#I blame Solar and fluffy

[mawofthemagnetar]

*Jigsaw voice* Hello Ethoslab. I'm going to get straight to the point. You will notice you're currently in your office with your horrible setup. Those cardboard boxes contain all the things you would need to unscuff this abomination. Take that mic out of that tissue box or I'm going to flood this entire room with lukewarm coffee. Unscuff or scuffle off this mortal coil. Make your choice.

[skepsiss]

Oh you don’t say? Ok, fluffy one shot idea for you. Steve, backstage, when Eddie comes back from his First Ever Packed Show! “They really loved me Stevie!! 🥹🥹” excited and exhilarated and exhausted??

I saw this JUST before I was going to bed xD But I'll reply to it now. (other people feel free to send me things, not just my pal void! Also, go check out their writing). First ever packed show; Eddie was like a firework. His explosion of energy was evident, and the colour that came off of him was like catching wind in a sail. It just urged you forward. It was impossible not to be compelled by Eddie, and that was more than obvious as the roar of a full stadium reached Steve backstage. This wasn't Eddie's first show, but it was the first big league one. The stadium was sold out, and everyone here was screaming for Corroded Coffin. It was wild to think that the four men out there on the stage had come from little-town-nowhere and were now adored by hundreds. It was impossible not to adore Eddie. He knew how to put on a performance, and he knew how to engage the audience in a way that only a true showman could. Steve could never do something like that. He never wanted that much attention on him. He was proud of Eddie though, more proud than he could put into words. The band ran off-stage as the crowd continued to yell, the lights around them dimming as Steve already heard shouts for an encore. It didn't seem to matter how much the people adored Eddie though, because Steve could see that as soon as Eddie reached the wings he was looking around wildly for him. "Steve!" Eddie yelled, spying him against one of the back walls. He had chosen that spot to stay out of the Grips' way but hadn't wanted to go too far and miss the performance. "Present," Steve said, raising a hand and then opening his arms as he saw Eddie beelining it for him. Eddie was in his arms in a flash, throwing all of his weight on Steve as he latched on around his neck and hugged him tightly. He was damp with sweat and Steve couldn't help the involuntary 'ouph' that escaped him from the impact.

"Steve!" Eddie shouted again, pulling back to hold Steve's face in his hands. "Sold out, baby! Sold out! Did you see that? They love us--they freaking love us!" Eddie's smile was so brilliant that Steve was certain he could have lit up the whole solar system if he tried. His eyes were twinkling, and despite how exhausted he looked, there was an unbridled energy that hummed behind his expression. "I saw, I saw---" Steve chuckled, letting himself be manhandled. Eddie was like this after every show. His adrenaline was high, and his lust for life was like nothing else. He loved being famous. He loved performing, and Steve knew that he was meant to do it. Eddie was supposed to wow crowds and put on one of the best shows on the planet. "They're asking for an encore," Eddie said, nose to nose with Steve. His smile hadn't faded at all, and Steve felt the infectiousness of it as he grinned back. "Can't blame 'em," Steve replied with a laugh, holding Eddie around the waist. "You should get out there." "Don't go anywhere," Eddie said quickly, looking over his shoulder at the guys who were already standing in the wings, ready to head back out there. "I'll be right back. I'll---I'll be right back." Eddie kissed him hard on the mouth, and Steve hardly got the chance to kiss back before Eddie was rushing back toward the stage. It was hilarious to watch him stumble over himself and then try to look composed as he walked back out to a cheering crowd. Steve just smiled affectionately and wiped away the flecks of sweat and makeup that Eddie had gotten on his cheeks. This was par for the course, and Steve had to admit that he loved every second of being in Eddie's glow.

[thexsanctuaryx]

found in the stars

➳ NEXT CHAPTER

{ summary: } even in the ancient world, many have stopped believing in the old gods, but not marc spector and his system. they still very much believe and devote themselves to one particular deity. so what happens when they come face to face with their patron goddess, hecate? without knowing it's her, of course... { pairing: } original character { emma harper } x marc spector; eventually emma harper x steven grant && emma harper x jake lockley { contents: } slight angst, kinda fluffy, pagan deities, ancient civilization ergo period, almost completely if not totally alternate universe for the boys, their characters have been taken and dropped into a completely standalone original universe { warnings: } mentions of mental illness { DID }, brief mentions of being mistreated by others, self-loathing, self-blame, due to contents and nature of this series, the boys are pagan instead of jewish, it is not intended as erasure, just a different story being told { author's note: } hello there! I've been a part of this community for a hot minute but worried for a long time I couldn't pull off the boys. well, I started writing them about a year ago now and they haven't left since. this is my first proper fic in almost two decades, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I've loved writing it. thank you so much to anyone who gives it a chance!!! there are several others in the works! { word count: } 2,014

He sits in the garden they’ve worked so painstakingly hard to perfect for her. Days upon days – no months upon months – patiently tending to the soil, caring for the various flora that occupy the now magnificent garden on the outskirts of his father’s land. Yet, as he looks around now, it still doesn’t seem like enough and already he plans out improvements.

It’s just after midnight now, a time which he’d always been taught is her favorite. And here he sits, in the middle of the flowers, knelt at the shrine they’d set up for her at the very center, prayer upon his lips once again.

“I’m sure you must tire of hearing from me so often—but despite the lack of news, I find myself always wanting to speak to you first.” He clears his throat, glancing down with a soft melancholy smile as he reminisces to someone he’s never met – a goddess no less. And even he must admit, it isn’t the most proper conversation to have with any deity, let alone one as revered as she is.

His tongue slips between his lips, lolling his head ever so slightly. “Steven’s better at this sort of thing, the propriety and what not, but I suppose that’s just one of my many pitfalls.”

He pushes out a sigh, “I know I maybe shouldn’t speak so casually to you—you are the key bearing queen of the cosmos after all—” He briefly pauses before continuing at his own expense. “I must seem a child with a silly crush…”

A light scoff forces its way through his sinuses, reaching a hand back to grip at the back of his neck. He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. “It’s just that you’ve always been there—or perhaps I hope you have…”

He looks up at the sculpture he hand formed himself as he speaks to her now, pursing his lips now with indignation toward himself. His shoulders rise slowly and fall back down again. “You’re the first one I think to speak to in the morning and you’re often the last I speak with before I sleep…”

“So I suppose I just wanted to tell you…it’s my—our birthday today…” Another beat passes, frowning softly as he continues, “Which will be spent alone of course—” He pauses again to smirk softly at the silent statue. “Still waiting on you to send us that wife we’ve spoken so much about…” He teases.

He looks up at the soft curves of her face hewn from marble. “But it only felt right to spend the first moments of our thirtieth solar return with you…”

“Thank you for always keeping us under your careful gaze…”

A voice comes seemingly out of nowhere from behind the right of the shrine. “You speak to her as if you’re in love with her…” The soft somewhat raspy voice says. And as she steps out into the pale light of the moon, he suddenly wonders if he believes in angels instead of goddesses.

His face stills in shock as he struggles to find breath, even as she moves closer. She looks to be a handful of years younger than he, dressed in clothes that would suggest nobility.

She offers a soft, calm smile, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to intrude. I was on a late walk when I saw this beautiful garden and wanted to see it up close.”

It's in this moment, he begins to believe in his goddess more now than perhaps he ever has before. He’s almost certain that she’s the companion he’s prayed so fervently for all these years. A breathtaking maiden, stumbled in his garden at the precise moment he’s saying just such prayers.

She rolls her lips in, causing dimples to prick into her cheeks as she does her best to hide her amusement at his astonishment.

“Do you mind if I join you?” She wonders aloud, stepping closer to him.

He clears his throat, blinking rapidly to rouse himself from his daze. He shakes his head quickly, “not at all…”

She moves to claim a spot on the marble bench that rests just behind where he’s knelt at the altar.

He rises slowly, still stunned by her presence even as he makes to sit beside her. He’s surprised he can even find his voice at such a time, but introduces himself gently. “I’m Marc…”

It occurs to her then, that perhaps betraying her secret isn’t wise just yet. As smoothly as breathing she replies, “My name is Emma…”

He can’t help the smile that overtakes his lips at the sound of her name, and she only returns it with one of her own.

All at once, however, he looks troubled, “should you be out so late on your own?”

A gentle laugh escapes her, “perhaps I believe in your goddess just as much as you do—that she’ll protect me.”

“You shouldn’t--” The crease forms between his eyebrows.

“I shouldn’t believe in her?” She teases, looking a little too deeply into his dark brown eyes.

He scoffs lightly, quickly looking away from her intense stare. “No-- you should believe in her—forgive me I more meant—it can be dangerous to wander alone this late at night, I wouldn’t want anything to happen--” He squeezes his eyes shut, once again feeling as though his mouth has gotten away from him.

She finishes his sentence in the softest tone, her words in contrast sounding filled with confidence. “To me?”

He nods slowly, swallowing as he looks back to her.

As his eyes connect with hers once more, she can feel the years of pain that hide behind them. Moreover, she’s been with him through every moment of it and needs no explanation.

Suddenly she wants nothing more than to tell him exactly who she is, but knows it’s too soon. Such a revelation might only cause him to question his sanity as he so often has in the past.

She reaches a hand to gently rest over his, her voice remaining just as unimposing. “Will you tell me about her?” She asks, looking away from him to the statue he spent hours carving, never knowing just how close by she was.

He looks confused by the question, “You want me to--…” His brows furrow deeply again, trying to figure out this mysterious woman his goddess seems to have sent to him.

Emma looks back to him briefly and the gestures with her free hand to the flowers that stretch out around them for what seems like miles. “You built all of this for her, did you not?” She pauses, quirking one shoulder to her ear. “You must love her a great deal…”

Marc’s cheeks heat, though undetectable in the darkness that surrounds them. Another small smile tugs at his lips, glancing down at the ground. “It must seem foolish to love someone so much that you’ve never met.” He swallows, nodding. “Someone that many don’t even believe exists, and that others yet still fear too much to worship.”

She interjects again quietly, giving a feathery brush of her thumb over the back of his hand beneath hers. “But you don’t fear her…and you seem too close to her to diminish by using the word worship to describe your relationship with her.”

The corner of his lips tug upward, a sad look coming over his eyes as he continues to avoid her gaze.

In a moment of truth, he confesses, “she’s the only one who has always been there for me…”

Her heart squeezes in her chest, the love she returns for him seeming to all but swallow her whole. A breeze seems to rise in the air, rippling through the garden around them, a small physical showing of the way her heart sighs for him.

He takes notice of the change in the wind, a scowl coming to his features, unbeknownst to him, correct in his deduction, “perhaps she’s heard me.”

Emma can barely withstand the swelling in her chest, struggling to maintain her secret. Ancient as she may be, she finds it almost impossible to deny the love he's stirred within her all of his years.

“I’m sure she has…”

There’s a pause of stillness between them before she continues.

“What would you tell her if she could hear you right now?” She asks softly.

Marc shoots her an incredulous look, “As if you didn’t hear everything I said before making your presence known…” He teases.

Her heart seems to flutter, something she hasn’t felt in many millennia. She finds herself avoiding his gaze, feeling like the human maiden she passes herself off as now, and not the goddess as old as time that she is.

“If she were to grant you one wish for your birthday, what would you ask for?” She inquires.

At the shift in her demeanor, Marc wonders at the miracle that seems to take place before him. But then, she didn’t know the deep dark secrets he’s concealing. Any attraction to him would quickly fall away if she did.

Still, he thinks on her question. He pushes his lips out as his eyes travel to the shining stars  above that litter the vast expanse of the universe. He wonders if she’s up there watching over them this very moment.

“I supposed I’d want to meet her face to face…”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly, following his eyes to the heavens above. She’s almost completely dumbfound by this human man who wants nothing more than to meet her properly. A man who seems to captivate her ageless heart more and more by the second.

“You’d choose to meet her over asking for a companion?” She asks, her voice laced with bewilderment.

His eyes fall back to hers without moving his head at first, smirking softly. “So you were listening the whole time then…”

She can’t remember the last time she was so turned around by anything or anyone. At first, she mistakes his meaning for knowing who she truly is, her features contorting with a troubled expression.

“I—”

“It’s okay—you wouldn’t be the first to hear a personal conversation with her…”

She’s almost disappointed by the revelation that he still believes her to be a human maiden, who simply happened upon him in his garden in the middle of the night. She clears her throat with a bit more difficulty than usual, her eyes falling to the ground.

He squeezes her hand gently, misunderstanding why she suddenly appears so crestfallen. “It really is okay…--but yes, I think I would choose to meet her above all else. I have so much to thank her for, and I’d want her to know that she is loved, and that there is at least one person who isn’t scared of her…”

Her head shoots back up, her eyes wide as they look to his again. Another gust of wind blows through the garden, the moon seeming to glow brighter above them as she marvels over him.

Her eyes, almost silver in the light from above, seem to only draw him in, his free hand moving to reach for her face. The crease between his brows comes back, as his eyes battle hers, leaning in closer.

He speaks now as if lost in a trance, “Besides, what’s a lifetime with one woman over an eternity with a goddess…”

Her eyes fall to his lips as they move steadily closer to hers. All at once, he claims them with his own, the softness of them consuming her as her eyes flutter shut.

A meteor shower erupts above as she reaches for the wrist of his hand at her face, attempting to keep him there longer as her lips glide over his.

The kiss is brief and all too fleeting as he withdraws again, remaining ever so close as his eyes scale her face. As if sensing the deep and ancient power that resides within her, he whispers a winded, “Who are you?”

[double-u-qed]

early birthday post! i wanted to write something relatively fluffy involving hot rod vaguely within the g1 cartoon universe. full story under the cut.

Title: Sleep Well, Little Star

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Hot Rod, Arcee, Springer, Kup, Ultra Magnus

Tags: Team as Family, Found Family, Food Insecurity, Injuries, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Infection, Fever

Summary:

Still, if there’s one thing Hot Rod is determined to hold onto for the rest of this war, it’s his hope. Like a kindling ember, he grasps it between his servos and feeds it nothing but love, love, love and wishful thoughts, lacing the two together until they’re indistinguishable. Until he’s positively smothered by its warmth. Anger will do nothing but diminish its flame, so if he has to choose a role, he will gladly play the fool.

FULL:

His leg is busted. There’s no way around it – it’s bent at an all sorts of wrong angle, twinging badly as he grapples with the crumbling wall, knee locked up and shaking. The landslide of fallen debris was to blame, a piece of what had once been a building falling on the limb in his rush to escape. Smashed it real good, it did. He can see things he hadn’t even known were inside him, a trail of energon following behind.

But it’s not… that bad? All things considered; it could be worse. He can still sorta move it – just barely enough to shuffle around awkwardly, but nonetheless; it’s progress. It’s been a few orns and he’s managed to make it to a new city at least, as unrecognizable as it is. Not that he would be able to identify it even if it wasn’t in ruins; he’s never known a time where every place didn’t look unremarkable and desolate. The only indicator that this isn’t the same city he’d previously been holed up in is the fact there weren’t any buildings for a while before he got here.

It was just his luck that his injury would start to get worse the moment he stepped foot in someplace new. It was just his luck to be injured at all, really, without a proper medkit to at least clean out the area. Infection was likely, but again – he’s been through and has seen much worse, so he’ll gladly take a busted leg over the other options. Such as being dead. Being dead would be very bad and painful, and he’s never been the best at sucking it up and working through pain.

Now successfully upright without a wall collapsing this time, Hot Rod gives himself a little smile of triumph before it eases back into a grimace. That… that exerted more energy than it should have – he can feel it twisting in his near-empty tanks, all coiled tight. It’s not an unfamiliar sensation, but he’s fresh-out of what limited rations he managed to scavenge from the last wreckage. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s grown out of his features a bit, either, his hunger turning in on itself. At most, he’s got a few solar cycles before he falls into stasis.

(He tries to ignore the smears of dried energon next to his shaky servo; tries to ignore the lightless optics racing through his processor every time he shutters his own).

Energon is going to be a problem. If he does find any, there’s a high risk of it being spoiled, or a trap. Decepticons were just bad like that, leaving cubes out as bait for the lone, wandering souls left on Cybertron. They didn’t care that they were practically starving out their own flesh and blood. Their greed wasn’t one of pure survivalist instinct; it was something far more sinister.

Hot Rod cycles in air and lets it out slowly, shifting more of his weight to his good ped, cautiously letting go of the wall he’d been using as a crutch. When he doesn’t immediately fall to the ground, he takes a few unsteady steps forward, internally cringing at the sound of metal scraping across metal. He doesn’t – well, it would be a lie to say he doesn’t feel any pain from the movement, but it’s bearable enough to keep going.

So he does.

It’s a mindless, automatic thing to him by now; crouching down in piles of rubble and sorting through the mess, bit by bit. Almost all of the paint has been scratched clean off his servos, what little remaining being a pallid, sickly sort of hue. His spoilers don’t even so much as twitch at the harsh, cold air that blows by. None of this is new.

Bitter, selfish anger wants to take what little control he has. It wants to be ugly and loud, claiming unfairness and spouting nothing but hatred at the world.

But it won’t do him any good. It never has, really. His anger won’t be anything more than a droplet lost in the sea. And it isn’t like he has it all bad, even if he’s alone in his plight. He’s still alive, for one thing, and not everyone can say the same. He’s alive and relatively well. The dull, ravenous ache of hunger is a sign that he’s alive. It’s the lack of feeling you have to look out for.

“Ah.”

He pauses, digits locked around the metal beam he’s lifted up. His optics cycle, loud in the otherwise silence. It’s a small emergency ration, just sitting there – the kind that soldiers often carry. It’s the brittle, tasteless kind. The kind that’s like paste and dust simultaneously in your intake once it’s chewed, suffocating if you don’t have something better to help wash it down.

He swallows it all before he can think twice of it.

It doesn’t satiate the hunger, not by a long shot – but it does make it ease its grip a bit, tension draining from his frame with a content sigh. It makes it a bit easier to focus as well, the edges of his visual feedback less fuzzy and dark. He hadn’t even realized it had gotten this bad.

Like a king upon his throne, Hot Rod leans back a bit, rubble helping him sit upright. It’s not very wise to leave himself vulnerable and open like this. It isn’t, but he figures he deserves at least this much. Just for a bit. Just a moment to himself to relax and take in the fact that the hardest part of the day should be over and done with for now.

The sky is alight with small, twinkling stars watching down on him from afar. He wonders what else they’ve seen, the stars. He hopes it’s not all bad, that they’ve seen some pretty things, too. A foolish thought, considering he knows what he’s seeing is already long gone. Gone and no longer there, just an afterimage phantom of company.

Still, if there’s one thing Hot Rod is determined to hold onto for the rest of this war, it’s his hope. Like a kindling ember, he grasps it between his servos and feeds it nothing but love, love, love and wishful thoughts, lacing the two together until they’re indistinguishable. Until he’s positively smothered by its warmth. Anger will do nothing but diminish its flame, so if he has to choose a role, he will gladly play the fool.

…

He doesn’t remember falling into recharge, but it must have happened at some point. His optics are no longer trained up towards the sky, but to the ground. Flakes of rust – gold, red, and stained with blue, purple and blue – fall in specks across his vision, floating through the air.

It’s still, but it isn’t silent. He’s not really sure what it is, but something has changed.

He’s on his side. He doesn’t remember rolling over onto his side, but he’s definitely on his side. Hm.

He thinks… he thinks he should get up. That would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it?

But the ground’s so warm and he’s so tired. Everything feels heavier than he remembers, his optics sluggishly shuttering open and close. The very thought of moving is rather tiresome and not very appealing. Moving means leaving this warmth. Moving means facing reality. Something sharp is prodding into his side, but he pays it little mind. He’s in no danger.

No danger to be seen, although he gets the feeling he’s forgetting about something. Something important. Something that could be dangerous, if forgotten. But he’s dropped it somewhere in the branching trails of his mind. He’s lost it and doesn’t know where to look. The fog that’s taken up space there has devoured it, leaving him stranded. It’s hard to think over the whirring loudness all around.

His head has been tossed into the ocean, bobbing up and down just to stay afloat. It pulls him to-and-fro, all dizzy and lost to its rhythm. Any idea he has gets swept up in the tide, the rough edges wearing down.

He’s been laying here for a while, hasn’t he? That’s no good. He should get up. Get up, and…

He’s not really sure what comes after that.

His face scrunches up as he tries to recall what happened. Why is he on his side? It’s uncomfortable sleeping like this, with his spoiler and all. He doesn’t usually sleep like this. It leaves his back exposed as well, and he hates that.

It’d been hot last night for once (was that last night?). That single fact itches and nags at something in his processor. It irritates it, the whirring sound getting louder and louder. Maybe that’s why he’s down in the discarded metal. It’s cool down here, down in the metal. Down, down, down, down from the sky and up.

He feels like a star, burning hot from the inside out. He’s fallen and he’s burning, that’s why it all hurts. He’s not where he’s supposed to be. The metal here doesn’t feel of home, twisted and biting like the jaws of a turbofox. He used to feed them back home, and they would always nip at him, drawing energon. They’d all their friends over to laugh at him with a high-pitched yip.

He doesn’t like it when that happens. They always leave soon after.

The world spins and spins as Hot Rod tries to get up, if only to stop the biting. He doesn’t want to bleed – that would be bad. Would it? He thinks it would be. Because then… something bad would happen. Something even more bad.

If only he could put together the disconnected pieces. They’re right there, nearly in his grasp, yet he only clutches air.

His optics and vents all stutter as one as he finally manages to get himself sitting up, a harsh pounding erupting in his head. It’s not like the hunger, but it’s close in the way it ebbs and flows, coming and going. It’s a bit easier to think like this, the tidbits of memory a little bit closer with every firework of pain.

He-

Gunfire is the first thing he manages to process before he’s taking cover.

Fever – that’s what this is. It’s so obvious now, alertness leaving his body feeling cold as he struggles to pick up the lost bits of his mind. He’s out in the open in Decepticon territory with an infection settled in his busted ped, because why wouldn’t he be? His luck may have kept him alive this long, but it sure seemed to be against him at the worst of times.

The sounds of war are so near and loud and devouring, and he – he can’t think. He can’t think over the feeling of his body deciding he’s an intruder, working against him. He can’t think over the hunger that’s had enough of being prisoner, clawing at the walls of its enclosure. Can’t think over the memories in his own head as the distinct sounds of blasters carry on.

The sounds ricochet from opposing sides, yells carrying through the dark. He can’t tell how many people there are over the chaos and his overclocked fans, but he knows that there’s more than one group fighting. Fighting and…

The bit of energon in his tanks churn.

Then, it’s over.

Over isn’t a good sign, typically. But curiosity has always been in his nature, making him peek out from the slight cover he managed to squeeze himself behind.

There are three – four? It looks like four figures there, just mere silhouettes in the cloud of dust. Four threats that he has no chance of eliminating, he thinks with pain and panic bleeding together as one.

 

If they notice him, it could easily be the end.

Hot Rod doesn’t want to die. It sounds childish to his own audials and mind, but he doesn’t want to die. His hope is simple and a bit like a sparkling kicking up a fuss, banging their fists against the floor. He just doesn’t want to die and extinguish that bit of hope he took such care tending to. It’s all he has left.

Stilling his very being, leaving what he can only hope is no trace of his existence, he observes the figures for a moment. One of them is massive, a hulking figure leering over the others. Their commander, maybe? Definitely trained in combat, with the way they carry themselves.

They’re searching for something. Supplies? Other bots? It’s hard to know, their intent unclear.

The chances of them walking over here are depressingly high. And all he can do is pick up a jagged piece of metal and brandish it in front of him. Hands shaky. Air cycling much too quickly. Optics losing focus. Haze threatening to pull him under.

They’re getting closer – each fall of their peds into the metal ground is like the tolling of the bell. Ice inhabits his lines, from spark to processor. He presses himself close to the wall, something like resignation being his intrusive, unwanted companion.

He can feel the probing, probing eyes. He can hear them get closer. His grip on his makeshift weapon tightens as he maneuvers himself with a last intake of air.

He twists. He swings. He-

‘Arcee, no!”

The shout startles him, his peds tripping over each other and his weapon easily tumbling down from his loose grasp. It all happens so fast. He’s falling again, again. Falling and hitting the cool metal, frigid against his overheating systems.

He thinks he hears a hiss as someone presses their weight upon him, immobilizing him against the floor. Maybe they’ll let go? Maybe? Now that they know he’s no threat, not anymore. He can barely stand, sick as he is. He’s no threat.

Then the weight is suddenly gone, servos brushing gently against his helm. There’s noise. Some odd noise.

Words. They’re words. They’re speaking to him.

His optics online to see a worn, worried face staring back at him, trying to pull him into a sitting position. It’s so use, though – Hot Rod’s systems have gotten comfortable in the lull they’ve found themselves in, powering down into nothing more than a murmur.

“Is he alright?”

Two pairs of optics shine brightly over the shoulder of the mech inspecting him. Static makes it unclear what they look like, but he gets the feeling they might be young. Young like himself, maybe. Impossibly young in war.

A small laugh makes its way past his lips, hitching into something incomprehensible as the older mech takes a step back. He says something over his shoulder to the others, his hand never leaving Hot Rod. He can’t tell if it’s unwanted or not. His processor is still stuck on the idea of this being the end.

“He’s got an infection from what I can tell. He’ll need to be taken back with us to properly recover.”

No, no – leaving wouldn’t be good. Others had tried that already; it never lasted long. People came and went similar to the hunger, their absence felt just as much as their presence.

Hot Rod’s meant to stay here where his biggest worry is his own aching head and the burn of his own optimism.

But these mechanisms – they don’t seem to get it, heaving him up as if he weighed nothing more than a sparkling. A steady, comforting hand that he can’t help but lean into soothes his aching frame.

His captor, who may not be a captor at all, shushes him gently. “It’s alright now, sweetspark. It’ll be okay now.”

Oh… it’s not just him clinging on with hope. It’s not just him stringing together pretty words that are capable of both harm and good.

He never knew someone else’s hope could be this warm.

Being on the road with Hot Rod has taught Arcee many things. Some of them aren’t that surprising, nor does she have the luxury of saying that she hasn’t ever observed them before. His quirks are all too common in other bots since the war, but that doesn’t make it any less painful to bear.

Place a cube in front of him, and he’ll freeze. Grow ever so still in a way that’s uncharacteristic of him. Then he’ll stare at the cube, almost as if he doesn’t really think it’s there. Next is the snatching. A rather crude word, but an appropriate one. He’ll snatch it real close to himself, no matter how natural he tries to make the action seem. It’s a wounded, instinctual motion – common in wildlife.

As bright as his optics will be, aflame with something downright predatory, he’ll never scarf it down. He’ll sip it carefully and in rotation almost. Too much could make it a waste, after all.

He subspaces his cubes often as well, rationing out any bits he can’t finish. Anything he comes across is similarly stored for later, his face carefully blank as he does so.

But he doesn’t have to, is the thing – rations haven’t been as hard to come by as the Autobots from Earth have thwarted plan after plan. It’s better now.

When she says as much to Hot Rod, he just stares at her, not saying a thing. It’s always up to Arcee to awkwardly change the subject, with Hot Rod all too eager to smile and follow through.

Kup’s smile is something bitter whenever she brings this up with him. The old mech can only rub soothing circles into her palm as he tells her there are many burdens they’ll forever carry with them. Her kindness is appreciated, but it’ll take more than love to make it all believable.

Ultra Magnus—who was perhaps the first to take to Hot Rod, fussing over him despite wanting his elaborate image of someone more firm—always says something similar, but she doesn’t miss the way he deliberately makes their youngest member’s portion a little bit bigger than theirs.

Neither mech ever mentions it, but it’s clear it’s appreciated in the way Hot Rod will duck his head a bit, contemplative.

It gets her thinking. It gets her and Springer thinking. It’s been a long, long time since they first picked up Hot Rod, and everything and nothing has changed. The war doesn’t seem like it’ll end any time soon, forcing their hands into fighting more often than not.

It’s all Hot Rod has ever known, but there used to be a time for other things. Celebrations and good fortune.

And a cause for such frivolities is just about upon them.

Hot Rod isn’t sure when he first notices it, but something strange has been going on. It’s not exactly a big thing, only being noticeable in the smaller details you have to really search for.

Springer and Arcee have been talking on their own a lot lately. Nothing strange, but their optics are always deliberately away from him when he enters the room, as if they don’t want him to know they’ve been talking about him. It’s a forced kind of silence. Maybe even a guilty one.

Try as he might, he can’t think of anything he’s done to make them angry. He tries to make a habit of apologizing immediately the moment he realizes he’s stepped out of line. He can be hot-headed, words often tumbling out without his control, the irritated side of him making his rationale take a backseat.

But he wants to be good. This is the longest he’s ever stayed with someone, and he- he needs to stay… He doesn’t think he would survive going back to the stifling quiet of loneliness where it’s hard to remind himself what functioning involves.

Every compliment from Kup fans the fires of hope. Every teasing remark from Arcee makes him feel seen and wanted. Springer’s habit of joining in and inviting him to play games brings him a joy he lost somewhere along the way. And Ultra Magnus’s patience and willingness to teach him means more to him than the other could possibly ever know.

He feels like he belongs.

So why?

What did he do that was so bad?

Unease has his heart in a death grip as he paces his room of their temporary base, trying and failing to summon an answer for this odd alienation. Even Kup and Ultra Magnus have added to this uncomfortable feeling.

He doesn’t like being ignored. He doesn’t like being turned away. He doesn’t like being dismissed.

There’s only so much a small flame can take before it’s gone.

He needs to confront this problem head-on. He needs to understand so he won’t do it ever again. He’ll leave if he has to. He won’t want to, but…

Mind made up; he leaves his room. The others are likely to be in the common room where they have all their monitors strewn up.

As he gets closer to the room, he feels himself faltering, hesitating. The lights are off. The lights are almost never off, except for when they have to hide themselves in case of an enemy being near. They can’t afford to be caught unaware, scrambling for a weapon in the dark.

“What’s going—”

A flash of light is his only warning as shouts of, “surprise!” cut through the quiet. A jolt of alarm zaps through him, his optics resetting and cycling to take in the sight of Springer and Arcee standing by a table full of all sorts of energon goods, Kup and Magnus smiling at him brightly.

It’s weird. Very weird.

“What’s… happening?” he asks, feeling sorely out of the loop.

It’s Arcee who answers him, beaming in a way he doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. “It’s the anniversary of you joining up with us!” she explains, her servos already interlocking around his wrists as she eagerly guides him over to the table. She shoves a plate into his hands, stacking it high. “We don’t know exactly how long it’s been, but we did remember the date! It’s just… been too chaotic to celebrate it, you know? But it’s been calm lately, so…”

She shrugs, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “We just wanted to surprise you, I guess.”

He hears her, but his attention is still fixed on the plate in his hands. There’s… a lot of food here. Most of it pastries he’s never seen before. It’s no doubt all delicious, but-

“This is… for me? The- the weird behavior, the whispers, the glances? They were all because of this?”

His voice is a bit reedy and laced with static. He can’t help it; he’s at a loss and overwhelmed. Overwhelmed but full of love, love, love. Burning love that makes him giddy and shaky, a vulnerable smile on his face as he continues to eye the energon sweets before him. He can’t even remember the last time he had the chance to eat anything just for fun.

A large servo clamps down on his shoulder. It’s Magnus, his optics practically swimming with adoration as he encourages Hot Rod to begin eating. “Of course,” he says, words just as full of care. “It’s always good to indulge yourself here and there. I’m – we’re all happy to call you on of us, you know.”

And Hot Rod does. He’s blanketed by that fact, his head and spark full of sheer gratitude as he spends the night surrounded by the people that mean everything to him.

[minhosbitterriver]

ah okay, um, this is gonna be a long one😅

the thing about me is that i’ve always been a casual listener of music in any genre (with the exception of one direction when i was 11), so a lot of these groups i don’t really know a lot about or follow, i just like some songs from them.

i grew up with mamamoo. they were my first introduction to k-pop. i’ve been listening to their songs since debut, and fell in love their vocals. so sad that they aren’t really together anymore😞

actually, the first k-rock band i ever heard music for was rolling quartz, surprisingly since they’re not that famous. but just a casual listener for them.

because of rq i went digging to find other rock bands and found xdinary heroes. my ult group. love these boys so so much.

through xdh i discovered day 6. didn’t know much about k-rock until recently. still a casual listener though.

p1harmony. my friend and i actually started out watching their content first and then started listening to their music after. absolutely hilarious and so fucking talented.

i’m starting to get into stray kids. i haven’t listened to all their music, but i’ve really liked what i heard so far.

i like some songs from stayc, g-idle, aespa, nmixx, and blackpink.

sorry if this wasn’t quite what you were hoping for����😭

- 🍀

That’s very fair! Most people I know are also casual listeners of music, but I physically cannot be like that if I like more than two or three songs from the same artist or group. I blame my autism and ADHD for that, I’m very obsessive when it comes to K-Pop (it’s my hyperfixation or special interest, whatever you call it). One Direction was my entire life when I was around that age, too! 😭 And then during Covid I fell back into their rabbit hole for their 10-Year Anniversary back when everyone was convinced they were gonna get back together 💀 but I’m out now, thank goodness!

You grew up with Mamamoo?! I’m so jealous! I came to find out about them after they’d stopped being so active as a group 😔 But I still wanna write for them so bad, my gay little heart needs it. Anyway, their vocals are no joke — they’re so incredibly talented and I feel like more people need to know about them. Who’s your bias? I’m OT4, but Solar and Moonbyul…👀

Rolling Quartz? Hmm, I think the name sounds vaguely familiar but I don’t think I’ve listened to their music. I’ll check it out!

Xdinary Heroes, my beloved 🥺 They’re so underrated it’s actually so insane!

Hello? I also write for P1Harmony? I actually have one piece published for them and I have like five different WIPs for them 💀 They’re so funny and talented, exactly! Also, the fact that they debuted with a whole ass movie? Insanity, but perfection. Who’s your bias? Mine is Jongseob (mostly because he gives me insane gender envy). My bias wreckers are Theo and Soul!

Ooh baby, Stray Kids is my ULT! I have almost 20 published works for them, I adore them so much like there’s genuinely no possible way to fully describe how much they mean to me. I could talk about them all day and night, so if you have any questions on them please hit me up! Do you have any biases yet? I’m 100% an OT8 so picking one member is not even an option 😫

Finally, the rest of the groups you mentioned are all I’ve heard of before but haven’t really sat down to get into them yet. Except for (G)I-DLE! I also write for them, and I have one WIP that’ll hopefully be posted soon!

Nah babe, this was so great! It’s crazy how much we have in common!

SIDE NOTE: Your newest requests have been added to the list 🫡 and I might do the OT6 one first because of the fluffiness and because it’s clearly a priority for both of our mental healths LMAO

[dollarneko]

HOW had no one drawn what's arguably his cutest outfit from s1 yet... I HAD TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT‼️💖

[sylvies-chen]

Brettsey prompt 51

Thank you!

This is part 249294929 of me turning whumpy/angsty prompts into fluffy ones (and maybe even borderline smutty for this one?? 👀) Anyway, I’m sure no one’s complaining about that so enjoy!

51. "I can't breathe."

Matt doesn’t know what it is about Sylvie in that moment, in that particular second, that had driven him crazy.

All he knows is that one minute, she’d been in his quarters asking him about a report from the house fire they’d been to earlier this morning. And he’d noticed how close she was standing to him, how good she smelled, how she put a hand on his arm while reviewing something in her report. She’s always beautiful, and things between them have been especially good lately (he blames it on still being the exciting honeymoon phase of their relationship, the first few weeks of dating) but today, he notices how beautiful she is more than usual. Which is saying something, because he thinks about it a lot.

Everything is sort of a blur after that. Sly grins, flirty touches, and coy remarks all mix together and before he knows it, he’s closing the blinds, suggesting she locks the door behind her, and she eagerly complies, pulling him in by the shoulders to kiss him.

They’re at work, and it’s heated and sloppy and completely unprofessional, but damn. He swears any trouble they could get in would be worth it for the way she’s kissing him right now.

“Oh screw it, the report can wait until later,” Sylvie chuckles against his lips as they move over to his cot. Her hands urge him down onto it, leaning him back as she stretches one of her legs out until she’s straddling him.

They aren’t normally like this. They agreed when they first got together that they don’t need to be Stella and Severide 2.0– the PDA can be kept to a minimum for him and Sylvie, even though it can be tough for him. Today, however, for one reason or another, it’s harder than usual to resist the urge to kiss Sylvie senseless.

She’s not resisting that same urge either though, because they’re here. They’re here, and she’s letting it get intense very fast.

Not that he’s complaining or anything. Or at least he isn’t, until ten minutes in to their impromptu makeout session when her being on top of him finally becomes a problem. Her hands wander down his chest, grazing over the fabric of his white Captain’s shirt, when her arm runs out of space and she shifts one inch too far to the right. Then, he gets an elbow to the solar plexus and feels her entire weight on him. She weighs practically nothing but it’s a sudden movement and the abrupt additional weight placed on him combined with the elbow makes for a less than comfortable position that crushes his lungs a little.

“Ow,” Matt winces suddenly in between kisses. “I can’t breathe. Y— your elbow is crushing my chest.”

“Oh, sorry,” she offers with a breathy laugh. She shifts her weight off him slightly and moves her elbow off of him. “Maybe we’re a little too old to be doing this. Aren’t we supposed to know better by now than to fool around at work?”

“Hey, you’re the one on top of me. You can stop or leave any time you want,” Matt argues confidently. He knows that’s the opposite of what she wants and she gives him a playful scowl in return.

“Not a chance,” she dismisses firmly. A wild smirk dances across his lips when she says so, revelling in the wild glimmer in her eye. “But I don’t have anywhere to put my elbow now.”

“I guess that’s what you get with a tiny cot like this,” he grumbles. In his head, he’s already cursing the tiny bunk and wishing to God that their shift be over already so that he could take her back to the loft and finish what they’ve started.

“I mean, it is only meant for one person,” she counters. “I don’t think the people who made these necessarily took into account that firefighters might want to—”

“Have some alone time with someone?” He finishes her sentence for her, his eyebrows raising slightly as he does. “They should have thought of that before they put locks on the doors and blinds on the windows.”

“If I remember correctly, you were the one who pulled the blinds down,” Sylvie points out, moving to press kisses on his cheek and letting her lips trail down to his neck. She keeps talking in between each tender kiss. “You weren’t complaining then.”

He tries to control himself, tries to manage the heat and stiffness growing between his legs, but is unsuccessful. Sylvie Brett knows what she’s doing to him with every kiss and fighting the excitement is pointless.

So he doesn’t. He gives in, and lets himself follow that carefree, exhilarating feeling.

“I guess I just like the privacy,” Matt replies, his voice low and raspy and hungry. His grip on her waist tightens and he pulls Sylvie back into him, their bodies flush against each other as their lips crash together. Her tongue dances at his lips asking for entrance and he can’t help the reflexive buck of his hips that it pulls from him.

Everything is perfect after that. Her weight and her elbow are no longer crushing him, her hands cup his face as he lays back on the pillow, his own hands stay planted against her waist, one straying below the waistline in all the right places and the other to the small of her back. They guide her further into him, the pressure of their bodies pressed against each other finally making Matt give in to the overwhelming arousal. There, in the privacy of his quarters, he lets himself get lost in her. For a moment, he never wants to leave.

That is, until the bells go off and they remember exactly where they are.

At work. Where things never stop, and they never seem to be able to catch a break.

“Ugh,” Sylvie groans, pulling away from his lips and frustratedly burying her head in his chest. It’s a call for 61, he realizes as he listens to the overhead speakers. Disappointment seethes through his body as he groans. She props herself back up on her hands, still on top of him but now putting a slight space between them. His hands reluctantly loosen their grip on her hips as she stares down at him.

“I hate these damn bells,” he huffs, not attempting in the slightest to hide his disappointment.

Sylvie eyes him, soaking in the frustrated look on his face. If Matt didn’t know any better, he’d say she was enjoying seeing him so pent up and disappointed over having to let her go. There’s a grin on her face that just proves his point. But she leans in for a quick peck, smacking her lips as she pulls away, and smiles at him again. This time, it’s warm and understanding, albeit still disappointed just like Matt.

“Duty calls,” Sylvie tells him, stroking her thumb over his cheek one more time before awkwardly dismounting Matt and slumping off of the cot.

“Right,” he sighs, staying in the same position layed back on the cot. He can’t quite move anyway, for fear of making the growing firmness between his legs too obvious. “Go, save lives. I’ll be here when you come back.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” she giggles lightly, smiling again before running out the door. He lays back, takes a deep breath to control himself again as he returns the smile she’d so lovingly flashed at him.

And damn. If that smile alone isn’t a perfect reason to wait there for her— a reason to throw all logic out the door and break the rule he’d constantly chastised Severide for breaking all these years— then Matt doesn’t know what is.

[theonlygamergost]

I lost you, brother of mine - Dream SMP

When looking for inspiration for a fanfic, @thehivemind asked for angst, then @matcha0milk inspired me to write this! 

So thanks Hive, you wanted angst and I’ll give you angst, just very heavy angst :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Techno has a nightmare about the day Manburg fell, and the news Phil gives him the next day worsen his trauma. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings! Mention of blood, people stabbing others, canon character death, Tnt explosions, nightmare and the panic that carries waking up from a nightmare.

Enjoy~

The explosion went off as soon as everyone realized Wilbur was missing, the dust settled to reveal a hole in the hill where the stand that started this chaos was built on, they all froze in fear as the damage of the TNT was revealed in full glory, therefore no one missed the yells from the traitor: “KILL ME PHIL! DO IT!”. The gasps of horror became louder once the man with the crow wings stabbed his own son, who he had protected from the explosion with his own body a second before.

The silence ringed loud in Technoblade ears as he saw his father figure, after years of distance and silence, kill Wilbur.

His legs trembled, the adrenaline of the fight is what kept him standing. Every time tears threatened to fall, he was able to keep them in, like a treasure he wanted all for himself, but they weren’t simple tears this time: they held the pain he went through alone, all the other tears he had denied from spilling, his face was wet in seconds.

Niki and Tommy were also a mix of fear and anger at the sight. But it was himself that suffered the most, yes, he had destroyed the tyranny that ruled Manburg, but all he got in return was experiencing what a dagger through the heart felt like.

A scream got caught in his throat, coming out as a pathetic whimper, the world around him started to fade in black, the only thing he didn’t want to look at anymore is the thing that remained clear: Phil, hugging his son, getting his pure green tunic dirty with blood.

In a second, the ground disappeared, his crown fell and so everything he was holding. His cape embraced him as the air blew it upwards, the clear image of his dying childhood friend got further and further away as he fell, until complete darkness...

______________________

Jumping awake, he sat up and grabbed his head, bringing his knees close to his chest, breathing frantically. The silence didn’t ring anymore, it actually comforted him, giving him the strength to open his eyes. The darkness persisted, making a whimper escape his lips as he quickly curved into a ball, but then something hit him: soft, fluffy, he was sitting on something soft.

So he felt it, fabric… A blanket?

Blanket?

Was he…?

Following his instinct and habit, he reached to the right: there was a lamp, he was in bed.

He tasted the bedside table more to find the button, a clicking sound made some light slip through his closed eyelids, so he gently opened them, warmth filled him at the sight of his room, fluffy coats for bad weather hanged still, Steve was in the corner, peacefully sleeping in his curled position, a cloud of smoke came out of Techno’s mouth, making him realize just how cold it was in the house.

It was that same cold who soothed his strong emotions, he could now think, even though being able to do so wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

The image of Will and Phil flashed, he sighed, reaching out for the cape at the edge of his bed.

A simple nightmare, he had plenty of those, and he would handle them like all the others, a breath of freezing air, some wood chopping and talk... to... Phil.

Phil…

He felt something cold under his hand, he turned to look at it-

Blood.

“What the-!”. He flinched, shaking his hand and wiping it on the white sheets, when he looked at it again, the hand was completely clean, and so were the sheets, “Heh?”. He looked a little further to see his cape.

He rolled his eyes before taking a deep breath: it was his cape. Out of embarrassment and fury, he got up and swung it over his shoulders, headed for the kitchen

––––––––––––––––––

The freezing cold air plus the falling snow made a perfect contrast with the hot tea in his hands and the fluffy cape, it did wonders for his tense nerves. Now that he was in the safest situation he could be, he went back to the nightmare.

The events were an exact copy of what had happened in reality, the only fault is that Techno didn’t cry that day, yes he wanted to, but he didn’t: Witch it happening in the nightmare made sense.

He grabbed a handful of his gown, it was the first time he had ever seen his own cape as blood, which was…

He sipped from the steaming mug, squinting his eyes.

...Interesting, it was a very similar red, that was obvious, but how did his brain process it as blood onto his hands when he was the one holding it?

It made no sense, Techno moved his attention elsewhere as he felt nausea building up. He sipped again, going wood chopping wasn’t a very good idea after examining the state of his brain: he might have seen a log as Wilbur at this point.

He rolled his eye, not believing how much this nightmare had scarred his mind, waiting for the perfect moment to show him gory images.

“Pathetic…”

When was he not pathetic? His standards for himself were so high he barely ever got to those. He shook his head, it didn’t matter.

A set of steps approached him, he tensed, “Techno…” The familiar voice made his breath hitch: Phil.

He turned, but the expression on his neighbour wasn’t the one he expected: His solar smile was a cold frown, his eyes weren’t able to stare higher than the ground.

Technoblade hesitated to speak, the fear of him being also a trick from his mind persisted, but he greeted him. Phil leaned on the wall next to him, “Ranboo just came by to bring us news… and you won’t like them”.

The statement made him raise a brow, why wouldn’t he like it? Had someone established themselves a tyrant again? Was a new country born?

Phil sighed, holding his own hand, “Wilbur… He’s back”. The image of his bloody “brother” laying on the ground came back, but this time, his eyes flickered to Techno, a grin appeared, and he started laughing.

A shiver so strong made him visibly shudder, Phil noticed and grabbed the half-man arm for comfort, Techno shook him away, Phil looked back at the ground.

“I know I should be happy… I attempted to get him back myself, but now… that he is back… After listening to what Ranboo said...” After another sigh, the older man looked at Techno, putting up the best smile he could do, “I fear that the Wilbur we knew Techno… He’s gone”

There was no need to spell out the truth, Techno saw how Will had changed when he joined Pogtopia, the way he treated Tommy compared to how he treated him… the was an abyss between those. With Techno, he smiled, genuinely, like a brother would do to another, but with Tommy… The smile held suffering and anger behind it.

Techno clenched his fist, “Who did it?”, his voice was so serious Phil was shocked, his eyes widened, “I… um…”.

The pig-man grabbed the shoulders of the older man, shaking both his body and soul, “Who. Did. It?”, Phil whimpered as eyes full of repressed anger and bloodlust started at him, Techno snapped out of his hunter attitude, realizing what he had just done to the man he swore to protect. He cursed at himself, “I-I’m sorry Phil! Did I hurt you?” He let go of the man, who shook his head at the question, “D-Dream…”

What? Wasn’t he in prison?

“Dream revived Will… and now he thinks Dream is a god…” Phil rubbed his arms, a snowstorm was picking up, the cold wind announced it. Techno sighed, he needed to go visit Dream.

“Let’s go in Phil” he gave the older man a soft smile, “Wouldn’t want you to get cold”. The friend smiled back, accepting the invite.

Phil might have killed Wilbur, but his brain was too far gone off the edge, he couldn’t blame Philza.

But for now, he had to make it up to Phil, by getting over his recent nightmare, and prepare to meet his “Brother” again, accepting that the Wilbur who braided Techno’s hair as a child wasn’t coming back.

[beeexx]

A meet the family moment that goes both very good and of course bad. Part 1/2

You can read it on my ao3 here too as well and read some of my thoughts at the bottom of that page.  Part 2 will be out shortly, but until then, here is part 1, happy fluffy and funny, next part is less so. 

Enjoy -------- TK is planning to spend most of his day doing nothing other than lay on Carlos’ couch, or at least until he comes back from his shift and they can do something together. This morning, like the responsible and horny person that he is, he even made sure to put the alarm on for 30 minutes earlier than they normally would so they could engage in a hot makeout session before Carlos had to leave for work. Those 30 minutes were definitely taken advantage of so to say, so much so that Carlos barely had the time to eat breakfast before he had to leave, 

and not before he almost puts his head through the wall by trying to put on his pants while he was brushing his teeth at the same time.

The memory makes TK smile though as he lies down on the couch, freshly showered and with a coffee in hand, content and at ease, when the doorbell rings interrupting his wandering thoughts.

“Awww.” He says, frowning at the interruption but gets up wondering who’s ringing the bell at this hour of the morning.

The answer becomes obvious when he opens the door and comes face to face with three women who are all waiting impatiently, all of them with the same brown eyes as Carlos and dark skin.

Oh shit.

“Erm, h-hey.” He stutters out, awkwardly. 

“Hello, is Carlos in?” One of the women says, the second oldest one, with a stylish outfit and long curly hair, making TK glaringly stand out in comparison to her with his oversized jumper that is Carlos and an old pair of sweatpants. 

“Eh no he changed his shifts around so he could take tomorrow off.” to spend it with me TK leaves out. 

“Of course my idiot brother would forget to tell us he did that.” The youngest one mutters.

Because yes, there is no mystery to whom these 4 women are that TK has stumbled upon this Friday morning on Carlos’ doorstep. His three sisters and mother are clearly waiting for him to say something and TK honestly feels like he’s about to freeze up on them on the doorstep, or close the door in their faces and run away. It could be either of the two, he hasn’t made up his mind yet which it is. 

“You want to come inside?” He asks though because it’s somewhat important that he makes a good impression on these people, even though he’s wearing more clothes that belong to Carlos than to him and his hair is wet and clinging to his face, and he’s in no way prepared for this. He’s immensely relieved he took a shower though. Smelling like sex and Carlos’ deodorant in front of his mother, who frankly looks terrifying, would have been disastrous. He steps aside and lets them in as they all mutter in agreement. 

TK feels his stomach drop as he takes in the state of the apartment which is in less than ideal condition. Yesterday’s dishes are still in the sink, and TK wants to die because that is definitely a pair of Carlos’ underwear lying on the floor just outside his bedroom.

Ugh.

“So, you must be the New Yorker?” The middle sister says. She’s wearing workout clothes, looking very different to the oldest sister but still manages to look immaculately put together and very pretty. The gene game is strong within the Reyes family and it’s a little unfair TK thinks. 

“Eh yes TK. Nice to meet you.” He extends his hand in politeness and they all shake it. Elena is the oldest sister, then it’s Andrea, Carlos and the youngest one whose name he at least knows is Beatrice. They all look at him with mischief in their eyes, reminding him so much of Carlos it’s a little disconcerting and it makes TK want to die a little bit. When it’s time to shake Gabriela’s hand she looks him over and TK feels like she sees right through him, straight to the core, like there is nothing he can hide from her. He gulps nervously.

“You are a skinny young man.” She points out and TK stutters.

Beatrice rolls her eyes and he runs a hand through his wet hair nervously, not liking how studied he feels by her.

“Yeah, I was in an accident recently, so I’m getting back into it.” After the coma and his time off work he has gotten a little skinny yes but he’s trying really hard to put the weight back on that he lost even though it’s proving to be a little bit more difficult than what he originally thought it would be. But he’s definitely getting there, or that’s what his doctor is saying at least. It doesn’t help though that he has a ridiculously fit boyfriend either who he has trouble working out with because he keeps getting distracted by him and how hot he looks when he’s sweaty, it’s not unusual that when they are working out together, is interrupted for other things instead, which in TK’s defence, still revolves around losing calories. Gabriela’s eyebrow shoots upwards and TK wonders if Carlos’ family knows any of the details of what happened to him.

“I got shot.”

“What?” Elena asks and Beatrice lets out an “Oooooo” sound and looks at him with morbid fascination.

“An accident at work and then during the solar storm I engaged in some activities not appropriate for someone recovering from a gunshot wound.”

He realises too late how that sounds and if Andrea and Elena’s laughter and Carlos’ mother frown is anything to go by he’s completely messed that up. He blushes.

“No, no, I mean I saved a woman from drowning from inside a bus and had to lift up some rubble to get to her. Not something the hospital was too happy about.” TK winces again because now it sounds like he’s bragging instead. Ugh.

“Oh damn.” Beatrice says.

“You’re a fireman, did I get that right?” Elena asks and TK nods.

“Yeah, on leave now though but yes.”

“Are you doing any exercises for your injury?” Andrea asks and it takes TK’s brain a moment to catch up before he remembers that Andrea is a physiotherapist.

“Yeah some I got from the hospital.”

“Well the clinic I work at is pretty good if I may say so myself, so you want me to hook you up, I got you. I’ll make sure you see someone that’s not me.”

“Oh, thanks.” He says as she smirks confidentiality at his obvious nerves. 

“Is there any food in here?” Beatrice interrupts and walks into the kitchen, her mother following close behind inspecting each of the surfaces in what TK thinks is 20/20 vision. Bea opens the fridge and wrinkles her nose in distatate as TK rubs at his neck awkwardly. Elena joins them and they all seem to dissect Carlos’ kitchen inch by inch, judging him by the lack of food and messiness which cannot be blamed on anyone other than TK. He feels a strange need to defend Carlos and tell them it’s his fault which makes no sense at all as that would make his family possibly dislike him more than they already might. 

“Salted caramel popcorn? Since when does Carlos eat these?” Elena asks and holds the bag up. Beatrice grabs it aggressively out of her hand and pops one in her mouth.

“Those are mine.” TK says, his embarrassment growing with each second.

“They’re not as bad as you’d think.” Beatrice says and pops another one into her mouth.

“Ah, that explains it.” Elena says and gives TK a cheeky smile before she reproachfully rips the bag back from Beatrice and puts it back into the cupboard. 

“TK, are you hungry? From the state of this kitchen my son seems to be feeding you badly.” Gabriela says, her eyes sparkling and TK stutters again, so completely overwhelmed by all these women he doesn’t know how to handle being under the sudden attention. If there’s one thing TK lacks in his life it’s interactions with strong women, as the only reference he really has is his mother and she had left and not stuck around for too long so he’s not sure it counts. Not that he tends to be insecure around people in general, but this is Carlos’ family and they are going so steady at the moment that he needs to be liked. 

“He’s a much better cook than I am so he feeds me pretty well ma’am.” Beatrice laughs out loud and Elena and Andrea seem to struggle with holding back laughter too. Gabriela chuckles, but it’s not in a mean way at least. 

“Something my son took with him when he moved out.” She gives Elena and Andrea pointed looks.

“Hey, I cook just fine.”

“I’m a firm believer that all the men I date should cook for me. I’m not conforming to any gender roles mami.” Andrea finishes, much louder than Elena. Beatrice, now laying on the couch rolls her eyes harder than ever before. TK hasn’t met the Reyes family before, but he’s heard enough about them to be able to puzzle some pieces together. Elena is the high achieving one with good grades and borders on being a perfectionist, Elena is the gentle and kind one and Beatrice is the youngest one, sarcastic and moody a lot of the times but strangely enough the one Carlos seems to be getting along the best with. He adores her and according to him Bea’s sarcastic side is kept to a minimum around him which annoys the hell out of the older sisters as they have never quite been able to connect quite the same with her. If TK is going to be honest, it doesn’t surprise him that someone like Carlos has managed to melt Bea’s hard exterior, he’s impossible not to like, he has a way with people which makes him both a good cop, an excellent boyfriend and all around amazing person to have in your life.

“Just talk and talk and talk from you two. TK, I will cook for you and then when my forgetful son comes home I will make sure he has enough leftovers to feed you for a while.”

“Oh, thank you ma’am, that’s very kind of you.”

This time Gabriela rolls her eyes.

“Please, Mrs. Reyes or Gabriela works just fine.”

“You’re a polite one, aaww.” Andrea cooes and TK blushes. He really isn’t used to being surrounded by so many women all at once it’s completely throwing him off his game. 

“More stylish too than the last one, please get my brother into something that’s a bit better than those clothes he insists on wearing.” Elena adds, but it’s a joke TK can tell. At the same time it doesn’t surprise him that it comes from her either, she seems, out of all the siblings to be the most put together, her clothes extremely fashionable and complimentary of her figure. Andrea is in what seems to be her working clothes, and TK knows she and Carlos tend to work out together and Beatrice is in high waisted mom jeans and a cute crop top, definitely giving off student vibes in that outfit. It’s interesting in a way that all siblings in outer appearance seem to be very different from each other, something that is new to TK, who grew up alone. 

But he just smiles and doesn’t comment on the fact that he prefers Carlos without his clothes on anyway and it doesn’t matter what he wears because he would look good literally wearing a plastic bag.

“I’m just going to get changed.” He announces and before he can wait for their replies he hurries into Carlos’ room, making sure to grab the boxers off the floor and not to slam the door shut too loudly, because that would be too embarrassing. He leans against the door and revels in the silence and privacy of the room. He really isn’t ready for this. Meeting Carlos' family seemed to be something he’d do along the lines of dating for 3 months rather than a little over 3 weeks into their relationship. He is not prepared for this. In desperation he texts Carlos. 

-SOS 

The reply comes almost immediately.

-What’s happened?????

-Your mother and sisters are here. Help!!!!

-Oh shit, TK I’m sorry I forgot to tell them I moved my shifts around and we were supposed to meet up and cook together.

-Yeah no shit, I am dying here.

-I’m sorry, I’m sure it’s not that bad.

-Your mother scares me…..

Carlos sends laughing emojis his way before he types out another message.

-That’s latina women for you. Also I am the only son of a big family, ‘her baby needs to date someone worthy of him’ end quote.

-That’s not helping at all!!

-Well, just be yourself, it will charm them in no time, I’ll be home for lunch. Just entertain them with firemen stories and I’m sure you’ll be fine.

-’Just be yourself’ is the worst advice in the history of advice.

-Worked wonders on me, see you soon.

And that’s the key the conversation is over and it has not calmed TK down as much as he had hoped. It will likely be two more hours before Carlos is home and TK really has no choice other than to put his game face back on and go meet his fate with his head held high. 

He starts by getting dressed, in yesterday’s clothes unfortunately, but thanks the heavens he wore jeans at least and not sweatpants when he got here. He borrows some of Carlos’ deodorant and fixes his hair with some stuff he’s left on another weekend long stay. He looks better than he did earlier and that’s literally all he can do. He walks back out and braces himself for what’s to come. 

“Not that you didn’t look nice before but I can totally see why Carlos is into you.” Elena says teasingly and TK blushes. Even Beatrice looks at him with something that looks a little bit more like respect than before.

“Was it that bad before?” 

“No, no, no.” Elena and Andra reassures him and Gabriela looks reproachfully at her daughters who at least look a little sheepish from their mother’s intimidating eyes.

“Don’t mind them TK honey, would you come help me in the kitchen?” 

“Yeah sure of course, what can I do?” 

“You can shop the onions, smallish bits please.” She hands him a cutting board and a knife and he gets to work, this at least being something he can do without failing too hard.

“You three, get to work!”

TK hides his smile, Gabriela sounding eerily similar to when Carlos puts on his demanding police officer voice. Maybe he picked it up from his mother? Not that Carlos has anything on this woman though, she walks into a room, small as she is and demands respect and attention. TK envies that a little bit. 

“So do you have any siblings TK?” Gabriela asks as the kitchen fills with the sound of chopping, laughter, frying and honestly an all together wholesome feeling that only cooking can do, bringing people together, something TK is not too familiar with. As great as his dad is, cooking together at home was not an activity they used to do. 

“No, I’m an only child.”

“Ah.” She says and raises an eyebrow. “Parents still together?”

“No, they’ve been divorced for a long time now.”

“And what do they do?”

It’s feeling more and more like an interrogation to TK, except that Gabriela has soft features and seems to be driven by curiosity rather than to undo him and pull all his secrets out of him to use against him. It doesn’t mean that TK in this moment does have the urge to lie or escape from this room and he has to remind himself that not everyone in this world is out to hurt him, no matter how much it feels like it sometimes. Carlos has been nothing but kind and supportive even before they got official, there’s nothing saying that his mother is not exactly the same, kind and caring and sweet.

“My mother is a lawyer and lives in California at the moment so I see her every now and then and my dad is a firefighter too. Owen Strand the Captain over at the 126.”

“Oh, yeah I heard he ripped the whole place up.” Beatrice adds.

“It’s really nice though. I went to see Michelle a few months back and he’s really pulled it together.” Andrea adds, sounding deeply impressed and TK nods. 

“Yeah, natural light and nice showers do wonders for morale.”

“Is that your dad’s words?” Elena asks and TK nods.

“Yeah.”

“And you TK, have you always wanted to be a firefighter then?”

For some reason TK doesn’t think bringing up the doubts he’s had about the life he’s chosen is the best thing to do at this moment, so he settles for the reply he always goes with, which these days is pretty much the truth anyway.

“Yeah, always.” Gabriela smiles at that, kindly, and TK finds that even if she scares the living daylight out of him, she seems to be a pretty wonderful woman too. 

The Reyes seem to lay off him a little bit, focusing instead on talking to each other. TK finds that the sounds filling up the kitchen settles something inside of him. His life has never been like this, where people stop to spend time with one another, and enjoy the company of each other when they are at home. Not that he thinks his parents did a bad job, but being an only child in a busy family often made him feel lonely, and he didn’t grow up with a lot of home cooked meals that were made with love, so this, this is nice. 

When Carlos finally comes home for lunch TK isn’t dying as much as he was before, and he’s thankful for that.

“Ah, there is my forgetful son.” His mother chides him immediately when he steps inside.

“Sorry mami.” He says and kisses both of her cheeks, before he ruffles Beatrice’s hair who glares murderously at him and hugs his two older sisters. Lastly he walks up to TK and for a moment he seems to hesitate about what to do and it makes TK roll his eyes because while they tend to be pretty light on public affection outside of the house, his family is already aware that they are dating. TK raises up on his toes and places a kiss on Carlos’ cheek, Carlos’s hands coming to gently grab at his waist and making sure to give his sisters the finger while they ooo and aaaaww in the background. Carlos steps away and steals a piece of chicken that is cooking and his mother swats his hand away with a spatula chiding him in spanish.

“Is everything done or?”

“If you’re asking if you managed to miss all the chopping and cooking then yeah you did you sneaky bastard.” Elena says, sitting on the kitchen island by the cooling dulce de leche that she keeps stealing off when her mother isn’t looking in her direction. TK had a taste of it too earlier and it’s absolutely delicious so he doesn’t blame her. 

“Nope, that was not what I was asking.” Carlos says and pushes her off the now clean counter, she glares at him but doesn’t even try to push back at him, their size difference not to her advtange which Carlos knows. He sticks his tongue out cheekily and she mutters under her breath that she’ll get him back. TK hides is laugh, can’t help but be affected by the sibling rivalry they’re displaying. He likes seeing Carlos like this, teasing and funny and a little mean with his sisters, it’s so very unlike him on most days and it’s nice to see another side to him. 

“TK, will you help me set the table?” Gabriela asks.

“Yeah absolutely.”

“Carlos we need a bigger table, do you have the extensions still?” 

“Yep, come on.”

“As if you couldn’t carry them yourself?” Andrea rolls her eyes but starts walking to the back of the condo, Carlos following behind but not before he kisses his mother’s cheeks affectionately again. She says something to him in spanish that TK only catches the end of but he’s pretty sure it’s about him and judging by the look Carlos sends him it’s not bad.

When Carlos and Andrea come back TK and Gabriela have finished setting the table and even Bea has gotten off her phone to come peek interestingly at everything that is laid out before them. TK hasn’t seen this much delicious food in a long time and he already loves Carlos’ cooking, if he learnt from this woman it’s going to absolutely blow his mind. They sit down, Carlos beside him, with their mother at the end of the table and the rest of the sisters on the other side and TK lets the sound wash over him, enjoying how comfortable the family is around each other. He manages to escape the attention, but only for a while.

“Soooo, how did you meet then? Carlos has been vague about the details.” Elena of course asks after a while. TK shoots Carlos a look and he indicates for TK to talk.

“On the job actually, on my first call, a car accident.” Elena leans forward, clearly very interested and in the corner of his eye he can see Carlos shoot her a reproachful look.

“How romantic.” She comments and Carlos throws his napkin at her, Gabriela only needing to glare at them both for them to stop.

“Did he ask you out by the car accident?” Andrea wonders and it makes both TK and Carlos chuckle.

“Please, I have some manners and style, you should know this by now.”

“Do you though?”

“I do actually.”

“Okay, continue the story, shush Andrea.”

“Erm, well there isn't much of a story.” TK really doesn’t feel like getting into the whole drama caused by him because everything has been going so well, so if he was about to tell them how he had run out of a dinner with Carlos, gotten into a bar fight and then kind of been a dick for a couple of weeks by avoiding Carlos and then getting into the whole accident he would lose whatever standing he had with the Reyes family immediately.

“We hit some bumps in the beginning but it worked out in the end.” Carlos covers for him cryptically and if he hasn’t told his family about the mess TK essentially is, he must care a hell of a lot about him. TK feels his face heat and his heart beat faster and having a little bit of a breakdown or just the urge to drag Carlos away from his family and into the bedroom to kiss him stupid, then no one has to know. He swallows down a bit of tomato and tries not to think about it too closely, even though Carlos’ thigh keeps brushing up against his when he moves. He is going to ignore it and get through it.

“I’m glad to hear you’ve worked it out.” Gabriela adds smoothly and Carlos gives his mother a grateful look and then the conversation moves along to other things and TK ends up having a lovely but very intense day, one he will remember fondly for a long time.

………..

When the door closes TK sags in relief against the counter, allowing Carlos’ side to take half of the weight.

“That was intense.” He mutters, making Carlos chuckle as he puts his arms around him.

“That’s the Reyes for you.”

“I feel like I could sleep for a week.” TK tucks himself closer against Carlos’ side, nosing at his neck looking for affection. Carlos rolls his eyes fondly, but takes pity on his cute but bratty boyfriend and unexpectedly sweeps TK off his feet. TK lets out an indignant little shriek that he will definitely deny he ever made later on as Carlos puts him over his shoulder before he makes his way over to the bedroom. He puts TK down gently on the bed before he lies down too, mostly on top of TK and sighs in content. TK chuckles before he runs a hand through Carlos’ hair, sending a shiver down his spine. He noses at TK’s neck, and rests his head there, feeling his pulse point flutter underneath his lips. 

They lie in silence for a while, enjoying it after the hectic morning and day. 

“You want me to move?” Carlos asks. TK just shakes his head. Carlos knows TK likes to be pinned to the bed, sometimes definitely, sexually yes, but oftentimes it’s more about the sense of grounding it makes him feel when Carlos will cover him completely. Carlos could understand that and was often happy to comply with the request, even though in the beginning he was definitely worried about crushing TK. 

“Your family is something else.” TK says snapping Carlos out of his wandering thoughts. He chuckles in agreement. 

“They are.”

“I like it though, the noise, the laughter and banter, it was always so quiet being an only child, as well as it was lonely.”

Carlos hums and kisses TK softly on the neck.

“Yeah, our house was anything but for most of the time I grew up. The only time it was ever quiet was when something really bad happened.”

“Like?”

“When my abuela died it was horrible for a while.”

“Yeah that must have been rough.”

“It was… another time it was quiet was when Elena got arrested.”

“She got arrested? For what?”

“She smacked some old white lady up in a bar for being a racist.”

“Impressive.”

“Yeah, well it also got quiet when I came out.”

TK winces, Carlos feels it go through his whole body.

“Did they take it badly?”

“Not badly, but I’m the only boy in a family of three sisters, so it wasn’t great at first. But all my sisters rallied behind me and my parents both came around eventually. They just needed some time to sit with it all. But it’s fine now.”

TK strokes a hand down his back in silent support that Carlos appreciates. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry you had to go through it, even if it turned out alright.” TK whispers, and Carlos smiles sadly against his neck. He knows that in a perfect world he wouldn’t have had to worry about coming out to his parents, or to his co workers or to his friends. But this isn’t a perfect world so...

“Thanks.” He whispers back. TK hums and continues stroking his fingers through Carlos’ hair and down his back, the motion making Carlos melt against him. 

“Who knew cooking could be this nice.” TK says after a while and Carlos chuckles but can’t be bothered to lift his head, he’s way too comfortable.

“Should we make it a thing then? Instead of me cooking for you all the time we should start cooking together instead?” 

“Well, maybe not all the time, I would distract you way too much in the kitchen for you to get anything done.” He teases and Carlos agrees, kisses his throat gently a fews times before he lies down again. 

“True.”

“But maybe I will help from time to time.”

“I’d like that.” Carlos whispers.

“It was never like this for me growing up, loud and happy and people joining together to ask about the other person’s day. Or cooking for that matter. It’s nice, I’m happy you had it.”

Carlos knows some of TK’s past, not all of it but some of it, and he rarely pushes, just often lets TK come to his own conclusions about stuff. Well sometimes he pushes just a little but when it comes to talking about TK’s life before Texas he knows it’s a bad idea to approach it that way. And he knows TK has been making an effort too about being a little bit more forthcoming and he appreciates it endlessly. So it’s nice to hear him talk like this and Carlos waits it out, let’s TK get it off his chest.

“Thanks, it was nice, you can come to every family dinner from now and then maybe you’ll tire of it.”

“I don’t think I could tire of it, tire of you.” He whispers and Carlos lifts his head up, smiles goofily and brighly and TK rolls his eyes but makes a little indication he tends to do when he wants a kiss. It’s Carlos’ turn to roll his eyes but he leans forward and gently places one on top of TK’s nose, making him scrunch it up looking ridiculously cute. He chuckles but kisses him on the mouth next and TK hums happily into it.

………

Carlos must have fallen asleep, because when he blinks his eyes open he’s surprised to find it’s almost evening. His body is sleep warm and languid with TK still wrapped up around him. He yawns and lifts his head, coming face to face with TK who has a pillow crease on his cheek but green eyes alert and awake. 

“I wasn’t the only one who was tired then?” He teases and Carlos can’t be bothered to snark back and instead lays his head back down on TK’s shoulder before pressing his lips to his neck. TK sighs in contentment and Carlos repeats it, but a little more meaningfully, letting his lips linger before biting gently. TK squirms underneath him and Carlos chuckles against his skin before he moves further up. TK exhales shakily before he shifts, putting Carlos’ lower body a little closer to his crotch. Carlos helps out and puts himself in between TK’ legs, who eagerly grinds upwards, already half hard, making Carlos bite down on TK’s neck to prevent his own very loud moan from escaping from the friction. They had a go this morning before Carlos had to rush to work for his shift, it was fun but rushed and even so Carlos is pleasantly surprised that his body keeps having such a powerful and potent reaction to TK’s grinding against his dick. But with his appetite seemingly not diminishing anytime soon he isn’t exactly going to complain either, because they have been having a lot of sex recently, amazingly good sex, so if he is going to be able to get off 3-4 times a day then he definitely isn’t going to complain.

TK’s hand pulls at his hair as Carlos makes his way up towards his face, lips never living skin and watches goosebumps erupt all over TK’s body. TK, breathing unevenly by now, pulls at Carlos’ shirt impatiently and Carlos chuckles before he lets up and unceremoniously throws it off. TK sits up a little, gently places his hands around Carlos’ waist and places a trail of feather light kisses just above the waistline of Carlos’ jeans. Carlos bites at his lip, can think of a lot of other places he’d like for that mouth to be on before he pulls TK’s t-shirt off him and throws it in the direction of what he thinks is his own shirt and then gently pushes him down again. TK goes willingly, Carlos is well aware that if he wouldn’t have wanted that he would have let Carlos know, and so he puts his full weight down on top of him and kisses him hungrily.

Carlos and TK have during the weeks they have been together had a lot of talks about boundaries and consent, what is okay and what is not okay. It was different when they weren’t exactly official, but ever since then Carlos has had that nagging feeling in his head that it’s important he understands and gets to know exactly what TK likes and doesn’t. TK had scoffed at first and said everything was fine which Carlos had not believed for a second and he had spent a lot of time trying to show to an ever hesitant TK that he wasn’t going to walk out and leave TK just because he expressed a line of thought that didn’t always align with what Carlos thought or felt, and that included everything from bed related things to basically living together, which they basically already were, as the last time TK spent a night away from Carlos’ bed was over a week ago. Yes he was keeping count. There was a toothbrush that was TK’s in his bathroom, he had a packet of those sweet popcorn in his cupboard that he thought were disgusting and TK loved and a package of oat milk in his fridge for TK’s coffees, there was a pair of running trainers in his hallway and hair stuff on his counter that belonged to TK, so by all accounts, TK was living here more than he was living with his dad. They had somehow managed to take things both very slow and very fast at the same time but TK seemed happier than he had in a long time, Carlos had been told that in secret by Owen at the station one evening and Carlos had felt his heart flutter in utter joy to hear it.

TK grabs the back of his head, angles it so that the kiss deepens even more and Carlos thinks he would be a happy man just doing this forever. He moans when TK’s tongue traces his and TK snickers delightfully. He moves his mouth down to TK’s throat, leaves sloppy open mouthed kisses on exposed skin, feels TK grab the sheet and squirming underneath him and he doesn’t let up until he reaches his ear, sucks on his earlobe before he leans in close.

“Baby.” he whispers and TK groans. “What do you want?” When TK doesn’t answer he starts sucking on his earlobe again like a tease. “Baby, use your words.” He teases.

“Yeah, y-yeah. It’s very hard doing that when you’re doing what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He teases and starts to suck a hickey on his neck instead, just below where his shirt will hide it and TK moans, grabs at his hair again and pushes one of his legs up and around Carlos’ waist.

“Words baby.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, please fuck me.” TK finally says, sounding strained and breathing hard already. Carlos feels a thrill of excitement go through him and he kisses the small bruise on TK’s neck before he gently kisses TK on the mouth, smiling brightly at him.

“I thought you’d never ask.” TK rolls his eyes without heat and Carlos moves a little so he can reach the lube he keeps in one of the drawers. 

………

It’s hours later and they are both lounging around on the bed, still not having left the bedroom after the sex they had ages ago. TK’s in a pair of borrowed boxers, draped halfway across the bed on his front, giving Carlos a nice view of his ass, as he distractedly tries to read while TK looks to be playing candy crush. Carlos just rolls his eyes fondly and goes back to his page when TK’s stomach rumbles loudly in the comfortable silence. Carlos lifts an eyebrow looking at TK over the page while TK has a sheepish smile on his face. 

“Earlier activities make you hungry?”

“If I had an app that counted calories I’m sure it would say we burnt a lot from what we did.”

Carlos chuckles.

“True.” He agrees. “Well there are a lot of leftovers from earlier still in the fridge if that suits you?” He’s already getting up, not bothering to put on any other clothes than the boxers he’s wearing. He feels TK’s eyes trail his behind as he leaves the room for the kitchen his mother had thankfully forced them all to clean up afterwards. It’s feeling like a blessing at the moment. He heats some of the leftovers on two plates but before he makes it back TK comes and joins him, plastering himself against his back, placing a kiss on Carlos’ shoulder blade.

“Hi.” He laughs and TK hums.

“Did you get bored?”

“I was missing you too much.” TK admits and Carlos feels a thrill of joy rush through him, unable to help it. He turns around and puts his arms around TK and pulls him close, rests his head against his forehead and stays there for a moment, the world feeling completely still just then, narrowed down just to him and TK.

“I missed you too.” He whispers even though it’s cheesy but the brilliant smile he is rewarded by tells him TK feels it’s anything but. 

Carlos thinks about telling him right then and there. He’s so close to opening his mouth and blurting it out, but regrets it at the last minute and places a gentle and sweet kiss on TK’s mouth instead. 

Carlos knows he’s an idiot, knows it’s way too fucking soon to tell TK that he loves him, but he fucking does, he feels it in his whole body. But he really doesn’t think that TK is ready to hear it and while that doesn’t diminish what Carlos feels for him, it’s not the right time to tell him.

But he hopes that it’s soon, because while it might be foolish and rushed and stupid of him to feel that way about this beautful mess of human being, Carlos has always been one to fall fast and hard, it’s just who he is.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Best Part About Being Human

Characters: Castiel x Angel!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, fluff, skinny dipping, brief oral fem recieving

Request by anon: Can you write a fluffy Cas x Reader where she is his best friend and they are both in love with each other. He is the careful and overthinking angel she is the girl who just wants to live in the moment. One night they go skinny dipping.

Summary: You’ve lived with humans for centuries, and you can’t ever think about going back to Heaven. When Castiel shows up, you have to show him how good it feels to be human.

Squares Filled: childhood friends @castielspnbingo​ // fools rush where angels fear to tread @as-the-saying-goes-bingo​ // castiel for my frist card of heavenandhellbingo // kissed to be quiet @spnfluffbingo​ // new years resolution @spngenrebingo​ // “whatever you lack in talent, you make up for in confidence.” @spnquotebingo​ // non-canonical relationship for @trope-bingo

Author’s Note: This is unbeta’d and all mistakes are mine. If you have any requests, please send them in!

Heaven has always been a “one-track mind” and a “black and white” kind of way. There is a set of rules every angel is supposed to follow, and if you don’t, then you’re cast out. Most habitable planets have and follow the same kind of rules, and they become so boring to live by. It’s fine for the first couple millennium, but then it gets kind of boring and predictable.

God entrusted his angels to serve Heaven and to follow those strict rules. Heaven always comes first, and it didn’t matter if you had other priorities in your life. You went where the archangels sent you, you did what they asked of you, and you did it without complain.

There has to be something more out there, something that challenged its people and didn’t tell them what to do and where to go. There had to be someplace in the entire universe that held creative imagination to a high standard. For a while, you never found it. You searched high and low for it, but you always came up empty. It made you question whether or not such a  thing existed until you found Earth.

Such a small planet in some tiny solar system lying in a galaxy that is barely out of its diapers. Such a tiny and insignificant planet, and they defy all the rules. Upon first discovering them, your heart soared at the thought of being able to creatively express yourself--to be who you are instead of being who someone else tells you to be. Heaven is exactly that--you don’t get to be who you are. They program you into being perfect soldiers, but that’s not who you want to be.

You want to be able to talk with your peers without the fear of being judged by them, you want to be able to do something without your four older brothers reigning hell down on you for disobeying your father, and you want to be able to find love and joy and humor and sadness and grief--something you can’t ever find in Heaven. Everyone’s Heavens are perfect little sanctuaries that protect them from the horrors of their own lives. You won’t find what you’re looking for in there--and you’ve gotten in trouble for popping into people’s Heavens before.

Humans have a silly way of doing things, but what makes them so unique is that they are imperfect. Everyone in Heaven is perfect--no scars to tell people where they’ve been and what they’ve been doing. Humans are flawed to the T, but that’s what makes them so special to be around. They cherish life because it ends. They find value in happiness because of sadness and fear. They crave thrills and adventure because their bodies are built to withstand so much, yet, they don’t know that. Human souls are so valuable and pure, it’s amazing what each person does with them.

Humans have come a long way since they were first created, but they still have such a long way to go. They won’t ever be perfect, but that’s why you love them so much. It’s also the main reason why you left Heaven to hide on Earth to be with the humans. You pretended for centuries to be like one of them--talk, act, love--just so you can feel like you belong to something.

There are bad ones that filter through every once in a while, but you’d rather be here than on Heaven a million times over. There is just something so powerful and heartwarming about being surrounded by imperfect beings. It really makes you question what God has been doing, and what kind of plan he has for the angels. Even now you can see angels are heavily flawed because the system is flawed.

There is a flawed system down on Earth regarding the demons and monsters that Eve unleashed onto the world. They are the diseased little insects that have been infecting the world from the very start, but you try and do your part to make it a better place without outing yourself to the rest of your friends and family. The only one you want to know you’re down here is Castiel.

He’s the only person you absolutely love out of your entire friends and family from up there.

He’s a good soldier, and you fought beside him in many battles, but he’s also the only one who gets and understands you. He’s seen the flaws up in Heaven, but you’re the only one who had the balls to leave and do something about it. He stayed, and you wish to your father he would come down here and find you.

You’ve prayed to him before in hopes he would change his mind and come down here, but you hadn’t heard anything from him in a while. He’s your best friend who you love with all your heart, and he’s not down here experiencing this with you. You’ve been everywhere on this Earth three times, and it would all be better if he were by your side. You’ve hunted with hunters from all over the world in fighting their monsters, and the ones you actually like are the Winchesters.

They know you exist and how you’re trying to hide from Heaven, so they kept your secret all these years. Then Dean died, and that’s when Castiel finally made his appearance. He’s the one who saved Dean from hell and learned you were here from Sam. Sam knew how much you missed him, so he spilled the beans just a little bit.

While the Winchesters traveled around the United States, you stayed in one place: New York City. While most people would say it’s a dump and has dirty people and things, you think of it as a place where creativity flies high. You don’t think you ever met a group of more independent people than in New York City. You used your angelic powers to get yourself a penthouse suite in the Big Apple just so you could watch the humans live their life all around you.

And now Castiel is here, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

“Castiel!” you rejoice and hug him tightly.

“Y/N, we’ve been looking everywhere for you. Michael wants you back.”

“Michael can sit on his ass and wait. I cloaked myself. I didn’t want to be found, that’s why I prayed to you al the time in hopes you’d join me down here.”

You’re sitting inside a cafe in one of the corners, just watching as humans ordered, talked, and laughed with themselves and other people.

“Why Earth?”

“That seems to be the question that everyone asks these days. Why Earth? Humans are so messy and imperfect and animals. We’re so much above them that they don’t even have any kind of value or worth.”

“Exactly,” he nods.

“But that’s exactly why they’re so special. How old are we, Castiel? Megaannum, that’s how old. We’re millions of years old, and we still have millions more to go. They see the value in life because it ends. For some, it lasts 70 years and others, 100. But it ends, and that’s why they cherish it. They’re reckless and rash and impulsive, but they’re the best judge of characters. I’ve learned that living down here for a few centuries. I’m not human, but it’s not such a bad thing to learn to be it.”

“You sound like God,” he sighs.

“Yes, I do. The only difference between me and Him is that I actually lived among them instead of creating them. He may have created their structure, but they evolved from it and made it better. This is a new year, and I want to try new things. I want you to stay with me here, Castiel. I want to be human with you.”

“We’re not human.”

“No, but we can act like them. How about I make you a deal. You come camping with me for a whole week, and if you decide to stay with me, then that’s great. However, if you decide to go back home, then I won’t blame you. All I ask is that if you do, don’t tell them where I am. They’ll make me come home, and I already found a new one. I’ll still aid and help if and when Heaven needs me, but it’s not right now.”

“What’s camping?” he asks in confusion.

“Oh, Castiel, you’re going to love it! It’s where humans go into the woods and bring camping gear and tents and sleeping bags and non-perishable food while being in touch with nature!” you gush.

“Like animals.”

“You can be so stoic sometimes. Let me take you camping. It’s, like, the most human thing I’ve seen. Well, apart from eating and sleeping and showering. It’ll be so much fun!”

“Can’t wait,” he sighs.

His words express excitement, yet his tone expresses the complete opposite. Just he wait because this is going to be the best camping trip ever.

“You’ve been hanging with the Winchesters, I can tell. It’s why I brought this fancy-ass tent. You don’t need sleeping bags for this because there are air mattresses inside of it. They’re pretty sturdy actually. Great for sleeping.”

“We don’t sleep.”

“Exactly,” you smirk.

You’ve always had a crush on your fellow angel, but you never did anything about it. There are a lot of angels in Heaven making relationships with one another. It’s the most human thing you’ve seen them do. You’ve always hoped you and Castiel would be together one day, but then you left and you hadn’t seen him since. Maybe you can start something with him down here, and he would want to stay.

“What are we supposed to do now?” he asks.

“Now we set up the fire. It’s going to get dark soon. It’s my fault for leaving so late. I try not to use my powers down here. I’ve figured out how to live without them.”

“I could never,” he mutters, but you choose not to comment on it.

Castiel stands there as still as can be while you try to get the fire going. You want to be human, but you haven’t figured out how to everything they can do. Like building a fire, for instance. It’s a lot harder than it looks. Castiel can see you struggling, and he just snickers at your attempts to get a flame going.

“Whatever you lack in talent, you make up for in confidence.”

“Shut the hell up,” you laugh and give in with your powers.

You start a fire instantly despite not needing the warmth. It’s mostly to sit around and watch the fire embers bounce off Castiel’s face. You’ve never seen him in this kind of light, and you can only imagine what color blue his eyes would be against the red of the flames.

“We can start doing things tomorrow, but you need different clothes. It’s hard to do anything with a trench coat and suit on. Let me help you,” you state and walk over to him.

Your hands slide up his coat so you can push it off his shoulders. He watches the emotion in your eyes as you do so, so you know he sees just how much you want him.

“I can manage on my own.”

“You’re still so stiff. Let me help you with that. There’s a reason why I picked this spot. You want to know why?” you ask and step back from him.

“Why?”

“Because there is a lake, and I really love swimming. Care to join me?”

“Isn’t is tradition to wear a swimsuit when doing things like this?” he asks as you lift your shirt over your head.

If it’s possible, he gets stiffer at the sight of you in just a bra and shorts. Not just his body, but his cock as well. Jimmy Novak’s cravings must be getting through somehow.

“It is, but there’s also your birthday suit,” you smirk and finish undressing before his very eyes. “Care to join me?”

“I’d like that,” he says in a much lower voice than normal.

You turn with your back to him as you walk into the lake by your campsite. Castiel doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he knows he wants to do it with you. The crush you have on him is exactly the kind of crush he has on you. He’s had it ever since you two were children. He never thought relations between angels were allowed until most recently. If he’s going to do anything with anyone, then he’d rather do it with you.

As soon as he’s naked, he walks into the lake to be by your side. While you don’t have sexual cravings as your angel grace prevents it, your vessel’s cravings do shine through. Castiel is a lean and sexy man, and she definitely likes what she sees.

“Do you like the way the water feels on your skin?” you ask as you swim closer to him.

“It’s nice, yes.”

“You’re still tense. Would you like me to help you relax? I’ve picked up a few tricks along the way,” you chuckle.

“What would you do that could help me? Don’t you get nervous or anxious in situations like these? Like you don’t know what you’re--”

You cut him off with a kiss to the lips. He’s shocked, to say the least, but he doesn’t not like it. His vessel is popping up through the cracks in more ways than one, and he’s not sure if she should roll with this or end it.

“Don’t think, feel,” you whisper and wrap your legs around his waist.

His cock springs to attention the more your hands and lips are on his body, but he knows exactly what to do. He’s been to Earth before, and he’s observed this kind of activity before. He’s never participated it in personally, but he knows what to do and where to put it.

“This is new,” he mutters lowly.

“Do you like it?”

“I do.”

“Then let me do more of it,” you grin.

Your lips move from his down to his neck to find that one spot that would have made his vessel soar with pleasure. The water sloshes around you two, but you don’t pay any attention to it. Instead, you’re focused on the thing that’s poking at your center. You’ve come to learn a lot about your body and what it can do and handle. Right now, you can handle a lot more than this.

“I’m not sure what to do now,” he pants.

“You do, Castiel. Take me back to the tent and have your way with me. You’ll know what to do,” you encourage.

You attach your lips to his just as his hands grip your body tighter. He begins the trek back to the tent without ever letting you go. You two drip water everywhere, but you can’t seem to care right now. He lays you down on one of the sturdy air mattresses before detaching his lips from yours.

“I’ve seen many people do this,” he mutters as he kisses down your neck and chest.

“And now you’re doing it yourself,” you moan when he takes a nipple into his mouth.

The noises you make and the way your body arches fuels him to go down further. It’s like the more skin he exposes to himself, the more he knows what to do. He’s not listening to the angel side of him, but the human side of him. Every angel has one, and the longer an angel spends away from Heaven and other angels, the more it pops out.

“Your body is exquisite,” he praises as he descends down your body.

“I can say the same thing about your mouth,” you chuckle-moan.

By the time he reaches your pussy, he knows exactly what to do. He licks one broad stripe up your center, and his vessel goes crazy with the need to be inside you. Castiel’s tongue is warm and wet, but there is time for that later on. Right now, all you want is to feel him inside you. You’ve waited a long time for this moment, and you’re not going to waste another second of it.

He kisses up your body and locks his lips with yours as he grabs the base of his throbbing cock in his hand. He rubs the tip over your lips a few times just to spread your juices around. Humans say this part hurts, but he knows you’ll be able to take the pain. He slides himself in inch by inch until he bottoms out, holding your hands in his by your head.

“Shit, Castiel, you feel so good inside me,” you moan.

“Who knew you could be this tight,” he chuckles.

He gains a surge of confidence that allows him to pull out and slam right back in. Your back arches the moment of impact, and your mouth forms a perfect ‘o’. No noise comes out of it because your body is just in complete shock at what he’s done. He can see how much pleasure he’s giving you, so he does it again, making sure to hit that one spot guaranteed to make you scream.

“Fuck!” you cry.

He doesn’t waste any more time and pistons in and out of you. Out of all the humans you’ve been with, Castiel is the one to come out on top. Nothing is better than angel sex because it can withstand a whole lot more than human sex. Castiel’s hips snap to yours aggressively, and he grips your hips to hold you in place. If he’s going to do this, he may as well do it right knowing you can take a lot.

“Play with my clit, Castiel. I’ll come easier with that,” you guide one of his hands to the bundle of nerves at your center.

“Like this?” he asks and pinches the bundle.

“Yes!” you squeak and moan louder.

He pinches and rolls your clit a few times as he thrusts go harder and deeper in you. Both stimulations are enough to cause the coil inside of you to get tighter and tighter. It’s going to snap soon, and you express it through your words.

“Feel that tightness in me, Castiel? I’m going to come if you keep that up,” you moan.

“Then come,” he simply puts.

Your body comes on command, coating his cock with everything you got. He didn’t know it himself, but he was also close. Feeling your release all over him caused him to shoot his load into you. He never knew sex could be this fun, otherwise, he would have done it a long time ago.

“That’s the best sex I’ve had in a long time,” you laugh.

Castiel pulls out of you and watches as the mixture of yours and his releases drizzle down your thighs. He lays next to you and looks at you as if you are his world.

“You’ve had sex before?”

“Castiel, it’s the best part about being human.”

“I’d like to learn more,” he says seriously.

“You know, I am going to wipe all that tension out of your body until you’re just like me,” you grin and bounce back rather quickly.

“Y/N, no one can be like you.”

“I take that as a compliment because Castiel, there is so much more for you to learn,” you grin.

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[scifigeneration]

Even planets have their (size) limits

by Natalie Hinkel

A planet-forming disk made from rock and gas surrounds a young star. NASA/JPL-Caltech/SwRI/MSSS/ Gerald Eichstädt /Seán Doran

Scientists have discovered over 4,000 exoplanets outside of our Solar System, according to NASA’s Exoplanet Archive.

Some of these planets orbit multiple stars at the same time. Certain planets are so close to their star that it takes only a handful of days to make one revolution, compared to the Earth which takes 365.25 days. Others slingshot around their star with extremely oblong orbits, unlike the Earth’s circular one. When it comes to how exoplanets behave and where they exist, there are many possibilities.

And yet, when it comes to sizes of planets, specifically their mass and radius, there are some limitations. And for that, we have physics to blame.

I am a planetary astrophysicist and I try to understand what makes a planet able to support life. I look at the chemical connection between stars and their exoplanets and how the interior structure and mineralogy of different sized planets compare to each other.

This sketch illustrates a family tree of exoplanets starting from the protoplanetary disk, which is a swirling disk of gas and dust surrounding a planet (much like a stellar disk but smaller). Gas and dust is pulled onto the planet, depending on the planet’s mass and gravity. NASA/Ames Research Center/JPL-Caltech/Tim Pyle

Rocky versus gaseous planets

In our Solar System, we have two kinds of planets: small, rocky, dense planets that are similar to Earth and large, gaseous planets like Jupiter. From what we astrophysicists have detected so far, all planets fall into these two categories.

In fact, when we look at the data from planet-hunting missions such as the Kepler mission or from the Transiting Exoplanet System Satellite, there is a gap in the planet sizes. Namely, there aren’t many planets that fulfill the definition of a “super-Earth,” with a radius of one and a half to twice Earth’s radius and a mass that is five to 10 times greater.

So the question is, why aren’t there any super-Earths? Why do astronomers only see small rocky planets and enormous gaseous planets?

The differences between the two kinds of planets, and the reason for this super-Earth gap, has everything to do with a planet’s atmosphere – especially when the planet is forming.

When a star is born, a huge ball of gas comes together, starts to spin, collapses in on itself and ignites a fusion reaction within the star’s core. This process isn’t perfect; there is a lot of extra gas and dust left over after the star is formed. The extra material continues to rotate around the star until it eventually forms into a stellar disk: a flat, ring-shaped collection of gas, dust, and rocks.

During all of this motion and commotion, the dust grains slam into each other, forming pebbles which then grow into larger and larger boulders until they form planets. As the planet grows in size, its mass and therefore gravity increases, allowing it to capture not only the accumulated dust and rocks – but also the gas, which forms an atmosphere.

There is lots of gas within the stellar disk – after all, hydrogen and helium are the most common elements in stars and in the universe. However, there is considerably less rocky material because only a limited amount was made during star formation.

Comparison of confirmed super-Earth planets compared to the size of the Earth. NASA/Ames/JPL-Caltech

The trouble with super-Earths

If a planet remains relatively small, with a radius less than 1.5 times Earth’s radius, then its gravity is not strong enough to hold onto a huge amount of atmosphere, like what’s on Neptune or Jupiter. If, however, it continues to grow larger, then it captures more and more gas which forms an atmosphere that causes it to swell to the size of Neptune (four times Earth’s radius) or Jupiter, 11 times Earth’s radius.

Therefore, a planet either stays small and rocky, or it becomes a large, gaseous planet. The middle ground, where a super-Earth might be formed, is very difficult because, once it has enough mass and gravitational pull, it needs the exact right circumstances to stop the avalanche of gas from piling onto the planet and puffing it up. This is sometimes referred to as “unstable equilibrium” – such that when a body (or a planet) is slightly displaced (a little bit more gas is added) it departs further from the original position (and becomes a giant planet).

Another factor to consider is that once a planet is formed, it doesn’t always stay in the same orbit. Sometimes planets move or migrate towards their host star. As the planet gets closer to the star, its atmosphere heats up causing the atoms and molecules to move very fast and escape the planet’s gravitational pull. So some of the small rocky planets are actually the cores of bigger planets that have been stripped of their atmosphere.

So, while there are no super huge rocky planets or small fluffy planets, there is still a huge amount of diversity in planet sizes, geometries and compositions.

About The Author:

Natalie Hinkel is a Planetary Astrophysicist and Senior Research Scientist at the Southwest Research Institute and Co-Investigator for the Nexus for Exoplanet System Science (NExSS), Arizona State University

This article is republished from our content partners over at The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky ch. 15

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

~~*~~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve

Chapter 13 | Chapter 14

~~*~~

Read Chapter 15 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge spent the rest of the day in his quarters, not even venturing out for meals which would have earned anyone else a firm scolding. Perhaps it was childish of him, but right then he didn’t want to see Red or Undyne, and Rus didn’t deserve having to see him.

He settled for ration bars and followed his schedule as best he could, approving requests from the scientists to return to the outer research stations now that the storms had passed. He escaped briefly to work out in the greenhouse, striving for and failing the normal soothing that it brought, but otherwise remained in his quarters.

That day there wasn’t so much as a knock on his door. Red and Undyne knew him well enough to let him be and Alphys was certainly wise enough to know if she came, he’d end up comforting her.

The next morning, he forced himself to set aside his lingering resentment. He had a job to do and it wouldn’t be done by hiding away.

Rus wasn’t at breakfast. Edge wasn't surprised.

As an added bonus to his misery, no one else offered him a greeting as he sat at the table. That easy, unusual camaraderie between them and the scientists was gone, leaving only distance, and the span of the table between them may as well have been as wide as the continent. Despite whatever scorn Undyne often expressed about their common sense, none of them were fools. Gossip traveled fast and they’d obviously deduced something went wrong between him and Rus, and the researchers seemed to be standing by their own despite Rus being a Monster.

Edge didn’t blame them. No wonder he was only suited to live at the ends of the Earth. He couldn’t manage a normal relationship for two days.

He sat next to his brother and couldn’t help the bitterly amused thought that he had fallen from hero to outcast in the span of less than twenty-four hours. His own personal Paradise Lost. Red’s sockets were concealed by his sunglasses, but from his lowered head, his own guilt was still thoroughly consuming him. He would have to wade through on his own for now; Edge couldn’t blame him for his reaction, but forgiveness would have to be later.

Undyne was not present, likely taking her meals with Alphys, and their resident engineer was the one worthy of concern. None of this was her fault, but she’d surely been dragged in nonetheless. He made a mental note to check in with her, if only to reassure her that he didn’t blame her for any of this. The blame was his own and Edge would be keeping it.

Breakfast was already laid out, but before Edge could reach for any of the platters on the table, a plate landed in front of him with a clatter. Loaded with burnt toast and runny eggs, half of it falling off from the force of the throw.

Edge looked up to see Bonnie glaring down at him, her scarred face twisted with anger. Ah. It seemed that it wasn’t only the researchers who’d sided with Rus.

Next to him, Red started signing indignantly and Edge put out a hand, stopping him. "Don't."

He picked up the toast and bit into it, and the charred flavor on his tongue was like the taste of failure. He ate every bite methodically, scraping his plate for the last oversalted dregs. There were worse meals in his past and if Bonnie needed a target for her wrath, he would accept his due.

As he was carrying his cleaned plate to the dish rack, the kitchen door opened again, Bonnie carrying another tray out with the door swinging shut behind her. The meal on that was fit for a King of Monsters, fluffy pancakes drizzled with honey, Rus’s favorite, along with crisp bacon, golden yolks of eggs over easy, and a bowl of berries, fresh from the greenhouse.

None of the scientists still lingering offered a single indignant word about that indulgent feast and neither did Edge. Strictly speaking, meals weren’t supposed to be taken in private rooms unless there were extenuating circumstances. It seemed the entire station was deciding that this qualified. Edge only hoped Rus was in enough of an appetite to eat it.

Bonnie went through the hallway door with a bang and Edge turned back to the table to discover his brother vanished in the time it took him to wash his plate. He sighed and shook his head, heading back out.

Today seemed like a perfect day to work on repairs at one of the outskirt checkpoints, a never ending task, particularly after a storm. Edge logged himself at one that Rus never went to and headed out. It would be fair to Rus to try to avoid him, if that was what he wanted, and Edge would make sure his schedule was very visible. It wasn’t normal protocol, but if Rus didn’t want to see him until he left the station, Edge would make it easy for him and if he did…

Edge extinguished that hopeful thought before it could form.

The vehicle garage was empty, his brother nowhere in sight. If Edge was making himself scarce to Rus, then it seemed Red was doing the same to him. He sighed inwardly. This one rock thrown in their smooth pond was casting ripples that would last for some time yet. He’d give Red a few days and then corner him, if he had to.

There was no question he would forgive his brother. Edge couldn’t even be properly angry with him. He knew better than anyone what Red suffered through to earn his distrust of any of the Monster royalty, the cracks still littering his skull spoke volumes, and he could hardly blame Red when his reaction was no better. A piece of paper and a handful of questions was all it took for him to cast Rus into doubt.

Unbidden, memory came to him, of Rus’s smiles, that real smile he offered so shyly. Of the expression of purest wonder the first time he saw the aurora, of the way he cuddle in close as he slept, clinging with all his limbs as if afraid of being left alone—

Edge pushed that aside. He had work to do and that would last him far longer than any idle thoughts.

He gathered the equipment he would need and signed out a snowmobile, heading out to the furthest checkpoint.

It took him the better part of the day to clear the accumulated snow from the antennas, check over the solar cells and calibrate the equipment. By the time Edge headed back to the station, he was exhausted and bone-chilled despite his outdoor gear.

Careless of him, he knew better than to stay out too long. Monsters could handle the lower temperatures better than Humans, but eventually even they would succumb. The ride back only made it worse and he regretted not choosing a SnoCat for the journey, even if it would have taken twice as long. By the time he returned to the vehicle shed, he was shivering so hard he could hear the rattle of his bones over the roar of the engine.

Edge hastily signed the snowmobile back in and headed inside, clumsily stripping off his gear with numbed phalanges. The ache that came as they warmed was enough to make him hiss, but it was a pain was earned through stupidity, one he hadn’t felt since their first month here. Perhaps it was best things ended as they did, Edge thought sourly, he’d been off balance since Rus got off the ship. He needed to get his head on straight before someone got hurt.

He ignored the voice in the back of his skull slyly pointing out that someone was already hurt and headed towards his room to recklessly waste a shower token before dinner. The cold wouldn’t kill him, but a little comfort before facing those silent, accusing faces in the dining hall again would be a kindness.

As he went down the walkway to the living quarters, Edge heard raised voices from around the corner. The words themselves stilled him as much as his brother’s loud voice declaring, “look, i just want to talk, fashion victim.”

“my name is rus.” Edge closed his sockets, pained. Never had he sounded so cold, even that awkward moment they’d first met.

His brother went on, doggedly, “rus. you’re right, i get it. rus. i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry. look, it’s not an excuse but we’ve had people here before who—“

Rus interrupted, his cool voice tight with underlying anger, “you’re right, it’s not an excuse. all you had to do was actually talk to me. woulda taken two minutes. thanks to you, i spent two hours straightening my notes after your little room search. i had to recalibrate all my equipment, since i guess none of my shit is important enough to worry about, not like yours is. you’ve all wasted enough of my time, now if you’ll excuse me...hey! let go!”

“that ain’t his fault, it was all me, all of it, wouldja just listen--”

Edge hurried around the corner to see Red gripping Rus’s wrist even as he struggled furiously to pull free.

“Red, let him go.”

They both jerked, two sets of eye lights flying over to him. It was his first sight of Rus since seeing him run away in tears and Edge’s soul lurched painfully. He was wearing the worn orange hoodie that hadn’t made an appearance since his first day here, the heavy sweatpants rather than the thermals Edge had given him. He looked tired, heavy shadows beneath his sockets, and Edge ached to think of the wasted energy, trying to catch up on his work. He hadn’t even considered what damage was done by going through his things, all the effort Rus would need to go through simply to continue his research. He couldn’t imagine how far behind Rus might be now, perhaps unable to complete in research in time.

If Rus needed to stay longer to finish, Edge would pay for it out of his own salary. Though he wasn’t sure Rus would welcome the chance, thesis or not. He might very well be the first person on the boat.

Red was still holding on, hard enough for bone to scrape. His sunglasses were on the floor, another pair broken, and his eye lights were blazing, flared crimson. That was a sight Edge hadn’t seen for a very long time and he held out his hands to his brother placatingly.

“That’s enough,” Edge told him, low. “Let him be.”

“no, it ain’t!” Red burst out, “it ain’t! it was my fault, all right?” He looked at Rus wildly, who only looked back stonily, still trying to twist away. “i put the bug in his head that you were up to something and i was wrong. i know my bro, i know he has trust issues! i shoulda checked more careful, i shoulda--”

“Red,” Edge broke in, gently. “Brother. Please. Let him go.”

The feral light in Red’s sockets dimmed, fading to their normal soft crimson glow. Slowly, reluctantly, his grip loosened, and the second he could, Rus wrenched away, stumbling back and clutching his wrist to his chest. His mouth worked, his eye lights darting between them, but finally Rus turned and walked quickly away. Edge watched him go until he turned a corner, out of sight.

Red only slumped back, sliding down the wall to the floor. He rested his forehead on his updrawn knees, wracked with brief, jolting quivers. Edge crouched next to him, not touching, only there if his brother needed him.

He waited until those intermittent shivers eased, then said, softly, “You need to leave him alone."

“i can’t.” Red’s voice was muffled into his knees, raw and cracked. “i can’t, boss. you were happy for the first time in ages and i ruined it."

“That’s not true,” Edge began. He might as well have saved his breath, Red only shuddered and went on.

“wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t! he don’t get it, he don’t know what you’ve been through, what we have!”

Edge laid a cautious hand on Red’s shoulder. His brother lifted his head, looking at him miserably. His knitted cap was askew, showing the first branching crack at the front of his skull and with gentle patience, Edge adjusted his hat to cover it again. Quietly, he asked, “And you know what he’s been through?”

Silence. He didn’t know what Red was thinking about, but Edge couldn’t help recalling Rus’s expression in the Rec room that night he watched Edge spar with Undyne. The sudden fear when she called for him to take her place.

Red looked away, eye lights on the floor as he swallowed heavily and whispered, “no.”

Edge nodded. “Neither do I. So, please, leave him alone. Let him do his work. He’ll be gone in a few weeks, anyway. Will you do that for me?”

The phrasing needed to be careful with Red, Edge knew, he excelled at crawling through loopholes to dig into whatever he found on the other side. This time Red only nodded, heaving himself to his feet.

“m’sorry, bro. fer everythin’” Red mumbled, shoes shuffling against the floor as he went the opposite way as Rus and rounded the corner.

Edge went to his room to take his own advice. Stood beneath the steaming hot water, letting it pour over him. There was nothing but his warming bones, the heavy patter of water against the walls of the shower stall. He very nearly used another token, forced himself not to be quite that wasteful as he’d regret it the next week, and stepped out into the cooler air to dry off.

He was barely dressed when there was a knock on his door. The temptation to ignore it was shameful. His duties to the other researchers had not lessened despite his personal issues. If they needed him enough to search him out, they deserved a chance to be heard out, even if it ended in a rebuke from him to submit all requests in writing.

When he opened the door, however, the last person he expected was standing there.

“Rus?” He didn’t dare hope and still, his soul sank a little when Rus only held out a sheaf of papers.

“thought you might want to see this,” Rus said tersely. He stuck his hands into pockets the moment Edge took the papers.

They were still warm, fresh from the printer and Edge looked down at the pages in confusion, “What’s this?”

“my thesis, since you’re all so interested. but it doesn't even matter what it says, because what it tells you is i'm a fucking astronomer. which the information packet i submitted should’ve already told you."

“Observing the Progression of an Active Galaxy Nuclei Through Fiber-Optic Spectroscopy,“ Edge read slowly. Such a dry title, it didn’t feel like Rus. Or perhaps it did, his lack of knowledge about Rus was where their problems began. “You’re studying galaxies?”

Rus’s mouth twisted. “something like that. i’ve already taken readings from the equator. just needed to get them from one of the poles to finish up.”

“This was what you were keeping a secret.”

“i wasn’t keeping it a secret!” Rus snapped. “or yeah, okay, i was, but it was just a tease, for fuck’s sake! because you’d think i was so fucking interesting if you knew what i’m studying, right?”

“Rus-“ But Rus wasn’t finished.

"do you even know how hard it was for me to get here?” he asked, low, “i was trying for scott station before i realized there was no way they'd let me in. tried a few others, but it was always more of the same. plenty of excuses but none of them wanted to admit it was because i was a monster. i got tired of throwing away money that i don't have for rejections, so i came here even though it cost a shit-ton more and i’d have to bring my own equipment. thought maybe if it was run by monsters…” Rus shuddered, his shoulders hunching. “you want some truths? okay, here's one. red was right about one thing. my sponsor? it's toriel. yeah, the queen. she...she was kind to me and my brothers when we ended up here. got us jobs, gave us a start.

Edge only stood, cooling papers in hand, watching as Rus blinked too hard, almost choking on his words as he said, “when i realized i wasn't getting anywhere with my applications, i swallowed my fucking pride and asked her to help. she pulled some strings to get my application on the roster.”

Though no one else was around, Rus’s voice lowered into a fierce whisper, “and i get that all of you are bitter about what happened, but even you can't convince yourselves that things were better with asgore in charge. after everything, she let you guys go your own way, didn’t she? no one is coming after you, no one sent me up here to spy! tori told me that you were honorable and i trusted her on that."

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Edge couldn’t help saying. Oh, he knew why, look at the way they’d reacted to the mere suspicion that the Embassy was involved. But Rus’s answer was not quite the one he expected.

“i didn't want to tell you because...i’m nobody in this world, okay?” Rus burst out, heaving out a shuddery breath, “my own brothers told me i was wasting my time on this when i could be doing something useful, but this is what i love. i busted my ass working double shifts to get up here to finish, tori said i should warn you, but i couldn't risk it, not after everything.” He lifted his chin, his eye lights gleaming fiercely. “and i’m gonna to do it. i don't need this shit, any of it. you were always a distraction i didn’t need.”

Dimly, Edge wondered how he’d never known it was possible to bleed without ever taking a wound.

"I'm sorry,” he said, softly.

“save it. i told you, i get it, i get why you guys are suspicious but that doesn’t mean i don’t get to be hurt! it doesn’t mean I have to forgive you.”

"It doesn't," Edge agreed quietly. “But I am so very sorry, nonetheless. You never gave me a reason to doubt you.”

Rus's expression crumpled, all his anger like so much tissue, "don’t do that, you can't...just stay away from me.”

He turned, walking quickly away and Edge carefully closed the door, the pages of the thesis still in his hand. Hardly a moment passed before there was another knock on his door. Edge didn’t allow himself to hesitate. He opened it and Rus was there.

He shivered despite his bulky sweatshirt and the emotions fluttering across his face were too quick to interpret, “look...can i come in?”

Edge only held open the door, and when Rus stepped inside, he sighed deeply, nervous fingers clattering lightly against his skull as he swept a hand over his head. “this is all fucked up, i know, but...could you just hold me for a little while?”

Wordlessly, Edge sat on the bed, reaching out to pull Rus into his arms. The pain clenched in his soul from the moment Red came to them yesterday morning loosened, easing as Rus settled against him. It was easier to hold each one other if they lay back, so Edge did, pressing his face into the pale curve of Rus’s skull to breath in the honey-sweet scent he thought he’d lost.

Fear lanced through him as Rus shifted, sitting up, but it was only to pull that oversized sweatshirt over his head. Beneath it he was only wearing a thin thermal shirt, hardly a barrier at all as he settled back against Edge. One hand gripped the front of Edge’s shirt, so tightly he could hear the bone creaking. Edge settled his own hand overtop it, loosening the grip until he could entwine their fingers. They lay together in silence for some time, only their breathing breaking it, until Rus muttered out, “this doesn't mean i forgive you."

No. Broken trust was as difficult to heal as the cracks across his brother's skull.

But it was a start.

tbc

[scriptureofashes]

hey! can i request a spideypool soulmate au where the first words of your soulmate that you hear from them is tattooed on your arm kinda thing with peter having a Really strange sentence on his arm like just a bunch of curse words or something absolutely ridiculous and out of context? i think that would be so funny

this starts out angsty, turns cracky and ends fluffy, what have I done

(ps: wade is speculated to be 28-35, I’ve aged him down only slightly because peter is over 20 when they meet here)

Peter makes a point of never letting anyone see his mark.

Even as a little kid, he remembers Uncle Ben and Aunt May’s frowns when they saw it for the first time, gobsmacked by his soulmate’s utter cheek. Before the accident, Ben would always tut under his breath and mutter on about manners and subtlety. That by itself was enough to convince Peter to strap a watch or a cloth of sorts over it.

To this day, Peter still sticks to covering it, all-too aware of the extra fun he’d be made of if these words ever got around. He’s not particularly ecstatic on feeding the bullying.

May still snorts at the sight of it though, after some considerable wine intake.

(mind the readmore, mobile users!)

Ned is the second person to see it.

“Dude.”

It’s after a rather strenuous PE lesson, so they had hit the showers quick before they can go to team practice. They’re the last ones in the locker room and Peter is frankly so damn stressed about everything that’s been going on in just this last week—coming back from his literal ashes and to the Spider-Man shindig with a Spanish quiz around the corner—that he completely forgets.

He stops toweling his hair, eyes darting back and forth between his bare wrist and his best friend’s failing attempt to contain his disbelief, and throws him a sheepish grin.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Dude.”

It shouldn’t surprise him that MJ sees it next.

The strap on his watch snaps. It snaps, and it’s summer, so he can’t at least try to cover it with his sleeves, and has he mentioned his life sucks? Because it does. It freaking sucks.

It’s not odd to hide your words from the world. People do it more often than you’d think, but it comes from an outdated, conservative concept, so nowadays, society encourages you to flaunt them with pride. Those who insist on concealing them, especially if they’re young, are slightly frowned at.

And, realistically, he knows the words aren’t bad, per se, but they’re not the kind you’d look at without reacting a little, and he’s learned the hard way that kids and teenagers are the absolute worst when it comes to these things. It doesn’t take much to poke fun at someone who’s just slightly off the norm, so if it’s Peter Parker with something like that as his soulmark? Well, he can only imagine the hell Flash would raise for it at school.

He’s just about two seconds into panicking in the middle of team practice, watching Flash on the podium, when tan hands take the watch away from his fussy hands to slide a red cloth over his inked skin. MJ’s own words stare back at him as she ties off the hairband, ones he actually recognizes but says nothing about.

When she’s done, she takes a step aside. She gives him a brief once-over, and then her expression turns appreciative, clearly agreeing with the contents of his mark.

She winks when she turns away, and Peter feels his face on fire.

Mr. Stark, surprisingly, doesn’t react. At first.

Because Peter’s a complete idiot, as Mr. Stark tells him later, he forgoes precautions and pays the price when they’re testing out an upgrade for one of his web shooters. Something malfunctions, and advanced spider healing or not, it still burns when it goes all the way down his forearm, like the freaking Devil himself took a hold of his hand and yanked.

Peter almost comments on how literally fading to bits had hurt less, but when he opens his mouth he’s levelled with a stare very reminiscent of Aunt May’s, and acknowledges the too soon. Even if it has been almost two years.

Mr. Stark has to push back his sleeve to see the damage and get the right treatment from the First Aid kit one of his bots fetched, and Peter squeaks, indignated, despite his arm hurting enough to be a concern. His mentor actually pauses as he surveys his arm, face paper blank for a few moments. Either he’s seen worse or the injury takes precedence, because all Peter’s given is a split-second look, then calloused hands rub some soothing balm on his arm and the lab safety lecture comes on.

Later, bandaged and properly chastised, Peter chances a look at Mr. Stark. His face is still hard to read, as it sort of always is, but he’s staring back dead on. The silence is somewhat excruciating.

Anyhow, this lasts about three seconds before Peter notices the knowing glint in his mentor’s eyes and the clear effort he’s making at holding back his laughter. It occurs to Peter that maybe he realized why the mark is always hidden by the watch and is trying not to say anything in respect to Peter’s feelings.

So Peter gives him a mile and laughs, abrupt and a bit deprecating, but he can’t help himself, and Mr. Stark’s responding grin is wide and nothing short of exasperated.

“Jesus, kid. You have your hands full.”

And Peter laughs all the harder, catching his breath enough to quip, “I thought it was the other way around?”

It takes a surprising half-minute before the meaning sinks in.

“You’re grounded.”

Peter keeps cackling.

He used to think about hearing them for the first time as often as one does think about hearing their soulmate’s first words to them. He used to feel this sort of anticipation and, he admits, desperation for it, when he still dreamt of becoming like those people in the movies whose soulmate comes and saves them from their not-so-rosy lives.

That was before Spider-Man, however, and before Peter grew up enough to know that’s a load of crap. No one can save you but yourself.

Spider-Man is a hero. He’s the people’s man, an actual knighted Avenger by both Iron Man and Captain Marvel, at the beck and call of every criminal that decides to be naughty one particular night. He’s New York’s reliable savior, a figure to look up to and someone to depend on.

It’s understandable how he still longs to hear them, ridiculous and problematic aside, seeing as he doesn’t have time to be his own hero.

He does hear them. At long last, he hears them, and the moment he does, he wishes he didn’t.

It happens when he’s out on a lead about a rich dude’s friends kidnapping the girl that dumped him and teach her how much of a mistake it was to run away from him. Considering the guy’s sadistic tendencies in his criminal record, Peter doesn’t blame her at all.

Spider-Man sneaks into the empty warehouse he finds them in and drops down quietly, though unnecessarily so. The guys—three, and none of them were even assigned guard duty—are arguing so loudly he could have burst in banging pots and pans and none of them would turn.

“Well, it’s about time I had fun and got the imbeciles going for ‘walking cliché’!” he says in lieu of greeting. They’re all in ninja masks too, what is this. “Seriously, guys. A shady warehouse in the shady part of town? What’s wrong with an old-fashioned basement?”

The trio whips out actual knives, like the idiots they are. If he bristles, it’s at the sight of an asian, half-naked girl, gagged, tied to a chair and dotted with colorful bruises. He’s been doing this for almost six years now and seeing innocents touched up like that—it still gets to him, gets his blood boiling.

He snaps his fingers as to show them some sort of realization.

“Let me guess. Is this a Febreeze commercial?”

Goon #1 looks like he’s about to make a terrible decision and lunge, when there’s a static noise only Spider-Man can pick up. Something crackles in the air from somewhere behind the girl, looking steadily more miserable, a poor quality sound even he has trouble discerning. One of the goons goes to the source of it—a battered but fully functional radio transmitter.

It’s a song.

Here I go, here I go, here I go again (again?)Girls, what’s my weakness? (Men!)

Spider-Man freezes. Suddenly everything around him stills and everything within him explodes, not just because this is not the time—he knows that song, he knows the lyrics to it by heart.

The guys finally freak out at the fact that Spider-Man is in front of them and about to spoil their plan, flinging loud curses at each other. Goon #1 suggests taking him on and Spider-Man dubs him the dumbest of the three, rightfully so when Goons #2 and #3 start screaming at him. The song plays on.

Shoop shoop ba-doop shoop ba-doopShoop ba-doop ba-doopBa-doop shoop ba-doop shoopBa-doop shoop ba-doop, ba-doop, ba-doop

Just as he feels anticipation snap, a red and black figure swings out of somewhere into the scene, guns and swords ablazing.

And singing along the words imprinted on the skin of his left wrist.

“Ooooh, you’re packed and you’re stacked ‘specially in the backBrother, wanna thank your mother for a butt like that!”

And wreaking absolute havoc. The guys don’t even have time to wisely make a break for it—because who wouldn’t—before the whole thing turns into a whirlwind of blood and gore.

“Can I get some fries with that shake-shake boobie? If looks could kill you—” Goon #3 goes down with a sword up his guts, “Would be an uzi—”

Peter reacts on instinct when Goon #2 stumbles towards him. He kicks him right in the solar plexus, and right into a chokehold.

“You’re a shotgun, bang!” a gunshot to his head, “What’s up with that thang?”

They’re the lyrics to the song, but the mercenary never seems to let Peter off his sight as he keeps singing and finishes up the job. Goon #1 flops down, lifeless and messy. Peter can suddenly smell the sharp, sour tang of piss.

“I wanna know how does it hang?Straight up, wait up, hold up, Mr. LoverLike Prince said you’re a sexy mutha—”

The corpses are laid in a bloody pile, overstepped in favor of the transmitter going back to its alleged owner. Said owner proceeds into tucking away his weapons and untying the poor girl from the chair—and gently patting her on the shoulders after cladding them in a jacket he produces from God knows where—and steps away to give her some space while she collects herself.

Of course, that means he’s turned to Peter now, who for the life of him cannot move. He doesn’t think he can.

“Man. You don’t know how much I’ve been dying to meet you.”

Oh my God. There’s a joke there, he knows it.

“It’s like you’re running from me! The few times I do see you, you just slip away before I can go up and say hi. Seriously, I blink—” he snaps his fingers, “And you’re gone. Like an actual spider. Ha.”

Oh my God.

He places his hands behind his back, primly, but he looks like he can barely contain his giddiness.

“Also.” How is his mask doing that, how is his mask leering at him. “It’s as great as they say, by the way. Looks even better up close.”

Oh my God. Peter keeps quiet. It would be a choice, but it’s not.

“Anyway.” He sticks out one hand. “Great to finally meet you, Spidey.”

The hand is covered in blood. Oh my God. Peter shakes it nonetheless, and he hears him laugh. He does not think about how oddly pleasant it sounds or how his wrist tingles in response.

“Cat got your tongue? Or cat eat your tongue, in this case. A cat would kill and eat a spider, wouldn’t it? Anyway, I was expecting to hear Spider-Man’s sharp-tongue tonight.” He waggles his eyebrows at this.

Half-heartedly, Spider-Man slips back into role and nods his head. He absolutely says nothing and goes to the poor girl waiting for one of them to escort her home, and continues to do so even as he hears more absent-minded talking.

Oh my God. His soulmate is Deadpool. This is a nightmare.

As it turns out, Deadpool got hired by the rich ex-boyfriend to kidnap the girl and torture her if she refused to take him back. Deadpool took the money, shot the guy’s head and went off to track his friends so he could kill them too.

Peter doesn’t know what to take away from that, but a stubborn little voice in the back of his head goes, at least he’s got some morals.

It becomes a thing.

After the warehouse incident, Deadpool is always there. It’s like the carefully stacked dominoes of Peter’s life are knocked over in very quick succession, because Deadpool is always there.

Spider-Man is chasing down a pickpocketer and Deadpool is pointing at shortcuts from his perch on some building. Spider-Man is beating up a bankrobber and Deadpool is clapping on like some ridiculous high school cheerleader. Spider-Man is cooling down a hostage situation and Deadpool is shooting hands that hold weapons.

That last one still has Peter a tad miffed, and thereafter he was livid and on the very edge of a tongue-lashing. Deadpool knows of his firm ‘no killing, crippling, torturing and so on’ policy. He knows, and he still does what he does.

Spider-Man said nothing, did nothing but spare a glance at where the mercenary stood with his sniper rifle and fume on the inside as he recalled the man’s anguished screams and the blast of blood. He did nothing but count every rescued hostage and leave the feds to handle the rest.

He never says a word when Deadpool pops around.

In his defense, the moment he does is warranted.

It’s more often than he’d like that he stumbles upon rape scenes. He always knows it’s one blocks away, before he even swings into the alley and gives the asshole a swift kick to the head. And he always lets himself go on these types of situation, sees red everywhere.

So when Deadpool joins in on kicking the absolute crap out of the guy, Spider-Man throws one last punch and leaves him to it, knowing whatever is about to befall the piece of shit is an armageddon Spider-Man can’t deliver, but Deadpool certainly can.

He’s checking over the poor woman, relieved that the guy hadn’t even managed what he was going for other than ripping some of her clothes, when he catches the end of Deadpool’s rant, “—and there’s only one thing worse than a rapist—”

And quips back, “A child!” out of reflex.

Deadpool stops punching—and Peter was right, the man’s face is swollen, purple, unsalvageable—to stare back at him. Subsequently, there’s a groan and a body hitting the dirty concrete, but the merc doesn’t even waver. He’s staring straight at Peter, the mask unreadable for a change.

Spider-Man dials nine-one-one and gives them his location, bids farewell to the woman despite her pleas for him to stay and webs his way away, away, away.

He’s going to give Ned and Shuri so much hell for this.

One particular night, he sets up watch on a section of the city he’s never even been to as a civilian. He’s not running, except that he is. And there’s something tight in his chest, draining all the fight, draining all but the low-simmering anxiety.

Ergo, he keeps to surveillance and eats his deli from Mr. Delmar’s, texts Ned a string of nonsensical emojis because he can and thinks about how he’ll get started on his next paper—college is wild—with all those extra hours he’s doing for Jameson. He resolutely does not think about his soulmate and how much Deadpool he is.

But Peter… is Peter Parker. Of course that whole plan is shot straight to hell.

“A vine. A fucking vine.”

Peter pauses in his chewing, rolling his mask back down over his jaw, even if his back is what’s turned to Deadpool. The chill in the air turns suddenly sharp.

“Well, would you rather have the first verse to a freaking Salt-N-Pepa song?”

“What kind of question is that. Of course I would, Sandra Denton is a queen and whoever says different can eat a big bag of dicks. A huge bag of dicks. One of those huge, sack bags with colorful dildos in—”

“Jesus, yeah, point taken.”

He meant to sound annoyed, but laughs instead. The sound cuts through the underlying tension, melts it outright. Deadpool approaches him, steps slow and quiet. Peter lets him, fiddles with his phone as the merc settles at a respectable distance, eyes always on the evermoving city before them.

“I.” Deadpool pauses and doesn’t talk for some time, which in itself is a red flag. “Look, I get it. I wouldn’t wanna be saddled with a psychotic killer whose face looks like it was fossilized then reconstructed with wet newspapers, either.”

Peter blinks. Oh.

“I just…” Deadpool trails off again. “We could… ah, fucking shit on a pogo stick.”

The merc sighs, drags his hands down his face, and Peter realizes how much of an asshole he’s been. Deadpool is… Deadpool, to say the least, but there is a person under the suit, a broken man with a broken mind.

Just as he starts to get up, Peter slides over his bag of chips.

“I’m Peter.”

Deadpool freezes so abruptly it’s almost amusing. He’s staring at Spider-Man, open and hopeful, like he can’t believe what he’s been given, and Peter stares right back with a smile, despite the mask and the dark.

Deadpool takes the chips.

“Wade.”

[over-roaming-waves]

Title:Ten Times That Aknamkanon Has Called His Brother and The One Time Aknadin Called Him

Rating: SFW

Tags: TransAtem/TransParent AU. Misgendering, tranpeople, Islam, and death mentioned.

Characters: Main: Aknamkanon, Aknadin Secondary(mentioned only): Queen Serenity, Usagi, Atem, Dios/Akio, Anthy, Siegfried/Mythos

Pairing: Puzzle nerds, Usagi X Mamoru, Aknamkanon X Serenity, Aknadin X His Wife(called Amna here)

Words: 3157

Comment: This is my first story that I’d posted online in Years. Wrote it all in one day. I’m happy that I was motivated enough to do it. Also on AO3. With extra info.

“Brother, Brother, I just got married to the most amazing woman in the world.”

Aknadin was surprised that his brother was calling him. As Aknamkanon rambled on about how amazing his wedding, how lovely his bride was, and other such nonsense he can’t help but wonder why he even called him. His brother was disowned for his relationship with a foreigner. Sure, their grandfather also married a foreigner, but at least their Indian grandmother was Muslim. His brother, who still found more to say about his wedding, had not only left his family to be with a foreigner, but he had to be with a woman who had more in common with ice than with any human being that he had ever seen. He could still see her cold grey eyes in his nightmares.

“Why?” He thought.

“Hum?”

Crap, did he say that out loud! But somehow his heart took control of his mouth.

“Why did you call me?”

“… Because we’re family!”

Aknadin was shocked at his brother’s answer. His heart took control again as he heard his own voice say, “Thank you. I’m glad to here that you are well.”

“And I as well. And may good thing go your way”

The call ended.

#*#*#*#*#*#

“Brother, Brother, I’m a father, Brother!”

So, it wasn’t just some one-time deal.

“…So, what is the name of the child?”

“His name is Dios, and he’s such a cute little boy. And Serenity is doing well too. And he’s so smart, too. Why just this morning he”

He heard Aknamkanon ramble on for what felt like hours talking about his precious son, how amazing he, and how proud he was about his son shitting himself. It always amazing him that Aknamkanon can find new ways to talk about his love for family. Not that he showed it when he left with that white-haired bitch. But…

“Do you want me to tell the others?”

“If you want to. It’s fine either way.”

That comment was actually… cold. For Aknamkanon’s standards anyway.

“I’ll tell them that you called… and about your son as well. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye. And may good thing go your way”

#*#*#*#*#*#

“Brother, Brother, we have a breathtaking little girl. I’m sorry that I didn’t call right away, we moved into a lovely villa in Austria as soon as sweet Anthy was born. Oh, that her name, Anthy. Anyway, she looks so much like great-grandma Ojala from her skin tone to her black, curly hair. But her eyes, they look exactly like grandma’s, such a stunning color. I’m glad that she and Dios both have inherited such captivating eyes from grandma. Oh, you probably didn’t know that his eyes were green until now, did you? Well, apparently green eyes don’t start out as green. His eyes were grey for the first few months before the hue changed to their gorgeous green color. Not than he looked bad beforehand, mind you.”

A few months ago, he would have considered his brothers words as the chattering of a madman. But since Amna, his wife, had brought Seth into the world, he found himself staring into his son’s eyes and think words that sounded like the drivel he’s hearing right now. He knows that those words reflect a man in love with his wife and in awe of his child. He would do anything for them, for this emotion that fills him with joy and hope.

“Actually, is it alright if I tell you a bit about my son?”

“You have a son? Do you have a lovely lady that comes with him?”

“Yes. Her name is Amna.”

He spent at least an hour talking about his wife, their boy, and all the things that he wants to do for them, all the things that he wishes would happen for Seth, his worries over not being a good husband to Amna. All dreams and his fear, told over the phone. And his brother listened. The only time he spoke in that time was to get him into the specifics about what he had said previously.

“Thank you, for calling, for listening,” for not judging.

“Of course. And may good thing go your way, you and yours.”

#*#*#*#*#*#

“Brother, Brother, my marvelous wife and I had twin! Twins! And they’re both so precious! They were born a whole month earlier than either of their siblings! The first one out came out in such a creamy peach color, Serenity insisted on naming her after herself, and who could blame her! And the second comer, she’s so adorable!  Why she looks just like cousin Jaiyana when she was that age! Serenity and I had several names and I really think that Aroura was a beautiful name, and it suits her so well. And the names even complement each other, Serenity, for the lake on the moon, and Aroura, for the natural phenomenon that occurs from solar wind. And they reflect their names perfectly.”

Another birth, another ramble. These explanations tend to turn into white noise after a while.  He was still getting use to the language here. He knew how to speak English but he didn’t really feel safe there, and Seth, he took to Austria like a duck to water. He even finds that when they go shopping for groceries, Seth is the one who is helping him find what they need for their meals. But he doesn’t want Seth being held back by him. He wants his son to enjoy life in this land. He wants his son to grow and do great things in this world.

He still teaches Seth the Koran like he and Aknamkanon were when they were his age. But the mosque that they go to now has a different interpretation of the same text, bringing things into a different perspective. They offer classes there where immigrants like him can learn German, or Austrian as it is called by the locals. He works hard at the job he has now, working to pay for the place that he has with his Seth. He knows that the man prattling along would not hesitate in helping pay for any expenses he had. He doesn’t want him to do so. At least not for him.

He won’t hesitate to ask his brother and statue that his brother calls a wife to put Seth in the best schools, to travel where ever his heart desires, anything his son wants. But he does not want his son to be spoiled, like Dios is growing to be. He wants Seth to reach for the stars but to also help those who have fallen.

“Din?”

“Yes?”

“It seems that you were day dreaming for a moment there. Maybe we should end this for the time being.”

“… Perhaps. Good day.”

“Good day, and may good thing go your way.”

#*#*#*#*#*#

“Aknadin. I’m scared. Anthy… she got hit by a car.”

He was utterly taken back by this news.

“… What happened?”

“We were walking through the city. She spotted a young child on the road. She saw a car going toward the babe. She picked up the child. She got hit shielding the little thing. She’s in surgery right now. I’m scared she won’t make it. She… she was so heroic and.. and .. and there was some much blood. I.. I.. I.. don’t know if she’s going to make it.”

His brother was breaking down. His older brother, his rock, the one who helped him in his darkest moments was sobbing over the line, terrified that his daughter was going to die at such a young age. Seth is only three months younger than Anthy. He knows that he would be devastated if anything like that happen to him.

“I’m here. I’m here. Calm down. Whatever happens, I’m here.”

He continued to comfort his brother until his phone lost power. He should have never accepted this stupid phone from that bitch. He went onto the land line that he had in the house to continue the conversation. The bills that he got from that call were work it.

#*#*#*#*#*#

“Brother, Brother, my superb wife and I have another son!”

Well, it seems that the bitch has a high fertility rate at least.

“what’s his name?”

“His name is Siegfried. I admit it’s rather… European but he looks just like a fluffy little marshmallow.”

In other words, the boy has his bitch-in-law’s skin and hair color. Hopefully, the boy will take after his father in the personality department. It seemed to happen to the lighter-skinned twin. He heard his brother ramble some more about his youngest son. It seemed that unlike the rest of his siblings, the babe had reasonable brown eyes, which his brother compared to varnished cedar sometime during his rant. It was late as is and he’s supervising the school trip that Seth’s class is having.

“Thank you for telling me all this, but I need to wake-up early for Seth’s trip tomorrow. Good night.”

“Yes, well, good night to you too. And may good thing go your way.”

#*#*#*#*#*#

“Oh, Brother, it’s horrible, Brother, my dear sweet Moonlight is leaving us!”

He was talking about the blond one. She was the mirror image of her mother… if you took all the warmth that his frigid sister-in-law lacked and concentrated it into a stereotypical blond body. She benefited greatly from having Aknamkanon as a father.

He heard his brother as he talked on and on about how she was going away as an exchange student to Tokyo, how he was going to miss seeing her, how horrid it would be for him to not see his little girl every day.

“Are you going to stop her?”

“No! Of course not! She sounds so excited to see everything there. To taste the food there. She even talking to a girl that is going to be in her classes there. I’m so proud that she’s going off into the world, exploring new places, being independent. I’m just sad that I won’t be there to see her grow into a lovely young lady.”

“You can still visit her any time you want. You have the money to do so.”

“… You’re right. Thank you for listening to me vent. And may good thing go your way.”

#*#*#*#*#*#

“Brother…can I ask you something?”

This was not how these calls usually go. The only other time that it was anywhere close to this was…

“What happen? Is everything alright?”

“Yes… no… it’s just… Aroura… should I have.. no, this needs to be said.. She.. she wants to be…No. She is a man.”

“… Can you run that by me again?’

“Aroura… identifies as male. She wants to be referred to as a he. And he.. he wants to be called Atem. I’ve always loved that name but it never seemed to fit Dios and Siegfried. I’m.. I’m glad that He wanted to use that name for himself. But… he’s getting bullied in school for his decisions. And I know there is more that he’s not telling me. More that he’s dealing with alone, even though I would move the world for him. And, how do I support him?”

He took some time to think on his answer. He knows that the old him would have told him to accept the body that they were born into, that Allah had given them… but he had grown since then and humans are always been flaws interpretations of the divine one. Who’s to say that our bodies are just as flawed as anything else in this imperfect world.

“Hmmm, I’d say you’d just listen to him when he talks, offer kind words when needed, and give him a safe-space to heal from the wounds that the world will give him. Speaking of which… does Serenity have an opinion on this development?”

“Oh, she’s fine with it. a little sad that she could help Atem chose his name, but she’s doesn’t seem to mind it at all. Thank you for the advice, and may good thing go your way.”

The call ended.

Now that, he can believe.

#*#*#*#*#*#

“Brother, Brother, my brilliant Cloud Dancer is dancing the lead male role in his school’s production of Swan Lake. He plays the role so perfectly. You could feel his despair as he lost the chance to be with his true love and has doomed her to spend eternity as a swan. They’re doing a tour around the continent, being students from such an acclaimed academy, and I was calling to see if you would like some tickets to see the show, I’m sure that you and Seth would love it just as I did. I already have reservations for Usagi, Mamoru, Anthy, Atem, and Yugi. Oh, Yugi is Atem’s partner. He is an absolute delight.”

It’s become quite a comfort to hear his brother’s blathering about his children’s accomplishments, especially right now. He thinks about his parents and cousins coming over to stay at his house, even though Aknamkanon has a far bigger place than the two-story town house that he shares with his son and the young migrant workers from areas far less prosperous than his former home. He had hope that time would change their minds about Aknamkanon’s marriage to the ice queen. He may think she is a heartless bitch, but Kanon truly cares for her, loves each of their five children with the passion of a flamingo dancer (even if he goes jabbering on about them far longer than any mother he has met since he moved here), and truly enjoys playing a back seat to his scarily ambitious wife.

He heard the date that a performance of his nephew, Mytho (a nickname which he rightfully prefers over Siegfried), is close by. He has an awful, horrible and delicious idea

“You know, I believe that I will go with a performance. There is one close by in late May. But, I’d like invite a few guests to this ballet as well, would it be alright if I email you the details and see if things will work out.”

“Of course, I’d be delighted! Enjoy the performance for me and may good thing go your way!”

#*#*#*#*#*#

“Brother, Brother, I’m going to be a grandpa!”

He knew that someday that that brat, Akio (who was born Dios but changed his name for one reason or another), was going to have kids someday. If there was one thing that he and his frigid bitch of a sister-in-law can agree on, is that Akio was a damn brat, having sex where ever buying whatever caught his eye, and always wanting to be the center of attention. She made sure that he can’t use any of her money to spend on his extravagant lifestyle (though he has heard that he conned some other family to be his piggy-bank). But he heard the excitement in Aknamkanon’s voice, and more importantly the lack of anything negative in his tone. He had always assumed that if Akio was exposed as the man-child that he was, his brother would be devastated. But then again, Aknamkanon always tried to see the best on people. Until they did something unredeemable.

He might as well ask, “Which one is the parent-to-be?”

“The twins!”

“…Both of them?”

“Yes, though I learned about it on Usagi’s twitter feed, you know what that is, right? Anyway, the first thing I did was call Atem and Usagi for a group chat and Atem was going to tell me when I went over latter this month. And Atem wanted me to help him and his partner out in picking the child’s name, you know ‘cause that how Yugi got to be named Yugi? Anyway, Usagi wanted to use Serenity as a middle name for her child, she and Mamoru apparently knew since Christmas that she was expecting but she also wanted to tell up later this month. But then she got so excited when she heard from Atem that he also was expecting that she decided to post out a tweet about it! And Usagi and her partner think that the baby will be born in June but Atem and Yugi are unsure yet and really it’s just so exciting!”

“I’m glad for you.”

“Thank you! And may good thing go your way!”

#*#*#*#*#*#

He couldn’t believe it. the selfish son of a swine that had killed Amna had gotten away with it. he, he claimed that Amna had exposed herself to him and he was preserving his and her family’s honor. And those shallow, brainless sons of dogs brought it. May Allah cast them into the darkness for ten thousand years.

But that was not what hurt the most.

What hurts the most is that his family, who approved of his choice in Amna, who dined with her at the Eid el-Adha, who blessed her when their son Seth came into the world, believed it.

They took the side of the monster that… that took away his wife.

And now… he can’t even call them family. Because every word they said… every scent in this place… even the very sight of their possessions… fills him with rage. Reminding him that his wife, his sweet, caring Amna is dead. And they did nothing.

He needed to get away. Take Seth and leave this place. He looked through the letters that Aknanamkanon had sent, trying to find the phone number that his brother gave him the one with the pictures of the girl he and the ice woman had. He found it near the bottom.

He scanned the letter for the number, throwing the pictures of the two green-eyed children behind him.

He called.

It rang once. Twice. His heart plummet to his stomach. Maybe he wasn’t there. Or maybe he was there but he was busy. Maybe he only called those last few times to gloat of his own success. Maybe-

“Hello?”

“Kanon.” he felt some shame in using the childhood name. he felt the urge to just hang up and find another way out of the country.

“Din? What’s wrong?”

“… It’s Amna. She was killed.”

“What do you want need me to do?”

“I… I can’t be here anymore. I… I’ll pay you back as soon as I get my feet on the ground… but please just help me and my son get out of here.”

There was a pause.

“You don’t need to pay me back. We’re family.  I’ll find the first flight out of Cario and we take you to the Austrian House. You don’t need to worry about paying me back or anything like that. Besides, it would do Seth some good to see his cousins.”

He found tears wetting his cheeks. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you for coming. And may good thing go your way.”