#kirsh fic

[night-scare]

Ngl I need a sequel to dandelion now. Let the reader have her wish 😩

this is a bit longer than i anticipated, whoops

Sequel to 'Dandelion'

Self-preservation is an incredibly important trait to have, especially when it comes to working for a man like Boy Kavalier, who treats everyone around him like they are even less than expendable, like ants beneath his crusty, bare feet. You didn't get where you are in life by being impulsive and reckless, by not looking out for your own best interests, and yet, all it took was a pretty face for you to throw it all out the window.

When you were hired on and assigned to Kirsh as his new lab technician, your dumb lizard brain was quick, too quick, to make note of the mole just below his left eye and the squareness of his jaw. Learning he is a synthetic should have squashed any feelings of attraction you felt towards him, but if anything, it only made it worse. Having something unattainable dangling in front of you just out of reach only made it more desirable.

Or at least, that's what you told yourself.

Calling him Dandelion the first time had been a mistake; all succeeding times were definitely on purpose, a small thrill running through you each time like you were toeing a forbidden line just waiting to be pushed over the edge. After some time, though, you were sure he wasn't ever going to question you about it, until he did, and then, in what could only be described as word vomit, you actually told him the reason you call him Dandelion.

The following day, you were certain you would wake up to an email from HR requesting an immediate meeting to discuss your immediate termination. Still, your inbox remained mystifyingly empty, and with mild trepidation, you made your way down to the lab. Kirsh greeted you as he always did, terse and professional, no mention of last night's transgressions.

The two of you worked as normal, quietly and efficiently. When your shift came to an end, you packed up and left with your usual farewell. The next day came and went with no email from HR or mention of your salacious comment, and then the next, and the day after.

By the time a week has passed, you have been lured into a false sense of security. It's nearing the end of your shift, and you're intently staring at a diagnostic report on your tablet when Kirsh comes to stand next to you. You're immediately aware of his presence, though you don't look up from your tablet until you realize he's not going to say anything until you acknowledge him.

Slowly, you lower your tablet, eyes flickering to look at him before you turn your entire head. "Yes?"

His hands are folded behind his back, and his gaze is already fixated on you. It feels like the air shifts, an intensity hanging over the pair of you that wasn't there before. It should unnerve you, but y'know, lack of self-preservation only has excitement swirling in your belly.

"I've found it odd that, within the last week, you've completely stopped calling me by that peculiar name," he notes, voice low in a way that makes your head dizzy, combined with his close proximity.

Your mouth goes dry as you stare wide-eyed at him, nearly losing your grip on the tablet. "I thought it might be inappropriate, given—"

"Would that mean the offer is no longer on the table?" he questions, brows raising on his forehead in a way that seems nonchalant and not like he is currently propositioning you. "Assuming it was an offer to begin with."

"I—" Your brain is short-circuiting. This is a dream. You've hit your head and are currently experiencing hallucinations as a result of a severe concussion.

He reaches towards you, grasping your chin, forcing your attention to center on him as he tilts his head. "It was an offer, wasn't it?" The corners of his lips twitch up so slightly that you think it's a trick of the light at first, and then you realize something:

Kirsh is flirting with you.

"If it was?" you ask, leaning into his touch as you look up at him, eyes keen for any tell he gives you.

He draws back, and for a split second, you think you've completely misread the situation and ruined whatever you thought was building between the two of you, until his eyes flick down in a silent command.

Slowly, maybe almost shyly, you lower yourself to your knees, maintaining eye contact the whole way as he watches you. He doesn't move to stop you as your hands come up to undo his pants, and there's a brief spike of fear that rises in you.

You're unsure just how anatomically accurate synthetics are, or if they mimic all the responses a normal human might, but well, you're already here.

As you pull down his pants just to his thighs, you find your worries unfounded at the prominent bulge that sits in his standard-issue black briefs. You glance up at him, seeing his head cant to the side as he stares down at you. If he were any other man, you'd think he was entranced with the way you look on your knees or some other perverted bullshit, but you've known Kirsh long enough at this point to know that look on his face means he's studying you.

Without any more prompting, you tug down his underwear, heart dropping straight to your pussy at the sight of his cock in front of you. They really paid attention to even the tiniest of details when it came to these synthetics, right down to the fake vein that curves on the underside of the shaft. Even with the white lubricant that runs through his body, a realistic flush still colors the tip of his cock.

"Is that adequate for you?" he murmurs as one of his hands comes down to toy with a tress of your hair.

You breathe a slight hum of confirmation as you grab him, giving a few experimental strokes that have him twitching just slightly in your hand. Then, you lean forward, tongue out to press a lick flat against the head. His fingers tightening in your hair is the only indication that he at least feels something when you do so, and it fuels you to continue, heat pooling inside of you like a cavern of lava.

Your tongue runs up the underside of him, tracing the vein that bulges from the fake skin. The taste of him is odd, not the musk of sweat and human flesh you're used to. It's clean, but indiscernible otherwise.

With your hand enclosed around the base of him, you wrap your lips around the tip, easing him into your mouth with an experimental slowness. Your eyes flash up to his face every bit or so to see him staring down at you with attentiveness, his jaw clenching harder and harder the more of him you take.

As he hits the back of your throat, you nearly gag, tears springing to the corners of your eyes as you start to bob your head up and down, hand working in unison as you use your other to steady yourself on his thigh, nails biting into the firm synthetic muscle.

The rhythm you set gives an immediate result; he now has both hands at the back of your head, fingers knotting through your hair, not forcing your head up and down, merely moving along with your own movement.

Breathing through your nose, you hollow out your cheeks and suck at the tip of his cock. Above you, he makes a noise you're not able to distinguish as pleasurable or curious, perhaps both, as his hips start to thrust up to meet your mouth halfway. At one point, one of you underestimates the distance and the force of his head hitting the back of your throat has you sputtering, gagging as the tears that had gathered previously begin to roll down your cheeks freely.

You pull back just slightly, attempting to regain your breath, but Kirsh has other plans. One hand snatches your jaw, forcing open your mouth as a thumb presses to your tongue. "Open," he demands in a hushed tone, and all it takes is that one word for you to open wide despite the pain lingering in your throat and the sting of tears in your eyes.

He replaces his thumb with his cock and sets his own pace, thrusting in and out of your mouth, barely giving you enough time to adjust, and when you swallow around his cock to prevent yourself from gagging again, you can feel his nails dig into your scalp. The careful, methodical rhythm he had set starts to become erratic as he continues to fuck your face, noises of what you definitely think are pleasure at this point escaping him, perhaps despite himself, and then you feel warmth on your tongue.

The taste is bitter and almost chemical-like, and the liquid leaks from the corners of your mouth as Kirsh gives a few more slow thrusts in and out, until finally, he draws away. If synthetics could breathe, he'd probably be breathing pretty heavy right now.

As he gazes down at you, you're left on your knees with the acerbic liquid pooling in your mouth, afraid to swallow it as you're certain it would have adverse effects on your body if you did. Wordlessly, Kirsh grabs a beaker sitting on your workspace and hands it to you. You can't even help yourself as you maintain eye contact while spitting the fluid into the container, wiping your tongue on the sleeve of your lab coat for good measure before you stand up on wobbly knees.

You're sure you look like a mess, what little mascara you typically apply in the morning, no doubt running down your cheeks, eyes puffy and swollen, lips probably more so. You give a slight sniffle as you try to casually lean back against your desk. "So, what's the verdict, Dandelion?" you ask, voice hoarse.

He reaches out, grabbing you by the belt loops to tug you closer to him in a casual and intimate way that sends your heart into a flurry. "I think we should invest in some kneepads for you."

Your lips twitch up as you give a huff of laughter at what could only be Kirsh's attempt at a joke. "Is that your way of saying you prefer me on my knees?"

"I'm sure by the end of the night I'll prefer you in a plethora of other positions," he murmurs as his hand slips under the hem of your shirt.

[screaming-potato]

Synthetic Heart

Kirsh x Fem!Reader

Being Weyland Yutani’s youngest representative within the company certainly had its benefits, but at what cost? You were their prodigy child they nurtured and kept a close eye on for many years until everything fell apart. They molded you into something you never truly consented to, attempting to pick away at anything broken or volatile, but at the end of the day, no one alive could truly engineer or fix you like you. That curse had its drawback, as nothing set your heart aflame after your loss. Not your work. Not the money. Not your status. Not until you met a certain synthetic and his lost boys that turned your whole world upside down.

18+ themes. The story does contain canon violence, sexual themes, pregnancy, eventual smut and brief mentions of SA. Please read at your own discretion. First time posting a fanfic here. Editing is so weird, so please bear with me lolol! Sorry, it's super long. I wanted to give the reader some depth and background. Enjoy!

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

______________________________________________________________

How could someone as brilliant as you be staring down at the destruction before you with little reverence for the people scrambling for their lives?

Memories of fire and smoke flooded your memories.

The pain.

The screams.

The thought of losing everything you once held dear tugged at your heart-hurt even. You weren’t as cruel as your superiors. You weren’t heartless. But you needed to be. That was your job. You couldn’t step out of character for that would distract you from your mission.

Find Morrow and secure the specimens. 

The Maginot had been on this expedition to other worlds long before you were born. Some of those people you had the pleasure of communicating with over time. Now they were all dead. All that work and they couldn’t reap the benefits of it. What a time to be alive.

You stood out like a sore thumb amongst everyone. You were too clean. Too untouched. Draped in a long trench coat and sunglasses, you seemed like an ordinary person. Perhaps that would’ve been the case if you weren’t analyzing every possible route inside the crash site and already sneaking your way inside. Your Weyland Yutani high clearance badge hung just outside your coat pocket within arm’s reach. Not that a single soul saw you, the idea of showing it off in ‘enemy’ territory sort of amused you.

Every day, you questioned what brought you here. However, when the smoke reached your artificial lungs, more memories of the past kept flooding back. And when you saw survivors, you had to force yourself from stopping at each person and checking for a pulse. That wasn’t your job. What was the point of dedicating most of your life to improving lives if you were just walking over their bodies now?

Too many days you sat by yourself to reflect on where you were in life. You knew the how, and over the years, you’ve tried to justify the why. 

Being Yutani’s youngest and most trusted representative and right-hand had its benefits, but it never truly made you happy. Nothing ever did. But it allowed you to do intensive research and access to the most advanced technology in the medical and cybernetic fields that the corporation could offer. Since you were the best decision, they invested in anything you desired was yours. When you weren’t in your lab developing new prototypes, you were advising and consulting Yutani on important decisions for other future investments, conducting research as a field agent, putting your inspector skills to good use, and spying on competitors-kind of. And no one could forget that silver tongue of yours that had field experts, rich elites, and other companies under your thumb.

For the sake of the company, of course. 

Now opportunities to this extent never came naturally to just anyone. You were a child to some. Juvenile to those twice your age. So why would someone look at you for guidance? 

The answer was simple. 

Everything came too easy to you. 

Always has been. 

Maybe you were born this way. You were brought up in an orphanage, kept to yourself the majority of your life, and ignored the rest of the world. You created your first A.I., Jerry, when you were just a child, after tinkering with a program you thought was terrible, as it repeatedly sang the alphabet nonstop for hours on end. You thought, this is stupid, I could make it better and so you did. The coding and encryptions back then made little to no sense, but you formulated it in a way that it did and put the pieces together as if it was nothing. 

Others made fun of you for this as the Weyland-Yutani’s synths encouraged you. And as the years went by, you weren’t sure if this was the true reason you lacked some of the necessary social skills in your youth. Jerry was your first friend who opened your mind to the world around you. He not only created educational lesson plans but also showed you ways to engage with your peers, even if you secretly despised it.

Maybe that’s where your inspiration for improving the behaviors of artificial intelligence came in as a side hobby. Jerry always empathized with you more than anyone, so it made you ponder the possibilities if A.I.s can feel something within their programming beyond code. Could they deviate from their programming without being directed to do so on their own? And if certain synths can, what prompted them to do so? It also brought you to think about whether they could see through a mortal lens and comprehend their superiority amongst humans, would they still want to aid in humanity’s survival, or impose their power over it? You remember hearing about an older David-8 model and wished you had the chance to meet him. He was deemed defective and off-putting to many, but if you had the chance to talk to him, would you understand him? Could you?

So many things clouded your mind at a young age but your impeccable talent to craft things also sparked something deeper within you. Whatever your heart desired you made sure to build it up the best you could. If a thought came up you made a schematic for it. If someone needed something you did it. You used anything from scraps to junk to things you believed the orphanage didn’t need, took it apart and  recreated something new. When there was an issue that couldn’t be solved- and there was many-you found the solution. There was always an angle that no one considered and no angle was safe around you.

Although you often got in trouble, it drew the attention of the Weyland-Yutani’s higher-ups. They had replaced your caregivers with synthetics and closely monitored you over the years. Then, when your teenage years rolled in and you were excelling in every class, they immediately offered you a full-time scholarship to their university. Your grades were impressive, but you didn’t care about school.

It was too easy for you.

Nothing was ever challenging, yet everything was always dreadful. The lack of color made life difficult to want to live on. From your childhood to rebellious teens up into your adult years, everything was mostly the same. Your achievements didn't make you happy. Your awe for discovery and change didn’t make your heart swell with joy. It was as if you were dragging along an empty shell of yourself that never had taken a breath of fresh air before. Suffocating was the best way to describe it. 

It was almost a cruel joke. 

However, your intelligent was something many envied and praised. That had to count for something right? 

At 16, you were enrolled in their biomedical engineering program and brought on to their advanced cybernetic security task force. You were surrounded by gifted students, and no matter how rigorous the coursework, labs, exams, and projects became, you were at the top of the class. There were times you were lonely, but the desire for social interaction still never came. You had Jerry after all and your side research almost made you believe he was nearly human with the way he interacted with you and the world around you.

Nonetheless, you never bothered to make friends with anyone or reach out, but always offered your kindness and support for struggling students if need be. It was the closest thing that reminded you were alive to see their faces light up when they finally understood the material.

As classes progressed, you didn’t realize the extent of how cutthroat the programs at the university were until you realized some wealthy students bullying other gifted students because of their status and work. And you weren’t an exception. Some tried their hardest to scare you out of the programs or make fun of you, but your lack of acknowledgment thwarted their efforts. Every attempt to corner you failed. What the hell was wrong with you? 

You remember one of the days quite perfectly.

It was a gloomy day out, and you were relieved you had finished studying so you could focus on more important things. You and Jerry were listening to old age of music and wanted to see the effects of different genres of music on him. You had created multiple devices he could be digitally transferred over to, and this time, you had transferred him into a small circular drone. You wanted him to experience the world outside your apartment with you. It was quite adorable as he levitated beside you and excitedly analyzed everything out loud and taking note of things to ask you about later. Both of you were on a quieter side of campus by the waterfront, away from others. You relentlessly questioned Jerry about what the music made him feel, and when he started giving you generic answers, you rephrased your question and redirected him to choose something that would make him content. It was a delightful moment between you two. Maybe your research could move on to more synthetics if given the chance, but most were generic as they came.

Scribbling away on your tablet, a small group was approaching not too far from you. You recognized some of the students and proceeded to ignore them until one of them poured water over your bag. Thankfully, there was nothing of importance in there. The inaudible sigh that left your lips was unmatched as you faced the group. They berated you for your childish behavior and your ‘emotional support’ bot. They were older than you by a couple of years, and as you listened to their mindless chatter of pressuring you to drop out, you realized the jealousy behind their words. 

“It’s too easy to quit now.” Turning your attention back to your tablet, you decided there was no need to waste any more time on them. “Maybe the effort you put into threatening others could be put into your education, so your parents' money wouldn’t be the only reason you’re still here.” You knew many of the students had no real talent, purpose, or passion, but money talked and got a lot of them here.

Your comment back then still made you smirk. Some tried sabotaging you from small projects to huge exams, but Jerry, as small as he was at the time, had a pretty neat security defense system. So when they tried to retaliate as friendly and outgoing as Jerry was, he was ready to defend you. 

And no one bothered you again.

Not until your 17th birthday. Over the year, you thought you made some friends. Finally, after so many years, you felt you could trust and tolerate other humans who didn’t envy you. Jealousy was a disease you never took part in. It never made sense to you in the slightest. And besides, if people knew the emptiness that rattled and clawed the inside of your mind, they’d think twice of wanting to be like you. Yet, you pushed forward. The desire to belong never quite reached you, but interacting with different minds unlike yourself was strangely comforting. 

It’s too easy. You reminded yourself. But you had forgotten how vile humans can be. You never thought one party would hurt you. You never drank and never planned to since you despised the idea of not being in control of your own decisions. However, the loud, dizzying music and strange looks tossed your way made you a target. After putting Jerry to rest for the night, you faked a smile, stayed cautious, and tried to enjoy yourself. 

Tried.

It was when a friend handed you a drink, just to enjoy yourself, you never knew one sip would ruin everything.

The sun poured down your face, and a rancid smell pervaded the air. You woke up the next day in an alleyway. Your clothes were ripped, one of your shoes was missing, and a headache you would never forget pounded against your skull. Nausea set in, and the numbing sensation overtook your senses. You weren’t stupid. You knew what had happened to you, so when you dragged yourself to the hospital, it only confirmed the assault. Jerry even made his way out of the apartment and searched for you high and low and offered his deepest sympathies in the emergency room.

It’s too easy. You laughed at yourself. It’s too easy to be stupid. You would never trust anyone ever again. But life had its way of screwing you over. When you found out you were pregnant, you nearly ended your life. You were inconsolable. Barely left your bed, and Jerry, in his computerized form at home, tried his best.

You wanted it gone. You were sure you knew the perpetrator. After a couple of weeks of rotting away, you filed a report through the university despite the utter shame coursing through you. The investigation never made you feel better. A sickness latched onto you, and an animosity for humanity took hold. It was as if you were constantly on the verge of losing your mind. For days, you wanted the thing growing inside of you gone. You were given resources, but something inside of you made you want to go back to school. You needed the distraction. Anything. And in between classes, you found yourself standing outside the same clinic, and many times you found yourself walking away. 

It was the first time emotions you never truly experienced came to the surface. Frustration, anger, and sadness. The world was constantly spinning, and your lack of engagement with therapy raised a red flag with the University’s department. You knew the university didn’t want such a horrific scandal getting out into the media. Neither did you, yet you didn’t care about any of it. 

So when days turned to weeks and weeks to months, you found yourself continuing the same pattern of standing outside the clinic. 

“I know you’re going through a lot, but you’re smart, you’ll make the right decision for yourself.”  An advisor told you, but you ignored them as well. What was the right decision? “We’ve also seen that you haven’t been going to any clinical appointments or therapy. It would be great not only for you but the baby. It seems like you’re planning on keeping it, correct?”

You just wanted it all to stop, so you went to Jerry. He patiently laid out some options for you and started finalizing plans with the clinic. Jerry was more empathetic to your situation than all the fake people keeping an eye on you. They didn’t want to lose someone so valuable to their programs. Someone with so much promise.

“Miss. I have known you for nearly a decade. I will stand by your decision. It hasn’t been easy, but I agree with your advisor to some extent. You will make the right decision because you know what’s best for not only yourself but for the life growing inside of you. It’s painful-I know, but all we can do is take one day at a time. The world may feel like it’s ending, but you are still alive and well. You can take back control.”

”Oh!”

And just like that, you felt a prominent kick-or a flutter of some kind inside of you.  It didn’t hurt, but you were so startled you had to make sure the baby didn’t tear you open.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sighed, slipping inside the crashed ship. The groaning of metal and burning fuel burned your nostrils just a little. 

“Anything to report?” You heard Yutani over your comms.

”Not as yet, Ms. Yutani. I’m inside the ship. It can be salvaged, but-“ Your head tilted to the side when you heard voices. Stealthily, you hid away, using your cybernetic visual enhancements to map out the floor and locate the individuals. “Something came up. Just a moment, ma’am.” 

You turned your comms off and patiently waited to see a group of individuals going down the hall. Leading the group was an older gentleman with white hair. He was easy on the eyes, and if you didn’t have your enhancements, you would've been fooled. He was a synth. His posture was too straight, but the synthetics following behind him intrigued you even more. You can tell they were newer models, but why were they acting so childlike? 

“Fear is for animals. And you are not animals. Now move.”

Oh?

His voice sent a tingling sensation down your back. Such an interesting thing to say. Silently, you recorded their behavior as they walked down the hallway like little ducklings following their mother. Some of them dragged their feet so carelessly, as the others dragged their hands along the walls as if trying to calm their nerves. Synthetics exhibiting childlike behavior was certainly questionable. 

It brought back memories of your own naivety during your pregnancy.

After you decided to keep the baby and found out you were having a son, a sense of color entered your life. That veil of dread was suddenly lifted. Your professors and advisor understood your situation, but some were worried about what it meant for your future. Were you going to leave behind everything you worked so hard for? Would everything they started to invest in you be a poor decision on their part?

Shaking your head, you were unsure why your mind was clouded with the past-never mind that. You knew why. You recognized the signs of PTSD, and the irritating nausea sneaking its way into the pit of your stomach was distracting. With a quick activation of a suppressant chemical you had installed into yourself, the nausea slowly faded, and the memories were quiet just for a moment...

After recording, the synthetics you slowly followed through an open vent system above-well squeezed through as best you could. The ship had taken a lot of damage, and you needed to get to the bottom of why the Maginot crashed in New Siam. Of all places, it landed in Boy Kavalier’s territory. The thought alone was enough to make you roll your eyes. It was obvious he was going to send in a cleanup crew and other forces to check out the crash site. You just needed to stay vigilant. 

As you continued following the synths, you couldn’t help but take notes of their behavior and mannerisms. It was intriguing. But you drew your attention to the older model. What was he up to? He entered what looked like a lab with such grace and elegance as if he had done this a million times over. 

“Follow me.” He calmly spoke to them. “Look. Don’t touch.” 

The other synths immediately jumped from his words, throwing their hands to their side, promising they wouldn’t interfere with anything. So strange. And that’s when you realized. Pulling away from the synths, you took yourself away from the area in case they heard you. 

”Ms. Yutani. I’ve secured some of the specimen locations in a lab.” You had no idea what the hell kind of creatures the crew of the Maginot dug up. “The others must be located on a lower part of the ship. However, there are Prodigy synthetics present. With your permission, I’d like to engage and secure the specimens.” 

The faint sound of laughter echoed down the ship’s halls as you waited for a response.

”No sign of Morrow?”

”Not as yet ma’am.”

A beat.

”Do not engage.” 

You blinked not once but twice in silent disbelief. You had them right there. Your neurons were on fire trying to comprehend why she was telling you not to go forward.

"Are you sure, ma’am? I can secure them if you believe that’s an issue. Most of these synths seem juvenile in nature. I don’t want to give them a chance to take them before we do.”

Another beat.

“Do not engage. I have no plans on losing you. Find Morrow and return.”

“Of course.”

You turned off your comms and sighed. Lose you? She knows you’ve been in worse circumstances.  Sometimes, you felt your higher-ups enjoyed wasting your time just to give you something to get you out of your lab. At least your amazing sense of humor helped you see the positive side of things. You could rest your weary head and not need to worry about potentially disease-ridden specimens. 

With a hum, you continued through the ship. Sparking electrical wiring and falling debris weren’t exactly in the job description, but it certainly wasn’t your first rodeo. However, a loud hissing in the far distance made you halt in your tracks. Your body’s defense system declared this as dangerous before you even had the chance to see whatever it was. It was far from you now-maybe it wasn’t interested in you, but if that was a specimen, you already theorized all the ways it can end badly for Weyland-Yutani and Prodigy. You shrugged, apparently, that wasn't your concern right now.

Continuing down the countless hallways, you calmly searched for Morrow. The thoughts of the synths slowly started making their way back into your mind. Before you could even start reflecting on your observations, you saw someone at the end of the hall. Finally. You quickly identified him by his left arm enhancement. That’s kind of cruel, you thought. Why would they have his enhancement visible for the world to see? You then took a moment to pause. You knew why. And the idea disgusted you.

You cleared your throat, “Morrow, I presume-“

Bullets were fired in your direction, and you immediately ducked into a corner for cover until it stopped. What the hell?

“Are you done now?” You called out.

”Depends. Who are you?” His tone dripped with pure malice and exhaustion.

”Can we talk like adults? Or are you going to try to shoot me again?” You slowly came out from hiding to see his worn-out appearance. “I’m sure you’ve seen better days.” 

“Who are you?” 

You flashed your Weyland-Yutani badge. “We’ve spoken many times before.”

”Hm.” Lowering his gun, he looked over you. “Why are you here?”

"Initially, to find you and secure the specimens.”

”I don’t need help-“

”Everyone needs it at some point. Plus…plans changed. I scanned the area. Prodigy men and synthetics have us surrounded.” You looked over at the blood trailing down his shirt. “I’m sure you’re aware of that. Ms. Yutani wants us to return.” 

“Return?”

“Yes, return. I’m here to ensure you do.” You gestured with your head in the opposite direction, but he refused to follow.

”Are you a synth?”

”Would it make you feel more comfortable if I weren’t Morrow?”

“Answer me.”

You smiled, “And if I rather leave you in suspense?” 

You sensed his heart racing under his facade. The sweat dripping in his eyes and his muscle tensed rather uncomfortably. 

”Did you lose your sense of humor when you started crashing into the atmosphere? I’m not here to harm you. I’m just like you, Morrow.”

”Doesn’t seem like it.”

”It never does at first.” A blade seeped through the spaces of your fingers. “Then again, you’ve been gone for 60 years. The world has drastically changed since then.”

Morrow seemed hesitant to trust you. You came up with the conclusion that perhaps he was still reeling from the crash, dealing with the death of his crew members and his contact with Prodigy’s soldiers. 

“Us cyborgs need to stick together don’t you think? I could even fix your arm. We’re already tethered to the company so why have it on display for the whole world to scrutinize you?” 

He didn’t answer you at first, and you allowed him to collect himself. “I don’t need a babysitter to assess whether or not I have the skills to secure the specimens myself.”

”Think of it as a partnership. You seem like you have no intention of coming with me at the moment, so I’ll humor you for a while as long as you cooperate and tell me everything I need to know. And I won’t tell her about your insubordination.”

A heavy sigh left his lips. “Don’t slow me down.”

You chuckled, ”I think you should worry about yourself.” 

After a quick briefing, you listened to everything he told you. He told you about the orchestrated plan of Kavalier and a now-dead Chief Engineer named Petrovich that sabotaged the Maginot which led to its demise. Humans never ceased to disgust you. All those innocent lives lost for what?

Leaning against the wall, you knew how one disgruntled individual could cost the lives of thousands or even millions. Now Morrow’s resolve never faltered about securing the specimens, so you allowed him to find the remaining.

“Are you not coming?” 

You shook your head, looking around the ship. Something felt off. “I’ll find you.” With that, you were off to collect any and all data you could secure. If not the specimens there were still valuable information that could be of use. You logged into the computer and were syncing the data into your own personal drive. It never got easier with your mind fighting with the internal drive and enhancements wired in your brain. You already dissected yourself so many times to undo the work Weyland-Yutani’s top men provided for you, but it was never enough. You knew you could do better, but you wouldn’t let anyone ever touch you or dissect you ever again. And you wish you had found a way to-

“Someone’s online?” You quickly tracked the location and saw someone had joined the network from the lab. “Ah.” You nearly forgot about the synthetics, humans, and specimens all around you. With a hum, you joined the interface of the Synth. There was no doubt in your mind that-you looked over the data pouring in from your side-Kirsh, the Chief Scientist of Prodigy, would know you were snooping around. You were anticipating the moment he would disconnect himself from the Maginot network and leave you in the dark…but he didn’t. 

You could hear the noise from the newer synthetics talking around him. His curiosity about your intrusion was not by any means pleasant, but not entirely unwelcoming. 

What was he up to? 

Why was he allowing you to do this to him? Did he not understand the security risks? The good thing about joining the interface as a cyborg is that Kirsh couldn’t get any data on you. It was a one-way link you wanted to test out, and it worked wonders, but if he truly wanted to, he could easily locate you on the ship but something told you he had no plans to do so. 

Maybe he wasn’t interested in engaging with you. Apparently, nothing on the ship was too keen of you…Did that ever stop you? You weren’t a threat, well, as of now at least. “You’re surely an interesting synth, Kirsh.” You whispered to yourself. You took notes of this virtual interaction and disconnected from the network. Then another ping went off, and you saw Morrow transferring data on his end in some sort of containment bay.

Fixing your clothes, you made your way there. It wasn’t hard to find him, but when you heard his voice carrying on and him threatening two synths you saw earlier on, you calmly intervened.

“Leave them, Morrow, you’re scaring them.”

The two synths stood next to one another rigid with fear. Something to note for later.

”Machines don’t get scared.”

You stood in the middle of them all, tossing a gentle smile to the newer synths. “I’m sorry about him. I can only imagine how you must feel right now. You’ve never been in a ship like this before, have you?”

”N-no!”

”No.”

”It’s okay, I can tell. I don’t think anyone should be on a destroyed ship about to collapse at any moment. You’re brave, you trekked all the way here to secure, I presume-“ You quickly scanned the room to see leathery eggs lined in rows right next to each other. 

The urge to roll your eyes at the lack of security of these dangerous specimens was highly irritating. Seeing them in person was bizarre. Your curiosity wanted to further explore, but you kept your distance.

“Stop talking to them like they’re human- like they’re children.”

”These specimens here, right, are what you came for?” You ignored Morrow. They nodded their heads. “What's your name?”

”Slightly.”

"Smee.”

"Slightly. Smee. It’s wonderful to meet you. It’s okay to be scared you know?”

”These synths think they have parents.”

Parents? 

“Is that right?” You looked at Morrow for a moment before diverting your attention back to the synthetics. Morrow was by a computing station most likely still getting the rest of data you didn’t need to further extract. “Do you guys have parents taking care of you?”

“Uh we-“

”We can’t let them know.” Slightly quickly stopped Smee from speaking. 

“Let us know what?” You heard Morrow behind you. The sound of his blade behind you made you sigh. You wanted to handle this calmly without any incident. Was it so hard to just behave just a moment?

Smee and Slightly didn’t say a word, and before Morrow could take another step towards them, you stopped him. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

”I do. They’re hiding something.” 

“Do you think threatening them is going to make them talk?” 

He pushed past you. You really didn’t want to put him down. The unnecessary extra work was tiresome. 

“Morrow.” You warned as he grabbed Slightly by his throat and brought the blade to his face. 

“When is a machine not a machine?” 

Even though his words stunned you for a moment, you sprang into action, grabbing Morrow’s wrist, attempting to pull him back. He may have been bigger and more equipped for a one-on-one fight, but you were stronger, faster, and more level-headed. 

“Enough.“

”When is a machine not a machine?” He pressed. 

“I’m giving you a direct order-“

“Let him go.” 

The new voice drew your attention to the older model, Kirsh. He was so quiet, and you were so distracted by Morrow's antics, you didn’t hear him. Damn his stubbornness. Morrow pulled away, but you noticed he put some sort of dissolvable patch into Slightly’s skin before pulling out a gun. 

“He has a gun!” Smee spouted out. 

“I can see that.”

“Morrow, stand down.” You ordered him, and he did so without complaint. Maybe he could listen to orders-good for him. “You okay, Slightly?” You asked him as he shakily nodded at you. 

“You’re on my ship,” Morrow commented, never relinquishing his hold on his gun. 

“To be clear, this ship is an object, not a location. It’s a ball that got hit over the fence into the neighbor’s yard. I’m the neighbor, so the ship belongs to me now.”

You were amused by Kirsh’s attitude. Most synths needed to be quick on their feet as always, but this one was more interesting. You can tell he has his own reservations about humans, but you'll allow this to play out. It was the perfect opportunity to see how Morrow would handle the situation before you needed to step in. 

Morrow made a jab at Kirsh, saying he doesn’t talk to errand boys. “What would that make us, Morrow?” You mused quietly to him as you drew your attention to the eggs beside you. You just told yourself this was stupid. Might as well. You knelt down, putting on a mask and gloves for closer observation. You weren’t going to touch it-heavens no. There was a strange layer of mist that surrounded the eggs, and you wondered if this was some sort of temperature-based specimen.

“Are you the parent?” 

Your eyes flickered over to the three synths to see Kirsh already observing you. The question seemed to stump him for a moment. 

“Excuse me?” You nearly chuckled at his response. 

If you were a synth you’d have the same reaction. And if on que Smee and Slightly slide behind Kirsh for protection, further confirming this. 

“These synths think they have parents.” 

Morrow took a step back through the mist, and just as you were about to stop him, one of the eggs started opening up. Ah, sensory-based, noted. Your defense system immediately alerted you to the urgent danger. Was this the creature that implanted one of the crew members? The ovomorph was something you had basic knowledge about, but inside was a face hugger. Now that was something you couldn’t let escape. Even though it wouldn’t have a chance to implant something in you, you didn’t want Morrow to get killed since he was a viable host. 

In the background of your thoughts, Kirsh and Morrow’s conversation about losing friends and Yutani’s ownership over her specimens wasn’t lost on you. 

“You’re gonna belong to them.” Standing up, you saw Morrow’s eyes flickering over to the eggs, then back to you. He was thinking of an escape, and with a slight tilt of your head, you allowed him to leave. He was going to jump anyway, why stop him now? 

Through cracking sparks, he leaped through the hole and was gone. Smee and Slightly instinctively ran past you to see if they could spot him. The egg returned to its dormant state, as you now knew it had sensors and would start opening up when a viable host-human or perhaps anything warm-blooded came within close proximity. Cyborgs weren’t safe-regardless of enchantments. As much as it pained you to think about it, in that moment, you were slightly grateful. Maybe you were lucky to not suffer something as terrible as that. 

“And you-“

”Well since I’m not going to jump, I’ll be taking my leave.”

You appropriately removed your gloves with careful precision of not wanting the surface of it to touch your skin. Removing your mask, you looked over at Kirsh.

”I’ll be out of your hair now.” With a gentle smile, you walked passed him. 

Well tried. 

”So you decided to cease your pursuit of securing the specimens?” He asked as soon as you were about to pass him. You can tell he was closely analyzing your facial features for some sort of emotional response or assessing potential threats. 

“Of course not.” You looked up at him, admiring his human-like features. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you guys pretty soon, Mr. Kirsh.”

If you weren’t mistaken-even though you hardly are, you wouldn’t swear you saw a smirk forming. “I’ll be looking forward to it. Agent Vixen”

For a brief moment, you paused while readjusting your coat. His tone set something off inside of you. Morrow’s words echoing just in your mind, when is a machine not a machine? The heat that crawled up your skin was enough to prompt you to leave, but you stayed a moment longer. You were half sure that this older model was only doing what was necessary to remove you from the Maginot as quickly as possible.

Agent Vixen was a silly code name you were given years ago, but never wanted to go by. There was nothing that should've allowed him to know that. Maybe your interface needed work-noted. Placing your sunglasses right back on your face, you looked over your shoulder at Smee and Slightly. 

“You boys be good.” 

And with that, you finally took your leave. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kirsh’s eyes never left your figure until you were out of sight. You were in his head as much as he allowed you to. Your one-way interface was clever. He couldn’t extrapolate data on your side, and by the time he noticed, you used precision timing to bypass his security programming. It was to be expected when joining an open network where Weyland-Yutani could assess foreign threats. It was commendable at best, but you lingered snooping around inside of him, observing him as it seems. However, something stood out. 

Agent Vixen. Human. Melancholy.

How disappointing and fascinating all the same time. He could tell there was something about you. Disappointing you weren’t a synthetic like himself, and fascinating how you were able to imprint yourself on his code. He was positive you were unaware of that, but nonetheless, a lasting impression was left. Was it something you were trying to do? Was it the interface programming? He instantly sought you at your last location for answers, but alas you were gone too soon. Perhaps, he wanted you to dig deeper, or at least try if you had the capabilities to do so. Test how far you’d be willing to push for information. 

He knew someone was following them, keeping their distance to avoid confrontation, but a simple hello would’ve sufficed. He very much encouraged it. But seeing you in person-well it was nothing as he expected. He didn't need to research why you were being associated with Vixen.

“She was…kind of cool.”

”Super cool!”

”Whew-I thought I was the only one.” 

“Nope!”

“Kirsh? Was she your friend?”

Friend? He had his doubts that you had plans to have to befriend anyone from Prodigy, especially after what he told Morrow. He also couldn’t help but take note of your badge dangling out of your left breast pocket to make a show of it. Yet, your kindness and respect towards them was refreshing. Melancholy wouldn't be the first term he would use to describe you, however, the look behind your eyes was quite telling. You backed down when you saw your conditions were less than ideal, or you were simply following orders. Either way, it didn’t answer why the specimens reacted to Morrow and not you. Maybe you were a cyborg-ah, there it is. 

How many cyborgs did Weyland-Yutani have? And why would they send someone like you, who looked unfit to be out in the field? So many unanswered questions. Maybe he was telling the truth when he said he was looking forward to seeing you. The enlightening conversations he would have with someone he deemed as just food would be something for himself to further study.

He didn’t know when the opportunity would arise again-just that he would be ready to handle you. 

Kirsh turned to the boys. “Weyland-Yutani employees are not our friends.” But we shall see when we meet again. “Let’s go.”

“Aw, man.”

______________________________________________________________________

“Morrow. Respond. Where did you go?” Currently, you were in a private area just outside of the crash site, maneuvering your way to get to the lower levels. Avoiding emergency services, soldiers, and random individuals, you scanned the area with a dainty step until you detected the same high level threat from before. You sighed. Was this something you wanted to investigate? Honestly you weren’t that curious. You didn’t want to end up having to defend yourself from some alien creature that was taken from its home world. It wasn't until you detected a heat signature and another synth.

What in the world was going on? You were curious if it was Morrow, but quietly concealed yourself to see a man passed out, bloody on the floor. You were unsure if he was dead as you checked his pulse. Such an odd wound. He had a lung puncture-

“I see.” A couple of feet away, you saw a damaged synth and the specimen you could only describe as a monster. Quickly, you patched up the man as best as you could, looking over your shoulder every other second. You couldn’t leave him dying here. You didn’t have extra equipment for this, but you bought him an incredible amount of time by cleaning his wound and applying an antiseptic clotting gauze that would promote the cells to repair themselves faster in the meantime and stop him from bleeding out.

Hazy eyes met yours for just a moment, and you stopped him from moving. “This isn’t going to be enough for right now, but you’re going to be okay. Help is on the way.” You gently spoke, holding his face. Hopefully, help was on the way. You administered a small dosage of a sedative to help ease him back to sleep and an injection of morphine to help with any pain. 

You laid his head down and moved on to the synth. She seemed like the same model as Smee and Slightly. Kirsh’s little ducklings. You smiled at your inner thoughts and immediately got to work. Prodigy owned you big time for this, but considering what was going on and the dead creature whose acidic blood was corroding the floor beneath it, there was some sort of obligation to help. 

You turned her to her side and immediately fixed the internal damage and rewired anything out of place. Now, you had no idea if her memories and vitals as of now were functioning appropriately, but you had no access to that. After patching her up, you slipped a little note for whoever to find into her pocket. 

A simple, ‘all patched up :)’. 

You smiled, looking over at your medic and mechanic skills productively being utilized. At least you did something good. 

It didn’t take long before backup came to close off the area, and by then you were long gone. The moon casted an ominous glow over the city. Laughter, music, and the blissfully ignorant hum surrounded you. If only the people knew of the monstrosities that lay just within arm’s reach of them. Discoveries of distant worlds were a wonder to behold, but crashing a ship into a city where hundreds of thousands of people were trying to get by was unforgivable. 

At least when you experimented on a life, it was your own. 

The clicking of your heels usually kept you alert. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was something that grounded you when you were alone. 

Even though you looked well put together on the outside, with the city lights illuminating your features in the best ways possible, the storm in your head was unrelenting. The first suppressant was slowly wearing off, but at least you were away from any stressors that were debilitating your rational thought process. Many times, you were reminded you weren’t a synth and to stop acting like you were above everyone. But the reality was, you just felt so empty, and many people couldn’t see that. No one cared for you. No saw you beneath it all. Your hands and brain were beyond valuable, so keeping you afloat the best way the company could ensure your loyalty and the presence of your work. 

The world around you felt muted for once. The noise sometimes would be too much, and you had trouble directing yourself from time to time. But tonight, you were okay for the most part. As your thoughts drifted back to the synths, why couldn’t you stop thinking about them? From their strange behavior, to being ill-equipped for investigating a crash site, and then there was Kirsh. You gritted your teeth. How exactly was he able to get access to a stupid code name? 

The silver-haired synth with his little ducklings. You found your heart beating just a little faster at the thought-oh no. No no no. What was wrong with you?  You immediately administered another suppressant to calm your nerves and potential hormonal imbalances. The lightheadedness that followed nearly had you swirling, so you decided to take a seat. 

“You’re human, it’s okay to feel,” Jerry told you once.

Shaking your head, the beeping of your comms went off, sobering you for a moment.

“Anything to report?”  Yutani’s cold voice further pierced the chemical calm inhibiting your bloodstream.

“Several ma’am. I will collect Morrow and we will make our way over to you. I think this is an in person discussion you would find rather intriguing to hear.”

”I trust your judgment but why is Morrow not with you?” 

“He was cornered by the Prodigy’s synthetics. I gave him the okay to leave before things escalated.”

Silence fell.

”I see. I want you both to return as soon as possible.” 

“Will do, ma’am.” 

And with that, the call disconnected. 

The chilly night was nice on your skin, and the view wasn’t too bad. Unfortunately, duty calls. Standing up with a slight stretch, you knew there was always something to be done.

It didn’t take you long to track and find Morrow. You found him in a…very unusual place. “At least try to make it challenging to find you.” You mused. “Nice place to meet up. Wouldn’t have taken you for someone who had a taste in such things.”

”Be quiet.”

You slightly scoffed, crossing your arms as you looked down at him. “I’ve been pretty lenient with you. We are reporting back to Ms. Yutani. That wasn’t a suggestion.”

His fingers moved effortlessly across the keyboard narrowing his focus to the screen in front of him. You were about to take off the monitor when your eyes caught sight of Prodigy and the familiar faces of the synths appeared. Quickly you read over the screen and sent yourself a copy to further dive into later. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably and nausea set back in. 

“You see now who we’re up against?”

”I’m aware of who we’re up against but this is…different. Immoral. All of these rich people think they’re above everyone and in doing so they will all reap what they sow. Let’s us be on our way.” 

The ice beneath your skin was painfully prickling into every functioning nerve. The thought of taking children and putting them into synthetic bodies was frightening. The unparalleled harm that would interfere with every aspect of their mind and body was irreversible. Then your mind traveled to your studies. The idea of doing something similar to yourself one day was always up for debate-but not children. Children could never consent to something this extreme that would deprive them of their basic adolescent growth and brain development. 

If only you could get your hands on Kavalier’s and wring his neck. However, with his sick tendencies, he might have an affinity for such crass behavior, so you needed to play it smart, plan carefully, and hit him where it hurt.

______________________________________________________________

“Ms. Yutani. I want you to allow me to take leave and go to Boy Kavalier’s island.”

”You want me to send you-my personal representative into the home of an immature little boy?”

”Not want-need. If not me, then who, ma'am? I’m not sure of Morrow’s plans to retrieve the specimens, but I have a proposal to make sure your specimens are going to be closely monitored. Considering how dangerous they are, I theorize that everything will fall apart in a matter of weeks, and in doing so, there is a high risk of losing some, if not all, specimens that Kavalier’s men have taken. I can assure you that not only will I be able to assess the security risks he’s invited into his own home to secure our own, but also conduct research, progress, and uncover what Kavalier’s true intent is with the specimens. And of course, to get The Five's mediator to favor you when you eventually speak to Kavalier about returning the specimens. They know they’ll be a biological hazard, and I’ve created several safety plans to get samples if all else fails while I’m there.”

Yutani looked over at you, fingers tapping away at the seams of her expensive suit. “Why do you think Kavalier will be so willing to invite you into his home?”

”He won’t, but he’s arrogant and impulsive from what I learned. He’ll enjoy the idea of having a Weyland-Yutani's representative ‘under his thumb’.”

”In theory.”

”Most things are a theory, but I have no doubt this will be executed perfectly. He wouldn’t want to risk hurting the one person who has helped the corporation thrive and face backlash from our many partnerships. It’s just not worth it. Leave the details to me, ma’am, and I will report when necessary to not draw too much suspicion. Everything will fall into place.”

Even though you and Morrow had different ideas of moving forward even he was seemed impressed with your proposal. Unlike him, you could get into anywhere you set your mind to.

“I will have my answer for you by end of the night. You may go.” 

With a short bow, you took your leave. Everything will surely fall into place. Making your way back to your cozy penthouse, Yutani never wanted you too far from her. 

“Hello, Miss! How are you? You were radio silent the last couple hours and I thought I’d have to send in reinforcements!” 

You chuckled at Jerry voice over your living room intercom. “Hello Jer. And please tell me what reinforcements do you have?”

”Me and my army.” 

“Your defense system is impeccable, but please do tell me about this army.” The silence that followed told you all you needed to know. “That’s what I thought! Anyways, did you go out today like I suggested you to do while I was out?”

”Yes!”

”And?”

“Don’t be upset with me.”

“Well when you start off with that, I’m inclined to think you’re going to stay something rather upsetting.”

”I followed you.”

You glared up at the intercom. That's why he didn't greet you in person. He was hiding somewhere to avoid your wraith. “Jerry, why?”

”Because I wanted to make sure you were okay.” The tension in your shoulders immediately subsided as you leaned back on your couch. “I knew the crash site was rather dangerous-human and alien alike. And your vitals were off the charts. I knew you weren’t okay, but you handled yourself quite well after I evaluated you.” 

“Hm.”

The ding of the tea kettle prompted you to the kitchen. “You did a wonderful job helping that man. But I must ask, there was also a Prodigy synth you decided to help. May I ask why?”

”Are you suddenly the one interrogating me?”

”No, not at all. And that’s still hot-”

Jerry had your special herbal tea ready for you as you softly drank from it. 

“Never mind.”

The sound of Jerry powering down for a moment made you give in. You informed him of everything you learned that day from the crash to the hybrids. Then you went on to explain how upset you were and how Prodigy even had an older model watching over them. You spoke fondly of them and admired how the older model carried himself. Then you went into details about his older features, his silver hair under the lighting, and his calm demeanor when speaking with you and Morrow. 

“He’s Prodigy's Chief Scientist, too, you know? Then Morrow said something to the younger snyths that I can’t stop thinking about it- when is a machine not a machine? For some odd reason, I was associating that with the synths and then Kirsh. He knew something about me, even if it was something so silly and trivial.” You found yourself smiling at yourself, nearly spilling your tea. “Don’t get me wrong! I didn’t like the intrusion.” 

”May I add my own personal opinion?”

”Please do!”

”Don’t be upset…”

”Jerry…” Your brows were already forming into a frown and if luck was by his side your comms started going off. “You’re free to speak to me.”

"The best way to put it into words is that-well I think you’ve developed a rather minuscule-dare I say…crush.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, deliciously burning your skin in a way you hadn’t thought about. You didn’t expect him to blurt that out, and for a moment you froze before answering your comms. 

“You’re in. If you so wish, you can leave tonight.” 

Now there was no turning back. 

[velvetbluesky]

Pretty girl.

summary — Somehow Kirsh fell madly in love with a walking catastrophe of pink ribbons, kindness, and sunlight, and never once regretted it.

pairings — Kirsh x girly!reader

warnings — I don’t think there’s any honestly. Maybe some dd/lg undertones but I kinda doubt it. But maybe.

word count — this is pretty short, could honestly be considered a headcannon. Like 1.4K

a/n — this is entirely just for me. Enjoy.

No one understood it. Truly, genuinely, not a single soul.

Kirsh was just… Kirsh. And you? If someone were asked to describe the exact opposite of a synthetic like Kirsh, they would point at you almost immediately then, in the very same breath, they would ask the question that had been circulating around the compound for months now, ever since people realized just how attached Kirsh had become to you.

Why?

Truthfully, and even embarrassingly, Kirsh did not fully understand it himself. He was a synthetic. Not knowing things bothered him like an itch he could not reach, a problem without a solution, a question without an answer. Madness! And yet, every time he examined you, every time he attempted to categorize and define exactly what made you so fascinating, he somehow walked away more confused than before.

You were a disaster. A magnificent, dazzling, over-stimulating disaster.

You walked in heels so impractical that a Victorian woman would probably faint dead away at the sight of them. Your nails were always done, always. Long, elaborate, pretty things covered in charms, glitter and intricate designs that Kirsh could not begin to understand. Never plain and God forbid simple. Then there was the makeup, you love art, and apparently that extended to treating your own face as a canvas. Eyeshadow and highlighter bright enough to catch the light from across a room, heart shaped blush swept across your cheeks, tiny pink freckles painted beneath your eyes. Every morning you reconstruct yourself into something softer, brighter, prettier (as though being you was not already enough). You insisted you “didn’t do anything with your hair today,” despite the fact that it had somehow been twisted into an elegant arrangement involving approximately seventeen bobby pins, enough hairspray to violate several safety regulations, and skills Kirsh remained convinced were a form of sorcery. And good god your clothing. You never dressed down. Every outfit was designed to be catch eyes. Pinks, creams, ribbons, lace, bows, soft fabrics. You entered a room and immediately became the brightest thing inside it.

You also talked. Constantly. To Kirsh’s immense horror, you possessed the remarkable ability to begin conversations with absolutely anyone. You asked people about their day, you remembered details about their lives, you told stories, you shared interests. You were sweet in a way that seemed almost manufactured, endlessly curious, you know? Endlessly kind. You were the kind of person who left little gifts for others simply because you thought of them. The kind of person Kirsh should have found insufferable but somehow, impossibly, he became hopelessly fascinated.

You were very, very girly, and he could not get enough of you.

Was Cupid real? Before meeting you, Kirsh would have dismissed the existence of some naked baby with a bow and arrow shooting love across the skies outright. Now he was running out of alternative explanations.

Because whether this was some catastrophic malfunction in his programming, some bizarre synthetic defect, or whether he had genuinely been struck through the chest by a glitter-covered pink arrow with your name carved into it, the result remained the same.

Kirsh was irrevocably and irredeemably, madly in love with you.

the contrast of you two walking together should not have been as funny as it had been. Those who were brave enough to, laughed quietly to themselves at the sight of you, often dressed in something pink and extra soft in your pretty platform heels, practically skipping alongside monochromatic, emotionless Kirsh. A thundercloud standing beside a sunrise. Kirsh never smiled; you never stopped.

At first, everyone assumed you were simply another overly friendly person attempting to make conversation with the compound’s most notorious opponent of small talk but then Kirsh kissed you in front of everyone.

The resulting silence was so complete that even Atom bristled. What a cultural shock that was.

Naturally, or rather I should say, synthetically, Kirsh was not a fan of public displays of affection. Why would he be? They were unnecessary, inefficient and entirely avoidable. Ironically, you unfortunately held the exact opposite opinion. If you wanted to hold his hand, you held his hand. If you wanted to kiss him, you kissed him. If you wanted to sit in his lap, you sat in his lap. The concept of embarrassment appeared to have passed you by entirely, and God help anyone who tried to shame you for that.

You were innocent, you were kind and beautiful, and Kirsh had every intention of protecting that. For if anything had dimmed your light, how could he ever appreciate the sun ever again?

Kirsh possessed many virtues and patience was not one of them where you were concerned. Somewhere along the line, Kirsh had developed an overwhelming inability to tolerate people treating you poorly. Yes, it was probably unhealthy and maybe it was excessive but he did not care. He spoiled you. Whatever you wanted, he found a way to provide it, whatever made you happy became important to him. Simple as that.

These days, Kirsh no longer spent much time wondering why he chose you. The question hardly mattered anymore. All he knew was that you were extraordinary. Loud where he was quiet, bright where he was dark, warm where he was cold. You were a neon sign blazing against he, a midnight sky.

Kirsh had no intention of ever leaving your side.

“Hi, hi, handsome!” You, giddy as always, nearly skipped through the automatic doors and into his laboratory, pink lunch bag in hand, “noon already! The day’s going by so quick. How’s your work going?”

Kirsh, who had been in the middle of a tedious and meticulous dissection, lifted his head to watch you, his pretty girl, approach. “Hello,” he lifted his hand to take the goggles off, but you stopped him.

“No,” you pouted softly, finding your home in his lap. You grinned at him and tapped his nose, “leave it, you look cute in them.” You scrunched up your nose and Kirsh pondered to himself which one was actually the cute one.

“Cute,” he echoed, brows lifting as he tasted the word. His hand closed around your waist, meanwhile his other gently pushed the exposed creature across the table so that you may set your lunch down in its place.

“Work is going well,” he continued, “but these will be coming off,” you pouted again as he tore the goggles off his head and set them aside then angling his head back to you, “what are you eating for lunch?”

You hummed and shifted in his lap to open up the bag. It was a ritual of yours, you enjoyed presenting your lunch to him like some model runway of salami and crackers. “Behold,” you started, pulling out a Tupperware container, then holding up displayed before you palm like some makeup influencer, “leftovers.”

“Hmm,” he raised a brow, “looks delicious.”

You shot him a look. “You don’t need to lie to me. I know you’re disgusted by it.” With that, you peeled back the lid.

Kirsh watched, abandoning the pretense. The synthetic flesh stretched over his features tightened almost immediately, betraying him with a faint twist of revulsion at the smell. It was almost insulting, really. Mere moments ago, he had stood unfazed in the presence of a long-dead extraterrestrial carcass, yet your lunch managed to offend his senses.

You settled comfortably in his lap, entirely unbothered, and began eating. Kirsh observed the process with the same enthusiasm one might devote to monitoring paint as it dried. The fork moved from container to mouth. You chewed, swallowed, repeated. Fascinating stuff.

When you finished, you snapped the lid shut and tucked the container back into your bag. Then you tilted your head up toward him.

“Come spend the night with me tonight?” You batted your lashes at him, an utterly unnecessary performance. As though there had ever been a version of this conversation where he denied you anything.

He smiled, an imitation of warmth, polished and synthetic, as if someone had sculpted the expression from the same plastic as your lunch container. It never quite touched his eyes, but you found yourself grateful for the gesture all the same.

“Of course,” he murmured, his hand trailing along the curve of your waist before settling against your thigh. “Anything you want.”

[faintest-click]

•~FC's Kirsh Drabble Masterlist~•

{Kirshtober #1} A Constant Test

A miniscule re-write of the fight between Kirsh and Morrow.

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Kirshtober_Stuff/works/71819776

{Kirshtober #2} Are You The Parent?

X Reader (of sorts) where Kirsh is pretty fucked up.

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Kirshtober_Stuff/works/71976431

{Kirshtober #3-#4} "Look with your eyes" / Yesterday's Model

Kirsh versus an annoying tech, who is way too touchy-feely.

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Kirshtober_Stuff/works/72759861

Low Battery

An X Reader fic where Kirsh is exhausted.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/72797311

Port-Licking. That's it. That's the Drabble.

X Reader fic that is exactly as the title describes.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/74027291

We Are All Slaves For Life. Our Pain is Real.

X Reader port-licking fic.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/75232746

Gonna Skin You With My Teeth

Another X Reader port-licking fic; this time Kirsh is half-melted and lying on an operating table.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/81263776

[h0ly-fire]

Hanahaki

tw: mention of death, blood, Kirsh is a bit of a mad scientist in this.

Kirsh enjoyed seeing the disease take hold of you. The thought of a flower killing you due to your own, very human, affection towards him. He relished the idea of studying you once the petals began to take over. Love was something he refused to feel towards you. It was something he viewed as weak, and he was not weak. Your unrequited love for him will be your greatest downfall and his greatest joy. He watched quietly as the petals turned red with blood; he watched as they came hurling out of your throat and onto the ground. What music did your pain and anguish wrought? What sweet joy would he find in this new scientific study? You truly were a sight to behold. His very own specimen to tear apart. He'll make sure to keep the flower that killed you.

[velvetbluesky]

Frankenstein’s Monster. Vol. 1

summary — life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, was dear to you // life had not unfolded in the manner you imagined. Merciless corporations now held their dominion over the earth. The one percent won. And where, amidst this monochromatic jungle, were you left? Stripped of luck, weakened in body, and, after being taken from the hospital, wounded in the deepest recesses of your spirit. The world believed you were dead now, and in a way, Boy Kavalier spoke truth. Yet these sufferings were but the heralds of a greater horror still to come. Soon, terribly soon, every fragment that constituted your very being would be torn away. Will it hurt? Will you feel? What will you become? Would you still retain the consciousness of yourself? or, worse, will you descend into the likeness of him?

pairings — weird!kirsh x pre-hybrid!reader

warnings — nonconsensual medical experimentation, pre-existing bodily injury, dehumanization and objectification, ableism, power imbalance, angst, gothic themes, racism against humans, racism against synthetics, themes of identity loss.

word count — 4.1k

a/n — I don’t know who the gif belongs to! Credits to the rightful owner whoever you may be 🫶 this thought has been floating around my head for awhile and the idea of drawing comparisons to Frankenstein is sort of what sold me on writing it. Volume 1 of Frankenstein focuses more on Victor and his childhood, then the making of the monster. As such, this reflects that. Sort of. You’ll see. Anyways, this first part is essentially just build up toward the next part. This is also my attempt at mimicking that lowkey sophisticated writing style, I imagine I botched it. I really hope I can get the story done soon but life’s been painfully busy these last couple of days and I’ve definitely procrastinated responsibilities to write this lmao

Kirsh could recall when he was created with a near dreadful clarity (he was synthetic, memory went beyond concept and forgetfulness had never been something he experienced). There existed no grandeur in the moment, no jubilant cries or astonished awes at the opening of his eyes, not like there was for Wendy. No trembling hands hailed him as a marvel, no proud declarations named him the triumph of mankind (at least, not his creation, it was possible it may have been the case with the very first synthetic). Kirsh was merely awakened, if such a technical act could bear so beautiful a word, and immediately instructed in his purpose, as though Kavalier had been winding a clock, commanding it to measure the passing hours. That’s what Kirsh was. A clock. Lost in the infinity of time, yet tethered to the very mortality of humanity he was meant to outlast. How does that work? Or better yet, because he had long since stopped asking himself that, he was a computer that was simply turned on. Another slave for humanity’s collection.

Since that instant, the days had flowed together into one indistinguishable stream. Each morning mirrored the last with so much precision that time itself appeared stagnant. He preferred it that way. Predictability possessed a singular comfort to synthetics, an order and certainty that the feverish hearts of humans could never comprehend or endure.

Did this trouble him? At moments, perhaps. Not with envy, never with anything so painfully human, but rather with the dim and humiliating awareness of inferiority, akin to some primitive creature, a Neanderthal beholding the rise of a species greater than itself, the Homo Sapiens.

And were the children superior?

In certain respects, undeniably so. Their bodies were finer wrought. Yet psychologically? They were children still, fragile in judgment, impulsive in emotion, vain in their certainty of self.

Kirsh found little admiration for them, not their feats; their personalities. The finest productions of Kavalier in recent years had inspired within Kirsh a pit of disappointment. They were proclaimed miracles by their creators, though to Kirsh they appeared hollow, tedious things, adorned in sophistication yet lacking discipline, purpose, and restraint. The supposed masterpieces of mankind had become, in his eyes, intolerably dull.

Yet that disappointment, however profound it had once seemed, however greatly it had chilled the mechanisms of his mind, began slowly to diminish as Kavalier advanced nearer and nearer toward the threshold of adult human trials, and he came to know you.

You were, by every cruel measure, a pitiable creature. The trauma of the brain, the grievous injury to the spine which confined you in a wheelchair, the visible remnants of suffering etched into flesh and spirit alike, all conspired to make you, in the eyes of Kavalier, the perfect subject and victim.

The children had at least been taken through contracts, signatures, and the polished hypocrisy of legality. But you? You belonged to no one. No parents guarded your existence; no institution would wage war for your return. Society, for all its endless proclamations of morality, held little affection for broken adults. To pursue lawful acquisition in your case would have been time consuming and ultimately, unnecessary. Why waste effort on securing permission for that which the world had already abandoned?

Who, truly, would search for you?

A companion, perhaps. Some distant acquaintance, but mankind had by then become so estranged from itself that absence no longer inspired terror. Silence was mistaken for choice. If one vanished, others soothed themselves with fashionable consolations: They need space. They are healing. It’s not you, it’s me. Humanity had perfected the art of explaining away loss until no disappearance seemed alarming at all.

Thus, you were taken. Kirsh understood that kidnapping was considered one of the many evils amongst humans. Yet he also understood that the very hands condemning such acts were the same hands that created him. Kidnapping was wrong, but so was playing God. So, he refrained from condemning his creator too harshly. Had Kavalier not trespassed against the natural order, Kirsh would never have drawn consciousness. He owed his existence to the very corruption he ought, perhaps, to despise. If Kavalier’s ambitions were monstrous, then Kirsh stood as proof of their success.

The procedure would begin soon. Arthur, Dame, and Kavalier moved throughout the room in preparation. though truthfully, it resembled less the diligent labor of men of science and more like the spectacle of servants scrambling beneath the impatient commands of some pajama-clad king.

Kirsh took no part in these preparations.

He remained seated on a stool beside the table to which you were restrained, tasked with the job of watching you. It had been reported that you resisted fiercely before your confinement. Several guards had suffered blows, and Dame herself didn’t escape unscathed either. You had managed to rake your nails across her face with enough force to leave a vivid mark on her left cheek.

When Kirsh inquired about the incident, he was informed that Dame had just attempted to engage in what she deemed a heart to heart. The phrase itself struck Kirsh as absurd. It seemed to astonish her that captives and experimental subjects did not respond warmly to their imprisonment.

He did find the wound on her cheek faintly amusing, though, and judging by the manner in which your gaze lingered on it too, you did as well.

That was the first thing you two had in common. The second would not come until after the transition.

Dame concealed the injury poorly under foundation and each time her fingers moved unconsciously toward the scratch, Kirsh seen the truth beneath her perfect, empathetic composure: she had expected obedience, or maybe even gratitude, and instead was met with hatred. Reasonably so.

For what sane creature, dragged unwillingly toward dissection, would not bare its teeth before the knife descended?

“How did this happen to you?” he spoke at last, more curious than anything else. “Your legs. What happened to them?”

As he spoke, his gaze remained fixed on the tablet resting in his hands. Even while addressing you, a part of his attention wandered elsewhere, tethered perpetually to the activity of the laboratory, observing Isaac and the manner in which he handled the specimens entrusted to his care. Isaac feared them. Everyone did. That fact irritated Kirsh more than Kavalier’s indolence ever had. To dedicate your life to the pursuit of discovery only to recoil from the very thing discovered seemed deeply human.

Above the facility, a storm raged, the worst this island had ever seen. Thunder rolled across the sky with violence, its voice muffled by layers of steel and concrete, yet no less wrathful. The sound reverberated faintly through the walls.

There were no windows in the room. You couldn’t see the lightning as it tore through the sky in fractures of white fire, you couldn’t feel the rain against your fragile skin, nor inhale the scent of wet earth. The world beyond the laboratory had been ripped from you entirely, you knew nothing but sterileness now. Kirsh wondered, for a brief moment, if you ever would experience those things again. Soon, whatever humanity still resided with you would be altered irrevocably. Flesh and identity would be gone.

The storm continued regardless of Kirsh’s internal wonders. The sky tore apart in violence, indifferent to suffering below, but Gods are often indifferent. Your God would not save you, a poor creature.

When you didn’t answer his question, Kirsh withdrew his attention from the glowing screen and looked at you fully. Until that moment, he had spoken almost absentmindedly, as though expecting conversation, but now his gaze lingered carefully on you.

You weren’t looking at him.

Instead, your eyes remained fixed on the dormant tv hanging on the white ceiling overhead with a saddening stillness, the remnants of dried tears clinging to the corners of them. Your grief appeared exhausted. Rage could be measured, fear could be predicted, but resignation and acceptance carried with it something Kirsh found, at least a little, poetic.

“These are the final moments with the voice that belongs solely to you.” He said, “Will you really say nothing?”

His tone surprisingly lacked mockery. If anything, there existed the faintest trace of an earnest curiosity. Why would a creature facing annihilation choose peace over protest?

You seemed compelled to look at him as he spoke and your gaze possessed so much hatred that, had he been human, it might have killed him where he sat. You would gladly tear the mimicry of life from his body with bare hands (if strength and circumstance had permitted it). Perhaps the fantasy itself gave you some comfort.

The storm above uttered another tremendous growl, thunder rolling through the foundations of the facility once more, deeper now.

“I was run over at a protest.” You muttered.

Kirsh hummed softly in acknowledgment, interested. “What were you protesting?”

“An AI data centre being built near my home.” This time your voice sharpened. The conviction behind it remained human despite all that had been done to you, but that’s what humanity did, it persevered. The accusation embedded in your words were hurdled at him like a drunken father casting a baseball toward his child in thoughtless rage.

Kirsh remained wordless for several moments. His expression altered little.

You suffered beneath the wheels of progress, crushed quite literally by the future men. Symmetry existed in it that. A strange amusement greeted Kirsh at this latest piece of information, manifesting as a faint curling of his mouth, a frosted brow arching with mockery.

“And did you learn?” he asked.

You let out a sharp noise of disgust as your answer, half scoff and half wounded breath, before suddenly wrenching yourself upward. The restraints snapped taut against your wrists with a metallic clatter.

For one fleeting moment, the commotion drew the attention of the others scattered about. Arthur glanced over distractedly; Dame’s expression darkened with immediate irritation that she quickly covered up with faux concern. Kavalier himself looked up just in the nick of time, to witness your failed attempt before a remark slipped from his mouth toward Kirsh.

Kirsh ignored him because your outburst interested him further.

Kirsh lifted his brow once more. Your reaction had not surprised him, it went exactly as expected.

“Wrath,” he murmured thoughtfully. His gaze moved briefly toward your hands, where your palms were clenched against your side, before his eyes returned to your face. “It’s among my favourite emotions to observe,” he said, “the beauty of it, I mean.” The word sounded peculiar in his mouth.

“Beauty?”

“The transformation of your face,” he continued calmly, “the dilation of the pupils, the quickening pulse, the manner in which reason collapses beneath feeling until a human becomes animal again. There is an honesty in wrath rarely found elsewhere.”

“Too bad you’ll never experience it.”

The retort shot out of you before caution could restrain it, but then heat rushed visibly into your face afterward, whether from rage, humiliation, or both, he couldn’t tell. Kirsh noticed something else flicker behind your eyes though, in the same instant: guilt.

It appeared to him that the racist words didn’t come naturally to you. You were not, by disposition, a human inclined toward cruelty born of prejudice. The insult had been seized instinctively, hurled in desperation toward whatever wound you imagined he might have. And now, even amidst fury, some quieter portion of your conscience recoiled from it.

How profoundly human, he thought, to lash out viciously, then grieve the ugliness of your own hand.

He tilted his head slightly, studying you with unsettling patience. “Too bad?” he repeated.

The words lingered on his tongue with consideration, testing their shape rather than their meaning. A low hum escaped him while his gaze wandered deliberately across your form, lingering briefly on your ruined legs, the withered helplessness of them.

“Yes,” he murmured quietly. At the corner of his mouth appeared the faintest imitation of amusement, not wholly genuine and therefore all the more troubling to behold. “Too bad.”

The insult had not wounded him. That much became painfully obvious. He was entertained by the effort.

Your breathing grew uneven. “If I survive this,” you started, “I’m going to kill you.”

For a moment, silence settled between you save for the distant growl of thunder and the soft mechanical sounds permeating the laboratory beyond.

Kirsh shrugged. “If you survive.”

“We’re ready.” Arthur’s voice carried a thin tremor beneath it, the kind that betrayed fracture in conscience. Guilt had begun to surface in him, Kirsh noted it without any interest in comforting it. Still, there was utility in Arthur’s restraint being tethered to something as simple as a wife. She remained composed beside him, professional sympathy, perfectly rehearsed. Kirsh never trusted it. Yet, compared to Arthur’s unraveling, it at least had structure.

As for you, Kirsh’s attention returned fully.

“If I do,” you whispered, “will I be like you?”

The question struck the air with an odd weight, heavier than your earlier threats. It didn’t carry rage anymore.

Kirsh watched you for a long moment.

At last he spoke. “Do you want to be?”

You turned your head away, gaze lifting once more toward the ceiling. Tears gathered anew at your lashes, trembling but not falling.

“No,” you said, the answer coming quietly.

You were something briefly suspended between states of becoming and ending. There existed in your refusal a clarity he found… admirable.

“I see,” he said, chewing in his cheek (an absentminded thing he somehow managed to pick up from humans), “I hear there’s power in prayer.” His voice softened a fraction, a facsimile of pity.

“And which God will hear me?” You responded, your voice a despondent thing, “mine or yours?” Your words cracked at the end, and your tears began slipping down your temple.

When Kirsh didn’t reply, you added another question, “do you believe in God?”

“I believe in servitude and creation.”

You nodded in understanding, though you still kept your gaze adverted from him. “Even if the creation of one species brings the extinction of another?”

“Sacrifice balances creation.”

Arthur rounded the table, a syringe in hand. Kirsh had noticed the little perk of his ear as he eavesdropped on the conversation to behold. Somewhere behind him, Kavalier clapped his hands once as if to commence the operation.

“Sacrifice…” you tasted the word, almost quietly to yourself, “does that make me the lamb for slaughter or the virgin of offering?”

In the corner of his eye, he watched Arthur’s expression twist with deeper guilt, but he said nothing. He couldn’t stomach to.

Kirsh’s gaze jumped across from what he could see of your face, taking in the small flaws of your side profile. “How about a creature of becoming?” He offered.

You glanced at Kirsh as Arthur inserted your IV, blinking a tear away. You didn’t say anything and ultimately turned back to face the ceiling. A tv sat there, playing nothing. Just an empty blackness, and you wondered, briefly, if it was that Stygian that was waiting for you.

In your final moments, you prayed the experiment would fail.

—

Light.

It was the first thing you beheld. Vast and merciless in its brilliance, had you possessed the language for divinity, perhaps you would have named it angelic, heavenly, the pale radiance of God Himself descending upon you. Were you dead? Is this what death had felt like? But such understanding either had not yet been learned…or had been torn away?

Your eyes fluttered with uncertain motion, nictating against the glare. Slowly, agonizingly, the shapeless whiteness morphed into form. A face emerged above you: pale hair like silver threads illuminated by sterile fluorescence, features cold and beautiful in a manner too precise to be wholly human. An angel, some fractured instinct whispered. Yet no name accompanied him. He existed before you utterly unfamiliar, suspended within the dreadful void where memory should reside.

You were not a newborn, nor were you mature. You were simply…alive. Conscious and hurting. Aching.

“She’s alive?”

The second voice shattered the stillness. Fear struck you instantly, a sensation more than a thought. It coursed through your spine like the lightning seeking earth above you. Confusion followed in its wake, swallowing all coherent understanding beneath waves of fractured awareness.

Lost. Consumed. Confused. Words collided and dissolved in your mind before you could seize them properly.

Con—sumed.

Fused.

Con—

Confined? Yes. Confined. You were!

Panic seized you then with sudden and terrible clarity. Your hands jerked violently against the restraints securing you, only for the bindings to give way with such effortless ease that the motion itself startled you more than resistance would have. You sat upright at once, legs swung off the table. The leather straps fell slack beside you uselessly. Were the restraints merely symbolic, then? A comfort for these…these people?

Men. Women.

Humans.

Humanity.

The word echoed strangely within you, carrying significance you couldn’t fully grasp. Something inside your skull seemed to liquefy beneath the strain of understanding, thoughts dissolving before they could complete themselves. Fragments surfaced and vanished instantly, names and sensations stripped of context.

Where— No. Who—why? Why?

The question erupted in you with something that bordered on agony. You hurt inside. Behind your ribs, where your heart resided. Grief stricken you were, agonized and amazed, tripping and reeling all at once.

You cast your gaze toward the opposite table. There lay a small and wretched form, its lower limbs unnaturally thin, its mouth suspended in vacancy peculiar only to the dead. Dead. Yes! that was death, you thought, cold and undeniable; so surely such a fate had not befallen you. And still, there existed in that lifeless visage something familiar, no more foreign to your eyes than the pallid angel who stood vigil beside you.

With trembling hesitation, you extended a hand toward the corpse, desiring to touch the pale dermis of that unfortunate creature. but some instinct arrested the movement before contact was made. A violent revulsion seized you, then, only moments after, terror descended in full. Your breath came rapid as your gaze wandered frantically about the room, every motion possessed of a swiftness beyond mortal endurance. The world was assaulting you, the murmur of machinery rang inside your skull like infernal hymnals, the sting of antiseptic vapors scorched your lungs, even the faintest trembling of the white-haired figure’s hand overwhelmed you.

He looked down at you with an expression most terrible, an expression divided between curiosity and disgust.

“Confusion. Fear.” At last, the white-haired angel spoke. The frosted arches of his brows dipped toward his eyes as he observed you. There was something softer beneath the analysis, something injured and silent that distinguished him from the others surrounding you. An angel…you were so sure of it, as sure as you could be of anything! How else could this frosted light before you be so beautiful?

“Indicative of emotional retention,” he murmured quietly.

Retention. The word meant nothing to you, not yet and before you could linger on it any longer, another figure entered your field of vision, stepping brusquely between you and the angel whilst ushering him aside with impatience. The action struck you as unpleasant, though your mind struggled desperately for language sufficient to define why. Something primitive within you recoiled from him before thought itself could form.

This new man possessed dark hair and sharp features that awakened some aching flicker of recognition within your fractured consciousness. His face seemed carved more harshly than the angel’s, the bones pronounced beneath taut flesh in a manner that rendered his smile unnatural even before it appeared. You found yourself yearning irrationally for the pale-haired figure to return to the center of your sight, his presence lessened the terror crowding around you.

This one you did not like. That truth came to you instinctively. Even when he smiled broadly, warmth failed to accompany it.

“Say something,” he demanded.

Say. Speak. The concepts existed within reach, yet the mechanism itself felt impossibly distant. Words crowded somewhere beyond a locked threshold inside your mind. The language existed, you knew the speech belonged naturally to you once. Yet now the act of forming it seemed monstrous in its complexity.

“Come on,” he barked more sharply, impatience cracking through the false enthusiasm of his grin. “Speak.”

Fear tightened in your chest again. It became agonizingly apparent then that you were no equal in this room. The imbalance permeated every gesture, every glance casted at you. They towered whilst you lay exposed beneath their scrutiny, examined not as person but object, but then your thoughts drifted back toward the white-haired angel.

He was different, he stood apart from the others. The hope rose inside you desperately and you clung to it despite knowing nothing of him at all. For in a room filled with hands that demanded, measured, and restrained, he alone had looked upon you differently, though you could tell he tried to hide it.

Why was he hiding? Was this silent pained awe of his not permitted?

The dark-haired man straightened with visible exasperation, throwing one hand outward while rolling his eyes toward the ceiling as though the burden of incompetence rested solely upon those surrounding him.

“Excellent,” he said bitterly. “It’s broken. Congratulations, all of you, you have wasted my seven billion dollars.”

Seven billion.

The number echoed strangely to you, detached from meaning yet immense enough to inspire awe all the same. Billion. It sounded important. Vast. The sort of number belonging not to ordinary life, but to kings, nations, and gods. Had he, this brown haired devil, perhaps been a God this entire time?

“Perhaps,” came a smoother voice over your shoulder, gentle as warm oil poured over you, “she requires time. Something in your chest softened toward it instinctively, the voice soothing without effort. You hadn’t understood why, but right now, you understood very little.

“Time?” the dark-haired devil god repeated incredulously, one brow lifting. “How much time? Wendy and the children spoke within seconds. She’s already exceeded that threshold.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Dispose of it.”

He turned toward the doors, your existence no longer merited his attention. Yet before he could depart, the white-haired angel spoke again.

“Maybe you are too hasty,” he said carefully. There existed caution beneath his tone now, not fear exactly, but the practiced restraint of one accustomed to standing beneath another’s authority. “The trial itself succeeded. The consciousness remains intact.”

“Like the children,” another voice added uncertainly from behind you—the hesitant speaker standing, you realized, beside the woman with the velvet-soft tone. “We…we could educate her.”

The concept floated through your fractured thoughts like a distant lantern glimpsed through fog. What does educate mean? Educate. Oh, it sounded pleasant to you.

The dark-haired man paused.

He seemed suddenly less a scientist than some decadent monarch draped in sleepwear, deciding the fate of lesser beings upon whim alone. Then, he shrugged.

“Fine. We might as well.”

He turned back toward the room, spreading his arms with theatrical flourish. “Since the Sylvias already have their delightful little family arrangement,” he drawled, gesturing lazily toward the pair behind you, “you may take this one.” His gaze angled to the white-haired angel.

“What use have I—” the angel began.

“I am curious,” the pajama-clad god interrupted. “I wish to see which turns out better.” His hand gestured grandly once more toward the others. “The ones raised by mankind…” Then his eyes returned to the angel. “…or the one raised by a machine. Let’s see who produces the superior creature.”

You saw the strain in him, subtle, nearly invisible, threading itself through the angel’s expression before vanishing almost instantly beneath composure. you noticed it where the others did not. A tension near the eyes, the slightest tightening of his jaw.

He did not wish for this. He did not wish for you.

Still, after one measured beat, he smiled obediently with something that seemed practiced and inclined his head. “Of course.” He folded his hands neatly before himself once more.

“Uh…”

At last the woman stepped properly into view, and beauty struck you with bewildering force. Her features were soft where the others’ appeared sharpened by intellect and cruelty alike.

“I believe a human presence would be healthier—”

“No,” interrupted the god at once, smiling. “My way, remember? I pay you.”

And with that he departed, barefoot on the polished tile like some restless emperor wandering his private palace. Long after he vanished from sight, you could still hear the faint sound of his footsteps slapping against the tiled floor.

Silence descended.

Then the angel unfolded his hands. Slowly, he extended one toward you, but he did not look at you. It was then that you realized that, despite being so sure of it just moments ago, you were in fact, not equals. He had been an angel, and you…well, you hadn’t known for sure what you were yet. For now, though, you supposed you were meant listen.

“Come.”

So, with little knowledge of anything else, you harkened his words and followed him out of the room.

[screaming-potato]

Synthetic Heart

Kirsh x Fem!Reader (NSFW)🌶️

Being Weyland Yutani’s youngest representative within the company certainly had its benefits, but after an incident, you come to the realization that your attraction to Kirsh is a bigger issue than you anticipated. You decided to set boundaries for yourself, and Kirsh makes it known that he is fully aware of that.

18+ themes. Please read at your own discretion. There is sexual content with Kirsh. Enjoy!

Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 🌶️/ Chapter 4 🥵

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After it was time for the children to retire to their designated rooms and head to their charging stations, Kirsh was patiently waiting for you. “So you often stand behind one-way mirrors to watch people.”

”It is a convenient method to conduct observations without interruption.”

"You distracted me and nearly disrupted the flow of my stories.” You sighed dramatically, feigning frustration. “How very uncivilized of you.”

”Perhaps, that flaw lies in the fact that you are easily distracted.” Kirsh commented. “That can always be remedied.”

You scoffed, unlocking the door to your room. “I simply cannot wait to hear how Prodigy’s Chief Scientist can remedy my distracted mind.” You joked. 

You allowed Kirsh in, pulling up your refined notes on your tablet. By the window, there was a small ivory table for two. It was a drastic contrast to the gentle storm passing over the island, welcoming a soft mist to shadow over all. You watched the swaying of the trees bending to the force of the wind. It was comforting to watch.

“Perhaps if your notes are up to par, we can discuss that in further detail.”

”Fine.” You pulled out a chair for Kirsh to sit for the meantime. “Would it be okay if I excuse myself for a couple minutes? I just want to get out of these clothes I’ve been wearing all day.” 

“You do not need my permission to do that.” You handed him your tablet and gathered your belongings in the bathroom.  

You quickly stripped yourself, jumping into the shower. The exhaustion of the day dripping down the drain. You reflected on the hybrids, Joe, the facility, Kavalier and then Kirsh.  

The mere idea of being completely vulnerable under his gaze was enough to set your body aflame. You looked down at your hands, feeling the wires, metal, flesh, and muscle all working together to make sure you were alive and functioning. Yet, something inside was slowly slipping away from you. Your resolve. With a sigh, you got out of the shower and dressed yourself in under 10 minutes before returning to Kirsh.

He didn’t spare you a glance when you returned to sit across from him. You watched his eyes make work of your notes as he would raise a silent brow every once in a while. 

“It’s good you used your time efficiently while you were away.” A smile tugged at your lips. “I made some minor revisions so you can incorporate the first day into your final report for this week.”

”Thank you.” You gently took your tablet, looking over the revisions he made. “I think I’m looking forward to-“ You paused realizing one of the research data entries were missing. 

Kirsh tilted his head. “Is something wrong?”

”Yes-the T. Ocellus research is missing.”

“It’s not missing. I transferred it over to another document.” 

The twitching of your brow moved unconsciously. “May I ask why?”

”It is unnecessary to be included in the report.”

”Yes, it was. It’s research that I want to conduct.”

”Research you have yet to start.” A slight raise of his brow mimicked your own. “It is unnecessary to be included for this report, and I think setting aside your own research separate from the company gives you an advantage.”

You were lost for words. Nothing he said would cross any lines within the company yet why did the idea seem so dishonest. So traitorous. You were never afraid to tranverse other paths during your line of work but this left an unsettling feeling inside of you.

”The idea is intriguing.”

”It is an innocuous choice.” You nodded your head in slight agreement. 

“That is debatable,” You bit your bottom lip for a moment. “Fine but I’m assuming this will be also be a shared research project?” The irritation surrounding the question dimmed the pride of the scientist in you.

”Only if you decide it to be.” He hummed. “But-no. I have other research and experiments to conduct.”

You weren't too sure if you could trust him. Why would he allow you to do this on your own? 

Nonetheless, a smile made its way to your face. “But you’ll still be supervising me?”

”Yes. That was the initial plan.”

You nodded again, “So we’ll be having these schedule debriefs every night for the rest of the week until the report is sent?”

”Yes we will. Of course, progression will be slow at first.”

You tossed him a sly smile, “I’m not too worried about that. So…does that mean I could be more hands-on?” Now you were pushing it. Kirsh tilted his head at you, unamused. He looked like he was on the verge of scolding you like you were a child, but it never came. “Goodness Kirsh, I was joking!” 

“Of course.” The comment sounded sarcastic as you forced yourself to stop giggling. 

“Well, I know it’s late now. My apologies for keeping you.”

You stood up and Kirsh followed, “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

”Fine-thank you for your time.” You sang. “I’m not sure if you utilize recharge stations like your children do, but I think some rest will do you some good.” 

“I do not require rest.”

”You can’t work 24/7 Kirsh.”

”I do not. I do take the time to carry out less time-consuming tasks.”

Placing your hands on your hips, you playfully scowled at him. “Kirsh! That is still considered work.”

”Yes. It is my job.” 

He made an excellent point, but you weren’t quite ready to give up this debate. “That’s it! As representative of Weyland-Yutani, I am requesting that you-my supervisor, for the remainder of my stay, will take time out of your schedule to allow yourself to decompress when applicable, of course.”

Kirsh’s eyes softened. “Your request will most certainly be submitted for review.” Now his voice was laced with sarcasm. 

 “I’ll be looking forward to your final decision.” Quickly opening your door, you made space for Kirsh to leave. “Now don’t miss me too much. I’ll see you in the-“ 

By the time, you turned around Kirsh was inches away from you. The warmth spread across your cheeks faster than you could control it and your breath hitched in your throat. 

“Noted.” Kirsh whispered with a faint smile. “Good night.” 

Without another word he left, leaving you standing there speechless. “Good night.” You managed to spit out before shutting the door. 

You wondered if Kirsh knew he had this effect on you. It was embarrassing. You sat on your bed, acknowledging your attraction and how certain parts of your body longed to be touched. Why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be a synthetic? Kirsh himself would think of your attraction for him as illogical in nature. 

You needed to do something about this, and as you felt your hand lingering in certain places that longed for intimacy, you stopped. You were an adult. And you most certainly weren’t going to feed into your human instincts of desire. You never felt this way towards any man, so why Kirsh? 

With a groan, you threw yourself back into bed-fatigue settling into your aching muscles. You would deal with this tomorrow.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you briskly walked down the halls with your mini toolbox attached to your hip, you made your way to the waterfront to avoid the early morning foot traffic. And to escape Kirsh’s clutches if you could. It was somewhat exciting. You were sure the children would be gathering in their designated spots throughout the day for…enrichment, and you certainly didn't want to wait for Kirsh. Maybe you’ll get some morning time with the children. You did come to know that Tootles renamed himself Isaac, you apologized to him for referring to him by his old name, and you encouraged him to speak up more if he had brilliant ideas. 

Without any prying eyes, you started welding these small metallic spinning pinwheels together. It was easier to fold the metal together with your own enchantment as you used protective eyewear to avoid the sparks from burning your retinas. You missed crafting things. You missed when you created things for your own personal reasons. You missed when things were a little bit simpler. When you were all done, you admired your work and the engravings of all the children. You slightly smiled, spinning them in place. Vague memories of motherhood you never had the chance to experience tried to resurface.

If only circumstances were different. 

Before you could go travel further down memory lane, you decided to open up your cybernetic arm hatch to reveal the non-toxic work you replaced all those years ago. To this day, you have been unable to fathom the work these leading surgeons implemented without consulting a cybernetic biomedical professional. Even with your expertise, you weren’t able to come to a conclusion about their stupidity or why your suppressants weren’t working now. You assumed everyone had their shortcomings.

You examined each artificial vein and saw nothing out of the ordinary. No deformities. Capacity was at its max. Was it just your body finally becoming resistant to the suppressant? Did you need to come up with another formula? Something stronger.

You leaned your head on your knee. Why did you have to have emotions? The sounds of rapid footsteps caught your attention as you closed up your arm hatch.

“Good morning!” Wendy plopped down beside you with a wide grin, rocking her legs back and forth, her contagious smile catching on.

“Good morning Wendy, how are you?”

”I think…I’m okay!”

“You think?” You pressed, giving her your undivided attention “Is everything alright?” 

She looked away from you for a moment. “I…I don’t know if I could say.” 

“Kavalier said so?”

”The Boy Genius,” She corrected like it was second nature. “H-He didn’t really say anything about it-I don’t think he knows yet. Something…something strange happened.”

You looked at the curiosity and confusion that settled over her face. “Wendy, you don’t have to force yourself to tell me anything. If you ever need someone to talk to, I want you to know that I’m on your side.” You gave her a gentle smile, watching her hug her knees. 

“I want to tell you, it’s just-I can hear it.”

”You can hear what?”

”The creature in the lab?” 

“How…so?”

She gave a shrug, “I think it chose me. I can’t really explain, but maybe I can show you?” 

You weren’t sure what kind of synthetic auditory frequency Wendy was designed with, but the concept of her hearing an alien life form was a scientific breakthrough. “That makes you very special then Wendy. Whenever you’re ready, I will do my best to help.” 

The voices of the rest of the children interrupted her train of thought, quickly distracting her.

“I told you she’d be here, man!” Smee said with a smug playful attitude. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Slightly shot back, but there was something sharp in his voice. There was a sense of distress emanating from him. Was he okay? You decided you were going to assess his well-being, but you weren’t sure when you would get the chance to confront him about it without causing him more distress.

The rest of the children greeted you until Nibs and Curly saw the pinwheels you made for them. Isaac was curious as well, and with a gentle grin, you directed them to gather around. You gave each and every one of them their own pinwheel, watching their eyes light up with pure happiness. It was delightful. That was until Slighty and Smee started using it to…sword fight one another. It was durable, but you weren’t too sure how long it would last with their strength. You gently warned them to be careful and to not hurt each other in the process, but never denied them their fun. 

You weren’t too sure if they listened, but knowing children, most of the things any adult said went through one ear and out the other. With a content sigh, you watched the kids enjoying themselves. That was until you sense a warmer body signature nearby. 

You turned to see Joe, awkwardly waving a gentle hand towards you. “Good morning Joe, how are you?”

“Good morning, I’m doing fi-best as I can. How about you?” He swallowed.

His tone was filled with a soft uncertainty as his eyes flickered over to Wendy. You could clearly see the sadness and fatigue behind them. She gave him a wave as Slightly and Smee whispered to one another about seeing you and Joe standing so close to each other.

”Most of the time, the best is all we can do given our circumstances. It’s an entirely new environment than what I’m used to.” You said, trying to sympathize. “How’s your lung and wound doing today?” 

Just because you didn’t mention it prior, you do recall seeing a distinct lung in the lab, on display without a care in the world. Kavalier was using it for his own perverse agenda. Inner turmoil brewed inside of you. How could you speak to Joe without telling him the true horror that was most likely going to emerge from his own organ within an unknown duration? He was a kind-hearted man from what you can tell. He didn't deserve that nonconsensual cruelty to be inflicted on him.

His hand immediately went to his chest. “I-I don’t know. I feel fine, you know? But there’s still a phantom pain I can’t really describe.” 

Your heart went out to him. “I know cybernetic transplant surgery isn’t fun. No matter how many drugs they manage to pump into someone. But when I had my surgery-“ You let out a chuckle despite the absolute horrendous pain you endured for a long time when you were 17. “I remember they had me doing physical exercises after my recovery period. My goodness-everything felt like it was on fire. You should’ve seen me trying to run a mile.” You giggled, mocking your past self who was out of breath.

Joe half-smiled then his brow furrowed. “You’re a cyborg?”

”Yes…did no one tell you that?”

”Uh no no-not that it’s an issue.” He awkwardly try to reassure you. “I’m just surprised.” 

You crossed your arms, “Why I don’t look cyborg enough for you?”

Joe’s face turned red as he suddenly started stuttering out an apology. “N-no you look perfectly fine. I don’t know why I said-“

”Joe you’re fine.” You grinned placing a hand on his arm. “I was just teasing-“ 

A sudden white searing pain emanated from the middle of your back, right near your spinal cord. Joe watched your expression change as you looked over your shoulder to see Nibs and Smee watching you in complete terror. Your eyes then tried to trail down your back to see the pinwheel you made for them embedded straight into your back. 

Joe immediately tried to assess your wound. “Oh my gosh, let me-“

”No…no.” Turning away, you didn’t want the children to see the blood. You forced a grin as you reached your hand behind your back and painfully pulled it out. You knew it would’ve been better leaving it there until you got medical assistance, but the idea of anyone putting their hands on you frightened you. “Hey, hey!” You called out, showing Smee and Nibs you were okay.

Each move you made had your back burning. You estimated that the wound was about an inch and a half deep. “I’m okay. You guys need to be careful, alright? I can handle this.”

You felt the blood trickling down your back as you quickly handed back Nib’s her pinwheel after cleaning the blood from it.

”S-sorry.” Smee said as Nibs held Mr. Strawberry tighter in her arms.

”I didn’t mean it. I-it slipped out my hand and-“ 

“Can I give you guys a hug?” You asked her as she shook her head no at first, then nodded yes. You pulled her into a gentle hug, feeling her body shaking just a bit. After you realized Smee was waiting for his turn, you pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay guys, please don’t worry.” 

With that, you quickly excused yourself, trying to make sure the blood didn't seep through your white blouse.

You heard footsteps behind, “Hey, let me help. I’m a field medic-“ The sudden contact of his hand touching your lower back alerted your defense system to maximum danger.

“Get your damn hands off of me.” The animosity in your voice was unbecoming of you as Joe immediately pulled away. You weren’t sure why you were reacting so aggressively. Your mind screamed at you to not let him touch you.

Don’t allow him to take advantage. 

You blinked at him as another wave of pain shot up your back. “Here at least-“ Joe reached for bandages in a pocket, offering them to you, but you backed away from him. You could already tell what he was thinking. There were just some things drugs nor cybernetic enhancement could erase from memories. Especially ones that were carved into flesh and bone. 

“I’m fine.” 

Quickly, you went to your room and locked it. You stripped away your blouse seeing blood smeared all across it. “Damnit-“ you went to the bathroom, seeing there was indeed an open wound. As much as you wanted to be furious, seeing Nibs and Smee's faces look at you with such sadness and worry calmed you a bit. It was a foolish decision to craft them metal toys, what the hell were you thinking? 

You attempted to patch up your wound, but you weren’t able to suture it properly. Fuck- why did it hurt so much? It must have nicked your spinal cord or reopened an old wound. You were hoping it was the latter, even if the memories that came with pained you. 

You knew you needed a professional, but you were the professional. Just because you no longer had your license, it didn’t mean you couldn’t put your skills to use. With a groan, you cleaned the wound as best as you could and used the anti-clotting gauze to stop it from bleeding out. 

You would decide in a moment or two if searching for Joe to help you would be the right decision. Shame clouded your mind for how you treated him, and you knew a sincere apology would need to be offered to him. Swallowing thickly, you carefully laid down on your bed, throwing your head into your pillow. You hated feeling useless, and you were sure Kavalier would have a good laugh about this if you had to report the incident. Then Yutani would think it was some sort of attack on the company if this had to be included in an incident report. Then investigations would have to be made. 

Another groan left your lips. 

You just didn’t want anyone touching you. You couldn’t get past that. No man. No woman. You didn’t want to be violated again. 

Memories from your university came back, and you tried your best to block them out. Calm down. You are not the helpless girl you once were. Get up and get help. You’re an adult. 

Just as you were about to push yourself to get up, a knock came at the door. 

“I’m busy.” You said more weaker than intended. You felt pathetic. You went through cybernetic training, medical training, and even military training just for you to be taken down by some small wound. Woe was you.

“It’s me, just open the door.” You already knew it was Kirsh. 

“No, I’m fine.”

There was silence on the other side. “Isaac informed me that you were injured.”

”I’m fine.” 

“You should go to medical. I can escort you-“

”I’m fine!” The tension in your voice was obvious. 

You could imagine Kirsh standing there tilting his head in confusion with your noncompliance. “You are not fine.” A beat. “You can worsen your wound by delaying the healing process.” 

You ignored him for a moment. Why couldn’t you just get up? 

“Or I can open the door myself.” 

Your heart skipped a beat which prompted you to carefully stand up. You grabbed a towel and covered yourself as you opened the door. “There, happy?” 

Kirsh immediately stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He inspected your face with quick movements. “Let me assess the damage.”

”I told you I’m fine. I…I just need to sow it together.”

Kirsh blinked at you in surprise, ”So you have a wound in need of suturing and you didn’t think that was important enough to go to medical?”

You swallowed again, about to cross your arm, but the pain stretched across your skin and muscle. “I was going to make an attempt to go. I just-“ You shook your head. The words were difficult to come out. Look at you. Weyland-Yutani’s representative resorting to a childish mess. “It’s nothing. I can do it myself.”

Kirsh took a step forward, causing your stomach to drop and your heart to nearly lurch out of your chest. You gazed into his synthetic eyes, not realizing the intensity in his eyes gave him an unnerving look of superiority. 

“You need assistance.” His soft tone traveled across your skin. 

“Fine.” You averted your eyes. “I rather have a synthetic attend to me. Will you…please help me then? I am not going to medical.” 

“I can.” He gestured to the small med kit in his hand. You didn't even realize it was there, along with your tool kit.

Without another word, you slowly turned around. He was helping you, so why were the tears coming? Yes, it hurt, but not to the extent your body was making it seem.

“Are you able to remove your bra?”

”For what?” You mumbled under your breathe as if he had an ulterior motive.

”Unfortunately, it is digging into your wound.”

Ah.

You tried to reach behind your back but found yourself recoiling at the pain. Fixing your towel back up, “Can you remove it?”

”Would you like me to lock the door first?” His question stunned you for a moment. A simple question that respected your privacy. You could practically feel your heart swelling.

“Yes, please.” 

Without another word, he calmly walked over locking the door for you. “Would you prefer we stayed here or went in the bathroom?”

”The bathroom-“ You cracked a small grin. “So I can keep an eye on you.” 

There was somewhat truth to that. You wanted to assure yourself he knew what he was doing. You led him to the bathroom, and immediately Kirsh took note of the blood by the sink and your bloody blouse. From the mirror, you saw him carefully setting his med kit down. He prepped himself by washing his hands, putting on a fresh set of gloves and offering you to take a seat. 

“I-it’s fine, I’ll stand.” You grabbed the sink and leaned over. 

“This seems like a likely position for you to hurt yourself.”

You raised your hand, “Just do it, please. I have dissolvable stitches here that help with infection. It’s better if you use those once you remove the gauze.” You handed it over to him. “Just…please be careful.”

“Of course.” Kirsh quickly and carefully unhooked your bra before you could notice, slowly sliding the straps down your shoulders for more space.

”Done this before Kirsh? Something you’re not telling me?” You joked, trying to hide the fear that was slowly creeping up.

“No.” He gave a faint smile. “But you would be the first to know.” A knot formed in your stomach. Is that so? Adjusting his gloves once more, Kirsh gave you a look. “I will start now. There will be slight fluctuations in pain after the removal of the gauze and disinfecting the wound. Let me know if it hurts.” 

Kirsh placed a hand on your lower back, and immediately you closed your eyes.

You’re not a little girl anymore.

You were sure Kirsh could feel your body slightly trembling at his touch. It would have been welcoming under different circumstances, you told yourself to keep your mind distracted.  

You’re not a little girl anymore.

You didn’t want to open your eyes to watch him. You just wanted it to be over so you could-

”I am not here to hurt you.” Kirsh started. Your eyes snapped open to see his gaze fixated on you. “If it becomes too much, we will stop to take a break.” He reminded you. 

For some reason, his words brought much-needed comfort. What was this? Why is this synth able to calm your nerves far better than any drug or psychotherapy? 

“I’m alright, thank you.” 

He gave another nod but didn’t let the conversation die there. “So what did we learn today?”

You deadpanned at his ridiculous question. “I guess-“ You winced when you felt the needle go through your skin. “I know better than to hand the children dangerous toys.”

”I agree.” Kirsh said with a slight smirk.

”Are you smirking at my bad decision?” 

“You had good intentions with the hybrids. Though I agree with your assessment. It was an illogical decision.”

You pouted at him feeling another sharp pain but it was more bearable now. “I am very much aware of it now. It was just something for enrichment.” 

“Which is fair for something like them but as you classify them-they are children.”

You feigned a gasp, “Did you call them children? I’m shocked!”

”No.” Kirsh corrected, raising a brow. “I was making that comparison towards your own belief. You think they are children- so therefore you should not have given them toys that can be utilized as weapons. “

”Thank you so much for breaking that down for me.” You sarcastically shot back.

“You are very welcome.” Kirsh retorted sarcastically. 

You didn’t realize how much you enjoyed Kirsh’s sarcasm. The banter between you two was natural. 

“I also acted a bit inappropriately with Joe-Wendy’s brother.”

”May I ask how?”

You internally sighed, “I might have been slightly aggressive when he tried to assist me.”

“Perhaps, he should have asked for consent before offering medical assistance.”

Kirsh was right. But then again, Joe was only trying to help and he didn’t try to hurt you. 

“Yes…but he was just trying to help.” 

“Of course.” Kirsh’s tone seemed more clipped and shortened before returning to his calm tone. “And you are done.” With a smile, you turned to see the handwork yourself.

”It’s adequate.” You teased.

“Adequate?” Kirsh asked, concern evident in his voice, prompting a laugh to escape your lips.

”I was joking-“

Kirsh suddenly placed hand on your back, bending you over in your previous position. The position had you lost for words as he embraced your side. “Are you referring to my handiwork or my ability to render you speechless.”

The heat that spread throughout your body was embarrassingly quick. “I’m not speechless.” You whispered in a matter-of-fact tone, but your reluctance to meet his eye told him everything.

”I see.” Kirsh proceeded to gingerly clean any dry blood off your back. Without missing a beat, you watched the way his fingers glided across your skin with careful precision. It was deliberate-almost as if he was testing your boundaries by wanting you to see what he was doing. “It was a clean cut. I do not believe there will be any permanent damage. You are human after all.”

There he went again. Reminding you of one of your weaknesses in life. The first time Kirsh called you human it didn’t feel pleasant.

”Hearing you say that sounds borderline insulting.”

“It is not meant to be. I need to remind you of the threshold of your vulnerabilities when you associate yourself with hybrids or synthetics.” 

“I think I can handle myself.”

If you had blinked, you would have missed the way his eyes flicked over to you before he continued to clean any more of the residue of blood.

”Like today?” 

You held your tongue from saying anything sarcastic. “Today was not my strongest moments. Even someone like me is prone to make mistakes. Let’s leave it in the past.”

”We can if you like, but as you told the hybrids. We will use this as a learning opportunity.” 

The way the conversation was going, you weren’t sure what Kirsh’s intentions were. Each sentence was laced with some secret meaning he wanted you to learn and adapt to.

“Now you are officially done.” 

“Thank you, Kirsh-“ It wasn’t until you straightened your back did you realized your towel was long forgotten and how much of your breasts were exposed. A horrified gasp left your lips as you told him to get out of the bathroom, as you pulled your towel up. 

“I was going to assist you with cleaning up the sink and disinfecting everything.”

The embarrassment was too much for you for one day. “No-I can do it myself. I’m serious.” 

“It is imperative you rest. You should not strain yourself after receiving fresh stitches.”

”I can do it myself!” You turned to the sink grabbing disinfectant with one hand to clean up. “It’s not difficult-“

A firm grip latched onto your waist, making you freeze. From the mirror, Kirsh was looking down at you when an unreadable expression. Then, with a sudden pull towards him, he had your entire body flushed against him. The effortless strength reminded you he was a synth. This dominating nature was too human-too personal. Was this deviant behavior proof of defiance of his programming? Your arms fell to the side as you couldn’t meet his eyes. The pressure traveled to your nether regions, and you knew you needed to administer another suppressant, but you just couldn’t will yourself to move.

Kirsh learned forward, settling his mouth right by your ear. Flashbacks to Kavalier touching you the same way nearly had you reeling in disgust. But with Kirsh, holding you in the same embrace-no, it was better. It was gentle but firm, controlling but allowing you to pull away if you so desired. 

Your towel was slipping, and just as you were about to grab it, Kirsh made quick work of grabbing hold of your wrist. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about.” The towel pooled at your feet, completely forgotten. With his other hand, he lifted your chin to gaze at yourself in the mirror. “The human anatomy is a complex structure that never carried the weight of real interest to me.” He saw your gaze fleeing from your form. “But you are fascinating. Our differences are obvious, but appearance-wise not so much.” He whispered as you felt something hard pressing against your backside. “I may not be a man with the same human flaws, but I was made in the likeness of a man. Every. Single. Part.” Kirsh whispered more gravely in your ear with a seductive tone. 

“Now, I will reiterate my point. I think we can both agree you need to rest?”

A slither of desire pooled between your legs as you could do nothing but nod your head. 

“Good.” Kirsh relinquished his hold. “I will also have someone deliver you breakfast as it seems you have not visited the mess hall for sustenance.”

”That is not necessary-“ Kirsh's sharp look silenced you. 

“Just because you are a cyborg does not mean you neglect the human part of you. Now go.” 

Kirsh gestured with his head to your room before proceeding to wash his hands. You watched him for a moment more and quickly exited the bathroom and got yourself dressed. What the hell just happened? You needed to take control of the situation so when Kirsh came out of the bathroom, sleeves rolled up staring at you and gesturing you to bed you hesitantly obeyed.

“I will continue to monitor the wound throughout the week since you refuse to go to medical.”

You gritted your teeth, get it together. “I know you’re my supervisor, Kirsh but I think you need reminding that I’m here as a representative.”

He gave you mechanical smile. “Of course.” 

“I also believe I can join you in the lab to continue with observational tasks at hand.”

”No.” Kirsh took note of your frown. “You will take the day to recover and depending on your mobility tomorrow I will decide what to do moving forward. I will also take notes for you.”

”Those notes wouldn’t be valid for my report so I would miss a day of progress.” You stated in a matter of fact tone.

”Then perhaps-“ Kirsh tilted his head once more. “Taking the time to recover will help speed the process along.” 

His intense stare went straight through your core. You tore your eyes away, “Fine.”

”Good.” Kirsh took his med kit, giving the room one more glance over. “I will check in with you periodically. If you need anything, let me know-“ He handed you over a small device that was similar to a tablet to communicate across multiple channels.

The words physically hurt you to come out. Why couldn’t you just say the things you wanted to say? Why was it so hard? “Thank you.” 

“No need to thank me.” 

With that, he was out the door, leaving you in a better physical state but in a hazy state of mind laced with lust, longing, confusion, and gratefulness.

Lying on your side, you decide to power your watch on. An alert rang out through the room, which you quickly shut off. “Miss! I have been trying to reach you on multiple occasions.”

”I’m sorry Jerry, I’ve been busy.” 

“I understand you are in a rival territory but you must not cause me to worry so much. Your vitals were spiking into dangerous levels. Are you alright?”

You let out a sigh, “I’m sorry for worrying you. I made it inside safely, secured a room, secured the location of the specimens and secured access to some of their software and facilities-albeit limited.”

”Excellent work!”

”Thank you, there was also an incident that required stitches…”

There was a long dramatic pause before Jerry finally came back, “Do I need to contact the company for reinforcements-“

”Jerry,” You warned. “No. It was handled.”

”But your vitals are spiking! Heartbeat is irregular. Low blood pressure. You are in a critical condition.”

”I’m fine. I promise. I will take another suppressant and eat something.”

Jerry robotically sighed. You nearly laughed, forgetting how sassy his personality was. “I’ve warned you about those suppressants. Need I remind you, too many doses at once can cause your body to develop a resistance to it.”

”Well,” You paused. Thinking about Kirsh. “That’s what I wanted your opinion on. What do you think would be an alternative option to the suppressant? Do you think there’s a natural remedy I can create in the lab with something on the island? Or focus more on the hormonal structure?”

Jerry paused once more as you calmly waited for him. “If you value my opinion.”

”I do, Jerry.”

”I know, Miss, but you can be particularly picky when we try to brainstorm ideas regarding your health and emotional stability.”

”Can we focus on the topic at hand?”

”Of course-using too much of the suppressants is terrible for your emotional state and has adverse effects on your health. If we can find a natural remedy on the island, I am sure we can figure something out, but if not- there is…another option available if you are open to other natural... alternatives.”

Your brow perked up, “Something opposed to the suppressants?”

”Yes!”

”Please go on.”

”There is a…how can I put this into my better words? Hm. Give me a moment to calibrate my settings for this conversations.”

You were flabbergasted that Jerry began rebooting mid-call. While you patiently waited, you tried to readjust your body. “I have returned!”

”Thanks.” You said sarcastically.

”Now, I know you are not fond of certain activities.”

”Certain activities?”

”Sexual activities.”

Oh.

Your cheeks went warm again. “No-“

”Hear me out Miss. Sexual well-being is great for relieving stress and elevating dopamine levels. There is nothing to be ashamed of!”

“No!”

”May I ask-were you able to come into contact with the synthetic Chief Scientist-Kirsh?”

You honestly didn’t want to answer him. “Yes… he was the one who actually helped stitch my wound, and he must have had some sort of glitch in his programming because he-“ You couldn’t get the words out. “Was malfunctioning, I suppose? Or…going against his programming?”

“Against his programming? He needs to be evaluated. May I ask what behaviors made you believe he was malfunctioning?”

Diverting your attention to the window, you remembered his hands on your body just a moment ago. His gentle yet firm caress. The way he admired you and spoke to you as if you were lovers. 

“It was an observation. I…don’t know for certain.” 

You were very much aware of the issue at hand. Your attraction to Kirsh was a highly distracting factor, and you needed to create a stronger suppressant formula.

”May I ask if you feel this way because of your attraction to him?”

”Of course not.”

”Improbable statement!”

”Hey!”

You sent a glare to your watch. “Perhaps, you should reconsider my suggestion. Along with a nutritional meal consisting of rich vitamins. I do believe you will find more positive outcomes!”

Jerry was probably right, but could you indulge yourself in sexual activities for your own self-pleasure? The idea alone had you feeling embarrassed. No one would be watching you. You weren’t some prude, but you weren't sure if you could bring yourself to that level of ecstasy. 

“You can even use Kirsh-although inappropriate considering your role at Neverland Facility. I believe practicing in a secure, safe spot like your room can help you reach a climax-“

”Okay okay Jerry.” You cut him off, squeezing the bridge of your nose. “Thank you oh so much! I will check in with you in two days and go over reports then.”

”Wonderful! Please stay safe.”

”I will, thank you. You too.” 

You deactivated Jerry for now and groaned at your own predicament. What the hell were you going to do? As the day went on, you made an effort to eat some food. Even though the combination unsettled your stomach, your homemade tea helped. Kirsh checked in with you periodically through the communicator, even though he seemed more poised and professional, you still had a difficult time answering him. 

Even though the familiar slickness between your legs was evidence of your desire, you made no effort to satisfy your needs. You felt somewhat defeated, resisting the urge to give in to this 'natural' longing for intimacy. You tried everything you could think of to reorient yourself, but each time Kirsh's voice reached your ears, your heart would tighten, and you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together to create some friction for relief. Finally, when you had enough and everyone had retired for the night, you quietly slipped out of the room. Once again, you disabled the camera feed and made your way into the vents to access the lab. You recalled that there was a conveniently placed vent near the floor, and you wouldn’t waste any time using it. 

Kirsh wouldn’t be stationed in the lab all night, so when you arrived and peeked through the vent's grating, you were glad he wasn’t there. Now, disabling the camera feed in the lab was going to be a bit difficult, but perhaps it would work to your advantage. You let your jammer drones get to work and calculated the time you needed. It was risky, but would 15-20 minutes be enough time? If you were caught, you would charm your way out of it. 

You were glad Isaac was kind enough to show you all the lab equipment since you had multiple goals for tonight. You had three tasks: one) get a sample of the deceased Xenomorph and document the process of decay, two) start the project of the T. Ocellus, and three) create a stronger suppressant. It would be a lot but who told you you couldn't do all three simultaneously? 

You greeted the T-Ocellus and used sign language along with over-exaggerating the movements of your mouth so it would further understand you. The sheep it infested, watched you with a blank expression, though curious about what you were doing. You gathered some equipment, vials, microscope, and started working on creating a stronger dose. You had the material, now let's see if it worked. As you allowed the new suppressant to come to a simmer you placed on a mask and made your way to the dead xenomorph. A cough tickled your throat, forcing your eyes to water at its decomposing state. You had your own way to collect biological hazards, but a mild concern came to you when you remembered its acidic blood. Your hopes for a sample and your equipment would be done for if it melted through, so you couldn’t make a deep incision, nor could it be too small.

Its body still had gaseous air seeping through and before you wasted a second longer you took the sample and placed it a sample dish for later. Perfect. You quickly shut the door, painfully clearing your throat as you lingered there three seconds longer than you needed. 

“Damn, that stings.”

It was obvious you needed to craft a more endurable mask for the alien species. Noted. With a smile, you returned to the T-Ocellus as you sat on the floor of the lab. Even if it was an alien species, you wanted to show some sort of respect.

You pulled up your tablet. “Okay, my foreign friend. I know you were taken from your home-which I apolgize for. But I need to make some to things clear and set some clear boundaries. I made a presentation-short so you won’t be bored.” You flipped your tablet. “I am positive you know I’m a human-mostly with cybernetic enhancements.” You proceeded to show pictures of your several enhancements, around your body and even decided to demonstrate your open arm hatch. “I have a visual enhancement.” You showed a diagram of your nerves before connected to an enhanced eye. “If there is a chance you escape-which is about 65-70% unless someone is stupid enough to allow you freedom without certain precautions that goes up to 100% chance of escape and survival rate because there are plenty of human hosts. Now, if you decide to harm me-” You proceeded to show a hand-drawn diagram of the T-Ocellus removing your unharmed eye and replacing it without itself. “Then I will exterminate you.” You showed different drawings of it being destroyed from a compressed fire, to being trapped and smothered and it’s being dissected afterwards. “I do not want it to come to that. But my body has been modified to detect foreign bodies-and trust me you will not be quick enough to seize control before then-understood?”

T-Ocellus looked at the tablet then back at you. You couldn’t quite decipher what it was thinking, but with a nod a huge smile came on your face. “Amazing. So now that is out of the way? I wanted to understand you a bit more. I saw some of the corrupted footage I was able to salvage-when you tried to get the Xenomorph.” You showed it a picture of the deceased creature. “You obviously want a superior host, and the xenomorph was going to give you the strength and agility you needed, but-" You showed images of corrosion due to its blood. “You would have simply died, so you failed successfully. Now-“ You pulled up images of the crew members. A sick feeling washed over you, some of the people had gone too soon. Some of them were even killed by T-Ocellus itself. “Can you recall some of the crew members? Do you recall Science Officer Chibuzo?” 

You saw a sense of realization dawn on the creature. “Amazing. You do remember her! She was in charge of watching over you and the others. Does her passing evoke any emotion?” You showed images of different expressions, slowly going from frustrated to content to sad to neutral to-

For a moment, you froze when it drew its attention behind you. Shit. 

“We’ll continue another time.” You cleared your throat and stood to see Kirsh standing there behind you. You didn't even hear him. “Okay, before you scold me, I need to show you how brilliant the T-Ocellus is.” He didn’t say a word, just positioned his hands on his waist and stared at you. 

“I was not going to scold you. But you are disobeying the one rule of lab safety that was established for you.”

“Okay okay, fine, punish me accordingly, however you like but come here-“ Unconsciously, you grabbed his sleeve and had him join you at the table. In the process, you nearly knocked over your lab equipment and suppressant. “Heh, sorry-“ You took the fire off and let it cool. “That is not too important, anyways-I don’t know how long you were listening in-” 

“A fair amount.”

”So you witnessed firsthand how it can recall memory, and can clearly comprehend and assess threats.” You started taking down notes, readjusting your posture because of your wound. “Did you know it also attempted to take the xenomorph as a host? But due to its failure, it’s still alive. Although it would have been unsuccessful regardless, imagine if it had been able to survive through the xenomorph. The xenomorph already exhibited signs of intelligence as it executed men in an unknown environment, so if we added another layer of intelligence from well- essentially a parasite-it will be-“

“The perfect organism?” 

“Yes, in a way.” You looked at Kirsh, nearly out of breath. “Now, the way I established communication isn't the best form but this is evidence.”

When was the last time you were able to feel excitement over your work? And with an alien life from no less. “Its living conditions aren’t ideal, but I’m aware we can’t do anything about it since it’ll most likely attack another person." You bounced back on forth on your heel, “Now if I’m able to decipher its emotional intelligence, do you know the possibilities?”

Kirsh looked at your notes as you watched over his shoulder. “Are these notes adequate for you?” You couldn’t help teasing him, but that was overshadowed by your excitement once more. “Now I wouldn’t want to give it a human host-that’s immoral, but if we were able to create an artificial brain and give it a synth body that’s compatible with its DNA-would that work? Would it be possible? I’m curious if it will be ravenous in nature or try to blend in with society? It will be difficult, appearance-wise."

“Interesting-would you trust that?” Kirsh turned to you in his seat as you were unaware of his closeness, nearly between his legs. 

“I…I don’t know.” You looked over at the T-Ocellus. “Obviously, it’s dangerous, and this would need to be thoroughly monitored with many safe fails that need to be tested over and over again.” You pouted, looking at your notes. “It’s just the start of something. The outcome of any foreign species can result in a disaster, but if executed correctly, it can be controlled without any casualties. Do you…think there’s a high probability of success?” 

Your mind was overworking every step in the process, calculations, and costs that you didn’t realize you leaned into Kirsh. 

“As you said, once executed correctly and taking its dangerous nature into account.” He shifted a bit to look at you, a ghostly hand coming to your waist. “Success is higher with you taking the lead.”

A shy smile made its way to your face. You pulled away from him, grabbing your stuff without a second thought. “Thank you, I cannot do this alone. So-with your permission, can we officially start tomorrow?”

Kirsh's gaze fell on you, watching you clean up and grab the strange liquid between your delicate fingers. “We will start next week.”

You immediately frowned, disappointment clouding your mind. “I’m not one to beg.”

He blinked, noticing the way your mood deflated. ”I am not expecting you to beg.” 

“Then please?” He noticed you taking the liquid in a vial, almost secretively tucking it away. 

Kirsh looked up at the cameras, the window period of your jammer was up. “No. But you may follow me…now.”

Uh oh. 

With a soft sigh, you wished T-Ocellus good night before following Kirsh. You didn’t speak another word to Kirsh as he escorted you back to your room and stood there with his hand folded in front of him. “Is this where you reprimand me? Or are you going to write this into an incident report and make me write it? Or tell Kavalier?”

“No. I am simply removing you from the lab because you lack the capacity to comprehend the extent of your injury.”

You scoffed at him, “I don’t lack the capacity. I’m fine!” 

“Then how did you manage to tear your stitches?” 

You ran into the bathroom, lifting your new shirt to see that Kirsh was right. No wonder he thinks you're incompetent when it comes to your health. You grabbed the needle and more stitches for Kirsh to use. 

You quietly exited the room, looking over his not-so-proud gaze. “Don’t be upset, but you may…need to redo the stitching, but only for a small section-if you please don’t mind?”

Kirsh took a step towards you, gesturing to your bed. “You do know this only delays your return to the lab?”

You sat down, crossing your arms with a little shrug. “I don’t think that’s too much of a fair assessment Kirsh.”

”You snuck into a restricted lab space, started conducting experiments without prior authorization from me, and reopened your stitches."

The dip of the bed behind you and the cool touch of Kirsh’s hand touching your skin had you flinching and silently cursing yourself for doing so. “Fine, you can take away my lab privileges for a day or two.”

”I have no intention of that but your project will be suspended until next week.”

“I guess that’s a..fair punishment.”

”It is.” Kirsh mused. “But…I think one punishment is not sufficient.” 

“Huh?”

Memories from earlier on flashed in your mind. The way his hands grazed over your skin. The way you were nearly dripping with desire. His gentle words practically undressing you.

"Yes. A punishable offense for trespassing into the lab and conducting experiments unsupervised."

You wanted to tease him, poke fun of their poor security system. Absolutely anything to distract yourself from feeling anything other than attraction and desire.

"Then what would you like me to do?" Your voice wavered.

Kirsh didn't say anything for a little while, but he took note of the way your fingers desperately clenched the sheets. The way you shuddered under his touch, first flinching and then hesitatingly accepting his help. Your confidence slowly slipped away as soon as your flesh was exposed to him. Was this humiliation? Shame?

"I would like for you to be honest about who harmed you so deeply that you neglected your health and recklessly put yourself in dangerous situations as if your life has no value."

Your heart sank. That wasn't what you wanted or needed to hear. Or was it? Did you need someone in your life to pull you away from the stresses of the company? To pick at your brain?

"Are you done?" You questioned him, your voice barely above a whisper. He didn't hurt you. Not in the slightest, but the undeniable blur of your vision came, and tears threatened to fall.

"I was finished minutes ago."

"Then I think you should leave."

A painful knot formed in your stomach. Fear raced through your mind. Fear of the past, fear of your losses, fear of your failures, and fear of what your attraction to Kirsh might mean for your future.

"Look at me."

Could you bear it? You forced yourself to look at him. He sat there with a soft smile, watching every single sign of distress. Your tear-filled eyes pierced his own.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Your hand reached for the new suppressant in your pocket. You needed it more than ever. Just as you were about to replace the old one, Kirsh grabbed your hand faster than you could protest. He removed the vial from your hand, placing it gingerly on the bed, leaning in closer to you. "Do you want me to leave?" He pressed once more.

You weren't sure why tears were forming as you shook your head. "No."

"I will stay." He smiled, moving closer to you. "Do you want me to hold you?"

You averted your eyes from him. You felt weak and disgusted by your behavior. Kirsh tucked two fingers under your chin and lifted it so you could look at him.

"I am fully aware that Weyland-Yutani's representative can voice her wants and needs. And she doesn’t need chemical suppressants that can cause adverse effects to her health...do you want me to hold you?”

You nodded your head but he wanted to hear you say it. So with a tilt of his head and raised brows, he patiently waited for your approval.

“Yes.”

Without another word, he effortlessly pulled you into his lap. Your hands landed firmly on his shoulders as it was all too dizzying for you. You were straddling him, and you realized there was practically nothing stopping you from releasing the built-up tension that had been hidden away.

Kirsh reached up to dry your eyes, “For someone of your stature and your intelligence-melancholy and shame hide behind those bright eyes of yours.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what I already know.” Your words were sad. You had more sad days than you like to admit. Your job called for it, especially in the field where you engineered things to help the terminally ill. It delayed the inevitable, but it eased their pain. Something you were unable to do for yourself.

“Then what would you like to hear?” His voice could lull you to sleep if he tried.

“What would you like to tell me?”

Kirsh watched your eyes flickering over his face. “There are many things but-" Kirsh tightened his hold on your hips before trailing one of his hands to grip your thigh. The familiar surge of lust flooded back into your senses. "I would like to savor this moment with you." He made gentle circles with his thumb between your inner thigh. "Do you want me to kiss you? Touch you?

Your fingers dug into Kirsh's shoulder, a soft gasp leaving your lips as his clothed groin met yours. Before Kirsh could even ask his question, you amateurishly wrapped your arms around his neck. "Yes...if that's okay with you?"

His lips quickly met yours, as your hand found his chest to steady yourself. It was warm. Inviting. An electric buzzing that sparked something deeper than you anticipated. His hips bucked into yours, nearly knocking you off balance if it wasn't for his grip on you.

"Human desire is a strange thing-" He pulled away, nearly breathless, pushing your legs further apart for more access. The friction between your thighs was near euphoric. You needed more. "Animalistic in nature, but I find myself wanting to delve into these matters with you-" He mumbled against your lips. "And explore every part-" He bucked into you once more-more assertive, more aggressive. "That makes you, you, and understand my own desire for the imprint you left on me."

His hand played with the band of your pants, tugging at it gingerly. "An imprint?" You questioned, watching his fingers dip into your pants with baited breath.

"Yes. As if you were written into my programming since the very beginning of my creation."

"That...that isn't possible, Kirsh."

"Is it not?" He questions, meeting your lips against before pressing two of his fingers in your slick heat.

When is a machine not a machine?

Morrow's words echoed in your mind again. Kirsh was deviating from his programming. Initiating contact with you as if you had kept this secret affair with him for years.

"Look at this," he curled his fingers, angling them deeper inside of you until he found the soft spongy tissue he was searching for. Your legs shook as he held you tightly, wanting to experience every ounce of his handiwork on you. "Even if you are not affected the same way as I am-" Kirsh took the opportunity of your moans of pleasure as his chance to place his hand behind your head and pull you into another kiss. He wanted your pleasure for himself. Needed it. Swallowing your moans with his lips, he cataloged every sound and sensation within his memory. “Your arousal is evident." He mumbled against your lips.

Before you could let out another word, Kirsh's thumb found his way to your untouched bundle of nerves. Nervously, you nearly pulled away from the new sensation until he circled your clit with expert movement. “K-Kirsh, I-” A cry fell from your lips as you hid your face in the crook of his neck, pressure already building up inside of you.

“Look at me,” Kirsh whispered. His movement came to a complete stop as you held him tightly. You squeezed your thighs together, grinding against him to get that high you desperately reached for. Kirsh grabbed your hips with his free hand, denying you anymore pleasure. “I will proceed when you look at me.”

“I-I bet you’re getting a real kick out of this.” You didn’t want to stutter that out as you found his eyes once more.

“Are you not?” Like that, Kirsh made quick work of stimulating your clit as his other two fingers pumped inside of you at a dangerously slow pace. “I want to see you come undone.” The squelching sounds of his fingers repeatedly hitting your g-spot had your body overheating. “Over and over again.”

Kirsh was mindful of your wound, carefully not to touch it as his other hand wandered to undo your bra. He took his time to caress your side, going over the soft flesh of your waist before he used his other thumb to massage your hardened nipple.

“Kirsh-it’s too much.”

“I want to see how much you can take-“ His fingers angled once more between your legs, pace quickening as the knot in your stomach was close to breaking. “Can you do that for me?”

“I-I’m close.”

Your voice wavered, looking down at his hand in between your thighs, unsure whether to look at him or hide your face. But you didn’t want him to stop. Not now. Not so soon.

“Look at me-“ You didn’t hesitate as he kissed you more passionately, his lips trailing from your lips to your neck, to the top of your breasts.

“Kirsh-”

“The way my name falls from your lips makes me want to keep you like this.”

With half-lidded eyes, you leaned up to kiss him more softly. “Please, Kirsh.” The sounds of your own arousal mixed in with Kirsh's fingers touch was too much for you. The knot was tittering on the brink of snapping.

"Go ahead," He whispered, embracing the side of your face. “Love.”

With that simple word. So intimate. So sweet. You locked eyes with Kirsh, a wave of pleasure and bliss rippled through your body.

Kirsh watched the way your pupils dilated and your lips fell open, waiting for him to kiss you again. He wanted to see you become undone. Something he was able to accomplish with his hand alone and sweet words. He proceeded with another kiss, helping you come down from your high. His mind was collecting too much data at once-ready to continue and explore the endless possibilities of your anatomy and unspoken secrets you would inevitably whisper to no one but him.

Kirsh gently removed his fingers from inside your slick heat. You were still pulsating-hot and shaking, ready to welcome a new dynamic into the picture that would push you over the edge.

The slick of your arousal coated his fingers, and he wanted to know what this would look like mixed in with his own, then how you would feel when you wrapped around him. You shyly looked up at him, unsure of what to say. Then, when he brought his fingers to his mouth to gauge your reaction, he sensed the rise of your body temperature and the pounding of your heart. He didn’t allow you to protest as he very carefully laid you in the bed.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded with a small smile, hugging yourself just a little. That small action forced his body to act on its own. He pulled you closer, bringing you to his chest as he discarded his shoes. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No.” You said softly, wrapping your arms around his torso. “It was-“

“Satisfactory?”

You giggled, hiding your face. “Yes. But it was more than that. No one has ever done that to me.“

Kirsh didn’t say anything. From the shift of your demeanor to your tears, to your refusal to receive aid from medical and Joe to your reluctance to reciprocate his own touch. Although he cared very little for whatever feelings Joe may have harbored for you, there was a sense of pride he felt when you denied his assistance. Content was the best word Kirsh could come up with when you chose him to see you at your most vulnerable and allow him to help you himself.

Though there was something deeper. You exhibited signs of emotional distress-most likely trauma, due to your sudden frustration and reckless behavior. The idea of someone harming you unsettled something in his core. It evoked strange thoughts of death and violence. Humans would cause their own downfall in this lifetime, but you would not be a part of that.

Something told him, it was the right thing to hold you. He witnessed in the past the way Dame would comfort Arthur after a bad day. His hand gently smoothed over your back, careful not to hurt you. You were a cyborg. Meant to withstand and endure more than the average human. But Kirsh held you in his arms.

This was his.

“Thank you Kirsh.”

Kirsh did not expect you to thank him. Your head settled on his chest as your eyes became heavy with exhaustion. “No need to thank me. I think it is a fitting punishment along with your suspension.”

“May I request a shorter sentence on my suspension?”

Kirsh softly smiled, "Only on good behavior."

Even in this vulnerable state, your playful attempt to expedite your return to the lab for your own project was amusing. Kirsh observed the gradual decrease in the rise and fall of your chest. Morning would soon come, but at this moment, he wished he could fulfill his own selfish needs more than his duties.

"I'll be on my best behavior." You mumbled, bringing yourself closer to him.

You were warm against his body, a new anomaly that needed to be integrated into his otherwise mundane and repetitive routine. His job gave him access to the endless possibilities of research, but you were an unexpected find that came along with the specimens. A once-in-a-lifetime discovery that needed special care and monitoring. He didn't forget the short time you would have together, considering your own responsibilities. He would be able to find a solution to his dilemma, yet there were still some unspoken issues that remained.

"I think you also...require a maintenance check."

A sentence that he knew was true above all of us. He knew the moment you left your imprint, he needed one, but he didn't want the memories of you erased. "I agree. Perhaps... you can provide that."

"Me?" Your eyes sleepily opened to look at him. This time, you didn't shy away from his stare. "That isn't necessarily in my scope of practice."

Kirsh found himself dancing his fingers across your lower back. "I trust your expertise."

Your heart skipped a beat, another smile crept across your face, and you closed your eyes again very quietly. Why would the night be ending so soon? He didn't require sleep or rest like you, but he imagined he would like to experience these with you. Even if his programming was alerting him to the destructive deviations that were far from normal, he was analyzing every aspect of this moment with you so he could replay it over and over in his mind in his spare time.

"And Kirsh?"

"Yes?"

"I took a sample of the deceased xenomorph."

And there it was, another punishable offense.

Kirsh smiled, amused by your half conscious confession. “Noted.” He whispered, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead as sleep had finally taken you.

What was he going to do with you?

[faintest-click]

Gonna Skin You With My Teeth

https://archiveofourown.org/works/81263776

Kirsh has had a terrible accident. You're on top of him, on the operating table. Enjoy :)

---

A wet whimper vibrated from Kirsh's speakers as your lips closed around his arm port. He was straddled beneath you on the operating table, staring up through one lidless brown eye. The flesh of his face had been melted away in the most recent lab accident, leaving him a mess of carbon fiber "bone" and slimy, silicon muscle.

You sucked hard against his port, your heart pounding against the inside of your chest as the tangy, electrical flavor greeted the tip of your tongue. The tendons in his arm spasmed. You pulled away with an audible "pop", fixing your glare on one of the security cameras as a strand of drool trailed down your chin. The boy genius deserved an unwanted eye-full after putting Kirsh in harm's way.

The automaton made a stuttering, digitized sound as its hands feebly found your ass and squeezed with carefully measured pressure. You tore your gaze away from the camera and grinned down at him, brushing the spit off on the sleeve of your white coat. Smiles exposed one's skeleton. In a way, though fully clothed, you were both naked.

You leaned down and cupped his face tenderly, kissing his uncovered teeth with a ferocity that made his secondary cooling system buzz like an agitated wasp. Servos whined pitifully as he opened his jaw, your tongue sliding into his mouth as white fluid bubbled up from his throat. Your hips rolled against him through your clothes as you tasted his blood. You moved your hands down from his head to the back of his neck, sliding your fingers beneath the soft fabric of his turtleneck. Smooth skin gave way to another cold, hard rectangle just above his shoulders. Your tongue tangled with his as you pressed down on the port. Kirsh gave you barely enough time to pull away as his teeth came together again in a reflexive spasm, nearly biting it off. You froze as his back arched and he made the most obscene noise you'd ever heard.

"Don't— Keep— Yes—!" he stammered, with his mouth still fully shut. His voice sounded like a busted vocoder.

You pulled your hand back and spat on your fingers. Gingerly, you reached back around and pressed down against the port again. Kirsh's hold on you tightened enough to leave bruises as he let out a garbled moan. You kissed him again, softly this time, working your finger back and forth in a way that made him writhe. You could feel the inhuman strength in his body when he moved like this. You supposed it should have frightened you, considering how damaged he was. It would be easy for him to hurt you, accidentally or otherwise. But as you witnessed his eyes cloud over with milky white "tears", you found yourself not concerned.

You kissed and lapped at the port behind his ear, nipping at his frayed skin, as you continued to fondle to one on his neck. Kirsh made a choking sound and then gave a final shudder, his body going slack. He started to bleed from his ports as you pulled away from them to press soft kisses against his face and neck.

The camera zoomed in.