I make fic stuff for trans masc readers because I'm tired of the lack of it in fanfic. Will probably be a lot of LADS but my other fandoms will likley pop up too. Wattpad veteran, x reader writer veteran, ao3 lurker. Testosterone HRT, chest binding, top and bottom surgrey, transphobia and dysphoria and coming out will all be mentioned across varying fics.
I am: 23 | he/they | aus-ita | plural/autistic | instersex. Zayne main :)
MINORS DNI THERE WILL BE OCASSIONAL NSFW.
Asks are on for requests, but replies will probably be slow. Rules about NSFW to be added, check back soon.
You will be blocked if: you are a transandrophobe, intersexist, racist, abelist, sexist or lolisho creep.
This was the first time Zayne was between your legs for reasons other than lust and yearning. He was looking, really paying attention with medical precision. He certianlly wasn't expecting you to ask him, right after an 8 hour shift on a random tuesday, to take a look with a penlight and give you his proffesional opinion on weather or not your anatomy was "normal" or not.
But now he understood why you'd asked. Because your hunch was correct, this wasn't "normal". In his raw desire and need for you, when he was usually between your legs, he somehow, hadn't noticed it. He was much more focused on the way you gasped and trembled for him. But now? he was Doctor Zayne, not sex master Zayne.
"I see what you mean" he muttered, pushing his glasses up with the back of his knuckles, "this isn't a typcial placement... you said it was causing pain?"
"Not all the time. But at certain angles, or if something jabs against that area" you clarified.
He could see why. While it was true that everyones anatomy was different, there was a line between typical and atypical genitalia. Sometimes it's obvious right away, from the moment the person is born and the labour and delivery doctors and nurses get a clear look at the newborn. But sometimes it was sneakier. Not fully visable until puberty or well hidden in a more internal part of the body. Some people go their whole lives not knowing they were atypical; intersex. What he was seeing here, on you - his beloved, was a variation of just that. And now knowing this fact, some other things you'd mentioned in the past about puberty and health hiccups you'd had suddenly made a lot more sense.
His hands were gentle, careful. Not wanting to cause any pain or feel too invasive. There was a diffrence between a touch to cause arousal and a touch to assess a part of the body. His slight presses, methodical prodding and muttering of medical gargan under his breath told you he was taking this seriously. He cared, genuinley cared.
"I would see a specialist, just to be sure. They have the tools for a more through examination... but in my opinion? I think you're right" He said, sitting up straight and setting the penlight asside.
He let you process for a moment. It was clear you already kind of knew something was up down there, but wanted a proffesional's confirmation to be sure. This did change things, the way you went about your health and sex. Perhaps the way you viewed your gender too. But none of that bothered Zayne. He wasn't just a doctor who knew all of this was completely ok and nothing shameful to be and experience. But he was your love. He loved you for you, not your genitals.
"We'll figure it all out. This doesn't change anything between us. Aside from maybe a few positions..." he assured, wrapping an arm around you and giving you an assuring squeeze.
"I know" you smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. "I love you"
He placed a kiss atop your head, ready to be there for you and with you through whatever this revilation may lead to.
Trigger Warnings listed in tags. Read at your own peril.
“ —and they believed it. Pays to be a goody-two-shoes, you know?“
You finish telling the story once again, but this time, it was in a closed bar. It was a classic from when you were in high school; you’ll always remember being able to punch that queerphobic bitch in her caked face and getting away with it. Not that you were entirely truthful about the incident to the school principal, but you were able to lie pretty smoothly on the spot. Grillby found it amusing, in his own internal laughter way. You could tell by the raise in flames and his clearly entertained smirk. “... And here I thought you didn’t do violence and mischief?” He asks you, his remark laced with a teasing tone. You shrug with a lopsided smile. “Nothing that anyone really knows about. After all, it could have been ANYTHING that hit her powdered cheek until it bruised! Don’t you think it’s a little unfair to blame the student whose always on their best behavior?” You give Grillby your most innocent look, but he’s clearly not buying it.
He cackles a bit to himself, starts laughing a bit louder, and then calms himself. “Didn’t think you the type to just fight people at random.” Grillby snickers. Well, “She deserved it.” You flat-out told him. Grillby gives you a more interested look. “What makes you say that?” Grillby questions you, clearly more invested in your high school life than you were at the time. “Ugh, I just got sick of hearing her talk. She’d get pissed off about one thing or another and she’d always bring the conversation around to gender, and how you were either female or male. I told her you could be born intersex. She didn’t believe me. The teacher couldn’t confirm, since gender wasn’t listed to teachers, and I didn’t care enough to bring my parents into this. She got frustrated with me. Gave me a hard time in class, gossiped about me to the point where everyone knew she was lying because she hated me, and she even managed to snag me some new friends because of it! There were a lot of kids who hated her guts, but we couldn’t do anything without the teachers somehow getting involved, so we never resolved anything. I’ll tell you what, her queerphobia and general bitchiness really got me out of a few jams.” You casually lay out your high school life story.
Grillby is completely still (minus his flames) for a few moments. Then a minute. His face had fallen flat, and he’s staring at you. “...Intersex...?” He asks. You nod, a bit nervously. Why was he being so awkward about it?! Did he also hate LGBTQ+??? You try to think back for any sign you missed that he wasn’t cool with that sort of thing, but then he grabs your shoulder from over the bar. “Hey, stop with the silent panic.” Grillby deadpanned. You refocus. Were you being obvious? “Oh, don’t look so surprised. It was written all over your face. You’re rather open with your feelings, which surprises on how you’ve made it as far as you have.” Grillby straightens his bowtie. He walks around the bar and grabs a seat next to you. He sits straight; confidently and ever sure of himself.
“Listen, you don’t have to explain yourself to me, alright? You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone, alright? Not to that high school bitch, not that Sans, not to the former Canine Unit, and not to me. You keep being you, okay?” Grillby tells you. You look in eyes, unsure of whether you could tell him how you sometimes feel cursed to have this body. His eyes harden into a more anger glare. “Answer me. You’re going to love yourself fully, alright?” He commands. “Alright.” You answer, still a little unsure. Grillby senses it and growls. He looks around the bar a bit, and sees how closed the blinds to the bar is. He then grabs and pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around you. You breathe just a bit. You were nervous as hell just from being this close in proximity to him. Grillby’s flames curl harmlessly against you, caressing your flesh warmly as he held you.
“You’re going to learn to love yourself, even if I have to stay here all week, human. Don’t test my resilience.” Grillby warns you, taking his arms out of the sleeves of his coat to wrap the coat arms around you and him. He ties it into a bow. Well, you were going to make the most of this situation, even if you were insanely nervous. If he was willing to be this forward in private, then it’s got to be some sort of sign, right? You press your body back against his. He’s stiffed up, but then he’s gone and leaned back to be more of a lounging chair. Well, if he’s offering you all week to embrace him, how could you refuse him?
END.
-- -- --
Bonus:
“Wait, what’s intersex? Is that how you call yourself a freak in bed? I think I might be intersex, too, then.”
*Pulls up Powerpoint presentation* “Ok, so if you’ll kindly turn your attention to these charts—”
