#Best Courses after Computer Engineering

[edwisefoundation]

10 Best Abroad Study Courses for Nepalese Students After High School

Choosing the right course after high school is a critical decision for Nepalese students aspiring to study abroad. The blog post on "10 Best Abroad Study Courses" highlights key academic programs that provide global exposure and align with Nepal’s growing job market. From Computer Science & IT to Nursing and Biotechnology, these fields offer promising career opportunities both abroad and back home in Nepal. Each program focuses on building essential skills, like advanced software use in Civil Engineering, or developing financial modeling expertise in International Business.

Explore the full list of top courses here for more details!

[krstseo]

The Best Career Options After Computer Science Engineering

https://krct.ac.in/blog/2024/06/04/the-best-career-options-after-computer-science-engineering/

As a graduate with a degree in Computer Science Engineering, you are stepping into a world brimming with opportunities. The rapid evolution of technology and the expanding digital landscape means that your skills are in high demand across various industries. Whether you are passionate about software development, artificial intelligence, cybersecurity, there is a career suitable to your interests and strengths. In this blog, let us explore some of the best career options after Computer Science Engineering degree.

Best Career Options After Computer Science Engineering

Software Developer/Engineer

Software developers are the architects of the digital world, creating applications that run on computers, smartphones, and other devices. As a software developer, you will be involved in writing code, testing applications, and debugging programs.

KRCT’s robust curriculum ensures you have a strong foundation in programming languages like Java, C++, and Python, making you a prime candidate for this role. You will be tasked with developing and maintaining software applications, collaborating with other developers and engineers; and ensuring that codebases are clean and efficient.

The role requires proficiency in multiple programming languages, a keen problem-solving ability, and meticulous attention to detail.

Data Scientist

Data science is one of the fastest-growing fields, combining statistical analysis, machine learning, and domain knowledge to extract insights from data. KRCT provides the analytical prowess and technical skills needed to thrive in this field.

As a data scientist, you will work with large datasets to reveal trends, build predictive models, and aid decision-making processes. Also, your responsibilities will include collecting and analysing data, constructing machine learning models, and effectively communicating your findings to stakeholders. This career path requires strong statistical and analytical skills, proficiency in tools such as R, Python, and SQL, and the ability to clearly convey complex concepts.

Cybersecurity Analyst

With the increasing number of cyber threats, the demand for cybersecurity analysts is higher than ever. As a cybersecurity analyst, you will monitor networks for suspicious activity, investigate security breaches, and implement necessary security measures to prevent future incidents. Further, this role demands a thorough understanding of security protocols and tools, sharp analytical thinking, and a high level of attention to detail.

Artificial Intelligence/Machine Learning Engineer

Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning are the currently trending and revolutionizing industries, where we can witness significant milestone from healthcare to finance. KRCT’s focus on cutting-edge technologies ensures you have the skills to build and deploy AI/ML models. As an AI/ML engineer, you will work on creating intelligent systems that can learn and adapt over time.

So, your responsibilities will include developing machine learning models, implementing AI solutions, and collaborating with data scientists and software engineers to innovate and enhance technological capabilities. A strong grasp of algorithms and data structures, coupled with programming skills, is essential for this role.

Full-Stack Developer

Full-stack developers are versatile professionals who work on both the front-end and back-end of web applications. Moreover, KRCT equips you with the knowledge of various web technologies, databases, and server management, enabling you to build comprehensive web solutions.

As a full-stack developer, you will design user-friendly interfaces, develop server-side logic, and ensure the smooth operation of web applications. Additionally, this role requires proficiency in multiple programming languages, an understanding of web development frameworks, and the ability to manage databases.

Cloud Solutions Architect

Cloud computing is transforming how businesses operate, and cloud solutions architects are at the forefront of this transformation. KRCT’s curriculum includes cloud computing technologies, preparing you to design and implement scalable, secure, and efficient cloud solutions.

Also, as a cloud solutions architect, you will develop cloud strategies, manage cloud infrastructure, and ensure data security. Furthermore, this role requires in-depth knowledge of cloud platforms like AWS, Azure, or Google Cloud, along with skills in network management and data security.

DevOps Engineer

DevOps engineers bridge the gap between software development and IT operations, ensuring continuous delivery and integration. KRCT provides a strong foundation in software development, system administration, and automation tools, making you well-suited for this role.

As a DevOps engineer, you will automate processes, manage CI/CD pipelines, and monitor system performance. This role demands proficiency in scripting languages, an understanding of automation tools, and strong problem-solving skills.

Why KRCT?

KRCT stands out as a premier institution for all of its Engineering courses due to its rigorous academic programs, state-of-the-art facilities, and strong industry connections. Our college emphasizes practical learning, ensuring that students are well-versed in current technologies and methodologies. Also, we have the best and experienced faculties in their respective fields.

KRCT’s placement cell has a remarkable track record of securing positions for graduates in top-tier companies. Regular workshops, seminars, and internships are integrated into the curriculum, providing students with valuable industry exposure. Additionally, the college’s focus on research and development encourages students to engage in cutting-edge projects, preparing them for advanced career paths or higher education.

KRCT’s commitment to excellence is reflected in its alumni, who are making significant contributions in various sectors worldwide. The supportive community and extensive network of alumni also provide ongoing mentorship and career guidance to current students.

To Conclude

Graduating from KRCT opens up numerous career options after computer science engineering degree in the technology sector. Whether you choose to become a software developer, data scientist, cybersecurity analyst, AI/ML engineer, full-stack developer, cloud solutions architect, or DevOps engineer, the knowledge and skills you develop during your engineering degree will pave the way for a bright future. Thus, embrace the opportunities, continue learning, and let your passion for technology guide you towards your ideal career path.

Tags:

AIArtificial Intelligence/Machine Learning Engineerb tech course computer sciencecampuscomputer engineering and software engineeringcomputer science engineering courses after 12thCybersecurity AnalystDevOps EngineerFull-Stack Developergovernment job for csegovernment jobs for computer science engineersSoftware Developersoftware engineering degreeswhat are the best placement opportunities in future for cse?which course in engineering is suitable for future?

[myshardauniversity]

Why Should You Enroll in Delhi's Computer Science Engineering Programs?

The best computer science engineering schools in Delhi provide students with a the best and top-notch education in one of India's liveliest and most multicultural cities. Delhi is home to some of the top educational institutions in the nation, and its computer science institutes are no different. The greatest Computer science engineering schools in Delhi are known for providing students with a thorough education in the field, and they are frequently listed among the best in the nation.

[computer-course-delhi]

Computer Courses to Pursue After 12th that help you get placed

Are you looking to pursue computer courses after 12th? Discover the best computer course in Delhi with a wide range of options, from web development to data science, that will equip you with the skills for a successful tech career. Unleash your potential and stay ahead in the digital world with these top computer courses after 12th in Delhi.

[thegeorgetelegraph]

Which computer course should you do after your class 12?

A wide variety of course options as a 12th-grade student. The best computer science courses to take after finishing high school are listed below: 1. B.Sc. in Computer Science 2. Bachelor of Computer Application (BCA) 3. B. Tech in Information Technology

https://www.georgetelegraph.com/which-computer-course-should-you-do-after-your-class-12.aspx

[getadmision]

Why B.Tech is so Important…

B.Tech is an undergraduate-level professional engineering programme. Therefore, the eligibility required to seek admission to the B.Tech programme is clearing Class 12 or 10+2 from the science stream. Students who have taken PCM group or Physics Chemistry and Mathematics as compulsory subjects are preferred for the programme. There is also a lateral entry scheme to the B.Tech programme that is offered to students holding a Diploma degree in engineering domains. Students who have joined Diploma programmes after Class 10 or Class 12 in technical trades can seek admission to B.Tech programmes offered by engineering colleges in India. B.Tech stands for Bachelor of Technology. It is an undergraduate-level programme that is pursued by science stream students after the completion of Class 12 Science. The four-year programme is offered by engineering colleges across India including top colleges such as IITs and NITs. Many technology schools also use the term B.E or Bachelor of Engineering for professional engineering undergraduate programmes. However, as far as India is concerned, only the nomenclature of the programme is different while the syllabus and teaching pedagogy is the same for both programmes.

 https://www.getadmision.com/top-b-tech-colleges-in-delhi-ncr/

[c1qfxugcgy0]

adventures in aerospace

So I recently started working at Large Aircraft Manufacturer. (LAM) The plant I work at employs 30,000 people. The company as a whole employs 170,000. Usually you only hear about LAM when something goes wrong. But no matter how bumbling it seems from the outside, it's way worse on the inside.

Three months after my first day, I have been "graduated" from "training." In reality, I'm still completely worthless on the floor: the training center has given me a paltry subset of the production certificates I need to actually to do my assigned job. A commonly cited statistic at LAM is that a hundred men a day are retiring, each one representing decades of experience, walking out the door, forever. The training center is in the unenviable position of managing a generational replacement, and have resorted to shoveling heaps of zoomers through as fast as possible. (As one of the few people with a visible hairline and who is not wearing a Roblox graphic tee; I am frequently mistaken for an instructor, and asked where the bathroom is, what time the next class starts, etc)

In theory, the training center knows what shop I'm assigned to, and can simply assign me all the required classes. In practice, they do the absolute minimum amount of training in a desperate attempt to relive the crowding in their handful of computer labs and tell graduates to pick up their certs later.

Of course, the irresistible force of the schedule meets the immovable object of the FAA. If you don't have the required production certificate to perform a particular job, you don't touch the airplane. Full stop, end of story.

And so the curtain opens on the stage. It reveals a single senior mechanic, supervising a mechanic who finally received all the certs and is being qualified on this particular job, surrounded by another three trainees. Trainees are less than nothing, absolute scum. At best we can fetch and carry. Mostly we are expected to stay out of the way. And the senior mechanic is only senior in title. He is one of six assembler-installers who is certified to actually work on the plane, out of twenty people on the crew, and spends every day with a permanent audience. He is 23 years old.

("Mechanic"? If you think the jargon at your job is bad, try joining a company that's a century old. Assembler-installers are universally referred to as "mechanics", despite doing work that's nothing like what a car mechanic does, and who are generally paid far worse than FAA certified A&P mechanics. Mechanics are the 11 bravos of LAM, grunts, the single largest category of worker. The tip of the spear. Hooah!)

Large Aircraft Manufacturer is in a dilly of a pickle. All of its existing airframe designs are hilariously antiquated. It tried designing a brand new plane from a clean sheet, and lost billions of dollars to a decade-long integration hell. After that, to save money, it tried just tacking bigger engines on an older design without changing anything else, and the stupid things plowed into the ground in an excruciatingly public manner.

LAM is now trying a middle road. It is upgrading one of its designs that is merely middle aged, rather than ancient, and with proven, de-risked components built in-house, rather than scattering them to subcontractors across the world. And it's still blowing past deadlines and burning billions of dollars LAM really doesn't have to spare.

This is the program I've been assigned to.

Advanced Midbody - Carbon Wing has taken the bold step of just tacking on carbon fiber wings to a conventional aluminum fuselage. Shockingly, AMCW is now stuck in lightning strike testing, due to that troublesome join between conductive aluminum and conductive...ish carbon fiber. But LAM, confident as ever, or perhaps driven by complaints of its customers, has announced that full rate production will begin just next year. Thus the tide of newhires. According to the schedule, we're supposed to jerk from one wingset a month to one wingset a week. That's not going to happen, but, oh well, orders from above move down at the speed of thought, while reality only slowly trickles upwards.

"120 inch pounds? Really?"

I startle upright. I have observed one hundred pi bracket installs, and I will observe a hundred more before I can touch aircraft structure. This is the first disagreement I've witnessed. A more advanced trainee is questioning the torque spec on a fastener. It is not an entirely foolish question-- most sleeve bolts we use are in the 40 in-pounds range. Doubling it that is unusual. I cough the dust off my unused vocal cords and venture an opinion.

"Well hey I could look it up? I guess"

The lead mechanic glances at me, surprised that I'm still awake, then looks away. Excuse enough for me!

I unfold myself from the stool I've been sitting on for the last four hours then hobble over to the nearest Shared Production Workstation.

We do not get Ikea-style step by step instructions on how to put together the airplane. Like any company that's been around for long enough, LAM is a tangled wad of scar tissue, ancient responses to forgotten trauma. If you state a dimension twice, in two different places, then it is possible for an update to only change one of those dimensions, thereby making the engineering drawing ambiguous. Something real bad must have happened in the past as a result of that, so now an ironclad rule is that critical information is only stated once, in one place, a single source of truth.

As a result, the installation plan can be a little... vague. Step 040 might be something like "DRILL HOLE TO SIZE AND TORQUE FASTENERS TO SPEC". What hole size? What torque spec?

Well, they tell you. Eventually.

(Image from public Google search)

You are given an engineering drawing, and are expected to figure out how things go together yourself. (Or, more realistically, are told how it's done by coworkers) Step by step instructions aren't done because then dozens of illustrations would have to be updated with every change instead of just one, and drawings are updated surprisingly frequently.

Fasteners are denoted by a big plus sign, with a three letter fastener code on the left and the diameter on the right, like so: "XNJ + 8"

To get the actual part number, we go to the fastener callout table:

(Note the use of a trade name in the table above. There is nothing a mechanic loves more than a good trademark. Permanent straight shank fasteners are always called HI-LOKs™. It's not a cable tie, it's a Panduit™. It's not a wedgelock, it's a Cleco™. Hey man, pass me that offset drill. What, you mean a Zephyr™? Where'd the LAMlube™ go? This also means you have to learn the names of everything twice, one name on the installation plan, and one name it's referred to in conversation.)

We find XNJ on that table, and fill in the diameter: BACB30FM8A. Now we look up the spec table for that fastener:

The eagle eyed among you might note that there is no "diameter: 8" on that table. As a LAM mechanic, you are expected to simply know that "diameter" is measured in 32nds of an inch, which simplifies down to 1/4.

(LAM preserves many old-school skills like fraction reduction and memorizing decimal equivalents like this, like flies caught in amber. Not least is the universal use of Imperial units. Many American manufacturers have been browbeaten into adding parenthetical conversions. Not LAM! Any risk at all of a mechanic seeing a second number and using it by accident is too great, and anyway, it violates SSOT. Lengths are in inches and feet, weights are in pounds, volume is in gallons and if you don't like it then you can go eat shit!)

After 10 minutes of following references, I arrive at that table, print it off, highlight the correct row, and hand it off to my senior mechanic.

"Great, thanks."

Gratified that I have enhanced shareholder value, I sit back down, and immediately fall asleep. Another day living the dream.

(next post in this series)

[granddaughterofdemeter]

like a Moth to a Flame

pt.1

masterlist

you never do choose the right guys...

[cheater+ex!jj maybank x fem!reader x toxic!rafe cameron]

warnings: cheating, insecure!reader

summary: jj cheats on you and you decide to break up

Not going to lie, dating JJ in any way was not expected.

Sure, you're best friends with Kiara and Sarah, even after Kiara's Kook year, but you didn't live exactly on the Cut or Figure 8. Your family is middle class, your dad is working as a computer engineer and your mother was a nurse, so not rich nor poor, just average.

Just normal.

That's why when you saw JJ sneaking another girl out of the Chateau after a big party, you weren't surprised, just...disappointed.

You weren't really a Pogue or a Kook, it didn't feel like you were enough for either of those two sides.

No matter how many times your friends told you otherwise, so when you saw another Pogue being pulled out of their house...

"JJ...?" A gentle whisper called out his name. He raised his head and stared straight into the [e/c] eyes of his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend.

Unlike you, Kiara wasn't shocked into silence.

"God, what is wrong with you, JJ!" She snapped, grasping your upper arm and pulling you away. He grabbed your other wrist, yanking you to him and breaking Kiara's grasp.

"It's not what it looks like, Princess. I just saw her in the kitchen and-"

"JJ, we saw you..." Pope grimaced, avoiding his friend's betrayed gaze.

"I- JJ, why would you..." You choked on your words before tears started to fall. "Did I do something?" The pale hand he still had on your wrist started to burn.

"No! No, no, no, no, no!" He wiped the tears from your eyes before leaning in. That itself made Kiara nearly launch herself at him with an axe but Pope quickly made a save.

"Jesus, Kie!" He whispered, giving the miffed girl a stern glare.

You pushed JJ away, turning your head away from him.

"I think we should-"

"No."

You scoffed, the shock wearing off and leading to anger.

"Let's go and let them...talk." John B's voice silenced all of them as they realized that both of you needed time to yourselves. He sent you a sympathetic stare before leading the others back into the house.

When they finally leave, you focus back on the blonde boy in front of you with his regretful electric blue eyes.

"What do you mean by 'No'?"

"No, we can't break up." He bit his lip, staring down at the wet sand.

"Too bad, I wanna break up, so we're gonna break up."

"I physically can't...that'll mean that you don't love me anymore..."

"I don't know why you still think I love you. You cheated on me!" Your anger alerted the shaggy, blonde, haired boy that there clearly should be begging involved.

"But you-I love you!" His desperate tone caught your attention, but you refused to feel any differently.

You were lying, you were surprised JJ hadn't caught on, he used to understand you like you were his second skin. And that made it sad when he fell for your lies.

Of course, you still loved him, that wouldn't change, but it needed to start somewhere.

And it started with a lie.

"Bye...Maybank."

"Princess! Please..." But you left him standing there, alone.

Without you.

banner creator posted on my pinned post

I genuinely thought I could go through the breakup and rafe being toxic and jj being jealous right here rn

it didnt happen

this will be a series.

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

VIII. whatever keeps you around.

parts: previously / next plot: bruce has a proposal for you. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, brief discussion of slight suicidal ideation/martyrdom, drug (and the injection of drugs) mentions, you will not guess what trope I managed to include in here. words: 6.9k. a/n: plotting this series makes me feel like charlie day pointing at a wall of red string

“…You won’t like it.”

It's clear what you have to do. You'd realized it when Gordon came to you, so of course Bruce did too. If you were going to make this right, you would have to face this head on. "I know what I have to do," you start, "I need to lure him out."

Bruce's expression shifts. Whatever you've said seems to be the wrong answer, "That... won't be necessary."

"What? What else can I do?"

"What did Gordon tell you about Dimitri?"

Your head throbs as you recall the memory, "Uh... he said he believes I'm next on Dimitri's hit list. He also said Dimitri hadn't anticipated me being at the house."

"Right, because Russo didn't want anyone knowing where he was." Bruce turns to his computer and brings up Russo's file, "After his divorce and the death of his son, he holed up and started erasing himself from the internet. As far as his neighbors know, he was constantly alone. You already know how hard it was to find him on your own, and unless Dimitri knew someone keeping tabs, it doesn't stand to reason that he found him any easier. But you, on the other hand," Bruce opens a search engine and types in your name. You're unsettled when the screen fills with results, most of them news articles from the night you'd been held hostage, "your name and face was everywhere after the gang war."

When the reporters had shoved cameras in your face and begged for you to tell them about Batman's heroic rescue, you hadn't thought twice about it, still fresh from the throes of gore and violence in the ER. Friends, family, coworkers: almost everyone you knew had seen it.

It clicks for you then, "If Dimitri planned on killing us both and I was easiest to find, why didn't he come for me first? I mean... it was me and Alex who ruined his life. If he wanted anyone dead more, wouldn't it be me?"

"I wondered the same thing. With the know-how and the right connections, anyone could find where you live just by name alone. Russo, on the other hand, is almost anonymous. It doesn't make sense why Dimitri would target Russo first."

"Do you think maybe it was a warning? Maybe he wanted to scare me."

"If he wanted to warn you, he wouldn't kill the guy in his house where no one checks up on him. Days would've passed before anyone noticed the flies in the windows."

"I don't get it."

"Do you remember how long it's been since you were taken hostage?"

Your mind lands on a weak estimate, "I don't know, a week and a half?"

"It's been over two weeks. According to the wardens, Dimitri stopped being a problem for them after the first few years. Friends with a rough crowd but he rarely got caught up in anything. Didn't have the heart to. So why, after 17 years, does he break out?"

Your stomach drops, "He saw me."

"And realized that while he was rotting away with nothing to live for, you were a hero," the word sickens you to hear, "on the front lines, saving lives, being saved. Your life went back to normal."

You grip the side of Bruce's desk with the sudden urge to vomit up everything you'd eaten today, which, frankly, wouldn't add up to much more than water and crackers.

You'd said it yourself: you'd gotten to live a life that Natalie, Dimitri, and Alex never would. Of course he wanted you dead. "So then I have to lure him out."

"And put yourself in danger? No."

"I’m already in danger, Bruce. What if he goes after the others? My parents? My coworkers? The other cops at the shootout? We have to end it now."

"This isn't the only way."

"It's the best way."

"Last time he had a knife, you could defend yourself. Barely. What if next time, he has a gun?"

"So what, you just want to do nothing?"

Bruce turns away from you. He gnaws on his lower lip, "No, I want to bide our time. Look into him more. I need to know if he's working with the Vipers again."

You watch him as he begins typing away at his computer, but you can't process what he's looking for through the haze of anger that washes over you. You lean on the desk, craning your neck up at his face to make him look at you, to understand how ridiculous he sounds, "We don't have time for that. His grudge is with me. I should meet him now and end this... either he gets what he wants or- or..."

Or what? Your stubbornness peters out. You don't know what. You see yourself standing face-to-face with Dimitri, his knife raised, ready to bury itself into the cushion of your chest. And nothing.

The you in this vision has no weapon.

"You don't think you're going to survive this." Coming out of your mind, Bruce is now looking at you, brows furrowed. He looks... mortified.

You scramble to cover your tracks, "That's not true. I'd have you there."

"But you don't want me there. You want to go alone. You think you deserve it."

"God, what are you? My therapist?" Your words flit out of your mouth in a rush, tongue nearly slipping up to defend yourself. You push away from the desk when you start feeling overexposed.

Bruce follows you, "You're not 16 anymore, this isn't some gang fight where you throw all your chips in because you can't see a year ahead of you. You've made a life. You've got people to lose, you said so yourself. I know what it's like... the survivor's guilt. You relive that day over and over-"

His words are making you feel sick to your stomach again and you lurch forward, finger in his face, "Don't you fucking preach to me-"

Almost as immediately as you'd raised your finger, Bruce snatches your wrist in his hand, yanking you close enough to be imposing, staring down at you with the same power that the Batman had used. It was so sudden that you quickly fall slack, wrist going limp in his grip.

It had completely sobered you of your tantrum, and for better or for worse, you were forced to listen to him, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself and think. You see this ending with you dead because you want to make up for the shit you did. You think that's what Alex wants? For you to bleed out in an alley like she did?" And just like that, the fire roars in you once more, but your other hand can't slap him across the face before he's caught that one too, "No future? What about all the people you've saved? Could still save? Face it now because you may not get another chance: you're alive. Do you want to be or not?"

You want to hurt him, turn his skin red and give it a place among the other bruises that glitter and glare down his torso, and as your hand shakes in his hold, you are forced to understand that you are angry because he is right.

You'd felt this same anger before. When your parents told you Alex was a bad influence on you. When Russo looked you in the eye and told you that you didn't have it in you to pull the trigger. It was maddening. He had clocked your suicide mission before even you had, had seen you in his mind's eye the way you saw yourself: disarmed, a lamb to the slaughter, a sacrifice for the greater good, a speedbump.

You could see Batman tackling him to the ground over your dying body. You couldn't see yourself getting up the next day.

After the frustration leaves Bruce's eyes, he's looking at you with something softer. You feel known, uncomfortably so, as he waits for you to meet him there.

And when you do, you hate how you collapse into him. Even more, you hate that he takes you up into his arms, holding you steadfast, as understanding as you needed him to be with all your fear of admitting it. The solidness of his body reminds you of the night he'd first held you, and that just makes you cry harder.

It feels different from last time. Where there was armor is now warm skin, the likes of which you hadn't felt in a while. If you had told your past self you'd one day be standing in Batman's cave, hugging Bruce Wayne and crying over the permanence of your mistakes, you might have diagnosed yourself with head trauma.

You screw your eyes shut in a vain attempt to put the tears to rest, your freed hands practically clawing at Bruce's warm back for some purchase, some stability. He doesn't seem to mind. He just holds you closer.

After a few minutes, you force yourself to speak, sniffling away the last remaining tears you'd allow yourself to shed, "You said I wouldn't like it. Your plan. What is it?"

"To disappear."

You wrench yourself back. Bruce is dead serious. "What?"

"I've considered it from all angles-"

"What do you mean, 'disappear'?"

"All but one of the prisoners Dimitri broke out with are still missing. How do we know they're not all working together? How do we know that you luring him out won't draw them out too? You were the easiest target before, not anymore."

"Say what you mean, Bruce. What do you want me to do?"

"I want to hide you here," he winces as he says this, as if aware of his words only now that they're out in the open, "with me."

"You're shitting me."

After a while, Bruce's face hardens, "I told you you wouldn't like it."

Liking it or not liking it was nothing. You'd advanced past "like". You were firmly out of your depth here.

You slip out of Bruce's hold and he lets you, standing rather awkwardly as you rub a hand across your mouth. Despite earlier, it now feels uncomfortably dry. You glance at Bruce and then at his screen, the tab with your name and face plastered all over it hovering in the background. "You want me to disappear off the face of the earth while you track him down. Leave my home, leave the people I care about, abandon my job. You want me to hide."

"I don't know how else to protect you. Not until we figure out what we're up against." Bruce watches you spin away, scoffing into the air, "You noticed it when you fought him off, didn't you? Something was really wrong with him."

You see flashes of Dimitri's feral stare, the way he staggered and swung. He was like a rabid animal in a cage. "Of course there was, he was trying to kill me."

"Beyond that," Bruce insists, "he wasn't right. I've seen it before. He was on something."

"Most people are these days. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd... I don't know, gotten his hands on drops or something-"

"It wasn't drops. Gordon told me."

"The detective?"

"He said they found a syringe with traces of venom in it. Dimitri's shooting up. That's why he was so strong."

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, "Venom? Great. Somehow worse than Drops."

"If he's on that drug, he's definitely addicted. It also means you won't stand a chance against him. This is why I'm telling you to stay here," Bruce steps forward, eyes imploring yours. You're dumbstruck by the heavy earnestness there, "stay in the tower. Hide here for a few days. Let me handle this."

"If he's on venom, it means he doesn't think he can handle you on his own," you wring your hands, flitting through images of the Dimitri you remember, "he was always really small. Even at fourteen, he hadn't really sprung up. He was scrawny and small and couldn't defend himself. Suddenly Gordon's saying he's almost twice the size of what I remember. Have you ever fought someone on venom?"

"Once or twice, somewhere between fixes. Why?"

"General has this kind of... sedative that we use when we get patients dealing with the effects. It's not perfect, but it does help calm them down enough to help them. Maybe we can use it to help him."

"The strain is constantly changing," Bruce watches you deflate and clears his throat, "but if I can get that sedative, I can use it as a base to make a new one."

"You need clearance to get your hands on that stuff. I'm going with you."

"What part of disappear do you not understand?"

"One, I never agreed to do that, and two, if Batman gets caught stealing from a hospital, that'll make you public enemy number one. You need my help, so let me help you."

Bruce is looking away, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth even as you zero in on him. You're getting flashbacks of that same Bruce from when you'd first met him here in this tower. All tender-eyed, even as he tries to put on a face for you, "And I need a drink," you rub your temple next, catching a glimpse of Bruce watching you from his peripheral, "You've got those, don't you?"

It turns out Bruce has plenty. There's a whole cellar full of them, the kinds you see in MTV Cribs with the low recessed lighting and mahogany shelves gleaming with polish. It makes sense for him to have it, but less so when he tells you he doesn't actually drink any of it.

"You weren't drinking at the party, either. Even though everyone else thought you were." You brush your hand along the shelves, careful not to knock any bottles loose. "Is that a trick to keep people spilling secrets? Or to keep from spilling your own?"

Bruce hovers near the entrance with his arms folded and back pressed to the wall, carefully watching you peruse his selection, "Maybe I don't like the taste."

"That's good. Men in Gotham die from alcoholism at a higher rate than any other city in the state."

"Really?"

"Really. You don't smoke either." Bruce blinks at you, "Just get shot at. And stabbed."

He says nothing.

Your hand lands on a red aged older than your mother and you stand to the side, looking expectantly at him. You're afraid that if you try to pick it up, you might knock down the whole row.

Slowly, Bruce pushes himself off the wall and glides over to you, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and looking to you for approval. You try not to shrink yourself when you nod.

You follow him out of the cellar, flinching when the lights dim behind you and the door rolls shut all on its own. He guides you to the kitchen where night still hangs over Gotham outside the window, but the time on the stove clock warns of early morning soon.

Bruce pulls out two glasses and fills yours with wine and his with cranberry juice from the fridge. You could almost laugh at the pairing.

Once he slides your glass to you, you take a seat at the island and take a sip, "I need to ask you something. I get now why you refused me at the station, but then you came back. Why did you change your mind? I mean, neither of us knew Russo would be dead when we got there. Were you just going to let me hate you?"

"Yes." His simple response draws a quick, stifled laugh out of you.

"Are you always this... chaotic?"

Bruce leans his elbows on the countertop, hunching in on himself, "I always meant to tell you who I was. I just didn't know when. And I didn't mind if you hated Bruce Wayne, but... you trusted Batman. I didn't want to break that trust. Even if it meant telling you earlier than I planned, I wanted to give you some closure."

You think about the fear that had paralyzed you back then, thinking that Bruce Wayne was some big, bad criminal hiding behind polite society. Then you think about the real man, hiding behind a mask. You fidget uncomfortably, struggling with feeling somewhere between grateful and nauseous. Your eyes catch the stitches on his shoulder and you itch to wipe away the dried blood that had dribbled from the cut, "You said you were looking for Dimitri when you got that. Did you..."

Bruce catches your eye when you fail to finish your question. "No," he answers solemnly, "which is only part of our problem." He stands to his full height, flexing bruised knuckles against the counter, "I ran into one of the guys that broke out with Dimitri tonight. That's who gave me this. Dimitri isn't working alone."

You frown, "Is he trying to shake you? Why leave clues at all?"

"Because these people want me dead. The guy from tonight? I booked him a year ago for trafficking women. Earlier led me to a fringe group of Falcone's."

"You've been looking for Dimitri all day?"

"I haven't stopped since we found Russo. I couldn't."

You rub your arms, feeling the room grow chiller by the second, "So... so he's leaving clues to people who hate you. To keep you occupied." Bruce nods. "So he can get to me?"

"After last night, he knows the Batman is on your side."

"Dimitri wasn't out when you got on the scene. Do you think maybe he's taking venom because these guys warned him about you?"

Bruce smirks, rolling his eyes as he takes a sip from his glass, "As a precaution, sure. And now he has reason to believe I know you. If he's going to go after you, he's going to shoot up each time."

"That stuff is nasty. You're big and scary when you're on it but as soon as the effects wear off-"

"You deflate like a balloon. It's also stupid expensive, so he's either got real generous prison pals or he's being used. It's why I need to know if he's working with the Vipers. They might be supplying him."

How you'd gone from an ordinary surgeon to a detective in the span of mere weeks was beyond you. You're beyond just treading water. You're diving into the abyss.

Your brain struggles to make real what is before you. Bruce, still shirtless, drinking delicately from a glass as he watches the night sky shimmer from the kitchen window. And you, sitting across from him, cracking open one of his family's expensive bottles that, frankly, puts your pantry vinos to shame. Playing vigilantes like schoolchildren. Except the blood on you both is very real.

Your arm throbs at being remembered for once tonight. Bruce notices you touch it, "You need to get some rest."

You know he's right, and you're not arguing for the sake of arguing when you say, "I can't sleep yet." But he can tell there's more on your mind as he waits silently, almost egging you on to lay yourself bare. You swear you're not arguing just for the sake of arguing, "And I don't want to disappear. I want to be alive."

Bruce says nothing. The silence isn't humiliating like you'd think it be, even if the first few seconds leave you feeling just as laid bare as you thought you would. No. It feels acknowledging. Understanding, even.

For the first time, you look at Bruce and feel like you understand him. If he was really Batman, then he would know better than anyone why you would want to put yourself in danger. But beneath that, with the meager knowledge of who Bruce Wayne is, you also think you understand him too.

He'd mentioned the survivor's guilt. While he'd played a much more innocent role in the whole ordeal, you couldn't imagine the weight on one's chest knowing that two people you love didn't get to go on but you did. It's a lot to ask of a child barely coming to understand the mortality of one's own keepers.

The choice to be alive for someone like that is a deliberate choice. Constantly made every morning.

"There is another way," Bruce muses, "but you'll like it even less."

"Don't leave me hanging."

"We could go public."

"What?"

"You said disappearing would mean abandoning your life. And it would. No one could know where you went, who you were with, but there's always the chance someone might slip up. It's the safest option but it's not what you want. So don't hide." Bruce's eye contact is deep and unwavering. Compared to earlier, he seems to trust you're willing to listen this time, "Be mine."

For the nth time tonight, you are rendered nearly speechless. Nearly. "Are you fucking with me?"

Bruce's eyes narrow, "No."

"Did you just... proposition me?"

"I made a proposal."

"You're asking me to date you."

"Publicly. Batman has more enemies than allies, but Bruce Wayne has the people. If you and I are publicly linked, it tells everyone looking for you that the world is watching. It makes you more visible, as well as anyone who comes after you."

"You haven't slept," you reason, "clearly. And you're delirious."

"I haven't slept, no." But he looks fairly sober for someone who hasn't slept in a day. He is a different breed, this Bruce Wayne.

You peer out the kitchen window and see the black sky dipping into a blue horizon, "Then sleep on it and come up with something better."

Bruce rounds the island until he's standing beside you, looking down at your barely touched wine, "There's some spare rooms upstairs. You can take your pick." It dawns on you that you may not be going back home any time soon. "You know your way around."

You suppose you deserve that dig.

Then he's leaving you, glasses abandoned, home for you to explore. You don't realize how thick the air had gotten with him right next to you until he's gone.

You half-expect Alfred to pop up somewhere nearby, but there's nothing. This far up, there is no city to listen for, no neighbors slamming doors. You are in a cold house all alone. You suddenly wish he'd stayed to keep you company, even if the weight of it was beginning to take its toll on you. Left alone, you only had the sunrise.

You watch until the sky has all but chased the night away, and then you head upstairs.

You didn't think you'd get much sleep in a stranger's bed, but you're being roused by a sharp, successive rapping at your door several hours later. It jolts you awake, kick-starting your heart, and you clumsily tumble out of the million thread count sheets to open the door.

Alfred stands there fully dressed for the day, one hand tucked in his pocket and the other still raised to knock. Upon seeing you, he lowers his fist, "Morning," he starts, looking away as soon as he meets your eyes, "breakfast is ready. Come get it before it's cold."

He does not give you a choice in the matter. He's already limping toward the staircase without another word.

After you get your heart to settle down, you follow after him, preening yourself as you pass hallway mirrors and portraits of the Wayne family through the generations. You hadn't come down this hallway when you'd found the terminus elevator, so you stumble to a stop in front of a portrait of a young Bruce grinning ear to ear.

It startles you. His eyes are soft, a gentle humming blue untouched by wrinkle or darkness. He must've been especially young here. Glancing at a nearby portrait of his parents, you find him the spitting image of his father. You look around and realize there are no portraits of Bruce at this age.

Bruce. He might be at breakfast, and the mere thought of having to discuss what occurred last night almost turns you right back around to the guest room, but your stomach rumbling begs you not to. You still walk quietly, peering around corners in case your stomach changed its mind.

You find you're cautious for naught when the only person standing in the kitchen is Alfred, chopping up fresh fruit.

"I hope you don't mind that I moved your things," he gestures with his paring knife to your surgical tools neatly congregated on the counter, "I cleaned them too."

"Oh. You didn't need to do that."

"There was blood, so I'm afraid I did." Alfred places a bit of pressure on "blood", and you quickly take note of his short tone.

Still, all the same, he then gestures to the island and implores you take a seat in front of an empty plate. Without asking, he begins pushing steaming hot food onto your plate, "Tea or coffee?" He asks, barely looking up at you.

"Uh, coffee is fine. Thanks." You watch Alfred pour you a mug and wonder if the awkwardness with him is any more preferable to the awkwardness with Bruce. Alfred is passive-aggressive, Bruce is... aggressive. You remember how the latter had left off your night together and find yourself feeling warmer toward Alfred. "How long have you been up?"

"Since 6, although I woke a few times through the night."

You wince, "Sorry."

"No need to apologize. I did think Bruce had invited you over under different circumstances, so... not as alarming, all things considered." Your grip on your fork slips and it clatters to the marble. Alfred barely reacts.

"He needed stitches." Is all you can get out.

"Yes, I'm well aware."

You glance up at him, "You saw?"

"When he first arrived home, yes. I was the one who helped stop the bleeding."

You stare at the coffee sweating in your cup, recalling something Bruce had mentioned last night, "Bruce said you were the one who used to stitch him up."

"Yes."

"If you were there, why-"

"It's what he pays you for, isn't it?" Alfred almost snaps back at you, slicing a strawberry into quarters with more edge than needed.

You recall something else next. The softness in Alfred's face the day you first came here, arguing with Bruce in the very room next door. You'd wondered what it had all been about.

"I've done alright, haven't I?"

"He said something else too," you start, careful as you choose your next words, "about how much you worry about him." You fiddle with your mug, pretending not to feel the heat of Alfred's eyes on you, "I think the reason he hired me is because he was worried about you."

You just catch the tail-end of Alfred's frown, "Worried about me? Why?"

You probably aren't close enough to either of these two to laugh about this, but you do anyway, "Isn't it kind of obvious?"

"Nonsense. We always discussed... if it would come to it, that if he were to pursue this life further, that he would recruit professionals who might aid him in his work. It was the natural thing to do."

"Maybe, yeah. But would he have really needed me if you weren't already doing everything else for him? You've taken good care of him this long. I mean, the aftercare you gave his bullet wound was exceptional. I accused him of talking to other doctors."

Alfred busies himself with scraping his strawberry halves into a bowl, "It's basic knowledge. You learn that kind of thing in the service."

"Or when you invited me to watch you two spar. You know his body probably better than he does. You're fantastic, Alfred." You couldn't say you weren't also trying to butter him up to better his feelings toward you, but you were speaking truth all the same.

In a very British way, he rebuts your compliments and spoons some fruit into a glass, beginning to layer some yogurt over top them, "Regardless of reason, you are here now, and I'll have you know that every part of your contract covers this. Wayne Enterprises will exhaust every possible legal tool at our leisure if you speak of any—any—of this to anyone. Master Bruce's identity is safely guarded, and regardless of his trust in you, I will not hesitate-"

"Whoa, whoa, hey. I would never tell anyone. Not after all Batman has done for me." You press a hand over your heart for emphasis, "He is just as much my patient as Bruce Wayne is, and he didn't have to pay me to take care of him."

Alfred still stares you down like a guard dog, paring knife still clutched in his fingers. After a moment, he looks away from you and points at your plate, "Eat. It's getting cold."

So you do. It's good so you say as much, counting any point toward his affection as a good thing. If you could get Alfred to trust you, you'd call that a win.

The tension in the air dissipates over time, and after you've licked your plate clean, you and Alfred are sharing coffee together. "Bruce isn't joining us?"

"I've stopped expecting him to be awake this early." You glance at the clock that reads 10:12. "He has adopted a near-fully nocturnal lifestyle."

"The night that he crawled through my window, he was there at the hospital the next morning like nothing happened. He doesn't do that often?"

"Before last year, it was a rare occurrence. While he's dedicated himself to his role more recently, if he can avoid it, he will."

You think back to what knowledge you do have on Bruce's charity work and his friendship with the Mayor. You'd worked shifts just as long, but you couldn't imagine showing up to work mere hours after getting shot in the stomach and having to put on a brave face about it. You almost feel bad for calling him out on it in front of everyone.

But then again, if you hadn't, would you even be sitting here?

You swirl the last vestiges of coffee in your cup, trying to picture a world in which you'd gone and found that empty office to nap in instead of toddling behind Rudy and Em and Alfred and Batman. The Batman.

The novelty of it brings a fresh wave of dizziness over you. You had been exposed to so much information over the course of the last 12 hours that it hadn't fully settled in on you what Bruce was. You didn't think that your brain would process it even if he was standing in cowl and cape right in front of you.

"I suppose you'll be staying with us for the near future, if Bruce has anything to say about it," Alfred stands from his chair beside you and puts your dishes in the sink, "shall I inform your security detail or would you like to?"

You don't know what to say to that. "I'm... I think I should talk this over with Bruce first. It may not need to come to that."

The butler shrugs. "I'll be attending to some house duties for the rest of the morning. Should you stay for lunch, let Dory know, hm?" You give him a weak nod and watch as he makes his way from the sink and heads down another hallway out of sight.

Not too long after Alfred leaves you, you hear the doorbell ring. Bruce hadn't mentioned to you that any guests would be here today, but then again, the two of you had had more important things to discuss last night. You check your reflection in the glass of the kitchen window, wondering if there were any hidden doors in the bookcases that could hide you from whatever Wayne Enterprises exec that was coming to talk business, but you wouldn't trust yourself not to break something in the process.

You hear two pairs of footsteps approaching from the elevator and turn to see who it might be. You first recognize Dory, fluttering between frantic small talk and making sure not to trip in her kitten heels as she guides her guest into the living room. You stiffen as soon as you see him.

Detective Gordon catches your eyes instantly, his own widening. Dory says something about going to fetch Bruce before she quickly ascends the stairs, leaving you and James staring at each other across the distance. In one hand is a notepad and pencil, and the other fixes his tie, almost as if at a loss for words. He greets you, hesitantly leaving where Dory had left him to approach you, "I saw the boys out front but... I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither." You reply. "Is everything okay?"

James glances up at the stairs as he passes underneath, "That depends. I followed up on your request."

Shit. Of course a cop would do their job when you least expect it. You slip out of your chair and rush to meet him halfway into the kitchen, "Did... did you find something?"

"I can't say much right now. I'd like to talk to Mr. Wayne, but-" The sound of Dory's heels clacking against the wooden stairs makes James lower his voice, "-you being here complicates things."

Bruce is wearing a shirt this time, thankfully, though you're not expecting him to look as put together this early after what Alfred had said. He towers behind Dory's much smaller frame in a pair of loose black pants and a matching turtleneck, looking in a fashionable state of undress as he pads barefoot into the room. With hair slicked back and stubble freshly shaved, he doesn't look like someone caught unaware. He's fixing the sleeve of his sweater when he extends a hand to Detective Gordon, bright smile and all, "Detective James Gordon, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry for dropping in unannounced. If this is a bad time, I can come back." James gestures to you.

Bruce's look at you is empty, devoid of any detectable emotion or thought. It strikes you as unsettling, the same way a cashier at the end of their shift isn't really looking at you, "Oh, no. I was just on my way to work when I felt unwell. I called my doctor over but it was nothing to worry about. A little stomach bug, is all."

You do look like you'd just come over in a rush. You're still in your lounge clothes from the night before, and your medical supplies are still in the kitchen where Alfred had left them. James seems to notice, but he doesn't look any more relaxed. "That's good to hear. I don't want to keep you too long, but truth is, I have some questions I'd like to ask you if you have the time."

"Is something wrong?" James glances between you and Bruce, something the latter doesn't miss, "is it sensitive?"

"It's about the party you threw here the other night, Mr. Wayne. For Mayor Reál. I hear you invited quite a few Gotham politicians to celebrate the passing of the mayor's new bill, correct?"

"That's correct."

"And I understand you're quite invested in Gotham politics in general, much like your father."

"I am. My mother and father were very interested in the city, and Mayor Reál breathed new life into that for me after the election. I do what I can to support the cause."

"And that cause is...?"

Bruce takes the skeptical tone on the chin, smiling wider, "A safer, fairer Gotham. For everyone."

This Bruce was nothing like the Bruce you had all to yourself. He taps into that persona from the party with ease. Watching him is like watching a performance. "That's good, good. I notice you try to make an effort with charities in the city, donations and the like. You recently donated a new wing to Gotham General."

"I did. Increasing access to medical care for the citizens is important to me. My doctor, a talented surgeon at General, knows this well." You flash a timid smile when both Bruce and James look to you.

"And you also financially support politicians in Gotham."

"Occasionally. Anyone I feel has Gotham's best interests in mind."

"And have you found members of Gotham's political parties to be unusually forward in requesting your support, Mr. Wayne? Perhaps a little too pushy, maybe."

Bruce wears confusion well, "Not necessarily. I'm not easily pressured into doing things I have no interest in."

"Of course. How about any attempts to win over your support? Publicly or otherwise."

"I'm not sure what you're asking, detective. I'd love to help, but I don't think I have the information you're looking for."

James nods, holding his chin high, "My apologies. I should've been clear from the beginning. My question is: have any politicians or members of law enforcement offered you anything in exchange for your financial or public support? I have reason to believe there may be someone with high clearance exchanging confidential information with civilians. Especially ones who can pay. I'm just looking for a lead."

James frames his question well, even though any fat cat familiar with the cops could see the hidden question. Bruce frowns, tilts his head, shaking it slowly, "That's awful. I don't currently know of anyone doing such a thing, to me or anyone else. But I can keep an eye out. I can only imagine how dangerous that might be."

"Exactly. We'd like to nip it in the bud as soon as possible."

"Of course. Do you have a card? Perhaps I can contact you if I hear anything."

James fishes out his card and hands it over, "I don't want to put you in a bad position, only pass along what you know if you feel safe enough to do so."

You notice Bruce is flicking the business card between his fingers as a fidget, though he keeps his attention respectfully on the detective. "Absolutely. Thank you, detective. Dory can show you to the door."

The detective nods and follows Dory out of the room. As soon as the two are out of earshot, Bruce's expression softens as he presses his back into the counter. You wish you could sink into the floor. "To be fair," you begin, "I didn't think he'd find anything."

Bruce side-eyes you, "That was you?"

"I thought my criminal boss was going to blackmail me to keep his secrets."

"Criminal boss." You think he's trying to mock you, but his eyes are surprisingly guilty when he looks at you, "Alfred wasn't kidding. I really didn't handle this well."

"No, not really." You don't mean to kick him while he's down, but you can't lie either. Even now, you were still making meaning out of this whole thing.

By all means, you've gone from knowing nothing about him, to understanding even less, to fearing him, to this. With Batman on the other hand, you'd felt nothing but loyalty and trust in him up until the very last second. Now they were both the same person, and the meager hours of sleep you'd gotten hadn't cleared all that up just yet.

You wonder who you're supposed to see now. Batman or Bruce Wayne? Why was the line separating them blurring the more you thought of them?

"So, did you ever come up with a better idea?"

Bruce does not offer one. You'd dreaded that.

"You already know what I think. No matter how we go about this, there's going to be something. So what do you want to do?" Bruce's eyes follow your ever minute expression, laser-focused on you. "Whatever you choose, I will keep you safe. I promise you."

He feels so staunchly Batman in this moment, even with the soft voice of Bruce, watching over you. Through all your uncertainty, this you believe him on.

And you're exhausted, you find. Your arm is beginning to throb again. You crave the reprieve of a bed but not your own, to your surprise.

"I'm going to trust you, Bruce," your voice wobbles as you say it out loud, "I'm going to trust you like I trust Batman."

Bruce holds eye contact with you for a few moments, "Okay."

"Can I ask... why are you dressed so nice?"

"We're going to get the sedative."

"You're going as Bruce?"

"It's the middle of the day. Yes, I'm going as Bruce. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

You fluster, suddenly reconsidering this entire plan. You'd pictured Batman skulking on the rooftop while you Mission Impossible'd your way into the medicine cabinets for what you needed. Walking in with him—the real him—would draw attention you didn't need, "You're only going to make me look suspicious."

"I'm your patient, and more importantly, I'm a donor."

"You will stick out like a sore thumb."

"That means when people are looking at me, they're not looking at you." You open your mouth to argue but he's already cutting you off, "Do you want me to drop you off at your place or do you want me to send someone to get your things?"

You're aware of what he's really asking.

You heave a sigh, "Drop me off. I can't promise Judith won't hurt someone if she finds a stranger in my house."

a/n: mj stop having the reader move in with bruce when their life is put in imminent danger challenge impossible

[mamsieur]

Don't mess with the Storm | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary : Sometimes, Cyclone could live up to his call sign. Especially when it concerned you, his youngest daughter, his little Storm.

TW : slight violence, mention of alcohol, family/domestic fluff

Length : 6753 words

AN : You can't make me believe that Beau Simpson isn't a family man with lots of kids. That's what he radiates.

posted on AO3 August 21, 2023

Your mom always said you took after your dad, but if he was a Cyclone, you were a Storm ; smaller and less destructive. Storm has always been your nickname. 

It described you quite well as much in your way of doing things than in your personality. You were passionate about everything you did and you often left a mess after you.

Being a Vice Admiral, Beau managed to control himself for his work but when it came to you and your well being, he could literally destroy everything on his way. Not that your father was in any way abusive or violent, but he sometimes could over react.

You were your parents’ precious little baby.

You were the youngest of four children; you had three older brothers, all in the military. Two of them, Nathan and Jamie, were naval aviators, like your father, and one, Aaron, was a Marine Officer. 

Needless to say, you were well taken care of ; you liked to think that you had a small ‘army’ for yourself.

But as much as they thought of you as their little princess, they never treated you like one, and you never wanted to be. You were tough and very capable of defending yourself. Your father always encouraged you in whatever you wanted to do. 

You wanted to join the soccer team? Let's go. Switch to boxing lessons? Done. A new passion for karting? He had your back. An interest in mechanics ? He bought you your first tool box.

As long as you put your heart and soul into whatever you did, your family would support you.

So when you told them you wanted to work for the Navy after your engineering degree, they were as supportive as they could be.

You were a genius engineer - your mom’s word, not yours - and you loved working on jets, inspecting them, gathering as much data as possible to make them as efficient as they can be. Working at Top Gun was heaven. Since the pilots were supposed to be the best, you loved pushing them and their machines to be better and better.

Of course, the fact that you were working on the same base as your father had raised some eyebrows. But neither of you cared, and he got you no special treatment.

After the uranium mission, you were assigned to check the status of the Dagger Squad's F-18s. Everything seemed to be in good shape, and while your computer analyzed the flight data, you inspected the engines. You liked to work alone when you could, it helped you stay in your bubble of concentration.

The sun was slowly setting as you finished diagnosing the last jet. Being alone in the hangar, you took the opportunity to put on some music. You hummed and swayed a little while you waited for the analysis to finish on your screen and inspected the engine.

Your head was - quite literally - in it when you heard footsteps behind you. They stopped a few feet away from you to let you finish what you were doing.

"I'll just be two minutes," you muttered and then shrugged, getting no response. You finished inspecting the seemingly defective part and stood up. Your face was covered in dust and motor oil, and your hair was starting to fall out of your ponytail.

You sighed and turned to your mysterious guest.

"Oh! Good evening Lieutenant Bradshaw. May I help you?" you smiled a little and wiped your forehead with the back of your hand.

"Good evening Second Lieutenant Simpson, to tell you the truth, yes, you may..." he grinned charmingly, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the plane, "I was wondering if you'd forgotten our date? It's 7:20, and we agreed to meet at 6:30 ?” 

You stopped smiling and looked at the clock. Crap! You hadn't seen the time.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I was servicing the jets and didn't realize what time it was! I should have set an alarm, I'm sorry. Jesus, how could I be so stupid?"

You were starting to mumble excuses as you gathered your things when you felt his hand on your wrist.

"It's okay, I know how you get when you're focused on something. We’ll find another day for that. I'll wait for you at the bar, okay?" he reassured you with a grin.

"Uh yeah, yeah okay! I'll be quick!" you nodded and smiled back at him. He tucked a strand of your wild hair behind your ear, a few inches from you, making you blush slightly. His thumb stroked your cheek. He had that cheeky smile he always had when something was on his mind. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles, his beautiful brown eyes never leaving yours.

" Or , I can also wait for you in the changing-"

" Lieutenant Bradshaw, Second Lieutenant Simpson, what are you two still doing here? "

Your father's stern voice echoed through the hangar, taking you by surprise. Bradley took a quick step back and straightened his posture to greet him.

"I, uh-"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw forgot his keys, sir, he was out. I got carried away with the diagnostics, I'm almost finished here," you replied quickly as Cyclone’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Bradley then at you.

"Hm. You better hurry then, Second Lieutenant, overtime is not allowed. You're free to go Lieutenant Bradshaw."

"Yes sir!" you said in unison and Bradley left as quickly as he could, flashing one last smile in your direction before disappearing down the corridors.

As you started to clean up the mess you'd made, you heard an amused sigh.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. You're still living up to your nickname."

"Ha ha, very funny Dad," you rolled your eyes and closed your toolbox, "Don't wait for me, I'm going out tonight."

"Mmh. Is Bradshaw involved?" he asked as he helped you carry your stuff to the storage room.

"Yes? I mean the whole Dagger team is, I need to get to know them to understand how they work."

That was only half a lie. You knew they most likely were all at the Hard Deck, you'd met them there a few times. You got along well with them, especially Natasha, Bob and Mickey. And of course, Bradley... But it was different with him.

You'd known him for years and your very first assignment had been with him. Your friendship had evolved over the years into a kind of friends-with-benefits/fuck-buddies relationship until a few weeks ago. Since the uranium mission, he wanted more than that, and so did you. You two tried to keep your relationship secret because you suspected it could jeopardize either of your careers, and mostly because you knew your father would not approve.

He always thought the guys you dated were not good enough for you. And as annoying as it was, he was always right. He scared away some of them and when you thought back about it, it's a good thing he did.

Truth be told, you have been in love with Bradley for so long that sometimes it hurted. 

You had tried to tell him so many times in the past, but you were afraid of losing what little intimacy you had with him. So when he asked you out, first thing after the uranium mission, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. The hope that your feelings would be reciprocated had invaded your heart and mind, and you felt like it was the first time you were in love. It wasn’t of course, but you were all giddy about it.

You didn’t like to lie to your dad, he knew you too much to know everything in just one look. 

But it was worth it, wasn’t it ?

You hoped it was.

After a well-deserved shower, you changed into clean, comfortable clothes that actually suited you. You put on your helmet and rode to the bar with your motorbike. Your mother hated when you used that ‘death machine’ and your father wasn't really fond of it either. It reminded him of Maverick. He wasn’t fond of Maverick. It always made you laugh watching your dad trying to remain calm in front of the Captain. You’ve never seen a man getting on his nerves that much.

The Hard Deck was already busy when you parked ; a totally normal Friday night , you thought. Looking around, you spotted Natasha’s, Javy’s and Bradley’s cars.

Penny nodded at you with a smile as you entered. The Daggers were in their usual places and Bradley seemed to be winning the pool game against Jake. In a desperate attempt to break his concentration, Jake chuckled, "Your girlfriend's here, Bradshaw”.

The whole team had discovered your relationship, of course, but swore to keep it a secret. You were grateful to them, but Jake being himself, he couldn't resist taking a dig at you. 

You rolled your eyes and took a seat next to Bob, watching the two eternal rivals finish their game. You caught up with Mickey and theorized with him on the last episodes of Kenobi then made your way towards Penny at the bar to buy your round of beers. As you waited for your drinks at the counter, you felt two hands around your waist.

"You're late, Second Lieutenant ."

"Had to fix your teammates’ jets, Lieutenant , tell them to be more careful," you grinned, leaning your back against your boyfriend's torso. You heard him chuckle softly as he whispered that you were an ‘idiot' and kissed the top of your head.

"Sorry about our date, I'll make it up to you."

"You bet your sweet ass you will," Bradley snickered at the squeal you let out as he spanked you a little, “But right now, you owe me a dance to celebrate my victory against Hangman.”

He took your hand as you rolled your eyes but followed him. Your whole body pressed against his, arms around his neck, the room faded away. All you could feel and see was him; one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on your hip, guiding you. The warmth of his body was like a spell that kept you close, not wanting to let go.His hands roamed down your back making you shiver. It felt like you belonged there.

You couldn’t let go of his eyes, hypnotized. He had such beautiful eyes ; those hazel brown orbs were magnetic, so infuriatingly charming. 

One of your hands gently stroked his scarred cheek and he leaned into your touch, smiling like an idiot and humming the song you were slow dancing to. His smile always sent butterflies to your stomach and heat to your cheeks. It was almost annoying how easily you fell for his charms.

The two of you danced until the song ended and you pulled him by the collar to kiss him. You felt his hands slip into the back pockets of your jeans, shamelessly squeezing your ass, and his proud grin against your lips. You bit his as you pulled away from the kiss.

"Okay, lovebirds , get a room," Jake complained and you flipped him off, still in Bradley's arms.

"Don't be jealous Jakey, your time will come," you teased, making your partner chuckle.

"She's right Seresin, just wait till you're a big boy."

The evening continued quietly, with one beer after another, a few games of darts and pool, and a few songs on the piano for Bradley. 

You watched him from the bar, mesmerized, an affectionate smile on your face. You still wondered how you'd managed to get his attention; this man could have anyone he wanted with his smile combined with a little song, the sweetness with which he spoke, his sarcasms, his eyes so soft and intense at the same time, his stupid, stupid, cocky grin... God, you were definitely and undoubtedly under his spell, mind and heart.

Your eyes never left his form for more than five seconds. You looked at him as if you wanted to learn every aspect of his physique; but to be honest, you already knew him by heart. 

You could locate every beauty mark, every scar - and tell its story - and where his birthmark was. You could describe every shade of brown in his eyes, depending on the light or his emotions. You knew every expression on his face; when he was angry, frustrated, sad, or playful. You knew exactly where and how to touch him to make him putty in your hands, every positively sensitive area and those to avoid.

And yet, every time you looked at him, behind the piano, laughing with his friends, you discovered a new detail that made you love him even more.

The way he cared for all of them - even Jake, his "archenemy" - and knew just what to do to make them feel better and laugh. How he always listened to what they had to share, good or bad, and offered to help. How he'd always protect them as if they were his siblings, his rather hazardous family.

Speaking of hazardous family, it always made you laugh how Bradley could be so like Pete and like your dad. It was sometimes a mixture of arrogance and calm, defiance and seriousness. Part of you was sure that if they tried, your dad and Bradley would get along. But were they willing to ?

As you were lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice a man, a little younger than you, sitting next to your stool. He started talking, trying to flirt, but you didn’t really pay attention, still absorbed by your boyfriend’s silliness, until he clicked his fingers in front of your face.

“Hey, ‘m talking to you doll. You should really pay attention when someone is talking to you, got it ?”

You sipped your beer and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He continued his flirtatious attempts, bragging that he was one of the best in his class at Top Gun. He kept trying to get your attention by snapping his fingers or grabbing your arm. His breath was clearly too close to your face and stinked a mixture of beer and chips. 

It really started to annoy you, so it was your turn to snap your fingers in his face.

"I'm not interested,” you snapped your fingers again, “If a girl ignores you, it's because she doesn't want to talk to you, got it ?"

You got off your stool, ready to join the Daggers by the piano. But a hand gripped your wrist and the man pulled you close to him. You could see a hint of anger and annoyance in his eyes, but it didn’t scare you. You were used to guys like him, thinking they own every woman they see. 

“Listen doll, I was nice until now. Give me your number and I’ll forgive you,” he grinned, his buddies sneering behind him, as if they were proud of him. You couldn’t help but giggle at the scene. What kind of bad joke was that ?

In one swift motion, you released your wrist and pinned his arm behind his back. You bent him violently over the bar and locked him in that position, pressing down just enough to hurt and immobilize him. 

"One false move and I will dislocate your arm," you threatened in his ear as a few glances turned in your direction. "Now listen to me carefully. This is the last time you'll talk to me or any woman like that. Understood?"

He grunted and struggled a little. You pressed harder and repeated, "Understood?"

"Okay! Okay, I understand! Get off me!"

The man growled again and you finally let go. Penny gave you a look that you understood as a warning and you smiled innocently to her. The man and his group walked away with a grunt, giving you one last murderous look. You smiled broadly and made a mocking curtsy. 

Bradley raised an eyebrow as they passed him, muttering that you were a "crazy bitch". You joined him with two beers, one for him and one for you.

"What happened?"

"Nothing to worry about, just some big macho guy. He didn't like that I wasn't paying attention to him. I just put him in his place."

You shrugged with a smile and Bradley shook his head, laughing a little, knowing exactly what you meant. He put his arm around your waist and kissed your temple. 

"I know you can defend yourself, but don't get yourself in trouble, Stormy."

"Don't worry, if I get in trouble, my knight in shining armor will come and rescue me, won't he?" you teased. He chuckled but nodded before taking you on his lap at the piano. He started a new song that had the remaining customers singing and dancing.

***

The end of the evening was a bit hazy.

You'd had too much to drink to get back on your bike, so it was Bradley who drove you home. You pulled your boyfriend into your small house - he offered no resistance - and kissed him as if your life depended on it, as if that simple contact made your heart beat. His hands roamed your body with hunger, and yours tore his Hawaiian shirt from his back. You thought of nothing but Bradley, his soft lips devouring your jaw and neck, leaving a few marks where he passed, his hands so warm on your skin, his breath making you shiver. 

You wandered back to your room, kicking off your shoes, and your clothes ended up in a pile at the end of your bed. 

You loved doing it with Bradley. He gave you everything you wanted and so much more. You'd never been as fulfilled as you were with him. It was as if he knew everything about how your body worked, that it held no secrets for him. 

Your nightly activities have drained you both of what little energy you had left, and you fell asleep hugging each other, as if afraid the other will evaporate.

The next morning, it was not your massive headache that woke you, but the sound of several cars and children laughing outside your house. What day was it? Was it Saturday? It was Saturday!

You jumped to your feet as Bradley mumbled something unintelligible.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" You shook your boyfriend and wrapped yourself in a blanket as you heard the sound of a key turning in the front door lock.

"Bradley, get up!"

"Mmh, five minutes..." he mumbled, burying his face in the pillow. You heard the door open and small footsteps running toward your room. You panicked and shook him harder.

"We don't have five minutes! Get your ass up!" 

You grabbed the first thing you could get your hands on: panties and Bradley's tank top. You stumbled to your bedroom door to get out before one of your nephews’ innocent eyes discovered their aunt and a man they didn't know naked as worms in her bed. You tried to look as natural as possible as you quickly closed the door behind you. Standing in front of you was Jack, your three-year-old nephew. He was Nathan’s, your oldest brother, son. He laughed as he threw himself on your legs to give you a hug.

"Oh my God, hi sweetie! You're early!"

"Dada said we'd surprise you, Auntie! And Pop-Pop is here too!" the little boy laughed.

"What a nice thought!" you tried not to sound too ironic as you picked him up to give him a kiss and rearrange his wild blond hair. "Auntie needs to get dressed, okay? Go wait with your dad in the living room!"

You gave him one last kiss and made sure he ran to the living room before storming back to your bedroom. How could you forget that your brothers were visiting today? You were so screwed! A million thoughts went through your head and one thing made you snap out of it; Bradley yawning and taking his sweet time getting up. You grumbled and attacked him with a pillow.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"We're in deep shit Bradley! My whole family is here! They weren't supposed to be up this early!"

"What?" he blinked and narrowed his eyes, trying to process what you'd just told him. You started to rattle on about how your brothers got their permission for your mom's birthday, but your brothers were here super early with their wifes, their kids, and your mom and dad. Bradley had trouble following what you were saying because you were talking really fast. 

“Babe,” he tried to interrupt you, but you kept mumbling and pacing next to the bed, “Y/N, baby, calm down!” 

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you to sit in front of him. His free hand cupped your cheek tenderly as he guided you into breathing to calm yourself down.

“Okay… mind explaining slower what is happening here ?”

You sighed and nodded before re-explaining the whole situation to him. “But they weren’t supposed to come here this early ! The surprise lunch for my mom was supposed to be at home, not in my flat ! And my dad is here. My dad ! What are we going to say ?”

You cursed again, rubbing your temples. Bradley took your hands in his to make you look at him and stole a kiss from you. You sighed against his lips, your tension going away slightly. He then pressed his forehead to yours, stroking your cheeks to soothe you.

“How about we get dressed and just… join them in the living room ?”

“You really want to face my dad ?” you raised one eyebrow, surprised but really relieved that he didn’t propose to just sneak out.

“Yeah ? I mean, the man already has doubts, you’ve said it yourself… and it’s your mother’s birthday, your whole army of men won’t be able to kill me. Not today at least.”

You chuckled at his joking tone and at the silly smile he has on his face. You pecked his lips with a grin. “Okay then Lieutenant , let’s get dressed.”

“Yes ma’am!” 

He gave you one last tender kiss, and when the two of you went to get up, a little giggle made you both freeze.

“Auntie who that ? And why he nakey ?”

Your nephew’s voice asked. He was standing by the door, a playful smile on his chubby face, and his little finger pointing at your embarrassed boyfriend. Bradley quickly covered himself more, lifting the sheet at his chin, and you ran to get little Jack in your arms.

“How did he get here ??” Bradley scream-whispered at you, hiding himself while trying to get dressed.

“I don’t know !” you scream-whispered back before turning your attention back to the toddler who was babbling in your arms, “Jack, honey, why aren’t you with your dad and pop-pop ?”

Before he could answer, your sister in law was by your bedroom, apologizing. She didn’t notice Bradley right away, but when she did, a small cheeky smile curled on her lip.

“Hi there, sorry to have him interrupted you two.”

“Annie, it’s not what it looks like-” you blushed when you understood what she implied but Bradley interrupted you by presenting himself and shaking her hand with a wide smile. They chat while you put on a pair of jeans, keeping on Bradley’s tank top. Never in your life had you been this embarrassed.

Little Jack looked at your boyfriend with wide-eyed wonder. He loved meeting new people, and Bradley seemed fascinating to his young eyes. It was no wonder when every time Annie spoke to you, Bradley would make faces at the little boy and make him giggle. 

Bradley already had him in his pocket, so that was a good thing. Annie seemed to like him too, at least you thought so from the mischievous looks she gave you. 

As you crossed the hallway to join the rest of your family, a wave of nervousness ran through you. You grabbed Bradley by the sleeve of his Hawaiian shirt and turned him toward you. You pulled him into a hug to relax and to give yourself courage.

"Promise you won't hate me?"

"Why would I hate you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They'll probably try to impress you, my brothers I mean... and my dad... you know how he can be..."

"Oh honey... It takes more than that to scare me. I'll be fine."

He kissed your forehead and you walked into the living room.

You greeted everyone, your father not immediately aware of Bradley's presence. You introduced him to your brothers first, Nathan, Aaron and Jamie, and they didn't do anything strange at first; they were probably waiting for you to introduce him to your father to see what sauce to cook him in.

Beau and Vivian, your mother, were too busy admiring your niece, five-month-old Juliet, to notice Bradley's presence. She was fast asleep in the arms of Jamie's fiancée, Alice. She greeted you with a smile when you waved.

"Awake at last, Stormy?" your father asked before freezing and losing his smile at the sight of your boyfriend, " Lieutenant Bradshaw. ".

His cold, hard tone made you sigh a little as the two men shook hands in greeting. 

“Good morning Vice Admiral Simpson.” 

They were way too formal, it was ridiculous. Your mother had the same reaction as you and introduced herself to Bradley with a warm smile and a hug.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Simpson."

"Oh, please, just call me Viv!" she laughed a little, waving her hand. Then she turned to you, discreetly gave you both thumbs up and winked at you. 

Good. Bradley seemed to have charmed your mother with just a smile.

Still, you could feel your father tense up behind you as Bradley got to know everyone. He remained very polite and smiled, even letting Jack, Oliver and Tommy - Aaron's twin sons - pull him out to play in the little garden. Your father grabbed your arm. "Kitchen. Now. We need to talk." He seemed a little upset, and you could understand; you'd lied to him.

"Care to explain yourself?" He crossed his arms on his chest, a stern look on his face. 

You didn't like that look. He used to have it when he scolded you when you were a teenager, when you would sneak out of the house to go to a party or to meet up with your then-boyfriend. For a moment, you were 16 again, caught in the act.

You sighed at his insistent and questioning look.

"I uh... He’s... we’re... we've been seeing each other for… a few weeks..."

"A few weeks? So you've been lying to me for weeks?"

"I haven't lied! At least not completely..." you mumbled, biting your fingernail.

"Y/N. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Seriously Dad? You've made it pretty clear that you don't really like him, I mean outside of work."

"I never said that."

You widened your eyes, shocked at his bad faith. 

"Are you kidding me? You've made it clear that you don't want me around him because he's too much like Maverick! Every time I mentioned him, you made your… disapproving face. The same one you made every time I mentioned my old boyfriends, or when I wanted to get a motorcycle, or when the boys tried to bleach their hair in high school !"

"I don't have a disapproving face," he grumbled, "and it's not because he’s like Maverick that I don't want you around him, it's because he can be called back on a mission at any time. I don't want that to break your heart."

"Oh ! But it's okay for Nathan, Aaron, and Jamie to break the hearts of their partners? Of their children? It was okay for you to risk breaking Mom's heart and ours? What kind of cardboard argument is that, Dad?" You raised your arms in disbelief as you started to walk out of the kitchen, but you stopped and turned back to face him. "I know you want to protect me, but... you can't do that about things like that. I know you know better than anyone the risks of this job, the sacrifices it requires. But Bradley knows them as well, if not better, than you do. And as much as it scares me, as much as it scares us... we want to try… And even if you don't like it, we'll give it a try. Because I almost lost him once without really being able to be with him..."

Your father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. From the kitchen window you could see Bradley playing with your nephews, under your mother's and in laws’ amused and tender eyes. A small smile crept across your lips as the little ones called you over to help hold Bradley down. You hurried to join them, and your mother joined your father.

"Our boys and the little ones seem to like this Lieutenant…”

“Seems like it…”  

“He reminds me a little of you when we first met..." Vivian chuckled to Beau as she hugged him. 

"Really?" the man wondered, "and how?"

"Well, he has that same sparkle in his eyes... the one that calls for adventure, that gentle and loving look when his eyes land on our Storm... and he's also very good with children," she laughed at his slightly embarrassed expression, "You should give him a chance... our princess looks so relaxed with him... look at her… look at her smile…"

He lifted his head and watched the two of you having fun with the three little boys and sighed. His wife was right. You looked so happy in Bradley's arms, waltzing and laughing with the kids. He'd never seen you look so radiant, as cliché as it sounded. Your brothers also seemed to have accepted the newcomer without too much fuss. So Beau seemed to be the only one who was uncomfortable with the whole situation.

He nodded and kissed his wife on the forehead. "Okay, I'll try... but I'm not promising anything."

Vivian rolled her eyes with a smile on her face. She knew for a fact that your father would quickly accept Bradley as well.

Lunch went off without a hitch, Beau swallowing his pride not to be as awkward with Bradley as possible, although he did draw a few murderous looks from your father when he put his hand a little too high on your thigh or lower back. After dessert, he helped your brothers put the kids down for a nap and let them share the convertible bed in your little study. Your sisters-in-law and your brother-in-law, Evan - Aaron's husband - helped you with the dishes. They gently teased you that Bradley was a very handsome young man and that you had chosen well. 

"I know I did. Look at you all, we Simpsons always have good taste," you sniped back with a wink and a teasing smile, making them laugh.

"Wait, wait, wait... So he was your regular booty call after your first assignment?" Evan seemed to realize. You shushed him and made sure that your parents didn't hear him say that. Annie laughed a little and grabbed your shoulder, making you look into her eyes. 

"I can see why you qualified him as the best sex of your life after the upper body I saw this morning," she teased you again, making your face completely flush. You practically begged her to stop talking about your sex life, very embarrassed. But the three of them could be little bullies and they loved to tease you sometimes.

"Guys, please stop. If my father hears you-"

"Hear what, Stormy?"

You turned and paled a little under your father's cold gaze and tight smile. Your sister-in-law and brother-in-law took the opportunity to run off like teenagers, and of course Bradley arrived just then, smiling carelessly. 

"The three cataclysms are finally asleep. Is everything okay in here?" he asked as he joined you in front of your father. He immediately wiped the smile off his face when he saw the look on Beau's face.

"You're lucky it's my wife's birthday, Bradshaw," he growled, his eyes staring straight into your souls, "but if I hear one more detail about your... nocturnal activities, I'm going to make sure that the two of you are as far away from each other as possible, even if it means sending one of you to Japan or Korea. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Bradley replied promptly, "Clear as day.”

"For God's sake, Dad, aren't you being a little extreme? I'm a responsible adult-"

"I'm warning you, I don't want another grandchild too soon. Keep it in your pants."

"Dad!!"

Just when you thought you couldn't get any more embarrassed, your dad had the right words. He left the two of you in the kitchen, muttering that he was getting too old for this. 

"Oh my God..." You cursed as you hid your face in your hands and turned towards the sink. Of all the weird things that could happen, you'd really hoped no one would mention your sex life. You felt a little angry, but more than that, you were extremely embarrassed. You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the counter as you lowered your head. You felt the warmth of Bradley's body enveloping you as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his front against your back and his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I'm so sorry..."

"Why are you apologizing, babe? I told you it would take more than that to scare me off... Maybe your dad hasn't fallen for the Bradshaw charm yet, but I'm working on it..." he tried to cheer you up, "And now I have an army of kids who love me, I can order them to defend me."

You smiled, amused at his silliness. "You're really good with kids, but I think it's them who will command you..."

"Maybe you're right," he laughed a little and kissed the hollow of your neck, his mustache tickling you, "but your mother has already adopted me. I'm protected."

You laughed with him, your embarrassment and anger disappearing. You leaned against him, enjoying the hug he offered you. These simple gestures were so comforting that it was almost frightening how quickly he could soothe you. You closed your eyes as he hummed and softly danced with you in the kitchen. It was so cliché, right out of a rom-com, but you couldn’t care less.

After a few minutes, you regained enough courage to join the rest of your family in the living room. Your in-laws gave you apologetic looks, and your brothers were a little lost, but didn't dare ask. 

For the rest of the afternoon, Bradley learned every little anecdote your mother had to share; whether it was about your brothers, you, or even your father, she was more than happy to share with him. Jamie and Alice had fallen asleep in the garden, making your mother smile in awe. Nathan laughed a little with Aaron. "We warned them that a newborn was exhausting, but they insisted on coming here their own way...". 

You laughed a little too, it was true they looked exhausted. But little Juliet was so cute that they forgot how tired they were. 

Speaking of her, the baby phone warned everyone that she was waking up. You volunteered to warm her bottle and Bradley went to get her. Alice had put the travel crib in your room so the other three children would not be disturbed if Juliet woke up. 

When the milk was at the right temperature, you joined Bradley in your room. Your cheeks flushed and you felt butterflies in your stomach when you saw him holding the little one. He rocked her gently, stroking her cheek with his index finger. He seemed so natural that it made you fall even more in love with him. 

You shook your head, your father's voice echoing in your head: "No more grandchildren for now.”

You joined him and let him gently place the baby in your arms. You smiled and fed the hungry five-month-old in your arms. Bradley leaned against the doorframe and watched you with a soft smile. You, too, were a natural with children. Juliet seemed so comfortable in your arms and you seemed so relaxed. He found himself daydreaming about the two of you having children together. He blushed as he imagined you pregnant with his baby... and Nathan giggled behind him. "Calm your horses Bradshaw, you're not putting a baby in my sister anytime soon."

Bradley's face turned as bright red as yours. "Nathan, shut up!" you yelled-whispered at him, careful not to disturb the eating baby in your arms.

“What? You heard our old man, "No more grandchildren for now!”” Nathan grinned and put his arm around Bradley's shoulders.

"I can't promise that..." Bradley mumbled softly, mesmerized by the sight of you holding Juliet against you as you burped her after she had finished her bottle. Nathan's eyes widened and he tried his best not to burst out laughing. "What did you say, Brad’ ? I think I misheard you?"

You blushed as you realized what your boyfriend had just said.

"I... Nothing!" Bradley defended himself weakly, very embarrassed. Nathan teased him until your mother told him to stop, threatening him with no cake after dinner. He immediately stopped and went to get his son after whispering to Bradley that he wouldn't forget what he had just said. You decided not to talk about it, feeling a little embarrassed as well.

It wasn't long before dinnertime arrived, and your father was relaxed and talking with Bradley. You even caught them laughing together. This interaction was reassuring for the rest of the evening.

As usual, your mother had cooked for a regiment, and your refrigerator was full of leftovers. She made Bradley promise to stop by the family home and look at the family albums and your childhood bedroom. He laughed a little but agreed. 

You walked everyone back to their cars, helped them with the kids' stuff, and your dad gave you one last hug and said good night. He said goodbye to Bradley with a slight smile and a quick hug. 

When everyone was gone, you collapsed on your sofa, drained of all energy. Bradley joined you with a smile and pulled you right into his arms.

"That didn't go so badly after all..."

You nodded, yawned and put your arms around him. You thought back to the day that had just passed, to that roller coaster of emotions, and laughed a little.

"So... eager to put a baby inside me Lieutenant?"

"Oh my God Y/N!!" Bradley blushed, hiding his face behind his fists in total embarrassment. You laughed and teased him about it. You preferred to take it as a joke because neither of you were anywhere near ready to have children of your own, you both agreed on that. Or did you?

He turned to you, a serious expression on his face.

"And what if I am? Would you... would you be on board to have kids with me? Not right now, of course, but... I... I can't imagine a future without you in it, and I'd like to have kids with you. I know we haven't really been together that long, but we've known each other for a long time... and oh my God, I'm rumbling," he groaned, rubbing his face before looking back at you. "What I mean is that I love you and I don't want to live without you. Maybe it's rushed, maybe you-"

You interrupted him, pulled him by the collar and kissed him. You didn’t know what came over you; maybe it was the fact that he had just admitted his feelings, or the fact that he was already planning a life with you. Maybe both. Certainly both.

"I love you too," you whispered between two kisses, "and I don't want to be without you either... and I would love to start a family with you someday, Lieutenant Bradshaw..."

You smiled, your forehead pressed against his, and he chuckled in relief.

"Today was really like you... a storm..." he sighed, smiling and stroking your cheeks.

"I know... are you sure you can keep up with my family?" you teased, "Now that you've messed with the storm, the cyclone will never be far away."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Stormy."

[bunnylovesani]

The Bratty Belle

Chapter 3

Summary: You drop your car off at James' shop and spend the day together, bonding more than expected when you receive a distressing phone call that makes your dark past come to light.

Tw: mentions of abuse/molestation/suicide

WC: 4k

Anxiously slamming the door shut, you got into your rusty car and started the sputtering engine. You almost lost control several times on the short drive over to James’ garage but tried your very best to park as sensibly as possible once you spotted him standing outside in his striped work suit, wrench in hand. 

“You okay?” He asks tentatively as you exit the vehicle, shortly after hitting the curb.

“Yeah! Yeah, great.” You squeak, brushing some dust off your dress and stumbling over to him in your clacking heels. He looks like he’s about to say something about your driving skills but just about manages to hold it in. 

“Come on through, I’ll give you the grand tour.” He opens the door and gestures for you to enter. A shiver courses through your body when his hand brushes past your lower back as you skip into the garage. 

“It’s not much but it’s mine.” His voice echoes against the walls of the open space, tall ceilings and greasy oil spills in abundance. 

“I like it!” You chirp, eliciting strange looks from some of his colleagues who wondered what the scantily clad floozy was doing in their workshop. 

“Uh, guys- this is Bunny. I’m servicing her car.” James explains once he catches sight of their puzzled expressions and they nod at you courteously. “Through here is my office.” He continues the tour and guides you to a small but sleek room complete with a desk and computer. “Leave the car with me overnight and I’ll have it ready for you in a couple days. Do you need some driving lessons while we’re at it?” He chuckles as he leans on his desk, crossing his dirtied arms. 

“I can drive perfectly well, thank you very much.” You huff, cheeks flushing at the memory of the cat you almost ran over on the way here. 

“James, where’s your other tool kit- you know the one-oh. Hey.” A brunette woman with a button nose and a blue flannel shirt pops her head in. A flannel that looked suspiciously similar to the one James wore the other day.

“Hi.” You quietly reply, insecurity enveloping you. She saunters over to him and rests her elbow on his shoulder, brushing past you lightly in the process. “We have to get the Beetle fixed by Tuesday- the woman called to push the deadline up.” 

“Seriously? Who does she think I am, her personal servant?” James recoils and the woman chuckles. 

“Relax babe, you’re all knotted up.” She chuckles as she massages his shoulder lazily with one hand. 

“Oh, and this is Bunny. Bunny, meet Vanessa. Vanessa, Bunny.” He points between you while tiredly pinching the bridge of his nose. Your lips form into a thin smile as you feel yourself shrinking. 

“Aw, she’s adorable. Shy too. What’s she doing here?” She looks you up and down broodingly. 

“Ask her yourself.” He pushes himself up off his desk and gives you a subtle wink as he heads out of his office. “Bunny, give me your keys and I’ll park the car into the garage. Meet me out back.” 

You nod obediently as your gaze follows him out, eyes eventually meeting Vanessa’s in an uncomfortable silence. 

“So. You’re his new neighbour, huh?” Vanessa opens up a pack of gum and takes a seat in James’ chair, not offering you any. 

“Yeah. Moved in last week.” You shuffle nervously under her unfaltering gaze, steely and cold. 

“And you’re already getting a free servicing job out of him. You work fast.” She smacks her lips and you scrunch up your nose at the strong scent of spearmint emanating from her.

“Oh no, I have every intention of paying him for all his-“

“He told me not to charge a cent for this job. Told me to put all costs on his card.” She interjects monotonously, making a stark difference to the chirpy demeanour she had when he was around. 

“Oh. Well, I didn’t know that.” You reply earnestly, feeling a slightly threatening aura lingering in the air.

“Now why would a cold, self-absorbed man like James suddenly want to start doing charity work well into his 30s?” She scans you scrutinizingly and the hair on the back of your neck stands up. 

“Are you accusing me of something?” You reply boldly, sensing her opinion of you had already been formed. 

“I don’t know, Bunny. That depends on what your intentions are.” She straightens up in her seat and blows a bubble with her gum. 

“James is waiting for me.” You head out towards the door, wishing for an end to this painfully tense interaction. 

“You sure that’s not all he’s waiting for?” She quipped and it took every last bit of strength to ignore her, continuing your march out the door.

Pacing to the garage where James told you to come, your head spun with confusion; why would he want to pay for you? You knew the parts wouldn’t come cheap and he’d made it clear he wasn’t trying to pursue a relationship with you- so what did he want? 

“That was quick. Thought you and Vanessa would’ve been chatting for a while longer.” He comments as he slams your car door shut, having just reparked it. “What’d she say to you?��� He asks suspiciously after seeing your perplexed expression. 

“Nothing. Just didn’t find the conversation too riveting. Would rather see what my favourite mechanic was up to.” You joked, stepping closer towards him. He raises his bushy brows and cracks an earnest smile, pearly whites contrasting against his sweaty, tan face. 

“So what’s the verdict? Is she wrecked beyond repair?” You ask, peering over his shoulder to observe the rusty hunk of metal you called a car. 

“Of course not. I’ll have her good as new by the end of the week.” He pats your shoulder as he walks by you. “Let’s go for dinner.” 

“Oh?” Before you can even object, he’s unzipping his work suit and walking towards his truck. 

“Get in.” He opens the passenger side door and you find yourself jumping in without a second thought. 

“Burger and milkshake sound good?” He starts the engine with a roar and you nod in response. “Get this on.” He reaches around you and clips your seatbelt into place. 

“Thank you.” You’re filled with confusion over his strangely paternal behaviour as Vanessa’s words echo in your head. 

Glancing over to your left, you ogle the way he keeps a firm hand on the steering wheel, tapping the leather with his fingertips. His side profile is so entrancing, chiselled jawline and Adam’s apple framing his strong features perfectly.

“What are you staring at, you little creep?” He grins and you snap your head back to face the front. 

“You have something on your face. Bit of smudged oil.” You point at his cheek unconvincingly, hoping he doesn’t check in the rearview mirror.

James pulls into a parking lot outside a quaint little diner and parks the car carefully before jumping out to open the door for you. You got the sense that he wasn’t usually such a cautious driver. 

“A girl could get used to this.” You giggle as you take his hand and hop out of the car, walking with him to the entrance.

“It’s concerning that you find basic chivalry impressive.” He mutters, guiding you to a chequered cloth clad booth in the corner of the establishment before taking a seat with a heavy huff. 

“You tired?” You ask, sitting prettily opposite him. 

“Long day. Like every day.” He looks away, grabbing the menu a little too fervently. “What do you want?” 

“Oh, umm...” You peer over and scan the menu but the endless options have your head spinning- you’d always been infuriatingly indecisive. 

James patiently waits for a couple of minutes as you flick through the extensive pages before summoning a waitress over with a raised hand. 

“I’ll have a hamburger and coffee- leave the jug- and a double cheeseburger and strawberry milkshake for the lady. Don’t forget the fries.” He fires out and hands the sluggish waitress the menu back. 

“How’d you know that was what I wanted?” You squeak out, watching the waitress ring the order up in the kitchen. 

“Lucky guess.” He winks. “Too hungry to wait for you to analyse the whole menu. Hope you don’t mind.” 

“No, but a double along with a milkshake might be a little much?” You giggle, remembering how you’d eaten already before you came by. 

“Well, I have to keep you full. I can’t imagine how grumpy you get when you’re hungry.” He shakes his head at the thought. 

“Here’s that milkshake for the lady and a big ole jug of coffee for you, handsome.” The waitress saunters by and pours his drink into a mug, bending over to accentuate her cleavage. 

“Thanks.” He looks her up and down for the briefest moment before ducking his head, weaving it away from her to meet your eyes again. “How’s the shake, kiddo?” He smiles as you take a sip from the stripy red straw.

“Delicious. But I make it better.” You flirt, noticing the sulking waitress frowning as she trudged away.

“I’ll have to taste it sometime.” The expression on his face is calm and sincere with a hint of something in his eyes that you can’t quite explain. 

“James?” You intoned, dragging out his name. 

“Yes, Bunny?” He played along. 

“That day before you came over for the first time, were you arguing with someone on the phone?” You queried innocently, knowing already that he was. 

“You could say that.” He sighed and waved his hand dismissively as the food arrived, delivered by a waiter this time.

“Who with? It looked quite heated.” You coaxed, keen to know more.

“You talk a lot. Eat your food.” He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat before taking a big bite out of his burger. 

Not wanting to push his buttons any further, you abandon your curiosity for the time being and tuck into your meal.

You and James exchange several glances as you eat in a comfortable silence, that familiar bubbling feeling rising in your chest every time you made eye contact. Once you’d finished, James swiftly paid the bill- leaving no time at all for you to voice your protests and effectively silencing you by getting up and heading out the door. 

“Thanks for the lift home.” You murmured once you’d gotten back into the car and he looked at you with an expression that neared disgust. 

“What was I supposed to do, leave you to walk home after I’d taken you out? Honestly, what kind of fucking idiots have you been hanging around?” He scoffs, shaking his head and you shrink down into your seat. 

He wasn’t wrong, you’d never been around the gentlemanly type before and spending time with James was making you shamefully aware of that. 

“Would you like to come in?” You ask sweetly, swaying on your tiptoes once he’d walked you to the front door. “I have some more of those girl scout cookies you liked.” 

“Maybe just for one.” He chuckled at the mention of the sweet treat before strolling into your apartment. 

“Here you go.” You retrieved the pastries from the kitchen and handed them to James, who was standing patiently in the arch under your doorway with an endearing smile painted on his face. “I added some other things I thought you might like.” 

He inspected the transparent bag laden with cookies, cinnamon swirls and chocolate croissants- lovingly wrapped with a satin pink bow. 

“It looks so pretty, I don’t even want to open it.” He stares at it in disbelief. “Thank you. This is so nice. No one’s ever….you really made all this?” 

You nodded and his earnest gratitude warmed your heart. 

“I should be the one thanking you.” You brush your hand against the side of his arm. “I’ve never been shown so much kindness.” 

“Jeez, kid, it was only dinner.” He chuckles.

“And it’s only some cookies.” You assert and he stares at you with a look of understanding unlike one you’d ever seen before. “I know about the car too. Vanessa told me.”

He curses under his breath and looks away, almost looking embarrassed. 

“And you don’t even want to sleep with me. I’m confused, James. Why are you being so good to me?” You stare into his eyes searching for an explanation. 

“Bunny, how can you even say that?” He grabs your face affectionately with furrowed brows before awkwardly retreating his hand a moment later. “You…I don’t even know what to say to that. As if that’s the only interest a man could have in you.” 

“Well, isn’t it?” You ask dejectedly.

“Of course not!” His hands settle for holding your wrists, needing to touch you in some way but not wanting to overstep. 

“So what reason do you have?” 

He looks so conflicted that it takes him a little while to form his next sentence. 

“You seem like a good kid. If I can help you out, I’m happy to.” He replies with a heavy sigh- as if he’s releasing thoughts that shouldn’t be there. 

“And your girlfriend doesn’t mind?” You ask curiously. 

“It doesn’t matter what she thinks. My business is my own.” You look down and notice how firm his hold over your wrists still is. “And I wouldn’t go as far as to call her my girlfriend. We’ve only been out on a couple dates.”

Try as you may, you couldn’t stop the wide grin that spread across your beaming face.  You expected him to scold you in his usual cocky manner- to make some kind of comment about how that didn’t mean he was interested but he simply smiled back. 

A shrill ringing filled the room and you recognised it as the sound of your phone. 

“One second.” You giggled at James and he nodded, stepping aside to answer your call. Looking down at the bright screen, you saw it was your step-sister calling. 

“Daisy?” You picked up hesitantly- you weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

“Dad’s in the hospital. It’s not looking good.” Her grave voice exhaled and a shiver ran down your spine. You hated when she referred to him as your father.

“W-what’s wrong with him?” You ask with morbid curiosity.

“He was in an accident. Hit head-on by a drunk driver on his way to work this morning. You need to get here!” She choked back tears. 

“I don’t know, Dais…” Your mind flooded with childhood memories of your stepdad. Not a single one was pleasant. He might’ve been Daisy’s dad but he sure as hell wasn’t yours. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?! There’s no question, you need to come here and see him now!” She shrieked, desperation laced in her voice.

“I told you I’d never set eyes on that man again. This doesn’t change that.” You tried your best to sound stern despite the pain that was building. 

“I can’t believe you’re being so selfish. Distancing yourself from your family just to prove a point when we already know you lied.” The venom in her voice strikes you to your core. 

“I have done nothing but tell the truth. You all chose to take his side.” The tears started spilling. “My only real family was my mother. And he is the reason she’s no longer here.” 

“She’s got no one to blame but herself. She took the easy way out. I guess you’re a coward just like her.” 

“I hope he dies. Slowly and painfully.” You spit down the line before hanging up and throwing your phone across the room, a sobbing fit racking through your body. 

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” James rushes over, wrapping his arms protectively around your shoulders. You’d forgotten he was even here but you were glad to be shrouded in his warm embrace. 

“My stepdad…he’s dying- and I’m happy about it? And I think I might’ve messed things up forever with the only family I have left. I’m a terrible person.” You choked out the words between snivels. 

“I don’t know about the rest but I know for sure you’re not a bad person. Calm down sweetheart, everything’s okay. I’m here.” You weep into his chest, staining his shirt with thick tears. “Why do you hate your stepdad?”

“Wh-when I was a kid, he’d - well he’d-“

“Take your time, angel.” He pulled you in closer when you struggled to get the words out. 

“When my mom first married him, he’d sneak into my room at night and do things to me. I was too scared to say anything. He said it’d be our little secret.” You shudder, feeling more vulnerable in this moment than you had in years. 

“Bunny…” James looked distraught, his face contorted and twisted into a look of disbelief, sorrow and disgust. “And you feel bad for wishing he’d die? If the bastard survives, I’ll go to that hospital and finish him off myself.” 

You stop the stream of tears for just long enough to gaze up at him pitifully- in a state of utter confusion that someone could feel so much empathy for you. 

“And I take it your stepsister doesn’t believe you?” He continues, rubbing your back in an attempt to instil you with calm. 

“No.” You sniffle. “She thinks I’m making it all up.” 

“Did your mother know?” He asks cautiously, careful not to upset you any further.

“No, no I hid it all. It was only a couple years ago that I worked up the courage to let it all out. Thought it would help but it turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life. It filled her with such regret and shame that she didn’t even get to finalise the divorce before she… she couldn’t live with herself knowing she’d let that happen to me. So she, she-“

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He pulled you down on the couch, sweetly kissing your forehead and smoothing your hair as you cried your heart out. 

“Daisy’s right- I am selfish. If I’d never said anything, she would’ve still-“

“Don’t.” He interrupted you. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.” 

You were used to being rattled beyond repair whenever you came into contact with your stepfamily- but you weren’t used to having someone alongside you to pick up the pieces. Something so unfamiliar had never felt so good. 

“Will you stay with me?” You asked with such tooth-rotting sweetness you were sure he couldn’t refuse. His eyes darted back and forth and he licked his lips in thought.

“Like, for the night?” 

“Yes. Just one night. Please.” Your reddened, glassy eyes looked up at him sanguinely. 

“Of course.” He whispered, rubbing the side of your cheek with his thumb. “Anything you need.” 

Your faces were barely 2 inches apart but your gaze was stolen by his soft lips, plump with temptation. He said anything you need, right? Leaning in a little more until the tips of your noses were touching, you planted a gentle kiss on his parted lips. They rested against each other for a moment before James kissed you back, snaking his hand into your hair as he brushed his lips against your own passionately. 

“Wait.” He pulled away with a wet smack. “You’re vulnerable right now. This is wrong.”

“Then why does it feel so right?” You attempted to close the gap between you but he backed away again, imposing an ever bigger distance. 

“Bunny.” He warned, not budging. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You looked down in shame. 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He looked out the window and you both suddenly became aware of how rapidly night had fallen. “Let’s get you ready for bed, hm?”

“But what about-“

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He quickly resolves the matter and stands up before heading to your bathroom. “Come on, let’s get that makeup off.” He beckons you and you slug over to him. 

“But I look awful.” You sulk, hesitant to reveal your natural face to him despite crying most of your mascara off. 

“That’s not possible.” He mumbles in a low voice, handing you some pre soaked cotton pads. 

You swipe the black streaks away and wash your face as he leans against the ledge of the bathtub. 

“All done. Are you gonna run away screaming now?” You playfully cover your face with your hands but he stands up and tucks your wrists down. 

“You’re perfect.” He stares right through you, not letting you wriggle out of his grasp until his words sink in. 

“Thanks.” You mutter uncomfortably, not sure what to make of the feelings he was bringing out in you.

You amble over to your room and change into your pyjamas; James being the gentleman he was closed the door behind you and waited patiently.

“You can come in.” You call out and he enters after a few moments to find you in your comfiest set of fluffy pyjamas. “Usually I wear something a little more cute but today, I just-“

“Stop explaining yourself.” He interrupted you again. He loved doing that. “You’ve never looked cuter. I like my girls a little fuzzy.” You giggle and playfully slap his hand away as he pinches your side. 

“Thought you said you don’t see me in that kinda way.” You questioned teasingly.

“And it’s time for bed, little lady.” He chuckles and you throw a pillow his way. “Under the covers, c’mon.” 

You shuffle into bed as he tucks you in, folding the frilly duvet in around you until you were safely cocooned. 

“Alright, all tucked in. You gonna be okay?” He raises his eyebrows with the cutest concern and you nod drearily. “I’m right next door if you need something. Good night, sweetheart.” He places a gentle kiss on your forehead before turning the lights off and walking out. 

After several hours spent tossing and turning, you resign yourself to a night of no sleep. The cogs in your mind whir with dizzying speed and the memories that resurface make you nauseous. You shook your head every time the image of your stepdad, twisted grin beaming down at you took shape but it wasn’t enough to clear your dirtied mind.

Sitting up with a huff, you turned your bedside lamp on and wondered if James was asleep yet. Creeping out the door, you heard his light snoring from down the hall as you tiptoed to the living room. 

He looked so peaceful snuggled around the thin bedspread you kept on your couch but it dawned on you that in your distress, you’d forgotten to give the man a proper blanket. Quickly backtracking to retrieve a quilt, you grabbed your favourite pink one before going back to precariously swathe him in it, trying not to rouse. 

“Mm, Bunny?” He whispered sluggishly, still half asleep. 

“Just giving you a blanket. Go back to sleep.” You hushed before turning around to walk away but you felt a strong grip wrap around your wrist. 

“Are you okay?” He opens his dreamy blue eyes and sits up a little.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just can’t sleep.” You admit, already feeling bad that you’d woken him up.

He shuffles back a little before grabbing the corner of the blanket and lifting it up. 

“Come on. I know you want to.” He smirks and you bite your lip shyly. 

Moments later, you’ve crawled in beside him and you’re enveloped in his arms- the musky scent of his faded cologne lingering under your nose as you press your face deeper into his chest. He held a protective arm around your shoulder as yours lay slouched around his waist, the heavy weight of the duvet pressing down comfortingly on you both. 

James fell into the arms of Morpheus soon after and the gentle hum of his breathing resonated through the night, helping you fall into the most peaceful slumber you’d had since you were a child. 

Taglist:

@w0rsh1psells @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10 @mugwump327 @offthethirlwall @bby-imasociopath @emmalandry @slut4starwarssmut @ghostlycrystobalove @iamjustaholeforyousir @billy-stu-wh0re3 @pizza-market

୨୧ If you want to be removed from the Taglist or only want to be tagged for certain fics, please let me know ! ୨୧

[seratopia]

miguel o'hara x reader (fluff) - nerdy college miguelito → she/her pronouns!

inspired by this image of him! glasses = smart

He's the sexiest mf with glasses because i said so

So intelligent! As per usual, I see him in an engineering or biochem major. Maybe statistics, or computer science minor. He's a bit of a nerd, the type that is just naturally brilliant; always asking creative questions in class. Babbles to you about his topics as a form of studying/affection; get good grades and keep his partner company.

He seems like the type that can easily learn and reteach information to you. He's a rare case where study dates actually work; you guys get so much work done.

Does that thing where he scrunches his nose to adjust his glasses. "Miguel, you're gonna get wrinkles if you do that." You remark, finishing the last of your Humanities discussion post. "So you do care for me?" Miguel smirks, tapping his pen against the table. "Just saying, you'll look 40 by the time you reach 30."

His Google Calendar is a crowded mess; at least four tasks per day, constant due dates to keep up with, he tries to save time for weekends.

Let's talk fashion! The sweatshirt he has on in the drawing has me on my knees. I'd love him in sweatshirts, straight leg jeans, big black puffer jacket, THOSE HALF-ZIP SWEATSHIRTS SO YOU CAN SEE A LITTLE BIT OF COLLARBONE, compression shirts on lucky days, possibly cargo pants??? Sometimes you guys match fits! If you dress up, he'll understand the assignment.

Carries around a black backpack, just with a laptop and an extra notebook. Hydrates with a HUGE water bottle. Keeps hairties, lip balm, and pain meds around in case you need them. (You do, often.)

College Miggy doesn't seem like the type to participate in Greek Life; he's there to get his education, start a step ahead in his career. Plus, he's too tired to go partying anyway.

It'd be super cute if y'all lived together; a dorm-to-apartment kind of thing. After your relationship's been serious for a while, you move in, sharing a room with Miguel just so you guys can split costs.

Miguel takes early morning classes, I can tell. Greets you on most days with a palm to your stomach, little kisses from behind. He latches onto you for warmth on chillier days, groaning and whining about not wanting to get up in the morning. "Mig, just go to class-" "Mmph, no." Miguel groans, ghosting his lips to the shell of your ear. He shuffles around in the bed, smothering and stealing your body of warmth. "M'cold!" You whine, Miguel's hands sneaking up your shirt.

YOU ARE the passenger princess in this AU, m'kay? (I can't drive-) Miguel, if he is available, will drive you anywhere! Class, mall, farmers market, coffee shop, etc. Ends up just tagging along with you most of the time. You think he's sexy when he's driving (because he is), slots his hand to your upper thigh like it's his birthright.

Most of the time, y'all are in your own little world; no participation in drama, celebrating each other's successes with a trip to a restaurant. Nothing else really matters when you're got both grades and each other to worry about.

Within the rare occasion that you guys share a class, y'all are on the same page. Working together, filling each other in on missing gaps, quizzing each other on tests; its great. Of course, you receive a high A. I feel like he'd be the type to randomly quiz or test you on something in the class. "Prophase vs. Anaphase? You playfully roll your eyes, continuing to stir your coffee.

Where do y'all think he'd work? I'd say paid internship or somewhere tech-y ykwim? He wouldn't really work at a cafe or campus store.

Oh my gosh what if he was rich!!!!! What if he spoils you with good food and well-thought out date nights? Elevating your relationship as a couple <333 WHAT IF HE PAYS YOUR TUITION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ugh best man best man

© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

[thegeorgetelegraph]

Study Hardware and Networking Courses after 12 | Best Industrial Training Institute in Kolkata

Computer networking course meets the necessity to learn about the various visible components of a computer. Computer networking helps to join computer devices and other related systems to improve communication and data exchange purposes.

https://georgetelegraph.jigsy.com/entries/education/study-hardware-and-networking-courses-after-12-at-the-best-industrial-training-institute-in-kolkata

[luvkuvi]

5wirl !

what's so good about him ?!

Scaramouche x reader smau series

synopsis — Your ex boyfriend kuni is in a band called 5wirl and they're pretty well known considering him and his bandmates are still in college but you still hated his guts on how he ended things with you back then in highschool the day before graduation. So whats the best course of action in this situation? make a hate account of him of course. 

💌 — 5wirl introduction wohoo! also yes aether isnt here just bcs i dont want him too(im sorry aether KSKSKSK)

what's so good about him?!|| masterlist

Scaramouche kunikuzushi: Lead guitarist of 5wirl! Goes to the same uni as a 3rd year majoring in computer engineering him and the rest of 5wirl mostly take online lectures due to their scheduling but they can roam around campus when he wants to. For reasons he broke up with y/n before graduation and he never told anyone why but the only person who got close in getting an answer was childe.

shikanoin heizou: third year criminology major and drummer of 5wirl! is flirty with fans during performances. Despite knowing scara since highschool they dont get along often.

Xiao: thrid year computer science major and bassist of 5wirl! is the what you call "stan attractor" of the group. Fans love him for his mysterious edgy vibe and when he plays on stage you have fangirls screaming his name. Quiet and silent guy and scara and him gets along.

Venti: third year music major and lead vocalist of 5wirl!(also is the leader). Started 5wirl during highschool and he made a post online begging people to join his band so here comes 5wirl.

kaedehara kazuha: same major as y/n and is the rhythm guitarist of 5wirl. Really nice with fans and gets alot of fanmail containing poetry because he mentioned he liked poetry.

notes: some facts about 5wirl!

Heizou was first to respond to ventis post then the last one was xiao.

They all live in the same apparent room near uni(like those kpop dorms lmao) after graduating

the ones with the sanest fans are kazuhas and the one with the most down bad ones are scaras

All of them know about scara and y/n and they didnt pry onto his business since he acted pretty hurt and didn't attend practices

Fun fact their manager helped them get into one of the top uni (teyvat university) 🙏🙏🙏 oh and their manager is pretty chill but still wants them to focus on their studies

Taglist(closed): @sakiimeo @sagegreenthinks @evsolostheuniverse @ozzierenato @mechanicalbeat1 @bananasquash @admiringfish @misomiis @wolfe02 @msameikanevaeh @yukiipc @magica-ren @r0ttenhearts @vvyeislazzy @yuumaofc @klanxii @darthvada @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @yoyo-yui @deluluangel @katsumikumo @thenightsflower @lazy-sanns

[seat-safety-switch]

SO-LAR-FUCKING-POWER. Or, as the appearance-obsessed image consultants want us to refer to it now, "photovoltaic energy." Yeah, okay, nerds. A lot of people have been shit-talking solar in the press, because they're afraid that individuals will set up their own power generation facilities in their backyards, roofs, sheds, community centres, what have you, and start pumping out electricity. That will make the big electricity corporations sad, so they've paid all these handsome people to come on the news and yell about it.

Let me put it this way: if there were a magic machine in the sky that shot out a bunch of candy bars every day, like an absolute shitload of Milky Ways, and you were hungry, would you run out into the backyard with a bucket? Or would you feel bad about it because Bob Milky Way, up there in his hateful Cadbury tower, is no longer able to perpetuate his existing business model?

Personally, I've gone big-league on solar, mostly because the utility company disconnected my house after decades of non-payment. Now, I can't afford the new stuff: even the cheap panels that the proud people of China throw onto AliExpress are too costly for my budget. What I've done instead is dig through the landfill (after hours, of course) for several hundred solar desk calculators.

These calculators are electronic devices that we used to use before smartphones in order to compute numbers. And they ran on the sun, because replacing batteries is annoying. After breaking open the calculators, I looped their solar cells together in series, and eventually built a big enough panel to cover my entire roof.

When I say it like that, it sounds easy, and this is the myth of engineering progress: it was actually a lot of stop-and-go stuff, bumps in the road. Rooftop fires. Wiring fires. I fell off the roof a few times. The cops came by at one point and were idling in front of my house, waiting to see if I'd come outside so they could bust me for stealing all those calculators from the dump. In the end, though, I am now able to charge my phone for free, and even run my coffee maker if it's a particularly sunny day. That coffee is the best-tasting coffee I've ever had, because it tastes like billionaire tears.

And I won't stop there, either. Things are going to improve dramatically at the old Switch Family Solar Array as my bougie neighbours throw out their old panels in order to upgrade to the latest and greatest. Pretty soon they'll be paying me to take them – I have it on good authority that the dump charges you like minimum $20 this weekend. If you flip to the last page in my investor deck, you'll notice that I have projected to be able to run my refrigerator by 2025. You better get in on this shit, or we'll bury you with the coal.