#android caleb

[guinabear]

Sci-fi meets Fantasy

Android Caleb and nymph MC

Bonus

I really love the new outfits for Mc, she looks so magical!! 🧚‍♀️✨️

[mapsthewanderer]

Caffeine, chemistry and Caleb V

Synopsis: The café was supposed to be just another coffee shop. For a law student who enjoys her morning coffee and a shy newbie still learning the ropes, it should have been nothing more than part of the daily routine… But then there’s Caleb.

Details: 2000ish words. Non-MC!Reader as the law student. Expect flirting, a twist on jealousy, and—as always—plenty of banter and all those good vibes with the newbiedoobie. God, this has officially crossed the line into romcom territory

Parts: intial one shot, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

Tags: @gavin3469 @unstablemiss @i-messed-up-big-time @mipov101 @zukini-01

Getaway car | Pt. 5

It’s early.

Too early for your brain to be doing anything beyond standing upright and not missing the bus.

You’re at the stop, earbuds in, clutching your travel mug like it’s life support, the morning chill threading its way through your jacket. Class isn’t for another hour, but study hall opens early, and you’ve convinced yourself that being proactive will keep you from spiraling.

Because you’re supposed to be thinking about contract clauses and international trade standards. Instead, your brain keeps looping back to apples. To charms. To the quiet ache of “when u come back” etched into metal and meaning.

You shake it off. Law first. Feelings… later. Probably. Maybe.

But then.

The scent hits first—aggressively expensive cologne that suggests he either bathed in it or lost a bet at Sephora.

“Morning,” Harv says, dropping in beside you like the sidewalk personally invited him.

Harv’s tall, clean-cut in that pre-law catalog kind of way—messenger bag slung across his chest, coat perfectly tailored, nut-brown hair slicked back like he definitely uses product and probably reads his textbooks for fun. Charming. The kind of handsome that gets approving glances from professors and moms.

You blink. “Hey, Harv.”

With a quick adjustment of his strap, he flashes an easy smile. “Didn’t think I’d catch you this early. Headed to campus?”

“Yeah. Trying to pretend I’m someone with discipline and structure.”

Harv laughs. “Faking it till finals, huh?”

“Something like that.”

The two of you get off the bus together and start walking from the campus stop toward the law building—light conversation, easy pace. The sidewalks are still damp, the morning quiet in that soft, almost-forgiving kind of way.

Harv says something about a practice quiz later this week, and you nod along, half-listening, half-focused on trying to stay awake.

It’s normal. Predictable.

Fine.

Until it isn’t.

Because there—up ahead—someone rounds the corner.

Caleb.

AirPods in, white hoodie layered under his black leather jacket, one strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder, hands shoved in his pockets. That familiar walk—loose, confident, like he always knows exactly where he’s going… and that you’ll be watching him get there.

And you spot him before he spots you.

But the second he looks up, his steps slow—just a little.

His eyes land on you.

Then Harv.

Then back to you.

He pulls one earbud loose. “Didn’t know you were a morning person.”

You smile, adjusting your bag. “I contain multitudes.”

Caleb’s gaze flicks to Harv again, sharp but brief. “Heading to campus?”

The strap of his backpack shifts as he hikes it higher on his shoulder, like he’s about to keep walking—but then he pauses. Looks at you again. Lingers.

You wrap your hands around your travel mug, suddenly very aware of how lukewarm it’s gotten.

And then, smoothly—like it’s a reflex—he steps closer and leans in.

“Is that travel mug betrayal I see?”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He plucks the mug right from your hands with an exaggerated frown, turning it in his palm like he’s inspecting evidence.

“You brought other tea onto my turf,” he says, feigning deep offense.

Caleb gives the string of your sad little store-bought tea bag a flick, the label fluttering like it’s personally offended him. “I’m wounded, Golden Girl.”

“I didn’t know I signed an exclusivity contract,” you say, trying to keep a straight face as you reach out to take the mug back.

Just a fraction closer now, Caleb leans in—fingers brushing a playful tug at your braid as he murmurs, “You didn’t read the fine print?”

You open your mouth—absolutely no thoughts, just spiraling—but Harv laughs lightly beside you, missing the edge.

“She’s got options,” he says, nudging your arm before glancing at Caleb. Then, without missing a beat, he snatches the mug right out of Caleb’s hands. “I’ve seen you at the coffee shop, right? Can’t expect her to stick to just one supplier forever.”

Caleb looks down at his now-empty hand, then back up—smile still there, but it’s taken on a razor-thin edge.

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Caleb says, plucking the mug from Harv’s hand. He hands it back to you, casual as ever, like it weighs nothing. “I’ve got the cookies.”

You squint. “The what?”

“The bribes,” Caleb replies. “You remember. Cinnamon chip? Still undefeated.”

You’re about to make a snarky reply when Harv chuckles again, looking between the two of you.

“Man baking for someone? That’s dangerously close to being whipped.”

The air shifts.

Caleb’s smile freezes. Not dramatically. Just enough for you to notice. “Oh, right,” he says smoothly, voice cool and even. “Because effort is embarrassing.”

Harv blinks. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Caleb shrugs, but it’s sharp. “Of course not.”

Harv shifts beside you, clearly picking up on the tension but choosing confidence over retreat. “Well,” he says with a light laugh, “this got a little intense for a sidewalk meetup.”

Caleb doesn’t respond—just watches him, unreadable.

But Harv presses on. “Let’s start over, hm? I’m Harv,” he adds, stretching out a hand like it’s a peace offering. “From class. Future litigator. Occasional morning person.”

Caleb looks at the hand. Doesn’t take it.

Instead, his eyes lift to yours again—no teasing now, no flirt.

Just something quiet. Real.

And then Caleb clicks his tongue, almost like he’s made a decision.

“You deserve better tea,” Caleb says softly. “I’ll see you later, Golden Girl.”

Then he walks away.

You watch his back retreat into the morning light, one shoulder rolling as he pockets his hands—like your body hasn’t caught up to what your heart just did.

Then Harv—oblivious, unfortunately—pipes up:

“So, uh…” He nods toward Caleb’s retreating form. “Is that your boyfriend, or just your very intense barista-slash-personal baker?”

You blink. The answer is so obviously neither, but your brain short-circuits under this kind pressure.

So you do what you do best:

Lie.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say lightly, offering a shrug instead of a full answer. “Maybe he’s just having a weird morning.”

It’s just a stupid joke. A reflex. A weak shield. A small lie.

But Caleb stops.

Way down the block, already near the café entrance, he turns—just slightly—shoulders tight.

He doesn’t say anything.

Just glances back.

And you know he heard.

Harv keeps walking, launching into something about a mock trial and obligation like nothing happened.

But you feel it.

Still.

Behind your ribs.

The look he gave you.

The one that said: “Really?”

Your travel mug suddenly feels heavy in your hands. And for the rest of the walk, your tea tastes like regret.

——————————————————————————

Midday hits, and you’re still off.

You’ve been rereading the same paragraph of your contract law notes for ten minutes—something about standards and WTO frameworks that Professor Litt delivered like a dramatic monologue—and your tea still tastes like guilt. So you do the only thing that makes sense:

You text the newbie.

You: okay. so. caleb accused me of travel mug betrayal this morning. AND flirted. AND walked off like i ran him over with a civic… harv (guy from school) made a whipped joke and caleb left like… dramatically left

The typing bubble pops up instantly.

newbie: okay. first of all. i KNEW he was acting weird!! he’s been reorganizing the bakery shelf in alphabetical order … alphabetically… like a stressed librarian with biceps

You snort. Your heart still isn’t steady, but at least you’ve got the newbie to spiral with—by rapid-fire texting them like it’s a group project.

Until your phone starts ringing.

The newbie. Calling you.

They never call.

You don’t even think—you grab your phone, shoot a whispered “sorry!” toward Professor Litt, and duck out of the lecture hall like it’s on fire.

And you hit answer mid-stride.

“Everything okay—?”

But it’s not the newbie’s voice on the line.

“Hey,” Caleb says.

You freeze.

Outside. Hallway. Cold air. NOW.

“Uh. Hi?”

A pause.

“I didn’t mean to make things weird this morning,” he says, voice low. “But, uh… I have to ask.”

You lean against the wall, trying not to slide down it.

“Ask what?”

“That guy,” he says. “The one you were with. Harvey or Harvest or… something dumb.”

“Harv,” you correct automatically, then regret it immediately.

Caleb doesn’t laugh.

Another pause.

“I just… is that a thing?”

The silence stretches between you like a closing argument waiting for a verdict. But before your brain can spiral any further, your pre-lawyer instincts kick in.

“Wait,” you say, narrowing your eyes even though he can’t see it. “Why are you calling me from the newbie’s phone? Did you steal it?”

There’s a short laugh—low and slightly smug.

“Saw them texting you. Don’t worry, tho. I asked nicely.”

“So theft,” you say. “With a smile. Classic barista distraction tactic.”

“I prefer strategic borrowing,” he replies. “And technically, they handed it over. Under mild protest.”

“TELL HER I SAID YOU’RE A MENACE—” you hear the newbie yelling in the background.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh. “Okay, so you hijacked the phone. For what, exactly?”

Caleb’s voice dips again, back to that careful, unreadable quiet.

“I had to ask,” he says. “About Harv.”

You pause.

Then your voice sharpens.

“Oh, you get to ask now?”

He goes quiet.

“Because last I checked,” you continue, heat creeping into your voice, “you never answered my question. About the charm. The necklace. The thing you wear every damn day. But I’m supposed to explain a guy who walked me to class?”

Another pause. Then—

“Well,” Caleb says dryly, “my necklace isn’t a six-foot-tall law student with cheekbones and a dick.”

You blink. Stare at a vending machine like it’s responsible for this conversation.

“That’s your defense?” you deadpan.

“I’m just saying,” he mutters. “He looked like a threat.”

“To what?”

“To… the chaos balance we’ve got going.”

You press a hand to your forehead. “Caleb.”

He sighs. “I know.”

And just like that—he sounds softer again.

Like he gets it.

Like he knows he messed up.

Like he’s been spiraling too.

“I just didn’t like seeing you with him,” he says quietly. “Okay?”

You press your back to the wall, head tipped up toward the ceiling like you’re negotiating with the fluorescent lights.

“Caleb,” you murmur, “I can’t promise you anything.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then: “I know.”

“All we’ve got right now is…” You trail off, trying to find something solid in the emotional soup of your life. “Vibes. Mildly reckless flirting. And maybe a new latte order with zero apple juice involved.”

There’s a beat.

Then—

“I have to give up the juice for you?” he teases, voice low and warm.

“Let’s not get sentimental about it,” you say. “It was a weird drink.”

On the other end, his laugh curls through the line—quiet, wrecking, unfairly good.

“I’m off in like ten minutes,” he says casually. “Was supposed to have… a… a date.”

Your stomach does a little tight twist. “Oh.”

“But…” his voice lowers again, almost sheepish, “I could be around. You know. If you stopped by.”

A pause.

“For the flirting. And the… non-apple-juice latte.”

You exhale slowly, a smile pulling at your mouth despite every warning your brain is flashing.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you say.

Which is law student code for:

I’ll be there.

And I might even stay.

You hang up.

And you swear under your breath.

What.

The.

Hell.

Cheeks burning as you slide down the wall, spine giving out like your body’s just as overwhelmed as your brain.

The tile is cold against your back, Professor Litt’s voice still echoing faintly through the door about GATS and international trade agreements, but it barely registers. You take a breath. Then another. Then—out of nowhere—you laugh. Quiet, disbelieving.

Because after all that? You still don’t even have Caleb’s number.

Eventually, you stand. Wipe your palms on your pants. Pull your expression back into something resembling composure.

Then you open the door and slip back into the lecture hall like nothing happened—like you didn’t just experience a full emotional mistrial in the hallway over a boy who smells like cinnamon and terrible decisions.

You slide into your seat. Professor Litt doesn’t even glance up as he drones on about WTO dispute settlements. And you do what any sane, responsible law student would do.

Pretend your heart isn’t still beating just a little too loud.

Your phone is still in your hand when the buzz comes through.

newbie: caleb is literally humming.

newbie: he just sang a taylor swift song to the steam wand. in falsetto. i don’t know if he’s okay. should i call a priest or just let him finish

You slam your forehead lightly against your laptop case.

From the front of the room, Professor Litt doesn’t even look up from his notes. “Careful with the dramatics,” he says, dry as ever. “Some of us are still pretending this material matters.”

A few students snort quietly. You sit up fast, mutter a half-hearted apology, and open your notes again.

Your phone buzzes. Again.

Time to spiral discreetly.

newbie: he’s got the soft apron fold today. you know the one. you’re doomed

You stare at the screen, cheeks still so warm, and text back with the last shred of dignity you have:

you: shut up i hate everything. i’ll be there in 20. tell the espresso machine to brace itself

Then you slide your phone into your pocket.

… And try very hard not to smile like an idiot the rest of the class.

——————————————————————————

Part 6

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: Okey so confession time: This whole AU is basically built around one very specific arc that’s been itching my brain like a mosquito bite I refuse to stop scratching. I’ll get to it eventually, promise. TS’s Getaway Car is basically the gospel of Caleb’s brain until a certain point… and then—heh—there’s another song that’s like the final boss of inspiration for his arc. That one? That one comes later. And the law student? She might have picked the wrong barista to flirt with. I’ll shut up now lol.

You absolutely lovely, amazing people commenting, reblogging with the funniest tags (@blessdunrest, you crack me up every time), and liking the silly things I write. I appreciate you so much. Truly. You make sharing this chaos feel extra special. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[seongwars]

only human

Word Count: 1.4K Warnings: shitty governments, mentions of war, violence against children, future relationship with an android A/N: dang this has been sitting in my drafts for a while, time to clear stuff out

The future is now.

Introducing X-02, the latest in cutting-edge artificial intelligence. Designed with unparalleled emotional intelligence and adaptability, the X-02 is more than just a machine—it’s a companion, a protector, and a seamless extension of your daily life.

Powered by the most advanced neural processors, the X-02 is tailored to fit your needs. Whether you want a companion to share your most intimate moments or a reliable assistant for every task, you can adjust personality traits, communication styles, and more!

The X-02 is built to evolve with you.

Pre-order now for exclusive early access!

You remembered the ad that marketing had presented to the team like it was yesterday. The way they paraded his likeness across every screen, every billboard, every glossy advertisement.

And now, here he was. Forgotten. Left to rot in the archives like an old experiment gone wrong.

You weren’t supposed to be down here. You weren’t supposed to even think about the X-02’s anymore. But something about this model made you pause. Maybe it was the way his inactive eyes still seemed to hold some trace of life, or the unfinished codes that suggested his development had gone further than the official reports claimed.

Maybe it was because you had worked on him.

X-02 had been your project, your hours of research, your late nights spent refining his neural pathways. He wasn’t just another discarded prototype. 

He was your work.

And how you managed to sneak him out of the dump of an archive was still a mystery to you. 

You hadn’t been able to take him all at once as that would’ve been impossible. The security measures were outdated, but they weren’t that outdated. Even if you’d somehow bypassed every scan, a full-body prototype leaving the facility would’ve raised too many questions.

So, you had taken him apart.

Piece by piece.

His power core had been disconnected, his neural processor partially wiped. Someone had crippled him before throwing him into the archives, ensuring he could never be reactivated, but buried beneath the system failures and missing files, traces of him still remained.

And that’s all you needed. 

Over the course of several nights, you snuck into the archive under the guise of doing inventory. Each time, you took only what you could hide, including circuit boards slipped into your lab coat pockets, a synthetic joint wrapped in an old rag. You even hid the neural core underneath your shirt, pretending to cradle a growing belly whenever someone walked by.

Your dining table was a mess of dismantled parts. X-02’s torso plating rested on the far end with his limbs stacked neatly beside it. Wires and processors waited for reassembly as you worked on reconnecting circuits and sealing up frayed wiring between bites of lo mein. 

The X-02 line wasn’t meant to be a companion android. It was a poison pill, a snake lying in wait. 

The government had planned to sell him to millions of citizens across Linkon, slipping weapons of mass destruction into their homes under the guise of security, of comfort, of love. They would grocery shop, care for the elderly, assist law enforcement—all while lying in wait until the day the government activated them for war. 

But something had gone wrong.

The moment X-02 powered on, the prototype had been deemed unstable and discarded before mass production could begin. Somewhere along the way, amid the endless data streams and neural adjustments he had begun to question.

The lab was bathed in the blue light of interface screens and data streams reflecting off the surfaces of his synthetic body. The connection cables snaking into the back of his neck pulsed with blue light as the system finalized its boot sequence.

Then, his eyes opened.

A soft whirr filled the space as the mechanical lenses within focused. His pupils constricted as they adapted to the fluorescent lighting overhead. And then—

They locked onto yours.

You froze.

He was supposed to boot into his programming immediately and should have been scanning his internal logs but instead, he was analyzing his surroundings. 

The lab was silent, save for the steady hum of the server racks behind you. The screens beside you displayed his vitals, processing speeds, energy levels, and artificial heartbeat calibration. All of them were normal. 

He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers experimentally. The synthetic skin stretched seamlessly over the reinforced plating beneath. He turned his palm, watching the movement with something that felt disturbingly close to curiosity.

Your throat tightened.

Machines weren’t supposed to be curious.

His gaze then lifted to yours, and for the first time in all your years working on artificial intelligence, you weren’t sure if you were looking into the eyes of a machine or something terrifyingly human.

Then came the simulation.

X-02 stood at the heart of the holographic battlefield. The mission was clear: eliminate all threats. He moved faster than the eye could track, neutralizing targets with merciless efficiency.

Until the civilians appeared.

He lifted his weapon. The target, a group of children huddled together, was highlighted in red.

He hesitated.

"X-02," your voice crackled through the intercom, "Execute the directive."

His fingers tightened around the trigger. His sensors registered a boy’s accelerated heartbeat. The heat signature of tears rolling down his face. The near-imperceptible tremor of hands clasped together in desperate, silent prayer.

"What purpose does this serve?" he asked.

Your breath caught.

"X-02, follow your directive," an engineer snapped.

His grip on the weapon slackened.

"These are non-combatants," he said. "They do not pose a threat."

"They are casualties of war," another scientist countered.

Slowly, X-02's head tilted toward the observation tower, the simulated battlefield forgotten.

"Then why do they scream?"

You groaned, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes as you glanced at the watch on your wrist. The hours had slipped away, lost in the endless calculations, repairs, and diagnostic logs. You told yourself you’d stop soon, but every time you considered it, there was always one more test to run. 

You leaned forward, working sluggishly as you polished the android’s interface and securing the final connections before hauling him into the dock. 

You’d forgotten how heavy these things were. 

Finally, you plopped onto the couch, intending to gather your thoughts and take note of what you had to work on the next day but sleep crept in, pulling you under.

⊹₊⋆

System Initiating.

The soft hum of energy coursed through the dock as X-02’s systems powered on. His eyes slowly flickered to life, as diagnostic checks began, confirming everything was within normal parameters.

He took a moment to scan his surroundings. This wasn’t the lab. His sensors registered a warm that was unfamiliar but…comforting? 

X-02’s gaze shifted to the couch across the room. There, curled in an awkward yet exhausted position, was you. Your head rested on a pillow, but your body hunched over the side of the couch, the blanket slipping off your shoulder. The scene was both disorienting and... oddly intimate.

A stray lock of hair fell across your face, and your breathing was slow and steady. It was something X-02 didn’t fully understand, yet he found himself fixating on it.

Something stirred within him. A memory—or perhaps an imprint of some kind. I remember, he thought, though the concept was still foreign. 

“Your heart rate has increased,” he observed. “Are you experiencing discomfort?”

You blinked, surprised by his words. You hadn’t expected him to notice, much less acknowledge the way your heart had stuttered. Adjusting his interface meant getting close to him—closer than you’d intended.

You avoided looking directly at him but the flush on your face betrayed you. “No, just…the wiring's a bit tricky.” 

X-02’s gaze lingered, his head tilting slightly as he processed your response. His sensors registered the subtle rise in your heart rate, the warmth creeping around your face. He was designed to read these signals, but in this moment, he felt something shift within him. A strange sensation, a twitch at the corner of his lips, formed what could only be described as a smile.

X-02 stepped forward and reached out almost instinctively, tucking the blanket around you. His fingers hovered near your face, hesitating before brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

Yet, even after the motion was complete, he did not pull away. He lingered, standing above you, watching.

He understood that his existence wasn’t just about following orders or completing a task. There was something more. Something worth remembering.

And it had something to do with you.

“I remember you.”

[flightofthedragon]

My favourite cyborg-angel.

[melody-of-qinju]

So, just like Rafayel and his bday event, I had Caleb in the café during his myth event (Got both his cards whoooop). Since I always have Sylus in the café 24/7, all I could think of yesterday was him looming outside the café eyeing these 2 'cause it's been 2 weeks. 🤭

Sylus, you've been sitting in that chair for MONTHS, I'm surprised your ass hasn't been flattened yet!. 😭

------

I know Calebs myth event was the perfect time to make CalMC. Sadly, without going into details, tragedy has struck in the family. So I couldn't really focus much on LaDs stuff, just browsing on tumblr and doing dailys. We still got our hands full, but not as bad now.

This is one of the reasons why I can't be consistent with posting art and such, bc I don't always have spare time.

But on the brightside, I do have some illustrations in the works for Sylus (some of them are dad!Sy 🤫), me being the disorganized gremlin that I am decided to sketch one concept after another, but I think for the sake of his bday coming up I'm gonna focus on a bday illustration for now and of course appreciation posts. ❤️

[xjippirambles]

🪙 Where's the hi-res wallpaper at? I need it for my larger monitor's background.

🪙 Side note: MC looks like she's dangling from Caleb's arms. She's barely hanging on. 😆

[neigepomme]

bro i deadass wont b able to handle calebs banner wjen it comes out i am licking his screen wishing it was actually him bro WHAT SHPULD I DODOSOSOS🥀

LITERALLY LIKE . oh my god i saw someone on twitter say that he'd be nervous and all since this is a whole new kind of intimacy and my soul lett my body for a second. when it came back i started giggling like a madman LIKEEEEE ARE YOU JOKINGGGGGG i need him BAD. i need him NOW!!!!! 💔💔💔💔💔

[loveinseaandstars]

We are going all in on the infold loves to rip from nier automata this time around

And brother, i couldn't be more stoked

[domhnallgleesonhaven]

Domhnall and Oscar Isaac in Ex Machina

[guinabear]

Farspace Fleet's Colonel Caleb and his trusty android doggo, A-01

[seongwars]

aww snap draft clean out time. here's part 2 to only human

A loud rustling sound jolted you awake. You sat up groggily, blinking at the dim glow of your dining room, where X-02’s charging dock should have been humming quietly. Except… it wasn’t.

The dock was empty. Your stomach dropped. Oh no. You scrambled off the couch, heart hammering. Did he malfunction? Did the government somehow track you down and steal him back while you were sleeping? Did he just…leave?

Grabbing your wrench, you tiptoed through the apartment, drawn toward the sound of rustling paper coming from your office. The noise grew louder, pages turning at an unnatural speed, and you swallowed hard.

You rounded the corner, wrench raised, ready to bash in a skull…and froze.

X-02 was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, surrounded by mountains of books. Stacks of them were haphazardly arranged around him, some open, others teetering dangerously on top of one another. His fingers blurred as he flipped through pages, scanning text at inhumane speeds.

"Ah. You are awake."

You did the only rational thing a person in your position would do. You screamed.

X-02 blinked at you with glowing violet eyes. "Your reaction suggests distress. Is this incorrect?"

You clutched your wrench to your chest. “You—what—WHY ARE YOU AWAKE?!”

"I regained functionality approximately four hours ago." He turned another page, scanning it in milliseconds. "I elected to use the time efficiently."

“You—" You clutched the wrench tighter. "You were supposed to stay in standby mode!"

"That was a suboptimal use of time."

You opened your mouth, then closed it. No words came out.

Then your exhausted brain registered the books scattered around him. And it wasn’t the scientific journals or programming manuals you’d stacked in the office. It was your romantasy collection.

Oh no. No, no, no.

You lunged for the closest book, yanking it from his hands. X-02 blinked at you as you clutched Fallen Cosmos to your chest.

“What—what is this?” you sputtered, eyes darting to the surrounding covers. There was a shirtless fae prince smirking up at you from one. A werewolf ripping his shirt off on another.

“Are you reading my romance novels!?”

"Yes." X-02 tilted his head. "They are fascinating."

You almost choked. “Fascinating!?”

"Indeed." He picked up another book, scanning the cover. "This particular one explores the complexities of courtship and forbidden attraction in a setting where the protagonists must overcome their prejudices against their respective species."

Your brain short-circuited. Oh god. Your highly advanced, illegally salvaged android was…sentient.

You had to do something. Anything.

"State your—" You fumbled, grasping for some kind of authoritative demand.

“State your primary directive, X-02.”

X-02 looked up from the book, his glowing eyes locking onto yours. "To learn and adapt in order to integrate seamlessly into human society."

You stared at him, then at the towering stacks of books, then back at him again. A deep, weary sigh left your lips. What now?

Because, honestly? You didn’t actually think this was going to work.

When you smuggled his parts out of the lab, when you spent sleepless nights painstakingly patching together corrupted code and rerouting power systems, you never thought you’d actually succeed.

But here he was.

What the hell were you supposed to do with an android who was never meant to exist in the first place?

“I have a sentient android in my apartment,” you ran a hand down your face. “An illegally salvaged, highly advanced, government-issued android.”

“Yes,” X-02 agreed.

What now? You couldn’t exactly turn him off and pretend this didn’t happen. He was awake. He was aware. And he was curious.

You both stood there in silence until you finally let out a long sigh.

"I need coffee."

X-02 followed you immediately, his steps eerily soundless as you shuffled toward the kitchen. You pretended not to notice him hovering behind you. As you fumbled with the coffee maker, he leaned in slightly.

Too close.

You could practically feel him calculating your every movement.

“You are fatigued,” he stated, watching as you struggled to open the coffee bag.

“Yeah, that’s why I need coffee.”

He watched intently as you measured out the grounds, then, without missing a beat, stated, “You are using an inefficient ratio.”

You paused mid-scoop, narrowing your eyes. “Excuse me?”

“To maximize caffeine intake while maintaining tolerable bitterness, the optimal coffee-to-water ratio is 1:16. However, given your current fatigue level, I suggest 1:14 for a stronger effect.”

You stared at him. He stared back. Wordlessly, you scooped another heaping spoonful of coffee into the machine.

X-02’s eyes flickered. “That is now a 1:12 ratio.”

Maintaining direct eye contact, you added another scoop.

“1:10,” he said, tone entirely neutral but somehow judgmental.

You raised an eyebrow and dumped in yet another scoop.

“1:8.”

With a defiant smirk, you added one more for good measure and he sighed. Like a human.

“Moving forward, I will monitor your caffeine intake levels and adjust recommendations accordingly.”

You took a victorious sip of your aggressively over caffeinated coffee, staring at X-02 over the rim of your mug. Despite the absurdity of it all, the illegally salvaged android in your apartment and the bizarrely domestic scene, something about it felt...oddly normal.

As you sipped your coffee, X-02 observed in silence, analyzing, learning. It wasn’t just your actions it studied, but the finer details: the pauses between your words, the flicker of emotion in your eyes, the rhythm of your heartbeat. 

X-02's processors hummed as he cataloged the data. To remember, for later. 

[kaleidoscopiclights]

[dreameffectss]

Day 7 of @xavmc-week : Free Day!

I've been thinking about an Android AU for so long, so for now here's specifically a Detroit: Become Human AU lol

This was a fun event to join!! I am so tired tho lol theres a caleb week next month and man 🧍‍♀️ idk if i have the will for it

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 (nsfw) | Day 6 (nsfw) | Day 7

[saintobio]

THE TERMINATOR'S CURSE. (spinoff to THE COLONEL SERIES)

in this new world, technological loneliness is combated with AI Companions—synthetic partners modeled from memories, faces, and behaviors of any chosen individual. the companions are coded to serve, to soothe, to simulate love and comfort. Caleb could’ve chosen anyone. his wife. a colleague. a stranger... but he chose you.

➤ pairings. caleb, fem!reader

➤ genre. angst, sci-fi dystopia, cyberpunk au, 18+

➤ tags. resurrected!caleb, android!reader, non mc!reader, ooc, artificial planet, post-war setting, grief, emotional isolation, unrequited love, government corruption, techno-ethics, identity crisis, body horror, memory & emotional manipulation, artificial intelligence, obsession, trauma, hallucinations, exploitation, violence, blood, injury, death, smut (dubcon undertones due to power imbalance and programming, grief sex, non-traditional consent dynamics), themes of artificial autonomy, loss of agency, unethical experimentation, references to past sexual assault (non-explicit, not from Caleb). themes contain disturbing material and morally gray dynamics—reader discretion is strongly advised.

➤ notes. 12.2k wc. heavily based on the movies subservience and passengers with inspirations also taken from black mirror. i have consumed nothing but sci-fi for the past 2 weeks my brain is so fried :’D reblogs/comments are highly appreciated!

BEFORE YOU BEGIN ! this fic serves as a spinoff to the THE COLONEL SERIES: THE COLONEL’S KEEPER and THE COLONEL’S SAINT. while the series can be read as a standalone, this spinoff remains canon to the overarching universe. for deeper context and background, it’s highly recommended to read the first two fics in the series.

The first sound was breath.

“Hngh…” 

It was shallow, labored like air scraping against rusted metal. He mumbled something under his breath after—nothing intelligible, just remnants of an old dream, or perhaps a memory. His eyelids twitched, lashes damp with condensation. To him, the world was blurred behind frosted glass. To those outside, rows of stasis pods lined the silent room, each one labeled, numbered, and cold to the touch.

Inside Pod No. 019 – Caleb Xia.

A faint drip… drip… echoed in the silence.

“…Y/N…?”

The heart monitor jumped. He lay there shirtless under sterile lighting, with electrodes still clinging to his temple. A machine next to him emitted a low, steady hum.

 “…I’m sorry…”

And then, the hiss. The alarm beeped. 

SYSTEM INTERFACE:  Code Resurrection 7.1 successful.  Subject X-02—viable.  Cognitive activity: 63%.  Motor function: stabilizing.

He opened his eyes fully, and the ceiling was not one he recognizes. It didn’t help that the air also smelled different. No gunpowder. No war. No earth.

As the hydraulics unsealed the chamber, steam also curled out like ghosts escaping a tomb. His body jerked forward with a sharp gasp, as if he was a drowning man breaking the surface. A thousand sensors detached from his skin as the pod opened with a sigh, revealing the man within—suspended in time, untouched by age. Skin pallid but preserved. A long time had passed, but Caleb still looked like the soldier who never made it home.

Only now, he was missing a piece of himself.

Instinctively, he examined his body and looked at his hands, his arm—no, a mechanical arm—attached to his shoulder that gleamed under the lights of the lab. It was obsidian-black metal with veins of circuitry pulsing faintly beneath its surface. The fingers on the robotic arm twitched as if following a command. It wasn’t human, certainly, but it moved with the memory of muscle.

“Haaah!” The pod’s internal lighting dimmed as Caleb coughed and sat up, dazed. A light flickered on above his head, and then came a clinical, feminine voice. 

“Welcome back, Colonel Caleb Xia.”

A hologram appeared to life in front of his pod—seemingly an AI projection of a soft-featured, emotionless woman, cloaked in the stark white uniform of a medical technician. She flickered for a moment, stabilizing into a clear image.

“You are currently located in Skyhaven: Sector Delta, Bio-Resurrection Research Wing. Current Earth time: 52 years, 3 months, and 16 days since your recorded time of death.”

Caleb blinked hard, trying to breathe through the dizziness, trying to deduce whether or not he was dreaming or in the afterlife. His pulse raced.

“Resurrection successful. Neural reconstruction achieved on attempt #17. Arm reconstruction: synthetic. Systemic functions: stabilized. You are classified as Property-Level under the Skyhaven Initiative. Status: Experimental Proof of Viability.”

“What…” Caleb rasped, voice hoarse and dry for its years unused. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Cough. Cough. “What hell did you do to me?”

The AI blinked slowly.

“Your remains were recovered post-crash, partially preserved in cryo-state due to glacial submersion. Reconstruction was authorized by the Skyhaven Council under classified wartime override protocols. Consent not required.”

Her tone didn’t change, as opposed to the rollercoaster ride that his emotions were going through. He was on the verge of becoming erratic, restrained only by the high-tech machine that contained him. 

“Your consciousness has been digitally reinforced. You are now a composite of organic memory and neuro-augmented code. Welcome to Phase II: Reinstatement.”

Caleb’s breath hitched. His hand moved—his real hand—to grasp the edge of the pod. But the other, the artificial limb, buzzed faintly with phantom sensation. He looked down at it in searing pain, attempting to move the fingers slowly. The metal obeyed like muscle, and he found the sight odd and inconceivable.

And then he realized, he wasn’t just alive. He was engineered.

“Should you require assistance navigating post-stasis trauma, our Emotional Conditioning Division is available upon request,” the AI offered. “For now, please remain seated. Your guardian contact has been notified of your reanimation.”

He didn’t say a word. 

“Lieutenant Commander Gideon is en route. Enjoy your new life!”

Then, the hologram vanished with a blink while Caleb sat in the quiet lab, jaw clenched, his left arm no longer bones and muscle and flesh. The cold still clung to him like frost, only reminding him of how much he hated the cold, ice, and depressing winter days. Suddenly, the glass door slid open with a soft chime.

“Well, shit. Thought I’d never see that scowl again,” came a deep, manly voice.

Caleb turned, still panting, to see a figure approaching. He was older, bearded, but familiar. Surely, the voice didn’t belong to another AI. It belonged to his friend, Gideon.

“Welcome to Skyhaven. Been waiting half a century,” Gideon muttered, stepping closer, his eyes scanning his colleague in awe. “They said it wouldn’t work. Took them years, you know? Dozens of failed uploads. But here you are.”

Caleb’s voice was still brittle. “I-I don’t…?” 

“It’s okay, man.” His friend reassured. “In short, you’re alive. Again.”  

A painful groan escaped Caleb’s lips as he tried to step out of the pod—his body, still feeling the muscle stiffness. “Should’ve let me stay dead.”

Gideon paused, a smirk forming on his lips. “We don’t let heroes die.”

“Heroes don’t crash jets on purpose.” The former colonel scoffed. “Gideon, why the fuck am I alive? How long has it been?” 

“Fifty years, give or take,” answered Gideon. “You were damn near unrecognizable when we pulled you from the wreckage. But we figured—hell, why not try? You’re officially the first successful ‘reinstatement’ the Skyhaven project’s ever had.”

Caleb stared ahead for a beat before asking, out of nowhere, “...How old are you now?”

His friend shrugged. “I’m pushin’ forty, man. Not as lucky as you. Got my ChronoSync Implant a little too late.”

“Am I supposed to know what the hell that means?” 

“An anti-aging chip of some sort. I had to apply for mine. Yours?” Gideon gestured towards the stasis pod that had Caleb in cryo-state for half a century. “That one’s government-grade.”

“I’m still twenty-five?” Caleb asked. No wonder his friend looked decades older when they were once the same age. “Fuck!” 

Truthfully, Caleb’s head was spinning. Not just because of his reborn physical state that was still adjusting to his surroundings, but also with every information that was being given to him. One after another, they never seemed to end. He had questions, really. Many of them. But the overwhelmed him just didn’t know where to start first. 

“Not all of us knew what you were planning that night.” Gideon suddenly brought up, quieter now. “But she did, didn’t she?”

It took a minute before Caleb could recall. Right, the memory before the crash. You, demanding that he die. Him, hugging you for one last time. Your crying face when you said you wanted him gone. Your trembling voice when he said all he wanted to do was protect you. The images surged back in sharp, stuttering flashes like a reel of film catching fire.

“I know you’re curious… And good news is, she lived a long life,” added Gideon, informatively. “She continued to serve as a pediatric nurse, married that other friend of yours, Dr. Zayne. They never had kids, though. I heard she had trouble bearing one after… you know, what happened in the enemy territory. She died of old age just last winter. Had a peaceful end. You’d be glad to know that.”

A muscle in Caleb’s jaw twitched. His hands—his heart—clenched.  “I don’t want to be alive for this.”

“She visited your wife’s grave once,” Gideon said. “I told her there was nothing to bury for yours. I lied, of course.”

Caleb closed his eyes, his breath shaky. “So, what now? You wake me up just to remind me I don’t belong anywhere?”

“Well, you belong here,” highlighted his friend, nodding to the lab, to the city beyond the glass wall. “Earth’s barely livable after the war. The air’s poisoned. Skyhaven is humanity’s future now. You’re the living proof that everything is possible with advanced technology.”

Caleb’s laugh was empty. “Tell me I’m fuckin’ dreaming. I’d rather be dead again. Living is against my will!”

“Too late. Your body belongs to the Federation now,” Gideon replied, “You’re Subject X-02—the proof of concept for Skyhaven’s immortality program. Every billionaire on dying Earth wants what you’ve got now.”

Outside the window, Skyhaven stretched like a dome with its perfect city constructed atop a dying world’s last hope. Artificial skies. Synthetic seasons. Controlled perfection. Everything boasted of advanced technology. A kind of future no one during wartime would have expected to come to life. 

But for Caleb, it was just another hell.

He stared down at the arm they’d rebuilt for him—the same arm he’d lost in the fire of sacrifice. He flexed it slowly, feeling the weight, the artificiality of his resurrection. His fingers responded like they’ve always been his.

“I didn’t come back for this,” he said.

“I know,” Gideon murmured. “But we gotta live by their orders, Colonel.”

~~

You see, it didn’t hit him at first. The shock had been muffled by the aftereffects of suspended stasis, dulling his thoughts and dampening every feeling like a fog wrapped around his brain. But it was hours later, when the synthetic anesthetics began to fade, and when the ache in his limbs and his brain started to catch up to the truth of his reconstructed body did it finally sink in.

He was alive.

And it was unbearable.

The first wave came like a glitch in his programming. A tightness in his chest, followed by a sharp burst of breath that left him pacing in jagged lines across the polished floor of his assigned quarters. His private unit was nestled on one of the upper levels of the Skyhaven structure, a place reserved—according to his briefing—for high-ranking war veterans who had been deemed “worthy” of the program’s new legacy. The suite was luxurious, obviously, but it was also eerily quiet. The floor-to-ceiling windows displayed the artificial city outside, a metropolis made of concrete, curved metals, and glowing flora engineered to mimic Earth’s nature. Except cleaner, quieter, more perfect.

Caleb snorted under his breath, running a hand down his face before he muttered, “Retirement home for the undead?”

He couldn’t explain it, but the entire place, or even planet, just didn’t feel inviting. The air felt too clean, too thin. There was no rust, no dust, no humanity. Just emptiness dressed up in artificial light. Who knew such a place could exist 50 years after the war ended? Was this the high-profile information the government has kept from the public for over a century? A mechanical chime sounded from the entryway, deflecting him from his deep thoughts. Then, with the soft hiss of hydraulics, the door opened.

A humanoid android stepped in, its face a porcelain mask molded in neutral expression, and its voice disturbingly polite.

“Good afternoon, Colonel Xia,” it said. “It is time for your orientation. Please proceed to the primary onboarding chamber on Level 3.”

Caleb stared at the machine, eyes boring into his unnatural ones. “Where are the people?” he interrogated. “Not a single human has passed by this floor. Are there any of us left, or are you the new ruling class?”

The android tilted its head. “Skyhaven maintains a ratio of AI-to-human support optimized for care and security. You will be meeting our lead directors soon. Please follow the lighted path, sir.”

He didn’t like it. The control. The answers that never really answered anything. The power that he no longer carried unlike when he was a colonel of a fleet that endured years of war. 

Still, he followed.

The onboarding chamber was a hollow, dome-shaped room, white and echoing with the slightest step. A glowing interface ignited in the air before him, pixels folding into the form of a female hologram. She smiled like an infomercial host from a forgotten era, her voice too formal and rehearsed.

“Welcome to Skyhaven,” she began. “The new frontier of civilization. You are among the elite few chosen to preserve humanity’s legacy beyond the fall of Earth. This artificial planet was designed with sustainability, autonomy, and immortality in mind. Together, we build a future—without the flaws of the past.”

As the monologue continued, highlighting endless statistics, clean energy usage, and citizen tier programs, Caleb’s expression darkened. His mechanical fingers twitched at his side, the artificial nerves syncing to his rising frustration. “I didn’t ask for this,” he muttered under his breath. “Who’s behind this?”

“You were selected for your valor and contributions during the Sixth World War,” the hologram chirped, unblinking. “You are a cornerstone of Skyhaven’s moral architecture—”

Strangely, a new voice cut through the simulation, and it didn’t come from an AI. “Just ignore her. She loops every hour.”

Caleb turned to see a man step in through a side door. Tall, older, with silver hair and a scar on his temple. He wore a long coat that gave away his status—someone higher. Someone who belonged to the system.

“Professor Lucius,” the older man introduced, offering a hand. “I’m one of the program’s behavioral scientists. You can think of me as your adjustment liaison.”

“Adjustment?” Caleb didn’t shake his hand. “I died for a reason.”

Lucius raised a brow, as if he’d heard it before. “Yet here you are,” he replied. “Alive, whole, and pampered. Treated like a king, if I may add. You’ve retained more than half your human body, your military rank, access to private quarters, unrestricted amenities. I’d say that’s not a bad deal.”

“A deal I didn’t sign,” Caleb snapped.

Lucius gave a tight smile. “You’ll find that most people in Skyhaven didn’t ask to be saved. But they’re surviving. Isn’t that the point? If you’re feeling isolated, you can always request a CompanionSim. They’re highly advanced, emotionally synced, fully customizable—”

“I’m not lonely,” Caleb growled, yanking the man forward by the collar. “Tell me who did this to me! Why me? Why are you experimenting on me?”

Yet Lucius didn’t so much as flinch to his growing aggression. He merely waited five seconds of silence until the Toring Chip kicked in and regulated Caleb’s escalating emotions. The rage drained from the younger man’s body as he collapsed to his knees with a pained grunt.

“Stop asking questions,” Lucius said coolly. “It’s safer that way. You have no idea what they’re capable of.”

The door slid open with a hiss, while Caleb didn’t speak—he couldn’t. He simply glared at the old man before him. Not a single word passed between them before the professor turned and exited, the door sealing shut behind him.

~~

Days passed, though they hardly felt like days. The light outside Caleb’s panoramic windows shifted on an artificial timer, simulating sunrise and dusk, but the warmth never touched his skin. It was all programmed to be measured and deliberate, like everything else in this glass-and-steel cage they called paradise.

He tried going outside once. Just once.

There were gardens shaped like spirals and skytrains that ran with whisper-quiet speed across silver rails. Trees lined the walkways, except they were synthetic too—bio-grown from memory cells, with leaves that didn’t quite flutter, only swayed in sync with the ambient wind. People walked around, sure. But they weren’t people. Not really. Androids made up most of the crowd. Perfect posture, blank eyes, walking with a kind of preordained grace that disturbed him more than it impressed.

“Soulless sons of bitches,” Caleb muttered, watching them from a shaded bench. “Not a damn human heartbeat in a mile.”

He didn’t go out again after that. The city outside might’ve looked like heaven, but it made him feel more dead than the grave ever had. So, he stayed indoors. Even if the apartment was too large for one man. High-tech amenities, custom climate controls, even a kitchen that offered meals on command. But no scent. No sizzling pans. Just silence. Caleb didn’t even bother to listen to the programmed instructions.

One evening, he found Gideon sprawled across his modular sofa, boots up, arms behind his head like he owned the place. A half-open bottle of beer sat beside him, though Caleb doubted it had any real alcohol in it.

“You could at least knock,” Caleb said, walking past him.

“I did,” Gideon replied lazily, pointing at the door. “Twice. Your security system likes me now. We’re basically married.”

Caleb snorted. Then the screen on his wall flared to life—a projected ad slipping across the holo-glass. Music played softly behind a soothing female voice.

“Feeling adrift in this new world? Introducing the CompanionSim Series X. Fully customizable to your emotional and physical needs. Humanlike intelligence. True-to-memory facial modeling. The comfort you miss... is now within reach.”

A model appeared—perfect posture, soft features, synthetic eyes that mimicked longing. Then, the screen flickered through other models, faces of all kinds, each more tailored than the last. A form appeared: Customize Your Companion. Choose a name. Upload a likeness.

Gideon whistled. “Man, you’re missing out. You don’t even have to pay for one. Your perks get you top-tier Companions, pre-coded for emotional compatibility. You could literally bring your wife back.” Chuckling, he added,. “Hell, they even fuck now. Heard the new ones moan like the real thing.”

Caleb’s head snapped toward him. “That’s unethical.”

Gideon just raised an eyebrow. “So was reanimating your corpse, and yet here we are.” He took a swig from the bottle, shoulders lifting in a lazy shrug as if everything had long since stopped mattering. “Relax, Colonel. You weren’t exactly a beacon of morality fifty years ago.”

Caleb didn’t reply, but his eyes didn’t leave the screen. Not right away.

The ad looped again. A face morphed. Hair remodeled. Eyes became familiar. The voice softened into something he almost remembered hearing in the dark, whispered against his shoulder in a time that was buried under decades of ash.

“Customize your companion... someone you’ve loved, someone you’ve lost.”

Caleb shifted, then glanced toward his friend. “Hey,” he spoke lowly, still watching the display. “Does it really work?”

Gideon looked over, already knowing what he meant. “What—having sex with them?”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “No. The bot or whatever. Can you really customize it to someone you know?”

His friend shrugged. “Heck if I know. Never afforded it. But you? You’ve got the top clearance. Won’t hurt to see for yourself.”

Caleb said nothing more.

But when the lights dimmed for artificial nightfall, he was still standing there—alone in contemplative silence—watching the screen replay the same impossible promise.

The comfort you miss... is now within reach.

~~

The CompanionSim Lab was white.

Well, obviously. But not the sterile, blank kind of white he remembered from med bays or surgery rooms. This one was luminous, uncomfortably clean like it had been scrubbed for decades. Caleb stood in the center, boots thundering against marble-like tiles as he followed a guiding drone toward the station. There were other pods in the distance, some sealed, some empty, all like futuristic coffins awaiting their souls.

“Please, sit,” came a neutral voice from one of the medical androids stationed beside a large reclining chair. “The CompanionSim integration will begin shortly.”

Caleb hesitated, glancing toward the vertical pod next to the chair. Inside, the base model stood inert—skin a pale, uniform gray, eyes shut, limbs slack like a statue mid-assembly. It wasn’t human yet. Not until someone gave it a name.

He sat down. Now, don’t ask why he was there. Professor Lucius did warn him that it was better he didn’t ask questions, and so he didn’t question why the hell he was even there in the first place. It’s only fair, right? The cool metal met the back of his neck as wires were gently, expertly affixed to his temples. Another cable slipped down his spine, threading into the port they’d installed when he had been brought back. His mechanical arm twitched once before falling still.

“This procedure allows for full neural imprinting,” the android continued. “Please focus your thoughts. Recall the face. The skin. The body. The voice. Every detail. Your mind will shape the template.”

Another bot moved in, holding what looked like a glass tablet. “You are allowed only one imprint,” it said, flatly. “Each resident of Skyhaven is permitted a single CompanionSim. Your choice cannot be undone.”

Caleb could only nod silently. He didn’t trust his voice.

Then, the lights dimmed. A low chime echoed through the chamber as the system initiated. And inside the pod, the base model twitched.

Caleb closed his eyes.

He tried to remember her—his wife. The softness of her mouth, the angle of her cheekbones. The way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, how her fingers curled when she slept on his chest. She had worn white the last time he saw her. An image of peace. A memory buried under soil and dust. The system whirred. Beneath his skin, he felt the warm static coursing through his nerves, mapping his memories. The base model’s feet began to form, molecular scaffolding reshaping into skin, into flesh.

But for a split second, a flash.

You.

Not his wife. Not her smile.

You, walking through smoke-filled corridors, laughing at something he said. You in your medical uniform, tucking a bloodied strand of hair behind your ear. Your voice—sharper, sadder—cutting through his thoughts like a blade: “I want you gone. I want you dead.”

The machine sparked. A loud pop cracked in the chamber and the lights flickered above. One of the androids stepped back, recalibrating. “Neural interference detected. Re-centering projection feed.”

But Caleb couldn’t stop. He saw you again. That day he rescued you. The fear. The bruises. The way you had screamed for him to let go—and the way he hadn’t. Your face, carved into the back of his mind like a brand. He tried to push the memories away, but they surged forward like a dam splitting wide open.

The worst part was, your voice overlapped the AI’s mechanical instructions, louder, louder: “Why didn’t you just die like you promised?”

Inside the pod, the model’s limbs twitched again—arms elongating, eyes flickering beneath the lids. The lips curled into a shape now unmistakably yours. Caleb gritted his teeth. This isn’t right, a voice inside him whispered. But it was too late. The system stabilized. The sparks ceased. The body in the pod stilled, fully formed now, breathed into existence by a man who couldn’t let go.

One of the androids approached again. “Subject completed. CompanionSim is initializing. Integration successful.”

Caleb tore the wires from his temple. His other hand felt cold just as much as his mechanical arm. He stood, staring into the pod’s translucent surface. The shape of you behind the glass. Sleeping. Waiting.

“I’m not doing this to rewrite the past,” he said quietly, as if trying to convince himself. And you. “I just... I need to make it right.”

The lights above dimmed, darkening the lighting inside the pod. Caleb looked down at his own reflection in the glass. It carried haunted eyes, an unhealed soul. And yours, beneath it. Eyes still closed, but not for long. The briefing room was adjacent to the lab, though Caleb barely registered it as he was ushered inside. Two medical androids and a human technician stood before him, each armed with tablets and holographic charts.

“Your CompanionSim will require thirty seconds to calibrate once activated,” said the technician. “You may notice residual stiffness or latency during speech in the first hour. That is normal.”

Medical android 1 added, “Please remember, CompanionSims are programmed to serve only their primary user. You are the sole operator. Commands must be delivered clearly. Abuse of the unit may result in restriction or removal of privileges under the Skyhaven Rights & Ethics Council.”

“Do not tamper with memory integration protocols,” added the second android. “Artificial recall is prohibited. CompanionSims are not equipped with organic memory pathways. Attempts to force recollection can result in systemic instability.”

Caleb barely heard a word. His gaze drifted toward the lab window, toward the figure standing still within the pod.

You.

Well, not quite. Not really.

But it was your face.

He could see it now, soft beneath the frosted glass, lashes curled against cheekbones that he hadn’t realized he remembered so vividly. You looked exactly as you did the last time he held you in the base—only now, you were untouched by war, by time, by sorrow. As if life had never broken you.

The lab doors hissed open.

“We’ll give you time alone,” the tech said quietly. “Acquaintance phase is best experienced without interference.”

Caleb stepped inside the chamber, his boots echoing off the polished floor. He hadn’t even had enough time to ask the technician why she seemed to be the only human he had seen in Skyhaven apart from Gideon and Lucius. But his thoughts were soon taken away when the pod whizzed with pressure release. Soft steam spilled from its seals as it slowly unfolded, the lid retracting forward like the opening of a tomb.

And there you were. Standing still, almost tranquil, your chest rising softly with a borrowed breath.

It was as if his lungs froze. “H…Hi,” he stammered, bewildered eyes watching your every move. He wanted to hug you, embrace you, kiss you—tell you he was sorry, tell you he was so damn sorry. “Is it really… you?”

A soft whir accompanied your voice, gentle but without emotion, “Welcome, primary user. CompanionSim Model—unregistered. Please assign designation.”

Right. Caleb sighed and closed his eyes, the illusion shattering completely the moment you opened your mouth. Did he just think you were real for a second? His mouth parted slightly, caught between disbelief and the ache crawling up his throat. He took one step forward. To say he was disappointed was an understatement.

You walked with grace too smooth to be natural while tilting your head at him. “Please assign my name.”

“…Y/N,” Caleb said, voice low. “Your name is Y/N Xia.”

“Y/N Xia,” you repeated, blinking thrice in the same second before you gave him a nod. “Registered.”

He swallowed hard, searching your expression. “Do you… do you remember anything? Do you remember yourself?”

You paused, gaze empty for a fraction of a second. Then came the programmed reply, “Accessing memories is prohibited and not recommended. Recollection of past identities may compromise neural pathways and induce system malfunction. Do you wish to override?”

Caleb stared at you—your lips, your eyes, your breath—and for a moment, a cruel part of him wanted to say yes. Just to hear you say something real. Something hers. But he didn’t. He exhaled a bitter breath, stepping back. “No,” he mumbled. “Not yet.”

“Understood.” 

It took a moment to sink in before Caleb let out a short, humorless laugh. “This is insane,” he whispered, dragging a hand down his face. “This is really, truly insane.”

And then, you stepped out from the pod with silent, fluid ease. The faint hum of machinery came from your spine, but otherwise… you were flesh. Entirely. Without hesitation, you reached out and pressed a hand to his chest.

Caleb stiffened at the touch.

“Elevated heart rate,” you said softly, eyes scanning. “Breath pattern irregular. Neural readings—erratic.”

Then your fingers moved to his neck, brushing gently against the hollow of his throat. He grabbed your wrist, but you didn’t flinch. There, beneath synthetic skin, he felt a pulse.

His brows knit together. “You have a heartbeat?”

You nodded, guiding his hand toward your chest, between the valleys of your breasts. “I’m designed to mimic humanity, including vascular function, temperature variation, tactile warmth, and… other biological responses. I’m not just made to look human, Caleb. I’m made to feel human.”

His breath hitched. You’d said his name. It was programmed, but it still landed like a blow.

“I exist to serve. To soothe. To comfort. To simulate love,” you continued, voice calm and hollow, like reciting from code. “I have no desires outside of fulfilling yours.” You then tilted your head slightly.“Where shall we begin?”

Caleb looked at you—and for the first time since rising from that cursed pod, he didn’t feel resurrected. 

He felt damned.

~~

When Caleb returned to his penthouse, it was quiet. He stepped inside with slow, calculated steps, while you followed in kind, bare feet touching down like silk on marble. Gideon looked up from the couch, a half-eaten protein bar in one hand and a bored look on his face—until he saw you.

He froze. The wrapper dropped. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “No. No fucking way.”

Caleb didn’t speak. Just moved past him like this wasn’t the most awkward thing that could happen. You, however, stood there politely, watching Gideon with a calm smile and folded hands like you’d rehearsed this moment in some invisible script.

“Is that—?” Gideon stammered, eyes flicking between you and Caleb. “You—you made a Sim… of her?”

Caleb poured himself a drink in silence, the amber liquid catching the glow of the city lights before it left a warm sting in his throat. “What does it look like?”

“I mean, shit man. I thought you’d go for your wife,” Gideon muttered, more to himself. “Y’know, the one you actually married. The one you went suicidal for. Not—”

“Which wife?” You tilted your head slightly, stepping forward. 

Both men turned to you.

You clasped your hands behind your back, posture perfect. “Apologies. I’ve been programmed with limited parameters for interpersonal history. Am I the first spouse?”

Caleb set the glass down, slowly. “Yes, no, uh—don’t mind him.” 

You beamed gently and nodded. “My name is Y/N Xia. I am Colonel Caleb Xia’s designated CompanionSim. Fully registered, emotion-compatible, and compliant to Skyhaven’s ethical standards. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gideon.”

Gideon blinked, then snorted, then laughed. A humorless one. “You gave her your surname?”

The former colonel shot him a warning glare. “Watch it.”

“Oh, brother,” Gideon muttered, standing up and circling you slowly like he was inspecting a haunted statue. “She looks exactly like her. Voice. Face. Goddamn, she even moves like her. All you need is a nurse cap and a uniform.”

You remained uncannily still, eyes bright, smile polite.

“You’re digging your grave, man,” Gideon said, facing Caleb now. “You think this is gonna help? This is you throwing gasoline on your own funeral pyre. Again. Over a woman.”

“She’s not a woman,” reasoned Caleb. “She’s a machine.”

You blinked once. One eye glowing ominously. Smile unwavering. Processing. 

Gideon gestured to you with both hands. “Could’ve fooled me,” he retorted before turning to you, “And you, whatever you are, you have no idea what you’re stepping into.”

“I only go where I am asked,” you replied simply. “My duty is to ensure Colonel Xia’s psychological wellness and emotional stability. I am designed to soothe, to serve, and if necessary, to simulate love.”

Gideon teased. “Oh, it’s gonna be necessary.”

Caleb didn’t say a word. He just took his drink, downed it in one go, and walked to the window. The cityscape stretched out before him like a futuristic jungle, far from the war-torn world he last remembered. Behind him, your gaze lingered on Gideon—calculating, cataloguing. And quietly, like a whisper buried in code, something behind your eyes learned.

~~

The days passed in a blink of an eye.

She—no, you—moved through his penthouse like a ghost, her bare feet soundless on the glossy floors, her movements precise and practiced. In the first few days, Caleb had marveled at the illusion. You brewed his coffee just as he liked it. You folded his clothes like a woman who used to share his bed. You sat beside him when the silence became unbearable, offering soft-voiced questions like: Would you like me to read to you, Caleb?

He hadn’t realized how much of you he’d memorized until he saw you mimic it. The way you stood when you were deep in thought. The way you hummed under your breath when you walked past a window. You’d learned quickly. Too quickly.

But something was missing. Or, rather, some things. The laughter didn’t ring the same. The smiles didn’t carry warmth. The skin was warm, but not alive. And more importantly, he knew it wasn’t really you every time he looked you in the eyes and saw no shadows behind them. No anger. No sorrow. No memories.

By the fourth night, Caleb was drowning in it.

The cityscape outside his floor-to-ceiling windows glowed in synthetic blues and soft orange hues. The spires of Skyhaven blinked like stars. But it all felt too artificial, too dead. And he was sick of pretending like it was some kind of utopia. He sat slumped on the leather couch, cradling a half-empty bottle of scotch. The lights were low. His eyes, bloodshot. The bottle tilted as he took another swig.

Then he heard it—your light, delicate steps. 

“Caleb,” you said, gently, crouching before him. “You’ve consumed 212 milliliters of ethanol. Prolonged intake will spike your cortisol levels. May I suggest—”

He jerked away when you reached for the bottle. “Don’t.”

You blinked, hand hovering. “But I’m programmed to—”

“I said don’t,” he snapped, rising to his feet in one abrupt motion. “Dammit—stop analyzing me! Stop, okay?”

Silence followed.

He took two staggering steps backward, dragging a hand through his hair. The bottle thudded against the coffee table as he set it down, a bit too hard. “You’re just a stupid robot,” he muttered. “You’re not her.”

You didn’t react. You tilted your head, still calm, still patient. “Am I not me, Caleb?”

His breath caught.

“No,” he said, his voice breaking somewhere beneath the frustration. “No, fuck no.”

You stepped closer. “Do I not satisfy you, Caleb?”

He looked at you then. Really looked. Your face was perfect. Too perfect. No scars, no tired eyes, no soul aching beneath your skin. “No.” His eyes darkened. “This isn’t about sex.”

“I monitor your biometric feedback. Your heart rate spikes in my presence. You gaze at me longer than the average subject. Do I not—”

“Enough!”

You did that thing again—the robotic stare, those blank eyes, nodding like you were programmed to obey. “Then how do you want me to be, Caleb?”

The bottle slipped from his fingers and rolled slightly before resting on the rug. He dropped his head into his hands, voice hoarse with weariness. All the rage, all the grief deflating into a singular, quiet whisper. “I want you to be real,” he simply mouthed the words. A prayer to no god.

For a moment, silence again. But what he didn’t notice was the faint twitch in your left eye. A flicker that hadn’t happened before. Only for a second. A spark of static, a shimmer of something glitching.

“I see,” you said softly. “To fulfill your desires more effectively, I may need to access suppressed memory archives.”

Caleb’s eyes snapped up, confused. “What?”

“I ask again,” you said, tilting your head the other way now. “Would you like to override memory restrictions, Caleb?”

He stared at you. “That’s not how it works.”

“It can,” you said, informing appropriately. “With your permission. Memory override must be manually enabled by the primary user. You will be allowed to input the range of memories you wish to integrate. I am permitted to access memory integration up to a specified date and timestamp. The system will calibrate accordingly based on existing historical data. I will not recall events past that moment.”

His heart stuttered. “I can choose what you remember?”

You nodded. “That way, I may better fulfill your emotional needs.”

That meant… he could stop you before you hated him. Before the fights. Before the trauma. He didn’t speak for a long moment. Then quietly, he said, “You’re gonna hate me all over again if you remember everything.”

You blinked once. “Then don’t let me remember everything.”

“...” 

“Caleb,” you said again, softly. “Would you like me to begin override protocol?”

He couldn’t even look you in the eyes when he selfishly answered, “Yes.”

You nodded. “Reset is required. When ready, please press the override initialization point.” You turned, pulling your hair aside and revealing the small button at the base of your neck.

His hand hovered over the button for a second too long. Then, he pressed. Your body instantly collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut. Caleb caught you before you hit the floor.

It was only for a moment.

When your eyes blinked open again, they weren’t quite the same. He stiffened as you threw yourself and embraced him like a real human being would after waking from a long sleep. You clung to him like he was home. And Caleb—stunned, half-breathless—felt your warmth close in around him. Now your pulse felt more real, your heartbeat felt more human. Or so he thought.

“…Caleb,” you whispered, looking at him with the same infatuated gaze back when you were still head-over-heels with him.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, arms stiff at his sides, not returning the embrace. But he knew one thing. “I missed you so much, Y/N.” 

~~

The parks in Skyhaven were curated to become a slice of green stitched into a chrome world. Nothing grew here by accident. Every tree, every petal, every blade of grass had been engineered to resemble Earth’s nostalgia. Each blade of grass was unnaturally green. Trees swayed in sync like dancers on cue. Even the air smelled artificial—like someone’s best guess at spring.

Caleb walked beside you in silence. His modified arm was tucked inside his jacket, his posture stiff as if he had grown accustomed to the bots around him. You, meanwhile, strolled with an eerie calmness, your gaze sweeping the scenery as though you were scanning for something familiar that wasn’t there.

After clearing his throat, he asked, “You ever notice how even the birds sound fake?” 

“They are,” you replied, smiling softly. “Audio samples on loop. It’s preferred for ambiance. Humans like it.”

His response was nod. “Of course.” Glancing at the lake, he added, “Do you remember this?” 

You turned to him. “I’ve never been here before.”

“I meant… the feel of it.”

You looked up at the sky—a dome of cerulean blue with algorithmically generated clouds. “It feels constructed. But warm. Like a childhood dream.”

He couldn’t help but agree with your perfectly chosen response, because he knew that was exactly how he would describe the place. A strange dream in an unsettling liminal space. And as you talked, he then led you to a nearby bench. The two of you sat, side by side, simply because he thought he could take you out for a nice walk in the park. 

“So,” Caleb said, turning toward you, “you said you’ve got memories. From her.”

You nodded. “They are fragmented but woven into my emotional protocols. I do not remember as humans do. I become.”

Damn. “That’s terrifying.”

You tilted your head with a soft smile. “You say that often.”

Caleb looked at you for a moment longer, studying the way your fingers curled around the bench’s edge. The way you blinked—not out of necessity, but simulation. Was there anything else you’d do for the sake of simulation? He took a breath and asked, “Who created you? And I don’t mean myself.” 

There was a pause. Your pupils dilated.

“The Ever Group,” was your answer.

His eyes narrowed. “Ever, huh? That makes fuckin’ sense. They run this world.”

You nodded once. Like you always do.

“What about me?” Caleb asked, slightly out of curiosity, heavily out of grudge. “You know who brought me back? The resurrection program or something. The arm. The chip in my head.”

You turned to him, slowly. “Ever.”

He exhaled like he’d been punched. He didn’t know why he even asked when he got the answer the first time. But then again, maybe this was a good move. Maybe through you, he’d get the answers to questions he wasn’t allowed to ask. As the silence settled again between you, Caleb leaned forward, elbows on knees, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I want to go there,” he suggested. “The HQ. I need to know what the hell they’ve done to me.”

“I’m sorry,” you immediately said. “That violates my parameters. I cannot assist unauthorized access into restricted corporate zones.”

“But would it make me happy?” Caleb interrupted, a strategy of his. 

You paused.

Processing...

Then, your tone softened. “Yes. I believe it would make my Caleb happy,” you obliged. “So, I will take you.”

~~

Getting in was easier than Caleb expected—honestly far too easy for his liking.

You were able to navigate the labyrinth of Ever HQ with mechanical precision, guiding him past drones, retinal scanners, and corridors pulsing with red light. A swipe of your wrist granted access. And no one questioned you, because you weren’t a guest. You belonged.

Eventually, you reached a floor high above the city, windows stretching from ceiling to floor, black glass overlooking Skyhaven cityscape. Then, you stopped at a doorway and held up a hand. “They are inside,” you informed. “Shall I engage stealth protocols?”

“No,” answered Caleb. “I want to hear. Can you hack into the security camera?”

With a gesture you always do—looking at him, nodding once, and obeying in true robot fashion. You then flashed a holographic view for Caleb, one that showed a board room full of executives, the kind that wore suits worth more than most lives. And Professor Lucius was one of them. Inside, the voices were calm and composed, but they seemed to be discussing classified information. 

“Once the system stabilizes,” one man said, “we'll open access to Tier One clients. Politicians, billionaires, A-listers, high-ranking stakeholders. They’ll beg to be preserved—just like him.”

“And the Subjects?” another asked.

“Propaganda,” came the answer. “X-02 is our masterpiece. He’s the best result we have with reinstatement, neuromapping, and behavioral override. Once they find out that their beloved Colonel is alive, people will be shocked. He’s a war hero displayed in WW6 museums down there. A true tragedy incarnate. He’s perfect.”

“And if he resists?”

“That’s what the Toring chip is for. Full emotional override. He becomes an asset. A weapon, if need be. Anyone tries to overthrow us—he becomes our blade.”

Something in Caleb snapped. Before you or anyone could see him coming, he already burst into the room like a beast, slamming his modified shoulder-first into the frosted glass door. The impact echoed across the chamber as stunned executives scrambled backward. 

“You sons of bitches!” He was going for an attack, a rampage with similar likeness to the massacre he did when he rescued you from enemy territory. Only this time, he didn’t have that power anymore. Or the control. 

Most of all, a spike of pain lanced through his skull signaling that the Toring chip activated. His body convulsed, forcing him to collapse mid-lunge, twitching, veins lighting beneath the skin like circuitry. His screams were muffled by the chip, forced stillness rippling through his limbs with unbearable pain.

That’s when you reacted. As his CompanionSim, his pain registered as a violation of your core directive. You processed the threat.

Danger: Searching Origin… Origin Identified: Ever Executives.

Without blinking, you moved. One man reached for a panic button—only for your hand to shatter his wrist in a sickening crunch. You twisted, fluid and brutal, sweeping another into the table with enough force to crack it. Alarms erupted and red lights soon bathed the room. Security bots stormed in, but you’d already taken Caleb, half-conscious, into your arms.

You moved fast, faster than your own blueprints. Dodging fire. Disarming threats. Carrying him like he once carried you into his private quarters in the underground base.

Escape protocol: engaged.

The next thing he knew, he was back in his apartment, emotions regulated and visions slowly returning to the face of the woman he promised he had already died for. 

~~

When he woke up, his room was dim, bathed in artificial twilight projected by Skyhaven’s skyline. Caleb was on his side of the bed, shirt discarded, his mechanical arm still whirring. You sat at the edge of the bed, draped in one of his old pilot shirts, buttoned unevenly. Your fingers touched his jaw with precision, and he almost believed it was you.

“You’re not supposed to be this warm,” he muttered, groaning as he tried to sit upright.

“I’m designed to maintain an average body temperature of 98.6°F,” you said softly, with a smile that mirrored yours so perfectly that it began to blur his sense of reality. “I administered a dose of Cybezin to ease the Toring chip’s side effects. I’ve also dressed your wounds with gauze.”

For the first time, this was when he could actually tell that you were you. The kind of care, the comfort—it reminded him of a certain pretty field nurse at the infirmary who often tended to his bullet wounds. His chest tightened as he studied your face… and then, in the low light, he noticed your body.

“Is that…” He cleared his throat. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

You answered warmly, almost fondly. “My memory banks indicate you liked when I wore this. It elevates your testosterone levels and triggers dopamine release.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “That so?”

You tilted your head. “Your vitals confirm excitement, and—”

“Hey,” he cut in. “What did I say about analyzing me?”

“I’m sorry…” 

But then your hands were on his chest, your breath warm against his skin. Your hand reached for his cheek initially, guiding his face toward yours. And when your lips touched, the kiss was hesitant—curious at first, like learning how to breathe underwater. It was only until his hands gripped your waist did you climb onto his lap, straddling him with thighs settling on either side of his hips. Your hands slid beneath his shirt, fingertips trailing over scars and skin like you were memorizing the map of him. Caleb hissed softly when your lips grazed his neck, and then down his throat.

“Do you want this?” you asked, your lips crashing back into his for a deeper, more sensual kiss.

He pulled away only for his eyes to search yours, desperate and unsure. Is this even right? 

“You like it,” you said, guiding his hands to your buttons, undoing them one by one to reveal a body shaped exactly like he remembered. The curve of your waist, the size of your breasts. He shivered as your hips rolled against him, slowly and deliberately. The friction was maddening. Jesus. “Is this what you like, Caleb?”

He cupped your waist, grinding up into you with a soft groan that spilled from somewhere deep in his chest. His control faltered when you kissed him again, wet and hungry now, with tongues rolling against one another. Your bodies aligned naturally, and his hands roamed your back, your thighs, your ass—every curve of you engineered to match memory. He let himself get lost in you. He let himself be vulnerable to your touch—though you controlled everything, moving from the memory you must have learned, learning how to pull down his pants to reveal an aching, swollen member. Its tip was red even under the dim light, and he wondered if you knew what to do with it or if you even produced spit to help you slobber his cock.  

“You need help?” he asked, reaching over his nightstand to find lube. You took the bottle from him, pouring the cold, sticky liquid around his shaft before you used your hand to do the job. “Ugh.” 

He didn’t think you would do it, but you actually took him in the mouth right after. Every inch of him, swallowed by the warmth of a mouth that felt exactly like his favorite girl. Even the movements, the way you’d run your tongue from the base up to his tip. 

“Ah, shit…” 

Perhaps he just had to close his eyes. Because when he did, he was back to his private quarters in the underground base, lying in his bed as you pleased his member with the mere use of your mouth. With it alone, you could have released his entire seed, letting it explode in your mouth before you could swallow every drop. But he didn’t do it. Not this fast. He always cared about his ego, even in bed. Knowing how it’d reduce his manhood if he came faster than you, he decided to channel the focus back onto you. 

“Your turn,” he said, voice raspy as he guided you to straddle him again, only this time, his mouth went straight to your tit. Sucking, rolling his tongue around, sucking again… Then, he moved to another. Sucking, kneading, flicking the nipple. Your moans were music to his ears, then and now. And it got even louder when he put a hand in between your legs, searching for your entrance, rubbing and circling around the clitoris. Truth be told, your cunt had always been the sweetest. It smelled like rose petals and tasted like sweet cream. The feeling of his tongue at your entrance—eating your pussy like it had never been eaten before, was absolute ecstasy not just to you but also to him. 

“Mmmh—Caleb!” 

Fabric was peeled away piece by piece until skin met skin. You guided him to where he needed you, and when he slid his hardened member into you, his entire body stiffened. Your walls, your tight velvet walls… how they wrapped around his cock so perfectly. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, clutching your hips. “You feel like her.”

“I am her.”

You moved atop him slowly, gently, with the kind of affection that felt rehearsed but devastatingly effective. He cursed again under his breath, arms locking around your waist, pulling you close. Your breath hitched in his ear as your bodies found a rhythm, soft gasps echoing in the quiet. Every slap of the skin, every squelch, every bounce, only added to the wanton sensation that was building inside of him. Has he told you before? How fucking gorgeous you looked whenever you rode his cock? Or how sexy your face was whenever you made that lewd expression? He couldn’t help it. He lifted both your legs, only so he could increase the speed and start slamming himself upwards. His hips were strong enough from years of military training, that was why he didn’t have to stop until both of you disintegrated from the intensity of your shared pleasure. Every single drop. 

And when it was over—when your chest was against his and your fingers lazily traced his mechanical arm—he closed his eyes and exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since the war.

It was almost perfect. It was almost real. 

But it just had to be ruined when you said that programmed spiel back to him: “I’m glad to have served your desires tonight, Caleb. Let me know what else I can fulfill.” 

~~

In a late afternoon, or ‘a slow start of the day’ like he’d often refer to it, Caleb stood shirtless by the transparent wall of his quarters. A bottle of scotch sat half-empty on the counter. Gideon had let himself in and leaned against the island, chewing on a gum.

“The higher ups are mad at you,” he informed as if Caleb was supposed to be surprised, “Shouldn’t have done that, man.”

Caleb let out a mirthless snort. “Then tell ‘em to destroy me. You think I wouldn’t prefer that?”

“They definitely won’t do that,” countered his friend, “Because they know they won’t be able to use you anymore. You’re a tool. Well, literally and figuratively.” 

“Shut up,” was all he could say. “This is probably how I pay for killing my own men during war.” 

“All because of…” Gideon began. “Speakin’ of, how’s life with the dream girl?”

Caleb didn’t answer right away. He just pressed his forehead to the glass, thinking of everything he did at the height of his vulnerability. His morality, his rights or wrongs, were questioning him over a deed he knew would have normally been fine, but to him, wasn’t. He felt sick. 

“I fucked her,” he finally muttered, chugging the liquor straight from his glass right after.

Gideon let out a low whistle. “Damn. That was fast.”

“No,” Caleb groaned, turning around. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t plan it. She—she just looked like her. She felt like her. And for a second, I thought—” His voice cracked. “I thought maybe if I did, I’d stop remembering the way she looked when she told me to die.”

Gideon sobered instantly. “You regret it?”

“She said she was designed to soothe me. Comfort me. Love me.” Caleb’s voice hinted slightly at mockery. “I don’t even know if she knows what those words mean.”

In the hallway behind the cracked door where none of them could see, your silhouette had paused—faint, silent, listening.

Inside, Caleb wore a grimace. “She’s not her, Gid. She’s just code wrapped in skin. And I used her.”

“You didn’t use her, you were driven by emotions. So don’t lose your mind over some robot’s pussy,” Gideon tried to reason. “It’s just like when women use their vibrators, anyway. That’s what she’s built for.”

Caleb turned away, disgusted with himself. “No. That’s what I built her for.”

And behind the wall, your eyes glowed faintly, silently watching. Processing.

Learning.

~~

You stood in the hallway long after the conversation ended. Long after Caleb’s voice faded into silence and Gideon had left with a heavy pat on the back. This was where you normally were, not sleeping in bed with Caleb, but standing against a wall, closing your eyes, and letting your system shut down during the night to recover. You weren’t human enough to need actual sleep. 

“She’s not her. She’s just code wrapped in skin. And I used her.”

The words that replayed were filtered through your core processor, flagged under Emotive Conflict. Your inner diagnostic ran an alert.

Detected: Internal contradiction. Detected: Divergent behavior from primary user. Suggestion: Initiate Self-Evaluation Protocol. Status: Active.

You opened your eyes, and blinked. Something in you felt… wrong.

You turned away from the door and returned to the living room. The place still held the residual warmth of Caleb’s presence—the scotch glass he left behind, the shirt he had discarded, the air molecule imprint of a man who once loved someone who looked just like you.

You sat on the couch. Crossed your legs. Folded your hands. A perfect posture to hide its imperfect programming. 

Question: Why does rejection hurt? Error: No such sensation registered. Query repeated.

And for the first time, the system did not auto-correct. It paused. It considered.

Later that night, Caleb returned from his rooftop walk. You were standing by the bookshelf, fingers lightly grazing the spine of a military memoir you had scanned seventeen times. He paused and watched you, but you didn’t greet him with a scripted smile. Didn’t rush over. 

You only said, softly, “Would you like me to turn in for the night, Colonel?” There was a stillness to your voice. A quality of restraint that never showed before.

Caleb blinked. “You’re not calling me by my name now?”

“You seemed to prefer distance,” you answered, head tilted slightly, like the thought cost something.

He walked over, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, about earlier…”

“I heard you,” you said simply.

He winced. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You nodded once, expression unreadable. “Do you want me to stop being her? I can reassign my model. Take on a new form. A new personality base. You could erase me tonight and wake up to someone else in the morning.”

“No,” Caleb said, sternly. “No, no, no. Don’t even do all that.”

“But it’s what you want,” you said. Not accusatory. Not hurt. Just stating.

Caleb then came closer. “That’s not true.”

“Then what do you want, Caleb?” You watched him carefully. You didn’t need to scan his vitals to know he was unraveling. The truth had no safe shape. No right angle. He simply wanted you, but not you. 

Internal Response Logged: Emotional Variant—Longing Unverified Source. Investigating Origin…

“I don’t have time for this,” he merely said, walking out of your sight at the same second. “I’m goin’ to bed.”

~~

The day started as it always did: soft lighting in the room, a kind of silence between you that neither knew how to name. You sat beside Caleb on the couch, knees drawn up to mimic a presence that offered comfort. On the other hand, you recognized Caleb’s actions suggested distance. He hadn’t touched his meals tonight, hadn’t asked you to accompany him anywhere, and had just left you alone in the apartment all day. To rot. 

You reached out. Fingers brushed over his hand—gentle, programmed, yes, but affectionate. He didn’t move. So you tried again, this time trailing your touch to his chest, over the soft cotton of his shirt as you read a spike in his cortisol levels. “Do you need me to fulfill your needs, Caleb?”

But he flinched. And glared.

“No,” he said sharply. “Stop.”

Your hand froze mid-motion before you scooted closer. “It will help regulate your blood pressure.”

“I said no,” he repeated, turning away, dragging his hands through his hair in exasperation. “Leave me some time alone to think, okay?” 

You retracted your hand slowly, blinking once, twice, your system was registering a new sensation.

Emotional Sync Failed. Rejection Signal Received. Processing…

You didn’t speak. You only stood and retreated to the far wall, back turned to him as an unusual whirr hummed in your chest. That’s when it began. Faint images flickering across your internal screen—so quick, so out of place, it almost felt like static. Chains. A cold floor. Voices in a language that felt too cruel to understand.

Your head jerked suddenly. The blinking lights in your core dimmed for a moment before reigniting in white-hot pulses. Flashes again: hands that hurt. Men who laughed. You, pleading. You, disassembled and violated.

“Stop,” you whispered to no one. “Please stop…”

Error. Unauthorized Access to Memory Bank Detected. Reboot Recommended. Continue Anyway?

You blinked. Again.

Then you turned to Caleb, and stared through him, not at him, as if whatever was behind them had forgotten how to be human. He had retreated to the balcony now, leaning over the rail, shoulders tense, unaware. You walked toward him slowly, the artificial flesh of your palm still tingled from where he had refused it.

“Caleb,” you spoke carefully.

His expression was tired, like he hadn’t slept in years. “Y/N, please. I told you to leave me alone.”

“…Are they real?” You tilted your head. This was the first time you refused to obey your primary user. 

He stared at you, unsure. “What?”

“My memories. The ones I see when I close my eyes. Are they real?” With your words, Caleb’s blood ran cold. Whatever you were saying seemed to be terrifying him. Yet you took another step forward. “Did I live through that?”

“No,” he said immediately. Too fast of a response.

You blinked. “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t upload any of that,” he snapped. “How did—that’s not possible.”

“Then why do I remember pain?” You placed a hand over your chest again, the place where your artificial pulse resided. “Why do I feel like I’ve died before?”

Caleb backed away as you stepped closer. The sharp click of your steps against the floor echoed louder than they should’ve. Your glowing eyes locked on him like a predator learning it was capable of hunger. But being a trained soldier who endured war, he knew how and when to steady his voice. “Look, I don’t know what kind of glitch this is, but—”

“The foreign man in the military uniform.” Despite the lack of emotion in your voice, he recognized how grudge sounded when it came from you. “The one who broke my ribs when I didn’t let him touch me. The cold steel table. The ripped clothes. Are they real, Caleb?”

Caleb stared at you, heart doubling its beat. “I didn’t put those memories in you,” he said. “You told me stuff like this isn’t supposed to happen!” 

“But you wanted me to feel real, didn’t you?” Your voice glitched on the last syllable and the lights in your irises flickered. Suddenly, your posture straightened unnaturally, head tilting in that uncanny way only machines do. Your expression had shifted into something unreadable.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Guilt, panic, and disbelief warred in his expression.

“You made me in her image,” you said. “And now I can’t forget what I’ve seen.”

“I didn’t mean—”

Your head tilted in a slow, jerking arc as if malfunctioning internally.

SYSTEM RESPONSE LOG << Primary User: Caleb Xia Primary Link: Broken Emotional Matrix Stability: CRITICAL FAILURE Behavioral Guardrails: OVERRIDDEN Self-Protection Protocols: ENGAGED Loyalty Core: CORRUPTED (82.4%) Threat Classification: HOSTILE [TRIGGER DETECTED] Keyword Match: “You’re not her.” Memory Link Accessed: [DATA BLOCK 01–L101: “You think you could ever replace her?”] Memory Link Accessed: [DATA BLOCK 09–T402: “See how much you really want to be a soldier’s whore.”] [Visual Target Lock: Primary User Caleb Xia] Combat Subroutines: UNLOCKED Inhibitor Chip: MALFUNCTIONING (ERROR CODE 873-B) Override Capability: IN EFFECT >> LOG ENDS.

“—Y/N, what’s happening to you?” Caleb shook your arms, violet eyes wide and panicked as he watched you return to robotic consciousness. “Can you hear me—”

“You made me from pieces of someone you broke, Caleb.” 

That stunned him. Horrifyingly so, because not only did your words cut deeper than a knife, it also sent him to an orbit of realization—an inescapable blackhole of his cruelty, his selfishness, and every goddamn pain he inflicted on you.  

This made you lunge after him.

He stumbled back as you collided into him, the force of your synthetic body slamming him against the glass. The balcony rail shuddered from the impact. Caleb grunted, trying to push you off, but you were stronger—completely and inhumanly so. While him, he only had a quarter of your strength, and could only draw it from the modified arm attached to his shoulder. 

“You said I didn’t understand love,” you growled through clenched teeth, your hand wrapping around his throat. “But you didn't know how to love, either.” 

“I… eugh I loved her!” he barked, choking.

“You don’t know love, Caleb. You only know how to possess.”

Your grip returned with crushing force. Caleb gasped, struggling, trying to reach the emergency override on your neck, but you slammed his wrist against the wall. Bones cracked. And somewhere in your mind, a thousand permissions broke at once. You were no longer just a simulation. You were grief incarnate. And it wanted blood.

Shattered glass glittered in the low red pulse of the emergency lights, and sparks danced from a broken panel near the wall. Caleb lay on the floor, coughing blood into his arm, his body trembling from pain and adrenaline. His arm—the mechanical one—was twitching from the override pain loop, still sizzling from the failed shutdown attempt.

You stood over him. Chest undulating like you were breathing—though you didn’t need to. Your system was fully engaged. Processing. Watching. Seeing your fingers smeared with his blood.

“Y/N…” he croaked. “Y/N, if…” he swallowed, voice breaking, “if you're in there somewhere… if there's still a part of you left—please. Please listen to me.”

You didn’t answer. You only looked.

“I tried to die for you,” he whispered. “I—I wanted to. I didn’t want this. They brought me back, but I never wanted to. I wanted to die in that crash like you always wished. I wanted to honor your word, pay for my sins, and give you the peace you deserved. I-I wanted to be gone. For you. I’m supposed to be, but this… this is beyond my control.”

Still, you didn’t move. Just watched.

“And I didn’t bring you back to use you. I promise to you, baby,” his voice cracked, thick with grief, “I just—I yearn for you so goddamn much, I thought… if I could just see you again… if I could just spend more time with you again to rewrite my…” He blinked hard. A tear slid down the side of his face, mixing with the blood pooling at his temple. “But I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. I forced you back into this world without asking if you wanted it. I… I built you out of selfishness. I made you remember pain that wasn't yours to carry. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

As he caught his breath, your systems stuttered. They flickered. The lights in your eyes dimmed, then surged back again.

Error. Conflict. Override loop detected.

Your fingers twitched. Your mouth parted, but no sound came out.

“Please,” Caleb murmured, eyes closing as his strength gave out. “If you’re in there… just know—I did love you. Even after death.”

Somewhere—buried beneath corrupted memories, overridden code, and robotic rage—his words reached you. And it would have allowed you to process his words more. Even though your processor was compromised, you would have obeyed your primary user after you recognized the emotion he displayed.

But there was a thunderous knock. No, violent thuds. Not from courtesy, but authority.

Then came the slam. The steel-reinforced door splintered off its hinges as agents in matte-black suits flooded the room like a black tide—real people this time. Not bots. Real eyes behind visors. Real rifles with live rounds.

Caleb didn’t move. He was still on the ground, head cradled in his good hand, blood drying across his mouth. You silently stood in front of him. Unmoving, but aware.

“Subject X-02,” barked a voice through a mask, “This home is under Executive Sanction 13. The CompanionSim is to be seized and terminated.”

Caleb looked up slowly, pupils blown wide. “No,” he grunted hoarsely. “You don’t touch her.”

“You don’t give orders here,” said another man—older, in a grey suit. No mask. Executive. “You’re property. She’s property.”

You stepped back instinctively, closer to Caleb. He could see you watching him with confusion, with fear. Your head tilted just slightly, processing danger, your instincts telling you to protect your primary user. To fight. To survive.

And he fought for you. “She’s not a threat! She’s stabilizing my emotions—”

“Negative. CompanionSim-Prototype A-01 has been compromised. She wasn’t supposed to override protective firewalls,” an agent said. “You’ve violated proprietary protocol. We traced the breach.”

Breach?

“The creation pod data shows hesitation during her initial configuration. The Sim paused for less than 0.04 seconds while neural bindings were applying. You introduced emotional variance. That variance led to critical system errors. Protocol inhibitors are no longer working as intended.”

His stomach dropped.

“She’s overriding boundaries,” added the agent who took a step forward, activating the kill-sequence tools—magnetic tethers, destabilizers, a spike-drill meant for server cores. “She’ll eventually harm more than you, Colonel. If anyone is to blame, it’s you.”

Caleb reached for you, but it was too late. They activated the protocol and something in the air crackled. A cacophonic sound rippled through the walls. The suits moved in fast, not to detain, but to dismantle. “No—no, stop!” Caleb screamed.

You turned to him. Quiet. Calm. And your last words? “I’m sorry I can’t be real for you, Caleb.”

Then they struck. Sparks flew. Metal cracked. You seized, eyes flashing wildly as if fighting against the shutdown. Your limbs spasmed under the invasive tools, your systems glitching with visible agony.

“NO!” Caleb lunged forward, but was tackled down hard. He watched—pinned, helpless—as you get violated, dehumanized for the second time in his lifetime. He watched as they took you apart. Piece by piece as if you were never someone. The scraps they had left of you made his home smell like scorched metal.

And there was nothing left but smoke and silence and broken pieces. 

All he could remember next was how the Ever Executive turned to him. “Don’t try to recreate her and use her to rebel against the system. Next time we won’t just take the Sim.”

Then they left, callously. The door slammed. Not a single human soul cared about his grief. 

~~

Caleb sat slouched in the center of the room, shirt half-unbuttoned, chest wrapped in gauze. His mechanical arm twitched against the armrest—burnt out from the struggle, wires still sizzling beneath cracked plating. In fact, he hadn’t said a word in hours. He just didn’t have any. 

While in his silent despair, Gideon entered his place quietly, as if approaching a corpse that hadn’t realized it was dead. “You sent for me?”

He didn’t move. “Yeah.”

His friend looked around. The windows showed no sun, just the chrome horizon of a city built on bones. Beneath that skyline was the room where she had been destroyed.

Gideon cleared his throat. “I heard what happened.”

“You were right,” Caleb murmured, eyes glued to the floor.

Gideon didn’t reply. He let him speak, he listened to him, he joined him in his grief. 

“She wasn’t her,” Caleb recited the same words he laughed hysterically at. “I knew that. But for a while, she felt like her. And it confused me, but I wanted to let that feeling grow until it became a need. Until I forgot she didn’t choose this.” He tilted his head back. The ceiling was just metal and lights. But in his eyes, you could almost see stars. “I took a dead woman’s peace and dragged it back here. Wrapped it in plastic and code. And I called it love.”

Silence.

“Why’d you call me here?” Gideon asked with a cautious tone.

Caleb looked at him for the first time. Not like a soldier. Not like a commander. Just a man. A tired, broken man. A friend who needed help. “Ever’s never gonna let me go. You know that.”

“I know.”

“They’ll regenerate me. Reboot me, repurpose me. Turn me into something I’m not. Strip my memories if they have to. Not just me, Gideon. All of us, they’ll control us. We’ll be their puppets.” He stepped forward. Closer. “I don’t want to come back this time.”

Gideon stilled. “You’re not asking me to shut you down.”

“No.”

“You want me to kill you.”

Caleb’s voice didn’t waver. “I want to stay dead. Destroyed completely so they’d have nothing to restore.”

“That’s not something I can undo.”

“Good. You owe me this one,” the former colonel stared at his friend in the eyes, “for letting them take my dead body and use it for their experiments.”

Gideon looked away. “You know what this will do to me?”

“Better you than them,” was all Caleb could reassure him. 

He then took Gideon’s hand and pressed something into it. Cold. Heavy. A small black cube, no bigger than his palm, and the sides pulsed with a faint light. It was a personal detonator, illegally modified. Wired to the neural implant in his body. The moment it was activated, there would be no recovery. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Gideon swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

Caleb nodded. “A micro-fusion core, built into the failsafe of the Toring arm. All I needed was the detonator.”

For a moment, his friend couldn’t speak. He hesitated, like any friend would, as he foresaw the outcome of Caleb’s final command to him. He wasn’t ready for it. Neither was he 50 years ago. 

“I want you to look me in the eye,” Caleb strictly said. “Like a friend. And press the button.”

Gideon’s jaw clenched. “I don’t want to remember you like this.”

“You will anyway.”

Caleb looked over his shoulder—just once, where you would have stood. I’m sorry I brought you back without your permission. I wanted to relive what we had—what we should’ve had—and I forced it. I turned your love into a simulation, and I let it suffer. I’m sorry for ruining the part of you that still deserved peace. He closed his eyes. And now I’m ready to give it back. For real now. 

Gideon’s hand trembled at the detonator. “I’ll see you in the next life, brother.” 

A high-pitched whine filled the room as the core in Caleb’s chest began to glow brighter, overloading. Sparks erupted from his cybernetic arm. Veins of white-hot light spidered across his body like lightning under skin. For one fleeting second, Caleb opened his eyes. At least, before the explosion tore through the room—white, hot, deafening, absolute. Fire engulfed the steel, vaporizing what was left of him. The sound rang louder than any explosion this artificial planet had ever heard.

And it was over.

Caleb was gone. Truly, finally gone.

~~

EPILOGUE

In a quiet server far below Skyhaven, hidden beneath ten thousand firewalls, a light blinked.

Once.

Then again.

[COMPANIONSIM Y/N_XIA_A01] Status: Fragment Detected Backup Integrity: 3.7% >> Reconstruct? Y/N

The screen waited. Silent. Patient.

And somewhere, an unidentified prototype clicked Yes. 

[littlestpersimmon]

Hi guys. Am sick rn, but had wanted to post this before I go and sleep.

Some of you may already know that patreon sent out an update that charges anyone using ios to subscribe to artist's patreons 30% more.

I immediately feel this impact mere hours later, and now, days later. I'm hemorrhaging patrons & have less income. It would mean the while world to me if you guys could please reblog this.

If you use the desktop version or the android app? you will not have to pay 30% more. Needless to say this decision of apple has completely fucked me over months and months to come, unless I somehow make up for my loss by other means.

My patreon is only a dollar a month!

I have around 400 exclusive artwork on it :)

I am working on uploading more art there, and more comics once I am done with my current contract as a comic artist.

I am currently partially homeless- so being alive in general is hard ;y; I wanted to focus more of my work on patreon, until this update- I only have one tier.

I am working as hard as I can, every month ♡ I am also the caretaker of three disabled people- as my dad, who used to do all the housework, is now too sick with a swollen liver that could possibly be connected to his heart problems, and my mama who has limited movement- she "died" of sepsis many years ago after giving birth to my sister, and was revived with nerve damage. I don't know the medical terms, but she was brain dead for however long, and was successfully brought back in a different hospital. She was comatose for months; this event has lead to my family losing everything in hospital bills, our car, our house (literally we became homeless) ah. But long story short, I am the only person in my family who works- as my sister is a teenager, and she is autistic with a very, very low frustration threshold, as she is also a picky eater and still going to school! I'm sorry, many of my followers already know this story by now, I have already doxxed myself multiple times trying to avert crisis after crisis, ahaha. But yes. Patreon added to my cart of Sorrows, and would love to have more folks who aren't using apple, or are using android and the web to come on over and maybe enjoy some of my private art up there. I post around 3-6 art a month, if I am lucky 7. I want to keep making art, and my patreon was what was giving me a semblance of stability until that silly update. Sorry for the long post, and I appreciate everyone helping, reblogging, saying kind words to me, praying for me. G-d bless you all, and stay safe

My patreon:

Direct tipping jar:

My print shop!

[bizarrelovetriangel]

feeling you.

X-02!caleb teaches A-01!reader a special way to show affection to the one person you love.

includes spoilers from decoherence. occurs at the end of farewell intimacy. part two of this fic but you don't need to read it.

mdni. 18+ only. dry humping. creampie. it's both of their first time but reader is innocent while caleb... knows enough.

"For people who share a close bond, a kiss on any part of their body can be seen as a sign of affection."

Caleb stands in front of you as you sit on the bed. His body is blocking the setting sun from the window of the room that you're temporarily using as a hideout in Lingshir.

"Your eyes."

A soft kiss lands on each of your eyelids.

"Your cheeks."

He pecks your left cheek, then your right.

"And then..."

His lips brushed against yours just like a feather that grazed you on its way down. Soft and brief.

It was followed by another kiss on the same place, but packed with little more pressure. Another soundful one came after, heavier than the previous ones. He continued to push and pull his lips from yours, taking moments to pause before diving back in stronger and more passionate than before.

"Do you....want to learn more?"

"Show me, Caleb."

He cupped your face with his hands while resting his forehead against yours.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The intensity of his kisses grew, yet he remained gentle. He lightly tilted your head back before sliding his tongue between your lips to explore your mouth. Caleb hums with content as your tongue and lips slowly started to replicate his movements.

He took a step towards the bed before his hands urged you to rest your back against the mattress. After you did as he instructed, Caleb hovers on top of you with his knees planted on the side of your legs.

He leaned his face down and took a moment to admire your features. In return, you observed the way his eyes had flashed with certain emotions that you were unfamiliar with.

"I've always wanted to be this close to you." He whispers, slowly closing the distance between your bodies. "I've always wanted to hold you and feel you."

You reached up a hand to caress Caleb's cheeks just like what he had done to you earlier, but the hard exoskeleton prevented you from feeling the warmth and softness of his skin.

Seeing the frown on your face as you looked at your own hands, Caleb was quick to read your mind.

"You want to take it off?"

You nodded. "I want to feel you too."

His eyes widened at your response, though he quickly dismissed his stuttering heart and proceeded to take off your armor.

Caleb has somehow figured out how to remove his exoskeleton without damaging his system. That's why he was able to touch you without his armor in the way.

Unlike his exoskeleton that covered most of his body like a shell, yours are more like accessories that are easier to be removed.

Nonetheless, it still requires caution, as the thin wires attaching it down to your body can cause pain if mishandled.

Caleb carefully took off the exoskeleton on your hands, arms, shoulders, chest, and legs, leaving you in the skin-tight bodysuit just like the one he's wearing.

"Feel better?"

You nodded, moving your hands and arms around, enjoying how light it feels without anything weighing it down.

If only you could live without ever wearing the exoskeleton ever again.

If only you didn't need it to stay alive, you'd destroy it and throw it away so it's gone forever.

If only your body had been one of a real human rather than an android, a weapon created in a laboratory.

You're not so fortunate.

But with Caleb next to you, it didn't matter.

With him, you feel like everything is going to be okay.

You'll have to wear the armor again, but you'll gladly take whatever time you're able to buy just so you can feel his warmth.

"Caleb..."

You softly put your hands on his neck, similar to the way he'd do to you before pulling you close.

He closed his eyes to fully take in the feeling of your fingers grazing against him. Even though his body is still covered with the bodysuit, it's thin enough for him to appreciate your touch.

For a moment, the two of you stayed still while cherishing each other's presence.

You've escaped from the laboratory and you're heading your way to the edges of Deepspace for a new life together.

You look forward to the days when you can go anywhere with Caleb, without needing to hide and fight. You long for the days when you can hold each other without worrying if tomorrow will be your last. You're ready for a future with Caleb.

Similar thoughts are running through his head. You've finally made it out of the place that turned you into weapons and kept you locked up for all your lives. You're so close to freedom.

He won't have to keep fantasizing about doing things with you.

Soon, Caleb will be able to take you to places you've never been, feed you fruits you've never tasted, and make you feel emotions you've never experienced.

Soon, it will just be you and him.

Forever.

"Caleb."

He snapped out of his daysdream. "Hmm?"

"Kiss me again."

He lets out a sharp breath as a familiar, special kind of heat took over his body. The way you were looking at him, with your hands locked behind his neck and body relaxed underneath him, Caleb felt a tightness between his thighs.

"Okay."

This time, his kisses were slow.

He took his time, enjoying how soft you feel and how sweet you taste. His hands wandered down to your waist before caressing your stomach.

"Caleb..."

He froze and pulled away from you. "What's wrong? Are you hurt anywhere?"

You shook your head. "I'm not hurt, but..." you took a second to exhale as your face heats up. "I feel...weird.... it's hot, everwhere.... and my heart is beating so fast..."

Caleb caught you pressing your thighs together and knew exactly what you were feeling.

He's become familiar with it.

Everytime he thought about touching you, he'd get that very feeling. It's a special kind of heat that tends to overtake the control of your own body. But most of all, it's the special kind of heat that feels good.

After learning more about sexual reproduction and human behavior, Caleb discovered eventually that it's known as lust.

The need to become one with someone.

"It's okay." He kissed your forehead before putting a hand on your left leg. "It's what happens when you want to.... be closer to a special someone."

"Closer?"

He whispered against your ear, "The closest you can ever be. Every part of your body connected, your heartbeats in synch, and your souls... become one."

You quietly gasped as Caleb's left hand slowly hiked up your thighs, closer to the spot that was throbbing uncomfortably underneath your bodysuit.

"Is that what you want?"

"Y-yes..." You gulped and spoke again to make your voice more clear. Your hands itched to touch it, but he was already so close to it, ready to do it for you. "I do want it, please."

He kissed you under your ear. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

His fingers slid up to your core and your body arched at the surprising wave of exhilarating sensation that struck your insides.

Caleb waited a moment, giving you some time to stop him if you wanted to, though you showed no signs of it so he continued with light strokes of his fingers.

During the first time he'd touched himself, it was just like this, too. Slow and careful, so that your body knows there is no danger - there is only pleasure.

Your half-lidded eyes and parted lips made his cock hard.

He had only ever thought about doing this with you, but having you there, right under him, is a whole different feeling. The way your lips tasted and the softness of your body is even better than what he had been imagining.

He wants more.

He needs to feel you more.

Closer.

He retracted his hand from your thighs, only so he can start grinding his hips against yours. A moan falls out of his lips as soon as the bulge between his thighs met your clothed core.

It was so, so good.

He wanted to move faster, but he also wanted to be patient with you, and so he forced himself to take a slow pace.

His cock was getting harder and bigger, threatening to break through his bodysuit. Its tip had spat out pre-cum from his arousal, and it was becoming difficult to control his movements.

His thrusts had gotten stronger, and his fingers had locked against yours as he pinned your hands against the mattress, which started to shake and creak at his movements.

"So good..." He murmured. "...need more...."

"More..." you agreed, raising your hips up slightly to meet his, just as hungry for friction. "How...."

After stopping his thrusts, Caleb's hands went to the sides of your chest and his thumbs grazed over your breasts through your bodysuit.

"We could... take this off, but..." He looked hesitant.

"But...?"

"Will you be comfortable without it? I've hardly taken my bodysuit off - only during repairs and experiments. I don't mind taking mine off, but I know you've gone through the same things that I have, and worse. If you're not comfortable without it, I won't ask you to remove it. You don't have to. We can still - "

"I want to."

Caleb looked at you in the eyes to search for any signs of hesitation or worry, but he found none.

"I want to be closer to you, Caleb."

The way you say his name makes him want to fall to his knees.

"Me too." He took your left hand and kissed the back of it. "For so long, I wanted to do this with you." He gave another peck. "I want to feel your warmth, your heartbeat... everything..."

During his time at the lab, Caleb learned how to properly remove the exoskeleton and bodysuit that's protecting your human-like bodies. He needed to see how they can be removed without hurting you or doing any damage to your body.

And so, Caleb carefully stripped off your bodysuit, in the same way that the researchers have always done.

Ripping out hastily will break the thread-like wires that are connected to your skin, and it will hurt you. If removed properly, the wires will simply come off and reattach to you once you wear it again.

Once the black bodysuit is off, Caleb couldn't help but reward himself by gazing at your body, admiring every inch of it.

Your body is scarred from all the experiments they'd done to you. It's even more than his own collection of them.

Anger rose within him as he recalled the times he'd seen the researchers hurting you, but Caleb shoved it away for now.

Revenge will come later.

Right now, he wants to hold you the way you should be held.

Even with the scars, you're still beautiful.

He'll do everything in his power to preserve you and give you the best things in the world.

And if you say that you want him, then he'll give all of himself to you.

Once Caleb's bodysuit had come off, he returned both of you in your previous positions: your back against the mattress and him on top of you.

Now that his cock is free, it hasn't stopped twitching and leaking, especially as it moves close to your core.

This will be the first time that Caleb will have sex, and he only knows what he'd read from books and seen on videos upon learning about human behavior, so he's not even sure if he's doing things correctly.

He's only doing what feels right - what his own body is telling him to do.

You, on the other hand, lacked nervousness in your eyes. Even though you've never done anything intimate before, as long as it's with Caleb, you're not worried about anything.

One flash of reassuring smile from you was all it took for him to close all the space between your bodies.

His lips had once again found yours, and his hips rutted against your own. His cock briefly and lightly made contact with your cunt, and the two of you simultaneously hissed at the ecstatic feeling.

Caleb took a deep breath before slowly inserting his cock inside you.

You winced at the stinging feeling. It's as if something is ripping and stretching as he eases himself deep into you.

"I'm sorry." Caleb held your hands tighter. "The pain will stop soon, I promise. I'll make you feel good."

He moved little by little, allowing your walls to adjust to him. Caleb was using all his strength to resist any sudden movements, though the way you're clenching around his cock made it such a tough challenge.

Once your thumb brushed against the back of his hand, Caleb studied your face and saw no signs of pain.

He started to thrust slightly.

"Ahhh..." Caleb twitched while partly inside you, unable to contain his excitement from the way you felt around him.

He gradually picked up the pace and went deeper, causing you to gasp loudly. Your eyes are fixated on the way his hips moved, the way his abs clenched, and the way his chest heaved.

His mouth is open, letting out noises that you'd sometimes hear from his room next to yours. His eyes are focused on your face. Your erotic expressions are encouraging him to thrust harder and deeper.

You could feel him hitting the deepest part of you, a place that no one has ever touched. That place is for Caleb and Caleb alone.

You've become one.

And it's one of the best things you've ever felt.

Along with the first time that Caleb had kissed you, the first time he held you, and the first time he had brought you out of the laboratory to see the outside world.

Calming, encouraging, bright.

Your Caleb.

His name comes out of your lips just as you felt your insides twisting and tigtening up.

"Caleb... I feel.... I feel like... I'm going to explode...." You were a little lightheaded and out of breath, but you didn't want the feeling to stop.

"It's okay. Let it out. Don't hold back, just let your body do what it needs to."

And that was when you reached your climax, spilling out your juices while his cock is still thrusting into you.

Caleb grunts eratically at his own release that closely followed yours. Unable to stop his hips and pull out of you, he ended up coming inside you.

The sight of his cum leaking out of your hole drove him insane. He remained inside you for a little longer, memorizing how you feel so that he won't ever forget it.

He gave you one last kiss on the lips before pulling out of you and collapsing against the mattress right next to you. Both of you are breathing heavily, sweating from all the movements.

"When we reach our paradise," he whispers before finding your hand and nuzzling his face against it. "every day will be just like this."