Warnings: A lot of talk about childbirth, labor, and possibly inaccurate medical terms. Mentions of storing and freezing the placenta. Segments using swear words and being involved with the delivery (except 8, he's a minor). Segment 35 (Omega), being a little possessive and self-centered as always. No smut, but mentioned and implied nsfw.

are you lost?

i was searching for liminal spaces for inspo and my friend helped me to choose one pic ww

i love the dottolings

Warnings: Making out? Kinda smut? (not with 8 years old one of course, its a cheek kiss for him.) Humiliation kink(idk)?

It's kinda long eheh. Also, I couldn't make the text smaller in some places, so I apologize if it looks strange.

Assistant reader!f (in her +20ies) x Dottore Segments

(Another assistant reader if you wanna read!)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ summary: You buy a pack of lip-smackers and you try each flavor with one segment at a time, which is best done by kissing them.

8 years-old (a kiss on the cheek!) cherry-cola You found him in your room again, it was his usual spot when he escapes from olders’ bullyings. Curled up near the edge of your bed with his notebook resting against his knees, scribbling down something with that tiny serious expression he always wore whenever he thought too hard. He barely even noticed you entering. “I bought these a few days ago,” you said while dropping beside him onto the mattress. You held up the little package of lip smackers in front of him. “I still can’t decide which flavor to try.” The eight-year-old glanced up briefly. "And…? I don't see the problem that relates me here?" “Hm. Fair point, Doctor.” You liked calling 8 years old one Doctor a lot, and deep down he liked it too, made him feel important among them. You looked through them dramatically before pulling out the cherry one. “This one then.” He watched carefully as you applied it, quiet as always. Probably trying to understand your reasoning. Then before he could ask anything, you leaned over and pressed an exaggerated kiss against his cheek. “Mwah.” A loud one. He blinked. Slowly, his fingers touched the spot you kissed. Then he sniffed faintly, brows furrowing in curiosity. “…Cherry?” You smiled immediately. “Yeah, aren’t you a smart cookie?”. “I’ve never seen a cherry flavored one before.” He said while ignoring your teasing. “Well,” you answered while nudging his shoulder lightly, “that just means there are still lots of things left for you to research, Doctor.” Then he quietly pulled his notebook a little farther away from you, to hide his face before you could try kissing the other cheek too.

18 years-old, lemon-fanta! Finding the eighteen-year-old was always funny because he acted like he wanted to disappear while leaving the most obvious trails possible. With a pile of stolen books from other segments, and dragged chair to the corner of the library he builds a castle from books and then tries to hide himself in them. And somehow, every single time, you still found him. He even once told you:“You can find me whenever you want. I only find you when you want.” You approached quietly, fingers brushing over his shoulder. He startled immediately. Actually jumped a little. His head snapped toward you before he tried recovering his dignity by looking back down at the book in front of him. “…What are you doing here, handsome?” you asked with a teasing tone. “Ugh…Nothing.” He answered with that sappy-sulky voice. “Why did you even come here and disturb me?” he muttered while turning a page he clearly wasn’t reading anymore. “Don’t you have things to do? Be a useful assistant and maybe bring me coffee.” The moment he saw you, he always tried acting annoyed first. But you knew him too well. “Oh, of course I have things to do,” you said. “And I should probably bring you your coffee too.” He hummed with agreement. “But before that,” you continued while stepping closer, “I need to do something else first.” That finally got his attention(which was actually long lost the moment he heard your voice). He lifted his head from the book slowly, chair sliding back just a little as he looked up at you with obvious curiosity hidden behind forced indifference. “…What thing?” You leaned down before he could think too hard about it and kissed him. Bright lemon flavor spreading instantly against his lips from the gloss you had applied earlier. He reacted immediately. He never misses his chance. One hand grabbing at your hip so fast it almost made you laugh, like he’d been waiting for an excuse all day. Eager. And then you pulled away. A quiet, frustrated whine escaped him before he could stop it. This made you burst into laughter instantly. His face went red so quickly he covered half of it with his left hand, glaring at you from behind his fingers. “Just because I’m not as scary as the others,” he muttered bitterly, “doesn’t mean you can tease me whenever you want.” You stood up again, pretending not to notice the way he tried to cover the immediate bulge occured when you sat down. “I don’t know,” you said lightly while fixing your sleeve. “I think I’d love to see you act all crazy and scary too.” His eyes widened slightly. And before he could recover enough to say something smug back, you were already leaving the library laughing while he sat there completely flustered in the middle of his little book castle.

25 years-old, sprite! The twenty-five-year-old’s room was always quiet in the most unwelcoming way possible. He had papers scattered across the desk, lots of half-written reports, open books etc. The faint scratching sound of his pen moving across paper that you could hear behind the door. You knocked twice against the door. “You can’t come in,” he answered immediately. You leaned against the doorway dramatically. “I mean, there was something urgent I had to ask you.” “Well then,” he replied flatly from inside, “go find someone less bothered by your existence. I’m busy.” You rolled your eyes. “The earlier you help me, the earlier you’ll get back to your report.” A long groan came from behind the door. But since he didn’t actually tell you to leave again, you pushed the door open anyway. He didn’t even look up at first. “You’re too stupid to figure out your own unimportant problems?” he asked while continuing to write. “Why do they even keep you as their assistant? You clearly lack the ability to assist anyone.” You barely reacted anymore honestly. Every segment had their own way of being awful. His just happened to involve constant humiliation wrapped in distinct wording with attractive voice. So instead of getting offended, you simply smiled and walked over beside his chair. “I don’t lack the ability to assist,” you corrected lightly. “You’re simply too good to require assistance.” That made him glance up. You leaned your elbow against his shoulder, close enough for him to smell the sweet artificial citrus from your gloss. He huffed quietly under his breath. Then suddenly his hand grabbed your waist and pulled you directly into his lap. You yelped softly from the force of it, which made him enjoy more. “I’ve never seen anyone as interested in being bullied as you are,” he muttered near your ear while squeezing your thigh harshly. “It’s almost concerning.” “Well,” you said sweetly, “if it’s coming from you, who am I to reject it? I am your assistant after all.” His fingers tightened briefly before he leaned back in his chair with obvious annoyance. “Whatever you needed, ask quickly,” he sighed. “I’m too busy to deal with your lame ass.” Instead of answering, you kissed him. He reacted instantly to that. One hand gripping your hip harder while he bit down lightly against your lower lip in that mean way of his that was always more provoking than affectionate. You were kissing him with that sprite flavor he would definitely despise. You almost laughed into the kiss. Especially when he started to make you lean back towards the desk like he intended to keep you there much longer. Before he could though, you pushed against his chest lightly and stood back up. He looked irritated immediately. “Well, I was actually going to ask about my new lipstick,” you said while fixing your clothes. “But I guess you didn’t like it?” He stared at you for a moment. Then grinned slowly. “I hate it.”

35 years-old(Omega), vanilla-cola! Omega’s room was usually quieter than the others and with Nod-Krai trip approaching, the atmosphere had only gotten worse. Documents scattered across the desk, unfinished calculations glowing faintly across screens, reports waiting for signatures. You’d spent the last hour helping him organize materials for the trip without daring to distract him even once. The moment you entered earlier, you had planned to greet him properly. With a small kiss, you know. But the second he started giving instructions, you abandoned the thought immediately. It felt too risky making him wait over something so trivial. So instead, you focused entirely on being useful. Exactly what his assistant should be, as you could feel that he likes you most when you show usability. So, you barely even remembered the vanilla-cola you had applied beforehand. Until... “Why,” Omega said suddenly from somewhere behind you, “am I smelling vanilla?” Your fingers immediately flew to your lips. Right. The new lipstick. You turned toward him with a small smile. “Oh, I tried a new flavor earlier. Didn’t realize the scent was that strong.” His eyes settled on your mouth instantly. “Get up.” You obeyed before thinking twice. The chair scraped softly against the floor as you stood, and Omega stepped closer without another word. Then his fingers slid beneath your chin, tilting your face upward carefully. Neither gentle nor rough. His gaze stayed fixed on your lips with a level of attention that made your breath catch embarrassingly fast. “I don’t think you wear these because your lips are chapped,” he said calmly. “They always look shiny regardless.” Your eyebrows lifted slightly. You didn’t realize he paid attention to things like that or maybe you simply weren’t supposed to know? “Well,” you answered softly after a moment, “of course I applied this for you.” That earned the faintest smile from him. Then he leaned closer. Close enough that you could already feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. If either of you moved even slightly, the distance would disappear completely. You waited but Omega stopped there. “It smells lovely indeed,” he murmured quietly. Then he released your chin, turned away from you entirely, and continued gathering the papers for Nod-Krai like nothing had happened. Leaving you standing there like that, made you think that everyone was somehow getting a taste of his cruelty.

45 years-old, strawberry-fanta! The meetings of the Harbingers were sometimes unbearably long. So, even after an hour passed, you were still waiting. Despite the fact that he specifically told you: “If it takes too long, leave.” You sat quietly on one of the hallway benches outside the meeting room, legs crossed while absentmindedly applying the strawberry-flavored gloss you had bought earlier. Mostly just to distract yourself from boredom. Then finally you heard the doors opened. You immediately stood up as the Harbingers began leaving one by one. Voices echoed through the hallway, coats brushing past marble floors, conversations overlapping carelessly. You spotted him instantly. But before you could approach, you overheard Pantalone’s amused voice. “After you’re gone, perhaps I should steal that assistant of yours,” he said lazily. “Even someone like you seems interested in her. There must be something exceptional there.” Dottore laughed softly. “Well, ask her after I leave. If she wishes to join you, she may.” Then he glanced toward you briefly. “Though, for your sake, you should know she only shows interest in me. I doubt she’d perform quite as enthusiastically under your supervision.” Your lips curled into a smile before you lowered your head slightly to hide it. Eventually the hallway emptied, leaving only the two of you. You approached him quietly and took the bag from his hand before he could object, naturally falling into step beside him as you both walked down the long corridor. “I told you not to wait if it took too long,” he said after a moment. “Why are you still here?” “Because I’m your assistant,” you answered simply. “If you had to stay in that room for twenty-four hours, then I’d stay here for twenty-four hours too. I’ll wait whenever you need me.” That made him smile faintly. The two of you continued walking side by side. Then suddenly he spoke again. “Am I hallucinating,” he mused lightly, “or do you smell like strawberries?” You smiled immediately. “Nothing escapes from you, hm, Doctor?” Compared to the other older segments, he was surprisingly easy to talk to. Easier to tease too. But he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Well, if I fail to notice the changes in my lovely assistant,” he said calmly, “or the little shenanigans she keeps pulling, then I’d simply be ignorant of my surroundings.” Slowly, you linked your arm with his as he allowed it naturally. “So?” you asked while looking up at him. “Is that a bad thing or a good thing?” He turned his head toward you fully then. “You shouldn’t ask such obvious questions.” And before you could reply,he suddenly pushed you gently toward the wall beside the hallway. You let out a surprised sound as your back touched the cold surface behind you. His hand guided your arms down instinctively so he could cage you there easily. For a second, you just stared at him. And then he kissed you. The strawberry flavor mixed between you instantly while his hand rested against your waist with terrifying ease. He made you feel overwhelmed in a completely different manner. Like standing too close to someone entirely aware of their own charm. When he finally pulled away, you almost stumbled forward from how weak your knees suddenly felt which caused a laughter from him. “You know,” he mused while watching your expression carefully, “I think I understand why the eighteen-year-old is so obsessed with you.” You immediately smiled back. “Oh?” you teased softly. “Is it only him?” He extended his arm toward you again patiently, waiting for you to take it. “No,” he answered after a moment. “I don’t think it’s only him.”

65 years-old, fanta! You found him exactly where he always was. Sitting near the large window of his office with a book resting in one hand while the other tapped slowly against the armrest of his chair. The room was quiet except for the ticking of some old mechanism nearby. He acknowledged your presence immediately but didn’t look up. “You’re lingering,” he said dryly. “Which usually means you’re about to become troublesome.” You smiled to yourself and walked closer. “Maybe only a little.” A quiet hum escaped him at that. You had applied the Fanta flavored one earlier, and honestly, compared to the others, you weren’t even sure if he would tolerate it. He always acted above things like that. Still, you leaned carefully against the side of his chair. “So, what are you reading about? Maybe something interesting?” He answers back without waiting, “Not everything we read needs to be interesting, sometimes you just read to… read.” Which caused a small nod from you. To change the topic, to make him talk to you more, “I bought something new today,” you said casually. “Though you’ll probably hate it.” That finally made him glance at you over the edge of his book. “Probably.” You laughed softly. “See? You're too uncurious for a research doctor.” “Experience allows me to predict disappointment accurately.” “But no matter what, don’t you think you should try first, there’s always possibility for a different outcome.” His eyes narrowed slightly. He already understood what the new item was you found. Of course, it wasn’t a dagger or an elixir you came up with. The smell of orange was too heavy to not to notice. You slowly reached toward the lower edge of his mask then, fingers brushing lightly against the material. Waiting, giving him enough time to stop you if he wanted. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t. Instead, he sighed quietly like you were exhausting beyond reason. “Ridiculous girl,” he muttered. But he tilted his head upward anyway. Just enough for you to slide the lower half of the mask away and reveal his lips. You were not seeing his eyes but you were aware that his gaze stayed on your face the entire time as you leaned closer. “You always act like you’re above these things,” you whispered softly, “but you indulge me every single time.” “Someone,” he replied calmly, “has to tolerate your nonsense.” And then he kissed you. The citrus flavor lingered between you while his hand rested briefly against your jaw, keeping you there for just a second longer than necessary before he finally pulled away. You blinked at him quietly afterward. And he simply lowered the mask back into place with complete composure. “…Didn’t you have something else?” he said after a moment. “That’s too sweet.” You stared at him in disbelief. “That’s your review?” “That was your objective, was it not?”

80ies, OG Zandik, coca-cola! When Zandik first took you in, he noticed very quickly that you liked flowers and though he never commented much on it, a greenhouse had quietly appeared not long afterward. At first, it was yours. Then eventually, somehow, it became his too. Now half the plants inside were labeled with small notes in his handwriting, some altered for experiments, others growing under strange conditions only he understood. The greenhouse smelled less like a garden these days and more like a research facility pretending to be one. Not that you minded. You found him there again that evening, standing beneath the warm glass ceiling while examining one of the glowing flowers near the center table. “You’re stealing my greenhouse,” you complained lightly while approaching him from behind. “It was never yours exclusively,” he replied without even turning around. “You simply lacked the intellect to use it efficiently.” You smiled. There he is, you thought to yourself. The old man carefully adjusted one of the leaves between his fingers before speaking again. “The western section requires watering tomorrow. You’ve been neglecting it.” “Wow, Im surprised that you noticed.” “I notice everything.” You moved closer until your shoulder brushed against his arm. He didn’t move away. At this point, Zandik tolerated your clinginess with the same exhausted acceptance one would have toward a persistent cat. Your gaze drifted toward the flowers surrounding him. “You know,” you murmured softly, “I think you spend more time here than I do now. Perhaps green makes you feel at ease, hm?” With dodging your last words, he speaks “That is because unlike you, I possess consistency.” “But you’re also turning my flowers into experiments.” “They should be honored.” You laughed quietly under your breath before gently taking his hand and guiding him toward the nearby table set. He looked mildly annoyed the entire time, but he still sat down, and after a second of hesitation, you settled carefully onto his lap sideways, arms slipping loosely around him while resting your head against his shoulder. The old man let out the deepest sigh imaginable. “Hopeless girl.” Yet his hand still rested against your waist automatically. You smiled against his doctor coat that smells like… science! The cola-flavored gloss still lingered faintly on your lips, and eventually he noticed too. “That scent,” he muttered after a moment. “Artificial. Overly sweet. Also, very unpleasant.” You looked up at him innocently. “Maybe it tastes good though.” His eyes narrowed immediately. “You cannot know without trying it, right?” For a long second, he simply stared at you like he was debating whether or not you were worth the trouble. Then his hand moved slowly to your jaw and despite all the criticism, he kissed you anyway. The faint cola flavor mixed between you while the greenhouse remained completely silent around you except for the soft hum of lamps overhead. When he finally pulled away, his expression remained perfectly composed. “…Still artificial,” he decided calmly. You burst into laughter instantly and though he clicked his tongue in disapproval you still caught the faint amusement hidden beneath it. He was now, too tired to deal with you, but still managing somehow.

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just imagining each and every segment (even the original zandik) playing the piano for you and each having a unique song made for you.

you, his muse; are his inspiration.

OR