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zerun0 · 2 months ago

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"Take My Hand" — Viktor x Y/N (Female)

English is not my first language. Feel free to comment on any of my mistakes and i will update the post, also I am more than happy to receive suggestions, and advice on how to improve my work.

— ! WARNING NSFW(+18): ! — Sexual themes, Alternate reality, Dancing, Drunk , Sex, Flirting, Making out, Teasing, Vaginal.

— Word count: — 3.0k (Full uncut version on AO3)

The streets of Zaun buzzed with a unique energy that night. At Heimerdinger’s Zaunite academy, the halls that usually hummed with the clatter of experiment trays and whirring mechanisms were abandoned. Students and teachers alike had migrated to the glowing venue lit by an array of green and blue chem-lights. They swayed to music that rattled through makeshift speakers.

Y/N stood by the edge of the crowd, leaning against a post with her hands fidgeting at the hem of her simple, black dress. She had spent the better part of the evening people-watching. Powder and Ekko spun together in the center of the dance floor.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” — came a familiar, soft-spoken voice from beside her.

Y/N turned to find Viktor standing there, an almost shy tilt to his smile. He was dressed a little neater than his usual grease-smeared lab coat, though his cane and posture still set him apart from the crowd. A lock of brown hair fell across his forehead, and his golden eyes shone in the shifting light.

“I could ask you the same thing,” — Y/N teased, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m observing,” — he replied, slipping into his characteristic thoughtful tone. — “There’s... a beauty in the chaos. Don’t you think so?” Y/N chuckled. — “That’s one way to look at it. Though I think most people would call it a party.”

“And yet, you’re here, on the outskirts. Much like me.” — Viktor said softly, now closer to her ear. Her smile softened at his perceptive words.

Viktor always saw through the surface, always seemed to understand her in ways few others did. He had become more than a lab partner during their time at the academy. He was a confidant, an intellectual equal, and perhaps something more.

Before she could respond, Powder’s laughter erupted again, louder this time, drawing their attention. Ekko had twirled her, sending her braids flying as she stumbled with giddy delight. The scene pulled a smile from Y/N, and even Viktor’s lips quirked upward.

“You know,” — Y/N said, her voice gaining a teasing edge, — “if we’re going to stay here analyzing the ‘beauty of the chaos,’ we might as well join in.”

Viktor’s golden gaze met hers, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his expression. —“Dancing was never a skill I cultivated.”

“It’s not about skill,” — Y/N replied, holding out a hand. — “Come on, I will guide you…”

He hesitated only a moment before placing his hand in hers. His grip was warm and slightly calloused, a reminder of hours spent tinkering in the lab. She led him to the edge of the dance floor, where they found a pocket of space just big enough for the two of them. The music was slower now, a dreamy, lilting melody that seemed to wrap around them.

Their movements were awkward at first. Viktor shifted his weight uncertainty, his cane tapping against the floor in a hesitant rhythm as he tried to find his footing. Y/N, attuned to his unease, kept her movements slow and deliberate, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder to guide him without imposing. Her other hand held his gently, touch warm and steady, like a lifeline.

“It’s just us,” — she said happily, her voice barely audible above the music. — “No one’s watching.”

Viktor glanced down at her, his golden eyes searching her face for reassurance. He exhaled slowly, nodding, and allowed himself to relax just a fraction. Y/N adjusted her position slightly, mindful of the weight he shifted onto his cane. She kept their steps simple, matching his pace and making sure to move with him rather than against him.

It wasn’t long before they found a rhythm, a tentative, almost fragile harmony at first, but one that grew stronger with each passing moment. Viktor followed her lead with quiet determination, his steps gaining confidence as the music wrapped around them. Y/N’s movements remained fluid and patient, every motion imbued with a tenderness that spoke of her deep care for him.

She offered a small, encouraging smile, and Viktor returned it, his golden eyes bright as the prettiest constellation in the night sky, a soft laugh escaping him. — “You’re remarkably good at this,” he admitted, voice tinged with both admiration and surprise.

“Good at what?” — she teased, her gaze twinkling. — “Dancing? Or making sure you don’t trip?”

“Both,” — he said, his tone warm and self-deprecating.

Y/N laughed, her fingers briefly tightening around his hand. — “You’re doing great, Viktor. Better than you think.”

They continued to sway, their movements becoming more natural as they settled into the music. The chem-lights around them painted their faces in shifting shades of blue and green, lending the moment an almost dreamlike quality. Y/N’s attention remained pointedly on him, her every step and shift an unspoken promise to keep him steady, to make this moment as effortless for him as possible.

And somewhere amidst the rhythm of their shared steps, Viktor let go of his apprehension, his focus shifting entirely to her. The world around them blurred, the thrumming bass and laughter

of the crowd fading into the background. In that moment, there was only Y/N. Her gentle smile, her steady guidance, and the warmth of her hand in his.

The song ended, and the crowd cheered, but Y/N barely noticed. Viktor leaned closer, his voice low. — “Would you like some air? This place is... quite warm.”

She nodded, suddenly aware of the heat rising in her cheeks. — “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They stepped out into the cool Zaunite night, where the hum of the city was a softer echo of the celebration inside. Viktor led her to a quiet alley, where the faint glow of the lights still painted the walls in hues of green and blue. Turning towards her, his expression was more serious now, though his gaze held that same warmth she’d come to cherish.

“You’re incredible, you know,” — he said softly, the words tumbling out like they had been waiting for this moment. — “Not just in the lab. The way you see the world, the way you make it brighter. I... I admire you more than I can put into words.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. She stepped closer, her heart pounding in her chest. — “Viktor...”

He closed the distance between them, his movements hesitant, as though afraid he might break the moment. When their lips met, it was soft and tentative.

Viktor’s fingers brushed her cheek timid but deliberate, his thumb tracing the faint curve of her jaw. — “You’re... mesmerizing,” — he murmured, his voice low and rough, like a secret meant only for her.

Her breath caught at the raw honesty in his tone. Without thinking, she closed the small gap between them again, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was deeper, more insistent than before. Viktor hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning into her, his hand sliding into her hair as he returned her fervor.

The kiss intensified, and Y/N pressed closer, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt. She could feel the faint tremor in his touch, the careful control he always carried giving way to something more passionate. His cane slipped slightly as he adjusted his stance, and Y/N instinctively steadied him, hands gripping his waist as if anchoring him to her. “Sorry,” — he murmured against her lips, a faint chuckle escaping him.

“Don’t be,” — she whispered, her voice soft yet firm. —“I’ve got you.” Her reassurance seemed to embolden him. Viktor’s free arm slipped around her back, drawing her flush against him. The cool night air was a sharp contrast to the heat blooming between them, their breaths mingling in the narrow space they left between kisses. Their foreheads touched as a faint cheer erupted from the party nearby, reminding them of where they were.

“I believe we might be missed,” — he murmured, brushing a strand of her hair back.

Y/N grinned, her lips still tingling. — “Then we should make an appearance, shouldn’t we?”

With a nod, Viktor stepped back, and together they returned to the party. The music had shifted to a livelier tune, Powder and Ekko still at the center of it all, their laughter echoing above the beat. Y/N and Viktor wove through the crowd, the vivid energy brushing past them as they made their way to the bar set up in one corner of the room.

The bartender, a Zaunite teen you had meet in the academy as he studied mixology, you knew him for his friendly grin and a knack for mixing drinks. — “What’ll it be?”— The young man asked. “Something simple,” — Y/N said with a smile, glancing at Viktor —“Two ales?”

Viktor nodded, his lips curving into a small smile. — “Up to you.”

Two mugs of amber ale were slid across the counter. Y/N picked hers up, taking a long sip, the slightly bitter, malty flavor a welcome contrast to the sugary concoctions often found at parties like this. Viktor took a more measured sip, his expression thoughtful as he savored the drink.

“It’s good,” — he said, sounding almost surprised.

“Told you,” — Y/N replied, nudging her shoulder with his.

They found a quieter spot near the edge of the crowd, their shoulders brushing as they watched the festivities. Powder had dragged Ekko into another wild spin, her energy uncontainable, while others clapped and cheered them on, even the professor was there having a blast watching his young brilliant inventors.

“It’s nice,” — Y/N said after a moment, her voice softer. — “Seeing everyone like this. Happy, carefree for a change.”

Viktor nodded, though his gaze was fixed on her rather than the crowd. — “It is. Though I admit, I find the quieter moments more... meaningful.”

She looked up at him, catching the warmth in his eyes, and felt her cheeks flush. —“Me too,” — she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The warmth of the ale in her chest mixed with the gentle buzz of his presence beside her. After a moment, she tilted her head toward him, a playful smile curving her lips. — “What do you say we finish these and find somewhere quieter?”

He raised an eyebrow. — “Are you suggesting an escape?”

“Maybe” ——

The door creaked open, a loud bang echoing through the halls.

The small room was dimly lit, a single lamp casting a soft yellow glow over the cluttered desk and neatly made bed. Then it clicked shut behind them, as the air between them shifted, the lingering alcohol stripping away the last of their hesitations.

Y/N turned to Viktor, her back against the door. — “Finally,” — she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Their lips met again, and this time there was no hesitation, no careful deliberation. The kiss was deep and unrestrained, their pent-up longing spilling over as their hands roamed freely. Y/N’s fingers found the buttons of his shirt, fumbling slightly as she worked to undo them. Viktor’s hands slid down her sides, his touch firm yet reverent, as though he couldn’t believe she was truly here with him.

His shirt fell open, revealing the lean lines of his torso, and Y/N’s hands traced the contours of his skin, her touch igniting a fire wherever it landed. Viktor let out a soft groan, his head dipping to press kisses along her jaw and down the column of her neck. Her breath hitched as his lips found a sensitive spot, and she tilted her head to give him better access.

Her own dress was next, the fabric slipping from her shoulders and pooling at her feet. Viktor’s golden eyes roamed over her, his breath catching as he took her in.

Y/N tugged him closer, her lips finding his again as they stumbled toward the bed. They fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, their kisses growing hungrier, more urgent.

Her response was a soft gasp as his hand found her bare thigh, his touch firm yet careful, as though he was savoring every moment. She pushed herself up slightly, her eyes meeting his as she began to undo the belt of his trousers. He stilled for a moment, watching her with a mixture of awe and vulnerability, before his hands came up to cover hers, guiding her movements.

They worked together to shed the rest of their clothes, their touches growing bolder, their kisses more demanding as each layer was discarded. When they were finally skin to skin, Viktor hesitated, his golden eyes searching hers.

Y/N cupped his face, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone. — “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” — she whispered back, her voice steady and filled with conviction.

He allowed himself a genuine smile that melted her heart, before leaning down to kiss her again.

Viktor’s hand slid down to the curve of your thigh, lifting it gently to wrap around his waist. His other hand steadied himself as he shifted his weight, positioning himself between her legs. The heat of him made her breath hitch, silently urging him closer.

“Plea-ase,” — she whispered, your voice breathy, laced with longing.

Viktor’s control snapped. He pushed forward with a deliberate, smooth motion, the head of his length pressing into her, filling her inch by inch. The stretch of him sent a sharp thrill through her, her body arching instinctively to meet his. A soft gasp escaped both of them as he fully seated himself inside her, his forehead coming to rest against hers.

“You don’t have to be gentle…” — she murmured. — "I like it as rough as you can be..."

"O-Ok" — Viktor groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping her waist as he began to move. His thrusts started slow, deliberate, each one igniting a spark that built into a flame. The rhythm of his hips soon grew more urgent, matching the way her body responded to him, her moans filling the air between them. — “Y/N,” — he whispered, his voice strained with effort and desire.

He pressed kisses along her neck, his lips lingering at her pulse point, where her racing heartbeat betrayed her pleasure.

She ran her fingers along his back, her nails grazing his skin as his movements became deeper, more insistent. His cane clattered to the floor, forgotten, as his focus remained solely on her.

The world around them disappeared, leaving only the two of them locked in a shared rhythm. Viktor’s lips found hers again in a kiss that was messy and desperate, their bodies moving in perfect sync. His thrusts grew harder, faster, her moans mingling with his as the tension inside her built to a breaking point.

When his hand slipped between their bodies, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at her core, she cried out his name. The pleasure overwhelmed her, her body trembling as waves of ecstasy crashed over.

His movements faltered, his body tensing as he groaned her name in return. His release followed, his hips jerking as he spilled into her, the heat of him filling her completely. He buried his face against her shoulder, his breaths ragged as the two of them trembled in the aftermath, still entwined.

The room was quiet now, save for the sound of their breathing and the distant hum of the city beyond. Viktor lifted his head, his golden eyes soft as they met hers. His hand brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering.

The afterglow wrapped them in a warm, quiet cocoon, the kind where the world outside ceased to exist. Viktor rolled onto his side, pulling Y/N with him beneath the blanket they had hastily tugged up to cover their bare bodies. The fabric was soft and warm, a barrier between them and the cool air of the room.

Her body molded perfectly against his, skin to skin, their breaths slowing as the tension faded into a deep, shared comfort. Y/N traced idle circles on his chest with her fingertips, her touch light and soothing. Viktor hummed at the sensation, his arms wrapped securely around her, anchoring them both in this fragile, intimate moment.

“Tonight was … incredible, you truly are one of a kind,” — she whispered, her voice soft but filled with emotion.

His lips pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, his golden eyes heavy-lidded but adoring as they met hers. — “And you,” — he murmured, his tone carrying a mix of awe and gratitude, — “you’ve made me feel... whole.”

She smiled, nuzzling into his chest. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, neither needing to speak, simply content in each other’s presence.

Then, a soft, scrabbling noise broke the silence. Y/N stiffened for a moment before a chuckle bubbled up in her throat.

“Oh no,” — she said, her voice filled with amusement.

Before Viktor could ask, a small, fuzzy creature leaped up onto the bed. Her poro, a round, fluffy ball of enthusiasm, bounded over the blanket and started sniffing curiously at the new presence.

“Is this...?” —Viktor began, but he didn’t get to finish. The poro, clearly delighted, jumped onto Viktor’s chest and started licking his face with unrestrained enthusiasm.

“Ah! Hey !” — he exclaimed, laughing as the poro’s tiny tongue covered his cheek. He tried to fend it off with one hand while keeping the blanket modestly draped with the other.

Y/N couldn’t stop laughing, tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she watched the usually composed Viktor flail under the tiny, relentless attacker. — “I think she likes you,” —she teased, reaching out to scoop the poro up. The creature chirped happily, snuggling into her arms but keeping its bright, beady eyes fixed on Viktor, as though sizing him up for future antics.

Viktor wiped his face with the edge of the blanket, his laughter subsiding into a soft smile. — “I’m glad to have made such an impression,” —he said dryly, though the warmth in his gaze betrayed how much he enjoyed the moment.

Y/N leaned in to kiss his cheek, her lips brushing the spot where the poro had been. — “She knows a good one when she sees it,” — she whispered, her voice tender.

The poro settled between them as if declaring itself part of their little haven, its contented purring filling the room.

“Barely a moment’s peace,” — he joked, though his tone was light and filled with affection.

Y/N grinned, resting her head against his shoulder. — “Wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

#arcane fanfic #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor #smut

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orilimbs · 4 months ago

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There's no time to explain who am I, so im gonna show you my own take on Horrortale Yellow.

This au's name doesn't need to be explained, the underground sets in an uncanny ambient after a neutral route in general, but based on Undertale Yellow's timeline, the underground sets in this ambient after a neutral route made by Integrity.

Each area like The Dark Ruins and Snowfall (Lower Snowdin) are based on the horsemen of the apocalypse in order: Death (Ruins), Pestilence (Snowdin), Famine (Dunes/The Wild East), War (Steamworks and UG Apartments), and finally, the last area called "Clover's judgement" can be heaven or hell depending of the route (genocide, neutral or pacifist (NOT FLAWED), where your fate will be sealed if you choose to fight Zenith Martlet, Kitsune Ceroba or Flowey.

Monsters CAN bleed in this au if they arent at a very low HP but still damaged, if they lost all their HP they turn into dust normally along with the blood.

I dont have enough energy to explain every character's deep lore on this au, so im gonna say their general characteristics:

Clover is 10-years old, they escaped from home and fell from a mountain on accident, without having any bandages or any gun, they have to dodge every attack to not to die. They fell in a flower bed that had spines on it, making them lose a part of their vision and getting hurt, leaving them with a very low HP permanently at the beginning.

Dalv is a REAL vampire this time, he will try to attack Clover no matter if theyre friends or not, but Dalv knows is better for Clover to leave his house for their own good if they want to survive. Dalv is selectively mute and has vampire urges that need to be satisfied. He lost a horn in a fight that he doesnt remember.

Martlet lives in Snowfall where there is a fungus infection that was born after the dust mixed with very cold snow on trees that made a fungus live on fruits and honey panels. Martlet is infected and a bit hungry, but she would never attack a poor child. She's vulnerable to cold and diseases, she's is in the late-third phase of infection where fungus take place on her physical body and cant fly.

Ceroba lives in the dunes where everyone fights and eat themselves to survive, concluding on cannibalism and blood, everyone is hungry and will attack anyone who steps on the area. Ceroba has a scar on her left eye like Clover and has insomnia to protect Kanako and Chujin, who are alive but need to be feed. She has SEVERE problems with Orion (Starlo's brother).

Axis was created after Integrity's neutral route where The Integrity Incident never happened, Axis serves as a doctor and emergency robot, when he was closed in the Steamworks, the Steamworks and UG Apartments summerged on war due to being trapped by their own creators. Axis is mute due to his "radio" being damaged, he is a pacifist and tries to help Clover until Clover and Ceroba wrongly attack him.

I will drop more information later, but these are the most important ones. The others who I didnt included (Decibat, El Bailador, Starlo, Orion, along with others) are secondary or important to a specific character's development. Here are the old designs, some of them stay the same and others changed a little bit or generally.

#this gonna flop but idc #undertale yellow #uty dalv #uty ceroba #uty clover #uty fanart #uty au #uty flowey #im just a boy (neutral gender)#only tagged the characters showed in the image #uty #ut yellow

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nopanamaman · 11 months ago

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How do mutants in the Facility live?

Patreon Loredump. August 2023

One of the most frequent types of questions I get are about life in the Facility. So it seems like a good topic to start my loredumping series with!

Apologies in advance for all the photo examples, I hope they work fine for getting the vibes across.

Overview

The facility dome is visible in the distance.

The facility in general – or, as it’s officially known, the Zh. I. Alferov National Institute of Anomalous Research – is a large structure located on the border of the Zone. Its most notable feature is the massive dome surrounded by an outside wall.

The wall. In real life, the famous building of НИЦЭВТ.

The latter is a building in itself, containing offices, lecture halls, resting and dining quarters for researchers, as well as minor labs. All entrances are supervised, though not totally closed off to the public. Excursions, official meetings, TV reports – all of those happen within the wall.

But you will not find any mutants here. As you may have already guessed, all the major laboratories, anomalous artefacts, and, of course, mutants are housed in the dome. The entrances to the dome are monitored and equipped with anomaly scanners, allowing only authorised personnel and mutants to travel between its sectors.

Mutants cannot traverse the facility unsupervised.

What is the mutant classification system?

Depending on their anomalous characteristics, cooperability and method of containment, mutants are sorted into types and numbered groups. Individual mutant numbers usually look like XT000-000.

Let’s use Dmitry as an example.

Dima’s serial number is DT001-319.

The type constitutes the first part of the mutant’s number. Dima’s mutation is Directional Type, hence the letters DT at the start (for the record, KT stands for Kernel Type).

Next we have the 00X number. Mutants are assigned a 001, 002, 003 or 004 class depending on the potency and containability of their mutation – kinda like SCPs, yeah. Dima has a very powerful mutation he has good control over, plus he is sound of mind, making him suitable for 001 containment.

The last three digits are the overall number of the mutant within their type. So if Dima’s are 319, the facility has had 318 directional-type mutants on record prior to his arrival. This does not mean they were as powerful or had the same level of control over their telekinesis, just that they possessed a similar mutation to some extent.

How do different mutant classes live?

001

001 quarters example. Not too different from a hospital or sanatorium

Subjects ranked as 001 are extremely powerful, have good control over their powers and are, most importantly, docile. Since their mutations are very potent and difficult to forcefully contain, the go-to approach is making them not want to leave.

001s spend most (if not all) of their conscious lives surrounded by doctors. The latter foster a particular mindset in their subjects, where the world outside is presented as a place that is unanimously hostile to mutants. This is done by means of propaganda, reminders about their family’s supposed mistreatment and, in case a mutant has some favourable recollections of their childhood, gaslighting. Additionally, subjects are never left alone with each other.

001s get very luxurious treatment by facility's standards, with much bigger, more comfortable rooms than other mutant types. They're even allowed to have gaming consoles, TVs with VHS and video players, and their own bookshelves. Each mutant has their own separate room, which is kept under constant camera surveillance with the toilet being the only blind spot.

Special folders are issued to 001s before experiments with lower-ranked mutants.

Experiments held on 001s are relatively humane so as not to discourage them from staying at the facility. They do undergo daily checkups mostly designed to monitor their mental state. 001s are also active participants in experimentation on lower-ranked mutants, who they are taught and encouraged to treat as lesser beings.

001s are a high-risk investment, so their numbers are far smaller than those of 002 and 003-class mutants. Additionally, because of the potential danger they present, the institute is quick to dispose of 001 subjects by either termination or reclassification to 004. Though, if a 001 manages to stay cooperative long-term, they can become a very valuable asset for the facility.

002 and 003

002 and 003 quarters example. Though, they’re typically not as well-kept

002 and 003 mutant classes can be grouped together, since their treatment is largely the same. Both of these types’ mutations are easy to forcibly contain. The difference is their danger levels. 003s require close monitoring to not be harmful to others, while 002s are borderline harmless. Both types are characterised by general cooperability.

002s live in wards for 2 to 4 people, while 003s are more commonly placed in single-person wards to prevent accidents. A standard room includes a bed, a desk and a small bathroom (multiple beds and two desks in bigger wards).

KT got to take a dinosaur plushie to her room for good behaviour.

Mutants are allowed to borrow books from the library, as well as get drawing and writing materials. If they behave well, they can get a toy or even be lent a handheld console for a few days.

002s and 003s have breakfasts, lunches and dinners together, and can spend some time in the playroom with other mutants (that’s also where they can play computer games and watch TV) – all under very strict surveillance, of course.

In some ways, their treatment is much less cruel than that of the elite 001 subjects.

KT before the DT experiment.

Though, not when it comes to experiments. 002s and 003s are very common, and are thus treated as disposable material in a scientific sense. The people holding experiments on them are a lot less concerned with minimising the subject’s pain or discomfort. Consequently, it’s not uncommon for mutants of these classes to sustain serious injuries or die as a result of experimentation.

That said, 002s have the highest likelihood of getting released from the facility, given they meet the conditions for it (more on that below).

004

004 quarters example. Basically a prison bunker

004 is a special category reserved for powerful mutants that refuse or physically cannot cooperate. This number can also be issued as a temporary or permanent punishment to misbehaving mutants. The 004 quarters are located underground and have the highest level of security, acting as a sort of bunker for the most dangerous subjects the facility has.

004 rooms are even more barebones than those of 002 and 003s. They have no access to entertainment (unless it is somehow required to contain their mutation) and cannot leave their room under any circumstances. They are more weapons than test subjects.

Do mutants receive education?

All mutants from class 003 and above receive basic education, learning to read, write and count. They additionally get curated history and sociology lessons. Some mutants, namely 001s, attend mandatory classes in certain disciplines to better apply their mutation. For example, Dmitry studied anatomy to know the precise positioning of internal organs.

Mutants are also free to study whatever sciences interest them in their free time by asking for educational materials at the library. Needless to say, most kids aren’t too interested in that, and are very uneducated compared to their outside peers.

Is there censorship in the facility?

All the media mutants are exposed to at the facility is strictly controlled.

6 y.o. Dima and his politically correct PSP.

The only movies, cartoons, comics, books and games allowed are those that either don't feature the Zone or mutants at all, those that show the discrimination mutants face outside, or those that are very obvious anti-mutant propaganda.

In essence, there are no positive depictions of human-to-mutant interaction, aside from ones between mutants and noble scientists. And, of course, nothing that goes against the general government ideology.

Can mutants be released from the facility?

It is generally assumed that mutants that go into the dome do not come out.

While they are largely dehumanised, the facility is still publicly presented as a sort of scientific sanatorium and hospice for those that cannot safely exist in society. Releasing mutants that know the truth behind the institute’s experiments into the wild is simply of no benefit to the government. So the majority are terminated once their scientific potential is exhausted or if they become too expensive to contain. As a result, few mutants live to adulthood.

Though, there are exceptions to the rule. Occasionally, mutants deemed non-hazardous can be released back into society. This is applicable to mutants that have not experienced significant mistreatment from the facility, lack the ability to talk about their experiences and optimally have been brainwashed by an appropriate 001 subject.

Have other mutants before DT and KT ever escaped?

The funny thing is, escapes aren’t a particularly rare occurrence.

Dmitry and Katya’s escape in KT’s Official Guide to Coolness.

Despite getting a lot of funding, the facility itself is very disorganised. Most of the money is blatantly pocketed by the higher-ups, so a lot of its structures and equipment are subpar – this includes its outdated safety systems. To top it all off, the security staff isn’t especially well-paid, so their diligence is highly questionable.

With all that piling up, there are around 3 cases of low-level escapes every year. Because of tight budgets and plenty of work to do as is, these escapes are generally brushed under the rug. The institute still keeps tabs on the escapees in case they happen to show up on the radar, but it rarely organises active searches or alerts the public for that matter.

DT and KT’s escape stood out because it was anything but low-level, and pretty bombastic at that. But even that didn’t warrant a public announcement for fear of panic and reputational damage. So if you’re an 003 mutant looking for an opportunity to sneak out… Hell, man, just go for it.

Wrap-up

That’s about all I can say about mutants’ life in the research centre, scratch some small factoids here and there. I tried to answer the most common questions regarding the topic, so I hope your curiosity was satisfied!

#loredump #deepest lore #parties are for losers #katya #dmitry #dr temnova #comfort zone #kt's official guide to coolness

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darkbluekies · 1 year ago

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Like magic —Part 1

part 2 Male!yandere x female!reader x female!yandere

Hogwarts AU

Summary: your parents have denied you access to going to hogwarts, but finally in your 3d year, you manage to sneak off. But is life really that good at hogwarts when two students take a concerningly big interest in you?

Warnings: bullying, indications of unstable home life, kissing (dubcon?), forcing reader to throw up,

Word count: 6.8k

A/N: I have loosely followed the AU, but have made up my own things for the plot to work, so don't take my work literally :)

It has to be a joke, right? There’s no way that you can run straight through a wall! You gulp and look around, seeing if anyone else is doing the same, or if anyone is noticing how much you’re staring at the pillar separating the two platforms. Finally, you see two others make it through and you decide to make a run for it. You close your eyes and when you dare to open them again, you’re there. The train, the students, it’s finally time. After three, long years.

You were supposed to start when you were eleven, but you weren’t allowed to. They didn’t believe you. If you hadn't picked the lock to your bedroom, you'd not be here this year either. You don't have anything — no books, no animals, no broom. You only have a wand and a packed suitcase. You watch the other students already wearing their Hogwarts uniforms. They hug their parents and catch up with their friends. You sneak onto the train and sit down in your own little coupe. Your heart is hammering against your chest. Your parents will figure it out soon enough and you're terrified that they'll stand on the platform and demand you to get off.

Just start the train, make it leave.

"Oh, excuse me", a voice says.

You turn your head to the door, seeing a blonde girl standing there with a black, Grey and yellow uniform on.

"Can I sit with you?" she asks and quickly adds: "I saw you out on the platform. You looked rather lost so i just wanted to see if I could help you."

"Yeah, sure", you answer, startled. "Thank you."

The girl sits down on the couch in front of you with a smile.

"I'm Hedwig", she smiles. "Third year student. What's your name?"

"Y/N", you answer hesitantly. "I'm … new."

"I see. You're a first year student?"

"Not exactly, no … I'm supposed to be in third year too-"

"Oh, really?" Hedwig shines up. "I don't think I've ever seen you before. Which house are you in?"

"I don't know." You shrug embarrassedly. "This is technically my first year."

"Oh … I see." She smiles brightly. "That's totally fine. I can help you if you want. We have some hours to kill, so I can fill you up on most things so you're not as lost when you reach Hogwarts as you were out on the platform."

"Yes, please, that would be great. Thank you."

Hedwig fills you in on basic information. Four houses, different characteristics, a talking hat gives you your house. The school is a gigantic castle that has moving stairs, every house has passwords to their common rooms, some teachers are asses, some are okay, some are nice. Don't wander into the forest, especially at night, stay out of certain corridors. The janitor's cat is an asshole.

"I suppose you're a muggleborn then", Hedwig smiles and adds when you frown confusedly: "born and raised by normal people. Otherwise you'd know most things already."

"Are you?" you wonder, wanting to find something in common with this extraordinary girl.

"Halfblood, actually. My dad is a businessman and my mother is a witch. But don't worry, I don't care about what type of families people come from. It doesn't interest me in the slightest."

"Do some care?"

Hedwig squirms uncomfortably. "Some do. Some people think that being from a wizard family makes them superior to halfbloods and muggleborns, but don't you worry, those people aren't worth socializing with."

"Which house are you in?"

Hedwig smiles and shows you the yellow logo on her cape. You can see a badger in the middle.

"I'm a Hufflepuff!" she smiles and giggles. "The best house according to me, but I'm supposedly a bit biased."

"Which do you think I'll get into?" you ask.

"I'm not sure. It's hard for me to say after only talking with you for thirty minutes … but I think you could be a Hufflepuff like me … or a Gryffindor."

"Why a Gryffindor?"

"I don't know, but you seem to have a steady heart."

"Which is the worst house?"

"There's no such thing as a 'worst house', Y/N. Every house has both good and bad people — even Hufflepuff. Although some houses may have a bigger percentage of 'bad' people." She sighs. "Slytherin. Although I do have some friends from Slytherin, some of the students in that house can be quite … scary. Their pride can be extremely big and they let that go out over other people. Don't worry about it though, not everyone is mean."

You nod and gulp.

Hedwig catches you up on some easy spells and knowledge on the rest of the way. You avoid every type of question that can lead her to know about your … situation.

You get sorted into a house in private, after Hedwig asks the principal about not pulling so much attention to you. You're embarrassed as if already. You're a Ravenclaw.

"The uniform is so pretty on you, Y/N!" she gasps as you come out of Dumbledore's office. "The blue looks really good on you."

"Thank you", you say and feel the material. "What do I do now?"

"We'll go back to the welcome ceremony and then you'll have to talk to your prefects. They'll fill you in with everything you need to know." She takes your hands in hers. "If you ever need any books, let me know and I'll lend you one, okay?"

"Thank you, Hedwig."

She doesn't let your hands go. You have to pull them back to be able to walk to the hall. You sit down with the other third years and glance over to Hedwig’s table.

"You know Hedwig?" a Ravenclaw boy with black eyes asks.

"I met her on the train", you say.

"She's the most popular girl in our year", a girl says. "Everyone wants to be her friend."

"Really?" you wonder and glance at Hedwig who's sitting and smiling with her fellow Hufflepuffs. "She never came across as someone popular."

Maybe you're too used to how the people back home act.

When all the first years have gotten their houses and the food has been devoured, you follow your prefect through mighty corridors that have ghosts flowing past. You enter a rower with a long, spiral staircase. Your legs hurt after four steps.

"Y/N", the prefect says. "Before I show you to the dormitory, I need to talk to you a bit. Do you know any magic at all?"

"Hedwig taught me a bit on the train", you reply, concluding that only saying her first name should work if she's as popular as that boy had insisted.

"You'll have to take extra classes unless you want to start all over with the first graders."

You shake your head quickly. Rather hard work now than be known as 'the third grader among first years' for your entire school time.

You're led into the dormitory and granted your own bed. Your things are already in your drawers. After this long, eventful day, you fall asleep quickly, finally where you should be. When waking up, you’re first confused about where you are, sure that everything that happened yesterday was just a nightmare … but no, it was all real.

"Now, don't be alarmed, my dear", Hedwig says when you meet her. "You will do just fine, okay?"

"I have never been around the castle", you mumble and take a bite out of your toast.

"Your first lesson is Transfiguration. You'll have that class with the Slytherin students."

"Will we have any classes together?"

Hedwig smiles widely. "Sure, we will. But I think you better go now, you start in ten minutes."

Hedwig shoots her book over the table.

"Here you go" she smiles. "Good luck now, I'll meet you for lunch, okay? You can sit with me."

"Okay, thank you", you say quietly and walk out of the great hall. Your heart is beating loudly in your chest and you start to wonder if the feeling of needing to throw up is real or only imaginary.

You find yourself lost in the large corridors before finally finding your way.

"I'm so sorry", you say quietly as you enter. "I lost my way."

"I will have mercy on you this time", the professor says. "But don't think that this will be a habit of yours, young lady. I expect you to be on time from now on."

"Of course, Professor McGonagall. I'll never be late again."

"Very well." She looks around. "Sit down beside Edmund, all the Ravenclaw seats are filled."

"Yes, professor."

You glance over the class and see an empty seat with a boy wearing the Slytherin uniform sitting beside it. He looks bored out of his mind. Carefully, you make your way over and sit down. Edmund glances at you.

"Who are you?" he mutters. "Are you a transfer student or something?"

"Something like that", you answer.

The class starts and you immediately feel your head spin. You can't keep up.

"What's the matter, new girl?" Edmund chuckles while he leans his cheek in his hand.

"I-I've never done anything like this!" you hiss to avoid anyone else hearing.

Edmund’s face drops. He seems to … crawl together without having to move.

"You're a … a-", he starts.

"Edmund and Y/N, if you're going to continue talking, I'll use the both of you as guinea pigs — literally!" the professor says sternly.

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when the rest of the class turns to look at the both of You. Edmund rolls his eyes and grabs his book. When they turn around, you breathe out.

As break time starts, Edmund joins his friends.

"New girl", he says, catching your attention. "Next time, come earlier so I don't have to sit with you again."

"Of course", you mutter and leave.

You smile when you see Hedwig wait for you by the entrance to the big hall. She holds out her hand.

"I've missed you!" she smiles and hugs you tightly. "I was worrying for you all through Herbology!" She holds your hand while pulling you with her. "Tell me everything!"

You sit down by the Ravenclaw table to eat. Hedwig’s hazel eyes never leave yours.

"I came late, so I sat down beside a Slytherin student."

Hedwig's smile thins out slightly. "Oh? Who? Do I know them?"

"His name is Edmund."

Hedwig chokes on her pumpkin soup and starts to cough.

"What's wrong?" you ask quickly and pat her back.

"Did he say anything to you?" Hedwig asks worriedly.

"He just told me to be quicker to class next time so he didn't have to sit with me. A bit rude, if you ask me."

"A bit rude? Y/N, that boy is a bully!"

You feel a shiver run down your back.

"Edmund is one of those bad Slytherins I told you about", Hedwig says quietly. "He's a pureblood and … thinks he's better than anyone else. It's said that his parents helped … well, you know who, before he disappeared two years ago."

Hedwig had talked about that man on the train. You gulp.

"Whatever you do, Y/N — and promise me this — don't go close to Edmund", Hedwig says and holds your hands in hers. "Please?"

You nod. Hedwig smiles and caresses your cheek.

"Let's go to the library and study on the lunch break", she says. "There's so much you need to learn!"

You study with Hedwig every day. But she doesn't seem to mind, she neglects her friends to be with you.

"What a cute sight, isn't it?" you hear a voice say.

You're sitting in the courtyard, studying magical history. You look up, seeing Edmund and his two friends come over.

"One half and one mudblood, how sweet", he says with a wide smile. "They really do be letting anyone in these days."

“What is wrong with you?” Hedwig gasps. “Have you no shame?!”

“What? Did I say anything wrong? Aren’t you halfblood, Hedwig?” He turns to you. “New girl, aren’t you muggleborn? What did I say that is wrong, Hedwig?”

“You do not call Y/N that. You are a disgrace to the wizarding world, Edmund.”

“I find it funny how someone that isn’t fully pure is calling me a disgrace.”

Hedwig grabs your hand and helps you up on your feet.

“Come, Y/N”, she says. “Let’s leave. We can’t study here.”

You nod. While Hedwig drags you away from the courtyard, you glance over your shoulders, seeing Edmund’s icy eyes follow you.

“I can’t believe that he called you that”, Hedwig says quietly and pulls you with her. “I’m furious.”

“What did that mean?” you ask carefully. “Why did that matter so much?”

“Mudblood, Y/N, is one of the foulest things anyone can ever call a person. It basically means that your blood is disgusting for not being born into a wizard family. He … he called you something less than human. It’s disgusting.” Hedwig hugs you tightly and hides her face into your shoulder. “You don’t deserve that. You’re such a sweet soul, I’m so sorry.”

“Hedwig, it’s okay”, you promise with a smile. “I didn’t take any offense — I barely knew what it meant.”

“I get sad for you. You don’t deserve that.” She thinks for a moment and then lights up. "Would you like to have a sleepover?"

"How would that work out?"

"Sneak into Hufflepuff, I'll give you the password. I'll take all the blame if we get caught. Please, Y/N? It'll be so much fun."

"The girls you share a dormitory with will be tell on us-"

"No, they won't! Trust me. The girls like me, they wouldn't tattletail."

It must be beneficial to be popular. You frown. Aren't you quite famous now too? After being glued to Hedwig’s hip for over a month must have caused rumors. You have been so busy with your extra classes and studying that you haven't been able to catch up with it all. You barely know what your fellow Ravenclaws are named.

"Please, Y/N?" Hedwig pleads. "It will be so much fun. I will get us some snacks and we can read together and tell stories."

"Where should I sleep?"

"In my bed, of course! We're friends, it's not weird. What do you say?"

"Alright, if you promise that we won't get in trouble."

"No one will tell, I promise!" She takes your hand. "Let's go to the library and study now."

You do sneak into the Hufflepuff common room that evening together with Hedwig. You can't help but feel terribly wrong and every motion you make feels watched. At any time someone will pop out and you'll be caught. Hedwig pulls you through the common room and you can't help but gawk. Why weren't you placed in Hufflepuff?

Wearing your pajamas, you climb down into Hedwig’s bed. She smiles, cuddling up beside you. Her arm hugs yours, her head leaning onto your shoulder. The other girls in the dormitory glances at you, but none of them say anything to you.

“Y/N, what do you want to do?” she asks. “Would you like to read anything? Or just sleep? Or anything else?”

“I think I’d just like to sleep”, you say quickly. “My nerves are still telling me that this is a bad idea.”

You don’t admit it out loud, but you want it to be over as quickly as possible before someone finds you out. Hedwig nods and turns off the lights. You lay down in the light of the moon and feel how Hedwig crawls down beside you. She pets your hair in a loving manner, feeling it gently.

“You have such pretty hair”, she whispers, making sure no one else hears. “I always stare at it. Have you caught me looking?”

“Actually, no”, you smile. “I know you look at me a lot, but I didn’t know you looked at my hair specifically.”

“I’m not only looking at your hair, silly. I think you’re pretty.”

“I think you’re pretty too, Hedwig.”

“Really? Do you really think so?”

You nod. She seems to burst with happiness.

“But you already know that”, you say. “Everyone loves you. Everyone tells you that.”

“Yes, but there’s a difference when someone you don’t care about says it and when someone you hold dear tells you.”

You smile. Hedwig’s hazel eyes glisten in the moonlight as she smiles widely and curls up in your arms, like a cat. She holds you tightly, hiding her own face into your neck. You’re not sure how, but you do fall asleep easily that night — snug and secure in her warm embrace.

The next morning, Hedwig doesn't want to let you go. She begs you to skip breakfast and lay in bed, buy you insist on eating.

“Before we go, could you please try my uniform?” Hedwig pleads and holds up the yellow and black uniform. “I want to see how you’d look like if you were a Hufflepuff. Please, Y/N? Just for fun?”

“We’ll be late for breakfast”, you mumble.

“Nonsense.”

She has already start to tug at your pajamas. You give in and put on the Hufflepuff uniform. Hedwig watches you with excited eyes.

“Oh, why weren't you placed in Hufflepuff?” she sighs. “Why weren’t you placed with me?”

“I don’t know, Hedwig.”

“It’s so unfair.” She pouts. “We belong together. We’re destined to be side by side. Why did the sorting hat have to put us in two different houses?”

“The sorting hat has its reasons. Now, give me back my own uniform so that I can go to breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah …”

You change into your own uniform before sneaking out to the corridor with no one in sight. A small smile plays on your lips. You managed to to do it!

Together, you walk to the great hall but before you reach it, Professor Snape has caught the both of you.

“You two better follow with me”, he says coldly. “You’re both in deep trouble.”

Shit. He knows.

Hedwig takes your hand, squeezing it. You only have time to look at her terrified eyes before you’re pulled into Snape’s office. He’s not alone. It seems like the entire faculty staff is there. Hedwig’s squeeze becomes tighter.

“Y/N, you went into the Hufflepuff house this night”, Dumbledore says, not sparing any sweet talk. “That is strictly forbidden.”

“I made her do it”, Hedwig says firmly. “Y/N hesitated, I told her into it, I convinced her. Please don't punish her, I was the one giving out the password from the beginning."

"These are serious things, miss."

"I know. I just … I really want to be with Y/N." She takes your hand. "More than anything. I’m so sorry for causing all of this, professor. I will never do it again. Punish me only, please.”

“Snape, this is a clear sign of innocent love”, Dumbledore tells the other man.

You flinch. Love?

“I don’t care”, Snape mutters. “They broke the rules.”

“I don’t see any malice in their intentions. They only wanted to be with each other. I will not punish them — this time — but if they do this again, I will give them a week’s long detention in different classes. I can’t punish miss Hedwig all too much, after all, she is Y/N’s tutor. But if you break the rules again, Hedwig, we will find someone else to tutor her, is that clear?”

“Yes, professor”, Hedwig replies. “Thank you for not punishing us. We will make sure to behave.”

“You can go.”

Hedwig tugs on your hand before you leave. Your head is spinning with confusion. Who snitched you out? Did one of the girls do that? They could risk house points and to get in conflict with Hedwig … no they wouldn’t risk any of that. Then who?

“Breaking rules is so not Hufflepuff behavior”, a voice snickers.

You turn to the side, seeing Edmund lean against the wall.

“You spied on us?” you ask.

“Spy?” Edmund wonders and stands up. “I couldn’t care less about the two of you, don’t flatter yourselves. You two are like annoying, loud flies, I can’t ignore you because you’re always in my face.”

“Don’t listen to him”, Hedwig says and pulls on your arm. “Let’s go get some breakfast, Y/N.”

“Careful, Hedwig”, Edmund smirks. “You heard what they said: break one more rule and you lose tutor privileges over Y/N.”

You roll your eyes as the two of you walk alongside each other. Edmund’s words don’t feel good in your stomach and you have an eerie suspicion that he’s going to do something.

You sit out in the grass, reading. While Hedwig is having her defense against dark arts-class you have a free period. Deciding to take your alone time to your benefit, you decide to read up on some things beforehand.

"Where's your little halfblood?" you hear that voice ask.

You look up from your book, seeing Edmund and his two minions grin at you.

"In class", you answer shortly and start to change pages, hoping he gets the hint that you're busy and leaves you alone.

Edmund snatches the book from you. You cut your finger on the paper. With a hiss, you stand up. Edmund laughs as he looks in the book.

"I learned this last year", he chuckles. "You really are a transfer student. Cute."

"Give it to me", you sigh. "I'm not in the mood, I have to learn that."

"You won't learn from the book. We barely used it for this topic."

"Great. I'm doomed."

"I could offer you some tutoring. I got full marks after all."

You frown. "Why would you do that?"

"What can I say? I'm a generous spirit. Besides, I'm bored. Teaching a little mudblood magic could entertain me for a week or two."

"Don't you have class?"

"Not until twelve thirty." Edmund points at the castle wall with the book. "Sit down, mudblood, let's learn."

That 'nickname' makes your stomach turn. After knowing the full definition, you'd rather have Edmund call you something along the lines of a whore — that way you could actually have some clever comebacks. Mudblood, on the other hand, is nothing you can answer to. You sit down slowly. Edmund sits down on your left side and his two minions on your right side. Edmund opens the book and puts his finger to a paragraph.

"See this?" he asks. "This is something you have to learn in case you want to pass. The checklist doesn't contain this, but it will come anyway. So learn it."

You nod.

"Take up your wand", he says. "You have to learn this spell."

You pick up your wand from your pocket. Edmund orders one of his friends to stand in front of you as he holds his hand over yours, showing you how you're supposed to move. His hand is cold. The spell causes his friend's wand to be sent flying. You lay the word Expelliarmus onto your mind.

"This is actually great for dueling", he says. "We had some dueling classes last year, but I guess we'll have this year too. In that case, you'll have to have mastered these spells or you can kiss your ass goodbye."

"You'll end up in the hospital wing", one of Edmund’s friends grins.

"H-Hospital wing?" you say and damn yourself for stuttering.

The three of them chuckles.

"Yes, little girl, hospital wing", Edmund smirks darkly. "Ending up there is never fun. People often scream in pain there. If you end up there you'll never be the same again."

Your wide eyes make Edmund laugh. He presses the book in your arms and stands up.

"Let's make a deal", Edmund says. "Do you know what quidditch is?"

"Hedwig told me on the train", you reply.

"I play. If Slytherin wins the next match, you're going to be my little maid for a full week. You'll do everything I tell you to. And if those ridiculous Gryffindors win, you're free from polishing my shoes."

"I don't get anything either way."

"Don't be greedy, transfer student."

He takes your hand and shakes it before you have time to register.

"Now you can't back out", he smiles proudly.

"Did you enchant-?"

"Yes."

You rip your hand back, snatch your book and start to walk away. You meet up with Hedwig who's walking out of the classroom.

"What's wrong?" she asks quickly, rubbing your shoulder. "You look disturbed."

"Edmund and his friends cornered me outside. He forced me to make a deal with him."

Hedwig goes white. "What type of deal?"

"He plays quidditch and if he wins the next match, I have to be his maid for a week."

"Oh, my God, I hate him." She cups your cheeks. "We'll come up with a way to stop him or break the deal. Worst case scenario, we'll have to ruin for the entire Slytherin team and then we'll be dead, but if we have to then …"

You nod.

"Let's get you something to eat", Hedwig smiles and takes your hand.

She stays with you until your class starts. The second the classroom door closes, her smile drops. She makes her way over to the Slytherin entrance and waits for one to come out.

"What are you doing here?" the Slytherin girl asks.

"I need to speak to Edmund, do you know where he is?" Hedwig asks shortly.

"I'd suppose the quidditch court. He came in laughing and said that he had to train hard this time."

"That son of a- … thank you, for your help."

"No problem."

The Slytherin girl passes her and Hedwig scoffs. The audacity of Edmund …

She makes her way over to the quidditch court, finding him training all alone. He doesn't notice her at first, but when he does a smirk plays on his lips. He flies down to the ground and steps off his broom, holding it close to his body.

"Well, well", he says. "I start to believe that you're obsessed with me the way you're always hanging around. By the way, did you know that there's a rumor going around about you and Y/N? You're not slick, you know. Everyone knows that you're head over heels for her."

"Cut the talk, Edmund. Break the deal with Y/N. She has enough on her plate. I'm not going to let you hurt her."

"You came here to threaten me? Careful now, Hedwig, think about what you're doing."

"I'm not going to let you take her from me."

Edmund takes a step closer. His icy cold blue eyes seem to darken without having to change their light color. "Listen closely, you filthy, little halfblood", he hisses. "If you try to interfere — if you even try as much as to stick your pointy little nose into my business — I'll put you into the hospital wing until I'm done with Y/N. Is that clear?"

Hedwig can't answer. Edmund walks past her, intentionally hitting her shoulder with his.

The day for the match arrives.

"I think that I'm going to throw up", you mutter, taking a hold of the wood railing in front of you.

The two teams are flying above you, tension growing.

"I'm sure he won't win", Hedwig says, but she sounds hesitant.

“Slytherin has the lead!"

"Let's hope that the Gryffindor seeker gets the snitch."

"Did you manage to destroy for Edmund?"

Hedwig shakes her head carefully. You groan and rest your forehead down on the wooden railing. Another score has been made and you don't want to look. Finally, someone has caught the snitch. Slytherin wins. You look up in horror, eyes darting to Edmund. He's looking right at you with a smirk. You're dead.

Already the next morning, Edmund waits for you outside the Ravenclaw entrance. He dumps his heavy books in your hands.

"We're having a class together", he says. "And you are going to carry my books."

You groan and take a better grip on his — and your — books, unsure how you're going to carry them all to the other side of the school.

"Where's your friends?" you ask.

"They're still at breakfast", Edmund replies as you start to walk. "I don't need them now, not when you're carrying my things. Speaking of friends, I don't want you to be with that annoying Hufflepuff during the entire week."

"I'm not going to be your dog."

"Oh, yes, you are — and you're going to bark if I tell you to."

"What am I going to do when you're in class and I'm not, then? Be all alone?"

"Yes, because if I find out that you've been talking to her, I'm going to make you wish you never transferred here, got that?"

You nod. Edmund doesn't say anything more until you reach the classroom. He catches up with his friends who laugh loudly when they see you. Oh, how you wish that you knew any transfiguration spell that could turn you into a mouse.

"Look, she's embarrassed!" one of his friends mock.

Others start to turn to look at you with chuckles. Their stares burn right through you. You want to hide your face in the pile of books in your hands.

"Sit with me", Edmund says and grabs your tie to pull you with him. "You're going to take notes for me."

You sit down in the middle of the classroom. Edmund pushes you to the chair by the wall while he takes the aisle seat, trapping you. You take notes for him while simultaneously trying to ignore that he exists. Surprisingly, you're great at multitasking.

You give him the notes as soon as the class is dismissed. Edmund reads it with a smirk on his face.

"Good job, little girl", he says. "I can actually read them." He folds it and puts it in his pocket. "Now, let's go get some air."

Together with his two friends, you walk out to the courtyard. You can see Hedwig with some of her friends walking from the Herbology classroom. She hugs books close to her body, one being the Herbology book, the other a book about potions. You meet her eyes. She suddenly looks incredibly sad, but tries to give you a small, reassuring smile. You're close to jumping out of your skin when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Turning, you see that Edmund has noticed Hedwig as well. He squeezes your shoulder while keeping eye contact with the girl. Hedwig turns her eyes away and speeds her steps.

Not seeing Hedwig feels like a punishment in itself. Edmund and his friends aren't pleasant, at all — or at least not his friends, Edmund’s not been as bad as you thought. He's toned down on the vulgar nicknames and started small talking when you're walking.

"Stop fucking yawning", Edmund mutters and hits you in the back of your head.

"Why are we up before the sun?" you whine and rub your eyes.

"You're going to watch my quidditch practice."

He drags you out into the cold, autumn air, over to the high wooden pillars of the quidditch court. You're sat down in the Slytherin section and told to sit there until he's done. Edmund disappears to the changing room and comes out in his quidditch uniform. You sit still, watching. You can't quite understand the rules, even if you've already watched a match. You're unsure of what Edmund’s position is or what the flying balls are used for. Every minute grows colder. When the sun has risen, you're as cold as ice. You can no longer feel your fingers or toes.

Edmund flies over to you, now holding his Slytherin scarf and gloves in his hand.

"You're so stupid, why didn't you bring your own scarf?" he mutters while tying his around your cold neck.

"I barely knew who I was when I walked out of the common room", you mumble. "I was so tired. And now I'm cold and hungry."

"You do nothing but complain, do you? Breakfast is in an hour. Think you can hold out until then?"

You nod tiredly.

"Good girl" he says and puts the gloves on your cold hands. "Keep your hands in the gloves and put them in your pockets. You're like a child, unbelievable."

Ironic, coming from a brat like Edmund. You take a deep breath and sink into the seat. When Edmund’s done, he changes into his normal uniform and comes to meet you. You start to take off the scarf, but his hands stop you.

"Leave it on", he says shortly. "Come now."

The second you enter the castle, you feel warmer. You're about to remove the scarf for a second time.

"God, woman, just keep it on, will you?" Edmund mutters and ties it to the point where you choke.

"We're inside now, I don't need it anymore."

"Oh, trust me, you do."

"Why?"

Edmund smirks. "To give your girlfriend a sweet little memory."

"We're not together though."

Edmund furrows his brows and nods, clearly thinking hard.

"Very well", he says. "Winners keeper, I say."

"What?"

"Nothing."

His icy blue eyes sparkle in a new, competitive way, like he's now gotten a new challenge. His hands tie a double knot in the scarf before sending you off to the Ravenclaw table. The others give you weird glances. By now, it's not a secret that you're Edmund’s pet. Although it's only two days left of your week, you're sure that your reputation as his dog will stay with you throughout your entire schooling.

You look around, noticing Hedwig sitting by the Hufflepuff table. She looks at you with something you can't describe in her eyes, something dark. She holds something in her hand. You can just make out the outline of a small, pink bottle. She gives you a small, sad smile. All you want is to go over and hug her, but you remember Edmund’s warning. You have a class together after breakfast however, he can’t forbid you from going to it.

Your plate is already set out with a glass full of pumpkin juice. Devouring it would be an understatement — especially after the morning you’ve had. You're happy no one is taking a picture.

The day continues normally after Edmund’s rude awakening. You can meet up with Hedwig in Herbology class, and oh, how happy you're to see her. You hug her tightly, earning a mirroring squeeze back. She buries her head into your hair.

"I've missed you so much", she coos, hugging you tightly. “So, so much.”

You breathe her in, mind getting fogged up with her scent. Oh, how you want nothing more than to ditch Edmund and be with her. Hedwig doesn't seem to mind how you cling onto her and you’re surprised yourself with how much you want to hold onto her. She strokes your hair with a smile. Being back with Hedwig — despite Edmund's warnings — feels like absolute paradise. The few days spent apart has made you see her in a completely new light. You’ve forgotten how pretty she is.

"I can't watch that anymore", she sighs and starts to remove the Slytherin scarf from your neck. "Where is your scarf, dearest?"

"In my dormitory", you answer sheepishly.

Hedwig gives you a motherly stern gaze before taking off her Hufflepuff scarf and tying it around your neck. It smells just like her.

"That's better", Hedwig smiles. "Don't you think so?"

You nod. Much, much better. The teacher interrupts your talk with demands of the two of you working. You don't mind, because you work with Hedwig who knows exactly what to do.

"Would you like to read on the break?" Hedwig asks you.

You nod, not even thinking about Edmund’s threats. You follow her out to the yard, sitting on one of the brick walls with her. You lay down with her head in her lap while she reads aloud for you. You can't focus on the words, only how they're formed through Hedwig's pink lips. You want to feel them on yours. Before you have time to think, you reach up to kiss her. Her lips melt into yours instantly.Hedwig lets go of her book and cups her cheeks to kiss back. Fuck Edmund, you think. You pull Hedwig closer, wanting to be filled with her and her only. Everything about her is soft, even her kisses. They're filled with love and taste like strawberry.

"What the fuck are you doing?" the voice you've just damned says angrily. "I warned you, mudblood, didn't I?"

He rips you from Hedwig, up on your feet. Edmund glances from Hedwig to you, and back. He halts and grabs a hold of your face, opening your eyes with his thumbs.

"You sneaky bitch!" he gasps. "You've given her a love potion!"

"I have not", Hedwig replies defensively.

"Really? Then why are her pupils heart shaped?"

Hedwig doesn't answer. Edmund grabs a hold of your arms.

"If you excuse me, I'm going to go shove my fingers down her throat to get it out of her", he says coldly.

"You are not!" Hedwig screeches and rips you back.

"Then you'll get it out of her. I don’t care how, but Y/N is going to puke that love potion out before the break is over. Y/N is still mine, remember? I have two more days to do whatever I want with her."

Hedwig groans. Edmund, you, Hedwig and Edmund’s two friends make your way to the girls bathroom. The boys wait outside while Hedwig takes you into the bathroom stalls. She helps you throw up the love potion, holding your hair in her hands.

“And there goes my well earned breakfast …”, you sigh groggily and get up from your knees.

“I’m sorry, Y/N”, Hedwig whispers guiltily with tears in her eyes. “I didn’t want to trick you or anything, please don’t believe that. I-I just … I was scared that Edmund had manipulated you. I had to make sure that you knew that … he wasn’t good.”

You sigh and nod heavily. “I understand, but I had wished that you hadn’t given to me without my knowledge.”

“I’m really, really sorry. Can you please forgive me?”

The tears fall down her cheeks. You can’t be mad at her, not after every nice thing she’s done to you. You can see how bad she feels. You’re sure that she won’t do it again.

“Of course”, you say. “I’m just grateful that you didn’t make a potion that did something bad. It wasn’t the potion itself that was bad, it was the way you did it.”

“I understand. I’ll never do it again, I promise! I will never, ever do anything like that again!” She takes your hands and sniffles. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I-I do like you more than a friend … but I will not let that come between our friendship. Please don’t leave me. I can lose every single friend I have … but not you. Oh, God, not you.”

You can hear Edmund bang on the door to the girls bathroom impatiently and you sigh.

“I can’t spend time with you right now”, you say. “Edmund’s right — unfortunately — I have two more days in his captivity. If not, he’s promised to ruin my life. I don’t want to take that risk, I’ve had enough problems.” You squeeze her hands. “It’s just two more days.”

Hedwig sniffles and nods. “Okay.”

You give her a small smile before going back to Edmund. He tells his friends to take you further down in the corridor while he talks with Hedwig. She wipes her tears and glares at him.

“Silly girl”, Edmund scoffs. “You’re not that bright, are you?”

“I don’t know what you want Y/N, but at least I didn’t do anything to cause her harm, like you do”, Hedwig answers sharply. “I did something that would benefit her.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Y/N belongs to me now and if you don’t want to get hurt, Hedwig, stay out of my way, got it? I’m warning you. If I were you, I’d listen.”

Hedwig takes a step closer. “I’m not going to let anybody take her from me.”

Edmund’s eyebrow twitches. “Alright then. Suit yourself.”

With that said, he walks towards his friends and you, leaving Hedwig behind. He rips of the Hufflepuff scarf.

“Get that ugly thing off of your neck”, he mutters and drags you with him. “Can’t even leave you alone for five minutes! Can’t fucking believe that little filth. If Hedwig gets to play dirty, then I do too.” He stops to wipe of your lips. “If you ever kiss her again, I’ll kill her.”

You try push his arm off of you, but instead, it tightens and he gives you a stern look.

“I should just do it …”, he mutters.

“Do what?”

He gives your lips a quick peck. You stand as frozen, looking up at him in shock. Edmund rests his hand on your cheek.

“Never kiss her again.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere fics #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader #yandere stories #yandere harry potter au #yandere hogwarts #yandere witch #yandere wizard #female yandere #female reader

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allur1ngs · 1 year ago

Text

✮ enflame ✮

TW: bada being too fine for her own good, a little bit of possessive!bada, lots of protective!bada, cold!bada (to anyone who isn't you), super brief mentions of violence, bada having beef w your bodyguard, pushy men, btw the picture to the farthest right is purely for aesthetics and not meant to represent reader’s skin tone or body type!!

SUMMARY: you manage to tear bada away from her work for an evening of shopping, where the soft spot she has for you is unveiled.

part iii. bloody knuckles

WC: 2.9k

A/N: read this for more background on this au. this is not exactly a part two to the headcanons but i got this idea out of nowhere so yeahhh

DISCLAIMER: all characteristics portrayed are purely speculation and fiction, they are not meant to reflect bada's actual character, values, or attitudes. please keep this in mind!!

From the moment Bada arose from her slumber, she sensed that her day would be draining. Usually, waking up before the sun had the chance to peak above the horizon wasn't difficult for her—so many years of doing so had made sleep fatigue all too familiar. However, last night, she stayed awake into the wee hours of the morning, something she typically tried to avoid.

So when her body starts to naturally wake up only a few hours later, she groans loudly into her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut and mentally cursing her past self for staying up so late.

Although all she wants is to stay in bed more than anything, she forces herself to rise from her plush king-sized bed and tosses the warm sheets aside.

Briefly, she turns around to gaze at the spot where she had just been lying when a thought strikes her. You must be asleep in your own bedroom. Curled up in a similar, large bed, a pocket of heat cradling your figure while your chest slowly rises and falls. Your eyes must be tightly shut, eyelashes fluttering as you fight to remain asleep despite the rays of sunlight that will soon begin to peek through your curtains. Your soft lips must be pursed together. Your lips...

Bada wishes you both shared the same bed. She wishes she hadn't been so courteous to buy you a new bed, comfortable sheets, and all the amenities you needed when you first arrived. She wishes instead that you were lying in her bed. She wishes she could wrap her arms around you, and pull you close whilst you slept. She wishes she could foster a beautiful heat between your two bodies. She wishes she could run her fingers across your skin--

Bada shakes her head, sighs loudly, and turns away sharply from her bed. She rubs her eyes as she makes her way over to her dresser, mumbling berating words under her breath for thinking of you in such a way. It's not appropriate and beyond that, those types of thoughts lead to feelings, which she does not--cannot have for you.

Bada's day seems to worsen after dressing herself in her usual attire, a freshly ironed black suit and slacks. The fabric touches her uncomfortably, and still feeling the edges of sleep mar her vision, everything is suddenly bothering her.

But the final nail in the coffin is when Lusher, one of Bebe's most trusted mafia members, walks into her office hours later, carrying a tray of breakfast.

Immediately looking up from the papers in front of her, Bada expects to see your lovely face greet her, but is met with Lusher's cheeky expression instead. She tries not to display her palpable disappointment, but concealing her feelings has never quite been her strong suit. Her mother had told her this many times when she was younger.

"Don't jump out of your seat in excitement, now." Lusher jokes, placing the breakfast tray on the desk.

Bada's lips tighten into a firm, thin line as she stares down at the food, feeling her hunger quickly escape her. "Thanks."

"I know I'm not who you wanted to see, but I can't lie, your disappointment hurts me." Lusher moves a hand to her chest, acting like she'd been wounded.

Bada sighs, shaking her head. "Why isn't she here this morning?"

"Still in bed, apparently." Lusher clasps her hands behind her back. "We found her asleep on the couches late last night. She must have been waiting for you to leave your office so she could wish you a good night, but ended up falling asleep out of exhaustion."

The butterflies that dance in Bada's stomach internally, are a stark contrast to the disapproving expression she wears externally. "I've told her many times not to wait up for me. It's not healthy to be staying up so late."

Lusher sighs dramatically. "You're telling me. How many times have I asked you to head to bed earlier?"

"That's different." Bada denies while picking up her golden ink pen and continuing to write. "I have work to do. Waiting so late into the morning just to wish me a good night is..."

"Sweet? Incredibly kind, and definitely a testament to how endearing your fiancée is?"

Bada clicks her tongue in annoyance. "What are you still doing here? Don't you have something better to do than bothering me?"

"You know there's nothing I like more than bothering you." Lusher shoots back with a sly smile.

Bada tried to continue working, she really did. She attempted to push through filling out papers, even though her wrist was screaming at her to take a break. However, come midday, she was already fed up.

Ruffling her hair and groaning loudly, Bada stands up from her table, the chair she'd been sitting out whining loudly against the floor. She wastes no time in shuffling to the door, grabbing the handle, and pulling it open.

Right when she does, she catches a flash of your figure walking down the hall toward her, your bodyguard only a few paces behind you. As her gaze connected with yours, she felt as if the world transformed, shifting from monochrome sketches to vibrant watercolor paintings

"Oh." You speak first, an easy smile finding your lips. "Good afternoon, Bada."

"Good afternoon." She greets back, trying her damnedest not to sound overjoyed at your presence. "Were you coming to see me?"

"I was." You nod. "I just wanted to let you know I'm planning on going to the mall."

"Are you now?" Bada says absentmindedly, her hand coming up to clutch at her tie and loosen it. The fabric suddenly feels much too tight around her neck.

"Yes..." You trail off, your eyes taking in how Bada's pale and lithe fingers grab at her tie and jostle it around, making it dangle a bit messily across her collarbones. Such a simple action should not be so attractive, no--it shouldn't. It's really ridiculous how easy it is for your fiancée to be so naturally alluring.

"That sounds nice." She hums. "Are you looking to buy something in particular?"

"No, not really." You shake your head. "I'm really just going to look around, and not stay at home all day."

Home. Bada's heart warms at you calling the mansion you both reside in your home. Although it technically is, it's different for you to perceive it as such. It means you feel comfortable here, with her--living with her--

"You should come with me." Your voice brings Bada out of her stupor, her eyes immediately finding yours.

Her mouth opens and closes dumbly, a clear look of shock painted across her face. She tries to quickly gather her bearings, half-heartedly muttering out, "I--I wish I could, but I have a lot of work to do--"

"Bada, all you do is work," you remark, crossing your arms over your chest. She has to force herself not to think about how cute you look doing so. "You deserve to have some downtime. Even if it is only for a few hours."

She stands there, still a bit shell-shocked, staring at you before her eyes shift to the figure behind you, finding your bodyguard, who is trying very hard to conceal her amused smile behind a shaky hand.

Bada's gaze turns icy as she eyes down your bodyguard, prompting the subordinate to immediately turn away and dispel her smile. "All right. I'll come with you."

"Wait, really?" You awe, your eyes going wide and your smile growing. "I didn't think you'd actually say yes."

"Well, you're right. I do need a break. At the rate I'm working at now, I'll never do anything productive by the end of the day." Bada admits with a tired smile. "Are you ready to go, then?"

"Yes." You begin to nod, but your smile slowly turns into a frown. "But you should change into different clothing."

For the second time that day, Bada is left surprised by your boldness. "Change? Why?"

"Don't you want to wear something other than a suit for once?" You ask innocently. "It seems... stuffy to be in it all day."

"Stuffy." She laughs breathily. "I guess you're right." Bada looks between you and your bodyguard. "Will you be all right to wait for me?"

"Of course." You smile.

"Great." She smiles back.

When Bada comes back, she isn't wearing her usual black suit. And although you'd been the one to suggest it, you're not quite ready for how amazing she looks in casual clothing.

A black leather jacket is draped over her shoulders, with slick white lines running down the sleeves and across the chest. She has paired the jacket with matching black leather pants and a black shirt.

In that moment, you want to scream at whatever higher power exists for making your fiancée so unfairly attractive. How were you supposed to act normal around her when her mere presence makes you hot below the collar?

Well, despite your internal struggles you give her a compliment before you're off to the mall, hopping into a sleek black sports car and speed away.

Your first destination in the large mall is a relatively luxurious clothing store. You can't lie; you had wanted to go into the store since you passed it on one of your trips to the mall without Bada, but you were too intimidated to enter. However, now, with her by your side, you feel much more comfortable stepping into the expensive store.

Approaching the door, your bodyguard begins to step forward, about to open the door for you like she always does, but Bada is quicker. She grabs onto the handle and opens the door, stepping aside to make room for you to walk in.

You look at her and smile while mumbling a soft thank you, to which she gives you a small smile back and nods. Your bodyguard begins to walk in after you, but again Bada is faster and enters the store, letting the door swing closed behind her. It almost hits your bodyguard in the face, making her flinch back and sigh.

"Keep a look out from there," Bada tells her sternly through the glass doors.

"Yes, Boss," your bodyguard begrudgingly mumbles back, understanding that this is payback for teasing your fiancée earlier.

Bada turns back around, her eyes easily finding you in the small crowd of people. You're looking around the store with wide eyes, a smile gracing your lips as you observe the embellished clothing around you. She smiles fondly to herself, finding every expression of yours much too cute for your own good.

However, before she can make her way to you, the familiar sound of a voice greets her from behind. Turning around, she finds In-Su, one of her business partners and the owner of the clothing store. Greeting him back, an air of professionalism immediately envelops her as she begins to engage in conversation with him

Meanwhile, you're in your own personal heaven. The clothing you've been browsing is exactly your style, and despite the high prices, you know you can afford it all, thanks to the black credit card Bada had gifted you.

A few minutes later, your hands are already starting to get full as you reach to pull another article of clothing from the rack when you suddenly feel a firm force push into your side, causing you to lose your balance and almost fall to the floor. making you lose your balance and almost fall to the floor. Thankfully, you manage to steady yourself before you do, huffing while turning to your right to see what--or more accurately who--had bumped into you.

"Excuse me." A well-dressed man stands a few feet away from you, his lips forming a snobbish frown.

Despite your irritation, you instinctively apologize. "Oh, sorry--"

"It's fine." He cuts you off, eyeing you up and down. "You should be careful where you stand."

Internally, you scoff at the man, but externally, you only mumble another half-hearted apology before turning away and walking down another aisle.

"Have I seen you before?" The man follows after you.

"I don't think so." You answer back flatly, trying to ignore him and busy yourself by flipping through pairs of jackets.

"I swear I've seen you before. I never forget the face of a beautiful woman."

This time, you're unable to control your expression and outwardly cringe. Is this random man who bumped into you flirting with you right now? After acting so rude?

You say nothing to him in response, choosing to completely ignore him instead.

"You know, when someone compliments you, it's common courtesy to say thank you."

Now you're starting to get increasingly anxious. You don't feel brave enough to confront the man, but he doesn't seem to understand that you're not interested and clearly uncomfortable with his advances.

Taking your silence in offense, the man scowls before grabbing your wrist rather roughly, making you drop all the clothing you'd been holding, and twists you around to face him.

You gasp at his painful hold, attempting to break away from him but unable to due to the sheer strength of his grip. "Let me--" you begin, but the words die in your mouth upon seeing someone standing behind him.

The man, who had been staring you down, notices the shift in your expression and suddenly becomes aware of a very strong presence behind him. He turns around, still gripping your wrist, and comes face to face with a scarily calm Bada Lee.

"Do you need something?" He snaps at her dumbly.

Bada stares down at him with steely eyes, her expression so devoid of emotion you're almost terrified for him. "I believe I should be asking you that question. Is there a reason why you're touching my fiancée?"

The man looks between you and Bada, scoffing disapprovingly. "Tch, she didn't tell me she was engaged."

"Even if she wasn't, in what world would it be appropriate to touch a woman who clearly isn't interested in your pathetic advances like that?" She asks rhetorically, her voice rising with every syllable. Clearly, her anger was getting to her.

The man grits his teeth, feeling his ego bruise because not only is Bada embarrassing him, but she's also easily intimidating him with her presence. "Hey, just who do you think you are?" He raises his voice to match hers.

"I think the real question is," Bada takes a step closer, leaving hardly any space between her and him, "who the fuck do you think you are?"

In that moment, the man's entire demeanor shifts. He turns to look around the store, finding every shopper, worker, and even the store owner staring back at him, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes set into firm glares. Some of them have their hands in their pockets or are grabbing something hidden next to them. His face pales, and looking back at Bada, her face starts to become familiar. He hadn't recognized her out of her normal formal attire, but now--

He gulps, quickly letting go of your wrist like your skin burned him and steps away from you both, his posture shrinking. He starts to make his way toward the exit, attempting to ignore the stares of everyone in the store but is stopped before he can make it out.

"And where do you think you're going?" Bada's hardened voice echoes through the store, making the man freeze in his spot, his entire body going rigid.

Bada's footsteps slowly approach him from behind again and stop just shy of him.

"You made her drop her clothing."

The man turns around, avoiding eye contact with Bada and finding your eyes instead. He's about to mumble an apology when she speaks up again.

"Pick it up." She demands flatly.

The man stays still in his spot, shocked and embarrassed. But clearly, he didn't move fast enough for Bada's liking, because he feels himself get shoved in your direction, almost falling onto his face.

"Do it. Now." She says, her voice bordering on yelling.

Immediately, the man throws himself onto the floor, scrambling to pick up every article of clothing he made you drop. He does so as quickly as possible, then stands up, about to pass you the clothing, when he feels Bada's unwavering gaze bore into him and decides it's in his best interest not to touch you anymore, so he carefully drapes the clothes across your arms.

He turns back to face Bada, approaching her with a cold sweat.

"Hold on." She stops him yet again. "You bumped into her, didn't you?"

"I--" He tries to explain himself but is cut off.

"Apologize."

This time, the man wastes no time in fulfilling her demands. He turns to you, apologizing profusely while shaking like a leaf. You're unable to even think about accepting his apologies before he practically runs to the store doors, throws them open, trying to leave the mall. But as always, Bada is ten steps ahead.

She nods at your bodyguard, who grabs onto the man's suit with little effort, turns him around, and punches him straight in the gut.

Bada then steps in front of you, blocking you from seeing what your bodyguard is doing to the man. Her hands grab the clothing from your arms, relieving you of their weight before slinging them across her right shoulder. She then gently holds your wrist up to her eyes, the ice behind them shifting to a warm and caring glow.

"Does it hurt?" She asks softly.

You feel your body turn to mush at the attention she gives you. "A little."

Bada sighs, leans in, and places her soft lips against your wrist, kissing it with a reverence and sweetness everyone besides you is surprised to see.

It's clear to everyone that the ice around Bada's heart melts only for you.

enflame: to excite to excessive or uncontrollable action or feeling

#bada lee x reader #bada x reader #bada lee #bada #street woman fighter 2 x reader #swf2 x reader

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g1rld1ary · 5 months ago

Note

hope your requests r open! lockwood x reader where lockwood think reader likes george (but she doesnt) and reader thinks lockwood likes lucy (he doesnt). basically just a whole bunch of misunderstandings with angst and a happy ending please <3

miscommunications - anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wc: 6316

cw: swearing, angstish, series typical injuries

i am SO sorry this took so long lovie i had the biggest writers block but i loved loved loved this request so thank u for sending it in i hope i did it justice!!!! love u xoxo

Lockwood and Co was absolutely the weirdest psychical detective agency you’d ever been a part of. Not only were the actual case methods… unusual, but you were a bunch of kids. You didn’t know anything about running a company; the logistics of managing four teenagers and trying to be responsible whilst also experiencing hormones and teen dramas, all while living in the same house with no adult supervision. But it was great, most of the time at least.

However, even teen psychical detectives weren’t immune to the trap of cliques and you often ended up spending much more time with some members than others. For example, it often ended up being Lockwood and Lucy, and you and George.

It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision or something that happened because you didn’t like the other two members of the agency, it just tended to be the easiest decision. Lockwood and Lucy were undeniably in perfect sync on the field, and you and George worked better in the research department, so it only made sense that those pairs spent more time together.

The only problem? You were totally in love with Lockwood. And you were pretty sure he was basically fucking married to Lucy Carlyle. They were the dream team on and off the field, you were half convinced they could actually read each other's minds. Plus, they were both genuinely amazing people. Lucy was your best friend and roommate at Portland Row, and you loved her with all your heart. And Lockwood? Well, there were a million and one good things to say about Anthony Lockwood. So who could blame you if you spent more time with George? It hurt less than watching the love story unfolding in front of you, and George was good company anyhow.

You couldn’t avoid them though, nor did you really want to, so life was testing your limits as to how much Locklyle you could handle at once.

You and George had been cooped up in the library most of the day looking through archives and research for the agency’s next case, so you’d been glad to get home and have a long warm shower in the evening. Lockwood and Lucy were off on a smaller case together so you’d had the bathroom all to yourself while George was cooking; a small luxury when living with three other teenagers.

Your hair was still wet as you sat down at the dining table in the kitchen, droplets sinking into the paper of the thinking cloth. It was a lovely dinner with George, he’d made your favourite meal upon request, the most glorious dish of butter chicken you thought might’ve ever been made. Everything should have been perfect, except that it was just the two of you. Again. It seemed like you never had family dinners as a four anymore, you and George stuck eating across from each other amongst empty chairs and untouched plates.

“So, anything new?” You made conversation in decent humour, picking at the chicken you weren’t quite as pleased to be eating anymore.

“Anything new in the twenty minutes we’ve been apart all day?” George replied in his characteristic dry tone. You rolled your eyes, trying to stay playful.

“Just checking.”

You took the cleanup after George did all the cooking, switching on the radio as you stood in front of the sink and washing the dishes in peaceful quiet. It was past midnight when the door jingled and creaked open and you could hear Lockwood and Lucy’s tired chatter floating through the old house. Even their damn voices belonged together, making the perfect cadence. You calculated whether you could get away with running up the stairs and pretending to be asleep before they really made it inside, however, agents are known for their speed, and you could hear boots hitting the floor before you could move.

“You’re still up?” Lucy asked as a greeting, stretching out her arms with a sigh. You smiled, shrugging as you began pouring hot water into the mugs you’d prepared earlier, making you all tea how you liked it. Lucy took hers gratefully, adding in the sugar as she pleased, but you were still yet to see Lockwood, taking the initiative to prepare it for him.

He came in a few minutes later, smiling softly as he looked at you.

“You’re a godsend.” He took the mug gratefully, visibly relaxing as the heat penetrated his body. You just smiled, turning back to the dishes.

“Thanks for the tea, I’ll head up to the shower,” Lucy said, patting you gratefully on the arm as she passed. That left you and Lockwood in the kitchen in careful silence.

You talked about nothing for a while, Lockwood filling you in on the tabloids he’d read the night before, and you told him all about the music and news you’d been listening to on the radio.

“How was the research, how’s George?” Lockwood was beside you now, taking a few of the plates you’d finished drying. His tone sounded almost bitter, but you figured it was his exhaustion taking hold.

“It was fine, I think we’re pretty much good to go for this weekend. Oh, you should have seen it! George absolutely stacked it on the steps of the library earlier. He’s fine, of course, but I nearly pissed my pants laughing, it was so funny.” Lockwood managed an unenthused chuckle, turning away to put the cutlery away in the drawer. “How was the case?” Lockwood made a noise of affirmation, coming back next to you, your shoulders brushing lightly.

“As well as cases can go,” He said, smile back on his face. You listened to him tell the bloody details of the case, illustrating his own heroic moves with a full production of actions and impressions, drawing giggles from you as he fought around the room. “And of course, Luce was brilliant as always, saved my arse for the millionth time.”

Fuck. Of course Lockwood was singing Lucy’s praises again, right in front of you! You couldn’t catch a break. You finally got a moment alone with the boy you had a massive embarrassing crush on and he was talking about your best friend! You could feel your smile fading fast, jealousy bubbling in your chest as you imagined them out on a case together, all quick banter and soft touches while you were at home. With George.

You tried to stay obliging, giving him a small smile and finishing up the drying quickly.

“Well, I should be off to bed. Goodnight, Lockwood.”

“You’re not gonna read with me?” You could have sworn that Lockwood had disappeared and been replaced with a kicked puppy the way his eyes were making your insides twist with guilt. You often sat up in the library with Lockwood; he could never sleep and you often made up for the late nights in the mornings, starting your days hours after everyone else. You held eye contact for a moment, willing yourself to be strong.

It didn’t work, and you found yourself back in your familiar spot in front of the fire, digging into your novel as he flipped through a magazine. When your eyes began to strain in the low lamplight you closed it softly, chancing a glance over at Lockwood. He looked almost perfect in the moment, yellow light illuminating the highlights in his face, his eyes glinting as he found humour in the dramatised tabloids.

He looked up suddenly, his senses evidently alerting him to your staring. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, curiosity seeping from his features. You smiled softly, unable to give him any explanation, so you were glad when he returned it in a way that made his whole face light up. You looked away first, studying your hands intently as you heard Lockwood breathe a subtle laugh.

Another case later, you were going crazy. You’d hit an obstacle (of course) and the case had started going awry. A few relicmen interfering with the site threw you all off your game, the original case put aside in favour of your lives. You and Lucy had been together when the ambush happened, both fighting as a team to protect yourselves. Admittedly you weren’t as fluid as her and Lockwood, but you blamed that on the lack of opportunity. You were doing pretty well for yourselves, all things considered. Still, you were grateful for the two boys to come bursting in like heroes, rapiers at the ready. What you didn’t appreciate was the way Lockwood immediately leapt to Lucy’s side, falling into their familiar rhythm. That left George to help you, the both of you sharing the quickest of looks, your eye roll lost to the fight.

You’d all made it out alive but were severely battered and disheartened. You’d all sustained a few cuts and bruises, you knew you were bleeding from somewhere in your midsection, but the adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet so you pushed through.

You also weren’t particularly glad to see Lockwood looking at Lucy like she’d hung all the stars in the sky in the cab on the way back. He hadn’t spared you a glance.

“I know this wasn’t exactly what we planned,” He said, still not making eye contact with you, “But we’re all okay so I think that’s a win. Luce, good job on the defence and keeping the relicmen at bay. George, brilliant catch with the source, mate, you saved us all. And, uh, good work.” He looked over briefly, but you thought he was looking slightly above you still. He didn’t even care enough to look at you on the case! It was absolutely maddening.

Sometimes, like now, you wondered why you even liked him. He was obsessed with another girl, barely paid you attention and had you begging for crumbs of affection. And yet, sometimes you were sure he liked you back. The soft smiles, the time together in the dead of night, the moments he showed you such gentle care. Lockwood was a puzzle you just couldn’t solve, but you were really, really trying.

You weren’t in the best mood when you all arrived home. Your case had been compromised, you were injured, and Lockwood was basically ignoring you. The night was not looking good. And, on top of all that, George called the first shower so it was unlikely there’d be any hot water left by the time you got in. Silently, you peeled off your overcoat, hanging it on your designated hook before discarding your rapier in the umbrella bin. The cut on your side was beginning to sting, the adrenaline having worn off in the cab, but you powered through, figuring you’d take care of it when you had privacy in the bathroom. Instead, you followed Lucy into the kitchen, chatting away as she made some toast.

She’d already left when you got up from the dining table, motivating yourself to make some tea and something to eat. Your body was starting to ache though, and you really didn’t want to be moving much longer. It was all mostly fine, though uncomfortable, until you were reaching up for the sugar for the tea. It was a little out of your reach up on one of the higher cupboards which usually wasn’t so much of an issue — you were a high jumper — but raising your arm above your head was making it feel like your cut was splitting open, pulling a strangled hiss from you.

“What is that?” Lockwood’s voice made you jump, the harshness unfamiliar. You turned slowly, folding your arms across your stomach in vain.

“It’s nothing, I was gonna look after it in a bit.” It was the first time you’d made proper eye contact with Lockwood all night, and he looked pissed.

“Bullshit,” He argued, gaining proximity, “Sit down.” You weren’t typically in the habit of being bossed around by a man, but you could tell Lockwood was serious so took a seat. He stomped around the kitchen rather dramatically, tossing you an ice pack from the freezer. You placed it tentatively over the cut, groaning and throwing your head back when it stung. Your breathing was shallow, erratic as you waited for the icepack to do its job and start numbing the pain.

When you unscrewed your eyes Lockwood was standing at the kitchen bench, aggressively buttering your toast. You watched him put together the meal you’d started, all with deep furrowed eyebrows, ending with him placing it in front of you, looking at you expectantly. You smiled at him despite the pain in your side, pulling the mug of tea closer. He’d made it just as you liked it, too much sugar and a bit of honey. You sipped it pathetically, tension bubbling between you and the boy in front of you.

“What’s new?” You asked in what you hoped was a lighthearted tone. Lockwood wasn’t impressed.

“Eat,” He urged, “You’ll already be weak from blood loss, don’t let yourself get dizzy from hunger too.” You took an exaggerated bite of the toast to appease him, melting into a moan when the food hit your mouth. Somehow, it tasted better than all the millions of times you’d made your own. Lockwood had found the perfect balance of butter and bread, soft in the middle but the crusts were still crunchy and satisfying. The corner of his mouth flicked into the smallest smile seeing you enjoy the food he’d made you, but it was clear he still wasn’t happy with you.

You continued to eat as he got up from his seat, disappearing out into the hallway for a moment. He returned with the first aid kit and you groaned. This was going to suck. Lockwood, ever the gentleman, asked for your permission to start helping you, lifting your already cherry red case shirt up to tuck under your bra, out of his way as he examined the cut. It wasn’t too deep, you didn’t think you’d need stitches or anything, but it was long, wrapping halfway across your stomach.

“This is going to hurt,” He said simply, but you could have sworn there was some gentleness there. Lightly, Lockwood began to clean your wound. Initially, it wasn’t so bad as he cleaned what had already spread and dried away from the cut which lulled you into a false sense of security. You cried out as he touched the wound itself for the first time, grabbing onto Lockwood’s shoulder for stability, though you were already seated.

“It’s okay, I’ll be quick. Promise,” He hushed you, offering his hand for you to grab instead. You clutched onto it for dear life, squeezing until both your fingers were turning white. Lockwood never uttered a complaint, working away at cleaning and treating the wound one-handed until it was done, stopping every so often for breaks when he thought you needed them.

When he was done he looked up at you from his position on his knees and it suddenly felt like the world around you was quiet. Lockwood’s eyes were so pretty. You’d always thought so, but it was particularly relevant when he was only inches away from you, sparkling in the amber light of the kitchen. Neither of you spoke, staring into each other’s eyes. You weren’t sure what to do, you didn’t want to end this moment between you but you didn’t know how to make it last. Well, you did, but that was highly inappropriate given Lockwood was in love with another girl.

“Thanks,” You settled on awkwardly, cringing as Lockwood seemed to realise where he was and what was happening.

“Any time,” He jumped up, backing up towards the sink and busying himself with pouring his own cup of tea.

You left the kitchen shortly after, unwilling to sit in the awkwardness any longer. The first step was to get out of the soiled clothes and clean yourself up a bit, the second was to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling of the attic.

“I’m going to die alone,” You said to the roof, catching the attention of your roommate.

“Don’t be stupid,” Lucy said simply, “You’re hot, anyone would be lucky to have you.” That pulled a smile from you, tilting your head back to look over at Lucy on her bed.

“Thanks, Luce. You know what I mean though.” Lucy rolled her eyes with a soft smile.

“If Lockwood can’t see all your brilliant, attractive qualities then he’s a prat.”

“I’m sure he sees many of my great qualities — he hired me. The issue is that he’s blinded by your brilliance.” It was a conversation you’d had countless times before; you decreeing Lockwood’s love for Lucy and Lucy being disgusted by it.

“You know that I have zero interest in Lockwood. Like, zero. Honestly, I’d sooner get with you than him.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. I have terrible taste in men,” You laughed, mostly cheered up.

Lucy flicked off the lamp, putting you to sleep with a story from before you’d joined the agency.

Lockwood had a similar conversation with George a few weeks later. It was after another case, all had gone well and the four of you were strewn about the house, tending to various chores that needed to get done. Lucy was mopping the floors, you were organising and putting away the mountain of books that had been used over the case, and Lockwood and George were both in the basement, tidying the store room and going over paperwork.

Lockwood looked at George, hunched over the form he was filling in, and wondered how to broach the subject. He thought you might’ve been avoiding him lately, which wasn’t exactly wrong, and thought it might be because you were trying to make your feelings for George known. In fact, it had nothing to do with George and everything to do with Lockwood. You figured if Lockwood hadn’t noticed by now that you liked him he never would, so you’d started the mountainous task of getting over him. It was unsurprisingly extremely difficult, given you lived and worked with the man. Still, you were doing the best you could.

“So, gone on any, uh, dates recently?” The sentence was awkward and Lockwood cringed. It was so unlike him and George to talk about anything emotional, especially romance.

“What are you on about?” George didn’t even bother looking up, figuring it was just one of Lockwood’s moments that he’d move on from soon enough.

“It’s just, you’ve never really dated anyone, at least while living here, so I was just asking. Um, maybe there’s someone in the house you’d like to take out?” George looked up, turning his wheelie chair to face Lockwood, resigning himself to the conversation he knew would follow.

“Yes, Lockwood. Can’t you hear Lucy and I having loud, passionate sex every night?” Both boys rolled their eyes.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lockwood grumbled.

“Then say what you mean. You’re trying to figure out if I like her because you do and you’re too scared to say anything about it.” Lockwood was silenced, caught out with his true intentions. “Let’s face it, you’re about as subtle as a car horn; you moon over her. She’s the only one who hasn’t noticed.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Lockwood mumbled, “She likes you.” George burst out into uncharacteristic laughter, wheezing and gripping his stomach.

“God, you’re daft!” He laughed, “The two of you are perfect for each other, you’re hopeless.”

Lockwood made an excuse to leave, something about folding his laundry. George watched him go, rolling his eyes before turning back to his paperwork. If the two of you weren’t going to get his exceedingly obvious hints, you were going to have to work it out between yourselves.

Your angst was bleeding into the company. You were trying (and failing) to get over Lockwood which was not only making you generally miserable, but it was impeding your ability to be a good agent.

You were on a relatively easy case, and for some reason you’d been paired with Lockwood, a rarity. Lucy and George were on the second floor of the house scoping out where the source may be whilst you and Lockwood were on the ground floor, preparing your defences and putting on the tea kettle. It was extremely awkward. Lockwood was trying to make conversation and you were trying to keep it as short as possible. If you fell into conversation you’d be reminded of Lockwood’s many wonderful qualities, and it would just get harder to get over him.

“Did you end up finishing that book?” He asked as you pulled the chains out of their duffel bags. You perked up for a moment before forcing yourself to relax. You had finished the novel and absolutely loved it, you wanted nothing more than to talk about it. Still, you controlled yourself, shrugging off the question with a “Yeah, it was pretty good.” Lockwood hesitated, caught off guard by your answer. Usually you were keen to discuss what you’d been reading, especially if you liked it.

“Are you alright?” He asked, softness in his voice and eyes. Your heart clenched for a moment, you didn’t want to worry him.

“I’m fine, Lockwood, promise.” You busied yourself with arranging the salt bombs but you could still feel his eyes on you.

The case progressed, all four of you ending up on the second level of the house to confront the visitor, each splitting up to cover the different rooms. You were in the master bedroom when the en suite bathroom caught your eye. You could have sworn you saw movement near the shower and crept towards it, trying to stay focused and address the urgency on hand.

You were immediately distracted by the similarities between the en suite and the bathroom in Portland Row. Set out almost identically, it was almost scary how similar they were; George’s soap (fancy and way more expensive than the one the rest of you bought) was on the ledge of the shower, and Lucy’s blue hairbrush sat by the basin.

It wasn’t necessarily surprising that either of those items were there, they were both bought for cheap at a grocery store so ought to have been common, but it surprised you nonetheless. You’d been so distracted by the weird similarities that you didn’t notice the figure floating through the shower curtain until its translucent hand was beside your face. You panicked, the only thing you shouldn’t have been doing, and flailed about in the tiny room, rapier knocking bottles off shelves and creating a general racket that was not pleasing the ghost.

You stumbled on the tiles trying to get your footing and get the fuck out but slid on a slippery substance — probably conditioner from the bottle you’d sent flying to the ground. It was a comedy of errors you would have quoted as impossible in an old slapstick comedy, but there you were, and the consequences were infinitely more dire than those faced by Charlie Chaplin.

The proceeding moments vanished from your memory; a violent fall, a sickening crack and an overwhelming darkness. Three more moments of light where you caught visions of the ghost, Lockwood, and aggressive flashing lights.

You woke up in hospital. You wished it was the hazy, unsure innocence that you saw in movies, but the incessant beeping and sanitised smell had you groaning as you gained consciousness. Lockwood was slumped over in the chair next to your bed, breathing uncharacteristically calm as he slept.

You watched him sleep in the least creepy way you could manage, admiring his features when they weren’t scrunched up in worry or stress. He must’ve felt you watching him as his eyes fluttered open, doe eyes overflowing with relief as he saw you awake.

“You’re up, thank god,” He said, pulling his chair up even closer to you.

“Why am I here?” You asked, examining the various wires and machines you were plugged into.

“What aren’t you here for?” Lockwood joked and you tried for a smile. He straightened himself out and continued, “Linear skull fracture, concussion, scary-looking cut on your forehead. We think you slipped and bashed your head on the countertop.” You grimaced, the pain of the fall manifesting in your head.

“That would be right,” You agreed sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in your hospital gown, “And the hand?” Your left hand was bandaged up so thick it looked more like an oven mitt than a hand.

“Ghost touch.” Lockwood didn’t sound so happy and casual now.

“Oh.”

“What happened? It’s not like you to put yourself in danger like that; it was stupid and reckless.” You didn’t understand why Lockwood was getting so angry. Clearly, you didn’t intend to get injured, it was an unfortunate accident that you would have avoided if you could.

“As opposed to you, who never gets injured and always sticks to the plan?” You couldn’t help the venom seeping into your voice but you detested being criticised by Lockwood when he was just as bad, usually worse.

“This isn’t about me,” He said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep his cool while you were vulnerable. You were angry though and didn’t want to back down.

“Of course this is about you, Lockwood! You wouldn’t blink an eye if it was you who’d ended up here, or George or Lucy. It was an honest mistake, why are you being such a dick about it?” You were raising your voice but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, the tension that had been bubbling for weeks coming to the surface.

“Because you could have died —”

“So could any of us, that’s the job! I still see you jumping head-first into danger.”

Lockwood groaned your name, hands in his hair and pulling in frustration. “You’re misunderstanding me, I just don’t want to watch you get hurt—”

“Then close your fucking eyes, Lockwood. I fell and I got injured. It happens and I resent having you treat me differently than the others. Fuck this, I want Lucy here instead, or George.”

“Of course you want George here, why wouldn’t you?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” If you could stand you would be shoving past him and out the door, but you were at a significant disadvantage being hooked up to so many machines, stuck in your place.

“You know what I mean, you and George are such a close pair, aren’t you? Always working together and laughing about your own inside jokes,” He spat and the burning anger only got hotter.

“Are you fucking crazy right now? Or are you forgetting that you’re the head of this company and therefore you’re the one pairing us together in every case? Or are you so fucking busy making heart eyes at Lucy that you don’t even notice that we’re actually getting work done? Forgive us for trying to make ten hours of research bearable!”

“Heart eyes at Luce? You’re the crazy one, she and I are just friends, I swear. But you and George will make a great couple, I’m sure.”

“George and I couldn’t be less interested in each other! And if you could see past your own nose for once maybe you’d see why!” You all but yelled, surely alerting the whole floor of your argument, “Leave me alone, Lockwood, I don’t want you here anymore.”

Lockwood looked as if he was going to dispute that statement as well but a nurse came to your rescue, clearly hearing the disagreement from outside. She ushered him out, claiming it wasn’t good for your vitals to be getting angry and that you could continue the fight when you were discharged in a few day's time.

Alone in the sterile hospital room, you felt yourself beginning to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and landing on your embarrassing patterned hospital gown. In a perfect world, that conversation would have gone completely differently. In a perfect world, Lockwood’s eyes would have softened when he saw you were awake. He would have confessed how worried he was about you and how much he truly cared for you. He would have brushed his lips across your hand that he was holding, then pressed them again against your own as he admitted how he’d always been in love with you. You didn’t know that it was your own defensive nature that had stopped that from happening.

But it wasn’t a perfect world and you were alone, overwhelmed by the various noises and movements going on around you. You did eventually fall back asleep, a fitful, unsatisfying nap that had you groaning and exhausted when you woke up. You weren’t alone though, which did make you feel better. George and Lucy were sitting next to your bed, deep in a whispered conversation.

“Hey,” You said, shimmying up to a sitting position. They both stopped talking immediately, turning to face you with small smiles on both their faces.

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asked, pulling her chair up to be right next to your bed.

“I’m alright now, just tired and worn down.”

“You scared us,” George added, characteristically stiff but clearly trying to be sensitive.

“I’m sorry,” You admitted, “I really didn’t mean to. And believe me, Lockwood’s already yelled at me enough for it, please just forgive me.” They looked at each other, communicating non-verbally.

“We heard,” George said, “He basically punched a hole in the wall trying to recount it.” He let out a clipped laugh before Lucy shoved him, signature glare working its magic.

“You should really apologise, he’s cut up about it.” Your mouth dropped open as you stared at Lucy. How was this your fault?

“I’m not apologising, he was the one who got angry. Right, George?” You pleaded with him, praying he wouldn’t let you down now.

“I… I don’t think it has to be right now, but you two should get over it after you’ve cooled down a bit.” Ok, it wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped he’d say, but it was better than nothing. And better than the moral lesson you knew Lucy would try and impose — what a hypocrite.

“But he was so mean!” You whined, “I seriously just had an unfortunate fall, I didn’t die.”

“But you could have,” George quipped and you rolled your eyes.

“You know it’s because he really cares about you, right? He’d never forgive himself if something happened to you and he couldn’t save you.” You couldn’t tell if Lucy’s statement was making you feel better or worse.

“Yeah, really felt like it when he was yelling at me,” You grumbled, fidgeting with the hem of the scratchy blanket.

“Well, you know Lockwood is emotionally constipated,” George added and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter — what a statement to come from George.

“OK,” You agreed finally, “I’ll apologise when we get home. As long as he stops being a massive prick.”

You were discharged a few days later, healing nicely. It would have been sooner, but the head injury worried your nurses and kept you there, not trusting you would stay on bed rest. Lucy came to your rescue, posing as a very concerned caretaker who would ensure your safety.

In fact, it wasn’t Lucy who was enforcing your bedrest. It was George who was cooking every meal and Lockwood doing all the other motherly fussing. You hadn’t discussed your fight yet, both too exhausted and too awkward to broach the subject. You hoped your six-to-eight-week recovery time wouldn’t consist of the same heavy tiredness, but you figured it would improve once the concussion had faded.

The rest of the company had started doing two-man cases so that someone was always home to supervise you. It was a little stifling but you appreciated the effort. It also shook up the status quo of the company, Lockwood and Lucy’s perfect partnership being disrupted by no one wanting to be left at home each time, which was both a blessing and a curse.

In your first few days of being back home at Portland Row, Lockwood was home with you, helping wash your hair. You’d whined so much about how gross it felt, still blood-stained where you cracked your skull open that Lockwood gave up and told you he’d wash it for you. Of course, you’d protested, saying it went way beyond what you could expect of a friend or coworker, but Lockwood would not take no for an answer, justifying that it would be more dangerous to let you do it yourself since you could mess with the stitches since you couldn’t see the back of your own head.

You sat awkwardly in the bath, dressed in an old t-shirt and bikini bottoms to preserve what dignity you could. Lockwood stood outside the bath behind you, preparing the bottles of shampoo and conditioner to his side. The anticipation was destroying you, becoming fidgety and uncomfortable even in the perfectly warm water. The second Lockwood’s slender fingers threaded through your greasy hair you felt your body soften, relaxing into the feeling with no opposition. The feeling was heavenly, the careful but thorough massaging of your scalp could have sent you to sleep in three seconds if you weren’t simultaneously on edge at the proximity.

You sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, your head lolling back subconsciously against Lockwood’s forearms, drawing a small chuckle from him.

“I’m sorry for arguing with you the other day,” You said out of the blue, your voice cutting through the radio that was sitting next to the basin.

“It’s no worries, just forget about it,” Lockwood replied instantly, continuing his labours.

“No, I want to take this seriously. I said some terrible things I didn’t mean and I want you to know that I’m sorry for it. And, as I understand it you think I have some big crush on George which I would just like to disprove. I don’t. Like him like that, I mean.” Lockwood paused for a moment, hands going still in your hair.

“Oh,” He said after some time, “Well thank you for the apology but it is completely unnecessary. I started the argument and I was way out of line, I didn’t mean a word of it. What I meant to convey was that I was worried about you getting hurt because I… care about you. A lot.” You knew that was hard for Lockwood to say, vulnerability never coming easy to him. You turned to face him in the tub, knees pulled up to your chest as your just-rinsed hair dripped down onto your t-shirt.

“I care about you a lot too, Lockwood,” You smiled sweetly, glad you were finally getting over the weird tension that had been between you. Lockwood didn’t look as satisfied.

“No, it’s, fuck. I care about you in a different way than the others. I really like you, like, romantically.”

“Shut up,” You said quickly, not wanting to wake up from a sick dream. There was no way that Anthony Lockwood, after all these years, was telling you that he liked you. Lockwood looked lost for words. Obviously it wasn’t the impassioned reciprocation he hoped for, but it also wasn’t exactly a rejection. What was he supposed to do?

“I, uh, understand if you don’t—”

“Shut up,” You affirmed again. “I have been madly, foolishly in love with you since I started here, and you’re telling me this now? After we’ve screamed at each other and been moping around?” After a moment of him processing your statement, he began to laugh, mouth breaking into one of his light-up-the-room smiles.

“I guess so.” You joined in his laughter, admiring the way his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched as he did it.

“So what now?” You asked once your giggles had died down, leaving you two looking at each other across the edge of the bath.

“Well,” Lockwood inched closer, “We could try this?” He leant in for a soft kiss, pressing his mouth against yours lightly. You subconsciously followed his mouth as he pulled away, unwilling to open your eyes just yet.

“Mmh, maybe we could try that one again?” Lockwood laughed at your daze and happily obliged, swooping back in for a longer, deeper kiss that set your nerves on fire.

And if Lucy and George returned from their case to find the two of you still in the bath fully clothed, that was none of your business — and neither was the ten pounds that George reluctantly handed Lucy.

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jaythes1mp · 5 months ago

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Just a quick question; does the batfamily like reader the same in their human form or just in the cat form?

Wonderful question, anon! I have mentioned it briefly in this ask before, but I’ll dive deeper into it for you.

All the boys harbour their own opinions regarding your two appearances.

To Dick, you remain his sweet and adorable little sibling, whether you're in your human form or your animal form. Your identity as his kitten stays constant, regardless of which body you inhabit.

For the eldest brother, your age, size, or form doesn't change his perception of you one bit. Regardless of the fact that you’re a grown ass adult, he'd still continue to baby talk and coo at you when you have a big sneeze or get food on your cheek. In his mind, you’re fundamentally a cat first and foremost, and your human qualities are secondary. He couldn’t care less about your human appearance, because he would always view you as his precious little kitten, his adorable and cherished younger sibling. Even when you're in human form, he’d still treat you as if you were a cat, completely disregarding your human aspect.

Bruce, however, has a vastly different opinion. In his eyes, you’re the perfect blend of both worlds. The feline body language and characteristics you exhibit are utterly endearing, no doubt, but your true essence rests in your human mind and soul, which is the fundamental part of you. He recognises the importance of both your animal and human forms, as they are both integral parts of who you really are. While your cat instincts may be captivating, it is your human mind that holds the most significance. He wouldn’t treat you like a mere pet, recognising the balance between your two forms. You were still his child, and that will always come first.

Ultimately, Bruce doesn't really care what body you take on, as long as you're spending time with him. When you're out in public, you're required to transform into your cat self, as to not cause any unnecessary suspicions or complications regarding your disappearance. But when you're both just chilling at home in the manor, he doesn't mind whether you're in one form or the other, as long as you're there with him. He won't push you to engage in conversations or force you to do anything you don't want to do, as long as you're just present by his side, he's content.

In stark contrast to the others, Jason has a strikingly distinct preference for your feline form, showing a notable lack of interest in you when you appear in human form. He tends to completely disregard your presence when you're in your human body, only offering you affection and attention exclusively when you're in your kitten body.

To Damian, your animal form holds a special place in his heart, a place he refuses to share with anyone else. It’s not that he dislikes your human form, far from it. But when he looks at you as an animal, all he can see is an innocent, untainted little creature that needs protecting. A creature that relies solely on him for safety and comfort. And that’s a feeling that he can’t help but relish in. Your cat form evokes a protective instinct in him that he rarely feels when you’re in your human form. But also, saying that, he does enjoy being able to talk to you, as you’re the only person that he trusts to never leave, to never feel disappointed. Because to you, he’s the only one on your side. He relishes in the fact that no matter which form your take on that you rely on him. That you need him.

Slightly out of sync with the others, Tim shows a marginal preference for your human form. He’s the only one who tends to pay more attention to you when you’re in your human body, but the margin is admittedly slim.

Tim enjoys being able to read you, relishing in his ability to decipher your emotions and engage in conversation with you when he needs a diversion from all the work. On that note, it's primarily about the control. He finds pleasure in being able to make you shift from one form to the other, keeping you drugged and pliant in his lap as a cat or asleep in human form on the couch next to him while he works.

Link to Chapter One, Link to Masterlist.

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signanothername · 6 months ago

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I know next to nothing about Delta Sans lol... what are some of his main traits and characteristics? /nf

I GET TO RAMBLE ABOUT DELTA LETS GOOOOO

Funny enough, Delta’s canon material isn’t very vast, considering most his canon story is animated, so you can imagine how long it takes to animate and how few animations there are, despite that i just can’t help but love this bitch

Let’s start with basics since you don’t know much, you might see Delta’s Au with 3 names: Ultratale, Vitaltale, and Delta’s tale, which are all canon as they’re all used by Delta’s creator Animated Zorox

Ultratale is the Au’s series old name when it was first animated (and is now cancelled), Vitaltale is the Au’s current name which refers to the new repooted series, Delta’s tale use is honestly unclear for me, but i like to believe it’s more of a general name for the Au

Kay so with that out of the way, Delta is a sans that fused with the human soul of bravery, that’s why he has his signature orange gloves, (and Delta can talk and communicate with the bravery soul inside his head)

Delta is from a Genocide timeline and is the only survivor, so after he defeats Chara (who’s called “Omega Chara” in the Au) Delta takes it upon himself to become a protector of Aus (imagine it as his coping mechanism for losing his own Au fused with Bravery’s sense of protection) but he’s not a protector in the same sense that is Ink, Delta travels from Au to Au pretty much looking for a fight, looking to see if the Au he’s in is in trouble and fighting whoever causes it to save it from the same fate his own Au faced

So he’s kind, brave, righteous and honest… too honest chchchch

But he’s also egotistical, super hot headed, and can easily rage, and despite deeming himself a protector, he’s only a protector to those who need protection, so the poor bitches who threaten the Au? Yeah Delta isn’t above tainting his hands with someone else’s blood (ma boi is passionate about murdering fr fr) in his defense tho he tries listening and talking to them and convincing them (for roughly 10 seconds) if it doesn’t work then he goes for the kill

Look at him telling Cross he’ll kill him (god I love him)

But he’s also willing to put himself in danger if it meant protecting someone else (basically putting the life of others above his own)

What’s also fun is the fact Delta can easily give up like a normal Sans would, It’s Bravery that keeps him going

But what I also really love is his way of fighting/using his powers, Delta tends to use his own blaster’s jaws as a super speed jet pack, and his fighting style tends to mostly be up close and personal, like this bitch will break bones with his bare hands, and believe me, this bitch sure got stamina cause DAMN

He can even fully fuse with Bravery, like he becomes a glowing orange lamp hcchchchch

he’s a bit reckless but still smart to know when to stay a safe distance or change tactics

One of my fave things is him using his gloves as armored shoes cause why the fuck not y’know?

Delta is also semi canonically friends with Color and Epic (semi-canon as in the creators of these three drew them together as the “Epic Sanses Trio” but are not necessarily part of their own respective timeline’s stories chchhcch) but it’s fully canon in my heart <3333

If you’d like to see the actual canon content for Delta, I recommend checking this doc made by @howlsofbloodhounds they’ve done an amazing job at collecting as much as they can <3

#anyway i would not deem myself a Delta expert #so Delta experts out there feel free to correct me if i got something wrong #anothers ask #ultratale #vitaltale #delta sans #fast moving gif #fast moving images #flashing gif

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typewritingyip · 2 months ago

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The Arcturus Missions

Part Fourteen - Nightmares

Part Thirteen

———

Human mass is made up primarily of six elements; oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, and phosphorus. That makes up around 99% of the human body, 0.85% is made up of another five, being potassium, sulfur, sodium, chlorine, and magnesium. Together the eleven elements are necessary for human life, the trace elements of the other 0.15% included, probably.

There is no discernable thing that keeps them specifically alive, such as a Spark, but most organics experience similar characteristics.

To most mechanicals, just understanding what they're made out of, they think if they harm an organic too much they will simply pop. It grossed most of them out and a decent number preferred to stay away. Those who didn’t find them gross, just don’t understand how they could live without a spark or something resembling a spark.

Mechanicals and organics, they typically didn’t get along whether for prejudice or misunderstanding.

—

Once the cybertronians cleared out, they could disable the mobility assist and eat. Talking over private comms and eating, wearing their visors if they could, otherwise maintaining the wider visual feeds. The mix of alien food and perishable earth food was becoming less and less frequent as little of the stuff from Earth that would go bad remained. Almost seven months since they left home and they’d managed to make it last this long was nothing short of great planning and a miracle in the name of Prowl’s processor.

Hound was chuckling, eating the last of his almonds and something that had been deemed ‘Carrot Potatoes’, which was only called that because its growth process was similar. It did not look like a potato or carrot, or taste like either, it was more meat-like than anything but they couldn’t exactly say that out loud. Jazz learned that the hard way when mention to Prowl over three years ago that it tasted like beef, only the exact translation was that it tasted like organic animal muscle and Prowl found that endlessly disturbing. It generally was cut up and dried or superheated, similar to roasting. For the moment, Hound was enjoying the fired version as it was most similar to beef jerky. Along with the food, they had a nutrients drink of Prowl’s design, which was foul, but provided them with what they couldn’t get from any of the food they had access to. It was easier to wash down with water, which thankfully they did have regular access to.

Sideswipe was laughing, gesturing, “I can’t believe that, I mean, come on. Primus selected him specifically to be the leader of a whole planet?” Breakdown groaned, “Not this conversation, again.” Sunstreaker laughed and took a drink from the thing Prowl designed, not even gagging or choking on it like the rest of them. Supposedly he was used to the taste of vitamins and dirt. “I’m just saying, the mech is just like the rest of us. A somewhat normal life before the damn war and now he was selected by their creator to lead the planet, that would be like if god came down to Hound and made him the leader of the free world and the pope at the same time.” With a shake of his head, Jazz groans, “I hate that you’ve all held onto the pope analogy, it was a bad one and I regret it.” They all laughed at that, it didn’t translate well and to be honest, it’s what they all called him over private comms.

It took them a while to calm down from their laughing fits, Hound finishing off his food first and disengaging his camera, “Alright everyone should get their heads down.” Breakdown chuckled lightly, “You say that like we’ll all be awake in an hour.” disabling his own camera for the night, “Yeah, I know. You all kicked ass today, just, get some rest.” Hound chuckled light as he took off his helmet and visor, shaking his head a bit, “Night guys.” With a chorus of nights and good nights, they all turned off their camera and microphones, turning off the comm line for the night. Each adjusting their settings as needed, setting up alerts and things for the night. It was difficult, having to sleep in your mech but they all made it work. Cots and sleeping bags, makeshift wash stations, pillows and blankets, or even just a bit of storage were all stuff they took cues from Jazz about. It made their life just that little bit more normal that they needed.

—

It was the middle of the dark cycle when Sunstreaker shot up from his makeshift cot in his mech suit, they had all agreed it would be easier to remain in their cockpits as much as possible when in the field but when back in Iacon they would run any updates or cleaning protocols that were necessary. He was breathing heavily, sweating and unable to truly pull himself from the dream, “I can’t breathe.” Sunstreaker’s voice was faint, strangled from crying, practically falling off the cot he goes to the command chair and starts to run the toxicity test on the air outside his mech. The longer he was in the suit the worse he was getting, starting to hyperventilate, the claustrophobia was kicking in. Grabbing hold of part of his helmet, practically yanking the visor from it he holds it up to read the current reading before unsealing his suit.

The outside air was cool with a light breeze, the heater was several feet away but keeping the metal of their mech suits warm. Sunstreaker pulled himself from where his suit laid and fell to the ground painfully, gasping desperately as the panic attack set in.

Nightmares were common for pilots, anything from the life before the suit, the comparability testing, being physically made compatible, or just the life as a pilot weighed heavily. They all had nightmares. Nights where you’d wake up in a cold sweat or nights where you couldn’t breathe, it’s just usually you weren’t in the thing that brought about the nightmare.

Sunstreaker stayed where he fell for a while, both from the pain and the panic. The visor was still covering his face and his hands were over his ears, taking deep breaths when he could and when he couldn’t he was choking on the air. Nightmares and panic attacks were too common among pilots, but it was part of the way of life. What started to bring Sunstreaker out of his was a gentle tremor in the ground, much like how Megatron would shake the ground but significantly softer. Taking a breath, he slowly pushes himself up from the floor, holding his arm that he landed on painfully and tries to look around. Only now becoming away from where he was and what he was doing. Suddenly aware when bright blue eyes locked on his small form and stared, saying something in Cybertronian that he could only partially understand without the translator, “Shit.” In that moment, even in all his years of training and fighting, even back when he street raced he never froze like he did now.

Bluestreak wasn’t entirely sure what he was staring at, it was dark certainly but this small thing was sitting near one of the strange human mechanicals, one of his friends if he was being honest with himself. The twins, the split sparked idiots had grown on him, and had found his work impressive. It meant a lot. Taking a moment, he looks closer with a frown, “Are you lost, little thing?” The planet they were on had everything from organics to some cybertronian’s living on it. It was meant to be a peaceful place but their energy farms had been clocked by the Quintessons in the last quartex and now the fields outside the energy farms were battlefields. This was happening across the universe, especially in cybertronian space and apparently as distant of a quadrant as where the strange mecha were from.

They both stared at each other for a long time, the visor on Sunstreaker trying to help out with translations rolling across the screen and what little else it could do separated from the mech suit, and Bluestreak was trying his hardest to seem non-threatening. One step from Blue though shook the ground and Sunny was quick to grab part of his suit to stabilize himself. That was a bad idea.

Bluestreak was quick to grab the organic away from Sunstreaker, knowing the mech needed his recharge and brought the thing close to his face. Sunstreaker stumbled and nearly fell, clutching desperately at Bluestreak’s hand, swearing, “Fuck! Put me down!” Bluestreak’s scowl was rather menacing when it was this large and close, Sunstreaker nearly fell again as Blue started to back away from the group and the warmth of the heater, causing Sunstreaker to shiver from the cool night air. After all, a pilot didn’t sleep in his assistant suit if he could help it.

With all the connectors embedded in his body, those being connected to the assistant suit made it hard to move and the wires both in the suit and down his back pinched painfully when leaning wrong, let alone trying to sleep in it. NASA had been kind enough to send them up with astronaut pajamas, but Sunstreaker kept those in Iacon where it was just about always cold. Now, he really wished he was wearing more than his boxers. Blue kept glowering at him and he was catching just about every other word, desperately holding onto his palm, he raises a hand and struggles with their very strange language, “Negative-motion!” Bluestreak stopped, his eyes widening slightly and Sunstreaker sighed, practically melting, “Thank god that worked. Uh.” He stares at Bluestreak before bringing himself back to standing, still shaking lightly.

“Name, me. Star-Orbit-Postive, Positve-Speed-Positive-Movement-Someone.” Sunstreaker winced, it was a rough translation at best but, Bluestreak’s eyes flicked over to his suit before looking back and shaking his head a bit, “Negative. Name, Star-Orbit-Positve, positive-direction.” And he pointed. Sunny groaned and rubbed his face, taking the visor off briefly with a frown, trying to think. He continued to shiver, glancing over to his suit, and looked back, “Me, Negative-size. Motion-speed-negative. Movement-pain-positive, in—“ He stops and points, “Star-orbit-positive, positive-direction.” Holding up the visor briefly, before putting it back on and acting like he was holding a set of controls, “Movement-pain-positive, in Positive-size, positive-plating.” He hoped it would come across, if he was just in his suit he could explain. Then again, if he was in his suit he wouldn’t need to explain. Bluestreak continued to stare, frowning before shaking his head a bit, “Negative, Star-Orbit-Positive, recharge.” Sunstreaker almost growled, throwing his hands up and dragging his hands down his visor.

Bluestreak had started to walk away again by the time Sideswipe was back in his assistant suit and up, moving over quickly and just grabbing Sunny, “Blue, what the hell.” Sunstreaker grabbed desperately at his brother’s hands, eyes wide still and clutching desperately, “This organic is clearly lost Sides.” Bluestreak smiled a bit, “Plus, you should be in recharge.” “Yeah, well, so should Sunny.” Walking back over, his steps significantly lighter than Bluestreak’s as to make sure the others remained asleep, he lowered Sunstreaker back to his suit, “He’s freezing, why’d you take him away from the heater?” Sideswipe was practically growling, turning and glaring at Bluestreak, visor darkening, “Organics on this planet usually wear more of those organic coverings.” Sideswipe rolled his eyes, watching as Sunstreaker closed up his suit, Bluestreak’s eyes widening, “What the?” Sideswipe turned around and shoved Bluestreak hard, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the heater and away from his sleeping friends.

Sideswipe’s fist collided with Bluestreak’s face, “You could have killed him! It’s freezing out here!” Blue caught his first the second time, “Sides, calm down!” “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” And he tackled Blue to the ground.

The inside of Sunstreaker’s suit was now just as cold as it was outside, the heater only helping so much as he pulled on his assistant suit and activated his direct comm to Hound, sending out his distress alert as he shivered. Trying to get in the pilot's seat and his suit up while Bluestreak and Sideswipe fought a dozen meters away.

It took only a few seconds for Hound to wake up, frowning at Sunstreaker’s distress alert before getting up. Pulling on part of his assistant suit he activated his visual feeds, then quickly climbed into his piloting chair while swearing. They would draw the attention of the other awake cybertronian’s and wake up everyone else if they kept fighting. His suit was the easiest to get up and moving, though he wasn’t in his entire mobility assistant suit he was quick to override the controls and move over towards them as fast as he could. Just managing to grab Sideswipe and haul him off Bluestreak, “Enough! Go back to bed, now!” “But Sunny,” “Is fine. Go to him, now. I will handle this with Bluestreak.” Sideswipe yanked himself from Hound’s hold, glare evident even with the visor before storming back towards the heater and wrapping his arms around Sunstreaker when he was finally able to sit up.

”I swear, I didn’t do anything.” Bluestreak was bloodied, wiping at his mouth at energon leaked from the gashes there. Hound offered a hand to him, frowning, “I know, but we clearly need to talk.” With hesitation, Blue took Hound’s hand carefully. Sighing slowly, Hound helps Blue up then gestures, “We need to talk away from the others and we need to get Prowl on comms.” Bluestreak almost stopped dead in his tracks, “Prowl? But I just said,” “I know what you said. It has nothing to do with that. Come on.” He gestured towards where there was a turned off heater, away from the few cybertronian’s milling around outside.

—

Sunstreaker was still shivering, his mech shaking lightly, “I’m fine Sides, really.” he leaned his head against his brother’s shoulder, “I just had a nightmare and needed some air, I didn’t think anyone would be around.” Sideswipe was fuming, holding Sunstreaker close, “He could have killed you and not even realized it.” Sighing, “Yes, but I’m okay. Least till Hound has to explain the big secret.” He bangs his head lightly against Sideswipe’s shoulder, “I can’t believe I was so stupid and reckless.” Sideswipe quick led shook his head and held Sunstreaker closer, reading the message Hound sent, “You couldn’t breath, were not supposed to be spending every waking and sleeping moment in these suits.” He sighs slowly and shifts, “Come on, we need to get some more sleep for tomorrow. Hound is handling Bluestreak, as much as I want to kill him.” Sunstreaker nodded a bit and started to deactivate the connections, “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be, just go back to sleep Sunny. Hound’s got it.” Sunstreaker gently pulled off his helmet and visor, disabling the external feeds. Seeming to everyone who didn’t know their secret like he’d already fallen back to sleep. Sideswipe watched and waited for a few minutes before removing his own helmet, wincing as he unplugged part of the assistant suit from the piloting apparatus. He was bleeding a bit, from where wires had torn into his skin.

A pilot is supposed to wear the entire mobility assistance suit when piloting a mech, but sometimes you had to save your brother from dying before you could get every piece on. Padding over to his makeshift bed, Sideswipe pulled out a medical kit to cover the gashes he’d gotten from the raw connections to himself instead of the suit. Him, Sunstreaker, Breakdown, Jazz and Hound had scars from doing this in the past that reopened far too easily.

—

The comm only had to ping twice before Prowl was on the line, “Hound, it’s the middle of the night cycle.” Though he didn’t sound tired, it was more the concern, “This line secure? No one is listening in?” There were two quick clicks of mechs abandoning the line, “Now there is not. Why?” Hound sighed and sat down, turning the heater on high, “Sunstreaker climbed from his suit when Bluestreak was around, there was some sort of altercation and I need you to connect Bluestreak to the comm line.” Prowl was eerily quiet on the other side, after a moment Hound could tell the poor guy was hitting his head on his desk before there was another click, “Alright, what is happening? Why did an organic of all primes forsaken things climb into Sunny’s chest?” He sounded horrified and Hound bit his lip, trying to not yell and took a breath, “Bluestreak, that organic is Sunstreaker.” Shifting a bit, he claps his hands awkwardly, “And you came way too close to killing him for his brother’s liking or mine.” Taking a breath, Prowl clears his throat, “I will handle this Hound, you should return to the others and get more sleep.” Nodding a bit, it took Hound a second to speak, “Thank you Prowl.” He stood and hands shaking lightly, chose to walk away. Disconnecting himself from the comm line as Bluestreak started to yell.

When Hound got back to the makeshift campsite, all the others were either still asleep or back to sleep. He took a moment, standing away from the others and dragged his hands over his head. They were on yet another alien planet, around people they were just beginning to trust and now someone Sunstreaker had genuinely trusted just attempted to kill him. Maybe not purposefully, maybe even not-knowingly, but these other mecha were dangerous. Hound had to remind himself how dangerous they were. Moving back over and lowering himself to the ground, he stares up at the stars, tomorrow would be a day where none of them trusted Bluestreak again. Trust earned is just as easily lost. Looking over to Sunstreaker, he reaches out and turns the heater up, sighing a bit as it warms the metal around him comfortably.

How could he protect them when everyone knew what they were.

—

Prowl was shouting, Bluestreak had his head down and was trying not to cry. The prime had clear orders whenever it came to organics and nine times out of ten it was to leave them alone. But Blue knew Sunny, knew he hated when he was splattered with energon or anything remotely gross. The guy liked to keep his paint clean, he didn’t think an organic with its slime would be appreciated. Now, he just felt stupid. He’d never seen them eat, they slept more than any other mechanicals he knew, and they preferred to handle their repairs themselves instead of going to Knockout; though who could really blame them for that. Everyone just thought they were weird, like their fascination with death, their avid prayer, and lots of talk about things that couldn’t translate.

“This is a secret that you must keep Bluestreak, you know the prejudices of our people and you know how they’ll be treated. Everyone will think they are piloting around corpses.” Bluestreak shuddered and gagged lightly, “They practically are!” “No, no they are not. Their suits were designed specifically for them, in most cases, Their people needed a way to fight the Quintessons and this was their solution.” Bluestreak leaned back against the seat, staring at the sky, “They look so much like us.” Prowl sighed deeply, “Blame Swerve, regardless, not only am I asking you to keep this secret Blue, but they are as well. Hence why Hound was the one to start this conversation, he only left because of his anger.” Bluestreak paused and looked over to the humans, their solitary huddle, optics leaking, “I didn’t mean to hurt him.” There was a moment of silence before Prowl spoke up, softly now, “I know and they will come to understand that, but remember that Jazz has been organic all these stellar cycles, everything he’s heard,” Blue gasped lightly, “He told them.” Prowl hummed sympathetically. Even Bluestreak found some of the things others said offensive, some of their people couldn’t comprehend how they were living beings or intelligent ones. Sure, some weren’t so bad but even then.

Hiccuping lightly, Bluestreak takes a deep invent, “Primus Prowl, how did you keep this slag a secret for so long? Does the Prime even know?” There was another delay on the line, “I kept it a secret, cause I knew if I said anything it would put Jazz in jeopardy. And I didn’t tell the Prime because we needed him, we need them or we won’t survive these invasions.” They fell silent, both staring off into space, even on separate planets, “I’ll keep their secret Prowl, but how will I get back their trust?” Prowl opened and closed his mouth, “Blue, I wish I knew. Humans are fickle and unpredictable at best.” Bluestreak groaned and slid to the ground, covering his face, “To say as the humans do then, I fucked up.” Prowl chuckled a bit sadly, “Yes, unfortunately you have.” Bluestreak stayed there on the ground, by himself and the overly warm heater.

Prowl disconnected the line and stared at the display of maps and battle plans, the bots who were there to the left side and the humans to the right, taking a slow invest, he adjusted Sunstreakers, Sideswipes, and Hound’s statuses and marked them to not be disturbed until they reached out to the other mecha. It was the only thing he could do from so far away. Glancing over to the icon for Optimus, he thought about it, like he always did in a moment like this before returning to adjusting the plan for tomorrow. They’d just have to survive till they returned to Iacon then they’d be able to discuss this at his— Jazz’s apartment.

———

A/N

So, this was not the initial direction that I planned to take this part but I love it so much. I knew that the twins were going to spill the secret in some way, I originally wanted it to be in a stupid way but I prefer to write angsty stuff.

Let me know if you guys want to know what his nightmare was about? I haven’t written anything down but I know what it is.

Thank you all for all the love I’ve been getting on these fics and I am thinking of setting up a release schedule? I know it will probably be between 4:30 and 6 EST. But I don’t know how many days a week cause at the moment I’m flying by the seat of my pants.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @dimencreasatlas @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @starscreamloverfr @halenhusky309

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU!

#transformers #tf mecha universe #mech pilot jazz au #maccadam #sunstreaker #sideswipe #bluestreak #hound #breakdown #prowl #jazz #the Arcturus missions

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whereserpentswalk · 1 year ago

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Imagine in a world where humans have developed the technology to completely change aspects of our body at will how differently we'd think about ourselves. Like, how diffrent would society be if we just had character customization.

How certain jobs could exploit that. Like if you were poor enough to have to work the type of job that has a uniform, your hair, eye and skin color might have to also be corporate freindly. How being free to look like yourself might become a class privilege.

Or how people with the freedom to look how they want would take it. How people's appearances would completely be based on their internal desires.

There might be an old woman who decides to look exactly how she did when she was young, the spitting image of a twenty something from generations ago. Her wife however decided to age normally, so now most people think they have a massive age gap even though they were born the same year.

There's a guy who chose to look like a cute girl for the same reason he plays female characters in video games. He still uses male pronouns though, and despite being female in every other way he kept his old voice because that feels like part of his identity.

There's someone who pushed the technology to its limits, making themself look like something entirely alien to what we think of as human. Something with pure white skin, and black eyes, and fangs, and spikes all over their body, but they're still just a normal person, the same way someone convered in tattoos is just a normal person.

There's someone who decided to get rid of any secondary sexual characteristics (basically reversing puberty while staying an adult) because she wants to take a break from sex. But after awhile that just becomes part of who she is, and without her old hormones she doesn't really find sex appealing.

There's someone who changes his eye color every week for the same reason someone else might dye their hair new colors constantly. And he's never wanted to change in any other way despite not being conventionally attractive.

That's just how people are I think.

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 11 days ago

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Playing for Keeps | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Chapter 11

← Previous Chapter Next Chapter →

Words: ~8,000

Tags: Modern AU, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Sebastian :)

It had been a week since your first Quidditch match, and life at Hogwarts had mostly returned to normal—or as normal as it could be for you. After missing a couple of days of classes to recover from your injuries, you were finally back on your feet and, for the most part, good as new. Madam Blainey’s healing potions were as effective as ever, and the soreness in your ribs was now only a faint memory.

Physically, you felt fine. Mentally, however, was a different story.

The memory of that day kept looping in your mind: the sharp crack of the Bludger hitting your side, the sickening thud as you collided with the goalpost, and then the blur of panic and pain as you were carried off the pitch. Most of all, you couldn’t stop thinking about Sebastian.

His expression, the sheer panic on his face as he held you, haunted you in the quiet moments. Even more confusing was the time you’d spent together in the hospital wing afterward. He’d stayed with you, fussed over you, his sharp tongue and teasing remarks replaced with something gentler. Something that felt… real.

And then, he was gone.

Sure, Sebastian was still there in class, sitting in his usual spot and answering questions with his characteristic charm. His quips were sharp as ever, drawing scattered chuckles from the room and the occasional exasperated sigh from the professor. On the surface, nothing about him had changed. His confidence was intact, his voice steady, his smirk as infuriating as it was endearing. He still seemed untouchable, like nothing could ever truly get under his skin.

But when it came to you, he remained conspicuously absent.

You’d thought, maybe naively, that things would return to normal after what happened in the hospital wing. After the closeness you’d shared—the way he’d held you steady when the world felt like it was tilting on its axis—you’d assumed he’d slide back into the old rhythm. Back to the teasing remarks, the pointed jabs, the way he filled the silences with his ridiculous antics. Back to you.

But he hadn’t.

He didn’t look at you the same way he had before—or rather, he didn’t look at you at all. His gaze, which used to find you in a room without fail, continued to avoid yours. Like he was keeping a careful distance, even when you were sitting only a few feet away.

And maybe... maybe he was right to tread carefully. You’d been the one to ask for space, after all. And you’d convinced yourself it was the right decision at the time. But now...

Now, the distance felt like a punishment. His absence wasn’t the relief you’d hoped it would be; it was an ache, a quiet, gnawing pain that never seemed to leave. You missed him.

And you didn’t know how to fix it.

It was in the midst of this internal tug-of-war that you found yourself seated at the Slytherin table, absently stirring your porridge as Headmaster Black rose from his seat at the staff table, raising his hand for silence, his perpetually annoyed expression dominating the room.

“Let us get this tiresome affair over with,” he began, his tone dripping with disdain. “Certain individuals—” he shot a pointed glance at Madam Kogawa and Professor Weasley, who both stared back at him with expressions of iron resolve—“have deemed it necessary for these players to grovel before us all. So, Gryffindors, if you must, proceed.”

The Great Hall grew deathly silent as Hugh Macmillan stepped forward. He looked every bit as uncomfortable as you imagined he would, his freckled face pale beneath the Gryffindor red scarf draped around his neck. He cleared his throat, darting a nervous glance at Rory Fitzwilliam and Teddy Bellamy, who each gave him a small nod.

“We…” Hugh started, then paused, as if hoping the floor would open up and swallow him whole. “We’d like to apologize.”

The words hung in the air, and you found yourself shifting slightly in your seat.

Bellamy continued. “What we did during the match was wrong. It wasn’t just unsportsmanlike—it was dangerous. We’re sorry. We didn’t just let the team down; we let the school down. And we let you down,” he said, looking directly at you. “We’re really sorry for what we did. It wasn’t fair to you.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was blink at him.

Finally, Rory stepped forward. “We take full responsibility for our actions and the consequences,” he said clearly, his voice steady and firm. “We hope you can forgive us, but regardless, we wanted to own up to what we did.”

A faint ripple of murmurs spread across the hall, starting at the Ravenclaw table. The apology was met with hesitant applause, first from the Gryffindors, naturally, then from a scattering of other tables. Even some of the Slytherins clapped, though many looked less than thrilled about it.

You kept your expression carefully neutral. When Rory’s eyes met yours, you gave a small nod—just enough to acknowledge the apology. It wasn’t forgiveness, but it was something. Rory seemed to take it as a good sign, and he stepped back in line with the other two players.

Headmaster Black sighed dramatically, his hand sweeping dismissively toward the Gryffindor table. “Are we quite finished? Excellent. Back to your seats, then, before this drags on any longer.”

Hugh, Teddy, and Rory quickly shuffled back to their table, their faces a mixture of relief and embarrassment. Black resumed his seat at the staff table with a disgruntled huff, muttering something under his breath.

Madam Kogawa and Professor Weasley exchanged a glance—Kogawa’s satisfaction was clear in the slight tilt of her head, while Weasley gave a small, approving nod.

As the Great Hall gradually returned to its usual breakfast chatter, you became aware of a familiar gaze. Sebastian’s eyes were on you, steady and searching from his spot at the down the table.

His raised brow and the subtle tilt of his head almost seemed to ask a question: You believe them?

You held his gaze for a moment too long, shrugging faintly before averting your eyes to your hands resting on the table.

Still, your mind raced—and your heart, inexplicably, along with it.

Your heart had been doing that more and more whenever it came to Sebastian. A simple glance, an offhanded remark in class, even the memory of the way he had looked at you in the hospital wing—his eyes full of worry, his voice uncharacteristically soft—was enough to set it off, fluttering against your ribs like a caged bird.

As you finished the last bites of your breakfast, you tried to brush off the sensation, chalking it up to something reasonable. Maybe it was some lingering aftereffect of your injury, or perhaps a symptom of something more serious. Accelerated heart rate could mean anemia, couldn’t it? Or a lack of sleep? You’d missed a couple of meals while recovering—could that have done it?

Yes, that had to be it. Something simple, explainable.

You rose from the table, collecting your belongings before slinging your bag over your shoulder.

As you stepped into the crisp morning air of the Transfiguration Courtyard, your breath curled in soft mist before you. Tugging your scarf tighter around your neck, you welcomed the bite of the cold—its sharpness a brief reprieve from the unfamiliar weight pressing against your chest.

“Hey—Chouette! Wait up!”

You turned abruptly, blinking as Leander jogged up to you, his face flushed, whether from the cold or the effort, you couldn’t tell.

“...What is it, Prewett?”

“I just… I need to talk to you,” he said, slowing to a stop in front of you. His usual bravado seemed absent, replaced by something awkward and hesitant.

You crossed your arms, raising a brow. “About what?”

“You know,” he said, his voice faltering. "About... about the wager I made with Sallow."

Your brow furrowed, the sharp chill in the air doing little to temper the flare of irritation warming your chest. “What about it?” you asked coolly, your words clipped.

Leander shifted awkwardly, faltering under your gaze. “Look, after seeing those blokes apologize back there I... I realized I should do the same. I know I’ve been a right git,” he said, his voice uneven. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. “You’re sorry,” you repeated.

“Yes,” he insisted, his tone growing almost defensive. “I was awful to you, and you didn’t deserve it.” He hesitated, then added, “...It wasn’t easy to come here and say this, you know.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him. It had been weeks since Garreth’s party. Weeks since the bet had spiraled out of control, leaving you humiliated and exposed to the whispered speculations of the entire school. And now, here Leander stood, his face flushed and his expression teetering between guilt and something far less noble. He had the audacity to act like it was remorse that made him shift on his feet and avoid your eyes, when you knew better.

It wasn’t guilt—it was self-preservation.

“I know it's been awhile since it happened,” Leander continued, the words sounding rehearsed. “But I let things get out of hand,” He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. “And look, I'm apologizing now, right? All water under the bridge, eh?”

“She doesn’t owe you forgiveness. So why don’t you take your ‘apology’ and shove off?”

The sound of Sebastian’s voice sent a jolt of surprise through you. He strode into the courtyard with the easy confidence that always seemed to cloak him, his hands tucked casually into the pocket of his hoodie. His expression, however, was anything but casual. His dark eyes burned with cold intensity as they locked onto the redhead.

Leander bristled, his cheeks darkening. “I wasn’t talking to you, Sallow.”

Sebastian stopped a few paces away, tilting his head slightly as if considering the words. Then he shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’m talking to you.” His tone was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it, a quiet threat simmering beneath the surface. “What do you think you’re going to accomplish here? Hoping she’ll tell you everything's fine so you can feel better about yourself?"

Leander’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “You're just as guilty as I am."

Sebastian's smirk flickered into something sharper, more dangerous. His posture remained deceptively casual, but you caught the subtle shift in his stance—the way his shoulders squared just slightly, the faint clench of his jaw.

“Maybe,” he said coolly. “But I’m not the one hounding her for absolution in public, am I?”

Leander’s face flushed deeper, his frustration bubbling over as he took a step forward. “You think you’re better than me? You—”

Sebastian cut him off with a low chuckle, shaking his head. "I owned up to what I did weeks ago." He took a small step forward, closing the distance between them.

“You’ve been more of a thorn in her side than I have," Leander snapped, his voice rising slightly. "You’re not some knight in shining armor.”

Sebastian tilted his head, his expression hardening. "Fuck off, Prewett. She doesn’t owe you anything. Not her forgiveness, not her time, not a second more of her day. So do us all a favor and walk away before you make an even bigger fool of yourself.”

The words hung heavy in the chilly morning air, and for a moment, neither of man moved. Leander’s hands flexed at his sides, his gaze flickering toward you briefly, as though looking for some kind of support. When he found none, his shoulders sagged, his bluster faltering.

With a frustrated huff, he muttered, “Fine,” and turned on his heel, stalking off toward the castle.

The tension in the courtyard seemed to dissipate with every step Leander took, leaving behind only the faint rustle of the wind and the chatter of students who'd watched the encounter unfold. You let out a breath, your arms dropping to your sides.

Sebastian turned to you then, the hard edges of his expression softening. “You alright?”

You nodded slowly, still processing what had just happened. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I’m fine.”

Sebastian studied you for a moment longer, his gaze lingering as though he was trying to read your thoughts.

“Good,” he said simply.

You cleared your throat. “You, um. You didn’t have to step in."

“Maybe not,” Sebastian admitted, shrugging one shoulder. “But I wanted to.”

There was something about the way he said it—so calm, so matter-of-fact—that sent warmth flooding through you again, unbidden and maddeningly persistent. You hesitated, your thoughts swirling, before finally managing a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Anytime."

With that, he turned and walked off, sticking his earbuds in as he disappeared around the corner.

The rest of the morning passed in a haze, each class a blur as your mind stubbornly refused to focus. Charms brought top marks on your essay, and Potions earned you a rare nod of approval from Professor Sharp, yet neither accomplishment could hold your attention. Instead, your thoughts kept circling back to Sebastian, as if your mind were intent on sabotaging any attempt to take notes or absorb useful information.

In Transfiguration, you caught yourself watching him (again). He was in his usual spot near the window, the sunlight casting a soft glow over his dark hair. He wasn’t doing anything remarkable—just sitting there, his head tilted slightly as he listened to Professor Weasley explain a complex spell theory. And yet, for some reason, you couldn’t look away.

Your gaze drifted to the curls of his hair at the nape of his neck, where it just brushed the collar of his robes. It looked impossibly soft, the kind of tousled imperfection that seemed to call for your fingertips. The light caught on his skin, and you unwittingly traced the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. You’d noticed them before, of course, but now you found yourself wondering just how many there were, how long it would take to count them all—freckle by freckle. The thought made your stomach flip, heat creeping up your neck as you quickly turned your attention back to your notes.

But the distraction was short-lived. Your gaze flickered back to him almost involuntarily, your mind filling with questions you had no business asking. Did the freckles continue down his neck, hidden beneath the crisp collar of his shirt? How far down did they go? The thought sent your pulse racing, and you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to look at your parchment again.

This is ridiculous, you told yourself. He's just… Sebastian. Sitting there, exactly like he always has, nothing out of the ordinary. But the more you tried to brush it off, the more you noticed. Like the breadth of his shoulders, broad and steady beneath the dark fabric of his robes. Or the way his hands moved as he wrote, the quick, precise strokes of his quill against parchment. His fingers were long, thick, and somehow graceful despite their callouses—no doubt from years of dueling and gripping a broomstick.

You let out a quiet huff of frustration, earning a glance from Imelda, who sat beside you. She arched a brow, her expression a mix of curiosity and suspicion, but thankfully said nothing.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of class, you scrambled to gather your things, determined to escape before your thoughts spiraled any further. But as you hurried out of the classroom, the sound of Sebastian's laugh—low and rich, in response to something Garreth had said—followed you, lingering in your mind long after you’d left.

By the time dinner rolled around, you’d resigned yourself to the distraction. Seated at the Slytherin table, you barely touched your food, your fork idly pushing a slice of roast potato around your plate as your mind wandered. You barely noticed when Imelda slid into the seat across from you until she waved a hand in front of your face, snapping you out of your daze.

“Oi, earth to Chouette. You alright, or did someone hit you with a Confundus?”

Startled, you blinked at her, trying to mask your flustered expression. “What? No, I’m fine.”

Imelda raised an unimpressed brow, her sharp eyes narrowing. “You don’t look fine. You’ve been spaced out all day. Even during quidditch practice, and you never zone out during practice.”

You forced a weak smile, brushing off her concern with a shrug. “Didn’t sleep well last night,” you lied, hoping she wouldn’t press further.

Her skeptical snort told you she wasn’t buying it. “You’re a terrible liar, you know. But fine, don’t tell me. Just don’t fall off your broom again, yeah? You’ve already filled your quota for near-death experiences this month.”

Her teasing tone struck a chord, the memory of the match, the memory of Sebastian's face so close to yours, flashing through your mind again. You gave her a tight smile, muttering something about needing to grab a book from the library before hastily excusing yourself.

The last thing you needed was Imelda poking further into your thoughts.

The library was a welcome reprieve, the familiar scent of old books and ink soothing your frayed nerves. You found a secluded corner near the Restricted Section, sinking into a chair and pulling out your textbook with a quiet sigh. The faint rustle of pages and the scratch of quills filled the air, providing a steady backdrop to your spiraling thoughts.

You slipped your headphones in, grateful for the muffling cocoon of sound as your playlist began, drowning out the faint whispers of the library and, mercifully, the relentless thoughts of Sebastian that had plagued you all day.

Finally, your mind began to settle, and you turned your attention fully to the Arithmancy equations before you, the numbers and symbols pulling you into their intricate logic.

Time passed in a blur, marked only by the occasional shift of light through the high windows and the quiet rustle of nearby students. You felt productive, a small sense of triumph settling over you as your quill moved steadily across the parchment.

But the fragile peace shattered when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You tensed, pulling your headphones out and turning to see none other than Amelia Rosier flanked by two of her equally polished friends. She stood with her arms crossed, her lips curved in a smile that dripped with insincerity.

“Well, well,” she began, her voice lilting with exaggerated sweetness, “look who we have here—Hogwarts’ most unexpected addition.”

Before you could respond, one of her friends, a blonde with perfectly braided hair, leaned against the edge of the table and chimed in, “It’s so brave of you to sit back here all alone. Most people would be too worried about looking… I don’t know… forgotten?”

The other friend, a petite brunette with sharp features, laughed softly, covering her mouth with a manicured hand. “But I suppose blending in would be difficult, wouldn’t it?”

Your stomach twisted, but you kept your expression neutral, your fingers tightening around the quill in your hand. “Can I help you with something?”

Amelia let out a soft laugh, clearly reveling in your discomfort. “Oh, no need to be so defensive. We just thought we’d stop by and say hello. After all, you’ve been the talk of the school lately.”

Her blonde friend, still leaning on the table, tilted her head and added, “You're all anyone can talk about—You know, Sebastian swooping in to defend you like some kind of damsel in distress this morning? It’s almost romantic, don’t you think?”

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to stay calm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t play coy,” Amelia said, stepping closer and sliding gracefully into the chair across from you. Her friends followed suit, settling in like uninvited shadows. “Everyone knows he stood up to Leander for you. It’s practically heroic. But don’t let it go to your head, darling. He’s just being nice, that’s all.”

Your grip on the quill tightened until your knuckles ached. It took every ounce of restraint not to snap back, to remind yourself that giving them the reaction they clearly wanted would only add fuel to their fire.

Amelia leaned back in her chair, her icy blue eyes studying you with a smirk that made your skin crawl. "Oh, don’t look so serious," she said, her tone dripping with false sweetness. "We’re just having a bit of fun. No need to get upset."

Her blonde friend tilted her head, her expression feigning concern. “Do you think we’re upsetting her? I hope not. I mean, she has been through so much lately. The whole bet situation, falling off her broom…” Her lips curled into a sly smile. “It must be so exhausting.”

Amelia leaned forward, her icy gaze fixed on you as if she were a predator toying with her prey. “It was sweet, really, how Sebastian caught you after you fell."

The brunette chimed in, tilting her head as if she were genuinely curious. “Do you think he did it out of pity? Like, maybe he felt obligated because of the wager. It would explain a lot, don’t you think?”

Your chest tightened, the sting of their words sharp and unrelenting. You fought to keep your expression neutral, to keep the tremor out of your voice as you replied, “I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, but—”

“Oh, come now,” Amelia interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t be so sensitive. We’re just trying to help you manage your expectations. It’s a good thing, really. Wouldn’t want you getting your hopes up for someone like Sebastian.”

The blonde, still perched on the edge of the table, leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Sebastian has a type, you know? And let’s just say… it’s not you.”

Amelia shot her a look of mock disapproval, though the glee in her eyes was unmistakable. “Now, now, let’s not be mean. It’s not her fault she’s…” She trailed off, her gaze sweeping over you in a way that made you want to shrink into your seat. “Well, you know.”

Your chest tightened, the words slicing through you like shards of ice. You opened your mouth to retort, but Amelia cut you off with a saccharine smile.

“Speaking of which, I should probably let you in on something.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was loud enough for the entire library to hear. “Sebastian will actually be joining me in the prefects’ bathroom tonight. You know, the one with the enchanted tub? Oh, that’s right—you’re a transfer. You probably don’t even know what the prefects’ bathroom is.”

Your stomach twisted violently, a bitter taste rising in your throat. Amelia’s tone was condescending, like she was explaining something to a child. “It’s this absolutely luxurious space, reserved for prefects and people like me, of course.”

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“Is that so?"

The words drew all eyes to the end of the aisle, where Sebastian stood, leaning casually against the edge of a nearby bookshelf. His dark eyes were sharp, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Oh, Seb!” Amelia’s voice pitched up, dripping with false sweetness as she quickly recovered from her surprise. She slid gracefully from her seat, smoothing the front of her robes as she approached him with an exaggerated sway of her hips. “We were just talking about you!"

Sebastian didn’t move from his spot at the end of the aisle, his arms crossed over his chest and his weight shifted lazily against the bookshelf. “Yeah, I caught that part,” he tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “It's just strange... because I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered making plans with you.”

The other girls exchanged uneasy glances, clearly caught off guard by the cool detachment in his voice. Amelia, however, was undeterred. She stepped closer, her smile widening as she reached out to lightly touch his arm. “Don’t be silly, Seb. You know how forgetful you can be.”

Sebastian didn’t flinch, but his gaze dropped to where her fingers rested against his sleeve. With a deliberate slowness, he raised a single brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched with something close to disdain.

“Amelia,” he said, his voice calm but with an unmistakable edge, “you’ve got a better chance of seeing a Hungarian Horntail in the prefects’ bathroom than seeing me there with you.”

Amelia’s hand froze mid-motion, her confident smirk faltering for the briefest moment before she quickly recovered. “Oh, you’re such a tease,” she said with a strained laugh, withdrawing her hand and smoothing her hair. “Always so funny, aren’t you?”

“Funny?” he echoed, his voice quiet but cutting through the tension like a knife. “No, what’s funny is watching you embarrass yourself in front of half the library with these ridiculous lies.”

Amelia blinked, the saccharine confidence in her smile beginning to crack. “I—I don’t know what you mean. We were just—”

“You were just,” he interrupted smoothly, his tone as sharp as broken glass, “making a fool of yourself."

Her friends exchanged uneasy glances, shifting uncomfortably in their seats, but Sebastian didn’t give them a chance to intervene. He took another step forward, his gaze locked on Amelia, unflinching.

“Let me be perfectly clear,” he said, his voice steady and unwavering. "There is no us. Not friends, not acquaintances, and certainly not whatever ridiculous fantasy you’ve concocted in your head.”

Amelia’s face flushed crimson, her lips parting as if to argue, but Sebastian didn’t give her the chance.

“And if you think spreading lies about me—about her—makes you look clever or desirable, it doesn’t,” he continued, his tone sharpening with every word. “It makes you look petty. Desperate. And frankly, pathetic.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Amelia’s lips parted, as though she wanted to respond, but no words came. Her blue eyes darted around the aisle, searching for support from her friends, but they both seemed intent on avoiding her gaze.

Sebastian’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it grew harder, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he added, “Oh, and for the record? My type is someone with enough self-respect not to pull this sort of pathetic stunt. So... evidently, not you."

Amelia's cheeks burned, and her mouth opened as though she wanted to retort, but no sound came out. For a moment, the tension between them hung thick in the air, like a volcano about to erupt.

You swallowed hard, heart pounding as you risked a glance around the library. As expected, the commotion had drawn attention—plenty of it. Students at tables and tucked into study carrels craned their necks to see what was happening, some even holding up their phones, the faint glow of screens unmistakable in the dim light.

A small, vindictive spark flared in your chest. Karma.

Amelia's eyes darted toward the other students, the weight of their gazes clearly dawning on her. Her composed façade cracked further, the sweetness in her expression warping into something more brittle and strained. “You really think this is a good look for you, Sebastian?” she said, her voice trembling slightly but still clinging to a thread of defiance.

Sebastian didn’t flinch, his broad frame seeming to loom even larger as he took one deliberate step closer. The movement wasn’t threatening, but it left no room for doubt about who held control of the situation.

“I think,” he said evenly, his tone cool and measured, “that the only person who looks bad here is you and your stupid little friends."

Amelia let out a frustrated huff, her composure cracking entirely. “Let’s go,” she barked at the other girls, who scrambled to follow her, their faces pale with embarrassment.

As the trio retreated down the aisle, the tension in the library began to dissipate. Whispers erupted among the students, punctuated by the occasional stifled laugh or the faint click of a phone camera.

Sebastian let out a breath as he turned to you. His expression softened, the sharp edges melting away to reveal something closer to concern.

“You alright?”

You stared at him, your lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. Shock, disbelief, and an undercurrent of gratitude coursed through you, leaving you rooted to your seat.

“Chouette?”

When you still didn’t respond, he let out a soft sigh and glanced around the room.

“Alright,” he said sharply, addressing the gawking crowd. “Put your damn phones away. Now.” His voice cut through the low hum of whispers, and his dark eyes swept the room like a storm. “She’s not a spectacle for your entertainment.”

Most of the students scrambled to comply, their guilty expressions betraying them as they shoved their phones back into their robes. A few lingered, clearly hoping for more drama, but Sebastian didn’t give them the satisfaction. He turned his attention back to you, crouching slightly so he was eye level.

“Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, already gathering your quill, parchment, and books.

You blinked, finally finding your voice, though it was faint. “Sebastian, you didn’t have to…”

“Yes, I did." He extended his free hand toward you, his expression softening as he added, “Come on.”

You hesitated for just a moment before slipping your hand into his, your fingers fitting into his as if they’d always belonged there.

With quiet confidence, Sebastian led you through the sea of onlookers, his broad frame effortlessly parting the crowd. You followed without question.

The walk through the castle was silent, save for the soft shuffle of your shoes against the stone floors. You didn’t ask where he was taking you—something about the way he moved, purposeful and unhurried, made it clear he had a destination in mind.

Finally, he stopped in what seemed like an unremarkable corridor—a dead-end tucked away in the Dark Arts Tower. Sebastian paused in front of an ornate clock, its hands frozen in place. Without a word, he drew his wand, tracing a pattern in the air.

Before you could ask what he was doing, the clock shifted with a low, mechanical groan, its face sliding open to reveal a hidden staircase disappearing into the shadows below.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable, though there was a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. “This is… a bit of a secret,” he admitted quietly, stepping aside to let you enter first. "Ominis might kill me if he finds out I showed you."

You hesitated for a moment, your gaze flicking between him and the hidden staircase that now yawned open before you.

“A secret?” you echoed.

Sebastian offered a faint, lopsided smile. “Yeah. Ominis is… particular about who knows, so let’s keep this between us, alright?”

The flicker of vulnerability in his eyes made your chest tighten. You nodded wordlessly, stepping past him and onto the hidden staircase.

When you reached the bottom, the room before you opened up into a sprawling, dimly lit chamber. Mismatched furniture was scattered around—a worn sofa here, a rickety table there—giving the space an oddly comfortable, lived-in feel.

“This,” Sebastian said, stepping past you and gesturing with a casual sweep of his arm, “is the Undercroft.”

You turned slowly, taking in the details of the space. There was a strange kind of intimacy here, a sense of history that felt almost tangible. Your gaze drifted to Sebastian, who stood watching you, your belongings still tucked under his arm.

“It’s… I had no idea something like this even existed... how long have you known about this place?" You stammered.

His lips quirked into a faint, wistful smile. “It’s been our sanctuary for years—mine, Ominis’, and… well, my sister too, back when she was still here."

You blinked. "...You have a sister?"

Sebastian’s smile faltered slightly, the edges softening into something quieter, more introspective. He lowered your belongings onto a nearby table, his fingers lingering for a moment on the spine of your notebook before he straightened.

“I do,” he said softly, the word carrying a weight that hung heavy in the air. “Anne. She’s... she had to leave Hogwarts a few years ago.”

The way he said it made your chest tighten, a faint ache blooming there. You opened your mouth to ask more, then paused, uncertain whether your should ask more.

Sebastian seemed to catch the hesitation in your expression because he let out a quiet sigh. “She was cursed,” he said finally, his voice low but steady. "Lives full time at St. Mungo's now."

Your stomach twisted at the rawness in his voice, the faint crack around the edges. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly, the words feeling inadequate even as you said them.

He shrugged, though it wasn’t dismissive. “It’s not your fault. And I’ve made my peace with it. Mostly.” His lips twitched into a faint, self-deprecating smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Anyway, this is... where I come to think.”

He paused, his dark eyes flicking back to you, and for a moment, his gaze was so open it left you breathless. “That’s why I brought you here,” he added softly. “I figured you might need that too.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

The vulnerability in his tone, the way he was letting you in—it was so at odds with the cocky, sharp-tongued boy who used to tease you endlessly.

“I don’t… I mean, thank you,” you stammered, feeling unsteady under the weight of the moment. “This is—this is really nice of you.”

Sebastian let out a faint, self-deprecating laugh, the sound soft and low as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t give me too much credit,” he said, his tone laced with a wry edge. “It’s not as noble or selfless as it probably seems.”

You blinked. “...What do you mean?”

He shrugged, crossing the room with an easy, almost languid stride, and sank onto one of the worn couches. The way he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and fingers loosely clasped, made it seem like he was trying to find the right words.

“I just…” He paused, exhaling slowly, his dark eyes focused on some distant point in the room. “I wanted to talk to you. That’s why I was in the library earlier... looking for you.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. His tone was quieter than usual, lacking the sharp confidence you’d come to expect from him. It made you uneasy—and curious.

After a moment of hesitation, you moved toward a nearby chair, lowering yourself into it cautiously.

Sebastian glanced at you briefly, his gaze flicking to your face before darting away. He shifted slightly, leaning back against the couch, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his calm façade.

“I’ve been trying to give you space,” he admitted, his voice low, almost hesitant. “After… everything. I know it's what you wanted—”

“—I did,” you interrupted softly. “But…”

“...But?”

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. The flicker of vulnerability in his expression—so unguarded, so real—made your chest ache. “But it’s been… strange,” you admitted quietly, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them. “Not having you around as much, I mean.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he quickly masked it, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “...Strange, huh?”

“Don’t make me regret saying that,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat.

Sebastian’s faint smile turned into a quiet laugh, warm and low. “I won't,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll behave.”

A small, reluctant smile tugged at your lips, your gaze lingering on him, drawn to every detail of his face.

Had his eyelashes always been that long? It wasn’t fair, really, the way they framed his eyes, making the rich, dark brown even warmer, softer. And the longer you looked, the more you noticed—the slope of his nose, the curve of his jaw, the way his mouth parted slightly as he exhaled, the faint scar by his eyebrow. And his mouth—Merlin help you, why were you staring at his mouth? The faint sheen of moisture on his lips made you wonder, for a fleeting, dangerous moment, what they might taste like. Would they be warm, firm, soft? Would he—

Your chest tightened, and you forced yourself to look away, only to find your gaze helplessly drawn back to him. His dark eyes were still locked on yours, deep and searching, like he was trying to unravel the thoughts tangled in your head.

The moment stretched thinner and thinner, a wire ready to snap as he leaned forward, just a fraction, the movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible.

Then, just as the tension became unbearable—

“Sebastian?” A voice drawled from the staircase, breaking the fragile quiet like shattering glass.

You jolted back instinctively, your heart slamming against your ribs as Ominis descended the stairs, his phone in hand.

“You’ve gone viral again.” Ominis huffed a laugh, moving through the room and holding his phone out.

Sebastian groaned, the sound low and frustrated, as he slumped back against the couch. The spell between you was broken, the moment slipping away like sand through your fingers.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. “How'd you know I was here?!”

Ominis raised an unimpressed brow. “Where else would you be? You publicly humiliated Amelia Rosier in the middle of the library not 20 minutes ago."

Sebastian let out a derisive snort. “The video got out already, then?

“Videos. Plural." Ominis said dryly, holding out the phone again. “Apparently there’s a particularly flattering angle of you towering over her like some vengeful storm cloud. Very cinematic.”

Sebastian smirked faintly, his usual cocky demeanor slipping back into place like a well-worn cloak. “Well,” he drawled, leaning back with a casual air that was entirely too practiced. “Can’t help it if I’m naturally dramatic. Someone had to put her in her place. Might as well make it entertaining.”

Ominis sighed heavily, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “insufferable,” before holding out the phone toward Sebastian. “Here. You might want to see just how entertaining you looked.”

Sebastian reached for the phone, but as Ominis shifted slightly to hand it over, he stiffened. His brows furrowed, his head tilting as though he were trying to listen for something.

“You’re not alone,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, a hint of suspicion creeping into his tone.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, shifting slightly in your chair. “Uh… hi, Ominis.”

His head snapped in your direction, his expression quickly shifting from suspicion to something closer to alarm. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Chouette?”

Sebastian groaned, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Relax, Ominis. She’s not going to tell anyone.”

“That’s not the point!” Ominis snapped. “You can’t just bring anyone here—”

“She’s not anyone,” Sebastian interjected firmly.

Ominis’ jaw tightened, his lips parting as though to argue, but he stopped himself. Instead, he inhaled deeply, his shoulders stiffening as he turned toward you, his expression unreadable. “This place is… important,” he said carefully, his tone measured. “It’s not just somewhere we hang out, it’s—”

“I know,” you interrupted softly, your voice steady but quiet. “Sebastian explained. I understand.”

Ominis’ frown deepened, but he didn’t say anything for a long moment. The silence was heavy, thick with unspoken tension, until finally, he let out a long, resigned sigh. “Alright,” he muttered. “Fine. But if you breathe a word about this to anyone—”

“She won’t,” Sebastian interrupted again, his tone cutting and impatient now. “Merlin’s sake, Ominis, can you stop for once and just… trust me? Or her?”

Ominis stiffened at that, his expression flickering for a moment before he sighed again. “Fine,” he muttered, clearly begrudging but unwilling to argue further. He turned, muttering something under his breath as he moved to one of the armchairs.

Sebastian watched him for a moment, his jaw tight, before turning back to you. His dark eyes softened slightly as they met yours, a quiet apology flickering in their depths.

“So…” you began, clearing your throat. “What’s… the general sentiment about the videos?”

Ominis snorted, the sound cutting through the tension like a razor. “It's astonishing,” he drawled, his tone dripping with dry amusement, “how little it takes for Sebastian to sway people. One dramatic confrontation, a few cutting remarks, and suddenly, you're everyone’s favorite underdog, Chouette."

Sebastian smirked faintly, leaning back against the couch and crossing his arms over his chest. “What can I say? I have a certain… charm,” he said, the self-satisfaction practically oozing from his voice.

Ominis rolled his eyes, though his lips twitched as if suppressing a smirk. “Yes, well, your charm has also turned Amelia Rosier into the school’s latest social pariah. She’s lost hundreds of followers already. The poor girl might actually have to face the consequences of her actions. Imagine that.”

Your eyebrows shot up, surprised. “Hundreds?” you echoed, glancing between the two boys. “That’s… kind of a lot.”

Ominis shrugged, his expression indifferent. “People are fickle,” he said simply. “They’ll rally behind whatever makes for the best story—and right now, that happens to be you and Sebastian.”

Sebastian’s grin widened, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Finally, some proper recognition.”

Ominis let out a groan of amused annoyance and you glanced between them, a faint smile tugging at your lips as they continued their familiar bickering. But something still lingered in your mind, nagging at you.

After a beat, you cleared your throat softly. “So… about the Prefects’ Bathroom…” you began hesitantly.

Both boys turned to look at you—Sebastian with raised eyebrows, and Ominis with a subtle crease of curiosity forming between his brows.

“What about it?” Sebastian asked.

You swallowed, feeling a faint heat creeping up your neck. “Is it, um… is it a real place?”

Sebastian blinked, clearly taken off guard, before a wide grin spread across his face. “Oh, Chouette,” he drawled, his tone laced with playful mockery. “Don’t tell me you thought she made that up.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you crossed your arms defensively. “Well, excuse me for not knowing the intricacies of Hogwarts plumbing,” you shot back, glaring at him.

Ominis let out a soft chuckle, his head tilting slightly as he addressed you. “It’s real,” he confirmed. “Though it’s not quite as… glamorous as certain rumors might make it out to be.”

“Not glamorous?” Sebastian interjected, outraged. “Speak for yourself, Ominis! The Prefects’ Bathroom is practically the height of luxury. Enchanted taps, a massive pool of a tub… Honestly, it’s wasted on the likes of those bloody prefects.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “Wait, really?"

“Absolutely,” Sebastian said, his grin widening. “Fluffy towels, loads of bubbles, stained glass... Very fancy. And let me tell you, Chouette—Amelia Rosier wouldn’t last five minutes trying to sneak in.”

Ominis scoffed. “Neither would you, Sebastian. If memory serves, the last time you got anywhere near the door, you were caught by Mr. Moon.”

Sebastian winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, that was one time, and I was fifteen. It doesn’t count.”

“It absolutely counts,” Ominis deadpanned.

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head. “I should’ve known you’d have a story about it.”

Sebastian shrugged, his grin unwavering. “I’m full of stories. Stick around, and I’ll tell you all of them.”

Ominis groaned again, though there was no real malice in it. “Merlin help us,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair. “One of these days, we’re all going to regret enabling you.”

Sebastian smirked. “But today’s not that day,” he said smoothly.

You let their banter wash over you, but your mind wandered further, a spark of mischief flickering to life. The more you thought about it, the more the idea began to take shape, and you had to suppress the smirk threatening to tug at your lips.

"But hypothetically... if someone wanted to get in, is it really that hard?"

Ominis turned his head sharply in your direction, and Sebastian's eyebrows shot up.

"You want to get in?" The brunette asked, grin widening.

"Hypothetically," You repeated.

Ominis sighed heavily, his hand gripping the arm of his chair as though bracing himself for the chaos that was surely about to unfold. "This is a bad idea," he muttered. "A catastrophically bad idea."

"You say that about everything," Sebastian quipped, waving a hand dismissively. "And yet, here you are, still alive and not expelled."

Ominis’ frown deepened, but he said nothing.

Sebastian leaned toward you conspiratorially as he rested an elbow on his knee. "Well, hypothetically," he began, his voice dropping to a mock whisper, "it’s not impossible. The bathroom is on the fifth floor, behind the fourth door to the left of a statue of Boris the Bewildered. You need the current password to get in, and it's only known to prefects, Head Boys and Girls, and Quidditch captains."

"And if you had the password?" you asked, tilting your head innocently.

Sebastian’s grin grew wider. "Then you’d just need a good alibi and a decent bit of stealth."

Ominis sighed heavily, his head tilting back in defeat. "This is madness."

"Madness?" Sebastian echoed. "No, Ominis. This is fun."

You bit your lip, fighting back a grin. "What if," you said slowly, your voice measured, "we got in and took a picture? Just for… posterity."

Sebastian tilted his head. "A picture?"

You nodded, a sly smile creeping onto your face. "You know... to make a point."

Ominis frowned, his brows knitting together as though he could sense your intent even without seeing your face. "What kind of point?"

"I dunno. I mean, Amelia seemed really keen on getting in there with Sebastian..." You trailed off, shrugging a shoulder. "How'd you think she'd feel if she saw a picture of us in there instead?"

Sebastian's eyebrows shot up, and then he burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the stone walls of the Undercroft. "Oh, Chouette," he said between laughs, leaning back in his chair and raking a hand through his hair. "You’re absolutely wicked."

Ominis groaned audibly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard."

"Oh, come on," Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Don’t you see the poetic justice here?"

You crossed your arms. "She started it, after all," you added, your tone almost innocent. "I’m just finishing it."

Ominis tilted his head in your direction, his pale eyes narrowing slightly as though he could somehow see the mischief radiating off you. "And how, exactly, do you plan on pulling this off? Even if we were insane enough to go along with this—which, for the record, I’m not—you’d still need the password."

"Simple," you said, a sly grin tugging at your lips. "You seem to forget that Imelda and I are thick as thieves—and she just so happens to be our Quidditch captain."

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