New Years

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

send help

Y’all I wanna write but I’ve been having writers block 😭 I want some requests so badddd like it’s been so long since I’ve posted anything. I promise I’m still active but I genuinely don’t know what I should be writing about. I’ve been caught up in school so I haven’t had much time to watch or read anything new either 😔

so please pleaseeeee if y’all have any ideas, even unusual ones, send them in! I have no problem with it and in fact I highly encourage it! No judgement on my end, I swear.

FANTASTIC BEASTS

angst : 🌩

fluff : 🌸

requests : 📩

This is a SFW blog, so no smut (because I'm not quite there yet) NEWT SCAMANDER: Oneshots: > Heart of the Forest 🌸 (synopsis: 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.)

> Frost 📩 🌩️ (synopsis: When Teddy gets hurt, she turns cold, leaving Newt to earn back her trust while she spoils their injured Niffler rotten.)

So, requests?

I’m currently in the process of editing and reviewing my old works from Notes which I’ve been posting on my blog but apart from that, I don’t have any real ideas yet… so I’m open to any requests or asks to kickstart the journey. > just a reminder, I don’t write smut. If you request it, I can give you something vague but if I’m uncomfortable— I might not write it. So don’t feel robbed if you request for love-making and get the love not the making.

> I am currently learning about song fics and inspirations so I might add those in sometime soon > romance is on the table, I don’t mind writing anything with sexual tension

errr, I write for fictional characters, not real celebrities or anything BUT, if you would like to create your own character, tell me about their persona and what you’d like to see and I might just help you with that

im just going to list down some characters and fandoms I don’t mind writing for:

Marvel

Loki Laufeyson

Stephen Strange

Scott Lang

Tony Stark

Steve Rodgers

Bucky Barns

Sam Wilson

T’Challa 🤍

Thor Odinson

Charles Xavier

Hank McCoy

Erik Lensherr

others (if you ask, I could write)

Maze runner

Newt

Thomas

Minho

Aris

Gally

Frypan

Janson

others

Hunger Games

Peeta Mellark

Haymitch Abernathy

Finnick Odair

Young Coriolanus Snow (still don’t like him but heck, what’s some writing gonna do?)

others

Harry Potter

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

Draco Malfoy

Cedric Diggory

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Neville Longbottom

Post Azkaban! Sirius Black

Professor! Remus Lupin

Severus Snape (both young and old— he seems like a versatile character)

Tom Marvolo Riddle

Lucius Malfoy (hate myself for this one)

others

Fantastic beasts

Newt Scamander

Albus Dumbledore

Gellert Grindelwald

Jacob Kowalski

Theseus Scamander

others

Star Wars

Anakin Skywalker

Kylo Ren/ Ben Solo

Obi Wan Kenobi (My love)

Poe Dameron

Din Djarin/ Mandalorian

Finn/ FN-2187

others

Top Gun

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson

Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin (he’s insufferable imo, but idm writing)

others

Divergent

Caleb Prior

Peter Hayes

Eric Coulter

others

No four/Tobias because there’s wayyy too many fics for him alr

Disney/Pixar (animations)

I can write for most characters from these Fandoms, especially the ones explicitly stated (because I know more about them):

>Encanto:

Bruno Madrigal

Camilo Madrigal

others

>Rio:

Blu

others

>Ratatouille:

Alfredo Linguine

Lil’ Remy 🐁

others

>Cars:

Lightning Mcqueen

Tow Mater

Finn Mcmissile (god I had the biggest crush on him)

Miles Axelrod (eh, not a huge fan of him)

Siddeley (love him too much)

others

>Finding Nemo:

Gill. (OH GOD THE CHOKEHOLD THIS FISH HAD ON ME AHZHBSJSK)

Marlin

Nemo

others

>The bad guys:

Mr Wolf/ Moe (ugh yes please)

Mr Snake

Mr piranha

Diana Foxington (a female, just this once because she’s literally amazing)

others

>Puss In boots:

puss in boots

Death— the wolf (IM NOT A FURRY I SWEAR WHY DID THEY MAKE HIM HOT)

others

>Zootopia:

Nick Wilde (duh)

others

>Madagascar:

Alex

Marty

Melvin

Skipper

Kowalski

Private

I DONT WRITE FOR ANIME, BECAUSE I DONT WATCH/ READ IT. BUT FEEL FREE TO REQUEST FOR OTHERS THAT ARENT IN THIS LIST, MAYBE I MIGHT KNOW OR IF I’M FEEING PARTICULARLY GENEROUS, I MIGHT RESEARCH ABOUT THE CHARACTER OR FANDOM

Thank you so much for the cooperation and notes all this while

-Tisayemate 🤍

OTHER MOVIES

angst : 🌩

fluff : 🌸

requests : 📩

This is a SFW blog, so no smut (because I'm not quite there yet)

BULLET TRAIN:

Tangerine:

> Crossfire 🌸 + violence/gore (Tangerine and reader fight over the case)

Melody

George Weasley x Gryffindor!Reader

Comfort, fluff

Summary: George helps you play piano

AN: I was playing a piece and this came to mind ITS SO CUTE 😭

story under the cut

The Gryffindor common room was unusually quiet, the fire crackling softly in the hearth as the amber light spilled across the piano’s polished surface. You sat on the bench, determined to make the music sound right this time.

Your fingers danced across the keys—well, stumbled, really. You played the same section again, but no matter how you adjusted your hands, the notes sounded jumbled and wrong. Frustration tightened in your chest, your shoulders tensing as you pressed harder.

“Easy, love,” a voice drawled behind you, smooth and teasing.

You startled, your hands slamming against the keys in an ugly, discordant crash. Whipping around, you found George Weasley standing there, his grin crooked and far too smug.

“George!” you snapped, pressing a hand to your racing heart. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Admiring the show,” he quipped, strolling closer. “Though it sounds like the piano’s losing this duel.”

You narrowed your eyes, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m trying to practice.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” he said, his voice light as he rounded the bench. Without asking, he slid in beside you, his knee bumping yours. “Here, let me see.”

You froze as he leaned in, his arm brushing yours as he placed his hands on the keys. His chest nearly touched your back, his warmth and the faint scent of pine overwhelming your senses.

“This part,” he said, his tone lower now, softer, as if the quiet demanded it. “You’re hitting this note.” He struck it, his finger lingering before moving to the correct one. “But it’s this one. Feel it?”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his voice rumbled near your ear. “Yeah,” you managed, barely above a whisper.

“Go on, then,” he said, leaning back just enough to let you play.

You placed your hands on the keys, but your fingers trembled slightly, and the notes wavered.

“Relax,” George murmured, leaning over again. This time, his hands slid to either side of yours, his fingers brushing yours as he guided them. His arms caged you in, but his touch was gentle. “Don’t think so hard. Just… feel it. Like this.”

He played the melody slowly, his fingers gliding over the keys with an effortless grace that left you mesmerized.

“Your turn,” he said, tilting his head so his breath fanned against your cheek.

You nodded, focusing on the keys despite how close he was. You played the first few notes, and when you faltered, his hand moved over yours, correcting your fingers without a word. The warmth of his palm sent a shiver up your spine.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice a low hum. “See? You’ve got it.”

You tried again, and this time, the melody came together perfectly, the music flowing like water under your fingers. A smile broke across your face, and you turned to him without thinking.

“Perfect,” George said, his grin softer now, his eyes warm as they met yours. “Told you you could do it.”

You blinked at him, realizing just how close he was. The firelight cast soft shadows over his freckled face, and there was a quiet sincerity in his expression that made your heart race.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice barely audible.

“Anytime,” he said, leaning back slightly but still close enough that you felt the space between you keenly. “I’d hate to see a piano reduced to tears.”

You laughed, the tension easing as you rolled your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously helpful,” he corrected, his grin returning to its usual mischievous tilt. “And speaking of helpful, what are you doing here alone? Shouldn’t you be off saving the world or something?”

“It’s a free period,” you said, shaking your head. “I just wanted some quiet.”

“Well,” he said, standing and stretching lazily, “I’d say you’ve got the right idea. Though if you ever need another pair of hands…” He wiggled his fingers dramatically.

“Thanks, George,” you said, smiling despite yourself.

He lingered for a moment, his gaze soft as he looked at you. “You’re better than you think, you know.”

The sincerity in his voice made your breath catch, and before you could respond, he flashed you a wink and started for the door.

“Don’t forget to keep playing,” he called over his shoulder. “You’re a natural—once you stop overthinking everything.”

As the door clicked shut behind him, you stared at the piano, your cheeks still warm. His words echoed in your mind, wrapping around you like the notes of a melody you couldn’t quite name—yet.

Lucky

Peter Hayes x small!Reader

Idk what to call it at this point. Not fluffy enough to be a fluff or angsty enough to be angst. Just for your amusement ig.

Summary: Peter Hayes has always thrived on cruelty, sneering at others’ weaknesses to make himself look stronger. But when you—a quiet, seemingly small Dauntless initiate—beat him in a trial, he’s forced to see you in a different light. 

AN: in this one, I imagined it to be that reader is small in size and often undermined but you could imagine it and tailor it to your preference. (Maybe that she just SEEMS weak or smth)

The lights of the Dauntless training room cast long shadows across the stone floor, the sound of fists hitting punching bags and the grunts of effort filling the air. You stood off to the side, small and unassuming compared to the towering forms of the other initiates. But looks, as you’d proven time and time again, were deceiving.

You cracked your knuckles absentmindedly, watching as Peter Hayes towered over some poor recruit, a smirk curling his lips. Peter thrived on being intimidating. He fed off the fear that shimmered in the eyes of those around him, always sneering, always two steps ahead of his peers—if not in skill, then in sheer malice. He was, in many ways, the embodiment of Dauntless’ harshest traits.

But today, things were about to change.

"Alright, fight time," Eric barked, pacing along the sidelines like a predator circling its prey. His cold gaze swept over the group before landing on you. His lip curled in an almost-smile. "You."

Everyone’s eyes snapped to you, and you didn’t flinch under their scrutiny. If anything, you felt a rush of adrenaline course through you. The room grew quieter, expectant, as Eric nodded toward Peter. "You’re up against him."

Peter's smirk widened. He didn’t even try to hide his amusement. "Really? This ought to be good."

You rolled your shoulders back, stepping into the circle without a word, feeling the weight of all the eyes on you. But you were used to being underestimated. It was your advantage, your weapon.

Peter sauntered forward, cracking his neck as if the fight was already won. His confidence radiated like a toxic cloud, infecting the room with tension. His smirk deepened as he came to a stop a few feet from you, towering over your smaller frame.

"You sure you’re up for this, sweetheart?" he drawled, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

You ignored the taunt. There was no need to respond. The game had already begun, and Peter just didn’t know it yet.

"Fight!" Eric’s voice echoed through the room like a gunshot.

Peter moved fast, closing the distance between you in a single step, his fist swinging toward your face with brutal force. But you were faster. You ducked, sidestepping at the last second, causing him to stumble forward.

His eyes narrowed as he straightened, his smirk faltering for just a second. "Lucky."

But luck had nothing to do with it.

The next few seconds were a blur of motion. Peter lunged again, his movements aggressive, fueled by arrogance. Each time, you dodged or blocked with fluid precision, making him look clumsy. The others watched in stunned silence, whispering among themselves as you began to gain the upper hand.

Peter’s frustration grew, evident in the tightening of his jaw, the wild swing of his fists. He wasn’t used to losing—especially not to someone who looked like you.

Finally, you saw your opening. Peter’s guard dropped for just a moment, and that was all you needed. You spun on your heel, sweeping his legs out from under him with a swift kick. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, the air knocked out of him as you stood over him, victorious.

For a moment, the room was still. Peter lay on the ground, eyes wide with shock, while you stood above him, not a single drop of sweat on your brow.

Then, slowly, Eric’s voice cut through the silence. "Impressive."

It was one word, barely a compliment, but from Eric, it might as well have been a standing ovation. His expression remained unreadable, but the flicker of approval in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Eric wasn’t one to show emotion, especially when it came to initiates, but even he had to respect what you’d just pulled off.

Peter groaned, pushing himself to his feet, his cocky façade crumbling as he wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. He glared at you, anger boiling beneath the surface, but there was something else there too—something he would never admit. Respect.

"You got lucky," Peter growled, brushing himself off.

You met his glare head-on, unflinching. "No, I’m just better."

There it was—plain, simple truth. And Peter, for once, had no snarky reply. He clenched his jaw, still trying to nurse his bruised ego, but the look in his eyes told you that he knew. He knew you weren’t someone to mess with.

Later, after everyone had left the training room, you sat alone, wrapping a bandage around a scrape on your hand. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving you with a dull ache in your muscles and the satisfying knowledge that you’d bested Peter Hayes.

But you didn’t have long to savor the victory.

"You really think you’re something, don’t you?" A voice sneered from behind.

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Peter’s smug tone was unmistakable. You rolled your eyes, continuing to bandage your hand.

"I mean, you got lucky once, but let’s not pretend like you’ll always come out on top," Peter continued, stepping into your line of sight. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, that infuriating smirk plastered across his face again. "You’re just a little fighter who had a lucky day. Don’t let it get to your head."

You glanced up at him, unfazed. "Sure, Peter. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Peter’s eyes narrowed. "Don’t act like you’re better than everyone. We both know you don’t belong here. Just a little girl playing soldier."

The words were meant to sting, but they rolled off you like water. You had heard worse, from worse people. Peter’s insults weren’t anything new, and they certainly didn’t get under your skin the way he hoped they would.

You stood up, facing him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "It’s cute how you think you can still intimidate me after I wiped the floor with you today."

Peter’s face darkened. "Watch your mouth."

You shrugged, turning to leave. "I don’t need to watch anything. I’ve already seen enough."

Peter opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. For the first time, it seemed like he had no comeback, no witty insult to throw at you. You walked away, leaving him standing there, simmering in his bruised ego and thinly veiled frustration.

As you left the room, you couldn’t help but smirk. Peter might never stop trying to tear you down, but you weren’t going to let him win. Not today, not ever.

Merlin.

Neville Longbottom x Hufflepuff!Reader

FLUFF!!

Summary: falling for the clumsy doofus.

AN: this was inspired by what happened last night, I attended Grad night (which is my school’s little graduation party) and realised I really really like this guy who I’ve casually spoken with in class. He’s exactly what I’d want in a husband but there’s a lot of things in between anything happening for us so yea nothing’s going to happen… I guess I’ll just transfer the experience to our lovely Neville. Enjoy!

UPDATE: (2/1/25) I found out he has a girlfriend now. It’s not meant to be guys. But wtv, I trust that the Lord will send me a true man of God. 🥹 (I’m catholic, I don’t think I mentioned that before)

The new seating chart was a disaster, at least as far as you were concerned. Of all people, you’d been paired with Neville Longbottom, a boy who had a reputation for stumbling over roots—both literally and metaphorically.

You approached your greenhouse workstation, already bracing for frustration. But when you saw him standing there, sleeves rolled up, nervously fiddling with his trowel, he turned to you with a warm, crooked smile.

“Well, if it isn’t my new partner in crime,” he said, his tone light but tentative.

You tilted your head, unimpressed but curious. “Didn’t realize we were committing crimes in Herbology now. Starting small, are we?”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Baby steps. First, we master Flutterby Bushes. Then, who knows? Maybe world domination.”

You snorted, despite yourself, and set your bag down beside him. “If this is your plan for taking over the world, you might need a better partner.”

“Maybe,” Neville said, eyes twinkling. “But I think you’ll do just fine.”

Your lips twitched, threatening to betray the irritation you’d convinced yourself you felt.

Today’s task involved transplanting Flutterby Bushes, which were sensitive to emotion and required a careful hand. Perfect, you thought sarcastically. A recipe for disaster with someone like Neville.

The first few minutes passed in tentative silence. Neville focused intently on untangling a particularly stubborn root system, his tongue peeking out in concentration. You rolled your eyes, deciding to take the lead.

“You’re overthinking it,” you said, reaching over to adjust his grip. Your fingers brushed his, and he startled, nearly dropping the plant.

“Sorry,” he said, his cheeks tinged pink. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “Just… here. Like this.”

He watched you carefully, mimicking your movements. “You know,” he began, a teasing lilt in his voice, “you’re not half-bad at this. I thought Hufflepuffs were all about caring for magical creatures, not plants.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave. Didn’t you flinch at the sight of a bowtruckle last week?”

Neville laughed, full and genuine, the sound warming the chilly air in the greenhouse. “Okay, fair. But in my defense, that bowtruckle had intentions.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Intentions? Of what, exactly? Poking you to death?”

“Hey, don’t underestimate the power of a well-placed poke,” he shot back, eyes sparkling with mischief.

The banter continued, and before you knew it, the initial awkwardness had melted away. Neville’s clumsiness was still there—he managed to spill an entire pot of soil onto the table at one point—but his easy humor and self-awareness turned every mistake into a shared joke.

“Merlin, Longbottom,” you said, brushing dirt off your robes for the third time, “you’re lucky you’re funny. Otherwise, I’d have ditched you by now.”

“Lucky me,” he said with a mock bow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “But admit it—you’d miss me if I weren’t here.”

You opened your mouth to retort, then closed it again, caught off guard by how right he was.

Over the next few weeks, working with Neville became something you looked forward to. His wit and charm were understated but undeniable, and he had a knack for making you feel at ease, even when things went wrong.

When your Flutterby Bush began to wilt after a botched replanting, you felt a pang of frustration. “Great. It hates me,” you muttered, glaring at the drooping leaves.

Neville stepped closer, his voice gentle. “It doesn’t hate you. You’re just holding it too tight. Here.” He reached out, his hands brushing against yours as he repositioned the plant. “See? It’s all about trust.”

You glanced at him, startled by the quiet confidence in his voice. For a moment, the greenhouse seemed quieter, the only sound the rustle of leaves and your own heartbeat.

When the holidays arrived, you found yourself thinking about Neville more than you expected. At home, surrounded by family, you kept catching yourself smiling at memories of his quick wit, his awkward yet endearing mannerisms, and the way he could make you laugh even on the worst days.

By the time the Yule Ball rolled around, you’d realized something important: Neville Longbottom wasn’t just a good partner. He was… well, something more.

When you saw him waiting at the entrance to the Great Hall, your breath caught. His dress robes were simple but elegant, and there was a confidence in his posture that you hadn’t seen before.

“You clean up well,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“So do you,” he replied, his voice soft but steady. “Shall we?”

The dance was magical, but it wasn’t the music or the decorations that made it special. It was Neville—his warm smile, his steady hand on yours, the way he looked at you like you were the most important person in the room.

As the night ended, he walked you to the courtyard, the cool night air brushing against your skin.

The courtyard was quiet, the cool air brushing against your flushed cheeks as you turned to Neville. He stood close, his fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of his robe, but his eyes—soft and steady—held yours.

“You looked amazing tonight,” you said softly, the words spilling out before you could second-guess them.

Neville blinked, his face lighting up with a sly smile. “You looked rather… dashing tonight,” he said, his voice low but earnest.

Your cheeks burned, and you looked down, unable to hide your smile. “Oh, thanks,” you murmured, your heart racing. Butterflies fluttering around in your stomach.

He tilted his head, watching you intently. There was something in the way your blush lingered that made his own nerves fall away. Slowly, deliberately, he reached for your hand, his thumb brushing against your knuckles.

When you looked up, his gaze locked with yours, and without a word, he leaned in. His lips met yours in a kiss that was soft and tentative, yet it sent a spark racing through you.

It was over too quickly, but as he pulled back, the shy grin on his face said everything. And for once, neither of you needed words.

AN: well, this is what I can only wish had happened. HES SO FUNNY AND AMAZING AND SMART AND SUCH A GREEN FLAG 😭MAN CAN COOK AND TOLD ME WOMEN IN POWER ARE HOT LIKE- bloody hell his future wife/husband is so fucking lucky 😭