#Engineering Drawings and Calculations | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

allysunny · 2 months

Text

Heartwired Love

Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Engineer!Reader

Synopsys: When Bruce surprises Lucius with a visit to his department, he wasn't expecting to find a beautiful woman there. He asks about her and that's how he discovers she's not only pretty, but extremely talented, an engineer who's been working under him for years. He's immediately mesmerised.

Words: 6.1k words

Warnings: Not much, I'd say? There's a lot of fluff, and a lot of funny moments, and like, one suggestive moment? One twinge of angst, but it lasts like two minutes. Maybe some inaccuracies about engineering? I really don't know much about it so I kinda went with my gut and holy fuck I hope I don't get it wrong or upset / offend anyone.

A/N: Hey everyone!!! So, this is a funny story, because a while ago I got an ask. And I thought I was writing that ask, but turns out I got everything mixed up, and this is not really what my sweet anon requested of me. So, while I work on that piece, have what I ended up writing! I think it's rather fun. I'm sorry to my anon, I'll get started on their request right away!

I hope y'all enjoy this!!! <3

You were brilliant.

In fact, if there was a word for anyone better than brilliant, that’d be you.

Bruce first saw you when he visited the Applied Sciences Department. He was quite sure Lucius was the only one who actually did any of the important work there, but boy was he wrong.

He was just visiting the floor to ask Lucius for some help (his suit needed improvements), when he spotted you under a flurry of blueprints and reports. There was a pencil on top of your ear, and you were nibbling on another one as you erased something on the paper in front of you.

“And who might this be?” He asked no one in particular, eyes trailing the way your eyebrows furrowed as you wrote and sketched away.

You told him your last name, not even daring to look up. You were far too busy - a new particle reactor was being built, and it had fallen upon you to build its security system, something that’d keep the machine should it fall on the wrong hands. Bruce leaned over and looked at your sketches, observing the careless handwriting and the doodles and the little comments you had on top of each calculation. “Not good”, “doesn’t work”, “tested and failed”.

“And how long have you been working for me?” He inquired once again, still looking over your blueprints. Your calculations were good - far too good. Where the hell had Lucius found you?

“Lucius,” you mumbled, removing the pencil from behind your ear and drawing a big cross on top of whatever you were writing.

“Excuse me?”

“I work for Lucius, not you,” you said, not even bothering to look up.

“Lucius works for me, though.”

“And I work for him.” Finally, you looked up, and what you saw did not surprise you. You knew Bruce Wayne’s voice, after all, Lucius did work for him, and you’d overheard them talking once or twice. You looked up to him immensely - he was an insanely smart man, you knew what he had achieved in your department (or at least you knew he had something to do with it), and you wanted to cause a good impression. It also did not help that he was extremely attractive, and you were afraid your body would betray you and give you away. It was nothing, really, just a small little crush. It was harmless, really, and you’d rather be noticed for your work, than anything else. You wanted him to see how smart you were, not notice just how much you admired him.

“Are these for the particle reactor?” Bruce asked, leaning against your desk, hoping to hold eye contact with you for a little longer. He liked that look on you, that focused gaze of yours. It reminded him of himself.

You nodded and shook your head with a sigh.

“I’m working on the security system. But so far, it’s been a bust. I can’t find any combinations that allow Wayne Enterprises full access to the system. Full and only. I'm trying to come up with an algorithm that’ll prevent third parties from accessing whatever services the reactor might have, but it’s tough.” Bruce nodded.

“How long have you been at it?”

“Two weeks, give or take. I managed to write a short thing for the opening sequence, but that’s about it. I still have to come up with the rest, and it’s killing me.” You leaned backwards in your chair and stretched, letting out a groan. “And my back hurts like a bitch.”

Bruce chuckled ever so slightly - he wasn't used to this kind of honesty and openness right off the bat. He supposed anyone who worked under Lucius’s supervision would be just like him, honest and truthful.

“How about you take a break?” He crossed his arms, tilting his head. You looked away - was that the famous Wayne Charm he put on every time you watched him on television? You weren't going to be fooled. You didn't want to be just a number on his list. You admired this man far too much to get your heart broken by him - not to mention your job at Wayne Enterprises was a dream, and you did not want to risk that. Did all of that even make sense?

“Mr. Wayne, I don’t think I can afford the luxury of taking breaks,” you chuckled, turning back to your blueprints.

“And if it’s an order?”

“You wouldn't do that. You have far better things to do than order some random nobody to take a break.”

“You don’t seem like a nobody to me.”

“Up until today you didn't even know who I was, and I've been working for you for about two years.”

“For me.” “Huh?”

“You said you were working for me.”

“Under Lucius.”

“Same difference.”

You chuckled at his smugness and let your eyes return to his handsome face. The magazines did not lie - he was even better-looking in person. Sharp jawline, chocolate-brown eyes, he was an absolute dream, and he probably knew it too. Which is why it felt wrong to be laughing along with him. You didn't want to taint the image of Bruce Wayne you had in your head. He seemed like an airhead in public, but you knew just how much he did and contributed to your department - not every airhead can do that. The little crush you’d allowed yourself to develop should remain just that - a crush. People say never to meet your heroes - well, you didn't want to date them either. You thought it would end just as badly.

“Looking at security algorithms all day isn't going to make you come up with them faster. Take a break. I know a nice coffee place not far from here, I'm sure it’d help. And after that, if you want to, you can come back here, drown in blueprints, and never be disturbed again.”

You eyed him curiously, raising an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Because you look like you’re a sketch away from having a mental breakdown, and despite what everyone says, I do care about my employees’ health.”

You weighed your options.

You could either get coffee with your super hot, super intelligent, super incredible boss, maybe talk to him a bit about your work and prove that you’re an amazing employee, or -

Yeah, it’s not really a hard choice, is it.

That's how you got yourself seated across from Bruce Fucking Wayne, yapping away about your ideas and projects. And surprisingly, he drank up every single word.

As cliché as it might sound, the rest was history.

Bruce took a liking to you almost instantly. You were so smart, so full of ideas and so innovative. It also helped that you were strikingly beautiful, and that he felt himself drawn to you every time you were near.

You allowed yourself to fall for Bruce. Slowly, but you did. Only after he proved to you that he was a good person, that he was nothing like the man people saw on TV and gossip magazines. He was more, much more than that. He was extremely intelligent, being an incredible match for whenever you wanted to discuss any new technological advances, and a very good conversation partner. It helped you two had a shared interest in applied sciences - soon, spending time together also doubled down as him giving you a hand with your projects, and you with him.

It was a win-win situation. You enjoyed spending time with him, he enjoyed spending time with you. You liked doing a good job, he liked helping you. It was perfect.

And it wasn't just about work, of course, you just liked being with him, in his presence. He was comforting and so very funny, and your heart could about burst with joy whenever he was near.

You had that same effect on him as well. During company dinners, he started paying attention to you more and more, dragging you away to dark corridors and telling you jokes and anecdotes about other workers and people he disliked. He'd place his hand on your lower back and bring you close so you could hide your face in his chest and giggle into it. It felt natural to be in his arms, like nothing had changed and nothing ever would.

About three or four months after you began talking and hanging out, he officially asked you to be his girlfriend.

You knew it was a big deal - normal people could date and fool around all they wanted, but not Bruce Wayne. So when he took your hand and looked into your eyes, you knew it was serious.

It had been a lovely evening. A dinner at some nice restaurant you’d always wanted to try but could not afford, a stroll in the park, and his sweet confession under the bright lights of Gotham. It was perfect, and you’d kissed him and thus sealed your romance.

Work became easy to manage after that. You could often be found at Lucius's department, and were often buried with a thousand different projects, so you really didn't have the time to miss Bruce. It's not like you didn't miss him as a whole - simply that you knew the both of you had business to tend to, and the quicker you got it done with, the quicker you could meet up after.

But that’s not to say you didn't spend time together at work. Bruce visited you on your lunch breaks more than often, the two of you pressed against each other as you spoke and ate your respective meals. There was nothing Bruce wanted more than to bring you to his office and spend time with you there, but it was risky. No one knew you were dating, and it could mean trouble for your department and his company. You didn't mind it - your space felt like home, and having Bruce there just added to its charm. Besides, you felt like some sort of character from a movie, hiding your secret relationship with your boss from the entire world. Well, not the entire world. Lucius found the both of you quite often, shooting you Bruce a wink, and you a knowing smile, and telling his boss about how “real smiles look good on him” and how he should smile them more often.

Speaking of home, you got to meet his. Bruce took you to his Manor a few days after you’d started dating. He wanted you to be around his place more often. Being Batman was lonely - being Bruce Wayne was even worse. He had to go home to an empty Manor pretty much every day, with only Alfred for company. And no offense to the older man, he had taken care of Bruce his whole life and he was extremely grateful for that. But the Wayne heir did not exactly want to come home to his butler sleeping on his bed, clad only in one of his shirts. It was a vision he never wanted to have.

Instead, he gave you a set of keys and told you to make yourself at home. If you didn't know just how serious he was about the two of you, you wouldn't have accepted them. And it’s not like you’d be moving in right away - the keys were simply so you could come in and out as you pleased, spend some time with him, spend the night if you wanted to.

He had rules, which you understood. No going in the piano room - that was his father’s old study and he did not want anyone in there. It seemed inviting, and the books on the shelves tempted you, but you did not want to break Bruce’s trust and never entered it.

You made friends with Alfred rather quickly. You found the way to his heart was fixing the coffee machine he so loved and refused to replace.

“Miss, with all due respect, do you know what you’re doing?” He’d asked in that low British voice of his, somewhat worried.

“I promise you, it’ll be good as new.”

To your credit, it was. You'd fixed it after a few minutes, and Alfred marveled as the machine he’d tried to have fixed about seven times the past month worked flawlessly before him. When Bruce got home that day, the butler turned to him with a proud nod and declared you were the one for him.

Bruce thought so too.

That’s why he began planning how the hell he was going to break up with you before things got too serious.

He knew he liked you - that much was obvious. He liked you very much. He liked you, and your personality, and your voice when you chastised him but also when you praised him and told him you loved him, loved your sarcastic sense of humour, loved the way you made his heart leap out of his chest with a simple smile. He thought of all the reasons that made him like you so much, and they only reminded him of why you couldn't be together. He couldn't have you in his life - not when he had a double identity, when he kept a secret as big as life itself. He couldn't drag you into his mess of a life.

Which is why breaking up hurt him a thousand times more than it did you.

He sat you down in his living room and spewed some bullshit about not being able to give you the future you wanted, something about not being a good person and you deserving better. He wasn't very clear, kept it short and concise, and confined himself to his bedroom after it was done so you wouldn't see him cry.

It broke your heart to say the least. You'd come to know this man and learned to love him so deeply, and to have all that happiness taken away from you was devastating. You wanted to follow him to his bedroom, ask why the hell he was doing that to you when you loved each other so much, when you were sure your love was stronger than any force in the world.

But something inside you made you hesitate in front of his father’s study. You were told to never enter that room, but right now, all you wanted to do was go against each and every one of Bruce’s rules. You wanted to love him, to be with him, to go inside the stupid room and play the piano he told you never to touch.

You walked inside, marveled at how pretty everything was, how right. Everything was in its right place, and the room seemed like a very soothing room to be in. You imagined yourself, sitting by the window, book in hand as you sipped your coffee. You could get used to that.

Bruce clearly had no idea what you were up to, because if he did, he wouldn't have let you wander around the room, looking through bookshelves to find out what kind of reading his father did, and finding a weird contraption that seemed far too odd to belong to a bookshelf. That sort of mechanism belonged in doors, in gateways, in entrances - more specifically, to the kind of hidden doors Lucius’s office had.

Bruce clearly had no idea what you were up to, because if he did, he would've found you as you figured out how the hell to open that mysterious door that posed as a bookshelf, and would've stopped you before you could enter the elevator inside.

Perhaps he shouldn't have let an engineer and a technology prodigy alone in his most forbidden room.

Bruce clearly, most assuredly had no idea what you were up to, because if he did, he wouldn't have let you wander around his cave, eyes wide in surprise and amazement. You looked around, wondering why the fuck your boyfriend had a whole ass dungeon to yourself. So you got busy. And it didn't take much for you to understand exactly just what the fuck was happening there.

You looked through the blueprints, through the prototypes, through the endless stashes of papers. You eyed every sketch for gloves and utility belts, and confusion clouded your brain until your eyes laid on top of a cowl. A very familiar one.

Holy shit.

Your boyfriend is Batman.

And then suddenly, everything clicked into place.

The weird schedules, the missed dates, the exhaustion, the odd bruises you managed to get glimpses of.

The breakup.

It all made sense now.

And when Alfred confronted you a few minutes later, having found the secret entrance to the cave open and having quickly followed inside, you frowned and asked out loud why Bruce had hidden such a thing from you.

“I think that is something you should discuss with Master Wayne himself,” was what he’d told you, and you were quick to cradle the cowl next to you and run back upstairs.

You knocked on Bruce’s bedroom door incessantly, and for a while you thought he had gone out or abandoned you for good, but after an assertive “I know who you are”, he opened the door at the speed of light, eyes widening once he took note of the cowl tucked under your elbow.

It was an extremely awkward conversation - for him, that is.

While half of you was freaking out because your boyfriend (you refused to call him your ex. You were not breaking up with Bruce Wayne.) was the fucking Batman and he’d never told you, but the other half told you that everything wasn't always what it seemed, and that you should let him explain himself.

He did, very awkwardly. He wasn't expecting you to find out - not at all. So, this whole “you-found-out-i’m-a-masked-vigilante-after-i-broke-up-with-you” atmosphere was one he was simply not used to. And he hated it! He’d just told you a bunch of bullshit about the two of you not being able to be together - somewhat true - and he’d tried to erase you from his mind. And now you were sitting in front of him while he tried to explain everything to you.

It took a while to settle in, but once it did, it was easy to understand why he did what he did. He told you how afraid he was to lose you, should any of the criminals he fought against get a hold of any personal information on him. He told you about how it was already hard enough to trust Alfred, the man that had raised him his entire life, the man he saw as a father figure, too afraid something would happen to him. The more you knew about his double-life, the more it’d put you at risk.

Still…

You grabbed a nearby pillow and hit your boyfriend on the head repeatedly.

“You - “ HIt. “Are - “ Hit. “Such - “ Hit. “An - “ Hit. “Asshole!” Hit. “What the hell were you thinking!” You hit him once again for good measure and he removed the soft weapon from your hands, tired of being hit.

“I was thinking that I had to protect you.” Bruce said calmly. He’d be lying if he said a massive weight hadn't been lifted off his shoulders. He loved you, truly. He wanted to keep you safe and away from harm and away from him, from Batman, from the one figure that could doom your life forever. But he also trusted you and wanted to share everything that was his with you. He wanted to show you everything, to show you who he truly was and what he did and just trust you because it felt so nice to have someone like you. Someone he could trust. “You shouldn't be with someone like me, with someone that could endanger you so easily.”

“I think I can make that decision by myself,” you retorted, reaching for the pillow again. When it was clear Bruce was not relenting it to you, you scoffed and playfully pushed at his chest. “You're an idiot, Bruce. I thought you didn’t love me anymore.” It seemed like a playful remark, but Bruce could make out the sadness in his voice, and kicked himself mentally for causing it.

“How could I not love you anymore?” He asked, caressing your cheek with his hand. “You’re everything to me. That's why I was willing to let you go, so you could be happy.”

“I can’t be happy without you,” you mumbled.

“You'd learn how to. Find some nice man with no secret identities, who spent his night doing something normal like puzzles or crosswords, whose life would never put you in harm’s way.”

“Puzzles? Crosswords?”

“As long as he didn't go outside dressed like a bat, I'd be happy.”

“But I don’t want that. I want you.”

Bruce sighed and looked away, but his hand never left your face.

“You shouldn't. It’s not good for you to be with me. Hell, look at me. I'm Bruce Wayne. my whole life is under scrutiny and the public eye is merciless. How can I willingly let you be put under a microscopic lense just like I am?”

“That’s not your choice to make, Bruce, and you know it. I don’t mind. I don’t care whatever I go through, as long as I go through it with you,” you held his hand with your own, and placed a few soft kisses on his.

“Still. You just saw my cave. That's not exactly boyfriend material now, is it?”

“I’d say a sex dungeon is worse.”

This earned a chuckle out of him, and for a brief moment, he got lost in your gaze, as he often found himself getting.

“Only you could make me laugh at moments like these.”

“And I'll be here too do that for many more years to come.” You scooted over, and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Just… Don’t shut me out, Bruce. I love you. We can do this together, and I'll be fine, I promise. And honestly, you don't even have much of a choice here, because you said yourself you didn't want to break up with me, so, well, there’s no real reason to do it.”

He sighed, and after a while, nodded. He was allowed to be selfish, wasn't he? To take you for himself, to allow himself the comfort of being loved.

He didn't have much of a choice, it seemed. You were intent on being with him no matter what, and despite a little voice in his head telling him that was a terrible idea, he let himself smile and agree to whatever you had to say. He always would, really.

“So you just weren't going to let me break up with you?”

“Pft,” you scoffed, kissing him softly. “I wasn't. You’re mine now, Wayne. Or should I call you Dark Knight from now on? You gonna save me or something, Batman?” You chuckled slightly and something dark flashed in Bruce’s eyes. With one swift motion, he had you pinned down to the mattress, and your giggles had evolved to full on laughter.

“Pretty cheeky, aren't we today?” He asked with a soft smirk, the one you recognised not from the tabloids and the gossip magazines, but from time spent with you. “You seem awfully into roleplay.”

“Nothing of the sort. Just wondering if having a goal such as rescuing the fine maiden would improve your performance.”

“Improve my performance, huh?”

Bruce reached down to spread your legs and slot himself in between them.

“We’ll see.”

Now that Bruce could be completely open with you, life was good.

He'd no longer come home to an empty Manor and even emptier bed, but you working on some sort of new prototype by the fireplace, or reading about some new technological advancement in bed. Such sights made his heart melt. It was all worth it. The sleepless nights, the bruises, the exhaustion. It was all worth it for you.

Your time together went by quickly, and before you noticed, you were celebrating your second year as a couple. It was a lovely celebration, quiet and private - the way you two liked - a nice dinner by the river, music, some champagne, promises of a future together, and a question to move in with him.

The answer was more than clear. You already spent a lot of time at his Manor, so moving in felt natural and comfortable. You wanted this. Wanted to move in with the love of your life, wanted to wake up to his lovely face every day, wanted to teach him how to make coffee and laugh as he gets it wrong after all this time, want to massage the knots caused from stress off his shoulders, wanted to be with him at all possible times.

Moving in was extremely fun. You had some stuff from your apartment that you simply had to keep. Old memorabilia or some furniture you were super attached to. Items and clothes and such. But aside from that, you simply sold everything else and began your life inside Wayne Manor.

It was great. It was perfect, even. Bruce still came home rather late sometimes, and he still cancelled your days ever so often, but at least you knew where he was, what he was doing. Sometimes, you’d go down to the cave and talk to him, ask him how patrol was doing through the intercoms and ask him to drive home safely. He always complied.

One night, he came home to you fiddling with some of his old grapple gun prototypes. Useless, he thought them, having only kept those for spare parts.

“What’re you doing?” Bruce asked, walking up to you as he removed his cowl.

You smiled. Seeing him in his suit did things to you - it reminded you he was the just vigilante that kept Gotham safe, risking his own life for others, of course - and you gave him a head to toe look, clearly enjoying the view.

“Working on something,” you said simply.

Your boyfriend walked up to you, looking over your latest creation. It was still his old grapple gun, and yet it looked different.

“I implemented two other grapples.” You handed him the object, crossing your arms over your chest. “Was a bit tricky, but I managed to do it. The line is strong to handle five times your body weight now, and you can use it not only to holster yourself up in the air, but also pull heavier objects towards you. What do you think?”

Bruce took the gun in his hands and examined it. It was slightly heavier, but you’d managed to keep it small and efficient. It would be of extremely good use.

“Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your head. “You're brilliant, really. What would I do without you?”

“Probably die in a ditch.”

“Probably.”

At first it was hard convincing him that it was totally okay for you to help him in his endeavours as Batman. You told him over and over again that there was nothing wrong with it. You weren't out there, you weren't actually out there, it’s not like you were in danger. No one could hurt you so long as you were in the safety of your shared home. After a few helpful tips and some upgrades on his gadgets, Bruce relented.

And it was when you began to slack off at work that he realised that something had to change. He'd find you asleep on the job, too tired from having spent the night working on some new concoction for him. You couldn't keep your eyes open during meetings, and would fall asleep during every single ride you took.

You told Bruce you were fine, of course. You'd been a college student once, and you’d survived. This was nothing. Still, your too sweet boyfriend would force you to stay home for days on end just so you could get some rest. He needed you not only safe, but also healthy, even if his demands for you to take a break were met with groans and eye rolls.

One night when you were huddled up in bed, you confided in him that you loved helping him out as Batman. It was a way for you to be involved in his life, do something nice for the city, and put your inventions to test.

That's when he came up with the idea.

It took a while for him to confess it, after all, he knew how much of a hardworking woman you were. You wouldn't simply abandon your job to help him out, now would you?

To his surprise, you did.

You loved the idea as much as him. Sure, you loved your job at Wayne Enterprises, and were extremely proud of what you had achieved so far. But you had to admit you were stretching yourself too thin. Between your job and your little side gig, you had no real time to rest and it was killing you. So, you accepted.

You handed in your resignation letter to your boss, billionaire Bruce Wayne (who smiled and spun you around in the air as he kissed you. You teased him about his lack of professionalism and he reminded you the company was his with a pat on your backside.) and headed home.

From then on, you made being Batman’s sidekick (a title he hated, really. You were much more than just a sidekick) your full-time occupation. You had your hobbies, sure, and your interests, and you went out with friends and made the most out of your life. Only this time, instead of working a 9-to-5 job at your boyfriend’s company, you remained inside his cave, crafting new objects and tools for him to use during his nightly duties.

You created an explosive gel for him, a tool he could use to blast doors down and even stun enemies with. You were quite proud of that one, laughing loudly when you heard him use it for the first time through the intercoms. All you’d heard was a loud “boom”, and Bruce’s voice muttering a husky “fuck”. That was how you knew you’d done a good job.

The Remote Control Batarang was one of your finest inventions. Bruce first asked you what he hell he needed a remote control Batarang for (he also hated the name Batarang - truly, no fun), but it proved to be useful real quickly.

“You have two men to your left, one of them has a gun, the other has a bat.” Chuckle.

“Very amusing,” Bruce whispered.

“I think it’d be a good time to try the remote control Batarang,” you said, eyes flicking between the screens in front of you. “The one with a gun seems confident, but the other one not so much. If you tackle him down, he’s sure to not put up a fight.”

“You were dying for me to use this, weren't you?”

“So much.”

You heard him remove the Batarang from his belt, and the few beeps informed you he was done setting it up. The slight woosh as the object cut through the air, and a distant man’s scream of agony was enough for you to know you’d succeeded once again.

“Now who doesn’t need a Remote Control Batarang?”

“Don’t call it that.”

“Love you too. Coast is clear though, go ahead.”

Maybe the Shock Gloves were your favourite. They were a quick and easy way for your boyfriend to stun his enemies and leave them unconscious long enough for him to do whatever he had to, while not taking their lives.

You took Bruce’s no killing rule extremely serious. While you thought some of the people that terrorised Gotham most certainly deserved a fate worse than prison, you thought it was noble of him never to take a life for himself. His moral code was commendable and something you loved about him.

And it goes without saying that after you finished the first prototype for the shock gloves, you made a smaller, daintier tool that allowed you to playfully shock people when you greeted them. Alfred was your first victim and later that evening, he cut off your hot water in retaliation. Touché.

Your freeze blasts were quite useful as well. He'd used them only a handful times, but as long as he did and they helped, that's all that matters.

Sometimes, Bruce would come home in the late hours of the night (or perhaps the early morning), and find you doubled over your desk, sketching prototypes or putting pieces together.

It warmed his heart to see you were working so hard just for him, but tugged at it because you needed sleep. You needed rest, and here you were, working away for him. Creating new “toys”, as you’d so often call them.

“What’re you still doing up?” He asked one particular night/morning, after having taken off his suit, and resting his head on the juncture between your shoulder and your neck. You sighed at the gesture - after such a tiring day,Bruce’s comfort was all you needed.

“Working,” you mumbled, fingers moving with dexterity, tugging and twisting at some cables.

“Isn't it a bit too late for you to still be working?” He replied against the skin of your shoulder.

“Isn't it a bit too late for you to be coming home?”

“I’m not working anymore though. Coming to bed.”

“Are you? Goodnight then.”

Bruce shook his head and you could feel his brown locks brushing against your skin, tickling you.

“Look at how far we’ve come. I used to be the one abandoning you in bed.”

“You're lucky I found a new hobby.”

“Hm.”

You remained in silence for a while as Bruce watched you work. He had no idea what this new contraption of yours was, but he was sure it’d be brilliant, as they all were. As you were.

“This,” you said, voice only above a whisper, as if to not distract you, “Is a remote electrical charge.”

“Interesting.” What was interesting though, was that he began pressing kisses to the column of your neck, hands wandering to your waist. “I can’t wait for you to tell me all about it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. Because now, we’re going to sleep.”

You scoffed.

“I have to finish this Bruce, I'm sorry.”

“You’re stubborn. So very stubborn. Why did I hire you anyway?”

You turned to face him and feigned a thoughtful expression.

“Because I'm really hot and you love me?”

“Damn it. Both of those are true.”

You chuckled and leaned in to kiss him, sighing as soon as his lips slotted against yours. You'd never get tired of kissing your boyfriend, that was for sure.

“Fine,” you mumbled.

“Hm?”

“Take me to bed, Batman.”

“No. No Batman here. With you, I'm Bruce.”

“And that's what I love the most about you.” You smiled and lifted your arms, a silent plea for him to carry you. He rolled his eyes but did so effortlessly nevertheless, happy to obey your every command. And he of course was a sucker for having you near him at all times.

“Let’s take a shower first. You reek, Batguy.”

“Whatever you say.”

Needless to say, the Remote Electrical Charge was extremely efficient.

You were the perfect pair, really.

Although you joked about being Bruce’s sidekick, you felt more like a partner, really. You'd go and make the tools, he’d go out there and use them to kick some ass. It was a perfect situation. A win-win. And you didn't mind not working at Wayne Enterprises anymore, not really. You still visited Lucius often, and, when you weren't too tired, you’d help him out with certain projects. Your ideas and skills had only gotten better after all the things you’d help build, and your former boss appreciated the effort.

You helped Bruce with pretty much everything.

Helped improve his suit, fixed his car (more than once), his motorcycle, and even made a few prototypes for other means of transportation. He’d tested everything from jetpacks, to something that weirdly resembled a rocket and a flying suit. There really was no limit to your imagination.

Your life as Bruce’s girlfriend was eventually discovered, shortly after you two moved in together, and you decided to take in a “secret” identity, just as he did. To the public, you were Bruce Wayne and his dumb girlfriend who spent her days inside his mansion, sunbathing and spending his fortune. To those who knew you better (so, like, about two or three people), you were the Caped Crusader and his inventor girlfriend.

Although that title didn't stick for long, because after a few years, Bruce asked you to marry him.

That’s when you became his inventor wife.

And that was a life you were happy to lead.

A/N: And that's it!!! I hope you guys enjoyed this! Once again, I'm so sorry to my anon. I've been super busy and tired, and I got the requests mixed up. If it helps, I really enjoyed writing this - Bruce and an engineer girlfriend who builds stuff for him sounds like a pretty cool idea.

Well then, that's all for today!!!

I hope y'all have a wonderful day ahead <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight fanfic #the dark knight fanfiction #nolanverse #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x fem!reader

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djarincore · 5 months

Text

The Name of Love

SUMMARY: You knew him by three names: Mando, Din, and finally, riduur.

PAIRING: din djarin x gn!reader

WORD COUNT: 6.9k

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, canon typical violence, blood, hypothermia, happy ending

A/N: a repost from my previous blog! i've only written 2 full din fics so far but this is def my favorite one <3 thanks again to @xiadeptus for beta reading this

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You first knew him as the Mandalorian, the stoic and aloof bounty hunter that drifted in and out of Tatooine looking for work or ship repairs. The glinting armor was hard not to notice under the scorching twin suns, along with his infamous reputation that followed in whispers—whispers which mainly revolved around the strange, green child he carried around in a bag and the fact that he never showed his face.

When you first got the job at Peli’s garage, thanks to the favor she owed your mother, the sight of the Mandalorian descending the ramp of his beaten-up Razor Crest had you slipping behind a couple of stacked crates with the rest of the quivering pit droids. He strode down the ramp toward your boss who was already reaching for the green child trailing after him.

“There’s my little guy!” She exclaimed, scooping him up and cradling him in her arms. The child cooed and clasped her finger in his three-fingered grasp. His keeper watched on with hands on his hips; the helmet remained solely focused on the child.

“We need a repair,” he said, the rasp in his voice still remaining despite the modulator.

“Sure thing but, just so you know, it’ll cost you a little extra this time. Got a new hire.” She jerked her thumb in your direction.

You took it as your cue to reveal yourself, noting the way his helmet turned, carefully looking you up and down, and his hand slowly moved toward the blaster at his waist, like he wasn’t above shooting the harmless mechanic’s assistant and a couple of droids. You lifted both hands, stained with oil, as a show of goodwill.

“Aw, relax, Mando,” Peli drawled, swatting the air with her nonchalant attitude. “They’re not a droid.”

His hand slipped off the handle, but remained at his side, ready to draw if necessary.

You sent him a friendly half-smile and his gloved fingers twitched.

“Fine.”

The remainder of the day was spent repairing the left wing and engine of his ship, which looked like it had seen the losing side of a gunfight, and you couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to limp down to Tatooine without crashing and burning once he broke through the atmosphere.

The job would have been faster if you had some assistance from the droids, but Peli made it clear they weren’t allowed anywhere near the ship or the Mandalorian, making his disdain for them abundantly clear. You wondered the whole day what a droid could have done to make him hate even the smallest of droids. The theories you built in your head ran wild, ranging from a nasty betrayal by a trusted ally to tripping him in a crowded cantina, embarrassing him so badly he vowed to never show his face ever again.

You leaned against the rope of the swing suspending you off the ground, taking a break from welding metal back together, and watched the Mandalorian move below your feet. He walked with purpose, something a fearsome bounty hunter with a widespread reputation was expected to do; every step was carefully calculated like a predator hunting prey. Behind him was the child clumsily waddling, as fast as his legs could carry him, after the man.

Your lips curved into a soft smile while observing the dichotomy of the two. It warmed your heart to see how attached the child was to his guardian. More questions formed in your mind about their relationship; the rumors didn’t contain the exact details of how the two came to be together.

Maybe the child is his biological son and beneath all the armor is green, wrinkly skin and comically large ears tucked into the helmet, you joked to yourself.

You pressed one of the buttons on the side of your swing to lower yourself to the ground. Your feet touched the floor, but you didn’t get up.

“Your ship should be up and running in no time.”

“Thank you for your help.”

“No pro- Oh!” You exclaimed when something poked at your leg. A three-fingered hand was tapping your leg; large black eyes gazed up at you. You cooed, “Hello there, little guy.”

He tugged at the cuff of your pants, waving his arms in the air. You waved back, fighting back the urge to smooth your fingers over his floppy ears.

“He wants you to hold him.”

“Ah,” you chuckled, cheeks warming. You didn’t have much experience with children; in fact, you didn’t know the first thing about caring for one. They had so many needs, so many different ways of communicating them too. The pressure to mold them into upstanding beings—it was just too much. But, you could definitely hold a child, especially one as cute as him.

You pulled him into your arms and he immediately found the strings of your shirt vastly entertaining.

“I think he likes me,” you quipped.

The child’s babble sounded like a positive response.

“Me too,” the Mandalorian said, leaning against a crate and watching the two of you.

There were multiple rotations between their visits. Each visit brought a new scratch, ding, or completely wrecked engine that made you look on in disbelief, but you were eager to see the two nonetheless. They brought stories of their adventures, bounties, and new people they met.

You would be the first to greet them, standing at the base of the ship’s ramp with a wide grin and many questions budding on the tip of your tongue.

“Hey.”

The modulated voice made you snap out of your thoughts.

“Yes, sir?”

You could hear him huff behind the modulator. He said to just call him Mando the first time you called him sir, but you never picked it up, finding it too entertaining to hear his exasperated sighs.

“Want to get off this planet? I’ve got a job proposition.”

Your goodbyes were easy—a hug for Peli, head pats for each droid—and suddenly, you found yourself sitting in the cockpit of the ship you had been repairing for the past few rotations.

You quickly learned space was cold and you were not prepared. The thin clothes you were used to on Tatooine wouldn’t cut it anymore and it left you shivering in the passenger seat.

You sunk down your seat, wrapping your arms around yourself to find a semblance of warmth.

You weren’t sure what your purpose was in the time between ports, but even if you knew, you were frozen to your seat and unable to move without feeling stiff.

Soon, you fell asleep, lulled by the stars and the sound of beeps and hollow groans of an old ship.

You woke to fabric being draped over your body and a glimmer of beskar.

The hands over the fabric paused; the Mandalorian stepped back, hands returning to his side, flexing at his waist. “Should have told me you were cold.”

You gripped the fabric and realized it was one of his thick, woolen capes which smelled of caf beans and leather. You resisted the urge to nestle your cheek against the wool and savor the comfort it offered.

“I didn’t want to be a bother.”

“You’re a part of my crew now,” he said firmly. “We take care of each other.”

Your heart stuttered, fingers curled tighter around his cape, and you muttered a pathetic, “Yeah.”

From the kindness he offered, you made a silent promise at that moment; as long as the three of you were together, you would do anything to protect them.

It wouldn’t be long before you realized he felt the same.

—

Then, you learned his name, his real name—Din Djarin. It had been a while into your partnership. You learned far more about the two than your theories could have imagined—his Creed, his force-wielding child.

The three of you had a good routine. He would scout out bounties while you either worked on the ship or found other mechanic work elsewhere if the ship was (miraculously) undamaged. Grogu would be passed between the two of you. If Mando’s bounty was too dangerous for him to follow you’d take him for the day, letting him pass you random tools and praising him for helping. And at the end of the day, the three of you reconvened with separate checks that would go toward supplies and other basic necessities. If it was a particularly rough day, you would be forcing him onto a crate and checking his wounds.

“I’m fine,” he would insist, attempting to push your wandering hands aside. But, you could see the unsteady shake of his hand and the sliver of skin and blood showing on his waist where he was cut.

It was a simple routine, but it worked. You had no complaints…

…Well, just one.

“ Kriff, we’re gonna crash!” You cried, shutting your eyes to avoid seeing your imminent doom that took the form of two towering cliffs of ice far too close together for the ship to slip through. The two tailing bounty hunter ships had followed you from Nevaro, after accusing Mando of stealing a bounty from them, which he rightfully caught.

You knew working for a bounty hunter wasn’t going to be easy, comfortable, or safe—but, you trusted him. He was good at what he did and you never doubted it.

The ship turned on its side, jerking your entire body to the right, and left you at the mercy of the belt across your body to keep you in your seat. You could hear the scrape of ice across the bottom of the ship and cringed, knowing you’d have to repair that (if you even made it out of this alive).

When the ship slipped free from the narrow gap and straightened. you let out a breath and opened your eyes. Snow, miles, and miles of it, touched everything your eyes could see.

He glanced at you over his shoulder. If you could see his face, you’d guess it was smug.

You were getting better at reading your faceless partner. He didn’t say much but his body did with every head tilt and shrug. And you would catch yourself spending a lot of time just observing him.

“You’ve gotta stop piloting like that,” you huffed, cradling your head when you feel the slightest throb. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

“Don’t plan on it,” came his monotone response.

The ship cruised, his helmet scanning the horizon, and kept low in the meantime. There was no sign of the other two ships.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and stood; a wave of dizziness had you staggering. When your hand flew out to catch on to something, you found his, already reaching out to steady you in his strong grasp. The brush of his thumb over your knuckles made your breath catch.

“I have to lie down.” To stop your heart from racing at his subtle touches.

You thought you had gotten used to it by now—the way he made you feel safe. Whether it was his hand hovering over the base of your spine as he guided you through a crowded market or how he would always position himself between you and whatever shady character he had dealings with. The small gestures piled up and toyed with your mind. You understood the signs—heart racing, nervous tension in your chest—the budding symptoms of love.

“We’re not in the clear yet.”

You brushed the heat crawling over your neck off and said, “Can’t we land somewhere and wait them out a while? I’m gonna be sick if you start flying upside down.”

The beginning of his argument was cut off by the cockpit door opening. You slipped out and down the ladder into the cargo hold. Some crates shifted to the right of the ship as a result of the sharp turn. You weren’t concerned with them as much as you were with your makeshift bed space, a flimsy sleeping bag and some blankets, which were also flung off to the side. One of your blankets was stuck under a crate, too heavy for you to lift by yourself.

You groaned, weakly tugging at the fabric peeking out beneath. You were cold, tired, and sick—you already hated this planet.

You heard a curse from above and Mando shouted, “Hold onto something!”

You didn’t have time to react before the ship was nose-diving, throwing you against the wall. You clung to the ladder as the ship's sporadic movements jostled your entire body. It continued for a few more seconds before settling and the engines cut out. Everything was finally still, except your heart.

You heard the creaks of ice settling beneath the ship, then cracks. It wasn’t long before the ice gave way to the weight, shattering into a cavern below and dragging the ship with it.

You don’t remember hitting your head, just the scream that came before it. But, when you finally came to, numb and confused, Mando was rattling your shoulders with a panicked voice.

“Wake up.”

You could have sworn in your daze there was a desperate ‘please’ added at the end.

You groaned, peeling your eyes open, “Mando?”

He sighed like a massive weight was lifted off of him. “Yeah,” he said, there was a hint of a smile in his voice. He carefully slipped his arms behind your shoulders and knees. “It’s me. I’ve got you.”

You were half aware of him lifting you, too dazed by the cold settling under your skin and making a home deep in your bones.

The hull was dusted with snow and frost. You spotted a large hole in the side of the ship, crudely covered with a tarp and some crates.

“Got t’ fix,” you mumbled, leaning your head against his shoulder pauldron. You didn’t even know where to start with something that large on this barren planet. If you weren’t so cold, the dread would have set in, realizing you were stranded on a barren planet with little resources to dig yourselves up from a cold grave.

“Not right now,” he grunted, kicking your toolbox aside—the one he gifted you on Nevaro after you eyed it at a stall for too long. He approached the small corner beside his bunk, which was caved in, where there was little snow piled. He set you down, supporting the back of your head with his hand as he laid you against the wall. “I’ll be right back.”

You could’ve protested if your mouth or eyes didn’t feel frozen shut; all you wanted to do was drift off.

“Hey, hey,” he said. He ripped a glove off and pressed his warm hand to your cheek. “Don’t fall asleep.”

You moaned, pushing closer to the warmth, and tried to focus on his visor.

“There you go. Good.”

With your thoughts slowly catching up, you glanced around his shoulders, not seeing a floating pram anywhere. You wanted to get up and rush around him in search of the child, but all you could muster was a sharp turn of your head that still sent pain down your neck. “Where’s-”

Mando brought your face back to him. His steady voice pulled you out of your panic. “He’s fine. He’s up in the cockpit; I’ll bring him down after I get you some blankets.”

“Okay.” You rested your head against the wall and watched as he untied his cape and slipped it over your shoulders, tucking it close around your body.

He disappeared up the ladder. You heard his faint footsteps, scouring the upper level. He returned soon, a few blankets slung over his shoulder and Grogu tucked in his other arm.

He set Grogu down and moved you forward just enough for him to sling more blankets over your shoulders.

If you could feel your face, maybe you’d laugh at how ridiculous you looked and felt, like a small child being coddled by a worried parent. But, he wasn’t a worried parent, he was your employer—your incredibly kind and caring employer, who you often dreamt of as more than an employer, more than a friend.

“Aren’t y-you,” you chattered, “cold, too?”

You worried about him under all that shining armor; he could be hiding an injury like he always did, pretending he was fine and limping off somewhere else to lick his wounds alone. You wished he wouldn’t be so stubborn all the time.

Grogu crawled into your lap, playing with the tips of your frozen fingers. Mando said something about his armor keeping him warm, but you didn’t register any of it when his hands enveloped yours—calloused and warm.

“Try to keep your arms and legs moving,” he said, massaging the palm of your hands. Then he directed his attention to Grogu. “Okay, kid, keep your buir warm. I’m going to repair the ship.”

“Hm?” You cocked your head at the word. Sure, he liked sneaking Mando’a words into his sentences from time to time—sometimes calling you mesh’la or cyar’ika, which made you blush because of how sincere he sounded—but you just assumed they were nicknames. You assumed buir meant babysitter or something along those lines, too. “Stealing my job, Mando?” you quipped instead.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

When his hands slipped from yours, your fingers twitched, almost asking him not to go. You would warm up faster if he were with you.

He slipped past the tarp, into the cavern of snow. Grogu’s babble drew your attention; his arms were raised.

You apologized, “Sorry, kid, I’d lift you up, but my arms are a bit sore right now.”

He continued to babble as he found comfort nestled in your lap instead. You rested your head against the wall and stared at the opening where Mando left, still feeling the ghost of his warmth on your hand.

The minutes you spent slowly flexing your hands and feet paid off; your strength was slowly returning. Grogu crawled off of your lap and watched as you, with the grace of a newborn calf, pushed yourself onto unsteady feet.

“Okay, kid, let’s go help your dad.” You scooped him up and braced yourself with Mando’s cape, making sure the two of you were snug beneath the fabric before pushing aside the tarp and stepping outside into the frigid weather.

The cold winds were the first to greet you; already, your cheeks were growing numb. Grogu let out a disapproving grunt, clearly not favoring the cold either.

You stayed close to the side of the ship in case your legs gave out and rounded the tail end before finding Mando, with frost coating his armor and hands on his hip, staring at a jumble of wires hanging from an open panel.

Upon seeing his father, Grogu cheered in your arms, alerting the Mandalorian whose head snapped in your direction.

He was already approaching you before declaring, “You need to rest.”

“I can’t cozy up in there while you’re out here all by yourself. Look at you.” You drew a line in the frost coating his chest plate. “You must be freezing under all that.”

“I said I’m-”

“Fine,” you finished. “I know, I know—you’re always fine, Mando.”

You were growing tired of his stubborn attitude concerning his well-being and of standing for so long. You were beginning to sway without realizing it, but Mando’s quick hand on your shoulder steadied you.

“I got you,” he murmured. He took Grogu from you and moved to your side. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, silently guiding you back into the ship’s hull and onto the spot where the blankets were piled.

Once you were settled, you expected him to wander back out but, to your surprise, he began detaching pieces of his armor.

You watched, mouth agape, as one by one the shining beskar revealed a dark flight suit that molded with the contours of his body. The helmet, of course, stayed.

He eased himself onto the floor beside you and wrapped the three of you beneath the blankets. Your eyes widened when his arm pressed against yours. You dared to rest your head against his shoulder; you relished in the comfort of his presence, finally feeling warmer than ever. His body began to relax gradually with your head on his shoulder and his chest rose and fell in an even rhythm.

With Grogu resting in your lap it almost felt like the three of you were a family, settling in after a long day.

“You’re always protecting everyone,” you said, exhaustion beginning to creep over you once again. “We’re a crew, right? Let me take care of you too.”

You knew the irony in saying that while he was taking care of you, but you hoped he would remember it.

He slipped his gloves off to flex the stiff muscles. “I’m,” he started, “just not used to this.”

“Having a crew?” You guessed.

“Having someone care.”

Your mouth dropped open with a response dying on your tongue. Instead, you resolved to take his hand and curl your fingers through his. They were stiff from the cold, but relaxed once your thumb ran over the ridges of his knuckles.

“You’re a good man and I trust you with my life. Don’t think for a second I don’t care about you, Mando. I-” You cut yourself off.

You what? Loved him? Kriff. He just started opening up to you. Telling him you were in love with him right after would surely make him run in the other direction. You doubted he felt the same. You could read him, but not that well.

“Din.”

You snapped out of your thoughts, relieved he didn’t attempt to figure out what you were going to say. “What?”

“My name’s Din.”

He was looking at you now. Maybe if you squinted hard enough you could catch a glimpse of his eyes behind his darkened visor, but you wouldn’t disrespect his Creed and you didn’t think you could handle seeing his strong gaze, boring into you.

So, you turned your eyes down toward your intertwined hands; you tested his name on your tongue and smiled.

Getting off the ice planet took work—a mix of frustration and determination—and you swore to get a nice vacation on some far, far away planet, preferably with a warm, sunny beach.

But, the ship needed heavier repairs, forcing the three of you to find the nearest planet, Trask, for maintenance. A dock worker was quick to offer his services, charging more than necessary, once you landed.

You frowned when Din agreed without hesitation, dropping the credits into his slimy hands. You could have rolled up your sleeves and got to work yourself with better equipment at hand, but Din insisted on the three of you getting some real rest after the stress of the past three days.

The place was seedy, smelled of fish, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of unwanted eyes stalking the three of you as you passed through the quiet harbor. You and Din walked on either side of Grogu’s floating pram.

You, with a scowl glued to your face, pulled your cape, one of Din’s, tighter around yourself. The toolbox Din gifted you was clasped in your hand, deemed too precious to leave behind while strangers fixed the ship. You leaned into Din and whispered, “We should just go back to Tatooine for the repairs; I can do it.”

“I know you can, but the ship’s too damaged and you know it.”

You huffed.

Grogu mimicked your huff, putting on his best grouchy face, and your frown lightened into a smile, pointing at the boy. “See—even he agrees with me.”

Din let out an amused hum. “When did the two of you decide to team up against me?”

“We hold secret meetings when you’re out and conspire against you.”

“Guess I should watch my back,” he deadpanned.

Night fell quickly on Trask and before you knew it, the streets were oddly quiet, only lit by dim street lights in rounded sections.

Din’s stride grew cautious; his helmet subtly turned to scan the area.

You also took caution, straining your ears for anything out of place, but all you heard was the nearby tide pulling in and out.

There was a shift in the gravel behind you. Din’s hand shot out to shove aside Grogu’s pram, sending him off to a nearby stack of crates, and he could only brush your shoulder before turning and deflecting a blaster shot with his vambrace. The heat from the blast radiated in the air around you.

“Run!” He barked, ripping his blaster from its holder and firing off a shot into the dark.

Your feet hesitated and your heart stuttered when another blast hit his chest plate, forcing a grunt from him. But, the sound of worried coos snapped you out of it. You turned and ran toward Grogu who watched the fight with large eyes.

Three figures emerged from the darkness, dressed like pirates, and armed with unrelenting blasters all aimed at Din.

“Give up the armor, Mando.” One of them demanded.

“It’s time to hide, okay?” You said, tucking Grogu into the pram. Your thumb brushed over the mythosaur necklace he always wore like a lucky charm and you were praying it would work. You pressed the button on the outside of his pram to shut it.

The fight was coming to a close by the time you turned back, much to your relief. Two were knocked out cold, sprawled across the floor while the remaining one continued to fight. Both of them resorted to hand-to-hand combat after they managed to disarm one another.

Just when you thought you could relax, the remaining pirate pulled out a blade and took a swipe at Din, plunging it deep into his side and back out. Your breathing stopped when Din staggered and fell to his knees.

The pirate grabbed him by his cowl, pressing the bloodied blade to his throat, and sneered, “Give up.”

Your hands shook. Not like this, you thought. You couldn’t— wouldn’t —lose him. You dropped your toolbox and fell to your knees, wrenching it open to look for anything that would help. You pulled the largest item free, the hammer, and ran. Adrenaline pushed your feet toward the two and, putting all your weight into it, you swung at the pirate's head, sending him stumbling back.

Only dazed, the pirate sent you a menacing glare, lips pulled back into a snarl, and spat out curses, promising you’d regret it.

Your hand clenched the hammer, heart racing, ready to swing again as he prepared to lunge at you. Not even fear or the promise of death would stop you from saving Din.

Then, something ignited, cold and droning like echoes of the abyss, behind the pirate.

You smelt the smoke before the nauseating burnt flesh. It made your stomach roll.

A haunting glow emitted from the pirate's chest before it was sliced clean through. He fell—lifeless—with a thud, crimson leaking from the gash and pooling around him.

Din stood over him—one hand clutching his waist and the other holding the darksaber. His chest rose and fell; his helmet was fixated on the body. You could hear the leather of his gloves cry as his hand tightened around the hilt of the saber.

You never saw him use it before. It looked more like an accessory on him rather than a weapon. He once explained its bloody history and how he came to acquire it. The weight of its importance haunted him, a burden he never wished to bear.

“Oh, Maker,” you cried, rushing toward him. The darksaber unignighted; the heavy atmosphere disappeared along with it and time continued. You dropped the hammer and pressed your hand to his wound. Blood seeped through his fingers and onto yours.

He grunted, “I’m…”

Your wavering voice saying his name made him pause.

“Let’s get out of the street,” he said instead. He waved Grogu’s pram forward with the controls on his vambrace. It opened, revealing the whimpering child.

The three of you limped all the way to an inn. When the innkeeper sent you a weary look, you demanded the first room available and a medical kit—whatever the price. After slapping the credits on the counter, you snatched up the kit and dragged Din toward the room, not caring about the drops of blood staining the hallway.

The room was small and gray; a single bed set in the middle of the room, a nightstand on either side, and a fresher. You eased him onto the bed, where he slumped and groaned.

The medical kit was meager; a suture kit, antiseptic wipes, and a few bacta patches, but it would do. You dashed to the fresher to wash your hands. You scrubbed them viciously, watching his blood run down the sink. Tears blurred your vision. The red wouldn’t stop running.

When you emerged from the fresher, his shirt was already rolled up and he was attempting to clean his wound. Grogu was asleep in his pram, wiped out from all the excitement.

You released a tired sigh. “Let me.”

You moved to take the cloth from him, kneeling at his feet and wiping around the area of the wound gently.

“Don’t do that again,” he rasped.

“Save your life?” The playful tone you attempted fell flat. As much as you wanted to be amused, the fear of losing him still suffocated you. He was safe, your thoughts repeated.

Once the wound was cleaned you pulled the needle from the kit. You were in over your head and a bit nauseous. Cleaning wounds was easy, but stitching them up was something else.

You’ve seen him cauterize his own wounds and pinched your nose when the smell became too much. He didn’t deserve the scars they left behind and this was your opportunity to finally take care of him.

You willed your hands not to tremble as you notched the needle through his skin, apologizing when he sucked in a sharp breath or flinched.

“I told you to run.”

Your voice was finally firm when you said, “I’m not going to leave you.”

He was your partner, through and through, and you cared for him.

When you were finished, you unwrapped a bacta patch and laid it over the suture. You smoothed over the patch and withdrew your hands.

He was already sitting up taller, no longer hunched over or wheezing. You knew it was a good sign but you still trembled all over.

You raised your head, but your eyes were stuck on his cowl where a sliver of his blood was left from the blade. The tears were returning, flooding your bottom lashes.

Would that pirate have killed him right there on the street, stripped him of his armor, and left him like trash? You would have had to drag his body back to the ship—would have to tell Grogu his father was dead.

“Cyar’ika, look at me,” he said, finding your cheek with his palm. “Just breathe.”

You didn’t realize you were gasping for breath, tears running down your cheeks until your eyes finally connected with his visor.

“I just can’t lose you, Din,” you cried. “I can’t .”

There was so much you wanted to say—so much he needed to know. You were so close to losing him and losing the chance to admit how you’d grown to feel over the course of your partnership.

He guided you onto the bed and held you until the tears stopped and subsided into sniffles. Your face was buried in his cowl and your arms were thrown around his shoulder.

“I can’t lose you either,” he admitted, a waver in his voice. You were so close you could almost hear the sound of his real voice. His words were tender and sincere.

Your breath hitched and a realization washed over you.

He pulled back and you pulled yourself out of his neck with wide eyes. Cold metal met your forehead.

“You mean far too much to me.”

For a man of few words, he still said so much. Your hand brushed below the rim of his helmet. “I love you, Din,” you confessed.

Your heart pounded as you waited for his response—for even the sharpest intake of breath. But, it was silent—all but your heart remained still as he processed your words. Your hand slipped away, back to the safety of your personal bubble, which was beginning to shrink as the silence became an oppressive weight on your shoulders.

Say something, you wanted to shout. Did you read his words wrong? Was it just appreciation for his… employee?

“Close the curtains and turn off the light.”

Your brows furrowed and you cocked your head to the side. “What?”

“Please.”

You stood with a frown and shuffled to shut the curtains, then made your way to the light switch. You took one last glance over your shoulder, before flipping the switch and submerging the room in darkness. You could hardly see his silhouette as you shuffled back to the bed with your hands out in front.

A calloused hand found your wandering ones, carefully pulling you down to sit beside him once again, not letting go. Then, you heard a click and a hiss, like he was detaching his—

Your eyes widened when you realized what he was doing and you tried pulling away. Even in the darkness, where shadows fell across the silhouette of his body, you couldn’t risk seeing him—no matter how curious.

“Din, no-”

“It’s alright,” he reassured. The low rasp of his voice was no longer modified by his helmet. He chased after you in the dark; his hand moved to the back of your neck, drawing your face closer to his. You could feel the warmth of his breath brushing across your lips.

The smell of caf and leather drew you closer you and you fell into its embrace. It was your safety, your haven—the home you found in him, along with his son and his beaten-down ship.

“ Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika, ” he whispered into the darkness, gentle devotion laced in his words. “ I love you .”

When he kissed you, it was slow, a tender meeting of lips which you both relaxed into. The weight off your shoulders disappeared and all you could do was smile against his lips and draw him closer.

That night you traced his features in the dark, committing every outline and curve to memory, with a content smile and full heart while he held you close. You didn’t need to see his face to love him; it could wait—forever if it meant you’d still have him.

“You know,” he said in the darkness with you tucked close under his arm, “you wield a hammer well. It reminds me of someone I know.”

“Really? Who?”

It was nearly a full cycle before you met the Armorer, the mysterious figure Din would mention from time to time, a woman he seemed to respect.

You were nervous. Though he never said it directly, she was like a maternal figure and you wanted to make a good impression.

Ever since Trask, the two of you were closer than ever. He had no reservations when it came to you. His hand would lay firmly against your lower back as he crowded around you, guiding you through busy markets, pulling you close whenever someone bumped into you. You no longer slept alone, trading out your flimsy sleeping bag for a cozy spot in his bed. At night when the lights were out, you’d finally get to kiss him and share dreams.

The covert was located on a barren planet. You wouldn’t have guessed there was any life if it weren’t for the scattered Mandalorian sparing at the mouth of a cave.

By the time you landed near the lake, only two Mandalorians emerged to greet you.

“It’s been a while.” A large, blue man said upon approaching, greeting the three of you with a simple nod. He towered over everyone, a mass of muscle and armor that radiated intimidation.

As he approached, your foot slid back as you bent your neck to meet his visor and you bumped into Din. He rested a hand on your shoulder. “This is Paz, my brother.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, sticking a hand out.

The hand that takes yours is firm; he shook once and let go. The hand on your shoulder squeezed.

“It seems your clan has grown.” The figure to Paz’s right spoke, her visor trained on the hand over your shoulder. You needed no introduction for her. It was obvious in the way she spoke, authoritative and clear, that she was the Armorer.

Your lips quirked. A clan, huh?

She welcomed you briefly and Din requested a private audience in her forge. When Din handed Grogu off to you, he said, “Stay with Paz, cyar’ika.”

“Cyar’ika?” The Armorer paused. “Have you claimed them as your riduur?”

You cast Din a curious glance. Riduur?

“I… haven’t,” he said carefully.

“I see.” She resumed her pace and disappeared into the cave.

Din followed, not before pressing his forehead to yours. It was like a kiss, he explained once. You were fine with it. You knew as soon as the day was over, he’d make up for all the kisses you’d missed out on.

“He seems to like you.”

“I would hope so,” you quipped, turning to Paz once Din was out of sight. “He loves me, after all.”

You finally got your well-deserved vacation—on a planet called Pabu, with bright blue skies and a sparkling blue ocean—and more than you could have ever wished for.

Gentle waves lapped at your bare feet as you leaned back against the palm of your hands to soak in the last of the dying sun.

Relaxing like this felt rare and fleeting; part of you was worried some other danger would rear its ugly head and ruin the tranquility. But, a quick glance toward Grogu, who was splashing in the water, and Din, standing watch to make sure he didn’t snatch up any crabs as a snack, dispelled any worry and replaced it with a warmth that spread through your chest like the sun's rays.

You cracked a smile at the Mandalorian who was barefoot as well, after you convinced him to step into the waves, with his pants rolled up to the bottom of his knees.

“Stop that,” came Din’s chastising demand. Grogu was levitating a poor crab toward his mouth before letting it fall back into the water with a grumble, his ears pulled back as he looked up at his father with a pout. “You’ll ruin your dinner,” he reasoned, reaching down to scoop the fussing child from the water.

You stood, wiping away sand clinging to your thighs, and walked over to the pair. Din’s helmet followed you as you approached, his shoulders were far more relaxed than you’d ever seen them.

Even when you stood in front of them, finger brushing along Grogu’s ear as he cooed, his gaze did not stray. You just thought it was your bathing suit; it showed off more skin than usual. Which, you admit, you hoped would catch his attention.

“Problem?” You teased, looking at him with a sly smile.

He shook his head slowly. He was uncharacteristically quiet, more so than usual. Ever since his private chat with the Armorer, he’d been distracted. Staring more than usual—at you, the controls of the ship, the floor—like he was lost deep in thought.

You looked out at the sunset, a wash of orange and gold against a glittering sea. You let out a wistful sigh. “I could spend forever here with you two.”

“You mean that?”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

His hand drifted toward the pouch on his belt, fingering the hem. A nervous habit, you assumed, he picked up after visiting the Armorer.

You rested your hand on his and asked, “Are you sure there’s no problem?”

“Marry me.”

You froze, mouth agape.

“M-marry you?”

“I wish for more days like today, too—safe, peaceful days together with our son.” He opened his pouch and pulled out a silver ring that glittered against the setting sun, reminding you of his armor.

Your hand slipped from his to your mouth, covering up the shock written across your face. Your watering eyes moved between the two who’ve grown so close to your heart. They were your life, your home, and you’d spend forever with them. You knew your answer—you’ve always known, ever since he asked you to join them. In your heart it was always—

“Yes,” you cried, throwing your arms around the two of them. “Yes, absolutely!”

You stayed tucked in his arms with Grogu nestled between the two of you. And, in the foreground of a golden sky, he asked if you would cite the Mandalorian vows.

Riduur, he said, you would be mine, and I you. Our hearts will be written together in song.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors.”

Finally, he was no longer just the Mandalorian or Din, he was your riduur.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #gn!reader #my works

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 5 months

Text

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 66

Part 1 Part 65

They’re all sent off to school with a command to “act normal” from Hopper so they don’t draw any more attention to themselves while he investigates. As if any of them can even tell what normal means anymore. Still, they go, taking Steve’s car since Eddie’s is still out on unwilling loan.

Steve doesn’t protest when Eddie slides into the driver’s seat.

There’s nothing playing in the tape deck, just silence past the smooth sound of Steve’s engine rumbling beneath them. Every time Eddie glances toward the passenger seat, Steve is staring blankly out his window. Even Eddie reaching over to squeeze his knee garners no reaction.

He keeps his hand there, regardless, hoping the warmth will seep into him while he drifts and keep him warm no matter where his mind is.

Once parked in front of the school, Eddie jumps out of the car like normal. Steve doesn’t. So, he walks around the front of the car to open the door, bowing lowly with a flourish of his hand, playing the part of his gracious valet. Or enthusiastic date.

There’s a ghost of a smile as Steve finally unbuckles his belt and climbs out, elbowing Eddie in the ribs as he passes.

He doesn’t grab his bag, so Eddie does, swinging it onto his shoulders, slamming the passenger door and sprinting after Steve where he’s somehow already halfway across the parking lot.

The smile’s already dropped by the time he catches up and matches his pace. He’s staring ahead vacantly enough that Eddie briefly worries he’s no longer on this plane at all, but he’s walking normally, and he nods at the few classmates who call out to him as they pass.

Popularity isn’t something that can be entirely shrugged off like an ill-fitting jacket. It dogs Steve’s footsteps still, sticking to him even after he’d quit all sports teams, had faded out entirely from the high school party scene. Had started to stick to Eddie’s side like they’re tied together by the wrist.

Steve never even seems to notice the way girls still light up around him, and sometimes jocks will wander up to talk about their sportsball games like Steve had still been out there with them scoring the winning goal. Steve always smiles affably, slaps them on the back, shoots the shit, and then he’s on his way.

Like it’s all still normal to him. Expected, even.

But now, the barest nod is all anyone else gets. Except Eddie.

Because when Eddie drops him off at his classroom, he walks in, shrugs off Steve’s backpack and drops it by the seat Steve’s in the middle of settling into. He bows again, and murmurs a quiet, “parting is such sweet sorrow,” while the few kids already in their own seats gawk at the spectacle he’s making.

Steve meets his eyes for the first time that morning, brown eyes fathomless but squinting at the corners as he smiles up at him. Beautiful in the way it’s finally reaching his eyes. “See you at lunch?” he asks, like that’s not a given.

Eddie looks around furtively at the circle of empty seats that still surround them, calculates the distance between them and the nearest warm body, and decides to risk it all.

“See you then, angel,” he says, keeping his gaze locked on Steve’s own until he looks down to dig a notebook and pen out of his bag, ears turning a light pink.

Eddie whistles all the way out the door and into his own homeroom, but the cheer dissipates quickly as Steve’s absence settles into his bones.

He can feel him from the other side of the school. Eddie wants to be with him so badly that it feels like Steve’s reeling him in, the pressure in his sternum almost too much to keep his ass in his assigned seat. It grows from first period to second, until he has to convince himself several times not to skip English to wait outside Steve’s own classroom door like an overeager basset hound.

Act Normal. Be Normal. As if Eddie knows how to do that.

Jeff keeps giving him sideways glances from across the room that Eddie easily avoids by keeping his eyes on the clock, urging the seconds to tick along faster, as if he’s Supergirl and not just a freak with separation anxiety.

Everything goes in one ear and out the other until lunch. He practically skips to the cafeteria, grabbing Steve’s lunch as well as his own because Steve always gets waylaid on the way.

He sits at the usual table, ignoring Jeff’s glare, and Doug’s pointed questions, and Gareth’s downright bitching while he stares at the cafeteria entrance, willing Steve’s bitchy little face to appear in its threshold.

Barb settles beside him, forcibly shoving Gareth down the table despite his protests. Eddie glances over at her to see the same dark bags under his own eyes.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she demands. “What did Owens sa—”

“Not here!” he hisses, looking around. Doug’s looking right at him with his stupid, judgmental face. “Do you want everyone all up in this?”

She scoffs, stealing a fry from his plate before he can bat her hand away. “No one was paying attention until you made a scene.” When Eddie just scowls at her, she rolls her eyes, but acquiesces, “You’re filling me in later.”

Eddie nods before dismissing her entirely to look back toward the threshold. Toward that insistent tug tug tug.

It’s been too long. He gets up, abandoning both of their lunches to follow the line. “Where are you going?” Barb demands, getting up to follow him with a dramatic huff. “Like a toddler, honestly.”

It’s moments like this when he can see how Barb and Nancy ended up friends. When she puts her nose in the air just so, he can almost picture them emulating each other as little girls, feeding off the little bitches they both are on the inside.

“Steve’s missing,” he says, walking fast enough that she’s got to do a little jog around a few students to catch up.

“He’s like ten minutes late to lunch, not lost in the—”

She cuts herself off, but Eddie knows what she was about to say. Not lost in the Upside-Down. Not taken, again. As if she has any idea at all.

“You didn’t see it,” Eddie mutters, walking faster, faster, faster.

Barb doesn’t reply, just quick-steps in time with his slightly longer legs.

She’s right, though. Steve’s not missing, not taken, not gone at all. He’s standing in the middle of the hallway, glaring at Perkins and Hagan like they’d just spit in his face. His fists are clenched, his cheeks are flushed. He looks alive.

Eddie and Barb stand at the corner, peering around it like half-assed sleuths. Steve’s gotta know they’re there. Or at least that Eddie is, but he doesn’t look their way.

“—think it’s a good idea to air my own private business out to him?” Steve demands, flicking his hand toward Hagan dismissively.

Perkins throws her hands in the air with an abortive scream of frustration. “Air what?” she asks. “You won’t even tell me what the hell’s going on!”

“And why should I,” Steve snarls, less as a question and more as a scoff. “So, you whisper everything I tell you into your boyfriend’s ear at night?”

“I wouldn’t—”

Hagan, ever the prize, barrels right over her with his own shit. “Steve just doesn’t want you to know how far he’s snapped, babe,” he says, smirking up at Steve as he takes a step closer, chest pumped out in the same way of primates posturing everywhere. “If he thinks he’s got magical traveling powers, who knows what else he’s hiding in that messed up head of his?”

In that moment, it becomes abundantly clear that Perkins had told Hagan everything she’d heard. Steve’s face blanches white, then splotches red. “How fucking dare you!” Steve demands, but he’s not looking at Hagan at all. He’s looking at Perkins. Only Eddie sees the way Hagan’s face falls at the dismissal before he paints that same jaunty grin back on his face. “You told him?”

Perkins screeches, throwing her hands out with enough ferocity that one smacks Hagan in the chest hard enough to send him stumbling back a step. Still, no one looks his way. “What was I supposed to do?” she asks, voice warbling and high-pitched. “We’re worried!”

Hagan snorts and mutters, “you’re worried,” pointedly until Perkins elbows him hard in the ribs.

Eddie watches Steve’s face fall. Perkins and Hagan are too busy verbally brawling in the hallway, but they don’t know about the sky-blue teddy bear that still resides on their bed. They don’t know the way Steve’ll sometimes hug it to his chest before bed, curling into a ball around it as he holds it close to his chest.

They don’t know there’s anything to look for, or maybe they just don’t care. But it doesn’t matter, because by the time the pair’s turned back to Steve, he’s shorn up his facade, back to the look of haughty indifference he’d worn for years around this school. Eddie hasn’t missed it.

“Steve, please–” she says, and she sounds desperate. Like whatever she’s saying, she means it. But Steve’s closing down on all sides, and Eddie can’t stand a second more of this.

“Oh, Ms. Perkins, darling,” he calls, skipping down the hallway like he’s not seething. “I believe you have something of mine.”

It takes her a second to rip her gaze away from Steve’s shuttered expression. She stares blankly up at him before something sparks behind her eyes. She scowls up at him, digging his keys out of her pocket and tossing them his way with narry a thanks.

“By your leave then, my lady,” he says, curtsying while Hagan rolls his eyes and Perkins gazes wistfully down the hall where Barb and Steve are almost out of sight.

Eddie jogs to catch up and reclaim his rightful spot at his Angel’s side.

Part 67

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect

#steddie upsidedown au #my fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #literally posting this the minute i finished it bc i want it out of my sight. did Not even spell check. ok goodnight

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unstablenoodle · 1 month

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Just graduated, and I’ve been dragging myself by my hair through the last 4 years. here’s advice if you’re new to college:

Basic advice:

Make friends in your lectures. You will know some of those people all four years, and some of them are better at this than you. You’re still capable, but there’s always a bigger fish and you should make that fish into a study buddy

Get a job at a food court/ campus restaurant. You get a free meal, which might be your only one for the day if you don’t have a meal plan. Work can also be a mental break from academics.

Abuse office hours. Annoy your TA. make them scared to see you. TA’s are tired grad students and you won’t have a formal relationship with them: they are students too.

Study advice:

Flash cards are for review and rote learning only. 15-30 minute power review sessions for things you already know. If you’re going over familiar shit, do it in short, repetitive bursts.

Be the bitch with annoying decorative notes. Make it a game, it’ll force you to look at the material more. I will say though, make sure you decorate with purpose.

Those friends you made in lecture? That’s where you get the big studying done. If you’re going for a higher 4 hour long study sesh, bring other people. They know things you don’t and vice versa, so you can fill in the gaps for each other. This type of studying is for unfamiliar or confusing material.

Big study sessions usually only happen a couple weeks out from exams at most. Before exams, your homework is your main means of studying.

Just go to the lecture. I don’t care if it’s at 7:30 am, go. Participation points could be the difference between a B and a C.

TI-84 graphing calculator

Pub chem

If a professor, for some ungodly reason, says you aren’t allowed to work on the homework with other people, fuck that guy.

Your $168.99 textbook is likely a free PDF online.

Date someone who fills in your gaps. I dated an engineer I met in a physics class and it worked beautifully.

Mental health (my advice on this is very specific):

Basic advice: drink water regularly, eat vegetables, exercise. You know all this.

Stay far, far away from any substance called a “study buddy” or something like that

Get a hobby. Actually. Something to do in your free time to keep you from going insane. I personally like knitting and drawing, but it can be anything. I’d say avoid something involving technology because it’s easy to fall into that for hours at a time. Do something that engages your hands and your brain. You might not be creative, but creativity is good for you. Your painting looks like shit? The benefits you have reaped from its creation are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Good job.

If you are having any kind of hallucination (visual, auditory, presence, etc.), seek professional help immediately. I have lived half my life with the feeling of eyes on me and the presence of people who aren’t actually there and never tried to fix it because I could “work around it.” Just go get help. Hallucinations can also be a symptom of neurological issues and physical illness.

OCD and disorders involving psychosis are aggravated by stress. Your classes will stress you out. Disorders like this are scary and debilitating, so you absolutely need to be in therapy, possibly on medication. They also tend to be episodic, so you may have periods of recovery where your life quality improves. Do NOT be fooled: you still need to be in therapy even if you feel good. Preventative measures are the best measures!!

Social:

Get a job. Work friends are funnier and way more entertaining than any other kind of friend

I recommend a group of 2-4 people you chill with regularly. Movie night with them once a week (barring exam weeks and extenuating circumstances)

Talk with your roommates at least occasionally. It’s no fun living with total strangers.

Do not start smoking cigarettes. A lot of people are repulsed by the smell and it clings to you.

Hygiene. Mainly you should smell good. You don’t have to go crazy with an expensive perfume/ cologne, but shower and always have a decent scent. Also try not to wear stained clothes.

Not sure how useful this is, but it’s the first thing I could think of. I’ll come back and edit if I think of more.

#studybrl #studyspo #university #college #studyinspo

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eksvaized · 6 months

Text

[ Stalker ]

>>> Ghost x Reader

You were Simon's guilty pleasure.

No matter the day, the time, or the hour, you were always in his mind and consumed his thoughts entirely, leaving no room for anything else.

He tried to reassure himself that he wasn't doing anything wrong. But deep down, he was well aware that he was allowing his dark side to take over him again, and this time - even if he didn't want to - he wasn't able to escape the darkness, which devoured him and kept him captive.

Simon knew his obsession wouldn't end well. It never did. But you intrigued him, and he wasn't strong enough to fight the allure.

The only interaction you two had so far was a one-night stand. After bumping into each other at the club, you invited him back to your place - he was gone by the time you woke up and you never saw him again.

But he saw you. Often.

Initially, he just followed you on all of your social media accounts using his burner account. However, staring at you through the screen didn't satisfy the hunger building inside him, and he grew bored with only just looking at pictures of you.

That's when he began driving to your apartment block, parking his car across the street and spying on your windows all night until the sun would rise up and he would be forced to leave because he didn't want to be seen by you or raise the suspicion of your neighbours.

Most of the time, your curtains were drawn - you liked your privacy and wanted to keep the noisy passerby out of your business. Sometimes, however, if Simon was lucky, you would forget to close them and he could watch you as you stripped your clothes off and changed into something more comfortable before going to bed.

Today, like usual, he parked his car under a broken lamp post and turned the engine off. Tonight was a special day though - he didn't want to be stuck just admiring you from afar anymore. He had other plans.

A knock on the door woke you up.

You blinked a few times while taking a glance around the living room. Even with the curtains closed and the sun gone, the moon's radiant light found a way through, painting the room in a delicate shade of grey.

You sat up and rubbed your eyes, before sliding your palm across the couch and fetching your phone to check the time.

2:00 AM.

Another knock.

You stood up and switched on the light. The room was chilly, so you reached out for the blanket, which was thrown on the edge of the couch, and wrapped it around your body, hoping it would warm you up.

Even though you weren't expecting anyone, you dragged yourself to the front door and opened it. You were surprised to see no one, but just as you were about to shut the door, your eyes traced over the ground and you noticed a neatly wrapped package.

You picked it up and looked to whom it was addressed. There was no name, but there was a handwritten note.

'To my love'

When you returned to the living room, you unwrapped the package and discovered a box of chocolates.

You had no clue who had brought them, but you figured that someone had just mixed up the apartment numbers and placed the package at the wrong door.

You didn't complain, though. Even if you should have returned the package to the intended recipient, there was no name, so you decided it wouldn't hurt to eat the heart-shaped chocolates with a sweet filling instead of throwing them away - they were, after all, your favourite; it was a lucky coincidence.

When you entered the bedroom and walked over to the window to draw the curtains, you spotted a car parked outside across the street. You didn't think much of it or the man sitting inside'; perhaps he was just waiting for someone.

And Simon was waiting, patiently, counting every second that ticked by. His finger tapped against the steering wheel, as his gaze kept shifting from the watch on his wrist to your now-dark window.

He knew you had to have retrieved the package by now. If he was lucky, you helped yourself and sampled the treats inside, too. And if his calculations were right, in about thirty minutes, you were going to pass out.

He waited and waited, shifting in his seat every few minutes, unable to keep still because the anticipation was oozing out of him as he envisioned all the different ways this night could end.

Simon lit one cigarette after another since it gave him something to do instead of allowing his thoughts to spiral, and get darker as they wandered to place and scenario, which he didn't want to imagine.

As much as he wanted to get out of the car and make his way back to your front door now, he forced himself to sit still as the time passed. He didn't want to spoil everything just because he couldn't hold his composure and gave in to his desires rather than thinking with his head.

Thirty minutes had passed. Then another ten, and finally he threw caution to the wind and decided to take a risk.

He strode inside the building and up the stairs, his heavy boots making no noise as he adjusted his skull mask - in all honesty, he didn't need to wear it, but he did, just in case.

Simon had taken care of all the cameras a month ago, and so they weren't an issue anymore. He could come and leave with nobody seeing him.

He grew heavy with anticipation that mingled with the excitement and thrill of being aware of the wrongness of his actions as he got closer and closer to your door.

This was not how he intended to see you again - sneaking into your apartment late at night. But after your first encounter with him almost three months ago, he was not able to corner you again, no matter how hard he tried to instigate those accidental meetings, where you bump into each other, recall the fun you had last time and exchange phone numbers.

He tried to act normal for once. He really did. Because this time, he wanted to control his obsession and let the relationship develop as spontaneously as it could.

He went to the usual spots you hung around. He carefully considered what he was going to say to you before asking you out, but it seemed as if you were avoiding him. Of course, he knew you would never do such a thing. How could you?

After spending so long watching you, following you, hiding in the shadows, while keeping track of your every move and getting to know you from a distance, he knew you would never do anything like that on purpose. Not to him, not to anyone else.

Simon stopped at your front door. It was locked, but that wasn't going to stop him. He had learnt a number of skills in his life, and one of them was picking locks, which he used frequently, and which were going to come in handy now.

After he got inside and closed the door, he found himself in a dark hallway. Even though he had been here only once, he knew his way around, which meant he could stroll through the darkness without bumping into anything or knocking something over, causing you to wake up.

Despite his stature, he moved with surprising agility, gliding through the room without making a sound.

He saw a box of chocolates on the coffee table as he passed the living room. When he noticed it had been opened and half of the sweets were gone, the corners of his lips curved, and a sly smirk appeared across his face.

Simon became even more confident now that he knew his plan had worked and you were asleep in your bedroom down across the hallway.

He opened the door and scanned the room before his gaze spotted the bed and his eyes settled on you.

Your body was concealed under the blankets that were tightly wrapped around you, but he could see the outline of your body as your chest gently rose and fell.

He took a deep breath and walked inside, remembering not to open the door all the way since it would creak.

The smell of your sweet perfume was all over the place, overpowering him and sending his mind into a downward spiral.

You were sleeping. You didn't know he was here, and you will never find out. You would know if he...

No.

Simon shook his head. He wasn't going to do that. He couldn't. Not to you, and not like this.

As he approached your bed, he slowly sat down, keeping his eyes wide and fixated on you to make sure you were still sleeping and unaware of his presence.

He simply sat there watching you at first, unable to tear his eyes off of you. His glance swept across your face, examining your dark lashes, parted lips, and flushed cheeks. You were flawless, without a trace of a single imperfection.

Simon leaned forward, dipped his head and softly pressed his lips to your forehead. He was about to kiss you when he stopped himself and drew back.

He raised his hand and tucked the sheet down, revealing more of your face and letting the fabric drape just below your collarbone. His hand trailed across your jaw before brushing a few loose hair strands.

Your skin was so soft.

As you laid there, unaware of his presence, lost in a blissful slumber, wrapped in warm blankets, you looked angelic. The soft moonlight filtering through the window only enhanced your beauty, making your skin glow.

For almost an hour he didn't leave you, but the sun began to rise and he knew he was running out of time. You will wake up soon. If you would find him here in your apartment sitting on the edge of your bed, you would freak out and he refused to ever do anything that would upset you.

He forced himself to stand up and was about to leave when his gaze was drawn to your phone; its corner was sticking from underneath the pillow.

You awoke many hours later, around midday; for the first time in a long time, you had slept through all of your alarms.

You took your phone and unlocked it.

That's when you discovered a photo of yourself asleep that appeared to have been taken earlier tonight.

A shiver raced down your spine, and you froze, letting the phone slip out of your hand and fall to your lap. Your eyes darted around the room. Everything appeared to be in place and looked to be the same as it did before you went to bed.

You lived alone. You didn't have a roommate, and no one, but you, had the keys to your apartment.

As you attempted to slow down, your mind was racing with possibilities. Your heart was hammering loudly in your chest, and only one question kept swirling around, causing chaos in your head.

Who took that picture?

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #writing #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #oneshot

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charlosvibesonly · 5 months

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Racing Hearts - Part 5

pairing : max x fem! driver/reader

it's the race. no mistakes this time.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

The dim light in the storage room painted shadows across Max's face as he cornered you, his presence looming. His eyes, once warm, now held a glint of intensity, and his hands, which once felt comforting, now gripped with an undeniable force. His gaze penetrated deep, and the room seemed to shrink with the weight of unspoken emotions.

"It's this headstrong nature of yours that I really like," Max uttered, his voice dropping into a low, serious tone. The compliment hung in the air, both sincere and unsettling.

"But we can't have two winners. You pull a foolish trick in the next race, and you will regret it," he whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine. The proximity, the seriousness in his eyes, left you momentarily breathless.

Then, as abruptly as he had cornered you, Max released his grip, letting you go. The door closed behind him, leaving you alone in the room. The echoes of his words lingered, and the contrast between the current tension and the shared bond of a few weeks ago felt like an emotional whiplash, almost breaking you down.

The Mexico Grand Prix loomed ahead. This was the race. No mistakes.

As you slid into the sleek cockpit, you caught Max's piercing gaze. His eyes, once warm, were now cold, sending a shiver down your spine. You couldn't afford to let his intensity unsettle you; the race demanded your full focus.

The lights dimmed, and the engines roared to life. The race commenced, the cars hurtling down the track in a synchronized dance of power and precision. Pit stops unfolded, tires screeched on asphalt, and the fierce competition played out in each carefully calculated maneuver.

The Mexico Grand Prix, notorious for its high-altitude challenges, became a theater of strategy and skill. The commentators narrated the unfolding drama, dissecting every move with fervor.

"Here in Mexico, the stakes are high, and the racers are relentless. Verstappen and Y/N are neck and neck, trading positions like seasoned gladiators."

The race progressed, each lap intensifying the struggle for supremacy. As the final laps approached, your heart raced with the anticipation of the imminent showdown. Max, fueled by the warning he'd delivered earlier, clung to your tail, ready to exploit any vulnerability.

Approaching the last lap, the tension reached its zenith. The commentary box crackled with excitement.

"This is it, folks! The Mexico Grand Prix has delivered an edge-of-the-seat experience. Y/N and Verstappen are on a collision course, the finish line drawing near. Hopefully, this race gives us our champion."

The cars thundered down the straight, and Max, with the aid of DRS, closed in. Wheel to wheel, the race entered a heart-stopping crescendo.

In the cockpit, you held the steering wheel tightly with determination. Beside you, Max's car loomed, threatening to tip the scales with each passing second. The finish line lay ahead, a ribbon waiting to crown the victor. The crowd was on the edge of the seat.

Who could cross it first?

#max verstappen #f1 #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1

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code-es · 1 year

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The women who laid the foundation of tech

EDIT: I noticed that this post ended up being reblogged by terfs. If you're transphobic this post is not for you to reblog. I want to celebrate everyone who is not a cis man in this industry, including trans women and nonbinary people in tech, and it was my mistake to only include cis women in this post when there are so many trans women and nonbinary people who have done great things in tech as well. Trans women are women and just as important.

Here you can read about trans ppl in tech, and please do:

https://www.thecodingspace.com/blog/2022-03-01-six-trans-programmers-who-shattered-the-lavender-ceiling/

https://abcnews.go.com/Business/transgender-tech-visibility-obstacles-remain/story?id=76374628

The morning of women's day i attended a super inspiring seminar about being a woman in tech at a large tech company in my city, and now I'm inspired to share what I learned with all of you!

I didn't have time to finish this post on women's day, but it's not too late to post now: every day is a day to celebrate women!

Women actually laid the foundation for a lot of the tech industry.

For example, the first computer, ENIAC, was programmed completely by women! While men were the behind the scenes engineers, it was women who did all the actual programming of ENIAC.

The women who made up the team responsible for programming it were called Jean Bartik, Kay McNulty, Betty Holberton, Marlyn Wescoff, Frances V. Spence and Ruth Teitelbaum.

I think one woman who is finally getting her overdue recognition is Ada Lovelace. She was a mathematician (also often referred to as the first programmer) who created the first algorithm in 1842, which wasn't recognized until 1953! However, since none of her machines were ever completed it was never tested in practice during her time.

She has since been celebrated by giants such as google, and she has given name to a programming language (Ada). She was also the first person to write about what is today known as AI. Back when she was practicing, computers were simply thought of as calculators. But she had an idea that if computers can understand numbers, then that can be translated to letters, and in turn that can lead to computers being able to handle words, and eventually even write, draw and create music.

Hedy Lamarr was a famous Hollywood actress in the 40's, but she was also an inventor who laid ground for what we use today for Wi-Fi, Bluetooth and GPS services.

During WW2 she wanted to contribute positviely to the military efforts against the Nazis, and she tried to figure out how to radio control torpedoes. In 1942 she patented her technology "Secret Communications System", also known as frequency hopping, which laid the foundation for the technology we use today for Wi-Fi, GPS and Bluetooth. It wasn't until 1962 that it was first used for its intended purpose, during the cuban missile crisis.

Grace Hopper invented the first compiler, called A-0, in 1955, and was also part of the Univac team, which was the company also responsible for building ENIAC. She also initiated work on the COBOL programming language.

She was also the one to coin the term "bug" in 1947. Computers back then had lights to visualize their working process (which was also a womans idea to implement btw) and bugs would be attracted to the lights, but usually that was no issue - until a bug made its way into a tube which caused the computer to stop working. Hopper taped the bug to a piece of paper and logged what caused the crash - a bug.

Dorothy Vaughan (left), alongside colleagues such as Katherine Johnson (middle) and Mary Jackson (right), was a mathematician at NASA (called NACA when she started) who worked on the orbit for the first ever manned spaceflight and later also on Apollo 11 that would take humanity to the moon!

When Vaughan started at what was then called NACA, segregation was still prevalent in the US and she was not allowed in the same areas in the office as her white colleagues. Another department was formed for the black staff, and when the director of said department unexpectedly died, she was appointed as the new director and thus became the first ever black woman at that position at NACA/NASA. In 1958 when NACA becomes NASA segregation is forbidden, and that is when Vaughan and her colleagues Johnson and Jackson started working on programming the orbit and later also Apollo 11.

Continuing on the same track of NASA and space, Margaret Hamilton was the Apollo project's first actual programmer. Hamilton became the director of software engineering at NASA in 1965, and she was also the person to first coin the term !

In the image above, she stands next to all the handwritten code that was used to send humanity to the moon. During the early stages of the project when she would speak of "sofware engineering", software development was not taken as seriously as other forms of engineering, and it wasn't regarded as a science, either. She wanted to legitimize software development as an engineering discipline, and overtime the term "software engineering" gained the same respect as any other technical discipline.

And lastly, if you're a woman in STEM, I want to highlight and celebrate you! Being a woman in a male dominated industry is not easy, we often suffer from sterotype threat and are not seen as our own individuals, but rather "the woman" in a room full of men. But just as these women, I'm sure you will achieve greatness!!

Here are some additional resources if you'd like to learn more:

https://www.history.com/news/coding-used-to-be-a-womans-job-so-it-was-paid-less-and-undervalued

https://digitalfuturesociety.com/programming-when-did-womens-work-become-a-mans-world/

And this was mainly my source for this post, but it's unfortunately only available in Swedish:

Thank you for reading ✨

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pallases · 2 years

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not me sobbing alone in my dorm over a fucking a-

#I WOULD TAKE IT JUST FINE except every single weighted grade calculator is telling me i should have a 93.26% and yet somehow what the site #has come up with is 91.94% like. it doesn’t make sense i don’t understand how there is that big of a difference #it HAS to be that he didn’t put in the extra credit properly bc the weighted grade calculators are only pulling up percentages that low for #if i don’t add in the extra credit. but i emailed him asking abt it and he said it’s all in #i just don’t understand and im just incredibly disappointed bc i really thought i would pull off an a for this class and everything is #saying i should have but. whatever #personal #the engineering chronicles #like the b- in drawing is fine i don’t care i didn’t expect to get anywhere near an a for that. in fact i am celebrating it bc i was #terrified that i would get a c+ or fail altogether. but coding??#the class that i just got 100% on an exam on last week??#and it’s SO CLOSE it makes it sm worse

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youzicha · 3 months

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It's cute to say that stealth aircraft got rounder for the same reason that video game characters did: because the computers got more powerful. But it's not the completely story. More accurately, it was specifically Lockheed's stealth aircraft that evolved that way.

Famously, a Lockheed employee noticed a paper describing how to calculate electromagnetic scattering from a polyhedron. They implemented it in software and used it to design the Have Blue demonstrator, which evolved into the F-117.

But at the same time, Northrop developed the Tacit Blue demonstrator, which was not designed using the edge diffraction software, and did not consist of only flat polygons.

Tacit Blue was the first aircraft to use "edge convolution" (a.k.a. "Gaussian stealth"). This smoothes out the edges by convolving them with a gaussian function. In particular, the convolution makes the edge of the wing sharper than if it was just a wedge between two polygons (with an ideal gaussian function it would extend out infinitely, so the acute angle would approach 0 degrees). This means that the edge of the wing will reflect less radar waves if it is illuminated directly from the side (from the horizon), which is the typical case if the plane is flying straight and the enemy radar is far away.

All stealth aircraft now use the gaussian smoothing idea, and you can clearly see the commonalities between Tacit Blue and the Northrop B-2.

Actually, when it came time to design the ATF (which evolved into the F-22), Lockheed also had to abandon their edge diffraction software. The ATF chief engineer commented:

We did not know how to analyze a curved stealthy shape in those days. The software wasn't sophisticated enough, and we didn't have the computational capacity we needed. We had our hands tied by the analytical problems. Lockheed had become convinced that, if we could not analyze a design as a stealthy shape, then it could not be stealthy. We would not break through that barrier until 1984. [...] We simply started drawing curved shapes even though we could not run the designs through our analytical software models. When we went to curved airplanes, we began to get more acceptable supersonic and maneuver performance. Instead of relying on software models, we built curved shapes and tested them on the company's radar range. The curved shapes performed quite well in the radar tests.

So in the end, I think the "smooth stealth planes" (B-2, F-22) were mainly designed heuristically and evaluated by building actual model airplanes; having fast computers to simulate them was not the bottle neck.

#military technology #weird edges of the design space

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tinydefector · 2 months

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hi!! 🐈 first time asking for a request on a blog huhu so I hope I'm doing it right 😭

mind if I slip in a fluffy request with coppy prowl? him being more handsy and just overall touch-starved than usual with their human and he's embarrassed of asking for the touches so he's got this disconcerting look on his face + a hundred yard stare when their human is close

(⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

Klik Away pt3

Heheheh this worked a little to well for the part three and since you lot made me a simp, enjoy some simpy touch staved Prowl.

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 2k

Chapter1,

Chapter2

Chapter4

___________________

Nearly a week later, Prowl had gotten used to the human's presence well enough, still having arguments with them here and there but most times they kept to themself or hassled Green while he worked. "Prowl, can we go out today, I'm getting sick of being locked up in here" they state softly. They look up at the enforcer with pleading eyes. One more Luna cycle that's all he would have to wait to be rid of the human.

Prowl cycled a ventilation as he registered his human's request, systems conflicted. He didn't need to be chasing them around if they got lost while out in the city, but he also could see they were getting rather agitated being locked up for so long.

One lunar cycle remained until they would no longer be under his care.

"Very well," he agreed at last, calculating most protected opportunities for their enrichment and safety. Rising carefully, Prowl lifts them up before carrying them to the door, once outside he transforms.

His engine purred low as seatbelts strapped the human safely inside the cabin. "Remain still and do not interfere with vehicle functions," Prowl instructed calmly. "We will explore briefly before returning by duskfall, don't try anything"

He Guided them through less populated streets at a crawling pace, enjoying fleeting wonder lighting tiny eyes absorbing alien scenery. Yet enjoyment lingered in his system watching them as they pressed up against the window. They were ecstatic, eyes watching the scenery of the city, market in awe, it was like nothing they had ever seen before, nothing like earth and nothing like the warehouse they had been kept in.

"Woah I didn't realise everything was so... big" they state softly.

Prowl's engine purred in quiet amusement as they vocalised awe at the sights. Cybertronian towers on vast scales inconceivable to humanity, no wonder such vistas stunned one so young and unfamiliar with alien marvels.

"Yes, our world differs vastly from your tiny backwater planet," Prowl rumbled agreeably.

Slowly navigating less crowded areas finding a decent spot to stop so that they could wander the markets.

Don't be a dick!" They huff while lightly slapping his steering wheel. As they climb out of his alte mode they look around in fascination, they stay close to him as he transforms and stands at full height. He bends down to lift them up before he starts walking with them.

Prowl cycled an irate ventilation at the organic's impudence, doors flicking irritation.

" Watch it, and Remain still," he instructed gently, "Do not squirm or endanger yourself through careless movements."

Striding through orderly thoroughfares, Prowl narrated landmarks in slow, simple terms ensuring his human was securely held. Others stared at the unlikely duo, many pointed and whispered as they watched them stride through the marketplace.

Strangers found strange peace as they navigate the market's, The two of them draw many optics as they argue softly between themselves, the human pointing at things and asking questions and Prowl reluctantly answering, he has to on multiple times catch them from slipping off his arm. "What are those?" They call out.

“ Energon vendors, they supply different types of energon and tops” he states, the stalls overflowing with glowing cubes, spiels of alien beverages music, their eyes dance across the many pretty coloured cubes. “Do different colours taste different?” The inquiry. Prowl gives a nod as he approaches the stall. He stops to talk to the vendor and it's the first time they really listen to him speak cybertronian, it's very different from when he speaks to them. a cube of energon with a silver liquid added into it is passed to him. "What's that, I know its energon but what is in it?" They ask, they know what it is but they are curious over the other stuff added into it.

Prowl accepted the glowing cube from the vendor with a polite nod. Sipping the fuel gradually across his glossa, he savoured the blend of it. “This is a standard mid-grade energon blended with gallium, it's how I enjoy energon," Prowl explained evenly, angling the cube for tiny eyes to perceive colours swirling within." The bright glowing Pink fluid “ “ occasionally i like having iridium and strontium to boost fuel efficiency and spark potential. every more rarely ill have high grade with crushed crystal" he watches as their eyes land on another stall.

“ thats a Self-repair kiosks, it's where bots go to get new or spare parts,nanite, mesh patching, solvents for mending”

“ that stall is Cultural archive filled Holobooks narrating millennials, these days they mainly recount the war to newer bots, puzzles to help enhancing logical processing”

Prowl scolds as he looks away from said stall. “Don't like history?” They perk up in a teasing tone. “You wouldn't like it if it last millions of years either Rabbit” he grumbles before walking down another pathway.

“ that's Upgraders, Body modifications, weaponry installations, plating polishes,” the stall is rather large gleaming under neon signs, it showcases shiny and polished gear. “So is it like a car wash or do you like remove your plating and put on new plating?”

“you buy new plating and can trade in older models, markets don't have washes, those are reserved for housing or as you would call it a wash house” he confirmed while taking another mouthful of his energon.

Prowl gives a slight nod to another bot who returns it to him before continuing patrol.

“ Those are Enforcer dispatch, Fellow security forces patrolling, making sure we don't have circuitors, thieves and other dangers around.” The next stall he points to is filled with what looked like air conditioning.

“ Climate regulators, we use these to regulate temperature, cybertronian naturally run a lot hotter than your species and are prone to melting without regulation” . It's fascinating learning for the human before their eyes meet another stall, they give a puzzled look before speaking up as they point towards it. “What's that?”

The stall is filled with Sleek forms, ads playing that look very similar to adult shop banners. Prowl is quick to cover their eyes, hissing out before walking another direction. “Hey!” They grumble trying to look under his servo. “I am not taking you into an interface stall” he nearly snarls. They drop the subject quickly.

Its quiet between them for a long moment before he speaks up again “foreign collectors'' he motions towards the stall. Another cycle closer to reality hits him, did humans even know what interfacing was, had he just caused a scene over something they didn't understand.

His processor noted their interest light upon spying stalls overflowing with alien fruits, grains and flora. Amusement tingled Prowl's circuits to witness how their eyes seemed to like up in awe.

"Those vendors trade planetary Flora harvested from the crystal gardens, or off world planets" he advised, angling a pat towards the stall.

"They have those bugs you get for Green" they state while trying to climb onto the table, they look around at a few of what look like fruits. Prowl's scanners swept the crawling insectoids within bins, analysing nutritional values for his pet. Optics inspected wriggling broods at his mere fraction of size, some glistening and hardy, others feeble and malformed. His logs assessed ratios ensuring they were the right dietary requirements her.

"These appear suitably Green's" Prowl concluded to himself, optics flicker to his companion who looks over the fruit's, he calls out, catching the merchant's attention.

Once he had received the container he reaches over and grabs a few of the fruits to add to the collection. “add them to my account”.

The human gasps as Prowl picks them back up along with the container of food for Green and a small collection of the fruits for the human. "Hey I was looking!" They grumble as he halls them closer to his chassis as he takes off walking again. Storing the newly bought stuff in his subspace storage. He finished his cube of energon, discarding it in a bin before using his servo to keep the human steady against his chassis.

Amusement tingled through Prowl's frame as his tiny passenger grumbled irritably from being moved, too quickly distracted by alien environs surpassing tiny comprehension. "Forgive the disruption, Rabbit," Prowl soothed gently. Striding through thinning crowds, Prowl gazed down at miniature eyes peering back without fear, curiously tracing armoured plating of his face. his engine thrummed a low, protective purr.

It's a peaceful trip back, Prowl ends up walking the full trip back, Striding through emptying streets towards the hab dome His small company ended up snuggled against his body, eyes flickering occasionally. They continue softly chatting as they point out at the building asking about what they were. Arriving within the sealed complex, he prodded the giant doors aside and strode gratefully into the quiet safety of shielded walls. Spying Green curled upon a pile of fabric. playing idly, Prowl extended a digit just brushing his the Flyt's head in greeting before angling optics downward.

His passenger remained in peaceful recharge, tiny breaths puffing relaxed against ancient plating keeping them warm.Prowl deposits his items onto the 'kitchen' bench

Prowl cradled the human closer, striding towards his berth with strange contentment curling his spark, puzzling his processor at fleeting peace, he arranged the human upon berth cushions with utmost care, ensuring to gently wrap them in their blanket, fragile limbs securely for continued recharge undisturbed.

Retrieving datapads loaded with pending reports, Prowl settled upon the floor nearby to scan logs and organise filing through the coming off-cycles, continually monitoring tiny life signs within, he wouldn't admit it ever but some small part of him worried over them in the cold room.

Sideswipe mocks him for his "distractions" over comm. Yet Prowl snaps at him for his words but doesn't argue or defend himself; simply he hangs up so he can continue his reports. Green chirped contentedly as she curls up against the human sleeping on the bed.

Prowl worked through the part of night cycle, Despite steel discipline perfected over millennia on the battlefield, Prowl found himself defeated by the strange pull tugging him toward where small life forms slumbered peacefully. Heaving a ventilation, the Enforcer gathered datapads and rose, striding to his berth.

Laying gingerly so as not to disturb rest, Prowl retrieved work and centred it upon armoured plates, their body nestled closer as his engine purred low. Strange ease washed over him, Comm lines engaged fellow officers without disrupting the human, Prowl reviewed reports scrawled across datapads balanced upon humming chestplates. At times powerful digits brushed delicately against the form sleeping beside him.

Prowl's engine idled into stunned silence as they nestled closer still in peaceful recharge, their face pressing into the warmth of his side, His programming stuttered, confronted by such delicate vulnerability expressed without fear against plating forged through vorns wading raging battlefields. No creature so soft and fragile should trust so completely in servos designed solely for destruction.

Yet this small being sensed no danger, merely comfort, Trust was Prowl was attached.

His engine finally crooned deep vibrations so long stifled, the deep purr had them clinging to him. Face pressed closer. He relished fleeting peace redefining his role however contradictory to function. Too soon, reality demanded separate paths to resume.

"Primus I don't think I can let you go now" He whispers against their skin.

Prowl's vocalizer emitted a staticky murmur. His systems ached for the soft touch they provided, the banter, they challenged him in so many ways. Yet Prowl grieved, releasing tender buds nurtured from unlikely seeds sown through fleeting chance alone. Programming struggled comprehending how a mere human had done this to him.

Tiny breaths echoed trust against ancient cabling deafened rationality. Here, together, strange peace reigned. Yet bitter facts compelled reality. One Luna cycle was all he had to cherish this, less he convinced them to stay, but even then what was the need for humans to permanently stay on Cybertron, what loopholes would he have to exploit just to keep them by his side.

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers idw #transformers x human #transformers lost light #tf prowl #prowl idw #transformers prowl #idw prowl #prowl #transformers: more than meets the eye #mtmte transformers #mtmte #idw transformers #tf idw

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