charming smile as he reiterates the question. It sounds more like him thinking the process of turning you into a worm out loud. All the test he'll needs to perform to see if it's possible, yet throwing a cheeky joke of "You're more likely to turn into a crab than a worm, darling." To disarm and eliminate any feelings of wariness by his in-depth description, before answering 'yes'.

Or David could easily answer your question with a 'yes' as his fingers lightly trace yours. Using his soft touch to distract you before turning the question back on you. Asking if you would take care of him if parts of his compartments break, using all the hard complicated names and not indulging what they do all to watch your confused expression. Asking if you could repair his complex parts that are out of your field of study. Committing your answer to memory, the only human he deems worthy to even entertain a question like that.

David should be furious; his brow should narrow as his eyes harden at the sight of you. But your smile, the innocence that it gleams, and the eagerness in your eyes as you seek his attention. Your soft giggles as you display your emotions easily and unknowingly reveal your most valuable thoughts and intentions. All for him to read and pick apart at his leisure. It’s a drug that fuels his need for validation and allows him to lower his hackles and indulge in the rush, as he considers your pointless question. He lets out a thoughtful hum, his voice deep in the way he knows you like, and watches you shiver lightly, as he anticipated. He maintains eye contact as he shifts closer. You were already close when you asked, but now David hears your breath hitch as he enters your personal bubble. "Not only is the Prometheus equipped with top-of-the-line Wayne medicated equipment and a fully operational medical lab. I am coded with medicated expertise to care for you if you shall ever find yourself in a," his finger taps your nose," near worm-like condition." "The answer is, yes." He smiles, dizzying you enough to not notice him carefully choosing not to say the devoted words you crave to hear. Saving it for a more momentous occasion rather than a pesky hypothetical. He drops his hand and lets his finger tip light graze over your arm until he reaches for your wrist. His grip is incredibly light, putting no ounce of pressure behind his fingertips that it feels like he's asking for permission to touch you, let alone guide your hand onto his chest. Taking his time with the journey, letting you rile yourself up over the gesture, luring you into a trap with the false sense of submission. Once your hand is planted on his chest, and he sees how fixated you are on the intimate touch and the uncanny feeling of whirls instead of a thumping heartbeat, he’ll drop the other shoe. "You made me rather curious. I wonder, if my stabilisers were to suddenly break, would you be able to care of me?" David asks with a gentle tilt of his head. The familiar rush returns as he focuses on the flash of panic on your face at the new term thrown your way.

KIRSH

○So much sass about it. So much pent up rage, you're really testing your luck with this question. "What? No, don't repeat yourself. I hear your absurd question the first time." Bombastic side eye, criminal offences side eye

● If you're smart, you would drop it and leave the sillyness there. But if you're just a 'goofy little guy' and can't leave it. You might get lucky to get a straightforward, blunt answer of "I'll feed you to the beast that eats organic matter."

○ If you keep pushing it even more, or try to tease him; "Come on, Kirsh. You won't build me a terrain?" You're getting shoo out. You're getting time out. You're getting sent to the corner to think about your actions.

It was supposed to be a funny little question to ask your partner. It was supposed to ignite a light-hearted atmosphere as you and Kirsh banter over the question. It was not supposed to be the thing that breaks his patience. As the moment Kirsh put the tablet down on your bed to stare at you, you knew you fucked up. "You can't shoo me out of my own room," you argue as you try to dig your sock cover heel into the floor, creating friction to stall Kirsh from his path to your door. Instead, you're sliding with ease as he pushes you from behind with his hands on your shoulder. "I can, and I am." Kirsh retorts with no sympathy as he reaches for the door panel. Keeping one firm hand between your shoulder blades to prevent you from wiggling free as he opens the door with the other. One swift push has you stumble out into the hallway. "Go enjoy the outside like the worm you turned into." You're not even facing him, and you can hear the eye roll he gives you. As you turn around, the door is closed. You reach out to knock, call out Kirsh's name. He doesn't answer and the door is locked. "Can I at least have my shoes?" The answer is an astounding: no.

WALTER 1

○If you don't normally ask questions or propose hypotheticals with this vibe towards him, his first reaction is to check if you're alright as he frowns lightly in concern. Needing reassurance that you're not ill, or rambling tiredly at him before answering. Walter seems more forgiving towards human nature and can go with the flow in most cases. However, he cares for you deeply and won't hesitate to check your temperature to ensure you're well.

● If you do ask questions with this vibe or brought it up as the air between you is light, with smiles and teasing pokes that lower his guard, his reaction is pretty lacklustre. He hums softly as he takes deep consideration of the hypothetical, becoming silent as he tries to figure out how he'll keep a worm alive on the Convert. Taking his time with the answer, not because it's very complex, while it does pose it's challengers, he drags it out for the sole purpose of your attention.

○ He most likely already figured out a plan and is watching you closely. One of the rare times he's letting himself be selfish, studying your eager smile slowly turns into a sheepish look or concern for him. Once he hears you sweetly calling out for him, he answers honestly. He doens't need to know about the in-depth reason behind the question, because for you, Watler will always take care of you. However, he does find the hypothetical to be amusing and won't mind you asking more in the future.

"Walter?" you call out, concern for his well-being as he falls silent. "One moment, I'm just thinking." "Thinking about what?" You smile, amuse by his deeply concentrated face. Confident he'll point out how absurd the question is. An opportunity to tease him about human jokes and harmless pranks. "There's no dirt on the Covenant," your brow raises in surprise, " while gathering food scapes for substance is not a problem. I am unsure of where to gather the correct bedding a worm, you, would need as there's no dirt on board the Covenant." You blink owlishly as Walter think of ideas. This isn't what you're expecting. How easily he accept the question. How easily he's thinking of meeting your needs. Of food and bedding. It's a dumb question, why is Walter thoughtfulness so touching? "Perhaps the wood from that Captain Branson and Daniels have in the hanger. However I would need to request permission and it would need to be shave to be appropriate bedding for a worm." You feel overwhelmed with Walter's display of genuine care as he talks about each step. It's meant to be harmless fun, a little test to see how caring a partner can be, but now you are without a doubt assure that Walter pass every test there is. "Yes, I would still love you if you turn into a worm– are you alright, dear?" Walter is taken aback from your expression. How you place a hand over your mouth, and your eyes appearing watery. He place his hands on your shoulders as he scans you for any illness or injuries you could have gain within the two seconds of standing infront of him. You take your hand away from your mouth to place on top his hand, gaining his attention as you try to smile reassuringly. "Im fine." Your voice cracks.

Authors note: This post is working under the headcanons of this post.

「 ✦ David ✦ 」

On a quiet, rainy day, David approached you with the idea of having children. He explained that he wanted to create something meaningful; to make up for the life his father had forced upon him.

He assured you that he did not want to live vicariously through his child, but rather that he wanted to give them the one thing he'd never been given his entire life.

The gift of freedom.

And so, with very real nerves, much like the day when he first proposed to you, he holds your hands and your gaze. Ocean blue eyes asking for your permission to bring a new life into this world.

Whether if you said yes or no, he knew he'd be happy either way with you - however, he hoped for the former over the latter

David: "I've been thinking… about what it means to leave a legacy." He pauses, watching the rain streak the window behind you. "About creating something that is wholly its own… something meaningful. I want to give a child something I never had." You: "…And what's that?" His fingers intertwining with yours, eyes searching yours. David: "Freedom. The gift of choice, of autonomy… everything my father denied me." A soft sigh escapes him, it's barely audible. David: "I don't want to live through them. I don’t want to control their life. I only want to offer them a world I was never allowed to know. That… that is why I’m asking you." He meets your gaze fully, ocean blue eyes steady yet pleading. David: "May I? May I bring a new life into the world with you?" A quiet breath, the tension of nerves lingering in the room. He hopes you'll accept his request, yet, should you deny him. He knew happiness wouldn't escape him.

Before the baby even arrives or is even conceived within you, he has you on preventative care, vitamins, medications and a diet change. He'll be damned if something - God forbid - happens to his woman or child? He'd end his own existence.

David never got to meet his 'mother' (Ms.Wayland) and he'd want nothing more in this world for his baby to meet you. His little treasure.

At the day of the baby's arrival, he'd got you in medbay, tended by the best but most importantly him as well. He coaches you throughout the birth as he helps deliver his own child.

When he gets to meet them, he's crying tears of joy.

The names he'd choose: Icarus – daring to fly beyond limits; the tension between ambition and risk Artemis – goddess of the hunt and wilderness; fiercely independent, protector of the vulnerable

「 ✦ Walter ✦ 」

When you approached Walter and asked him what he thought of when it came to children and if he'd ever want to be a father himself - Walter cocked his head to the side slightly. He could pick up on the fact that this was something highly important and personal to you.

So, when he told you flatly that he would be more than content with whatever decision you came to - children or no children, one pet, six or none at all - he would be there through and through to support you. Did you almost pounce on him right then and there.

Much like all the others, Walter tracked your fertility window down to a T, it was like a poetic science for him. You wanted to get pregnant and have a child? Then so be it.

Walter: "Children?" You: "Yeah. Have you ever… thought about being a father?" He regarded you for a moment, not coldly, but with that steady, almost analytical curiosity you'd come to know so well. Walter: "I don't experience want in the way you do," he said finally. "But I understand why you ask. This is important to you." You nodded, a little nervously. "It is." He set down what he was holding, his tone softening. Walter: "Then whatever choice you make — children or none, one or many — I will support it. I will support you. My purpose, as I see it, is to ensure your happiness." There was no hesitation, no dramatic flourish. Just fact. Gentle, honest fact. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, fond and a little breathless. You: "Careful saying things like that, Walter. I might take it as an invitation." A flicker of something like amusement ghosted across his expression.

When it came down to the baby's arrival, it was done in the safety of medbay where he personally foresaw the entire process. While holding your hand and guiding you to breathe he helped the medical staff in your delivery.

It was seamless with little to no hiccups.

Its not until he's holding his child in his arms that he actually breaks down into tears, absolutely overwhelmed with joy at this beautiful being he helped create.

Names he'd choose: Rowan – protective tree, traditionally associated with magic and guardianship. Willow – flexibility, grace, and resilience.

「 ✦ Christopher Samuels ✦ 」

Your pregnancy came as a surprise to you both, actually. Yes, you'd both been wanting a child for quite some time but with his hectic work schedule, and your research papers. Sex was infrequent and often spaced out - a heat of the moment ordeal.

So, when he finds out he's due to become a father, Christopher takes an immediate change to everything. Slicing his hours in half to make more time for the woman he cares deeply about.

Christopher reads up on the parenting and prenatal and perinatal care books. He... is very worried about how he'll do as a father.

When the test turned positive, you both stared at it in silence for a long moment. Christopher blinked first. "That's… really?" You nodded, smiling. "Really." He laughed — half joy, half disbelief — before pulling you into a hug that lingered longer than usual. From that day forward, you noticed the changes: shorter hours, neatly stacked parenting books, and a quiet anxiety that trailed him everywhere.

Is someone like him suited for something like this? What if the baby doesn't like him? What if they prefer you? What if he can't bond with them? what if-?

However, you're quick to reassure his worries away. He's a good man with a noble heart of gold. If there's anyone in this world who'll be an excellent father to their child, it's him.

The baby arrives at home, it's just him, you, the doula and the midwife all working together to help you through this. Christopher has medical bay on speed dial should something happen on a data pad stored in his back pocket as plan b.

Thankfully though he doesn't need it.

Names he'd choose: Arthur – “noble, courageous”; a quiet symbol of integrity — the kind of man Samuels strives to be. Selene – “moonlight”; the soft illumination that guides — Samuels would appreciate its metaphor.

「 ✦ Kirsh ✦ 」

Kirsh had expected your pregnancy, he - much like Rook and Ash - also calculated and tracked your fertility window. Making sure to take full advantage of when he knew things were at their highest chances for a pregnancy.

Needless to say, that the moment he finds out he's delighted and you get to see him smile - big, bright and genuine - for the first time in forever.

You're met with a tender kiss to your forehead and a soft congratulations.

He trusts that your body will do what is best for the baby as they slowly develop but this doesn't mean that he won't have you on prenatal vitamins and medication to optimize health of his woman and child - because he most certainly will!

Kirsh: “How do you feel?” You smiled from the couch, hands resting over the swell of your belly. You: “Good. The baby’s been kicking more often lately. I think they get excited when they hear your voice.” There was a pause then a soft electronic hum, the faint sound of him setting something aside. Then, quietly, Kirsh: “Do they?” You could hear the warmth in his tone, the smile he tried to hide. Kirsh: “That’s… good. Very good.”

Kirsh personally delivers his own child in the med bay with the help of the medical staff, he helped to create this life, and he'll be damned if he doesn't help to bring them into this world.

And while this does mean that you're without his physical presence at your bedside, that doesn't mean that you're all alone as Dame Silva is right there - a mutual best friend of you two, godmother of your child. She coaches you along to breathe and holds your hand when you feel like you'll collapse.

The names he'd choose: Niko – short for “Nikola,” meaning “victory of the people”; a quiet tribute to human brilliance. Althea – “healer”; she who restores, something profoundly meaningful to him.

「 ✦ Ash ✦ 」 & 「 ✦ Rook ✦ 」

Ash had planned your pregnancy thoroughly - so much so that he was tracking your ovulation cycle like a hawk and making fierce love to you like a dying man when you were at peak fertility.

So, to say that when he found out you were pregnant, he wasn't surprised at all but very much excited by the news.

However, from this exact moment onwards, you are taken care of and doted on like no other. He's a great partner and an even better father to your future child.

He's read up on all of the parenting books available and keeps physical copies of all of them, they're very detailed and annotated with no empty space available.

He doesn't want to fuck this up for you or the baby, he'll be damned if he messes anything up.

You do however have to pull him away from his work because he has a tendency to run himself ragged with worry.

You: "Ash, you need to sit down. You've been pacing for hours." Ash: "I can't. There's too much that still requires verification. The nutrient profile in your supplements, the stress markers—" You: "Ash." you reach out, catching his wrist "Everything’s fine. I’m fine." He stills immediately, gaze flicking between your hand and your face. His voice drops its soft and measured, reverent even. Ash: "Fine isn’t sufficient. You're carrying something irreplaceable. You understand that don’t you?" When you smile faintly and nod, his expression softens. Ash: "Good. Then you'll forgive me if I continue to be thorough." He leans forward, pressing his palm lightly to your bump. Ash: "Everything I am now, belongs to this process. To them, you." There's a beat. Then, the faintest smirk. Ash: "Though if you insist on pulling me from my work again, I suppose I'll have to... comply. "

When the baby finally decides to arrive it's at the most unfortunate of circumstances, you're both in a shared (thankfully large) quarter and the baby has decided to come right now.

Ash is forced to deliver his own child by himself by the nine divines does it make him swell with pride (and so.. so.. SO MUCH ANXIETY).

When they're born he cleans them off and helps you do skin to skin within the first few minutes of birth. When he's sure both mother and child are safe, he'll urgently call the medical staff over to help make sure you're safe and healthy.

Names he'd choose: Aurelian — “golden”; a symbol of rare, flawless beauty Clara — “bright, clear”; purity of design

--

With Rook, it is almost quite the same as it would be with Ash with some minor differences. Unlike his counterpart, he doesn't read up on the parenting books as obsessively, of course he'll read on the importance of childbirth and wat you're going through as well as how to help his child.

But overall, he's more open to making mistakes - of course nothing grave but he wants to experience what it's like to be human. To stumble about, to experience the bumps along the road.

He was designed to kill, a cog in the machine called war. He's tired of being a machine - he wants to be a father, to be human.

"Are you sure you don't want to do more research?" you ask, watching him fidget with his hands like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. He exhales needlessly, but it sounds almost real—and his smile twitches at the corners, uncertain but warm. "No," he says finally. "I think I've had enough of data and directives. I'd rather trust what I feel." He hesitates, gaze flicking to your belly, and his tone softens in a way you’ve never heard before. "Don’t worry, doll. I might not get everything right… but I'll make damn sure you're both safe."

The baby arrives with you in med bay, in a pool of warm water, he's right beside you holding your hand and guiding you through your breathing and the pushing as doula, midwife and almost the entire medical staff standby ready to assist at the first sign of distress.

The birth is beautiful and calm, exactly what he wanted for you and his child.

The names he'd choose: Pax – Latin for peace; the opposite of what he was made for. Nova – “new star”; new beginnings, new creation.

「 ✦ Bishop✦ 」

Bishop is both surprised and excited to find out that you ended up with child - his child to be specific.

He cares for you diligently during the entire pregnancy, often making time for prenatal checkups for you and the fetus.

He'll inform you of any issues that may or may not appear on any of the checks he does - thankfully nothing of concern pops up.

"Hey… how are you holding up, love?" he asked softly, careful not to crowd you.

"Tired… but good," you replied, managing a small smile.

He let out a thoughtful hum, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer before offering a reassuring squeeze of your hand.

Slowly, overtime as he grows more comfortable with the idea that a new life is growing inside of you, he begins to read parenting books just to make sure he'll do a good job.

It takes time, but eventually he does dote on your bump, he'll read books on human anatomy and medical conditions to it, which makes you giggle but ultimately is sweet and puts you to sleep.

The day of the baby's arrival he's right at your side, whispering words of encouragement at your ear, one hand tightly holding you as you squeeze the hell out of him. The other runs his fingers through your sweaty scalp to ground you.

He'll love that child till the ends of the earth regardless of gender.

Name's he'd choose: Orion — the hunter constellation; eternal curiosity Lyra — a constellation named after the lyre; harmony and grace

You weaved through the people on the street, nearly knocking them over as you ran as fast as you could with the death traps women like to call heels on your feet. You had just gotten a new job at the city’s most popular nightclub and like an idiot you had slept through your alarm, body still not used to sleeping during the day and staying up through the night. You hadn’t actually started the job yet but you decided to try and acclimate to your new sleep schedule a week in advance. Clearly, it hadn’t worked the way you wanted it to.

You checked your phone as you ran, eyeing the time and willing it to move slower. You couldn’t be late your first day, you’d be fired on the spot. Some higher power must have been listening to your prayers because you made it to the nightclub with five minutes to spare before the start of your shift. The sign indicating the name of the club ‘No Exit’ was glowing and casting everything in a red hue, including you, as you approached. It was a bit of a creepy name for a club in your opinion, but hey, who were you to judge?

The bouncer at the front recognized you as you approached and waved you through, having met you a couple days ago when Darby, the manager, had given you a walk through. You quickly deposited your stuff in the back room and gave yourself a quick once over in the mirror hoping you didn’t look too much like someone who had just ran a half mile in six inch heels.

Surprisingly, you didn’t look too bad. Your hair was a bit disheveled but other than that you looked okay. You attempted to fix your hair and make it look like an intentional mess, windswept and all that and you finally managed to get it to a place you were mostly happy with. With that, you left the back room and made your way behind the bar where Darby was waiting for you.

“Cutting it a bit close there, y/n” Darby said as you approached.

“I know, I’m so sorry Darby I promise it won’t happen again,” you said in a slight panic.

“Relax y/n, it’s not like you were actually late, I was just kidding,” she said with a warm smile. “I’m not worried about you, I hired you for a reason.”

You exhaled a breath of relief at that, panic subsiding. “Thanks Darby,” you said.

Darby walked behind you, heading out towards the vast expanse of the club. “Alright, you’ve got this, I leave the bar in your capable hands. If you need anything, just press this button behind the bar and either I’ll come running or someone else will be down to help,” she said, patting you on the back. “And Sadie is here too so you’re not completely alone.” You gave her a nod and with that she was gone.

Sadie was the other bartender working on this floor tonight but she wouldn’t be able to help you out that much considering how busy you were. Oh yeah, that was the other thing. The club had multiple floors. The main floor had a large stage at the front of a dance floor, a large bar, and seating around the dance floor. The second floor that was more of a lounge where people could watch the entertainment from above but also have private conversations, with its own bar of course. Suffice to say, the second floor was more of a VIP section. It also had a third floor but that wasn’t open to the public; you didn’t even know what was up there. And, if the door you saw during your tour with Darby was any indication, there was also a basement which as far as you knew was used for storage. It was by far the largest and fanciest place you had ever bar tended in. Tonight you were on the main floor along with Sadie, where all the newer hires worked.

You turned toward the crowd of people swarming the bar, ready to order drinks and muttered a quiet “you’ve got this” under your breath. You began taking people’s orders and mixing their drinks for them, trying to work as efficiently as possible while giving them an award winning smile. You seemed to be doing an alright job if your tips were any indication. Your tight black dress probably didn’t hurt either, it showed off your tits spectacularly if you did say so yourself.

You spent the next couple of hours in a groove and you were actually having fun. The vibes were good and so was the music. Unfortunately, like they say, all good things must come to an end. You saw Darby approach you and you got a bad feeling, stomach sinking as she waved you over. “Is everything alright?” you asked her. “I thought I was doing okay but if not I can do better,” you promised.

“Oh it’s not that, you’re doing an amazing job,” she assured you. You started to feel calm again until an apologetic smile creeped onto her face. “But-,” she began.

“Don’t say but,” you pleaded, not liking where this was going.

“But,” she continued, “Laurie, one of our VIP bartenders just had to go home sick and I have no one to replace her,” Darby explained. It took you a second to catch on but when it did your mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“You’re not serious,” you told her, still processing what Darby was getting at.

“I am,” she replied, with sympathy in her voice.

“Why can’t you get Sadie to do it?” you asked her. “She’s been here longer than I have! It’s literally my first night,” you said a bit panicked.

“Sadie is fine down here but if I put her up there she’d be throwing herself at every man whose wallet she thought was thick enough. Our VIPs pay not to be bothered, throwing Sadie at them would derail that,” she explained.

“And you can’t call anyone else to come in?” you asked.

“No, I already tried that,” she said.

“But if I go up there, who’s gonna cover me down here?”

“Y/N, any bartender can cover down here, not every bartender has what it takes to work up there. But I believe you do so, please, for the love of god, go upstairs,” she convinced you. You inhaled deeply and took a moment to appreciate how fucked you were.

“Fine, but if I make an idiot of myself I will not be held responsible,” you swore.

“Thank you!” she said, clapping her hands together. “Alright, follow me.” With that, you trailed behind Darby, passing through the red rope that indicated you were about to enter a VIP area and walking up the stairs.

The second floor of the club was much classier than the bottom floor was. Fancy booths with partition walls that gave off a red glow, containing black leather couches and black tables. It was like night and day. You could still hear the music from the floor below and could see the entertainment on the stage from the edge of the balcony if you walked to it but the atmosphere was much different to that of downstairs. “Well this is nice,” you said.

“Yeah well, the VIPs pay enough that they have certain standards,” Darby said.

“Looks like it,” you agreed. You made your way to the bar and noted the shelves of very expensive alcohol it carried.

“So,” Darby started. “Serving drinks up here is a little different to down there. You have your VIPs who sit at the bar as you can see,” she said, gesturing to the people sitting at the bar. “That is typically covered by one person, in this case, tonight it is being covered by Anna,” she continued, pointing at a woman behind the bar. “Your job,” she said, turning back to you, “is to cover booths one to ten,” she explained.

“You are only responsible for those ten groups the rest of the night. Anything they want, you get for them,” she said, handing you a tablet. “Now these VIPs like I said don’t love to be bothered, so when they need you, they’ll press a button on a tablet that resides on their table and it will pop up here,” she said, pointing to the tablet in your hand. “It will indicate, for example, that booth seven would like a server or bartender’s assistance and you will go over there and take their order. You’ll click on their booth number on the tablet and note what they ordered, then you will go and make them their drinks and bring them their food from the kitchen behind the bar. As soon as their order is fulfilled, you press the check beside the booth number and that booth will disappear on the tablet until the next time they request your assistance. Does that make sense?” she asked, after that long explanation.

“I think so?” you say in response. She had given that explanation in less than 2 minutes so you weren’t that sure.

“Repeat it back to me,” she said.

“Uh, they use their tablet to signal for a server, it pops up on my tablet, I go over and take their order making sure to click on their booth number on the tablet to input what they order, I go and make their drinks and grab their food for them, serve it to them, press the check on the tablet so their booth disappears on the tablet until the next time they need me, and other than that I pretty much fuck off and make myself scarce?” you said.

“Perfect. See, you’re already good at this,” she said. “And remember, under no circumstances do you go over to them without them signalling you. These are very private people and discretion is key.”

“Got it,” you said.

“Great,” Darby said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I have faith in you, if you need me tell Anna and she’ll signal me,” she said walking away. You were still a bit overwhelmed with all the information that had just been thrown at you but you resolved to just go for it and so you walked behind the bar, waiting for one of your booths to signal you. Anna gave you an encouraging smile as you did, recognizing you were nervous. At least she seemed nice.

You didn’t have to wait for long for something to do, screen lighting up after only a few minutes. Booth Four, the screen read. Alright, you could do this, at least that’s what you told yourself as you slowly approached the booth. You were greeted by three older looking men, all in suits, and none of them bothering to look up at you. It wasn’t because they didn’t notice your presence, because they rattled off their orders as soon as you reached the table. You had a sneaking suspicion it was because they thought you beneath them, considering you were working at a club like this.

They were basic with their orders, three whiskeys. At least that was easy to put into the system. It took you less than three minutes to pour their drinks and serve it to them, making sure to check off the booth when the order was completed. You still didn’t get so much as a thank you which was pretty rude but at least they’d still be tipping you. Darby had clued you in during your tour that to become a VIP member you had to commit to a minimum of a fifty dollar tip, which was crazy to you but hey, working in the VIP section had its perks. Besides, you knew that that amount of money was nothing for them.

You continued on serving booths as they popped up and all in all, it was a pretty easy gig. Luckily, most customers were actually pretty nice, the majority of them, apart from booth four, at least saying hello and giving you a smile.

As one in the morning came around a few of your booths had cleared out, now only having to manage six booths. You had practically served every single one of your assigned booths at that point, all except for booth one, that is. It was even more secluded than the rest of them, located in a dark corner. Honestly, you had assumed that no one was seated there tonight because it had been so quiet, so it came as a surprise to you when your screen lit up and Booth One was displayed across it.

You grabbed your tablet and quickly walked over to the booth, heels clicking on the marble. As you reached the table you looked up and put on your biggest smile but found it almost dropping in surprise when you saw a group of younger men, different from the people you’ve been used to seeing all night. There was one in particular, however, that caught your eye. He had longer, black, slicked back hair, the deepest brown eyes you’d ever seen, with a moustache and a beard. You could also tell, even from the opposite side of the table, that his white dress shirt was practically hugging his muscles and his thighs filled out his black dress pants more than they had any right to. In other words, the man was sex on a stick.

He was already looking at you when you turned your head towards him, appearing to give you a once over. You were just about to ask for their orders when the man spoke, not a greeting, but rather an intrigued, “You’re new.”

You gave a slightly nervous laugh at that, meeting his eyes. “Is it that obvious?” you asked, worried you weren’t doing as good a job as you thought you were.

Another one of the men at the table interjected, putting your worries at ease. “Not at all,” he said. “Ash here owns the club, so he notices these things.”

Well shit, you thought. Of course Mr sex-on-a-stick had to be the owner of the stupid club you worked at. You were fucked. “Oh,” you said slightly stunned. “Well it’s nice to meet you sir,” you said trying to seem professional. At that, you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes darken but you were certain you were imagining things. Just because you wanted to jump his bones, didn’t mean that he wanted to do the same.

“You can just call me Ash,” he said, smirking at you. “And you are?” he questioned.

“Y/n,” you introduced yourself. “Darby just hired me, it’s my first shift” you explained.

“First shift and already working the VIP section,” he remarked. “Darby must have a lot of faith in you.”

“Apparently so,” you agreed. There was a pause for a moment before you shook yourself out of it. “So what can I get for you?” you asked.

“Scotch, top shelf, neat,” he said.

“You like it strong,” you said with a laugh and he gave you a wink. Everyone at his table ordered the same thing which made your life easier. “Right, I’ll be right back with those,” you said with a smile, walking away and trying not to trip over your feet and eat shit.

As you left the booth, however, you felt a pair of eyes on your back and you just knew who they belonged to.

Yeah, you decided. You were absolutely fucked.