Tether

Lose and Let Go

Finnick Odair x Troubled!Reader

Angst and comfort

summary: Finnick helps the reader find themselves again after having lost so much.

AN: I really need some comfort fics. Can’t find them so I’m creating them myself

Inspired by:

Story under the cut

The moonlight cast pale silver onto the beach, the gentle roll of the waves the only sound filling the air. You sat at the water's edge, knees pulled to your chest, tears streaking your face. It was the kind of ache that made it hard to breathe—the kind that gnawed at your heart long after the loss.

The one person you thought you’d never lose was gone. It wasn’t death, but it may as well have been. You had to let them go. But the worst part was that you didn’t know how to keep going, how to love yourself after losing so much.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Finnick’s voice broke through the quiet, soft and understanding. He settled beside you, his presence warm against the cool night air.

You shook your head, though you knew he saw the turmoil in your eyes. "I feel... empty. It’s like I gave everything away and now I don’t know what’s left."

Finnick was silent for a moment, the kind of silence that wasn't uncomfortable but allowed the weight of the words to settle. "I know that feeling," he said, his voice laced with a kind of sadness that only someone who’s seen too much could carry. "Giving away parts of yourself, until you’re not sure what’s left. It’s hard. But sometimes... losing someone forces you to find the parts of yourself you buried for them."

You stared out at the waves, his words sinking in. "It’s like I lost everything, though. What if there’s nothing left to find?"

Finnick’s hand rested lightly on yours, a grounding touch. "There’s always something left. You just have to give yourself time to see it. It’s painful now, but that emptiness? It’s the space where you’ll start to heal."

You didn’t respond, but the tears fell silently, rolling down your cheeks like the tide. It wasn’t comforting in the way you wanted—Finnick wasn’t telling you things would magically be okay. But his truth, painful and real, felt more grounding than any comforting lie could.

"I’m not going to tell you it’ll stop hurting," Finnick continued, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "But I will tell you this—learning to let go doesn’t mean you lost yourself in the process. It just means you have a chance to find yourself again."

His hand stayed on yours, a quiet reminder that you weren’t alone. And as you sat there in the moonlit silence, the waves lapping at your feet, the rawness of it all began to feel... bearable.

New Years

Encanto x reader

fluff, comfort

Summary: On a lonely New Year’s Eve, the Madrigals bring warmth and joy, but it’s Camilo’s heartfelt care that makes her truly believe in love again.

AN: Happy new year, happy holidays! Also, this is sappy. Be warned... but I'll make sappy any time I need it, and I needed it-- so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing this.

story under the cut

The night air was crisp, a perfect blend of cool breeze and the lingering warmth of the day. From your perch on the balcony, the world below sparkled with the chaos of New Year’s Eve celebrations. In the Encanto, every home glowed with lights and laughter, the air heavy with the scent of roasted arepas and sweet empanadas. The Madrigals’ Casita, as always, stood out like a beacon of magic and life, bursting with energy. Yet here you were, leaning on the cold wrought-iron railing, a quiet observer in a sea of joy.

From your vantage point, you could see families giggling as they ducked under tables to eat their twelve grapes, one for each wish. Couples leaned into each other, their faces lit by the promise of midnight fireworks. And you? You were alone. No grapes, no kisses, just the sharp sting of solitude wrapped in a world full of celebration.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, the sound quickly carried away by the distant hum of music and chatter. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy for them—the Madrigals, the villagers, everyone—but it was hard not to feel the weight of loneliness pressing on your chest. You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, wishing, just for a moment, that someone would notice the quiet shadow you cast.

And then, like magic—or perhaps because it was the Encanto—they did.

“What are you doing out here, all by yourself?” Mirabel’s voice rang out, soft yet inquisitive, as she leaned against the balcony doorframe. Her round glasses glinted in the dim light, and her wide smile carried an infectious warmth.

You turned, startled, only to see her stepping closer, holding out a small cup of warm chocolate. “You can’t spend New Year’s like this,” she said gently. “Come on, at least have some hot chocolate with me.”

A bit later, Luisa found you sitting by yourself in a quiet corner of the Casita. She didn’t say much—she didn’t need to. Instead, she handed you a heavy woolen blanket, freshly warmed from the hearth, and sat nearby, her calm presence a silent reassurance that you weren’t alone.

Isabela, ever the perfectionist, passed by next, pausing to tuck a newly conjured flower into your hair. “There,” she said with a soft smile. “You’re part of the party now.” Her graceful departure left the faint scent of jasmine in the air, a little gift that lingered with you.

Later, Antonio bounded over, his arms wrapped around a cheerful toucan that squawked happily in your direction. “The animals said you looked sad,” he said with wide-eyed sincerity. “But you don’t have to be! They like you.” He placed the toucan on your shoulder, and for a moment, the bird’s antics pulled a genuine laugh from your lips.

Pepa’s voice carried through the bustling crowd as she handed you a small plate of twelve grapes. “Eat them,” she insisted, her eyes kind but firm. “One for every wish. And don’t forget to make them count!”

Julieta’s warmth came last but not least, as she gently pressed an arepa into your hands. “Food makes everything better,” she said, her tone motherly and soothing. “You’ll see.”

By the time Camilo arrived, the night was already alight with fireworks, laughter, and cheer. He had just rushed back from the village after a long day of work, his usual playful smirk replaced by a look of earnest concern. He found you leaning against a pillar near the edge of the balcony, the glow of fireworks reflecting in your eyes.

“There you are,” he said, slightly breathless but with a relieved grin. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You blinked, startled by his sudden arrival. “Camilo? Shouldn’t you be out enjoying the party?”

He shook his head, stepping closer. “The party doesn’t matter if you’re not enjoying it too.” Without waiting for a reply, he draped his ruana over your shoulders, the warmth of it immediately chasing away the chill in the air. “You’ve spent enough of tonight alone.”

His presence was magnetic, pulling you out of your shell without effort. He began to talk about the funny things he’d seen in the village, mimicking people’s voices and gestures until you were laughing so hard your sides hurt. When he saw you relax, he leaned against the railing next to you, his tone softening.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “you mean a lot to us. To me.” He glanced at you, his eyes earnest. “I didn’t want the year to end without making sure you knew that.”

The weight of his words settled over you, warm and comforting. He reached out, his hand covering yours as the fireworks reached their peak, painting the sky in brilliant colors. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant cheers. “For everything.”

Camilo smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “You’ll never have to feel alone, not as long as I’m around.”

As the clock struck twelve, you felt a peace you hadn’t known in a long time. Surrounded by the Madrigals’ love and Camilo’s unwavering presence, you knew this New Year’s would be the start of something beautiful.

The Wild Robot userboxes!! 🌱

feel free to reblog/download and use on your profile but keep my username visible ty! :)

i love your writing so much !!

Thanks, comments and notes like these— even the likes and reblogs just makes writing more worthwhile. It’s an honour to be able to share my writing with other people who enjoy and relate to it. Side note, this is the first message I’ve ever gotten in my inbox so I’m very flattered, thank you 🤍. In the meantime, I haven’t been posting for the past few days… exams 😭 but I’ll be back soon enough. For the time being, what are we looking for? (I’ll put a poll down below)

I’m trying to tailor my writing to suit different people’s interests so I can cater to a wider audience at this point. Thank you for your patience and support all the way

As always, have a great day

—tisayemate 🤍

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."

Christmas at The Burrow

Harry, Hermione, the Weasleys, Sirius, Remus (and all the other good characters) X Reader

Fluff

Summary: A bad day melts into laughter, love, and chaos at the Weasley’s on Christmas.

AN: Merry Christmas and a happy new year ya filthy animals!

story under the cut

The Burrow, as usual, was glowing with warm light and the sound of clattering dishes, laughter, and chatter spilling out even before you reached the door. You hesitated, your earlier frustrations from the day clinging to you like a stubborn shadow. But before you could even raise a hand to knock, the door burst open, and Fred’s grinning face appeared.

“There she is!” he crowed, pulling you inside as George popped up behind him.

“Late as always,” George said, shaking his head dramatically. “It’s a wonder you ever make it anywhere at all.”

“Oh, leave her alone,” Ginny said, sidling up to you and taking your coat. “Come on, sit down, get comfy. Mum’s been waiting to stuff you full of food all day.”

“I have not! I’ve just made a bit of stew and treacle tart, that’s all,” Molly called from the kitchen, where she was stirring something that smelled divine.

“Stew? Treacle tart?!” Ron perked up from the table, where he was already halfway through a biscuit.

“Save some for the rest of us, Ron,” Hermione scolded, though her soft smile was already directed at you. “Come on, sit with us. You look like you need a good laugh.”

Harry leaned forward from his seat, glasses slightly askew. “We’ve been plotting how to cheer you up all day,” he said, grinning. “And we’re excellent at it, if I do say so myself.”

“We are excellent,” Fred corrected. “Harry’s role in the operation is just sitting there looking tragic.”

“Oi!” Harry protested, though he was laughing too.

“Enough of this nonsense,” Sirius’s deep voice boomed from the armchair near the fire. He stood, a cheeky grin plastered across his face, and made his way to you. “Come here, kid.”

Before you could say anything, Sirius pulled you into a firm, fatherly hug, holding you close like he’d known you needed it. “You’re with us now,” he murmured into your hair. “No bad moods allowed. Got it?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“That’s better.” He pulled back but kept an arm slung over your shoulder. “Now, sit. Eat. We’ve got plans, and you’re going to enjoy it.”

The plans turned out to be a mix of dinner, chaos, and ultimately, a movie night. After Molly served up her famous stew (with Neville nervously asking for seconds, clearly trying not to look greedy) and Fred managed to accidentally charm a bread roll to scream when bitten into, Ginny declared, “Alright, enough. It’s movie time.”

“Movie?” Luna’s dreamy voice piped up. “Oh, I do love Muggle contraptions.”

“Tonight’s feature: Home Alone 2: Lost in New York,” Hermione announced, holding up the DVD case like it was a sacred text.

“What’s it about?” Fleur asked, her lilting accent drawing curious looks from Cedric and Neville, who were already settling on the couch.

“Traps, chaos, and Christmas,” Harry explained simply, grabbing a bowl of popcorn and flopping onto the sofa next to Ron.

Soon, everyone was crammed into the Weasleys’ cozy living room. Sirius, with his arm draped around your shoulders like a comforting anchor, pulled you close.

The movie started, and it didn’t take long for the chaos to spread.

“Oh, that’s brilliant!” Fred said, pointing as Kevin tricked the hotel staff with his recorded messages.

“Can you imagine using that on Filch?” George added, cackling.

“Forget Filch,” Ron said, mouth full of popcorn. “I’d use it on Snape.”

“That’s awful!” Hermione scolded, though she was laughing along with everyone else.

“Well I know I’d pay to see it,” Remus mused, chuckling at the thought.

When Kevin’s elaborate traps started, Ginny groaned. “Imagine the cleanup after that. No thanks.”

“Cleanup?!” Sirius roared with laughter. “Ginny, it’s art! Pure, chaotic genius!”

“Poor burglars,” Luna mused, tilting her head thoughtfully. “They really should’ve worn helmets.”

As the Wet Bandits stumbled through the traps, Cedric winced every time something crashed or cracked. “That’s gotta hurt,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“You’d think they’d give up after the first house,” Neville added.

“But where’s the fun in that?” Harry said, grinning.

By the time the credits rolled, the room was filled with laughter and leftover popcorn scattered across every available surface. Sirius ruffled your hair affectionately. “Feeling better, kid?”

You nodded, smiling for what felt like the first time all day. “Yeah, I am.”

“Good,” Remus said from his spot by the fire, where he’d been quietly sipping tea and chuckling at the madness. “Because around here, happiness is non-negotiable.”

As you were pulled into a group hug orchestrated by Fred and George (complete with Ginny trying to shove Ron’s popcorn bowl out of the way), you realized that no matter how tough the day had been, you had a family here—a wonderfully loud, chaotic, loving family who could make you laugh until your sides hurt.

“Merry Christmas and a happy new year ya filthy animals!”

And as Fred squeezed your shoulder one last time before heading to the kitchen for a second helping of treacle tart, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was going to be alright.

More than enough

Remus Lupin x Reader

Angst, comfort

summary: After a difficult visit with her parents, a struggling student at Hogwarts finds solace and comfort in Remus Lupin, who reminds her that she is more than enough just as she is.

AN: I’m struggling rn so I wrote this initially picturing Professor Lupin but I realised it didn’t really make sense so this is during the marauders era. But to heck with it, you can imagine whoever you’d like.

————————————————————————————————————

It was one of those nights when everything felt too heavy. You had used the Floo powder to sneak out of Hogwarts to see your parents, hoping for some reassurance or a little warmth to ease the ache in your chest. But instead, you’d been met with harsh words, criticisms that dug deep into your skin. As you stepped out of the fireplace back into your dorm, your heart felt heavier than ever.

The dormitory was empty. Everyone else was still out enjoying the evening, but you had slipped away, too drained to pretend that you were fine. You threw yourself onto your bed, the thick blankets absorbing the weight of your exhaustion as you buried your face into the pillows. The tears came fast, and before long, your sobs were muffled by the comforter as you tried desperately to be quiet, your heart breaking in silence.

You felt so small. So misunderstood. You curled into yourself, whispering to no one in particular, a prayer, a plea, anything to make the hopelessness go away. "Why do they never understand? Why is it so hard to just be good enough?" Your voice cracked, barely audible over the lump in your throat. "I’m trying... I’m trying so hard, but I feel so lost."

A soft creak echoed through the quiet room, the dorm door opening. You quickly pulled the covers tighter over your head, not wanting anyone to see you like this. Not like this.

“Y/N?” A familiar, gentle voice called out, making your heart skip. You stayed still, your breath catching as you realized it was Remus.

“Y/N,” he said again, softer this time, the bed dipping slightly as he sat on the edge. “I know you’re there. I can hear you.”

You wanted to shrink further into the blankets, but his voice was so calm, so understanding, that it was almost impossible to hide. Slowly, you let out a shaky breath but stayed silent, hoping he wouldn’t push.

“I… I heard you come in,” he said, his tone gentle, yet tinged with concern. “You didn’t look okay. I just— I wanted to check on you.”

You were so still, unsure if you could speak without breaking all over again. But then Remus shifted slightly closer, his hand resting lightly on the blanket covering you. He didn’t pull it away or force you to come out from under it, just left it there as a quiet reassurance.

“I don’t know what happened,” he murmured softly, “but you don’t have to go through it alone. You don’t have to hide.”

A fresh wave of tears stung your eyes, but something in the warmth of his voice made it easier to breathe. Slowly, cautiously, you pulled the blanket down just enough to peek at him. His face was soft, filled with worry but also with so much kindness that it almost made you want to cry again.

“I feel like I’m failing,” you whispered, your voice barely there, your words shaky. “My parents— they don’t understand. I’m trying, Remus, I really am, but it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough. I just… I just want to be good enough.”

His brow furrowed with a deep empathy, and before you could retreat back into the safety of your covers, Remus shifted closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a tear from your cheek.

“You are enough,” he said firmly, his voice steady, filled with conviction. “You don’t have to prove that to anyone, not even to yourself. I see you every day— how hard you work, how much you care. It’s not about being perfect or meeting anyone’s expectations. It’s about being you. And that’s more than enough.”

You sniffled, your breath hitching as you tried to steady yourself, his words sinking in but still fighting against the overwhelming doubt swirling inside you.

“I’m just… so tired, Remus,” you admitted, voice cracking. “I feel like I can’t keep up with everything.”

His expression softened even more, and without a word, he slid closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. The warmth of his embrace was immediate, grounding you in a way that made the weight in your chest ease just a little.

“You don’t have to do it all alone,” he murmured, his cheek resting gently against your hair as you leaned into him. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

For the first time that night, you let yourself believe it. Maybe you didn’t have to carry it all on your own. Maybe, just maybe, there was a place in the world where you could be yourself— flaws and all— and it would be enough.

And for now, wrapped in Remus’s arms, you felt like that place was right here.

——————————————————————————————————

AN: to anyone reading this in need of comfort, I hope you find your solace. You’re not alone and you’re more than enough. You’re always free to rant— I always make time to listen. I hope this helps you feel better, so enjoy.

Also, note that if yall want to make a request or suggestion, pop into my inbox and ask away! Completely fine. No need to ask if you can make a suggestion/request. I’m okay with most suggestions so feel free to speak whatever comes to mind. (I’ve been so excited for requests man yall have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this 😭)

MAZE RUNNER

angst : 🌩

fluff : 🌸

requests : 📩

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

NEWT:

Oneshots: > Ink. 🌩 (synopsis: In his last moments of clarity, Newt writes a letter to you, fearing the end as the Flare tightens its grip on his mind, but clinging to the memory of your voice.)

> Always 🌸 (synopsis: Newt and reader having a moment to themselves where they feel safe together)

MINHO:

Oneshots:

> Well, Shuck 🌩 🌸 (synopsis: Minho and OC get trapped in the Maze overnight. With no way out and no clear path to safety, they keep their spirits up by finding comfort in each other.)

THOMAS:

GALLY:

ARIS:

JANSON: (yes, Janson, because Aidan Gillen is incredibly fine)

Shorts:

>> The escape: Backup plan (Pt. I) 🌩 (synopsis: Lauren, (OC) who’s a doctor in the facility tricks Janson with a decoy of the cure and makes a quick escape, hoping to stay ahead before he discovers the truth.)

>> The escape: Backup plan (Pt. II) 🌩 + a tiny bit of romance if you squint (synopsis: Lauren (OC)’s narrow escape from Janson)

Oneshots:

>> Dr Pepper 🌸 📩 (synopsis: The tension rises when Janson finds an error in the reader’s work.)

>> Slip of the tongue 🌩️ 📩 (synopsis: A single slip up reveals that you happen to know more than you should and that makes you a threat— to Janson.)

>> Tether 🌸 📩 (synopsis: She’s composed, controlled, impossible to crack… until Janson steps in, asking questions no one else dares to ask, and watching far too closely when she answers.)

This will be updated, please give me time to populate it. Thanks loves 🤍