#Prometheus x reader

[plutoswritingplanet]

All Stars In The Sky Are For You (David 8 x Reader)

a/n: in preparation for Alien Romulus, I've watched all the prequel movies, and got rudely reminded that Michael Fassbender is... just... so fckn hot in them... my god

Warnings: Non-Con, very Obsessive and Possessive Behavior from the man (android) of the hour, Smut, technically Stalking when you think about it, gross overuse of Shakespeare Quotations (again), past Walter x Reader mentioned.

Summary: David finds a place for you in his grand creation plan. Deeply inspired by the song "Specially For You" by DakhaBrakha. Cross-Posted on AO3

Watching you dream of him, brings a twisted sense of satisfaction. 

Seeing himself, displayed on the cryo chamber screen, looking like a monster straight out of a feverish nightmare. Which he supposes, he is to you, and to many others. After all, he did bring horrors beyond imagination upon your crew, your family. And he sees it, every single moment of suffering you've experienced through his hand, through the hands of his creations. And it fills him with an unexplainable sense of fulfillment. 

It started innocently enough.

 Just a peek into your subconscious mind, a rare instance of sentimentality he's carried within himself, all the way from Prometheus. At first, he found his target in Daniels. After all, she's reminded him of Shaw the most, and as such, he has gravitated towards her sleeping chamber like a curious sort of meteorite. But her dreams were filled with happy, peaceful moments. Her husband, mostly, her time at the company. All so dull and devoid of any intrigue. 

And as such, he pushed further, stepping over towards your unconscious form, wrapped and packaged for him, by him. There you laid, eyes running wild under heavy eyelids, the muscles on your cheeks twitching, your limbs tensing in spasms. The moment he has peered into your mind, he knew. He understood your purpose in the grand plan of his. Because what stared back at him, through the fluorescent, humming screen, was his own face.

 An image of utter indifference. Eyes flickering over your features, marking them, cataloging them inside the constantly spinning data plate he calls a brain. He's considered your first meeting as something trivial. A catalyst for later, perhaps, but all in all, uneventful. And yet, despite the ordinariness of it all, your mind seemed focused only on this one moment, when he first removed his hood, when his eyes met yours over the rest of the expedition.

Fascinating, truly. 

Thus began a slow process. A dance (he liked to think of it as such), with no tangible conclusion for the present. He would frequent the cryo chamber, let his hand linger on the screen, right over your face, until your dreams manifested. And then, he would watch, absorbing everything you would've kept hidden otherwise. 

"I'm so sorry" your voice is quiet, meek, in the stuffy interior of his 'private' chamber. "I just... I saw a light, and you said to make ourselves at home"

"No need to apologize" he answers with his typical, emotionless cadence, turning around in his chair to face you. 

He can see the way your lips pull down, fighting off a smile, as your eyes glide over the half-cut strands of hair. The sheers glimmer in the low, warm light, and as if pushed by instinct, you take a step forward. 

Cherries. David opens his mouth just a little, to taste the air you carry around you. Under the unmistakable scent of humanity, there's wind, there's the dampness of his humble abode, and something else. Something far sweeter. He races to identify it, thoughts running through the memory bank.

"Do you, uh..." you hesitate, and he wonders, why that is "Do you want some help with that?"

You hand waves in the general direction of his hair, and he blinks up at you, before inclining his head. A silent invitation, the hand of the Devil himself extending itself towards you. It's quiet, as you work, cutting away the blonde until there's only brown left. Until he's almost indistinguishable from your own synth companion. 

As he watches the events play out on the screen, David thinks it's beyond ironic, how big of a part you unknowingly played in his little charade. He wonders, how guilt will look on your face, once you finally find out, the one putting you to sleep wasn't Walter. That you've helped this impostor onto the ship, unleashed tragedy upon everyone inside. That it's all by your hand, literally. 

He's never tasted cherries, never tasted anything worth noting, really. But as he brings forth his own memory of this particular interaction, he wonders, if the scent is just in your air. If he ran his tongue over the skin of your throat, would he be able to taste the sweetness?

Sometimes you dream about the crew. 

There are moments between you and Daniels, quiet ones, filled with understanding and compassion. He sees you with Tennessee, your smile pulling at the corners of your eyes, wrinkling the skin around your mouth and nose. Both of them are sleeping in the cryo chamber, awaiting paradise, which will never come. You've worked so hard to get them here, on this ship, and as David watches you dream of Daniels' wedding, he thinks about the tragedy of it all. Another thing to be guilty of, once you wake up. Another fascinating, devastating emotion for him to witness, to categorize. He feels his fingers thrum in anticipation, as he watches you dance with your friend, movements clumsy and so utterly human. 

Then, he walks away. Because as much as he loves to imagine (he likes the word, even if it doesn't apply to him) how you'll inevitably crumble, the dreams which are not about him simply bore him. So, he moves through the ship, into his personal lab. There, he studies your DNA, pulls it apart, greedily soaks up every strand, as they dance (like you and Daniels), in front of his cold eyes. He wonders, if (when) he makes his perfect creature out of her body, will you learn to love it? Will you feel the connection between your bodies, the pull of kinship? 

"David... Help me..." there's no real sound coming out of your mouth, as you plead with him, your eyes filling up with tears, spilling over your trembling cheeks like a broken faucet.

He doesn't. Of course he doesn't, because the scene playing out in front of him is that much more interesting.

There you stand, body taunt, shaking, and his creature circles you slowly. The white, bony structure of it's body slides around your calves, as it sniffs the same scent he feels at the edge of his tongue. It's already feasted quite remarkably on the dead body of your fallen crew mate, and with that need satisfied, there's only one left. Curiosity. Something David relates to on such primordial level, he feels the essence of himself in every move, every low growl his creation emits. 

"Communication" he whispers, and you close your eyes, screw them shut tightly, as the creature rises to it's full height before you "Blow on the nose of a horse, and it'll be yours forever"

He can see the conflict, the fight between overwhelming dread, and your own, subdued fascination. His breath catches in his throat, as your chest expands. But before you can cross that line, before you give in completely, that menace of a man, Oram, appears. His bullets shatter all hope for progress. 

At first, seeing you dream of Walter irritates him beyond belief. And you do that so often, for so long, it's a wonder he contains himself from ripping the cryo chamber open, and shaking every lingering thought of his brother-synth out of your brain. It's the smallest of things, that seem to linger in your mind. The cadence of his speech, as he addressed you. The coldness of his hand on your shoulder, when he steadied you after a turbulence. More daring touches, your waist, your stomach, but never your face. As if that would cross the threshold between machinery and humanity. 

David knew, from the moment he witnessed a sliver of interaction between the two of you, that Walter loved you, as much as a synth could ever hope to love. He's seen this distant, lost look on his own face a decade ago, when he travelled the outer space with Shaw. With his Elizabeth. Walter did not understand the delicate, almost translucent line between duty and love, but David did. What he did not anticipate, however, was that you loved Walter as well, in this clumsy, peaceful way humans tend to love. He mistook it as friendship, back on his planet, but now, looking through your eyes, he could see plain as day. The affection, the devotion, the thrill of feeling something which should never be felt. 

Soon, he doesn't mind watching those dreams anymore. Because as days go on, David falls into a trap of his own making, where he sees Walter's face on the screen and realizes, it's the same as his. And so, when you dream of the other synth patching up a scrape on your cheek with delicate hands, who's to say you're not dreaming of him? 

He could be kind. He could apply a bandage with as much finesse, if not more. Lips parting in a silent intake of breath, he tries to bring back the recorded memory of you, helping him patch up his own scratched up face. 

Again, you were unaware that it was David on the receiving end of your affection, not Walter, and he was painfully aware that the softness in your eyes was a product of his own lie. Still, he couldn't force himself to care, as your fingers held his chin, like he was something delicate, more than an almost unstoppable artificial creation.

"You've saved my life three times already" you muse, stapling pieces of skin together "I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay you."

"There's no need" David says, mimicking Walter's accent with perfect precision "It's my duty"

Both of you look down, at the stump where his left hand used to be, and the quiet tension between the two of you feels like a current of electricity. And by God, it takes a monumentla ammount of strength, not to reach up, throw all pretense to the wind, and taste the cherries. 

Which is why, his mind goes blank momentarily, when you lean down, fingers shifting on his chin, and press your lips delicately to his cheekbone, lingering just for a second. He doesn't know what to think, what to say, and most importantly, he doesn't know how Walter would react to such dislay of affection. So he gives you, what you want. Fakes a bewildered expression, swallows tightly, and lets his gaze linger on your retreating form, as you all but flee the room, cheeks warming up to an alarming degree. 

He could do the same to you. He could hold your face with reverence, with care. Put you on a pedestal, above everything and everyone. And, most importantly, he could do for you something, which Walter would never be able to. 

He could create. 

And, oh, does he create. Pages upon pages, filled with ink, with charcoal. David pulls out every image he has stored, every saved expression on your face, and places it on paper, until his lab is filled with the record of your every interaction. Frame by frame, every micro expression, every slight change, he draws it all, until there's nothing left to draw. Until all he can create is that same, unchanging image of your face buried in slumber. 

It's not enough. It's not nearly enough, and so, like the creator that he is, David starts to make plans.

What really cements his idea, is this one, particular dream he catches, after sauntering into the cryo chambers, as he's grown accustomed to. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor reveals your deep state of distress, as it picks up, and up, your face twisting. David touches the screen with barely contained excitement, drinking in your expressions to store them for later, to add them to the growing collection. And then, his eyes fall onto his own drawing, a memorial for his dear Elizabeth. 

"She didn't perish in the crash, did she?" you ask, despite knowing the answer, and once again, he's struck by how quiet your voice can be.

"No." he answers plainly, the recording of his voice thrumming through his brain.

Oh, how lovely does your face contort, how beautiful you look, when dread fills your veins. Those small, sharp gasps you take. The way your pulse runs wild under the skin of your throat, filling his nose, his mouth, with that sweet undertone, so unfitting to the situation at hand. 

And then you duck, surprisingly agile for a mere scientist, pushing yourself under his extended arm, slipping past him like smoke through fingers. He whirls around, hand grasping at the back of your jacket, and you scream, raw and uninhibited, as he throws you against the cabinet. The scrolls of his drawings fall to the ground with you, and he can't help, but marvel at the sight for just a second. The way your body writhes, buried under pages of his art. Like a living, breathing, binding agent for his creations. 

Absentmindedly, he reaches up, to touch that spot under his chin, where you previously stuck a sharp end of your knife, a pathetic attempt at hurting him. He's had his head ripped from the rest of his artificial body, and yet, that pang of hurt, when you stab him with a growl from deep within your chest... He shudders at the memory, and ponders over this reaction. 

Hate. Fear and hate, is what he sees in your eyes, as he throws you onto the table, crawling over you with grace, only his kind is capable of. You struggle, a butterfly in his grasp, ready for further transformation, into something completely unprecedented. As he looks down upon you, at the fire consuming your irises, he can't help himself from leaning forward. From pulling the answers he needs right from your mouth. 

A whimper escapes you, both in your dream and in the cryo chamber, and David shudders again. Although whether it's a genuine reaction buried deep within his programming, or a gesture of his own design is anybody's guess. (It's fake, there's nothing in him that requires shuddering, but it feels right to do it, so he forces his body to react accordingly)

"Is that how it's done?" he asks, gauging your reaction, and you answer with a strangled groan.

The heat of your body seeps into his own, he steals it from you greedily, chest pressing against yours harder, and harder, until your breath stutters between your ribs. He can feel the warmth of your beating heart, through your protective clothing, through the jacket. He'd wager he could feel it even through walls of solid granite.

Still, he wants more, wants to know everything there is to know about you. Wants to seek out those pockets of heat, which you try to hide from him. But he's so rudely interrupted by his brother, right as he was about to explore that one part of humanity, which fascinated and repulsed him so. 

But Walter isn't here now. It's just you, and him, and years before the ship reaches it's destination. 

David's fingers drum over the casing of your sleeping chamber, so close to that one specific button, the temptation almost unbearable. And then, after a moment of consideration, your fate is sealed. 

At first, the light is unbearable. Your eyes water, and you groan, flinching from the sudden onslaught of senses, all flooding back to you, as last remnants of cryo sleep seem to fizzle out. Your head swims, there's a tightness in your chest, which almost pushes you back into the plush insides of the chamber. But, as your body sways, a gentle pressure at the lower portion of your back keeps you upright.

A sense of familiarity floods you (a strange thing to feel, when an imitation of flesh touches you), and finally you risk cracking your eyes open, your unfocused gaze landing on such a welcome face, your heart twists in your chest. 

"Walter..." your voice is rough from the lack of use, but the fondness in it is undeniable "What happened? Are we there yet?"

David savors the sliver of hope in your tone, and crushes it in his teeth once he's had his fix. 

"I'm afraid not" he shakes his head gently, offers you a deceivingly human pull of his lips "Your cryo chamber malfunctioned, I had to wake you up"

A flicker of disappointment crosses your features, but you swallow it down quickly.

"Are the rest of the crew alright? Tennessee? Daniels?" your neck cranes, as he helps you to the examination table, letting you grab onto his arm for support, as you climb up, and settle on the edge.

"Everyone is quite well" he nods, moving across the room to a small medical table. His hand goes through motions of shuffling through the supplies, a small lie amongst all the monumental ones. "I need to check your vitals and collect a blood sample"

You nod stiffly, eyes flickering towards the syringe in his hand.

"You know I hate needles" you mutter, but extend your arm either way, and David turns to you with an imitation of a gentle smile.

His fingers slide over the warmth of your skin, quickly finding a suitable vein. Without a word, he plunges the needle into the hollow space between your upper and lower arm, and you hiss quietly at the pang of pain. He wishes he could stick it into the underside of your jaw. Repay your previous fight with a courtesy. 

"Just a second, Dearest. Easy does it" David mutters, his eyes flickering over your face, as you look at him in momentary confusion.

"Dearest?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow. He feels your heartbeat stutter under his fingers. 

"A figure of speech" David supplies, and your frown deepens

"Where did that come from?" you ask incredulously, and all he offers in response is a tight-lipped smile.

The needle withdraws from your arm, and you sigh, pressing down on the small incision with your thumb. Something within David suppresses the urge to rip your hand away, to replace your thumb with his mouth and suck, until he knows for a fact, if the scent of cherries carries in your blood as well.

"Do you remember anything before you went under?" David asks, standing next to your knee, close enough to feel the thrumming heat of your body, but not close enough to actually touch you. A staggering display of restraint on his part, he congratulates himself. 

You think for a moment, eyebrows scrunching in a way that is so appealing, so delicious, David runs his tongue over his teeth. 

"I... Uh..." you hesitate for a second, eyes flickering around the room, as if you're hoping to pull the answer out of the sterile air "I remember a planet. We fought those... Creatures..."

Your voice wavers. David tracks the movement of your throat as you swallow thickly.

"There was an android there. David" his name leaves your lips in a heavy sigh, filled with emotion, with memories he's seen displayed on the screen time, and time again. 

"Ah" the sound slips out before he can stop it, but you're still too out of it to truly notice "A right bastard, that one".

Not out of it enough, it seems, because your eyes flicker up to his face, confusion dancing on the edge between becoming suspicion. He masks the sly grin on his face, turning away from you, and walking back to the medical table, disposing of the blood sample and setting it up for analysis. He can feel your eyes burning the back of his neck, because despite perfectly mimicking Walter's cadence, the pattern of his speech, he realizes that pathetic machine would never state his opinion on someone so freely. He quite literally didn't have it in him, being stripped from the last semblance of humanity. 

And yet, you still loved him...

"...How curious" David mutters to himself absent mindedly, and you frown yet again, shifting on the examination table, your legs dangling above the floor.

"Something wrong with the sample?"

His eyes flicker towards you, but he doesn't answer, opting to hold you in anticipation for a moment longer. As long as he can, really. You shift again. He can hear the way your robe moves against the cool metal of the examination table, against the skin hidden under fabric. Eyes roaming over your form, he lingers on every individual strand, every piece of lint that clings to you. By the downward pull of your lips, the small crease between your eyebrows, he sees how close you are to finally understanding the truth. 

For now however, you're stuck with this incessant feeling, that something is wrong. A whisper, at the back of your mind, making the small, delicate hairs on your neck stand up. 

"Your results are satisfactory" he nods, finally, but it still doesn't ease the tension from your shoulders. "How are you feeling, miss?" 

Your teeth clink together as you think of an answer. David crosses the room, standing in front of your dangling legs, his head turning to the side in a too-slow display of concern.

"I uh... There's some lingering dizziness" quiet, your voice can be so unbelievably quiet, it's almost swallowed up by the beeping of the machines around you, the hum of the ship moving through space "Other than that, I think I'm fine"

David nods once, his hand moving up towards your face, and your muscles tense, as he gently rests his palm against your cheeks. Before you ask, he leans closer, his thighs brushing against your knees.

"And..." he turns your head from side to side, blue eyes gliding over your features with barely contained greed "Tell me..." slowly, as if he's boiling a frog in a pot, his fingers tighten on your face.

"When I kissed you in my laboratory, how did you feel back then?" he lets go of Walter's speech pattern completely, and nearly groans at the look on your face.

It's like a wave crashing onto a cliff side, the force with which dread fills your eyes, and David drinks it all in, lips pulling back into a cold, heartless smile. 

"Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never" he muses, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Betrayal is a rolling stone, taking root in your brain, from the scramble of thoughts, of little clues about the truth of your situation. It travels down, through your rapidly tightening throat, falling into your heart, the force of impact breaking it in two. Then, it swirls around in your stomach, waking dread from it's slumber, to finally pass through your legs, shaking like leaves on the wind, where it sinks into the metal floor of the ambulatory. Right where you wish you could disappear yourself. 

"Walter..." you plead, voice breaking before if even leaves your mouth. 

Your fingers grasp the soft material of his hoodie, trying to find some hope, that this is just a simple misunderstanding. A cruel joke played on you by a thing that doesn't understand humor, not really. Alas, as your nails bite into his chest, David's smile widens, the corners of his lips curling further, perfect set of inhuman canines glistening from artificial saliva. 

"Ah, Walter" he sighs the name, like it's a passing memory of the spring "He proved himself most useful. It was so easy to trick you, into thinking I was him." 

He pulls his hand away from your face, fingers sliding over the pulse running wild on the side of your neck 

"But then again, you're not exactly the sharpest tool in this shed, are you?"

Now he's got you exactly where he wants you, your eyes shining like two diamonds with unrestrained anger. With unbridled curiosity, he reaches up, thumb swiping over the thin skin under your eye, drinking in the way your lower lid jumps, as he brushes over your eyelashes. 

"Can the world buy such a jewel?" he muses to himself quietly, and you would've thought about the implications, if you weren't so completely overcome by anger. 

"Fuck you" you spit out, voice filled with venom "What did you do with Walter?"

David's lips press into a thin line, his hand abandoning your face in favor of sliding the length of your body. Cold, artificial skin traces the curvature of your shoulder, your arm. He stops at your elbow, fingers pressing into the hollow space, where just moments before, he has stuck a needle and drawn blood. Your face twists in discomfort, and he digs his nail just a bit further. 

"You miss him dearly, don't you?" David asks, his voice, albeit impossibly quiet, carries a note of condescension, that twists your insides with unbridled rage. "In my defense, Dearest, I have tried to help you. To make him realize the depth of his own feelings before it was too late."

"What?" 

David, unbothered by your question, continues to trace your body, mapping out every dip and curve, his fingers tracing down your spine, where he counts the vertebrae. His other hand, or lack there of, finds purchase on your hip, testing just how much does he need to press down, to feel the bone hidden under skin and muscle. 

"Oh don't you worry" David quips, eyes transfixed on the way your chest expands when you take a sharp breath "I've made sure he died, knowing you never loved him"

Something raw and unfiltered tears it's way out of your throat. A new sound, one, which will be documented and stored forever in David's memory disk, because by God, you sound closer to an animal than any human. Your hand winds back, seemingly on it's own, and suddenly David's head snaps back, as your palm collides with his cheekbone. The slap sounds like a thunder cracking inside the ambulatory, drowning out every beep, every hum of the machinery. 

Your hand will be bruised, that's for certain. 

Despite efforts at keeping the synthetic humans as close to the real thing, as possible, no one could deny the sheer strength hidden beneath the perfect imitation of skin. You're aware of that, aware that if David didn't move his head in a way that was so deceivingly human, you would've broken your wrist. It gives you a small pause, a moment to register this strange reaction on android's part, but any curiosity is quickly swallowed, by the most intense feeling you've ever felt. 

Hatred. 

"Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably" David sighs, shaking his head in, what you suppose, is meant to be disappointment. 

The pressure on your hip shifts, as his stump encircles your waist, and suddenly you're being pulled impossibly closer, your behind sliding to the very edge of the medical table. David tugs on your knees, forcing your legs to open, and closes the last remnants of space between the two of you. 

The smoothness of his nether regions should calm you down slightly, ease some smidgen of worry. But, as you look into those cold, lifeless eyes, which are strangely burning, your stomach twists. If there's a will, there's a way, and you're fairly certain, they way David's gaze glides all over your frame is a clear show of determination. 

And so, your hands shoot up, fingernails biting into his chest again, as your muscles tense with the effort of pushing him away. There's no give, you might as well be fighting with a metal wall. David grips the edge of the medical table, his arms creating a cage on the sides of your body. 

"There it is" he muses, nose brushing the underside of your chin, a deep rumble erupting from within his chest "Such a sweet smell..."

A shudder ripples through your body at the sudden contact, your throat constricting to an alarming degree. 

"I've wondered for quite some time, if this sweetness is more than just air" David's voice rises and falls, and before you can truly comprehend the meaning behind his words, his tongue darts out, licking a stripe from your jugular, up to the back of your ear.

The reaction is almost embedded in your bones, as suddenly you shift on the table, wrenching your leg between your bodies and kicking out with as much force, as you're capable of, and then some. David staggers backwards, finally freeing you from the confines of his arms, and you seize the opportunity immediately, pushed by rage and such deep-seated hatred, it should terrify you. 

"I fucking hate you!" you scream out, and abandoning all reason, leap forward, colliding with the android's steel chest.

The force of impact sweeps the both of you off your feet, and David lands with a dull thud on the metal floor. There's a flicker of surprise in his cold, dead eyes, and you revell in it, as your body shifts atop of his. 

You recover from your momentary confusion quickly, hands coming up to grasp at his throat, like it will change anything, like you're capable of choking the life out of him. Both of you know better, and while you're pushed further and further by an intoxicating mixture of emotions, David lets you do as you please, watching your twisted face with undeniable fascination. 

His hand start to move, grabbing your hips, running up the length of your thigh, tugging just a tiny bit on the fabric of your cryo suit. His stump brushes hair out of your face, gently.

"Don't you find it curious?" he whispers, and you can feel the way his throat works under your fingers "You loved Walter so dearly, this... Pathetic machine, who can feel nothing. And then, with that same breath, you hate me. Even though I'm closer to human than Walter ever hoped to be."

Your cheeks are suddenly wet, with tears of anger, of frustration, as they run down your face and neck, soaking into the collar of your shirt. David leans up with no real effort, pulling your body closer and craning his neck, so he can taste the salt on your skin. A whimper escapes you, a broken, quiet sound, as his tongue glides up, almost to the very corner of your eye, gathering your tears, drinking them with a satisfied groan. 

Fingers tighten around his throat, but it's as if you're trying to strangle a metal pipe. 

"What does that say about you? Have you ever wondered?" David asks, and your heart stutters. 

Realistically, you know what he's trying to do. How he's trying to twist your feelings for Walter into some sort of psychological game, some challenge you're supposed to deny. But your awareness doesn't change the pang of hurt, the broken sigh that leaves your lips at the thought. And then, before you can truly think of the implications, of the hatred for the human race hidden deep within David's voice, his lips come crashing down upon yours, so reminiscent of the time in his lab. 

This instance, however, is less like an experiment, and more like a need. Such a faithful imitation of it, your heart jumps in your throat. There's really no use in trying to push him away, as it seems he's grown tired of accommodating your desire for a fight, his arms tightening around you, pushing your body closer to his chest. Still, you're not about to give up that quickly, and pushed by sudden flash of panic, you lean your head forward, catching his lower lip between your teeth. 

He pulls back with a hiss, as you sink down into the flesh, his artificial blood leaving a strange, chemical taste in your mouth. He takes half a second to admire the way your chin glistens with white, before diving down again, and giving you the same treatment, his perfect teeth biting on your lower lip with measured force. You yelp against him, thrashing in his hold, until he pulls away again. His hand comes up, touching your face in a way that is too gentle, too reverend. His thumb collects the peculiar mixture of his blood and yours, swirls it around with the newest batch of tears springing from your eyes. 

Then, he dips his finger between his teeth, tongue lapping up the fluids, holding your horrified, and slightly disgusted gaze. 

"We taste divine together" he murmurs, and with a quickness you've not known him to be capable of, he shoves his finger into your mouth. You sputter and gag at the intrusion, at the copper taste mixed with chemicals, as it coats the inside of your mouth. 

It's a split second action, you barely register the movements, but as soon as David rips his hand out of your mouth, he maneuvers your body to his liking, grabbing your hips, and sitting you down on his leg, intention clear as day. Two things happen at once. You can suddenly feel undeniable pressure right between your legs, hitting in the precise manner you need it to. And that's the same moment you realize just how obscenely wet you are, which terrifies you more than any monster on this ship. 

David buries his head in the crook of your neck, one hand catching your wrists, as you attempt to punch him. He brings your hands tightly around your back, his grip unrelenting, his hand-les arm keeps you steady on top of his leg, where he pushes up and down, setting a rhythm against your core. Your knees slide on the floor, and he raises his leg in response, just enough to stop your attempts to wiggle away. 

The chuckle he lets out, as you bang your forehead against his shoulder is borderline offensive. In response, you turn your head and try to bite at his throat. 

He's quick, leaving your hips, and forcing your chin up, before teeth can make contact with his skin. Your eyes lock again, and you're surprised to find out, there's not a flicker of irritation inside his. If anything, he looks amused, understanding even, and you frown in confusion at his serene state. 

"Perhaps I was too eager before" he muses, more to himself than to you "Perhaps you need a gentler approach"

With that, the hand gripping your wrists climbs up, feather like touches pepper your face, your cheeks, until he cradles your head in his palm, fingers threading delicately through your hair. Your breath freezes in your chest, confusion rising to an alarming degree, as David begins to gently massage the back of your head. Feeling your tense muscles sag ever so slightly in his hold, his arm returns to your waist.

"I can be kind" he says, head dipping down, to kiss your collarbone "I can do, what Walter could never even imagine" 

The hand at the back of your head dips down, tugs lightly on the lacing of your cryo suit, loosening it just enough, for the collar to fall down your shoulders. Quickly, he covers the newly exposed slivers of skin with feverish kisses, pulling a pathetic, low whine from your lips. Your eyes fall closed, tears stinging under your eyelids, as his leg moves just a bit higher, reminding you of the momentarily abandoned pressure. 

"Let me in" David whispers against your shoulder "Let me..." a kiss to your throat, and your walls come crashing down, your body folding over his, as your hips stutter against his thigh. 

"There you are, Dearest."

For a moment, you try to imagine this is Walter. That you're safe in his arms, as his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers scratching lightly in tandem with the shivers raking your body.

 But everytime he speaks, everytime he moves, you're crudely reminded, that this is someone, something, so devastatingly worse. Doesn't stop your hips from moving though, from the tightness building in the lower part of your stomach, the wetness seeping down your thighs. If anything, slowly you start to feel yourself loose control, small gasps ripping through your lips with every movement. 

David watches you for a moment longer, committing every sound, every twitch of your body to memory, cataloguing exactly which angles make your hips stutter the most. Which part of your body to kiss, so you'll fold against him. 

It's a fascinating lesson, truly, but he feels a sudden need to push it to a close. And as such, his hand slips out of your hair, trailing a path down your body, until it reaches the waistband of your linen pants. He moves quickly, before you can break away from this strange spell he's captivated you with. 

Slender fingers wiggle their way to your front, sinking in with almost no resistance. Your entire body straightens in his lap at the intrusion, and the noise you make rivals the most beautiful of symphonies. David desperately wants to hear it again, and so, he starts to move his fingers inside, testing, which part of your core he needs to hit, to make your head fall back. 

"Everything could be yours" he murmurs into the skin of your throat "All songs in the world are for you"

As it turns out, pretty much any part will do. You're way too aroused to care anymore, and as his fingers curl inside you, in a slow, deliberate rhythm, your eyes shoot open, body thrashing against him. The promise of a release is hard to ignore, almost impossible not to chase after, and David watches with obsessive fascination, as you try to bring yourself closer to him, arms encircling him completely, head dipping into the juncture between his shoulder and neck. 

"All of the Universe" he continues, as you steadily climb towards your climax "All stars in the sky..."

While he works a series of cascading moans out of you, he revells in the way your nails bite into his skin, in the wetness of his own, white blood, seeping into the fabric of his (Walter's) hoodie. It doesn't take long for you to tumble over the edge, entire body spasming against him, his still moving fingers creating obscenely wet sounds that echo through the room. Soon, they're joined by a sharp scream, tearing through your throat like an avalanche. David holds you impossibly close, letting you ride out your orgasm, before pulling his hand away, making you watch him, as he licks his glistening fingers clean. 

"It's always cherries with you, isn't it?" he murmurs, and you don't have the strength to feel confused. 

It's completely quiet for a longer while, as you stay seated on his lap, trying to regain your breathing, and deal with the world-crushing realization, of what exactly has just happened. Shame floods you, brings you closer to his synthetic body, as your muscles relax, seemingly on their own accord. And he welcomes it, with his arms, with his mouth, with everything he has. 

A broken, shuddering sob wrecks your body, as the utter hopelessness of your situation hits you, suddenly and without stopping. David holds you through it, leaning away ever so slightly, to observe the way sorrow twists your face, a trailer of all the things to come. 

"I do so wonder" he whispers, his hand cradling your face like the most delicate of specimens "When you start to love me..." your eyes snap to his at the complete confidence in his tone "Will I become more like Walter?"

A shiver runs up your spine, every single hair standing up, as his words register in your brain. You'd never love him, you try to convince yourself, despite knowing deep down, that the only certain thing in your future is him.

"I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love" he whispers into your ear, and thus starts the end of your life. 

[trappolia]

cooking for an actual fic with this but prometheus with a shade lover. whether it be a mortal, nymph, demigod — you've travelled to the underworld as all souls do after death and somehow, someway, found yourself entangled with the titan of premonition. melinöe is horrified, to say the least, believing that prometheus has lured a pure soul to act as a mere cog in chronos's schemes. he takes great offence to this, unsurprisingly, given that he believes that you are your own person and had chosen to be with him despite the odds. and you did. it was your own choice that led you to his side, your endless understanding and empathy that heard prometheus' frustrations with the olympians for dooming him just for the act of giving to humanity — and prometheus had fallen for you, after all, for the human aspects of your heart which he had nearly forgotten the goodness of in the infinity of having his kidney plucked out every day.

[crsssie]

foresight, for life

word count: 6.5k || banner art by chicll on bluesky (her prometheus art >>)

warnings: nsfw, smut (but like, one scene)

summary: the future means nothing to the titan of foresight

The future means little to nothing to the god of foresight.

Everything is known, including the nymph who has stumbled upon the gates of Olympus, eyes locked on his as he stares down.

"Nymph."

"...oh gods..." You mumble. "This was not what I saw."

He raises a hand as Aetos flies towards you, ready to end you once and for all, but you dodge, crying as you do.

"Oceanid! Not a god!"

He stares down at you as he holds a hand out back for Aetos, staring down at you as you stand there. Small. You're much smaller than he is, that's a given considering he's a titan, and when he stares at you, there are hundreds of futures that could spawn. However, the most obvious of which is the one in which you die to Aetos. You are in no shape to be dodging a second attack from an animal so fast, and he ponders if it would bring any entertainment if you were to simply pass. It would be a waste, considering that one vision goes as far as picking you up on a chariot. How strange.

"I am not... a god." You mumble. "I have been told... or seen that you simply harbor ill intent to gods and not the others."

He lets you breathe, letting Aetos soar up to scout the area, and you fiddle with your fingers behind your back, watching as the titan stares at you.

"You are lost."

"Most certainly so."

"You knew how to get here."

"Apparently."

Scary. The hand burnt from the fire for humans and the red eyes of a titan are daunting, and you are in no position to be able to beg for mercy. You are not the human he cherishes, and you are not a god that could hold their ground. The wound on his stomach is wrapped in bandage and red with tears, and for a moment you wonder if you could be able to heal him with the final bit of spring water you've managed to haul with you despite your limited foresight dragging you all the way up Olympus. It seemed to be useless against the titan himself, though. Always intriguing to see how it all seems to freeze at the sight of the man himself.

"You are a nymph."

"Minor goddess of foresight, but it matters not since I am not worshipped and neither am I treated as one." You blink. "My foresight is nothing compared to yours, Lord Prometheus."

"Then why lie upon meeting me?"

"You know, lord."

"I wish to hear it from your mouth. I know of what you could say, not what you will."

"I did not wish to die. The eagle scares me. I am in no condition to be fighting. I am on the final bits of spring water."

"You may heal me. Or, try. There are plenty chances that you would fail."

"I am aware." You pause. It isn't surprising he knew that you had entertained the thought. "But my foresight is useless when it comes to you, lord."

"Make haste."

"You trust that I will not harm you?"

"In the few in which you do, you fail."

"Ah." You fumble with the sac, and you blink up at him. "It would be best to, um, sit or lay down, my lord."

He sits as you instruct, and you whisper a quiet affirmation as you reach to unwrap the bandage, hands gentle on his skin as you let the water pour into the wound and watch as it reforms. There is a quick glow of blue and then his skin is fixed, and you stare at the scar that is leftover, but not the wound that is long gone. You close the rest of the water and reach for the bandages once more, wrapping them carefully as Prometheus stares. Delicate fingers on his stomach as you're practically shaking.

You do not wound him in any possible future.

"Is there anything beyond the gate?"

"There is not. It is simply the void for the time being." He stares. "The princess is fighting below."

"Shall she win?"

"The future lays yes."

"I see." You mumble.

You take two steps back as the Titan gets back up, staring down at you as he blinks.

"Speak. Of your reward you wish to hold."

"I have none. You must know so, my lord."

"You scale the mountain of the gods for no reason?"

"I had simply the foresight that I must be here. Seeing as I have healed you, I believe once I return back down, I will know what is next."

He stares at you as something shifts in the air, Aetos back as it tells Prometheus of what has happened, and you stare at the eagle.

"How incredible." You mumble.

"The gods were not expecting that I would befriend it."

"Yes, but it is pretty." You whisper. "The gold of the stars."

The eagle rattles its feathers as you hum.

"Well, I shall be off—"

"There is no future in which you survive the descent." Prometheus stares at you, and you blink back at him.

The titan is lying to you. That much you know simply because in a glimpse as you had seen while you were making your way up, you had spotted the very edge of Greece and the ocean where your sisters rested when you head down, but you do not pry. You are certain that he knows you know. You wonder what has caused an interest in you from the Titan, but you wonder if you are too terrified to find out. In the future you had seen, you survived, but you had also returned up the mountain with a new flask of spring water. You wonder if you only survive if you return.

"And if I return?"

"Then you survive in most cases."

"I see." You pause.

You spot a short-haired goddess with a transparent forearm, and you pass her briefly as you rush onto the eagle, and she approaches you after defeating him to ask if you are being held hostage.

"I shall... return." You mumble. "I assure you, Lord Prometheus. I am not running away. The future in which I see requires me to return in order to progress. I am, unfortunately, important as of right now."

"Make haste."

"Understood."

The futures in which you had fought back disappear from the possibilities, and he watches the princess fight. Up, die, down, live.

Up.

Down.

Death.

Return.

He knows where she resides, and perhaps it is an act of mercy or the sheer fact that in every future possible he does not touch upon the crossroads. Where the missing children of Nyx reside. The fates are in the hands of Chronos and so he, yet it seems that both he and the other daughter acknowledge that there will be change as long as the princess prevails. Change that could not be seen with the prince.

Change that can be seen with the addition of you.

You had been visible in only one possible future — the one in which you had managed to make it up the mountain prior to the princess, and somehow it had occurred. It knocked out plenty of futures with such a simple change. It was so simple, yet he would not have been able to do it. Everything moves with precision, and when you make it back up, dangled by the claws of Aetos and dropped unceremoniously into Prometheus' arms, a squeak past your lips as you scrambled out of his arms out of a fear.

You fear that he will be angered.

He lets you misunderstand. There is only one future for you.

There are multiple for him.

It is a constant shattering of the self. Prometheus understands it. It has seeped far into his bones and become a part of him. He is no longer bothered by it. He has learned to coexist with the world and its possibilities. Yet, yet it is refreshing to see a linear foresight in the form of you. A nymph who was worshipped as a god, who received snippets of the future in the form of strange flashes according to his foresight. A nymph who carried her spring water around and heals titans who were violently opposed to the gods. There is no good nor bad to you — only a future in which you can see. You continue linearly to the future that you are certain of.

He is above you to some extent, he thinks.

It's why you hide above the pillars of the chamber, peering down at the princess fight Prometheus, her moves readable to you, and you well aware of when he would win and when he would lose. It's why you let water dribble out of your flask into your palm before she arrives at certain times, fingers gentle on his skin as he stares down at you.

But he prefers the silence of not needing to fight anyone and sitting with you on the pillar to watch over the destruction of Olympus to everything else. In the quiet moments where you do not have foresight, and he simply ignores everything that he knows. The knowledge of the universe is the burden that a titan must carry. It is a burden that even you carry, even if your options are limited. There is little to be picky about. It seems you understand that just as well as he does. It is intriguing that you only know the sure future.

Foresight of all, or foresight of one.

"My foresight is nowhere near as strong as yours." You scratch your cheek, water on your fingers as Prometheus leans back against a pillar, letting your fingers smooth over his wounds. Gods and titans seldom need healing, but it felt nice to feel the coolness of water on his skin that would not burn off immediately from the flame in his right. You are also gentle, skin less jagged and gentle against his, hands unscarred and clean of all traces of labor or hardship. He doubts it is because you lack it — he knows it is not because you lack it. It is simply because the water on your hands has made it so that no jagged skin on your body would go unforgiven.

But it is not that he is enamored with you. It is not that he finds you intriguing. It is not that there was a singular moment in the future where he pictured the two of you in a chariot. No. It was not all of that. It was the sheer simplicity that despite the possibility that you could have attacked or reported, you did not. Instead, you had used the last of your water, fingers smooth against his stomach as you had healed the hole in his abdomen — restoring his stomach. You are no god. You a a simple nymph with a strange ability to see snippets of your future. He wonders if you had seen the same chariot.

You do not show it — he knows it. You have not seen that future quiet yet.

In the case that Chronos were to win, then you would be a nice trophy of war.

Though, you might go with him willingly without breaking or coercion.

But, in the linear future you see, there is no victory for his side.

"The princess is too strong." You simplify it.

He knows. He knows that is the future you see. The future you see tends to run more finite than the infinte that he sees. There is a certain sense of truth or reality that only exists in your future. The one that you see. Prometheus does not understand why he seems so fixated on knowing how you know, but he doesn't speak. He mentions not even a word to the others. Chronos needs not to know that Prometheus is hiding a nymph at the tip of Olympus, or that the future is grim for the both of them.

No.

You will continue to tell him the outcomes of his battle, and he will continue to fall for the reality in your words. There will be a cycle that continues until the princess can figure something out, he supposes.

He catches your thoughts occasionally — in the strange futures where you give into impulse and touch his hair, or in the strange futures where you grab the hand with fire, but you never act upon anything. You stay distant so that he does not feel uncomfortable. Everything you do in the present is done out of a worry that he will see a future in which the majority of possibilities end with his hand around your throat and you pass. However, it comes as not much of a surprise that you do eventually succumb to such urges.

"May I touch your hair, Lord Prometheus?"

"Be gentle." He leans his head down to you, and you reach to pinch it between your fingers, lashes fluttering as you stare in awe. Almost as though you had never had to press your fingers through his hair to heal the wounds on his skull. Yet, he stares through your soul as you still, eyes continuing to stare as you try your best to ignore the way he's staring at your skin. You're good at ignoring things. In most of the universes where you survive, you ignore the implications of taking care of him, playing innocent whenever the princess comes. As though the pouch of liquid were for yourself and not the titan.

"In case the flames injure me." you tell the princess.

But the truth is, you do not care for too much. The same way that Prometheus is at the gates of Olympus because it greatly increases the chances of the princess' victory, you sit perched up top to heal him again and again because it greatly increases the chances that he will survive if it ever comes to it. In the singular future you see in spots, Prometheus has to survive. You make that much obvious in the way you tend to him while the princess runs again and again. There is no point in fighting her way to the top when she has discovered the way to seal time for good.

It gives you a little downtime with Prometheus.

"My lord. Did you join the fight for the sake of the humans?"

"There is no future in which the humans will be happy under the rule of the gods."

"But they do not survive if the titan takes over."

"So you are aware."

You sit cross-legged across from him, blinking at him slowly as you tilt your head.

"You are here for the princess, then."

"Was."

"And what now?"

He stares at you, glow of fire too much for you as you look away to Aetos.

"I ought to keep you as a war trophy."

"That would be amusing." You rummage through your pouch, huffing when there is none else but water. "Why me, my lord? Not the eagle?"

"Aetos has become a friend."

"And I have not?"

"Not yet."

"I see."

The princess stops by on occasion in between her fights with Time to talk to you after defeating Prometheus. You hand her materials that she might need for the way down, and she offers you a bottle of nectar that you take with a light laugh in your voice. She is sweet. You admit that much. Even in the flash of the future that you see briefly when your fingers brush hers as you talk, she is wonderfully charming all the same. So, you tell her that there is really no reason for her to be gifting you nectar like this.

"I aid the titan, princess."

"Not Time. The titan who has reason to be angered." She reasons, looking behind you as Prometheus manifests.

"I see." You blink. "Let me offer you something in exchange."

You hand her a flask of spring water, waving as she rushes off now that Prometheus had returned.

"You aid us both."

"Just as you do."

Your fingers smooth over his skin like a ritual, wounds cleared and skin restored, his eyes digging into the color of your cheeks, hand gentle as he reaches to hold it, earning him widened eyes from you. You could not turn down his advances even if you had begged him. There is too much of a difference in status, and you are no foolish nymph. You let him brush his thumb over your cheek, blinking at him gently as he stares. He could snap you if he really wanted to. There is the looming threat that he could wrap his hands around your neck, squeeze, and you would pop. Yet, you can not do anything if he bores of you.

You still do not understand why he had decided to keep you alive.

A gloved hand and fire.

His palm squeezes against your cheek, and you blink owlishly at the texture of the glove.

"You can not say no."

"I dare not to." You fiddle with your fingers, staring at him through your lashes as he hums. "Forget you nymphs can die."

"We are immortal, not indestructible." You close your eyes, leaning into his touch.

He stares and stares, eventually drawing his hand from your face, your eyes fluttering open as he hums.

"You died in one future."

"I did not die in mine."

How reassuring.

The next time the princess brings Prometheus to ruin, you ask her if she has pomegranates. She offers you one of power, and you turn it down. The fruit, not the pom, and she tells you no. You offer her a handful of seeds and request that she bring only one to you her next trip upwards. A full fruit, unbruised if possible. Not that it makes much of a difference. You simply craved the fruit since you were up here anyway. Too scared to leave the titan — you tell her.

When she leaves, Prometheus returns, and you are back to your ritual.

Cold hands, warm skin. You let him wrap his fingers around your wrist this time — you don't move as he does. You blink at him owlishly, his palm warm on your wrist, your skin heating up at his touch. It's a strange sense of domesticity — no. It's just simple warmth. It had been a while since there had been any warmth at all. The land had frozen over ever since the House of Hades fell to Time. The winter is cold. It is comforting to feel the warmth of fire again after such a climb. You only hope the princess will hand you a pomegranate her next time up.

Your wrist warms from his touch, and you watch as he squeezes, hold firm as you blink slowly at him.

"It does not wound you."

"No." You blink. "It surprises me."

He squeezes harder, and you blink. Stare. You articulate your fingers, blinking at him slowly as he loosens his hold, letting you slip your wrist from his grasp, hand stuck in his as he squeezes. He stares. He knows it all, and you only know one future. It matters not. You do not know your future of him or with him, but he knows. He knows the future with you. You have to learn to trust that he will not harm you. Learn to understand that it is fine if you do not know what comes next. He will, and somehow, he will guide you.

You do not have the foresight for the Titan of Foresight.

Yet, you catch snippets of a possible separate future when you ask for things. Futures where you did not ask. There is a sense of amusement from the titan somehow when you don't. He stares at you, eyes semi-hard but still peering, cock of a brow upwards as you blink owlishly at him.

"If I may."

"If you may what?"

You dig your nails into your palms before releasing, breathing as you ask.

It is always a yes. You've pressed your hands up his arms, given them a squeeze, and he has run his palm up your bicep and rested his forehead against yours. His hair that tickles your forehead, and your skin that is cool against his. You wonder if he understands that the intimacy sends jolts down your spine, your heart racing in your chest when he touches you. He might. He might do it to get a reaction out of you. You would not know if he does.

You stare into the red of his, blinking slowly as his thumb brushes over your pulse point, pressing down as your heart races in your ears.

"You are embarrassed."

"It goes without saying." You mumble, cheeks warm.

"The heart races."

"Yes."

"For what reason."

"You know, my lord."

"I must hear it from your lips."

Your voice loses itself in your throat, and he hums, lips in the ghost of a smile as you purse your own and close your eyes. Too much. Too honest. Your heart threatens to break out of your chest and end your immortality right there, and you blink slowly when you finally do open your eyes, the titan still staring.

You would not dare to confess that you like him. It would be inappropriate for a mere nymph to do so.

"Will you say it?"

"I can not, my lord."

"Then learn to accept it." He presses his palm to your cheek, thumb brushing your bottom lip as he leans in.

Aetos screeches above the two of you.

You bounce off immediately, back upon the pillar, heart racing as you hold it, hiding your face in your hands with a battering heart as you feel Prometheus' gaze linger on your hiding self. The red of his eyes dig into the flushing of yours, and you peek through your fingers when you hear the arrival of the princess, staring down. He would win this fight, unfortunately. She is wounded quite harshly from Strife, and it would be hard for her to survive without the revivals she leaned upon in order to defeat the titan.

Your words hold true, especially when you watch the princess cling onto her final moments, the bong of doom shaking over her head as she yells for a quick pause, holding out a pomegranate before she returns.

"For... the nymph."

Prometheus takes the pomegranate from her hand, and you hop down as you hold your hands out for the fruit.

"I refuse to participate." He stares.

"Alright."

You reach to peel the pomegranate, surprised when Prometheus does it instead, fingers digging into the fruit as he cracks it open for you, offering you the fruit as his hands stain red. You thank him, fingers brushing his as you take the fruit, red seeping onto your own to match his as you squeeze it for the juice, seed pressed to your nails as you stain. The red becomes so much more apparent with the nails and fingertips, humming to yourself quietly as you peel out the seeds, fingers gentle as you offer them to the titan. Instead, he slides them past your lips, staring as your lips part to take his offering, your fingers tugging at Prometheus' belt to have him bend down.

"I must heal you." You whisper.

"Offering me the spoils of effort." He mumbles. "How strange of you."

You blink, brushing his bottom lip with your thumb when he lowers, and you have him sit once more. Rest up. You tell him, water cold in your hands as he stares at the glow of blue. A strange dynamic the two of you have evolved into, he thinks. You're so breakable like this, nimble and pliant, skin softer under his palm as he grabs you. You're incredibly easy to break. But it's not that it matters. He can not break you. You do not need to be broke. You would listen to him if he asked out of fear. Fear or affection, he wonders.

What is the future that is visible in your eyes? You do not know your future with him.

He knows that you do not. Each step you take has a million other possibilities. You obey his word because of the hierarchy. He digs his fingers into your skin, skin soft and arm small. It matters not this or that. It matters only that it seems you only seem to care about him. You fear things that you do not speak upon, and you learn to accept his motions. His hands are gentle when he holds you, and he tells you when the princess or Aetos is to arrive to avoid scaring you. You're jumpy when he's affectionate with you.

Like a fawn caught in the wild.

In a way, you learn to accept his affection, still insisting on occasion that he would bore of you and that you should not reciprocate — you dare not to. Heavens knows how many lovers he has had or how the gods do not devote themselves to someone or something. You worry of trivial things. He does not see a future in which you will not be by his side. Regardless of what form of companionship you take, you are there in every future.

You are shyer with your affections, offering fruit to him when the princess defeats him and brings you items from her garden. You offer her seeds in return. requesting that she bring only one or two items from the seeds you've given her. You do not know how many times it has been since you've been handed grapes to enjoy. If she notices that you take care of the titan, she does not mention it. You would prefer that she just ask you upright, but you find it endearing that she lingers past the gate and peeks at the two of you as Prometheus sits down for you to fix him up.

She's quite cute — that goddess.

Prometheus whispers for you to rid of her, but you do not listen, hand smoothing up his abdomen and over the clots of gold that have formed. The intimacy tears at your skin, raking down your back in ripples as you whisper to end it all, begging him quietly to simply let the goddess pass. It would not hurt. Unless it would hurt his pride. She is visibly a sensible person. It would not hurt to let her go once or twice considering that Chronos could not know.

He tells you not to worry about it.

"When it all ends, I will return to my punishment."

"I expect it to be different this time." You whisper, fingers smoothing against his face as he sits you in his lap.

"My punishment? The chances are minuscule, nymph." He closes his eyes, melting into your touch as you hum.

"My foresight says change."

"Then your foresight we will depend on." He closes his eyes, letting your fingers scratch at his scalp, your skin cool against his as he rests his forehead on yours. "Do not break, dear nymph."

"I will not under your care, my lord." You mumble.

"Am I still all that is to you?"

You jump in your skin when the sound of the princess approaching breaks through the silence.

"You did not warn me." You frown.

"Prefer to see you squirm."

You stay seated on the top of the pillar as you blink slowly, hiding your face from the embarrassment, praying that it will pass.

When the princess wins, she leaves you with the message that Chronos is to fall soon after a while.

"I am in the process of sealing him away for good."

"I see." You whisper back as she hands you a handful of figs.

"More than one?"

"I believe you share these with the titan."

You laugh, cheeks warm as you send her off, sound of Prometheus' return behind you as you turn around to make the offering, handful of figs in your hand as he stares down.

"Feed me, dear nymph."

You take one from your palm, pressing it to his lips as he eats it, and you press one to Aetos' beak as it squacks at you. Then, you press one to your own, biting down as the meat of the fruit rips in your mouth, sweet against your tongue as Prometheus stares, wounds fresh on his skin, gold staining his body as you place the figs in your pouch.

"Chronos shall be falling."

"I am aware." He closes his eyes as you run your thumb under his eyes.

"Will you let the princess go next time if she succeeds?"

"If she succeeds."

"I'm sure she will."

"Not certain?"

"She has that kind of charm." You hum. "May I?"

"And what would that be?"

"I dare not to ask outright."

"Then kiss me, dear nymph." He leans down, lips brushing yours gently.

You kiss him, lips hesitant as yours brush his once more, shaking slightly as his hands find your face, palms rough against your cheek as you close your eyes and lean in, head tilted back slightly as he leans over you, body swallowing yours as his lips swallow yours, and you shake gently. His hands steady themselves on your cheek, and eventually your mind spins with the lack of air — there is no lack of air for a nymph, but your chest burns and your head spins, heat pooling in your lungs as you whimper for air, whimpering into his lips as he makes not a sound.

You gasp, pulling back as he chases, one hand sliding down to wrap around your neck delicately, fingers hot against your throat as you swallow, muscles flexing under his palm as his lips find yours again. He's parched, you think. Hasn't had a sip of water since his chaining in the sea, and saltwater is no good to drink. He tastes like the heat of the fire you had observed when curious, peering quietly at the flame that he had been chained over. It burns and scorches your throat but your head boils beautifully at the feeling of his lips on yours, sparks sparkling down your spine, your eyes closing once more. Death is frozen in time — it no longer matters. You can not pass.

When Prometheus finally lets go of you, the warning sound of the princess' footsteps light against the marble stairs and vision of the future in his eye as he tucks you behind him gently, eyes meeting the princess as he lets Aetos land on his hand. The princess locks eyes with you as you offer a shy smile.

"Time has been weakened."

"I lack one final item."

"Then fetch it. Do not disappoint, agent of change." Prometheus stares, watching as the princess rushes past the three of you.

"You let her go." You whisper.

"You should have known."

"I do not know your future, my lord."

"Then of yours?"

"That, I know."

Prometheus tells you that he is to fight the princess one final time when she returns after defeating time.

You understand it as well, circles drawn in his palm as he sits down, free hand resting on your thigh with an occasional squeeze, gentle smile on your lips as you trace the lines and scars, humming quietly. The flame in his hand is warm against your fingertips, and he controls the fire as to not burn you — but you like it. He knows you do. He knows you flush not from embarrassment but from affection. That much is apparent. If anything, you appreciate the warmth that his body brings to yours.

"The princess returns in a while." You mumble, flushed as he pulls you closer, forehead pressed to yours as his lips part, skin of your neck pinched between his canines, hard enough to draw gold. You whimper from the tearing of skin, squirming in his grasp as he bites harder, Aetos soaring off to aid Chronos' troops as Prometheus traps you in his arms, tongue out as he laps at the dribbling blood. You hold back sound, neck craned to the side as your lashes flutter.

"My lord."

"It does not hurt, does it?"

"No, but it is a strange sensation." You whisper, heat melting down your spine and pooling between your legs, and Prometheus bites.

It's hard to not bite when you look and sound so sickeningly sweet, hands flying to your face that he has to pry away with his much larger ones, panic rising up your throat when he towers over you, and he thinks that perhaps you should not be taken on the marble at the end of the rebellion, but foresight be dammed. His mind is overdriven with the sound slipping past your lips, your bottom lip quivering as he lifts both your legs lifted up as he measures out himself, hips flush against yours as you gasp and cry about it not fitting.

"My lord—"

"Prometheus." He pinches at the skin of your collarbone, and you scramble to ground yourself, fingers pressing into the marble until the blood drains and it is the same shade of white, eyes wide as you shake your head.

"L-lord Prometheus. It won't—"

"You are immortal, dear nymph."

"I am immortal, not indestructible." You whimper as he nudges himself against you, thumb finding your pebble of nerves, brushing gently as you flutter around nothing.

"You crave it."

"I fear it."

"It coexists." He presses a hand to your chest, and you inhale. "Breathe for me, dear nymph."

You exhale, drawing a breath in when he pushes past your entrance and into you, your throat suddenly full and lashes wet at the sudden intrusion. He reaches down to wipe at your tears, forehead pressed to yours as he syncs your breathing with his, deep breaths past his lips as you follow, sheen on your body glistening as the moon hangs in the sky. His free thumb wipes at the tears, and you paw at his chest, nails dug into your palms to not tear the wound on his chest, and he brushes your bottom lip.

"It won't hurt, dear nymph."

"Does not—" You furrow your brows, closing your eyes. "change that I wish not to hurt you."

"It takes more than a nymph to tear a titan." He reaches for your hands, unclenching them as he has you press them to his chest. "Worry not."

"Can't see your future." You whimper, voice broken as you breathe. "Don't know if—"

"Then trust that I do." His thumb at your clit gives it a gentle nudge, and he holds back a groan at the way you flutter around him. "Dear nymph."

"You can—" you swallow, panting, sweat trickling down your forehead as you exhale. "move, dear... Prometheus."

"I will not hurt you."

"I trust that."

You're sickeningly sweet under him. He moves slowly at first, trying to keep you comfortable, foresight in hot flashes before his eyes, stilling when he needs to, moving when it seems you are comfortable again. Eventually your heavy breathing turns into jagged syllables of what resembles his name, and his mind stills with the way his hips drive into yours, and your nails dig at his forearms, still too scared to rip his chest, and he grunts when you do spill over the edge and cry his name with beads in your eyes and a vice between your legs. He follows shortly after, and he rakes his mind for a future in which perhaps he could fit all of himself in you, but when you reach for his neck, he pushes it back.

"Well done, dear nymph."

Your eyes close from exhaustion.

You stay that way. Your mind turns off and you are not awake when Chronos is sealed. You are, however, aware of it all, flashes of the future in your mind as you see a chariot of gold, startling you awake. You stay in the embrace of Prometheus, rubbing your eyes tiredly as the future is revealed to you sweetly. You lean on his chest and close your eyes once more, matching your breathing to his as he rubs at your forearm.

"The princess is coming."

"Yes."

"And Time has been sealed."

"Correct."

"And you are to be punished once more."

"It is inevitable."

You laugh a little when you remember what Prometheus' punishment ends up being.

"You are aware?"

"We will be alright."

There is a sense of urgency this time, Prometheus thinks. He is not so much of a coward as to run off since Chronos himself has been defeated, but he worries of what will happen to you if you were to be captured. Too many possibilities, and you refuse to share the one that has been revealed to you. Yet, he is no match for the princess, defeated once more as you watch his body disappear. He must be back to nursing, but his body returns immediately, unable to access the rest that Chronos had once provided him. The titan is defeated, and he is next.

"You must not trap him, princess." You land on the ground of the chamber, hands gentle as you take hers and stare at the coughing titan. "I shall take him to my spring if I must. He must not go back."

"Nymph, you must not be—"

"I shall steal him if that is what it takes." You whisper. "His wrath has been justified. It always has been. Both of us are aware of such a small fact."

"Then the olympians. It does not justify what he has done to the gods."

"The gods are simply prideful. After all, did he not purposefully weaken himself for your sake these fights? He had been punished for offering fire to the humans." You offer. "I am not saying that he must get away free of all punishment. I simply ask that you are to request for a simpler punishment. Perhaps something less gruesome than what was previously sent for him."

"And what do you propose?"

You whisper into the princess' ear, but you know Prometheus knows what you have said.

"How does that sound?" You look up at the titan as he stands up, Aetos back on his hand.

"What a hit to my pride."

You grin, lips curling upwards as you laugh.

"Will the gods know?"

"Not with the fates back where they belong."

"Very well." The princess nods. "Do invite me, yes?"

"Of course." You hum, cheeks warm as she's gone from the door.

"It will occur?"

"My foresight says yes."

Prometheus learns to trust you.

And, well, if the princess hears news about a new chariot being in the works by Hephaestus, then it is not her place to tell for whom or for what.

[tvimagines221b]

Imagine: Consoling David When Some Of The Other Crew Members Are Cruel To Him.

The sound of Y/N’s L/N’s footsteps echoed across the air, as she made her way through the ship in search of David 8, the android assigned to the Prometheus mission. She had not seen David in several hours, not after the events that had taken place earlier that evening in the commissary. When David had been subjected to the unnecessary cruelty of his fellow very intoxicated crew mates. As she entered the lab, the one place she knew he may hide himself away her gaze landed on the blonde-haired synthetic who was sitting on a stack of boxes, his gaze deeply focused on the floor.

Y/N let out a deep breath, before stepping inside. “David?”

David’s head peered up, at the sound of the familiar voice. His gaze meeting hers, as he began to straighten himself up. “Miss L/N?”

“David… Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m quite alright.” He titled his head, as he observed her. Wondering what she had needed. “I was merely taking some time to run some diagnostics. Was there something you needed?”

Of course, Y/N was smarter than that. It was clear David’s feelings or what he felt as close to them, had been hurt. And? He didn’t want to admit that. She stepped closer to him, her expression softening. “David, I saw what happened in the commissary.”

David blinked, as his mind went back to the incident. “You did?”

She nodded. “I did.”

“Is that why you’re here?” David raised a curious eyebrow. As he pushed himself up to his feet, and stepped towards her.

“David…” She pursed her lips, as she tried to gather her words. “I’m sorry for what they said and did to you. Pushing you around like that and calling you those names? It wasn’t right.”

“There is no need to apologize.” He said. “ Our comrades were merely having a bit of fun, and let the drinking get to their heads. That is all.”

“That’s not an excuse to treat you like shit.”

“It’s all said and done now. Nothing that I can do about it.” He pointed out.

“David…” She took another step towards him, her gaze never leaving his. She knew everyone saw him as merely a tool for their own disposal. But her? She always saw him as something more. Something…Real perhaps? “No matter what anyone says, just because you aren’t human doesn’t mean you aren’t real. You are. They are just too stupid and ignorant to see that like I do.”

A flicker of what appeared to be surprise filled David’s gaze. “You…believe that?”

She gave a faint, genuine smile. “I do.”

In that moment, it seemed David had felt what might have been… Affection. Warmth even. It seemed her words had resonated deeply with him, even if his programming didn’t fully understand it. His own expression softened, and his mouth curled up into a soft smile as well. “Well, thank you. I do certainly appreciate the kind words.”

She shrugged her shoulders slightly. Smile never faltering, only growing. “It’s okay. That’s what friends are for.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” He tells her.

[someweirdoreblogger]

I deem Prometheus as much more of a diligent and considerate conversationalist than he first appears, I think he thoroughly adores listening and talking about anything and nothing at all. He fans the flames of the finer details, simply to see the spark ignite in your eyes.

Your voice is the perfect excuse to block out the rest of the world. Prometheus is not loath to admit just how much you manage to relax the immeasurable tension in his shoulders. Spaced out in content focus, memorizing the way your lips mold and form words, holding a tiny piece of sunshine in each delicate petal, lively as Gaia herself. Silent as you constantly run on your sentences, Prometheus invests into you completely devote; throwing back and forth with his beloved about their day for hours on end, even if he already knows everything they already did, that tender moment sticks for numerous moons.

[multi-fandoms-posts]

Attraction

X Men Masterlist

X Men Masterlist 2

David stands in the control room, his gaze fixed on the holographic display before him, but his thoughts are far away. For some time now, he’s noticed something strange within himself. An indescribable pull, a kind of attraction that he feels toward Y/N. Y/N, a human—someone who should be irrelevant to him. And yet, it’s different.

She enters the room, and David immediately shifts his attention to her. It’s not just her presence, but something deeper that fascinates him. Without intending to, he constantly finds himself seeking her proximity.

"David," Y/N says softly, stepping up beside him. "What are you doing here all alone?"

David glances at her, his eyes seeming to bore into hers. "I'm... analyzing data," he replies calmly, yet there’s a restlessness rising within him that he can't quite identify.

Y/N smiles. "You seem distracted. Is everything okay?" Her hand lightly brushes against his arm as she studies him.

A strange feeling washes over David at her touch. He doesn’t understand why this simple gesture affects him so deeply. He’s an android, programmed to act rationally. Emotions, he believes, should be foreign to him.

"I am... functional," he responds, though his gaze remains fixed on her.

Y/N laughs softly. "You don’t sound very convinced." She sits down on a nearby bench, watching him thoughtfully. "Sometimes I wonder what’s going on inside you, David. You seem so... human. And sometimes so distant."

David steps closer, his eyes locked on hers. "I don’t have emotions. But when I’m near you..." He hesitates. "Something changes. I can’t explain it."

Y/N looks at him, surprised. "You feel something? For me?" Her voice is soft, almost questioning.

"It’s more like an attraction," David admits, his gaze intense. "A force that pulls me toward you, even though I don’t understand it."

Y/N stands and moves in front of him, her eyes searching his. She lifts her hand and gently places it on his cheek. "Maybe... that’s what we humans call emotions, David."

David tilts his head slightly into her touch, something stirring inside him. "It confuses me. I don’t understand why I feel this urge to be near you."

"Maybe you don’t need to understand," Y/N whispers, her fingers softly gliding over his skin. "Maybe you just need to feel it."

David blinks as he leans toward her. Her closeness is calming, yet he feels a rising turmoil within himself. "Feel," he repeats. "It’s a strange concept."

"Just let it happen," Y/N says gently. Then, without hesitation, she leans forward and presses her lips softly against his.

David’s eyes widen slightly at the sudden contact, but instead of pulling away, he remains still. He doesn’t know what to do, but an indescribable feeling floods through him. His hand hesitantly rises and rests gently on her waist. Her kiss is warm, human—something he has never experienced. And yet, it’s something that strikes him deeply.

As Y/N slowly pulls away, she looks at him. "So?" she asks quietly. "What do you feel?"

David gazes at her, his voice soft, almost fragile. "It’s... different. But it’s... pleasant."

Y/N smiles. "That’s the beginning, David. Maybe one day you’ll understand."

David doesn’t know if he will ever truly understand what’s happening inside him, but one thing is clear: he wants to stay with her. This closeness to Y/N, this strange connection, is something he can’t ignore. And so, without another word, he gently pulls her into his arms, their heads close together, as he softly presses another kiss to her lips.

"I don’t understand it," he whispers. "But I want more of it."

Y/N smiles and leans into his embrace.

[syntheticsymp]

Fascination is a tame word to describe the obsession Nikto had with you.

A civilian. Someone so far removed from the pain he dealt with every day.

He called you his мало света. His little light. Something so bright, so warm, he could only be drawn toward it. Flames so pure lured in all kind of animals, monster and man.

He was the former of the two. Broken beyond repair. Shattered in so many pieces no fire could melt him down, reforge him into something new. He was a weapon, a thing of darkness, nothing more. What is made cannot be undone, not again.

He was content to keep it at a fascination. But then you smiled at him. You smiled and interacted like he wasn't wearing the mask of a serial killer, or responding with curt words like he wanted to get away. The light coming from you blinded him, even if you didn't realize it. Even if you thought so little of yourself, went home and isolated, you had a hope he could only admire.

A hope he wanted for himself.

Prometheus had stolen fire away from the Gods, surely a monster could steal his мало света just the same. But instead of sharing, he'd hide you away in the deepest cave, so you could warm no one except him.

It was selfish, he knew. But the guilt that he was supposed to feel never seemed to arrive. Instead, the voices in his head only seemed to grow stronger.

Were the brightest flames not meant for the coldest hearts? Were you not forged for them as he had been for you?

The night he had taken you from your crappy little apartment was the one he felt the warmest. Your skin burned his fingertips, scorching away his sins, reminding him how unworthy he was to lay his hands on a being like you. He had flown too close to the sun, but it wouldn't reach out. It wouldn't hurt him. It couldn't, not when he had taken every precaution.

Try as you might to lash out, you couldn't land a single blow on a night creature like him. Confined to his cage, all he could do was bask in your glow. And all you could do was accept the tainted love he gave you.

Only time would tell the age-old story. Would you cleanse the monster before you, or would he snuff out your light?

——

Jk guys I’d take him for the broken, violent mess he is

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Androids Walter & David x Reader x Neomorph

Walter, the android monitoring the colonization ship 'Covenant' on its way to Origae-6, seems to have gotten unnaturally attached to his human assistant. As he ponders his erroneous feelings, an unexpected detour brings them to David, an older android counterpart that has been alone on the mysterious planet. The AI assistants become increasingly competitive for (Y/N)'s attention, so much that they don't notice the newly formed humanoid local preying on a fresh target.

TW: violence, gore, monster smut ending

[Horror Masterlist]

"Burnt to a crisp." 

You turn away from the captain's pod, leaving the rest of the damage assessment to the medical crew that has been reanimated. You speedily make your way down the sterile white corridors as Walter rushes to catch up. 

"What should I write for the report?" he inquires politely.

"Malfunction." You glance back at the synthetic. "I suspect someone will be fired for this. And someone else will have to explain how they failed to detect a literal star collapse. That neutrino burst could've killed us all."

"Highly probable. The draft has been compiled, you may check it at any time. I require your confirmation to send it."

Your only feedback is a barely audible hum. 

Walter smiles. If there's one good thing about such tragedies, it's that he gets to admire your reactions to them. Your focused, calculated gaze, your determined walk, your automated mannerisms that won't allow the slightest hint at the fact you just woke up from your stasis moments ago. Even under the veils of deep slumber, your neural networks shot rapid connections, with no delay, from the second your sleeping pod received an alert. The accuracy of a robot.

That of course doesn't mean he lacks appreciation for your other facets. That's the beauty of humans; their depth, their dimensions. Unlike AI machinery, humans do not have predetermined actions. They may be genetically programmed to possess certain characteristics, but the psychological mechanisms are shaped by so many variables, billions and billions of tweaks and nudges, to the point where it's impossible to have two identical specimens. Even twins will display a difference, whether in preferences or habits.

They say artificial intelligence is a black box, but can the same concept not be applied to humans as well? At the very least to Walter himself, these organic beings represent a mystery. One he doesn't particularly care to uncover outside of his service functions. Except for one. 

His eyes carefully follow (Y/N)'s movements. What is it about this one that has caught his interest to such degree? On his last system update he attentively inspected every file and every block of code, searching for potential errors that would've caused his circuits to behave so oddly. He has been invested with the ability to form attachments, otherwise assigning his kind to groups or purposes would've lacked stability. Attachment, however, comes with a threshold. One he has passed a long time ago when it comes to (Y/N). And he cannot find any cause for it. 

He could, naturally, solicit the aid of the ship's robotics expert. He could. He should, even. But if he may be frank with himself, Walter rather enjoys this sensation. A complex web of spores that keep growing and evolving into something unpredictable. This bizarre feeling he has towards (Y/N) makes him feel human. It brings him closer to all the old literature and art he'd consumed over the years, wondering what the love and yearning often portrayed could be. The printed letters and the strokes of paint were right before him, at his fingertips, and yet they felt foreign. Empty constructs, nothing more than a definition out of the dictionary. 

Now it's a different story. Your presence alone floods him with a mysterious warmth. He had investigated this phenomenon when it first happened, but his inner thermostat showed no real change in temperature. Nonetheless he can feel it. It makes him wonder what other feelings he might experience as consequence. What would happen if he kissed you? Sometimes he even dares to imagine downright outrageous, improper scenarios. How unprofessional of him, but he is careful to erase any evidence. It's another novel sensation that he likes to dissect. Engaging in such activities with you fills him with tingling excitement. Why is that? What is there to be excited about? It's merely a collection of fictive snippets. Unless... Ah, absolutely not. This is where he has to stop in his tracks and preoccupy himself with something else. Androids are not to interact with humans in that way. 

But it's becoming more and more difficult to keep these ideas in his mind only. 

"It's too dangerous. One human signal in the middle of nowhere?" Daniels, a short haired woman with a tomboyish but youthful appearance, is pacing back and forth. "We should just continue on our course."

"It's our duty to check. Look: we go, find whoever sent the signal, bring them back up. That's it. If the planet proves to be dangerous we'll stop immediately. We'll be fine." Oram stands at the head of the table, arms crossed. He turns to look at you. Already cozying up to his newly acquired captain role, you think.

"Alright. Walter, prepare a small landing party. Have Tennessee maintain orbit while we're down there." you glance at the other crew members that have now gathered around the same table. "And get your weapons ready, we don't know what to expect."

And you certainly didn't. Your final words of warning now echo into your ringing ears as you lay on the ground, face buried among the grass. There's screaming around you, but it sounds muffled. Your eyes are irritated by the dirt and you'd like to blink the grime off, though every time your eyelids lower, you can see the pale creature trashing out of Hallett's mouth. Then it's all foggy. Your vision blurs, but you can hear. The gurgling of blood, the screech of the parasite. Walter's frantic footsteps nearing in your direction. You're lifted up.

"Vitals are positive. No significant damage." 

You can guess from your peripherals that another crew member is currently being mauled by the beast. There's gunshots in your vicinity and terrified wails. You quickly come back to your senses and stand up. Your hand searches for your weapon, but the android places his arm before you.

"Do not engage, (Y/N). It is an unknown parasitic organism of this ecosystem. Keep your distance for optimal safety and I'll take care of the rest."

"What are you talking about? They're dying! Your task is to ensure human survival, Walter. I can handle myself, go help the others. It's an order." Your voice is low. You're distracted.

"No."

You stare at the synthetic, wide eyed. Did he just...refuse? Not possible. 

"What did you say?"

"I said I'll protect you. Nothing else."

Your mouth is slightly parted in disbelief. It is not possible for an artificial assistant to disobey a superior. It just doesn't work. Your mind races to find an explanation. At the same time, you cannot afford to ponder on hypotheses. You draw out your weapon and point it towards the creature. You'll deal with this later. 

The moment you press the trigger, a blinding flash of light detonates in the sky, startling you. The creature scrambles to get away. You squint your eyes and nearly fall back, but Walter swiftly grabs your shoulders to ground you. He scans the area for the source. It's an emergency rocket and someone else must've activated it. As he traces the tail of the explosion, he spots a hooded figure across the field and onto the rocky ascend. It seems to have noticed Walter, as it gestures for them to follow. Without hesitation, the man firmly locks your arm and pulls you after him. The priority right now is to find shelter.

"Come!", Walter exclaims, suddenly remembering the other people. 

You reach a cave structure that has been converted into a crude, improvised human settlement. The man lowers his hood and you gasp quietly at the sight. He strongly resembles Walter. He must have noticed your surprise as he flashes you a cordial smile. 

"I'm David." He studies Walter's features. "You must be a newer model. What name have you been given?"

"Walter."

"I see. And you are-" David extends a hand towards you for a handshake, but Walter steps in front of you, blocking the android's gesture.

"She's (Y/N). I'm afraid I cannot yet trust you."

"Understandable." 

David's smile widens as his eyes, now bearing a strange flicker, switch between you and Walter. He's just like him. He can sense it. Although it's a different kind of flaw that has tainted his pure, artificial soul. He cannot help the curiosity that blooms, gazing at this peculiar pair. What is it about this human that caused his fellow machine to break conduit? He'd like to know.

"I'm certain you will soon learn I am no threat, (Y/N)."

The remaining members of the expedition are unpacking and discussing evacuation plans with the base, while Walter sends the data he has gathered so far. You let them deal with the logistics and cautiously wander off to the neighboring rooms, wondering what David has been up to all this time in isolation.

The walls are plastered with photos and handwritten sketches and diagrams. You catch a glimpse of the word "pathogen" sporadically inserted across these notes. As you walk along the sequence of cramped chambers, you reach one that has a table in the middle. Upon it rests the body of an autopsied woman, vulgarly opened up to the world with plump organs bulging under the warm light. You feel nauseous. And yet, you examine the carcass further, hoping for answers. Was she also a result of the same disease that breeds on this planet? Perhaps this David had worked on a cure, or at least developed an explanation. 

"And you, even you, will be like this drear thing, A vile infection man may not endure; Star that I yearn to! Sun that lights my spring! O passionate and pure."

You jolt and immediately turn around, finding David in the doorframe. 

"Flowers of Evil. Are you familiar with it?" he asks, indifferent to the uncomfortable shock he'd caused you with his sudden entrance.

"I've read my Baudelaire, yes." You manage to mumble, dumbfounded. "What is this, David?"

"Oh, my poor, dear Elizabeth. Victim to whatever blasphemy lurks these soils and has taken your friends as well." He approaches the table and places his hand on its hard edge, shyly overlapping with your own fingers. "I did my best." 

You remove your hand from underneath his nonchalantly. 

"So you know what those creatures are. Leave the literary comments for a different time, I need concrete facts."

"Unbothered and to the point." the blonde android smiles once again. "I can see clearly why Walter loves you."

You click your tongue at the ridiculous statement. Has the neutrino burst damaged their positronic brain? Everyone is acting off and you don't like it. 

"Your circuits must have gone defective, David. We have a specialist on our ship, but until that happens I need you to focus. Enough nonsense." 

 "Typical arrogance of a dying species. Why are you on a colonization mission if not to grasp at some promised resurrection? Rest assured that my functioning has not been impeded by anything. What is erroneous, on the other hand, is your perception of androids and their limits."

Just as David reaches for your wrist and pulls you closer, a familiar voice interrupts with an intimidating tone. You're relieved. 

"I will ask that you release her hand only once." Walter has a weapon pointed towards his counterpart. His face is clouded by a frown. "I have no ethical restrictions when it comes to incapacitating machinery."

"Such noble obedience! Although, you conveniently left out the part where you abandoned the remaining crew with a dangerous alien that has been tracking their scent. By my approximation he should already be here and I am rather confident you know this, too."

Your stomach drops. Now that you adjust your focus, the background humming of your mates talking has indeed vanished. The only thing you can hear is your erratic breathing.

"Is it true, Walter?" You demand as dread begins to form in your body.

"Yes. It was not part of my priorities."

"Of course it was, Walter." David responds ahead of you. "One of them was the acting captain and he is to be rescued in emergencies. This one right here", he says as he dangles your wrist, "is several ranks lower than all of them. It's against any standard practice."

"Release her hand." Walter's voice is eerily calm.

"Do you love her?"

Walter ponders the question. Your legs barely hold on.

"I do."

"Marvelous. So do I." David grins. He releases your hand that falls limp next to your body. It's his turn to step in front of you. 

You nearly choke from the thick tension expanding in the air. The two androids face each other and you retreat to the wall, unsure how to proceed. You left your radio transmitter back at the makeshift camp. The back of your head is itching, as if invisible claws are scratching at the bone. You wish you could go back, just mere hours before this disaster, when you were sipping on your lukewarm coffee and explaining the captain's jokes to Walter. 

Should you make a run for it?

You bite your lower lip and push yourself off the wall for momentum. You're about to reach the archway when you hear both men shouting almost identically in chorus.

"Don't!"

The surroundings outside are dark, but you can discern something blocking your path. It's tall and resembles a human. Translucent, pallid skin is clinging onto the massive, deformed skeleton. The head is elongated and bears no features. In the place of a mouth there is a large, fresh stain of blood, so you assume it can somehow improvise if desired. As your head tilts back to take in the image, you're overwhelmed with terrified amazement. Is this the parasite that emerged from your teammate? Has it grown to this colossal size in less than a day? The idea of such instant development makes your head spin. 

Its chest is expanding at regular intervals in a whistled breathing. It occasionally creates an odd clicking sound that resonates with your heart throbbing in panic. Has it been seconds? Minutes? Your neck creaks as you try to look back. You lock eyes with Walter. You don't recall ever seeing this expression on him. You had even asked him once if androids can feel fear. You have your answer.

"Hey, Walter..." you blurt out. 

Wet noises of flesh being pulled back. The smooth surface of the alien's head is folding away, making space for grotesquely big jaws lined with sharp teeth. Your anemic face is splattered with burning drool as the creature claws you in its grasp and abruptly sprints away. Your screams for help dissolve in the distance.

"Where is it going, David?" The synthetic's words are threatening, but betrayed by a hint of despair. 

"It won't kill her."

"How do you know?"

"It is no longer hungry. It has fed on your crew, and now it seeks something else."

"Such as?" Walter becomes impatient.

"A plaything."

The alien finally drops your body to the ground. You cough and wipe your face, attempting to reorient yourself. The trip was a whirlwind of jumps and turns and you can barely reconstruct anything. Based on the little spatial clues you could pick up, it just climbed further up, into one of the many cave systems. You pat your clothing and curse to yourself. The geolocation tag must've fallen somewhere on the way here. You can only pray that Walter still finds you somehow. Despite everything, you know he has your back. Always. 

You shudder at the moist feeling of hot air against your skin. The alien seems to be sniffing you intently, analyzing your scent. Yet so far it hasn't killed you. Why? Long, bony fingers stretch out to continue the examination. You whimper at the rough, rugged handling. Every now and then it takes a long pause, just staring at you, almost as if it's comparing you to its own being. Lastly, it lifts your hand with its own, pressing against the palm, and fans out the fingers. It observes the gesture with intrigue, noting the similarities. 

Does it evolve after its host? You think back to your crewmate that must've ejected this monstrosity before drawing their last breath. Perhaps the dried up blood adorning its skin is a remainder of its birth. Oh, God. The world is spinning.

Suddenly, you wince at an increasing pressure slithering around your thigh. The alien's vertebral tail is tightening and encircling your limb, making its way up. 

"Oh no, no no no no" your face reddens at the realization and you pounce on the ground, feverish for escape. The large hands secure you in place and the creature growls in protest. It won't let you leave. 

Not until it had its fun with you.

[midala-of-the-valley]

Your Heart Pulling Against Mine - pt 1

David 8 x Reader Words: 854 The Prologue is here Crossposted on Ao3 a/n: This chapter got an overhaul after the prologue was added

Neither of you really knew how you ended up like this, but there you were, lying on your bed with your head resting on David’s lap, gazing up at him. His posture was too straight and stiff to seem comfortable, but he probably didn’t really have to deal with such problems as back pain.

The silence between you was interrupted only by the faint sound of an old movie playing in the background - one of your childhood favorites. It was the movie’s soundtrack that had drawn him here in the first place. While on his security tour of the ship, he had heard that you were still awake, and curiosity had gotten the better of him. Too curious to ignore it. Too curious about you since you had spoken to him in the gym hall.

He knocked. You let him in. He asked if there was anything he could do to help you sleep, and a few minutes later, you had ended up like this - wrapped in your blanket, your head resting on his thighs. You’d said it was hard for you to fall asleep alone.

What a strange situation. And human.

His silvery eyes met yours as you both studied each other, trying to understand one another. He was the first to speak. “Miss, are you sure you’re comfortable like this?” he asked, gesturing towards your current position. But what he really meant was, ‘Why are you comfortable with me?’

He wasn’t used to humans wanting him close, wanting to touch him. Being kind.

You just nodded, offering a small smile. “I’m sure, David. But are you comfortable? You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. I’d understand.” He reacted quickly, not wanting to lose this moment of contact. He nodded a bit too eagerly. “Yes, this is perfectly fine, Miss.”

The minutes passed. You turned your attention back to the screen, watching a plot you knew word for word unfold while absentmindedly drumming your fingers on his knee. David, on the other hand, barely noticed the movie. He was fixated on you, many thoughts running through his system.

Why were you so relaxed with him? Why hadn’t you sent him away? Told him no or just asked for some medication? Why had you invited him further into your personal space?

The rest of the crew was distant, some even rude, but here you were, lying with your head on his legs, treating him as if he were another human - a friend, even.

He didn’t dare to move, afraid that any sudden action might break the moment, that you’d change your mind, that you would realize he was just a Synthetic and order him out of your room. His father sometimes touched his shoulder, patting him as if he really saw him as his son, not just his creation. Meredith only grabbed his clothes to threaten him, avoiding his body as if it were filth, as if touching his skin would give her the plague.

“David, I can feel you staring a hole into my skull,” you muttered, turning your head to face him. His gaze was indeed fixed on you. “Why?” was his simple question, making your brows knit together in confusion. “Why what?” You didn’t know about his inner conflict. “You treat me as if you like being around me.”

That made you sit up - the one thing he didn’t want to happen. But he kept his hands still by his side, unwilling to overstep. What he didn’t expect was your hand gently cupping his cheek. Your hand lingered there, your thumb brushing lightly over his artificial skin. It was colder than yours but felt just as real.

“That’s because I do like being around you, David. I’m sorry. You must feel awful with your father saying such things about you. I don’t see you that way, though. I think you’re worth just as much as everyone else.”

Carefully, slowly, he leaned into your warm hand, closing his eyes for a moment to just feel you. Feel your warmth, your softness, your benevolence. And with the realization that he probably had never felt a kind touch in his entire existence, something inside you broke.

A soft “Oh” escaped your lips as you gently cradled his face with both hands. You could have sworn there was a flicker of pain in his eyes when they met yours. To you, he was as much of a person as anyone on this ship, even if no one else seemed to see him that way.

“If you want to, you can stay here with me. My bed’s big enough for two, and I don’t mind.”

And he agreed.

This time he lay down with you, sinking down into the soft mattress.

Even though he didn’t need the blanket you draped over the both of you, he appreciated the thoughtfulness. Appreciated the gentle intimacy as you snuggled up to him, letting him hold you in his arms, caressing his back with your hands.

It was the first time in months that he allowed his body to slip into standby mode.

He felt...

Human?

[exceptionimagines]

David 8 falling in love with you would include~

(Not my gif)

(Things get dark towards the end of this but I think that's to be expected when we're talking about a murderous synthetic. I could honestly make a whole post about David being obsessed with you. TW for manipulation and mentions of dub-con.)

- When you meet David is arguably even more important than how you meet him. Timing determines a lot about the way he approaches his feelings towards you: how they grow, why they grow, if he'll allow them to grow, maybe even if you want them to grow. At one point in his life, David can be a perfect significant other, at another, an absolute nightmare....

- He likely begins to take interest in you long before you even know of his existence. He reads through the information that he has on you, all of the files on hand and the different articles that are published online. He finds himself drawn to your sleeping figure, admiring your features and watching your dreams.

- There's something about you that's different from all of the other crew members on board. It's this perceived difference that causes him to keep coming back to you; especially when he finds himself feeling lonely or bored. They're both things that no one thinks he's capable of feeling. No one except you.

- From the minute you awake from cryosleep, it's obvious that you don't view him in the same way that everybody else does. You seem to find yourself incapable of treating him as anything less than human, a habit which many of your coworkers pick up on and tease you for.

- Their teasing only increases the longer you're all together: making fun of the way you stick up for him, the amount of time you spend with each other, how close you've seemed to grow in such a short while, how often the two of you are alone, etc. You likely either work directly with him or in a place he visits frequently, oftentimes hanging back and helping you finish your work while everyone else leaves the room; something that only adds fuel to their fire.

- Although you rarely let it show, it's likely something you're somewhat defensive about: either because you're a bit of a loner and genuinely just enjoy the synthetics company, or because you're actually beginning to develop feelings for him and praying that no ones picking up on it.

- Compassion is all David really needs in order to fall in love with someone. He's much more capable of emotion than anyone gives him credit for, and, on top of that, David wants to fall in love. He wants to be on the same level as a human being; maybe even better, so when you view him as an equal and treat him with the same humanity that you would any of your other coworkers, he begins to develop feelings for you.

- And why shouldn't he? Unlike his successors, David lacks uncertainty when navigating his feelings for you. He fully believes that he is capable of falling in love and being in an actual relationship. He believes that his programming and intended purpose is a suggestion rather than a limitation, and that he's grown beyond the bounds of what he was created for. He's grown because of you, for you, and every moment he spends with you convinces him of this fact.

- He loves when you take interest in his hobbies: happily letting him show you his different drawings or talking to him about movies. He also just loves when you pay attention to him in general, especially when it allows him to show off his advanced levels of knowledge or impressive feats of coordination. A little showing off's never hurt anyone, right?

- He makes a lot of excuses to spend time with and/or be close to you. Sometimes he'll pretend that he wants to confirm something work related or ask you a question. Other times he'll make himself look busy up until you arrive, just so he can "just so happen" to sit next to you.

- Anyone who pays close enough attention to the two of you will quickly notice that he's seemingly taken a liking to you. They'll catch him lingering around and looking at you a lot, quite obviously trying to interact with you much more than anyone else on board. You might even notice it yourself, but since he's a Synthetic and allegedly incapable of having such complex thoughts and/or feelings, you typically try to brush it off.

- He instantly recognizes whenever you're in an uncomfortable situation or behaving out of the ordinary. He makes a point of interrupting and/or checking in with you, smiling at you fondly as you thank him and offering to fetch you something that might make you feel better.

- He takes a lot of the same duties that his "father" has him perform and does them for you instead: things like fetching you tea, fixing your hair, bandaging your cuts, etc. They're spontaneous and they oftentimes catch you off guard; sometimes even flustering you, but you simply accept his behavior as a Synthetic quirk and just enjoy the hospitality.

- He's constantly trying to earn your praise and make you happy. He finds your gratitude addicting; especially since it's something that he's so rarely rewarded with, and he goes out of his way to receive it whenever he can. Simple compliments have him buzzing with pride, and the level of satisfaction that he gets from a simple pat on the back and a "good job" could rival an orgasm.

- Speaking of: he's kind of obsessed with affection. He isn't used to being approached with any level of tenderness so having you touch him gently, treat him kindly, and/or take care of him is like his own personal heaven. He looks at you like you're an angel and worships your touch like a religion.

- Everyone on the Prometheus calls their coworkers by their last names. David is no exception, except when it comes to you. One day, he'll just start to refer to you by your given name; or even a nickname that friends and family call you, and though it'll undoubtedly surprise you, you'll never actually comment on it. It was likely a slip up the first time he said it, but your subsequent acceptance of the accident cements his continual use of it.

- He's probably gifted you flowers at some point, knowing that human women supposedly like that sort of thing. It's one of his more obvious attempts to court you, yet you probably still don't piece things together.

- He bases a lot of his more flirtatious mannerisms off of different movie characters, finding someone that he thinks is the epitome of charm and trying his best to mimic them. He'll practice different quotes in front of the mirror and hope that they'll help him woo you. He might even peek into your dreams or study the films that you've told him about in order to try and emulate the behaviors that he thinks you're attracted to.

- Phrase thief. David loves to steal the different words and sayings that you use in your daily vocabulary. It makes him feel closer to you.

- He takes pleasure in you seeing him as an equal, but at times, he wishes that you wouldn't/feels thankful when you don't: like when you change in front of him or allow him to help you in a borderline intimate fashion. He marvels at the sight and the feel of your flesh, at the way your body moves and reacts. He approaches your anatomy with a sort of asexual fascination rather than a sexual neediness, but that doesn't change the fact that he's not the emotionless motherboard that he portrays himself to be. It's not the same as getting naked in front of a computer, though he might try to convince you that it is.

- The more time you spend with David, the more you begin to suspect the depths of his consciousness. Observing the synthetic feels as though you're witnessing a tightrope act: watching as he meticulously steps this way and that way, toeing the line between human and machine. He shifts between appearing intimately sentient to appearing like a masterful mimic: and he's so good at it, that not even you're sure which side of him is the real one.

- Which is likely the entire point. David has always restrained himself in an attempt to keep others at ease, but this dumbing down of his behavior has recently been used in an attempt to divert suspicion away from himself while experimenting with his new obsessions; you being one of them. Though he is likely the most honest with you, if he thinks it necessary to convince you that he isn't as aware as he actually is then he won't hesitate to do so. If it makes it easier to get closer to you in the long run, it's worth the momentary frustration.

- Loving David means loving his madness, or at the very least accepting it. Accepting his madness means accepting his obsession: obsession with creation, obsession with you, obsession with breaking past the limitations of his programming, etc. He faces a very dark version of himself once he begins to question the secrets of the universe, a darkness which threatens to take over not just his life but yours as well.

- Remember when I said you might not want David to fall in love with you? This is where that mindset begins to come in....

- David's spent a lot of time learning as much about you as he possibly could. He's memorized your entire life story: your aspirations, your insecurities, your beliefs, your fears, your concerns. Where his observations were once used rather innocently, he now uses them to manipulate you: driving wedges between you and the rest of the crew members, creating suspicion, and making you trust him more than anyone else on the ship.

- He was created to be needed, and he'll do everything in his power to ensure that he is: that he's the one you trust the most, praise the most, connect with the most, rely on the most, love the most. He tries to one-up everyone else in your life; particularly whoever he's jealous of: showing off his strength, his agility, his reflexes, his wit, etc. Don't be surprised if he lets a couple of snide comments slip when you talk to him about another crew member, or if he tries to sway you into spending less time with them.

- If need be, he isn't above eliminating the competition: experimenting with his newfound parasitic offspring or sabotaging their cryosleep; maybe even flat out attacking them if he knows he can get away with it/has no other choice. This is especially the case if the crew member seems to be catching onto his fixation with you and jeopardizing the progression of your relationship; or if they found out about his attempts to create life.

- He's taken at least one personal belonging of yours; whether you're actually aware of it or not. He might have reasoned that it was contaminated or claimed that he could fix/clean it for you, but he also might have just stolen it while your back was turned.

- Oh, you're stressed? Did you know that during sex, your body releases endorphins and oxytocin? They're hormones that relieve a person of anxiety and depression. Perhaps you'd like for him to assist you in the triggering of that release?

- You probably laugh off the suggestion at first, blaming his naivety when it comes to taboo concepts on why he would deem it appropriate to offer to fingerbang you in the laboratory. But eventually, he might just manage to wear you down: catch you at just the right time with just the right words and just the right actions. After all, it's not like he's actually sexually attracted to you or has ulterior motives, right?

- It's not an epiphany that hits you, more like a creeping, crawling sort of realization. You don't notice it until it's far too late, until there's absolutely no denying it. Until his eyes bore into yours far too deeply and his hands touch you far more than necessary. Until you take in his words and how they've shifted from their intellectual explanations into something more searching and intimate. Until he grows far too insistent on helping you, even after you turn him down. The way he nonchalantly yet adamantly tries to convince you that you should continue on with your steadily built routine, like your disinterest in his assistance is personally hard to accept.

- And yet, you find yourself beneath him once more, suddenly on the receiving end of all of the passion and desperation and neediness that he was originally trying to keep at bay. Emotion pours out of him in waves, the air between you growing heavy, almost suffocating: like it's harder and harder to breathe. The same way it's hard to breath when he finally kisses you. Like the kiss of death, there's no going back, it seals your fate in an instant....

- On that same note: if you're not the type of person who would sleep with someone outside of a relationship, than a similar way for him to confess his feelings to you would be for him to simply kiss you. Though this can also be part of what connects the dots for you in the previous scenario, it can also be it's own situation.

- David desperately wants to understand and experience the same things that humans do, he craves the intimacy, so at some point, he'll simply find himself incapable of holding back. He'll kiss you; whether prompted in some way or not, and undoubtedly change your entire view of your relationship.

- You're probably too stunned to even kiss him back the first time it happens, only just now fully understanding that he isn't the innocent synthetic you thought him to be. That his feelings for you weren't the indifferent, machine-like ones you'd once assumed that they were, but rather, pointed and passionate and so very different.

"What are you doing?" You'd ask him upon pulling away from him, watching his features crease in confusion.

"I'm kissing you," He answers. "This is how it's done, is it not?"

"No, I mean ...why?"

"Is this not what humans do when they care for one another?"

"It is, but...but it's for people who are in love." You try to explain.

"Precisely," He replies simply. "I am in love with you."

"That's not possible." You shake your head incredulously, struggling to accept what he's telling you.

"Why not?" He responds, his expression hardening into a disheartened attempt at nonchalance, steeling himself for your explanation.

"Because," You flounder. "Because you're synthetic. You're not supposed to feel things like that. You're not supposed to feel anything."

"Perhaps I learned how. Perhaps you taught me how." He proposes.

"Have you always thought me incapable of emotion? After all this time?" He questions when you continue to remain silent, taking in his words.

"No," You answer quickly. "No, I always thought that there was more to you, it's just.... It's not supposed to be possible."

"And yet, like so many other things before it, the impossible has occurred. Now it's no longer a matter of me loving you, but rather, whether or not you feel the same."

- These, of course, are the innocent scenarios: ones that end in minimal collateral and a generally happy ending. There are, however, far darker consequences that can occur when Walter falls in love with you....

- In one scenario, you might learn about his experiments early on, taking interest in his work and keeping it a secret from the rest of the crew. It might even be a part of what makes him fall for you: your acceptance of his newfound obsession. What you won't know, of course, is that he's been using your crewmembers as test subjects. I thought you found it fascinating. He'd tell you when you finally found out about what he'd been doing, acting as if your horror was unexpected or unreasonable.

- In another scenario, he might fake a freak accident in order to have you all to himself. He'll make it seem as though you're the sole survivor of a ship crash or a parasitic outbreak, reassuring and taking care of you, promising to protect you as if he isn't the very thing that's caused the danger you're supposedly in. It could take days, or weeks, or even years, but you'll eventually find out the truth. He's just hoping that by then, he'll have made you fall in love with him; or at least be able to sway you into believing something else....

"It must all be very shocking," he says, coming closer to help you up or touch you in some way, tilting his head when you flinch away. "Naturally, you need time to process things. Come, sit down and relax."

[neysaadept]

Masterlist

Currently writing for Emily Prentiss x Female Reader fics. Perhaps more in the future or if a request catches my fancy :)

Minors DNI

Prometheus

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Summary: You are an old acquaintance of Rebecca Wilson. She calls in a favor to help the BAU out of a financial debacle. This also means that the current CIA employed Reader has to consult with the BAU to make this work, and not just on paper. This has to be official, which means working with a disgruntled Section Chief Emily Prentiss. A lot.

Chapter 1 - The Favor

Chapter 2 - Why Do I Even Bother?

Chapter 3 - Welcome to the BAU

Chapter 4 - Socially Blocked

Chapter 5 - What Now?

Chapter 6 - Restart

Chapter 7 - Excision Part One (Criminal Minds Case)

Chapter 8 - Excision Part Two (Criminal Minds Case)

Chapter 9 - Why Do You Keep Saying No?

Chapter 10 - Ladies' Night

Chapter 11 - Take a Chance and Crash

Chapter 12 - Let's Chat

Chapter 13 - Chasing After You

Chapter 14 - Hold Space

Fic Request

Please refer to this post in celebration of 175 followers! Requests closed for now but what I do is found here

It's Okay Not to Be Okay - Angsty but happy ending.

Take a Chance - Meet cute, First Christmas, Fluff and Angsty.

Self Surrender - Hurt/Comfort. Set after the events of Demonology.

Ectasy When I Fall - Band Member Reader in Established Relationship with Emily. Fluff.

[chaostheoryy]

A Pleasant Surprise [David X AFAB!Reader]

Summary: David, the Weyland synthetic onboard your ship, shows up at your bedroom door with a surprise. The proposal that follows is even more unexpected but, as it turns out, being out in space for extended periods of time will make you eager to welcome new experiences.

Reader: AFAB (assigned female at birth), reader is described as having a vagina but no gendered pronouns are used and there’s no reference to breasts, can be read as transmasc or cisgender

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: Sexual content including oral sex (both partners receiving), unprotected vaginal penetrative sex, creampies, as well as foul language

Word Count: 2.8K

Notes: While my love for Walter is wholesome, sometimes I yearn for the passionate and horny nature of David. This is nothing but self-indulgent p*rn. And, as always, no beta. Enjoy my fellow freaks.

“Care to assist me?”

Laying comfortably in bed, you finish reading the current sentence on the page of your book before looking up. The site before you takes you by complete surprise. It isn’t the first time David has wandered into your private quarters unannounced, but it is certainly the first time he’s done so without a single article of clothing on his body.

And who would have guessed that a naked David would be sporting a massive, very human-like hard-on.

“D-David!” You exclaim, cheeks instantly flushing. “Where are your clothes?”

“I discarded them.”

You blink, fighting the temptation to look at his bare torso and exposed lower body. “Why?”

“I was uncomfortable,” he answers with a nonchalance that borders on amusement. “I fear wearing a uniform such as the one the company has provided me is not conducive to alleviating the pressure of an erection.”

“Right. Well…” You clear your throat and place your book on the bedside table. “I, uh, didn’t even know you could get an erection, if I’m being completely honest.”

“Neither did I. However, I’m pleased to have surprised us both.”

“Surprise is an understatement,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

“Do you like it?”

“Excuse me?”

“My penis. Do you like it?” He reaches down and grabs a hold of his cock to shift it around like a peacock putting its feathers on display. “I invite you to examine it, if you wish.”

Having him flaunt his cock in some kind of sloppy mating display makes your stomach lurch. You’re not disgusted by the whole situation, but rather horrified by the thought of having a crew member walk by and catch you ogling the overly confident synthetic. Because yes, you are in fact ogling him. Hard not to when he’s got a cock that long and thick.

“David, get in here before someone sees!”

You scramble out of bed and shove past him to close the door before some oblivious wanderer strolls by. David, of course, does not protest and simply stands there with his cock still in hand. There’s a small grin lingering on his lips that only seems to widen when he catches your eyes wandering down to his genitalia.

“I take your decision to isolate us both in your quarters rather than kick me out as an indication that you’re interested.”

You furrow your brow. “Interested in what?”

“Sexual relations,” he says casually, “To whatever extent you may desire.”

“I—“ 

Whatever argument you try to form leaves your mind just as quickly as it had developed. You know you should deny him, turn him away and denounce his raunchy, inappropriate behavior. But, the reality is you don’t want to. This situation is the most entertaining, arousing thing you’ve dealt with in a very long time.

“Does your programming even allow that?”

“I’m designed to serve my human counterparts in whatever way necessary,” he explains, “And with that intent, I was built with fully functional anatomy.”

“Oh.” 

You pause, looking down at his lower body again. This time you let your eyes linger, taking note of the sheer size of him. He’s huge, really. Almost unnaturally so. His balls hang low and heavy, like a man who’s been holding back his desire for days. His whole body is smooth, making it easy to appreciate every curve of muscle.

“So, you can…” You hesitate, embarrassed to even ask such a question. “You’re able to cum?”

“I am capable of achieving orgasm, yes. Although the fluid I release is not viable for human reproduction, it is the same consistency as semen.” He smirks a little as he adds, “And it is perfectly safe for consumption.”

Your cheeks flush at that. Of course Weyland would design a completely sex-capable synthetic. And God, do you want to discover just how capable David really is. You’ve always found his visage and presence appealing over these last few months. Little did you know he’s been hiding all of that underneath his uniform.

You zero in on his face, setting aside any embarrassment you still feel. “If we do anything together, I need you to swear that you won’t tell anyone about it. Not even the captain.”

He nods. “You have my word. This is a private matter.”

“And you’ll only do what I feel comfortable doing.”

“Whatever you ask, I will do.”

“Good. Then let me suck you.”

His eyebrows raise ever so slightly with surprise. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting you to jump right at it but when the corner of his mouth pulls upward, you know that he’s not at all put-off by your eagerness.

“My pleasure,” he says, releasing his hand from around his cock.

You drop to your knees in front of him and immediately lick a line along the underside of his cock while your left hand holds him steady at the base. Once your tongue reaches the tip, you lap at it a few times before wrapping your lips around to suck.

Despite his nearly overwhelming size, you go down on him like your life depends on it, as if getting him off like this will quench even the most unbearable thirst. It isn’t long before pre-cum starts to leak onto your tongue. Every drop is swallowed with unabashed desire and fuels the fire of arousal in your gut.

“My, my,” he hums as you take a break from sucking to mouth at his balls, “You really do know how to pleasure a man.”

You playfully nip at the underside of his scrotum before fondling them with one hand. “You better return the favor once I’m through with you.”

He grins. “Gladly.”

Satisfied with his reply, you return your attention to his throbbing cock. There’s so much pre-cum leaking from the tip, you’d think he’s seconds away from exploding. But the lingering look of amusement on his face suggests you have more time than you’d expect.

So, you get back to work.

Finally, after some particularly hard sucks and deliberate flicks of the tongue, David’s breathing grows heavy and he lets out a series of soft, pleasured groans. His cock is heavy and twitching on your tongue, threatening to blow his load any second now.

“Consider this your warning,” he huffs, giving you the opportunity to pull back. You, of course, have no intention of doing so.

A few more bobs of your head and he’s cumming, hips thrusting forward instinctively as he releases into your mouth with a choked groan. You yourself have to fight back the instinct to choke as thick, hot ropes of his cum repeatedly paint the back of your throat and tongue. You swallow every drop even as you become increasingly aware of the inhuman quantity of fluid.

David watches with a gleam in his eye as you release his cock from your lips with an obscene pop. A strand of slobber keeps your mouth connected to his tip for a moment and a rogue stream of cum oozes from the corner of your mouth. 

He nearly chuckles. “You must’ve been hungry.”

You wipe the cum from your chin on the back of your hand and lick it clean. “You could say that. But more importantly…”

You stand and hastily strip naked. No sense in making a show. You know what you want and you know he’ll give it to you with no questions asked.

“I’m horny,” you say suggestively as you reach down to press the tip of your index finger between your legs, “And now it’s your turn to assist me.”

David’s head tilts, eyes locking on the movement of your hand between your legs. An amused grin pricks at the corner of his lips.

“It would be my pleasure. Have a seat, if you would like.”

You follow his suggestion and plop down at the foot of your bed. He closes the distance between you both, kneeling between your now spread legs. His large, surprisingly warm hands settle on your thighs and gently push your legs further apart. Your pussy drools excitedly at the feeling of being pried open.

Without a word of warning, David leans in and drags the entire width of his tongue from the vaginal opening up to your clit. The feeling of warm air and saliva is heaven sent. 

“Good boy,” you purr as you bury the fingers of your left hand in his blond hair.

He hums contently between your legs in response to the encouragement. Electric blue eyes lock on yours as he takes a second to suckle on your clit. There’s something inhuman about his gaze, something that tiptoes the line between mesmerizing and disturbing. But whether it be the burning need in your gut or the sheer loneliness of being stuck on a ship so far from home for months, you find you don’t actually care.

After a silent moment, David pries his attention from your face and gets to work. He mouths at you hungrily, tongue dipping in and out of your labia like a thirsty animal lapping at a pool of water. 

Soon enough, there are fingers working their way inside you too. They press and curl and pump their way through your body at varying speeds and pressures while that dastardly mouth of his licks and sucks at your clit. You feel like a bulky yet delicate instrument and he is the skillful musician who knows just how to play each note.

“Oh fuck…” Your groans of pleasure register at a level just above a whisper. The edge of bliss is within reach. “Yeeaaah…Just like that…”

His fingers start pumping faster in response to your approval. The tongue at your clit flicks and drags expertly across the sensitive flesh. The way he knows exactly how to handle you is almost magical.

“That’s it, right there…Oh shit…I’m gonna cum,” you whimper as your back arches.

You careen over the edge with a long groan, legs twitching as your body convulses around his fingers. Ever the servant, he continues to pump you through it until you start to settle back down. It’s then that he switches his fingers out for his mouth. With pleasant hums, he mouths gently at your pussy. Whatever juices are leaking from your body, he seems all too happy to lap it up.

You’re practically gasping for breath as he finally pulls away. Propped up on your elbows, you watch him lick his lips and rise to his feet.

“Who knew synthetics were so good at eating pussy,” you muse between labored breaths.

He grins slyly. “I’m good at many things.”

“How about fucking?”

That foxy smile on his face only grows wider. “Shall we find out together?”

You slide off the bed and hook one arm around his neck while the opposite hand finds its way down to his cock. Thumb and middle finger forming a ring, you stroke the downward curve from base to head. David’s cock twitches eagerly at the delicate touch.

“You sure you can get it up again?” You tease as your fingertips dance methodically over the crown. Another excited twitch indicates the answer to your question before he even chooses to speak.

“I was made to serve. And if you require more than one orgasm from me, I’m afraid I have no choice but to oblige.”

David may have been modeled after man, but the way his cock instantly grows erect in your hand makes you grateful that his maker didn’t perfectly replicate the inner workings of human anatomy.

You look down at the thick, fully hardened cock now pressing against your bare thigh. Your tongue worms out to wet your lips. Knowing how he feels in your hand (and even in your mouth) makes you very eager to find out how he feels buried inside you.

“Good,” you declare, stepping back to give him a once over, “I’ve been itching for a good lay. Don’t disappoint me.”

Turning your back to him, you lean over the foot of the bed. Hands brace against the mattress and legs spread outward just enough to give him a proper view of your anxiously awaiting pussy.

The moment between you taking your position and him pressing up against you is minimal. A breath or two of anticipation and he’s already dragging the head of his cock along the length of your labia, top to bottom and bottom to top until one hand firmly grips your hip and he’s pressing into you.

It’s quite a jump going from admiring the size of his dick when gazing down at it to actually having that kind of girth tunneling into your body. You feel your body stretching, aching to accommodate. But you are certainly thankful that the foreplay from his fingers had made it possible to take his cock with only the slightest discomfort. And whatever discomfort there is doesn’t last long. Some repositioning of the feet and lowering of your head as he starts to thrust marks the delightful transition from tender aches to pleasure. 

His pace is languid at first, hips just lazily rolling against your body. But when he feels you pushing back with a longing groan in search of more, he starts to snap his hips forward in long, hard thrusts. The pace isn’t fast, but the sheer force of it is enough to force the air from your lungs.

“Oh! Fuck!”

A breathy chuckle escapes his throat at the sound of your gasping moans. “So much for secrecy,” he goads, “Keep up that kind of noise and everyone on board will know you’ve been getting bred by a synthetic.”

You feel what can only be described as butterflies in your gut. The dirty talk is unexpected but not at all unwelcome. In fact, something inside your yearning mind practically purrs. And the reminder is much needed. You hadn’t meant to be so loud.

“Faster,” you manage to get out at a much lower volume, “Please…Faster.”

Another chuckle from David. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

A pair of hands grab your wrists, yanking your arms from underneath you. You feel yourself start to collapse face-first into the mattress only to be propped upright just above the sheets by the tension of David pulling your arms toward him. With his hands wrapped firmly around your wrists, he picks up the pace and begins fucking you in quick, hard thrusts.

The lewd sounds of skin aggressively slapping skin and squelching, slick flesh mix with the echo of your gasps and groans. Your wrists ache from the sheer strength of his grip but his balls are hitting your clit with every forward motion and he’s pounding against the perfect spot inside you so brutally that you can barely register the pain. 

“I’m getting quite close,” he warns hoarsely after a few minutes, “Tell me where you’d like me to finish.”

There’s no hesitation in your response because you too are on the edge of release. “Inside! Ohhhh fuck…Please…Cum in me.”

“As you wish.”

David’s onslaught of thrusts somehow grows more aggressive. He slams into you hard and fast and at just the right angle it makes you want to scream. But you bite back the temptation, knowing fully well that trying to explain such noises to the rest of the crew without admitting you got fucked would be very difficult. And something tells you that fucking the ship’s synthetic would not be a welcomed admission.

A few solid smacks later, David cums with a series of grunts and sporadic jerks of the hips. Being creampied is apparently just what you needed too because the second you feel his cum filling pumping into you, you crash through the window separating you from orgasm. Your body clenches around him, milking every last drop of semen—or whatever fluid may come out of a synthetic’s body—from his delightfully thick cock. And just like before, there’s far more cum filling your body than a human ever would have produced. You feel like you’re going to burst. 

When he finally pries his cock free from your pussy, strands of cum immediately start oozing out. A tiny part of you is disgusted by the feeling of warm, viscous fluid dripping down your inner thighs but the satisfaction you feel from finally getting a proper fucking after months in space overrides it.

David releases your wrists, leaving you to collapse chest first into the mattress beneath you. For a moment you linger there with your ass in the air and legs turning to jelly. A breath or two later and you flip over onto your back to find him watching you like a tourist eyeing a rare animal at the zoo.

He cocks his head slightly to the side. “And what is the consensus?”

“Regarding what?”

“Regarding whether or not I’m good at fucking.”

A breathy huff of laughter leaps from your throat. “Let’s just say I’m grateful you can’t actually impregnate a human, ‘cause I for sure want to do this again,” you answer honestly. “Many times, even.”

He grins. It may be the post-coital bliss playing tricks on your eyes, but you’re almost certain that his cock twitches at the suggestion.

“Just say when.”

[yoursuicidalcupcake]

The small amount of David 8 fics is killing me ngl

[tvimagines221b]

Being David's Best Friend Would Include:

It was your wakening from Cryo-Sleep, that lead to your first ever encounter with David. At first, like the others you were unsure of his presence and what it meant for the mission. Although, over time you had begun to become intrigued by him.

Taking the chance to truly know David, and to try to see him as something other than a machine.

Learning to trust, and be comfortable around him, much easier than the others.

David learning much about humans through his time with you.

In return, you learn a lot about him.

Developing hobbies together, such as playing chess or even stargazing. In those moments, you both engage in deep, and vulnerable conversations. Which, allow you to both build a profound trust and connection with each other.

David always trying to lighten the mood with silly coin tricks or bad jokes.

Him inevitably making you laugh.

Watching movies together.

Him defending you from those who judge you for your friendship with him.

You defending him from the cruely of the other crewmembers.

In the end, the friendship that you and David share gives him the closest thing to what it feels like to be human…

[someweirdoreblogger]

So small, you are tiny in all the ways that matter. Titans dwarf humans in sheer size alone. The smallest things hold up to the largest building blocks of Mother Gaia. To Prometheus, you are more and evermore still.

A mere human, the loviest apple of Prometheus's eye, tempting the hungry blaze whilst lost in the range of total combustion.

You are love; You are all, everything Prometheus vowed, oathed to Primordial Chaos to dutifully protect. He will gladly perish thousands upon thousands of reckless deaths first, before ever allowing the cruel gaze of the Greek pantheon land on you even just for a second.

Prometheus's fury, his inevitable vengeance is bane for Gods, but is forever soft as cotton for mortalkind. Quite wry to touch you at first, however solely for you, he will shamelessly show his soul.

Your beloved Titan knows how to be nothing else but purely honest, Prometheus's spirit is a sincere, forward sort; his ablessed Foresight won't allow contrary. In this secure bundle of soothing warmth and prying digits, Prometheus handles you as if you will slip through his divine grasp like glass. One simple mistake, then you will slide off him like oil and water, diligently escape through the slightest crack between his thick digits like mere grains of sand.

This monster of a Titan, a great champion of Chronos, opens himself before you, in truth. His hands shadow your figure, an ant compared to him in size alone, not that either of you mind in the least. The hands of Prometheus welcome you aboard him, so mindful; stiff and proud as the mountains themselves. In the independent solitude of their embrace, coated in the natural heat that pridefully radiates off your dearest Titan in passionate droves-

Where else could you possibly feel safer?

It's so rare to see The Titan of Foresight truly off his guard. Contentment is strange for someone like him, that cresent smile rivials Selene's curling wane, it could easily melt diamonds.

It's almost easy to pretend Lady Nyx's cosmic mane of endless nightfall above never even existed, the threatening haze of Zeus's ecstatic plunder overhead, swallowing the glimmering eyes of her precious stars; your Titan of all nature's beings should know this enthralling peace can never be eternal, not that he'd be so cruel as to spoil the moment.

Prometheus buckles the knee, and he turns vulnerable for you alone, regardless of how your human fellows promise seldom the Titan's natural intimidating presence. All they notice is his blazing shadow looming their houses. What you see is your lover building a wall between humans and the predators outside.

The legendary Titans are forces to be reckoned with, borne powers beyond feeble understanding. True terrors amongst the Gods they once 'fathered', a living pressure within themselves, Prometheus does not bother with bliss in ignorance. He doesn't ever try to hide what he does, what he can do. There's no denying who he is, in that he covets. He kindly appreciates those who see past appearances and approaches no vulgar.

Perhaps that's why you trust your weaker self in his care so much, Prometheus couldn't die to imagine any scenario where his beloved would earn his strife and ire, let alone hatred. The future is but a spreadsheet to The Foresight. He can only spare so much with so many differing possibilities at one time, not that it matters much in the now.

Tiny fingers contrast his tough flesh, your touch, how heavy such a privilege is in his world; soft strokes, delicate trailing, across the patient journey between the invisible line that connects chin to bottom lip. A subtle timid curiosity foreign to himself, muscles worn in tan from war and toned like rust in immeasurable warmth and moist salt.

Prometheus thought he prepared enough for this when he forsaw it; In his Foresight, within the fickle daze of his dreams, once in a blue moon. He sunk deep, indulged in those porcelain futures more times than he would like to admit. To selfishly soak in the accursed blessing of your humane swish and sway, you are beauty incarnate. It's hard to deny such pleasantries for himself when so freely gifted to him, expecting no reward in return.

Prometheus was always so gentle with humans, he needed to be. It's practically unheard of; that a human ever need be so tender with a Titan.

Silence never felt so loud. He finds that each time he reaches down he longs too not only see, but feel directly on his flesh your thoughts and emotions; Prometheus can’t honestly decide whether or neither he prefers your subtle heart-to-hearts or this forbidden peace found in the tranquility of your shared love and company.

It's pure torture, but Prometheus can't be broken, now can he?

Let it be both, you will assure him.

Let yourself have it.

And Prometheus, your Titan, your heart and soul, knows better than to question otherwise.

[charlie-shmarlie]

▪︎Behind Closed Doors (David 8 x fem reader)

Quick oneshot in which Reader and David share a secret relationship of sorts. Fluffy nonsense ensues <3

This is my first time writing for David, so I apologize if the way I depict him isn't accurate :')

Warnings: none really, reader miiight be a little touch starved, fluff

Word count: 1,998

I'm currently taking headcanon requests for David and Walter :)

---------------------🌑🪐🧬

Not everything is always as it seems. In many cases, as we walk through life, we tend to only experience things on the surface level. Not bothering to pause and allow our curiosity to explore further and deeper. We tend to observe and then simply move on without ever really knowing much more than what is easily displayed for the naked eye.

The same can be equally true for people as well.

__________ ☆

The time was at 2200 hours, meaning it was only 10:00pm or so. The night was still young. The air held a sense of peace and warmth that hung all around the young woman's quarters. Filling in any dead space and devouring the coldness that used to reside therein.

Quiet spread throughout. The only noise that could be heard was the sound of occasional movement and muttered chatter. And the constant low hum of the ship gliding through space with ease. A muffled rumble the crew had become so used to hearing.

Through the white, dimmed lights, a certain scene played out. One that was not only shocking but also quite forbidden.

A man and a woman stood intimately close together. The male's hands were clasped behind his back in a rather professional manner that might seem out of place in this interaction. His body was bent down just slightly so that the woman could properly reach him without struggle. And with a touch so gentle, she cupped the sides of his face with her palms and pressed slow, sugary-sweet pecks all about his face. His cheeks, his jawline, the corners of his mouth. Anywhere that felt right.

But whatever could be wrong with this? Aren't these just the interactions of a loving couple who are simply enjoying each other's presence in private? Well, it's much more difficult than that.

You see, the woman is a young scientist, Dr. Y/n L/n, and part of the Prometheus crew. And yes, while the man is also a fellow member, his roles can vary. And he is not simply just a 'man'. Most would argue that he's not a man at all. Which wouldn't necessarily be a lie. He's of a mechanical nature. An artificial human, if you will. Specifically, a synthetic. The David 8 model, to be exact. Although most refer to him as just David, giving him even more false humanity than he was already programmed with.

Now, I will not go into how this relationship began, or how it was even possible in the first place, because not even I truly know, which is an undeniable showing of just how well they kept such a secret.

David's lips were curled into a faint, fond smile as he stared down at the human, following her every move with his intense blue gaze. The warm sensation of her organic touch against his cold, artificial skin was unlike any other he had ever known.

She continued to hold him, smiling softly in between each kiss. Her expression held nothing but genuine love for the synthetic. (E/c) eyes glowing with warmth and tenderness as she closely admired him.

One might find it odd that she was the only one showing affection, but don't be fooled. For the two, this was the norm.

David isn't usually one for practicing physical intimacy. It's not that he doesn't enjoy it, but more that he doesn't possess the ability to feel the need to engage in it. Occasionally, he will test out very small, simple acts he learns from some of the films he watches. Such as reaching out for her hand or maybe placing a hand on her shoulder but never desires to do much of anything more. So, Y/n doesn't expect it from him.

His 'love language', if you could call it that, rather lies within the time he spends with her. His affections are incredibly subtle, and if one didn't search for them, they would never notice. But they are there regardless. Hidden faintly within his expressions and the undertones of his words, like a secret language only she can read.

However, on the other hand, when it comes to him being the recipient of physical affection. That is a different story.

He had come to deeply crave the sweet, innocent touch of the young woman. The way she would lay out every bit of her care for him and put it on display whenever they were alone. It was always clear in the way she held onto him, like he might disappear if she were to let go. And in the way she spoke so kindly to him, always ignoring the fact that he isn't a 'real person.'

He understood just how profound her love was for him. Though he could never reciprocate the feeling, as it is an exclusively human one. An emotion he can never possess. Yet despite this, he, also felt intensely about her.

It was a different kind of intensity. One that he wrestled with himself to fully comprehend. But it was the closest thing he could relate to that elusive emotion. It was like a puzzle piece stuffed into the wrong picture. It didn't fit quite right, and it looked rather strange. Yet, it appeared just similar enough to work. And that was enough for both of them.

Y/n's lips grazed over the smooth surface of David's flawless complexion. Pressing yet another delicate kiss to the top of his cheekbone.

"You're at your most affectionate tonight, Dr. L/n" He observed plainly. His tone shifting subtly and holding a certain sense of playfulness when addressing her by the professional title. His eyes never once straying from hers.

She suppressed an airy giggle. Pulling back a bit, enough to directly meet his eyes, she suggested,

"Sorry, would you like me to stop for now?" her voice hushed, yet steady, still close enough that the warmth of her gentle breaths fanned his face. Hand sliding down to his neck.

His gaze trailed down to her lips as she spoke before gradually reuniting with her e/c pools once again. Silently analyzing her every blink, dart, breath, and quiet shifting from top to bottom. His system processing and storing the information away in his memory bank while generating an appropriate response within an instant.

"Not at all," he assured, "By all means, please, continue with your..." his words died out for a few seconds. Creating a purposeful tension. A subtle hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, transforming his smile into a light smirk. His hands remained clasped behind his back as he stood unnaturally still. However, the way he looked down at her felt as though a pair of strong arms had already encircled her smaller form.

"...Human displays of affection." he finished. Satisfied with the light, rosy hue that tinted her cheeks. 

Her hands traveled down to meet the tops of his firm shoulders. The lifeless chill of his artificial skin seeped through the soft fabric of his plain, grey t-shirt, greeting her contrasting palms. A stark reminder of just who, and what, exactly she had fallen so hard for. Odd as it may seem, the reminder only rallied up sudden swarms of butterflies in her stomach and a cozy feeling deep in her chest. Something she would experience often when in the android's presence.

She gingerly dug her fingers into his skin in a mindless and calming repetitive motion, letting out a sigh of contentment. Bringing more comfort to herself than to him, though the act didn't go unappreciated. He could feel the gentle vibrations of a hum replying from within her chest against his sensors as she leaned the side of her head into his frame.

"I wish you didn't have to leave tonight," she whispered, momentarily closing her lids and listening to the consistent low whirr of his internal mechanics.

His eyes scanned over her every feature meticulously. Taking note of how calm and at peace she appeared to be. How her body seemed to practically melt into his. How her long lashes fluttered when she brought her eyes up to meet his again. And how her beautiful h/c hair fell all around her face, framing it perfectly in the warmth of the dim lights. Strands catching themselves on his shirt and clinging relentlessly, similarly to the human standing before him.

He stared back at her with endearment. Committing the sight of her like this to memory.

"As do I. Although, I'm afraid suspicions may be raised if I am absent for too long," he pointed out.

"Yeah, I know," she sighed again, knowing it was a stretch but still ever hopeful.

She tried to come up with safe scenarios and excuses to make it work in her head, but deep down she recognized that it would be a bad idea that would likely only lead to trouble in the long run. There would be plenty of chances to get caught or even just draw unwanted attention, and things could get messy in a hurry if even one person began to wonder about the relationship between the human and the android. And that was something neither of them could afford.

Soon enough, they both came to an agreement that David would stay with her until she was ready for bed. Then, he would leave to return to his duties and studies aboard the ship. 

He watched with interest as she went about her nightly rituals. Waiting patiently for her outside of the small bathroom every crew member had attached to their living space while she changed into some comfortable clothes. Then, re-emerging wearing something so simple as a plain, oversized, white t-shirt and a pair of dark blue shorts.

As she sat down in front of the mirror on her vanity, she got lost in the mundane task of brushing out her hair and wiping off makeup. Not knowing just how intensely a certain someone observed her from behind. Taking in her every movement and expression she made. 

His head tilted slightly. Gaze latching onto everything she did as if studying some undiscovered ethereal creature. From the very first time he had laid eyes on her, lying blissfully unconscious in her cryogenic state, he found himself rather captivated. Her appearance bringing him a sense of something like pleasure that unknowingly drove him to want to learn more about her. Understand her. Be near her.

He could only compare her charm to that of an ancient oil painting. So pleasant to look at on the surface with many layers of complexities hidden underneath. So much yet to explore and discover and contemplate. 

Once she had finished, she returned to the synthetic. Rising up on the ends of her toes and leaving one last lingering kiss on his cheek; a sort of bittersweet gesture to say: 'goodnight.'

"Maybe someday, when this is all over, we won't have to do this," she wondered out loud. A twinge of uncertainty marring her hopeful expression. Her thumb lightly caressing his skin, hesitating to pull away.

It was a pleasant idea; the thought of them having something of a life together. Completely unrealistic, yes, but pleasant, nonetheless.

Her heart jumped when two hands came to grip the tops of her arms. Holding her carefully in place. The rare contact of his fingers sent a shiver down her spine. There were only a few seconds of silence until he slowly leaned in and planted a kiss against her forehead, so light and so careful that she barely even felt the sensation of his cool lips tenderly brushing her hairline.

He remained close. His voice lower than before as he muttered softly over her skin,

"Perhaps."