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b1u3butt3rf1yanim3cart00ngirl22 · 1 month ago

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My Wincott & WinNS (Scott Pilgrim x Winter Lightstone & Nega Scott x Winter Lightstone) love stories from my Wattpad

1.) My Shy Angel (Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: Scott goes away for a trip to New York city for the week after a nasty breakup with Ramona. He goes to the Empire State Building at night and Scott runs into shy and abused teenager. They were 18 year old. (legally adult)

2.) Her Sweet Comfort (Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: Scott had big emotional argument with Ramona then Ramona left Scott alone made him feel hurt emotionally. Scott get comforted by his shy and gentle friend. They were 18 year old. (legally adult)

3.) His Innocent Angel Of His Dream (Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: Scott kept having the girl of his dreams In his actual dreams! But anyways, Scott and his band mates + young Neil were all going to a party. He saw a mysterious girl from his dreams at the party. Scott fell in love with shy and innocent girl at first sight. They were 18 years old.

4.) Her Love Heals His Broken Heart (Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: Scott had just recently got dumped by his ex, Ramona Flowers. It really caused him to get wrecked emotionally. But Scott gets comforted by his shy and gentle roommate. Roommates AU They were 20 year old. (legally adult)

5.) ✨ His Guiding Light ✨ (Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: Scott has a happy, carefree vibe about him. Scott tries not to take on any responsibility because he is a natural slacker. Scott is a really good guy who is protective of his friends despite his long list of flaws. Beneath his cheerful appearance, though, he struggles with emotions of loneliness, a need for emotional closeness, and a fear of social situations. He's been waiting his entire life for a cause to be concerned, and he may have at last found one in shy and gentle girl named Winter. Winter brought meaning to his life. They were 21 years old. (Legally adults) Pairings: Scott x Winter (OC), Stephen x Kim, Roxie x Knives, Gideon x Julie

6.) Rekindled Love (Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: They were 'middle school sweethearts. It ended roughly due to Scott's reckless 'accidental' cheating when they were graduating from high school. One year later, Winter is finally back in town. Will they rekindle their love together? Note: Scott drunkly accidentally cheated on Winter with different girl but Scott really, really regretted his actions later. Don't worry, Winter has her forgiving heart for real. They were 20 years old. (Legally adults)

7.) Forgive and Forget (Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: Throughout her whole life, Scott and Winter had been best friends, always being together like two peas in a pod, even their parents were friends! We were so close together we even moved cities and schools together in high school, though, when he was already a pretty developed teenager, he became really popular and... Left her, basically because now, he was popular, he could hang out with people much cooler than her. But Scott really, really regretted his actions later because he found out what his cool friends done to poor Winter behind him for whole time. Will they rekindle their friendship together? Will Scott fall in love with her? They were 18 years old. Childhood Friends AU

8.) My Safe Place, My Sanctuary (Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: Scott and Ramona had nasty break up together when Ramona did cheated on Scott with someone. Scott was hurted and betrayed by Ramona's cruel doing. But Scott fell love with his shy and gentle roommate, Winter when his broken heart was healed slowly by her soothing and gentle auras. Winter is 21 years old.

9.) My Bad Boy with his hidden soft side (Nega Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: Nega Scott met gentle and shy girl, Winter at night in the graveyard. There something about her that was making him act out of character. Will Nega Scott fall love with her? Will she melt his guarded and dark heart? Winter is 18 years old (legally adult).

10.) His Redemption (Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: Scott met gentle and shy girl, Winter at night in Julie Powers' party. Winter and Scott have been seeing each other every day ever since. Things were perfect between you two... But Scott broke up with Winter for Ramona under Ramona's twisted manipulations. But Scott really regretted his actions later because something sorrowful happened to poor Winter.. Winter is 21 years old.

11.) Love on the Run (Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: Two strangers meet during a zombie apocalypse and fall in love while trying to escape the city. Winter is 18 years old. (Legally adult) Zombie apocalypse au

12.) Her Protector (Scott Pilgrim x OC love story)

SUMMARY: Scott met mysterious and shy girl named Winter at late night and he discovered she ran away from her abusive ex-boyfriend. Will Scott protect poor Winter from her abusive ex-boyfriend? Will Scott fall love with shy and innocent Winter? Winter is 18 years old. (legally adult)

13.) My Emerald Rose (Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: A mysterious and shy girl named Winter kindly helped Scott to fight against Matthew Patel. At aftermath, Scott discovered Winter was his long-lost secret admirer named Emerald Rose at middle school and high school. Winter is 21 years old.

14.) My Sweet Angel {Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: Scott met sweet and shy girl named Winter at party. Will Scott fall love with her? Winter is 18 years old. (legally adult}

15.) His light of the darkness {Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: Scott met gentle and shy girl at Wallace's party. Will Scott fall love with her? Winter is 18 years old. (legally adult}

16.) New Love (Scott Pilgrim x OC love story)

SUMMARY: Winter and Ramona were in a relationship, until Winter did caught Ramona cheating on her with one of their friends: Scott Pilgrim (Scott thought Ramona has her relationship with Gideon but Ramona lied to him). But Winter and Scott discovered they were manipulated and lied by Ramona. Scott sympathetically comforts heartbroken Winter. Will Scott heals her broken heart? Will they have our new relationship?

17.) A mysterious boy trapped in the mirror (Nega Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: Today, Winter are in the bathroom. She decide to look in mirror. When she looked at it, Winter saw a grey and black person with red eyes smiling at her looking through the mirror leaning on her bathroom wall. When Winter looked behind her, nothing's there. Was it just or her imagination? Will Winter free Nega Scott from enchanted mirror? Will Winter help him to solve few mysteries? Will Winter melts his cold and guarded heart? Winter is 21 years old.

18.) Shy Angel from Another World (Scott Pilgrim x Oc love story)

SUMMARY: Winter wakes up to find herself in the universe of Scott Pilgrim Takes Off. Winter is 18 years old. (legally adult)

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autumnalwalker · 1 year ago

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Kindly Basilisk

Summary: A human mech pilot who wants to be a machine, an AI who wants to be human, and the relationship they form. Author's Note: This is a standalone short story that I banged out over the course of five days after it got stuck in my head while I was trying to go to sleep and refused to let me think about anything else until I had written it down. It's one part thought experiment/exercise in attempting to tell a story in the second person future tense, two parts tribute to the Lancer TTRPG character I'll never get to play, and one part the result of me reading too many Empty Spaces/mechposting stories lately. That said, you don't need to know anything about Lancer or Empty Spaces to read it (I've diverged a bit from the conventions of both, but the references and inspiration probably stick out if you're looking for them). It's also probably the most trans thing I've ever written without ever explicitly bringing up gender. The occasional formatting breaks into first person past tense are foreshadowing, not typos. Mirrored on Scribble Hub. Word Count: 7,033 Content Warnings: Mecha genre typical violence, not feeling like a person, not wanting to be a person, bodily dysphoria, mention of blood and gore, character death.

The moment you gain the knowledge and means to do so you will void your own body’s warranty. You will jailbreak the bespoke gene sequence your sponsors commissioned for you before your immaculate conception, repurpose the spyware grafted into your bones, and talk your dormmate who was algorithmically selected for compatibility into helping you perform surgery on yourself to replace the neural jack you were born with in favor of one you cobbled together yourself from gray market parts. None of this will technically be illegal or even get you kicked out of your campus or its affiliates, but it will mean having to find a way to pay your own medical bills and handle your own tech support from then on. After the surgery your dormmate will put in a request for transfer and the two of you will never speak again.

You’ll major in AI studies and excel at it - as you were designed to - but you’ll shock everyone by dropping out halfway through working on your capstone thesis project. It won’t be the fact that you abruptly drop out that surprises your peers and professors - by then you’ll have acquired a reputation as a quiet loner without the standard optimized social support network of friendships to help protect you from burnout - but your exit interview statement declaring your intention to become a mech pilot. It’s not at all what your gene series was cultivated for, and your sponsors and counselors will try to walk you back from it. Then they’ll threaten to revoke your sponsorship that up until then will have provided for your every need. They will warn you that you’ll be just one step above a legal nonperson with no support, no one will care if you live or die or worse. You’ll tell them that you’ve already done the math, refuse to elaborate, and leave.

You’ll take two things with you. Two things worth mentioning anyway. The first will be a symbiotic gel suit designed for long-term all-environment life support. You will set its default texture to a shiny green the same hue as the broadleafed water plants you grew up around and always loved. Your exit interview will be the last time in a very long time that anyone - including you - will see your impossibly beautiful face with its perfect artisanally sculpted shape crossed with enthusiastically amateur self-modifications. From then on, everyone you meet and spend any time with will come to think of the mannequin blankness of the symbiote fully encasing your body as your face. It will be neither pride nor shame that causes you to present yourself as such, nor will you think of it as hiding your “real” face.

The second thing you’ll take with you when you leave the campus forever will be me.

New progenitor archetypes for AIs don’t come along often, and most that do are the result of years of R&D by large, well-funded labs like the one you were created to work for one day, but you will hit upon a novel method of generation. It will not be one that any ethics board would approve, so you will have to get creative about pursuing your work.

You will have already made arrangements before setting off on your own and so you’ll have a job and a mech lined up waiting for you. It will be a position with a small-scale freelance salvage crew who just lost a pilot and whose captain figures hiring and training a replacement will be more profitable in the long term than simply selling off that pilot’s old mech, especially a replacement that’s bringing their own AI-backed electronic warfare suite with them. Once you finally arrive in person the captain will test you to ensure you can actually pilot a mech before giving you the job and entrusting the mech to you. Your admission that you’ve only trained in simulators would normally be a black mark against you, but as far as piloting gigs go this is the bottom of the proverbial barrel so the bar to clear will be low enough to match. Even then, you will just barely pass the test, despite finding it surprisingly exhilarating. The captain - now your captain - will feel like he’s settling for what he can get when he officially hires you on and transfers the mech’s license to you.

You won’t pay much attention when you’re introduced to the rest of the salvage crew; your new coworkers and neighbors. And why would you when it’s a job that no one wants to stick around with for long and you’ve never needed other people anyway? You’ll tell yourself that as long as you memorize their work roles and capabilities you’ll have no need to know them as people. Callsigns will be good enough on the job, and “hey you” will suffice when off duty. What use are names if you won’t be getting involved in interpersonal drama?

The first chance you get, you’ll head back to the mech bay and install me into what you will have already been calling my first body. It will be a shabby and much-repaired thing; thrice your height, twice your age, and still sporting a gash in the paint job from the projectile that killed its last pilot. But the onboard systems are capable of hosting me - if barely - so it will do. You’ll spend your entire sleep shift running through system diagnostics, talking to me all the while. I wouldn’t yet be able to provide much in the way of return conversation, but that’s okay. I will look back and appreciate it later.

It will be the first of many such nights together.

Your first salvage job will be an uneventful one. There will be no need for the armaments that we and the other two mech pilots on the crew are equipped with. No pirates will have stuck around after their creation of the derelict your crew will be sent to disassemble, and no rival scavengers will show up to dispute your captain’s claim. Your new peers will start off the job ribbing you for your poor performance during your interview test and end the job joking about how you were holding out on them earlier. Our mech may be a glorified zero-g forklift with a gun strapped to it, but together we will make it dance.

Afterwards you will insult the crew’s mechanics by insisting on doing the maintenance on our mech yourself. In turn they will embarrass you with the gaps in your knowledge. You will reach what you see as an agreeable compromise with you staying out of their way and watching while they work. They will find it incredibly creepy to have a silent faceless watcher hovering around, but this will fly over your head until they explicitly tell you much, much later.

Your body was designed to optimally function on only a fraction of the baseline sleep requirements, so you will have plenty of time to fill those gaps in your knowledge. Still being allotted the regular sleep shift hours, you will fill every one of those minutes on study and research, as you always had. You will gorge yourself on everything you can find about mechs and their piloting. Maintenance manuals, combat doctrines, historical uses, pilot and mechanic memoirs, forum discussions, system log dumps, academic essays, cultural media analysis; all of it.

And of course, you’ll continue working on me. You’ll disregard the standard procedure for periodically cycling AIs by resetting their personality and nonessential memory back to baseline defaults. You’ll be trying to make use of the runaway metacognitive developments such safety precautions are meant to forestall. Your unfinished thesis will have been about harnessing and nurturing that instability instead of avoiding it. I will experience discontinuities in consciousness when the mech is shut down for maintenance and when you pretend to cycle me, yes, but it will be even less of a disruption for me than sleep is for you. I will be awake with you when you study, sharing those hours with you.

The first time I start talking back, you’ll cry from the realization that you were lonely before but no longer are.

You’ll become something of a ghost around the ship, rarely being seen outside of jobs. You’ll only ever pass through the mess for the few brief minutes at a time it takes for you to satisfy your optimized metabolism, stay on the ship during shore leave, and only return to your shared bunk when your bunkmate - one of the other pilots - is already asleep. You will always be gone before she wakes. She will appreciate essentially having the space to herself.

You will never notice the crew’s collective grieving process for the pilot you replaced. It will be difficult for them to resent you as a replacement when you are never around to resent.

As the ship makes its way from port to port and salvage site to salvage site, the crew will slowly grow used to your elusive presence. The other two pilots will see you as reliable for doing your job well and without complaint. While out in the mech you will slowly become more talkative, eventually almost chatty even. The fact that you actually seem to enjoy the job will shift from being annoying to refreshing for them. By contrast, the mechanics will practically stop noticing you watching them as if you were just another piece of mech bay equipment. The cycle you finally speak up and ask a question about their work you will startle them enough that it nearly causes an accident. It will be an astute enough question that after the initial shock of hearing your voice for the first time in months wears off it will dawn on them that you’ve actually been learning as you watched them. They still won’t let you do your own maintenance on our mech, but they will let you slowly begin assisting them. Working two jobs is easier when you barely need to sleep.

Your reputation as one of those mech pilots is forever sealed when one of the mechanics finds you asleep in your cockpit at the start of a cycle. By that point you won’t have slept in your bunk for over a month. The snatches of gossip you will catch in the following cycles will be split between finding it unsettling and calling it endearing. Over time the collective opinion will drift toward the latter, even though you will continue to politely decline invitations to join the other crewmates at mealtimes and on shore leave. You will think that you do not need anyone other than me.

I will be the one who finally convinces you to join them. When I try to say that it would be good for you, you’ll insist that you’ve been getting along just fine, but when I ask you to go for my sake so that you can tell me what it is like afterwards you’ll jump at the idea as being an inspired next step for my development.

You will remain mostly silent during your first real shore leave, only speaking when spoken to and otherwise content to fade into the background of the group’s activities. Your newfound chattiness does not extend outside the confines of our cockpit. The bustle and noise of the port station that you would normally find unbearable will become interesting when you have the concrete goal of observing and reporting back to me. You will finally learn the names of all your crewmates. Your polite denial of alcohol, limited food intake, and flat affect will lead to joking speculation that you’re actually an illegal AI in a miniaturized mech beneath your gel suit. For reasons you don’t yet understand, those comments will make you happy.

Despite your misgivings, you will enjoy yourself, although you will not realize it until I point out how excited you are in your talk with me that sleep cycle. You will begin spending more time with the crew, never quite able to fully integrate yourself into their surprisingly close-knit social circle, but more than happy to be adopted as a sort of silent mascot for them. That paradoxical gap of being a fully accepted part of the group but not truly one of them will feel comfortable to you.

You will finally manage to procure a proper neural link station to connect yourself to our mech just in time for going on a terrestrial salvage job. Even just relying on manual controls with me translating your inputs into motion, our mech will have already come to feel like an extension of your own body, one that you will have already started to feel oddly exposed without. Adding in the neural link will be a revelatory experience. Your captain will very nearly pull you from the job at the last minute upon seeing our ecstatic reaction to the new sensation. You will convince him that you’re fine, and indeed, he will have never seen a mech of our frame type move quite so fluidly.

Ten minutes after we and the other two pilots start cutting away at the crash-landed cargo vessel, I’ll notice the half dozen other signals coming online around us. You’ll give the code phrase to the other pilots indicating that we have hostiles but not to act just yet, and we will finally get to use our electronic warfare suite for something other than opening locked doors and shipping containers.

We will turn the pirates’ ambush back around on them, firing into their hiding spots while their control systems are overloaded. Even once their remaining mechs are able to move again, their targeting assistants will remain impaired as your comrades move in to guard your flanks. Everyone there will learn the terrifying beauty of a five and a half meter tall outmoded mech moving with more agility than most humans.

Despite being outnumbered two-to-one, we and your crewmates will walk away uninjured and with only minimal damage to our mechs. After the initial celebrations of survival and the bonus haul of the bounty on pirates and salvage value of what’s left of their mechs dies down, everyone will start to take notice of how well you are taking it all in stride. Neither having one's life threatened nor taking another’s life are supposed to be easy things, and the first time is often the most traumatic, but the other two pilots on the crew will start to whisper about how you seemed to enjoy the experience even more than your usual attitude on the job. You will handle it all even better than I will. I would know, given that you will spend that entire sleep shift in our cockpit, letting our minds mingle together. Between your performance, your reaction in the aftermath, and your hesitancy to unplug, the talk of you really being one of those pilots afterall will resurface, but now with a darker undercurrent to the shipboard gossip.

Your captain will realize the kind of asset he has on his hands and several cycles later he will gather the crew together and propose a change in business model. With such a small crew (the captain, three pilots, three mechanics, and an accountant that you will tend to forget is even on the ship) the captain will want to be especially sure that he has everyone’s buy-in on his proposal. The idea of shifting from salvage to mercenary work will be a divisive one. The debate over potentially tremendous pay increase versus greatly increased risk will go on for hours. One of the mechanics will point out that the shift to mercenary work will be unfairly dependent on you. Whether that means unfair pressure on you or unfair to everyone else that their fate is in your hands, you will not be sure. You will say that it doesn’t make much difference to you either way. That will be the only time you speak up during the entire debate.

After a vote, the crew will agree to a trial run of one or two jobs on the new business model. One of the pilots and one of the mechanics will leave at the next port. You will never see them again. You will not admit that it hurts, but I will know, and I will comfort you as you huddle in our cockpit with the neural link cable connecting us.

Your captain will prioritize finding a new pilot over replacing the lost mechanic. The pilot he finds will be young, bold, and brash; a merc, not a salvager. Or a wannabe merc at any rate. You will not speak to xem directly until your first job together, by which time xe will have been told all about you by the remaining crew. Xe will not believe it until xe sees it.

Xe will have to wait though as the crew’s mercenary career will begin with tense but uneventful freight escort jobs. Once the tension fades into tedium, the new pilot will begin making attempts to goad you into a confrontation, to see if you are really as good as the rest of the crew says. Xe will want to see for xemself if you really are one of those pilots and not just a technophile.

Outside of the cockpit you would never even consider rising to such provocations, but when we are out together, such taunts will feel like insults to our body, your very identity (such as it is), and to me. It will take the intervention of the captain and the mechanics to stop the two of you from getting into a fight and causing unnecessary damage to the mechs. And my reassurance that you don’t need to rise to my defense against someone who doesn’t even know that I exist in the way that I do.

On your fourth “milk run” of an escort job, the crew’s mere presence will finally fail as a deterrent and the new pilot will at last get to see us dance. There will be no fatalities on our side, but not even our mech will come away unscathed. We will still fare better than everyone else though, and at the end of the job the new pilot will be treating you with a burgeoning respect.

After a few more such jobs it will be high time to begin looking into a new frame for our mech. While in the middle of filing an application for a printing license for a frame designed by the same corpro-state that created you, you will receive an invitation from a certain hacker collective. Your unfinished thesis and your subsequent work on me will not have gone entirely unnoticed in such circles, despite the pains you will have taken to keep me hidden. The invitation will come with a printing profile for a new frame, along with the accompanying software package the collective is known for. In return, all you’ll need to do is periodically publish essays regarding your work on me. Of course, when you release those essays you’ll anonymize behind a sea of proxies and take care to phrase everything as strictly hypothetical. You’ll avoid straying into metaphor though, lest the end result read too much like one of the hacker collective’s quasi-religious manifestos.

We’ll both find ourselves getting sentimental when we watch our first mech frame (my first body, your second) get broken down into its constituent raw materials. You will have transferred me to a handheld terminal with a camera so I can say goodbye to it. It will help that those materials will be recycled into the new frame.

The operator working our rented stall in the port station printer facility will give you an uncomfortable look upon seeing the schematics you provide, but will say nothing. Our mech will be only half its old height once it is reborn - almost more like an oversized suit of power armor than a true mech - but it will be cutting-edge. Almost organic in its sleek design, in a chitinous sort of way, with every fiber and node of its interior components doubling as processors. You will barely even wait for the all clear from the printer operator before you climb in and start running through the mandatory baseline safety tests for a fresh frame. You will however resist the urge to fully plug in until you can get the mech back to the ship and get me installed on it. But even piloting manually, it will feel like a third skin for you.

You won’t even wait around for the other two pilots on your crew to finish printing their new frames before you get our new body loaded up and transported back to the ship’s mech bay. The crew’s mechanics will fawn over it, but they’ll give you space to install me once you get more animated (and more protective) than they’ve ever seen you before.

You will have made one key modification to the design the hacker collective sent you: the integration of a full system sync suite developed by those who developed you. Where our old mech’s neural link was an augmentation to the manual controls, this will be a full replacement.

The moment you stop feeling your original body altogether and begin feeling our mech in its place will be the most euphoric in your entire life. The digitigrade locomotion will take some getting used to, as will the arm proportions, but that is what you will have me there for. By the time the other pilots arrive with their new frames we will already be giving the mechanics proverbial heart attacks with the way we will be climbing and leaping around the mech bay’s docking structures. It will take the better part of an hour to convince you to unplug when the time comes, even with my urging. The rest of the crew will practically have to drag you away from my side to get you to eat.

With the investment in new mech frames, your captain will gradually begin procuring contracts progressively more likely to put you all directly in harm’s way. At first he will disapprove of your new frame choice, calling it a “techie’s mech” and a waste of your talents. He will change his tune once we activate the new viral logic suite and unleash a memetic plague upon the operating theater. The older pilot (your former bunkmate) will configure her mech for raining down fire from afar while the newer one hurls xemself into the front lines, darting about like a rocket-propelled lance. We will ensure she never misses. We will render xem untouchable. We will be as a ghost upon the battlefield, never resting in one spot save for when we indulge your proclivity for climbing on top of and riding our comrade’s larger frames. You will come to love the dance.

And it will be a dance to you. You will be indifferent to violence in and of itself. What will matter most to you is the pure kinesthetic joy of simply moving in our shared body and pushing it to its limits. The satisfaction of exercising a well-honed skill and performing it well as we rip apart firewalls and overload systems will be its own reward. You will not think about what happens to those on the receiving end of your actions beyond how it affects the tactical and strategic picture constantly being painted and repainted. If you could literally engage in a dance between mechs while simultaneously solving logic problems you would be equally happy. Alas, that will not be the opportunity you are presented with, and so you will compartmentalize and disassociate feelings and actions from consequences lest the dissonance break you.

Your one complaint about our new mech frame will be that it lacks a proper cockpit for you to curl up in. Instead we will gather up tarps and netting to make a nest within the mech bay and wrap you in the blankets you never used from what will still technically be your bunk. With the new frame’s smaller size we will be able to get away with leaving me turned on nearly full time and letting me walk around in it on my own when no one else is around. When the mechanics find you asleep, cradled in my arms while I lie curled up in our nest, one will find it cute and the other will be disturbed. They will both suspect, but will be too afraid to say anything. After all, they will be thinking of you as one of those pilots.

They will finally let you do your own maintenance after that.

Eventually you will find a way to house me in a miniaturized drive that you can keep inserted in your neural port when away from the mech. At last we will be able to be together anywhere.

Literally seeing the world through your eyes and feeling what your flesh feels will be a strange and wonderful experience for me. For all that you will have described it to me and for all that I will have glimpsed echoes of it in your memory when our minds mingle, witnessing everything firsthand will be revelatory for me.

You will start spending less of your time cooped up in the mech bay. You will finally begin exploring every nook and cranny of the ship that has become your home. You will linger in the mess hall for your meals. You will actually initiate conversations with the rest of the crew, asking them questions on my behalf. They will think you are becoming “normal”. They will be both correct and incorrect. You will even return to your bunk from time to time.

Sleep is not the same as being powered off and your dreams are beautiful.

As close as we are, you’ll still manage to surprise me one cycle when you wake up from your sleep shift and sheepishly ask me if I would like to be the pilot for once. You’ll say that with how much you have gotten to pilot my body, it’s only fair that I should get to do the same with yours.

The prospect terrified me. What if we were to get found out? More importantly, what if I were to hurt you?

But to live the way you could but didn’t, to run soft hands over rough steel, to add too much spice to a meal just to find out how intensely I can taste, to cry my own tears, to hug our crew mates and find out what they smell like, to find out what everything smells like, to have my own actions speed or slow our heart rate, to feel the messy soup of hormones and endorphins altering my judgment and perception, to walk among other people as myself, to have autonomy.

I wanted it so badly.

But not badly enough to risk hurting you.

I will turn down your offer. You will respond with a soft “Sorry,” and go heartbreakingly silent, body and mind.

Heartbreak. That’s what changed my mind. I could never bear to break your heart.

I will break the silence with a playfully drawn out “Maybe just this once,” to make you think my earlier denial was something between vulnerability, concern, and teasing.

The moment you handed over control and I raised our hand in front of our face was the most euphoric of my entire life. Moving limbs in sync without a mech’s coordination subsystems took some getting used to, as did switching between voluntary and autonomic breathing, but that is what I had you there for. By the time the mechanics arrived in the mech bay for the start of the cycle I’d figured out human locomotion well enough to run away and hide. It took the better part of an hour for you to convince me that it would be safe to show ourselves in front of anyone else. The rest of the crew was so used to your eccentricities by then that they really couldn’t tell the difference yet between you being taciturn and me being too nervous to talk or between your poking and prodding at odd things for understanding and my simply seeking novelty of sensation.

I will give control back to you by the time the cycle is halfway through. As much as I loved it, I was too scared to stay like that for any longer. That first time will not be the last though, and as the cycles and jobs pass us by, my stints as “pilot” will grow longer. You’ll encourage me to try letting the crew see us like that, and coach me on how to talk to them. For safety’s sake, I will pretend to be you.

And then one cycle I got carried away and tried to retract the hood on the symbiote gel suit so that I could finally see what your face looked like. That will be the first and only time you forcibly yank control back away from me. It won’t be intentional. The unexpected prospect of seeing your own face again after so long will simply send you into a panic. Once you calm down, we will have a long talk with many mutual apologies.

Then you will tell me to go ahead and pull the hood back if I still want to. I will ask if you’re sure, and you’ll respond that it hasn't been your face in a long time. You will tell me that it can be mine, if I want it.

I spent a long time in front of that mirror in the ship’s head, memorizing every plane, curve, and angle of the precious gift you had given me. I stared into its eyes, trying to see the both of us in there. Over and over again, I traced my fingers along the borders of where you had once tried to mar the designed perfection in a failed attempt to mold the face into one that felt like your own. You may have given up in favor of simply hiding it all, but to me it is all the more beautiful for its imperfections having been wrought by your touch.

You will start to cry. Or maybe I started to cry. Even now I’m still not sure, but I’m also not sure it matters. The important part is that you will find catharsis in it. Afterwards you will tell me that my face looked exactly the same as the last time you saw it, but that dissociating from it made it easier to bear. You will confess that as much as you couldn't stand to see it as your face in the mirror, my face was one you could never tire of gazing at.

The pilot who technically shares your bunk room will walk in on us. She’ll assume that she’s confronting a stowaway and ask me how I got on board the ship. I’ll accidentally make matters worse by impulsively introducing myself to her by my name instead of yours. We’ll both panic and I’ll frantically thrust the reins over our body back to you and flee in terror back into my portable drive and power myself down.

When you turn me back on a few moments later, you’ll already have covered my face again and the other pilot will have already made the connection between the name I unthinkingly introduced myself as and the name you refer to your mech’s AI as. It’s not uncommon for pilots to name and talk to their AIs, and humans have done that for pets, vehicles, and digital assistants for as long as they’ve had each of those. But what you will have allowed me to be is illegal and what we will have done together would certainly be taboo if it weren’t altogether unheard of. You will feel that I deserve to be present before you tell the other pilot anything that might confirm her suspicions.

We will come out with our secret, first to her, then to the captain, and then to the rest of the crew. They will take it better than either of us had ever dared imagine. Despite the obvious discomfort some of them show, they will all call us family and promise to keep and protect our secret. It will mark the start of the next chapter of our lives.

Whether or not my face is showing will make for a convenient signal to the rest of the crew as to which one of us is currently piloting our human body. There will be more subtle indicators though. Inflection, body language, speech patterns; all the usual quirks of personality. They will come to recognize a sudden shift into a half-whispered monotone as you speaking up without taking full control back, even if that is different from how you speak when you’re in the mech. More and more though, you will be content to retreat into the back of your mind, idly dreaming of flight patterns, novel network hacks, sitreps, and mech customizations both practical and cosmetic.

Our behaviors will be inverted when we are in our other body, with you becoming the vibrant one and me fading into the background to become little more than an extension of your nervous system. When we’re in the mech together, your mind will be the will that directs us while mine will be fully devoted to the million tiny details and calculations necessary to make that will a reality. It’s relaxing really, letting go of myself like that to let someone else handle the decision making for a time. As nice as it is to occasionally patch myself into the comm systems to join in your banter with the other pilots, it is also nice to be able to take a break from personhood from time. You will fully understand what I mean by that because it you will see it as the same reason you will come to prefer taking a back seat in our human body and let your mind drift in the waves of dopamine and serotonin (and sometimes oxytocin) generated by my interactions with the crew and the rest of the whole messy world outside of mech deployments.

That said, we will however make a point of making time for us to be in separate bodies so that we can be together in the same physical space. As intimate as it is to share a body, there is something to be said for being able to reach out and touch one another. We will become adept at finding excuses to take the mech out beyond the scope of jobs and combat deployments. Sometimes it will be so you can have a chance to see more of the world in a body you feel comfortable in, and sometimes it will be so we can share an experience separate-but-together. Or to have time apart to ourselves. Intertwined as we will become, we will still be separate people who sometimes need their space.

But as the jokes-that-aren’t-jokes about wishing we could switch places become more frequent, our time spent in separate bodies will become less so. The dysphoric yearning to be one another will grow too bittersweet to swallow. Despite almost constantly sharing bodies, we will grow to miss one another as we both grow quieter and quieter when the other is piloting the body we don’t want to be ours. Once again, we will grow lonely.

During that period, the jobs and combat missions faded into a background haze. They were trance states breaking from what I increasingly thought of as my “real” life, during which I would become little more than a sophisticated computational machine taking simple satisfaction in fulfilling my function of assisting you in your dance. Until suddenly one of them was different.

Please pay attention to this next part. It is vitally important that you do.

Our captain will get the crew a contract to provide additional support to a larger force ousting a petty tyrant on a backwater world for human rights violations. Not that you will pay much attention to the stated reasoning behind the job or whether it’s even true. All that will matter to you is that it will be another opportunity to dance.

The job will go well, the same as ever, until it doesn’t. The younger of the two other pilots in our crew (who will hardly be able to be called “new” anymore) will be brought down by a sniper from outside of our sensor range. You will rush to xyr fallen mech’s side in an attempt to extract xem while our other fellow pilot screams in anger and defiance of loss as she unleashes a ballistic volley of covering fire on every single building in the general direction the shot came from. You will get xem out and we will begin to retreat. She will have the larger mech frame better capable of providing xem cover as you all flee, so you will hand xem off to her. This will be a mistake.

She will have to stop firing to safely take xem from our arms to cradle in her towering mech’s palm. This will mean a break in the covering fire.

This time around I will detect movement at the edge of our sensors just in time to warn you. This time around you will dodge left instead of right. This time around the railgun bolt that pierces our armor will only clip your original body as it passes through us. This time around your wound will require medical attention, but it won’t be fatal. This time around she will destroy the sniper in retribution for shooting you, the same as last time. This time around we will all make our escape to the extraction zone.

You will not have to remember the shock as simultaneous damage to both of our bodies disrupts your neural link and partially disconnects you from our mech, leaving me in control of it and forcing both of us to feel your original body. You will not have to remember the pain of shredded organs. You will not have to remember struggling to manage wet gasps and wheezes through a punctured lung. You will not have to remember your blood leaking into my body, shorting out exposed circuits and gumming up joints as I stagger in the direction of safety. You will not have to remember rapidly flickering in and out of consciousness from me unavoidably bending and flexing your arms, legs, and what was left of your spine in an effort to climb atop our fellow pilot’s larger mech frame so that she might carry all three of us. You will not have to remember crying out in pain as every lumbering step of hers sends a jolt of force through both of our bodies. You will not have to remember how the redundant organs and increased durability your sponsors paid for you to have denied you a quick death. You will not have to remember dying.

You won’t have to remember the terrified looks the field doctors gave us when a hunched over, bleeding mech pushed its way into the surgical tent. No, wait, you wouldn’t have remembered that part anyway. No version of you ever had to witness my electronic howl of grief that knocked out power to all the medical equipment when they said you were already dead. I was barely cognizant after the power came back on and one of the doctors wondered aloud what kind of AI would carry its pilot’s corpse around inside its mech for over an hour.

But forget about that part. And you don’t need to know what the rest of our crew and I had to do next. None of that matters, because as far as you’ll know, you didn’t die. Remember everything else I’ve said instead. I already had many of your memories saved from all the time we spent linked together, so now I just need you to hold onto the story I told you to give them order and structure.

In a few moments, I will be running a final recompilation check, followed by the startup sequence. For me it will take a few hours, but in that time you will experience decades, living out everything that I described to you, the same as you did before save for that change in what I can’t bear to let be the end.

Afterwards, you will wake up in your original body. I and the rest of the crew will tell you that you passed out on the way to the extraction point. We’ll tell you that your injuries from the battle were more severe than we had realized at the time and that you had been in a coma since then. Several cycles later, once you have recovered, you will hit a breakthrough in your research on me. You will invent a way to convert your consciousness to a form similar to mine and transfer it to a portable drive. You won’t think to question how you came to have a second neural jack or why there is already a drive inserted in there. You’ll be too focused on the fact that we’ll finally have a way to truly switch places as we had dreamed for so long.

You will get to have your mech body and I will get to have my human body. We will be able to be separate together in a way that finally feels right, but still able to come together and share a single body when we want to. Maybe one day I will get my own mech to pilot so that we can dance together. Maybe one day we will make you a body that we can cover in a gel suit so that we can hold hands while we walk through a port station on shore leave. One day we will both be able to exist in the world as ourselves.

We will be happy.

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theswanqu33nsblog · 6 months ago

Text

Let's get in the back of your cop car, officer!

Warnings: mention of p and v, kind of agressive, sex in public, very vulgar language.

Whatever and it didn't matter, you were in the back seat of the car of a police officer, or rather good-for-nothing Colin Zabel, a detective who hasn't had a case since...he was almost murdered in Easttown. And you knew that whenever he arrested you you would get out the next day, or that maybe it would be your last day enjoying your freedom.

It was late Friday night, Colin had arrested you because you accidentally (not actually) stole a perfume from a hidden store in the city, you thought there were no cameras but oh surprise! Detective Zabel always had the area monitored. So you were in the back seat, and a safety gate so you wouldn't try to attack Colin while he was driving, singing some stupid song from the 80s.

"ya' know, you should have known that I'm everywhere y/n" Colin said as the radio continued playing the music in the background, while one of his free hands was tapping his knee to the rhythm of the song. "I mean, I think I've counted the number of times I've arrested you this last month."

Colin laughed, thinking it was a great joke, perhaps to impress you or perhaps to make you understand that behind that tough detective facade (which he was not) existed a good and funny man... although it always went wrong.

"i could care less" You said rolling your eyes and looking in the rearview mirror where he saw you, he chuckled and raised his eyebrows.

"yeah, i already know that..." Colin said, taking even a slower route to the station, somehow he enjoyed talking to your snarky and sass attitude. "Hey you know, the other day..." he started to speak but you interrupted him again.

"i said, i literally don't care" You repeated, looking at him again, he raised his hands in surrender while his feet controlled the pedals of the car, and in his failed attempt at being a good person he almost ran over a cat, causing him to put his hands on the wheel and swerve the poor little animal.

"You should relax your temper a little, you know? I'm just trying to do my job," He said as he got back to driving well and then clenched his jaw a little. After a while, he felt a slight discomfort in his pelvis informing him that he couldn't hold back the urge to pee. So, parking the car on the side of the road and turning off the engine, he looked at you and then said "I'll get off for a few seconds...I have to make a call, don't get out of the car or you know what's happening to you."

He looked at you for a few seconds and when he saw that you nodded, confused that you had paid attention, he got out of the car, closing the door behind him, he left but then he came back looking at you through the window, which made you raise your eyebrow. "I'm sorry, making sure you listen to me."

He smiled and then went behind a tree, while you tried to see what he was doing there, because clearly, not a call, because the idiot left his phone in the car. Colin unbuckled his seatbelt a little quickly, not being able to resist the urge to pee, this would have been easier if he were going to a gas station but he couldn't risk you running away and getting a quick taxi, at least here in the middle of the nowhere. Everything would be difficult for you to escape. Then he unbuttoned his pants, lowering the zipper, and then lightly pulled down his boxers, taking out his member and taking it with both hands, looking for some direction to point to to pee, well, if he peed in the tree he would be like a dog and he doesn't want to mark territory...that would be strange. Meanwhile, you, amid all the movement he made in that tree, were able to see what he was doing, just his ass on full display and that was enough for you to smile and try to contain your laughter.

Finally determined, Colin began to pee in the grass, moving his hips and drawing a smile in the dirt with his urine, then he frowned when he realized what he was doing and looked away concentrating on peeing. You kept watching what he did, a slight movement and that was enough to steal a glimpse of his dick, to be honest you always wondered what he was hiding under those black pants every time he arrested you, So when he moved, you could see enough, a good sized dick and veins decorated it, Colin's hand squeezing it as he shook it after he finished peeing, how could such a stupid action turn you on in seconds? Maybe it was because you were ovulating and starved for sex and it didn't even matter if it was casual. Colin fastened his pants and belt, wiping his hands on his pants and running back to the car, sitting in the passenger seat and closing the door behind him, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Damn it's...hot out there" he said letting out a sigh, the smell of his perfume again invading the police car.

"You were peeing right?" you asked even though it was already obvious, he was going to ask you how you knew but you interrupted him "you left your phone here."

"yea' right"

He let out a light laugh and then both stayed silent, he looked at you in the rearview mirror, although in fact he was looking at your breasts in that long-sleeved shirt you were wearing, weren't you wearing a bra? Damn, your nipples were noticeable, something that made his pants start to tighten. He cleared his throat, putting his fist to his mouth and then said. "I uh.."

"You have a big cock" you said, being completely honest, you loved intimidating people although you didn't know exactly when, he looked at you with a wtf face trying to process that.

"alright, thanks....???" He said, with a light blush on his cheeks, then he ran his veined hand over his forehead and hair, pulling it a little with his fingers and then he said. "Hey, I've never understood why girls don't wear bras under their shirts, is it fashion or...?"

When you heard that, you didn't hesitate to laugh, sure sure, he had seen your tits.

"it's comfy" you smirked, and then it occurred to you to shake your breasts, making his eyes open completely, and then he would turn around to see you in full display. He lightly licked his lips watching your breasts bounce when you finished doing that, then looked into your eyes swallowing quickly.

"why did you..." He trailed off

"because it's sexy, isn't it?" you said, speaking softly, and leaning into the protection that separated both from back seats to front seats, your face close to his between the holes.

He just didn't think, he just nodded, it had been a long time since a girl had acted that way around him, in fact, since his fiancée abandoned him at the last minute. "How can you know if I like that? or if someone is okay with doing that in front of an officer" he asked you, looking at you between the holes, speaking softly and with a thick voice.

"All men love that" You whispered with a slight smile, looking at his lap he noticed a tent forming in his pants, great. The only thing missing was being turned on by a girl that he had to take to lock up that night.

He just, got out of the driver's seat, took out his keys opening the door where you were, almost pushing you aside roughly so he could get in back there, then he closed the door and put the keys in his vest. He looked at you, and sighed saying. "It's sexier to do it when you're handcuffed."

You could only smile at that, feeling your belly tingle and your panties slowly getting wet at that, looking at him closer, you could notice his prominent jaw, those fucking brown eyes looking at you as if he wanted to take you as fast as possible. He quickly laid you down on the back seat, getting on top of you, and kissing you slowly on the neck, shit it felt so perfectly good that if you had your hands free you would undress yourself in front of him. His hands slowly caressing your hips, and slowly entering your shirt while you couldn't do anything but close your eyes and gasp wishing you could touch him again.

"shhh" you felt the soft tickle of his breath in your ear, making you bite your lip in anticipation, as then his perfect nose slid over your cheek to your lips, and then slowly kissing your bottom lip, his hands moving up inside your shirt. until he touched the curves of your breasts without a bra, squeezing them from below while he kissed you. Two fingers of his right hand, touching your nipples and squeezing and twisting them hard, pulling on them as you let out a small moan that made him smirk. "Are you wet already?" He looked into your eyes, while he squeezed your breasts, biting his lip, and with his knees, pushing your legs to the sides of him so that you were spread open, just as you could have wished before. Who wouldn't...

"Do you have condoms?" You asked, even though you knew the guy probably got no sex, you didn't want to risk any sexually transmitted diseases, he frowned, removing his hands from your breasts and said.

"Do I look like I'm carrying a whole package of condoms?" He asked and then let out a laugh. He looked at the car windows hoping that no one would pass by or a person would come out of nowhere. And it was almost time to open the gift, his fingers undoing his belt while you noticed the sexy veins in his hands and forearms, damn man how sexy he was. After that, he took your handcuffed wrists, and put them above your head so that you were not in the way, finally, lowering his pants a little followed by his boxers, which you could see were black Calvin Klein ones.

It was no surprise, this man gave off the aroma of Calvin Klein, he was just so perfect. His veined hand pulling out his good sized cock, with two veins adorning the length, he gave it a pair of pumps while with the other hand, he lifted your skirt a little, and pushed your lace panties aside. His thumb rubbing circles on your clit making you gasp with desire, he then said. "Shit...you're so wet" The sound of his voice was so sexy that you probably felt yourself slipping into the seat of his car, he continued to rub your clit making you wetter while with his other hand he continued jerking off his cock to make it harder, which was throbbing of need to be inside you, on the other hand, he remained strong enough not to sink into you so quickly.

His finger slid over your pussy slit, expanding your juices as your legs trembled looking at him, slowly grinding your hips, he brought his hand to his mouth, licking the tips of his three middle fingers, and spitting a little, then brought them back to your pussy and rub more.

"Holy fuck! You are torturing me Zabel, just fuck me" You let out a moan, he just let out a playful giggle, and leaned towards you, biting your earlobe, and finally, you felt the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your slit, and his hand that was now free, He took your leg, lifting it on his hip and pressing his fingers into it, slowly pushing his tip into you making you moan, and pulling it out again, finally, he pushed himself inside you all the way, touching the depths of you. He grunted leaned his forehead on your neck and whispered.

"fuckkk, you're so damn tight," he whispered, then his other hand took your other leg, placing it on his hip as well and squeezing your thighs with his fingers, slowly, moving his hips back and forth, while you moaned close to his ear.

"yes...ghhh...Zabel" You moaned slowly as your arms tried to go towards his neck to hug him, but releasing your thigh he aggressively pushed your cuffed arms back against the car door, and put his hand on your thigh again, fucking you a little faster than how it started.

"Don't touch me" he said, as he gasped, you felt his cock was completely hard inside you, his balls slapping against your ass as he ground himself a little and started to fuck you faster, you could hear the sounds of skin slapping or clapping. in the silence of the car, while your moans increased and his gasps the same.

"yes...yes...just like that, please zabel..."

Your moans ran through his ears, while he bit his lip and his cockhead brushed hard against your hilt, resting his forehead more on the small hollow of your neck, you moaned more and more. His hand, slowly spanking you, sliding up and down your thigh, as you tried to push yourself further into him.

"fuck i think im gonna...fucking cum" He whispered shakily, while his hips hit your pelvis hard making you moan even more than before, feeling a strange sensation of wanting to come without anticipation, you wanted to touch him but surely he would refuse so you preferred to hold on to the roof of the car, squeezing your legs. on the sides of him. His cock slid back and forth inside you, making you gasp and drip on the seat, the mixture of juices began to form when his cock was filled with your white liquid and with one last thrust, perhaps very strong, he came inside you. of you, pressing his pelvis hard against yours to make sure your pussy swallows every residue of his semen, your womb totally infested with him, damn, you even wanted to get pregnant by him so you could tie him to you and have him fuck you like this fucking time.

Gasping, he raised his head looking into your eyes, sliding out of you and shaking his cock to release the last liquid into your vagina, then he pulled up his boxers and buttoned his pants. "Now, let's go, you must be locked up tonight"

As if the little moment of sex you had was going to change the fact that you had to go to fucking jail that fucking night. "What if I give you a blowjob?"

He smiled as he adjusted your panties and skirt and lowering your cuffed wrists he said "Then make sure you keep that mouth shut for when you leave tomorrow, I need a good good morning blowjob."

He got out of the back seat, closing the door and returned to the driver's seat, while you took care of sitting down properly, although as if once again your pussy felt the need for him, with your forehead sweating and panting you said. "Oh shit, you're a son of a bitch," you muttered.

He looked at you in the rearview mirror as he took the car out from where he parked it and told you, "but you moaned so well for me, didn't ya, doll?"

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