#step alien au

[spacesimp]

just an average american family nothing to see here!!!

(hello solar opposites tumblr :3)

Bonus The Baby 💚

[that1notetaker]

Something something AU in which Jack can be seen but ONLY as his street performer persona (named jack frost obv). Somehow he gained a reputation by appearing in the most random locations at the most random times, bypassing security and hijacking public events to put on a cool show. (Sort of like the Step it up movies, remember those?) No one knows how he does it, just that he does. People have theories. He denies none of them.

North: You have believers? Jack: Even better. Jack: I have a sponsor.

[triglycercule]

explodes them ALL... what time is it??? DESIGN TIME

i got too lazy to color anybody else fully aside from the mtt you can explode me now too

[soundleer]

Could we see what horror Oren would look like if he wasn't killed by wenda? Considering Oren and Simon are both aliens and look like the same species ^^!

you has early access, here's public release hyee

abnormal!oren time yee

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

Nigel and Who?? Who are you?

"Well, well, well, we have a fucking rude one in the chat now!

"WhO?? WhO aRe YoU", I could ask you the same since you like to hide your identity behind a grey face with sunglasses!

A more proper ask would be "What's your name", "Where are you from" or even "I never saw you around, can you tell us who you are?" Yes, it's the same question but it's worded accordingly for a fucking human being! But anyway, it's really not nice to ask ANYONE "Who are you" without anything following or a nicer tone!

Who am I in your opinion? Some kind of ALIEN or something?"

[Nigel dying in the background noises]

[chainlxnk]

you said alnst!kam au and now i'm finding all the similarites between keefe and till HELP

OJ MY GODD YES in that one drawing I switched their roles for lore reasons but this have been plaguing my mind for ages and I also think that their views on love as a concept would be pretty similar tell me you see it 😞😞

[constellation-skirmishes]

togruta anakin design because @tranakin-skywalker put the idea in my head bc their art is lovely and i will never stop thinking about it.

so i based him off of several different desert lizards, bc tranakin made some great points abt the skywalkers having been on tatooine for several generations already, so adaptations would have started to occur. and i ran with that concept.

lizards i used for reference:

-texas horned devil [lizard]

-armadillo lizard

-spike-crested lizard

[citrine-elephant]

hungering for super secret spy leon (last reblog mmmghnh + death island comic scuba thing + re6 concept art)

apocalypse idea. like. actual threat of world destruction. meteor impact.

aliens

[approximately12lbs-of-ducks]

I’ve started reading One Step Out of the Pit and I am LOVING it so far!! I’m on chapter six or seven, I think :0

YEEEEEEAAAAAA IM SO GLAD it’s. SO GOOD adriana is so BASED AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA i love Ghostbur and I love BAMF tubbo and i love how well adriana does foreshadowing and i lvoe bedrock bros it’s. SO GOOD one of my favouritge details is Tommy’s entire journey with tea/caffeine how they learn to not give tommy caffeine the hard way lmao

[ilovebeingaturtle]

professor honeycutt? (I forget how to spell it lol)

He goes Beep Boop💜

[luka-alnst-official]

😳

👑 ruler of my 🫀

.

.

hyuna x luka from alien stage got their chokehold on me, not gonna be normal about this for next few months folks.. i think these also faces i finally enjoy drawing again after few years feel stagnant about my character art 😭

[spacesimp]

i've got a bad case of the fags 😔

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt3 of the Danny is a clone/reincarnation in the DC universe au. Danny meets an alien [pt2 here] [pt 4 here]

Danny was jittery all day, but he is trying to not cling to Cass. He'll definitely give in once Damian's friend is here, but he's determined to not give into his childish instincts before then. And he's being mostly successful!

He ignores the amused and concerned looks Cass sends him every time he forces down his instincts. He wants to stop being so codependent. He won't lie, it's been nice to let these people baby him, but he didn't use to be such an anxious wreck that can't do anything without his hand being held. It makes him hate himself at the end of the day when he only has his thoughts, so he's going to take the effort to do a little better. And this is his first baby step.

"I'm home!" Danny perks up at Tim's voice.

"Green Room!" Cass calls out, and Tim sticks his head in a moment later.

"I want to change out of my suit, but I'll be right back." Tim explains. "Damian and Jon won't be here for at least another 20 minutes, and that's only if traffic is good, which it never is, so it'll probably be closer to 30 minutes."

Danny nods, trying to swallow his rising panic. He hasn't been able to get a single word out all day. Luckily Cass can understand his body language when his hands are full and he can't write.

Cass comes and sits next to him when Tim ducks out. "You're being very brave."

[Doesn't feel like it.]

"New things are scary. Trauma makes it hard." Cass smiles sadly before switching to sign language. Danny can sign too, but he prefers his iPad.《My father was a very bad man. Trained me to be weapon only. I understood no language other than body. When I came to live here, I was scared too. I knew only to hurt, but it hurt to read pain. Had to learn how to be a person, like you are now. It's very brave to face what scares you. Like new people.》

[I still don't feel brave.] Danny fiddles with his stylus [There's too much wrong with me for normal people to be nice. I will be vivisected if people know.]

《Family will not let that happen. You're baby brother and we will fight for you til you can fight for yourself.》

Danny sniffles and manages his first word of the day. "Okay..."

Cass hugs him tightly and kisses the side of his head. "We love you. Trauma and all, baby brother."

Tim enters the room in a stolen hoody, some leggings, and house shoes at that moment. He pauses to look at them before sitting on Danny's other side, rubbing his back.

"It's not too late to tell them you changed your mind, kiddo."

[No. I need to do this. It's unhealthy to isolate yourself or hide from new experiences.] Danny gives a deep sigh. [I'm tired of being scared all the time.]

"Have you thought about going to a therapist? I don't want to push you, but I have found it really helpful." Danny knows Tim started going to a therapist about 2 weeks after Danny arrived. He can't help but wonder if Tim did that because Danny started clinging to him and Danny was too much. It makes him feel guilty, but he read enough mental health papers recently to know even if Danny is the straw that broke the camel's back, Tim was wise enough to get help.

[I'm not sure I'm ready to talk to someone about everything.]

"A good therapist will help you at your own pace." Tim tells him, "I vetted a dozen therapists, and am currently vetting another 6, so you can switch if you need to at any point. I just want you to be as happy, healthy, and safe as you can be."

Danny is thinking it over so hard that he startles into invisibility when he hears the front door open and Alfred greeting someone.

"Oh! Damn, time moved fast." Tim blinks at the doorway before turning towards Danny's invisible figure. "We can still turn them away."

Danny wills himself back into the visible spectrum. [I need to do this.]

"If you say so..." Tim's face is an odd mix of emotions; grief, sorrow, pride, and relief are all there. He calls towards the door. "Damian! We're in the green room!"

With them all sitting, Danny can't hide behind Cass or Tim, so he just buries himself into Cass's hug. A few moments later, Damian and a honey tan guy with black hair and deep sky blue eyes enter the room with a slightly nervous energy. Danny blinks at that. Damian's nervous energy is clearly over introducing them, and who-is-obviously-Jon's energy screams "Please like me! I want to be friends!". He briefly wonders if this is how siblings usually introduced friends to family. All parties scared that they won't like each other. He and Jazz didn't really have friends to introduce, so this is new territory for him.

"See?" Cass smiles at him, clearly talking about Jon's gold retriever puppy energy. Danny nods at her before shyly waving at the newcomers. Jon beams and Damian relaxes a hair.

"Hi, I'm Jon! Dami's told me a lot about you!" Danny sends Damian a confused frown. "He likes to brag about his cute new little brother."

[What is there to brag about?] Danny tilts his head. [I haven't done anything to brag about.]

"Are you kidding?" There's sadness in everyone's body language, but Jon is still smiling at him. "You sound awesome! You can read body language like Cass! And are trying to learn alien languages and history for fun! You apparently memorized every space fact you come across! You like learning in general! Trying to cover all the education you missed because your evil creators! And you want to know the coolest thing about you currently?"

Danny rapidly blinks at Jon's list, actually sitting up straighter and unintentionally pulling from Cass's hug. She lets him go easily.

[What?]

"You're letting me meet you despite your crippling anxiety." If Jon had a tail, it would be wagging hard. "No one would blame you for locking yourself away and hiding from the world after everything you've been through, but here you are! Trying to concur your fear and meeting me!"

Danny can feel himself blushing, but realizes Jon is kind of right. While he can still feel his anxiety wanting to smother him, he doesn't feel like he's drowning and needs to run away.

[I still don't see how any of that makes me "cool".]

"It's okay if you don't get it. The people who care about you do and can remind you to be nicer to yourself." Jon nods to his own statement before excitedly floating off the ground. "I love your hair! It looks like it has stars and comets in it!"

Danny's face feels like it's on fire. He can feel Tim and Cass trying to compress laughter.

"Well, that's a way to win him over." Tim can't quite keep the amusement from his voice. Danny hides his face in his hands, while Jon flounders.

"Wait! What?? What did I do??"

"You told a kid who's obsessed with space that his hair looks like space." Damian sounds exasperated and fond.

"Oh. Oh!" Jon sounds embarrassed, so he clearly hadn't thought about that when he said it. Which is nice.

Danny huffs out a tiny laugh and can feel the room freeze at the sound. It only lasts a second before Cass is hugging him in delight, and the tense moment is gone.

"I can now tell Todd only his ugly face made Danny cry." Damian says with all the maliciousness of a petty sibling. He recognizes it from his time with Jazz. Luckily, none of his new siblings have directed that tone towards him yet, he just knows he'll start crying. He's pretty sure they know it too.

He hates how fragile he is now, not being able to take slightly mean sibling teasing is the worst, but he literally can't do anything about it. He has to take baby steps and heal his trauma at a pace his brain and core can handle, or the potential ghost of Jazz will beat him to a third? fourth? death when they meet again.

Danny reluctantly leaves Cass's hug. He can still feel the steady thum of his anxiety, but Jon hasn't been mean or scary at all. Jon also potentially has advice for how Danny can control his ghost powers that are leaking steadily into his human form. It's like getting his powers all over again for the first time.

[How are you floating?]

"Oh! It's one of the powers I got from dad!" Jon beams.

[I know. But HOW? Can't control mine.]

"Damian! You didn't tell me he has powers!" Jon complains.

"I wasn't going to say anything in public." Damian glares lightly at his friend.

Jon turns a beaming grin at Danny."What do you do? I've got flight, superstrength, durability, lazer eyes, superhearing, and ice breath!"

Danny turns a pleading look to Tim, who flashed an amused but reassuring smile. "So far we've seen; flight, invisibility, intangibility, and we think an ice power is trying to develop. His hearing is advanced as well."

[Ghosty]

"You are not a ghost." Damian is pouting. This is one of the few play arguments Danny has been able to have without having a panic attack.

[Ghost powers. Hides from people. I'm a ghost.] Danny is playfully serious.

"I can see your point, but you're not dead!" Damian seems genuinely a little frustrated, and Danny freezes. Unfortunately long enough to make everyone worried, but he snaps out of it.

[I'm not sure I count as alive.] Danny admits, and the concern in the room skyrockets. He directs the next note towards Jon. [You have superhearing?]

"Yes..?"

[Listen.] Danny pats his chest. Jon's eyes lock on where his heart is.

"No.. no way! Why is it so slow?" A pause. "Your breathing is slow, too. Even though I can tell how anxious you are, meaning this is fast for you... What's that buzzing sound?"

[I'm a freak.]

"Danny, honey, don't call yourself a freak." Tim scolds. "It's not your fault you're like this or were even made. The real freaks are the LoA."

《And even if you were, we like you the way you are.》

"How about we focus on something else?" Jon is frowning in concern, but smiles when he makes eye contact with Danny. "How about we go to the gym, put out the thick mats, and see if we can get you flying on command?"

Everyone is silent as Danny thinks it over.

[Okay.]

The rest of the visit is spent in the manor's gymnastics gym. Danny is still too skittish to let Jon within 5 ft of him and doesn't say anything aloud, but he interacts, and learns some neat tricks when it comes to flying and landing. He still has trouble, but he made some real progress before it's time for dinner. Danny trails after Jon when he goes to leave after dinner, and graces the alien with a quiet.

"Bye..." Danny doesn't understand the funny thing everyone's face does, but he has to dodge Dick's tackle hug directly after. He quickly hides behind Tim after that, completely done with social interaction now. Tim fends off Dick and gets Danny to his room.

Danny likes how his room has changed over the months he's been here. The giant bed is gone, replaced by a bunkbed that's been modified to have sturdy planks hiding the bottom bunk on 3 sides and sturdy folding doors on the 4th. Danny can't sleep in the open anymore, so they made him a nice hidden bed so he'd stop sleeping under the bed. It's also shoved to the wall where he can see all the exits when he peeks out of his hidey hole. Every available surface is covered in space stuff. The built-in bookshelf near the windows is full of his favourite books and different workbooks for alien languages. Rocket ship models are on any book free space. Different space themed posters are plastered all over his walls, the side of his desk and dresser, even his bunk's sturdy exterior. Glow in the dark stars are placed in his home dimension's constellations throughout the room, not that anyone but him knows that. Inside his bunk, he has star covered bedding and star shaped fairy light.

Danny's space obsession has never been so filled. He feels well-fed and safe in this room.

He ends the day feeling accomplished for once. He starts looking forward to meeting his siblings' friends, even if he's scared shitless by the idea.

[mkarchin713]

Danny: now kiddo the only way to have a velociraptor as a pet is to hand rear it. So we are going to play a kind of game I am sure your going to love

Damian: what kind of game

Danny: “Keep away”

Damian “keep away”?

Danny: specifically “keep the velociraptor egg away from its angry momma and try not to die”

Damian: wha-

Danny: 3.2.1. Go!

Velociraptor : *angry dinosaur noises*

…

Damian covered in scratches and cradling a giant egg: -and that is why I fully support your and fathers relationship.

Diana: …

Bruce:….

Danny : *thumbs up*

Danny as a Historical Badass

So, I'm sure you have all heard at least one story about those Badasses in History, the ones who are basically Legends at this point, right?

Like Simo Hayha, the White Death. The legendary Finish Sniper who managed to get 505 Confirmed Kills in less than 100 days, and an additional 200 kills with a Sub Machine Gun.

Or Mad Jack Churchill, the Craziest Commando. The guy who went to War with a Bow and a Broadsword, inflicting the last Archery Fatality in British Military History. He and his single partner also managed to raid a Village and capture 44 unsuspecting Soliders.

I want Danny to be seen in history in the same way they were.

If we go with the AU where the events of the Show happened in the Early 1900's, Danny would reach Eligibility just in time for both World Wars.

I want one of the Batfamily Members to run across a Video online of "Roman Helmet Guy" on Tiktok talking about Danny with that Badass Music in the Background.

Like, Danny is known as the Insane Solider of WW1/WW2. The guy who somehow managed to capture entire Platoons singlehandedly. The Guy who raided Enemy Camps in the Dead of night and managed to capture High Ranking Commanders on his own. The Guy that survives life threatening wounds like it's nothing MULTIPLE TIMES, and is somwhow back on the battlefield within the hour.

Some people speculate that he was an early Metahuman, but nobody can confirm because he hasn't been seen in decades. Some people.think he must be dead by now.

And then the Batfam member does a double take because, That's Old Man Danny.

Thats the old guy who runs their favorite Cafe. He must be well over 100 years old by now, but he looks like he's in his early 70's.

And doesn't Alfred frequent that Cafe?

Yes, he does. Alfred and Danny are old War Buddies.

Idk where this is going, I feel braindead right now.

I just wanted Danny to be seen as a Historical Legend because I was binging 'Roman Helmet Guy's videos and thought of this.

Wait, wasn't Diana in WW1? Like, in the movie at least she fought in WW1, so what if she met Danny during that time? What if she wasn't the only one to rush into No-Mans Land during that action scene in the Movie?

Diana shows up in Gotham and just says, "Oh no need to worry, I'm just visiting an old Friend."

Also, I recommend watching videos on Simo Hayha, he is such a badass.

[muletia]

-`♡´- 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐮𝐬

orion pax x human!reader x d-16 and a sprinkle of platonic x elita <3 pocket spouse au

summary: finally, the time has come to meet your spouse! after joining the Pocket Spouse Program — an Earth-Cybertron friendship pact allowing humans to become partners to bots who wish to have their very own human to love, cherish, and treat as their soft, squishy spouses — you’ve been waiting for so long for your turn to come. and as it turns out, this long-awaited day is full of pleasant surprises <3

cw: fluff, canon divergence because tfo takes place bazilion years before humans, a little bit of jealousy and obsessive thoughts, possessiveness, implied polyamory, implied nsfw thoughts (nothing explicit thought)

word count: 3900

shot out to all the anons and non-anons who gave me a lot of great ideas for this au <3

Armed with a travel bag filled with the most useful items and a backpack stuffed with supplies, you stand before the capsule-shaped elevator. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before stepping into the tight, enclosed space, and enter, sealing your fate. The doors close behind you, and without giving you even a second to prepare, the elevator descends rapidly, taking you towards your new life but not granting enough time to fully shake off the old one.

Not that there was much to shake off, considering you had willingly made the decision to join the Pocket Spouse program. Nothing was holding you on Earth, least of all luck, so you decided to seek it elsewhere. And as it happened, you chose to start your search on a planet inhabited by sentient, enormous, transforming robots who, apparently, had quite the fascination with humans. An extreme new beginning, but after hearing only good things about the living conditions and the way humans were treated with care, you figured — why not, if it meant living in luxury?

Of course, you had considered various scenarios in case the rumors turned out to be a sham. You could end up with anyone. A fetishist, a collector of exotic pets, a hoarder of toys. That was the unknown, stressful factor that the speed of the elevator gave you no chance to tame. The decision of which robotic spouse you would be assigned to also did not belong to you, so all you could do was hope for a stroke of luck that you’d end up with someone normal.

You don’t even have time to take another deep, reassuring breath when the capsule comes to a sharp stop, and almost immediately its sliding doors open.

You’re greeted by a metallic face with distinctly feminine features. Beautiful in its strange, alien way, but also serious. One look is enough to tell you that you’re dealing with a bot who is strict and has no tolerance for nonsense, but your first impression naturally shifts when your eyes and her optics meet. Her metal face softens almost instantly, easing your stress just enough for you to regain feeling in your legs. You step out toward the bot, onto a small platform designed specifically for a species of your size, and with each step, the bot seems to grow to an unsettlingly immense scale.

The room is small — or at least it seems that way as you try to translate its dimensions into the standards of the giants who inhabit this planet — and carelessly sterile in dark gray tones. There’s no doubt it was put together in a rush, without much thought, simply to exist and serve its function. Its barrenness is unsettling. So much for a luxurious life of doing nothing?

The bot straightens and pulls a datapad closer as she finally speaks. “[Name] [Last Name], I presume?” You still can’t get over how easily the metal of her face bends and flexes when needed, as if it were made of rubber.

“Exactly.”

She nods her helm. “My name is Elita One. I am the head of this mining sector, and I also hold responsibility for every pocket spouse assigned here. And unless there is a change in management, you answer to me, you listen to me, and you bring all future requests or orders to me.”

Oh. So you got assigned to the working class. Fine, you’ll adjust as soon as you get proper living conditions. “Alright.” The lack of warmth in her demeanor discourages you from wanting to engage in any future interactions, but if she’s your only lifeline to protection from potential mistreatment, you’ll treat her words as gospel. “Nice to meet you.” You smile and extend a hand toward her. She stares at you hesitantly for a moment before finally reaching out a single digit to complete the greeting.

“Likewise.”

Elita doesn’t withdraw her servo, though; instead, she straightens it and clasps her digits together, gesturing for you to climb onto her palm. “For safety.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You accept the invitation, though a red flag starts waving in your mind. You don’t remain on her servo for long, as Elita smoothly and carefully transfers you onto her shoulder.

“I advise you to be careful,” she warns. “Miners rarely interact with pocket spouses, so they might try to touch you or snatch you up in their servos. Do not try to stand, do not lean over, and above all, do not excite them. A simple wave of your hand is enough to send them into a frenzy. Understood?”

Alright, now the stress is back. You hadn’t expected such strong reactions towards humans, especially since this trend od getting pocket spouses was no longer new. “Wait. I thought pocket spouses were already a well-established concept on your planet.”

“Not in these parts,” she sighs. “On the surface, the sight of humans may not cause much of a stir, but things are different down here. For us miners, pocket spouses are a rarity. Only the best can afford them.”

Oh, so even among a highly advanced race of sentient robots, there was still a harmful caste system in place. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you stammer, because what else is there to say in this situation? When she shoots you a sour glance, you decide to change the subject, hoping to save your image from seeming callous and naïve. You clear your throat. “So, I assume you already have your own pocket spouse?”

She gives you a pointed side-eye. She saw right through your plan.

“Of course, I do. Do I need to repeat myself about being careful, or is everything clear?”

“Clear as day.” You don’t need to see her faceplate to know that this human phrase is unfamiliar to her. Feeling her impatient side-eye on you, you awkwardly correct yourself, “Yes.”

“Good. If you have anything else you’d like to know, now is the time to ask. I assure you, you won’t have time later.”

“My spouse. What are they like?”

“Spouses,” she corrects nonchalantly, not even looking up from her datapad, throwing you completely off.

“Spouses? Do I get one for free?”

Elita does not appreciate your attempt at humor. She sends you a sharp look.

“In a manner of speaking. Officially, a pocket spouse is assigned to a single bot, but there are cases of sharing. Or, if by some miracle, a human ends up with a conjunx. But I haven’t heard of such cases.”

Conjunx? That’s a new word, and it means absolutely nothing to you, but you decide to store it in your memory for later, too distracted by the fact that you’ve been assigned to a pair.

“Okay, I definitely wasn’t expecting that.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“No. I think? I don’t know yet, you caught me off guard.” You take a deep breath. You’ll manage. Somehow. “So, my spouses. What are they like?”

Elita’s expression darkens, and that, in turn, unsettles you. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“What is it? Did I get assigned to some creeps?”

“Worse,” she huffs. “D-16 is a decent mech and an exemplary miner, and officially, he is your spouse. But Orion —” she grips the datapad tighter as if restraining herself from an outburst “—Orion is the most foolish, irresponsible, and reckless bot on all of Cybertron. And if you think I’m exaggerating, you’re gravely mistaken. He attracts trouble like a magnet and throws himself into it because he is incorrigible. I almost pity you, really, because you couldn’t have gotten a worse match. Even Darkwing would have been a better spouse.”

But… as if fighting her own thoughts, she adds, “For all their recklessness… they worked very hard to have you, and I know they will treat you well. Perhaps clumsily at first, but well. That doesn’t change the fact that Orion has an empty canister instead of a processor, so if he does something idiotic, and he will, you are to report it to me immediately.”

Galncing at the datapad, she adds "Do you want to know anything else? We don't have much time for idle chatter."

"Just one thing. You mentioned that there's already a human in this sector. Can you arrange for us to meet sometime soon? It’d be nice to have occasional contact with someone like me."

"We'll see what can be done," she replies warily, clearly displeased with the idea. Her answer makes it obvious that there's a high chance you’ll be left hanging rather than meeting your fellow human, but you’re not giving up that easily.

"Thanks," you say. Out of politeness, feeling an even stronger urge to stay on her good side.

"Shall we begin?"

You take a deep breath. You’re doing this. You’re meeting your extraterrestrial partners, cementing your future on this planet. Your hesitation lasts only a moment — just a brief weighing of pros and cons, an instant of fighting the urge to turn around and run back to the elevator. Less than a second is all it takes for you to give your answer.

"Yes, I want to meet them."

"Be careful," she warns sharply, one last time. "I've worked too hard for this job to lose it now because of human irresponsibility."

Elita takes a step forward, and you have to grab onto her helm to keep your balance, but thankfully, an exaggerated optic-roll is her only reaction to the excess contact. The next steps aren’t as shocking; by the third, you’ve adjusted to the rhythm of the giant leading you to a set of sliding doors, which she opens with a button on the side.

Your pocket spouses certainly know how to make… an intriguing first impression.

Caught off guard by the sudden opening of the doors, they literally tumble into the room and land on the floor, shooting you a lightning-fast glance before scrambling to their pedes at record speed, straightening up as if nothing happened. Their excited grins grow quickly and they’re clearly contagious, because you feel your own lips curling into a smile.

They look masculine and young, as much as you can say that about beings whose tissues don’t age. What grabs your attention most is the bot with yellow optics. You haven’t seen such a unique color among their kind before. Maybe you haven’t met many bots yet, but you could swear most had blue optics. Interesting... You make a mental note to compliment those bright, captivating optics later.

Your gazes meet, and the mech with the unusual, beautiful optics parts his lips slightly. You get the feeling he wants to say something, but excitement completely paralyzes him.

"Well, that was a stunning performance. Was eavesdropping worth it?"

"Ahem, no... we weren't eavesdropping," Orion defends himself, though his gaze remains fixed on you.

"Forgive us, Elita, you just caught us off guard when you opened the door so suddenly," D-16 adds, having suddenly regained control over his body.

They step closer, as if hypnotized, drawn to minimizing the distance, but Elita halts them with an outstretched arm. They stop, but their lovestruck expressions make it clear that their minds are already revolving solely around you.

"Ugh, pull yourselves together," Elita scolds. "You won’t lay so much as a digit on your pocket spouse until you’ve listened to the protocol, so focus."

"Mhm, yeah, yeah."

"Now do you understand what I was talking about earlier?" she directs at you. "I wish you Primus' patience with these two airheads."

"Oh, come on, they’re quite charming," you remark — but it turns out to be unnecessary, as the eruption of joy at hearing your voice is nearly impossible for even Elita to suppress.

Both of them surge forward, their excited cheers and cooing echoing through the empty room, bombarding you with loud adoration.

"Didn’t I just say something about getting them worked up?!" Elita hisses at you, but the sharp tone doesn’t sit well with your partners, their expressions suddenly sober as they feel the instinct to stand in your defense.

"Elita, leave them alone," Orion intervenes. "They’ve done nothing wrong."

"I knew this would happen," Elita sighs. "Enough. Let me recite the protocol so we can all go our separate ways, because I don’t have time to babysit all of you."

She looks at the two mechs before her to make sure they’re listening, but it quickly becomes evident they have no intention of cooperating today.

"Primus, focus! Do you think I have time to waste? Unlike you, empty cans, I have a ton of work to do and I'd like to finish it before my shift starts."

Still seeing their dazed, absentminded expressions, Elita decides to escalate.

"Do I have to take your pocket spouse away for you to finally pay attention?"

Orion snaps out of his trance first, alarmed at the idea of you being taken away.

"What? No, no! We’re listening now, boss."

"Next time, there won’t be a verbal warning. I’ll smack you both on the helms, and that’ll be the end of your pocket spouse respecting you."

Of course, a reprimanding servo-to-helm contact was unavoidable when it became clear they were drifting off again. But after the protocol was recited, a datapad signed, and you were informed that regular supplies of human fuel and clothing would be delivered to you, the long-awaited moment of your "eviction" from Elita’s shoulder finally arrived.

She steps closer to the two bots, who extend their servos with interlaced small digits toward you so you can transfer safely. Grabbing your bag, you carefully step from her shoulder onto their servo, at last entering physical contact with your spouses.

"You have a few clicks of free time before your shift starts," Elita informs them. "And if you’re even a nanoklik late, I swear you’ll be pulling overtime."

She gives you one last soft, almost sympathetic look, so out of place with her previous authoritative tone before leaving, closing the door behind her.

Two pairs of optics focus on you.

You gaze into them, sinking into the moment, finally understanding what Elita meant about their fascination with humans. Because looking into their dazzling optics, brimming with excitement and adoration, you find yourself experiencing that same fascination with their alien race, even though you’ve met other bots before.

You can truly call yourself a pocket spouse now, completely leaving your past life behind. And you sincerely hope this one will be better. That Orion and D-16 will make it so, though you have no guarantee.

"Hello," you say warmly.

"Hi," they reply almost simultaneously.

D-16 can’t hold back any longer. He extends his servo toward you, eager to finally acquaint himself with the texture of your body, but he hesitates the moment he feels you shiver ever so slightly, struck by your fear.

"Ah, I’m sorry, don’t be afraid," he says.

A bad start. A very bad start. He worries he’s already tainted your budding relationship, that his reckless excitement has scared you enough that you won’t give him a chance to open up. But you quickly soothe his fears.

"It’s okay, really. You can touch me if you want."

Their youthful, boyish excitement returns, softening their handsome metal faces — and your heart along with them.

"Just be careful," you remind them. "Humans are quite prone to accidental squishing."

"We’ll remember," D-16 promises. "We’d never hurt you. Right, Orion?"

"Of course. You’ll be completely safe with us."

"Alright, I believe you." Not entirely. You want to believe them. But if what Elita said was true, then they would stay true to their word if they worked so hard to be assigned a human. Only fools would deliberately destroy the fruits of their labor. "So? Do you want to touch your pocket spouse?"

Your pocket spouse. Your. Theirs. Theirs and only theirs.

It’s a dangerous thought for a miner, because the concept of ownership had been limited to just a recharge station and the locker next to it. Everything else was shared. Shared washracks, shared habsuites, shared berths for resting. There was no room for theirs.

But you were theirs. Truly, undeniably, and tangibly theirs. Only theirs. And they wanted it to stay that way. Theirs to touch, theirs to give attention to, theirs to talk to and compliment. Not for Jazz, not for Wheeljack, not for Sideswipe, and no longer for Elita. Theirs. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time because you were burdening them with responsibilities they had never known before. Theirs. They couldn’t rely on anyone else anymore.

They exchange a brief, knowing glance. Theirs. They cannot ruin this. They cannot make mistakes. You have to like them, just as they instantly fell in love with you, and see them as good spouse material. They will show you that they can take care of you. Their pocket spouse. Theirs. Only theirs.

"What’s wrong? You don’t want to?" you ask teasingly, snapping them out of the traps of their own thoughts.

"Oh, Primus, of course we do. Very much. You have no idea how much," Orion confesses.

They were both brave, but it’s Orion who makes the first move. His servo finds your back, pressing against it with a single digit. Soft. Oh, so soft.

Once, he asked Elita what her pocket spouse felt like, and that was the answer he got. He didn’t understand it then. What was softness? What kind of sensation was it? What could he compare it to? But now… now he knew that softness was you, and you were softness. And if he could, he would never let you go.

"Wow, incredible. D, this is incredible, unlike anything else. You’re… extraordinary!"

He gently strokes your back, and you allow yourself to wrap your hand around his massive metal finger, which Orion welcomes with a beaming, delighted smile. How was it possible that your servo was even softer? Or maybe somewhere else, you were even softer still. He’d heard that humans and Cybertronians were compatible, and though he knows it’s not exactly proper to let his mind drift into impure, carnal territories so early in the relationship, cannot stop himself from dreaming of drowning in your softness. Wants to be surrounded by it. Wants to be suffocated by it. Wants to feel it after every shift, wake up in it and recharge.

Impatient with his partner’s sluggishness and selfishness, D-16 clicks his glossa.

"Move your digit, Pax, it’s my turn now."

It takes Orion a few nanokliks to pull himself away from his indecent thoughts. He doesn’t want to let you go, doesn’t want to be more than a few centimeters away from you ever again, but he knows D will smack him on the still-fresh sore spot left by Elita on his helm if he doesn’t pull his servo back. So he does. And immediately, he is consumed by an overwhelming sense of loneliness and emptiness, as if his life has suddenly become incomplete. He already wants to come back to you.

D-16’s reaction is similar. Awe at the new but pleasant texture manifests in his slightly parted intake and quick strokes across your back, searching for and discovering softness. Where your hand meets his digit, an incomparable warmth spreads, giving him a sense of completeness. You, him, and Orion. Three puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly, finally reunited after years of separation.

"I’m glad you like me," you laugh. "That’s a good start, huh?"

"It was good the moment we saw you," Orion says. "Really, we couldn’t have imagined a better pocket spouse."

"You’re too kind," you reply. You know they’re speaking from excitement, their minds weaving intricate visions and fantasies about life with a pocket spouse — visions that might not be so rosy in reality — but you don’t want to ruin it for them. Especially since you want to find a good life here, too. You want to be happy, regardless of the expectations they unknowingly place upon you. If they want to play house, you’ll join them. If they have a human fetish, you’ll indulge them in that too. "I think we’ll be happy together, won’t we? I’d like that."

"We will, for sure!" Orion assures enthusiastically.

"We know we’re just lousy miners, and you won’t have any luxuries," D-16 adds, earning a sharp elbow to the side from Orion. "I wasn’t finished, Pax." He elbows him back. "But we’ll do our best to make sure you have a good life with us. We’ll do everything for you. We’ll get… almost anything, but if you need something from the city, just say the word! Orion or I will get you food, clothes, whatever you need."

"Thanks, you’re sweet," you say, touched by their words. "I know I can’t do much, but maybe I can repay you somehow?"

"Just having you here is enough for now," D-16 says, smiling softly, enchanted by your question.

"Will you touch us again?" Orion asks, only to immediately receive a frustrated elbow. "What? They asked first."

D-16 pinches the bridge of his nose, unable to believe his partner’s tactlessness. Orion’s talent for making things worse had to affect you, it just had to. Just like every fragging time, it would fall on his shoulders to get them out of trouble, and in this case, to make sure you saw them as normal and worthy of being your spouses. They cannot mess this up. At any cost.

Which is why D is surprised when he hears your soft laughter. He lifts his servo from his faceplate and looks at you hopefully. So their relationship wasn’t ruined by Orion’s loose vocalizer?

"Of course. Come closer," you say, encouraging them further by crooking a finger.

Two massive faceplates move toward you simultaneously until they finally touch. They’re so close that you can stroke their cheeks, and so you do, slowly running your fingers over warm, living metal, drowning in their proximity. Orion and D-16 press into your hands, leaning into the comforting, though foreign, softness — now only theirs. Not for perching on Elita’s shoulder anymore. For them. Theirs to be petted, theirs to be embraced.

They could spend a lifetime in this room if it meant constant cheek-stroking and being spoiled by you. Oh, how they couldn’t wait for your shared life. Waking up with you. Coming back to their recharge stations after a hard day’s work, knowing someone was waiting for them. Spending time together. Telling you about Megatronus and Sentinel, showing off their merch, sharing every detail of their lives, and begging you to tell them about yours. About your planet, your interests, your human life — so they could make your life here as good as possible, desperately vying for your affection.

You will like them. You must. Because they already adored you, unconditionally devoted to their beloved pocket spouse. Theirs.

Relaxed and overwhelmed with contentment, they let their engines hum louder.

"Oh? You like this that much?" you ask, totaly not planning to exploit the bots’ ability to purr purely for your own selfish pleasure.

"Very much," Orion rumbles.

"You’re the best," D-16 adds.

For a moment, they open their optics, their gaze focused on you. And the trust flickering within them, the fervor of emotions burning away reason convinces you that you chose well by deciding to become a pocket spouse.

[krirebr]

All Things Go 1

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Female Reader

Word Count: ~2.9k

Summary: It's been a few months since Steve was pulled out of the ice and immediately had to fight aliens with the newly formed Avengers. He is doing fine with all that, all things considered. Which is why he's so upset when he's suddenly benched from missions and forced to welcome a support omega into his home. He's fine!

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending), panic attack, disassociation flashback, Steve actually having to deal with the PTSD and depression and anxiety he would so clearly have if he'd been through everything in the MCU, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, possible slow burn - we'll see All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Oh boy. Here I am. Back on my angsty bullshit. This story was kickstarted by this ask. It's an inverse of the program at the center of Still Life, but not in the same universe.

This idea was helped along a ton by @stellar-solar-flare who helped me overcome my fear of writing a mostly canon compliant Steve and dipping my toes into an Avengers AU.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Steve checked his watch for a third time as he paced around his apartment. It was bad enough that he had to indulge this ridiculous idea, but she was late on top of it. Four minutes, now. He’d been pacing for the last fifteen. He’d tried to sit down while he waited, but the buzz of the adrenaline just under his skin had been too strong. 

It was the disrespect, that’s what it was, that really bothered him in her tardiness. That was going around lately. A whole team that refused to listen to him. And then had the gall to go to Fury behind his back after what happened during the last mission. And yes, of course, it was all couched in concern. But he saw it for what it was: a mutiny. And he’d been benched because of it. From all missions for the foreseeable future. So what was he supposed to do now? Thawed out 70 years in the future just to be stranded without a purpose.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. No, the worst part was now six minutes late. A support omega. He’d scoffed right in Fury’s face when he’d “suggested” it. Of all the stupid, 21st-century things he’d encountered, this took the cake. Like there could possibly be some base alpha part of him that was so broken it could only be soothed by an omega with a degree in psychology. Ridiculous. He was fine!

But it’d been the kind of suggestion that didn’t come with the option to say no. Not if he ever wanted to get back on the team. So fine. He’d play nice, show her there was nothing wrong, and get her to sign off on him going back into the field. He’d be back in action in just a few days. And then he might be able to breathe again.

As he was about to start another lap of his living room, the doorbell finally chimed. He took a moment, so as not to seem like he’d been standing right next to it. Then he took a deep breath, pasted on that Captain America smile, and opened the door. “Hi,” he said, immediately stepping aside to give you room. “Come on in.”

“Captain Rogers,” you said with your own big smile as you introduced yourself, then picked up your valise from the ground beside you and stepped into his apartment. You were sharply dressed, professional. In how you held yourself, too. But your eyes were warm. And you were beautiful. It reminded him of some of the nicer omegas Buck used to go out with. There was a sharp pang in his chest. Like always, he ignored it. 

“Thank you for welcoming me into your home.” you continued. As if he’d had any sort of choice. “I’m so sorry I’m late. The security checks took longer than I’d expected.”

“No problem at all,” he said. Ten whole minutes. “I hadn’t even noticed. Here, let me put your bag in the room I set aside for you.”

“Oh, a guest room?” you asked. He stopped at your question, a little confused. Where else would you sleep? “That’s very thoughtful of you. I’ll definitely appreciate having my own space. But, sleeping arrangements are something we can discuss and customize to fit our goals. Sharing a bed can be really helpful if sleep is something you’re struggling with.”

Absolutely not. No. Definitely not. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” he demurred. “With the serum, I really don’t require much sleep,” he called down to you as he quickly took your bag to the small guest room he’d finally furnished because he had to have somewhere to put you. It’d never occurred to him you’d want to share his bed. Did people really do that?

When he came back into the living room, you were still hovering by the door, your messenger bag slung over your shoulder and your hands clasped in front of you. You were looking around, taking in the blank walls, spartan furniture. Judging him probably. Well, it’s not like he’d had much time to decorate in between saving the world. What did any of that matter? “Can I get you anything to drink? Eat?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine,” you said, with a benign smile that seemed aggressively professional. “If you don’t mind, I’d love if we could sit and chat for a few minutes before we move on to anything else.” 

“Of course,” he said, with his own benign smile, as he gestured to the two couches that had come with the apartment. He waited for you to sit in one and then took a seat in the other, a mass-produced coffee table covering the chasm between you.

“First,” you said, your hands resting neatly in your lap, “I just wanted to make sure that my scent is one you’re comfortable having in your home on a long-term basis. I know that the real thing can sometimes be a little different than the sample you based your choice off of.”

Steve had just randomly grabbed one from the box he’d been presented with. He’d thrown it at Fury with a grumbled, “That one’s fine,” as he left the small room they’d given him to make his choice. He’d never even opened it.

He only got a vague hint of it now, sitting across the room from you. Floral maybe. He didn’t bother to take a deep breath, to catalogue it. You’d only be here for a few days max. Not enough time for your scent to permeate. So, it didn’t really matter what he thought about it.

“Yes, it’s fine,” he nodded at you.

“Good,” you said, your smile becoming slightly more genuine. “Well, first I can take a few minutes to talk through what it is we’re going to be doing here. I'm sure you've already gotten the whole spiel, but it might be helpful to hear it from my perspective. Get a feel for how I do things.”

You paused like you were waiting for a response so he nodded along. “Sure, sounds great.” He already knew what the program was. He already knew he didn’t need it. This was a waste of time.

“Mostly, I’m just here to help you as an alpha get back to feeling like your most grounded, best self. Stability and comfort are mainly what I’m here to provide. Listening and guidance too, if that’s what you want. This is fully customizable, very collaborative. I’m not a therapist, but I do have my masters in behavioral psychology. And I’ve been doing this for a while now. So whatever you throw at me, I can handle it. Basically, this arrangement can look like whatever the two of us want it to look like. The biggest requirement, on both sides, is honesty.”

He leaned forward. This was the in he’d been waiting for. “I really appreciate that. And I do want to be completely honest with you. I don’t want to waste your time. The truth is, this is unnecessary. I think people expect me not to adjust well, so they’re treating me like I’m not. But really, I’m fine. I’m doing fine. And I just don’t think I’m going to get much from this.” 

You didn’t say anything for a long moment, just looked at him curiously with your lips pursed. At one point, your eyes flicked down to where his hand was resting on his knee. Could you see the way it shook? His hands hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d come out of the ice. He straightened it out so it laid flat on the denim of his jeans, willing it to be still. That didn’t mean anything.

Finally, your eyes left him as you turned to your messenger bag, pulling out a thin file. “Do you mind,” you asked, “if we talk about some of the concerns your team has for you?”

Steve’s jaw ticked. Not for. About. Fury had already done this. “I know their concerns. I don’t think that’s necessary.”

You shrugged casually, like it didn’t much matter to you either way. “I think it could be instructive to what we’re trying to do here.”

“Fine,” he ground out, but you didn’t react to his tone. You just opened the file. Before you had a chance to say anything, he leaned forward and spat out, “Listen, I know what’s in there. They think I don’t listen to anyone. That I’m a bad leader. That my plans are too risky. That I can’t keep anyone safe. Did I get everything?”

You bobbed your head a little, your expression impassive, your voice soft. “Not exactly. They did say that you refuse to listen to people. But they never said anything about you being a bad leader. Or not keeping them safe. They said the thing you’re most likely to risk on these missions is yourself. They’re worried about you.” He couldn’t hold in his scoff and you paused to look him in the eye. “Do you really jump out of planes without a parachute?”

He felt his eyes go a little wide like he’d been caught, doing what exactly, he wasn’t quite sure. He shook his head. “No, that’s not– You know what’s in my veins. If I were a normal man, sure, that’d be suicidal. But I have more strength, better reflexes, I heal faster. It’s not a big deal. It’s fine.”

Your brow furrowed as you leaned forward too. “But, you still get injured, don’t you? Even if it doesn’t last as long. You still feel all that pain. Steve,” and the way you said his name, for the first time, different somehow than the way any omega had ever said it before, he felt it like a knife to the heart, “why would you want to put yourself through feeling all that if you didn’t have to?”

He was up off the couch before he even realized it. The room was suddenly smaller than it’d been a minute ago. His mind was racing and he didn’t know why or how to make it stop.

“Captain Rogers.” You were standing right in front of him, holding your hands up at your chest, your palms out. “I’m sorry Captain, I didn’t mean to push. Are you alright?” All he could do for the moment was blink at you. “Hey, how ‘bout you take a deep breath with me, ok? A slow breath in through your nose.” 

He followed your lead and took a deep breath in. And, oh. He was struck by the scent of you. Lilacs and oranges. You smelled like spring.

“And out through your mouth,” you said quietly and he realized he’d been holding his breath. He exhaled slowly and you smiled. “Do you want to take a break?” you asked softly. “I have a few more questions, but I don’t need to ask them right now.”

He shook himself out of whatever daze he’d been in. “No,” he said, standing up straighter. “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.” 

He sat back down on the couch, but you hadn’t moved yet. “Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yes. I’m fine. Let’s go.” It was only at the look on your face, that he realized how short he’d been. He took a breath. “Sorry,” he said, forcing some calm into his tone. “I’d like to keep going.”

“Okay,” you nodded and finally sat back down across from him. You opened your folder again. “You were a little… vague in your intake questionnaire. So, if you're able, I’d appreciate it if you could just tell me a little about what you’ve been going through, how you’ve been feeling.”

He fidgeted a little in his seat and he saw you clock it. He stilled himself, then said, with as casual an air as he could muster, “If I was vague, it’s only because there really isn’t much to report. I’ve been fine.” He was using that word too much. He knew it. But he didn’t know how else to say it.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head. “It’s just, on paper? You’ve been through a lot in what must feel like a very short amount of time. And that’s just the widely reported stuff. What’s in the history books and on the news. It would be understandable if you were struggling. Anyone would be.”

“Well, I’m not anyone, am I?” he snapped. 

“No, you’re not,” you said slowly, calmly, and he hated how unflappable you were. “You’re a hero.” He just barely stopped his lip from curling up into a snarl at that. He’d had enough. “But–”

“Listen, I just need to get back in the field, okay? I just need another mission. That’s all I need. We don’t have to– None of this will be necessary if I can just get back out there. I understand that you’re a professional and you’ll want to seem thorough, so we can wait a few days. But I’m fine and that’s what I need you to tell Fury. If the team doesn’t want to work with me right now, that’s– that’s okay. I’ll do solo missions. Whatever they want. I just need to get back out there.” He was pleading by the end of it. He could hear it in his voice. But this was important. He needed you to understand.

You just sat there for a moment, staring at him, your brow furrowed. “I–” you started. “I think there may have been a misunderstanding, Captain Rogers.”

“Steve,” he corrected, “please.”

“Steve, I–” you paused, your lips pursed. “I’m sorry, whether or not you eventually get back on the team, that doesn’t have anything to do with me. I don’t work for SHIELD. I can’t make that decision.”

“What? No. Yes, you do. You can tell Fury that I’m fit for duty.”

“Steve. I work for a support omega agency. I’ve helped a few agents before, but I don’t know Commander Fury. I’m not here to report back to anyone. I’m just here to help you.”

All he could do was shake his head. No, this wasn’t right. There had to be a way to get back to work. You had to be the key.

“I’ve been contracted for a three month period, with the option to extend as needed. I thought this had all been explained to you. I–” You looked at him, pained, like you were willing him to understand 

  ‘Three months to start’ had been said to him at some point in this whole process, but he hadn’t thought that’d been serious. He’d been sure there was a way around it. Sure that you were the way.

He wouldn’t be able to survive three months. That he was sure of. Not without something to do. Not without a purpose. Not without something to fight. The room was getting smaller again. Closing in on him. All of that time stretching out ahead of him, without any purpose, without any point to him. It was all closing in on him.

He tried to take a deep breath, but it didn’t do any good. It didn’t do anything. Didn’t get him any air. There wasn’t any air. He was pinned down. Under all the water. Under all that ice. He was so cold and he couldn’t breathe.

“Steve!”

He was distantly aware of someone calling his name, but no one would be able to get to him. He was too far under. There was too much ice. He’d done too much.

“Steve. Hey, Steve! I’m here with you. I’m right here, okay? I’m right here.”

No, that couldn’t be right. He was alone. All alone and–

Lilacs. How was he smelling lilacs? And oranges. Fresh and bright. Spring.

He blinked his eyes open. He didn’t know when he’d shut them. He was huddled on the floor in front of the couch. In the living room. You were kneeling in front of him, your hands held out in front of you, not making contact, but one of your wrists was extended. Right under his nose. 

When he made eye contact with you, you exhaled, like maybe you’d been holding your breath. “Hi,” you said, relieved. “You back with me?”

All he could do was blink at you, at first. Then he looked around. The blank walls. The prefab furniture. The apartment. He hated this place. He looked back at you. “Yeah.” It came out in a croak. “I– Yeah.”

“Is it alright if I touch you?” you asked, inching closer. “You can say no.”

He shook his head without even thinking. “Please.”

As you reached out to touch him, hug him, maybe, he collapsed into you. You let out a little “oof” but didn’t pull away. You just wrapped your arms around him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched, really touched, like this. Not just in passing. Not in battle. Before the ice. Decades. Everything had been decades. 

His eyes were wet and he was so so tired. He felt wrenched open. Emptied out like there was nothing left. He exhaled in your arms and with it came a whisper, completely out of his control. “I just want to go home.”

You didn't say anything, but your grip on him tightened.

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