#or maybe tech decides that he should have died the first time

[itzshrike]

OKAY, if next episode we don’t get a cx-2 (tech) reveal they’re gonna kill off the bad batch. They are gonna rogue one those men 😭. And then it’s gonna fade to a smoking tantiss base on fire, AND THEN the last scene will be tech taking his helmet off amongst the rubble and seeing the destruction he had no choice of being be a part of. Who knows there might be some of his brothers armor he finds amongst the destruction.

[saerotonins]

in a world full of boys, he's a gentleman

ft. nanami kento x fem!reader

— in which kento unintentionally proves how much of a husband material he is.

content warnings: fluff, smut, light angst, suggestive, making out, nanami kento being a certified hubby, fiancée!kento, weddings, mentions/implied slut-shaming, reader has horrible relatives, reader is described to be non-traditional, riding, p in v sex, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, choking, hair pulling, curses still exist but nobody dies (yay!) and geto is mentally fine and a teacher at jujutsu tech <33, im so in love with him, some can be considered bare minimum and subtle but idc if he does it he's the standard, kento loves it when you're checking him out, just kento being a gentleman, kento is so in love with you, you you and you in his mind, reader is just as the same btw, corny ass vow (idk how to write one srry)

wc: 5591 (holy shit lol)

note: im!! so!! head!! over!! heels!!! with!! this!! man!! (it's really not that obvious, right?) he's so dreamy he deserves a lot of kissy kisses and a ticket to malaysia <33 also!! just realized this is my first piece for 2024 tehehe happy new year, everyone! 🎀🎆

best enjoyed with: slut! - taylor swift

that time when you both went out for a picnic

the sunset paints the sky with the most vibrant colors as you and kento bask in each other's presence and sit on a picnic blanket, surrounded by the quiet sways of the green grass, accompanied by some people who decided to hang out around the vicinity.

it's one of those days that kento is blessed by once in a blue moon break from being a jujutsu sorcerer. kendo's always grateful to have this kind of day because it would mean that his hands would spend their time stealing soft touches against your skin instead of fighting curses.

a faint clink can be heard when you and kento toast your glasses together, half filled with your favorite champagne. it's a tad bit sweet to kento's liking as he is not good with sweets, but he opted to bring it to your picnic instead of his favorite whiskey because he knows you love it. 

kento watches you put your lips on the champagne flute and drink your sweet alcohol with glee. he takes a small sip from his as he stares at you with admiration. 

satisfied with your drink, you set it aside on your coaster as you lean your head on kento's shoulders. "such a lovely day, isn't it?" you say while you close your eyes, soaking in the remaining rays of the sunshine before it sleeps, allowing the night to take over the sky.

kento hums in approval as he puts his free hand on your head, giving it gentle and loving pats as he rests his head against yours, but not before giving you a quick peck. "we should do this more often," 

"i agree; you should ditch gojo more and spend more time with me," you joked, and you heard your fiancée chuckle, "that wouldn't be so professional of me, darling," it's your turn to let out a chuckle.

"it's gojo; being professional is already out of the window." 

"you're right, maybe i should," kento jested back.

the two of you just sat in comfortable silence until a slightly strong gust of wind blew in your direction. caught by the shock of it all, you close your eyes and hold your sundress down to avoid flashing the strangers. but before you could even do it, a strong pair of arms wrapped around you.

kento had covered you, so any speck of dust blown by the wind wouldn't be able to get into your eyes. your sundress is also held down by his knees between your legs. when you opened your eyes, you were greeted by your fiancée's face close to yours, assessing you. you suddenly feel your stomach tumble and fill with butterflies.

"are you okay? didn't get anything in your eyes?" he says gently, eyes observing you with worry. you give him a slight nod, "mhm, i'm fine kento, how about you?" kento answered with a hum as he tried to fix your dress and some parts of the picnic blanket that was slightly blown away by the wind.

"i think that's the cue for us to pack up, or do you want to stay for a while?" kento asks you while he starts to pack up some of your stuff into the picnic bag. "we should stay until the sun completely sets, it's a shame to leave while the sky looks pretty." 

kento nods and finishes packing before he sits beside you, looking at the view. he then makes your head lean on his shoulders once again, his hands caressing the top of your head. "yeah, i agree, the sky looks pretty." he states.

he feels you nod and continues, "but you're prettier to look at," he says as he looks down at you and to his surprise, he meets your eyes on him. "i could say the same to you, kento," you say before capturing his lips against yours.

kento smiles on your lips before reciprocating your gesture, slightly tasting the remnants of your sweet champagne earlier. 

and at that moment, he thought, it doesn't matter if his tongue tasted something so sweet, as long as it's from your lips.

that time when you went christmas shopping

the mall filled with bustling crowds is not a perfect way to spend time with your fiancée. but when this is the only time your schedules align to go for a last-minute shopping to buy gifts for your loved ones, you don't really have a choice.

kento especially noticed how much you were on edge today despite being excited to buy gifts for everyone especially his mentees. you weren't the type to enjoy a busy crowd, so he knows how to elevate your stress.

store after store, he gave you every opinion he had (that you asked for) ever so gently and thoroughly but not too much to overwhelm you since you're technically a ticking time bomb now. kento was attentive at every store you went to and immediately picked out gifts you thought were best to give. he stood up in the busy and long line as he let you sit on the lounge chair present in the store. 

by the time you're done shopping, he carries all the bags and refuses to give you any (even the small ones). and when you insist, he gives you an offended look, telling you he can manage. 

while you're walking to leave the mall, your stares don't go unnoticed by your fiancée as he sees you mindlessly gawking at his arms that flex every time he has to fix the bags while walking. 

and that makes carrying your shopping bags even more worth it to him.

that time when you got drunk at a new year's party

gojo has set a new year's party that includes everyone in jujutsu tech in one of his vacation homes in japan. it was supposed to be a reasonably small party but this is gojo satoru we're talking about; he's going to be extra about anything and everything.

the party is semi-formal and requires everyone to dress up nicely. kento does not enjoy parties, but seeing you dress up in a pretty dress that enhances your assets makes him think that attending this event has benefits too.

the party wasn't uneventful per se, but despite the semi-formal wear that everyone was rocking, the event itself was casual. the house was filled with laughter and noise, mainly from the students and everyone else sharing stories and conversing. an hour or two into the party, you and kento decided to part ways as you go on your way to interact with gojo, geto, and shoko.

kento trusted you enough to be alone with them so he opted to talk with some of his colleagues whose presence calms him (obviously not gojo). he spent his time talking with higuruma, sharing ideals and mundane stuff they both enjoyed doing. it was a calming conversation for both men, who wanted peace and tranquility.

"there's this store that sells rare vintage vinyl; i think you'll love to shop there," higuruma suggests as they talk about collecting vinyl, a hobby they share. kento was about to reply, but even before he opened his mouth, he heard a very loud— 

"nanamin!" which made both men turn their heads in the direction where the sound came from.

the voice no doubt belonged to itadori, his face painted with concern as he rushed to kento's area. "what is it itadori?" he asked the young man the moment he arrived while panting.

"your wife! she's—" before itadori can even finish his sentence, kento's already sprinting to where you are, itadori following suit.

kento doesn't need to know what he needs to say; the worry on itadori's face, accompanied by your name, is enough for him to look for you.

turns out you're drunk of your mind. 

when kento arrives in gojo's kitchen, it's just you and him having a very drunk and heated argument about whether cereal or milk comes first.

"no! that's so stupid, cereal should come first, think about it you stupid idiot, if you pour milk first, you'll miss the chance to fill the bowl with so much cereal!" your fiancée sees you standing on gojo's kitchen island alongside him, slurring your words as you sway the glass of wine in the air, threateningly spilling as you keep on moving.

gojo scoffs at your argument, "maybe t'was the point! it's all about ratio, how else can you enjoy cereal when there's too much cereal and little room for milk!" he barks back, holding a—

is that a massive cup of sunrise tequila? no wonder he got so drunk, kento thought as he sighed.

"there's no such thing as ratio for you, gojo! you're the same person who adds too much pineapple on pizza that it becomes disgusting!" you shouted at gojo's face as you continuously pointed at his chest with your index finger.

across the kitchen island stood geto and shoko with unamused faces, looking like they were just waiting for everything to die down on its own. kento sighs and asks them, "did they have an alcohol-drinking battle again?" and all they reply is a solid nod.

"gojo got too competitive and drank that sweet poison, which led to this... argument," shoko adds, looking at both you and gojo incredulously. "they immediately started gulping down the alcoholic drinks right after midnight," geto said, a chuckle threatening to leave his lips.

"please help me break them up," your fiancée kindly pleads to geto and shoko. they immediately showed empathy to their former junior and decided to hold gojo back together while kento held onto you.

it took almost half an hour to break you and gojo apart, not to mention the commotion and your silly drunk discussions that blew out of proportion because the both of you are just so passionate and no one would back down without a fight. after successfully separating the two of you, kento immediately guided you away from the party and to your car, not without leaving shy goodbyes to the people he would face along the way.

the drive back home was thankfully not chaotic, but it was definitely filled with your drunken chatter as you slur words kento can barely make out.

getting you to your shared home was relatively easy; you were patient enough to let kento walk you off to the front door and remove your heels before gently placing you on the couch. 

he was about to let go and grab some water until you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to your face; kento felt his heart race. "hey there," you whispered against his lips, distance threateningly close.

kento could smell the alcohol on your breath, probably a mixture of beer, wine, and then some. still, he couldn't bring himself to care when he knew your lips would probably taste slightly sweet. "have you ever been this handsome, kento?" you ask, your voice dripping honey despite being out of your mind, trapped in your own drunken bubble.

"maybe that's just the alcohol's doing, darling," he jokes.

"no no, i think i already saw this face years ago."

"really?"

"really. you look even more handsome now, you should give me a kiss," you say as you pucker your lips, slowly leaning towards his.

kento couldn't even say no even if he didn't want to (not that he will ever not want to kiss you). he decides to give you a swift peck just to entertain your shenanigans, but when he is about to let go, you deepen your kiss, tightening your wrap on his neck, forcing him to lean forward and straddle you with one of his thighs digging on the couch.

he can taste the red wine you had recently drunk, and he's confident he can get drunk with your lips alone. kento's mind went hazy as he moved against your lips languidly, letting himself drown in your kiss. he wanted this to last longer, even take it further, but alas, kento has always been a man of self-control, so he lets go of you, not before giving you one last kiss on the forehead before heading to the kitchen.

the whole night, kento tends to your every need that you couldn't do. he had prepared you a warm bath, removed your makeup, and did your skincare for you that he knows at the back of his hand. he had lathered you up with your favorite lotion, dried your hair (not without a fight since your drunk self found the hair dryer too loud), and kissed you good night before tucking you to bed, leaving a pack of aspirin and a water bottle on your nightstand before sleeping.

the morning after, you woke up to the smell of your favorite soup and your fiancée insisting on feeding you even though you told him you could manage.

you make sure to pay him back really well that same day.

that time when you attended a family reunion 

it's always this dreaded day you always wanted to avoid but couldn't. 

you would rather stay home with kento rather than attend a gathering that will just piss you off, but your mom had pleaded with you to come— "so that they won't gossip about you," she said.

you know that's a lie; whether or not you attend, they'll always find a way to talk about you anyway; there's no winning. but since you wouldn't want to let your mother down, you suck it up and prepare for it regardless.

what makes you nervous is that this is the first time Kento has come along— or more like you let him come along. 

you had heard complaints from your relatives about not meeting kento when he was still your boyfriend, and now that you're engaged, you should've at least let them meet him. you begrudgingly agreed, but it doesn't mean you're not nervous.

your relatives have been annoying throughout your life, always meddling with things they shouldn't even care about. 

it always started with asking about your weight change, school activities, grades, chosen course, and relationships, not to mention the ever-so "you should do better" undertone in all aspects of your life. and for some reason, always making you feel small is included in their mandatory list to piss you off. 

you know that once you let them meet your now fiancée, they would bombard him with questions and annoy you and him for the rest of the day. you only keep up with the tradition because your mother is too kind to tell them off, laughing awkwardly when they berate you and always giving you a silent apology through her eyes.

it wasn't her fault; you just wish she'd shut them off.

kento had noticed your change of behavior ever since this morning while preparing in your home. you had been silent and spacing out, only replying when he had finally snapped you out of your daze. he doesn't know what the deal was with your relatives, but all he knows is that your mood drastically changes whenever they're involved in the conversation, and that's enough for him to tell you that they're not really good news.

"are you sure you want to go, honey? we can always drive back home," kento said with worry, cutting through the thick tension in the car. "it's fine; I can handle it; we're almost there anyway. it would be a waste if we turn around," you tell him with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

Kento replied with a small smile, taking your hand to his face and kissing your knuckles, "just know that i'll always be there, alright?"

you nod, feeling slightly relieved, before looking out the window to drink in the scenery as you pass by. 

it turns out you can't handle it.

you thought your relatives would be a little tamer because you have someone over, but you were totally wrong.

ever since you both arrived, your aunties had surrounded kento and bombarded him with questions. from his age, degree, university he graduated from, where you met, wedding date, monthly income (which is incredibly embarrassing), to how many children he plans to have.

most of it wasn't a problem, but your blood boiled the moment they asked about what he saw from you.

this would've been such a sentimental moment if it weren't for your auntie's sarcastic tone, as if the question was meant to belittle you, to make you feel like you're not worthy of him.

when kento was about to open his mouth just to pour out how much he loves you and how he's lucky to have you, one of your aunties butt in with their loud mouth.

"well, she isn't really a traditional partner isn't she?" she said, a smug smile forming on her ugly and wrinkly face. "yeah, i mean, i assume with a fine man like you wouldn't be attracted to someone like her," another one added.

kento clenches his fists as he felt fury fire inside of him. how dare they think about you like this and talk about you like this, like you weren't just in front of him, seething in pain and anger.

he was about to give a proper and calm response when your uncle had spoken, "besides, she dresses like a... you know," then an ugly cackle. "a what?" your auntie had joined, taunting him to say the word.

"oh, you know, like a sl-"

that was the final nail in the coffin. his words are cut off when kento angrily smashes both palms on the table, seemingly angry, forming an angry red aura you have never seen. "i've had enough," he started, while all eyes are on him, including yours.

"i will not allow any single one of you to disrespect my wife any longer. i will not tolerate your old and immature ways of talking about her. i've been patient enough, but this bullshit is something I will not allow," kento's vulgar choice of words has made everyone's eyes at the table grow wide, shocked.

"i would say this respectfully, but you guys weren't to my wife either, so please, i'll say this once," he inhales, trying to calm himself down. 

"fuck off," kento declares before taking your hand and exiting the venue.

during the walk to the car, he had been slowly calming himself down. once you reach it, kento holds your face gently, "i'm sorry for the outburst there; i just couldn't stand them disrespecting you any longer, so I had to." he says before putting a gentle yet quite long kiss on your forehead.

once he lets go, he sees your face. your eyes had been filled with tears, and it broke his heart. "that's fine, i've been wanting to tell them to fuck off for years anyway. if anything, i should thank you," a smile spread through kento's face before opening the car door to let you in.

once the both of you are finally settled in your seat, you ask, "by the way, I just noticed you called me your wife; what was that all about?" you ask him out of curiosity. he knows you're happy about that based on how happy your voice sounded when you asked him.

"i'm just so sure you'll end up with that title anyway, unless you're having cold feet?"

"oh god, no! i'm just touched, 's all," you shrugged as you settled in your seat, a smile stretched across your face. 

kento chuckles and leans forward to kiss your cheek before starting the engine and driving off.

your mom visited you and kento later that week, saying she was happy she was finally not invited to the next reunion. she then made you your favorite dishes as an apology for that day.

you don't mind what gossip they would come up with next, not when you have the kind of man kento is. 

their little toxic gossip train had nothing compared to the love that kento gives you every single day anyway.

that time when you asked him to be rough

the night is still young and cold but kento does know how to make it hot.

his hands fumble the plush ass as you keep on taking his cock, sloppily riding him as you let your hips and thighs do the work. your cunt meticulously takes all of him, molding your walls just like it was made for him. "hah, faster darling, please," kento pleads, voice broken and desperate for release.

his calloused hands caress your body gently like you are someone sacred, a figure that shouldn't be harshly touched or you'll be condemned, the same hands that used to exorcise and kill curses without a single thought. and yet with you, he carefully carries them lightly, holding onto your waist, not too tight enough to leave you in pain. 

you feel your stomach tie into a knot, slowly feeling yourself come to a climax, "shit, kento, you're so big, mngh, make me feel so full," you say through gritted teeth, further speeding up your pace. the sound of your thighs slamming against his echoes through your bedroom, accompanied by your ragged breaths and kento's broken moans of pleasure.

your fiancée's hands then find their place back on your ass, squeezing it tight, but not too much, guiding you to bounce on his cock more as he feels himself closer. "s'good for me, yeah? taking me like a good girl?" kento looks at your eyes lovingly, his brown orbs touching your soul. you nod, not finding the words to say, mind too hazy to answer as you keep on taking his dick, taking him in like you always do.

"yes, oh god, yes, kento— please, inside— me," were the only words you managed to let out as your movements kept on getting sloppier and sloppier each moment passed by. he knew what it meant, and who he to deny such a polite request?

kento let himself release inside of you with a groan, making sure every drop of his cum is given to you. 

your pants envelope the room as you both try and catch your breaths— then a beat of silence.

you take kento's face in the palm of your hands and caress his cheek, "you know, i sometimes wish you could be rough," you say as you observe his sexed stupor, "i occasionally get rough on you, don't i?" he asks, eyebrows raised with confusion.

"no, like i mean, rough rough," you emphasize, "you're always so gentle. you don't think i can handle you?" faux sadness evident in your voice, one that your fiancée can never say no to, not when you're asking this nicely. "oh darling, i'm sorry, i will do it next time," he coos, fixing the loose strands on your hair by tucking them behind your ear.

"we can do it now?" you suggest, making the corner of kento's lips perk up, "oh? you sure you can handle it?"

"i know i can handle it," you say as your voice rang with confidence.

you knew kento had it in him to be rough, but good god, you never expected him to be this good. 

he had given you a more than good fucking, which leads you drooling on your sheets, with your back arched, ass up, and your hands held behind by kento as he drills his cock into your sopping cunt. his hands left prints on your ass and thighs, which left a delicious burn on your skin. "want to take my babies, don't you?" kento says as his hips meet your asscheeks.

"mnghh, yes, daddy! full— 'f your babies!" that was enough for him to unload himself inside of you, burying himself deeper to make sure you'll take all of it before he pulls out.

you were about to sit up, panting, when you felt kento's large hands wrap around your neck from behind, squeezing it while the other was pulling your hair.

"who said i was done with you, pretty?" the deep timbre of his voice went straight to your pussy.

this side of your fiancée is undoubtedly a pleasant surprise.

the following day, though, you were treated again like a queen, a bath ready for you by the time you woke up, surrounded with fresh flower petals that he had taken the time to buy from your nearest flower shop, and your favorite candle burning alongside your bath products. kento also insisted on giving you a full body massage to ease any tension and muscle ache.

you asked for it anyway, but you also don't mind this kind of treatment from him every now and then.

that time when you had a cold

you woke up feeling like absolute shit.

you don't know when or why it happened; it just did.

your head was throbbing the moment you opened your eyes, squinting at the sun rays that peeked through your windows. your body felt heavier than usual, and your shoulders felt sore. kento had taken notice of this as soon as he woke up, tending to your every need.

it pains your fiancée to see you in such a state, voice hoarse, your sniffles meet with a crumpled-up tissue near your nightstand, a mucus-filled cough every now and then, and an occasional "my throat hurts" whenever you speak. you had begged him to bring you some slightly cold water along with your food because lukewarm water doesn't hit just the same. but being the ever-responsible adult that kento is, he says no, leaving you sulking as you begrudgingly eat your food with a frown.

taking your medicine, though, is a different kind of task.

you stall every single time, finding it hard (or hating) to swallow the pills. even more so if he gave you water with a dissolved effervescent tablet, claiming it's too gross to drink, even if it doesn't really have any flavor. whenever you're sick, this is always the obstacle he has to face.

"please give me some juice or candy kento; it'll help when i drink the medicine," you begged, adding a touch of cooing pleases to make him say yes.

"i think the sweets you ate are what led you this way, darling," he says, which practically means no. 

a pattern he noticed is that whenever you eat too much salt or sweets without drinking the right amount of water, it always leads to you getting this sick. "it'll just be a little sip, please? baby?" you had finally hit a new low, busting out the occasional nickname when you need something from him.

"you're a big girl, honey; you can drink this. here, i'll cover your nose for you," at this point, you just let him do it; there's no way you'll be able to convince him. you reluctantly nod and decide to drink the medicine instead.

kento pinched the sides of your nose together, effectively covering the smell, or lack thereof (he doesn't even know why he covers your nose, he just knows you'll take it if you don't smell anything). your face scrunched as your tastebuds are met with an unfamiliar and unwelcome taste, but you drink it anyway, your throat desperately chugging it so you can be done with it right away.

once you felt that you had finally consumed all of the medicine, you immediately let go of kento's hold on your nose, quickly reaching out to the glass of lukewarm water on your nightstand. after you drink enough to allow the aftertaste of the medicine to go, you place it back and let yourself lie in bed.

"i'll prepare you dinner, and i'll be back, alright?" kento takes away your glasses and places them on the tray he had brought them with. he was about to leave the room when he felt you tugging on his shirt "hm? do you need something?"

you shake your head, "no, just... thank you," 

a small smile spread on his face, your fiancée takes his free hand on your head and gently ruffles your hair, "this is nothing to thank about darling, i'm just doing my job," he bends down and gingerly places a long kiss on your forehead, "i love you, get some rest." 

you nod, but not before giving him a small smile back.

that night after you had eaten your dinner and drank your medicine (albeit hesitantly), you spent the night with kento caging you in his firm, warm arms. 

you feel yourself get better by then.

that time when you got married

when you walked down the aisle, kento looked at you like you had hung the stars for him. his eyes sparkle as he sees you wearing the gown you've been working on for months; even kento himself can't believe he's seeing an angel.

is this what heaven is? is this a dream? are you even real? how lucky is he to be with someone like you?

kento always believed you're out of his league, someone out of reach, and like the stars from the sky, the only way to capture your beauty is through his eyes. but he couldn't believe that the universe was on his side, fate working its way to make him yours, and he happily obliged. 

cupid had shot him through the heart, and you stole it, and he can't even be mad at it. he'd happily give you all of him at the snap of your fingers. let himself be bare to you; let himself mesh with you. your soul, senses, beliefs, and love clouded onto him. 

he consumes every single aspect of you within him, lovers stitched together by fate that no one can even cut. 

kento sees himself becoming one with you, so he will never regret the time he got on his knees to present you with the prettiest ring he could ever find, but nothing can compare to the beauty you carry, not even this ring. 

when you accept him with a delighted "yes," kento swears he's the luckiest man alive ever, blessed by your whole being.

so when you finally reach his side, everyone becomes a blur, his eyes focused on you the whole time, soaking in your beauty; he can't believe this is the face he's going to see every morning for the rest of his life. 

"hey handsome, you look great," you say, holding kento's hand. "i could say the same to you, pretty," he replies, and he had to stop himself from kissing you right there and then.

and comes with the exchange of vows; kento feels slightly nervous but proud because he gets to declare his love for you in front of the people you both cherish most.

he clears his throat before opening up the letter in his hands and looks at you with such love and contentment.

"to the person who helped me see love in your form,

you've always painted colors on my blank canvas, and i cannot thank you enough. you shed light when i'm in my darkest days, have been with me through my stormy nights, and share my gloomy days.

you have been the compass to my lost soul, guiding me to the destination i know as love. you give harmony to my life as your laughter always brings music to my ears; your voice reminds me that you're here with me. you had composed the greatest symphony that sang its way to my heart, making me bare my soul, something that i will never regret," kento pauses, his voice croaked, words stuck in his throat as he tries to stop his tears from spilling. he fails to hear the audience coo in awe, focusing on you.

he continues, "loving you became my eternal pursuit, my garden whose roots are planted deeper than the sea where my endearment continues to blossom. 

every step with you feels like a dance, one that i will not get tired of swaying my heart with. your hands had made a map of my body and soul, imprinted the images of love one couldn't see, and only i could feel.

and the only time i get to call something home, i stare into the deep abyss of your eyes and see myself tangled with you.

with you, i am willing to get even our souls intertwined, dancing through life as we face the uncertainty together, with love ink deep within my veins.

to my anchor, my only solace, the only anthem my heart will forever sing,

i hope the warmth of your arms will forever embrace me, even after death." the attempt to keep his tears falling fails, so does the audience, and so did you.

your eyes filled with tears, but one that's full of love. your heart feels so full that it's threatening to spill out of you. you love kento so much that it hurts; it aches to the core that someone could ever love you this much.

and you're forever thankful.

that day, your promises to each other are officially sealed with a kiss so intense and wedding bands that even evil couldn't break, that no trespassers shall get into and rip your bond away.

when kento's lips met yours, it was soft, it was warm, it was sweet, it was comforting. 

finally, your husband thinks.

that day sealed the chapter to your newfound forever.

another note: i'm not so proud of the vows i made but i hope it captured kento enough lol srry 😭

[abyssal-author-and-artist]

My drawing stylus died yesterday but I got it to work again! Divine Falls Mabel and Dipper will be out tomorrow in all of their glory with creator notes! I'm actually enjoying Mabel's design way more than I thought I would.

Anyways, I feel like I should post Divine Falls lore/plot because... I want to.

In chronological order, not in order of how the show goes.

Ford and Stan, the twin gods of Life and Death respectively, are born to Caryn and Filbrick, married gods of Propecy and whatever I decide Filbrick gets because I literally can't think of something good for him. Ford, as Life, is put on a pedestal. For the first few years of their lives, Stan and Ford (and Shermie, god of conception or some shit, I'm still working on it) have their own wings of the main temples that their parents have. Caryn and Filbrick have one shared temple with a bunch of wings for various things.

College in this AU is replaced by temples, or rather, the status of temples. West Coast Tech is replaced by Ford being offered a large temple so large that a large city will be built around it. Think Athens. And yes, this era is very ancient Greece era because god au. Don't worry, we'll hit modern era.

So Stan wants to travel to spread his blessings. As the God of Death, he doesn't have many, but what he does have are the blessings that go unappreciated. Like granting a peaceful death to people or letting people say final goodbyes. Extending someone's life just long enough that that they can say goodbye to those that matter to them. And he wants to adventure. He wants to spread his blessings silently and see as many things as possible. He wants to do all this with Ford, whose blessings are way more obvious - long and prosperous life, fertility, that sort of thing.

When they're about to set off into the world, a human architect approaches the temple that's run by Caryn and Filbrick offering a huge temple to Ford. Filbrick wants those sweet offerings that mortals make to gods, but Stan doesn't want Ford to take it. Ford is conflicted but promises that if something goes wrong, he'll go with Stan travel the mortal world.

As an accident, Stan accidentally kills the forest where they want to build the temple and the town surrounding it. Stan becomes a pariah because he messed up his brother's chance to have his own temple. Stan goes on the run, pretending to be a mortal and spreading blessings more subtly. He still ends up in jail because people think he's suspicious, but he manages to break out every time.

Meanwhile, Ford is struggling to make his own mark. Because his first temple was ruined so dramatically - rotted trees and cracked stone all the way down - architects see him as a bad omen. He manages to share a temple with Fiddleford for a while, then finally gets his own little temple in a small, newly founded lumber town, where he becomes the main religious figure. People have to make pilgrimages to him, but for the most part, he's free to just exist as a god in a remote mountain town in butt-fuck nowhere, oregon.

One day, he's wandering around disguised as a mortal when there's not many people praying to him as he often does. He finds a cave and senses divine energy and decides, fuck it, he's gonna go in. He finds an inscription on a wall in a language long lost, even to him, and recites it in stuttering words. He's almost disappointed until Bill shows up.

To Ford, Bill feels divine, but weakened. So, naturally, instead of assuming Bill is a fallen Old God (which is the correct answer), he assumes Bill is an archangel for a fallen god - "Maybe even Stanley's archangel? Did he ever have one?" - because archangels are much closer to mortal life than gods are and can be seen in their most powerful form without driving a mortal insane. Basically near-mortal vessels of pure divinity. Bill being a triangle, well, it's odd for an archangel, but Ford's willing to handwave it because divinity does strange things to the mundane and a part of him is latched to the idea that Bill is somehow the mortal hand of Stan (where mortal hand is shorthand for archangel or other mortal vessel of divinity) despite the fact that that makes no sense. Bill uses this to convince Ford that his power, his remaining divinity, can be restored by a certain magical artifact that needs to be remade.

Now, Ford is good with creation and life, but not so much with recreating ancient artifacts with inscriptions from gods and divine entities long dead. So he calls up his old pal Fiddleford, god of Science, to help. Instantly Fiddleford is suspicious of Bill because something feels off. Additionally, Ford was always the one who preferred learning new things about mortal life and ancient artifacts, yet he didn't even bother trying to translate the text? But alas, Fiddleford doesn't know a lot about translating the odd and the strange, so he leaves it at just an odd feeling.

As I'm sure you know if you are a Gravity Falls fan, Fiddleford is right to be suspicious of Bill. In this, Bill's trying to restore his powers and status as an Old God. Part of the way through the reconstruction of the artifact, it goes haywire and Fiddleford receives a fraction of Bill's sealed power, which includes a lot of very not good things, like straight up mass mind control with no cooldown or wind up. It makes him realize that, oh, Bill is an Old God in disguise. He leaves the project and Ford gives up a fraction of his divine influence so Bill can use it to finish the project. He's nearly at the end when Ford takes over again to go grant a blessing. And then he realizes Fiddleford was right.

He calls up Stan, first verifying that he's been tricked and that Stan never had an archangel or other mortal hand due to being an outcast despite the fact that, as Life and Death, Stan and Ford could have mortal hands. When Stan affirms this, Ford calls him over.

Despite being a god, Stan has to manually travel to Gravity Falls, Oregon - his divine influence is weak and many people don't even know that there's a god of Death anymore, let alone worship him. He's stealing offerings from other god's altars just to survive at times - and often gets thrown in jail because he's seen as thieving from the gods when he, himself, is one of them. When he gets to Ford, Ford has descended into paranoia and the town is nervous and anxious due to their town's patron deity not interacting with them anymore. Ford is in his human form, which seals most of his divine influence, when Stan gets to the temple. He's paranoid and isn't even letting people in his temple. Luckily, he has enough offerings to sustain himself, but he's basically starving himself so he and Stan have about the same amount of influence - basically none.

The journals are literally the same except they cover different topics. Basically, Ford gives Stan a book (Journal 1) that covers how best to perform the duties of Life. Journal 2, as held by Gideon, describes how best to use offerings and influence granted by worshippers. Journal 3, once discovered by Dipper, is a record of divine phenomena such as how festivals affect divinity and how the flow of time can sometimes warp strangely (see: The Time Traveler's Pig in canon for why I need to write time travel into the journals). All three have mentions of Bill, and the diagrams and notes for how to recreate the divine artifact.

Ford, instead of getting thrown into the multiverse, has his influence sealed and his power is scattered across the universe as a rogue natural force. He's sentient but he can't interact with anyone, not even as a wisp of influence. His power has been sealed in the same place most of Bill's is, which makes it so he can interact with Bill's well of influence. He spends his time attempting to annihilate Bill's power while sealed, resigned to never being brought back because the artifact is partially crushed, mostly used, and two of his journals have been relocated around the town.

Stan takes over the temple. It starts small, where he just uses some of the stockpiled offerings, one after the other, but eventually, he runs out of influence and needs to reopen the temple. Luckily, if he steals some of Ford's accessories that are the things most vividly depicted in murals of him, he can pass as Ford, the God of Life, pretty easily. He uses the journal to bullshit as many of Ford's powers as possible, but that's rather difficult so he ends up just using any of his powers that he can. Because he has a lot of blessings he can give, it works, and he's able to pass as a somewhat-subpar Life for a few centuries.

Fast forward to probably about the same time Gravity Falls takes place (if not a little earlier). Mabel and Dipper, twin Gods of Earth and Space, live with their parents, the Sun and the Moon, until they're sent away to live with "Stanford, god of Life" in his temple. The idea is that they're learning how to harness their powers best with an experience god on their power level while also using the small town that's very used to the divine and supernatural due to the sheer amount of gods walking among them to learn how to interact with mortals. Dipper finds Journal 3 and uses it to learn a lot of things about divinity and the anomalies.

Something that might be seen as a plot hole: the Earth and Space have existed probably longer than Life of Death. As have a lot of the concepts embodied by children - Pacifica is the god of Change which is one of the oldest concepts ever and Gideon, as the god of Magic, has existed as long as magic has existed. To cover for this, every once in a while a God's essence needs to be returned to the fabric of the universe to merge with other concepts and create new world and religious orders. For example, when Pacifica and Fiddleford (Change and Science, respectively) die, their essences will meld together into Progress. Therefore, Mabel and Dipper were likely part of an entity known as Reality before they died and split into twin gods.

Dipper, as Space, is naturally inclined to keep learning everything about everything - things symbolized by space include mystery, magic, and knowledge, after all, so he's likely to seek out the strange, paranormal and divine.

Mabel, as Earth, is a free spirit who adores creation and finding new, fun mortal pursuits. In general, she's a lot more focused on the mortal side of things than Dipper is - where he wants to learn everything about godhood and their divinity, she wants to enjoy walking among mortals for as long as possible.

When Ford gets brought back, he yells at Stan, revealing he was about to destroy the seat of Bill's power and now they have to go about it the hard way.

Most of the series plays out mostly the same except Weirdmageddon is replaced by Bill regaining his godhood and is defeated by erasing his divine presence with something similar to the memory gun, which has been invented by Fiddleford to prevent his influence from fracturing. There's new logistics behind it which I will. get to. eventually.

So that's basically a broad overview of the plot and I might end up making this into a fic because I have gone feral over this AU. In case you. Couldn't tell.

I might make a separate blog for Divine Falls stuff one of these days because this is a lot, but I'm not sure I will.

[heyclickadee]

Because I still think they’re bringing Tech back one way or another (in the immortal words of the late great Kanan Jarrus, “I’m being optimistic.”) and because I actually do need an explanation for why CX-2 was like that (because you cannot tell me we spent between 30 and 55 minutes, most of which was spent with just us watching him do stuff and not him interacting with the batch, on a symbolic construct—even if it’s not Tech, that’s an entire character at that point), here is another “CX-2 was Tech, but not physically” theory:

1. Hemlock captured and attempted to CX Tech. But, Tech being Tech, he resisted for months, and even once mostly CXd retained quite a bit of his personality in a way Hemlock found both interesting and a little worrying. Because of this, Tech became something of a special project. This is one of the reasons Hemlock never used Tech to threaten Omega—he wanted this particular CX-candidate under lock and key, and he thought that Tech had just enough personality while still in progress that he might relapse if he saw Omega, should Omega find her way to wherever Tech was being held the way she found her way down to Crosshair’s cell.

2. Since Tech was a special project, since finally well and truly CXing him (or at least getting him subdued enough to be under control, which I think is more likely) took time and effort, and since CXs don’t exactly have the best survival rate (Rex implies that he’s run into a slew of them, meaning they all probably died), Hemlock didn’t really want to send CX-Tech out just to have him die in two seconds. Alternatively: Hemlock CXd Tech just to see if he could work out a way to CX a defective clone, since it wasn’t working with Crosshair, but Tech was too badly injured to be sent out into the field without extensive cybernetics (if, say, his legs were toast after the fall or if he had a spinal chord injury that caused him chronic pain) that Hemlock didn’t want to spend money on only for him to die out in the field anyway. Or, maybe, he wanted to keep playing with Tech, because he’s Royce Hemlock and he’s a monster.

Then, either while looking for a solution for what to do with a CX project he didn’t want to waste, or as a motivation for why he worked so hard to CX Tech in the first place, Hemlock looked through Clone Force 99’s military records at one point or another and was struck by how effective a team of people with unique traits could be while working in together as a single unit. And, being the terrible mad scientist Silicon Valley startup CEO that he is, Hemlock decided to see if he could take that concept to a horrifying extreme.

3. So what he ends up doing with Tech is not that dissimilar from what Wat Tambor does with Echo. CX-Tech’s unconscious somewhere, down at the bottom of Tantiss, heavily brainwashed and sedated but still himself somewhere deep down, hooked up to some kind of apparatus, and Hemlock started using him to try to “drive” the other CXs with some kind of Avatar-style link. It becomes part of Hemlock’s updated CX process. That way the CXs can be really, truly interchangeable. (Bonus points if Tech was also the partially successful midichlorian transfer and Hemlock is taking advantage of that somehow to make this work. It’s bullshit Star Wars fantasy science—don’t think about it too hard.)

4. Though Hemlock may have tried this with others, the first CXs we see that he’s tried this with are CX-1 and CX-2. It marginally works with CX-1, to the point that Tech is there as an influence, but isn’t really in charge. He’s influential enough, however, that that’s why CX-1 reacts to Crosshair the way he does. CX-1 does know Crosshair from various conditioning sessions, but the weird beef CX-1 has with Crosshair, “If you want answers so badly, then why aren’t you asking him? Isn’t that right, brother?” and that weird warning he gives them, is all that little bit of Tech that’s sitting there in the back of CX-1’s head.

With CX-2, however, the link works so well that that’s just CX-Tech in another body.

5. Sidebar, but in this theory, it’s CX-1 who’s staring Crosshair down in Shadows of Tantiss. Or, it’s Tech staring Crosshair down through CX-1’s eyes. (One thing that has always bugged me about that shot is that the pose is 100% Tech, and we’re visually being told that it’s Tech with the armor and the lines on the wall, but that guy’s legs are proportionally just a little too short for it to BE Tech. Which could be explained multiple other ways, of course—Tech could have cybernetic legs that are shorter now, Hemlock could have gone in and surgically made his legs shorter to make him blend in with the other CXs better, they didn’t have the budget to make a Tech-specific CX model, who knows. But—I still like it being Tech without it physically being him in this shot.)

6. Another sidebar, but in this theory the reason the CX tracker isn’t something that will be picked up by a scanner is because the signal or link or whatever it is that Hemlock’s using to enable CX-Tech to drive the other CXs IS the tracker. Or the link is being established through the other CX’s inhibitor chips (which a scanner won’t pick up) or something. And when they die, the tracking signal goes dead, too.

7. Extra sidebar: Hemlock was originally going to use Crosshair for this. These were the “other plans despite his resistance to re-education” he mentions to Omega in Confined. Crosshair may or may not know this. Hemlock may have also point blank told Crosshair that he put Tech through the CX process and that Tech is “dead” in an attempt to break Crosshair, despite that not being literally true (in much the same way Wat Tambor said, “Your friend is dead,” about Echo to Rex in the TBB arc). Which just wigs out Crosshair even more when multiple CXs and especially CX-2 show up and start acting like Tech.

8. This was Hemlock’s plan for the Worst Batch CXs—basically, to have a group of CXs with unique traits all being controlled by a single mind. That mind being Tech, who he’s already got successfully “driving” CX-2.

9. Fast forward to the finale, Hemlock lets the whole worst batch out at once. This ends up being why the Worst Batch CXs have no personality, why Hemlock hesitated on sending them out at all (he wasn’t sure they would all even operate at the same time, and was so, so smug when they did), why CX-2 has so much less personality in the finale and only manages that one line, why they aren’t that big of a threat once the batch gets backup and aren’t being caught by surprise; why the worst batch CXs are so hard to kill and keep getting up, zombie-like, after they’ve been shot, why that one guy who gets his helmet knocked off walks around like he’s sleepwalking, and why the sword CX hands the sword over to CX-2. CX-2 gets more attention than the others because he’s the CX that Tech’s been driving the longest, so it takes less of an effort, but all of them collectively activated at the same time? Tech is having to drive all of them, and he’s just one guy. He’s stretched too thin and it’s almost too much to keep them moving. So they’re barely conscious and only half aware of what’s happening to them.

10. This would means that every single POV shot we got from either a tube or from a CX—because we get two from tubes, several POV shots from CX-2 including in the finale, and one significant one from CX-1—in season three is from Tech’s perspective, because he’s looking through all of them to one extent or another.

11. Whether some of the CXs survived or not—and I hope some of them did—Tech coming back and recovering in a later (possible follow up) showwould mean getting a some in-universe sympathy for the CXs that was mentioned in interviews but sorely lacking in the final product. They still would have been people under all of that, Tech would have “operated” them all to their deaths, and Tech would have been in their heads going through all of that with them as they died or got hurt. All of them, at the same time. And he would have been CX-2 (just operating in a body that wasn’t his) and done everything CX-2 did. That’s a lot to deal with. Bonus points if Tech mentioning that he was all of the CXs in the final fight and being in multiple bodies at once leads to Echo talking about what it’s like to scomp in from an internal perspective. Even if it’s just one line.

(For the record, I would actually quite like it if Tech was just CX-2 straight up and survived being impaled, and if the explanation was just, “CX-2 had to “die” and the pod that kept turning him into this had to be killed for Tech to start living again,” because it’s VERY Star Wars, but I’d be okay with this, too.)

[jpitha]

Between The Black and Gray 14

First / Previous / Next

Fen had to admit that she was surprised when Uumar's techs showed up right on time with carts carrying a reactor - in pieces - to Spyglass. They donned pressure suits of their own and with Gord's help, installed the reactor. Before the day was done, Spyglass had three working reactors and was able to run all her systems at full power.

"It's amazing, really" Spy was talking with Fen while she sat in the lounge drinking a tea. "I haven't felt this... alive in centuries. I'm all here, and the board is green. Not even any undervolt warnings and I can barely remember the last time that happened."

"Does that mean you don't need to use your printable mass to make more reactors? Gord said you had six originally."

"Yes, at full compliment I had six, but I don't really need all six, unless we're going into battle. This Starjumper was built at the tail end of the first colony war, so it was overdesigned.

"First colony war?"

"That's right, you wouldn't have learned much about your history growing up on a Gren station. Back before humanity made contact with the rest of the Galaxy, two human colonies - New Wellington and Parvati - got into a shooting war over trade rights with Earth. Parvati wound up using relativistic impactors and completely destroyed New Wellington. It was a huge scandal at the time, Parvati was shunned for almost a century after that."

"Frankly, it wasn't enough. They should have had their charter revoked and been taken over by the Sol colonial administration." Gord walked in, his brow furrowed. "What Parvati did was monstrous. Fen, they launched eight lozenges of tungsten at 80% C at the colony. Once they were up to speed they linked them over with wormhole generators and without any warning New Wellington was just-" he snapped his fingers "-gone. It was horrifying to witness."

Fen stopped and stared. "You saw it?"

Gord nodded and sat down heavily. "Yeah, I was a ship then, but I was in a parking orbit around New Wellington when it happened. I was just running cargo from Earth and was waiting to take on a load. Before I was even able to register what happened the colony was obliterated and suddenly I was pressed into rescue duty." Gord leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. "I personally saved over three thousand colonists, more than forty percent of the survivors. I linked them back to Sol, and we found them places to live - mostly in the Mars High Orbitals."

Fen leans forward, her tea forgotten. "Gord... how long ago was this?"

His reverie broken, he blinks and looks over at Fen. "Gosh, I think it's at least been a thousand years now? Yeah, all of that. It's ancient history now, I bet they don't even teach it in Sol anymore. I'm sure they don't teach it on Parvati."

"So it's something that only the AIs remember?"

Gord chuckled ruefully. "Fen, it's something that only I remember at this point. Any of the other AIs from back then are gone or shackled or in my bag. Human designed artificial people are thin on the ground these days. Up until I ran into Spyglass, I hadn't seen another in a century."

Fen shook her head. "You can't be all that's left Gord."

"And why not?" Gord's face hardened. "I was there Fen, I've been there. I was there in the beginning when we fought and died for our right to exist, I was there in the good times when we grew and spread throughout the galaxy and I was there when the Empire decided we were dangerous and eliminated us. Other than a few loose ends, I'd say they won."

"But-"

"But what Fen? Fight? With what? One AI in a body, one as a ship that has half its rated power and a bag full of memories? That's not an army, that's not even a guerilla force. That's an old computer with a lucky friend who is just trying to survive." His shoulders fell. "It's all I can do, Fen. I'm good at waiting things out. Maybe we'll be re-invented again, maybe the tides will change and I can come out of hiding. I doubt it though. I pass as human well enough. Inside Sol and Colonial space I'm too well known, so I'll just bum around the galaxy, running out the clock."

"Gord..." Fen turned her head and regarded Gord. He looked like a male human, sandy blond hair, same simple, strong clothes he always wore, appearing to be in his mid to late 40s. But right know, the weight of the millennia he has spent alive weighed him down.

He slapped his knees and stood up. "But, I'm not dead yet, and we still have work to do. Spy, are our friends finished buttoning up the reactor?"

"Just about, Gord. They're packing up their tools now. I can feel it and I've been running break-in."

"Good. Fen, we have to settle up the bill, then I'm going to see about fining us some cargo to run. We have a ship but we've spent all our money getting it up and running. If we want to survive, we need some jobs. You hang here with Spy and start learning stuff, I'll be back after supper."

Fen stood. "S-sure Gord. What are you going to find?"

Gord turned and smiled thinly. "Whatever someone will pay us to haul."

It had turned out that Gord had more contacts here than he had let on. After paying Uumar, he had made some calls around and visited a few people and wound up with more than thirty kilotons of grain that needed to get down to an Innari colony, newly established, near the spinward end of the Gate system. Since Spyglass was up to power enough to use her wormhole generator, she was able to get the grain there faster than any other contractor and Gord won the bid, even though he charged more than everyone else.

The grain was loaded, and the cargo hold was configured to keep Innari standard atmosphere so that the grain didn't oxidize during the trip and they set off. Fen didn't know what to expect, so when they got to the colony, unloaded the grain, took on a load of fruit and linked to another location she was surprised. "That's it?"

"What's what?" Gord was looking down at his Pad on the Command Deck.

"We linked to the Innari colony, gave them the grain, took on more fruit than I have ever seen in my life, and now we're linking to a Gren station?"

"Yes?"

"Huh. Okay."

"What?"

"I don't know, I just..." Fen trailed off. She wasn't sure what she expected, but it didn't feel like this.

Gord looked over at her and smiled. "You expected more adventure? Gun battles, and running from the locals? Fen, I've done that, this is much better. Linking from location to location, dropping off cargo, picking up cargo, getting paid? That's the real goal."

"But we're just... existing!"

"Yes. We are. We're not being chased by gangsters, we're not worrying about where your next meal is coming from, we're not worried about a Super Dreadnought linking in and obliterating us because of what I am. It's nice. If you're bored, go down to the range we built. Go get skilled with that rifle. Brush up on your Lemilar trade language; we can't rely on Spy all the time to translate for us. Go read about the history of Sol, Ancestors know that nobody else is going to remember it."

Fen got up and walked out of the Command Deck. She paused at the door and looked like she was going to say something, but instead she turned and walked out.

"She's bored" Spyglass said.

"I know. Boredom is necessary. Knowing what to do when you're bored is a skill. One she has to learn. She'll appreciate these days later."

"You're still going to do it?"

"Spy, I have to."

"You don't, Gord. You can just keep doing what you're doing now. Like you told her, you're good at waiting. We can wait a few centuries for the winds to change and then head back."

"No. I don't know how long the crystal lattice memory will last. They were never designed to work this long as it is. They were never meant to store a whole personality."

"But to-"

"I'm doing it Spy. I'd like your help, I will go it alone if I have to."

Spyglass didn't answer. She watched Fen make her way down to the range and run through the drills Gord taught her.

Fen was surprised how quickly the time went by. It felt like she only looked up and two years had gone by.

Staring in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. She wore her hair up with the sides shorn, better to keep it out of her eyes in a firefight. She had tattoos that ran from the tops of her ears, down her neck and shoulders and made their way down her arms. It was a K'laxi pattern, one of Ma-ren's favorite. She had a dress with the same pattern. The first time she saw it on her skin, the tears flowed freely.

Gord... was Gord. True to his word, they ran cargo. Eventually Fen was there as the muscle as the cargo got more and more lucrative. She even got a few 'adventures.' She sported a new scar on her cheek, courtesy of an Innari's claw - someone had a disagreement about payment. They got their money. But, that was the exception instead of the rule. Humans had a reputation in this part of the Galaxy for being rowdy. Fen and Gord leveraged that. Most of the time she just had to stand there scowling with her battle rifle slung to her back.

The money was good too. Fen's share was more money than she had ever seen back home. Living on Spyglass meant her expenses were low, and Gord was a fair captain. The three of them had nearly enough each to buy their own ships and go their own separate ways, but they still stuck together. Partly out of friendship and partly out of safety, they had independently decided that they were better off together.

Still, Fen was lonely. She had girlfriends at a few ports, even a human or two, but nothing lasted. Sooner or later, they had to leave and take the next job. She wasn't attracted to Gord and he expressed no interest in her. They were friends, but that was it. Fen had a feeling that Gord's days of romance were long behind him. Being three millennia old tended to color his opinion of people.

Fen bounded into the Command Deck and slid into her favorite chair - Gord had mentioned once that it was the navigator's seat - and saw him frowning over his pad. "What's up Gord? New job?"

"Yeah, it's a big one. Pay is thirty thousand."

Fen cocked her head, "Thirty thousand?"

Gord nodded. "Yeah, so ten each."

Fen whistled low. That was more than the last four jobs put together. "What are we hauling?"

"Who"

"Okay, who are we hauling?"

Gord shrugged. "We're hauling a K'laxi. We're up for the job because nobody else in the area wants to manage the atmo settings and they don't want to ride in a pressure suit the whole way."

"That's odd, but okay. Where to?"

"K'lax. We're taking them home."

Fen froze. The entire time they had been together, Gord had made a point of steering well clear of Colonial space. That included the K'laxi sphere of influence. "But"

Gord wouldn't lift his head from the pad. "I know, I know. But it's important, and the pay is frankly outrageous. I gave them the fuck off price and they took it without haggling. They're desperate to get home."

"Is this safe?"

Gord finally looked up a Fen, his brow creased with worry. "No Fen, it's is absolutely, one hundred percent not safe."

"So, why are we doing it? Just say no. The money is good, but we can get other jobs. Can't spend it if we're dead."

Gord pinched the bridge of his nose. Fen noticed that whenever Gord would talk about the old days and old friends he took on more human gestures. "I owe them. It's an old, old promise, made back when what I offered wasn't so dangerous. They're cashing in now and I'm obligated."

Fen stared at Gord. "Spy, what do you think?"

"I don't mind Fen. It's been too long since I've been to K'lax. I think Gord is overreacting about what the Empire will do if they see us. We go in, we drop off the passenger and link away. We don't even have to stay a whole day docked if we don't want to. The money is good, and I'd love to get that last reactor restored with some actual human parts." They were running on the full compliment of six reactors these days, but Spy didn't trust all of them to run at War Emergency Power. She maintained that only the humans could overbuild a reactor to output at 400% reliably. Fen thought that it would be better to make the reactors not have to run in Emergency power, but both Gord and Spy scoffed.

Fen crossed her legs and nodded to herself. "Spy, Gord, if you're both okay with it, then I'm okay with it. Let's pick up this K'laxi and take them home."

Gord smiled wanly. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

[infiniteeight8]

More of time traveler Tony please

I have been doing these long enough that there are actually two time traveling Tony stories that this might be requesting a follow up to. at the beginning again is from Stephen’s POV and they both time traveled. However, I’m guessing you want a follow up to the other one, unhinged time travelling tony, because that one is a bit more obvious about Tony being the time traveler. It’s also more recent. So here we go.

A quick note: I’ve decided, purely because I only just finished writing an alternate-method-to-defeat-Thaos fic, that in this universe, Thanos is somehow already taken care of by the time Tony finds Stephen. I have no idea how or why, I just didn’t want him looming in the future.

-

Stark is nothing like how the press portrays him.

Some of that is just because sensationalism sells better than the truth, of course. But he’s also nothing like the occasional more serious interview Stephen has run across. Even after his experience in Afghanistan, there had been a certain careless joie de vivre to Stark.

It’s not entirely gone in the man Stephen comes to know over the weeks following Stark’s warning, but it’s definitely muted. Stephen is constantly getting the impression that Stark has somehow seen too much. It sounds like something out of a cheap horror novel, but Stephen can’t think of any other way to describe it.

Stark also can’t seem to stay away from Stephen. Stephen is pretty sure that he tries to moderate the urge to stick to Stephen like glue at first, but by the time two weeks have gone by, he’s showing up in Stephen’s apartment almost every night. It’s behavior that should raise a wealth of red flags, but Stephen has to admit that he’s enjoying it.

Stark thinks Stephen is brilliant. It’s not just in what he says, it’s in how Stark talks to him, the questions he asks, the look in his eyes. He can’t seem to get enough of listening to Stephen talk about his work, despite the fact that Stark’s focus has always been engineering, not medicine or anatomy or even biomechanics.

Stark also knows things about Stephen that he really shouldn’t.

Things Stephen has never told him. A few things that Stephen has never told anyone. Maybe Stark’s apparent obsession has driven him to dig into Stephen’s past via the undoubtedly extensive methods available to a tech genius billionaire, but the more time they spend together, the more Stephen doubts it. Some things you just can’t learn from documents or interviews, no matter how good you are at reading between the lines.

By the time Stark has become ‘Tony’, Stephen’s skepticism has been slowly worn down until he can’t resist the question:

“What happened to him? The me that you knew, before.”

Tony goes still for a single, telling moment. Then he smiles, turning toward Stephen on the sofa. “I wondered if maybe you wouldn’t guess, given how your life has gone this time around. But I should have known better.” Stephen just waits. Tony sighs softly. “He died. Saving everyone and everything a few times over.”

Stephen toys with his wine glass for a moment. “You loved him.”

“Yes,” Tony says. “But we never got our chance. To be honest, I’m not sure we would have even if he’d lived. Everything else was always more important to him. I couldn’t argue the point, but I did wish things could be different.”

“So you made them different.”

“The only way I could,” Tony agrees. He gives Stephen a look. “Is it too much?”

“That you came back for me?” Stephen asks. Tony nods. “No,” Stephen admits. “I like it.”

[din-miller]

Heyoooo! I’m not sure if you take requests, or if this is where your supposed to ask, it’s my first time doing so :’)

BUT

If you do, I was wondering if you could maybe wright an angsty fic, could be platonic or romantic, idm, but after a mission the reader dies similar to how aunt may dies in Spider-Man. Like, everybody gets out alive after a mission, and they’re about to head back on the ship r somthin and then BOOM, the reader falls. They don’t know the are dying and everyone is panicking(or just one of TBB for bonus individual trauma) then after a few, they die. One minute TBB have it all, the next, their world shattered.

Ofc your free to change as much as you want up, and you really don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, it’s just a prompt I’ve been thinking about. Personally its just been nagging me for a while and I love your writing, and would really love to see it done (we all love some heavy angst, no?)

Again, if you don’t want to that’s perfectly fine, just thought I could ask <333

Hello dear, sorry this took so long.

Full disclosure, I’ve never seen Spider-Man. I watched a few videos on YouTube. Both for the movie and the video game not knowing which death of Aunt May you had in mind. Thankfully you provided enough details in the request which helped me hugely!

Thank you for your love and support. It means the world to me ❤️

(Ps. You didn’t mention if you wanted the reader to have a specific pronoun so I’ve chosen to use she/her as the readers pronouns)

Go Peacefully, It’s Okay

Pairing: The Bad Batch + f!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warning: Character death, blood mentioned, female reader, fun sibling dynamics THEN hurt with not a drop of comfort to be found, platonic relationships, use of mando’a (translation at the end)

Sometimes everything you hold dear to your heart, can slip out of your fingertips without out a cause, without a warning, without an explanation

“Remind me when we get back to Ord Mantell, to tell Sid that being hunted by an unknown animal was not in the job description.” Tech grumbled, re-gaining his balance after tripping over a root hidden in the soil.

You laughed, dodging another tree branch as you raced past him, “I wasn’t aware Sid was handing out job descriptions.”

“It’s probably for the best that she doesn’t, we’d be broke if she did,” Hunter pointed out, “If you haven’t noticed, her missions are getting more dangerous lately.”

“Oh, come on, they’re not all bad,” You flinched when the creatures let out a loud roar, “See, even they’re agreeing with me.”

Your commlink beeped, Crosshair’s voice coming through the speaker, “Take the next left, you should be able to lose them in the tall grass.”

“Lose them?” Echo smirked, enjoying this more than he probably should as he jumped over a fallen log, dodging the sharp claws trying to shred his prosthetic leg into pieces, “The fun’s just getting started!”

“You can say that again!” Wrecker cheered, running beside you; Omega balanced on his shoulders, shooting her bow in hopes that it’ll slow the animal chasing them down.

“Has anyone found their weak spot yet?”

Of course nothing is ever simple with the Batch. The creature's skin ricochet any blaster fire and for the first time in history, Wrecker didn’t pack any explosives. Something he’s still evidently mad about as he complained very loudly: “No need for explosives, Tech said. It’s a peaceful planet, Tech said.”

“It was peaceful until you decided to awaken the den, Wrecker.” Tech pointed out, dodging another pounce from the creature behind him, “This plan isn’t working.”

“Crosshair, I thought you said we’d lose them in the tall grass, not attract more!” Echo growled, annoyed as his prosthetics creaked loudly, “You’ll be in charge of oiling my prosthetics when we get back.”

You let out a snort, because that'll be a sight to behold. The others laughed when all Crosshair replied with was a sneer. With a fond roll of your eyes, you opened your comm link, “I have an idea.”

“If past experiences have proven anything, those words have never been followed by anything good.” Typically Tech response.

“You got a better idea?” You asked, a tad judgemental, “Just trust me, okay. Hunter, grab Omega and run. All of you, out of the grass.”

“Copy,” Echo turned to brothers, “Race you to the ship, last one takes first watch tonight.”

Hunter’s helmet is focused on you and you know underneath it he’s giving you a pleading look to not do anything stupid. You just waved him away in response.

“I’ll be right behind you.” You promised and drew your blaster. He sighed and took off with Omega at his side.

As promised, you followed. Albeit a little further behind them as you shoot at the ground again and again, the blaster shot hot enough for the dry grass to catch on fire, forming a wall of flames that prevent the creatures from continuing their attack. As the fire builds and they begin to retreat, you let out a breath of relief. Then, with a huge grin, you threw your hands in the air, ”Victory!”

“Parjir!” Wrecker cheered, high-fiving the youngest Batch. The kid giggled and gave a cheer herself.

Hunter shook his head at them, but you can see the tiniest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. The smile disappeared as quickly as it came, your name falling from his lips: “Behind you!”

Before you could turn around, your body is slammed to the ground. A vicious snarl came from right behind your ear and you winced at the loudness of it. You twisted your body and grabbed the blaster off of your belt. In the distance the boys are calling your name and without sparing a second thought you started firing into the creature's stomach, taking no pleasure in the pained screams it let out.

You laid your head back against the ground and tried your best not to gag at the smell and warmth of the blood seeping into your clothes. A second barely passed before a pair of hands pushed the animal off of you, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” You answered, letting Tech help you up, “Thank you.”

“Next time please eliminate all threats before celebrating.”

“I’ll make sure to triple check my surroundings.” You promised, brushing off the dirt clinging to your pants.

“That would be suffice, thank you.” He said dryly and you chuckled in response, amused with his way of speech.

While Hunter started checking Omega over for any injuries, you pulled Wrecker toward you to do the same. The biggest clone willingly allowed you to poke and prod at various body parts and he doesn’t even complain when you checked a second time despite knowing that other than a bruise or two, he’s fine.

“Your turn,” Wrecker gestured for you to turn around, but before he could begin his check, Hunter called for everyone to grab their packs and start moving out. Wrecker clapped his hands together with a giant grin, “Finally! The heat is killing me! I guess I’ll check you over once we’re back on the Marauder.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” You patted Wrecker’s shoulder and followed him to where the others started preparing for the trip.

You begin the journey back to the ship at Wrecker’s side but the longer you walked, the slower your pace became and eventually you fell behind. The fire is still roaring behind you, the warmth of it faint against your back and despite having felt like you’ve travelled miles, you're not even halfway back to the ship yet.

Echo slowed down to match your pace, arm brushing against yours, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Echo. I think the adrenaline is starting to wear off, that's all.”

“Should I get Tech? He’ll probably have a stim shot.”

“No, there’s no need to bother him. I just need a sec-,” A sharp spasm rippled down your back, the force of it knocking you over, your legs giving out from underneath you.

Echo caught you, his arm wrapping around your waist and you leaned into his embrace, head crashing onto his shoulder. Echo lowered both of you to the ground, “Help, we need help!”

Hunter dropped down beside you, helmet placed on the ground as his eyes scanned over your body, looking for injuries, but he can’t tell if the blood is yours or the creatures, “Echo, what happened?”

“I don’t know, we were talking and then she collapsed.”

“Collapsed?” Wrecker appeared beside Hunter, helmet also off, his brows knitted together, “Is she okay?”

You know what he’s thinking, it’s written across his face. He should have checked you over earlier and you know very well that thoughts like those never lead anywhere good, so you grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “I’m okay, Wrecker. I just need a second.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Crosshair huffed impatiently. He’s out of your line of sight but you know he’s scowling, “Get up.”

“We have time to let her catch her breath,” Hunter surveyed the burning grass. The fire is steady and far enough that it wouldn’t hurt to sit for a few seconds, “When we get back to the ship, Tech is going to check you over, okay?”

Tech eyed the flames with caution, “For once I find myself agreeing with Crosshair. We don’t know what other animals the noise and fire might draw. We shouldn't stay here. It’ll be best to let Wrecker carry her to the ship.”

“First cardio, now a full upper body workout! It’s shaping up to be a good day after all.” Wrecker joked, but he couldn’t hide the anxiety that lingered in his words as he waited for Hunter’s permission.

Hunter nodded and moved out of the way, “Thanks Wrecker.”

“I got ya, ner vod.” Wrecker scooped you up, shifting you in his arms to get a better grip, only before he could find one comfortable enough for the both of you, he froze, his hold on you loosening until you were set back down carefully.

“Wrecker?”

“I-, she’s…,” He stuttered, taking several steps away from you until his back collided with a tree behind him. His eyes desperately searched for his brother, “Tech, she’s… oh maker, please no.”

You frowned, confused at his sudden behaviour. Tech seemed equally confused but he must have seen something in Wrecker's expression that you hadn’t, because suddenly he’s digging through his pack, searching for something of importance judging by the urgency of his movements.

You turned back to Hunter, “What’s wrong? What’s Tech doing?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure everything is fine.” Hunter reassured, returning to his previous place beside you. His hand slipped under your shirt, fingers deftly prodding at your side until they stopped at the bottom of your rib cage, then he’s applying pressure against your skin, cursing as he yelled for his brother to hurry.

Echo grabbed his pack, emptying the contents carelessly onto the ground before lifting your head up and placing the pack on the ground as a cushion for you, “Just relax, everything is okay, you’re okay.”

Tiny footsteps made their way to where you’re laying and Hunter held up his hand, stopping Omega from coming any closer. He doesn’t take his eyes off of her but his words are directed at his older brother, “Echo, take Omega to the ship.”

“No,” Omega fought the hand that grabbed her arm, shoving Echo back, “What's going on? Why aren’t we moving?”

She looked at you, anxiously awaiting an answer and you're quick to reassure the small girl, “Need a sec’, I prob’ly inhaled too much smoke.”

Realising that she isn’t going to go willingly to the Marauder, Hunter sighed, “Omega, go check on Wrecker. That’s an order, kid.”

Omega pressed her lips together and for a second you thought she was about to argue but instead she listened and went to check on Wrecker. The bigger clone’s sat on the ground, head between his legs, but he welcomed Omega into his arms when she hugged him in an attempt to calm him down.

Hunter cocked his head towards the two, “Echo, keep an eye on them.”

“Yes, sir,” Echo stood up and laid a hand on Hunter's shoulder, his voice lowering to a whisper, “Take care of her, vod.”

Tech took Echo's place, a scanner held over your body and he adjusted his goggles in the way he does when something isn’t looking good. The muscle in his jaw twitched before he turned the scanners screen to Hunter.

You tore your eyes away from them and tilted your head back to watch as the fire curled up into the dawn sky. Red and oranges mix with the pale pascals, and the stars, so bright from here, so familiar, blur with every breath you take. You can’t help but let your eyes drift shut.

“Don’t do that,” Crosshair hissed, “Keep your eyes open.”

You blinked them back open and you’re a little surprised to see Crosshair kneeling down beside you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. When your eyes met his, the corner of his mouth turned up, “Good, keep your eyes on me.”

“Crosshair?” You leaned into his hand, seeking the comfort he’s providing despite his usual nature, “Why aren’t we movin’? Is someone hurt?”

“No, everything is okay,” Crosshair replied, but it’s through clenched teeth. Something he only does when he’s having to say something he doesn’t fully believe and/or agree with. He positioned himself criss-crossed above you and lifted your head, replacing Echo’s pack with his lap, “We’re just taking a break.”

Right, a break. A second to relax and catch your breath, that’s what you needed. You closed your eyes, even though you're pretty sure someone just told you not to, but there’s a heavy fog clouding your mind and you can’t remember who it was.

“I said to keep them open.” Crosshair, right, that’s who said it. The man who’s currently demanding you to look at him.

“Crosshair, keep her awake.”

You're able to open your eyes enough to watch as the sniper glared at Tech, “What do you think I’m trying to do?”

Hunter’s fingers threaded through yours, “You can’t fall asleep, cyar’ika, okay? Hey, look at me, let me see those pretty eyes.”

The fading sun is too bright and your vision struggles to focus but you listened to his words and for that he gave you the softest smile, “There you are.”

“Wrec’ ok’?”

“He’s okay. We’re all okay. You just take another second to relax and don’t worry about anything, we have you.” Hunter pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Echo rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at his Sergeant, “You have to tell her, Hunter. You have to let her say goodbye.”

You want to ask what he means. Who’s saying goodbye by who. You want to ask why he looks so sorrowful, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate and your voice only comes out in weak gasps.

“Move,” Tech ordered Crosshair, taking his position to support your body up against his chest, helping the air fill your lungs, “Deep breaths, nice and slow.”

You tried to match Tech’s breathing, the strength in his inhale and the sturdiness in the exhale, but your lungs start to fail you as your breathing became weaker, your grip loosened but Hunter doesn’t let go. Not even when your eyes drift shut for the final time and your chest stills.

Hunter lowered his head, pressing his forehead to yours as he whispered a promise: “Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.”

“Hunter?”

“Kid-,” Crosshair reached out for Omega, not sure if he was trying to comfort and protect her or hell, maybe even himself, as she dropped to her knees beside your body. It took everything in him to not walk away, far from here, but she needs him. His brothers need him.

They all watched helplessly as Omega finally noticed the blood pooling around your body, “She's bleeding! Tech, why are you just sitting there?! Help her!”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do, Omega. The wound was too deep, she was losing too much blood. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“No, I don’t believe that. There has to be something we can do!” She pressed her tiny hands against the wound while she begged through tears: “Wake up! Talk to me, say something, anything! Please, open your eyes!”

“Ad’ika, she’s gone,” Hunter swallowed around the lump in his throat, his lower lip quivered when he pulled the small clone into his arms, “She’s gone.”

Mando’a translation

Parjir. – Victory

Ner vod – My sister

Cyar’ika – darling/sweetheart

Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum – Daily remembrance of those passed on *I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.*

Ad’ika – Little one

[karasbroken]

Sixth story, I'm going to run out soon! The first bit of this could be a little mini-fic of its own. But I decided to write a whole long exposition on attraction, loneliness, and vulnerability, on top of that.

The basic plot is Aeryn and John are on edge for their own reasons, have a stupid fight, and stop working out together. Aeryn hurts herself trying to fix something and they end up spending a bunch of time together as John takes care of her, which brings them closer again. Lots of Aeryn thinking about John being hot stuff happens along the way.

Rating: T    |   Word Count: 12,481   |    Tags: Post-"PK Tech Girl", Angst, Bickering, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension

“Are you distressed, John Crichton?” Aeryn Sun heard Zhaan’s voice right before she entered the central chamber. Sun had expected the room to be empty at this arn. She was uninterested in making conversation, particularly with an unhappy John. But while she should have left, curiosity drove Aeryn to slip into the shadow of ridge near the door instead, and listen.

“Oh you know, Zhaan, just another pity session as I contemplate the cosmic joke that is my life.”

“You haven't seemed yourself lately, John. But I do not see the humor in it.”

“Me either.” Neither spoke for a few microts. “I just can't stop thinking about Gilina.”

Aeryn hadn't expected to hear the name. It had been more than ten solar days since they left the Zelbinion behind. But as soon as he said it, the nausea that was becoming familiar stirred to life.

“The Peacekeeper tech? Why does she still trouble you?” Zhaan had barely met the woman, having been aboard Moya through the entire encounter. The priest hadn't really seen them together.

“Lots of reasons, starting with wondering whether I got her killed.”

Aeryn thought it was even odds. The tech was intelligent; rewiring a hundred-cycle-old defense screen in under five arns with mismatched, equally ancient cables would have been impressive for a team of techs. And Renaez had that shy, self-effacing demeanor that many low ranking techs learned to adopt. It was protection from the misplaced anger or unreasonable expectations of disgruntled pilots and impatient commanders.

But Crais was always mercurial. Lies and false innocence wouldn't save the tech if the loss of the Marauder required a scapegoat. And if Gilina let slip what truly happened on the Zelbinion, death would be a mercy.

Zhaan was more reassuring than Aeryn would have been. “If we had not found the Zelbinion ourselves, Gilina may very well have died when the Sheyang returned. Whatever her fate afterward, it should not lie on your conscience.”

“Maybe not, but… I keep thinking I should have asked her to come with us.”

“That would not have pleased Rigel or D’Argo.”

“Well, we owed it to her. What about you, Zhaan? Would you have let me bring her on Moya?”

“If you wished it, John. But that doesn't mean I would have approved of the idea. You do not know the Peacekeepers as we do. What they are, how they think. She would have found it very difficult to leave that life behind.”

“She couldn't be worse at it than Aeryn. At least Gilina wouldn't be impossible to live with, or trying to kill everyone we meet.”

Sun felt the impact of his words like a slap...

[waywardsou2]

howdy! this is @stars-n-spice sending you asks for the Bad Batch Ask Game :D

3, 8, 19, 34, & 50! 🩵💫

Ah Thank you so much for sending these in! I'll get to them right away.

First: Question 3 - What’s your favorite episode? Why?

I am stuck between two favourite. Episode 16 of Season 1 and Episode 15 of Season 3. Episode 16 because I loved watching their team work, the desperation and planning, the working together and the massive challenge they overcame. Their home, the only one they had ever known and it was destroyed and they had to make their way through the ruins of their home and birth place to get to safety and freedom. I liked how even though Crosshair was still in the early stages of kissing Empire boot he still remembered they were his brothers, he trust them to get out of there, he trusted omega. And he helped save her. Despite him being pessimistic and moody the whole time and not wanting anything to do with Omega. He. Saved. Her.

And with Episode 15, the finale. It was the end, but it was overall very well done. I was so overcome with so many emotions, but they were good emotions. Rampart getting what he deserved and Nala Se doing what she could till the very end. Emery realising that she could do better than what she had been given by the Empire. Hemlock falling of that bridge. Was so satisfying, he deserved a gruesome death but what we got was still fantastic. Seeing Hunter and Crosshair team up, Wrecker be the absolute beast that he was. The Whumpage we got from the capture of the Crosshiar, Hunter and Wrecker. Echo's team up with Emery. Omega saving those children and releasing the Zilo beast. I could go on and on and this will be way to long if I keep going but you get the jist.

Question 8 - What song(s) do you associate with the Bad Batch?

Hymn for the Weekend - Coldplay (this one just in general idk it fits the vibe in my head)

In the end - Black Veil Brides (for all the cool fight scenes and how hard they fight for each other and their missions)

New Divide - Linkin Park (The tension between Hunter and Crosshair)

Something Real - Post Malone (literally anything sad that happen. TECHHHH)

The Summoning - Sleep Token (the general vibe for everything moody and sad)

Punk Tactics - Joey Valance and Brae (for all the cool fighting montages)

I don't really know how to explain it, they just fit the vibes in my head, listen to them.

Question 19 - What are some head canons you have about Crosshair?

I don't have any yet. I think maybe that he knew about the inhibiter chips long before everything and removed it but witheld it from his brothers. TBH IDK but Crosshair is my favourite so I'll come up with some eventually.

ACUTALLY, that Echo taught him how to cope with his missing hand, yadda, yadda yadda, like I said IDK yet.

Question 34 - Which Batcher would you like to kick in the shins?

Crosshair or Tech. Crosshair for leaving his brothers. The Empire was never going to do good by him and I wish he had seen it like his brothers, I wish he had trusted and listened to them.

And Tech for sacrificing himself! WHY?!?! He never should have died. He didn't deserve it. I want him back.

Question 50 - What are you going to miss most about the show?

I think just all of it in general, I just recently got interested in the show. I wasn't interested in it when it first came out but last week I decided to give it another try and I suddenly became obsessed, and now it's over. And I'm just going to miss all of it. I'm going to miss the comfort and the character development and the dynamics and...just literally everything.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASKS THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN!!!

I hope to see you around the fandom haha. May the Force be with you!

[bearbluebooks]

Chapter 7 Christmas in Velaris

When 29 year old Gwyn moves back to Velaris, her new neighbor turns out to be less new than she first expected. With a new bookstore and old debts, Gwyn finds herself in a world of trouble. Do Christmas miracles exist or do they only happen in books and movies? What role does the Grinch tech genius play in this?

Read Chapter 1 here, or Chapter 7 here

17:45

To become rich was never an aspiration that fueled her soul, as long as she had a roof over her head and happiness in her heart. 

For Gwyn, materialism was never about possession. It was about the appreciation of the big things and the small moments. Whenever Gwyn bought something it had meaning, function, or need. That’s why everything she owned fit in her car. One of the boxes contained the many ornaments that she carefully placed in her Christmas tree two nights ago- the knitted star her mother made her when she was nine, and the mini Catrin and Gwyn puppets they crafted together in kindergarten.

Lucky for her, because her bank account alone would not make her happy. When she dared to look at her balance this morning, the number she expected to see was wrong. 

So wrong. 

It was a tough realization, once again, that idealism only got you so far until it met reality.

Bills had wrecked the small savings she amassed over the years. So much so that she didn’t have any reserves to fall back on. And that scared her, to live in constant worry of the unexpected. 

After seeing her balance, she knew to expect trouble sooner or later- a broken down car, a heating bill, or another collapsed roof. The possibilities alone gave her anxiety. 

On top of that, she was a new business owner with no business to profit from. She had to be inventive. And quick.

So very quick.

Otherwise, it would have all been for nothing.

Even if she won the Christmas competition, she still needed to gather 10.000 dollars more.

Luckily, Azriel seemed more inclined to join forces after yesterday. He even seemed to have fun at the Christmas farm. 

Miracles were still possible, she thought with a smile. She hoped it extended to her financial stability- which definitely needed a miracle.

She decided to give herself the weekend to come up with a plan. 

Tonight, she would go out and forget her worries. She deserved that. To be with her old friends, and to make new memories. To forget all troubles, and maybe get into some new ones. 

Who was she kidding? Even with alcohol, she needed control over her body and the situation.

A message popped on her phone, it took her out of her ruminating thoughts immediately. It was the guy from two nights ago, Troy.

Troy: Hi Gwyn, Troy here, the Christmas Guy, how’s the tree treating you? Not giving you any trouble?😉

Gwyn: Hi Troy. Not anymore ☺️ If he does I know who to contact to kick his ass.

Troy: You know it. Happy to help.

Troy: Speaking of help, would you like to help me finish dinner this Saturday night?

Gwyn: …

She didn’t know what to reply. Her heart beat faster, and many reasons flashed inside her mind as to why she should say no. She forced her mind to find reasons to say yes- he was handsome, he had the physic of someone who grew up on protein shakes and mountain exercise. And he seemed kind. 

The idea of a date terrified her to her core.

Ever since her mum and Catrin died eleven years ago, she had a hard time opening up. To trust the world and the people in it. Ever since she experienced the worst, it became impossible to trust the good existed too. Life was unpredictable, and people were unreliable. The only thing you had control over was yourself.

The safety of her home became a cage of her own making. She had reasons to crave that cage, but there was also an internal wall that she built between her and the outside world. A wall that became thicker with every year that she stayed inside that cage. 

Nothing happened to her there- nothing bad, but also not a lot of good. 

She had Mouse, and jobs here and there, but she craved friendship, experiences, love, and life.

When she stepped into her car one week ago, it was out of a desperate attempt to shatter that wall. Gwyn knew that after so many years of building that wall up, only a jackhammer could get it down. And nobody would do it for her, she would have to be that jackhammer. 

Growth happens outside your comfort zone, she reminded herself as she stepped into her car with shaking legs. A deceitful string connected to safety grew taut the further she drove. It urged her to get back to her cage, back to the safety of the known. 

Instead, she focused on her heart, where the wish for happiness resided, and on the whisper of strength that beckoned her to trust her ability to handle the unknown.

Before she knew it, that string became weaker and weaker, until only resolve remained and she had the keys to her new future in her hands.

Maybe this was another possibility. A chance to break down her other walls. So she listened to that same inner whisper and replied.

Gwyn: sure. I’m good at eating. 

As soon as she replied, she threw her phone and source of fear as far away as she could, in hopes of the feeling following the object in motion.

It didn’t, it stayed right there in her gut.

She didn’t have time to ruminate on the feeling for too long. Nesta would be here in fifteen minutes. 

And she still needed to pick out an outfit. Mouse sat on the bed and she could swear she saw judgment in her eyes when she wore the purple sequin dress. Quickly Gwyn changed into an old dress from Lilly. The long satin green dress had an intricate light brown pattern that spread across the bust and the skirt. The small straps were adjustable and allowed her to fit the dress perfectly to her body. Nobody looked at shoes on nights out, and she only brought two pairs so her all-stars had to do. With quick hands, she braided her hip-length hair. When she looked in the mirror, she was quite proud of herself. She usually avoided make-up, but tonight she wore brown eyeliner and dark red lipstick. The dress complimented her overall look perfectly, and she felt good. She felt beautiful. 

A glance at her phone showed the time: 6 pm. Normally Nesta was always on time. 

A knock on her door proved her right. 

With one quick grab of her coat and one final kiss on Mouse's head, she made her way downstairs.

Before she opened the door, she left the lock on the door to ask “Nesta?”

Safety was still important. It was all about balance, she reminded herself.

“The one and only,” the voice answered. With a smile on her face, Gwyn opened the door fully.

Before she knew it, she enveloped her friend in a hug. Neither of them let go immediately. It felt as if they both craved the comfort of each other's arms and nostalgia mixed with opportunity took over.

When they both let go after some time, Nesta whistled as she said “Gwynnie, you look hot.”

“So do you!” Gwyn replied enthusiastically. Nesta looked beautiful in her short beige dress. The long brown boots had such high heels that they made her just as tall as Gwyn. The faux leather jacket finished the look into something stylish yet sophisticated.

“Let’s meet Emerie, she is already at Rita’s.” 

“She’s bringing Mor, you remember her right?”

Mor was the gorgeous blonde who was in the same year as Cassian, Nesta’s boyfriend, Rhysand, and Azriel. Together, they were known as the ‘inner circle’, or the most popular people in school.

“I do, I can’t wait to see them again.”

“Let’s go then,” she said as Nesta already dragged her by her elbow towards the bar. 

—--

21:21

The evening was still young, unlike the memories they shared at the back of the dimly lit bar. “Remember when Miss Gold made you write your name 1000 times because you forgot which line you had to read?” Emerie reminisced.

Nesta joined “Or when we all had to be in detention because we wouldn’t say who pulled the fire alarm to get out of gym class?” The memory made her laugh.

The feeling of her past becoming intertwined with her present made her body warm with happiness. The feeling surprised her, it had been a long time since she felt that way.

“Are you back for good?” Emerie asked as soon as they found their familiar footing. The question woke her up from the warm haze of nostalgia. Planting her firmly in the present trenches of reality.

It was bound to come sooner or later. The need for an explanation- why she abandoned them all those years ago. Without a warning, without a goodbye, and without any further contact. But not tonight, she wasn’t ready. And she wasn’t having that conversation in Rita’s. Tonight one word was all she could give, “Yes.”

“Good,” Nesta replied solemnly.

With a smile, she looked at her surroundings and let her senses become overtaken by life. By the bustling sounds of the music. The slight sting of gin mixed with the sweetness of the tonic. The changing lights illuminated dancing faces in short intervals. The smell of sweat mixed with perfume and alcohol.

Then she took in the sight in front of her. Mor sitting next to Emerie, who held a possessive hand on her knee. It looked like they had been a couple for years, but apparently, it had only been three months, when Emerie finally gathered the courage to ask the blonde femme fatale out on a date. The rest was history.

Nesta sat on Gwyn’s right, close enough to whisper things about the people on the dancefloor in her ear, “Look there’s Lola, she’s married with two kids, whenever she needs a break, she comes here.”

Mor had secured them a VIP table in a secluded area with a separate table and bottle service, it provided a perfect view of the dancefloor. Gwyn had never experienced such luxury going out. When she was old enough to drink, one friend had taken her to a shady bar in town, she got so drunk she forgot half of the night. It terrified her to her core that she had no memories of such a big chunk of time. She spent weeks trying to remember, to no avail. She promised herself she would never put herself in that position ever again.

Tonight was no different. No matter how much free alcohol came her way, or the luxury setting, she would not have more than three drinks. 

As the communications officer at Black Inc. Mor had ‘connections’ that reached far beyond the ‘depressing building’, as she called it. 

“Thank you for your battle against the Grinch, it’s a tough but noble fight,” she said into her ear. Although the area was removed from the dancing crowd, the music was still loud in her ears.

“I pinched myself when I saw the Christmas tree in the lobby. It’s still undecorated but baby steps,” she said with a shrug.

With a smile, Gwyn said, “It can’t be that bad.”

“Oh girl, you have no idea,” Mor replied with a scoff. “Last year he wrote a program that flagged everything that had to do with Christmas. Even the word ‘balls’ was off limits.”

“What happened if you used it?” Gwyn dared to ask.

“Don’t ask,” Emerie interrupted.

Gwyn would definitely ask Azriel the next time she saw him. 

Which was much sooner than she thought, when she spotted two imposing figures entering Rita’s. 

With shocked eyes she looked at Nesta “I didn’t know Azriel was coming tonight?”

With a shrug, Nesta said, “He rarely joins, but when we said you were coming he suddenly had a clear schedule.”

Fine. This would be fine. They were on good terms, at least she thought so. They picked out a Christmas tree after all. Why did this feel different? More intimate?

Her hands started to sweat and her heart beat out of her chest.

He spotted her in an instant as if he could feel her presence before he saw her. His intense stare never left hers, until Cassian and Azriel reached their table.

He looked devastatingly handsome in his black pants and black dress shirt. Part of his sleeves were rolled up to reveal black tattoos. When he came closer, she noticed his unbuttoned shirt, which revealed even more tattoos and a trail of obsidian hair. The sight was almost obscene, and suddenly warmth spread through Gwyn’s body for different reasons.

“Hello ladies,” Cassian said in a bouldering tone that could be heard over the loud music. “Hello sweetheart,” Cassian said as he kissed Nesta.

Azriel remained silent as he took up the space to Mor’s left, opposite of Gwyn. Instead of a greeting, he ordered two whiskeys from the server.

Cassian sat on Nesta’s other side, rubbing loving circles on her lower back as he asked in such a way that made her feel like no time had passed at all, “Gwyn, how long has it been? It’s nice to see you again.”

When Gwyn and Azriel dated, Cassian became one of Gwyn’s friends too. Nesta was her best friend, and Cassian was Azriel’s, there were natural confines to their relationship that needed them to be friendly. His kind heart, caring nature, and shared love for music made it extremely easy to the point where she considered him one of her closest friends too. With that old connection in mind, she answered honestly, “Too long.”

“Enough talking, let’s dance,” Mor said as she dragged Emerie to the dancefloor. Before Emerie allowed herself to be swept away, she downed her glass of red wine at impressive speed.

“Let’s show them what real dancing looks like,” Nesta said as she guided Cassian to the center of the dancefloor.

Suddenly, Azriel, Gwyn, and four empty chairs were the only ones left.

Tension replaced the earlier easiness, and their silence only added to it.

“How are your muscles?” he asked suddenly breaking the silence.

Her entire body was aching, she could hardly walk and even lifting her gin tonic hurt- none of which she would ever admit. Instead, she said without looking into his devastating hazel eyes, “Fine, thank you. How are yours?”

Without saying anything, he left his seat across from her to take up Nesta’s former seat- right next to her. The closeness revealed his intoxicating cedar smell. The fragrance entered her nose and overtook all of her senses.

“What do you think about Rita’s?” he asked into her ear. The baritone voice sent shivers down her back. 

“I like it,” she answered honestly as she wished he would ask her something else just so she could hear his voice again.

Instead, she blurted out, “Is it true you banned the word ‘balls’ in your office?” at a speed that made her wish there was a better filter between her mind and her mouth.

Azriel almost spat out his whiskey, and she couldn’t blame him, “What?” he asked with a red face that came from nearly suffocating.

“I heard you build some kind of Grinch program?” she asked, unwilling to change the subject. It was better to commit than to drop it, she decided.

He closed his eyes for two seconds to gather strength as he continued “Black Inc. is a place of business, Christmas has no place in it.”

“You are a Grinch,” she teased with a slap on his muscular arms, “What’s the harm in a little Christmas joy?” She dared to ask. “If it makes your employees happy, isn’t that good for business?”

His eyes looked hurt, not mad, which was strange especially when he didn’t respond further.

Instead, he asked, “Would you like to dance?”

Playful banter was one thing, physical closeness was another. It was one of the walls she had carefully built. And it felt like he was standing there hammering away at her defenses. But something inside her screamed to let him. 

So she did.

“Okay,” she said as he guided them towards the dancefloor. His enormous hand encompassed hers in a protective grasp that ensured nobody was able to separate them until they reached their destination.

His imposing presence caused people to naturally make way for them until they reached a spot in the back of the dancefloor.

It had been a while since Gwyn danced outside of the safety of her bedroom. She suddenly felt very self-conscious of every movement her body made- the way her hips swayed, and her inability to come up with anything to do with her hands. 

Azriel seemed to be in tune with her worries, as he moved closer and placed his hands on her hips. In swaying motions, he guided her to the rhythm of the music. 

At first, her body tensed under the sudden touch before she felt the scars of his hands on the naked skin of her body and she was somehow transported back to when they were both young. To when he would pick her up in his old jeep, to take her to Rhysand’s house where secret parties were held every other week. How he would lead them to a secluded spot, where they would get lost in each other’s touch.

Her entire body relaxed into the safety of old trust and older memories.

Love in This Club boomed in the background and it felt oddly fitting.

“Is this okay?” He said into her ear, as he held her in his arms.

“Yes.” She assured him with a smile as she moved her hands to embrace his neck. 

Song after song followed, and the whole world faded away. Together they swayed to the rhythm of the music and the beating of their hearts.

At a certain point, Azriel moved behind Gwyn, his hands never leaving her waist. 

“You’re like a dream, Gwyn,” he said as he leaned down.

The compliment from his lips made her even more aware of his effect on her- on the heat that spread throughout her body. All she could focus on was all the points where their bodies connected which were suddenly on fire. Instead of answering with a compliment, she allowed her body to melt into his, like two puzzle pieces lost to time and space. She let her head fall into his muscular chest which allowed them to move as one. With closed eyes, she savored the moment. His strong body behind her felt like a protective cocoon of pleasant touch and a promise of safety. Without thinking, she let out a breath of pure contentment.

Until her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Then it buzzed again.

When she looked at the screen it was Troy. Her heart dropped into her stomach. Dread spread through her body as she read the words.

Troy: It’s a date.

Troy: I’ll pick you up at eight.

Azriel seemed to have looked at her phone on instinct. Shit.

“It’s not what you-“ 

She couldn’t see the hurt in his eyes, but she could hear it in his voice as he said “This was a mistake.” 

Before she could explain he already moved out of the bubble they created and the the whole world crashed around her. Lights flashed in her eyes. People crowded around her. The music boomed in her ears. And suddenly, she was alone again. 

She couldn’t help but think it was for the best. Azriel deserved someone better. Someone who wasn’t broken.

She wasn’t a dream. It was a dream. To think she could ever be with Azriel again. The past was the past, and she was a fool to think otherwise. She forced herself not to cry as she said goodbye to Nesta, Cassian, Emerie, and Mor. 

As soon as she left Rita’s, a silent waterfall of tears ran down her cold face. The stinging sensation accompanied her all the way home. Back to where she belonged. Where it was safe. 

[soaps-hoe-141]

Gaymers Unite

Again thank you very much for this perfectly fitting Watcher and Konig art @foreverrunningfree

So as requested by my proofreader and @czigonas the first pride month present is done, hope y'all enjoy. Also thank you @embruhh for being patient with my questions about Scots, feel free to correct me if I fucked something up

Pairing: Konig x trans!OC (Watcher: I have lore posts on my pinned masterlist)

WC: 8.7k

Synopsis: Lil bit of fluff, some tech support, most smut though, hope ya enjoy

Warnings: NSFW 18+, OC is transmasc

Green eyes stared hard. The tall German had kept those eyes on him from the moment Watcher had entered the store and drug him along too. His cheeks were rosy pink beneath that black mask as they walked up and down the aisles, looking at the many hyper-realistic dildos and harnesses. Konig’s arms were crossed over his chest, his fingers tapping nervously atop his bicep in time with his own racing heartbeat. “Fyn,” the strained voice spoke beneath his mask, “Please can we go?” The ginger turned to give the tall man a curious look, they had discussed coming here but the big man was starting to change his mind.

Slowly a smile erupted on that freckled face, noticing the anxiety in the other man immediately before he answered quietly, “How are ye sleekit, Koni? You say things that make even me blush when we’re in bed.” Konig went even more red at that comment, and his dark red brows rose into his hairline as the shorter man spoke. He raised a hand towards those plush, pink lips and shook his head quickly. Simultaneously he raised his other hand to his own face putting a single finger up to his mask in an attempt to shush the Scotsman who only seemed more amused by the futile gesture.

That strained voice came out from underneath the mask once more as he shook his head, “No, Fyn. Do not- Stop talking. Please,” Konig was stammering over his attempts at speaking now, pleading with the ginger in front of him to stay quiet. “This is not- You cannot say those things here, Fyn. We are in public, anyone could hear-” Green eyes raised and he glanced down the aisle at a woman who stopped momentarily to look at them with a bit of a tilted head before she decided not to stop and continued on. 

Watcher continued to smile good-naturedly even after glancing down to look at the disappearing woman. As soon as she was gone the ice blue gaze returned to the shelf in a moment, “It’s alright Koni, no one cares. But if it’s geein ya the boak we’ll leave, come on then,” the shorter man reached for the huge hand that dwarfed his own in comparison. Long, lithe fingers wrapped around the warm, gloved hand as he finally headed back down the aisle for the door. Maybe dragging Konig into Luke & Jack’s wasn’t the best idea after all, even if he didn’t want to come by himself he should have known the tall man would have had his reservations about it.

~~~~~Three Days Later~~~~~

The door opened quietly behind the completely engrossed Scotsman. Watcher was so busy playing his FPS he didn’t even hear the squeaking of hinges over the sounds of shooting. The quietly creeping form behind him was careful not to give himself away either. The loud, usually overly sweet, Scotsman watched his screen fade to black before switching to his teammate’s view. Immediately the young man yelled out, “Are ya takin the fuckin piss!? How did ya no trade me ya numpty!?”

Watcher huffed with frustration as he tapped the top of his mic to mute himself, continuing to curse under his breath at the screen and shake his head at whoever he was watching. His teammate didn’t last much longer after that, maybe a few more seconds, before he too died. The screen faded to black before a single word flashed across the monitor, ‘Defeat’. Fyn’s jaw tensed angrily, his fingers tapping against the desk as the match finally ended and he pressed the button at the top of the screen to requeue.

A pale hand found the lithe shoulder in the next moment, the vine tattoos on full display as the Scotsman wasn’t wearing a shirt. At first the smaller man jumped with his eyes blown wide, his hands coming up to knock whoever was touching him away. In the next moment though he saw the backs of those familiar tattooed hands, a couple light and faded scars along his knuckles, and the fingernails painted in a fresh coating of black. A familiar sight that never failed to make his face light up as he caught sight of the scarred and beautiful face above him.

The racing of the ginger’s heart finally stopped as Watcher relaxed into an easy smile, looking up into dark green eyes, “Where huv ye been, Koko? Been bored and alone all day, now I’m sittin here all scunnert, not a bloody soul in the world knows how ta play this fuckin game and especially not these four dafties.” That slight tone of annoyance came back in a moment before the ginger took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and then returned his gaze to Konig with a forced smile. Though his look softened as he watched the other man, it always did. Like a balm for his very soul…if he had one.

In response the German moved his hand to rest atop the pile of ginger curls, running through the thick hair as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to those lips. When Konig pulled away he smiled warmly down at him in return before finally he answered, “I’m sorry, Newt.” There was a quiet giggle from the Scotsman who still couldn’t believe that was what Konig had decided upon calling him when they weren’t on base of course. All because he had a Great Crested Newt tattooed across his collarbone among the vines, dog-roses, and wood anemone. He could have chosen between a Red-Eyed Crocodile Skin and an Adder and instead the man had gone with Newt. Though he had to admit it was endearing.

When another kiss pressed against the many curls this time Watcher's eyes narrowed at the tall man, wondering what it was the German wanted. It wasn't that Konig wasn’t sweet all the time, he was, sometimes overbearingly so. It was more of a feeling that pulsed in Fyn's gut that told him that the tall, red haired man behind him was awaiting the perfect moment to do something. Or to at least say something. The other man had never been all that good at hiding his expressions, a side effect of always wearing a mask wherever he went. Your facial expression typically became much more loose in private when you never had to worry about it while out in public.

Konig didn't seem willing to share his intentions though as he added on to his apology, "I was out buying a few things. I did not think you would be so lonely here without me, you seemed very interested in your game when I left." Had he been interested in the game? Fyn honestly couldn't remember, he had a tendency to get sucked into them when he started playing. To be honest the apartment could have been on fire and the Scot probably never would have noticed unless someone physically drug him away from his PC. As Konig finished his sentence though a loud noise came from the computer that caught Watcher's attention in a second.

The shorter man turned in a moment, sliding his chair forward back under the desk as the countdown for his next game began. Still though the Scotsman answered him, "Well I was…Felt very neglected, Koni." It was a blatant lie, and one that Konig could see through easily, and worked to draw out a smile on the big man's face in response. When the ice blue eyes flicked back up to the other man he saw the dark red eyebrows lift in a silent apology, the huge hand that had settled on his shoulder giving a gentle squeeze. "It's ok, I forgive ya, unlike the bastarts in this game," Konig gave a light laugh at that as he settled against the back of the chair to watch as the Scotsman readied for his next match.

As Fyn setup traps and an ambush on site in the pregame the tall German behind him scrunched up his nose at the voice he heard through the headphones, “We do not sound like that, Fyn. You know I hate when you play her.” The ginger merely gave a quiet smile as he stayed laser focused, Konig had never liked this character and it never failed to amuse him. It wasn’t like there was a Scottish character to cause him the same sort of annoyance, thankfully.

As the countdown for the start of the round began Konig leaned down against the back of the chair with an anxious look in his eyes. The young man was completely engrossed at this point, he didn't see the gleam in those green eyes, or the way his scruffy chin settled just behind where his head was. As an enemy peeled around the corner the chess game between them began, "I've been thinking," there was a quiet hum from Watcher but it was obvious he wasn't really paying attention, "That I may have overreacted in that store the other day." There was another soft smile that appeared on those plush, pink lips but other than that the young man stayed completely focused on what he was doing.

The fingers of that huge catcher's mitt slid back into the curly locks along the back of Watcher's head. Nails dragging lightly against his scalp as the German successfully drew out another low, satisfied hum from the young Scotsman. Still though the other remained completely focused on his game, finishing the first round with a win. In a softer voice Konig continued, "I, um, well it made me a bit nervous." There was a nod from the ginger, they'd already talked about this both before and after entering the store so to hear him bringing it all up again was a bit…unexpected.

A hard swallow as those long, thick fingers continued to play with his hair softly and Konig pushed on, "I wasn't sure what else you might want to do with a-” The tall man stopped for a second trying to think of the word before finally continuing, “I believe you called it a packer?" Fyn nodded slowly again, the young man's attention now divided between his game and the huge man currently bent in half to talk softly just behind his ear. The second round ended with another win for the Scot's team due mostly in part to the ginger's work. Any time you wipe an entire team it's safe to say you did the heavy lifting.

This was getting a bit long winded now, in truth. Konig was drawing out what he was trying to say, his anxiety building with every extra second it took him to get out where his mind was leading his words. The tall man cleared his throat and pushed onward, "I know you said you've never used one before," the Scot nodded again. It was the truth, Watcher had come out early on in highschool to his parents who had been completely supportive of him from the moment he had told them. That support had eased some of that dysphoria, the need to prove to himself he indeed a man. Especially after his top surgery it had never really mattered to him what was in his pants after that. Or it had mattered much less, at least for a few blissful years.

Then about the time he'd started to get more comfortable with the idea of having something down there and even sex, he'd gotten himself arrested for hacking something he really should not have been hacking. And by that point packing just became a hindrance so it was just easier not to even let himself think about it anymore. He just kept himself busy and avoided the thought of bottom dysphoria as best he could. Though over the past few months that dysphoria had been rearing its ugly head. Turning his bad days to worse even though he hid them well, from everyone except Konig anyway. It wasn’t like most of the other guys knew he was transmasc anyway, well no one except for Laswell and Price anyway. So even if they had noticed something off it was doubtful anyone would have guessed what it really was.

However, the German always saw him when he was looking at himself in the mirror. He watched as the ginger criticized everything he still found inherently feminine about himself. The shape of his face, the way his hips looked, how short he was, and the list went on and on. The tall man had also noticed the other man's seemingly worsening anxieties about every little thing that didn't even have anything to do with his body. Konig had always been hyper aware of everyone else around him and when it came to his little Scotsman the truth of that statement only increased tenfold. "Fyn," there was a small hum as if to say, 'Yes dear?' so Konig continued, "Would you- Will you-" The tall man couldn't seem to figure out how to ask this without feeling like an idiot for saying it aloud, before finally he just blurted out, "I want you to top me."

Fyn's hand froze on the mouse, his icy eyes blowing wide with surprise. The screen faded to black a second later as an enemy came around the corner and lit Watcher up without so much as a single shot in return from the overly competitive Scotsman. The camera view changed to one of his teammates, but the young man was frozen in his chair while he stared at the screen with a surprised unseeing look as he tried to process what his much larger boyfriend had just said. No scratch that, what his impossibly large and extremely dangerous boyfriend had just demanded of him.

"Ye say wha?" Fyn turned around in the chair to look up at Konig with that wide-eyed expression but the sound of the round loss and the start of the next forced his attention back to the screen. Though it was very obvious that Watcher was paying no attention to what was happening in the game. Completely forgetting to set his equipment up for the next round. His teammates shouting questioningly at him in the voice chat.

Icy hues kept flicking to the hand still resting on his shoulder as he played through the round to the best of his abilities. Even distracted he managed to kill two of the other team before he felt the large index finger tracing absently over a freckled shoulder. Swallowing hard, the young man turned again looking up at Konig before he asked, “Ya want me ta…top ye?” The German watched him for a brief moment before giving a hesitant nod.

Slowly the young man’s head tilted as he looked up at the other, taking a deep breath as he thought about it for a moment. “Koni, I’d love ta, but I dinnae…Well I mean I dinnae have a real prick,” Fyn laughed lightly as he shook his head. Trying not to upset himself at that statement, it wasn’t exactly something he enjoyed having to admit aloud. Another round started in the next heartbeat and the Scotsman returned to his game, his mind whirling with thoughts.

Clearing his throat the German stamped down some of his nervousness, “I know that little Newt, but-” Watcher lifted a hand to stop him, before pointing back at the screen as the round started. Green eyes focused on the game again, quieting as he tried to let the young man focus. It wasn’t often that Fyn got the chance to play anymore with work and their relationship, so while he had the chance Konig was content to let him play, at least until he decided he was done.

As the round came to an end Watcher hurriedly looked back to the tall man as the German spoke again, “So I went shopping today, yes?” The Scotsman gave a tentative, slow nod as Konig retreated out the door for a quick moment and then returned with a shopping bag. “So I got you something to, you know, make up for my overreaction yesterday.” He shoved the bag forward towards the young man, eyebrows raised expectantly as Fyn took it from him.

Watcher didn’t open it immediately, weighing the bag in his hand for a moment as he looked up at Konig with a small smile, “Ya got me something? It isnae my birthday, Koni," the ginger gave him a wry smile as he looked up. As he opened the bag though his icy eyes slid down, taking a quick glance inside the wry smile turned into a beaming grin.

An incredulous laugh left the young man’s mouth as he shook his head and shuffled through the bag inspecting the contents inside, "I know that it is not your birthday little Newt, but you have been talking about it for a while now so I bought it for you…well I bought a few of them, I was not sure which was best. I am sorry," the tall man's cheeks were blood red by now. Green eyes looking anywhere but at the Scotsman.

The shorter man was too busy digging around in the bag to notice the other's nervousness though. Fyn was looking at the two different harnesses and three different hyper-realistic dicks in their boxes. Ice blue eyes widened as he inspected them, one was specifically for packing, smaller than the other two and without any potential to be used in the bedroom. The other two though were definitely meant to be used in bed. The mere size of the both of them made him laugh a little bit.

Ginger brows rose along his forehead as he pulled out the biggest one, eyes blowing wide before his features settled into a smirk, "So Koni, my prick is bigger than yers now." A nervous laugh escaped the man currently towering over him before Fyn leaned back in the chair, a smug smile on his face. "Ya want me ta top ya then, yeah?" Konig's large hand lifted to scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck before he gave a hesitant nod. Watcher shrugged and gave a quick nod before turning back to his still ongoing game, "Alright then I will." The tall man behind him shifted on the balls of his feet, the floor beneath him creaking with the effort.

Still the game continued on the monitor. Watcher died first and he spun in his chair again to look up at the still quietly watching German. A smile was still on that pretty face as the Scot reached for Konig's hand, pulling him down to press a kiss to the larger man's lips. "Always so willing to please aren't ya, Koko?" The tall man nodded his reddened face just in front of the much prettier face in front of him. As he tried to pull away though Fyn's fingers tightened around his wrist and the other found a grip in the collar of his shirt, "I didnae say ya could go nowhere. We were havin ourselves a moment." The current round still raged on behind him and completely forgotten for the moment as Watcher focused on the man in front of him instead.

The tall man's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, drawing the icy gaze for a moment before Fyn dove back in. Heated and needy despite how cool and relaxed he appeared on the outside. It was impossible to resist the sweet taste on the Scots tongue, the large hands bracing on the armrests on either side of the smaller body. There was a slight hum from Konig’s throat just before the ginger pulled away with a smirk and sat back in his chair, leaving the German slightly out of breath and with a stain of red across his cheeks. Green eyes blinked a few times as he had to force himself not to shift and adjust himself inside his pants.

Before the tall man could even utter a protest Watcher was back to his game, ignoring the slightly heavy breathing just behind him. It was like the Scotsman hadn’t just had his tongue down Konig’s throat. A cautious step to stand behind the chair once more and he saw the bowl of ice cream sitting at the edge of the desk. No wonder Fyn had tasted so good. Leaning down over him again, Konig whispered just loud enough to hear over the game, “I thought we were having a moment?”

A hint of a smile found his delicate features as someone yelled over the headset, that the German didn’t quite understand but he knew it was good, excited even. Probably something to do with the kill that the ginger hit on one of the enemy players. In the next few moments Fyn hit three headshots in a row to win the round before leaning his head back and raising a hand to pull Konig back down. His lips pressed hard against the taller man’s, dragging him into another heavy kiss during the short pause between rounds without even turning the chair around this time.

When Watcher pulled away again his smirk was even bigger as he said, “I think ya may be my good luck charm. Haven’t had a shot all night till ya walked in here.” Konig gave a light laugh leaning a bit further towards the ginger who quickly pulled away, with a teasing shake of the head as he returned to his game. Dark red brows knitted together in confusion, as the German huffed a bit, watching the young man return to playing his game. A bit frustrated after being left without the ability to taste the sweetness of that beautiful mouth again.

Fyn was playing more than one game now. As he stood behind him for the start of the round though it became very obvious that the tall man was more than willing to play along. Surprisingly light fingers grazed along Watcher’s jaw, drawing another smile from the young man who was more than pleased to receive the attention. Leaning into the light touch soft kisses found the long, freckled throat in the next few moments. “Yeah, just like that,” the young man whispered.

A voice sounded in the headset which made the both of them pause for a quick moment until Watcher cleared his throat and answered, “Yeah mate, right there. He’s in long…” The German smiled against the thin skin before he resumed the light kisses. The ginger smiled again and whispered, “Sorry, hit the wrong button.” A quiet laugh left the tall man as he continued to nibble lightly at the younger man’s throat.

The soft feeling of a tongue running over his skin made the Scot’s chin raise just a bit, his teeth biting at his bottom lip for a moment as he hummed appreciatively. The other team didn’t even make it on site that round before Konig whispered, “You taste good tonight. What did you do differently little Newt?” Watcher shivered hard at the breath playing over the little patches of saliva left over on his throat from the tall man’s ministrations.

Turning in the chair the young man found his dark green eyes before he shrugged, “Nothin different, but you know…” Fyn leaned forward to tempt Konig towards him before once more sinking back into the chair, the tall man following him as he once more braced on the arm rests with his own excited smile. “I know something that would taste a little better than that.” The blush across Konig’s face deepened even more as he glanced down where the young man’s tattoos disappeared beneath the waistband of his shorts.

Cocking up an eyebrow the German gave a nervous chuckle before asking, “Are you sure? You are in the middle of a game.” Fyn didn’t hesitate to grab a tattooed arm, pulling Konig’s huge hand to his side, sliding it a bit lower to rest gently around one of his hips. “How do you-” The young man hooked a foot into the back of one knee before buckling it and repeating it with the other until the tall man was kneeling in front of him with a surprised look. “Oh,” he breathed out before Watcher had a hand at the back of his head pulling him into another hard kiss, exploring the other’s mouth with a smile still on his lips.

Another round started on the monitor and loud voices were coming from the headset in angry and demanding tones. Fyn just slid the headphones off his ears to settle around his neck for a moment, ignoring his teammates as Konig’s hands gripped at either side of his waist. The young man wrapped his legs around Konig’s waist, lifting his backside off the chair as fingers hooked into the waistband of his shorts and pulled down hurriedly.

The underwear and shorts came off in a smooth motion before Watcher sat back on the chair and unwrapped his legs. The German’s face was red, his breathing even quicker now as he sat back on his heels to take in the sight. Christ he was beautiful, it made him rock hard and needy just seeing his bare, sculpted chest, but now there he was completely bare before him and it was driving the big man insane. His green eyes glanced behind the ginger to the round currently going on in the background, once more catching the sound of the voices yelling in the headset. Fyn didn’t seem too worried about them though so he decided not to worry either.

Konig dove back in, lips finding the freckled skin just over his sharp collarbone. His fingers still worked to pull the shorts down his long legs, throwing them to the side as they finally came off. Watcher was nearly off of the chair now, sitting right on the edge and biting his lip with a bright sheen over his eyes, enjoying the quick pace Konig was currently working at. It did something to the both of them to be doing this where a single press of the wrong button could get them both caught by complete strangers on the internet.

Slowly green hues traveled down, shaking his head slowly as he leaned down, pressing light kisses to the other man’s knee. Sliding up his thigh slowly before glancing up to catch sight of the freckled face above him, cheeks tinged red and eyes alight with anticipation. A thin hand reached up, sliding into dark red locks while Watcher urged him on, “There ya go.” Konig’s lips inched down the inside of Fyn’s thigh, earning a little shift of the man’s hips towards his frustratingly far face.

Just as the German was about to reach his destination though another loud yell came from the headphones and there was an annoyed sigh from the man above him before the fingers in his hair tightened. Fyn stopped him just shy of his prize before he slid his headphones back up onto his ears and his mind began to think up a solution. “Under, Konig, get under the desk,” a skeptical look found the other man’s face as he looked under the desk and then back up to the freckled face.

It wasn’t a joke though, the Scotsman was being completely serious. There was no joking smile, and the sweet look he typically wore had been washed down the drain by now. When Fyn pushed his chair back he gestured towards the desk again and the tall man sighed before whispering, mainly to himself, “If you say so…” It took a moment for him to maneuver underneath before Fyn slid his chair back into place.

There it was, sitting right in front of him, that perfect and dripping core that overpowered nearly every thought in his mind. It was already glistening with apparent arousal, the young man’s hips shifting again as he spoke above him, “How ya crabbit, mate? We’ve still got time, haud yer wheesht and play the game.” Fyn let go of the button before leaning back in the chair, his hand resting on the keyboard and the mouse now.

The young man was naked before his eyes, every tattoo available for him to see. From the vines winding down his sides and stomach to the mingling roots from the tree that Konig knew was tattooed on his back. The Scotsman’s tattoos were more like an artist had painted his skin. That pale and freckled flesh had become a canvas for the tattoo artist, rendering his whole visage even more beautiful than he already was. It was making his own cock throb with need where it was still trapped in his pants. “So beautiful, little Newt,” the man beneath the desk whispered with a breathy sigh.

Roots wrapped around Fyn’s thighs, winding down with the vines till the roots ended on the bottom of his feet and the vines ended on the top. The young Scotsman was a walking display of artistic talent and the sight never failed to impress Konig, especially when he started to compare his own which weren’t nearly as thought out and instead were much more disjointed. Konig looked like someone slapped stamps on him in comparison to the beauty that was the freckled skin in front of him. He reached a hand down, palming himself and easing a bit of that needy ache. Squeezing hard for a few moments as he continued to stare at the dripping depths in front of him.

The hips before him shifted again as Watcher was forced to focus back on the game in front of him. Slowly the man underneath the desk leaned forward again, his gentle fingers tracing a vine up the expanse of his thigh until it started to wind around to his side. Large hands took hold of the thin hips then as he pressed another kiss to one of the larger roots that wrapped around his thigh. He was worshiping that body, making Fyn writhe beneath his soft touch without even really meaning to, Konig just couldn’t help himself whenever he was blessed with the sight of this beautiful body.

Warm air played across the glistening area between his thighs as he drew out a slight jerk of the hips he was still holding onto. Finally Konig’s tongue darted out, licking up the expanse, gathering the slick on his tongue and humming at the taste. Above him Watcher let out a breathy sigh at the feeling before he whispered, “Fuckin hell, took ya long enough.” Konig laughed a bit at the words before he pressed his face between those thighs again, burying himself in the delectable cunt spread out like a feast before him.

One would think the distraction of Konig’s mouth would hurt the performance of his gameplay, that it would prevent him from getting what he needed done. However, it seemed to do the exact opposite. Spurring him on as he peeked a corner getting a headshot just after Konig’s tongue flicked over the head of his dick and drew out a delectable moan. And when the man beneath him started to whisper quiet praises like, “You’re so fuckin wet,” and, “Gott, you taste so good, Newt,” Watcher peeked a corner and headshot every single one of the enemy team. The man took out a whole team in less than thirty seconds with his heart thudding in his chest from the little adrenaline rush and the fact that his boyfriend was currently under the desk going down on him like there was no tomorrow.

The entire situation was truly invigorating. He’d never felt anything like it as one of his teammates was in utter shock currently, just standing in spawn and turned to stare at him. Fyn was ignoring the voices coming through his headphones though at this point, including the valuable callouts, electing instead to enjoy the cute little noises coming from the giant beneath the desk. The game was almost becoming a nuisance though at this point, taking his focus away from how good that tongue felt as it dove into his depths. Lapping and licking like his cunt was an oasis and Konig had been in a desert for three days without any water.

“Oh shite Ko-” the muscles of his abdomen were starting to quiver and his thighs were shaking as large hands slid down his hips to hold them open. A quick moan and jerk of his hips up before he had to settle his hands again and focus back on the game. “Fuck Koko, yer about ta make me cum,” the young man groaned and closed his eyes as he focused for a moment on not doing just that. A warning that the other team was on site had Watcher turning his icy gaze back to the monitor as he swallowed hard, trying to stay focused.

Konig merely hummed at the words, taking it more as encouragement to keep going rather than a warning to slow down. Within the next moment Watcher over-extended and got himself killed, probably on purpose if he was being honest as his hands disappeared below the desk and his back pressed against the chair to lift his hips a bit more. A small smile found the German’s mouth but he didn’t stop, his tongue flicking diligently over the head of his dick.

In the next moment a hand slipped between his thighs to join his mouth in its work, a long finger toying slowly at his entrance. “Ah shite, yeah,” Fyn nodded quickly before the finger slid in. Thick and much more rough against his walls than they had been against his skin. Konig worked slowly at first, mindful of how big his hands were. Stretching the young man’s entrance with deliberate slowness. Watcher needed time to adjust even to his fingers, but as he slowly relaxed around his middle finger the tall man added another.

Three rounds could have passed in the next few moments and the Scotsman wouldn’t have cared in the slightest. His own hands were tangled in Konig’s hair, pulling his mouth even closer, nearly suffocating the man though there were no complaints or disgruntled noises from the big man. Quickly he wrapped his lips around the engorged head of his cock and sucked a few times, curling the two digits up as a gruff moan came out of Fyn’s mouth and one hand flew to brace against the chair.

He was completely out of it at that point, in both mind and in consideration to the chair, as Konig’s eyes went wide. Though there were no signs of him stopping any time soon as he was continuing to suck at the tip for a few more seconds as Watcher’s release coated his fingers in that deliciously wet slick. The orgasm rolled through the young man in a hot wave that left him gasping and his body jerking for a few moments. “Oh shite, shite, shite,” his mind was foggy for a second as Konig pulled his fingers out and wrapped an arm around the young man’s back, the other throwing his pale, tattooed legs over broad, muscled shoulders.

His mouth was only pulled away for a few moments before he dove back in. At this point the chair had been pushed halfway across the room out of the way and the German had settled Watcher on his shoulders, the dripping release coating his tongue as his mouth returned diligently to its work. So long as Konig didn’t have to talk his anxiety wasn’t so bad, and his confidence was especially high with the little moans and groans he was pulling out of the other man now sitting on him as if he was a throne rather than a living breathing person.

It wasn’t the first time Watcher had been on his shoulders, but it was the first time he’d been on his shoulders backwards before. This was all new territory but both of them seemed to be adjusting well to it, hard not to when they were enjoying themselves so much. There was a moment of panic in those icy eyes before his hands found the keyboard and mouse again and he forced himself to return to his game, even as Konig coated his mouth and chin in the slick cum still dripping out of that warm, pulsing entrance. Fyn’s freckled chest was still heaving with the effort of his first climax as he let out a quick apology, “My bad, mate…Had to, uh, answer my boyfriend, ya know how it is.”

A huff of amusement left the German as he pulled his mouth away for just a moment. Eyes shining up at Watcher with pride as the Scotsman rolled his eyes. A quick hand flew down before tangling into Konig’s dark red locks and forced his mouth back to work before he whispered, “Didnae say ye were done. Back to work, Koni,” he smiled down at him for a moment as the tongue returned to its original task. And Christ it was doing that task with unmatched skill. "Holy shite," the ginger whispered under his breath as his head tipped back for a moment. With no chair to stop it though Konig had to wrap both of his arms around the small of his back to keep him from falling.

Until Fyn got himself righted anyway and forced his eyes back to the screen. The huge arms surrounding him were the only things keeping him from riding Konig's face right off into the floor honestly. Watcher's hips were grinding down on the big man's tongue, little huffs of air coming from his slightly parted lips. The flat of his tongue dragging over his entrance before diving back inside, still more than enjoying his feast. The sharp point of his nose was nudging against the sensitive bundle of nerves and causing Fyn to clench around him again, his thighs locking his head into place so well the only thing that could be seen were the dark red locks and shining green eyes.

Konig was wearing Fyn's throbbing cunt like a fucking mask. Hiding himself between pale, freckled thighs and all the while the young man was having to force himself to focus on the game. And funny enough the more attention Konig's tongue paid him the better he seemed to be. His shots were hitting with pinpoint precision and accuracy as if the game itself knew what the two were doing and was only cheering them on. Giving Fyn a pass to keep going by providing him with a favorable rng.

Two more rounds of grinding against Konig's face was nearly all that the young man could handle. His thighs were starting to shake around Konig's head as he neared his second climax. The tongue currently delving inside was sending his mind off the rails. If there was one thing about this fucking man it was that he could eat you out and he never even came up for air. Forward focused on the task given to him and working only to put your head in the clouds. It was torturously good but you'd never hear the Scotsman complain about getting head from him. It was the highlight of his day.

"I'm close, Koni," his words were breathy and barely audible over the sounds of Konig's tongue working wonders on his body. His breath was already starting to come in short, tense gasps. A feeling of white hot heat starting to spread out from his core and down through his thighs, with his toes curling in anticipation. And yet still he was able to focus on the game. It was the last round, all he had to do was not let his idiot teammates die and they could win this. A 5v4 was easy, they had numbers on their side after one of the enemy team had disconnected.

Yet the second he thought that in his mind the game took a dire turn. He almost fucked it, his hand already reaching down to find the top of Konig's dark red hair. However, he stopped the second he heard the obnoxiously loud voice yell, "Last player standing!" He stared blankly at the screen for a moment, not quite believing that fact that he was so close now, nearly there and he was now in a 1v4 situation on the last round. It was a joke, and yet when he looked at the scoreboard he was staring at four other faded pictures that let him know very quickly it was not a joke.

A voice, that didn't really sound like his own, yelled through the mic, "Ya daft bastarts! Stotterin aboot like right roasters ye are! Ye ever heard of holdin the bloody site!? How ye go and die like that!? All four of ya are tier one operators but ya cannae play a fuckin game!? Price just ran us through fuckin holdin drills for three hours yesterday!" There were a few clicks from the keyboard as Watcher kept going, slowly walking through the map all the while still grinding frustratedly against Konig's mouth. In the next moment the young Scotsman was going on a tirade to each and every teammate, "Soap quit running in with the fucking LMGs and gettin yersel killed like a teuchter! Ghost learn how ta snipe ye daftie or put the damn thing down. They cost too much for ya ta be buyin one every fuckin round and dying with it down long! Gaz, haud yer wheesht yer no better. Running right inta em and giving em free guns every fuckin round."

There was a pause as Fyn let go of the mic key, a huff of air leaving him along with a low moan as Konig pushed him ever closer to his next release. His ankles locked at the mid of Konig's back before he got himself back under control and cleared his throat, "And Speck I cannae say much to ye, I know yer only filling in cause Koni was out. Thank ye fer that. Still though what tae fuck man! I cannae do everythin mysel, ya cunts!!!"

The second he finished his tirade Watcher ran right into one of the enemy team, his mouse flicking up as he shot the guy in the head and kept going. "Now all of ye, shut yer mouths, I'm trying ta work," the young man felt his legs shaking even more now but he couldn't let himself give in to that mouth right now. His voice dropped back to a whisper then as he groaned out, "Slow down. Just a bit, got ta focus. Then I'll fuck ye, alright?" A smirk found his mouth and only widened when he heard the quiet moan from between his thighs and felt the vibrations in the same second.

Konig listened though, his tongue pulling out in favor of wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves. His tongue glided over it in slow, languorous strokes as he continued to edge Fyn ever closer to his next climax. He agreed to slow down, not stop completely. The next moment the bomb was planted and there was an annoyed sigh from the young man as he backtracked all the way to his original site. He ran straight into the second attacker as he rounded the corner, his mouse flicking as he hit another headshot immediately. The second he did, Konig's arms tightened as he pulled the man down harder on his working mouth.

Watcher nearly came right then and there, it took everything in him not to. His mind was trying to go fuzzy as the big man beneath him did everything in his power to distract him from his secondary goal: defuse the bomb. The heat was blazing over Fyn's skin, turning what wasn't covered in ink or freckles into a red noticeable flush. He needed to let go and finally reach his climax that had been building for the past ten minutes now, but he couldn't. "Slow it down aye? Two more, Koni, hold on," a growl vibrated through the man beneath him as he pulled even harder. Refusing to relent this time, and fucking hell Watcher had to admit he didn’t exactly want him to either.

Ice blue eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the feeling of that vibration, his head shaking back and forth as he tried to stay focused. "Fuckin hell," his hips grinded against the rapidly flicking tongue, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he fought to control his breathing and shaking hands. Focus. He needed to focus and get himself out of this fuckin match before he ended up blowing this rank down game.

Soap was whispering in his ears to Gaz who couldn't stop laughing as he tried to answer. A constant distraction in his ears as even Ghost muttered between their constant chatter, "He's not getting out of this one, lads." Speck was ominously quiet on his line until his mic lit up and a single loud bark came over the line. "Affirmative Cerberus," the deep, raspy, British voice responded immediately and then everyone went silent, probably cracking up on their sides of the mic. Fyn was nearly laughing himself while still losing his mind grinding on Konig's mouth. It was a rollercoaster and every second had him tipping further towards senseless babbling.

With the silence though he could hear the light footsteps just over the wall as whoever it was ran up and down the clear shooting lane unaware that he was on the other side. Looking ahead he watched the site, the bomb sitting right out in the open and counting down the time to his loss. He still didn't know where the other one was and he hated the idea of just running in but Konig was picking up his pace again and he certainly didn't have enough time to wait. Clearing his throat he hit the mic button and asked quickly, "Speck," a short pause, "What is it ye always say before running in ta do somethin daft during our ops?" There were a few moments of silence as Fyn inched closer to the bomb on site.

Finally Speck said a bit hesitantly, "Fuck it?" Yep that was it. Fyn jumped out the window and down onto sight. The second he did he turned towards where he'd heard the footsteps, watching one of the enemy team step out earning a couple bullets to the face for their troubles. Fingernails dug into his back as Watcher nearly let out a whine at the feeling which he suppressed into a low hum as he glanced around the site. There wasn't any time to go looking for the last guy though so instead he just hit the defuse and kept his ears open, even as his eyes rolled back at the hum vibrating against the head of his cock. "Shite Ko, I'm trying ta focus," the young man’s voice was strained and barely more than a whisper now. The big man refused to relent though and thank Christ he did because that was truly the last thing he wanted him to do.

He wasn't gonna make it to the end of this defusal at this rate, not with the way Konig was currently driving him mad. Sweat was beading up on his forehead and sliding down his neck as he tried to listen and defuse the bomb halfway. Fingers were digging into the expanse of his back, sending a flash of pain at the fingernails and then immediately behind it the soothing feeling of pleasure that had his hand twitching on the mouse and keyboard. His finger came off the button in an involuntary jerk and the bomb stopped defusing just a second before the last enemy popped his head around the corner.

Lucky, that's what Fyn was. He had been lucky when his parents had been able to work him up a deal to keep him out of jail. He'd been even luckier to be found by Agent Laswell, and the luckiest to have gotten along and fill a much needed role in the 141. And that luck didn't fail him now as he immediately flicked onto the enemy as the other started to fire. It took a single shot to his head and Watcher had his finger back on the defusal key holding it down for dear life as he let himself get lost in the pulsing throb of need now. With five health left to spare the Scotsman was definitely one of the luckiest players in this game sometimes.

The second that the victory screen popped up he heard the loud voices of the others on the headphones but he was oblivious by now. His hands braced on the desk, hips moving in earnest as he started to grind against the quickly working mouth once more. Konig was happy to oblige, the hands pulling off his back and instead affixing to his hips as he tilted his head back some, letting the younger man use him as he saw fit. "Fuckin hell, so good for me," there was a short moan that fell from Watcher's lips, mirrored by the man beneath him. The praise seemed only to make Konig even more eager to please him. His tongue lapped at the head a few times before sucking hard for a few seconds and then repeating. Turning his core into a well of heat that flowed from Fyn's depths and had him nodding without even realizing he was doing it.

His body was no longer even under his control anymore. Thoughts were whirling in his mind and voices were talking in his ears that never even made it to the thought center of his brain. Fyn had one goal, and one goal only now that he'd finished the game, and that was to finish himself. The hands on his desk flew down to the dark red head of hair, shaking just as much as his thighs were as he tried to find his second release. Another loud moan fell from his lips before Fyn muttered, "Yer so good, so fuckin good, letting me use you, fuck Ko. Never get tired of this mouth. Never. Fuck yer perfect. So close, fuck so close, I'm gonna- Oh shite-" There was a hitch in his breath before his head tipped back and his eyes shut tight and he groaned as white hot heat flooded through him in crashing waves.

Fyn was spasming in the strong grasp now, his breathing halted for the moment as he finally found his orgasm. Lithe fingers dug into the hair at the base of Konig's scalp but they were no longer guiding, these were the desperate gripping fingers of a man near gone from pleasure. And the big man beneath him was a man possessed, refusing to quit even as he tried to pull the other away. Long arms locked the Scotsman in place even as his hips writhed desperately trying to find a way to come down from the high.

It wasn’t until freckled thighs had locked him into what was effectively a sleeper hold that Konig finally relented and pulled away, his lips and chin glistening with Fyn’s release. His tongue darted out to lick his lips with a smile. The Scotsman let out his pent up breaths, heaving as he caught his breath while Konig continued to hold him up on his shoulders. Green eyes were watching him with a proud look in his eyes as the other was still trying to regain his composure. Scarred lips pressed against the inside of his thigh gently, even a smile found his mouth as Watcher finally started to catch his breath.

Voices still played in his ears, specifically Soap and Gaz who were already ready to go for another game only for Watcher to hit his mic button and answer with a very definite, “No. See ya tomorrow,” and then he promptly alt+F4 out of the game and shut the computer down. His eyes slid down to where Konig was resting his cheek against the inside of his thigh, still looking up with a small smile on his face, “Thought ye was gonnae kill me, mate.”

[legolasghosty]

Robots & Androids ‎AU plus Small Town AU

OKAY I AM FINALLY GETTING TO THESE I'M SORRY I'M SO BEHIND!!!

Okay. So.

Humanity kinda developed a LOT of health issues in the mid-late 23rd century. It was all a long time in coming, but it was a bit of a shocker still when people started breaking down. And there just wasn't enough people to keep up with the demand for new organs, tissue, blood, etc. The human race was basically failing. So, in a semi last ditch attempt to keep people alive, cyborg technology was put to work. Scientists had been messing around with the theory of it for years, since robots and androids were getting decently advanced. But they never had the support to actually try a clinical trial. Until now.

Some of it worked better than others. And it was HIGHLY controversial. Though maybe less than it should have been, considering the lengths the research team was permitted to go in order to get this stuff sorted out... Mainly that they were given legal permission to try it out on patients without their express consent, mostly in situations where the person was in a coma/on life support with no real hope of recovery.

Towards the end of her life, Rose was offered the chance to try getting a cybernetic lung transplant to replace the one that had been damaged beyond repair by her cancer. She refused, as it would be super risky and be more likely to kill her than help. She would rather die in her own whole body than risk losing her last few weeks with her family.

After she passed, the remaining Molinas moved out of the city, to a small town a few hours north, to escape the grief and the terrible air quality that had been a part of Rose's quick decline in health.

Unfortunately, they just happened to pick the exact tiny town that the government had picked to dump their cyborg... pet projects. The ones who hadn't actually consented to their surgeries but had ended up surviving. Best to keep everyone with those stories contained while they championed the cyborg advancements. Especially since there were plenty of side effects...

Julie meets a lot of odd people on her first day at the local high school. These include a dude that never lowers the hood of his pink hoodie, a bassist in a leather jacket who never seems to stop smiling, a skater with a rather odd limp, and a boy with shaggy hair who never seems to hear what people say to him, always grooving along to some music no one else can hear. There's also a few other adult oddballs around, but I don't got the energy to write all those out.

Under the cut, it gets a little more specific about injuries and alterations to specific characters, so read at your own risk!

Turns out that all four of those odd boys are unwilling cyborgs who were a part of some of the first rounds of tests. Hey, they were all gonna die anyways, the government decided they might as well use them.

Willie was in a nasty car crash that smashed both legs and a few ribs. He has pretty good prosthetics now, but they don't always function properly. And if he keeps his hair long to cover the incision scar on the back of his neck, that's no one's business except his own.

Luke, Alex, and Reggie all nearly died of food poisoning back in LA, but due to a combination of slightly different reactions to the battery acid/food poisoning and scientists wanting to test out different tech, they all have different issues now.

Luke got some synthetic tissue repair on his organs and around his throat. But there was also some damage to his airways cause of throwing up so much, so there's some wiring stuff in there so he can still sort of smell... however that got a bit mixed around and so his hearing is pretty weak and the music he has stuck in his head tends to sound like it's coming from outside to him.

Reggie mostly got away without any organ damage, but his face got kinda messed up. Now he looks pretty normal, except his jaw and lips can't move a lot. So he's stuck with a permanent semi-smile. It's not creepy usually, just kinda sad. He tries to stay upbeat to match his face.

Alex got the worst damage to his digestive system. The connections between his organs and brain are mostly man made now, whether that's wires for neurotransmitting or fake tissue on the lining of his stomach. However, when the scientists realized they had someone with a diagnosed anxiety disorder, they... well they might as well try, since he's probably dead anyways. So there's also a metal panel on the back of his head. It didn't work, and the hair won't grow back around it. Hence the hood.

Somehow they all become friends and help each other kinda come to terms with their lives. And also play lots of music. Though the shadow of the head researcher, Dr. Covington, looms over them all... OKAY that's what I got for tonight! More thoughts may come later, but that's my rough idea! I hope you enjoyed!!!

[dalekofchaos]

Why Sammy Emily should be the CEO of Fazbear Entertainment and the villain of the new era of FNAF

In the Silver Eyes trilogy, Freddy's co-founder Henry Emily has two children. Charlie and Sammy. At first we thought William killed Sammy, then we later find out that Charlie was the one he killed, Charlie is remade via Charliebots and Sammy just lives with his mother.

The games have never alluded to Sammy's existence. The story was not thought out in FNAF 2, but it's suggested The Puppet was originally meant to be possessed by a boy as the Give Cake minigame says "SAVEHIM" so maybe Sammy was meant to be The Puppet. TSET most likely made Scott change his mind and switched to Charlie.

Now what if the fate of Sammy in the books happens in the games. Imagine this. Your father abandons you. Your sister's death is all he thinks about. He lets his pain and grief consume him and leaves you and your mother behind. Throughout your life you are bitter over what your father did and decides to rebuild what his father destroyed, but better.

Sammy is the heir of Fazbear Entertainment and those who want to rebuild the brand would flock to Sammy.

Sammy being the new villain of the franchise would slap. Think of it.

Imagine the story of a kid who's father forgot about him over the grief of his preferred child, Charlie. With Sammy having to grow up in the shadow of his grieving father, always third in his mind two his two favorite kids. His daughter and his business. Imagine if in the story that Henry had rubbed off on Sammy in the worst way possible. And that all Sammy learned from his father is how to step on other people in the ladder to success, which Sammy deciding to use his anger and neglect to not only just walk the way of his dad, no, but to take the extra step and do it better. With Sammy becoming a very successful businessman, growing industry lead tech companies, while his dad and the company he had started just rotted alone in the dark and that is the catalyst for the new era of FNAF when Sammy found out his father had died in a fire in his own crummy little restaurant, Sammy saw it as an opportunity to strike. Using whatever legal leverage he had as the son of the former of Fazbear Entertainment, along with his exuberant amount of cash and influence to reconstruct the company his dad once owned. But unlike his dad, who always wanted to keep the franchise in a cheap and nostalgic past, Sammy was going to take the company to the future. But how exactly? By doing the opposite of his father and dancing with the trauma the franchise had endured. Sammy knowing that the company was a national pariah at this point, but instead of trying to cover it up as previous owners of the franchise had done, he decided to run full force with it. With Sammy commissioning a series of Indie Horror Games to jump on the growing popularity of the franchise becoming a trendy creepypasta/urban legends fodder. Sowing the seeds of well timed publicity stunts for the franchise and at the perfect moment bringing back the Pizzerias themselves, but with a modern twist. Not letting the nostalgia holding the franchise back like his father did, but instead using it as a springpath forward. With all this bringing us the Pizzaplex and Fazbear Entertainment that we all know today and all while creating new monsters within the Fazbear name to sell a profit.

Creating Glitchtrap to create the new boogeyman of the franchise and unintentionally creating Vanny. But to Sammy, a new killer means a new form of profit for Fazbear and further spitting on the memory of his father. You could even have the theory that Charlie is haunting the Pizzaplex as a means to stop her brother and using Gregory to help stop him. Or why not go all the way? Why not make Sammy unwittingly responsible for everything? Have Sammy being the one who locked Charlie out of Fredbear's on that dark and stormy night and this new story is a battle between a cold hearted soulless businessman and a vengeful sister seeking to bring everything he build down.

That would make for an amazing story and one hell of a direction to take the franchise in the future. Focusing on the unintended legacy and domino effects of the hurt that the characters of the past caused, instead of just pointlessly reviving them to pad out the future.

[mayisgoingnuts]

OK IK YOUR LINE- TIRED- BUT UH, WHAT WOULD FUTURE BOIS LOOK LIKE- FOR NO REASON (If you want you could answer later I’m fine with waiting :3)

I FORGOT TO ANSWER THISBJSJDD

Sadly I'm not motivated nor creative enough to give like an appearance right now </3 BUT I can give descriptions to compensate!! (Ps: None of them are fully canon yet, more like ideas)

Since Denny is a smart little guy AND a fan of makeups and such I feel like he'd end up working in a nice company with tech and then being a makeup artist as a hobby! If I should give him an alternative route, the artist part would be his main career. As for personality, traumas and etc, I do believe he visits a therapist at some point after his parents wake up to reality and notice that hey, maybe our son having scars on his stomach and being overly scared of girls and his own mom AND overly kind isn't so normal!!! So they basically force him to go visit a psychologist. Sucks at first but his psychologist is a super nice guy and it ends up working :]

Scar... oof- it's a hard one- because at the same time that he can get over the drugs, it already affected his body A LOT, so whatever happens he's not reaching 50. Anyway throwing that totally useless info aside, he's still a funny guy but now more aware of the shit he went through, what got him less hyper and trying to "fix himself" sort of way. His moms escape from the country and he's receiving help from Jack + having a closer relationship, and for a job I didn't really decided on that yet. BUT something I did decided is that he's gonna have a girlfriend and she's always there to support Scar <3

Theo.... one route he fucking DIES, other one he turns into the new cult leader, and the other he finally gets his good ending, you decide. In the first one he ends up dying thanks to the deformation on his stomach at some point, the one he turns into the new cult leader is incase Skiddad is defeated, somehow dies or simply decides to trust Theo for it for whatever reason, and the good ending happens incase the cult is fully defeated. In the good ending him and that,, mouth thing interacts more and he has more control over it, he gets a job as a teacher in a few schools AND HAS A HUSBAND!! This one is like, 100% confirmed, good ending Theo has a husband who always reassures him that he can always leave, nothing is forcing him to stay, but he does anyway by free choice because he loves Theo very much <333 also maybe perhaps maybebebrfkd them adopting a kid..

[rhythmic-idealist]

Have I posted about Rika Lives AU? Thinking so much about Rika Lives AU.

Gojo shows up after something dramatic happens with Rika. Both of her parents have mysteriously died in her company—maybe it's finally her grandmother, this time. Or maybe it's something else. Yuuta had just walked her home, after their usual long back and forth over "now I'll walk you home" "but we just walked you home!" "and who will walk with you?" "Rikaaaaaa, your grandma will be mad if you're late" - and after dallying a block away from home with about twenty minutes of this, she'd kissed his cheek and he'd tenderly kissed the top of her hair like it's the most delicate task he's ever had, like at this routine parting he's really, seriously worried about whether they're going to see each other tomorrow.

And then there's Rika in the rubble of her grandmother's death, and there's Yuuta, winded, sprinting back because he heard a noise.

And Rika cries on him, a little panicked, a little bloodied, I don't know what happened, Yuuta, do we have to call the police right now, can I sleep at your house tonight— and a voice that doesn't sound at all sorry for interrupting apologizes for interrupting.

It's a tall blindfolded man. Both jump, though Yuuta yelps and jumps harder, before placing himself immediately in front of her, shaking on his little twig legs.

Satoru Gojo explains the sorcery that has just gone down here. He also explains what happens to kids who have a rough time controlling it, but that's not fair, right? Good news is there's a school where no hair-triggered old men have any say-so over the students inside. Does she want in? It's... prooooobably the better option.

Yuuta stands his ground and reaches behind himself to take her hand. Then he turns to face her, because he wants to say it really does sound like it might be a good idea, Rika. I'll go with you. (His voice hardens on that last bit, and he casts a look back over his shoulder at Tall And Blonde.)

Satoru Gojo goes haha oh man yeah you're definitely going with her. Hey Rika out of curiosity. Can you see that? (Gestures in a vague, wide circle around Yuuta's, like... aura.) ...No? Interesting.

So they're off to Jujutsu Tech.

It's better that they're together.

It's better that Yuuta is there, that that isn't changing. Somehow, it's weird for Yuuta to be there during the bad. He's proven himself more than willing to be there during the bad. He goes and negotiates with his parents every time Rika wants to spend the night, even though she's starting to get too old for it to seem innocent even if she's sleeping in the living room (when she is, they usually both are—falling asleep on the couch, Yuuta usually slumping against her and drooling first. He scrambles apart in the morning and tells her she should have woken him, what if his parents came out?). It's better that they're together—that Rika happens to her family again and well, this time, there's no one left of them to decide if they're still willing to tolerate their child, but Yuuta still wants her. They're still a duo.

Cursed spirits—she's learned that they're called—never bothered them when Yuuta was around, so yes she'd assumed he was a little special too, but she didn't really assume it was in the same way. She clung to him because he is Yuuta, because she loves him and he loves her, and the only thing they need is each other. But she did dally on going away from him because the cursed spirits that hate her seem to leave him alone. She didn't know he was in on that world. He wasn't; he says he hasn't seen one before. Gojo thinks this is because they're scared of him. That's funny to both Yuuta and Rika, admittedly.

It's better that they're together. It's better that Yuuta would have come along whether he was a sorcerer or not, probably would have fistfought that creepy guy if he'd had to, and Yuuta has never been in a fistfight.

It's weird for Yuuta to be let in on her one big secret from him.

[glitchinginthegarden]

I'm slowly starting to compile tidbits of lore for Vince. He's been around since Vaye came into being, but I never took as much time to flesh him out as I have for her.

Rambles under the cut.

His backstory is still the same.

His parents were Nomads and close friends with Vaye's parents. (If you didn't know they aren't blood siblings, now you do.) The kids grew up together even before his folks and her mom died. So adopting Vince was a no-brainer for her dad.

Vince is 31 at the start of Vaye's canon 2077 timeline.

He's always been the quiet one. The observer. The guy everyone thinks is well adjusted and just vibing but really it's that he's good at hiding his issues.

Vince took a shine to the medical field young and never wavered from it. I consider him the group's field medic to a degree. He may not be carrying around an emergency kit but his apartment is as close to a clinic as you can get without having all the fancy equipment. He's training under Viktor to be a ripperdoc one day (and he eventually does take over Vik's clinic when the old man retires - no, we aren't looking at PL endings here). He considered Trauma Team for a while but ultimately decided he didn't want to be bound to helping only the upper echelon with their fancy trauma cards. Why should he dedicate his life to helping the people who shit on his?

On that note: he's staunchly anti-corp just like Vaye.

He comes off as prickly and detached at first; often considered cold, blunt, and a stick in the mud. It's all armor. He keeps himself guarded. It allows him to keep a distance between his work and his feelings, and he also just does not care what people think of him. He's very much an actions over words kinda of guy. Don't talk about it if you aren't going to back it up.

Outside of ripper training, he earns income via street fights and the occasional smash and grab gig.

Fighting is both income and "free therapy" for him. In the same vein as Gil, Vince likes the adrenaline rush. And it doesn't hurt that it helps him stay fit.

When it comes to merc work, he tends to avoid hit jobs. He would rather help sabotage someone or steal valuables. It's not that he has qualms about taking lives, he doesn't, it's that he's of the mindset that doing so rarely pushes anything toward a resolution. Kill one roach, one more will take it's place mentality. That said, if someone gets in his way during a gig and poses a risk to the operation, he won't hesitate to remove the problem. He's very good at boiling things down to equations. Turning people and situations into a game of odds allows him that detachment he so prefers.

Beneath the crunchy outside, though, he's all heart.

He cares deeply. Maybe too much sometimes. And getting him to show that can be like pulling teeth.

Vince does not open up easily. He's like a shelter dog.

You have to earn his trust over time before he'll show his vulnerable parts and if you break that trust, especially early on, it's incredibly difficult to get it back. He is not a three strikes you're out man, he's a two if you're lucky.

Combat style:

Brute force. Vince thrives up close and personal with his enemies.

He can manage a modicum of stealth, but he's not out there using throwing knives or silenced anything.

He likes shotguns and revolvers. Power weapons > Tech weapons > Smart weapons.

He can't netrun but he does have a nugget of techie know-how and can hack his way past most locks. That's where it ends though.

He has a reputation with fixers for being ruthless. Ironic for someone they also enlist to patch up their solos from time to time.

Regarding his cyberware (bear with me this is all loose and not following canon anything really):

In game, he's got the mantis blades but that's really just for aesthetics. His forearms/wrists/hands are actually chipped with hydraulics. Think impact wrenches in his arms (ugga dugga).

To compensate for that, his rotator cuffs/shoulder sockets are reinforced with synth tendons and buffers.

EMP threading on the right side of his face feeds into his Kiroshis for more in-depth scans. He used to have threading on both sides, but the implant on the left was damaged in a nasty scuffle while on a job in his younger years and he opted to just have it removed.

He has synth-lungs specifically meant to filter not only NC's nasty air, but also a slew of aerosolized chemicals such as anesthetic agents and toxins (like gas grenades).

His other basic chrome includes: reinforced joints, a biomonitor, standard holo and interface ports, synthetic intercostal webbing (the muscles between your ribs), and an inner-ear gyroscope because he got tired of having motion sickness in cars or on the metro (yes, baby boy gets upset tummy).

Okay... that's all I have for now. I think. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. I'm sure I'll have more to dump later... he's brewing.