꒰ Jason still doesn't know how to accept he deserves to be loved too. ꒱
If there was one thing Jason never expected, it was that someday, in his miserable life, he would find someone who loved him—not some random hookup, not someone he spent a night with and forgot the face of by morning.
Someone who stayed. Who didn’t give up on him, even though he himself had given up a long time ago.
Meeting you gave Jason a double-edged sword; on one hand, he was no longer living a routine that slowly killed him for the second time. But now, with a relationship, he couldn’t help becoming five times more paranoid, more doubtful.
Obviously, he had no doubts that you loved him—the problem was that he couldn’t stop doubting whether he deserved the love you offered him. And occasionally, that led him to think about the possible future day when you would realize it too, that maybe he didn’t deserve you, and you would leave.
That night, after a half-assed patrol and an accidental run-in with Bruce, he was on edge. Jason dropped himself onto the couch, helmet hitting the floor beside his boots.
He stared at the ceiling, refusing to look at his own reflection in the turned-off television. He didn’t want to drown any deeper into his own pit. Didn’t want to see the newest cut on his cheek, the one that would probably turn into yet another scar.
He didn’t even hear you at first when you walked out of the bedroom, rubbing your eyes.
That was how deep in his own head he was—sinking, spiraling, chewing on the same rotten thoughts that always crawled back after nights like this. Nights where Bruce’s disappointed stare lingered longer than any bruise, where another name got added to a list Jason never wrote down but never forgot either, where he had a reminder he wasn't a good person.
“Jay?” He swallowed thickly, looking up at you. “…Rough night?” you asked.
He huffed out something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Something like that.”
Silence followed.
Jason expected you to turn around, head back to the bedroom, and sleep peacefully after seeing that all his limbs were still attached. Instead, he felt the couch dip beside him as you sat down, your thigh pressing lightly against his. He took a slow breath.
“Got another one,” he muttered after a moment, voice rougher than usual.
You frowned. “Another what?”
He tilted his head just enough for you to see it—the fresh cut across his cheek, still red, still angry, thin, but likely to stay there for a long time as a scar.
“Scar,” he said flatly.
You leaned closer immediately, your hand hovering near his face, his closing around your wrist and lowering it. “Don’t. It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” you repeated, frowning. “Jason Todd, that is a cut on your face.”
“Just another one. Gonna run outta space eventually,” he added, tone dry. “Face’s gonna look like a damn roadmap.”
You didn’t laugh. You just kept staring at him like he was something fragile, something worth taking care of.
It made something ugly twist in his chest.
He felt guilty—besides making you waste your time being with someone like him instead of a better man, now he was also the center of your worries.
“I’ve got worse,” he cleared his throat. “You’ve seen worse.”
Jason watched you stand up and disappear into the bathroom, coming back with a small bag of cotton and alcohol. You ignored the way his shoulders tensed at the sting of the soaked cotton pressed against the cut.
You weren’t wearing the same expression as before—you looked more irritated when you stood to throw away the dirty cotton.
“You ever think,” he started, voice low, careful, like stepping on thin ice, “that maybe you picked the wrong guy?”
Your neck turned so fast it hurt slightly, your eyes locking onto him like he had just insulted you. You opened your mouth to respond, but he interrupted.
“I mean it,” he continued. “You could’ve had anyone. Some normal guy. Some asshole with a nine-to-five and a normal past.”
His gaze dropped to the floor as he kicked off his boots. “Instead you’re stuck with me, someone who comes home bleeding half the nights of the week and with a body count longer than a damn obituary notebook.”
“Look at me,” you said, walking to stand in front of the couch, crossing your arms.
Jason didn’t dare lift his head.
“Jason.” You grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. “How dare you."
“How dare I—?”
“How dare you,” you repeated, voice rising now, trembling with both anger and sadness, “sit here in my living room, in front of me, and talk about my boyfriend like he’s some kind of unlovable disaster.”
He swallowed thickly, blinking in confusion. “Your—”
“Yes, my boyfriend,” you cut him off sharply. “My sweet, stubborn, ridiculously self-sacrificing boyfriend who buys me my favorite snacks without me asking, who walks on the side of the sidewalk closest to traffic, who checks the locks three times before bed because he wants me safe.”
His lips parted slightly, but your stare shut him up.
“Who lets stray cats eat from his hand like some princess,” you continued. “Who worries about those kids down the street. Who cries over romance novels and movies.”
“That’s—”
“Don’t,” you warned immediately, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence unless it’s an apology.”
He fell silent.
“And if you ever,” you added, sitting down on his lap, “ever talk about my boyfriend like he’s anything less than the most handsome, kind-hearted, terrifyingly loyal man in this entire city…”
You pinched his cheeks. “I will personally fight you.”
Jason lowered his head, lips curling into a smile he couldn’t hold back, a low chuckle leaving his throat. “You threatening me now?”
“Yes,” you snapped, feeling his hands slide to hold your waist. “Because how dare you sit here with that ridiculously handsome face and those stupidly beautiful eyes and act like you’re not the most handsome and kind man I’ve ever met in my entire life.”
“I don’t think the streets would agree with the ‘kind’ part…”
“Shut up—I’m fighting you if you dare say something like that ever again.”
“…You’d lose,” he murmured hoarsely.
“Try me.” You leaned forward, pressing a stubborn kiss right over the cut on his cheek. “Now go take a shower. I’m gonna make you something to eat before we go to bed.”
Description: In which Arcee craves your affection after a long cycle of hard work.
Characters: Arcee
Reader info: Gender neutral, Cybertronian
Other info: very short oneshot, 2nd person(you/your/yours/yourself), romantic, G1 (between season two and the movie)
The day had been hard on everyone. The Decepticons and Autobots had a fight out near an old power plant again–they were lucky nothing really blew up. Arcee had been in that fight, blasters drawn and ready to shoot, and she did. Of course she did; they were still at war. Then there was the heat. Though not the worst she had ever felt, it was inescapable. Spike said it was between summer and spring, mentioning something about the rain. Sure enough, for Arcee, she was outside in the rain when all she wanted was to recharge!
More importantly, she was stuck in the mud. Grumbling, she transformed into her root mode, stomping through the forest. This was the last time she was ever going to do something for Hot Rod! She trekked on, trying to avoid any and all branches. She knew she was too large for this beautiful planet, and despite her frustrations, she wasn't going to purposely and damage anything. So, she continued on to Autobot City, marching right up to its gates with Hot Rod's and Daniel's fishing polls.
The storm was loud and heavy as if the sky itself was trying to beat the metal city, as if it had offended the clouds. Arcee could now understand why humans developed so many religions with angry sky gods–it certainly looked angry to her.
She knew her around the place, having been living on Earth for about three stellar cycles now. Autobot city was large, but it only took an hour to travel its diameter in her alt mode. It wasn't just a stronghold, but also a nice place to live for the Autobots. It was a small slice of normalcy in an endless war. It was a nice place to live with you.
Arcee stormed inside, transforming once more and driving to the living quarters. Hot Rod could get his fishing lines in the morning when it finally stopped storming. When she made it, she went back to her route mode to get inside. The building was cool and rather plain with it just being several shades of gray. Gray walls, dark gray floors, light gray railings, gray, gray, and gray. If she wasn't so tired, she wouldn't have cared so much. She began walking up three flights of stairs just to get to her hallway. She'd get to see you soon and rinse off–she was tracking mud and dirt inside that she'd half to clean.
She knocked on the door; you opened it, faceplate twisting. “C'mon in, you look like you need a break.” You stepped to the side, letting her in. “I'll get you some energon. You should go wash off.”
Arcee followed your orders as you searched the cupboards for the small stash of energon, setting on the counter and making a small blend. The war efforts were cooling down, energon didn't need to be taken straight anymore, and certain things could be added to it to increase nutrients or flavor. You turned on the radio, music coming through. Jazz was undoubtedly staying up late again, just playing music for the city to hear. It was nice, really.
Your day had been hard, causing aches in all of your joints. You hadn't been in the fight with the Decepticons, but you had been a part of the cleanup. Then the spar with Ironhide went terribly wrong; you had landed wrong multiple times. The only good thing about it was that the medics said that it wasn't anything really serious. You still grimaced at the memory of that frankly embarrassing conversation with Springer that was going to haunt you until you went offline.
As you mentally tore yourself for your words, Arcee wrapped her arms around your mid section and rested her chin on your pauldrons. “What are you thinking about? Hopefully, something good.” Despite the rain, she felt warm to the touch. Pressing her derma to your temple, you smiled.
“I had a hard day. You?”
“I got stuck in the mud.” She pulled away, taking the energon and nursing it slowly. “Hot Rod asked me to get his fishing poles from the lake, and it turns out that it wasn't a very fun time.” Arcee sighed, optics closed for a moment as she set the empty energon cube on the counter. “How ‘bout we just rest and not worry about anything else? Probably better for us anyway.”
The two of you found the berth, and you found Arcee’s arms once more wrapped around your frame. There was something so comfortable about the whole scene from the rain pattering against the side of the building to the music from the radio and the loving embrace she had you locked into.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Arcee.”
I just wanted to write something really short and sweet for Arcee. I hope yall enjoyed :]
You and Soundwave are such close friends that you slowly turned into lovers without realizing it.
Back then, when you were a new candidate on the ship, you had no idea what you were doing. Bots would be mad at you for your clumsiness and your lack of skills in combat. Once, Megatron even confronted you and threatened to extinguish your spark by himself if you kept being useless for the Decepticons' cause. You really tried your best, you did, but to no avail.
Luckily, you were tasked to do something that you didn't know your capable of. Computers. Turns out, you were pretty great at it than anything else. Having such great performance on computers, you were promoted to become Soundwave's apprentice.
It was really awkward working with him for the first time, but you figured it's best to just mind your own business and approach him if necessary.
You adore his little minicons, they always approach you when they are bored enough with Soundwave. Though, Soundwave isn't fond of you, he cares his minicons and let them interact with you. Because of that, it somehow creates a connection between you and him.
Day after day, Mission after mission, both of you slowly grow a bond between each other. It's noticeable that Soundwave often interacts with you. And you often interact with him.
When most of his mincons died only leaving Laserbeak, he was devastated. Like usual, he show no emotion nor expression about his grief. Somehow, under that mask, you saw beyond it. You comforts him and share your grief together.
And thats what he liked about you.
You always knew what he feels even though he isn't showing any emontions, expressions or spoke any words.
Since that day, he no longer sees you as an ally but rather, a friend. How he feels towards his minicons is how he feels towards you.
. . .
On earth, you were fascinated about it's cultures, especially their music. Soundwave isn't interested in what Earth has to offer, but he gladly listens to you rambling about it. Like songs, you would make him listen to different kind songs together, as you talk about the history of the song, the singer, et cetera.
Even though he doesn't particularly like some of it, he still listens to it.
You had this one song that you kept telling Soundwave that it's the best, greatest thing you ever listen to. Humming the song while working, and repeatedly listening it with him.
He asked you why you like it so much, and you answered,
"Well, It kind of reminds me of us!" You smiled. He shook his head and continues to working.
He thought it was ridiculous, and yet, he started listen to the song too.
Both of your bonds are strong, just like Soundwave with his minicons back then. Starscream never really dare to mess with you, Knockout treated you well, and Megatron, he respects you more like Soundwave. After all, he wants his favourite third in command happy.
. . .
Remember when i told you, you lack of skills in combat?
Yeah, well.. you were on a mission to retrieve a relic. But due to you having lack of skills in combat, your chances of surviving a fight are very low.
You tried your best to fend off the Autobots, but in the end, a fatal blow hits your stomach, leaving you laying there on the medical berth helplessly as Knockout tried to save you from the blow. Despite Knockout being a professional medical expert, the wounds are too fatal and you can't be saved.
Even though Soundwave isn't there in the medical suite, he could hear your labored breath as it slowly died down, with you grunting with pain as you call for his name weakly before you everything stops. Your breathing, movement, and the light from your frame fade away.
He just stood there in front of the computer digits coming to a halt as he thinks about what he just hear.
You called his name, but he didn't respond back.
He just kept typing away at the keyboards while he listen to your final moments.
He could've called your name back, be there with you in the medical suite. Comfort your scared spark while holding his hand
But no, he just kept doing his work, typing away while you were dying.
Now, he regrets it. It's all his fault, he couldn't do better to you while you did better to him.
And he carries that burden onto his back.
. . .
Now, with you gone, he couldn't help but remember the things you did with him.
Those sweet memories you created in his head, now lingers with a sense of guilt.
The others on the Nemesis could notice that he acted weird after your passing. Often staring where you would stand, beside him.
When alone, he sometimes listens to the songs that you used to hear with him. As if.. he's imagining that you are still there with him.
Maybe he should've confessed to you that day.
Now he has to bear the burden in silence
. . . .
You guys were more than friends, weren't you?
A/N: WOW! It's been a long time since I've posted heheh... ≡(▔﹏▔)≡
Blurb: "the heart is hard to translate, it has a language of its own"
Warnings: not proofread, please be lenient
A/N: be gentle please, it has been a while 🥹
*
For someone who always had a response to everything, Jason found himself completely speechless.
He was wooden. Frozen. Trapped in his own chest with words that - although he'd spent years bonding with the feel of the paper and the texture of the composition on his tongue - every attempt at imitating what he'd read and learnt came out as broken, jagged pieces of harsh speech.
Unintentionally on his part, but the damage was all the same. It didn't make sense to him. He could quote the romantics with his eyes closed. He could know the author by the feel of the book alone. And yet, his own mind betrayed him.
He'd always seen himself as someone coarse, and his words even more so, and yet he was willing to soften his edges a bit - only a bit - in a bid to communicate in a language that would change the course of how you knew each other.
It didn't occur to him that perhaps all the knowledge could never prepare him for the foreign feeling invading his lungs, his chest, his mind. It burned almost, with gentleness.
Yet it still burned. And he welcomed it.
Something he could feel, something he could name.
A burn.
And yet, he still couldn't find the words he was looking for. It took a long time for him to realise that he couldn't find the words because he'd never had to say them before.
His hands, that he could trust to do better than his tongue could ever do, seem to be permanently clasped in confusion and fear of writing the wrong sentences despite their rigourous training in building stanzas and bodies.
His fingers felt too big for the pen, the paper so fragile in his hands that he almost felt it tear despite barely holding it.
Jason felt like he was losing his mind.
The hands in his heart were reaching with all their might towards you, and he couldn't somehow find the words to convey just how visceral this foreign feeling was and how badly he wanted it to consume him if it meant being connected to you.
He could only hope that his heart was loud enough, that his eyes were wide enough to tell you what he couldn't, while he fought with himself to find and place words he'd never collected, to gift them to you in response to the gift you'd given him.
love the idea of big, strong, and overpowering jason todd as much as anyone else. but imagine jason todd x metahuman!reader. Your strength is beyond human measure and after years you've learned to control it. but sometimes, in the comfort of your boyfriend's presence, you let yourself slip a little. and it drives jason insane. you'll hook a finger around his belt loop and tug him to your side with extreme ease. jason's a little out of breath at the realization he wouldn't be able to move out of your grip if he wanted to. in his tiny apartment you would place your hands softly above his hips and physically move him out of your way, pressing a quick peck on his shoulder as you do so, not thinking anything of it. he'd be stuck in the spot you moved him to for a few moments, sides warm and tingly from your controlled power. after long days, he realizes he can practically throw himself on top of you on the couch, draping all his weight over your body, and you wouldn't even need to adjust as you wrapped your toned arms around his broad shoulders. the thought of completely letting himself loose around you would have him burying his reddening face deeper into your shoulder. and at night, when he's hot and panting over you and moving a little too slow for your liking, you would wrap your legs around him and flip him over in the blink of an eye. the feeling of your strong thighs and the sight of your biceps as you held his hands against the bed would have him practically drooling.
jason todd loves being your protector, but he might love knowing you can have your way with him even more.
JASON TODD WHO WHIMPERS AND MAKES A HELL LOT OF NOISE LIKE A TOTAL SLUT!! and he doesn't even gaf because he knows it turns reader on!!
okay but listen!!!!! he doesn't at first!!
the first month or so after you two start having sex he's not very vocal. he'll grunt and groan, a little dirty talk, but nothing crazy. nothing outside of the "norm", you know what i mean? he doesn't want to freak you out. he's still surprised you haven't run after finding out about red hood, he's not going to ruin this
but one night he's super vulnerable. he's come home from a patrol that completely kicked his ass, wiped him out, and all he needs right now is you
you'd think he'd be rough about it, letting his frustrations of a bust gone south out on you, but he doesn't. instead, tonight he's reminded of how easily he would be taken out on one of his patrols. how a punch too hard to the head, or a stab wound too deep, would keep him from coming home to you
so this time he's emotional. he's pouring his entire soul into each deep thrust. every single languid drag of his cock through you is laced with devotion. you can feel it in the way he noses your temple, the sweat beading down his jaw, the watery tears that fall against your hairline that he'll later deny
and you definitely hear it in the way he whimpers for you. it's quiet at first. so quiet that you almost don't hear it in the quiet of the room, barely audible over the sound of your own breathy moans and pitched mewls. but then it happens again. and again. and again
and then each snap of his hips is accompanied by a whimper. in the moment there's no way jason can control himself enough to keep his mouth shut like he normally does
then comes the babbling. the soft "you're perfect" which sounds so achingly worshipful as the familiar praise falls from his lips that it sounds brand new to you. "god, you're perfect, perfect, perfect" a sniffle. and then "i love you so fucking much"
and after that jason doesn't hold back anymore. not when he's stripped himself bare. torn down the walls of anger and betrayal and desperation that run deep through his very being, full of thorns and acid and barbs. not when he's laid his emotions and soul bare for you, the same way he does his body. and especially not when you've gently taken that fragile, shattered core of his, still tender and wounded, and craddled it with a kiss to his jaw and a "i love you too, jay"
that's when jason stops holding back. that's when he lets his whimpers tangle with your own, the way your limbs tangle together in the sheets
Description: A series of headcanons on how several of the Autobots and Decepticons deal with Earth's heat with help from Reader.
Characters: Optimus Prime, Wheeljack, Ratchet, and Skyfire
Reader info: gender neutral, Cybertronian
Other info: 2nd person, bullet points, G1 universe, can be seen as any relationship
OPTIMUS PRIME
-He's not dealing with the heat very well. He's a larger frame type meaning that it takes a lot to cool him down along with the fact that he produces so much heat already.
-He's going to try to spend as much time in the shade or inside as he can, if only so he can do his work properly
-Optimus is reminding his bots constantly to take breaks so that they don't overheat. This includes you!
-He will himself to be used as shade for some of the smaller bots, though he will regret it later when he gets a warning of overheating
-He's still going to try to work hard despite it all, make sure to remind him to take breaks and actually cool down.
-When he's free, he's definitely pulling a few bots and you (although anybot is welcome to join) go surfing around 4-6pm (16:00 to 18:00)! Probably lasts until dark out, when he decides it's best to get back to base and possibly rest
-He tends to run a little hot during recharging! Depending on how well you can handle that, you might not want to huddle up next to him.
WHEELJACK
-Wheeljack is miserable. Still, he spends most days soldering and welding things together in his lab. He's rather glad his lab is one of the most well ventilated places on their ship. He might just melt if it wasn't
-Between major projects and fixes around the Ark, he's figuring out a way to make Energon Popsicles (he learned about the frozen treats from Spike). It's a hassle given Energon's properties, but he manages! If you like watching him work in his lab or spending a bunch of time with him, you might end up as one of the first bots to try them
-Definitely the type of bot to spend all day indoors, away from the heat. Though, that's mostly because he keeps getting distracted in his lab
-The heat eats up so much of his energy that he's taking so many naps. You're gonna have to drag him away from the various dangerous chemicals in his lab and a nice place to rest or else he's going to end up exploding
-If he is forced to go outside, he's hoping that he can at least blast some Decepticons!
RATCHET
-He's spending all of his time taking care of bots who end up overheating or getting hurt due to circumstances around the heat
-If you're going to hang around, he's going to have you help him and First-aid! He's probably going to make you do small tasks, nothing too big but it's a major help! Expect praise when you do a good job, probably a thumbs up
-When he has any free time from working, he's finding an industrial fan and just laying in front of it. Ratchet does not deal with the heat. And after he finds the industrial fan, he's finding an industrial freezer to hide in until somebot else overheats
-He will overheat himself. He's going to end up going outside to grab some bots from a ‘battle’ between the Autobots and Decepticons, and he's going to overwork himself and he's going to overheat
-Don't scold him too harshly for this, everyone else is probably lining up to scold him
- Once he gets bothered by lazing about during healing, he's going right back to work. Invite him over with the other Autobots to take a break and spend time with everyone has they play stupid games.
SKYFIRE
-He doesn't like the cold and much prefers the heat but even this is a bit much. Skyfire is larger than Optimus so he tends to overheat so much faster. He's going to spend half the summer in the med-bay. It's terrible for him.
-Skyfire is going back and forth to get himself more ice to put on the areas of his plating that gets hit with sunlight the most.
-He's taking you outside with him to put trackers on animals and explore nature. It'd going to get very messy. He's going to end up covered in mud, dirt, leaves and twigs but it will be a success! Skyfire will overheat once again while trying to wash himself off
- Being under ice so long really messed up his circuits and his ability to regulate his frame temperature so he runs rather cold. Depending on how much the temperature fluctuates between night and day, he might have you rest on top of him for warmth and you might lay on top of him for coolness
-He's definitely going to try some of the energon popsicles after Wheeljack makes them.
-Don't be afraid to use him as shade–assuming you're smaller than him– plenty of the others do.
I had to accept when making the borders of the characters that there weren't many good pictures of Skyfire or Ratchet.
The REAL reason humans don't partake in Autobot & Decepticon war
You and your friend were on a mission to aid in the war along with other humans but things werent looking so well, and the ones on the line knew that...till on the comms a voice reached optimus for him to order this to the humans behind the scenes or actively fighting, leaving him confuse but with the urgency he was told to say it exactly by the letter this order to the humans...only he and the other soldiers were left in the dark about this order
Optimus"Change of plans, ignore your original objective...Leave nothing alive"
Humans all over the place heard that, looked at one another after all...they got the green card to go ballistic, before bots knew there you were, standing maniacally holding the pulled out optic of a con shouting
Y/n: MY RESTRAINS HATH BEEN LIFTED! I AM FREE TO DO AS I PLEASEEEEE AH!-AHAHAHAH!?"
Another human is seen putting a heavy metal song on blast while they started to laugh maniacally with a Tommy gun with crazy aim, humans go mental against cons taking them by surprise...till the kup's voice is heard at a human who was thought to have been seen in an explosion with a con...
Kup: How the hell are you still alive, WHO'S MY FAVORITE LITTLE PSYCHOPATH?~Hah-ha, that's right, you are!~
Give humans the green light about going ABSOLUTELY ballistic over a common enemy, listening to Doom Eternal...we aren't Unicron's children for nothing...
Your date nights usually just consist of trying new things together.
This time, it was making matcha lattes at home.
You were also trying to do gel nails, but your finger started burning a little under the UV light, and now you don’t want anything to do with that thing.
Stephanie has been whisking the shit out of the matcha in the chawan and is complaining about the authenticity. She’s afraid it’ll be like last date night.
Which… you kind of agree.
Last time, you guys tried Thai tea.
It was good…until you realized it tasted an awful lot like pumpkin milk.
Cause it was.
You guys felt real dumb, completely missing the obvious pumpkin on the package.
They were still good, though...despite not being Thai tea.
But you had faith this time.
Your beautiful girlfriend was putting her back into it to make this date night a success
batfam x batsis! reader, lena luthor x batsis! reader
The exchange day between Gotham Prep and Metropolis Private School was, according to the schools, meant to “encourage positive relationships between students.”
Years later, Bruce Wayne would argue that it should be classified as a public safety hazard.
Because before that day, you had been the sweetest girl anyone had ever met.
You thanked waiters. You held doors open. You smiled at strangers. You once cried because a pigeon looked lonely.
Then you met Lena Luthor.
At first, Bruce wasn’t worried. You came home talking excitedly about the girl you’d been paired with during the exchange.
“Lena’s actually really funny.”
“Hm.”
“And she’s really smart.”
“Hm.”
“And we’re getting lunch next weekend.”
Bruce didn’t think much of it.
That was his first mistake.
Within months, Lena practically had her own room at Wayne Manor.
You had your own room at the Luthor penthouse.
The two of you spent every weekend together, every school break together, and every holiday making increasingly ridiculous plans. Matching Halloween costumes became mandatory. If one of you got invited to an event, the other was automatically included.
Eventually, the media started referring to you and Lena as a pair.
And somehow, that was when everything began going wrong.
The first sign came when Dick showed up to breakfast wearing a bright orange hoodie.
The old you would’ve told him it looked nice.
Instead, you looked up from your phone.
“…Interesting.”
Dick smiled.
“Thanks.”
“I wasn’t complimenting you.”
The entire table went silent.
Jason dropped his fork.
Tim slowly looked up.
Dick blinked.
“What does that mean?”
You shrugged.
“Nothing. If your goal was to look like a traffic cone, you nailed it.”
Jason immediately started crying with laughter.
Bruce felt fear.
Real fear.
Because you didn’t even look guilty.
You looked proud.
Lena was on FaceTime at the time.
She nearly fell off her chair laughing.
After that, things escalated quickly.
At Gotham Prep, students suddenly became obsessed with your opinion.
A girl would walk into class wearing a new outfit.
The first thing she’d do?
Check your reaction.
Someone would suggest a theme for a school event.
Before anyone agreed, they’d ask what you thought.
Teachers hated it.
Students loved it.
And you absolutely thrived in it.
One afternoon, a boy interrupted one of your friends during a presentation.
The room fell silent.
You slowly looked up from your desk.
“Do you ever get tired?”
The boy frowned.
“Tired of what?”
“Hearing your self talk.”
The entire classroom laughed.
Even the teacher had to turn around to hide a laugh.
By the end of the semester, your reputation had spread through the entire school.
Not because you were mean for no reason.
You were actually still nice to people you liked.
The problem was that if you didn’t like someone, everybody knew.
And somehow that was worse.
Because you never yelled.
You never argued.
You’d just smile and casually destroy someone’s confidence in one sentence.
Lena was unbelievably proud.
The two of you spent hours on FaceTime every night talking, gossiping, and planning future outfits.
One night Bruce walked past your room and overheard:
“Then what happened?”
“I told him his personality wasn’t strong enough for that haircut.”
There was a pause.
Then Lena started laughing so hard Bruce could hear it through the phone.
Bruce walked away.
He didn’t want to know.
The real problem came when you asked to transfer schools.
Bruce was working in his office when you casually walked in.
“I want to go to Metropolis Private.”
“Sweetheart, Gotham Prep is one of the most prestigious and expensive schools in America. No.”
You blinked.
“You didn’t even let me explain.”
“No.”
“Uncle Clark is there.”
“No.”
“He can watch me.”
“No.”
“Lena’s there.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
Bruce stared at you.
Because if you and Lena spent five days a week together, society might not survive.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t exactly say that.
Years later, Teen Vouge would claim the two of you were the closest thing a actual Regina George and Gretchen Wieners—except somehow both of you were Regina.
And honestly?
Nobody in the family could argue with that.
Especially when Bruce walked into the living room one evening and found you and Lena sitting side by side and sharing the exact same smug smile.
For the first time in his life, Batman considered the possibility that some threats simply couldn’t be stopped.
In which ;; jason todd, a man who lacks any romantic experience, finds himself in love with you - a sentient robot devoid of human empathy or feelings.
cw ;; reader's gender is unspecified bcs they're a robot, fluff, angst if you squint, no smut, getting together fic, jason pining and stressing lmaoo, while reader just try to understand him lol.
an ;; reader is inspired by lucy from reverse 1999 and screwllum from hsr, unlike cyborg who is a... well cyborg, reader is a machinery given sentience. so they'll have a personality of a brick.
wc : 1,9k+ words.
read on ao3 .ᐟ masterlist
jason is fucked, big time.
he never had a time for love, hell with the problem he has currently, he never had a time even for himself.
but then the stupid clammy, fluttering, feelings whenever he sees you came beating down his ass.
"your pupils have dilated by 17%," you walked closer to him after patrol on the cave. "heartbeat elevated. breathing inconsistent. this pattern has been recurring for the past 3 weeks, 4 days, and 12 hours."
jason exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. his red hood helmet resting between his hand and hip, "jesus- do you log everything?"
"of course, i am programmed to keep log of yours and the other's well being, whether it's mental or physical."
"of course you do" he cursed bruce for that.
"initial hypothesis : minor panic attack, an emotional distress or an unknown illness."
jason sighed as he took a step back from your scrutinizing gaze, the soft familiar robotic whirl from inside of your circuit body calmed his heart for a bit. jason called your name quietly.
"i'm fine, just need to catch my breath, it's common for human after they ran through the street for hours anyways" jason lied through his teeth easily - knowing damn well it isn't the case, he can run 3 laps through the whole city without breaking a sweat.
"i see, i can recommend you top 10 tricks to calm humans body, relax and free from anxiety." the way that you said it in a monotone voice almost laughable, if you were a human - he would say that you're being sarcastic, but the calculated stare you hold making him realized that you were dead serious.
of course you are.
"no thanks, also you should stop getting your information from wikihow"
"feedback achieved, i will now do a proper research and stop using the source from wikihow dot com."
"good, but no need for that now- i'm fine" it feels weird to be asked questions regarding his well being, that's why he avoid hospital at all cost. too much scrutinizing gaze and prodding questions, like how the hell will he even explained the neat Y shapped stitch across his torso?
even so, he find himself didn't really mind when it comes from you.
jason brushed you off as he straighten his posture, glancing down at the others in the cave who's staring at the two of you curiously - he furrowed his brows as he eyed steph who tried to hold her giggle before whispering something to cass and tim, making the latter snort before shaking his head.
"what so funny?"
"nothing!"
he scoffed at that before exiting the cave.
it's been a few months since bruce- batman retrieved you from an illegal laboratorium. you were a project made to take over gotham city, just another android created for destruction, before unexpected thing happened.
bruce planned to shut you off like the other androids in the lab after sending the researchers and people are involved to get investigated by the gcpd, before he realize that something different about you.
you are fully sentient.
bruce gives you two choices, either he can shut you down for good - or he had to reprogram everything from you so that you won't destroy the city and live under his watch.
and so, here you are standing in the batcave, fully reprogrammed by bruce even with some of your past memories still intact.
a few months in, you're kept in the cave as some sort of AI assistant - but with more curiosity, it seems that you have a hyperfixation over humanity, you wanted to learn more about human's empathy, and their morality - as you yourself don't have any.
jason had stayed the night at the manor, entering the kitchen as he dried his hair with a towel on top of his head, fresh from the shower.
he stilled, almost jumped in the process when he saw you standing in the middle of the kitchen. he sighed as he called your name as he opened the fridge for a bottle of water.
"what the hell are you doing here?"
"good evening, jason todd - i am currently helping mr. alfred pennyworth to clean the dishes, as he was feeling 'under the weather' and have retreated early for the night."
it was uncommon for you to wander around the manor after you're no longer needed in the cave, bruce would told you to 'take a rest' but aside from charging, you don't really need any rest - hence why you're helping alfred most of the time.
jason hummed absent mindedly, rummaging through the fridge for a moment.
"jason todd."
he looks up from the fridge, taking a gulp from his water bottle before responding, "yeah?"
"you are experiencing emotional distress."
"no, i’m okay." he denied as he closed back the fridge, now facing you fully.
"would you like me to help?"
he stares at you, brows furrowing slightly as you continue, "i have observed that humans often conceal their distress. offering assistance increases the likelihood of emotional regulation."
"did you get that from wikihow too?" he offered a teasing smirk as he crossed his arms.
"not this time."
"…good." jason shifts his weight, suddenly hyper-aware of everything - your proximity, the faint hum of your systems, the way you’re waiting for his answer.
shit.
"you don’t… get it," he mutters in a quiet voice, almost shyly.
"then explain it to me." of course you’d say that. of course you’d want it broken down into something logical and structured.
jason lets out a breath, shaking his head. "it’s not that simple. humans emotions are… complicated"
"everything is simple when broken into components." you said matter of factly. "yeah? then try breaking this down, genius." he gestures vaguely between the two of you.
"you-" he started - pointing at you, "-are a robot."
"correct."
" i-" he jabs a thumb at himself, "-am a human." you nodded mechanically, letting him continue.
"and somehow-" his voice tightens, frustration bleeding through, "-my brain decided that you are a good idea."
"what kind of idea?" jason laughs bitterly at that. "yeah. see? that right there-that’s the problem - you don’t even react."
"i am reacting."
"no, you’re analyzing. big difference."
another longer pause this time before you opened your mouth again.
"i get it now - hypothesis : you are experiencing a… romantic attraction."
jason chokes, heat creeping up his face. "jesus- can you not say it like you’re diagnosing a disease?"
"am i wrong?"
"yeah, well - it sucks." he said as he once again, avoiding your mechanical gaze. he can handle rejection, but you? you didn't even reject nor accept him, just analyzing - which is far more worse than a rejection.
"just forget it okay? i just-"
"why?" you asked, cutting him off. which is something you never do, you never cut off anyone - you always let them finish first.
"why what?"
"why does it ‘suck’?"
he stares at you, before letting out a heavy breath, "because," he says slowly, "you don’t feel anything."
"that is correct. i am unable to feel any human emotions"
"and i do." he added, avoiding your gaze. "and that means this-" he gestures again, getting more and more frustrated by now, "-this whole thing is completely one-sided." he sighed sharply.
jason feels like an utter fool, never in his second chance of life he will explain what mutual attraction is, not to anyone, especially not to you, a freaking robot that is programmed to take over the city. well used to be atleast.
"incorrect."
jason blinks as he stare at you in shock and confusion, "what?"
you step even closer, close enough that he can hear the faint internal mechanisms shifting beneath your synthetic frame.
close enough that if you were human, he’d be able to feel your breath and body heat. he wonder how your synthetic skin feels like, how your mechanical part feels like, is it cold to the touch as it is made from metals.
"i do not experience emotions as humans do," your robotic voice pulling him back as he scoffed.
"yeah. no shit."
"but… i do experience preference."
well that makes him pause as he widen his eyes, it's stupid but his heartbeat begin to race once more, palpable against his chest in some kind of… hope.
"…what?"
"i prioritize your presence," you continue.
"i allocate more processing power to your actions and behaviors. i initiate interaction with you more frequently than with others."
jason’s heartbeat stutters. "i… what?"
"you are statistically significant to me." you continue, stepping closer as he is able to hear your whirling circuits almost clearly as he hears his own rapid heartbeat now.
"that is the least romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me." and yet his chest said otherwise.
"i am not attempting to be romantic."
"yeah, i noticed." he laughed as he sighed and leaned against the counter, you tilt your head again.
"however," you add, "if your distress is caused by asymmetry in emotional experience, i can attempt to compensate." jason stares at you, completely lost now. "compensate how?"
you pause. mechanical brain whirling softly, like you're searching through your database to decide your next action. but then - your hand hovers for just a second before making contact with his wrist.
jason's breath hitched as he flinched slightly, but not pulling away as he feels your artificial skin - soft, just like he expected, it's not warm nor cold, just at a perfect room temperature. he can't help but think that he can get used to this.
"i have observed that physical contact can reduce human stress levels," your grip adjusts slightly, fingers settling more securely around his wrist.
"is this effective?" your eyes shift to gaze at his blue-green ones, jason can't help but notice the way your eyelids relax slightly, almost kin to a human, it seems that you have learned a few human body gestures.
"uh." great response. really smooth, todd.
“…maybe,” he manages a short answer that makes your grip tightened slightly, not in a crushing way that will give him a mark the next morning.
"i cannot feel what you feel," you continue, robotic voice steady as ever.
"but i can learn your patterns." your grip moves slightly as if you hesitate, before it moves to cradle his fingers as he doesn't move to pull away.
"i can respond to your needs." he feels your fingers adjust against his, intertwining them as he's still not pulling away.
"i can choose you."
"…why?" he asks quietly, almost breathlessly as he leaned closer to you, his breath brushing against your artificial cheek. he can't help but wonder if you are able to feel his breath as he isn't able to feel yours - due to the lack of the need for pair lungs.
"because you are important to me." you answered without hesitant, it was a simple answer, lack of emotion but strangely doesn't feel empty either.
jason exhales shakily, running his free hand through his hair. "…you’re really bad at this," he mutters.
"i am aware."
"…but you’re trying."
"correct."
he huffs out a quiet laugh, oh god. he’s so screwed. it feels like his life can and will never be normal after he's brought back to life.
"hey," he says after a moment, staring straight at your almost empty artificial eyes. "yes, jason." oh, you didn't call him by his full name this time.
"…don’t go reading some ‘top 10 ways to respond to love confession’ after this." he said teasingly, knowing damn well his jokes will probably going to slide over your head anyways.
"…understood."
"good." he still smiled fondly at you either way.
"…would you like me to continue this behavior?" jason glances down at your fingers still tangled with his and then he stare back at you.
"…yeah," he says quietly. "yeah, i think i would."
note .
dick may or might not called jason "robot fucker" after that.
r : "jason, i have downloaded over a hundred data all about human feelings of "attraction" and "romance"
jason : "alright..?"
r : "conclusion : i have found an interesting things about a specific human needs for their romantic partner, do you require any help with that?"
Warnings : gn!reader, heavily implied all protectobots have feelings for you. Just short fluff.
-
-
You should be scared when heavy pede steps approach your hiding place, the very hiding place First Aid placed you in before rushing off to counter the cons, but as the ceiling was removed of the abandoned building you are left face to face with one large bot, who looks so relieved to see you’re still okay.
He says your name so softly, carefully he reaches down, placing a servo to the ground silently asking you to step up. Staring at his arm you realize it’s Blades, you almost question if the bot would let you step over him like this, but you don’t find yourself hesitating. You step into the center of his servo, sitting down as he begins to slowly raise you up, smile on his face plate.
“You’re okay! I was so worried the cons had found you, I’m so happy.”
He sounds adorable to you. In all your time with they autobots you don’t think you’ve ever met him, you know he’s a combination of your friends but in his way his own thinking mech, it’s so odd to think about but how can you when he’s looking at you like you hung the moon and stars for him?
He stands up straighter letting the building’s roof go, the rumbling shaking you, you hold on tightly to one of his much larger digits for safety but he is quick to coo at you, bringing his now freed servo to your other side to cup around you for extra security.
“Don’t worry, nothing will hurt you so long as I am still standing.”
You get the feeling such a sweet mech is completely different on the battlefield, to know the very servos that hold you so lovingly have likely spilt energon just in the name of protecting your planet, you feel special. A fleeting thought of why the team hasn’t split apart comes to mind, though swiftly out of the window when he lifts you higher, careful to set you on his shoulder. His engine(s) purring at the press of your much smaller softer cheek nuzzling against his neck cables.
“Thank you, I know I won’t have to worry about anything with you around, big guy!”
His bright blue optics practically sparkle, widening a fraction but his smile stretches across his face, cheeks dusting a soft blue, barely able to contain his excitement and joy. If there was one thing the protectobots could agree on it was you, the team usually arguing who gets to hang out with you first, who gets to have you, but in this form they all get what they want.
Time with you.
The titan of a mech is careful in his steps, walking slow to not jostle you around too much. With the threats gone he doesn’t have to worry about any harm coming to you, he can finally spend time with you even if now that time is fleeting.
The large mech enjoys this, enjoys the small warmth you give off, your pitiful EM field now pressed against the side of his face allowing him to feel your happiness, letting him know how content you truly are just to be with him like this as he walks back to base.
“Defensor?”
He already knows what you’re going to ask, he can already feel a handful of conflicting feelings in a silent argument about telling you why he doesn’t just unfuse and travel back to the autobot base that way, true it would be a lot faster, but who would you ride with?
But he smiles at you, stopping just shy of the base as he gently takes you off his shoulder, holding you up to his face plate.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to spend time with you, it’s not often I get to be like this.”
Despite knowing he can’t stay like this forever, he loves that he gets to spend any amount of time he can with you. The large mech blinks as you stand from your spot, stepping to the edge of his servos before he can warn you about safety, you kiss the tip of his Olfactory Sensor, smiling back at the blushing mech.
“I don’t mind, you’re much too sweet to have a rare appearance like this, it’s always nice to see you.”
His frame is overheating at that alone, steam coming from his helm as he tries to carefully but quickly set you down. Once to the ground you speak once more.
“I hope that’s not starting an argument.” You laugh, it only dies down when you see the apologetic look on his face plate, you let out a loud sigh, “yeah, I should’ve guessed. Proceed.”
You are not at all surprised for him to unfuse, though are surprised when Blades comes in swinging forgetting you are right there to hear him shouting.
“If you cowards aren’t gonna do it, I will!” Just to be marching his way to you, and then tackled by the rest of the team.
Hot Spot covering the flight bot’s intake while the others are all yelling over each other about ... .the kiss you gave defensor? Well, these are your bots, might as well give them all a little smooch to clear it up.
There weren’t many things that scared Prowl. One could say nothing ever scared him. The fault of this would be his logic sensors, the ones that made him outshine any tactician, surpassing all of their work.
He was built to rely on logic, not emotions. His outcome would be purely based on the best fundamental result of best chance of success of what his logic told him.
Yet, in times like these, he didn’t want to rely on logic.
The times when he was in fear.
Both were silent when they met when they were ready to say their goodbyes. They spoke no words as they moved towards the berth. They readjusted themselves until they were holding each other tight, afraid that the other one would just disappear.
“Please,” Prowl would beg softly, begging to change to the other one’s mind. But they both knew that the reply wouldn’t change a thing. Both were soldiers, ready to take orders without hesitation. Even if it would cost the very spark of theirs.
A servo set on top of Prowl’s cheek, nudging it softly so they would face each other. Optics to optics, a sad smile found itself embedded on his face.
“Promise you will be careful?” Prowl whispered the last promise they would have with each other.
“Promise,”
Prowl stared silently at the coffins in front of them. Autobot brand shining proudly on the metallic sheet coating it. No one uttered a word, everyone grieving their loss silently as they could.
But the world was cut off to him, everything seemed blurry, hazy, disorientated, except the one coffin that had the certain designation carved on it. A designation he dreamt of calling welcome home, softly speaking it while they were in warm embraces. Now, he will never have that kind of luxury.
He expected sorrow, hurt, sadness, empty, denial to cloud his spark by now.
Yet.
He only felt anger, the need for revenge. Muttering an oath that he would avenge his fallen, even if he was going take the most atrocious orders to do it.
Because he was a soldier, ready to take orders without hesitation.
Synopsis: Prowl has taken control of himself and held you as his willing hostage as he heeds the call of Optimus Prime in a gathering of Autobots. You are not privy to the knowledge of his race, just as he is not privy to the knowledge of your own occupation as a detective. In the quiet ride, you both simply spend time getting to know one another more instead of handling classified information detrimental to your dual existences.
Themes: Prowl x human!reader, detective!reader, GN!reader, fluff fic with dynamic exploration, chemistry, mutual pining, flirting, quipping, transformers, holograms, could be read as platonic
Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @skullfacedlady. I hope you enjoy your present. I haven't written for Transformers before, and I hope I did him justice! Have a beautiful day!!!
The hum of the engine purring through the dashboard was almost enough to lull you to sleep at the wheel: something that you knew never to do from the first time you ever stepped into the driver's seat. Something you still should never do, despite the fact the car you were currently operating was sentient and was perfectly capable of moving himself seamlessly within the capacity of adhering to the road rules of earth.
“You were dozing off again, little human,” the voice echoed through the radio at the centre of the consol, “It’s alright. You’ve been awake for far too long, and I am more than capable of taking us to the rendezvous point without your voice to accompany me.” You rolled your eyes at that comment while moving your foot away from the accelerator and drawing it towards the brake pedal.
“Don’t test me, Prowl. I might brake-check you for that,” you threatened him with your toes gently tapping at the centre of the pedal, “Then we’ll see who’s really in control here.” Your standard issue combat boots tapped at him once more before you moved back to hovering over the accelerator and clutch, shaking off the sleep and reforming your posture in the process. The autobot huffed in a grumble before switching the radio to something different and louder than before. “Alright, alright. You don’t have to be a dick about it. You want control, take it. It’s yours.” You removed yourself completely from the pedals and pressed your knees into the leather material of the drivers seat you were comfortably sitting on.
The first time you’d met the autobot, it was an accident. Your car was out of commission after it was totaled in a large-scale barricade to stop a high speed pursuit: the damage was done in extremities you didn’t think was at all possible. Without a car, your job as a police detective on the field was pretty much over, so you’d spent a long time at the lot in various districts until you found a replacement you’d purchased yourself.
He was beautiful. You fell in love with the interior design more than the outside, but the outside was extremely easy on the eyes. A perfect depiction of dark and light, something you knew you would have to fix when you’d make him a standard issue. Hell, you’d almost planned on getting rid of your personal car and keeping him all to yourself - but that would seem a waste of an overwhelmingly powerful engine.
You couldn’t help but feel the way you did about cars, especially with the way your father felt about engines. He had drilled into you at a young age his passion, taking you to spend time fixing things in his workshop until you could take apart an engine, clean it, and put it back together again. It was time you had cherished in every moment, something you’d never taken for granted. Even when you’d joined the police academy, you ensured you still spent that time with your father as much as you could when you’d gotten home. How he loved your new car.
“Daydreaming again, human?” Prowl asked you, cutting you away from your thoughts and trapping you back in the moment with him, “What’s going on in your head? Keep me company with those thoughts.” He snickered before turning the volume down on the radio, slowing the movement of the car while engaging in incoming traffic. “Honestly, do these people here know how to drive, or am I to estimate their trajectory alongside their stupidity?”
“Prowl,” you warned him, attempting to hide your smile in your tone, “Why don’t you let me take control for a moment until we get back onto the open road?” You quirked your eyebrow and slowly stroked along the wheel, “C’mon, big guy. It’ll be fun?” He purred out a small growl, his engine doing the same and causing a passing pedestrian to jump in shock. You gave them a wave and an apologetic smile before you manually took control of the car and began navigating him through the streets.
“You’re far too gentle with me,” Prowl commented, adjusting the wheel while you turned at the intersection, “I can barely feel you change gears.” Waiting at the next set of lights, you softly tapped your thumbs to the rhythm of the music against the steering wheel and hummed along, prompting Prowl to click some gears beneath the bonnet in frustration, “And you are still too far lost in your own mind to pay any attention to the world around you.”
“I am waiting for the light to turn green, Prowl,” you dismissed him, “And I’m gentle because I don’t want to rattle your engine. Unfortunately for me, you’re rattling it enough on your own with your constant need to pester and interrupt.” The light turned green and you adjusted the clutch and accelerator accordingly until you turned onto a barely populated highway towards your destination, “Why must I be the one to keep you entertained, and you not me? Perhaps my ‘dozing off’ was due to the fact you’ve told me very little about what we’re doing or where we’re going.”
“I would prefer to keep Autobot business to Autobots only,” he growled in response, sharply taking control of the steering wheel and jolting your hands away, “Adding you to the equation could be detrimental for the cause. I can’t give you information that can be pried out of you should we become separated.”
“Do you honestly believe the others and their human counterparts have not discussed things like this?” you furrowed your brows and moved your hand towards the toggle beneath your seat, pushing it back to give yourself leg room without touching the gages, “What if your leader… Who was it again? Optimal Prime-?”
“-Optimus Prime,” he corrected you quickly, “And you will do well to learn that name properly before you forget it. Even correcting you was possibly too much.” You felt the toggle move on its own, pushing you back into an adequate driving position as one would tuck a toddler into the dinner table to engage in a meal they didn’t want, “And if you are to be in that seat, you are to at least appear to drive me. Stop behaving petulantly, little human.”
“Urgh, fine,” you rolled your eyes once more and immediately undid your seatbelt and whipped it back away from you, “I’ll move to take the passenger seat.”
“What?” he almost yelped in confusion, “Absolutely not. Get back in your chair, detective.”
“Bite me, Autobot,” you almost giggled in glee, crawling over the police radio at the console to get into the passenger seat, “You’re being a brat. Telling me ‘wake up’ or ‘entertain me’ or even ‘you’re doing it wrong’. Honestly, Prowl. You’re being a big baby.” As soon as you entered the passenger seat, you clipped yourself in and put both feet on the dashboard.
“I’m being a baby?” he scoffed at you. A small switch beneath the steering wheel triggered, offering the hologram of what you believed to be his camouflaged form to blend in whilst driving alone illuminated the seat beside you. “You’re the baby here, Detective.” You took a moment to look at him: carefully inspecting his sharp features with your pointed gaze and fighting a laugh at his quippiness.
“No need to get honked off, Prowl,” you chuckle to yourself and hug your knees, both feet still planted firmly on the dashboard and gazing out the window to avoid the creeping heat slowly rising in your cheeks at how handsome he truly was as even a hologram. It was almost not fair: he was a beautiful car, and a beautiful depiction of his humanoid self. “The, uh… Your holo, Prowl. Who came up with the design?”
“Excuse me?” Prowl asked, confusion in place of his prior defense, “What kind of question is that?”
“One that departs absolutely no information about your affliction with the Autobots, nor does it interfere with my work as a detective,” you shrugged, turning your head and attention back to him, “Your features are quite striking, is all. Straight pointed nose, nice eyes, I can’t tell if your hair is grey, brunette or blonde through the hologram setting.” You raked your eyes along his form and settled on his lips, “Those lips are heart-shaped. Highly sought after by humans. Very pretty.”
“First of all: get your feet off my damn dash, Detective,” he pointed with his index finger towards you and the floor, “Secondly: are you suggesting I’m... Attractive by human standards?” You raised your hands in defense and slowly placed your feet on the floor on either side, planting them in place and fixing your posture.
“I was, but you’re ruining it with that attitude,” you chuckled at him and shook your head, “Are all Autobots like you? Prudish, boring, firm, no-nonsense?” You reached for the radio station and turned the music off, fixing your attention on him entirely, “Or am I just the exception when it comes to engaging in a friendship with you?” Prowl’s hologram smirked at you before turning his attention towards the road: despite the fact he didn’t need to in order to operate himself.
“I am known to be harsh and unrelenting when it comes to the safety of my people,” he commented sharply, but still with that smile he held firmly in place, “I am not prudish, nor am I boring. I’m simply attempting to save my people from dying a painful death and extinction at the hands of the Decepticons.”
“Those are the... Bad ones… Right?” you uttered, leaning over the dash and examining the holograms nose once more, “No, you’re actually really attractive, and it’s starting to piss me off. Especially that nose. Unfairly pretty.” That earned you a laugh from both the engine purring outside and from the hologram himself. You laughed alongside him, finding his joy contagious the longer you spend with him - despite the fact it was offered to you sparingly.
“Yes, they’re the bad guys. And I just wanted to give myself a look as a human for someone that should be trusted,” Prowl moved his eyes towards you, “Do I look like I should be trusted, Detective?” He moved his eyes along you, and you felt almost vulnerable beneath his piercing gaze. He looked at you like he was scanning you: reading you from the inside out and undressing you with calculated precision.
“I trust you,” you smiled warmly at him, sitting back in your seat and staring out the centre window, “It’s you that doesn’t trust me. We’re meant to be partners, you know? Two of us working together in whatever capacity for the benefit of Autobots and Humanity. You don’t trust me enough to tell me where we’re going, nor tell me the names of your friends that we’re meeting.”
Prowl took a moment to mull over your words and slowly drew himself to the conclusion he had been contemplating for a while. He knew he was strict, firm, and all of those things you had named him to be. He wanted to trust you, in some ways he truly did: but there was a little nagging voice in the back of his mind that told him that once that wall came down, there was no way to build it back up again. Once he gave himself over to you, there was no way to return to what he once was.
Once he truly allowed himself to love you, to welcome you into his heart fully, he would likely be called away from you and driven to wherever Optimus Prime decided he would be.
“I will tell you one day, little human,” he uttered affectionately while carefully shifting gears into a slow acceleration in the endless highway, “For now, you just rest. We’ll be there soon.”
"And your entertainment, Autobot?"
"I can keep myself occupied for a blink or two, little human. It's you that I believe would require the entertainment."
Nightbird. Why do I not see more love for Nightbird????? She barely gets any roles in modern media and I don't get why because SHE'S SO BADASS??? SHE'S LITERALLY the ONLY female decepticon from G1.
She has so much potential as the badass brooding evil lady but y'all ain't ready for that conversation.
I also think there is a lot of potential for xreader stories(platonic or romantic idc) because I headcanon that because she was made by humans in the G1 series - it's against her programming to hurt them. So she kinda treats them like helpless tiny bugs that she can't force herself to hurt(cause she finds them adorable but don't tell Megatron that). So I just imagine her infiltrating the Autobot base, finding a human (you) in there and like a wild cat finding a kitten, immediately deciding that you're hers now.
She's definitely in denial about liking humans though.
