Be My Sweet Little Pastry? - ♡

Hello Lauren!

Would I be able to request a one shot between Janson and the reader? I have seen the two posts you have of Janson x Reader and I was disappointed as the second one shot was left at a cliffhanger as I am a simp and can never get enough of Aidan Gillen and his on screen performances. Preferably with some fluff and angst here and there, perhaps a kiss.

Thank you!

Dr Pepper

AD Janson (Maze Runner) x OC (Lauren Patellio)

Fluff, tension, lil’ kiss

Summary: The tension rises when Janson finds an error in the reader’s work.

AN: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS— I THOUGHT I WAS THE BLOODY WEIRDO FOR CRUSHING ON RATMAN AND I TOO LOOKED UP SO MANY OTHER OF HIS ON-SCREEN PERFORMANCES BUT HE DOES NOT HAVE MANY SO IM SO STOKED TO HAVE SOMEONE ELSE ON THIS!! I sort of changed it up this time, I hope that’s alright…. BUT STILL, LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D LIKE ANYTHING CHANGED!!

(Inspired by my Cherry Dr Pepper flavoured chapstick)

Story under the cut

The hum of the lab equipment barely registered as he entered, the faint chemical tang in the air sharper than usual. She was seated near the vending machine, her back to the door, utterly engrossed in the mess of equations and notes sprawled across her workstation.

Janson paused, letting his eyes trace over the scene in silence. The way she worked—pen tapping idly, lips pursed in thought—was fascinating. She looked like she was untouchable, lost in her own world of formulas and data.

She was good, no doubt. Competent. Sharp. But she wasn’t flawless.

And tonight, that mistake was glaring.

“You missed a variable.” His voice cut through the quiet like a knife, smooth but unrelenting.

Her pen skidded across the page as she startled, spinning around to face him. For a moment, her eyes were wide, her lips parted in surprise. Then she masked it with a glare.

“God, could you make a little noise when you walk?”

Janson didn’t move. He simply stood there, arms crossed, letting her irritation wash over him. “Would you have preferred I knock?” he asked dryly, his tone making it clear how little he cared about her preferences.

Lauren narrowed her eyes, turning back to her work with an air of dismissal that almost made him laugh. “Some of us are actually trying to get things done.”

“I can see that.” He stepped closer, his boots deliberately heavy now, the faint echo of each step slicing through the lab’s sterile silence. His gaze dropped to the notebook, his smirk deepening when he saw the same glaring error.

“Dedicated, aren’t you?” he murmured, his tone laced with amusement.

She didn’t look up, but he caught the subtle clench of her jaw, the way her pen stilled for just a second too long. “If you’re just here to waste my time, Janson, I suggest you leave. Some of us actually have deadlines.”

“Deadlines,” he repeated, dragging the word out like it amused him. He stepped around her desk, leaning slightly as his shadow loomed over her work. “You mean like the one you’ll miss if this entire experiment collapses because of a basic miscalculation?”

She finally looked up, her glare sharp enough to cut. “I don’t make basic mistakes.”

His lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile. “Don’t you?”

Before she could fire back, his hand moved. Quick. Precise. His fingers curled around her throat—not to hurt, but to hold, to command. He tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze as he loomed closer.

She didn’t flinch.

Her pulse thrummed against his fingers, but her eyes burned with defiance.“Does this little display make you feel powerful, Janson?”she asked, her voice cool despite the tension crackling between them.

His thumb brushed over her jaw, slow and deliberate. He leaned in, his lips hovering close enough to catch the faintest scent of her chapstick.

“No,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with something darker. “It’s that face you make that’s far more interesting.”

Her lips quirked, a daring smirk tugging at the corners. “Then you’ll be disappointed to know I’m not scared of you.”

His laugh was soft, almost inaudible, but it carried a weight that pressed against the air between them. “Are you?”

And then, he kissed her.

It wasn’t a gentle meeting of lips—it was calculated, like everything he did. His mouth pressed against hers with purpose, his hand tightening slightly on her throat as her breath caught. He didn’t rush it; he let the moment stretch, drawing it out until the faintest hint of surrender flickered across her features.

When he finally pulled back, his hand lingered on her jaw, his thumb tracing the line of her cheek as his gaze locked on hers.

“Dr. Pepper,” he said suddenly, his smirk returning, sharper than before.

She blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He gestured faintly, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Your chapstick. Dr. Pepper. Good choice.”

Her eyes narrowed, heat rising to her cheeks. “I—what does that even—”

“Sweet,” he continued, cutting her off. “Unexpected. Like you.” His fingers finally dropped away from her throat, his smirk softening into something almost…genuine. “But you’re still wrong about your stabilizing agent.”

Lauren’s mouth opened, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue, but he was already moving toward the door, his coat shifting with the turn of his shoulders.

“Next time,” he called over his shoulder, his voice laced with that infuriating calm, “try not to let distractions cloud your focus.”

Hours later, when the lab was empty and the air felt heavier with the weight of the day, she stepped out into the breakroom to grab her things.

And there he was.

Janson leaned against the counter, a bottle of Dr. Pepper in his hand, the cap already twisted off. He met her gaze as he raised it to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip.

When he pulled it away, his smirk was back, paired with a faint glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Told you it was a good choice,” he said simply, his voice low and teasing.

She didn’t respond. She just shook her head, biting back a smile as she walked away.

Damn him.

The escape: Backup plan

(Pt. II)

Janson (Maze Runner) x OC (Lauren)

Angst with a teeny tiny bit of romance

summary: Lauren’s narrow escape from Janson

AN: do I need to put trigger warnings on my stories? And if I do, what exactly must I state? Like depressing scene? Violence? Errr in this case, I’ll say trigger warning is: vulgarities used.

—————————————————————————————————————-

Inspired by:

Lauren didn’t stop running, her legs burning as she raced through the dimly lit corridors. Her chest heaved with each breath, but her mind stayed sharp, focused. The exit—just a few turns ahead—was her only goal. She could feel the weight of the real cure pressing against her side, the real cure tucked away in her jacket pocket. She only had one more decoy to save her.

She could still hear Janson’s footsteps echoing behind her, relentless and close. Too close.

Her heart pounded, but she wouldn’t let fear take over. She had a plan. She always had a plan.

She reached the last corner before the exit, her eyes locking onto the door at the end of the hallway. Freedom. Safety. But then—an alarm blared through the facility, loud and jarring, the shrill sound piercing through the air like a blade.

He triggered it.

Lauren’s stomach twisted. The door ahead was her only way out, but now the entire facility would be on high alert. Guards would be rushing in any moment, and Janson was right behind her.

She gritted her teeth, her eyes narrowing. She had no choice.

She sprinted for the door, pushing her legs harder, faster, ignoring the searing pain in her muscles. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the exit taunting her from the distance.

But then—she heard it. The unmistakable sound of footsteps closing in fast. Janson was gaining on her, his fury propelling him forward like a predator closing in on its prey.

Lauren’s mind raced. She couldn’t let him catch her. Not now. Not when she was so close.

With one last burst of energy, she reached the door, slamming her hand against the keypad to trigger the exit. The heavy metal door creaked open, but before she could slip through—

A hand grabbed her bag, yanking her back with brutal force. She stumbled, the momentum pulling her into Janson’s iron grip, her back slamming against his chest. His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her firmly in place as she struggled to break free.

“Going somewhere?” Janson’s voice was low and deadly, his breath hot against her ear. His grip tightened around her, his other hand reaching for her jacket pocket, where he knew the real cure had to be.

Lauren’s heart raced, her body thrumming with adrenaline. She twisted in his grasp, trying to pull away, but Janson’s strength was unmatched. His hand slipped into her pocket, his fingers brushing against the vial—

“No!” Lauren’s voice was raw with desperation, and in a sudden move, she reached up and jammed her elbow into his ribs, hard.

Janson grunted, the impact loosening his grip just enough for her to wrench herself free. She spun away, her back now against the doorframe, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her eyes locked with his, fiery and defiant.

Janson straightened, his gaze dark and predatory, his chest rising and falling with the same intensity as hers. “You think you can get away with this?” he snarled, his voice venomous.

Lauren’s pulse thundered in her ears, but she didn’t flinch. “I’m not giving you anything,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “You don’t deserve it.”

Janson’s eyes flicked to her jacket pocket, where the real cure still lay hidden, and a slow, dangerous smile curled at the corners of his lips. “You really think you’re in control here?”

In one swift move, Janson lunged forward, slamming his hand against the doorframe beside her head, trapping her between him and the exit. The tension in the air was electric, charged with anger, fear, and something else—something darker.

Lauren’s heart pounded in her chest, but she met his gaze with unwavering determination. “I know what you are.”

For a moment, Janson didn’t move, his breath coming in sharp, measured bursts. His eyes burned into hers, filled with a mix of fury and something dangerously close to admiration. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, his presence overwhelming and suffocating.

“But you know nothing of what I’m capable of,” he whispered, his voice low, almost a growl.

Lauren swallowed hard, but she didn’t break eye contact. “I know enough.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and loaded. Janson’s jaw clenched, his hand twitching at his side, as though he was fighting the urge to grab her, to force her hand. Lauren’s heart raced, her pulse hammering in her throat. She had seconds—just seconds—to turn the situation to her advantage. Her mind scrambled, searching for an escape, a distraction, anything. Then, in a flash of desperation and instinct, she made her move.

She lunged forward, her hand gripping the front of his jacket as her lips crashed against his.

The kiss was fierce, a clash of heat and adrenaline. Janson stiffened, completely caught off guard, his breath faltering for the briefest moment. Lauren pressed closer, her lips moving against his in a wild, reckless attempt to confuse him, to throw him off balance.

For an instant, it worked. His grip on the doorframe loosened, his hand hovering in mid-air as if his body couldn’t decide what to do next. His breath hitched, and she felt the tension in his body shift, softening, hesitating.

But Lauren wasn’t waiting for a reaction. The kiss was not a moment of surrender—it was a weapon. She pulled back abruptly, their lips parting with a gasp, leaving him stunned. His eyes were dark, searching hers, his chest rising and falling with the same intensity as hers.

For the smallest second, there was something between them—something dangerous, magnetic, raw. But then Lauren’s mind snapped back to reality. She used his stunned moment to duck beneath his arm, slipping out of his reach.

She bolted through the door, her feet hitting the pavement, the cold air biting at her skin as she ran into the night. The real cure still burned in her pocket. She had seconds.

Behind her, Janson stood frozen for a heartbeat longer, his hand hovering at his lips where hers had been. But the confusion only lasted a moment. With a low growl of frustration, he was after her again, the fire in his eyes darker than before.

“You little bitch!”

She could hear him cursing under his breath, the sound of his footsteps thundering behind her, relentless and determined. The facility lights flashed above her, casting long, ominous shadows across the courtyard.

Lauren ran harder, her lungs burning, her legs trembling with exhaustion. She was so close—so close to escaping. But Janson was faster, stronger, and he wasn’t about to let her go without a fight.

Suddenly, she tripped over a rock, her coat getting caught by the thorns on a bush. He gained on her, taking the opportunity to yank her back with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of her. She stumbled, falling to the ground, the cold concrete scraping her hands and knees as she hit the ground hard.

Janson was on her in an instant, pinning her down with his weight, his face inches from hers. His eyes were wild, his breath ragged as he glared down at her, his fingers digging into her skin.

“Give me the goddamn vial,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Lauren’s chest heaved, her heart racing as she struggled beneath him. But she wasn’t done fighting. Not yet.

With one last burst of energy, she reached into her jacket, her fingers brushing against the cold glass of the real vial. In a split second, she pulled it out, holding it up between them like a shield.

Janson’s eyes flicked to the vial, his breath hitching in his throat. For a moment, he froze, his grip on her loosening just enough for her to slip free.

Lauren scrambled to her feet, backing away from him, the vial clutched tightly in her hand. “This is it, Janson,” she said, her voice steady but laced with warning. “The real cure.”

Janson’s gaze darkened, his eyes locked on the vial as he slowly rose to his feet. He took a step toward her, but Lauren held her ground.

“One more step,” she warned, her voice trembling, “and I’ll destroy it.”

For a moment, they stood there, the tension between them thick and palpable. The weight of everything that had happened—everything they’d both done—hung in the air like a storm about to break.

Then, slowly, Janson took another step forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “You won’t.”

Lauren’s heart raced, her fingers tightening around the vial. “I will.”

And for the first time, Janson hesitated.

Lauren saw it—the brief flicker of doubt in his eyes, the way his hand twitched at his side as though he wasn’t sure what to do next.

She had him.

But before she could make her next move, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the courtyard. Guards. They were closing in fast, and Lauren knew she was out of time.

Without another word, she turned and ran, disappearing into the shadows, the real cure still safely in her grasp.

Janson stood there, watching her go, his chest heaving with a mix of anger and something else—something he couldn’t quite place.

She’d won this round. But he wasn’t done with her yet.

Not by a long shot.

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

started: 18/10/24

Marvel

Maze Runner

Hunger Games

Harry Potter

Note: I write for PostAzkaban!Sirius Black and Professor!Remus Lupin (not in the marauders era, because there just aren’t enough people who write about the older men)

Fantastic Beasts

Star Wars

Top Gun

Divergent

Disney/Pixar (animations)

Other movies

(will be consistently monitored and updated, hang tight)

The Ghosts

Sirius Black

Angst, a whole lot of it

Summary: Sirius gets haunted by the memories of his childhood

AN: cried while drafting this, hope you enjoy

Inspired by:

Story under the cut

Grimmauld Place loomed like a mausoleum, heavy with silence and shadows that seemed to cling to Sirius Black like a second skin. The house had always been oppressive, but post-Azkaban, it felt suffocating. Every corner whispered memories he couldn’t suppress, no matter how much firewhisky he drank or how hard he tried to forget.

Tonight, he found himself in the drawing room, his eyes drawn to the cursed tapestry like a moth to flame.

There it was, the family tree. Black and gold thread wove generations together, its branches curling in endless, snarling pride. His gaze landed on the burned spot where his name had once been—a violent black hole scorched into the fabric, as if even the memory of him had to be eradicated.

A bitter smile tugged at his lips.

“Might share a face and share a last name, but we are not the same.”

The words echoed in his mind, lyrics that felt plucked from his soul. He thought of his mother, her cold, sharp voice still cutting through years of silence. “You are no son of mine, Sirius. Do you hear me? No son of mine!”

He stepped closer to the tapestry, his fingers hovering over the charred fabric. The edges of the burn were jagged, almost alive, like the fury that had once consumed her as she’d banished him from the family. His shoulders tensed, the weight of those years pressing down harder than any Dementor ever had.

“How could you hurt a little kid?”

The memories came unbidden.

He saw himself at six years old, clutching a wooden toy broomstick with trembling hands. His father loomed over him, eyes blazing with the kind of fury Sirius had never understood. “You’re a disgrace to this family, Sirius,” Orion hissed. “No Black would ever stoop to such… rebellion.”

And rebellion had meant what, exactly? Laughing at something Regulus said? Mispronouncing an ancestor’s name? It didn’t matter. The punishment had been swift. A hex, a slap, a night locked in his room with only the portraits on the wall to keep him company—ancestors who sneered and hissed, calling him a traitor even then.

He clenched his fists, shaking his head to dispel the memory. He wasn’t that boy anymore.

“I can run, but I can’t hide from my family line.”

Except he could never outrun it, could he? His reflection in the mirror showed the same sharp cheekbones, the same stormy grey eyes that his mother had once wielded like weapons. The blood coursing through his veins might as well have been chains. Even in Azkaban, he hadn’t been free of them.

His lips twitched into a sardonic smile. “Free,” he muttered, the word tasting bitter on his tongue.

He laughed then—a hollow, rasping sound that bounced off the cold walls of the room. He was 36 years old, and it still bloody bothered him. All of it. The tapestry, the memories, the scars no one could see. He felt like a child again, stuck in the same damned house, walking the same damned halls, haunted by the same damned ghosts.

“Pathetic,” he said to himself, his voice laced with derision. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair, shaking his head. “You survived Azkaban, and this—this—is what keeps you up at night? Some bloody thread and scorch marks?”

But the laughter didn’t stop. It bubbled out of him, bitter and raw, until his chest ached and his throat burned.

Because the truth was, it wasn’t just the tapestry. It wasn’t just his mother’s voice or the ghosts in the walls. It was the inescapable reality that no matter how far he ran, he would always carry them with him.

Sirius sank into a nearby chair, his laughter finally subsiding into a strained silence. The house creaked around him, indifferent to his misery.

He tilted his head back, staring at the cracked ceiling above him. “Cheers to you, Mum,” he muttered, raising an imaginary glass. “You win. Even from the grave, you win.”

And yet…

The corners of his mouth twitched again, not with bitterness this time but something quieter. A tired acceptance, perhaps. Because while he might never be free of the Blacks, he could choose to make sure no one else suffered what he had.

The thought gave him no comfort, but it gave him purpose. And that was enough to get him through another night in Grimmauld Place.

About me 🕊️

>> I go by Lauren (she/her, I’m straight)

—> Lauren is not my actual name, but it’s the name of my oc which I’ve used for a while to keep my identity safe online

>> I am 18

>> I am a student— currently in school

>> I am Asian with French roots

>> Contributing to this blog is a hobby

>> My English is not perfect, but I try

>> I write what I feel like (I’ll list characters and fandoms down in my masterlist** over time)

>> I am currently: OPEN/closed to asks and requests

>> I 𝘿𝙊 𝙉𝙊𝙏 write smut. (It is uncharted territory for me and I personally don’t think I’m at that level yet, but if necessary, I will try.)

>> I ONLY write for fictional characters and universes (I prefer to create stories that respect the boundaries of real-life individuals. Writing for real people, especially those unaware of such content, can feel intrusive to me, so please refrain from requesting non-fictional character scenarios.)

>> I’m a human too so please be nice. (People pleaser problems, I have to set boundaries for my sanity)

>> I want this to be a safe space where we can all come together to read and talk/write about ideas, thoughts, characters and what not so I don’t want to be strict but I’m just going to put out here that I will not tolerate bullying. (I mean in writing, if you want angst—sure) but I hope you get what I mean

—> but that being said (even though I would not like to), if I have to block your account, I will.

>> Lastly, this is my first time doing all this so go easy on me, but do drop by some constructive criticism where you see fit.

>> Okay maybe not lastly but this is my last point now, promise. This is important to me so I hope you respect it. If you want to use my writing or my fics, at least credit me and drop me a text about it. I’d appreciate if you did both but generally, crediting my work should suffice.

MASTERLIST **

Wattpad

Spotify

** Not much content yet, I’m afraid; but I’ll populate it in time to come. Please have some patience because I am still a student with other priorities and a personal life, thank you

(Enjoy and have a lovely time 🥰)

Credit to @cafekitsune for the banners

Stormbound

Thalia Grace x Percy Jackson

fluffy

Summary: Thalia and Percy navigate the unspoken tension between them, where a single confession could change everything.

Request by @Blake7255 on Wattpad:

I have a request for Perlia from Percy Jackson where Thalia has a big crush on Percy when she first sees him when she gets out of her tree without realizing that he has a even bigger one on her 1 year later she decides to give herself a makeover to try to get his attention dyeing her hair blonde and giving herself big curly hair and wearing a purple dress after she gets done she decides to tell Percy how she feels and asks him out they go on their first date and kiss at the end and on Percy 21 birthday he asks her to marry him and the end can be the wedding thank you for your time

story under the cut

The First Glance

Thalia Grace wasn’t the type to swoon, okay? She didn’t do hearts-and-flowers crap. But the moment she stepped out of that stupid tree, she locked eyes with Percy Jackson, and the world stilled.

He was sweaty, shirt clinging to him as he fought some monster she couldn’t care less about because—damn it—why did he have to look like that? Her pulse quickened, and her lip curled to hide it. Great, my first day back, and I’m already losing my edge.

Meanwhile, Percy froze mid-swing, staring at her like she’d walked out of a dream. He shook it off and grinned, that lazy, lopsided grin that made her stomach flip. “Thalia, huh? You’re taller than I imagined.”

She rolled her eyes. “And you’re dumber than I thought.”

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” he murmured, but his heart was pounding because—yeah, Zeus’s kid was terrifyingly gorgeous.

The Year That Followed

Their banter became routine. A jab, a smirk, a laugh that lingered just a second too long. Everyone saw it—the way Percy’s eyes lit up when Thalia entered a room, the way she softened (just barely) when he was near. But they ignored it, both too stubborn to admit what was blindingly obvious.

It came to a head one night during a campfire. Percy, oblivious as ever, was joking with Annabeth, and Thalia’s stomach twisted. She hated how her chest tightened whenever he laughed with someone else, how her eyes darted to him even when she didn’t mean to. Get it together, Grace.

Later, when she caught him by the lake, she couldn’t help herself. “You and Annabeth sure are cozy.”

Percy turned, confused. “Annabeth? She’s like my sister.”

“Sure she is,” Thalia snapped, hating the heat in her voice.

He stepped closer, brows furrowed. “What’s your deal, Thalia? You’ve been acting weird.”

“My deal?” she shot back, stepping closer too, electricity crackling in the air between them. “You’re the one who—” She cut herself off, clenching her fists. “Never mind. Forget it.”

Percy stared at her, his voice softer now. “Thalia…”

She shook her head and walked away before he could see the storm in her eyes.

The Makeover

Thalia hated feeling vulnerable. That’s why she decided to take control. If Percy couldn’t see her as more than his sparring buddy, then she’d make him.

The golden curls were Aphrodite’s idea. “Blonde will make his heart stop,” the love goddess had said with a wink. Thalia hated that she was probably right.

When she finished, she barely recognized herself. The purple dress felt strange, too soft against her skin. But her reflection smirked back at her. Let’s see you ignore me now, Jackson.

The Confession

When Percy saw her, his mouth opened, but no words came out. He blinked, twice, as if trying to process what he was seeing. “Thalia… you… wow.”

Her heart raced, but she played it cool. “You like it?”

“Uh… yeah, you could say that,” he stammered, cheeks flushing. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion.” She shrugged, stepping closer, her confidence wavering only slightly. “I just… wanted to try something new.”

He was staring at her like she’d hung the stars herself, and it made her stomach flip.

“Look, Percy,” she started, her voice quieter now, “I need to say something, and I need you to not laugh.”

“I’d never laugh at you,” he said, his voice steady now, serious in a way that made her chest ache.

“I like you,” she blurted. “And not in the let’s-train-until-we-drop way. I mean, I really like you. I think I have since the day we met.”

Silence. The kind that stretched too long and made her want to bolt.

Then Percy took a step forward, his voice low. “Thalia, do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that?”

Her breath hitched. “What?”

“I’ve liked you since… forever,” he admitted, his hand brushing hers. “I just thought you’d deck me if I told you.”

“Not deck you,” she said, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Maybe zap you, though.”

He grinned. “I’d take it.”

And when he kissed her, it wasn’t soft or tentative—it was a storm, wild and consuming, leaving them both breathless.

The Proposal

On Percy’s 21st birthday, he knelt on the same beach where they’d shared their first kiss. Thalia stood before him, arms crossed but eyes shimmering.

“What are you doing, Jackson?” she asked, though her voice was lighter than usual.

“Something I should’ve done ages ago,” he said, pulling out a ring shaped like a thunderbolt. “Thalia Grace, will you marry me?”

For once, she was speechless. She stared at him, her mind racing, her heart pounding. Then, with a shaky laugh, she muttered, “Took you long enough, Seaweed Brain.”

The Wedding

The wedding was chaos, of course. Leo set something on fire, Apollo flirted with the entire bridal party, and Zeus glared at Percy the whole time.

But when Thalia walked down the aisle, curls bouncing, blue eyes locked on Percy’s, none of it mattered.

“You ready for forever, Jackson?” she whispered when they met at the altar.

“With you? Always,” he said, grinning.

And when they kissed, the sky erupted in lightning and waves, a perfect storm for a perfect pair.

Heart of the Forest

Newt Scamander x Reader fluffy (I mean, obviously... it's Newt) Summary: When a magical creature escapes into the Forbidden Forest, Newt Scamander unexpectedly finds himself with an unlikely companion on a wild chase that tests his patience, courage, and perhaps, a bit of his heart. Story under the cut

The forest was dense with fog, the ground carpeted with moss and scattered leaves that crunched softly underfoot. Newt adjusted his coat, glancing at his companion—you. You were brushing dirt off your coat with an expression that spoke of annoyance, though Newt pretended not to notice.

“This way, if I’m not mistaken,” he murmured, pointing toward a faint glow in the distance. A hint of worry creased his brow; the glow wasn’t natural, more like the bioluminescent trail left by the creature he was tracking. “Mind the roots,” he added, just as you tripped over one with a huff.

“Noted,” you replied, a touch of sarcasm in your voice. “So, remind me why we’re chasing after a creature that could practically disappear into thin air?”

Newt’s eyes sparkled as he replied, “Ah, the Erthrach tends to hide when it feels threatened, but it won’t stray far from familiar territory. It’s rare and endangered; we must make sure it’s safe.”

The two of you trudged deeper into the forest, your combined breaths clouding in the crisp night air. You watched Newt, fascinated by the quiet determination in his gaze. He was focused, even a bit anxious, though it was clear this sort of mission was his element.

“Do you always do this alone?” you asked, unable to mask your curiosity.

“Mostly,” he admitted, glancing at you with a small smile. “Though I must say, it’s… rather nice to have someone along this time.”

The forest grew darker, and for a moment, a prickle of unease brushed your skin. But just as you were about to voice it, Newt froze, his hand coming up to signal you to stop. Ahead, the faint glow was moving, darting between trees with surprising speed.

“There it is,” he whispered, and before you could even blink, he was off, rushing forward with a grace and speed you hadn’t anticipated. With a muttered curse, you followed him, weaving through the trees as the glow moved erratically, zig-zagging through branches and shrubs.

Just when it seemed like Newt had it cornered, the creature leapt, soaring over a fallen tree and vanishing into a thicket. You skidded to a stop beside him, panting. “Looks like your friend’s faster than we thought,” you said, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice.

Newt chuckled, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “You’d be surprised how clever they are. But we’re close.”

Without warning, he took your hand, leading you around a dense clump of bushes. His grip was warm, steady, and oddly comforting against the cool night air. “Stay close. These woods can play tricks on you,” he said, his tone softer than before.

The creature’s glow was brighter now, illuminating the small clearing ahead. Newt held a finger to his lips, signaling silence. You both crouched, watching as the tiny Erthrach hesitated, sniffing the air before settling down near a patch of glowing mushrooms.

With a practiced flick of his wand, Newt conjured a shimmering, gentle light that drew the creature’s attention. It tilted its head, inching forward until it was close enough for Newt to carefully slip a small, enchanted net around it. He cradled it gently, murmuring soothing words until its glow softened, the creature visibly calming in his arms.

“There, there,” he whispered, his face soft with relief. “Back where you belong.”

As he rose, still holding the creature, he offered you a grateful smile. “Thank you. It’s not every day you find someone willing to chase an Erthrach through the forest.”

You shrugged, feeling a rare warmth at his words. “Someone’s got to keep you from tripping over those roots,” you teased.

Newt laughed, his eyes shining with a warmth that went beyond his usual shyness. He adjusted the creature in his arms, glancing back at the trail with a new lightness. “Perhaps I’ll make it a habit, then. You’re rather good at this.”

You both began the walk back, Newt’s shoulder occasionally brushing yours as you wove through the trees. And as the forest closed in around you, the stars peeking through the canopy above, the warmth between you was as bright as any spell Newt could conjure.

Wasting All These Tears On You

Finnick Odair x Reader

Tw: Regular THG angst, mentions of forced prostitution, reader and Finnick are both lowkey jerks, I think that’s it, let me know if I missed anything ☺️

(This is my first story and I’m always open to constructive feedback. I also take requests if you’d like to see more)

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶

And you left me standin’ on the corner crying

Feeling like a fool for tryin’

Finnick Odair. The pride and joy of District Four. The Darling of the Capitol. The most desirable Victor. These are just a few of his many titles. Panem adores him. He’s perfect in every way. A body specially sculpted by the gods, a smile that could entrance even the most manipulative, blue eyes that could suck anyone in and drown them like a lost sailor at sea. Even his voice. So seductive it could put a siren to shame.

So how did Y/n, the Victor of the 68th Hunger Games get involved with such a man?

Truthfully, she doesn’t even know the answer, and frankly, she would rather forget they knew each other at all.

I wish I could erase our memory

‘Cause you didn’t give a damn about me

Seeing him around District Four, the Capitol, anywhere really brought Y/n nothing but pain. Seeing him smile with the many women and different citizens of the Capitol created a sickening feeling in the 68th Victor. She pries her eyes away when she sees a wandering hand, a whisper too close to his ear, the offering of a drink. More often than not, she focuses more on him than on her own well being.

Perhaps that’s why she’s sitting outside of a very generous party, thrown by President Snow, crying.

Her nails are dug deeply into her palms as she tries to use the physical pain to stop herself from crying. Her eyes are stuck on the ceiling of the hallway, decorated with the most extravagant lights. She counts the diamonds that are stuck in each chandelier and slowly finds herself coming down from her emotional high.

She hates that he has this effect on her.

The moment she had won her Games, she could tell he was shocked. He didn’t believe she would make it out due to her low evaluation score. But she proved everyone wrong. She killed twelve Tributes in her arena. She hid her skills, appearing weak to the others so they would target her first. It was a cruel way to use the poor teens that surrounded her, but it was either her or them.

She never understood why Finnick had such a hard time believing in her. He didn’t even take the time to try and train her, pushing her off onto Mags as if she were some chore. He seemed almost regretful when she won. She didn’t understand why until Snow had crowned her at her Victor ceremony.

“You are what the elite in the Capitol consider… desirable.”

She knew what that meant. People in the Capitol always talked, especially when they had enough to drink. The night she met with her first client, she walked out feeling like an animal. No, less than. She felt appalled and wanted to crawl out of her own skin. She wanted to scratch her soft and supple skin so she would be of no use to Snow anymore.

That was until she saw him.

Finnick was exiting a room just across the hall, and when they locked eyes, everything fell into place. He knew what she had just gone through and he took it upon himself to help her through it the way no one else bothered to help him.

Over time he developed a sense of protectiveness over Y/n. They were always seen together, joint at the hip. Snow at first wanted them separated at all costs, but noticed the positive reaction from the Capitol at their close relationship, so he allowed it.

Though Y/n is starting to wish he had torn them apart when he had the chance. Life wouldn’t be so painful if he had.

You ain’t worth another sleepless night

And I’ll do everything I gotta do to get you off my mind

Many had warned her not to get involved with Finnick, but she never listened. Her heart told her that he’s what she wanted, what she craved. They kept their relationship a secret. Stealing kisses in passing, flirty touches under the dinner table, seductive whispering at parties, sneaking into each other's room undetected. They did it for almost two years, and it was pure bliss. Being with each other, spending countless hours on the beaches in District Four just relishing in each other's presence. But nothing good ever lasts long in Panem. She should’ve known that.

Things grew more and more difficult the more clients the two of them were forced to see. Fights ensued, jealousy raged, tears were shed. It all became too much. And some things can never be taken back or forgotten, no matter how hard one tries.

“Then leave!” Y/n screams, tears falling freely from her eyes.

“Maybe I will!” Finnick seethes with a harshness that she had never witnessed before. Her heart ached seeing him stare at her with such an intense anger.

He turns to storm out of the Y/n’s house, but her words cause his feet to freeze in their spot. “But I can’t promise I’ll be waiting for you when you come back,” the way she says it is so finite, but her entire being is yelling at her to take it back before it’s too late.

Finnick pauses before turning back to look at her. His face is blank, or maybe heartbroken is the better word for it. His eyes are mere shells of what they used to be, the bright green spark has faded into something she couldn’t even recognize.

“Good,” he replies, his voice barely shaking. “Why would I want to come back to you when I have women lining up to be with me?”

He knew exactly what to say to wound her the most. They both have been open and honest about their insecurities when it comes to their high end status. They tried not to be insecure, but who wouldn’t be in their position? They were sold for their bodies, no one would feel confident or beautiful after experiencing that. And both of them always had the worry that someone they met would appease the other better than they ever could. That’s why they agreed never to say things like that to each other.

Until that moment.

“Well, have fun with them,” she spits back with a lethal amount of venom lacing her tone. “Enjoy using your body to cover up your fear that no one will ever love you!”

‘Cause what you wanted I couldn’t get

What you did, boy, I’ll never forget

After that, communication ceased between them. The relationship they fought so hard for cracked, and it hasn’t been fixed since.

Y/n regrets what she said that night more than anything. Along with the amount of petty shots she’s taken at the Darling. She won’t deny that she’s been more than flirty with other men in front of him, but what hurt the most was that he never seemed to care.

Before he would always rush to her aid, making sure her drinks weren’t laced with an aphrodisiac, that the men she danced with were respectful, and that she was always well taken care of. Now, he doesn’t even look her way. He’s always on the arm of some elitist, looking so engrossed by them that anyone would believe nothing else in the world mattered to him.

Y/n tried so hard for so long not to let that bother her, but seeing him tonight with that woman practically sitting on his lap broke her. She had to leave the party. She couldn’t keep playing this game anymore. It hurt too much.

“You forgot something.”

Y/n looks up and sees Finnick standing above her, looking at everything but the sobbing woman below him. She sniffles, trying to cover up any evidence of her breakdown. She notices him holding the small bag she brought with her. Y/n stands from her spot with a high level of grace and takes her bag from him with a curt nod.

“Thanks,” she mumbles before going to walk away from him.

“You know, I used to be the guy you went to whenever you felt the need to cry,” his comment is solemn, painful almost. The way he reminisces creates a nostalgia neither of them want to feel.

Y/n stops, still not turning around. She clears her throat, “Yeah, you were.” She can feel his unwavering presence behind her, “But that was a long time ago.”

The silence surrounding them is deafening, but neither of them bother to move. Y/n doesn’t understand why he’s the one who had to follow her out. Why did he care enough to return her items? Why does it matter if he was the one she used to go to?

“Why did you come after me, Finnick?” She asks, her voice monotone. “Don’t you have your hands full catering to the three women already drooling over you?”

Once again she’s met with silence, but his breathing gives away that he hasn’t left. She’s surprised at her own level of patience. There really is nothing stopping her from walking away, but she stays. Like there’s this supernatural force that makes her desire his answer.

“I asked you a question,” she turns around, a newfound power in her voice. Her dress trails behind her intimidatingly as her heels click on the concrete. She stops directly in front of him, a scowl on her face.

His eyes dance across her face, “Something just seemed different this time.” He answers quietly. “I know we like to play the jealousy game and prey on each other's insecurities, but the way you walked out was different. It wasn’t fun anymore.”

“I didn’t realize it was ever fun in the first place.”

“Oh, don’t act like you’ve never hung yourself all over the Capitol men just to get under my skin,” he chastises. “I know you, Y/n. You like to play just as much as I do.”

“Well, I’m over whatever game you think this is,” Y/n shrugs with vindication. “I want you to be happy Finnick, but I can’t watch it anymore. I just can’t. Seeing you with an array of women all the time is just too much,” she admits solemnly.

“And you think it didn’t hurt me?” He asks, taking a step closer to her. He tilts his head the same way he always does. That simple motion silences whoever he’s talking to and forces them to listen. Y/n’ breath catches in her throat as his nose practically touches the tip of hers. “The amount of times I have wanted to murder the slimy men that have laid their hands on you. How many times I’ve wanted to sweep you off your feet and take you away from here,” he leans closer to her ear. “To apologize to you,” he whispers, nipping at her ear lobe.

She hates how his tactics are working against her. She’s never been one to deny the electrifying feeling she gets from him. “Seems a little too late for that, doesn’t it?” She whispers back.

“Only if you don’t forgive me,” he counters. The looks in his crystal blue eyes is nothing short of genuine affection and regret. He places his finger underneath her chin, “Y/n… I’m tired of seeing you waste all these tears on me. C’mon sweetheart, let me make it up to you,” he kisses her forehead softly. “I messed up. I shouldn’t have said what I did or left you like that. And I’m sorry. I need you.”

Y/n tries to keep her tears at bay, but she can’t help the bitter water stinging her eyes. “It wasn’t just you,” she manages to get out. It’s quiet because if she were to speak any louder, her composure would break. “I’m sorry for what I said too,” she tells him with a small nod before flinging her arms around his shoulders.

Finnick feels a huge weight lift off his chest as he feels her body encompass his. He’s just as tired of this manipulative game as she is. Watching her dance with the multitudes of men that would do nothing but use her made his blood boil. He wraps his arms around her legs and lifts her in the air. He holds her tightly with no intention of ever releasing her from his grip again.

Y/n pulls back only for a moment so she can plant her lips onto his. The kiss is soft and gentle, their lips meshing together perfectly. They fit together like a puzzle piece and the satisfaction they get from reconnecting can’t be described through words. Fireworks go off in both their minds as she tangles her hands in his hair.

“I love you,” he mumbles between kisses.

Y/n didn’t know how much she missed hearing those words from his mouth. She thought she’d never be able to hear them again, but she’s so happy that she did. “I love you too.”

Oh, finally I’m through

Wasting all these tears on you

Reblog if you are insecure about anything below:

-weight

-appearance

-intelligence (or lack of) 

-skills (or lack of) 

-weird hobbies

-friends (or lack of) 

-body

-personality

-family

Who ever reblogs this will get a message in their inbox.