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Camilo Madrigal x Reader (both of age, established relationship)

Fluff

Summary: Camilo finds peace and belonging with you, and as the two of you share a quiet evening together, he realizes that home is not a place, but the person by his side.

Story under the cut

This was inspired by the song ‘Home’ from Good Neighbours

The golden light of the setting sun spilled into the quiet streets of Encanto, bathing everything in a warm glow. The Madrigal household was bustling with its usual energy, but tonight, you and Camilo found yourselves tucked away from the chaos, seeking a quiet corner of the world just for the two of you.

You sat together on the stone steps of a small garden behind Casita, the vibrant flowers swaying gently in the evening breeze. The laughter and lively chatter of the family drifted from the house in the distance, but here, in this small sanctuary, everything felt peaceful. Almost like the world had paused just for you.

Camilo stretched out beside you, his head resting comfortably in your lap, arms loosely folded across his chest. His usually mischievous expression was softer tonight, his face tilted up towards the sky where the stars were just beginning to appear. The fading light cast a soft glow on his features, and for a moment, the trickster you knew so well seemed completely at ease.

"You know," he murmured, voice quiet, almost as if speaking too loudly would break the spell of the moment, "I could get used to this."

You ran your fingers through his curls absentmindedly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. His hair was soft, and the way he leaned into your touch made your heart swell with a warmth that felt like it had always been there, waiting to bloom.

"Used to what?" you asked, though you already knew what he meant.

"This." He sighed, eyes still focused on the dimming sky. "Being here with you. Not having to be anyone else. Just... me."

There was something so simple yet profound in his words, the way they settled into the quiet air between you. Camilo, the boy with a thousand faces, always shifting, always changing to fit the needs of everyone around him—finally at peace, just as he was.

You let the silence stretch, comfortable and full, the only sound between you being the soft rustling of leaves and the distant murmur of the evening. There was no need for anything more. The world felt whole like this—complete in the way his head rested in your lap, in the way the air seemed to hum with a gentle, unspoken understanding.

After a while, Camilo shifted, turning his head slightly to look up at you. His golden-brown eyes shimmered with something softer than usual, something tender that made your heart skip a beat. "You know, you kind of remind me of Casita," he said, his voice teasing but with an edge of sincerity.

"Casita?" You raised an eyebrow, amused. "How so?"

"Well," he grinned, his trademark playfulness sneaking back into his tone, "being around you... it just feels like home."

You felt a warmth rise to your cheeks at his words, but before you could respond, Camilo sat up, his face just inches from yours now. The smile on his lips was soft, genuine. It wasn’t one of his usual exaggerated grins or cheeky smirks—it was something quieter, something real.

"And I mean it," he added, his voice a little lower, eyes never leaving yours. "Whenever I’m with you... I don’t have to put on a face. I don’t have to be everything for everyone. I can just be me."

You swallowed, heart racing as you held his gaze. The weight of his words hung between you, thick with the kind of vulnerability that came so rarely. Camilo was always quick with a joke, quick to shift into someone else when things got too serious—but not now. Not with you.

He reached for your hand, his fingers brushing yours softly before intertwining with them. His touch was warm, grounding, like the sun itself had wrapped you both in its embrace, refusing to let the moment slip away.

"You feel like home to me too, Camilo," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the soft breeze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world around you seemed to fade into nothing, leaving just the two of you in your own little universe. The sky had darkened now, the stars twinkling above like a thousand tiny promises, but all you could focus on was the boy in front of you—the boy who, despite all his masks and faces, was always himself with you.

Camilo smiled again, that same soft smile that made your heart flutter. He pulled you closer, pressing his forehead gently against yours. "Then I guess," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, "we’re home."

And in that moment, as the world around you faded into soft darkness, you knew that no matter where life took you, as long as you were with Camilo, you’d always be home.

AN: this is shorter than my usual but I’m a bit pressed for time so I haven’t gotten to proofread this as much as I’d like to.

Crossfire

Tangerine (Bullet train) x Assassin!Reader

Fluff, tension, quite a bit of violence and gore

Summary: Tangerine and Reader fight over the case

AN: lil’ late night b’day surprise. I haven’t written for bullet train before but seeing as I can’t stop thinking about it… here you go.

Story under the cut

The bullet train cut through the night like a sleek predator, its hum vibrating beneath your boots as you adjusted your grip on the briefcase. Codename: The Bolt. You were known for precision and speed, and tonight had been no exception. Snatching the case from under everyone’s nose? Easy. Escaping unnoticed? Nearly perfect.

Nearly.

"You’re taking the piss, right?" a sharp British voice rang out behind you.

You froze, shoulders tensing. Turning slowly, you weren’t surprised to find Tangerine leaning casually against the doorway, a silenced pistol in one hand and his ever-present scowl in place. His crisp suit was speckled with blood—someone else’s, judging by how unbothered he looked.

"I don’t have time for this, Tangerine," you said flatly, edging the briefcase behind you.

He smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Don’t flatter yourself, Bolt. It’s not you I’m here for." His blue eyes flicked to the case you clutched like a lifeline. "Hand it over, and I might let you walk off this train in one piece."

"Still running errands for White Death, I see," you quipped, ignoring his demand. "What’s the matter? Can’t hack it on your own?"

The sharp click of him cocking his gun was the only answer you needed.

"You think I won’t shoot you?" he said, voice low and deadly.

"You won’t," you replied, matching his tone.

His eyes narrowed. "Try me."

For a moment, the train was filled with nothing but the metallic rattle of tracks and the hum of electricity. You didn’t blink. Neither did he.

Then, in a flash, you hurled the briefcase at him, sending him stumbling back just enough for you to draw your knife.

He recovered quickly, dodging your first swipe and lunging forward, his gun narrowly grazing your arm before you twisted it out of his grip. The weapon clattered to the floor, but he didn’t pause, slamming you back against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs.

"Is this really worth dying for, love?" he growled, pressing his forearm against your collarbone.

"Funny," you gasped, shoving him back with a knee to his stomach. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

He staggered but recovered, grabbing your wrist before you could strike again. The two of you struggled, bodies locked in a brutal dance as the train swayed beneath you. The tension in the air was palpable, crackling with the kind of energy that blurred the line between hatred and something far more dangerous.

"You always this scrappy, or is it just me?" he taunted, wrenching your knife from your grasp and tossing it aside.

"Don’t flatter yourself," you spat, shoving him into the nearest seat.

But before you could grab the briefcase, he was on you again, pinning your arms to the wall. His face was inches from yours now, his breath hot against your cheek.

"Always knew you were trouble," he said, voice a low murmur.

"Then you should’ve stayed out of my way," you hissed, twisting free and grabbing the briefcase just as—

"Oi, Tangerine!" Lemon’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. He stood at the opposite end of the car, looking exasperated. "You handling this, or do I need to step in?"

Tangerine shot him a murderous look. "I’ve got it."

"Doesn’t look like it," Lemon replied. "She’s still got the bloody case, doesn’t she?"

"You’ve got bigger problems," you interjected, your voice sharp. Both men turned to see you standing by the door, holding up a detonator you’d lifted from Tangerine’s pocket during the scuffle.

His eyes widened. "You cheeky—"

The rest of his insult was cut off as you triggered the smoke canister, filling the train car with a thick, choking cloud.

"You absolute cow!" Tangerine bellowed, coughing as he and Lemon stumbled through the haze.

You used the chaos to slip into the next car, sprinting down the aisle. Freedom was so close you could taste it.

Then, just as you reached the connecting door, a familiar face appeared in your path.

"Whoa, hey!" Ladybug said, holding up his hands. "Let’s all just take a breather, yeah? No need to escalate this—"

Before he could finish, the briefcase was ripped from your grasp.

"Are you kidding me?" you snapped as Ladybug tucked it under his arm.

"Hey, don’t blame me," he said defensively. "I just got roped into this mess, okay? I’m just trying to—"

Tangerine and Lemon burst through the smoke, both looking thoroughly pissed.

"Well, well," Tangerine said, his gaze locking onto you with a mix of irritation and admiration. "Looks like the Bolt’s still got some tricks up her sleeve."

"Focus," Lemon hissed, pointing at Ladybug. "He’s got the case!"

The four of you froze, staring at each other like a dysfunctional tableau.

"Right," Ladybug muttered, taking a slow step back. "I’m just gonna…go now."

And with that, he bolted, leaving the three of you to glare after him.

Tangerine sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Bloody Americans."

You smirked, leaning against the wall. "Looks like you’re not as good as you think you are."

He turned to you, jaw tight. "Don’t push your luck, Bolt."

"Or what?" you shot back, taking a step closer. "You’ll try to stop me again?"

The tension between you was electric, the air thick with unspoken challenges. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something biting, something that would cut as sharply as your words.

Instead, he leaned in, his voice low and dangerous. "Next time, I won’t go easy on you."

"Good," you replied, your smirk widening. "I’d hate for this to get boring."

Resistant

Kylo Ren x ResistanceSpy!Reader

uhm.... slightly angsty, being forced against your will

Summary: After finding a Resistance spy on his ship, there is nothing more he'd want than to break her.

AN: My exams are over (I'm back!)

story under the cut

Her breath was a silent tremor as she crouched in the shadows of the First Order ship, watching the patrol pass. She’d been running for what felt like hours, slipping through every gap and doorway she could find. The metallic scent of the corridors filled her nose, cold and sterile, a contrast to the heat of fear thrumming in her veins. This ship was her way out, her chance to vanish. She just had to get to an escape pod, and she’d be gone.

A solitary stormtrooper rounded the corner, moving in her direction, his helmet gleaming under the dim lights. She didn’t hesitate. A swift blow to the back of his neck, and he crumpled, hitting the ground with a muffled thud. She had the armor on in seconds, adjusting the mask, letting its cold weight smother her expression. She fell in line with the rest of the squad, silent, unassuming.

But her calm was short-lived.

The corridor hushed, and she sensed a presence before she even saw him. He was at the far end, tall, his figure a shifting shadow beneath the black robe that rippled as he moved. Kylo Ren. His helmet turned, the empty void of his visor pointed right at her.

“Trooper,” he said, his voice a deep, corrosive rumble, heavy with command. “Step forward.”

She swallowed, controlling her breaths, her mind racing. To hesitate would be a death sentence. She stepped out of line, the weight of his gaze pressing on her, solid and inescapable, as if he were already carving into her mind.

“Remove your helmet,” he ordered, the authority in his tone brooking no defiance.

Her fingers tightened on the edges of the helmet. This was it—her mask removed, her cover shattered. She slipped it off, feeling the cold air hit her face as her eyes met his. She forced herself to stay still, blank, giving nothing.

The silence between them thickened, stretching as his stare bore into her. His helmet tilted slightly, a silent calculation, as though appraising a dangerous specimen. There was something eerie about the stillness that filled the space between them, like the calm before a storm.

He took a step closer, and the dim lights cast deep shadows over his mask, giving his presence an even darker, sharper edge. “You’re not one of mine,” he said, each word edged in steel.

She didn’t respond, her expression remaining impassive, like a soldier who knew exactly what her end looked like. Silence was her only armor now, her one fragile defense against the darkness he wielded so easily.

Another step. The gap between them was closing, and she could feel his anger like a heat radiating from him, an aura that threatened to crush her. “Nothing to say?” His tone was mocking, laced with a quiet fury. “It’s rare for a spy to be so... compliant.”

She met his words with the faintest arch of her brow. It was subtle, but enough to show him that fear wasn’t her game. She’d faced worse odds, held her own in situations with no escape. If this was how she would go, she would go quietly, and she would go with dignity.

“You think silence will protect you,” he continued, the low cadence of his voice crawling under her skin. “But I don’t need words to uncover what you’re hiding.”

The air between them pulsed, his power reaching out like tendrils, slithering into her mind. She felt him push, testing her, looking for cracks, for any hint of weakness. Her jaw tightened as she held her ground, her mind steeling itself against the invasive pressure.

“Interesting,” he murmured, though there was no warmth in his tone. “You’ve been trained.”

The smallest twitch of her mouth was her only response. She was prepared to withstand pain, to endure the tearing of her thoughts and memories. If he thought he could break her that easily, he was mistaken.

“Not even a name?” His helmet leaned closer, and she could feel his voice resonate through her. “Then allow me to remind you who I am.”

The Force clamped around her throat, an invisible vise that tightened slowly, inexorably. She could feel her airway constrict, her vision darkening at the edges, but she forced herself to remain still, even as her lungs burned, fighting for air.

But her expression didn’t change. She looked at him, a defiance woven into the quiet depths of her gaze. She might not be able to speak, but her eyes told him everything. She would die before giving him what he wanted.

A flicker of something almost like irritation crossed his stance, and with a flick of his fingers, he released her. She stumbled back, catching herself against the wall, her breaths shallow and quick. His stare remained unbroken, as if assessing how far he could push before she shattered.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” His tone held a hint of amusement now, but it was cold, twisted, like the edge of a knife. “The Resistance has sent me a spy who thinks she can survive simply by keeping quiet.”

Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, but laced with an unyielding calm. “If you think intimidation works on me,” she murmured, “then you don’t know the Resistance.”

Kylo tilted his head, a silent, menacing appraisal that sent a chill down her spine. “Intimidation?” His voice was barely above a whisper, deadly and soft, like the edge of a razor. “I don’t waste time with intimidation.”

Without warning, he raised his hand, and she felt the world tilt as her feet left the ground. An invisible force pinned her against the wall, her shoulders pressing hard into the metal, the cold seeping into her skin. She could feel the weight of his anger, his frustration, pressing into her mind with a relentless pressure that threatened to rip her apart from the inside.

He stepped closer, each step deliberate, slow, until he was mere inches away. She could see her own reflection in the glossy surface of his mask, her own narrowed eyes staring back at her.

“Tell me your name,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that reverberated through the cold metal at her back. The Force held her in place, unyielding, and she could feel the ice in his command, a thinly veiled promise of pain.

She held his gaze, her expression betraying nothing, even as her pulse thundered in her ears. Silence was her only weapon, her only shield, and she wielded it with a stubborn, quiet resilience.

Another beat of silence, stretching, twisting, as his patience waned.

His hand raised slightly, and she felt a sharp, crushing force against her ribs, like invisible fingers digging in, pressing down with a cruel, unyielding pressure. Her breath hitched, but she bit down on the pain, refusing to make a sound, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Defiant until the end,” he murmured, almost to himself, as though he’d expected something different from her. As though her silence was somehow more intriguing than he anticipated. “But even the strongest minds break.”

He dropped her suddenly, and she stumbled forward, catching herself before she fell to her knees. Her breaths came in short, shallow gasps, her vision swimming, but she steadied herself, her gaze lifting to meet his once more.

Kylo watched her, silent, his stance unreadable, his posture cloaked in shadow. Then, after a long, tense moment, he leaned in close, his voice a low, dark murmur. “You may have nothing to say now. But I will uncover every secret, every lie, until you have nothing left.”

With that, he turned sharply, leaving her alone in the silence of the dark, cold room.

Well, shuck.

Maze Runner Minho x Runner!OC (Lauren)

Angst, fluff

Summary: Minho and Lauren get trapped in the Maze overnight. With no way out and no clear path to safety, they keep their spirits up with jokes and sarcasm, finding comfort in each other.

AN: You’re not alone.

“You really know how to pick the best nights to get us stuck, huh?” Lauren muttered, hands on her hips as she stared at the towering walls of the Maze that had just sealed them in.

Minho grinned, crouching to catch his breath, the night air cool against his sweat-soaked skin. "Well, if you weren’t so slow, we’d be sipping Gally’s special brew by now."

Lauren shot him a glare, swatting his shoulder. “Me? Slow? I saved your slinthead back there when you almost got Griever-pie’d.”

He shrugged, smirking. “Almost.”

They leaned against the cold stone walls, their banter not doing much to change the fact that they were well and truly stuck. Night had fallen, the Maze silent but menacing, the darkness thick and unnerving. The Grievers hadn’t shown up yet, but both of them knew they’d be out soon enough. It was only a matter of time.

“Think we’ll survive this one?” Lauren asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with a nervous edge.

Minho looked over at her, and despite his bravado, he softened. “We always do, don’t we?”

She chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, but it feels different this time. Like we really might not make it back.”

Minho didn’t respond right away, instead pulling off his jacket and laying it down on the cold ground. “Well, if we’re going out, might as well be comfortable, right?”

Lauren followed his lead, sitting beside him, their backs pressed against the unforgiving stone. “I’m gonna miss this, you know? Running through this giant death trap with you.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “No better runner I’d rather be stuck with.” He looked at her then, something serious in his eyes, but before the moment could turn too deep, he added, “Even if you smell worse than a Griever sometimes.”

She shoved him with a grin. “Yeah, well, you snore like a herd of ‘em.”

They both laughed, the sound hollow and almost strange in the empty Maze. The laughter faded, though, and they sat in silence for a while, the tension hanging in the air.

“I’m serious though,” Lauren said softly. “If this is it… I’m glad it’s with you.”

Minho shifted uncomfortably, unused to moments like this. “Hey, we’re not dying tonight,” he said, trying to keep it light. “We’ve got too much running left to do.”

Lauren smiled, her eyes heavy now as exhaustion from the day’s run finally caught up to her. “I’ll hold you to that, Minho.”

They didn’t say much after that, their backs still pressed against the stone, the Maze shifting occasionally in the distance, the sound of moving walls echoing in the night. Lauren's head eventually lolled to the side, resting on Minho’s shoulder as they both drifted off into an uneasy sleep, lulled by the idea that if the end came, at least they wouldn’t face it alone.

Morning came with an odd stillness. The sounds of the Maze were different—quieter somehow, the usual mechanical groaning replaced by silence. Minho stirred first, blinking groggily at the sunlight streaming down through the Maze’s walls. He nudged Lauren.

“Hey, wake up.”

She groaned, rubbing her eyes. “We’re still alive?”

Minho frowned, standing up to look around. “I think… I think the Maze shifted.”

Lauren scrambled to her feet beside him, and they both stared in shock. The walls, which had sealed them in last night, had shifted perfectly. Not just enough to give them a way forward—but a straight path back to the Glade.

“Holy shuck,” Lauren breathed, her eyes wide.

Minho just shook his head, grinning. “Guess the Maze likes us after all.”

They didn’t wait for a second invitation, taking off down the path, their legs still aching from the previous day’s run but fueled by the adrenaline of survival. The towering walls soon gave way to the familiar clearing of the Glade, and as they stumbled out into the open space, they were met with gasps and cheers.

“Minho! Lauren!” Thomas shouted, sprinting over, followed by the rest of the Gladers, engulfing them in a whirlwind of hugs and claps on the back.

“You guys made it!” Newt grinned, ruffling Lauren’s hair.

“Like there was any doubt,” Minho said, though his cocky grin was tired, his eyes betraying the relief he felt.

As the Gladers pulled back, giving them space, Lauren turned to Minho. She gave him a sly smile before suddenly wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. “I told you we’d make it.”

Minho stiffened, glancing around at the gawking Gladers. “Okay, okay, don’t get all mushy on me now.” He awkwardly patted her back, but there was a warmth in his voice that made it clear he didn’t really mind.

Lauren pulled back, smirking. “Tough guy act still going strong, huh?”

Minho just shrugged. “Can’t ruin my rep.”

But as they stood there, alive and surrounded by their friends, there was no denying the truth: whatever else the Maze threw at them, they'd face it together.

Vaporised

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader (callsign Vapour)

Fluff

Summary: Vapour teaches Hangman to put his mouth where his money is.

AN: tomorrow’s my birthday!! (Yup, sharing the same birthday as Scarlett Johansson and Mark Ruffalo 🥹)

Story under the cut:

Hangman was in rare form that morning—if by "rare" you meant absolutely, maddeningly, always insufferable.

The squadron had barely settled into the briefing room when Jake "Hangman" Seresin made it his mission to antagonize everyone in his orbit.

"Rooster, you planning to keep that mustache after I wipe the floor with you today?" he quipped, leaning back in his chair. "Or is it aerodynamic enough to help you fly better?"

Rooster shot him a flat look. "Shouldn’t you be studying the rulebook, Seresin? I hear you keep forgetting what 'teamwork' means."

Jake laughed, loud and carefree. "What can I say? I don’t need teamwork when I’ve got skill. I’m just built different."

"Built irritating," Phoenix muttered under her breath, earning a smirk from Bob.

In the corner of the room, you—call sign Vapour—remained silent, arms crossed, and gaze steady on the whiteboard. You had no intention of getting involved in Jake’s antics. He’d teased you enough in the past, despite the fact you barely spoke to him.

“Awfully quiet over there, Vapour,” Jake called out, turning his attention to you. “What’s the matter? Saving all your words for your post-match excuses?”

You didn’t even glance at him. “I, unlike some, don’t waste words,” came your reply.

That earned a round of "oohs" from the others, and even Hangman seemed momentarily caught off guard before recovering with a grin. “We’ll see if your flying’s as sharp as your tongue.”

The reason you were called Vapour wasn’t a mystery to anyone. During a training exercise, you’d pulled off a miracle landing with barely a drop of fuel left, earning you the respect of the instructors and the envy of a certain cocky aviator. Jake had never stopped trying to one-up you since.

Today’s dogfight simulation would be the perfect battleground.

Up in the air, Hangman’s taunts were relentless.

“Vapour, you sure you’re up there? Haven’t seen you all game,” he teased over the comms. “Or maybe that’s just your style—light and forgettable.”

Phoenix groaned. “Do you ever shut up, Seresin?”

“I’m just providing commentary,” he replied. “Gotta make things interesting while I mop the floor with you.”

You stayed quiet, focusing on your maneuvers. You weren’t interested in banter—you had one goal: take Hangman down.

Jake was good. Annoyingly good. But he was also predictable. He liked flashy moves and big risks, and you had no problem using that against him. You let him chase you for a while, luring him into a false sense of control.

“Gotcha now, Vapour,” he said smugly, locking onto your tail.

“Do you?” you replied, your voice finally cutting through the comms.

With a sharp roll and a sudden cutback, you slipped out of his sights and got behind him instead. Jake’s curses filled the channel as you locked on and fired the simulated kill shot.

“Hangman, you’re tagged,” Maverick announced.

Silence.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Jake Seresin had nothing to say.

“Vapour!,” Rooster cheered. “Finally someone shut him up!”

You smirked, leveling your jet and heading back to base. 

Back on the ground, Jake’s usual swagger was noticeably absent as the team debriefed. Rooster, Phoenix, and the others took turns mocking him, clearly reveling in his defeat.

Jake made a beeline for you afterward, his expression unreadable.

“Vapour,” he said, folding his arms. “You got lucky.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Luck? Or maybe you’re just all talk.”

For once, he didn’t have a comeback. He just stood there, staring at you like he was trying to figure you out.

Before he could say anything else, you gave him a pat on the shoulder. “You know Hangman’s actually the perfect name for someone who just got left swinging in the wind.”

And with that, you walked off, leaving him standing there—thoroughly humbled.

Here

PostAzkaban!Sirius Black x Slytherin!Reader

Angst, fluff (comfort)

Summary: A chance encounter in Grimmauld Place leads Sirius Black and a former classmate to find solace in each other’s company.

AN: **spoilers, please skip this and head on over to the story if you don’t want spoilers** So I had no intention to sneak in the kiss but as I planned this out, I realised it flowed and sort of fit the vibe I was going for so I hope yall enjoy it.

——————————————————————————————————————

The dim lighting of Grimmauld Place cast long shadows across the hallway as you quietly made your way down the worn floorboards, your hand lightly brushing the wall. You hadn't been here long, only a few days helping with Order business, but the house still unsettled you. It was filled with history and weight—just like the man who lived there.

You paused at a door you hadn't noticed before, curiosity tugging at you, but before you could move, a low voice came from behind.

“You always had a habit of poking your nose where it didn’t belong.”

The sarcasm was unmistakable. You turned to find Sirius standing behind you, arms crossed, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His dark eyes held that familiar glint of mischief, but there was something else there too—something quieter, wearier.

“Sirius,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “I wasn’t—”

“Exploring?” he interrupted, stepping closer. “Just taking a leisurely stroll through my family’s personal mausoleum?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, folding your arms defensively. “I wasn’t snooping. Just... familiarizing myself.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Right. Because walking around in the dead of night is the best way to get acquainted with a place.”

There was a beat of silence as his teasing words hung in the air. You studied him for a moment—the same Sirius Black you remembered from Hogwarts, but different, aged in ways that went deeper than the lines on his face. He still had that sharp wit, the biting humor, but you could see the exhaustion behind his eyes, the pain he kept hidden beneath the surface.

“Old habits die hard,” you said softly, stepping back from the door.

Sirius chuckled under his breath, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

The tension between you wasn’t hostile, but it was there—an unspoken understanding, a shared knowledge of darker times. He watched you closely as you moved toward the small window at the end of the hall, the moonlight barely illuminating the worn wood beneath your feet.

“I never really noticed you much at school,” he said suddenly, his tone less teasing, more thoughtful. “Slytherin, right?”

“Not exactly in your inner circle,” you replied quietly, looking out at the moonlit street. “But we had classes together.”

“I know.” He was closer now, though you didn’t turn to face him. You could feel his presence, the warmth of him standing just behind you. “You always seemed... different.”

You smiled faintly at that. “Not all Slytherins fit the mold.”

There was a pause, and then you heard him exhale softly. “I missed a lot, didn’t I?”

You finally turned to face him, catching the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes before he looked away. “We’ve all missed things.”

Sirius leaned back against the wall, arms still crossed, his usual smirk replaced with something more thoughtful, more tired. "Seems like all I’ve been doing since Azkaban is missing things. Time. People. Myself.”

His voice trailed off, and the rawness of it surprised you. There was no bravado here, no sarcasm to cover up the scars. Just him. Just Sirius. And for a moment, you saw the man beneath the layers of wit and pain.

“You’re still here,” you said quietly. “That counts for something.”

He gave a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Some days, I’m not so sure.”

You stepped forward, your hand reaching out without thinking, lightly brushing against his arm. He stiffened at the touch, his gaze snapping to yours, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d crossed a line. But then, something shifted in his expression—just the smallest crack in the walls he’d built around himself.

“You’re not alone, Sirius,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “You don’t have to be.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the weight of your words settling between you. There was something in his eyes that spoke of years of isolation, of mistrust and pain, but also something else—a longing, buried deep, for connection.

Sirius let out a breath, his usual defenses faltering. “And what about you? Why are you here, really?”

You smiled faintly, stepping just a little closer. “Maybe I’m trying to remind you of what you still have.”

He looked down, shaking his head slightly, though there was a hint of something softer in his expression. “You’re too kind for this place. Too kind for me.”

You felt your heart tighten at that, the quiet self-deprecation in his voice cutting deeper than any of his sarcastic remarks had. Without thinking, you took another step closer, your hand finding his, your fingers brushing lightly against his.

Sirius looked down at the contact, then up at you, his gaze intense and searching. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you heavy with something unspoken. Then, almost imperceptibly, he squeezed your hand back, his touch tentative, as if he was afraid to let himself feel it.

“I’m not looking for a savior,” he murmured, his voice rough.

“I’m not offering to save you,” you replied softly. “Just to be here.”

His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place, but before you could say anything more, he closed the distance between you. The kiss wasn’t hurried or desperate; it was slow, careful—two people finding their way through the darkness together. His hand came up to cup your face, the touch surprisingly gentle, as though he wasn’t quite sure this was real.

And in that moment, you knew—he didn’t need saving. He just needed someone to be there with him, to remind him that there was still light, even in the shadows.

happy BELATED birthday 😭. I should've wished this yesterday instead of crying over biology nooooooo

Tides of Change

Māui-tikitiki-a-Taranga x Reader

fluff, betrayal

Request by @whiteeaglestudent : do you think you could write a Moana 2 oneshot with a Maui x Female Nalo's Eel Minion Reader, where Y/n is one of Nalo's eel minions that guards the island of Motufetu, but she isn't evil like the other eels and can change into a human form but others are still slightly afraid of her, and when she meets Maui during his and Moana's journey, she decides to change her ways and turn good just to love Maui?

Summary: A reluctant guardian of Motufetu betrays her kin to save Maui and Moana, discovering courage and unexpected warmth in the process.

Story under the cut

I watched them from the depths, my sleek form slipping between jagged rocks as their canoe cut through the mist. They were too loud—laughing, bantering, utterly unaware of what they were sailing into. Mortals were always so cocky, so stupid. But the figure at the helm… something about him made me pause.

“Who does this guy think he is?” I muttered to myself, my voice rippling through the water like a growl. His stupid, smug grin and the way he flexed his muscles as if he were some kind of hero.

Wait.

I blinked, swimming closer for a better look. The light on the canoe shifted, and my stomach flipped. Oh no.

“Maui,” I hissed. The demigod of the wind and sea. Nalo had warned us about him.

Panic surged through me. If I didn’t act now, they’d reach Motufetu, and Nalo wouldn’t care that I’d been watching instead of attacking.

I surged upward, transforming mid-leap. My tail became legs, my scales shifted to skin, and I landed on the edge of their canoe with a splash.

“Turn back,” I growled, water dripping from my hair as I crouched like a predator. “Now.”

The girl—Moana—yelled and scrambled for an oar. But Maui? He just blinked at me, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Well, hello there,” he said, leaning on his hook like he wasn’t facing an ocean’s worth of trouble. “Didn’t realize we’d be picking up passengers.”

“I’m not your passenger,” I snapped, narrowing my eyes. “You’re trespassing.”

“Technically,” Maui said, scratching his chin, “we’re sailing. Different thing.”

“I could drag you both to the depths right now,” I threatened, baring my teeth.

Moana jabbed her oar in my direction. “I’d like to see you try!”

Maui waved her off, still grinning at me like I was some kind of joke. “Relax, Curly. She’s just doing her job, right?” He winked at me. “Big, scary eel thing. Super intimidating.”

My face burned. Intimidating?! He was mocking me! “You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” I snapped.

“Oh, I think I do,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re one of Nalo’s little minions, aren’t you?”

“I’m not little,” I shot back before I could stop myself.

Maui raised an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me.”

I should’ve shoved him into the water right then and there. But something about the way he looked at me—like I wasn’t a threat, like he saw right through me—made my resolve falter.

“Look,” I said, straightening up. “You need to leave. Motufetu isn’t safe for you.”

“Gee, thanks for the warning,” Maui said, smirking. “But we’re good. Demigod here, remember?” He flexed an arm unnecessarily, and I had to bite back a scoff.

“You’re an idiot,” I muttered.

“Yeah, but you’re still talking to me,” he shot back, his grin widening.

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words caught in my throat. I didn’t understand it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to scare them off, drag them under if I had to, but instead…

“Wait,” Moana said suddenly, frowning at me. “If you’re one of Nalo’s minions, why haven’t you attacked us yet?”

I stiffened. “I—”

“Good question,” Maui said, stepping closer. “What’s the holdup? Not feeling it today?”

“I’m giving you a chance to leave,” I snapped, turning my glare on him. “Take it before I change my mind.”

But he just kept smiling. “Sure. You’re totally terrifying me right now.”

I clenched my fists, my mind spinning. I should’ve just thrown him overboard. Instead, I found myself hesitating, my gaze lingering on the way his stupid hair caught the moonlight.

“Listen,” Maui said, his tone softening. “Whatever Nalo’s got on you? It doesn’t have to be like this.”

I laughed, but it came out bitter. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Maybe not,” he said, shrugging. “But I know you’re stalling.”

The words hit harder than I expected. He wasn’t wrong.

I looked away, my resolve crumbling. If I let them go, Nalo would know. The others would come for me. But when Maui’s hand brushed against mine, warm and steady, something shifted.

“You don’t owe him anything,” he said quietly.

For a moment, the world was still. His touch sent a strange warmth through me, cutting through the cold I’d carried for so long.

“I—” I began, but a distant rumble cut me off.

The waters churned, and I knew the others were coming.

“Go,” I said, stepping back. “Now.”

“What about you?” Maui asked, his brow furrowing.

“I’ll handle it,” I said firmly. “Just… don’t stop rowing.”

He hesitated, but Moana grabbed the oar. “Come on, Maui!”

I stalled them as long as I could. The other eels—my kin, my tormentors—swirled around me in the dark waters, their hissing voices filled with betrayal.

“Traitor,” one spat, circling closer.

“You dare betray Nalo?” snarled another.

I kept my movements quick and deliberate, dodging their lunges and leading them in chaotic loops away from the canoe. Every second I bought was a second they needed to escape.

The fog thickened, the dark sea churning around us, and finally, I saw my moment. With a sharp kick of my legs, I shot upward and broke through the surface, gasping for air as I clambered onto the canoe.

Maui and Moana whipped around, both startled by the sudden splash.

“What the—!” Moana exclaimed, reaching for the oar like it was a weapon.

I collapsed against the side of the boat, panting, water streaming off my trembling form. “They’re… they’re distracted,” I managed, barely able to speak. “But you need to move. Now.”

Maui crouched beside me, his face uncharacteristically serious. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer than I expected.

“I’m fine,” I lied, pushing myself upright. My legs burned, and my lungs ached from the effort, but I wasn’t about to admit it. “Just focus on the sea ahead. There are currents here that will tear this boat apart if you don’t steer properly.”

Moana frowned, still gripping the oar. “What currents?”

“The kind that’ll drag you down faster than you can scream,” I said bluntly, pointing toward a jagged rock formation barely visible through the mist. “You need to steer between those rocks and the smaller ones behind them. Trust me.”

Maui stood, his gaze flicking between me and the treacherous waters. “You seem to know a lot about these currents, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s almost like I’ve lived here my entire life,” I shot back, rolling my eyes.

He grinned at that, his usual cocky demeanor slipping back into place. “Fair enough, Legs.”

I sighed, sitting back as they worked to navigate the canoe. Moana steered with precision, her movements quick and focused. Maui, for once, didn’t crack a single joke, his eyes scanning the water like a hawk.

As the boat slipped through the final set of rocks, the mist began to clear. The sea ahead stretched out, calm and endless, the danger of Motufetu fading behind us.

Only then did I allow myself to relax, leaning against the edge of the boat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Moana said, glancing at me.

I shrugged. “Guess I’m just full of bad decisions today.”

“Bad decisions, huh?” Maui’s voice was playful, but when I looked up, his expression wasn’t. His gaze held something else—something softer, more appreciative. “Doesn’t seem like it to me.”

My breath caught, and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. “Don’t get used to it,” I muttered, looking away too quickly.

“Too late,” he teased, but there was warmth in his voice.

The air between us felt heavier, charged with something unspoken, until Moana cleared her throat loudly.

“So,” she said, glancing between us, “are we just gonna ignore the whole ‘betraying Nalo and almost dying’ thing, or…?”

I laughed, though it came out a bit shakier than I intended. “Yeah, let’s just focus on not dying for now.”

Maui’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, and I could feel it even without looking. When I finally dared to glance at him, his smirk was back, but his eyes still held that softness.

I quickly turned my attention to the sea, trying to calm the warmth spreading through me. Stupid demigod.

But as the canoe drifted further from the island, I couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at my lips. Maybe, just maybe, I’d made the right choice after all.

Hi Lauren, happy new year!! 🥳 I hope you had a great start to the year and that it’ll bring you all good and joyful things!!

Would it be okay to make a request with Newt Scamander and reader? You see I’ve watched the 2nd movie again, and I was so sad that Teddy got hurt while helping Newt retrieving the blood pact pendant, I know he healed well, but I felt like ripping Newt a new one, although know he must feel bad for it too. She’s very kind, quiet, intelligent, and usually very calm, but when she finds about this, she really rips a new one and everyone is shocked of her outburst and Newt is all on his own in this. She tends to Teddy and spoils him rotten while he heals and Newt is in the dog house (no kisses, no hugs, no nothing for a while).

Frost

Newt Scamander x reader

Angsty but cute

Summary: When Teddy gets hurt, she turns cold, leaving Newt to earn back her trust while she spoils their injured Niffler rotten.

AN: Thank you lovely anon! Happy New Year to you too! I’d hope that you have the best, most fulfilling year you can get. I thought this was a pretty cute idea (it too broke me to see Teddy injured.) So I hope I got this plot right, this is the first ask that I’ve ever received so I’m really stoked for this. (You have no idea how excited I got when I saw this) Once again, thank you for asking. If I haven’t gotten it right, don’t be afraid to pop into my inbox/messages to drop down some constructive criticism/ amendments to make. Without further ado, let’s get to it!

Story under the cut

Newt Scamander sat at the wooden table in the small kitchen of your shared home, his hands wringing together anxiously. The usual warmth in the room seemed to have vanished, replaced by an icy tension that clung to every surface. Across from him, you paced back and forth, your quiet demeanor utterly shattered.

"You—you let him get hurt!" you snapped, your voice cracking with the sheer force of your emotions. Teddy, the mischievous Niffler who usually brought joy and chaos in equal measure, lay tucked in a makeshift bed by the fireplace, his tiny paw wrapped in bandages.

Newt flinched at your tone. "I didn’t mean for—"

"Didn’t mean to?!" you cut him off, your usual calm and gentle nature nowhere to be found. "You knew he’d follow you into danger! He always does because he adores you, Newt! And look at him now!"

Your voice, usually so soothing, now carried a sharp edge that startled even you. But the sight of Teddy injured, his usual cheeky energy dulled by pain, had unleashed a storm within you that couldn’t be contained. You glared at Newt, your chest heaving as you struggled to keep your composure.

"He was trying to help," Newt said softly, his voice thick with guilt. "I never wanted him to get hurt, love. I… I thought I could keep him safe."

"Well, you didn’t!" you snapped, and Newt’s head hung lower. "He’s just a baby, Newt! A baby! And you dragged him into some reckless mission that could have… that could have…" Your voice broke, and you turned away, blinking back tears.

Newt stood slowly, his hands reaching out to you, but you stepped away, your arms crossing protectively over your chest. "Don’t," you warned. "Not until I… not until I can trust you again."

He froze, his outstretched hand dropping to his side. The weight of your words settled heavily on his shoulders, and he looked over at Teddy, who stirred slightly in his bed. Newt’s heart ached with guilt and sorrow.

Turning your back on Newt, you knelt by Teddy, stroking his fur gently. "Oh, my sweet boy," you murmured, your voice trembling with affection. "You’re so brave, aren’t you? But no more heroics, you hear me? You’re going to rest and recover, and I’ll take care of you."

Teddy let out a small, contented chirp, his little paw curling around your finger. You smiled softly, tears threatening to spill over again as you whispered promises of treats and snuggles to the injured creature.

Behind you, Newt watched helplessly, his heart breaking at the sight of you turning all your love and attention toward Teddy while he was left out in the cold. For days, the frostiness between you lingered. You tended to Teddy with tender care, showering him with affection and little treats, while Newt remained in the doghouse. No hugs, no kisses, no soft smiles meant for him—only the occasional glance, and even those were weighted with disappointment.

One evening, desperate to make things right, Newt crept into the kitchen while you were preparing Teddy’s dinner. In his hands, he held a small bouquet of wildflowers, their vibrant colors dulled slightly by his nervous grip.

"I picked these for you," he said tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know they can’t make up for what happened, but I wanted to… to show you how sorry I am."

You paused, glancing at the flowers before returning your focus to the task at hand. "It’s not flowers I need, Newt," you said quietly. "I need to know you’ll think before putting him in harm’s way again."

Newt’s shoulders slumped, but he nodded earnestly. "I promise. I’ll do better. I… I’ll earn back your trust."

Your hands stilled, and you turned to face him fully. The sincerity in his eyes melted a bit of the ice around your heart, but you weren’t ready to forgive completely. Not yet. "It’s going to take time, Newt."

"I’ll wait," he said without hesitation. "As long as it takes."

For the first time in days, a faint smile tugged at your lips. "Alright," you said softly. "Now go sit with Teddy. He’s missed you."

Newt’s face brightened, and he hurried to Teddy’s side, his fingers brushing gently over the Niffler’s fur. As you watched them, the warmth began to seep back into the room, a small step toward mending what had been broken.