Eye Candy [yan! various × gn-fem!reader]

homey honey

you sighed, walking a bit to the side and already bumping against your coffee table, you undid you boots, slipping them under the table and dragging the hunching robot (he had to bend his neck because of the ceiling) and dragged him to the bathroom and promptly opening the shower-curtains before pushing him to lay in the too-small-for-him bathtub.

"you better not fucking move an inch." you growled before running to your living room.

you squeeze yourself under your sofa-bed, grabbing a toolbox and dragging yourself back to the bathroom to find a surprisingly obedient robot, staying in the same pose you manhandled him to.

you put the box on the tub's mouth, moving to get in the tub to take a gander at the damage, stepping between his legs.

first, his mask is all fucked up and you don't know if he's going to kill you for trying to fix it. you would've left it on for scary points but you'd fear it would be too effective since it's also creeping you out.

then the obvious, the literally spoken fact that they half assed their job of repairing... your (you gagged) robot so they only did the outer layer, probably leaving the internals for you, hooray. it was the (debatable) safer option so you had to do it first.

grabbing some random tool you sighed to yourself, mentally hyping yourself up before speaking, "i will take off your shirt to repair you, do not attack me." you emphasized by making a stabbing motion with it.

turns out the process was basically a breeze, mostly just replacing heat-damaged bolts and fitting it where it's supposed to be. you closed the panel door of his stomach and froze when his hand grabbed yours.

you stayed still, waiting for the worst until it never happened. you looked at his... mask in a futile attempt of trying to read him. you tried to tug your hand away until he began to squeeze it.

fuck, is he going to try to break your bones again?

you began to tug it harder until you felt something slide inbetween your fingers, digging itself against the back of your hands and covering your knuckles.

you breathed heavily, looking at your intertwined hands, he won't let go.

you steadied your breath, the action becoming harder to maintain when you heard the swiveling sound that his head made to turn towards you.

you swallowed and reached a hand to grab his mask. the nails under his gloves digged into your skin, his grip becoming harder until you finally finished taking it off.

they had somehow managed to also fix his face, but not his mask. you dropped it, both hands instinctively grabbing his head to take a closer look once you felt his grip slacken.

his eyes, at first glance seemed like a dull silvery white but, upon closer inspection, the usual ripple of color in the iris, seemed to be replaced with sharp geometry. the color being the reflection of his surroundings like a mirror, like a big sequin.

you shifted his head to the side, he moved with no protest, his iris took the color of the bathroom's tiles.

you tilted his head back, it went back to the usual mercury tint.

"you have pretty eyes." you breathed.

his lips parted slightly, like he had the capability of speaking a word or breathing a gasp.

his face looked spotless aside from the purposeful and flat markings of moles and freckles, his face was smooth and almost glittery in a way that reflected light in a dazzling manner.

he's still shirtless, you struggled to keep your gaze eye-level. why did they give him the looks that specifically catered to you?

you coughed to mask your fluster, then flinched once his eyes returned to look at you.

"... i'm going to find you a replacement."

his expressionless face tilted to the side.

you stood up from between his legs, climbing over the bathtub, sending him a glance as he made no move to follow you...

... do you need to tell him what to do every time?

"... follow." you sighed, then walked back to your... living-room slash bedroom. reaching out for your data-pad from under your bed.

you slumped against the cushion, mentally preparing yourself to talk to your manager about... your bodyguard.

hi :) :[YOU]

[BOSSBABY]: what is it?

so... about my guard dog... :[YOU]

[BOSSBABY]: you want the replacement parts?

yes :[YOU]

[BOSSBABY]: it's custom, aka OOAK, so you have to contact the company who made it

... do you know which one :[YOU]

[BOSSBABY]: what other company makes droids? build a bear?

Amizade...? :[YOU]

(seen)

right. of course. it had to be the company known for not even bothering to spend on hush-money about the amount of casualties caused by their companion bots.

your musings are taken away from your mind as they send you another message.

[BOSSBABY]: get on the official site then put in the fabrication number of your dog on the search bar.

oh, right, that obvious... but where would it be?

you received another notification.

[BOSSBABY]: it's on the back of the dog-tag, if you somehow managed to lose it due to incompetence, there's a QR-code on his tongue.

shit.

you turned your head, finding the topic of your discussions right behind you, hunched over like it was trying to read over your shoulder, which he probably was.

you nervously swallow. turning around completely before feeling a wave of relief as you saw that the collar was still wrapped around his neck.

never in your life you thought you'd get so much serotonin from seeing a paw-print.

you nervously reached for the tag, stopping mid-way as he moved his head back, presenting his neck.

you turned the tag around.

110634071

right...

you searched for the site, before flinching at the need for you to have a client-account.

you sent a message to your manager, of whom has kindly informed you to use the details of your 'professional' to sign in.

after taking way too much time developing a password, you finally punched in the number of your... bodyguard.

holy shit it's fucking expensive.

you froze, before searching for any replacement for his mask

there's no downloadable file so that it can be 3d-printed, so you decided having it shipped, fortunately and unfortunately it has been sent to the coords of the HQ of your industry. so not only you have to talk, again, to your manager to retrieve it.

you have to deal with the fans that are trying to contact your agency.

fuck.

---

time to meet another... love interest