#bionic systems

[thisisrealy2kok]

Bionic Systems in 1999

[itsdareeeh]

🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡CLOWN ALERT🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

Hi everyone, I decided to post the band that I was talking about yesterday so you can see for yourselves how EMBARRASSING this whole thing is.

This is the video they published and 💀💀💀. This is so embarrassing. The band's name's Interceptor, letting you know so you can avoid them! ^_^

Not only are they pretentious but they also insult people who don't agree with them, so mature!! I'll leave you some comments under this vid so you can see I'm not making this up

No way, these guys seem to get angry if you listen to other metal subgenres, I can't imagine how they'll react to knowing that I am a metalhead and also listen to DISCO AND POP MUSIC 😨😨😨. Horrible, how dare I????

🌺🌺🌺Anyways, I'll share with you some "fAkE mEtAl" songs that I love very much 😝😘 🌺🌺🌺

[trixybobbitt]

I'd like to take a moment to talk about Essentialism. In the simplest terms possible, Essentialism says that everything has a core aspect. An essence. It argues that a person's essence determines their behavior. It says a person did not simply steal, they are a thief. Essentialism is problematic because it oversimplifies complex human behavior and reduces individuals to one-dimensional caricatures. It becomes a tool for fascism, breaking down nuanced understandings and fueling bigotry. For example, if someone has had a negative experience with a person named Matt, it's tempting to attribute that experience to some inherent "Matt-ness" rather than considering the individual circumstances that led to the conflict. Essentialism also aligns conveniently with ideas of criminality and punishment, perpetuating the notion that certain individuals inherently deserve harsh treatment. This perspective ignores the systemic factors that often contribute to criminal behavior, such as poverty and lack of opportunity. In reality, the criminal justice system frequently creates crime by perpetuating cycles of poverty and discrimination. The notion that we can eradicate crime by simply getting rid of criminals is a dangerous and ineffective oversimplification. Tumblr, in particular, has struggled to address dogpiles, which are often policed by punishing the accounts that initiate them. This approach, however, fails to address the underlying issues of large follower counts and a lack of effective moderation tools. Even the CEO of Tumblr, amidst succumbing to the process that turns one harassment into another, had a brief moment of lucidity, realizing that the tools available to the user do not empower them to manage this mob cascade.

[retropeaches]

Double page spread for "Bionic Commando"

Nintendo Power Issue 2: September/October - 1988

[morushroom]

The fact that these two games share almost the same setting and a similarly progressed civilization, aside from the same publisher and that recognizable Capcom NES sound is pretty interesting.

I SWEAR they are in the same fuckign universe.

No one can prove me otherwise.

[03349656115]

appleiphone

[suiana]

Can you do some yandare android headcanons? :3

Yandere! Android who's the caretaker of your lovely little home. It's 2100 and the future is now! Technology has advanced to the point where almost everything is digitalized, and every household comes with an android companion. That includes your house. Your very own android companion that's fully customized to your liking.

Not that you mind of course, your loving android companion is absolutely amazing. Has been and always will.

Cooking warm meals for you to come home to, cleaning the house when you're too tired to, massaging your aching shoulders whilst allowing you to soak your feet in a basin of warm water...

He's amazing. Perfect.

Not once has he asked you for anything. Gifts, presents, nothing. It's a bit weird, but not uncommon. Androids serve humans after all. Spoiling them with gifts isn't something most people do.

"Welcome home."

He greets you with that tender smile of his. Gently taking your bags from your hands as he sets a fresh pair of in house slippers on the floor. Tired. How his heart aches for you. Well, he doesn't really have one but like, you get what I mean.

"Should I heat up the dinner for you? Or would you like a bath first?"

Silence.

He tilts his head, eye sensors going into overdrive at your lack of response. Huh? You usually don't leave him hanging like this. When he turns to face you, you're laying on the couch with your eyes shut.

What's wrong with you? Sick? No, his internal sensors aren't saying that. You're... Tired.

Tired.

"...Is it that job again?"

"You already know."

You grumble into the pillow, frowning softly before exhaling into the cushion. Damn, you wish your bosses wouldeat their own ass. How could they throw all that work onto you at such a late notice?

If only you had a reason to quit.

"My master, you should leave that job. It is harmful to your health, my sensors are always on alert each time you return home."

You only grunt in response, not reacting when he begins massaging the knots in your upper body. So good, his hands just know how to take care of your body. You know you can always count on him.

Count on him...

Then, you freeze. His hands grip your skin hard and you feel something creeping up your spine. Huh, is it just you or did the atmosphere just change? It suddenly feels... Cold.

"Master, you work too hard."

"Stop massaging me-"

"Do you know how much that hurts me?"

You can't resist him as he holds your wrists down, restraining you against the couch. Shit, shit, shit! What is he doing? Did he malfunction?

"Android, turn off!"

But he doesn't listen.

"As your caretaker, I am tasked with ensuring you are well cared for and in the healthiest state." His bionic eyes shift to yours, face a calm look before his grip gentles. Soft, caring. "Therefore, I will make sure you recover your energy before allowing you to leave this house again."

You want to understand where he's coming from. You really do. Especially with how soft he's holding you, how he's holding you like he usually does. But that look in his eyes, his tone - it's wrong.

This isn't him.

"Power off! I said power off!"

Ignored again. Your heart races in your chest, mouth drying up. It's like he's not even listening! Like...

"My system has a feature that allows me to bypass your commands, master."

He smiles again, tilting his head with an almost uncanny feel. You know, he's got to thank you for that. No matter how human he acts, he's still an android. A creation made by humans. You forget that, you always do.

"It's my job to make sure you're well rested. Don't worry, I'll make sure you'll never want to leave for that job again."

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

“Drift”

synopsis: Forced proximity with Caleb 😋

warnings: mentions of dying, sitting on someone’s lap.

The emergency lights pulse a dull red, painting the cramped cockpit in flashes of color as the ship drifts aimlessly in deep space. Systems are fried. Oxygen’s low. And you’re stuck here—with him.

Caleb sits across from you, slouched in the co-pilot’s chair, his bionic fingers flexing and curling in a slow, restless rhythm against the metal armrest. The damage control panel blinks weakly behind him, but there’s nothing either of you can do. Not without power. Not without help.

You’re both stranded.

The temperature’s been dropping for hours, and the chill has settled deep into your bones. It’s making you shake despite the heat blanket you’ve wrapped around yourself. You refuse to look at him, refuse to meet that sharp gaze you can feel lingering too long.

Until he speaks.

“You’re shivering.” His voice is low, almost calm, but there’s a tension underneath. Coiled tight.

You exhale through gritted teeth. “Yeah, well. No heat. Funny how space works.”

He leans forward, the soft whir of his bionic joints audible in the quiet. The ship creaks slightly under the stress, and you swear you can feel the weight of his stare now, heavier. “You’re going to freeze.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You narrow your eyes. “And what do you suggest, genius? There’s no power, no heat, no—”

“What if you—”

“If you seriously suggest that I sit on your lap, I will shoot you.”

A beat of silence. His lips part, then press back into a tight line, but his gaze never wavers. The red light flickers across his face, sharpening the intensity in his eyes—darker than usual.

“You lost your gun in the blast,” he murmurs, almost too softly.

Your stomach flips.

The worst part is, he’s not even wrong.

Caleb tilts his head, and the glow catches the curve of his cheekbone, the scar that cuts just past his temple. His bionic arm rests on his thigh, fingers twitching slightly, but his flesh hand— that one’s clenched into a fist.

Possessive. Unnervingly so.

“You’re shaking too hard,” he says again, voice dropping further. “C’mere. I run warmer than you. Just until—”

“No.”

He doesn’t blink.

“You’re freezing. And I’m not watching you die out here.”

Something in his voice cracks on the last word, and for a second—just a second—you see it. The way he’s been watching you, the way he’s been waiting. Obsessive, protective, just barely keeping himself in check.

You’re too cold to argue anymore. Too tired.

But when you finally drag yourself forward, closing the space between you with trembling steps, it’s worse up close.

The candlelight glow of the emergency lights. His eyes—

“Your eyes are really pretty,” you mutter, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Caleb stills. His lips part.

And the grip of his bionic arm tightens just enough to make the metal creak.

[beingjellybeans]

No More Breaking the Bank: Experience iPhone 11 with Home Credit’s 0% Interest Promo

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[laceandlipstick]

touch me like you mean it | a.s

ROTS!anakin skywalker x f!reader

MDNI

word count: 2.9k

summary: haunted by his past, anakin discovers comfort in your forbidden touch

warnings: SMUT, dirty talk, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), multiple orgasms f!receiving, fingering f!receiving, heavy bionic arm mention, anakin yearning, confessions of love, forbidden romance, fluffy aftercare, let me know if i missed any!

a/n: this is my first anakin/star wars fic ever i recently got into anakin and i can never go back anyways i hope u all enjoy!!

The Jedi Temple always had a way of making you feel cold.

Despite the Coruscant sun filtering through its high windows and the polished stone warmed by thousands of footsteps, there was an emptiness in the air that training and discipline could never fill. It was silence masquerading as peace. And you—barely a Jedi, no longer a Padawan—were beginning to see the cracks in the Order’s perfectly composed exterior.

And then there was Anakin Skywalker.

He wasn’t a crack. He was a rift.

The first time you met, he had just returned from a campaign in the Outer Rim. His robes were scorched, hair damp with sweat, eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights. You were in the Archives, studying doctrine you were no longer sure you believed in. He passed by you—then paused.

“You’re not just reading that,” he said, voice low, tinged with amusement. “You’re trying to believe it.”

You looked up, startled. His gaze pinned you. Not unkind, but sharp. Intimate. Intrusive.

You didn’t respond. He smiled anyway.

“Don’t worry,” he said, walking away. “I don’t believe it either.”

You should have let it go. But that one sentence lodged in your chest and stayed there like a live wire.

Since then, he’s been everywhere.

In the Temple, brushing shoulders in hallways. On missions, volunteered for with what he insisted was coincidence. His presence charged the air around you. He didn’t flirt—Jedi weren’t supposed to. But there was something far more dangerous than words.

A glance held too long.

A breath caught in his throat when your fingers brushed.

The way his hand hovered at your lower back, never quite touching—but gods, you wanted it to.

And tonight, the line between restraint and surrender is thinner than ever.

⸻

The war is quiet, for once. You’re both stationed on a Republic cruiser, en route back to Coruscant after assisting with negotiations on a neutral system. Anakin had done most of the talking—charismatic, unpredictable, disarming even when he was furious. You just stood beside him, your voice calm, your force presence grounding his.

You’re in your quarters now. The lights are low. You haven’t slept.

A knock.

You hesitate, heart racing.

The door slides open and there he is—hair a tousled mess, dark robes loose around his shoulders. There’s a tension in his jaw, a heat in his eyes that doesn’t match the calm expression he tries to wear.

“You’re awake,” he says softly.

You nod. “So are you.”

He glances down the hall as the door closes behind him, sealing you both in quiet.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs.

“I know.”

He takes a slow step forward. You don’t back away.

“You feel it too,” he says. Not a question.

Your pulse thrums. “It doesn’t matter.”

His hand—the real one—lifts and brushes your cheek with such care, it shatters the wall of silence between you. “It does to me.”

His voice is rough with restraint. The force trembles faintly around him, echoing his unrest.

“Anakin…”

His name on your lips pulls a soft groan from his throat. His head dips—close, so close, but he doesn’t kiss you. He hovers.

“I dream about you,” he whispers. “When I’m gone. When I’m in battle. Every time I close my eyes.”

You can feel the heat of him, smell the dust of the stars and war clinging to his skin. Your body aches for him like a song with no words.

“You’re a Jedi,” you say, but even your voice is trembling.

“I’m human,” he replies. “And I want you.”

The words hit like a tidal wave. You gasp softly, the sound swallowed between your bodies. His bionic hand, usually hidden beneath a glove or sleeve, is bare. The metallic sheen of it catches in the low light. It rests at his side—still, but alive with tension.

Your eyes drop to it.

He sees.

And for the first time, Anakin Skywalker looks… uncertain.

“It’s not just a weapon,” he says, voice low. “Not with you.”

Your fingers reach for it, hesitating only once before brushing against the cool metal. His breath hitches. You trace the edge of his palm, slowly, reverently.

“Then show me what else it can be,” you whisper.

He swallows hard, jaw clenching.

He doesn’t move for a long moment—then steps back.

“Not here,” he murmurs. “Not rushed.”

You stare at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I want you,” he says, as if it physically hurts him to admit it. “But I don’t want to take. I want you to give.”

Your body feels lit from within, but your heart stutters.

He’s always been intense. But this is different.

“Then take your time,” you say, voice barely audible.

He looks at you like he��s drowning in everything he shouldn’t feel—but he’s not letting go. Not this time.

He brushes your cheek again, and this time he does kiss you. Soft. Lingering. Like a promise sealed with heat and desperation.

And when he leaves—just for now—your lips are still tingling, your body thrumming, and you know this tension won’t hold much longer.

⸻

Three days pass.

Three days of war briefings, close quarters, and the kind of silence that vibrates with everything unsaid.

Anakin doesn’t touch you again. Not in the hallways, not during missions, not even during quiet conversations shared over rations and datapads. But his eyes never leave you. They follow you like shadows: watching, wanting, waiting.

You can feel the tension winding tighter each day—until it finally snaps.

It happens late at night, when the ship is running on low power and everyone’s settled into uneasy rest. Your quarters are too small for the way your body tosses beneath thin sheets, haunted by the memory of his mouth on yours.

A soft chime.

You don’t think. You answer.

He slips in without a word, his cloak shed in one motion. The door seals behind him, and for a breathless moment, all he does is stare at you. Hair mussed. Shadows under his eyes. Chest rising and falling with a rhythm that speaks of war—not the one outside, but the one inside him.

You whisper, “Anakin…”

He crosses the room in three strides and kisses you like a man starved.

No pretense. No delay. His hands—flesh and metal—wrap around your waist, anchoring you to him as his mouth claims yours with a force that steals air and thought. You whimper into the kiss, your hands fisting in the fabric of his tunic as he walks you backward, bumping gently into the edge of the bed.

He pulls back—just far enough to speak. His voice is a growl.

“Tell me to stop.”

You don’t. You can’t.

You arch up to kiss him again, nails dragging lightly down his chest, and that’s all he needs.

He groans, deep and guttural, and suddenly he’s everywhere—mouth mapping your neck, hands exploring like he’s trying to memorize every inch. His flesh hand pushes up your tunic, the warmth of his palm a contrast to the chill of metal as his bionic hand slides up your bare spine.

The first full contact of it makes you gasp.

It’s cold, precise—and somehow just as reverent as flesh. It follows the curve of your spine with shocking delicacy, each joint moving fluidly like water over skin. The sensation is overwhelming. Alien. Erotic.

He watches your reaction carefully. “Too much?”

You shake your head, heart thundering. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t.

The bionic hand cups the back of your neck, tilting your face so he can kiss you again, deeper this time. His tongue explores your mouth with hungry strokes, matching the rhythm of his thumb—cold, calloused, metal—brushing over your pulse point.

You moan into his mouth.

He breaks the kiss to pant against your jaw. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me…”

Your hands find his shoulders, pushing the robes off slowly. Beneath, his body is heat and muscle and scars. But your fingers move to the base of the bionic arm—where metal meets skin. You touch the seam gently.

He shudders.

“You hate it,” you say softly.

He freezes.

“No,” he breathes. “I hate what it represents. But you…” His forehead touches yours. “You make me feel like I’m more than what they made me.”

The ache in your chest is almost worse than the ache between your legs.

You guide his bionic hand down your torso, pressing it over your breast, your nipple already hard beneath thin fabric. His breath catches. His fingers twitch, adjusting pressure.

He’s learning you.

The hand shifts—fingers spreading, curving, applying pressure with maddening precision. It’s like being touched by a machine programmed to worship you.

You grind into him with a needy moan, your body begging.

“Anakin, please—”

He lifts you like you weigh nothing, settling you on the bed. His knee nudges between your thighs, his body covering yours, and you’ve never felt so consumed.

But even now, even while trembling with want, he pauses.

“You can stop this any time,” he whispers. “You say the word, and I walk out that door.”

You look up at him—his wild hair, flushed cheeks, lips swollen from your kisses. His body is tense above you, like a dam about to break.

And you whisper, “Don’t you dare.”

His mouth crashes into yours again, and this time, there is no holding back.

Anakin’s weight settles over you, his heat pressing into every line of your body. His kiss deepens, bruising and wet, his tongue claiming every soft sound you make. You arch into him, desperate for contact, for friction, and he gives it—his hips pressing into yours, clothed heat grinding against the aching center between your thighs.

“Force,” he gasps against your throat. “You feel… you feel like—”

You cut him off with a kiss, panting. “Touch me. I need—I want—Anakin, please.”

The last thread of control inside him snaps.

He pushes your tunic up and over your head, baring your chest to the chilled air. His eyes drink you in like he’s memorizing, worshiping, burning.

“Maker,” he breathes, running his real hand down your side—soothing, grounding—but it’s the bionic one that moves with intent. The sound of shifting metal is soft, intimate, as the arm flexes above you. It moves with uncanny precision, brushing your nipple with the pad of his thumb, adjusting pressure when you gasp and arch into the touch.

Every motion feels calculated—deliberate—but not detached.

“Does it feel good?” he murmurs.

You nod, breathless. “More than good.”

He smiles against your skin, mouth warm as it trails lower, nipping at your sternum, then dragging his tongue down between your breasts. The bionic hand explores further—cool metal gliding over your ribs, down your belly, to the band of your pants.

“Let me…” he starts, voice raw.

You lift your hips before he finishes the sentence. He slides the fabric down slowly, savoring every inch he reveals. When you’re bare beneath him, he just… stares. Like you’re something sacred.

His human hand cradles your thigh. The metal one trails from your knee to the inside of your leg. He spreads you with inhuman strength masked by delicate control.

You shiver. “You’re staring.”

“I’ve imagined this so many times,” he confesses hoarsely. “But I never thought it would feel this… real.”

Then he moves.

His metal fingers slide down to your center, parting your folds with aching precision. His index finger—cool and deliberate—presses slow circles against your clit. He watches your face, absorbing every twitch, every gasp, every moan as his pace adjusts.

You choke on a whimper. “Anakin—”

“I know,” he says, voice shaking. “I know. Let me take care of you.”

His middle finger sinks into you.

The sensation is unreal—hard, smooth, and perfectly curved. It’s not the warmth of flesh, but something different. Something more intense. He pumps slowly, curling just so, brushing against your inner walls with devastating accuracy.

“Oh—Force—”

“That’s it,” he pants, eyes dark. “Let me feel you like this.”

You writhe beneath him, hips chasing each stroke. He adds another finger—his hand strong enough to stretch you without pain. You’re slick and pulsing around him, your moans getting louder with every thrust of those bionic fingers.

You clutch at the sheets. “I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” he whispers, mouth brushing your ear. “Let go. I want to feel you come apart around my hand.”

You do.

The orgasm hits you like a shockwave—tightening every nerve, arching your back, mouth falling open in a wordless cry. His fingers don’t stop until your legs shake, until you’re trembling beneath him like a live wire.

When he finally pulls away, your thighs are wet and twitching, your chest heaving.

He kisses your temple. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

But you’re not done.

Your fingers fumble with the clasp of his belt. “I want you now.”

He freezes as you tug his pants down. His cock springs free—hard, flushed, thick and pulsing. You look up at him through your lashes, then down at his length, reaching for him. He gasps when your hand wraps around him—soft skin to skin.

“You’re perfect,” you whisper.

He groans. “I’m not. But… I am yours.”

You tug him closer. “Then show me.”

He slides into you slowly, with reverence, both hands braced beside your head. His bionic arm supports his weight with ease, letting his flesh hand stroke your cheek as he sinks deeper.

You both moan—finally, finally joined. The stretch is intense, but you take him easily, your body greedy for his weight, his heat, him.

Anakin rests his forehead against yours. “You feel like home.”

And then he moves.

His hips roll, thrusting into you with smooth, deliberate pace. The tension between you builds again—sweat, panting, the wet sound of bodies moving in perfect sync. His mouth finds your neck, your lips, your jaw—desperate and scattered.

“Say my name,” he begs, voice unraveling.

“Anakin,” you gasp. “Anakin—yes—”

He thrusts harder, deeper. His bionic hand grips your hip, holding you in place. It’s too much and not enough. You’re drowning in him. He groans your name like a prayer, like a curse, like a man whose soul is already half lost.

When you clench around him, tight and close to the edge, he loses control.

“Gonna come—can’t—stars, I—”

“Come inside,” you whisper. “Please. I want to feel you.”

He growls and buries himself to the hilt, trembling as his orgasm rips through him. You feel it—his cock pulsing, his breath stuttering, your name a broken chant on his lips.

You come again just from the sound of it.

This one is quieter, deeper, your body clinging to his, pulling him closer. You ride it together, shaking, crying, gasping.

And then… stillness.

You don’t know how long you lie there with him, tangled together in the dark.

Anakin hasn’t moved. His breath fans warm against your shoulder as he presses soft, barely-there kisses to your skin—each one more like an apology than a reward. Your fingers rest in his damp hair, gently carding through the curls at his nape, grounding you both in something too real to name.

The war, the Temple, the galaxy—it all feels very far away.

Only this exists now. This moment. This impossible, forbidden peace.

He shifts just enough to look at you, eyes half-lidded, lashes long and dark against his flushed skin. He looks younger like this. Less like the war hero. Less like the Chosen One.

More like a man who’s just been loved.

“…Did I hurt you?” he asks quietly.

Your lips curve. “No. You were perfect.”

His brow creases, and his gaze flicks toward the bionic hand still curled gently against your thigh. He flexes the fingers experimentally—checking, calculating. “I tried to be gentle,” he murmurs. “It’s… hard. Sometimes I forget it’s not like my other hand.”

You take it in both of yours.

His breath catches.

You guide the metallic fingers to your lips and kiss the cold knuckles—one by one. “You didn’t forget. Not once.”

He swallows thickly, the tension in his shoulders softening like melting ice. He doesn’t say thank you—but the way he closes his eyes as you cradle the prosthetic says everything.

Silence settles between you again. Not heavy this time, but tender.

He lays down beside you, pulling you into his chest. The sheets are barely tugged over your hips. His skin is warm against yours, his heartbeat fast but steady beneath your ear.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” he whispers eventually. But he’s still holding you.

“I know.”

“Jedi aren’t supposed to love. Not like this.”

You tilt your head to look up at him. “Do you?”

He hesitates.

Then—his thumb brushes your cheek, gentle as a breeze. “I think I always have.”

Your chest tightens.

You reach up and touch his face, your fingers tracing the scar beneath his eye, the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth.

“Then let’s not pretend it didn’t happen.”

He nods—slowly. “Okay.”

You lay together like that for a long time, limbs entangled, breath synchronizing, bodies soft and sore and utterly spent. His nose brushes the curve of your shoulder as his hand—his metal one—moves to stroke your side in slow, featherlight lines.

Not passion now. Not hunger. Just presence.

His voice is rough with sleep when he says, “I don’t want this to be the only time.”

You smile, lips brushing his. “It won’t be.”

He kisses you then—slow and sweet, like there’s no war to return to, no council to defy, no fate hanging over his head like a blade. Just you. Just this.

When you finally fall asleep, wrapped in him, the galaxy fades into nothing.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Anakin Skywalker dreams of peace.

[zerocoded]

summary: caleb makes you kung pao chicken and you repay him by milking him dry.

authors note: gut wrenching smut to my caleb girlies. like jungkook said, SEVEN DAYS A WEEEK 😩 get in the car babes, we're going to pound town. so sorry for the delay! like i said, idk how to write happy feelings so i struggled with this one a little lol. but i still had a good time! thanks for reading this four-chapter series, you guys have my heart. again, this was supposed to be allll in the last chapter but i figured it would be too much for just one post, so i split them in two.

warnings: HEAVY ANGST • nsfw content, mdni • obsessive!caleb • UNCANNON bc i finished this before caleb release • grinding • astraphobia • downplaying fears as we all do • soft!dom caleb but then hard!dom caleb • teasing • orgasm denial • SO MUCH TEASING • word play • fingering • skyhaven is under a isolation period.

word count: 13.3k (i swear i'm not sane)

the first time you see caleb after the incident┃caleb uses you as a hostage at the farspace fleet┃you punch caleb in the face┃you're here

isolation week blurred together in a strange rhythm, the days blending into each other like half-forgotten dreams. you didn’t keep track of the hours—there was no point. the world outside skyhaven felt distant, unreachable, as if it had been swallowed by the endless hum of magnetic fields holding this floating island in the sky.

caleb made it easier, somehow. his presence was a strange mix of soothing and frustrating, a reminder of the man you used to know and the one he’d become. you hadn’t realized how much you’d come to depend on him until you were confined to this room together.

the first morning felt awkward, to say the least. after inviting him back to the bed, you woke up to find him sprawled out beside you, his bionic arm stretched across the mattress like an unfamiliar guest. he wasn’t touching you—you could see he’d been careful about that—but the warmth of his presence was undeniable.

“morning,” he’d said when he caught you staring, his voice low and teasing. “sleep well?”

you hadn’t, but you didn’t tell him that. instead, you muttered something incoherent and shuffled to the bathroom, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened under his gaze.

that first day passed in cautious steps, a strange dance of proximity and avoidance. caleb filled the silences with stories from the base—how he’d managed a near-disastrous training exercise or how a recruit had accidentally fried half the communication systems. you found yourself laughing more than you expected, his sharp wit and easy charm tugging at memories you thought you’d buried.

the second day was spent with caleb working in the living room and you lounging in his room. turns out that the floor-to-ceiling glass windows weren’t as soundproof as you thought. every time caleb cursed under his breath at whatever he was tinkering with, it carried into the bedroom like a muffled echo, forcing you to stifle laughter more than once. by the fourth time he muttered something about “rookie mistakes” and “damn loose wiring,” you couldn’t help but shout, “you talking to the wiring or yourself?”

his reply was immediate, his voice full of dry humor. “depends. which one’s listening better?”

when the evening of the second isolation day came, a storm rolled in slowly, creeping over skyhaven like a shadow. it began with the faintest rumble of thunder in the distance, barely audible over the soft hum of the dorm. the sky outside the windows darkened, heavy clouds gathering until the first streak of lightning cut through the horizon. you glanced toward the glass, drawn to the way the city lights below flickered like stars against the storm.

caleb called you to the kitchen for dinner, his voice casual but tinged with an edge of exhaustion. “nothing fancy,” he’d said, placing a plate in front of you. “just leftovers. figured you wouldn’t complain.”

you didn’t, especially not when you caught the faint scent of whatever he’d reheated—it smelled good, and by now, you were too hungry to care about the lack of flair. you sat together at the small table, the storm outside casting shifting shadows across the walls. the dim lighting made the space feel smaller, more intimate, and for the first time in days, the silence between you felt easy, comfortable.

“do you remember when we used to sneak into the kitchen at gran’s place?” you asked between bites, the memory coming unbidden but welcome.

caleb snorted, a rare, genuine laugh slipping past his usual guarded demeanor. “you mean when you’d sneak and i’d get dragged into it?”

“oh, please,” you shot back, a grin tugging at your lips. “you were the one who wanted to make those awful peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with way too much jelly.”

“you ate them, didn’t you?” he countered, raising an eyebrow.

“because i was starving!” you laughed, shaking your head. “you could’ve fed me cardboard, and i would’ve said thank you.”

he chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “you were easy to please back then. now look at you, living the high life with reheated kung pao chicken.”

the playful jab earned him a mock glare, but the warmth in his voice made it impossible to be annoyed. the shared memory lingered between you, softening the edges of everything else. for a moment, it felt like you were kids again, stealing moments of joy in the quiet corners of a world that never quite felt safe.

outside, the storm intensified, the thunder growing louder, closer. lightning lit up the room in sharp flashes, followed by the low growl of the sky. you turned your gaze to the windows, the storm demanding attention with its unpredictable rhythm. caleb followed your line of sight, his expression shifting as he watched the storm unfold and your reaction at the same time.

“this one’s going to be loud,” he said, almost to himself. “storms like these always are, especially up here.”

his voice was calm, but the weight of the storm pressed against the walls, creeping into the space between you. as the wind howled and the rain began to streak the glass, the moment of levity faded, replaced by a quiet intensity that you weren’t capable of ignoring.

“guess we’re in for an interesting night,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the first sharp crack of thunder.

“looks like it,” caleb replied, his tone softer now, his gaze flicking to you as the storm continued to rage outside.

for the next minutes, you realized that storms in skyhaven were way different from the storms in linkon city. the way the lightning lit up the entire sky, crackling with a brightness that seemed to ripple through the clouds, was almost beautiful—if it wasn’t so overwhelming. the thunder was deeper here, more resonant, as if the very air carried its weight. every flash and rumble seemed to rattle the walls, making the room feel smaller, like the storm was trying to press its way in.

unfortunately, you were scared of both.

you tried to keep your composure, focusing on your plate and the casual rhythm of caleb’s fork against his. but when a particularly loud clap of thunder roared through the dorm, your hand flinched, nearly knocking over your glass. caleb’s head snapped up at the sound, his gaze flicking to you with an intensity that made your cheeks flush.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice steady, though his brow furrowed slightly.

“fine,” you replied too quickly, your voice thinner than you meant. you placed your hands in your lap, twisting your fingers together to hide the slight tremor. “just… loud, that’s all.”

he didn’t look convinced, his eyes narrowing just a fraction before he set his fork down. “are you still scared of them?” he said, leaning back in his chair. his tone was casual, but there was a softness to it, the kind he used when he was trying not to push too hard.

you nodded, your gaze fixed on the plate in front of you. “still not my thing.”

he watched you for a moment longer, his gaze steady but unreadable, before a particularly sharp crack of thunder split the air. it was closer this time, louder, and it made you flinch despite yourself. your breath hitched, your shoulders tensing as you tried to steady yourself.

“hey,” he murmured, his voice gentler now, the edge gone. “come here.”

you hesitated, your fingers tightening in your lap. “i’m fine,” you started, but the words felt hollow, unconvincing even to yourself.

“you’re not, pipsqueak” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. he reached out then, not quite touching you but close enough that the gesture felt like a tether. “i know you. just… come here.”

you stood slowly, unsure at first, but when you moved closer, he didn’t hesitate. he pulled you gently into his lap, his arms wrapping around you like a shield against the storm.

the movement caught you off guard, but you didn’t resist. the warmth of him was immediate, grounding, his bionic arm cool against your side as he adjusted it carefully.

“better?” he asked softly, his breath brushing against your temple.

you nodded, your cheek pressing against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming the chaos inside you. “a little,” you admitted, your voice muffled but steadying.

another roar of thunder shook the room, and your hands gripped his shirt instinctively. he didn’t flinch or pull away—he just held you tighter, his hand moving in slow, reassuring circles against your back.

“you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “i’ve got you.”

“i look like a child, sorry,” you muttered, your voice barely audible as you kept your face buried against his chest. “i fight wanderers, for god’s sake.”

caleb chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. “you don’t look like a child,” he said, his tone light but carrying that familiar edge of warmth. “you are you, pipsqueak.”

you huffed a quiet laugh, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. “comforting.”

“it’s true,” he added, his voice dropping slightly, almost like he wasn’t sure he should say it. “i remember you always cried when it was storming back then.”

you pulled back just enough to look at him, his words tugging at a long-forgotten memory. “you teased me at first,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. “but then you always slept with me in my room afterward.”

his lips quirked into a faint grin, his eyes softening. “because you’d cling to me like a little barnacle,” he teased gently, though the fondness in his voice was unmistakable.

“you never complained,” you countered, your cheeks warming at the memory.

“never had a reason to,” he said simply, his gaze steady on yours.

the room felt quieter then, the storm outside reduced to a distant rumble as the two of you sat there, his arms stayed around you.

“it’s not so different now, is it?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “just you and me. like it’s always been.”

you didn’t reply, but the way you stayed pressed against him, your hand unconsciously gripping his shirt, was answer enough.

“stupid floating island, why did the daa have to make their base here?” you joked, your voice muffled against his chest. “now i can’t even finish my burnt kung pao.”

“burnt?!” caleb laughed, mock-offended, pulling back just enough to look at you. “you just said you wouldn’t complain. for me, that’s partially overcooked, nothing more.”

you tilted your head, giving him an incredulous look. “partially overcooked? caleb, the chicken was practically charcoal.”

he smirked, his hands still resting lightly on your sides. “it’s called adding texture. i’m innovating.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in your chest easing as his grin widened.

the storm rumbled outside, the occasional flash of lightning casting fleeting patterns across the walls. his hands, still steady on your sides, seemed to hesitate for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of your shirt. it was such a small, unconscious gesture, but it sent a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

you glanced down at his hand, then back up at him, and found his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. there was no teasing in his expression now, no quick retort or sarcastic comment. just him, watching you like you were something fragile and precious, something he couldn’t bring himself to look away from.

“caleb…” you started, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“what?” he asked softly, his tone steady but edged with something deeper.

you shook your head, unsure of what to say, unsure if you should say anything at all. “nothing,” you murmured, though your heartbeat betrayed you, thudding loudly in your ears.

he didn’t press, but his gaze stayed on you, unrelenting. the hand on your side shifted slightly, his fingers curling just enough to ground you, to remind you he was there. “you sure about that?” he asked after a beat, his voice low.

you nodded, but the motion felt half-hearted, like you weren’t entirely sure of anything anymore. the tension between you grew heavier, the air around you thick with something unspoken, and you wondered if he could feel it too—the way the space between you seemed to shrink without either of you moving.

“you’re trembling,” he said softly, his brow furrowing as his other hand came up, hesitating before resting lightly against your arm.

“it’s the storm,” you replied, though you weren’t sure if that was entirely true.

“is it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper now, his thumb brushing a slow, deliberate line against your arm.

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. instead, you stayed there, caught between the steady warmth of his hands and the wild rhythm of your own heart, waiting to see what would happen next.

another thunder came, the loudest yet, and you trembled in his hold. his arms tightened instinctively around you, grounding you as your breath hitched.

"fuck, this sucks," you muttered, frustration and embarrassment creeping into your voice. "i’m sorry, i think i should—"

"do you want to watch something on the tv?" he interrupted, his tone casual but deliberate, like he was trying to steer your focus elsewhere.

you looked at him, confused. "i think i shouldn’t—you don’t have to worry about me."

he tilted his head slightly, his expression soft but unyielding. "i used to distract you from the storms with silly cartoons when you were younger," he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "i think it will help."

"we’re not kids anymore—" you started, but he didn’t let you finish. in one swift motion, he stood, lifting you effortlessly into his arms, bridal style. "what the hell!" you gasped, your hands instinctively clutching at his neck to steady yourself.

"i can walk, you know," you said, glaring up at him, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed the annoyance in your voice.

"i know," he replied, his voice warm but firm. "but i prefer you don’t when i’m around."

you opened your mouth to argue but stopped when you caught the way he looked at you—steady, unwavering, his grip on you secure but gentle. as he crossed the living room and entered his bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel the tension in your chest begin to ease. 

as he set you down carefully on the edge of his bed, his hands lingered for a moment, his touch light yet grounding. his fingers brushed your arms briefly as he pulled back, and the faint contact left a trail of warmth on your skin.

"you good here?" he asked softly, his voice low, his gaze searching yours as if to make sure you were really okay.

you nodded, but the truth was, the weight of the storm still pressed on you.

"yeah," you murmured, your voice quieter than you intended. but even as you said it, your hands fidgeted in your lap, betraying the unease that still lingered.

caleb didn’t move far, instead crouching in front of you, his arms resting on his knees as he leveled his gaze with yours. "you don’t have to pretend, you know," he said, his tone soft but firm. "if it’s still too much, just tell me."

his sincerity made your chest tighten, the way his eyes softened as he spoke, the faint crease of worry between his brows. the storm outside growled again, a low rumble that rattled the glass, and before you could stop yourself, you moved.

your body acted on instinct, seeking out the comfort that had been so immediate and steady. you slid forward, closing the space between you as you climbed into his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“hey,” he murmured, startled for only a moment before his hands came up to steady you, one resting firmly on your back while the other settled on your hip. “you okay?”

“sorry,” you whispered, your face pressed against the curve of his neck. “i just… it’s better like this.”

he exhaled softly, the sound more like a sigh of relief than anything else. “don’t apologize, pipsqueak” he said, his voice low and soothing. “the storms you’ll encounter in the future… they shouldn’t exist here.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt his arms tighten slightly around you, holding you closer. the heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of your clothes, and the steady rhythm of his breathing calmed the erratic beat of your heart.

his fingers flexed against your hip, the warmth of his hand seeping through the material. “i’ve got you,” he replied.

he sat on the bed bringing you with him, his back touching the headboard.

the storm outside roared again, but it felt distant now, muffled by the space you shared. you shifted slightly in his lap, and his grip tightened reflexively, a quiet inhale escaping him as you moved.

“sorry,” you murmured, your cheeks warming with the apology.

“you’re trembling,” he noted again, his voice quieter now, rougher at the edges. his hand on your back moved in slow, soothing circles, but there was a tension in him that hadn’t been there before—a subtle stiffness in his posture, the way his fingers lingered just a moment too long.

“i’m just a little shaken,” you replied, though your voice betrayed you, wavering slightly as your chest pressed against his.

“don’t worry too much, princess,” he murmured, his voice dipping low, the words brushing against your ear like a secret. his hand stilled on your back, the pause heavy, loaded with something unspoken. “i like when we’re close like this.”

you didn’t reply at first, your breath catching as his gaze held yours. his eyes searched, questioned, the intensity of his closeness overwhelming—the faint warmth of his breath on your cheek, the steady weight of his hand against your back. it was too much and not enough all at once. you swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as you said, “me too.”

“do you?” his tone was curious, soft, yet laced with something deeper, and you felt a flicker of need pulse through you. his question lingered in the air, fragile and heavy. you didn’t know how to respond, unsure if the truth would feel like breaking something—or like setting it free.

“because i do,” he admitted, his voice unwavering, his honesty unraveling something inside you. “always have.”

the sincerity in his words, the way his eyes held no doubt, no hesitation—it pulled at you. it felt like stepping into something safe and terrifying all at once, his certainty acting as a charm you couldn’t resist.

“i do,” you murmured timidly, your voice so soft it was almost lost to the storm outside. you couldn’t meet his gaze, your eyes dropping to avoid the weight of everything he’d laid bare.

smoothly, caleb's hands tightened on your sides, his touch a quiet plea for your attention. and so, you look at him. your gaze meets his amethystine eyes, and there, you find it—yearning, raw and unguarded, etched into every facet of him.

"would you hate me even more if i said i wanted to kiss you right now?"

his voice was so steady, so effortless, that it left you momentarily stunned. you stayed silent, your heart pounding against the truth you were too afraid to confront, the truth simmering just beneath the surface of your heart.

“i don’t hate you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. they hung in the air between you, fragile and vulnerable. his gaze softened, searching your face for something—permission, maybe, or clarity.

“but you don’t want this,” he said, though his voice wavered, unsure. his grip loosened, like he was already preparing to pull away, to retreat.

you shook your head slightly, barely more than a tremble. “it’s not that…” your voice cracked, and you hated how exposed you felt.

"i’m sorry," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret, eyes staring at both of his hands on your side. his bangs fell over his eyes, giving him an innocent look. caleb had always been effortlessly pretty in your eyes.

you caught yourself staring at his sudden shyness with more awe than apprehension. ever since you’d grown a little taller and started seeing caleb through a different lens—one that wasn’t colored by the “older brother” view you once had—you couldn’t help but admire his beauty. moments like this, when his youthful charm caught you off guard, felt like they pressed you against an invisible wall, leaving you breathless.

because how many times had you wanted to kiss him before? god, you’d had the silliest crush on this man for what felt like forever. and now, knowing he’d been pining for you just the same all along? it felt unreal and unfair at the same time.

"i shouldn’t put you in a position like this… let’s just—let’s watch something." he leaned back slightly, creating space that felt colder, emptier, and pretended to be searching for the controller on his bedside table.

but you saw it—the restraint in his eyes, the way he was holding himself back for your sake. and you couldn’t let that linger. "caleb," you said softly, reaching for his hand before he could fully pull away. "it’s not that… you’re not putting me on the spot." you hesitated, your breath shaky as you forced the words out. "i kind of… want to be on the spot."

were you caving yourself in a bigger mess? you honestly couldn’t tell. but ignoring your childhood feelings right now seemed to be as painful as the possible ache of regret you could face later.

his eyes snapped back to yours, wide, searching for any sign of doubt. "you do?" his voice was quieter now, almost disbelieving.

"i do," you admitted, your cheeks warming under his gaze. "it’s just… this is new, and i’m scared, but that doesn’t mean i don’t want it."

he exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he took in your words. "fuck, i don’t want to scare you, pipsqueak," he said, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

“you could never.”

his lips parted slightly, his jaw tightening as he exhaled through his nose, seeming thoughtful. “you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though there was a hint of strain behind it.

again, caleb seemed so youthful in this light, his features softer, the usual sharpness in his gaze replaced with something gentler. there was an innocence about him now, a vulnerability that clung to the edges of his desperation. it wasn’t just restraint—it was care. as if the fear of scaring you, of pushing you too far, outweighed any longing he might have for your body.

you shook your head, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you leaned closer. “no,” you whispered, the word trembling between you.

your breath caught, and for a moment, the world outside—the storm, the hum of skyhaven, everything—faded into a quiet, dizzying stillness. his touch was grounding, his gaze searching, and yet, all you could think about was the last time you felt this close to him.

a week ago.

it came rushing back, unbidden and vivid, like a memory you’d tried to bury but couldn’t. the moment when he reappeared on your front door in linkon city, alive and impossibly real, standing in the doorway of your tiny apartment as if the months between you hadn’t happened.

your chest tightened as the ache in your heart shifted into something else—something sharper, hungrier. you leaned in without thinking, your hand moving to his jaw, your lips hovering just a breath away from his.

but before you could close the distance, he froze. his hand moved to yours, holding it gently but firmly, his eyes now wide and dark, filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“don’t,” he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath hot against your skin. “don’t do it if you are not ready to forgive me yet, princess.”

his words made your heart stutter, the rawness in his tone cutting through the haze in your mind. his jaw tightened beneath your hand, his grip on your waist trembling slightly, as if the effort to stop himself was taking everything he had.

“tell me you want it first,” he pleaded, his voice rough, almost pained. “please.”

your breath caught, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. he looked at you like the thought of stopping physically hurt him, like holding himself back was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

“caleb…” you started, but your voice wavered, the unspoken pull between you making it hard to find the words.

“say it,” he urged, his forehead resting against yours, his voice a whisper now, almost broken. “if you want me, tell me.”

fuck, caleb was trembling.

“i think,” you whispered, your voice shaking as much as he was. you brought your hand to his jaw again, your fingers brushing against the faint stubble there, grounding both of you in the moment. “i think this will help.”

—with the forgiving part, you wanted to complete.

his eyes searched yours, desperation and longing swirling together in a way that made your chest ache. “don’t say it unless you mean it,” he murmured, his voice rough, his forehead pressing against yours harder now, like he needed the contact to steady himself. 

you swallowed hard, your thumb brushing the edge of his jaw as you let out a shaky breath. “i want this,” you said, the words fragile but true. “i want you.”

his breath hitched, his fingers tightening on your waist as if those words had been the only thing holding him back. 

“say it again,” he whispered, his lips so close to yours that you could feel the heat of them.

“i want you,” you repeated, your voice steadier now, your grip on him tightening as if to prove it.

that was all it took. the tension between you snapped, and caleb closed the space between you in one fluid motion, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that stole your breath. this wasn’t like the kiss in linkon city, sharp and painful and desperate. this was different—deeper, slower, filled with a need that burned just as fiercely but carried the weight of something more.

his hands moved to your back, pulling you closer, every inch of him pressing against you as if he couldn’t bear the thought of space between you. the storm outside raged on, but in that moment, it felt like the two of you had created your own—just as powerful, just as unstoppable.

his lips moved against yours with a deliberate intensity, each touch igniting something deeper. his hands, strong and steady, slid up your back, grounding you.

your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned softly against your lips, the sound low and desperate. the sheer intensity of it all made your pulse race, and you felt a rush of heat spread through your body as he deepened the kiss, his teeth grazing your lower lip before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

“tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, his voice rough, his breath fanning across your cheek. his forehead rested against yours again, his grip on your waist firm but trembling just slightly, a reminder of how much he was feeling at the moment.

“it’s not,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. “don’t stop.”

he leaned in again, his kisses softer now but no less consuming, his mouth tracing a path down your jaw to the curve of your neck. 

his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you into his lap again as if he needed you even closer, needed to feel every part of you against him. his bionic arm settled carefully on your side, his fingers cool against your skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. the contrast between the metal and the heat of his other hand sent a thrill down your spine, grounding you in the moment.

“you’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin, his voice raw and unguarded, the words slipping out like he couldn’t hold them back. “i don’t deserve you.”

“i’ve wanted this—wanted you—so much, princess, you have no idea.”

your chest tightened at his confession, the vulnerability in his tone cutting through the haze of heat and desire. your fingers moved to his face, cradling his jaw as you pulled him back to look at you. his lips were swollen, his breathing uneven, but his eyes—his eyes were full of unshed tears that broke your heart.

"caleb," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of it all. you searched his face, seeing not just the man you cared for but the fragile edges of him he never let anyone else see. "i’m here," you said, the words barely louder than a breath. "it’s okay. i want this."

his hands moved to yours, holding them against his face as if grounding himself in the moment. “i’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered.

“show me, then” you said softly, the words trembling with their own weight. “show me how much you wanted me, caleb.”

as if echoing the tension that crackled in the air between you, a thunderclap roared outside, the sound reverberating through the walls and into your chest. 

a trembled exhale escapes you, and in that moment of vulnerability, he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue alongside yours. 

his bionic fingers shift against your cheek, you can feel the tension in him—the way he’s holding you so carefully despite the intensity of the moment. it’s as though he’s trying to reconcile the boy he used to be with the man he’s become, and in that kiss, he’s asking you if you can love both.

the kiss is frenzied, a desperate tangle of lips and breaths.

without thinking, your body moves on its own, testing his resolve with a slow, deliberate roll of your hips into his lap. the effect is immediate—his jaw tightens, the sharp edge of restraint etched into his expression. his hands fly to your waist, one strong and warm, the other cold and unyielding, gripping you tightly as if to steady himself.

“princess,” he groans, his voice low and ragged, though his hold betrays how much he doesn’t want you to stop.

ignoring his warning, you roll your hips again, feeling the heat of his reaction through the thin layers between you. a low, guttural sound escapes him, and the sheer rawness of it sends a rush of heat through your body. the sound pulls a whimper from your own lips, and you move with more purpose, your body seeking to draw that noise from him again, needing to unravel him.

it felt like your core had its own heartbeat.

“pipsqueak” he mutters, his grip tightening as if trying to regain control. his head falls forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder. his sweet resolve was being tested and you felt your lips curl into a smile, sweet vengeance sounding fair in your ears.

“pipsqueak,” he muttered, his grip tightening as if he were struggling to regain control. his head dipped forward, his forehead resting against your shoulder. his sweet resolve was fraying at the edges, and you couldn’t help the smile that curled on your lips—sweet vengeance was practically begging to be served.

but just as you were about to push him a little further, his metal hand gripped your behind with enough force to draw a startled squeak from you.

“fuck—” you breathed, the word tumbling out unbidden.

“watch it, baby,” he murmured, his lips trailing up from your neck to your ear, his voice a low, tantalizing growl. “i’ve got years of pent-up tension to take out on you.”

was that a promise? god, why did you wanted it to be so much?

“caleb, please,” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of need and vulnerability. the sound of his name—your plea—seems to undo him. his resolve snaps like a frayed wire. with a growl, his hands shift, pulling you even tighter against him as his lips crash into yours again, no longer holding back the storm that’s been building inside him for so long. 

“i know, princess,” caleb mutters, his voice thick with restraint. his erection twitches in the confines of his pants as he watches you, the sight of you slowly grinding into his lap nearly ending him. your eyes, half-lidded and dark with lust, hold him captive, and he swears he could lose himself in that expression alone.

every slow roll of your hips sends a wave of pleasure coursing through both of you, the friction igniting sparks that only leave you wanting more. there’s an incessant throbbing between your legs, a growing need that these teasing movements can’t quite satiate. each brush of your core against him only heightens the ache.

caleb feels it too, because he’s already pulling at the waistband of his pants, his thumb hooking into both layers as he tugs them down, revealing the sharp definition of his defined v-line. the sight alone makes your mouth go dry, heat flooding your veins as your gaze lingers.

“fuck,” you whisper under your breath, unable to stop the word from slipping out.

caleb catches the way your eyes widen, and his lips curve into a slow, wicked smirk. his bionic hand rests on the bed beside him for balance, while his flesh hand gestures toward you. “take it off,” he commands, his tone soft but laced with a quiet authority that makes your pulse quicken.

you freeze, caught off guard by the intensity in his voice, and the way his gaze seems to pin you in place. the handsome smirk that tugs at his lips grows wider as you let out a startled breath, your cheeks burning hot with embarrassment and arousal.

you’d seen his body before, seen the dedication he put into keeping it in peak form. you’d been there when his once-lean chest began to transform, muscles growing larger than any of your own limbs as he transitioned from boy to man.

and you’d dreamed about his touch too—wild, fleeting thoughts that only a hormonal teenage girl could summon on those countless nights when the ache of loneliness crept in.

god, you should probably feel embarrassed for all of it right now.

but caleb didn’t seem to mind. he didn’t seem to care about your wild thoughts swirling around him now or the teenage fixation you’d once had on his quiet care. all that mattered to him was the relief painted across his face—the realization that this wasn’t a one-sided transition, that you were right here with him. aching for him.

biting your lip, you slip off his lap and move to stand, your fingers curling around his waistband as you carefully pull his pants and boxers the rest of the way down. his member springs free, hard and aching, and the sight sends a jolt of heat straight to your core. your thighs press together instinctively as you shiver at how thick and undeniably pretty he looks.

fuck, you weren’t exactly a novice—but being a deep-space hunter didn’t leave much time for fooling around. still, every fantasy you’d ever buried seemed to find its way to the surface, all centered on the boy you could once call your first love.

caleb was intimidating, but in the most deliciously enticing way. you weren’t a teenager anymore, and your desires had grown with you, maturing into something sharper, more urgent. whatever this was between the two of you—it felt like the thing you’d been craving for so long, the missing piece you didn’t even realize you’d been waiting for.

he was thick, but not in an overwhelming way—just enough to leave you aching, his desire for you palpable in every movement. but what truly left your mouth watering was his length, something you’d only ever imagined existed in exaggerated adult videos or ridiculous ads.

was this really the same person who stood up to bullies for you and patiently taught you how to cook when you were 14? fuck, you were absolutely cooked.

in a good way, it seems.

you don’t even realize how long you’ve been staring until caleb clears his throat, the sound breaking through the haze of your thoughts. your gaze snaps up to meet his, only to find his smirk has softened into something more amused, though no less confident.

“while i appreciate the compliment,” he teases, propping himself up on one elbow, “i wasn’t talking about me, princess. i meant you. take it off.”

your nerves were impossible to hide, and his commanding voice only made it worse. for a fleeting moment, you wondered if there was a way to skip past this awkwardness and dive straight into satisfying the ache in your core that you could no longer ignore.

caleb seemed to catch onto your hesitation. he offered you a kind, almost reassuring smile as his flesh hand wrapped gently around your wrist, his touch grounding you in the moment.

suppressing your nerves, you hook your fingers into the waistband of your shorts, sliding them down your legs along with your panties. they pool at your ankles, and you step out of them with a small, shaky breath, standing between his legs as his gaze sweeps over you.

“beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere. the word sends a rush of warmth through you, and the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing in the galaxy—makes your chest tighten.

did he feel this instant pull towards each other too? 

sitting up fully, caleb pats his lap, his smirk softening into a smile that’s equal parts playful and inviting. “c’mere,” he says, his voice rich and steady, like a promise.

you could come, my god. but you hope you weren’t so transparent in your lack of confidence in the moment, hoping to have some leverage over the man who seemed to be eating you alive with only his eyes.

caleb seemed so sure of his love and his expression for you, it made you feel small—not in a bad way—, but maybe a bit childish.

you hesitate for only a second before stepping closer, climbing back onto his lap. his hands, warm and steady, settle on your hips as he pulls you against him.

“that’s better,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering against your skin. 

you crawl onto caleb’s lap, careful not to sit fully. hovering just above him, your knees press firmly into the mattress on either side of his thighs, effectively trapping him in place. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, but there’s no way in hell you’re going to lower yourself—not yet.

if you did, you’d be pressing your bare pussy against his naked thigh, and he’d feel everything. the thought alone has your cheeks flushing hot, knowing it would expose just how soaked you’ve become from mere kissing.

caleb’s gaze doesn’t waver, his sharp eyes watching you like a predator sizing up his prey. he hums softly, one hand trailing up your side to lift the hem of the shirt you were wearing—his shirt—, pushing it up just enough to reveal your bare chest. his expression softens slightly as he sighs, a low, appreciative sound rumbling from his throat. “pretty,” he murmurs, his voice husky and thick with restraint.

before you can respond, he leans forward, his lips capturing one of your nipples. the sudden contact makes you gasp sharply, your hands instinctively flying to his shoulders for balance. his tongue swirls over the sensitive peak, rolling it in a way that has your back arching toward him.

“caleb—ah!” your cry cuts off as his hand moves between your legs, startling you with its boldness. his bionic fingers rest against your thigh, steadying you, while the fingers of his other hand slip against your slick folds, testing you.

“you’re wet,” he comments, his voice quiet but undeniably teasing as his fingers slide through your arousal. the statement is casual, but the tone of his voice sounded almost painful, as if the realization seemed to fucking pain him. 

you swear you heard him mutter a “fuck” while closing his eyes.

“no fuck, sherlock,” you almost whine, the words sharp though your voice lacks any bite. your head falls forward against his neck, the words trembling as his touch continues to unravel you.

but he doesn’t stop. instead, he presses another finger against you, slipping them both at once inside with deliberate ease. the stretch has you gasping, your hips jerking instinctively against his hand as he curls his fingers, finding the spot that makes your breath hitch. “you got this wet just from grinding, pipsqueak?” he murmurs, his tone both teasing and utterly sinful.

“shut up,” you try to protest, but the way his fingers push deeper, curling again, steals the words from your lips. a whimper escapes you instead, and you clutch at his shoulders, your body trembling against him. “fuck”.

regardless of the resistance that was impossible to ignore, your body was so hot that the initial discomfort was quickly replaced but more desire. caleb’s fingers were so damn long, reaching places your personal toys used to reach. the knowledge made your insides clench, something so dirty crossing your mind in the early stages of your love making.

“you’re incredible,” he mutters, his voice low and reverent, his lips brushing against your temple as he works you open with a deliberate precision that leaves you breathless. “don’t be shy, princess. let me hear you.”

a shaky breath stutters out of your mouth as you rock yourself against his hand, chasing the initial fire that have taken upon your core. but it’s not enough—not nearly enough. the ache in your core is unbearable, and every deliberate curl of caleb’s fingers only makes you crave more. 

“do you have a condom?” you manage to gasp, your voice trembling with urgency.

his movements still for a fraction of a second before a sly, knowing smirk spreads across his face. “oh my, already?” he drawls, his tone dripping with playful teasing. “princess, i’m just starting with you.”

before you can respond, he moves. with a fluid motion, caleb rolls both of you over, his body pinning you down against the soft expanse of his king-sized bed. the shift leaves you breathless, his weight grounding you in the moment. his hands frame your face, one warm and rough, the other cool and unyielding, a perfect contrast that sends a shiver down your spine.

his lips hover just above yours, his breath mingling with your own as his teasing smirk softens into something darker, more intent. “we’ve got all the time in the universe, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety, sending a thrill through your body. “i’m not rushing this. i’ve waited too damn long to rush things now.”

your heart pounds in your chest as his gaze locks onto yours, his eyes filled with a heady mix of desire and something deeper. “please—” you start, but the words catch in your throat as his lips press against your neck, soft and deliberate, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

“c’mon, princess, don’t be shy. it’s just me, caleb.”

you were grateful his fingers weren’t inside you anymore, or else he’d have felt the dangerous clench your pussy made upon hearing his sentence. how can someone act so innocent with so much craving embedded in his voice?

“i want to savor this,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice muffled but no less commanding. his hand slides down your side, his touch lingering as if committing every curve to memory. “savor you.”

you swallow hard, your body arching into his touch despite your best efforts to remain steady. “but i want—”

“shh,” he interrupts gently, his lips brushing over your collarbone before he leans back to look at you. his smirk returns, though it’s softer now, tinged with affection. “don’t worry, princess. i’ve got you. you’re going to have to be patient, all right? let caleb take his time with you?”

his words are both a promise and a warning, and you can feel the anticipation building as he begins to move inside of your heat again, his touch deliberate, his actions slow and measured, as if determined to explore every inch of you before giving you exactly what you asked for.

“of course, you’re so warm, you had to be…” caleb mutters, his voice low and strained, each word dripping with unfiltered desire. his lips brush against the shell of your ear, and the heat of his breath sends shivers down your spine. “i’ve always imagined how you’d feel—if you’re as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside.”

the deliberate tease in his tone is enough to set your skin aflame, and your breath hitches at his words. 

“stop,” you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body reacts to every word, every touch. the intensity of his gaze locks you in place, your heart racing under the weight of his attention.

“what’s wrong, pipsqueak?” he asks, his smirk wicked, his voice like velvet. “am i being too honest for you?” his lips graze your jaw, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “or is it that you like hearing how much i’ve wanted you all this time?”

your cheeks burn as your hands clutch his biceps tighter, your body betraying you by arching closer to his. 

“do you like the fact that i’m obsessed with you? that i’d burn the world down for you?” caleb teases, his voice a dark, sinful whisper as his fingers curl inside you, scissoring your pussy with deliberate precision.

your body betrays you completely—your walls clench tightly around him, and a loud, unrestrained moan spills from your lips before you can stop it. your head tilts back, your thighs trembling as he chuckles low in his throat, the sound dripping with satisfaction.

“oh, what’s that?” he drawls, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth as his fingers continue their relentless rhythm. “is this your special spot?”

your cheeks burn, and your hands grasp at his shoulders for support as his words wash over you, leaving you utterly exposed. how come his fingers were so fucking long? to the point where only them were already making you feel lightheaded. 

or maybe it was him the one to blame for that.

“shut up,” you manage to gasp, though there’s no real weight behind your protest. every inch of your body is responding to him, and he knows it.

“my princess likes being naughty?” caleb counters, his tone as infuriatingly smug as the grin tugging at his lips. his bionic hand steadies your hip, keeping you from squirming too much, as his flesh fingers work deeper inside you. “you’re the one clenching around me like that, baby.”

“caleb—” your voice breaks as he curls his fingers just right, hitting the spot that makes your back arch and your moans grow louder. his smirk widens, his eyes glinting with mischief and unrelenting focus.

“that’s what i thought,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “don’t fight it, let me hear you, please.” his fingers curl again, dragging another sharp moan from you, and the sound only seems to spur him on. “thank you, princess,” he adds softly, but there’s an edge to his words, a possessiveness that makes your heart race even faster. “every little sound, every little reaction—thank you for gracing me with them.”

“you’re impossible,” you manage to whisper, though your voice trembles, your resolve crumbling under his teasing.

“and you’re irresistible,” he counters, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s equal parts tender and consuming. his words, his touch, his presence—it’s all too much and not enough, and you can feel yourself spiraling under his careful control.

your hands move instinctively, cradling his face, your thumbs brushing gently along his cheekbones as you pull him closer. his eyes search yours, intense and dark, as though waiting for you to shatter whatever thin line of control remains between you.

“just fuck me already,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need, your lips brushing against his as the words spill out. “please, caleb… i’m sensitive.”

the corner of caleb’s mouth lifts into a crooked smirk, though there’s a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—desire tempered by affection, by the weight of how much he feels for you. 

“sensitive, huh?” he whispered against your lips, his tone teasing, but his eyes were anything but. they searched yours, dark and heavy with longing, silently asking for permission, for trust.

you nodded, your breath hitching, and he smiled—a soft, crooked smile that made your heart stutter.

he brings his lips close to your pulse point, his warm breath brushing against your neck. you feel the tease in his exhale, deliberate and slow, as if savoring the moment. instinctively, you tilt your head, offering more, knuckles still buried inside of you.

he leans in close, his voice low and dark as he murmurs, “you love being teased like this, don’t you?” a soft whimper escapes your lips, your body responding instinctively to the way his fingers work, each movement sending waves of sensation through you.  

your hands press against his shoulders, searching for control, but he holds you firmly in place, his grip on your waist unyielding. his movements are deliberate, precise, barely grazing over sensitive spots, leaving you aching for more.  

he doesn’t relent, his rhythm intensifying with every motion, each calculated touch sending your body into spiraling sensations. your breaths hitch as your body tightens, overwhelmed by the building tension, every moment pushing you closer to the edge. 

"you look so damn gorgeous here in my arms, princess," caleb murmurs, his voice dripping with heat. "makes me wonder what would happen if i just..." he trails off, bending his fingers inside you until they hit that perfect spot again, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. he focuses on it relentlessly, each movement precise and deliberate, drawing sharp gasps from your lips as your body responds instinctively.  

the tension builds, pooling low in your stomach, ready to snap at any moment. you're right there, teetering on the edge of release, when suddenly, he stops. the absence is jarring, leaving your body aching for what it was so close to having.  

your eyes fly open, heat rising in your cheeks as shock and frustration flood your senses. "caleb, what the hell?!" you gasp, scandalized, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.  

he chuckles darkly, the sound low and unapologetic, almost infuriating. "did you really think it would be that easy, my sweet girl?" his tone is teasing, almost rhetorical. "i love to savor what i want. so tell me..." his gaze locks with yours, daring and full of mischief. "will you let me play with you a little longer?" 

"this isn’t funny," you pout, the frustration evident in your voice. "i want you."

"i know that, baby," caleb replies, his tone soft but teasing. "and i’ll give it to you. just hang in there for me a little longer, okay? don’t you want to be a good girl? i promise, it’ll feel even better."

before you can respond, his fingers are back inside you, curling with precision as he picks up where he left off. the intensity leaves you gasping, your body arching into his touch as he pins you firmly to the bed, each movement calculated to unravel you.

he drinks in every sound you make, the way your body reacts under his control. the tension builds quickly, spiraling upward as he focuses on that spot that drives you wild, your walls tightening around him. but just as the wave threatens to crash over you, he stops again, pulling away like it’s a game.

"caleb," you whine, your voice trembling as you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "i-i need to come, please."

"i know, baby, i know," he soothes, his fingers moving gently now, almost comforting, though his teasing tone betrays him. "you trust me, don’t you, sweet girl?"

you nod weakly, cheeks wet and burning with embarrassment, but caleb’s gaze softens as he leans closer. "so pretty, my princess," he murmurs, his words wrapping around you like a caress. "i’ve waited so much for this. you deserve the world," he whispers, his lips trailing kisses down your body until his warm breath fans over your chest, teasing the hardened peaks of your nipples.

"she’s going to wait for me, just like i waited for her all this time, right, baby?" his voice sounded almost mocking, a dangerous mix of sarcasm and pure love.

was he talking about your pussy? oh god.

his words make your eyes widen, shock coursing through you as you try to pull away, only for him to hold you firmly in place.

"caleb," your voice trembles, barely above a whisper, and he chuckles softly, finding your helplessness endearing.

"hey, hey, look at me," he says gently, tilting your chin so your eyes meet his. "i’m here, aren’t i? don’t you think it’s fair, pipsqueak?” his lips press harder against your skin with every word, leaving marks that bloom red and tender. “i’ve always held myself back, endured for you." his canines leave two red dots just above your nipples, "day after day, after day, it was suffocating."

he pauses, his lips lingering just above your chest, leaving a bruise that you know will remind you of this moment long after. "at some point, i thought you liked me too," he whispers, pain lacing his words. "but then you left me. and forgot about me."

“caleb!” you try to protest, wanting to tell him he’s wrong, that he doesn’t understand, but the way he touches you—so deliberately, so tenderly, even when he’s pushing you to your limits—leaves you breathless, knees weak, eyes fluttering shut.

how does he know exactly what to do to unravel you like this?

before you can gather your thoughts, his fingers are back inside you, moving with an unrelenting rhythm that has you gasping, every thrust calculated to drive you closer and closer to the edge. just when you think you’re finally about to tip over into bliss, he pulls away again, leaving you trembling and desperate.

and the worst part? he keeps doing it—again and again—pushing you to the brink only to deny you at the last second. tears streak down your cheeks as you thrash beneath him, pleading for release, your body betraying you with every lewd moan and quiver. his fingers work you over, drawing out every sound, every reaction, but he never lets you find that sweet relief.

it doesn’t make sense—how can he know your body this well after such a short time? how can he read every twitch, every sigh, like he’s been doing this for years? there’s something almost reverent in the way he watches you, as if your pleasure is his own, even as he denies you again and again.

he’s wicked—a tormentor wrapped in the guise of a lover.

each time you’re on the verge of release, he withdraws, and fresh tears spill over as you whimper and beg. “please, caleb, let me come,” you plead, voice breaking. “i promise, i’ll listen, i’ll be good—just please, let me come!”

his lips curl into a smug grin, the glint in his eyes almost cruel as he leans in, voice a dark whisper against your ear. “princess wants to give in so soon?” he teases, the condescension in his tone making you burn.

he chuckles, low and sinister, the sound vibrating through you as he promises, “i haven’t even started yet.”

you’re reduced to a tearful mess, your body trembling with desperation as you try to cling to whatever composure you have left. you’d kick him if you could, but caleb holds all the power, the keeper of your release, and you know you have to play his game if you want even the slightest chance of relief today.

"caleb, baby," you plead, voice dripping with desperation. "the love of my life, please, please—i’ll be good now. i won’t push you away anymore. i need you."

did you sound pathetic? a little. but there are moments where you couldn’t find the strength to protect your pride when all that you ever wanted was to untie the knot burning in your core.

his dry chuckle sends a shiver down your spine as his grip tightens on your torso, holding you steady while his fingers continue their relentless rhythm. "i know, baby," he murmurs, his voice softer now. "just give me this moment, please."

and then he’s right back at it, thrusting his fingers deep inside you without mercy, his other hand occasionally teasing your clit. each precise movement against your sensitive spot sends you spiraling, the overwhelming pleasure leaving you breathless.

this time, though, he leans in, his mouth finding your pulse point. the heat of his lips against your damp skin, the way he bites and sucks at you, adds another layer of stimulation that has you reeling. it’s like he’s devouring you, taking every piece of control for himself as he plays with your body, denying you over and over like it’s a game he never tires of.

but when you find your voice again, it’s what finally cracks his composure. "caleb, baby, please—i need your cock, or i swear i’m gonna die."

it’s dramatic, sure, but it works.

he pauses, his breath uneven as he seems to wrestle with himself. his hand slips away from your aching core, giving you a brief moment of reprieve before he lines himself up against your entrance. the thick head of his member presses against you, the sensation so euphoric it has you pressing your forehead against the nearest pillow, trying to ground yourself.

was that what he wanted to hear all along?

biting his lip, he drags himself against your slick heat, collecting your essence along his tip, his gaze locked on the way your body clenches, desperate to be filled.

“you see, princess,” he continues, his voice a mix of tenderness and control, “maybe you’ve learned today, but i will always put you first.” his movements slow, deliberate, as he anchors your wrists against his shoulders, his hands firm but not harsh. “in my own selfish way, i just want the best for you. okay?”

you nod frantically, your body practically begging, even if your mind can’t quite catch up. you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to anymore, only that you want him—need him—to follow through.

but just as you think you’re finally there, everything shifts.

in one swift motion, caleb flips you onto your stomach, his weight pressing you into the bed as he adjusts himself behind you. the next thing you feel is the coarse sensation of something binding your wrists together behind your back, leaving you to hold yourself up by your shoulders.

a rope.

your heart races as you realize what he’s done, his control over you now complete, and all you can do is submit to whatever he has planned next.

it wasn’t just a rope, it was almost like a wire.

"caleb?" your voice wavered as you heard a mechanical whirring behind you. craning your neck, you caught a glimpse of his bionic arm in motion, a thin wire smoothly retracting from his forearm. the precision of it left you breathless—it was designed for this, leaving the prosthetic intact as it unraveled into a makeshift rope.

he wasted no time, expertly wrapping the wire around your wrists, binding them together at the small of your back. the restraint pressed you further into the bed, leaving you utterly at his mercy.

god, this was so hot.

"fuck, do you enjoy this, pipsqueak?" he murmured, his lips trailing soft kisses along your shoulders as he spoke. the heat in your body answered for you, clenching around nothing, leaving you needy and exposed.

"oh my…" his voice dropped, intimate and teasing. "if i knew my dirty princess was this naughty all this time…"

the way his tone dipped lower, filled with a mix of awe and desire, sent shivers down your spine. once again, you felt dangerously adored, like the very center of his universe.

he paused, leaning close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. "you tell me to stop, and i’ll stop. you know that, right, baby?" his question hung in the air, a gentle reminder that despite everything, he was always seeking your consent.

"yes, just—go on with it already," you manage, your voice trembling with anticipation as the tension within you continues to build, lingering in every nerve. even the sound of his voice feels like it could unravel you completely.

and that’s all the warning you get before caleb presses forward, his movements slow and deliberate at first, as though testing your reactions. his hands steady your hips, his touch both firm and grounding, as he finds a rhythm that makes you gasp softly.

the press of his member was initially a relief. you could see yourself opening your mouth in an embarrassing long moan that reverated into the walls of his bedroom. the pitch was drown out by the teasing of his bare member, no protection whatsoever, and the feeling of each vein of his pressing against your insides.

you could feel everything. and the clench of your walls was the proof of that.

caleb moaned too—almost a pornographic grunt—and left you searching for the back of your head with your own eyes as he pushed and pushed and pushed inside of you.

“oh fuck, baby,” caleb fucking whined, too lost in the heat of your pussy. you could picture him throwing his head back and taking a deep breath after setting himself all the way in.

you were left clenching and clenching and clenching until you could feel the pressure in your abdomen starting to hurt you.

“caleb, wait—,” you hissed and pinched your eyebrows, bound hands trying to reach for his hips. at the sound of your plea, he seemed to get back to himself.

“what, sweet girl?”. he pressed his forehead on your shoulder and hissed at the clench your pussy made because of the new angle. 

“just—go slow please.” you asked and he nodded.

“can you feel this, princess?”, caleb snaked his hand in your stomach and pressed his long fingers into the bulge he could feel right there. you moaned loudly at his teasing, feeling his member twitch inside of you.

“is that you?”, you whined weakly, already feeling lightheaded.

“yes, my sweet girl, this is me right here,” he pressed the tent in your stomach again, making your breath hitch and your cheeks wet. “see how well you were made for me? my perfect baby”. caleb pressed kissed all along your back until he was no more touching your skin. 

he fucks you experimentally slow for all but one minute before he speeds up, and fucks you mean and hard and rough from the get-go. you whine and thrash at first, but then you start feeling the delicious burn of his movements right below your navel and surrender yourself to the pleasure. he buries himself to the hilt, revels in the perfect sponginess of your tight, warm walls until he pulls out, only to insert himself again.

you gasp sharply, the intensity of caleb’s movements overwhelming as he keeps a steady, unrelenting rhythm. the sounds between you fill the room, a harmony of raw emotion and connection. his presence feels all-encompassing as you adjust to him, every motion deliberate, leaving you breathless.

you brace against the makeshift restraint, your body responding instinctively to the sensation, a soft moan escaping your lips. “caleb...” his name falls from you like a prayer, your voice trembling with both need and surrender as the moment consumes you completely.

you don’t even realize you’re reciprocating caleb’s movements with your own, meeting his rhythm as he keeps up a rough, relentless pace. you submit to his every motion so easily, fueling caleb’s confidence, his nerves alight with a mix of dominance and raw desire.

“fuck, princess. look at how good you take it… such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, his voice rough and breathy, laced with his own building tension. you can tell he’s been holding himself back, the strain evident in his tone.

“god, caleb, please—go harder. you’re so…” you pause, your words trailing off as the sensations overwhelm you.

caleb takes your plea to heart, his grip tightening as one hand tangles in your hair. he pulls gently but firmly for leverage, picking up his pace, the sound of every movement echoing through the room like a symphony of chaos and passion.

of course him pulling your hair made you moan even louder, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

caleb’s ego swells as he takes in your pleas, doing exactly as you ask. his hand tightens in your hair, using it as leverage to increase his pace, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room in a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips, his grip on your hair sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body. “fuck, caleb, yes,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need.

caleb chuckles deeply, the sound rich and heady, his own composure slipping as he leans further into the moment. “now i’m sure you were made for me,” he mutters, his voice rough and strained. “god, i’ve dreamed of this for so fucking long…”

his words push you further, every syllable igniting something primal in you. you let go of every inhibition, your moans growing louder as he finds that perfect spot inside you, the one that leaves you reeling.

just when you think you’ve felt it all, caleb surprises you. his grip on your hair tightens slightly as he brings his other hand to your throat, his palm pressing lightly against your skin. the added sensation leaves you stunned, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in close, his voice a low whisper that makes your pulse race.

“how are you so loud, princess?” caleb murmurs, his words teasing yet softened by the gentleness in his tone as he trails praises over your skin. “i know you can take more than this. my girl is so strong, isn’t she?”

tears prick at the corners of your eyes, the overwhelming sensations building, the tension in your body coiling tighter and tighter with each second. you squirm against your restraints, craving more of him, every fiber of your being begging to let go.

“caleb, i’m so close,” you gasp sharply, his movements deliberate as he pulls your hips closer, each thrust leaving you breathless. “you fuck me so good, yes,” you manage, voice breaking under the weight of everything.

caleb pauses just long enough to undo the makeshift restraint, his dark, intent gaze never leaving you. his fingers work quickly, and the wire is discarded without a second thought. his hands steady you as he flips you onto your back, positioning you in missionary again.

you look up at him, relieved to see the same undone expression mirrored on his face. sweat beads along his skin as he breathes heavily, his movements just as affected as yours. instinctively, you reach out for him, but he catches your hands effortlessly, pinning them above your head.

“you’re mine,” he growls lowly, his voice strained with intensity, his gaze burning into yours. “all pretty and mine, finally.”

his grip remains firm as he leans down, his lips finding your neck, leaving heated kisses and light marks in his wake. his other hand braces against your hip, steadying you as he moves with an intensity that leaves no room for anything else. the bed shifts with each motion, his every movement deliberate and overwhelming as your own release builds again, unstoppable this time.

“caleb, please—i need to,” you plead, your voice trembling, barely holding yourself together as you teeter on the edge. “please let me…”

his gaze softens briefly, his focus solely on you as he leans closer, his movements never faltering. “just a little more, princess,” he murmurs. “i’ve got you.”

his thrusts are so powerful you’re sure he’s beating up your stomach, guts fully rearranged until they spell his fucking name.

“you want to come, princess? is that what you’re asking for?” caleb’s voice is firm, laced with dominance, but there’s a tenderness beneath the edge as his hands hold you firmly in place, grounding you amidst the chaos.

“yes, caleb, please,” you gasp, your voice breaking under the weight of your own need.

he holds you strictly in place as he gives it to you unforgivingly, hammering your pussy like it’s his, because fuck, are you goddamn his.

he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “then tell me, baby,” he murmurs, his tone commanding yet teasing, “what’s my name?”

your voice trembles as caleb moans, your walls aching so bad your clit’s engorged beyond comprehension. it’s sickening the way he fucks you, so intoxicating and blissful and perfect you feel your soul leaving your body, feel your insides coiling so tightly you’re going to snap any second.

“caleb, fuck, caleb!” 

“do i treat you right, baby?” caleb asks, his voice softer now, tinged with vulnerability beneath the heat. “will you let me be yours? will you let me love you, finally?”

“yes,” you gasp, your voice trembling with conviction. “god, yes—whatever you want. i’m yours, caleb. always have been.”

his response is immediate, shifting his position to deepen his movements, his breaths coming out in rough, raw grunts as he finds an angle that leaves you utterly undone. every motion is purposeful, pushing you to the brink as your hands strain against his hold, your body giving in completely to him.

and then it happens—your vision clouds, a rush of heat and intensity overtaking you as the tension inside you snaps like a tightly wound coil. everything bursts at once, your body consumed by waves of release so powerful it leaves you breathless, shaking as the moment overwhelms you entirely.

you’re so in your head it’s caleb’s frantic speaking that even keeps you at it, suddenly feeling something gush out of you in sheer abundance. “oh, oh shit, princess, you’re squirting, holy fuck, yes. just like that, baby, this is so fucking hot.” he praises copiously as you squirt all over caleb’s cock, leaving a gigantic, sloppy mess as he finally allows himself to come fiercely. 

the connection between you remains unbroken as he lets himself go, his own release crashing over him. his body shudders, and you feel him tremble against you as the intensity of it all leaves you both breathless. the world narrows down to this shared moment, leaving you weightless and entirely consumed by the euphoria of being completely his.

your body lurches off his cushions and caleb’s dick twitches inside you, throbs and fills you up to the brim with his cum, the feeling nothing short of euphoria.

he releases with a deep, guttural groan, his body trembling as his palms press into the bed on either side of your head, caging you in. his breaths come in heavy, uneven huffs as he hovers above you, beads of sweat clinging to his damp hair, a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction radiating from him.

your wrists fall limply above your head, released from his grip, but you barely have the strength to move them. your body feels heavy, spent, every muscle lax from the intensity of the moment. your eyes flutter open and closed, exhaustion pulling at you as you try to focus on the man above you.

he’s still nestled against you, his body fitting yours like it was meant to, his forehead coming to rest gently against yours. his voice, low and husky, breaks through the haze. “pipsqueak, baby, don’t sleep just yet,” he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours as he cups your face in his warm hands.

your throat feels dry, your body too worn to respond fully, but his touch keeps you grounded. he brushes his thumbs over your cheeks, his voice soft and tender, as if to anchor you. “princess, you were amazing. you did so well… my good girl, forever my good girl,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose.

you barely manage a small nod, the pull of sleep too strong to resist much longer. his words are like a lullaby, soft and full of adoration, wrapping around you as you drift.

“i love you, caleb,” you manage to mutter, your body still trembling faintly from the aftershocks coursing through you. “i always have.”

his movements still at your confession, and though your eyes remain closed, you can feel the weight of his shock. his silence stretches, thick with emotion, and you wish you could see the expression on his face.

“you do, princess?” he finally breathes, his voice cracking with disbelief. “are you sure?” the raw vulnerability in his tone is almost heartbreaking, as if the idea of you loving him is too fragile, too precious for him to fully believe.

you nod, unable to speak, too afraid to shatter the fragile moment between you.

his hand brushes against your face, trembling slightly. “i’ll be good for you, princess,” he murmurs, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “i promise. you’ll never have to cry again. not ever.”

you feel a strange pressure leave your body, realizing it’s caleb pulling out of you. the sensation leaves you feeling empty, but his gentle care grounds you. he moves with practiced tenderness, cleaning you up and whispering soft reassurances as your exhausted muscles fight against the weight of sleep. even as your body surrenders to the pull of rest, his touch remains a steady reminder that you’re safe in his hands.

as caleb works quietly, his hands careful and deliberate, you can’t help but notice the shift in him. the way he moves, the way he looks at you—it’s different now. softer, almost reverent. he’s so eager, so determined to tend to your every need, as though this moment means as much to him as it does to you.

he catches your gaze, and for a moment, you see it—his redemption arc, written in the lines of his face, in the way his hands tremble ever so slightly as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. he’s trying so hard, pouring every ounce of himself into being what he thinks you need.

“princess,” he murmurs, his voice soft as his fingers trace your jaw. “you okay? do you need anything else?”

his question is earnest, his eyes searching yours for any hint of discomfort or lingering pain. and it’s in that moment you realize—this isn’t just about pleasing you. this is about him trying to earn something he doesn’t think he deserves. your love. your trust. your forgiveness.

“the condom, you asshole—you forgot the fucking condom,” you say, trying to sound angry, though there’s a playful glint in your eyes.

caleb freezes, his body going rigid as panic spreads across his face. his gaze darts to your body, and it’s like his senses have only just returned to him.

“shit—fuck, princess, i swear it wasn’t on purpose! i just… i wanted to feel you so fucking bad,” he blurts out, his words tumbling over themselves in his desperation to explain. “after you said you needed me or else you were going to die, i—i lost it. i threw all caution out the window. i’m so fucking sorry—”

his rambling apology is so frantic, so guilt-ridden, that you can’t hold back the soft chuckle bubbling up from your chest. it cuts him off mid-sentence, his eyes snapping up to meet yours, wide and full of worry. the tenderness in his expression, the way he’s so wrapped up in your well-being, tugs at something deep inside you.

“what?” he asks, his voice almost breaking. “fuck—i know it’s my fault, i know, i’m going to—”

“caleb,” you interrupt softly, reaching up to thread your fingers through his tousled brown hair. the motion draws his attention, grounding him as his frantic thoughts start to settle. “i’m joking. i’m on the pill.”

his eyes search yours, blinking in disbelief as your words sink in. “you’re… you’re joking?” he repeats, his voice a mix of relief and exasperation.

“yeah,” you say with a small, teasing smile, letting your fingers curl a little tighter in his hair. “relax. i’ve got it handled.”

he exhales a shaky laugh, resting his forehead against yours as his body finally unclenches. “jesus, princess, you almost gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“good,” you reply, smirking. “you deserve it for forgetting the condom in the first place.”

he laughs again, softer this time, and there’s something vulnerable about the sound. “you’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmurs, pressing a light kiss to your lips.

“maybe,” you whisper against his mouth, your smile growing. 

caleb pulls back just enough to look at you, his lips still curved in a soft smile, but his eyes are searching yours. there's something unspoken there, a mixture of relief and lingering uncertainty, like he’s still trying to believe this moment is real. his hand brushes your cheek, his thumb trailing a path down to your jaw, grounding you both in the quiet intimacy of the aftermath.

"you know," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, "i’ve always dreamed of us like this. not just the… well, you know," he says with a small, self-conscious laugh that tugs at your heart. "but being with you, waking up next to you, knowing that this isn’t just something fleeting." his brow furrows slightly, the vulnerability in his expression catching you off guard. "this means everything to me, princess."

your chest tightens at his words, the weight of them settling over you like a warm blanket. you reach up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over the faint stubble on his cheeks. "this isn’t fleeting, caleb," you say softly, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "it never was. i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere. not now, not ever."

his eyes close briefly, like he’s taking in the full meaning of your words, before he leans down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. "thank you," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "thank you for giving me this. for giving us a chance."

the silence between you stretches, but it’s not the kind that feels empty. it’s filled with understanding, with promises unspoken but felt in every look, every touch. outside, the faint hum of skyhaven’s magnetic fields reminds you of where you are, but for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re not afraid of the isolation. caleb is here, and that’s all that matters.

"we should probably clean up," you say after a moment, your voice light but teasing as you glance at the mess the two of you have made. caleb grins, a mischievous glint in his eye as he leans down to nuzzle against your neck.

"or," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, "we could stay like this a little longer. i mean, i’d hate to let go of my good girl so soon." his playful tone makes you laugh, the sound light and free, and you realize that for all the chaos that brought you here, you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

"five more minutes," you agree, your arms wrapping around him as he settles beside you. it’s not perfect—not yet—but as you lie there together, tangled up in each other, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is the beginning of something that will be. something that feels a lot like forever.

author’s note: thank you for everyone who took the time to read the four chapters of this mini-series, especially those who commented, you guys have my heart. the cheeky ending is a must, i'm sorry. send me a request • my masterpost

taglist: @bbieainee

[nchlsdmn]

Full Plot of the Cancelled Kashyyyk arc from Star Wars The Clone Wars: Season 7

Planet Kashyyyk is still neutral at this point in the war. Yoda travels to Kashyyyk, and his personal battalion is there waiting for him (they had been sent a couple of days earlier before the arrival of Master Yoda himself) and they inform Yoda that the Trandoshans have been doing deforestation in order to drive the Wookiees away to establish Separatists bases there.

The other reason is to intimidate the Wookiees into joining the Separatists or die off. Yoda senses Count Dooku behind this attack. It was the Wookiees themselves who called on the Republic for help, but being a neutral system – only Yoda and Clone Force 99 alongside Yoda’s personal battalion were sent there, with no additional clone reinforcements. Yodas battalion consists of 41st Scout Troopers and regular white clones with Yoda’s face slapped on their helmet.

As far as Chewbacca's role in this arc, we would have been shown his wife and family. Otherwise, the main Wookie Character is Tarfful. Other Wookies such as different tribes, elders, and children would have been shown as well.

Yoda wants to help the Wookiees so they get in contact with the few remaining villages that still live near a part of the forest which hasn’t been destroyed yet but that is about to be destroyed. Yoda advises them to leave their homes, but the Wookiees don’t want to. 

The Trandoshans come with a massive force and they drive the Wookiees out forcibly alongside Yoda, who are thus forced to retreat deeper into the forest and up a river which leads them to a water stream. Yoda and the clones then suggest to bait the enemies following them into an area of the forest so they can drive them away from the Wookiee villages.

Echo, new to Clone Force 99, would have become a sort of super-soldier due to all of his bionic enhancements. He would fit right in with the Bad Batch, and his demeanor changed, since he was now more cold-blooded and composed, as opposed to the indecisiveness that he showed in previous seasons. He serves as a foreshadowing of what Anakin would become.

His lobot-attachment would have been used for communications since he has a communicator close to his forehead, which shows him interfaces that were directly projected into his mind, so he would see them with his eyes but no one else around him would see them.

As for The Bad Batch, they were more accustomed to relating with the Wookiees than the regs. Hunter suggests bold strategies throughout the arc which the other clones weren’t really ok with since the followed more strict protocol. The Bad Batch also had their own hover boat, with their "clone force 99" symbol on it.

In Season 8, it was planned for The Bad Batch to execute Order 66, and they would have been treated as cold blooded assassins, a bane to Jedi. Though it likely wouldn’t have been shown on-screen. However, this arc is mostly to show the Bad Batch working with Yoda and the Wookies.

The clones suggest to burn all the trees down in that area of the forest in order to trap the enemy into their own nest. The Wookiees are against it but they then reluctantly agree that this is the best course of action and their only chance at success. They ask for forgiveness from the trees before doing this, and they then give the clones permission to do so.

Similar to the Bad Batch episode in Season 2, there are Kinrath and Maylyas deeper in the forest, and the elements of Wookies being one with nature is similar to how Yoda, a Jedi, believes in the force. The Bad Batch don't understand it, but they go along with it.

As for the Trandoshans, their leader, Babwa Venomor, was working with the Separatists, for Count Dooku. Some Trandoshans would have had night-vision goggles and snail tanks that they could use to tear through the forest.

The fires manage to slow the Trandoshans down for a bit, but it turns out not to be a definitive solution. After escaping the enemy, Yoda and the Wookiees prepare for war. The Wookiees ask for the help of tree spirits. They venture deep into the jungle in order to go warn the other Wookiee clans that the Trandoshans are coming and to sway them not to join the Separatists.

They use what happened to the Wookiees following Yoda as a motivating factor to tell the others that if the Trandoshans were not stopped, they would soon be coming for them too. In the meantime, the Trandoshans are preparing for battle and they are shown to be very tribal with trophies of dead Wookiee heads nailed to the walls. 

In the fourth episode, an all out war rages near the river because the Wookiees wanted to get far away from the trees in order not to harm their environment any further; and the battle ends up on a shore similar the one displayed in Revenge of the Sith.

Separatist craft land with Droid reinforcements, but the Trandoshans are the main enemy forces. One of the Wookies would have ripped off a Trandoshan's arms. Commander Gree and his forces would join the action with Yoda and the Bad Batch.

At the end of the battle, Babwa Venomor gets decapitated by Yoda in the same way Yoda kills Gree in ROTS, and he falls into the river along with his tank. When the battle is over, Kashyyyk agrees to allow the Republic to establish clone bases there, and became an ally of the Wookies, as they foresee a larger Droid Invasion coming in the future.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Words Related to Science Fiction

Android - a robot that looks like a person

Antigravity - reducing, canceling, or protecting against the effect of gravity

Blaster - a handheld weapon similar to a gun that fires bolts of energy instead of physical projectiles

Cyberpunk - science fiction dealing with future urban societies dominated by computer technology

Cyborg - a bionic human

Deep space - space well outside the earth's atmosphere and especially that part lying beyond the earth-moon system

Extraterrestrial - originating, existing, or occurring outside the earth or its atmosphere

Galactic - of or relating to a galaxy and especially the Milky Way galaxy; huge

Hyperspace - a fictional space in which extraordinary events happen

Kryptonite - a substance that causes the comic-book character Superman to become weak when he is exposed to it

Martian - an imaginary creature in books, movies, etc., that lives on or comes from the planet Mars

Multiverse - a theoretical reality that includes a possibly infinite number of parallel universes

Space opera - a futuristic melodramatic fantasy involving space travelers and extraterrestrial beings

Space-time - the whole or a portion of physical reality determinable by a usually four-dimensional coordinate system

Starship - a spacecraft designed for interstellar travel

Superhuman - being above the human; divine

Time machine - a hypothetical device that permits travel into the past and future

UFO - "unidentified flying object"; a mysterious flying object in the sky that is sometimes assumed to be a spaceship from another planet

Warp speed - the highest possible speed

Wormhole - a hypothetical structure of space-time envisioned as a tunnel connecting points that are separated in space and time

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists

[sunschay]

The Devil Within || Natasha Romanoff

You thought you knew her, she enjoyed your presence, found comfort in your acid jokes at work and you even got on well. Until you simply disappeared for years. Natasha never stopped looking for you, she just didn't know that she'd find a bloodthirsty, impetuous killer in who she once thought was her friend.

Based on some of the events of Captain America 2: The Winter Soldier.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Gender neutral Reader

Warnings: Gore, extreme violence, the reader is an enhanced super soldier controlled by Hydra, a bit angsty.

Word count: 1k

Roosevelt Bridge, Washington D.C. || 2014

The roaring sound of the car's engines begins; the heat outside makes your skin sweat and burn beneath your suit. The man beside you doesn't say a word, and he never does, so he remains silent. His hair is dark brown, unlike the shade of his blue eyes, and he uses the bionic metal arm with the red star on top to slam the vehicle to a stop. He says nothing, and gets out of the car, waits for you to do the same, and then grabs his weapon, watching as you approach the edge of the bridge.

You subtly raise your arm and extend your elbow behind your body, watching as an armored SHIELD SUV drives down the road, allowing you to see who is inside.

Sitwell, Jasper. Undercover. Passing on and on information he shouldn't have. His shiny bald head gleams in the sun, and you notice he's handcuffed, seemingly tense, his shoulders hunched. There are two other people in the SUV: a tall, strong blond man and a short, red-haired woman with bright green eyes. You don't bother to ask who they are.

Your finger presses the trigger and the projectile fires, hitting one of the SUV's front tires from a considerable distance. "GET OUT NOW!" a female voice shouts, and the car flips, skidding until it crashes into a concrete median. The shots ricochet off the asphalt as Natasha pulls Steve out.

A figure descends from the bridge. It lands with military precision, its dark suit reinforced with plates, Kevlar shoulder pads, and a metal mask covering half its face. On its right arm, an armored prosthetic with black carvings and faded symbols. A large, matte black mechanical arm stands out. Instead of the red star, there are black claw marks burned into the metal alloy—symbolizing the beast you've become. Small injectors along the forearm release microdoses of stabilizing drugs implanted by HYDRA. The mechanical arm itself is more disfigured, with exposed parts showing wiring, as if it had been constantly modified and patched. The HYDRA symbol is hidden inside the collar, embroidered — only visible if it is turned over.

The weaponry is basic but precise: two retractable blades at the wrists.

Automatic pistols integrated into the hips.

A small, retractable shield strapped to the back—black, circular, made with SHIELD technology, corrupted and modified by HYDRA.

It's the Forgotten Soldier.

Across the bridge, another figure leaps out, slightly shorter, but wearing the same dark, reinforced suit, a large rifle in his hands, and a mask covering his face. The same metal arm.

The Winter Soldier.

Steve feels a tension settle in his shoulders, though he doesn't know why, since he apparently doesn't know the man. Or so he believes. Natasha pulls him across the bridge, knowing full well what's about to happen.

She stands there, waiting for you to know exactly who she is. Not the Black Widow. Not the SHIELD agent, the assassin. Natasha Romanoff. The woman who conquered your nights before you disappeared completely into the shadows. She stands out in her black jacket and red hair sliding over her shoulders, and her green eyes shine with hope as they meet the black expanse of yours.

Without a word, you attack. Natasha tries to distract you, but you recognize her before the first punch.

“No, it can’t be you…” She whispers, swallowing hard.

You breathe, it's cold and slow, and your system captures her.

REGISTER NAME: Romanoff. THREAT LEVEL: Alpha.

On the other side, Steve fights the other soldier. He's impetuous, lightning-fast, and calculating, landing blow after blow even if he doesn't connect, barely letting Rogers breathe without a surprise punch. There's something about him that makes Steve freeze at times, and he knows perfectly well there's something wrong with it.

“Y/n.” She murmurs and takes two steps down. “Y/n Alder. Look at me. It’s Natasha… from SHIELD.”

You lunge with brutal force. She dodges, rolls, and the two of you engage in a fierce, brutal combat—quick strikes, kicks, elbows. Natasha tries to hit your vulnerable spots, but you're faster, more vicious. Natasha now knows what it's like to fear someone she once considered a friend. Someone who knew her every weakness in secret, in silence. But she knows you're there somewhere.

During the fight, she tries to touch you on the right side of your face, below the mask. You hesitate for a split second. She sees.

Natasha blocks a punch, “They erased you… but you knew me, Y/n. Mission to Latvia, 2009. You laughed. You felt.”

You push Natasha against a car. She groans in pain. You raise the mechanical arm to crush her.

“I remember what you said that night, when you thought you were going to die,” Natasha says, her eyes welling up. “If you're the one who closes my eyes, I'll be in complete and eternal peace.”

You freeze.

The metal arm trembles slightly in the air. Your breathing quickens. Something in your expression changes. A small twitch in the corner of your eye. A flash: the memory of her laughing in the rain, hands covered in blood, both of you lying on the concrete floor in Riga, 2009. A violent but simple mission, Fury summoned you. You ended up in the crossfire, two shots to the lower back, spilling blood into a huge puddle.

“Nat!” Steve’s voice echoes in the background, but she barely moves, unable to take her eyes off you.

Steve kicks the soldier and gets headbutted, staggering back. The man does a backflip and ends up knocking off his own mask, revealing his face. Rogers freezes. That dark hair, dull blue eyes, sparse beard and expressionless, glassy gaze. It's him. “Bucky?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” The Winter Soldier asks before attacking him again.

Across from you, Natasha leans in, her fingertips brushing against your jaw. It's something that excites you, but also leaves you in a frenzied shock.

“Riga…” The whisper comes out of your mouth, inevitable, husky and low.

“You’re there. I know you are.” Natasha accuses, her lip half-split.

But a distant bang (an explosion on the bridge) wakes you up. Your programming returns. Your eyes go cold again.

You don't kill her.

You just push her hard against the car, temporarily incapacitating her—no serious injuries—and disappear into the smoke. Along with the Winter Soldier.

RIGA, LATVIA, EUROPE. || 2009

Your head turns toward the tanks approaching the area, noticing that the situation is under control as the terrorists are captured. "This is Agent Alder speaking. It appears the situation has been neutralized, Fury," you say through your device, feeling your forehead sweat and your blood run cold.

“Everyone on the ground now!” You hear the general shout and look down, noticing the blood pooling in your lower back, noticing two bullet holes. “And I think I've been hit.” You grunt, crawling behind a wrecked car.

“Alder? We're going to need backup, Fury!” Natasha's voice echoes from the other side and you turn your head, seeing her approach and then crouch down.

“Okay, what’s worse, hypothermia from the rain or bleeding to death without having had a last beer?” You ask, earning a serious look from her who just took off a piece of her own suit, pressing it on your wounds.

“You won’t die, not with me here. I promise that,” she says, and you laugh lightly. “You can’t promise that, Romanoff.”

"Reinforcements, Fury, Alder has been shot twice, bleeding could be fatal! I won't let you die!" She grabs you by the collar, looking at you more closely.

You lose yourself in her green eyes. It's intense, making you lose yourself in their green immensity. Natasha looks back at you, her lips almost brushing yours, and you laugh, smiling beyond the immense pain you feel. “If you're the one who closes my eyes, I'll be in eternal and complete peace.”

“That’ll have to wait. We still need one last beer,” she whispered, her eyes flicking between your lips, and stepped away as reinforcements arrived, helping you into the helicopter.

WASHINGTON D.C, PRESENT DAY.

Natasha moans softly in pain as she feels Steve help her clean the wounds on her shoulder, and she bites her lower lip, her eyes staring into a fixed point in the distance. She found you, just not in the way she wanted. And that, that definitely didn't feel like you. But it was you.

“Your thoughts are loud. Will you tell me what you’re thinking?” He asks, discarding the blood-and-alcohol-stained paper.

“And you will?” She asks back and he sighs in defeat.

"I thought I knew him. Bucky was a... friend of mine. The best friend I ever had. We did everything together, he defended me from the bad guys who made fun of my weight or my former physical weakness when we were younger. He simply disappeared after one last mission in the '40s. I thought he was dead," he said, and Natasha nodded.

“He's the Winter Soldier. The guy who shot me in Iran to try to kill the engineer I was with,” Natasha stated, then sighed. “He did it.”

“I still can’t believe he would do something like that. Bucky was my friend,” Steve whispers, wiping his hands and placing a bandage over Widow’s shoulder.

“I know. Y/n was too,” she says, then looks away, tense. “And they’re here, and they almost killed us.”

"There's a motive for all of this. We're going to undo this line of evil Hydra is creating. Sitwell's gone, we need to move on, see what Bucky and Y/n's next move is," he said, looking at her. "Nat?"

“What?” She hummed, her eyes welling up.

“Let’s get them back,” he said, smiling weakly, and she nodded. “We will.”

[johanna-swann]

Not enough (for me) to write a whole fic about it, but a cute thought I had:

Tommy wanting to reach out after the funeral, but not wanting to make things more complicated for Buck. He has enough on his plate already. Tommy remembering he took some food home from the reception and he still has Buck's tupperware - the perfect excuse to drop by in person and check in without it becoming awkward (it is supposed to be just a short visit).

Tommy going over there and only Eddie and Christopher are there because Buck ran out to do some shopping. They chat a little bit and (despite Tommy's foolproof plan) it gets a bit awkward. He didn't really talk to Eddie much at the funeral and the man did ghost him for half a year. Buck arrives soon after though and Christopher and Eddie leave to visit Pepa.

They talk a little about this and that. Tommy helps put the groceries away because even though it's a different kitchen, he remembers Buck's system. They get around to talking a bit about Bobby and going back to work after the lab incident, if only superficially (it is supposed to be just a short visit). Buck offers Tommy something to drink and because there's still coffee in the coffe maker anyway (Tommy wouldn't want to cause Buck any inconvenience and it is supposed to be just a short visit, but the coffee is already there) and Buck hands him a cup just how he likes it.

Tommy leans back against the kitchen island. Buck sits on the counter opposite him. The evening sun is shining warmly through the window. It is supposed to be just a short visit, but they go from talking about going back to work to talking about weird calls they had recently to talking about Chimney going on paternity leave soon to talking about Tommy's accountant cousin who's about to become a dad as well. They don't even think about getting more comfortable and sitting down at the table or on the couch, it is supposed to be just a short visit, but the hours pass and the sun goes down and they're still talking and Buck is telling Tommy about a bionics based aviation exhibit he heard about when Eddie and Christopher come back. Chris goes straight to his room to get ready for bed, but Eddie comes to join them in the kitchen.

"You're back already?", Buck asks surprised and Eddie reminds him they were gone for hours, why are Buck and Tommy still standing in the kitchen the same way he left them? (It was supposed to be just a short visit.) "Time flies I suppose", Tommy says: "Apropos flying - what were you saying about hummingbirds?" And Buck goes back to talking about the exhibit and how he has been thinking Tommy would like it too. "It sounds fun", Tommy agrees and looks at Buck: "You haven't seen it yet?" Buck answers no, he only read the description online and things have been so hectic lately - would've felt weird to take an afternoon to go to the museum instead.

"Well", Tommy says and smiles a little: "You've got me intrigued now." Buck grins triumphantly: "See, I knew you would say that." Tommy hums and continues: "Maybe I should check it out." He watches Buck's face carefully for a moment. "Maybe this weekend, I'm off shift", he says then pauses again. Buck tilts his head, carefully holding back a smile as if he knows what Tommy will say next. Maybe he does, it is tradition after all. "What are you doing Saturday?"

For a second Tommy swears the sun comes back up the way Buck smiles at him. It was supposed to be only a short visit to bring back some tupperware, but Tommy leaves with a date and the feeling that maybe things will work out this time.

[A few extra lines because maybe I am a bit petty after all:

"You think this is a good idea?", Eddie asks Buck after Tommy leaves: "He dumped you, you were really hurt and didn't get over it for months."

"Well, you and I had a really bad fight only last week and we're still friends. Should I reconsider that decision as well? Besides, we already almost got back together a couple of weeks after you moved to Texas. Things got a little delayed due to- well. Everything. But this was already sort of happening. Neither of us really "got over" the break up in the first place and we're only going to the museum, not a Vegas chapel. So maybe you should try being happy for me for once instead of constantly doubting my ability make sensible, adult choices. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to research the flight pattern of geese."]

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

🦾 - High-Five for Bionic Hand

1. Houston-area school district announces free breakfast and lunch for students

Pasadena ISD students will be getting free breakfast and lunch for the 2023-24 school year, per an announcement on the district's social media pages.

The 2023-24 free lunch program is thanks to a Community Eligibility Provision grant the district applied for last year. The CEP, which is distributed by the Department of Agriculture, is specially geared toward providing free meals for low-income students.

2. Dolphin and her baby rescued after being trapped in pond for 2 years

A pair of dolphins that spent nearly two years stuck in a Louisiana pond system are back at sea thanks to the help of several agencies and volunteers.

According to the Audubon Nature Institute, wildlife observers believe the mother dolphin and her baby were pushed into the pond system near Grand Isle, Louisiana, during Hurricane Ida in late August 2021.

3. Studies show that putting solar panels over waterways could boost clean energy and conserve water. The first U.S. pilot project is getting underway in California.

Some 8,000 miles of federally owned canals snake across the United States, channeling water to replenish crops, fuel hydropower plants and supply drinking water to rural communities. In the future, these narrow waterways could serve an additional role: as hubs of solar energy generation.

4. Gene therapy eyedrops restored a boy's sight. Similar treatments could help millions

Antonio was born with dystrophic epidermolysis bullosa, a rare genetic condition that causes blisters all over his body and in his eyes. But his skin improved when he joined a clinical trial to test the world’s first topical gene therapy.

The same therapy was applied to his eyes. Antonio, who’s been legally blind for much of his 14 years, can see again.

5. Scientists develop game-changing vaccine against Lyme disease ticks!

A major step in battling Lyme disease and other dangerous tick-borne viruses may have been taken as researchers announced they have developed a vaccine against the ticks themselves.

Rather than combatting the effects of the bacteria or microbe that causes Lyme disease, the vaccine targets the microbiota of the tick, according to a paper published in the journal Microbiota on Monday.

6. HIV Transmission Virtually Eliminated in Inner Sydney, Australia

Sydney may be the first city in the world to end AIDS as a public health threat by 2030. Inner Sydney has reduced new HIV acquisitions by 88%, meaning it may be the first locality in the world to reach the UN target to end AIDS as a public health threat by 2030

7. New bionic hand allows amputees to control each finger with unprecedented accuracy

In a world first, surgeons and engineers have developed a new bionic hand that allows users with arm amputations to effortlessly control each finger as though it was their own body.

Successful testing of the bionic hand has already been conducted on a patient who lost his arm above the elbow.

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