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teastyun · 1 year ago

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༻ pound town

arcane sevika x female reader (nsfw)

a/n: i'm going to war (exam phase is about to start), therefore i must make haste (my hiatus starts again). also, i got a new job so i'm not sure when my hiatus will end :(

pt. 1 ; masterlist

grabbing the broom from the back of your mechanics shop, you start you usual closing routine as the streets of Zaun more active as the day ends. growing up in Zaun, you appreciate the livelihood of the people, but grew wary of the criminality rising abruptly at the end of each day. enforcers started to patrol the quiet streets of Zaun and hang up missing posters of Jinx, who you've been visited by for several occasions over the last few months for tech equipment she required. you grew fond of the girl and would occasionally even slip a few extra pieces, and she would thank you proudly by telling you about her latest new technological improvements.

one time, she told you about a prosthesis as her newest invention. Sevika immediately came to your mind and the way she held your cheek the last and first time you saw her. or the way her bionic arm held your hips so strongly as you rode her strap. shit, you really are down bad for this woman who doesn't even know your name.

as several months gone by since then, you managed to gather your savings and invest it into your shop for new techs and products to sell. you were finally able to call your shop your full time job and scrap your shifts at the brothel completely. Sevika didn't only save your shop, but she saved you from drowning in exhaustion as the only thing you ever did was work day and night.

you hoped to see her again, but your hope was slowly scarped as each month passed by.

after sweeping the last corner of your shop, you only had to rearrange your products before you could finally leave to go home. as you tidied the screws collection, the door to your shop opened audibly by your crystals dangling from the person entering.

"we're closed-" you start, but stop as you see the person at the entrance.

there she was, standing in her usual cloak and a hood that hid her face, but you recognised her nonetheless. she took her hood off with a smile as she looked at you. "good to see you again."

suddenly, you felt naked again. although she knew your identity (prolly even the whole time), the mask would hide your facial expressions and reactions. now, you are standing there with a shocked impression written on your face, unsure of how to react to the person that is the reason for your shop to still be alive.

"i see you created something out of this shop since the last time I've seen you," she speaks with a soft smile on her lips as she takes a look around in your shop. "thank you. you were actually a huge help last time we've seen each other," you respond, your hands linked together behind your back as you turn to look around your shop.

honestly, your shop is quite shady from outside with its half-broken broken neon sign spelling the name mechs n' treasures. but once you enter, you quickly realise that it's a one man's business by it's intricate appearance. it has so much personality now that you have as much time as you'd like to spent in it, decorating it with your favourite things you've collected over the years that weren't too precious to be displayed in your small flat above your shop. a few colourful crystals dangle around your entrance and the door to your flat, reflecting the neon lights from the streets of Zaun onto the mechanic pieces you sell. tidiness is your top priority, since it's hard to keep such an old shop neat and clean. you love your old and shady, but precious personal shop and wouldn't wish it to be any different. business seemed to be booming recently, too. you had no idea why, but Zaun is a quick and fast learning city with its advantages and disadvantages, resulting in people visiting your shop to buy the pieces they require for their newest project.

now, Sevika is standing in the centre of your shop, taking one of the mechanical pieces into her hands and looking at it in detail.

"can i help you with something?" you ask, looking at her with curiosity. after she puts the mechanic piece back into its tray, she says "I was hoping you could me out with this."

she reveals her bionic arm, where you see the its shimmer capsules completely shattered. surprised, you walk towards her and take her bionic arm into her hand to have a closer look. you inhale her smoky scent and suddenly were confronted with a vivid memory of the first night you guys met at the brothel, as you sat in her lap writhing under her touch. focus. you twisted a few pieces to inspect the reachability of the broken capsules. "I assume you won't be able to take it off?" you ask her, your eyes still fixed on an odd piece you've found.

she shakes her head, "it would be a hazard trying to put it on afterwards. do you think you'll still manage to repair, though?"

after twisting the last few pieces for inspection, you leave her arm. "shouldn't be no issue," you take a look at your wristwatch and notice how late it already is. a few extra minutes won't hurt, you decide.

you nod towards the counter, "take a seat, i'll be right with you."

entering the back of your shop and take a big breath. fuck, this intimidating woman still effects you after several months. at this point, you were sure you even forgot about her.

you grab your toolbox and head to Sevika, who is waiting for you behind your counter on a chair. her cloak is thrown over your register's desk, revealing a similar outfit you saw at the brothel. only now you realise how muscular this woman actually is. her arm is almost fully exposed by her sleeveless top and a choker around her neck makes you shake off your dirty thoughts.

you place the toolbox on the counter before you take a seat next to it. Sevika watches every move of yours, making you even more nervous than you already are.

grabbing your first tool, you lay her arm in you lap and start unscrewing the plates that cover the isolation of the shimmer capsules. her arm felt heavy, but oddly warm in your lap for the fact that it's broken. you remember how the same arm pinned you down on her strap a few months ago.

your brain is almost about to malfunction if Sevika wouldn't have interrupted your thoughts, "so, how is your shop going?" she asks as she leans the side of her upper body on the counter. when you look down at her, she's only mere centimetres away from your face. her grey eyes digging into yours. your pussy clenches as your breathing stops at the sight of her. you quickly look away and focus on her arm again. "it's going well," you start and grab for another tool to remove the shattered pipes. "sometimes it's exhausting to handle a shop alone, but you get used to it, you know."

her eyes follow your movements on her arm while she hums as an indication for you to continue. "once, a dude i recognised from the brothel came to pick up a few things and i couldn't help but wonder what his day job is. he was a sex worker as well, so he probably even recognised me," you tell her. it's unusual for you to share thoughts and memories of your old job. you weren't ashamed of it, but you much happier spending your time in your own shop and not thinking back to your old routine.

she shifts in her seat to look up at you, "i'm glad you were able to escape that shit hole, beautiful," she says quietly, careful of the words she chooses, "do you still remember that night?"

your movements halt immediately at her questions and you felt her eyes laying heavily on you, watching every single movement. the way you took a deep breath, trying not to appear nervous around her. the mere thought of that night made you feel butterflies in your stomach and wetness in your core.

"i do," you confess. without meeting her eyes, you continue your maintenance on her bionic arm in your lap, trying to suppress the urge of jumping into her lap and kissing her senseless. "do you?" you ask in almost a whisper, unsure if you even wanted to know the answer.

when she didn't, your eyes travelled to hers in question. she seemed to be in deep thoughts as well before she asked "how couldn't i?"

her eyes finally meet yours and you recognise such sincerity and trust in them, you couldn't help the soft smile that sneaks onto your lips.

"you were the only thing on my mind in this cruel world," she continues, making you feel several things at once. "and i don't even know your name."

you chuckled and referred your eyes back to your almost finished work, concentrating on exchanging the pipes.

"so, you're not even going to tell me?" she asks amused.

"what, my name?" you act oblivious, knowing exactly what she wanted. now it was her turn to chuckle at your teasing. "you can be a pain in the ass, you know that?"

you shake your head in disbelief with a smile on your lips as you screw on the last iron plate on her arm.

"move it," you command and she obliges. she moves her joints, making the shimmer that was left in her tank fuel her new pipe, while moving it a few more times in several directions. you've never seen machinery working with shimmer so closely. you wonder how the metal felt like against your skin.

ripping you out of your trance, she stands up. right in front you, almost between your legs, which you desperately wanted to close at the sight as you felt your pussy clench.

"thank you," she looks at you, her eyes wandering from your neck down to the rest of your body. it's like she can't help herself, checking you out as you sit on her cloak next to your work instruments.

"you even look beautiful in your casual attire," she whispers as her eyes meet yours again.

"so," you wrap your index finger through her choker, "how about taking it off and see what's hidden underneath?" you cock your head before you pull her closer. your legs are opened by her thighs between them as she looks down at you, clearly surprised by your boldness. "i don't fuck nameless girls," she says in an equal tone to her low chuckle.

you take a quick look at her lips, wondering what they would feel like on yours. "didn't seem so last time we've seen each other."

your finger is still wrapped around her chocker as you grin. she didn't answer. she knows you're messing with her.

she places her arms on each of your sides, the sounds of her bionic arm moving leaving a shudder throughout your body. she's dangerously close.

"if i remember correctly, last time you've fucked yourself, princess."

shocked by her comment, your grin fades as you suddenly remember how you rode her in that brothel, eagerly chasing your orgasm as she guided you through it.

you let go of her choker and rest your hand at the back of her neck instead, caressing the soft strands of brunette hair as you try to maintain yourself.

"y/n," you whisper. Sevika's eyes widen at first, but a slight grin sets on her lips at the sound of your name.

"beautiful name, princess," she whispers back and you feel her breath on your lips with each sound she speaks.

you close your eyes as you feel her full lips grazing yours. "y/n," she whispers repeatedly. her lips finally touch yours, first cautiously but confident after a few seconds of lingering. you copy her motions and gasp when her tongue grazes your lower lip.

pressing her more firmly against yourself, you part your lips for her tongue to enter. she faintly tastes like cigarettes, but more of a harsh liquor you can't really pinpoint. your arms cling desperately around her neck, feeling her torso pressed around yours in your heated kiss. you lock her against your core with your legs around her hips, moaning as she leaves your lips to leave kisses on your neck. "you have no idea how often i thought of kissing you," she whispers before she trails down kisses to your exposed shoulder and collarbone, licking the line of it and pressing soft bites against your sweet spots.

instead of responding, you pull her up again and lock your lips together. you press your lower body against her in search of the friction you desperately seek, but with no success. her lips form into a smirk against your lips as she realises what you're seeking.

frustrated, you separate yourself from her and motion for her to step aside, so you could jump of the counter. "i have a bed upstairs," you tell her. Sevika stands there confused, but god does she look hot. her lips are glazed from your spit and her hair looks slightly tousled from your hand that clung to it.

she doesn't let you move, though. instead, her hands are pressed firmly on your side as she still stand between your legs. "i thought that might be more comfortable..." you say, unsure of the current situation. she shifts in her stance to let you stand up.

"fuck, yes. i mean, yes, let's go upstairs," she chuckles after stumbling over her own words and her bionic arm moves to gesture you to lead the way. you laugh at her sudden awkwardness but go ahead to lock up your shop.

walking up the stairs, you fumble for your home's keys. Sevika followed you closely behind, touching your waist and kissing your neck as you try to unlock the door, a sigh escapes your lips as you try to unlock your door.

as the door closes behind you, she pins you against it. her hand holds your wrist against the door as she kisses you feverishly. her bionic arm slips beneath your ass to lift you up, so you could wrap your legs around her hips. you press your breasts against her, trying to seek for any further touches. "the bed, Sev," you say between kisses, too occupied to actually resist her touch.

she ignores your words and losses her grip on your wrists instead to wander to the buttons of your shirt, never breaking the kiss. "patience, beautiful," she whispers as her lips leave yours to press a kiss on your cheek. "we have all night, right?"

your arms find their way back around her neck, playing with her loose hair. "please," you respond, your eyes making contact with hers. you peck her lips before you say, "i want to touch you, too."

her head falls onto your shoulder as she groans, "you make me loose my composure so easily," before looking back into your eyes with need and desperation "do you realise that?"

you grin at her confession and kiss her hot and wet, moaning into the kiss as she continues to unbutton your shirt until your bra is exposed to her hand. she grazes the outlines with her fingertips, making a shudder run through your body as you gasp. you press your chest into her touch and she gladly responds with cupping your breast while biting your lower lip.

her index finger grazes your puffy nipple through your bra and you can't help the moan that escapes your lips.

she pecks you one last time with a smile, before looking around your small flat, seemingly inspecting your small setup where your bedroom and living room are combined to your cozy grove.

her hand moves to your back, stabilising you in her arms before she finally heads to your bed to lay you down on it, watching you as you lay there with your undone shirt and the few strands that escaped your hairstyle completely wordless.

similar to her, you exhale at the sight in front of you. Sevika is still fully clothed, so you pull her down by her collar to kiss her hard, wrapping your legs around her waist to pull her body on top of you. "take this off," she whispers against your lips, her bionic hand gripping your shirt as her hand sneaks behind your neck to tilt your head for her to suck.

she kisses and bites your sweet spot, disrupting your motion of pulling your shirt off and making your eyes roll back in pleasure. you moan her name in frustration before she finally let's go.

"this too," she tells you as she eyes every little detail on your torso. when you take your bra off, her bionic hand cups your breast. the sharp and cold details of her metallic hand exposed on one of your most sensitive parts of your body leave you breathing hard, moaning as her pointy fingers pinch and twist your nipple. "you have no idea how often i thought of touching them since that night," her eyes are not leaving your chest as she confesses.

"you could've touched them that night," you respond, your hand finding the back of her head as you play with her small ponytail. after hearing your words she looks at you, almost with a shocked expression on her face. "there's no way i would have touched you without your consent," she tells you. surprised by this sudden turn, you move up to rest your weight on your elbows, looking at her in disbelief. "but you payed for that night with me," you state, still confused by what she just said.

she's just as surprised as you, cupping your cheek softly as she spoke, "y/n, i would never do anything to you without your consent. do you know that?" she asks you, her eyes never leaving yours as she spoke. you've never experienced any sex partner expressing their respect to you verbally. and fuck, this is probably the moment you realise you have feelings for this woman in front of you. you nod in response, still overwhelmed from your thoughts and feelings. she smiles at you as she says, "good girl."

your soaking pussy almost purred at that nickname. kissing her quick but softly, you grind your clothed hips against hers as you kiss a trail down her neck to her exposed collarbone.

she exhales heavily at your motions before saying, "tell me what you want, beautiful."

"i want you to fuck me," you respond after hesitating, still nibbling at her collarbone as a soft moan escapes her.

"with this," you continue as you grind stronger onto her clothed cunt than before.

her bionic arm holds herself on the bed as her fingers trace your curves. "with my fingers?" she teases as she opens your trousers with her other hand slowly.

your lips move up to her ear, licking and biting her soft skin. "no," you whisper, "with this."

you press the seam of her jeans with your fingers against her clit, making her grip your hips hard from your sudden touch. "fuck," she mutters in response, clearly trying to compose herself before she continues to fully undress you.

"under one condition," she starts as she takes in your naked body with hungry eyes, "i'll have a taste before i fuck you," she unbuttons her shirt, revealing a dark bandeau bra beneath. she's in a hurry, so she won't bother to take off her unbuttoned shirt, but moves on by removing her jeans as well as underwear in one go.

you try to take a peek at her body, but she immediately kneels between your legs to kiss the soft skin of your thighs, dragging her motions slowly to your soaking pussy as her hands hold you firm beneath her touch. feeling her breath on your clit, you whine from sensitivity, gripping the sheets beneath you as she finally tastes you for the first time.

both of you moan from the touch, your hips stutter beneath her strong hands. she eats you out like a starving woman, humming at the sounds you're making. your clit is circled by her tongue as she softly bites and sucks before your legs start shaking from the pleasure that builds up in your lower belly.

she moves her arm from your thigh to press softly against it, realising how close you are. "come on my tongue," she tells you, intensifying her motions as you come hard. the way you moan her name sounds similar to a scream, your thighs pressing against her head as you throw your head back in pleasure.

she gently guides you through it by licking in decreasing motions, careful of your sensitivity. as your calming down, she kisses your clit one last time before she straightens herself to watch you after your first high.

her lips and chin are glistening from her pussy and strands that were originally framing her face now hang loosely. "you did so well, beautiful," she whispers, climbing on top of you to press kisses into your face. "fuck, you really sent me to another dimension," you confess, laughing a litte at the absurdity. she chuckles at your words, grinning as she examines your face.

"are you still down for another round?" she asks carefully, giving you the space you might need, but you nod as you smile at her. she kisses you before she straightens again to manhandle your legs, placing one on her shoulder as she moves her own over your other to align with your pussy, not starting just yet. she caresses the long on her shoulder as she presses kisses along with it.

she looks absolutely breathtaking while doing it. you feel her pussy kissing yours, and fuck, she's driving you crazy. the unbuttoned shirt exposes the abs you eyed earlier through the tightness of her shirt. her v-line is deeply defined, even more when she starts to slowly grind against you. her pointy bionic fingers suddenly press into your thigh as she gasps from the pleasure she suddenly receives. her grey eyes watch you heavily, making sure you're alright with her pace as she slowly picks it up.

"you feel so good," you whimper as you meet her motions by copying hers, crying from the sensitivity from your earlier orgasm. "fuck- i'm close again."

she grins at your confession, pushing herself harder on your clit as you cry out from the friction. she's mostly quiet, but a gasp escapes her lips anytime you improve your speed.

"come with me, y/n" she leans down, kissing you with so much passion as her eyebrows furrow in pleasure. you moan into the kiss, your breasts moving with each thrust as your nipples graze against the cotton of her bandeau. you felt your orgasm creeping, but you weren't ready for the intensity it comes with. you cry out against her lips, holding her against you as you feel her groaning from her own orgasm. both your hips stutter in your motions before you stop to look at her.

her head rests in the nape of your neck and the only thing you feel is her hot breath against your skin. as you untangle your legs, you kiss on the side of her head. "are you alright?" you ask after several seconds of silence.

she vaguely nods, still maintaining her breath before she answers "you have no idea what you're doing to me."

you smile as you caress her hair through your fingers. "i'd love to figure it out in the future," you continue, making space between your faces so you could look at her as you speak. "this idea you've just mentioned," you clarify as she looks at you speechless.

she kisses you passionately after a few seconds, smiling as she realises what you were suggesting.

"let me take you to dinner after your shift tomorrow?" she asks as her thumb trails your cheekbone. you nod, kissing her on the cheeks before you answer "gladly."

you both fall asleep, and sooner or later date nights with Sevika become your favourite traditions as you two engage in a passionate, but intimate relationship with each other.

tags: @sevsbaby @womenathleteshaveme @macaroni676

masterlist

#➶ jules' anthology #arcane sevika #sevika #sevika x you #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane x reader #sevika smut #sevika imagine #wlw #queer #lesbian #sapphic #Spotify

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celestiamour · 11 months ago

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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ newfangled technology ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ logan finds your vibrator and discovers a wonder of modern technology┊1k words

contains: smut!! dom logan & sub reader┊implied age gap, established relationship, vibrators, overstimulation & mentioned multiple orgasms, receiving oral

➤ author's note: first logan smut!! i’m a bit burnt out of writing it actually so idk if there will be more, but i couldn’t let this idea go <3

logan likes to believe that he understands modern technology for the most part even though you can often hear him muttering curses under his breath at the stupid machine that isn’t working. if most parents and grandparents are struggling to figure it all out, you can bet that this two-hundred-year-old mutant does. it feels like yesterday when people were using rotary phones in their homes, then hand-held flip-phones, and now smartphones that could show you anything you could dream of at the tap of a button— he feels as though the world is growing much faster than an old man like him can keep up with too many gadgets for too many different purposes getting too many upgrades.

any attempts to get him to understand the internet fail for the most part, so he uses his own phone for nothing other than calling, texting, photography, and occasionally googling some sort of questions. he finds advertisements about the latest devices annoying, but he’s very appreciative of motorcycles, kitchen appliances, and other simple machines that make life so much easier compared to his time.

he’s learning about new tech every week, new and pre-existing, both ones which make him wonder if he should get it for himself or ones which make him furrow his brow at the fact that such a thing actually exists. tonight is one of the times when he has both reactions, but more than anything, an intense curiosity had been ignited in his soul.

you asked him to look for something in your bedroom drawers, something that he can’t recall at the moment after he found something that piqued his attention: an egg-shaped item coated in pink medical-grade silicone neatly hidden under layers of clothing and tightly wrapped in a bag. it was tiny in his massive hand and he didn’t have the foggiest idea what it was or what it was made for until you walked in to see what was taking so long, hearing you gasp and turning his head to find you covering your face with your hands looking absolutely mortified. you struggled to stop yourself from stuttering when you had to explain to him what it was, a sex toy that you bought sometime in the first year of college and buried once you got together since it was no longer needed. it was the only one you’ve ever bought and you’ve honestly forgotten about it until now without any idea of how he would react.

while you were humiliated about it, you could see a sparkle of intrigue in his eyes which quickly led to finding yourself in bed with your clothing removed and his new discovery against your aching cunt. it wasn’t difficult to figure out how to change the intensity of the vibrations with a press of a button, but did he need to put it at the highest setting when you’ve practically lost feeling in your legs at this point? it felt so strange at first now that you’re so accustomed to him pleasuring you personally, yet that foreign sense melted away with the familiar memory of taking care of your needs when lonely— except now you had your handsome lover holding it for you with your hands gripping the sheets instead.

he’s amused at how such a small little thing was so powerful in reducing you to a moaning mess as it pulls another orgasm from your spent body, feeling his neglected cock twitch with every blissful moan past your lips louder than the humming of the toy. you mutter something along the lines of asking him not to stare out of embarrassment, but it all falls on deaf ears since the view that he has is downright mesmerizing, watching intently as he presses it into your puffy folds with a focus on your sensitive clit. all the while, he’s holding your legs open to stop you from closing them instinctively when it felt like too much, his large hand being a comforting weight on your thigh as you squirm in place.

your body trembled in sync with the pulsating toy, walls barely able to clench around the head of the vibrator while leaking like a faucet and dripping all over logan’s fingers. “it’s too much-!!” you whined, throwing your head back into the pillows with glossy eyes and drool starting to seep out the corner of your mouth from the electricity coursing through your veins. it’s surprising that you were even able to utter a coherent phrase when your brain had essentially been turned to mush.

“you can give me one more, can’t you doll?” there’s a hint of sadism in his voice detectable to even your ecstasy-fogged mind where you knew that he was getting off on your reactions alone, an arrogant smirk plastered across his handsome face that was so slappable and sexy. he can almost feel himself drooling too, craving a taste of the sweet nectar making a mess everywhere. “such a desperate and needy little thing,” he tutted, observing your greedy pussy trying to pull the vibrator deeper within you. “go on, cum for me.”

as if his words commanded your body, the tight coil twisting in your abdomen finally snapped, making you writhe and cry out in relief. your heart was pounding in your chest and you gasped for air, feeling sweaty and exhausted as that must have been your third or fourth climax. you stared at him through half-lidded eyes trying to determine if he had had enough of using the vibrator for torturous pleasure until he suddenly pulled you closer to him to bury his face into your soaked heat. he just needed a taste of you, to lick you clean and make you tug on his hair.

watching you become undone when he doesn’t even need to lift a finger seemed to awaken something in him… it’s definitely a piece of modern technology that he would like to invest in, he plans to buy more of different types, shapes, and sizes to try out on you (the definition of “spectacular, give me fourteen of them right now”).

#📜. her works #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #hugh jackman #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #x men #x men x reader #x men smut #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel smut

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mapsthewanderer · 3 months ago

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The Maze

Synopsis: In a future where war and technology have blurred the line between man and machine, Caleb was resurrected—not as who he was, but as who he was programmed to be. With only 3% of his original self left intact, the latest reboot of his chip has reshaped his logic, his purpose, and his understanding of his emotions towards you.

Bound by his own design, he has built you the Maze—a flawless, shifting sanctuary meant to protect the one person he refuses to lose. But protection and captivity are two sides of the same coin, and inside the Maze, freedom is just another unsolvable puzzle.

Will you escape, or will Stockholm Syndrome take hold before that day?

Details: 4000ish words. Some kind of spin off AU, but corresponds with in-game canons. Obsessive Caleb. Yandere Caleb. Controlling Caleb. Crazy hot Caleb. 18+ due to psychological thriller/drama/angst galore. Sexual tension. Angst. Angst. Aaaaangst. You are warned.

Chapters: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight (final chapter)

Tags: @gavin3469 @mcdepressed290 @justpassingdontworry

Choices | Chapter five

The Maze, the bedroom, you

The day feels normal.

Your fingers skim the headboard out of habit. Thirteen. Another line, edged without thinking. As you exhale, your gaze flickers down, catching the smooth gleam of the apple-shaped watch on your wrist. A faint, almost absentminded smile tugs at your lips, before your fingers brush over it, tugging it slightly, then letting it settle.

You stretch, rolling your shoulders, feeling the pull of your muscles, the deep, satisfying ache settling into your limbs. A reminder. Last night. The way Caleb had taken you, the way his hands had mapped every inch of your skin, the way he had gripped, controlled, ruined.

The loophole had worked.

And yet—your mind lingers, not on the thrill of it, not on the power of what you’d just unraveled, but on something quieter. Something heavier. Something you can’t quite name.

Because for all of Caleb’s dominance, for all his relentless certainty—the smirks, the teasing, the way he’d owned you so completely—when it was over, he had looked at you.

And in his gaze, something had cracked.

Not satisfaction. Not victory.

Hesitation.

Like, for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he had actually won.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, basketball court, you

The ball slams against the court floor, the sharp echo cutting through the empty space between you and him. A perfect rhythm, steady, measured, filling the silence that neither of you acknowledge.

Your breath comes harder now, the exertion prickling under your skin, sweat dampening the back of your neck. But Caleb—

He doesn’t even look winded.

He stands there, utterly relaxed, spinning the ball effortlessly on his fingertips, his stance deceptively casual. The picture of control, of ease, of someone who isn’t even trying.

“You’re getting sloppy, Pip-squeak,” he muses, voice smooth, unhurried.

Your jaw tightens.

“Or maybe you’re just slowing down, Colonel.”

That gets a reaction.

His head tilts slightly, violet eyes sharpening—not in anger, but in something sharper. Amusement, intrigue, challenge.

The moment stretches. The air between you thickens, charged.

And then—he moves.

Fast.

Too fast.

Before you can register the shift, before your body can react, he’s on you.

A sharp slap against the ball. A blur of movement. And suddenly, his sheer presence swallows every inch of space.

You barely have time to inhale before your back hits the wall.

Your breath stutters.

Heat. Close. Overwhelming.

His chest nearly brushes yours, the solid weight of him pressing forward just enough to invade, to consume. One arm braces against the wall beside your head, fingers loose, deceptively casual.

His lips twitch. But it’s not quite a smirk.

It’s something quieter.

Something hungrier.

“Say that again?”

His voice has dropped. Smooth, slow, deep—dangerous.

Your throat tightens.

Not from fear.

From something else entirely.

Because you know exactly what he’s doing.

And so does he.

His eyes flick over you—studying. Watching the sharp rise and fall of your chest, the faint tremor in your fingers.

You force yourself to meet his gaze, refusing to look away. Not now. Not when the air between you is strung so tight it feels like a single breath could snap it.

You tilt your chin up, letting the challenge settle between you.

“I said— you’re getting slow.”

His hand moves.

Knuckles grazing your jaw. Trailing lower.

Over your throat.

Not tightening.

Just holding.

Feeling.

Testing.

His thumb presses lightly against your pulse.

He can feel how fast it’s beating.

And the bastard smiles.

Slow. Knowing. Infuriating.

You try to steady yourself, to ignore the heat crawling up your spine, to remind yourself that this is just Caleb being Caleb.

But then—

His thumb drags over your lower lip.

Once.

Barely there.

And you freeze.

The tension between you presses into your ribs, heavy, unbearable. It lingers in the air, in the pulse beneath his fingers, in the way his breath is just a little too close.

For a second—just a second—you think he’s going to kiss you.

And fuck, you want him to.

But just as suddenly—he pulls away.

His hand drops from your face, his expression unreadable as he takes a step back. Like he’s severing something. Like he has to.

“Let’s go again.”

His voice is too even. Too controlled.

And just like that—the moment is gone.

But not forgotten.

Not even close.

——————————————————————————

The rich scent of coffee lingers in the kitchen, grounding, warm, blending with the faint citrus bite of the juice in your glass. The air feels charged—not with danger, not with the tension from last night, but with something else. Something unraveling.

At the counter, Caleb rolls his shoulders, a slow, absent motion, as if trying to shake something loose. You watch the subtle flex of his fingers against the polished surface, the way his jaw tightens—just slightly, just enough to betray the tension creeping in.

“Orange juice again?” he muses, glancing at you as you take a sip.

“It’s better than apple,” you reply easily, meeting his gaze over the rim of your glass.

He scoffs, shaking his head, but there’s something missing in it. The usual smugness doesn’t quite land. It feels muted, restrained. The moment lingers too long, stretching between you like something unspoken, something waiting to crack open. He wants to say something. You can see it in the way his fingers twitch, in the way his breath pulls just a little too slow, in the way he holds himself like a man on the verge of slipping. But he doesn’t say anything.

And you’re done ignoring things.

So you test him.

Your fingers skim his wrist as you move past him—light, fleeting, barely a touch. A test. Just like before. Just like always. But this time, his reaction is different. His body goes still, completely still, his breath catching for the briefest second, and then—he flinches. Not in pain. Not in anger. But like you’ve touched something fragile. Something fracturing beneath the surface. Something he doesn’t know how to hold together.

“Caleb.”

Your voice is softer than you meant it to be.

He doesn’t look at you. Instead, his hand lifts, fingers pressing hard against his temple, digging in slightly, as if trying to push something away. And then—the Maze flickers.

The hum—that faint, mechanical heartbeat of the shifting walls—falters. The sound wavers, skips, like a breath held too long, like the system itself is reacting to him, to the way his body stiffens, the way his shoulders pull tight, the way his breath is coming faster now.

Something inside the system is slipping.

Something inside him is slipping.

His breath catches, sharp, like a thread being pulled too tight.

And then—

“I need you to listen carefully.”

His voice shakes. Slight. Almost imperceptible. But it’s there. A crack in something solid, a flicker of uncertainty in someone who has never known uncertainty. His fingers tighten around the counter, his grip white-knuckled, unyielding, like he’s physically keeping himself in place, keeping himself from unraveling entirely.

The tension ripples through his arms, muscles locking up, breath stuttering—and it stops you cold. Because this isn’t Caleb. Not the Caleb you’ve always known. Caleb doesn’t shake. Not like this. Not ever. And yet—his fingers press harder against his temple, like something is burning there, like something is wrong in a way neither of you can see.

The air shifts, thickening around you, but it’s different this time. Not with dominance. Not with desire. But with something that tightens in your chest. Something that makes you realize—for the first time—

You’re afraid.

Not of him.

But of what’s happening to him.

——————————————————————————

Caleb doesn’t break easily.

Even now, with his breath ragged, his fingers still gripping the counter like a lifeline, his violet eyes flickering between lucidity and something darker, he forces himself to pull it together.

At least, on the surface.

“Pip-squeak, listen to me,” he repeats, voice low, strained, shaking but still sharp.

That’s when you realize he’s issuing a command.

Not an order to control you.

Not a test, not a punishment.

A real command—because he needs you to help him.

The thought unsettles something inside you.

“Go to the west wing,” he exhales, his tone clipped, measured. “Hallway B-7, third panel on the left. There’s a locked drawer. You’ll need to override the system to access it.”

You blink, heart hammering.

“Override the system?”

His jaw clenches.

“It’s coded to me, but I’ll disable the security lock from here. Once you’re in, there’s a diagnostic kit—tools for recalibrating the chip manually.”

Your stomach twists.

“Recalibrating,” you echo slowly. The word tastes wrong.

Because you know what it means.

Caleb is failing.

The chip is failing.

And he’s trusting you to fix him.

“Pip-squeak.” His voice draws you back, rasping now, fraying at the edges.

You look at him, his eyes dark, heavy-lidded with strain, his gloved fingers flexing once before curling against the counter again.

“Go,” he says. Not a plea. Not a demand. A necessity.

And so—you run.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the kitchen, Caleb

The pain isn’t sharp.

It’s deep.

A slow, gnawing thing burrowing into his skull, wrapping around his spine, sinking into his limbs like molten metal cooling in his veins.

It pulses in waves—a rhythm of suffering, a silent war waging inside him, his own body betraying him second by second.

Caleb has felt pain before.

The impact of a crash, the bone-deep ache of bruises after combat, the burn of raw knuckles split open from a fight.

But this—this is different.

This is inside him.

This is the chip.

Misfiring. Glitching. Failing.

And the worst part?

He can’t fix it alone.

——————————————————————————

Your feet barely make a sound as you sprint down the corridor, breath quick, sharp, uneven.

You know where the west wing was, you know the halls, the layout, the system that shifts around you—and you know the weight of the kit secured against your arm, a constant reminder of what comes next.

And yet—

As you round the next corner, something flickers.

A panel of the Maze—a seam in the wall, a disruption in its otherwise smooth, impenetrable surface.

A door.

Not just any door.

A way out.

Your breath stutters.

Because you know—deep down, instinctively—you shouldn’t be seeing this.

Caleb’s control over the Maze has never slipped before.

He keeps it perfect, keeps it moving, keeps it fluid.

But now, with his system failing, his mind faltering, his control slipping—

He’s left an opening.

An accidental escape route.

Your body reacts before your mind can stop it.

You take a single, hesitant step forward.

The door is right there.

Open. Waiting.

Freedom.

But then—

A sound.

Your own breath.

Shaky. Staggered.

And you realize—you’re not just running toward something.

You’re running away from something, too.

And it’s him.

Caleb.

The man you have spent thirteen days trying to escape.

The man who locked you inside this Maze.

The man who broke you apart and put you back together again, who took you, claimed you, made you want things you shouldn’t want.

The man who is waiting for you, back in the kitchen, barely holding himself together, trusting you to return.

Your stomach clenches.

Because this isn’t just a physical escape.

This is a decision.

If you leave now, you won’t just be escaping the Maze.

You’ll be leaving him.

And you know—if you go through that door, if you take that chance, if you run now—

You’ll never see him again.

And that thought—

Terrifies you.

Your feet pivot before your brain catches up.

You turn.

And you run.

Not away.

Back.

——————————————————————————

Your heart slams against your ribs as you sprint back toward the kitchen, breath sharp, hands trembling.

By the time you burst through the doorway, your chest heaving, the only thing you see is him.

Caleb is exactly where you left him—except now, his grip on the counter has loosened, his arms hanging heavy at his sides.

His breathing is uneven, his body visibly tense, his shoulders too stiff, his expression unreadable.

For a split second, you think he didn’t notice that you left.

But then—

His violet eyes lift, locking onto yours.

And you know.

He saw the door.

He knew.

You don’t speak.

Neither does he.

Instead, you cross the room in three steps, your hands moving without thought, gripping his arms, holding him steady.

“I’m here,” you breathe.

Caleb is slumped against the counter, his breath ragged, his body twitching in a way that sets off alarm bells in your mind. His hand grips the edge of the counter like he’s fighting to stay upright, like he’s forcing himself to maintain control.

His violet eyes—so sharp, so unbreakable—flicker, dulling, something off, something wrong.

“Pip-squeak—” His voice is strained, hoarse, as if it costs him something to speak. “No. You should—”

“Shut up, Caleb.”

Your hands are already on him, already pulling one of his arms over your shoulders, already steadying him as he sags into you. He’s heavy, all muscle and dead weight, but you don’t stop, don’t falter.

He lets you guide him out of the kitchen, his body tense, rigid, resisting for all of five seconds before he realizes—

He has no choice but to trust you.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the kitchen, Caleb

He should be angry.

He should be furious.

You had a way out.

A real way out.

And instead of taking it—

You came back.

He can’t understand it.

His vision flickers, the edges blurred, static curling at the back of his skull, his limbs heavy, his system failing to keep up.

But you’re right in front of him, touching him, gripping his arms, breath warm against his jaw.

“I’m here.”

The words slice through him.

And he believes you.

But he doesn’t understand why.

His body sways slightly, his knees buckling, his weight shifting forward.

And for the first time, you catch him.

Your arms move without hesitation, slipping around his torso, steadying him, holding him upright.

His breath stutters.

His fingers curl weakly against your back, gripping the fabric of your shirt like he needs something—anything—to anchor him.

He’s never needed to be caught before.

He’s always been the unshakable one, the one in control.

But now?

Now he’s falling.

And you’re the only one willing to break that fall.

His breath shudders against your temple, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You had a way out.”

You nod, your arms tightening around him.

“I know.”

His grip tightens.

And suddenly—

He doesn’t know if that’s a victory.

Or if it’s the most painful thing he’s ever felt.

——————————————————————————

Your arms are warm, steady, guiding him toward the bed with a strength that shouldn’t surprise him anymore.

He barely registers the feel of your skin through his clothes, barely notices the way your fingertips press into his side to keep him upright.

His head is buzzing, too full, too heavy, his thoughts trying to slip through his fingers like sand.

The air is thick, weighted, each breath dragging like it’s moving through water.

The moment his back hits the mattress, his breath shoves out in a sharp exhale, sweat clinging to his skin, soaking into the sheets beneath him.

The cotton is cool against his overheated body, but it doesn’t soothe.

Nothing does.

His jaw locks tight as another tremor rips through him, his fingers twitching against the fabric.

“Tell me what to do.”

Your voice is firm but soft, wrapping around the chaos like an anchor.

And fuck, he needs it.

He forces his eyes open, blinking through the static buzzing at the edges of his vision.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bedroom, you

“The kit—” he rasps, his voice raw, barely his own.

A pause—his breath shudders as the pain spikes again.

“Inside—small black case—use the scanner first.”

Your fingers move quickly, rifling through the drawer, the sound of plastic against metal making his skin prickle.

A snap.

The case opens, the soft whir of technology coming to life.

He watches—even through the haze, even as his limbs go rigid against the bed.

You listen.

You follow every instruction he gives, carefully, precisely.

And somehow—it steadies him.

Until the next wave of pain crashes over him.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bedroom, Caleb

The moment the scanner activates, a pulse of electric current running along the base of his skull, his body seizes.

Every muscle locks, his chest tightening like a vice, breath ripped away before he can catch it.

His back arches slightly, his gloved hands clenching into the sheets, twisting them in his fists.

The room tilts, blurs, the pressure in his skull unbearable.

It’s like a thousand needles driving into his brain, nerves set ablaze, body thrown into chaos.

The pain is everywhere, but nowhere at the same time—so deep, so ingrained that it ceases to feel external, becoming part of him.

He won’t scream.

He won’t.

But his throat burns from the effort of swallowing it down, his teeth grinding so hard his jaw aches.

The sound that escapes is low, guttural, like something breaking deep inside him.

“Caleb—”

Your voice cuts through the agony, but it’s distant, like trying to listen through a thick wall.

Your hands press against his chest, grounding him, shaking slightly but firm.

“Keep talking to me,” you say, your breath hitting his cheek, warm and real. “What’s next? What do I do?”

He forces air into his lungs, forcing his body through sheer will to obey him.

“Adjust the frequencies. You’ll see—the panel—” His breath hitches sharply, his body twitching under your touch. ��Blue—match the blue to the—fuck—”

His voice cuts off, fingers trembling against the mattress, shoulders tense enough to snap.

He can’t finish the sentence.

His breath is barely his.

His own goddamn body isn’t his.

And then—

His fingers graze the headboard.

——————————————————————————

The wood isn’t smooth.

Not perfect like everything else in the Maze.

It’s marked. Scarred.

His fingers press into the uneven grooves, tracing them instinctively.

The texture is rough, carved into the polished surface, deep enough to catch on the pads of his fingers.

One.

Two.

Three.

His pulse stutters.

Four.

Five.

His breath locks in his throat.

Six.

Seven.

His vision blurs, muscles still spasming.

Eight.

Nine.

His fingers clench over the last four lines.

Thirteen.

Thirteen days.

Thirteen small, deliberate scratches.

Thirteen marks carved into the headboard beneath your pillow.

And it hits him—so violently, so suddenly, that it nearly robs him of air.

You’ve been counting the days.

Caleb forces his body to move, to fight against the static buzzing beneath his skin, the raw pulse of pain anchoring him down, the way his limbs feel disconnected, foreign, almost not his own. His fingers twitch, struggling to obey him, but his head turns, his gaze latching onto you.

You don’t notice it at first.

You’re focused, adjusting the scanner’s frequencies, bottom lip caught between your teeth, brows drawn in concentration. The soft glow of the interface reflects against your skin, illuminating the subtle tension in your hands as you work, as if the whole world has narrowed to this one task.

You don’t see how he’s looking at you.

Like you just ripped the floor out from under him.

Like something inside him is fracturing at the seams.

Because the truth is—he always knew.

He knew you were keeping track. Of the days, of the Maze, of time itself, even when he tried to make time irrelevant. He knew, in some deep, unspoken part of himself, that you hadn’t truly given in. Not yet.

But knowing it wasn’t the same as feeling it.

Not the same as seeing it.

Not the same as touching the evidence of it.

Because while he had watched over you, while he had convinced himself that what you shared was real, that every moment, every breath, every night, was something you had chosen—

You were carving the days into your bed like a prisoner marking their sentence.

His stomach tightens.

His pulse pounds, hard and uneven, rattling against his ribs like something trying to break free. The pain in his body is relentless, scorching, but it doesn’t come close to the ache tearing through him now.

Because—what if he was wrong?

What if—even after everything, after the chase, after last night, after every whispered plea, every touch that had felt real—

You were still waiting to be free?

His breath pulls tight, and despite the agony still wrecking through his body, despite the tremors threatening to drag him under—

He can’t stop himself.

“You’ve been counting.”

The words barely leave him, soft, wrecked, almost nothing.

But you hear them.

Your gaze snaps to his, your fingers stilling over the controls.

And he sees it.

The guilt.

The hesitation.

The truth.

And it hurts worse than the chip ever could.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bedroom, you

The words hang in the air, heavier than they should be.

“You’ve been counting.”

Your fingers tremble slightly against the scanner, the glow of the interface illuminating the space between you in cold, sterile light.

He’s still watching you.

Still waiting.

For what, you’re not sure.

For you to deny it?

For you to confirm it?

For you to say something—anything—that won’t make this moment worse?

But there’s nothing to say.

Because he’s right.

So you don’t answer.

You just look at him—really look at him.

At the way his breath is still uneven, at the way his hands twitch against the sheets, at the way his body—still rigid from pain—tenses with something else entirely now.

Something worse.

Because you know what he’s thinking.

He’s realizing, all at once, that no matter what you share—no matter the moments, the games, the hunts, the touches—

You were still waiting for the day you could leave.

And that?

That breaks him.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bedroom, Caleb

It shouldn’t hurt this much.

It shouldn’t.

He already knew.

Of course, you were keeping track.

Of course, you wanted out.

That was never a question.

But feeling it—tracing those marks with his own fingers, tangible proof of your quiet defiance—

It makes him feel like he’s bleeding out.

And the worst part?

It’s not anger.

It’s not rage.

It’s something else—something heavier, something deeper, something that makes him feel like his ribs are caving in.

Because for a split second—a fraction of a moment—he wasn’t the monster who kept you locked away.

He was just Caleb.

The boy who used to know you.

The boy who used to love you.

And the fact that he’s feeling this—the fact that it even still exists inside him at all—

Means that the last part of him is still fighting.

And he hates it.

He can’t afford to be this way.

Not anymore.

Not after this.

His pulse kicks up, something snapping inside him, something fraying and violent.

He needs to move.

Needs to get out.

Needs to shut it off.

Because if he doesn’t—if he stays here, if he keeps looking at you, keeps feeling this, keeps unraveling at the edges—

He’s going to break completely.

So he does the only thing he can do.

He rips the scanner from your hands.

The sudden snatch makes you jerk back, your breath catching, but he doesn’t look at you.

His grip on the device is too tight, his fingers trembling slightly as he forces himself to breathe through the raw static tearing through his body.

“Playtime is over,” he mutters, voice flat, void of warmth, void of anything.

Then, before you can stop him, before you can say something—anything—

He storms out.

Fast. Too fast.

His boots hit the floor with sharp, clipped strides, his vision tunneling as he barely registers the sound of your breath catching.

The door slams open, then shut.

And then—

He recalibrates.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bedroom, you

“Caleb—”

You move before you can think, before you can stop yourself, pushing up from the bed, reaching out.

But then—

A hiss.

A sharp, mechanical click.

And just like that, the door locks.

Right in front of you.

Your stomach plummets, breath catching in your throat as your palm presses against the cold metal surface.

“Caleb!”

Nothing.

You press harder, heart pounding, frustration knotting in your ribs.

“Caleb, open the door!”

Nothing.

The silence is immediate.

And absolute.

No more footsteps.

No more muttering over the speakers.

No more shifting of the Maze’s walls.

Caleb is just—gone.

And for the first time in thirteen days, you are completely alone.

No voice in your ear.

No game.

No teasing.

Nothing.

Just silence.

And you have no idea how long it will last.

——————————————————————————

Chapter six

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: Soo, chapter 4 had its own challenges, but this… This is, without a doubt, the most painful thing I’ve ever written (so far) and I wanted to send it out to the universe so it’s easier to read chapter 5 in the context of chapter 4. I hope it lands—and that you’re (painfully) enjoying it as much as I am. I appreciate ya’ll. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

#angst send help #caleb love and deepspace #love and deepspace #lnds caleb #lads caleb #caleb #fanfic caleb #you x caleb #reader x caleb #caleb x mc #the maze #fanfiction caleb #headcanon caleb #mc x caleb #angst caleb

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radioactive-reactions · 1 year ago

Note

How would the companions react to discovering not only Vault 111 but also the frozen Sole Survivor

Whether they saw it as a potential treasure trove, a nostalgic relic, or just a safe, quiet refuge, Vault 111 always seemed to attract the odd scavenger or adventurer. After slipping past the door, however, this particular intruder would end up stumbling upon something far stranger than they could expect...

Cait hadn't really taken the time to scope out the Vault before diving into it headfirst- having a pack of feral dogs nipping at your heels will do that to you. Coming face to face with the frozen Sole Survivor down there is freaky enough to give her a heart attack, but as the perfect audience for her rambling stories and a nonjudgmental drinking buddy they soon become the centerpiece of her impromptu hideout. As for actually getting them out? Fuck if she knows how.

Codsworth knows full well what the Vault up the hill contains, of course. How could he not? Much of the aging robot's time is spent tending to his owners' pods: tightening every bolt, polishing the glass, keeping the steel casing free of even a single speck of rust. The only thing that keeps him going is the thought that on some level, under that thin layer of frost, they might know he's there for them.

Curie's unbridled excitement at making contact with another Vault is quickly tempered once she actually sets eyes on the denizens of said Vault. With nothing but time and centuries' worth of medical expertise to work with, she immediately sets to the task of bringing Vault 111 back to life- not just the Sole Survivor, but everyone consigned to a cold and inglorious fate in those cryopods. This is a mission worth spending another two hundred years on.

Danse has been assigned to scour the Vault as part of a routine sweep for useful technology- a task entirely beneath a Paladin, but what he finds there more than makes up for it. Immediately, a whole field research team is dispatched to the vault and the cryopods are airlifted out one by one. The Sole Survivor's first memory of the new world is waking up to the harsh white light of a Brotherhood lab, bombarded with questions and shoved blearily through a battery of tests. Not a great first impression.

Deacon still thinks the Vault would make an ideal fallback hideout, even with the rows of corpsicles. The eerie blue glow and residents in cryosleep are pitched to Desdemona as enhancing the ambience, but the suggestion is soundly denied for the Vault's visibility. Even so, Deacon maintains a post outside, just in case one of those poor bastards stumbles out one day.

When Hancock inexplicably wakes up in the Vault after partying a little too hard, he immediately assumes he's still hallucinating- that, or he's been picked up by Zetans. It takes him hours of trying to pry the Sole Survivor's pod open in a hungover haze to finally give up, writing the place off as another of the Old World's many sins and decent subject matter for his next speech.

MacCready almost feels at home in the vast underground chambers of the Vault. Almost. No matter how convenient the Vault is as a last-ditch hideout, its residents creep him out too much to stay there for any real length of time. He tries his hardest to avoid their frozen stares, endlessly grateful that it's them in there and not him.

Valentine relates to the frozen Sole Survivor a little more than he'd like to admit. Two abandoned relics, used to serve a greater purpose and then thrown out like so much junk when they were done. He knows more than anyone what a harsh awakening they're going to have- if they do wake up. Every so often, he'll wander back to check on them, sharing a yarn about his latest case and watching for any progress. On the day that pod does unseal, he'll be there to lend a helping hand... but until then, all he can do is maintain a file. It's one hell of a cold case.

Piper feels a little guilty that her first thought is how good of a story this will make. 'Pod people slumber among us', maybe? She doesn't want to risk the Sole Survivor's life by touching anything, but maybe if she spreads the word someone out there will be able to help them. That's how she justifies it to herself, anyway- now if only there was some concrete link to the Institute she could work in...

Preston has been surveying the area around Sanctuary for potential threats to the burgeoning settlement... and he still isn't entirely sure that this doesn't count as one. It takes a moment to line up the resident registry with the names on Sanctuary's rusted-out mailboxes, but once he does, he has the Vault sealed up again out of respect for those who came before. If he and his scant resources can't help them, he can at least let them rest in peace.

Strong hammers away at the pod to no avail before stomping off in a huff to seek his next victim somewhere else. Canned food clearly isn't his thing.

X6-88 is here for a routine checkup - nothing more, nothing less. Although the Director had been cagey about what exactly he wanted to be kept safe down here, there was nothing X6 wouldn't be prepared for... so he thought, at least. The sight of a person, frozen and contained, gives him a rare moment of pause and elicits an uncomfortable, involuntary comparison to the dormant synths rolling off the assembly line. Nevertheless, he makes sure the cryopod is still functional and returns home, all the while trying to forget their strange resemblance to the Director.

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #fo4 cait #codsworth #fo4 deacon #fo4 curie #paladin danse #john hancock #rj maccready #nick valentine #piper wright #preston garvey #fo4 strong #x6 88 #reactions #the april fools joke is me being active #who else is looking forward to that fallout 4 remaster? i am #despite myself

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izicodes · 10 months ago

Text

Hi, Hello! It’s me, Izzy and I am back from a very long break!

For those who don’t know who I am and just saw my post, I’m Isabelle but Izzy for short (and even shorter, Izi)! I run a Codeblr blog which I post about anything coding! I try to strictly only talk about coding, programming and computer science, but frankly, I ramble on about something else eventually! Hope you’re doing well!

Now, I know I said I wouldn't come back, but that was because I suddenly became stuck on what to post about and wanted to give myself a break and figure out how to do things on my blog and my online presence in general!

So, in summary, I am back from my break very inspired and eager to help more people get into programming / get better at programming! I will go on to talk about exactly what I have been doing during my break later on in this post, but wanted to say thank you to everyone who messaged me throughout the months and saw how I was! Very thought and extra blessings from God to you, please!

Working at my new-but-not-so-new job!

Yes! So, obviously, as a 21st Century girlie, I am working! Still at the music company that I started back in January! Now that I am 8 months into the job, I feel now I am fully immersed in the job and the projects and not feeling like an outsider! I went on multiple out-the-office events with the whole company and it was nice! Some I couldn’t attend because of religious reasons, but I still had fun! I got to meet a lot more girlies at my office that I don’t usually talk to (because I’m still the only girl in the frontend engineering team but there is a backend girlie but we don’t work close together so… distance)! Cheatingly, I am always ticking the box of “code every day”! However, work has made me do more UI/UX designing + frontend programming websites which I love! Always wanted to be both and not just one or the other! We are allowed to have 2 job titles, remember? (But make sure the salary is in accordance, of course, ~)

Learning new technologies! (for fun, obviously)

By “for fun” I mean personal reasons, the technologies I learnt on a whim were not for work but because I needed to learn them for personal projects I wanted to learn! I stress again; it’s more fun to learn something because you want to and not because you have to! So, I have been learning how to create desktop applications using ElectronJS and ReactJS (React has become my best friend!). Me now compared to me when I started my break is 10x smarter I feel like! My brain has definitely expanded somewhere…!

Latest project?!

Inspired by study productivity apps and wanting to track my Korean language progress, I am making a desktop application called ‘eStudySpace’! It would be my own personal app, but I want to see if I can actually pull something like this off! Right now I have not coded anything because I want to work on the design aspect first (which is smarter and a time saver in the future), so I have been on Figma for the last 2 weeks coming up with designs!

(It looks bad, I know this is like idea no.3287368 ugh...)

Miscs

I have been learning Korean for 4 months now.

I have plans to move to a South-Eastern country, The Philippines? Singapore? Unsure!

I do have plans to switch to a new career but that’s more like 5 years into the future! But right now, I’m happy where I am at!

#xc: update #coding #studyblr #programming #codeblr #studying #comp sci #progblr #programmer

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covid-safer-hotties · 8 months ago

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Also preserved on our archive

There could be a lot more here about non-pharmaceutical interventions like masking, but some pretty good analysis of the climate of vaccine "skepticism" and disease minimizing we live in.

By David Quammen

Health officials would like to remind you that we are entering that time of the year still quaintly known as flu season. That means autumn to spring. Kids go to school, adults spend more time gathered indoors, people breathe and speak and sneeze and cough at one another, and the latest influenza virus spreads widely.

The reason flu season seems a quaint idea is that we now hear about and maybe worry about so many viruses all year. And well we should.

What if there’s a simultaneous surge of Covid and seasonal flu this autumn? What if infections of respiratory syncytial virus, known as R.S.V., peak at unusual levels, as they did in the 2022-23 season? What if the new strain of mpox, which is especially virulent, continues spreading in Africa and beyond? What if this year’s flu combines with the dreaded H5N1 bird flu and emerges as a nightmare flu? What if a novel virus destined to be called SARS-CoV-3 emerges from a horseshoe bat in a rural village somewhere, gains a few key mutations and comes barreling through the world’s airports?

Oy vey and déjà vu. It’s always virus season now. Maybe none of those worst-case scenarios will happen, but to assume so is to count on fool’s luck.

The notion of flu season is a relic of times when one virus could transfix our response efforts and dominate our collective consciousness. Influenza in 1918. H.I.V. in 1980s and ’90s. Ebola in 2014. We can no longer afford to react on a case-by-case basis. Today we need a broader vision. We need personal, governmental and technological responses that address the full spectrum of viruses that disrupt our lives.

Because they will continue to disrupt our lives. We live amid viruses. We eat them. We breathe them. We touch them on doorknobs and cafeteria trays. All the wild and domestic animals with which we interact, from mosquitoes to mice to the sparrows on the bird feeder and the monkeys in the temple gardens, carry their own freights of them in wondrous variety. Most of these viruses have no chance of infecting a human, but many do. The best way to protect yourself and your family is just what health agencies recommend: Get the vaccines if reputable ones exist.

The best way to help protect your community, your country and the rest of humanity is a more complex proposition. The answers range from public health measures such as better virus surveillance to ending our bone-headed science denialism and finally supporting pandemic preparedness. But it’s not my purpose to unpack those big topics in this small spurt of words.

My purpose is more modest: to refresh your awareness of something you can’t see, not without the help of an electron microscope. Even the human genome contains a sizable portion — roughly 8 percent of it — that was once the genomes of ancient retroviruses, acquired and internalized by our ancestors in the course of infections.

Viruses of concern to humans come and go on various schedules. American dairy cows began their flu season this year around March 25, when the first infections with bird flu were reported in herds in Kansas and Texas. Measles outbreaks tend to be seasonal but more complex. In the tropics they may peak in the dry season, while in temperate climates measles correlates more with school schedules. And now that warmer temperatures are welcoming tropical mosquitoes farther north and south — including ones that transmit viral diseases like yellow fever and dengue — people in Florida and Italy may find that their worst virus season is summer. Climate change is the new force applied to the viral calendar.

Each year another seasonal vaccine is offered because influenza viruses evolve and mix continuously; their genomes entangle like shape-shifting snakes. The most concerning threat is different each year. This year’s flu vaccine in the United States is what’s called trivalent, or three-powered, meaning it contains elements from three different influenza viruses, all of which are circulating and any of which may prove most pervasive and problematic. Manufacturing flu vaccines takes months, so calculated decisions, mixing science and foresight, must be made long before autumn. Increasing efforts to produce even more kinds of vaccines, including some that target multiple virus strains, signal scientific awareness of the point I’m trying to make: We know a virus might get us, tomorrow or next season, but we can’t say which.

Hence the need for a universal flu vaccine, such as one that’s now in clinical trials at the National Institutes of Health. Hence the need for a universal coronavirus vaccine, toward which scientists at the California Institute of Technology, among other places, are working. Hence the need to create combination vaccines that protect against Covid-19 and influenza in one shot, which are also under development in the United States, China and elsewhere. Hence the need to improve ventilation systems for public and private buildings, which can significantly reduce the spread of respiratory viruses.

These are urgent challenges, at which laboratories and public health authorities all over the world are laboring busily. Science takes time; applying its findings takes patience. Persuading the public to adopt behavioral changes — some of which involve a prick in the arm, some of which require placing community welfare on a level with individual independence — is a task that may seem almost Sisyphean, but it remains crucial and doable.

Flu season in America is no illusory concept, and I don’t mean to deride it, merely to expand it. Get the jab if you’re not disqualified by special health conditions. Don’t disqualify yourself by indifference or groundless suspicions. But bear in mind that virus season doesn’t end with the first swallows of spring. We’re in it for the duration.

#mask up #covid #pandemic #public health #wear a mask #covid 19 #wear a respirator #still coviding #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #H5N1 #Flu #avian influenza #influenza #RSV #Mpox #HIV

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newtmas-fest · 3 months ago

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NEWTMAS FEST REVEALS!

Here we are, with the REVEALS for the 2024-25 edition of Newtmas fest!!

Thank you for following and/or participating in our fest! To always be updated on our fest, follow us here on Tumblr.

And now for you the complete list of our submissions, no longer anonymous! From now on you can promote your creation as much as you like. Tag us and we will reblog!

☆ Healing [Fanart] [Teen and Up Audiences - fanart] by Carmine (Mazarineee) @carminegoescrazy

Summary: A short fan comic based on this prompt by Anonymous:

Set during the end of tdc, newt lives and reacts to Thomas’s gunshot wound

Angst and Thomas whump

☆ You’ll Be In My Heart (And Mind) [Teen and Up Audiences - 4,022 w] by Taruchinator @taruchinator

Summary: Thomas could feel his blood running cold at the sight.

There, in the palm of his hand, lay what he recognized to be a USB drive. It was definitely an antique compared to all the other technology the WICKED facility provided, but if he had to take a guess, this was intentional—maybe making it more difficult to track?

But that wasn’t what had him staring.

White tape was wrapped around the thing, and a single word was written in red marker on top.

‘NEWT’

☆ Anything (or: Seven Minutes in Hell) [Teen and Up Audiences - 2,218 w] by FilisMaze @filismaze

Summary: “So… what now?”

“Your move, mate,” Newt said as he leaned back slightly, looking entirely too smug. “I’m up for… well, anything.”

“Anything?” Thomas repeated, wary but unable to stop his gaze from trailing—just for a second—to Newt’s lips, curved into that infuriating grin. He wasn’t sure what this game was actually about, but he had the distinct feeling he was already losing it.

“Anything,” Newt said, his smirk deepening.

Thomas frowned, suddenly very interested in anything that wasn’t Newt’s face. His gaze flitted over the shelves, the floor—anywhere but him. “What do people usually do in here?”

Newt snorted. “Wouldn’t know. Don’t usually play these kinds of games.”

or: Seven Minutes in Heaven—except Thomas doesn’t quite get the point of the game, and, honestly, he’s already losing interest. Luckily, Newt has a way of keeping him entertained.

☆ The cup [General Audience - 1,311 w] by clau_loves_5sos_and_gays @clauloves5sosandgays

Summary: “Okay then, what would you like to call me, as seen that you don’t want to address me by my name?”

“Honestly, I would prefer ‘Newt’s boyfriend’.” Thomas’ face must have been a poem because the waiter then laughed and shrugged. “Or ‘Newt’s latest hook-up’, if you don’t want anything serious at this moment.”

Newt is a waiter at Thomas’ favourite coffee shop who doesn’t seem to be able to write Thomas’ name correctly even once.

☆ Wish upon a starry night in Glasgow [Teen And Up Audiences - 4,997 w] by Kestis_21

Summary: Thomas buys a cheap cake and some candles to celebrate his birthday one fateful night in Glasgow, and that somehow leads to the cashier at the convenience store accompanying him on his special day.

☆ Contingency for miscommunication & stubborn boys. [A reliable guide by Brenda] [Teen And Up Audiences - 6,600 w] by Kestis_21

Summary: Newt has been trying to get across his feelings for Thomas for months, only for them to go unnoticed by the brunet. Everyone in the Safe Haven is subjected to the painstakingly long pining and obliviousness. That is, until Brenda gets impatient and decides to speed the process by kissing Newt in front of Thomas.

☆ chasing your last light to where ever I go [Teen And Up Audiences - 1,953 w] by FilisMaze @filismaze

Summary: "You okay there?“ Thomas rasped, his voice barely louder than the wind that howled through the empty land, kicking up stinging whorls of sand.

"Okay?” Newt echoed, his voice dry, brittle. “No, Tommy. I’m not bloody okay. None of us are.” He ran a hand through his dust-caked hair, leaving streaks of sweat-slicked grime. “We’re alive—guess that’s all that bloody matters anymore.”

Thomas flinched at the sharp edge to Newt’s words but held his gaze.

“Sometimes I wonder,” he murmured, more to himself than to Newt.

Newt frowned, turning to study him. “Wonder what?”

“If being alive matters, If being dead might be a lot easier.”

or: some heartfelt Newtmas in the Scorch

☆ Metro rides and butterflies [General Audience - 1,538 w] by Itsthemaze @itsthemxze

Summary: Newt meets Thomas on the metro. It starts with just some looks, until one of them is brave enough for the first move.

And for this edition it’s all! Thank you all for participating. If I didn't tag you please let me know!

The collection will remain open for post-fest submissions so if you have missed the deadline and want to post your fic to the collection go ahead! You won’t go through an anonymous phase and please contact us here on tumblr or by email to notify us of your submission.

#newtmas #maze runner #the maze runner #newt #thomas #tmr #tmr fandom #tmr newt #tmr thomas #newtmas fest

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jessilynallendilla · 7 months ago

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BEN 10 FIC REC

TITLE/LINK RATING COMPLETED-WORD-COUNT SERIES

let me know if the links aren't working and feel free to suggest any

Cold G 2,161

Just because Ben isn't an Anodite like Gwen doesn't mean that he doesn't have anything in common with his grandmother.

Back To The Future? T

It should have been a routine in-and-out mission. So when things go wrong (as per usual) and Ben thinks he's dead for sure, he's a bit surprised to find himself waking up in the Rustbucket with a ten-year-old Gwen sleeping on the bunk below him, and the calendar on the RV fridge indicating that it was the middle of June in 2006.

Arguably, The Second Worst Thing To Happen To Rook Blonko T 3,849

Ben and Rook meet as kids, during the same summer Ben got the Omnitrix. When Rook can't be returned to his home planet, he ends up in Max Tennyson's care, and he and Ben become best friends.

Ben 10 Writing Prompts G 5,471

A series of Ben 10 writing prompts on tumblr that people, and I, wanted to be saved onto AO3. Here ya go.

Black Stripes M

With the Omnitrix around his wrist Ben's mission in life is to solely help in creating a better universe, however on a mission with his Grandfather Max he never expected to see just how ugly the universe could really be. With a submissive feline type alien bound to his side in servitude Ben's finding out once again just how ugly the universe is, and just how small he is compared to those who wish to tear him and everyone he loves down.

Benmommy G 2,124

Kenny and Gwendolyn (and Devlin) find out that they have older brothers. Ben attempts to be a parent to his other kids.

14 Of 10 G

Set After Vengeance of Vilgax. Ben soon gets word of a Poacher kidnapping fourteen Necrofriggians and leaps into action. After his team rescues his babies, Ben decides it’s better for them to return to Earth and be raised there due to them having more humanity in them, causing other Necrofriggians to isolate them from others of their species. How will the Tennyson’s react with the latest members of their family coming?

Cross Your Heart (And Hope To Die) T 150,756 SERIES

By some cruel twist of fate, it was a freak accident that killed Ben Tennyson. When Rook received a cosmic second chance at undoing the disaster that he blamed himself for, he first thought of it as a blessing. Until the same day repeated again. And again and again and again.

Metamorphosis T

Suddenly, and without explanation, the Omnitrix becomes more. Ben, himself, becomes More. And maybe a little less human along the way. Or, Yes, Rook, Ben’s Eyes Have Always Been This Green, Giving Electric Shocks by Accident is Helpful Actually, How Many Eyes Do Humans Have Anyways, Ben Can Hear Every Equation, The Terrifying Ordeal of One the Most Powerful Tools in The Universe Attached To Your Body, Hey Attaching Alien Technology To Your Body Hurts Actually, The Watch Is Sentient, Ignore Ben's Left Arm It Has Always Been This Black and Green!

Soccer Moms Drive Minivans T 3,001

PTA meetings get infinitely more interesting when one of the parents is barely twenty and also the father of fourteen alien babies.

Keep the Charm But Don't Break My Heart T

There's one thing about Big Chill's Offspring that needs to be said: They'll do anything to find one another but also they're children that still need a bit of help. Luckily, Ben is willing to step in and help them. Or: A series of one-shots centred around each of the children as they find their way back home again.

CROSSOVERS

Who Are You? T 92,750

Danny was on patrol when he felt a prick on his side. Later on, he wakes up in a cell where a boy is thrown in by mysterious men in black and white uniforms. The two of them becomes friends when another boy their age enters their cell to do his job. The results was unsatisfactory for everyone. What will happen to the three boys?

Space Hockey And Mothbabies T 2,941 SERIES

Danny takes an unexpected trip to the omniverse, Kevin owes Danny a favor, and Ben suffers for his crimes against ghost kind.

Omni-Justice NR 1,483

The Justice League is luckily in a meeting when an alien conqueror issues a challenge to Earth. They began planning almost immediately but Green Lantern put a stop to it instantly. It’s not their challenge to answer so they can not interfere.

What Is A Kryptonian And Why Is He In My Omnitrix T

Ben 10 finds his way into the DC universe. Shenanigans ensue.

Ben, You're A Mother!? G

While in a fight with Captain Cold, Flash discovers a small blue little moth alien that has strayed too far from home. This leads the Justice League down a path of finding out a whole lot of new things about their new teammate and recruit, Ben Tennyson. One of those things being the fact that he is apparently a mother to fourteen little ice moth babies! Hilarity, chaos, and family shenanigans ensue

#ben 10 #fic rec

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jokertrap-ran · 6 months ago

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BAD MEDICINE ~Infectious teachers~ [PC GAME] Kashu Remu (Chemistry) Route Translations (Ruin END)

MC’s name is retained as the original MC name Kawana Hina.

* Words within ' ' are spoken in English – *Spoiler free : Translations under cut!

Prologue / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Bad END / Good END / Ruin END

— I have no idea how things turned out like this.

That day, he’d tugged me along by the arm to a place beyond my wildest imagination.

He did say that he lived in the Chemistry Preparation Room, and remembered him proudly saying that his residency certificate was also there. If so… Then, what is this place? Where was I?

If this isn’t his home…

Then… this might just be hell.

———————————————

Kashu: What a bad girl you are for making me angry~

Kashu: Right? Sacrifice-chan ♪

Hina: …

———————————————

After that fateful day… I was handcuffed and imprisoned here.

There were no windows here. Hence, I wasn’t able to tell day from night.

I couldn’t even tell how long it had been since then.

In the end, I never got to know the reason why he was even mad in the first place.

But… I no longer had the energy to ask him about it. Neither did I have the strength to escape.

Nothing.

———————————————

Kashu: Hehe~ Do you wanna run away~? No can’t do~ I won’t let you ♪

Kashu: You’re my precious experiment subject after all~

Kashu: I’ll keep you here forever~ And ever. And ever!

Hina: Why…

Kashu: Why? It’s obvious, isn’t it?

Kashu: Because you’ve been a bad girl. Special Guidance Officers are responsible for disciplining bad girls.

Kashu: But, that being said… You don’t have to go back to being a good girl~

Hina: Eh…?

Kashu: Mmhm. I think you’d be better off remaining a bad girl forever.

Kashu: Things will be much more interesting that way~ Plus, wouldn’t it be easier for you too?

Kashu: Because you’ll be able to stay here and get punished by me forever~♪

Hina: …!!!

Kashu: Hm? What? You still have that much strength left, huh? Why, are you feeling better today?

Kashu: Perhaps I should make you exercise a little? I’ll even help you with it~

Hina: Wha…

Kashu: We have to deal with dissatisfaction post-haste, don’t we? The sooner it’s settled, the better ♪

Hina: !? Wh- S-Stop it! STOP!!!

Kashu: Hmm~? I see~ So this is how you react in situations like this.

Kashu: Mmhm, this is interesting~ I wonder what’ll happen if there are others here as well~?

Hina: Wha… What are you saying!?

Kashu: What? Well, aren’t you curious to know? I think all healthy boys would be into that~

Kashu: Oh, but that would mean I’d have to show my cute experiment subject to others. And that’s just boring.

Kashu: Welp. Looks like I’ll just have to forgo that prospect. Hmmm, but it still is a pity though~

Hina: (What… the hell is this guy saying!?)

Kashu: Oh? You’ve gone all docile. You can trash around more, you know~

Kashu: Either way, you won’t be escaping from this place ♪ Those handcuffs you have on are made of the latest advanced technology~

Kashu: Hehe, see this? These handcuffs will connect us together, forever.

Kashu: It’s proof that you’re mine. Ahaha, this is so thrilling~

Hina: Stop… Stop it! Help! Someone… Anyone!!!

Kashu: Help won’t come. But that? That was a great reaction ♪

Kashu: Why don’t we go see what all that love behind that scream is all about, hmm?

Kashu: Shall we? Sacrifice-chan ♪

Hina: No… NOOO!!!

Kashu: Yes~ What a beautiful scream. It really makes my heartstrings tremble~ All palpitating and all that. Hehe.

Kashu: Don't hold back on me, you hear? You can scream all you want.

Kashu: I've soundproofed this place, so that won't be a problem at all~

Kashu: My whole body is getting hotter and hotter whenever I see that face of yours — whenever I hear that voice of yours.

Kashu: Ahaha, you're truly fascinating! I'll never get bored of you!

———————————————

Despair filled me.

I could feel the chains ensnaring my very being. I was unable to escape, no matter how much I wanted to.

What went wrong? Why did he lose all reason?

The only thing I knew was that— There was no escape for me.

———————————————

Kashu: You’re amazing… A brilliant, brilliant experiment subject!

Kashu: Haha! Ahahahahahaha!!!

———————————————

The chill of the handcuffs around my wrist pierced my heart.

#bad medicine infectious teachers #bad medicine infectious teachers game #otome #rejet #translations #kashu remu #tojo kairi #shido kaname #yanagi ryota #kuzuha kakeru #nagihara taiki

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striderl · 7 months ago

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What is the Filming Industry's reaction to Titan Tvman getting infected?

The Filming Industry, surprisingly, wasn’t panicking as much this time — perhaps because they’d already been through too much emotional turmoil recently. It started with the Titan Cameraman being badly damaged by the kamikaze, followed by the eradication of the elite forces. Then came the arrival of the Astro army, the Titan Speakerman's severe injuries during the conflict with G-Toilet, the disappearance of the Titan Cameraman, and now this latest crisis. Over the past six months, almost everyone has been emotionally drained. This situation, albeit troubling, felt less overwhelming because there was still a glimmer of hope — thanks to the Skibidi joining the Alliance forces.

Still, there were some dramatic reactions, particularly from Gaffer, who finally found some catharsis watching the TV faction face the consequences of their arrogance — the refusal to aid the cameramen in need, the massive confiscation of the Astro technology, and their derogatory labeling of other factions as “cannon fodders.” Despite herself being a TV unit, her beliefs don’t align with the faction’s dogma of superiority. She doesn’t support their condescending attitude or their attempts to dominate other factions, including the Skibidis.

The Skibidis’ willingness to ally with the cameramen surprised her — it was a stark contrast to her own faction’s stubborn pride. She held no initial hatred toward the Skibidis, aside from their responsibility for Chief’s death. But now, given the dire situation, she had no objections for cooperating with the Skibidis. With the TV faction’s most powerful weapon being controled by the Astros, it is an opportunity to force the TV folks to finally learn from their mistakes and collaborate with the rest of the Alliance, as well as foster a less-hostile relationship with the Skibidis from G-Toilet’s forces.

Meanwhile, Styrofilm and Polaroid reacted with more pragmatism than negativity. Their primary concern was how their already crippled forces would handle a new parasitic threat. Styro himself began preparing for a field investigation in Russia, planning to collect samples and information to assist the scientific head counsel in devising a solution to retrieve the TV Titan. He decided to bring Polaroid along, as Rescue Squad 08 is returning to Japan for a visit, and he’d take a transfer flight through Osaka.

And Foley? He just chilling and being sarcastic as usual. Quote: “TV Titan got his @$$ kicked before and never learned, now he got his @$$ owned by a giant Gothic woman, ain’t that a welcoming relief?”

#Ask #Skibidi Toilet #The Filming Industry #OC Styrofilm #OC Polaroid #shadowwolfmemes

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willalove75 · 2 years ago

Note

hi, i hope you know that you're one of my favourite fanfic writers when it comes to lady dimitrescu x reader! can I request something angsty? i just want something to cry about. can you do a fic where lady dimitrescu insists on taking care of a stubborn y/n after finding out that y/n has an incurable illness, but then it's too late because the reader is on her death bed? I love your works so much! 💖✨

AW thank you SO much!!!💕

I love this request and I already know it's going to be heartbreaking.

LETS GET SAD!

Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI

Tags: death, sickness, grieving

A/n: I cried writing this so you're welcome😅😂

It started off slowly, you woke up most mornings still tired even after a full nights rest, your legs started to feel weak, your nose sprung a leak a few times. You thought you were just run down and didn't think much of it.

You didn't think there were any problems until Alcina fed from you for the first time in awhile after a night of passionate love making.

The moment your blood touched her tongue she pulled away.

"Draga,"

"What? What's the matter?" Her eyes were wide and filled with fear. "Alci, what's wrong?"

"Your blood." Her breathing was becoming labored and her hands started to tremble.

"Baby, what's wrong-"

"Have you been feeling okay? Has something been wrong?"

"I've been fine, a little more tired than usual, my legs have been tired, but nothing massive, nothing really concerning. I've just been run down. Why? Alcina, what's wrong?"

"There's something wrong with your blood."

"What?"

"The taste, it's not right. Somethings wrong, draga."

"What's wrong? What do you mean it doesn't taste right?"

"I- I can't explain it, like there's something in your blood. Like it's sick," you see a lightbulb go off in her head and her eyes fill with tears as she looks down at you. "it's sick. Your blood is sick draga mea."

You move to sit up and you realize the pillowcase underneath you is stuck to you. It's soaked in blood.

"Oh gods, shit." Alcina mutters before flying into the bathroom and running out with gauze and bandages. You rarely hear her curse so you know she's really freaked out when she does. "Have your wounds had trouble closing lately?" She asks as she bandages you up.

"I mean, I don't think so. I got a papercut the other day and it bleed for like, maybe thirty minutes? But I just thought it was a deep cut. I didn't think much of it."

"Damnit." She says, wiping away tears.

"Hey, hey, come here." You say, pulling her down into you. "It's okay, everything is going to be okay."

The way Alcina was reacting was definitely scaring you a little, but you were never going to admit that to her, or yourself.

"We are going to the city first thing tomorrow morning to get you looked at."

"Why? There's a physician in the village-"

"No. The physicians are better in the city and they have better equipment and the latest technology. Do not argue with me, my word is final."

"Okay, okay, we'll go in the morning. Just lay down, relax. Everything is going to be okay, alright?"

The two of you lay in each others arms in silence for some time. You can feel her warm tears falling against your chest and you run your hands through her hair and kiss the top of her head.

"What's the matter, love?"

"I'm scared, draga." She whispers.

"How bad was it?"

"It was bad."

As dramatic as Alcina could be at times, you knew when it came to medical stuff she was level headed. She had a lot of knowledge and experience in all of her years and when she gave someone a preliminary diagnosis before they could see the doctor, she was usually right.

Fear creeped into your chest at her response. If she's saying it was bad, then it was bad.

The next morning Alcina woke you up and helped you get dressed. You were more than capable of doing it yourself but you know that she was worried so you let her help. As you're about to head downstairs she lifts you up and carries you.

"Love, I can walk."

Alcina says nothing and tightens her grip on you and brings you out to the carriage.

The ride to the city was oddly silent. Alcina stared out the window almost the entire time. You could see the worry on her face, that she was teetering on the edge of a downward spiral.

"Hey," you say, grabbing her hand that's tightly clenched in her lap. "look at me." She slowly shifts her gaze towards you and meets your eyes. "Whatever happens, we'll be okay. We'll figure it out, okay?"

Her eyes begin to tear up again and she wipes the ones that escape as she looks away. You decide to crawl into her lap, cuddling into her and resting your head on her chest. She wraps her arms around you and rests her cheek against the top of your head. You can hear her heart pounding away inside of her chest with anxiety and fear.

After arriving at the office you have to convince Alcina to let you walk on your own and she reluctantly lets you.

Alcina refuses to leave your side for a moment, even when you're going through your testing. Usually these tests can take weeks to get the results of, but with enough lei and a threatening stare from Alcina, they said they should have most of the results in a few hours.

The day seemed to drag on for hours but finally the results were in. The doctor sat across from the two of you at his desk and Alcina gripped your hand as tight as she could without hurting you. The moment you looked into his eyes, you knew Alcina was right. It was bad, really bad. You were dying and there wasn't much they were able to do. He talked about some experimental treatments that were available that could buy you more time, but not much.

Alcina froze at the news. Her breathing was so shallow you could barely see the rise and fall of her chest. A crack echoed through the room and you realize that she cracked the wooden arm of the chair she was holding onto with her other hand.

"So you're saying, there's nothing to be done?" Her voice has no emotion in it, like it was stone.

"Nothing that can cure it, no. I'm sorry."

"How much time?" You ask as tears fill your eyes.

He tells you it could be as long as a year, but more than likely less.

Alcina quickly stands and sends the chair she was in flying backwards. She looks down at you and opens her mouth to speak but no words come out. You know she has to get out of here, that she's trying to keep the beast inside of her tamed but she's losing control. Looking back at her with understanding eyes, she leaves the room without saying a word and you hear her footsteps quickly retreating down the hall.

The doctor looks at you with both confusion and fear. It's not like the rumors of the village and the castle haven't spread to local cities such as this. That's probably why you were able to be seen and get your results to quickly. No one wanted to find out if the rumors were true or not.

A few minutes later you hear a scream that shakes the building and the sounds of people in the streets screaming. You lower your head for a moment, trying to keep your heart from shattering in your chest before walking over to the window. Outside you see Alcina, her dragon form flying through the air, pained screams echoing through the streets. She flies off towards the woods and you lose control of the tears you were keeping at bay.

The doctor gave you a folder with your results and the few treatment options you had available as the sound of trees being knocked down and thrown echo in the distance. When you were finished you had the carriage drop you off at the edge of the forest and you followed the heart-shattering cries of your wife until you found her uprooting trees and destroying everything in sight.

You could tell she was losing steam because her movements were slowed and she wasn't throwing trees nearly as far as you knew she could. Carefully approaching, she turned towards you when she heard your heartbeat and the beast screamed at you, begging you to stay away. But you couldn't, you wouldn't.

As you walked up to her, you placed a hand on one of the jaws of her dragon and leaned your head against it.

"I'm so sorry." You whispered to her as tears fell.

Soon after the beast began to crumble away into dust your wife fell to her knees in the debris. You pulled the robe you took from the carriage - that was kept for moments just like this when she returns from her beast form - around her bare shoulders and pried her hands away from her tear stained face. She pulled you into her, bringing you as close as you could be without being squished, and sobbed. You wrapped your arms around her neck and sobbed into her as well.

The two of you stayed there for who knows how long, only parting when neither of you had any tears left to cry. The sun had sunk below the mountains some time ago and you and Alcina walked through the dark forest back to the carriage with your hearts shattered in your chests.

Hearing that news was dreadful but what you dreaded more was telling the girls, your daughters, that you were dying. They were worried all day when they realized the two of you left early in the morning and hadn't come home. When you finally arrived home they knew something was terribly wrong the second they heard yours and Alcina's heartbeats.

To say they were devastated was an understatement. Daniela clung to for dear life as she sobbed hysterically, Bela held tightly onto her mother and Cassandra immediately flew into the dungeon and started throwing things around in anger.

The following weeks were somber, it was hard for the girls to look at you without crying or getting angry. Everyone, including yourself, went through periods of unbridled anger and sadness. But after a few weeks you all decided to try and enjoy the time you had left while you were still able to move around and be with them.

That however, didn't stop Alcina from trying to do everything for you.

"Love, please, I can do it." You say as you were doing your hair for the day.

"No, let me." She says, moving your hands away.

"Alcina, please." You sigh. "Please let me do it while I still can."

You know she was only trying to help but she was also smothering you a little and you wanted to be able to do as much as you could on your own before you were no longer able to.

"I'm sorry." She says as she drops her hands to your shoulders.

"It's okay my love. I know." You look up at her and she leans down, placing a tender kiss on your lips.

You were still able to do most things on your own but you were losing weight steadily and becoming weaker. As a family you decided to try one of the more promising experimental treatments. You realized quickly it wasn't working as effectively as it should have and the side effects outweighed the effectiveness so you decided to stop it. Even if it bought you more time, it wouldn't have been much and you would have been too sick from the treatment to enjoy spending what little time you had left with your family.

"Please, draga, let me help." Alcina says as you pull a few weeds from the garden.

"Well that bed needs weeding too, love." You say with a smile knowing damn well that's not what she meant.

Alcina rolls her eyes at you.

"I don't want you to exhaust yourself."

"I'm already exhausted Alcina."

"That's not what I mean." She says, crossing her arms over her chest.

You stand up and brush some of the dirt off of you and look up at her. You place your hand the side of her thighs, since you only come up to about her hip when she's standing, and her hand cradles the back of your head.

"I know, but I'm okay, I promise. I promise I won't over exert myself, okay?"

Alcina huffs in response and bends down to be closer to your level.

"I know I can be overbearing but I worry for you, draga."

"I know you do baby. It's okay."

She pulls you into her arms and you nuzzle into her neck. You try to enjoy the comfort of the moment but in the back of your mind you can't help but think if this is one of the last times you'll be able to hold her. Alcina will never say it out loud, but she's thinking the exact same thing.

Weeks turn into months and you grow weaker and weaker but you're still as stubborn as ever. Still refusing help, even if it takes you twice as long to do something. As long as you can do it - whatever it is - you're going to do it.

"Where are you going? You should be in bed resting, draga." Alcina says after she walks into the room.

"I'm just going to walk around the courtyard a bit."

"Draga-"

"Alcina, I've been in bed all day, I want to get some fresh air, stretch my legs a little. I'll be careful, I promise."

Alcina wants to fight you on this, she wants to pin you down in bed and make sure you stay there. But the two of you decided arguing over it isn't making anything any easier and it's only tainting the time you have left together. The two of you agreed, as long as you can confidently do something, you can do it until you can't any longer.

With a heavy sigh Alcina kneels down to your level and pulls you in for a hug.

"I love you, draga." She says before she kisses your cheek and goes to stand up.

You pull her back down and she follows, surprised when your lips capture hers. Since your illness has gotten worse the two of you haven't had much of a sex life, but when you have that burst of energy you take it for all it's worth.

Your kisses morph from passionate to desperate to frenzied and Alcina scoops you up and brings you to the bed. Within a minute both of you are stripped naked and are making love to each other. Your tiny body has always seemed so frail under Alcina's, but now it's even more so. Alcina uses extra caution but she's still able to unravel you underneath her as you cry out her name. She insists that you don't have to reciprocate but before she can protest you're between her legs, worshiping her like the goddess she is.

The walk around the courtyard can wait until tomorrow.

Things began to make a turn for the worst one day as you're walking across the castle lawn. It was a beautiful sunny day and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Your legs felt shaky but they usually do for the first few minutes of your walks. Today they felt shakier than normal but you tried to keep going but after a few minutes they gave out from under you and you collapsed onto the ground.

"Mamă!" Daniela screams when she sees you fall.

She rushes to your side and Alcina runs out of the house.

"Draga! Draga mea are you okay?" Alcina cries.

"I'm okay, my legs just gave out, it's fine."

"Come, lets get you inside." Alcina says as she scoops you up and brings you to the bedroom.

The three girls cuddle around you, Daniela curled up into your chest crying.

"Shh, it's okay honey, I'm okay, I promise. I'm not hurt."

"It's not okay!" She cries. "None of this is okay!"

"I know, I know." You say, holding back tears.

"Nu te pot pierde mamă." (I can't lose you mom)

You never really learned Romanian so you're not sure what she said, but whatever it was caused a sob to erupt from Alcina. She quickly covered her mouth and turned away. She always hated when the girls saw her cry.

"Mamă, vino culcă-te cu noi. Avem nevoie de tine. Mama are nevoie de tine." Bela says, reaching out for her mother. (Mom, come lay with us. We need you. Mom needs you)

Alcina joins the four of you and wraps her long arm around all of you, holding everyone close. The sound of sniffling filled the air as everyone shed their tears.

"I'm so sorry girls." You whisper. "I wish it wasn't like this."

That day was a turning point, things only kept getting worse. You were getting weaker but you were still stubborn and tried to do everything yourself. You didn't want to admit that doing basic things, like getting dressed or showering, were becoming increasingly difficult to do alone.

Not long after you were no longer able to get out of bed on your own and you knew your days were really numbered.

Alcina was so desperate she even called Mother Miranda to see if there was anything she could do. That maybe you can get the cadou and it would save you. It was the only avenue you didn't try, the only chance you had left. Mother Miranda took a few vials of your blood back to her lab to see if it would be compatible but called a few days later saying the cadou mutated uncontrollably when exposed to your blood and it wouldn't save you, it would only kill you. Not that it was a necessary detail, but she mentioned that it would be a far more gruesome and painful death than the one you were already experiencing which caused Alcina to throw her desk across the room in anger.

Your days were limited, and there was nothing you could do. You were dying, and your immortal family couldn't do anything but sit there and watch.

The girls spent every moment possible with you at your bedside. It broke your heart seeing how broken the girls were over all of this.

You knew that they would all outlive you, but you thought you had a few more decades left with them. In less than a year you went from totally healthy to your deathbed. The whiplash you got from thinking about it almost drove you crazy.

Alcina was with you, every day and every night. She hired someone to take over the vineyard and wine production so she could care for you full time. You were grateful, but you hoped she wouldn't let them take it over forever. Once you were gone, once the worst of the grieving was over, she needed to go back to work. She was a business woman, she always had to be doing something. You worried about what was going to happen to her after you left.

You could feel death creeping its way closer to you each day. At first you tried to fight it off but eventually, you stopped fighting. You just couldn't anymore. Death didn't scare you, truthfully you weren't scared at all. But your heart was broken knowing how devastated your family would be when you finally take your last breaths.

On your last day the girls and Alcina spent all day in bed with you. You did your best to shower them in as much love and kisses as you could physically manage. You knew you weren't going to make it through the night. When nighttime fell, the girls all gave you a teary goodnight, just in case you weren't there when they woke up in the morning.

Alcina was fussing with something and you reached your hand out towards her.

"Alcina." Your voice was barely a whisper now, it had been like that for a few days.

She turns towards you and dropped whatever she had in her hands and it fell to the ground. Alcina crawled into bed next to you and wrapped her arms around you. Both of you knew this was the end.

"I love you." You said.

"I love you so much draga mea." She said through tears.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay draga, it's okay. I love you, I love you so much. Rest my love. Rest."

"I'll be waiting for you, I promise." Alcina buried her head into your neck and cried as your breaths slowed. "I love you Alcina. I love you."

"I'll love you forever, draga mea."

Those were the last words you heard before your eyes closed and a warm light took over.

They buried you in the gardens under your favorite tree.

It took time, a long time, but things in the castle began to return to normal. As normal as it could when they was such a huge piece of everyone's lives missing. Eventually laughter rang out through the halls and even though it hurt, the girls and Alcina were able to smile again.

You were able to watch over them and you visited Alcina in her dreams as often as you could. As the years went on your visits lessened but you were still with them every day.

One fateful winter day a man entered the castle. He was elusive and sneaky and you knew he was trouble. Alcina sent the girls after him. Bela was the first one to die. When she arrived she seemed confused but immediately ran into your arms.

"Mamă, mi-ai fost dor de tine." (Mom, I missed you.)

He killed Cassandra next and you and Bela were there to greet her.

"Tu ești, nu-mi vine să cred că ești tu, mamă." (It's you, I can't believe it's you, mom.)

Alcina locked Daniela in the library to protect her but that wretched man-thing was able to get in. It pained you knowing he was slaughtering your family but you were happy that you were here to greet them so they wouldn't be alone.

"MAMI! Mi-a fost dor de tine mamă, mi-a fost atât de dor de tine." Daniela said as she ran into your arms. (MOMMY! I missed you mom, I missed you so much.)

You and the girls rested as you kept an eye out for Alcina. Your heart broke for her. In just a few hours she lost every one of her children, the things she loved more than anything in the world. Even you came second to them.

Alcina found Ethan in the Tower of Worship and when he stabbed her with the dagger of deaths flowers, white-hot pain like lightening shot through her body. She wasn't able to contain the beast any longer. Truthfully, she didn't want to.

She wanted that man dead, he took what was most precious to her away. Her girls. Her babies.

"How dare you talk about saving your daughter after you murdered mine!" She screams.

The poison from the dagger was coursing through her veins. Her regeneration abilities ceased and she was growing weaker by the minute. She needed blood but couldn't seem to get him.

Alcina tried her hardest, she fought tooth and nail but in the end, the man won.

"Damn you Winters!" She screams as the ceiling of the tower caves in.

You watch as she plummets to her death, your heart aches knowing she's in so much pain but you know she'll be in your arms soon.

The girls stay behind as you go to greet Alcina. She walks around the castle with confusion on her face and her hand over the spot where the man stabbed her. You stand there for a minute just watching her before she sees you.

The air rushes out of Alcina's lungs the moment she spots you. Her eyes begin to fill with tears and you take a few steps forward.

"Draga," she whispers. "you're, you're here?"

"Welcome home, my love."

You close the distance between the two of you and she reaches out a trembling hand and gently cups your face. She's worried that you'll disappear the moment she makes contact with you. The moment she feels the warmth of your cheek against her skin she wraps her arms around you tight. There's still a height difference between the two of you, but not nearly as great as it once was.

Tears flow from Alcina's eyes as she buries her face into your neck and you hold onto the back of her head, your fingers tangling in her hair.

"I missed you iubirea mea, I missed you so much." She cries.

"I missed you too my love. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I left, I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you."

"None of that matters, you're here now."

Alcina pulls back and cups your face, brining you in for a deep kiss.

"Mother!" The girls yell in unison as they run towards the two of you.

Alcina pulls away and snaps her head in the direction of the girls.

"My girl! My beautiful daughters." More tears fall as she wraps her arms around the three of them. "You're all here. All of you, you're all here."

She pulls you into the hug and the girls cuddle up to the two of you.

"My loves. All of my loves." Alcina says. "I finally have you all back."

#willalove75 #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #wlw fanfic #re8 alcina #alcina x female reader #alcina x reader #re8 lady dimitrescu #lady alcina #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu fanfic #lady dimitrescuxreader

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mapsthewanderer · 3 months ago

Text

The Maze

Will you escape, or will Stockholm Syndrome take hold before that day?

Details: 4000ish words. Some kind of spin off AU, but corresponds with in-game canons. Caleb. Just Caleb and his chip. 18+ psychological thriller/drama, plot with p0rn aka smut and detailed descriptions of god knows what. Explicit language. All warning tags and all that jazz. Do not read if you are just a tad sensitive, I promise. This is not for sensitive souls. This is angst. This is pain. This is suffering. If you value your peace, stay the fuq away—your whole week will thank you. You are warned.

Chapters: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter eight (final chapter)

Tags: @gavin3469 @mcdepressed290 @justpassingdontworry

Surrender | Chapter seven

The Maze, the waterfall, Caleb

The first wave of resistance hits fast.

At first, it’s just a flicker—a glitch, a momentary misfire deep beneath the surface. A barely-there static crackling at the edges of his vision, a subtle drag in the circuits threaded through his nervous system.

Then—sharper.

A pulse at the base of his spine. A warning spike straight through his neural pathways.

Too much.

He’s pushing too far.

He’s not supposed to feel this much.

Not supposed to want this much.

The second jolt is worse—a crackle of electricity sparking beneath his skin, something tightening, resisting. His fingers dig into your waist, grounding himself in the heat of your skin, his breath ripping through his lungs.

He should stop.

He should pull away.

He should force himself back into something manageable, controllable, something that won’t send another violent surge through his system.

But—fuck.

The way you’re looking at him.

The way your breath stutters against his mouth.

The way your fingers clutch his shoulders, pressing into the soaked fabric of his shirt, gripping him like you don’t even realize you’re holding him together.

Like you’d never let him come apart.

The way your body reacts to his—heat against cold, touch against tension, fire against a machine that was designed to smother the spark before it ever had the chance to spread.

But he doesn’t want to smother it.

He wants to burn in it.

Even if it kills him.

His grip tightens at your waist, muscles coiled, everything in him bracing against another jolt of resistance. His voice comes out hoarse, gritted through his teeth as he swallows down the next surge, forcing himself past it.

“I’m not stopping.”

Then—he lifts you.

Water rushes between you, sliding over your skin, the movement slow, unhurried, but his hold is steady. His grip unshaken, even as another flicker lashes through him, rippling down his spine like fire in his veins.

His jaw tightens, a muscle feathering, his breath pulling sharp through his nose. His throat constricts, his spine stiffens, but—

He keeps walking.

Through the water.

Out of the pool.

Carrying you.

Carrying you back toward the bedroom—toward the inevitable—he moves with purpose. Your arms wind around his neck, fingers threading into his damp hair as your nails drag lightly along his scalp, drawing a quiet shiver from him with every stroke.

His pulse is faster than it should be.

His breath—uneven.

But your touch—

Your touch soothes.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bedroom, you

The door slides open with a quiet hiss, cool air seeping in, stark against the lingering heat of your bodies, against the water slicking your skin.

Caleb steps through, his grip still steady, firm, unyielding. But there’s something different now.

Something raw.

Something vulnerable.

He lowers you to the floor slowly, carefully, almost too gently. And then—

Neither of you moves.

Not immediately.

Just standing there, breathing unevenly, eyes locked, the weight of something unspoken dense between you.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp shines against the water dripping from his clothes, casting faint shadows along his jaw, the slope of his collarbone, the sharp planes of his chest. The light catches against the small metal tag resting against his sternum, a glint of silver shifting with each breath.

A reminder of what he is. What he was.

His gaze flickers over you, his expression unreadable, something warring behind his eyes. His fingers twitch at his sides—a hesitation, something he can’t quite suppress.

Then, wordlessly, his hands move to the buttons of his shirt.

You do the same.

The fabric peels away in increments, water trailing down your skin, slipping over curves and angles, following the heat of exposed flesh. Each layer removed reveals more, exposes more, inch by inch, moment by moment, until the soaked weight of your clothes drops to the floor, one by one.

Until—

Nothing is left.

You stand there.

Bare.

Unhidden.

Exposed.

Just the two of you.

And for once—

Neither of you knows what happens next.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bedroom, Caleb

He could break.

He knows it.

Every second, every breath, every minuscule flare in his neural pathways is a warning—sharp, urgent, telling him that he’s pushing too far, playing with something too fragile, too volatile, too human.

And yet—

He chooses you.

He chooses this.

The weight of it settles deep in his chest—not control, not possession, but something entirely different. Something that terrifies him more than losing himself ever could.

Because this isn’t about taking.

It’s about giving.

His knees hit the floor—not as a man grasping for power, but as a man surrendering completely.

His hands find your thighs, fingers spreading against your skin. Not with force. Not with demand. But with the kind of devotion that hums through his bones, the kind of need that makes his breath come unsteady, the kind of ache that makes him feel whole even as the last fragments of himself threaten to slip away.

What’s left of him—that last, flickering fraction—isn’t meant to command you.

It’s meant to serve you.

And he wants—no, needs—to prove it.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bedroom, you

The moment he lowers you onto the bed, you feel it.

This isn’t like before.

Not a game.

Not a power struggle.

This is reverence.

His lips find your forehead first—a slow, warm press, heavy with something deeper than affection.

Then—your temple. Your cheek. The corner of your lips.

Not a tease. A promise.

The breath between you feels charged with something neither of you name. His mouth moves lower, a slow, melting descent, warm as velvet, soft as devotion.

Down your throat.

Over the rapid pulse at your neck.

Lower still.

Each kiss is placed with intention, carved into you like scripture, like he’s committing you to memory with every press of his lips, every slow exhale warming your skin.

His hands follow, fingertips ghosting over your ribs, tracing the soft curve of your stomach before sliding lower, gripping your hips—not to restrain, not to control, but to anchor himself.

Then—he pauses.

His hands slide over the inside of your thighs, thumbs pressing just hard enough to make your breath catch, your legs twitch, anticipation tightening in your core.

And then—

“Let me.”

His voice isn’t commanding. Not smug. Not even teasing.

A request.

No—a plea.

He wants this.

Not to control.

Not to break.

To worship.

Your breath shudders, heat pooling low in your stomach. The need to say yes is instinctive, undeniable, a pulse deep in your bones.

You nod.

And Caleb—

He descends.

The first stroke of his tongue is slow—not hesitant, not searching. But like he’s been thinking about this for days, mapping it out, memorizing every second, calculating exactly how he wants to make you fall apart.

Your hips twitch, a gasp slipping from your lips—

And Caleb groans.

Not in satisfaction.

In need.

His tongue flicks against your clit—before sinking lower, tasting you, breathing against you, groaning like you’re the first thing that’s ever made him feel real.

Then—a finger.

One, sliding in slow, precise, stretching you open with the kind of patience that makes your stomach clench, your thighs quiver.

His forehead presses against the inside of your thigh, his breath warm, his other hand gripping your hip just hard enough to keep you still.

A jolt. A small twitch in his neck, a faint tremor in his fingers.

The chip. Resisting.

You shift slightly, ready to stop him, to pull away—

But his grip tightens.

“I’m fine.”

His voice is hoarse. Raw. Wrecked.

“Never been better.”

His tongue meets his fingers, wet heat and precise strokes moving in tandem, dragging you deeper, higher, unraveling you thread by thread. He presses his free hand against your stomach—low, firm, just above where his fingers work inside you—

And you shatter.

Because you can feel. Every. Single. Movement.

Your spine arches, your thighs trembling, your breath breaking into a sharp, helpless moan.

And Caleb—

He watches.

Every reaction.

Every sharp inhale.

Every tremor.

Every second.

He’s learning you. Devouring you.

And when you finally break apart beneath him—

He doesn’t let go.

Not yet.

His lips press against your thigh—slow, lingering, savoring.

Like he’s just found his only remaining religion.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bedroom, Caleb

He should stop.

His body is screaming at him to stop.

Warning pulses fire through his neural pathways, static flickering at the edges of his vision, sharp jolts lashing through his skull, the chip pushing back, resisting.

But fuck—he can’t.

Not when you sound like that.

Not when your breath stutters, breaking apart into soft, gasping whimpers.

Not when your body reacts to him like this—clenching around his fingers, arching into his mouth, gripping the sheets with trembling hands, knuckles white.

Not when you’re falling apart for him so beautifully.

His breath is too quick. His jaw clenches against another sharp crackle of resistance, the chip seething inside him, fighting, trying to sever this before it goes too far.

But it’s already too late.

He’s past the point of return.

Past self-preservation.

Because the only thing left of him that still feels human—

Is you.

So he does it again.

He doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t even give you time to recover.

He just keeps going.

Slow, patient, devastating.

His mouth finds you again—hot, wet, his tongue pressing into you, breaking you down just to put you back together.

His fingers press deeper, curling just right, dragging against that perfect spot inside you that makes your thighs shake, that makes your stomach coil too tight, too much—

His other hand slides up your ribs, not to restrain, but to feel—

To memorize the way you tremble, to map the way you react, to etch the moment into his mind as if this is the only thing that matters.

And it is.

To him, it is.

His breath hitches against your thigh, his shoulders tightening, another flicker of resistance running through his body.

He should be in agony.

And maybe he is.

But he doesn’t stop.

Because touching you is the only thing that feels real.

And when he makes you come again—

This time, it’s slower, heavier, the pleasure pulling you under like deep water, molten, thick, endless.

Caleb doesn’t let go.

His lips press against your skin, slow, lingering, his tongue giving one last flick before pulling back—

His breath is ragged, his body taut, his fingers twitching faintly from the internal warfare inside him.

And then, finally, he speaks.

“Come on, Pip-squeak.” His voice is hoarse, almost a whisper. “We need to get cleaned up.”

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bathroom, Caleb

The water is hot against his skin.

But your body?

Hotter.

You rest against his chest, your damp skin pressing into him, every inhale making you rise and fall with him in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. His arms are wrapped around you—not tight, not caging, just there. Grounding. Holding onto something fragile, something sacred, something he has no right to keep.

Your scent mingles with the steam curling into the air—apples, soap, the faintest trace of sweat, something entirely, devastatingly you. It fills his lungs, coats his senses, clings to his skin like something permanent.

His fingers drift absently over your thigh, tracing lazy, weightless circles beneath the water’s surface. His touch is featherlight, but every movement sends ripples through the stillness, distorting the soft reflections against the tiled walls, stretching shadows along the edge of the tub.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Not the suffocating silence of the Maze.

Not the mechanical hum of shifting walls.

This is something else.

Something he doesn’t know how to name.

And fuck, it’s dangerous.

Because he likes it.

Because he wants it.

Because for the first time in days, in weeks, maybe even in years—

He doesn’t feel like a machine.

He feels like a man.

His fingers slide beneath the water, finding your wrist, tracing the delicate skin there, absentminded but reverent.

It’s too intimate.

Too quiet.

Too good.

And that’s the problem.

Because this?

This is where he could lose everything.

What happens when the last, flickering fraction of him isn’t enough?

When the chip doesn’t allow this anymore?

When you stop looking at him like he’s still the person you remember?

His throat tightens, a pulse of static flickering behind his eyes, a warning he’s been ignoring for too long. His grip on your thigh tightens slightly, just for a second, just enough to steady himself.

He wants to say something.

Something that will keep you here.

Something that will make this real.

But before he can, you shift in his arms, turning slightly, tilting your chin just enough to look up at him.

And whatever he was going to say—

Dies on his lips.

Because fuck.

You’re looking at him like you’re waiting.

Like you already know.

His fingers drift lower, brushing over the watch strapped to your wrist—the one he gave you. The one that was supposed to be a reminder, a taunt, a cruel joke about time that no longer existed.

But now—

Now it’s something else entirely.

His thumb ghosts over the metal, tracing its edges, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath it—

And suddenly—

He feels like he’s running out of time.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bathroom, you

The heat soaks into your bones, the weight of exhaustion settling over you in slow, lazy waves. The warmth of the water wraps around your limbs, lulling, pulling, keeping you in this moment longer than you should be.

But it’s not just the water.

It’s him.

His breath, deep and steady, a rhythm that calms you. His chest rises beneath your back, solid, real, something to lean into. The warmth of him cradles you, holds you in a way that makes you feel like maybe—just maybe—this is safe.

His fingers move in slow, absentminded motions, gliding over your skin, tracing patterns with no intention except the simple act of touching you.

A silent devotion.

You could melt into this.

Sink into him.

Forget.

Forget that this moment isn’t real.

Because it can’t be.

Because Caleb doesn’t exist anymore.

Because this can’t last.

And maybe that’s why—before he can break the moment first—

You do.

“I still see him, you know.”

His fingers still.

The air thickens.

The warmth of the water that had soaked into your bones seeps out, turns cold against your skin.

“Underneath everything. Underneath the programming, the control, the orders.”

He doesn’t move.

Not a shift. Not a twitch.

Nothing.

You turn slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, expecting something—anything.

And something is wrong.

His violet eyes are locked onto yours—

But they’re empty.

No flicker. No dilation.

His chest isn’t rising.

His muscles are rigid, locked into place, his body frozen in the way that isn’t human.

“You’re still Caleb.”

The words barely leave your lips before—

Static.

The sound isn’t real.

But you feel it.

A sharp, invisible crackle in the air, like electricity skimming too close to skin, like the charged silence before a lightning strike.

Caleb shudders.

Once. Hard.

Then—

Nothing.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bathroom, Caleb

Warning.

Critical malfunction in neural pathways.

Error—

Recalibrating.

But it’s not working.

The words are still there.

I still see him.

You’re still Caleb.

He wants to reject it.

He wants to override it.

But he can’t.

Because a part of him wants to believe it.

And that’s why he’s breaking.

The chip can’t process these contradictions.

His breath stutters.

His vision flickers.

The water feels too heavy, like it’s pulling him under, like he’s drowning without moving.

His fingers, once tracing you, now frozen against your skin.

He can’t speak.

Can’t breathe.

Can’t move.

The chip doesn’t know what to do.

So it does the only thing it can.

It shuts him down.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bathroom, you

One second, he’s holding you.

The next—

His body locks up.

His eyes are open, but there’s nothing there.

No tension in his jaw.

No flicker of recognition.

No movement.

Just emptiness.

Just Caleb, frozen in place, breathless, unmoving—

Gone.

You grab his wrist.

“Caleb—”

No response.

“Caleb, wake up.”

His muscles don’t react, his pulse remains steady, but his eyes—

His eyes are vacant.

It’s like looking at a statue of him.

A body with no soul inside.

Panic claws up your throat.

“Caleb.”

You shake him, harder this time.

Nothing.

You press your palm to his chest, feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, but it’s mechanical—like a clock ticking, like something detached from him.

You want to scream.

You want to pull him back.

But you don’t even know if there’s anything left to pull.

And then—

The bathroom light flickers.

Once.

Twice.

A short, sharp burst of static fills the room.

And then—

Everything goes dark.

——————————————————————————

The room is drenched in steam, heat curling through the air in thick, damp waves, the bathwater still lapping weakly against the sides of the tub.

Caleb is drowning.

Not in water—in himself.

It’s wrong.

Everything about the way his body locks up beneath you, the way his breathing stutters then stops, the way his eyes stare through you, unfocused, frozen—

It’s wrong.

“Caleb?”

No response.

Your own breath catches, panic spiking, because he’s still sitting up against the edge of the tub, but he’s not there.

His body is tense, muscles coiled like wire, his jaw locked so tight you can see the tendons straining in his neck.

And then—

His spine jerks violently, like an unseen force just ripped through him.

The sound that tears from his throat isn’t human.

His lungs shudder, his chest rising too fast, like his body is trying to force itself to breathe, trying to override something.

“Get it out.”

The words barely make it out.

They’re shattered, strangled, like something is crushing him from the inside out.

His body convulses again, his limbs twitching, spasming, his right arm locking into place at an unnatural angle.

“Get it out—get it out—NOW!”

Oh, fuck.

——————————————————————————

Caleb shoves himself forward, but his body won’t move the way he wants it to.

He’s stumbling out of the tub, hitting the wet tile on his knees, his fingers clawing at his own skin.

“Caleb, stop!”

You reach for him, slipping, your hands skidding against the slick floor as you try to grab onto him—

But he’s not stopping.

He’s writhing. Fighting. Trapped in a body that’s shutting down around him.

His right arm is dead weight, hanging useless at his side, but his left hand grips his own neck, his fingers clawing toward the back of his skull—

Like he’s trying to rip the chip out himself.

His breath is ragged, frantic, his body rolling onto his back, heels pushing against the floor, arching in pain.

His voice cracks on a guttural, broken scream—

“F-fuck—it’s—killing me.”

You don’t think.

You can’t think.

You just act.

Your hands slam against his shoulders, your body pressing over his to stop his limbs from convulsing, your wet skin sliding against his overheated body.

“Caleb, tell me what to do!”

His eyes snap to yours, wide, desperate, pupils blown so dark you can barely see the violet.

“Override.” His fingers twitch against your forearm, clutching, shaking. “Back of my neck. EMP. Override panel. F-fuck—”

His whole body tenses, his breath catching like a glitching system, like he’s stuck between shutting down and rebooting—

And then—

His eyes roll back.

And everything stops.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bathroom, Caleb

Warning. Critical malfunction detected.

Neural pathways compromised.

Systems failing—

It hurts.

More than anything.

More than battlefields, more than crashes, more than reprogramming.

This is deeper.

This is his own mind rejecting itself.

He can feel the fire of his nerves burning out, his body losing control, his right arm gone, his left barely responding.

His spine arches off the ground, muscles seizing, a vice tightening around the base of his skull—

“Override it.”

His own voice sounds distant. Shattered.

“Pip-squeak—”

He can barely force the name out.

“You have to cut it open.”

The words stagger from his lips, barely intelligible, voice strangled in agony.

“It’s—under the skin—back of my neck—”

You freeze.

“What?!”

Caleb shakes his head, his body twitching beneath you.

“There’s—” His breath hiccups, a garbled sound of pure agony. “There’s a panel—can’t—open it manually—you have to cut.”

His fingers twitch against the tile, reaching blindly, grasping at nothing.

“Blade. Something. Just—”

His voice cuts out.

Then he seizes.

A full-body spasm, his limbs jerking violently, his spine bowing off the floor so sharply it looks like he might snap in half.

His mouth parts on a soundless scream—

You scramble.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bathroom, you

There’s no time to hesitate.

Your body moves before your mind does—a frantic, instinctive lurch toward the counter. Your foot slips on the wet tile, your balance tilting, adrenaline surging, hands reaching—

The first thing you touch.

A razor.

Small. Sharp. Cold.

It gleams beneath the dim light, shaking violently in your grip as you turn back toward him.

Caleb convulses again.

A violent, spine-wrenching shudder, his head snapping to the side, fingers twitching like a puppet with cut strings.

He’s slipping. Fast.

“I’m sorry.”

The words are barely a breath, a whisper raw with desperation, breaking under the weight of what you’re about to do.

Tears blur your vision.

But there’s no other option.

You press the blade to the back of his neck—

And cut.

——————————————————————————

The second the blade slices through flesh—

Caleb seizes.

A guttural, choked noise rips from his throat, a sound you’ve never heard before, something torn from the depths of his body, raw and inhuman.

His fingers claw weakly at the floor, reaching, grasping, desperate—

His right arm hangs useless, lifeless.

The wound splits open.

Beneath the broken skin—

Metal.

A panel, embedded deep beneath his flesh, glinting dull and silver in the dim light.

Then—the blood.

It wells up thick and red, spilling down his spine, pooling at the base of his neck, slick and wet against your trembling fingers. The smell hits first—sharp, metallic, coppery. The heat of it seeps into your hands, sticky, thick, staining your palms, your wrists, smearing across the floor beneath him.

Your fingers fumble, scrambling against the slickness, slipping, coated in red, but you find it—

The small access point.

Click.

The panel pops open.

Inside—wires. Circuits.

And one glowing core.

The chip.

You don’t think.

You can’t.

You grab it.

And yank.

——————————————————————————

Electricity surges.

A burst of pure energy races through Caleb’s body, a violent arc of static burning beneath his skin.

His back arches—

A scream breaks free—

The lights overhead flicker. Once. Twice.

Then—

Silence.

Stillness.

Caleb collapses.

His body hits the tile, unmoving.

His chest doesn’t rise.

His fingers don’t twitch.

You are still covered in his blood.

Wet. Sticky. Everywhere.

The scent clogs your lungs, burns your nose, smears across your skin in hot, crimson streaks.

And you—

You don’t know if you just killed him.

——————————————————————————

Chapter eight

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: I honestly don’t even know what to say—this hurt me on a metaphysical level. I really wanted Chapters 6 and 7 to be posted close together, and that banner announcement was the final push I needed to get them done. Now I just need a couple of days to breathe before diving into the final chapter. Maybe we all do. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

#next: mindfulness and hiking #fem reader x caleb #caleb love and deepspace #love and deepspace #lnds caleb #lads caleb #fanfic caleb #you x caleb #reader x caleb #fanfic love and deepspace #caleb #mc x caleb #fanfiction caleb #the maze #fem reader

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beatinginavoid · 1 year ago

Text

KineticLife

There was something about new technology that many people seemed unable to resist. Whether it was the latest phone, watch, television, sound system, or any number of devices, they simply drew people in.

Some technology appealed to certain people more than others. It all depended on one’s likes and interests after all.

The newest commercially available gadget that had gotten you all giddy really didn’t look like anything special. It was a tiny device, about the size of a fingernail, and was powered by kinetic motion. It had the ability to wirelessly connect to any of your devices that supported it.

The one downside to this gadget was that it needed minor surgery to install.

For this special piece of hardware had to be placed inside the body to work. More specifically, it was carefully attached to the apex of the heart, where the muscle walls were thickest for safety and maximum grip.

You had just left the hospital after having the procedure done. Your chest felt weird from the local anaesthetic, though getting to see the operation had been worth it. The ultrasound they used to monitor and help locate the apex had been amazing to watch. There, on full view on the screen, was your heart – the hard-working muscle that pumped your lifeblood around inside you. The one organ that drew your attention time and time again.

You could see both atria and ventricles clearly, the valves visibly opening and closing between them, allowing the flow of blood currently invisible on the screen. You couldn’t help but stare, admiring the way your strong little pump rhythmically contracted. The movement flowed elegantly, if not a little violently in its raw intensity. It picked up speed, reacting to the touch of fear and the overwhelming anticipation.

Trying to stay calm in that environment, while indulging in the gift of actually seeing your heart in action in real time, had taken all of your willpower. You wanted the operation to go as smoothly as possible after all.

And it had. You couldn’t wait to get home and try it!

The moment your front door shut behind you, you raced over to your computer and jiggled the mouse to wake it up. The necessary program was already installed and you opened it almost feverishly. KineticLife popped up and you navigated to the Sync option. A quick scan was performed and the window asked if you would like to connect to the following devices: your phone, tablet, laptop, KineticLife implant.

Without hesitation you click on the last option and wait impatiently for the connection to be made. It prompted for a device number and, having the slip of paper ready, you carefully input the sequence. Number confirmed. Connection successful. The program became full screen and finished loading.

So many options! How could you choose which one to try first?

Best to start small, with the basics, and work your way up from there.

…it was a good thing that you and your neighbours had quite a bit of space between houses, otherwise this wouldn’t be nearly as fun. Your speakers were far superior to your headphones.

You select the Audio option and can’t help but gawk at all of the things you can pick from. Basic, keep it basic. You chose Stethoscope and were presented with a variety of auscultation points. This program was thorough. You turned the speaker volume right down and clicked Tricuspid.

A few seconds passed in silence and you slowly began to turn the volume up. A faint thumping could barely be heard and your mouth opened in a little ‘o’. You turned the volume higher, higher, higher, until the sound was booming, bouncing around the indoor space.

BA-THUMP, BA-THUMP, BA-THUMP, BA-THUMP, BA-THUMP, BA-THUMP

It was glorious! The sound was so crisp and clear. The valves sounded so clean, working beautifully. You poked the program and opted to Show Heart Rate. Numbers immediately appeared in a corner. 89.

You raised an eyebrow and started doing some squats. Your heart quickly sped up and you almost lost yourself in the drumming of the speakers. You stopped at twenty squats and looked at the rate.

BDMPBDMPBDMPBDMPBDMPBDMPBDMPBDMPBDMPBDMPBDMPBDMP

142.

It felt, and sounded, so amazing. You sat down in front of the monitor and let your breathing regulate. Every beat rang through the room, the pace slowing as your cardiac muscle recovered. You watched as the numbers dropped in time with the pounding. KineticLife made you grin widely.

You selected the Visual option, leaving the stethoscope and heart rate options running. Just like the Audio, the Visual section had quite a number of things to choose from.

KineticLife used a mixture of detecting electrical current and state-of-the-art sonar and echolocation technology that bounced off the pericardium to create high-quality images like an MRI. You had seen an ultrasound earlier that day, so you clicked on MRI then Sagittal.

Within seconds a side view, from the immediate left of your heart, emerged on the screen. The monitor was now filled, top to bottom, with a view from just above the right and left atrium, to just below the apex where the implant now lived, a small, dark square. You clicked and dragged your mouse, now enjoying a three-quarter top-down view so that all four chambers were visible.

The cardiac muscle walls and valves were dark, highly visible and contrasted wonderfully against the flow of blood that appeared milky on the screen.

You watch your heart pump, blood rushing in and out of the organ in rhythmic bursts. Each squeeze of the atria, each contraction of the ventricles was perfectly aligned with a ba-thump from the speakers. It was the most beautifully synchronised song and dance you had ever had the pleasure to witness. The rate was sitting at a nice and steady 78.

Twenty squats later you sat back down, enthralled by the fast undulations and whooshing blood.

Bdmpbdmpbdmpbdmpbdmpbdmpbdmpbdmpbdmpb-dmpb-dmpb-dmpb-dmpb-dmpb-dmpbathumpbathumpbathumpbathumpbathumpbathumpba-thumpba-thumpba-thumpba-thumpba-thumpba-thumpba-thump..ba-thump..ba-thump..ba-thump..ba-thump..ba-thump..ba-thump…ba-thump…ba-thump…ba-thump…ba-thump…ba-thump…ba-thump…

From 138 down to 81. What a true marvel of nature’s mechanical engineering capabilities. Far better, cleaner, and more efficient than any man-made motor.

You stared, transfixed, as each part moved in sequence. The left and right atrium, full of blood, squeezed, opened up a valve each, and sent the fluid rushing into the ventricles. The valves snapped shut behind the gush of blood. BA.

The ventricles then contracted, as if a hand had wrapped around them and tightened its grip. The valves to the aorta and the lungs blew open as the blood was pumped through, delivering a new precious load around the body. They too snapped shut after the whoosh of blood. THUMP.

The cycle repeated, the pump working non-stop, each action happening again and again, a cycle lasting less than a second before the next one came along.

You grabbed the mouse and dragged it around again slowly, admiring your heart from every angle in a dream come true. You eyed every twitch and pulse of your cardiac muscle, thrilled at the detail the tiny implanted device afforded you.

And there were still so many options to play with! You were going to be there for a while. At least you had a great soundtrack.

Ba-thump…ba-thump…ba-thump…ba-thump…ba-thump…ba-thump…

-----

I want tech like this. omg. Imagine how much it would cost! -cries in poorness-

Let me 👀 my 🫀

What would YOU do with KineticLife? What settings/options would you want it to have?

#cardiophile #cardiophilia #writing #cardiophile writing #heart technology #heartbeat #beating heart #self stething

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