veyveyx

[veyveyx]

what music do people actually listen to. like, i went through MANY phases

in no particular order, just as i think of them

1. the beatles

2. paramore

3. fleetwood mac

4. chappell roan

5. v tuber music?? (i am ashamed)

6. mitski (always and forever)

7. steve lacy?? (i love amandlas interlude)

8. abba?

11. snow patrol?

9. radiohead (specifically in rainbows and ok computer)

10. oasis?

12. van halen

13. k pop (mostly basic stuff like skz , bts and black pink)

14. arctic monkeys

15. the arcane s2 soundtrack?

16. tyler tc??

and they just rotate over and over and over occasionally with something new.

[veyveyx]

yum 😋

the girls are fighting!! | toto wolff

an: because i’m seeing oasis this year, i thought it would be nice to make this pls don’t hate me, i love the spice girls!! (i only know one of their songs) fun fact: the original idea for this was that the reader was a grunge singer from the 90s but ever since the oasis reunion was announced that’s literally all i can think about

oasis member!reader

INSTAGRAM

liked by yourusername, britpopcults and others

f1updatingdaily f1 twitter recently brought up the feud that y/n l/n (oasis bassist and toto wolff’s wife) and geri halliwell (spice girls member and christian horner’s wife) had in the late 90s until 2019. y/n recently told rolling stone magazine that her and geri have love for each other now and attend races together when they can. while at least one horner and wolff settled their differences, christian horner and toto wolff continue the horner/wolff rivalry that was started by their wives.

hereswonderwall I’m not a big fan of the spice girls but when geri gave y/n the future trophy wife mug . . . it was iconic

y/nupdates y/n and geri: 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 toto and christian: 😡🤮

hamilton444 got a picture with y/n and geri in monaco last year! they were so nice and even facetimed my mum! she’s a big oasis and spice girls fan

feelgoodbitch toto and christian will never work it out on the remix

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liked by lewishamilton, gerihalliwellhorner and others

yourusername i guess gerihalliwellhorner was right 🙃

gerihalliwellhorner 😅😅

liamgallagher you traded the bass for fancy shite??

yourusername i would trade you for a strawberry

liamgallagher rude

yourusername see you in may for rehearsal! don’t be late you old man xx

mercedesamgf1 that’s my wife! - toto

ferraridepressionclub manifesting a divorce so i can keep y/n to myself

mercedesamgf1 blocked and reported

ferraridepressionclub WAIT NOOOO

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[veyveyx]

that ending is so deliciously horrible and i want it so bad

Claiming

[this was supposed to be a silly little headcanon, but now it's a semi-story wtf]

When you arrived to camp, you stayed in Hermes' cabin for a while where Luke took care of helping you settle down. The days grew longer as you waited for your godly parent to claim you, and yet to no avail. Luke did his best to cheer you up, and after wallowing in your emotions for too long, you accepted his help and lived a semi-normal life in the camp.

You would train with Luke in the arena, first with swords, but when you realised that daggers were more your style, Luke brought in his little sister, Annabeth, to help you. She was a tiny girl, but she took your training very seriously, as expected by a Child of Athena. By the end of your third week in camp, you had mastered all you can wielding a dagger.

Throughout the days, you and Luke have gotten into shenanigans— he mostly pulls you in when he's planning pranks on the other kids, or even Chiron— and you honestly forget that you're still an unclaimed child.

That was until Drew, the daughter of Aphrodite, accidentally did more damage than anticipated with her charmspeak on an unlucky daughter of Hephaestus.

Silena dealt with Drew in their own Aphrodite-like way, but Charles had trouble consoling his little sister from the manipulation she went through. Luke had brought you to visit Charles and his sister at the infirmary, to see how she was doing, when you got the urge to sit next to the poor girl and ask the boys to leave the room. Although Charles was hesitant about leaving you alone with his sister, Luke put a hand on his shoulder and convinced him to go outside.

Once you and the little girl, Sarah, we're alone, you started talking about your day, telling her all about strawberry picking with Luke and Annabeth for her to enjoy. She seemed to enjoy the sweet fruit you brought for her, and it gave you the opening you were looking for.

After a gentle prod with your words, Sarah opened up about what happened to her. How Drew and some of the meaner Aphrodite kids used their charmspeak on her to make her do whatever they wanted. At first it would be small things like cleaning their room or getting them drinks, but it soon turned into more and more humiliating orders until Drew took it a step too far.

You grew angry at what happened to Sarah and wanted to storm into that garishly pink cabin and give Drew a piece of your mind. Yet, as you stared into Sarah's teary eyes, you couldn't help but give her the warmest hug you have and let her cry her pain into you. There was a soft, golden glow coming from your chest, but neither you nor Sarah noticed, too caught up in the comforting hug.

Sarah looked tremendously better than earlier, her small smile brightening her adorable face and her giggle melodious as you pinch her cheeks. At the sound of her laughter, Charles and Luke, with Will by their side, barged into the room and were dumbfounded to see you tickle Sarah's sides.

While Charles was happy that his little sister was feeling a lot better, Luke and Will were gobsmacked at the sight of Apollo's Lyre hovering above your head.

Luke felt a sharp sting of jealousy when Will exclaimed and hugged you tightly, and resisted the urge to drag the blond off of you since you looked so happy to finally have a place in the camp. After you and Will talk about moving your stuff into the Apollo Cabin— Luke frowned at that— you jumped at him and hugged him with all your might, you happiness quite literally making you glow from the inside and simultaneously making Luke warm and relaxed.

[Later down the line, Luke asks you to join him to get revenge on the gods and use your powers to emotionally manipulate convince the gods to change. When you refuse, Kronos kills you with Luke's hand, leaving Luke to live with the emotional pain you would've gladly taken away for him.]

[veyveyx]

i live for angst

its in my bones and my blood

DID YOU LIKE HER IN THE MORNING ?

[ masterlist / requests closed ]

☽｡⋆ distance can lead to stupid, reckless decisions. but lando knows better than that, right? — lando norris x reader based on “did you like her in the morning” by nikki

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 angst! pure angst 𝄞 1.7k words

You loved a loud life just the same as he did. You enjoyed the traveling, the partying, the sleepless nights, hell, even the stressful nights you wouldn’t trade for a peaceful, quiet, boring, normal life. You were eternally grateful for having a job surrounding the same tracks Lando is driving on, even if that was rather a lucky coincidence instead of a thought-through plan.

You loved it not only because it meant you’d get to be close to your boyfriend most of the time, more so because you got to experience the loudness with him. The parties, the race weekends, just everything. You’d have it without him too, and no doubt, you would have tons of fun doing so, but of course it’s better with a “super cool hot famous boyfriend” by your side, as he liked to call himself.

You loved it, until you couldn’t anymore.

Not as dramatic as it sounds. You were invited to a wedding of an old friend back at home, and Lando, for obvious reasons, couldn’t attend with you, so you flew out the country by yourself, giving Lando one last good luck kiss a few days before the Las Vegas Grand Prix. You missed him dearly, but you also missed your friends at home whom you haven’t seen in what felt like forever, and really, what’s a better reason for a reunion than a wedding?

But that’s where the trouble began.

You liked to call yourself independent. Very independent, even. You didn’t have a problem with being far from Lando for a few weeks, and while you of course loved him more than anyone else in this world, you’ve stated before that in case of you losing the job for whatever reason or if you just couldn’t travel with him anymore, you’d think a long distance relationship would work just well. At least for you.

Of course, the constant missing your partner would complicate things, but that’s still no reason to break up a relationship that has lasted for longer than three years already. At least that’s what you thought.

Lando liked to call himself independent too. Very independent, even. Too bad it’s all a lie.

Lando has always hated the idea of being away from you, or rather the idea of you being far from him. It’s not like he didn’t have any trust in you, it’s just become normal for him to always have you at least somewhat in his reach. That’s how your relationship has always been, you were coworkers before you were lovers.

He didn’t mind you taking a few days off. He also didn’t mind you wanting to spend some time with your family and friends who were still located far, far away from wherever you two would usually have to travel to for the many races. However, he did mind you not being near him.

It bothered him more than he’d like to admit.

You’ve talked about it before, talked about him being too needy and too possessive from time to time, but never once have you two fought about it. You thought you never would, and you were right. Your departure was slightly painful for the both of you, but it was only 2 weeks that you‘d be gone, and it’s not at all like you couldn’t stay in contact. So there was nothing to worry about, right?

Or so you thought.

The moment you arrived at you local airport you saw your mom run up to you, caging you in her arms as if to never let you go again. Your father wasn’t far behind, and then came your brother. It was a sweet little moment of a family reuniting as a whole again. And even though you wanted to set your whole focus on the few next days to come, the lovely wedding and the friends you once lost on the way who you’d now finally see again, Lando never really left your mind. You just didn’t understand why, you weren’t usually like this.

Maybe it was just that after five years of knowing each other and three of those spent dating, you did grow somewhat dependent. you knew it wasn’t the truth, but blaming it on a simple thing like that seemed terribly easier than giving in to the thoughts of what could actually be the cause of it. You didn’t have any time for that. You weren’t here to think about work or about Lando, but about the things that were right in front of your eyes, which at this moment was the beautiful white wedding decorated with all sorts of flowers of sunset hues.

The wedding was held on a beach, surrounded by the dreamy sound of waves crashing and seagulls singing their own nupital melodies. You arrived with one of your old friends Nina, both of you wearing long and flowy pastel dresses, just as the dress code ordered you to. The day went on with you two crying at seeing one of your childhood friends getting married, listening to the heartfelt vows of bride and groom.

Your mind immediately went to Lando and you standing at the altar like they did. You knew it was too soon, and you knew he didn’t have time for marriage, even less for planning a wedding, but you still couldn’t help it. You really did miss him more this time, and throughout the whole ceremony, the feeling of something being incredibly off only intensed.

But the night came, and the feeling faded. Or at least the drinks made it do that.

You were sitting with Nina and two guys you used to be very close with at the dim bar near the dance floor when you suddenly noticed something light up inside your purse. You didn’t mind it at first, not wanting to be rude towards Tom who was trying to talk to you without stumbling over his word completely, but the shots you downed beforehand made it undoubtedly harder.

Your phone lit up again. Slowly getting on your nerves, you decided to wait until Tom’s attention was fixated on Nina again to then check your messages and - missed calls?

—

Lando hated how his mood changed whenever you were gone. It felt as if there was something missing when you weren’t there waiting for him at home after debriefing or after PR events and whatnot. He missed your hugs and kisses, your smile and most importantly, just your touch.

Truth be told - but never to you - when you first started dating, for Lando, the thriving point was attraction. One month in, that’s when he realized that he wasn’t getting rid of you any time soon. Not that he minded. Two months in and the two of you made it official, of course not without any drama because how was a McLaren driver allowed to date a McLaren employee? Two weeks and the conversations and the hate online slowly died down, but your relationship kept on blooming. There was just one thing that somehow had Lando incredibly confused - why did your relationship suddenly feel more like you couldn’t get rid of him? Why did it feel like he was the one attached to you instead of the other way around?

Not that it felt bad or anything, he was just very used to have the girl being that dependent on him, to always want his attention, to always ask for his opinion on everything. Now he was the one all over you, and you didn’t mind it at all. You had the man you love wrapped tightly around your finger, just like he had you. For three years now.

But that didn’t help him right now, not with jealousy nagging at his side like a demon. You were out, enjoying your time with people you loved, and while he should be happy for you, he spent his time rather annoyed at you not being where he was. It’s only been a week, and work has already failed to keep his mind off of you. And he hated it. He knew it was the day of the wedding, and he was done wasting his time only thinking about you, so what else was there for a man to do instead of going clubbing with the guys? He hadn’t spent time with them in a long time, neither had he gone clubbing these past fem months, too caught up with Formula 1. So this would be okay, right? Just some drinks to keep his mind off of you.

Right?

—

15 missed calls from carlos sainz.

that was weird, you thought, and your stomach dropped and you felt the dread creeping up your consciousness. It had you feeling weaker than ever.

You quietly excused yourself to go to the bathroom, though every step towards it made it harder and harder to breathe.

What if something had happened to him? A work incident? Then how did Carlos know? Were they hanging out and he hurt himself? Were they out and someone there hurt Lando?

Did something happen to your Lando?

Your finger hovered shaking over the green button until you finally decided to press it and call the Ferrari driver back. Not even a single beep was heard before he huffed out your name as if he had been yearning for you to finally phone him back.

“Carlos? Is everything okay?” The Spaniard could practically feel your distress through the screen and he swore he’s never felt an urge so strong to punch someone right across their face, let alone his best friend Lando Norris.

It took some time for realization to set in. Your breathing had slowed down but the chills all over your body told that it was a sign far from good. Very far from good.

You could still make out the faint sound of Carlos’ voice as you locked the door of the bathroom stall furthest in the back, however, every word that came after “Lando cheated on you” somehow wasn’t comprehensive to you.

You just hope he’ll still like her in the morning, cause you, for sure, weren’t coming back.

[veyveyx]

reblog hour, this was delicious and i want more lowkey...

Hi! I hope you day is going well, could you do headcanons for Leo Valdez? Like, if he was Spider-Man and he had a crush on the reader please?

sure thing, babe!

SPIDER-MAN ! LEO VALDEZ

cw: none.

ㅤ୨ৎㅤ🌙ㅤ˳ 𝐥𝐞𝐨 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐳 ! 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

﹙𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆! ﹚ꪆ

𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓-𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔?

Leo Valdez as spider-man would be chaotic. Chaotic Neighborhood Hero – If anyone thought normal Spider-Man was chaotic, they clearly haven’t seen Leo in action. He’s web-swinging upside down, making fire-powered aerial flips, and cracking way too many jokes mid-fight. Villains either get mad or give up from sheer frustration.

Leo Valdez who Flirts While Crime-Fighting – If you happen to be around when he’s in costume, he’s ten times more dramatic.

“Don’t worry, citizen! Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man has got this.”

“I know I look cool right now, but please, try not to fall for me.” (He totally hopes you do fall for him.)

Leo Valdez is like... Leo vs. His Own Secret Identity – He wants to tell you he’s Spider-Man, but also, he definitely wants to impress you as himself, too.

He’ll do stuff like accidentally mention something Spider-Man did, then awkwardly try to cover it up.

“Oh yeah, Spidey totally took down three guys in an alley yesterday—uh, I mean, I heard about that. From a...news thing. Haha.”

Leo Valdez who swings past your window every single night, even when he has no reason to be there. He’ll make up some excuse like “Just doing my patrol!” but he’s really just hoping to see you.

Leo Valdez who saves you once and is so smug about it.

“No need to thank me, mi amor—wait, actually, do thank me. Maybe with a kiss?”

Leo Valdez who panics every time you mention thinking Spider-Man is cool. Like, “Cool how? Cool in a ‘wow, I wanna date him’ way? Or cool in a ‘he’s a neat guy’ way?” Please clarify. It’s for science.

Leo Valdez who tries to act smooth around you but trips over his own webbing. One second, he’s flirting. The next, he’s flat on the ground, groaning. “You saw nothing.”

Leo Valdez who builds his own web-shooters and casually adds a mini flamethrower just because he can.

Leo Valdez who absolutely shows off whenever you’re around. Swings upside down, does unnecessary flips, probably almost crashes into a building because he’s too busy flirting with you mid-swing.

Leo Valdez who “casually” webs your hand so you have to hold his, and when you call him out, he just grins, “Oops. Guess we’re stuck like this forever.”

Leo Valdez who leaves you dumb, flirty notes written in webbing. You wake up to see “Good morning, beautiful ;)” webbed to your wall, and you have no proof it was him.

Leo Valdez who gets jealous of… himself. If you mention Spider-Man is cool, he plays it off like “Yeah, I mean, he’s alright.” Meanwhile, he’s internally screaming because yes, he is Spider-Man, but you don’t know that and it’s killing him.

Leo Valdez who literally forgets how to speak when you kiss him while he’s still in the mask.

His brain just short-circuits. Stands there, completely frozen, before finally stammering, “…Uh. Can you do that again?”

Leo Valdez and superhero Dates (Without You Knowing) – Since he’s not technically allowed to tell you, he still finds ways to protect and impress you as Spider-Man.

Walks you home while swinging overhead, just to make sure you’re safe.

If it’s raining, he accidentally webs an umbrella to you from above.

You keep getting “lucky” when bad guys show up, because Spidey just so happens to be nearby every time.

Leo Valdez who saves little bits of web fluid so he can make you cute, tiny web sculptures. (They don’t last forever, but he makes you new ones all the time—little hearts, flowers, or tiny robots just for you.)

Leo Valdez who literally melts when you tell him you already knew.

(“WAIT, YOU KNEW?! AND YOU LET ME EMBARRASS MYSELF FOR MONTHS?!”)

𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐, 𝒔.

[veyveyx]

yum 😋

SKINNY DIPPING (18+)

luke castellan x reader

in which luke loves winning

word count: 1.12k

MDNI! warnings: smut, handjob, fingering, swearing, nudity and reader has a female anatomy

a/n: i feel like i’m starting to have way too much fun writing smuts. hope you guys will enjoy it just as i much as i do!

you had made a bet with luke castellan. whoever won capture the flag could make the other do anything they wanted without negotiation or backing out. and that was how you found yourself on the edge of a small cliff, just outside of the protection of thalia’s tree, watching the head counselor of the hermes cabin strip in front of you.

“c’mon, beautiful” he said with a smug smirk on his face as he grabbed the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head, tossing it aside without a care. you let your eyes scan his toned abs a bit longer than you intended as the moonlight highlighted the sharp lines and faded scars. “it’s not like i haven’t seen it before” he drawled, fingers now working at the button of his shorts.

your hands hesitated at the hem of your own shirt. “i swear, if anything happens, i’m cutting your balls off” you warned, voice sharp despite the heat creeping up your neck. luke only laughed, clearly enjoying every second of his victory while his gaze never left you as you reluctantly peeled off your clothes. then you were both bare in front of each other. you could see all those hours he spent training were definitely paying off as the sight alone made your stomach twist, heat creeping in places you didn’t want to acknowledge. luke wasn’t any better, looking at you with unmistakable lust.

you took the hand he offered, fingers tangling together as you stepped closer to the edge. “you okay?” luke gently asked, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. his dark eyes were as soft as his touch. the night breeze ruffled his curls and for a split second you almost forgot to breathe. the drop below wasn’t even terrifying, but the handsome boy in front of you was. then you smirked. “don’t be a pussy, castellan” and before he could react, you yanked him forward, pulling both of you off the edge.

you flew for only a few seconds before the icy water swallowed you whole and a firm grip pulled you upward. “asshole!” luke’s voice was sharp as he surfaced in front of you, his wet curls plastered to his forehead. his scowl would’ve been more intimidating if you weren’t still laughing, breathless from the jump. “oh, come on” you teased, grabbing his wrist as he let you tug him toward shallower water.

his hands pushed wet strands from your face before cupping your cheeks, his touch surprisingly gentle. his thumbs traced your skin, sending a shiver down your spine despite the warmth of the water. “you’re gonna be the death of me one day,” he murmured, voice low and serious. your heart stuttered. his plump lips hovered dangerously close, so close you had to grip his biceps just to steady yourself. “you’re gonna be the death of me right now if you don’t kiss me” just as you whispered those words, luke crashed his lips against yours, claiming the space between you in an instant.

the kiss was desperate, heated, like he’d been waiting for this moment longer than he’d ever admit. and gods, you kissed him right back. his tongue slipped into your mouth, teasing, demanding, but there was no real battle. you let him take control, let him deepen the kiss until your head spun. his hands roamed your body, before settling on your ass. a firm squeeze had you gasping, your hips instinctively yanking against his. luke groaned, low and rough, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “you must really like me,” you teased, still breathless, “if you can get this hard in cold water.” a breathless giggle escaped before you could stop it. his gaze stayed dark and intense. his lips found your sweet spot on your neck, sucking just enough to make your knees threaten to give out. “you know it’s more than that,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with something deeper than lust as he pressed himself against your stomach, letting you feel every inch of him.

one of his hands slipped between your bodies, fingers tracing slow and teasing circles on your clit. each stroke sent waves of pleasure rippling through you, your body unconsciously following his lead. your hand found his cock, fingers wrapping around his length and the moment you started twisting your wrist, luke let out a guttural moan against your ear. “fuck,” he rasped, his voice thick with pleasure. the deep and desperate whines slipping from his lips alone had you aching for more. his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged. “you’re already making me regret not bringing a condom,” a breathless giggle escaped you, but it was short-lived because just as you captured his lips in a kiss, two of his fingers plunged inside you. you loudly gasped, gripping his shoulders as he pumped them mercilessly, curling just right to hit that spot that had your vision blurring. the water around you swayed violently, mirroring the rhythm of both your hands.

it felt like the world had stopped. all you could process was luke. his woodsmoke scent, his hand gripping your hair, his starved mouth on yours, the warm slickness of his precum as you stroked him, and the way his fingers worked you closer to the edge. “guys!” it yanked you both back to reality just as you were about to come undone. “shit,” luke groaned, his grip loosening as you pushed him away, your brows furrowing in sync. “are you there?” chris’s voice echoed through the bay, and you silently prayed to every god on olympus that your friends hadn’t see you getting fucked by the hermes counselor through the dense trees. “weren’t they suppose to come later?” you whispered, your heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. “i don’t know,” luke muttered, looking even more spooked than you. “but I’m currently trying to think about the oracle to make this boner go away.” a laugh burst from your lips before you could stop it.

a few moments later, when he looked composed enough, luke finally called out: “we’re down here!”. within seconds, your friends came crashing into the water, completely naked. as they splashed around, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. “you bet I’m gonna get the rest of my prize later,” his voice was low, teasing, but the dark smirk on his face promised he was dead serious. you always honored your bets, but something told you luke would make sure you never stopped losing to him.

[veyveyx]

OHHH MY LORDDDD YESSSS

effie and walburga used to date before they got married to monty and orion

one day sirius stumbles upon an old shoe box and opens it expecting to find embarrassing picture of james

instead it’s countless love letters and pictures of effie and walburga together

he cant look at effie in the eyes for months afterwards

[veyveyx]

AHH I REALLY LIKES THIS 🫶🫶😽😽

TEN YEARS TOO LATE ⛥ sirius black

ten years ago, bellatrix lestrange’s child was thrown onto your doorstep without warning. ten years later, you’re not sure if you’re living the life you’d wanted — but you do know that mattheo is your son, and no one else’s. [1.6k words]

TAGS: sirius is harry’s godfather, reader is a single mum to mattheo riddle, hurt/no comfort, angst, lovers to strangers/boderline enemies ngl, voldemort died after the first war, reader and sirius are both meanies

🐦‍⬛ — everyone say hi to my baby mattheo! I wrote this fic smiling and all but best believe I’ll never have a child in the future. too much work.

p.s. this fic is inspired by ‘he looks like his father’ by @/marauder-misprint! that fic changed lives and one of them was mine.

“He’s not your kid.”

You’ve endured many offensive questions about Mattheo’s parentage ever since you took him in. They sent you spiralling downward into the deepest depths of your mind, wondering why everyone needed to have their noses in your business. They made you second guess your parenting skills, doubting how you raised Mattheo and whether he truly is the boy you nurtured him to be.

While you weren’t normally so tongue-tied in these situations, it didn’t help that your old, repulsive Hogwarts fling was standing right before you — closer than he’d ever been in more than a decade — confidently claiming that your son wasn’t yours.

It was a huge, fucking relief that the kid had inherited his biological mother’s shamelessness.

Mattheo pushed past only a few irritated students and parents on his way to you. Sirius’ words were as clear as day to him. They ignited a flame that wasn’t known for its swift ceasing.

“Who are you to be the judge of that?” he gritted out, fingers clinging onto yours by habit. You smiled down at him, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “Last I remembered Mum telling me, you ditched her after graduation and never reached out. You have no right to even be speaking to her.”

Your son’s words sizzled a hole into your heart. You hadn’t expected him to remember the measly details about a man who was irrelevant in his life. The last time you’d mentioned Sirius, Mattheo was merely five. He’d asked, “Mama, why don’t I have a dad?”

How could you not answer him?

Eighteen years ago, you would have laughed if someone said you’d be a single mother. Sixteen years ago, you would have laughed, along with Sirius, at the prospect of being parents.

Ten years ago, you held in your distaste for children and took in a three-year-old.

And you wouldn’t let the man who’d left your heart in pieces disregard the hard work you’d put in.

Sirius’ dry laugh left you clenching your teeth, hands itching to curl into fists and punch him square in the face. “Stay out of this, kid,” he snapped, not even bothering to glance at Mattheo.

You sent him a right hook straight to his chiseled jaw, hearing a soft crack sound at the impact.

Silence fell over the courtyard like a thick, suffocating blanket, but not before gasps echoed from every corner of the open space. Sirius held trembling fingers to his left jawbone, lips parted in absolute bewilderment. He stared off into the empty space beside Mattheo.

A few rustles sounded as someone shoved past students clad in their black robes. Harry froze, halting just before he ended up in the middle of the ongoing catfight.

A dazed Remus materialised from behind him, eyes widened as he took in the scene.

“YN,” the lanky man rasped, eyes flitting between you and his best mate. Sirius still had his hand pressed to the side of his insolent-looking face, but now he was glaring you down, brows virtually stitched together. “YN, you’re here.”

Mattheo tugged on your arm and you stepped back, the greater distance between you and your ex clearing the haze from your mind. You tried not to roll your eyes at Remus’ quite apparent observation.

“Yes, I am, Lupin.” The edge in your voice gave way to pure rancour, eyes hardening when Sirius righted himself with a groan. You had half the heart not to utter the next few words. “You’re not the only one with a child.”

By now, the prying eyes of passers-by had redirected somewhere else, no longer interested in your dispute with two of the Marauders.

Remus’ gaze lingered on Mattheo — his dark curls, his defined brows, his nose, the scar that marred his cheek intimidatingly. He looked close to nothing like you, save for his body language, graceful yet sharp, and his clothing choices, casual yet sophisticated.

Even if the kid wasn’t your blood, it was painfully blatant that he was raised by you.

The professor swallowed the lump in his throat. “Riddle’s yours?” The question was stupid, but he was too dumbfounded to think of another one.

Sirius groaned, running a hand down his face. You relished in seeing him wince at the pain that struck his jaw. Mattheo, on the other hand, seemed more than ready to rip him apart.

“You might wanna stop there, Moony, or she’ll have you puking out your guts,” Sirius sneered, the unfamiliar sound sending a tremble down Harry’s spine. His godfather had never been so agitated before. It might’ve just been your presence that irked him, given the woeful tone Sirius would adopt whenever he shared stories about your relationship back then.

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips. “You wouldn’t know what it’s like to have someone claim your son isn’t really yours, would you? Because Harry isn’t your son. He’s your dead best friend’s son.”

A brief flicker of hurt crossed Sirius’ grey eyes. It tugged at your heartstrings, but you shoved the feeling aside. You had no compassion for him. He’d shattered you — how could you possibly go back to him?

Mattheo turned to you with a plea in his eyes. While he normally would contribute with some snarky comments of his own, he didn’t want you getting into a brawl. Especially when this was the topic at hand.

“Mum,” he tried, voice firm but holding a semblance of vulnerability he’d only ever show around you. “Don’t do this. He’s not worth it.”

At that, Sirius whipped out his wand and jabbed at your chest with the tip. Mattheo almost broke the man’s ribs, but you pushed him aside before he could get caught in the altercation.

The former Gryffindor looked nearly like a rabid dog with the way he snarled and growled, wand tip digging painfully into your collarbone.

“Not worth it? That’s what I was to you? What you told your son I was?” His voice sank deeper than the depths of the ocean. Harry didn’t recognise the man who looked like his godfather.

You gripped his wand tight, nearly snapping it in two if Sirius hadn’t yanked it away harshly. “The moment you abandoned me on my own doorstep, you became a stranger!” you raged, keeping your volume in check before another crowd formed. “When you didn’t call, or even send a bloody letter, I gave up waiting on you. What could I do? Cry all night because you weren’t there to hug me? Trudge around my house blindfolded because everything reminded me of you? I knew better than that. I moved away, and you weren’t there to stop me. So why are you here now, claiming my kid isn’t mine and acting offended that he thinks you’re of no worth to me?”

Mattheo held his breath when you spat the words you’d been holding in for years. He knew you were tenacious and resolute in all your glory, but he’d never witnessed you so livid. He had little to no knowledge of how Sirius had left you so wounded and exposed, though now, your words began assembling the puzzle pieces he’d collected over the years.

He noticed whenever you stopped for a moment, looking longingly at an object that meant nothing to him, but a lot more to you. You would sometimes, subconsciously, style his hair differently when it grew too long. Right now, as he glanced between you and Sirius with his waves, he realised why.

“Seriously, Sirius?” He heard the crack in your voice when your ex didn’t respond. Out of guilt or fury, he didn’t know. “You made your decision, and I have made mine.”

You shoved the dark-haired man off of you, causing him to stumble backwards and lose his footing. Remus darted forwards, barely managing to catch Sirius in his arms, sparing him from the unforgiving impact of the ground. Hushed whispers were exchanged as the latter righted himself, sending you a glare while holding his injured jaw.

It was only after a quiet, indignant huff that you turned to your son and placed benign hands on his shoulders.

Leaning down slightly, you brushed a stray hair away from Mattheo’s forehead, smiling as tenderly as you could. “Are you ready to leave, Theo?” you murmured sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous bite. The sudden shift in tone induced whiplash.

Mattheo flashed a charming grin that reminded Remus of your own. Whatever Sirius had said about the Slytherin boy not being your son was possibly the most erroneous statement ever uttered.

You mirrored his expression, though yours was gentler and didn’t reach your eyes. Your son’s enthusiasm flickered for a moment, but when you stood to your full height and led him away, Mattheo began cheerfully rambling about the recent happenings at Hogwarts and his own escapades.

Sirius couldn’t believe that he’d just seen you for the first time in more than a decade. He especially couldn’t fathom the fact that it had gone terribly.

He shouldn’t have said Mattheo wasn’t your kid. That isn’t something you say to your ex you’ve been thinking about for thirteen years after you ditched her. Now that he’d put it that way, he realised how horribley he had acted to you and your son.

Your son. It was a foreign term to him, principally when it came to you. The you he’d known in Hogwarts had an unyielding repugnance for children. But, he figured, you were really only averse to the toddlers who didn’t listen. You must have raised Mattheo well.

“That was awful,” Harry quipped, raising an eyebrow at his godfather. Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face and wincing when his jaw decided it was too much.

He sighed, brows stitched together. “I know.” But what did it matter?

Remus patted him on the back. “If you’re lucky, you might see her again,” he reassured his friend, though skepticism snuck between his words.

“If she even wants to see me again.”

Harry had a feeling that you didn’t.

navigation ⛥ sirius black

[veyveyx]

i really liked this, im excited for more 🫶🫶

love ya 🤭🤭😽😽

ISN’T IT DELICATE?

Delicate masterlist

Chapter One : New Captain Alert!

riordanverse characters x brooklyn 99 au!

detective!percy jackson x detective!y/n

Summary : (y/n) (l/n) wasn’t quite used to being a member of a precinct that actually cared about each other. She had been at the 99th precinct for almost a year, yet she still found herself keeping her co-workers at arms-length. She wanted to feel comfortable and open up, she just wasn’t sure how.

For someone who made a lot of embarrassing decisions, Percy Jackson hated the feeling of humiliation. But him and his big mouth somehow managed to get into a very public argument with his new coworker-slash-secret-crush, which ended in a very intense bet. If (y/n) made more felony arrests than he did, then she got his car. But if he made more felony arrests than her, he got to take (y/n) out on a date. And while he was glad to finally have a reason to talk to this absolutely gorgeous social recluse, it also meant that he finally had to go above and beyond at his job.

. : 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

“This job is eating me alive. I can’t breathe anymore. I spent all these years trying to be the good guy, the man in the white hat. I’m not becoming like them, I am them.”

“Jackson, what the hell are you doing?”

The dark haired man looked up to find his detective partner, (y/n) (l/n), watching him with a mixture of annoyance and confusion on her face. In her hands, she held a small notebook and a pen.

“I’m doing the best speech from Donnie Brasco,” Percy informed her, before turning to look at the camera that projected his face onto the many televisions behind him, “Or, actually… Ten of me are doing the best speech from Donnie Brasco.”

“Can you get it together?” (y/n) asked. Out of everyone in the whole precinct, she was one of the few people who didn’t at least somewhat enjoy his shenanigans. Turning back to the store owner, she continued reading from her notebook, “So the store was robbed about two hours ago. They took mostly tablets, laptops, and cameras-“

She stopped talking when the sound of ‘80s hip-hop music began blaring from behind her, and she turned around to give Percy a blank stare.

“Sorry,” he said, and quickly pressed the power button of the electric keyboard to turn off the music.

(y/n) let out a deep sigh before turning back to the store owner, “I’d like a list of all your employees. Whoever had access to the store. I’d also like to apologize for my partner, his parents didn’t give him enough attention growing up.”

“Excuse me, Detective,” despite the dig at him, Percy had a smile on his face as he addressed (y/n), “I’ve already solved the case.”

(y/n)’s arms dropped to her side, and her impatient expression encouraged Percy to continue.

“We’re looking for three white males, one of whom has sleeve tats on both arms.”

“And how do you know that?” (y/n)’s voice was more tired than anything as she made her way over to her partner.

“I had an informant on the inside,” Percy’s voice was dead serious, “He’s been here for years. Watching, learning, waiting.”

A moment of silence hung in the air as (y/n) waited for the punchline.

“His code name?” Percy took a few steps backward before reaching over one of the shelves to reveal a stuffed animal, “Fuzzy cuddle bear. He’s a nanny cam!” 

Percy flipped the bear over quickly before his partner could say anything.

“You got lucky,” (y/n) scoffed, shaking her head.

“No, I got here five minutes before you and figured that in this gigantic electronics store, there had to be at least one working camera,” Percy shot back, taking the chip out of the nanny cam and inserting it into the projector. The televisions behind them showed the robbers, one of them perfectly fitting Percy’s previous description, “Hi, bad guys!”

He picked up the teddy bear again, looking into it’s eyes, “You did it, Fuzzy. You busted ‘em. It’s time to come home.”

“I’m not sure if I can,” Percy lifted the teddy higher, pretending to voice it, and (y/n) rolled her eyes, “I’ve been undercover so long, I’ve forgotten who I am. I have seen terrible things. I haven’t known the touch of a woman in many moons.”

As Percy voices the teddy bear, it got increasingly closer to (y/n)’s face.

“All right,” she said, turning and walking away.

“Detective (l/n)!” the bear, aka Percy, cried, “Don’t walk away from me!”

If there was one thing (y/n) hated, it was losing. And at this very moment, as she sat in the briefing room and looked upon the whiteboard in front of her, she could feel the taste of defeat beginning to seep in.

“Yes, I did crack the case,” Percy Jackson announced from his seat across from her. For once he sat upright in his chair, his body turned to face her as he smirked, “(l/n). would you care to do the honors?”

Feeling the entire room turned to look at her, (y/n) sighed and pushed herself out of her chair. Once at the whiteboard, she erased the number 23 below Percy’s name.

“Yeah, and you’re just gonna wanna add one,” Percy called, as she wrote down the number 24 in very small handwriting.

“I hate this,” (y/n) muttered, mostly to herself as the rest of the room let out whoops, claps, and various cheers. The number under her name was stuck at 22, meaning that Percy remained in the lead.

“And I’m winning!” he exclaimed, “It’s a good feeling.”

As (y/n) turned to go back to her seat, the rest of the room burst out into applause. Her eyes fell on Percy’s green one’s. The large grin on his face provoked the smallest smile from (y/n), and she quickly rolled her eyes to cover it up.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she said.

“Oh, I will,” he shot back, moving to rest his legs on the table in front of him before she turned around to the front where one of their sergeants, Jason Grace, was taking the stand.

“Alright,” the tall, blond man cleared his throat before addressing the precinct, “PJ, any update on the Morgenthau murder?”

“Yeah!” Percy stood from his seat, running a hand through his dark hair, “Good news for all you murder fans.”

He brought out a few laughs as he made his way to the front to show off a presentation.

“Earlier this morning, someone decided to shoot and kill luxury food importer Henry Morgenthau. Body was found by the cleaning lady. During her interview, I deduced using expert detective work that she had something super gross on her chin.”

The room groaned at the photo he provided.

“I think it was flan,” Percy’s best friend, Grover Underwood, said after sipping his coffee.

“Grover thinks it’s flan, I think it was butterscotch pudding.”

“It could just be old person gunk,” Clarisse La Rue spoke up, her feet still propped up on the table in front of her despite the numerous requests to remove them, “You know how old people always have that gunk on them?”

“Oldie gunk,” Percy pointed at her, “Could be, yeah. Anyone else?”

“How about we focus on the murder, Jackson? And not the old person gunk?” Jason suggested, patiently.

“Crime techs are at the scene now,” (y/n) spoke up, “We’re heading back when they’re done.”

“Okay, I want you two on this,” Jason emphasized, “This is gonna be priority one for the new C.O.”

“Wait, tell us about the new captain,” Clarisse said.

“Captain Ramírez will be here soon. She’ll want to introduce herself,” he told them, “Dismissed.”

“I think it’s so cool that we’re going to have a female captain,” Hazel Levesque spoke up.

“You know what’s even cooler?” Leo Valdez asked her, “That she’s hispanic.”

That sparked a debate about whether being a woman or being Hispanic made their new Captain more of a minority. The rest of the precinct decided to mind their own business, and tend to their other tasks.

The arrival of the new captain was rather inconvenient, as Percy and Leo, the only two detectives who were not allowed to be left together due to their lack of rational thinking, had been left together and somehow managed to catch an almost full garbage can on fire. In a poor attempt to put the fire out, they had knocked it over and sent burning garbage all over the floor.

“Where the hell is the fire extinguisher?” Frank Zhang, the precinct’s other sergeant, asked frantically. A silent woman handed it to him, “Thank you!”

After the fire had been successfully put out, it took Frank a minute or so to notice that the entire precinct was silently staring behind him. Turning around, he found himself face-to-face with a rather tall, stern looking woman with a very official police badge.

“Captain Ramírez!” Frank exclaimed, and Jason quickly made his way over, taking care not to step on the charred mess on the floor.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that, Captain Ramírez,” the blond man stuck out his hand, “I can assure you that this sort of thing does not usually happen at the 99!”

“Why’s he lying?” Leo whispered, earning a smile from Percy and a shushing noise from (y/n).

“Captain Ramírez-Arellano,” was all the olive skinned woman said.

“I’m sorry?” Grace asked, lowering his hand.

“That is my name. Captain Ramírez-Arellano. I have two last names, I would appreciate for them to be used.”

“I’m sorry, Captain, I wasn’t aware of that,” Jason reacted much quicker than Zhang, “Thank you for correcting us.”

She nodded once in acknowledgment, before turning her attention to the silent detectives.

“Everyone,” she began, poise and elegant like a copper statue, “I am your new commanding officer, Captain Reyna Ramírez-Arellano. I trust that you adults can handle yourselves for a few minutes while I have a word with your sergeants?”

She received a few nods, while the rest of the precinct remained too nervous to move.

“Gentlemen,” she gestured for them to follow her as she walked to her office.

“Yes ma’am,” they said in unison, quickly following behind.

The detectives waited until the door closed to begin speaking.

“I think I’m in love,” Piper McLean spoke up, earning a few nods.

“I love her attitude,” Annabeth Chase, Percy’s other best friend, agreed.

“Is anyone else picking up a gay vibe?” Nico di Angelo, the precinct’s civilian administrator, asked. The room fell silent as everyone gave him a weird look.

“How the hell did you idiots manage to light a whole trash can on fire?” (y/n) asked, turning to Percy and Leo.

The pair shot each other grins, before shaking their heads.

“It was an experiment,” was all Leo said. They refused to explain any further.

In the Captain’s office, Reyna placed her name tag on the desk.

“Sergeant Grace, it’s nice to meet you. Sergeant Zhang, you were with me in the 1-8. Though… you were significantly…..” The captain chose her words carefully.

“Fatter, ma’am,” Frank said, “Yes, I go to a gym now.”

“Good for you,” Reyna’s tone was not at all sarcastic as she stood and walked towards the window, “Sergeants, tell me about your detective squad.”

A moment of silence hung in the air as the two men tried to figure out what to say.

“Hazel Levesque is my fiancée,” Frank spoke up, and the trio’s eyes fell to the dark skinned woman, who was diligently typing away at her computer, “We’ve been cleared and everything, so there’s nothing to worry about. She works hard, she does things by the book, overall she’s very good at her job. But we try to keep her out of the interrogation room.”

“Can she not handle it?” Reyna’s tone was almost surprised.

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Jason held back a smile.

“You know I’m not mad at you, I just want to hear the truth,” Hazel leaned back in her chair almost too casually as her eyes scanned the face of the man in front of her.

Leo Valdez sat, confused as to why he had been dragged to the interrogation room, “Yeah, I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know that idiot act works on everyone else, but it’s not going to work on me,” the dark skinned woman sat up, her golden eyes burning holes into Leo’s brown ones, “You ate my pie. Admit it.”

“What? Hazel, no I didn’t-“

“You’re lying!” the Latino flinched at the volume increase as Hazel shouted and jumped up, slamming her hands on the metal table between them , “I know you did!”

“Hazel, sweetie, what the hell is going on?” the detectives turned to find Piper McLean had entered the room, “Also, beat it. I need to interrogate my perp.”

“Nico di Angelo, our civilian administrator,” Grace began, nodding to the desk outside the captain’s office. The young man he was referring to, however, remained in the huddled group of off-task detectives, no doubt whispering about what was currently happening behind closed doors, “He’s…scary. But he’s the guy you want sending awkward emails or confronting a lawyer. He is a college student, so this is kind of a part-time job for him, but he does it well. He only really got the job because he grew up with Percy, Annabeth, and Grover.”

“Nico, you managed to get eight at-risk kids to sign up for the Junior Police Program,” Jason said as he and Clarisse approached the young man lounging behind his desk, “How the hell did you do it?”

Nico looked up from his phone, “Oh, I just told them some crap about how they need to have passion for something in their lives. And when that didn’t work I told them about how much cops get paid, how they never have to stop at a red light, and get to carry a gun.”

“How did you know that would work?” Jason asked.

“That’s what made me sign up,” Nico shrugged.

“You did this program?” For once, Clarisse sounded surprised as she looked upon Nico’s shaggy black hair, silver skull rings, dark baggy clothing, and various chains.

“Yeah. It does not work.”

“While Nico is scary in the ‘caffeine withdrawal slash emo teenager’ kind of way, Clarisse La Rue is scary in the ‘I’m gonna pull you into a dark alley and beat you up’ kind of way,” Frank continued, his eyes falling on the curly haired woman, who was currently staring daggers into someone across the room, “She’s not the best at managing her anger, or doing her paperwork. She’s tough, smart, and very athletic.”

Clarisse had just arrived back at the precinct after a trial where she testified against a perp she had arrested. Hazel and Frank applauded almost genuinely as Clarisse spread her arms and did a mock bow.

“La Rue, you did it,” Frank congratulated, “They found him guilty on all charges.”

“Huh,” Clarisse smiled for once, “Hazel’s advice worked.”

She threw a light punch at the woman’s shoulder, who laughed in return.

“So where was your happy place?” Hazel asked, referring to the trick she suggested to keep her temper in check.

“I’m in a cabin in the middle of nowhere,” Clarisse began, “Inside it’s just me and that stupid, slimy defense attorney. And I’m beating the hell out of him. I break a dining room table over his head. Then I rip off his arm and shove it where the sun don't shine. Then I reach down his throat and shake his hand.”

Frank and Hazel looked at each other, speechless.

“Yeah, okay!” Frank finally said after he collected his thoughts, “I’m going to go ahead and schedule you for a psych eval!”

“Piper McLean can either be your best friend, or your worst enemy,” Grace continued, and the attention turned to the almond skinned woman wearing a snowboarding jacket who was whispering with Nico, “she grew up really well off, but once she turned 18 she decided to make her own money. She’s a very hard worker, but she can be a little…uneducated in certain aspects of life.”

It was around noon when the entire precinct was startled by the sound of an explosion.

A startled scream directed everyone’s attention over to the microwave, which had caught on fire. Piper McLean stood a few feet away, frozen in shock.

“Piper, use the fire extinguisher!” Annabeth called from the other side of the room.

“I don’t know how to!”

Grover, who was in close proximity, grabbed the extinguisher and successfully put out the fire.

“What the hell happened?” Clarisse asked, and everyone else began muttering their own questions.

“I don’t know, I-“

Grover opened the charred microwave to reveal a fork. At the sight of it, everyone let out an annoyed sigh.

“Did you put this in there?” he asked.

“Was I not supposed to? I’m sorry, I can replace it-“

Sergeant Grace and Sergeant Zhang exchanged looks.

“We need to schedule a ‘precinct safety’ meeting,” Jason muttered, and Frank nodded.

“Leo Valdez is going to be the reason I have a heart attack,” Frank Zhang sighed and nodded to the curly-haired Latino who stood in the center of the Off-Task unit, “I love the kid, but he’s insane. Somehow he manages to light everything on fire. But work-wise, he’s surprisingly efficient. He had a really rough childhood. His mom died and he was homeless for a while. Obviously that kind of stuff is still going to effect you later in life, so we try to cut him some slack if he’s having a hard time.”

“Hey, are you doing okay?” (y/n) quietly asked as she approached Leo at his desk. She had been watching him for a while, and his unexplained shift in personality was beginning to worry her. The precinct was having one of its rare quiet days, where all the extroverts were out chasing leads.

“Hm?” Leo looked up from his computer monitor, which had turned off ten minutes ago, “What? Oh, yeah, no, I’m fine.”

“Something about saying “yeah, no,” makes me think you’re not fine,” (y/n) said, a small smile on her face, “Do you want to talk about anything?”

Leo was silent for a moment, before he sighed.

“Ah,” he began picking at the zipper of his open jacket, “Today’s kind of the anniversary of my mom dying.”

“Oh,” (y/n) didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t sound good enough.

“And I just-“ Leo stopped himself, pausing to look out the window. (y/n) was pretty sure he was blinking back tears, so she awkwardly turned her head for a moment to give him some privacy, “I’m just having a hard time focusing. Literally all I have to do is finish this stupid report. I was supposed to be done an hour ago, I’m not even halfway done.”

“I can do it,” (y/n) said after a moment of silence.

Leo turned to look at her, almost confused, “What? No, (l/n), you don’t have to do my report, I-“

“No, I can do it. I fly through reports. And this way you can get started on something else,” she nodded to the sticky notes tapped to the bottom of his monitor with an overwhelming to-do list.

Leo’s eyes scanned (y/n)’s face for a moment. She stuck her hand out, and Leo eventually handed her the file.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly, and she gave him a small nod.

“Grover Underwood is a member of what we higher-ups call the trio. It’s composed of him, Annabeth, and Percy, since they grew up together. Out of the three of them, Grover is the only one I would trust with my car keys,” Grace said, and the attention went towards the brown skinned man whispering to a blonde woman, “He’s a sweet kid, he loves animals, and bless the Lord, he has a sense of reason.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Grover Underwood made a show of announcing as he walked into the precinct, earning everyone’s attention, “Six banks robbed in three weeks, $250,000 stolen, citizens trembling in fear. Well, no more.”

“You got your bank robber!” Jason exclaimed.

“Went home last night, no overtime, just me and some brie. And I cracked it. So, here he is. The thug that’s been terrorizing the city. Say hello, Marvin.”

“Hello,” everyone’s smiles faded as they turned their attention to an eighty year old man with a blue scarf.

“Oh my Gods, he’s so old,” Hazel exclaimed, voicing what everyone else was thinking.

“He’s not that old!” Grover insisted, his own attitude dropping at the unexpected reaction, “his nurse isn’t even full time!”

“Annabeth Chase is scary in the ‘I know a hundred ways to kill you and even more ways to hide your body’ kind of way,” Frank continued, nodding to the blonde who was nodding to whatever Grover was whispering, “She’s the smartest person you know, until she’s around Percy and Grover. She can either be the biggest overachiever, or the biggest slacker. It really depends on the week.”

When Annabeth Chase sat down at her desk with a large cup of coffee, Grover, her desk partner, paused his conversation with Clarisse. The two detectives silently watched the blonde woman as she impatiently waited for her computer to turn on.

“What?” Annabeth asked as she finally noticed their eyes, her voice containing a slight rasp to it.

“Nothing,” the glance shared between Grover and Clarisse revealed the lie.

Annabeth’s eyes narrowed, expectantly.

“You just look a little…tired, Annabeth,” Grover made sure to keep his voice light as he referred to the dark circles under her eyes, “Did you sleep alright?”

“I didn’t sleep at all, actually,” Annabeth blinked, her focus off in the distance, “I got off work late and went home. I started playing Minecraft, and got distracted with building the city of New York. Before I knew it, it was time for me to come back and I still hadn’t finished my work.”

“Did you finish the city?” Grover’s casual tone let Clarisse know this wasn’t an uncommon occurance.

“Almost,” she rubbed her eyes, “I just need to put in the sidewalks and figure out how to make cars.”

The other two detectives watched silently as the blonde chugged her coffee.

“I’m still behind on my paperwork,” she muttered.

Reyna’s attention fell to one of the desks outside the group of people, where (y/n) sat, halfheartedly attempting to type up a report. ‘Attempting’ being the key word, because Percy was making things difficult as he leaned on her desk while he went on about something in the hopes of earning her attention. 

“Tell me about them,” Reyna nodded in their direction, and the sergeants exchanged knowing  looks.

“(y/n) (l/n) is our newest detective. She’s been here almost a year, and, well…” Frank trailed off, “All we really know is that she’s reserved, smart, and very hard to read.”

“She’s brilliant, but she has a hard time letting people in. Stubborn too,�� Jason added, “she and Jackson have some big bet over who gets more arrests this year. Ever since the bet, their numbers have gone way up.”

“Hey, how did you know that woman?” Percy asked his partner as he drove the police car back to the precinct.

“Hm?” (y/n) looked up from the case file she was studying. Percy glanced over to find her watching him, “Keep your eyes on the road, Jackson.”

“They are!” he insisted, “And I asked how you knew the woman we spoke to.”

“Oh,” (y/n) seemed to hold back a smile, “I made her wedding cakes back when I had a baking business.”

“I didn’t know you owned a business!” Percy’s eyes were wide, and his tone was full of surprise, “Or that you could bake.”

“I only did it to put myself through college. It was fun, but I don’t really have time for it anymore,” (y/n) shrugged, “I was really good at it, though.”

“You know, my birthday’s in a few months,” Percy shot her a quick smile. Then his expression faltered, and he was silent for a moment, “Wait a minute, did you say wedding cakes, plural?”

“Percy, watch the fucking road!”

“Tell me about Jackson,” Reyna said.

Jason let out a long sigh, “Percy Jackson may just be our best detective. He loves putting away bad guys and solving puzzles. The only puzzle he hasn’t solved is how to grow up.”

“That was very well put,” Reyna noted.

“We’ve both spoken a lot about Percy in our departmentally mandated therapy sessions,” Frank muttered.

“You busted through a window for no reason?” Jason Grace asked, his hands massaging his temple.

“Basic police tactic, Sarge,” Percy said, as if it should’ve been obvious, “Cover every exit.”

“It was a sealed window on the fifth floor,” Jason lifted his head to squint at the dark haired detective, “You could’ve just gone through the door with Grover.”

“Yeah, but then what would my catchphrase have been? “Knock knock, who’s there? Justice?”” Percy stopped talking, taking a moment to think, “Wait, that's actually amazing.”

Jason walked away, shaking his head as he muttered something about paperwork.

“We’ve also noticed he seems to have a strange fixation on trying to get (y/n) to open up,” Jason commented, “So if they’re not working on a case together, they need to be as far away from each other as possible, otherwise no work will get done.”

“Aren’t their desks right next to each other?” Reyna asked.

“That’s the problem we’ve run into as well,” Frank nodded, “And these detectives are weirdly attached with their desks.”

Reyna was silent for a moment, “Thank you, sergeants, you may be dismissed. Please send di Angelo in.”

“Yes ma’am.”

A few moments later there was a knock at the door, “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Nico, have a seat,” Reyna gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

She waited until the young adult was comfortable before she spoke again, her eyes trained beyond her window, “Tell me about the bet between (l/n) and Jackson.”

Nico blinked, almost surprised at the question.

“Oh. Well, it started a few months ago. I’m not really sure what they were arguing about, but it ended in Percy insisting he could do his job better than her. So the deal is if (l/n) gets more felony arrests, Percy has to give her his car. It’s an old Mustang, it’s pretty sick. But if he gets more arrests, she has to go on a date with him,” Reyna’s lips twitched up at Nico’s words, “He guarantees it will end in sex, but honestly the rest of the precinct seems to think (y/n)’s got this in the bag.”

“And what do you think?” the captain asked, shifting her gaze to the young man in front of her as she leaned back in her chair ever so slightly.

Nico glanced towards the door to ensure it was closed before answering, “Honestly? It depends on how much he wants that date. He has a tremendous amount of potential, he just needs something to put it towards. On the other hand, I don’t know shit about (y/n). She gets her work done, and kind of keeps to herself. That girl could be a secret undercover crime lord or something, and none of us would know until it’s too late.”

“I get your point,” Reyna nodded, “Thank you, you may go.”

When the new captain was finally left alone in her office, she allowed herself to recline in her chair, her eyes still on the pair of detectives.

At this point, (y/n) had given up on writing her report. Her arms crossed in front of her, yet she had the slightest smile on her face as she looked up at Percy. He was still talking about God-knows-what, and anyone watching could tell it was a one-sided conversation. The way that he slowly inched closer to her, and the way that she nodded along with his words let Reyna know that while she may be in for more than she signed up for, this was going to be hella interesting.

authors note

the first chapter is done! if you can’t tell, y/n is still warming up to her precinct, and I’m excited to see where this goes because we all know the characters I write kinda do their own thing

thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this!

taglist!

@itzmeme @simpingmyassoff @sukimiya

please comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list :))

[veyveyx]

SO REAL 🙏

im pretty sure that the movies were my first time ever hearing poker face 😭

the lotus casino scene with “poker face” in the background will always be a shining light in the darkness that was the pjo movies

[veyveyx]

ARGHHHHHH I WANT MORE

wait is reg still alive

DID HE EVER ASK REMUS OUT???????

love ya 😽😽😽😽

Reader being a cat to reveal who the traitor is genius. And I think peter noticed the symbolism behind it.

The part with the widow pearls was sad, rip regulus 😔

I cant wait to read more on reader being Madam Black 🤭

THANK YOU HIHIHIHIHI

I'm so glad you noticed <3 I was so happy when I came up with the idea of the cat hihi. Also reg will always be in our hearts ♥️

here is mr black and mrs black reuniting to heal our hearts

all I think about now - masterlist

summary - sirius black x malfoy + slytherin! reader, the order takes a break after peter has been caught, sirius joins you outside for some fresh air (and some revelations)

warnings - revelations and reunions <3, yearning, longing, and everything in between. mentions of minor character death (r's mom who was sick), smoking (s bad for u), james being a menace, spot the Metallica reference lmao

read the part before

The soft autumn air suddenly felt heavy.

You kept facing the sea, watching as the waves grazed the sand below the cliff. You could feel Sirius shifting beside you, the sound of his leather jacket, the zipper of a pocket, and the crisp sound of a cigarette box with the wrapper still half on.

The spark of his lighter caught the corner of your eye, and soon after followed a cloud of smoke gently blown your way by the wind.

With your gaze still fixed on the waves, you saw his hand move towards you, offering you his cigarette. You took it without a second thought. You hadn't smoked since the last time you had seen him.

You took two long drags before you handed it back to him, your gazes still refusing to meet.

A sense of deja vue filled you. Suddenly you were back atop the astronomy tower at the start of your seventh year. Tension slithering between you before it would hopefully crack.

You knew how it had gone the last time. You could never stay apart from him for long. You had always felt close, no matter how far. No matter how many times life has pulled you away from one another, you still felt that tug, that string pull you towards him.

But no matter how hard it was, there was a reason the two of you had called it off the last time. There was a reason you had tried to break that unbreakable string.

You were to be married to his brother, which you now were.

You had pledged your allegiance to the dark lord.

There wasn’t a world anymore where the two of you could have attempted keeping this up.

In 7th year, you were already risking your life sneaking around. You had both risked your lives trying to see each other after graduation, and then he had risked his life coming to see you, for one the last time, the night before your wedding.

The grey area you had been dancing around had been reduced to ashes by the exceedingly fast brewing war.

And now, as you smoked together watching the waves dance upon the sand, it seemed that maybe, just maybe there was a flicker of hope for a happy ending.

But how could he forgive you for never choosing him?

After an unknown number of smoke clouds, he sighed. It wasn't out of annoyance. It was soft, as if he was finally getting rid of an unknown tension that prevented him from voicing anything.

"How have you been?" You could tell he had a hard time asking. Voice laced with rugged emotions as he kept his gaze toward the waves.

You finally dared to look at him.

"Frankly, I do not really know. You?"

He laughed the tension out his shoulders, "frankly? I don't know either."

"Well, that makes two of us."

It took him another minute before he looked at you after he discarded his cigarette.

You stayed without a word spoken as he scanned your face. Your tired eyes peering back at him.

His hair was longer than when you last saw him, and a huddle of tattoos peeked out of his clothes anywhere skin would dare show. You could tell he was probably just as tired as you, but his eyes still held that fire you loved so much about him.

Salazar you had missed him.

But emotions didn't have time to surface because soon enough his gaze tore away from you, and you found yourself looking down to your shoes.

"How long have you been on our side?" He asked, and you heard him huff as he tried fishing for a second cigarette.

"Since we left Hogwarts."

You watched as Sirius dropped his lighter, a surprised groan leaving his lips.

You both bent down to pick it up, fingers brushing as you reached for the lighter first. You handed it to him.

It felt like sparks flew from the mere brush of your hands, and you knew Sirius had felt it too by the surprise in his eyes. With a second too long of your hands lingering, you finally spoke through the ice.

"I missed you."

"Why didn't you tell me you were working for the order?" His voice was soft, and you carefully scanned his traits as he placed his new cigarette to his lips and lit it.

"To keep you safe."

"I could have handled it."

"Sirius..."

"I can't believe it."

"Is it so hard to believe?"

"If I’m being honest, yeah!" His voice rose from an octave or two until he got quieter again. "After you refused to come with me, twice. Yeah. Especially since, apparently, the second time I asked, you were already allied with Albus."

"Sirius..." you trailed as you watched him advert your gaze as he burned away his cigarette, sighing half of the smoke through his nose.

"You couldn't leave. I know." He looked down.

"I wanted to," you stepped closer to face him, trying to gain his eyes. "You out of anyone should know how desperately I wanted to be like you, be with you," your voice quivered. "But I had strings attaching me there, I had my mother to take care of, and then- then when she passed and I finally thought I could leave, that nothing kept me back anymore I-" You stopped in your rambles, too afraid of voicing the rest of your thoughts.

Sirius was staring back at you with glassy eyes, mouth slightly agape at your sudden confession. You were about to leave. You were actually going to, but then his face hardened again, the sudden reminder of reality hitting him.

He didn't need to be a genius to figure out what had kept you there. If his information was correct your son was born around nine months after your wedding. Your mother died barely two months after the ceremony.

"Another string kept you attached."

"Yes," your voice was hoarse over the suppression of your tears, and it took you another minute before you managed to use your voice again. "I didn't mean it to."

That seemed to get his attention, and you watched as confusion riddled his eyes.

You took in a sharp breath. You weren't even close to ready to have this conversation, but here you were, plotting against the dark lord, not even being sure of making it past these next few weeks.

It was now or never.

"Breaks over!" James's voice rang from the opened window, causing your shoulders to jump at the interruption.

Sirius dropped his dying cigarette before pressing it with his foot and giving you the best sad and tired smile he could muster as he headed back to the door.

"Wait, Sirius," you caught his arm before he could grab the handle. "If anything were to happen... to me or r-" you caught yourself. "If anything were to happen, promise me you will take care of Perseus."

You could feel him tense under your touch at the mention. His expression almost stoic as his movements fully stopped.

He caught your gaze and suddenly something seemed to shift in him, he almost smiled.

"So that's the little rascal's name."

The lightness in his voice took you aback, and you almost smiled too.

"Yes. Perseus Sirius Black," you sheepishly mumbled and watched his eyes widen.

"Is that why Walburga and Orion finally kicked the bucket? Must of given them both of heart attack," he mumbled and this time you couldn't help but smile.

"No," you bit your lip. "Your mother insisted he wore Reg’s name. We told her he did but we wrote Sirius on the official papers."

"First borns usually take their middle names after their fathers."

“They do…"

Sirius couldn’t decipher your expression but took it as a sheepish ‘we broke the rules, so what’ because he couldn’t even dare to even think of looking into the fact that you could mean anything else by it.

"Didn't take my brother for a sentimental," he muttered before fixing his hair in attempt to distract himself. "I'll do what I can, but I promise you, it won't come to that. You'll come home to him."

He reached for the door again, and the burning feeling that after tonight, you weren’t sure when you would see him again came nagging at your gut.

The same voice rang through your mind again.

It was now, and If not, the possibility of never.

"Regulus never laid a finger on me," you blurted out.

Sirius turned back to you with a confused expression, one hand already on the door handle.

"We, um-" You were blinking extremely fast now, heart fluttering uncontrollably as he awaited for you to elaborate. "Weneverconsummatedthemarriage."

"Sorry?" Sirius tried to comprehend the string of blabber. He had heard it. But it just didn't make sense in is mind.

Nope. Absolutely zero sense.

But then by the look of absolute terror and pain in your eyes, he seemed to connect two and two together.

His jaw opened by itself, literally like one of those muggle cartoons Lily made Harry watch on Friday nights using what she called a TV.

He wanted to speak. Say something, anything. But all words died down in the back of his throat.

Suddenly Sirius fell. One second he was leaning against the door and the next he was being swished backwards and harshly onto the wooden floor of location twelve, which didn't make any sense because there was supposed to be a door behind him.

He blinked to realize that his hand was indeed still securely on the handle of said door, with James sheepishly on the other side of it.

"Prongs!"

"Sorry mate didn't know you were behind it." He looked at you and then back at Sirius, "we're waiting for you."

[veyveyx]

THIS IS RHE FIRST PART IVE READ SO IM GOING BACK FOR THE LOREDROP

LOVE YA 😽😽😽

HOLY COW YES!

Malfoy reader being in with the order!! Hell yes!! Please tell me she will warn them about Peter Pettigrew since she’s known him. I’m begging!!!!!

Holy cow yes!!!

Had this planned for a while, I'm so glad your request came through hihi!

all I think about now - masterlist

summary - malfoy + slytherin! reader, you reveal to the order who the spy is

warnings - chaos, peter's scheming being revealed

"One of our allies is here," on this fine Tuesday evening, Albus abruptly addressed the order of the Phoenix. Everyone suddenly looked around with wide eyes and whispers were being exchanged, as if they were supposed to see this ally apparate before their eyes.

"They have informed me who the spy is."

The room fell quiet. You could hear a pin drop.

Sirius’s face drained of color as he watched Dumbledore’s careful eyes scan the room, most definitely for effect.

He was getting sick to his stomach at the thought of anyone in this room, his friends, betraying him. Betraying everyone here, and by extension baby Harry, baby Neville and all the others whose families were fighting by his side.

He couldn’t think of a single person here he wouldn’t trust with his life, and that made it all the worse.

Everyone’s hearts caught in their throats. He could feel it. The tension seeping through everyone, hands itching for their wands as they awaited an answer.

Everyone kept glancing at everyone and anything that could move while attempting to see who Dumbledore had his gaze fixed upon.

A cat Sirius had never seen before was snaking around the feet of Albus’s desk, and padded towards him. It looked at him questionably, almost suspiciously with its big eyes. Sirius frowned as he peered at it.

He hated cats, they usually made his skin crawl. But this time he didn’t feel the same primitive shivers his dog self endured him with. No, he almost felt… attracted to the cat? Like he wanted to run his hand through its fur and hold it close.

The cat blinked at him, once, twice, maybe thrice before turning its gaze the other way and walking in another direction.

He looked around, no one else seemed to take notice of it.

He realised the cat was heading straight for the lounge chair Peter laid in. He gazed at his friend who flashed a worried look his way.

He could see Peter’s hand shaking as he looked down to his lap, noticing the cat who was now playing with his shoe laces. Peter looked so pale he was almost green.

Sirius watched with surprised eyes as the cat jumped onto Peter’s lap.

Peter wasn’t inspecting the sudden intrusion, his already tense body almost jumping from the chair. Everyone’s gaze turned to him from the noise and shuffling he was doing, between removing the droplet of sweats off his brow and trying to shoo the creature away.

"Worms, you alright?" Remus furrowed his brow as he stared at his startled friend.

"I think he is quite alright. Are you not Mr. Pettigrew?" Albus remained his stoic, calm collected self as he inspected the boy.

"Quite alright, thanks." He muttered, trying to pick up the cat.

As if he had squeezed the creature too hard, it suddenly hissed and aggressively scratched his hand.

There was a blur of fur, claws, fabric, skin, and girlish screams from a struggling Peter before the cat went flying to the other side of the room, barely hanging on to the side of a library by its claws.

Sirius who suddenly felt a sudden need to care for this mysterious cat, saved it from abruptly falling and hurting itself (he would also argue he wanted to save Dumbledore’s bookshelves from vicious cat scratches.)

He was surprised when the previously hostile cat actually purred in his arms when he petted its head.

"Peter-" Remus abruptly stood up from his own lounge chair. "What’s on your arm?"

Everyone’s attention who wasn’t already on Peter was now set on the boy, their wands at the ready.

Indeed the cat’s attack had ripped his sleeve off, leaving a bloody and scratched dark mark to reveal itself to everyone in the room.

If Albus hadn’t trusted your allegations towards Peter, he now had no reason to argue.

It was all a blur from then on.

Poor Peter Pettigrew didn’t even have the time to reach for his wand when Albus had already charmed him with invisible restraints.

Remus had to physically restrain James and Sirius from attacking him. Even Arthur had to chime in to help the poor werewolf keep his two friends at bay.

In his frenzy, Sirius was squeezing the cat in his arms too tightly, which caused a squeal from the animal. When he realised it seemed to calm him down, and soon enough he was muttering chains of apologies while roughly patting its fur as if he was patting a dog.

People were arguing, screaming and squealing over each other.

He was made secret keeper.

What are we going to do?

What will be his punishment?

Will my children be safe?

"Enough!"

Dumbledore’s voice rang through the crowded room, and everyone abruptly stopped talking.

"It is late. Peter will do us no harm now. Let us take a break, and then we can decide what to do with him." He muttered the last part of his sentence, rubbing his forehead as he sat on the chair by his desk.

"Albus." Molly broke the wizards sigh. "Who is the ally?"

As if on cue the cat jumped from Sirius’s arms with a light thud, and trotted to the wizard’s desk.

"Ah. Right," he nodded, swishing his wand towards the small black creature.

Suddenly, its black fur turned into dark silky expensive fabric, and stretched into a woman.

Not just any woman.

It was you.

Looking all regal despite the fight you had put up against Peter. Hair dressed up with prestige, with not one loose hair falling out. The true elegance of a Malfoy.

In the almost two years he hadn’t seen you, you had barely changed, all the while you looked different.

You had the most gorgeous black pearl necklace Sirius had ever seen, and if he remembered correctly it had been previously owned by his aunt who had received it from her own grand mother (so his great great great grandmother?, he briefly thought as his brain twisted to remember the memory)

And he suddenly remembered the grim story behind it. The mourning pearls. Transmitted from a widow to another, and worn by the youngest one in the family. A tradition that he hadn’t thought much about when he overheard his mother speaking about it at diner.

He swallowed, palm of his hands clammy as he watched you dust your skirt of silks. You looked as if you were ready for some prestigious events like the ones Sirius had stopped bothering with when he turned sixteen. He realised that, even in these war times this was now probably your every day wear. You had made it to what his mother had wished him to be.

A jewel of high society.

Maybe even more so now with your status of heirsss to his family’s everything.

You had a mischievous smile on your face when you finally lifted your gaze up to meet the room. Godric he missed that smile.

"This was a ghastly experience Albus, I do not know how you animagi do it."

[veyveyx]

MOREMOREMLREMLREMLREMIREMOREMOREMOREMOREMORE MORE!!!

HOLY COW YES!

Malfoy reader being in with the order!! Hell yes!! Please tell me she will warn them about Peter Pettigrew since she’s known him. I’m begging!!!!!

Holy cow yes!!!

Had this planned for a while, I'm so glad your request came through hihi!

all I think about now - masterlist

summary - malfoy + slytherin! reader, you reveal to the order who the spy is

warnings - chaos, peter's scheming being revealed

"One of our allies is here," on this fine Tuesday evening, Albus abruptly addressed the order of the Phoenix. Everyone suddenly looked around with wide eyes and whispers were being exchanged, as if they were supposed to see this ally apparate before their eyes.

"They have informed me who the spy is."

The room fell quiet. You could hear a pin drop.

Sirius’s face drained of color as he watched Dumbledore’s careful eyes scan the room, most definitely for effect.

He was getting sick to his stomach at the thought of anyone in this room, his friends, betraying him. Betraying everyone here, and by extension baby Harry, baby Neville and all the others whose families were fighting by his side.

He couldn’t think of a single person here he wouldn’t trust with his life, and that made it all the worse.

Everyone’s hearts caught in their throats. He could feel it. The tension seeping through everyone, hands itching for their wands as they awaited an answer.

Everyone kept glancing at everyone and anything that could move while attempting to see who Dumbledore had his gaze fixed upon.

A cat Sirius had never seen before was snaking around the feet of Albus’s desk, and padded towards him. It looked at him questionably, almost suspiciously with its big eyes. Sirius frowned as he peered at it.

He hated cats, they usually made his skin crawl. But this time he didn’t feel the same primitive shivers his dog self endured him with. No, he almost felt… attracted to the cat? Like he wanted to run his hand through its fur and hold it close.

The cat blinked at him, once, twice, maybe thrice before turning its gaze the other way and walking in another direction.

He looked around, no one else seemed to take notice of it.

He realised the cat was heading straight for the lounge chair Peter laid in. He gazed at his friend who flashed a worried look his way.

He could see Peter’s hand shaking as he looked down to his lap, noticing the cat who was now playing with his shoe laces. Peter looked so pale he was almost green.

Sirius watched with surprised eyes as the cat jumped onto Peter’s lap.

Peter wasn’t inspecting the sudden intrusion, his already tense body almost jumping from the chair. Everyone’s gaze turned to him from the noise and shuffling he was doing, between removing the droplet of sweats off his brow and trying to shoo the creature away.

"Worms, you alright?" Remus furrowed his brow as he stared at his startled friend.

"I think he is quite alright. Are you not Mr. Pettigrew?" Albus remained his stoic, calm collected self as he inspected the boy.

"Quite alright, thanks." He muttered, trying to pick up the cat.

As if he had squeezed the creature too hard, it suddenly hissed and aggressively scratched his hand.

There was a blur of fur, claws, fabric, skin, and girlish screams from a struggling Peter before the cat went flying to the other side of the room, barely hanging on to the side of a library by its claws.

Sirius who suddenly felt a sudden need to care for this mysterious cat, saved it from abruptly falling and hurting itself (he would also argue he wanted to save Dumbledore’s bookshelves from vicious cat scratches.)

He was surprised when the previously hostile cat actually purred in his arms when he petted its head.

"Peter-" Remus abruptly stood up from his own lounge chair. "What’s on your arm?"

Everyone’s attention who wasn’t already on Peter was now set on the boy, their wands at the ready.

Indeed the cat’s attack had ripped his sleeve off, leaving a bloody and scratched dark mark to reveal itself to everyone in the room.

If Albus hadn’t trusted your allegations towards Peter, he now had no reason to argue.

It was all a blur from then on.

Poor Peter Pettigrew didn’t even have the time to reach for his wand when Albus had already charmed him with invisible restraints.

Remus had to physically restrain James and Sirius from attacking him. Even Arthur had to chime in to help the poor werewolf keep his two friends at bay.

In his frenzy, Sirius was squeezing the cat in his arms too tightly, which caused a squeal from the animal. When he realised it seemed to calm him down, and soon enough he was muttering chains of apologies while roughly patting its fur as if he was patting a dog.

People were arguing, screaming and squealing over each other.

He was made secret keeper.

What are we going to do?

What will be his punishment?

Will my children be safe?

"Enough!"

Dumbledore’s voice rang through the crowded room, and everyone abruptly stopped talking.

"It is late. Peter will do us no harm now. Let us take a break, and then we can decide what to do with him." He muttered the last part of his sentence, rubbing his forehead as he sat on the chair by his desk.

"Albus." Molly broke the wizards sigh. "Who is the ally?"

As if on cue the cat jumped from Sirius’s arms with a light thud, and trotted to the wizard’s desk.

"Ah. Right," he nodded, swishing his wand towards the small black creature.

Suddenly, its black fur turned into dark silky expensive fabric, and stretched into a woman.

Not just any woman.

It was you.

Looking all regal despite the fight you had put up against Peter. Hair dressed up with prestige, with not one loose hair falling out. The true elegance of a Malfoy.

In the almost two years he hadn’t seen you, you had barely changed, all the while you looked different.

You had the most gorgeous black pearl necklace Sirius had ever seen, and if he remembered correctly it had been previously owned by his aunt who had received it from her own grand mother (so his great great great grandmother?, he briefly thought as his brain twisted to remember the memory)

And he suddenly remembered the grim story behind it. The mourning pearls. Transmitted from a widow to another, and worn by the youngest one in the family. A tradition that he hadn’t thought much about when he overheard his mother speaking about it at diner.

He swallowed, palm of his hands clammy as he watched you dust your skirt of silks. You looked as if you were ready for some prestigious events like the ones Sirius had stopped bothering with when he turned sixteen. He realised that, even in these war times this was now probably your every day wear. You had made it to what his mother had wished him to be.

A jewel of high society.

Maybe even more so now with your status of heirsss to his family’s everything.

You had a mischievous smile on your face when you finally lifted your gaze up to meet the room. Godric he missed that smile.

"This was a ghastly experience Albus, I do not know how you animagi do it."

[veyveyx]

THIS WAS SO YUMMY 😋

THE UNDOING OF DARKNESS

anakin skywalker/darth vader x f!reader word count: 6k warnings: darth vader, a depiction of murder, angst, smut, p in x sex (unprotected), inappropriate usage of the force, did i mention angst, anakin is also unburnt for the sake of this fic synopsis: sometimes she believes anakin skywalker still exists. darth vader will say that he is no more but she does not truly believe he is gone. after all, anakin once told her that even in death, he would claw his way out of the very earth to find her.

read on ao3

 Every breath feels like the rarest air in Fortress Vader. Not only is it stuffy, and the simplest of movements makes you break out into a sweat, but it has always felt more like a prison than a home. She’s tried to think of it as one, as it is the place where she spends most, if not all, of her days. It is hard, however, when all she can see is gray, orange, and red for as far as the eye can see. It is hard when she knows there is always the possibility that he is there, watching, scrutinizing, waiting. 

 He, the man she once held in such high regard, the man she never thought she would have, the man that always seemed so impossible and out of reach, the man she never thought would have given her a chance. Maybe he wouldn’t have, she thinks when she has nothing to do but sit by the sliver in the wall of the throne room that serves as a window, looking out into the fiery oceans of Mustafar, if he hadn't changed. 

 She knew the man who he once was. She knew the man before the days of apparatus, before the days of the Empire, before the days of darkness. She thinks she must be the only one left who knew Lord Vader as well as she. Yes, she knew the man Lord Vader had been, before the days of dictatorship, before the fear of existing, because existing, in these days, was fear in itself. 

 She thinks she must be one of the only ones left who knew of Anakin Skywalker. Sometimes, when she sees Lord Vader in the way she and only she sees him, she thinks she can see Anakin again, slipping through the cracks. Sometimes, she believes Anakin must still be here, somewhere, if even a fragment of him. Sometimes she will look into his eyes— the fiery pools they were now— and swear she will see a glimmer, a mirage of that cerulean ocean she once knew, slipping through the cracks of his inferno. 

 If Anakin Skywalker did still exist, however, Lord Vader made sure he never came to be. If Anakin Skywalker still existed, then he was simply locked away deep inside the cage that had been built around the new Lord Vader’s heart. She isn’t sure if it is possible to break through the iron bars— and frankly, she’s become too frightened to even want to continue trying. She feels guilty, like she has some sense of responsibility, of duty to the lost Anakin Skywalker, as she is the only one that Lord Vader allows so close, the only one who may see him in a state as vulnerable as he will allow her to see him. 

 She wonders sometimes if Anakin Skywalker cries out for her, much like the way she did when she was taken, plucked like a rose from her village in the outskirts of Galidraan. When she closes her eyes, she can still remember that day, the harsh cold on her skin, the painful inferno inside her chest, the binds used to restrain her hands behind her back. 

 “No!” She can still feel her scream ripping from her throat, the acidic, rumbling feeling in her chest as she watches the red plasmic blade of the dark figure slice clean through her uncle’s neck, and can still see the shape of his head tumble into the white snow through her watery vision. Although she knows she is merely looking into the past, the pain feels too real, like she is reliving her worst day again. 

 She lunges forward, like she intends to avenge her uncle, a foolish spur of the moment instinct, as she is bound by the wrists and with a blaster to the back of her head. The stormtrooper behind her knocks the butt of his blaster into the back of her skull and her head rings while her cheek finds the snow. She hears her cousins and her people cry behind her and when she pries a single eyelid open, she can make out their trembling silhouettes, on their knees, shoulder to shoulder, a wall of stormtroopers behind them. 

 The ringing begins to dull and she hears footsteps somewhere behind her. She cannot bring herself to move, as she is stunned with the realization that today would be their final day. All these people she’s grown up with, her family she swore she would protect— they would meet their ends today. She would never see her off-planet friends again— she would never see Anakin Skywalker again. That promise he made her that he would see her again feels empty now. She almost wonders if she was a fool to put so much faith in him and his Jedi friends to begin with, if she was a fool to think he’d want her, someone as simple and as plain as her. 

 But all the same, he said they would come should trouble find her beloved planet— so where was he now? She believes he cannot be dead, purged along with many of the other of his kind. She knows he is out there, somewhere. Everyday, she thinks he will come poking his head out from the snowy horizon. Everyday, she waits for that moment to come. She feels the bitter cold seeping into her bones now and thinks how foolish she’s been for believing in such a thing. 

 “The prisoner dares the thought of standing against me,” she hears a voice, deep and undoubtedly male behind her and feels a quivering somewhere inside her chest. The bile that’s been resting at the base of her throat threatens to rise when two stormtroopers step forward, likely from this dark figure’s command, and wraps their hands under her armpits, hoisting her from the ground. She presses her lips together to quell her sick as the world spins and all she can see is black and white. 

 The figure is tall and broad, much more so now that she was so close to him. She has to look up at him and she tries to blink away the blurriness from her vision, and when it does, she can make out the face of his mask. She glowers into the two black circles of his eyes, trying to keep her gaze locked on him rather than on the limp body of her uncle. 

 “You cannot do this,” she says, her voice shaky with uncertainty but feigning determination all the same. “You cannot take us. You cannot kill us. Ana…” she pauses and somewhere in her delirious mind she thinks perhaps she shouldn’t say his name, shouldn’t put yet another target on his back. But her brain tells her these will be her final moments and all she can really think of now is Anakin and of his promise she still tried to cling onto, even now when it was quite literally impossible for it to be fulfilled now. “Anakin will come for us. You cannot kill us.”

 A silence ensues and the masked man’s shoulders rise and she thinks she must have caught him by surprise. Perhaps he already knows of Anakin Skywalker, perhaps he merely wonders why a girl as plain and unimportant as she knows of a Jedi Knight when they’ve all been purged, seemingly from his hand, or at least, his command. 

 His black capes flows in the snowy wind and she trembles, more from knowing his stare behind that mask is devouring her rather than the cold. 

 “You speak in tongues,” he says at last, stepping forward, closer until all she sees is black, an endless void with two circles and a triangle for a face. “I can and I will take whatever I want, foolish girl. I will do what I please.”

 He straightens and with a black, gloved hand, points towards her people, her family. “Kill them,” he says simply and panic blinds her, taking control of her limbs. 

 “No. No!” She screeches into the howling wind, thrashing against the hold of the two stormtroopers behind her as she hears blaster shot after blaster shot and the sound of bodies falling into the snow. “Anakin! Anakin, please! Help me! Help us!” She screams again, sounding more like a fool than she ever has but she’s desperate as she tries to lift herself from the ground, kicking out towards the dark, wicked man before her. 

 All five fingers of the same hand the man used to damn her family to their deaths outstretches and it is like her body, her limbs are no longer her own. They freeze in place and no matter how hard she tries to will them to move, to will her arms to thrash about against their restraints and her legs to kick, they will not. Her heart pounds against her chest and it rises and falls with her shaky breaths as she is forced to stare at the man who has taken her entire world away in a matter of seconds. He steps forward again, looms like a dark cloud with the promise of downpour over her and she has no choice but to stare back, her brows knit together, the promise of tears stinging her eyes. 

 “The man you speak of ceased to exist long ago,” he speaks and she doesn’t quite want to believe him. Although, for a reason she cannot quite define now, she thinks he must be telling the truth, or at least, some version of the truth. “It’d do you well to rid your mind of these foolish beliefs. You shall not be saved. Your life rests in the palms of my hands, and I will do with it what I please.”

 Still, she cannot move, all she can do is silently cry, waiting for this man, this awful, wicked, yet somewhat familiar man to damn her to whatever fate he had in store for her. 

 “You will come with me. You will live in my fortress. You will be what I want you to be. This is a mercy, but do not consider yourself saved. Your life will still be mine to own, and it will be mine to end, should I desire it.”

 She opens her eyes and finds herself back in Mustafar again, staring out at the same fiery ocean she sees every other day. The pain and the memory of that day is still fresh, but she still cannot shake what she feels of Anakin— or rather, Lord Vader— even knowing what he is, what he is capable of. She hates herself for being so easy, for still wanting to believe that her Anakin is still there and that what she has with the new Lord Vader is love, a twisted, altered version of what her life might have been like with Anakin, should circumstances be different. 

 There are footsteps thrumming through the hall beyond the door of the throne room and time seems to still, her heart thudding against her chest as she waits for the door to slide open. When it does, he walks in, rolling like a dark fog into the room and despite the intense heat of Mustafar, she shivers, an icy chill seeping into the marrow of her bones. 

 She simply sits and stares as he stops in the middle of the throne room, her fingers wrapped around the fabric of her gown, chest heaving up and down, waiting for him to address her. She hates this— living in constant fear whilst simultaneously wanting him, wanting the man he used to be, Anakin, back. 

 Another few seconds of silence. 

 And then. 

 “Come here,” he finally speaks and his voice sounds not his own, a different man entirely. She blinks, swinging her legs over the ledge of her seat at the window, complying without a question. Sometimes she hated how easy she gave in to him, but even if she didn’t act of her own free will, she knew she wouldn’t have much of a choice anyways. Still, she hates how quickly she draws nearer, only stopping when she stands before him, looking up into his mask. 

 She purses her lips. She hates this mask. It reminds her of that day. It is the mask of a killer, rather than the face of a man. 

 She inhales, feeling air draw into her chest. Then, “will you let me see you?”

 Another moment of silence, save, of course, for the sound of his breathing through the apparatus. His shoulders rise and fall with his breath and she thinks it must have been a bad day. She internally shudders— tonight could go only one of two ways. 

 She feels a sense of relief, however, when his hands rise to the sides of his helmet, air hissing when he presses his fingers down on either side of the durasteel. Time stops altogether when he inches the helmet away from his head. Full, pink lips unveil behind the mask, a few ridged, faintly red scars like the jagged edges of broken earth spread across his cheeks, up to his strong nose and sharp, red eyes. Dark blonde curls spill over his face and her breath hitches because this is Anakin, but also not and she hates that she still feels something when she sees him, still wants him, and although it pains her to admit it— she still loves him. 

 She blinks up at him, unable to look away and he stares back, lips pressed together, fiery gaze devouring. Yes, it must have been a bad day, because although his gaze is usually unyielding, it is more intense than usual today. It pierces through her, as if he is sifting through her mind, and knowing what he is capable of, he may very well be. 

 It’s reminiscent of the way he used to look at her, back when he was still Anakin. Her Anakin. Her blue-eyed, kind, resilient Anakin. 

 He looked different then, no scars, save for the one on his eye, on his face. His eyes didn’t feel like drowning in a sea of flames, rather, they were oceans of warm cerulean, drawing her in with their kind gaze. She can still feel the rush of secret rendezvous in dark corners of rooms, where no one was watching, away from prying eyes and hushed whispers. 

 She can feel his hands— one warm, one deliciously cool to the touch— resting on either of her cheeks, her own hands wrapped around his elbows. She can still feel his lips against hers then, warm and slow but firm, dominant but soft, gentle. Anakin kissed her like she was a remedy, delicate and precious. Sometimes he still kissed her like this— warm, slow, firm, dominant, gentle. Sometimes it was almost enough to make her feel how she did then— delicate, precious, a remedy. 

 But nothing could amount to the way Anakin looked at her then, with vast blue eyes so inviting, so kind, and so him that she thought she would die if he ceased to look at her like that. This, of course, was not true. Yet, everyday she spent looking into the fiery depths that replaced his warm ocean, she thinks she feels pieces of herself, her old self, rotting. 

 Anakin pulled away from her lips and even though it was all those days ago, she still remembered how tenderly he brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it back behind her ear. She still remembers the pad of his thumb, the one with flesh instead of metal, smoothing circles into her cheekbones. She watches as his lips move to form words and she is simply mesmerized, so enraptured by this man she can hardly breathe. 

 “I will be going away soon,” he told her then, his breath like the warmth of a fire against her face. Her eyelashes flutter as she looks from his lips back to his eyes, wading further into his ocean, as if she could convince him with a stare to stay, to anchor himself here, to her. 

 “But…” she shakes her head, tongue swiping between her lips and her hands slide from his elbows to his wrists. “…but you cannot…” she sighs frustratingly, unable to find her words. “…it is not safe for us. You cannot leave…”

 “Hey,” he whispers in only the way he can, in that way that has her resolve slipping, her knees trembling, her heart stuttering. The wind whips at their hair and their clothes and snow falls behind him but he is so warm, a warm glow in the midst of the storm. She grows warm, warmer in his hands and Anakin’s gaze drops to her quivering lips, the skin of his thumb soothing over her lower one. “You are fully capable of surviving without me,” he assures in a murmur that rolls like thunder in her chest. 

 She shakes her head. “But we are weak!” she protests. “We are not strong enough to handle this on our own. My uncle he…” she closes her eyes, sucks in a breath, tries to ease the unsteady beating of her heart. “…he is only getting older. He isn’t well. The storm is only getting stronger, and if they come… we—“

 “No,” Anakin shakes his head, steps closer, cradles either of her cheeks in the palms of his hands. “Don’t say you can’t.”

 She tilts her head in his palms, unsure of his meaning. “But Anakin, if they—“

 “They will not touch you,” he says and he speaks with a sense of finality, and she knows there would be no question, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. She knows that what he says is true. His hands tighten around her face and his gaze is strong, unyielding, piercing where it meets hers. He almost doesn’t seem himself, like there is some other version of him present. She isn’t sure what to think of it, but what she knows for sure is that she knows she must be safe, because Anakin says it is true. “I will not let anyone hurt you, do you understand?”

 He searches her gaze, awaiting her answer. She stares back, wondering how someone like him could be speaking to her like this, touching her like this, caring for her like this. To be loved by Anakin Skywalker was like being a snowflake, falling from the heavens, making its descent to the ground— every one was unique, but its uniqueness may only be discovered by those who look close enough. Not many cared to take the time out of their day to see her, but Anakin did. Anakin saw her and held her in a way he and only he could. To be loved by Anakin Skywalker was to be seen like nobody else had seen her. To be loved by Anakin Skywalker was a rarity of its own. 

 She nods against his palms, her lashes fluttering as her gaze drops to his chin, to his lips. 

 “What is it?” He asks, lowering his head, catching her gaze in his again. She sniffs, wringing a hand around his wrist. 

 “What if I do not see you again?” She asks. “How long will I have to wait to have you like this again?”

 It is a selfish thought, she thinks. They are in the middle of a war for Maker’s sake, and Anakin is one of the most important assets of it. It is selfish of her to want to keep him all to herself, to want to stay hidden in a permanent rendezvous, away from eyes, away from pain, away from war. The galaxy needed him, that, she knew. But she needed him too. She doesn’t know what she will do with herself, biding the time until she sees him again. 

 “But you will see me again,” he assures in a quiet murmur, his hands dropping from her cheeks to cup either of her hands between his. He presses his lips to one of her knuckles, then to another, and then another until they’ve all been graced by his kiss. Her knees feel like jelly and she is glad he is there to support her, because she feels like she can melt into a gooey puddle of magma at their feet despite the snow. “No matter how far, no matter the time, I will always find you. There is no place in the entire galaxy where you can be where I will not find you. We are bound to one another, you and I are. Even in death, I would claw myself out of the very earth to find you.”

 She feels the bitter sting of tears pooling in her eyes, because she knows they are running out of time, and soon, he would have to take leave. She will only have these words and the memory of his touch to satiate her, until of course he keeps his word and finds her once again. 

 Anakin’s eyes fall back down to her lips before he collects them with his in a searing kiss, the kindling of a promise left in his mouth’s wake when he pulls away. 

 “We will see one another again,” he murmurs and she believes him. She knows he will keep his word. “And perhaps, we will meet even sooner than you think.”

 Blue swarms and begins to morph into an angry, fiery red and she is once again back in Mustafar, staring at Anakin but not Anakin again. Sometimes when she thinks her Anakin Skywalker is truly lost, she need only remember those tender words he had said to her, the last time she saw him as he once was. She will then look at Darth Vader and tell herself that all hope is not lost. Darth Vader will say that Anakin Skywalker is dead, but she knows it is not true. 

 Because Anakin Skywalker once told her that even in death, he would claw his way out of the very earth to find her. 

 “Something troubles you,” she whispers and Darth Vader does not move but his eyes do. His blazing gaze falls to her lips, down her arms, all the way to her hands. She follows their trail and knows what it is he must crave. Sometimes when she thinks she must be afraid of him, she reminds herself that this is only a boy who is lost, misguided. She wonders, she hopes, if in time, he can be guided back onto the right path again. 

 Her hands move to find one of his, his left, where she knows she will still find flesh underneath. She glances back up at him to find he is staring at their connected hands, lips pursed, waiting for her to continue. She sucks in a breath and pinches the tip of his glove at the middle finger, slowly, cautiously pulling it away from his hand. Her palm circles to cradle the back of his hand and while he does not shiver, the locking of his jaw does not go unnoticed. 

 Even after all this time, he still craves for touch, her touch, and her skin on his. It makes her wonder if he still thinks about it too, all their secret rendezvous, their nights of passion, bodies tangled together with only the moons as their witness. She wonders if he still remembers the words he used to always say to her, the tender, sweet little nothings he’d whisper in her ear, the promises for a better future he made woven in the tendrils of her hair. If he still thinks back to that day she last saw him as Anakin Skywalker, if he still remembers the words he told her. 

 She thinks he must, because he still fulfilled his promise: he came back, no matter what. Only not the same, but perhaps more of the same than she initially thought. She sees the locking of his jaw, his craving for her touch he dare not speak aloud and thinks maybe it could be true. 

 “Let me help you,” she says, because she knows he has no desire to speak. Darth Vader lifts his gaze to find she is already staring back as she brings his hand up to her face, cupping her cheek. The pad of his thumb subconsciously soothes over her bottom lip and she shivers, the tenderness of his touch a stark contrast to his demeanor. She knows what she is offering is only a temporary fix, but it is a start, and it is an understanding she didn’t quite have before. 

 He still craves for her, he still wants her. She doesn’t know if she can call what they have love, not anymore, but there is still a want. She thinks that maybe this is her Anakin slipping through the cracks. She decides to hold onto this sliver all that she can. 

 She presses her lips gently against his thumb, maintaining eye contact all the while, unwilling to break it. The blazing amber in his eyes intensifies and in an instant, his lips are on hers, replacing his thumb. She releases a mixture of a yelp and a moan into his mouth, letting his tongue scour her, devouring her. He seeks to conquer her but he still kisses her with desperation, almost insecurely, but not like he’s unsure. It’s more like he’s waiting for her to push him away, to curse and spit at him like he believes (and perhaps, does) deserve. 

 But she doesn’t. How could she? It’s hard to differentiate Darth Vader from Anakin Skywalker when they are one in the same, even while being entirely different. He still feels like her Anakin, he still shares the same shell as her Anakin. He kisses her with a mixture of Darth Vader and just the tiniest fraction of Anakin Skywalker but he is there, he is still there. 

 So she presses herself further into him. His right hand finds the small of her back and presses her further into him, his kiss more determined, his touch more certain. She pants against his mouth as he uses his left hand to unclip his cape, the heavy material falling in a heap on the floor behind him. She feels the shoulders of her dress slipping down her arms but does not feel his hands there and knows he is using the Force on her. It alights a new sort of blaze she’s never felt before between her legs and as his left hand grips her chin and his kisses trail down to her jaw, she burns brighter than ever before. 

 Her eyes are screwed shut as he sucks angry marks to the line of her jaw, her fingers holding on tightly to his sleeves. She thinks she hears the door slide open behind them but the invisible hand working at her clothes unties the knot at the small of her back and Darth’s teeth sink into her collarbone so she does not care. Her head tilts back and she hears the faint sound of footsteps retreating, the door sliding back closed, once again leaving them alone. 

 “An… Ana…” she hears herself begin to pant but knows it is a mistake as soon as he pulls away from her altogether, her body, now nude, feeling cold with the lack of his against it. She peels open her lids and shudders where she stands as his gaze pierces through her as if it intended to melt her to the very ground she stood on. She thinks she very well can but she knows there is no use of running so she stays, awaiting her fate. 

 “The name you call is not mine,” Darth speaks and he reaches out with a hand, his left, and her body is not her own anymore and her mind flashes back to the day where he found her, when he used this very power on her to strip her of her own will. She presses her lips together as the Force brings her down to her knees, the ground biting into her bare skin. She does not cry, does not even struggle. She simply waits— she’s already offered herself to him and she knows that he will not hurt her. He cannot afford to. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself without her. Because Anakin is still there. There is still someone inside of him that loves her. “It’d serve you well to forget that man, because he is gone. Dead. I want to hear you say my name. I want to hear you scream it until hell fears me.”

 She hates the effect he has on her. She can feel herself pulse between her legs and she inhales, fluttering her eyes closed at how pathetic she must seem. Still wanting this dangerous, nefarious man. The man who murdered her uncle. The man who murdered her entire family. But yet, still the man who said he would cheat death to keep her safe. 

 Darth’s gaze intensifies and she feels a prodding in her mind, encouraging her, no, commanding her to comply. She gulps, and then, “Darth.”

 The invisible finger toying with the outside of her mind crawls away and her body once again feels like it is her own but still, she stays in her place on her knees on the floor. Darth Vader’s footsteps echo the room as he steps forward until he towers above her. She peers up at him through her lashes, watches as he crouches, pinching her chin between the thumb and forefinger of his gloved hand. 

 “Obedient girl,” he remarks, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip. “You will not defy me, lest you wish for it to be the last thing you do.”

 Her head nods before can even begin to think. She knows she would’ve complied regardless. The ache between her legs wouldn’t allow her to act otherwise. It was disgusting, lusting after this man who swears he will be her demise. But he has a way of making her insatiable, unlike herself.

 “Good,” he says before he pulls away and she watches as he circles the center of the room, setting himself down into the throne in the middle, legs spread, waiting. “Undress me.”

 She gulps down another moan, the words alone making her stomach somersault. She wastes no time to pick herself off of the floor, painfully aware of how naked she is as she makes her way over to where he sits. Even sitting on his throne, he is still bigger, still stronger than her. She feels meek, small against him as she begins with the shoulders of his armor, finding his eyes as she removes it, piece by piece. He taps his fingers against the arms of his seat as she unbuttons his tunic and before she can move to slide it down his arms, he waves a finger and her hands find his belt without their own accord. 

 She doesn’t move for a movement, only stares at him as he gazes back. He cocks an eyebrow, the one pierced with a scar, expectantly and she inhales sharply, her gaze sliding from his face down to his exposed, toned chest as she begins working at his belt. She tosses it away along with the heap of clothes on the floor and unbuttons his trousers, feeling her center throb at just how close she is to seeing what it desires. Her tongue swipes between her lips as she frees his cock from his pants, her breath hitching as she blinks at the angry pink tip peeking from his waistband. 

 “You test the limits of my patience,” Darth Vader says in an annoyed, clipped tone. “My cock will be your throne, but only if you make haste.”

 She blinks again and she feels a ball of acid at the base of her throat as she tugs his pants all the way down to his knees, finally allowing his cock to spring free. She can’t help but gawk, even if she’s already seen it more times than she can count. It’s large to say the very least and it is hard, ready, eager for her. She recalls just how large it is whenever she’s had it in her mouth, how each and every vein of it feels when it is buried so deeply inside of her. Sometimes, she can’t believe that it is all hers to have. Sometimes, she doesn’t feel worthy of it. 

 She realizes she is testing his patience again, only when she feels that invisible hand wrap around her throat, her own subconsciously reaching for them, although they are not there. Breath is stolen from her and she knits her brows together, mumbling a tight apology. 

 “You are merely fortunate that I am not in the mood for games today,” he says and the Force brings her forwards, her knees hitting his. He leans towards her until their faces are mere inches away, his breath rolling like smoke over her cheeks. “So do not push my mercy any further. Sit on my cock.”

 She feels every syllable of his last sentence in her core and the invisible hand remains on her throat as she manages to bring herself closer, her knees on either side of his thighs. He does not touch her, merely watches as she struggles to align his head with her center. When she finally does, he uses this invisible grip on her throat to push her down before releasing her altogether and she gasps for breath, eyes rolling back into her head, her head tipping towards the ceiling as a moan rips from her throat. 

 She can feel every pulsing vein of his cock against her walls, can feel her delicate cervix being bullied by his angry tip. Her hands search for his shoulders and when they do, her nails dig into the sleeves of his tunic, the bitter sting of tears escaping the edges of her eyes. 

 Darth hisses through his teeth and his left hand finds her hip, his skin warm against hers where it kneads. A curse tumbles past his lips and his other hand, still gloved, weaves through her hair, forces her forehead down onto his. She opens her eyes and sees his glaring gaze piercing through to her own. 

 “I don’t know how you do this to me,” he snarls. “I don’t know how only you have this effect on me. Only you can make me feel like this. Only you can make me…” Darth is unable to control himself so he snaps his hips up into her and she cries, more tears streaming down her cheeks. “…fuck!” He howls, tossing his head back against his throne. “You are destroying me. It’s not fair. How are you doing this to me?”

 He says this last thing with a hint of a vulnerability she’s never heard from him before. It’s almost desperate, like she really, truly is destroying him, paining him. It’s hard for her to try and understand what this means when he is fucking her into a state of mind-numbingness, but there is only one thing, one word, one name that she can even think of. 

 “Darth!” She screeches but it is not the name she thinks of. She thinks of Anakin, how perhaps this, she is the key to freeing Anakin Skywalker from the mask of Darth Vader. Because this, this Darth Vader is but a mere facade— they both know it to be true. It is not who he truly is. He can try and deny it all he wants. But there is nowhere in the entire galaxy where he can hide that she won’t find him. Because he is and will always be Anakin Skywalker. 

 She knows that Darth Vader will try and fight it. He will tear down the entire galaxy before he admits it. He will destroy planets and will bring down entire monarchies before he admits it. He will kill and he will burn and he will destroy before he admits it. But not even that will be enough to hide from it, to run from it. Because she is Darth Vader’s destiny. She is Anakin Skywalker’s destiny. She will be Darth Vader’s destruction. And she will be Anakin Skywalker’s redemption. 

 She is the key to bringing Anakin Skywalker home. 

a/n: another long one for anakin 🤭 i absolutely love writing for him, he's so complex and so fun to explore and create headcanons of my own for. i hope i was able to do him at least a little bit of justice here. sorry if this seemed a little too slow burn and if there wasn't enough smut to suffice 😭 i went in like "oh yeah this is gonna be absolutely filthy" but oh well! i find i write a little easier when i go in without much of a plan lol since i get carried away easily and usually just let my thumbs do whatever the hell they want anyways 😭 anywho! thank you so much for reading! it always warms my heart to know my writing is being seen by others! 🥹🫶

psst, i also want to thank each and every single one of you who read a place in the sea of stars. i was not expecting the feedback that fic received and i am still so overwhelmed by all the love all this time later. thank you thank you thank you a million times over from the bottom of my heart. 🥹🫶

💫 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the world to me 🫶

TAGLIST

@your-nanas-house

@chaoticevilbakugo

@johnbassplayercutie

@arisksywlkr

@sydkneez

@sunnytotheend

[veyveyx]

ONG

when i click on a sirius black x reader tag i expect sirius black x reader fics, not memes , not bloody poly marauders , with due all respect i got sick of not finding fics, nothing as if they disappear and all that remains is poly marauders x reader

[veyveyx]

i fear astoria might be into yn too

𝐀 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞’𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -On the eve of his departure for Hogwarts, Mattheo sneaks into his parents’ bedroom to cuddle his mother, overwhelmed by the thought of leaving her. When his girlfriend Astoria reveals she’s been secretly sleeping over, Tom is less than thrilled, but Y/N calms the family, letting Mattheo savor his final moments of comfort.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - Based on a request from an anon for one shots of the kids coming into Tom and Y/Ns room at night.

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

The Riddle Manor was steeped in silence, the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway the only sound as the house slept.

But Mattheo Riddle was wide awake, staring at the ceiling of his room.

A strange ache settled in his chest as he thought about leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow. He’d been looking forward to it for months, but now, the thought of being away from his mother tugged at him.

Without a second thought, he climbed out of bed, glancing briefly at the figure of Astoria Greengrass curled up in his blankets.

His girlfriend had insisted on coming over to spend more time with him before school started, and while he knew his parents wouldn’t approve of her sleeping over quite yet, he couldn’t say no.

Quietly, he left his room and made his way to his parents’ bedroom.

Bursting through the door, he flipped on the light, startling Tom, who was leaning back against the headboard with a book in hand. The Dark Lord’s expression immediately darkened, his piercing eyes narrowing. “Who dares—”

“Mum!” Mattheo interrupted, ignoring his father entirely as he ran toward the bed.

Y/N stirred, blinking groggily as she sat up. “Mattheo? What on earth—”

Before she could finish, Mattheo flopped onto the bed, wrapping his arms around her in a desperate hug. “I just realized,” he mumbled into her shoulder, “this is my last night to cuddle you before I leave.”

Tom groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re sixteen, Mattheo. Surely you can manage a term without crawling into bed with your mother.”

Y/N chuckled softly, stroking her son’s curls. “Oh, Tom, let him be. He’s my baby.”

Mattheo scowled at his father. “I’m not a baby. I just... I don’t know when I’ll get to do this again, okay?”

As Y/N hugged her son tighter, the sound of footsteps drew their attention.

Astoria appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. Her hair was tousled from sleep, and she looked completely unbothered as she made her way to the bed.

“Mattheo,” Tom said, his voice low and warning, “why is she here?”

Astoria climbed onto the bed and leaned against Y/N, who instinctively wrapped an arm around her. “I couldn’t say no,” she muttered, resting her head on Y/N’s shoulder. “And it’s not like we haven’t slept together before.”

Tom’s glare intensified, his gaze snapping to his son. “What did you say?”

Mattheo winced but didn’t loosen his hold on his mother. “I mean… we share a bed at Hogwarts sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”

Tom’s jaw tightened, and his voice was cold. “We will discuss this in the morning.”

Y/N sighed, her hand stroking Mattheo’s hair to keep him calm. “Tom, she’s practically part of the family already.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re allowed to—”

“Tom,” Y/N said gently, placing a hand over his. Her calming touch softened his glare, though his expression remained strained.

Mattheo, however, was unbothered by the tension. He tightened his hold on his mother, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “You can yell at me tomorrow, Dad. I don’t want to waste tonight. I’ll miss you, Mum.”

Y/N’s heart swelled, and she kissed the top of his head. “Oh, my sweet boy, I’ll miss you too. But you’ll write, won’t you? And Christmas will be here before we know it.”

Astoria, still leaning against Y/N, smirked sleepily. “He’ll survive. I’ll make sure of it.”

Tom let out a heavy sigh, finally leaning back against the headboard. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. “First, you wake us up. Now this.”

“I’m not sorry,” Mattheo grumbled. “You’ll get her forever, Dad. I just have tonight.”

Tom gave a resigned look, muttering something about raising clingy sons under his breath, but the faintest twitch of a smile betrayed him.

Y/N held both Mattheo and Astoria close, her voice soothing as she said, “You’re all going to be fine. But for now, let’s just enjoy the moment.”

The family settled into the odd arrangement, with Tom silently fuming but choosing not to disturb his wife’s rare peaceful smile. Mattheo’s breathing slowed as he finally relaxed, soaking in the last bits of comfort before his big journey.

For tonight, the world outside didn’t matter—just the warmth of family.

[veyveyx]

cute asf ngl

pretty, cedric diggory

pairing: cedric diggory x fem!reader

synopsis: After the fight in the graveyard with you-know-who, Cedric is in st. mungos, where he meets you, a nurse who, much to his dismay, does not speak English.

genre: fluff

warnings: injury, blood

word count: 1k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE ROOM WAS QUIET, save for the soft shuffle of footsteps outside and the occasional murmur of spells being cast in nearby wards. Cedric sat on the hospital bed, his body leaning heavily against the stack of pillows propped up behind him. His face was pale, the aftermath of his brush with death still evident in the bruises on his jaw and the dried blood on his temple.

You stepped in quietly, your presence almost ghost-like. Your uniform, though plain, was clean and neatly pressed, and your hair was tied back, revealing your delicate features. Your eyes darted around the room nervously before finally landing on Cedric. His lips parted slightly, the words he’d been rehearsing since hearing he’d be meeting a new Healer slipping from his mind.

His heart gave a soft, unexpected stutter.

You were beautiful.

Even through the haze of pain and exhaustion, he couldn’t help but notice the softness of your features, the way your lashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked, and the tentative way you moved, as though trying not to disturb the very air around you.

“Hello,” he said, his voice hoarse but warm. He tried to offer a smile, though it came out slightly crooked.

You blinked at him, tilting your head slightly. No reply came. Instead, you looked down at the clipboard in your hands, scanning the notes.

“Hi,” he tried again, this time with a little wave of his hand.

You glanced up, lips parting as if to say something, but the words didn’t come. You bit your lip, then gave a hesitant nod.

Realization dawned on Cedric slowly. “You… don’t speak English, do you?” he asked.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. You tilted your head again, this time more pronounced, like a curious bird trying to decipher a strange sound.

He chuckled softly despite himself, the sound turning into a small groan as the movement pulled at his injured side. “Right, of course,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You stepped closer, setting the clipboard down on the small table by his bed. Your hands hovered over the bandage on his side, your expression one of focused concern. The way you moved was careful, almost hesitant, as if afraid you might hurt him further.

Cedric found himself staring.

He knew it was rude, but he couldn’t help it. There was something captivating about the quiet determination in your eyes, the gentle way you handled everything around you. Even in his current state—bleeding and sore—he couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out of his mouth next.

“You’re… really pretty,” he said softly, his voice almost reverent.

You paused, glancing up at him with wide eyes. Your confusion was evident, and for a moment, he thought he’d made things awkward.

“Pretty,” he repeated, gesturing vaguely toward you. When your expression didn’t change, he looked around the room, desperate for something to help him explain. His gaze landed on a small vase of pink flowers sitting on the bedside table.

He winced as he stretched toward them, his fingers brushing the delicate petals. The motion sent a fresh jolt of pain through his side, but he ignored it, focusing instead on plucking one of the blooms from the vase.

Holding the flower out to you, he said again, “Pretty. Like this. You’re…” He paused, then pointed at the flower, then at you. “Pretty.”

Understanding flickered in your eyes. Your lips parted slightly in surprise, and a faint blush crept up your cheeks. You glanced down at the flower in his hand, then back up at him.

For a moment, you just stood there, the silence stretching between you. Then, slowly, you bit the side of your lip, a small, bashful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Cedric’s heart skipped again.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his as you took the flower from him. The contact was brief, but it left a warmth lingering in the air between you.

“Pretty,” you repeated softly, your accent lilting and unfamiliar, but the word was clear.

He grinned, despite the dull throb in his side. “Yeah. Pretty.”

You ducked your head, focusing on your work as you began to carefully inspect his bandages. Cedric watched you intently, his gaze tracing the curve of your brow and the way your lashes fluttered as you worked.

You stepped closer, heart racing as you began to focus on the task at hand. The blood on his torso stained his torn shirt, and his injuries looked painful, but he didn’t seem to care. Instead, he watched you with a quiet sort of awe, as if you were performing some miracle by just standing there.

Gently, you tugged his shirt aside, your fingers brushing against his skin. His breath hitched slightly at the contact, and you glanced up at him worriedly, afraid you’d hurt him.

"No, no, it's fine," Cedric said quickly, shaking his head. His voice was low now, almost shy. "Just... cold fingers, that’s all."

You didn’t understand his words, but his reassuring tone soothed you. Muttering a quiet spell, you ran your wand over his wound, watching as the torn skin began to knit itself together. His muscles tensed under your touch, and you felt a strange intimacy settle between the two of you.

He was so close, so warm, and so focused on you. Even when he winced from the potion you applied, his gaze never left your face.

He tried again to make conversation. “So… where are you from?” he asked, wincing as you gently prodded his side.

You glanced up, frowning slightly, clearly not understanding.

“Do you understand me at all?” he asked, his tone more teasing than frustrated.

You tilted your head again, your expression equal parts confused and apologetic.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Didn’t think so.”

When you finished, you stepped back, giving him a small nod as if to say you were done. The blush on your cheeks hadn’t entirely faded, and Cedric couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sight.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his gaze lingering on you as you gathered your things.

You glanced at him one last time before leaving, the flower still in your hand. Cedric couldn’t help but smile, already counting down the minutes until he could see you again.