Frost

The Wild Robot userboxes!! 🌱

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

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 🤍

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 😭)

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 😭

HUNGER GAMES

angst : 🌩

fluff : 🌸

requests : 📩

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

Finnick Odair:

oneshots:

> Lose and Let Go 🌩 🌸 (synopsis: Finnick helps the reader find themselves again after having lost so much.)

Vaporised

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader (callsign Vapour)

Fluff

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

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

Story under the cut:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today’s dogfight simulation would be the perfect battleground.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The escape: Backup Plan

(Pt. I)

Janson (Maze Runner) x OC (Lauren)

Angst

summary: 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.

—————————————————————————————————-

Inspired by:

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, distant but growing louder, as Lauren tightened the straps of her bag, her mind racing. The real cure—tucked safely in her hidden compartment—was still with her. But the decoy she’d left behind in the lab, the one Janson had taken, would buy her just enough time.

The only thing that mattered now was getting away before he realized.

She bolted down the narrow corridors, her breath steady but sharp, the pounding of her feet a steady rhythm in the sterile silence. Lauren wasn’t the same quiet, passive figure Janson thought she was. No. She’d learned to be smart, to adapt. To stay ahead.

As she rounded another corner, the cold bite of reality sank in. She only had moments before Janson would discover the truth. He would soon know that the cure he thought he’d stolen was useless—a placebo, a trick.

And when he did…

Suddenly, the corridor ahead felt suffocating, like the walls were closing in. She turned again, winding deeper into the facility, her heart racing but her mind sharp, every step purposeful. She knew where she was going. She knew the escape routes. She knew every blind spot in the surveillance.

The temporary vial wasn’t even worth what she carried.

A cold voice cut through her thoughts, sharp and unnerving. “Lauren.”

Her heart jumped. Janson.

He emerged from the shadows, his face a mask of calm fury. The temporary vial sat in his hand, his knuckles white around it. He was close enough to see, but far enough to not catch her—yet.

“I thought we had an understanding,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with menace. He stepped toward her, his eyes narrowed. “This—” he held up the vial, “—isn’t what I asked for.”

Lauren clenched her jaw, willing her pulse to slow down. She wouldn’t let him see her fear. Not now. Not when she had the upper hand.

“That’s the cure, Janson,” she lied smoothly, her eyes unwavering. “Everything you need is in there.”

Janson’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes—doubt, suspicion. He stepped closer, his pace deliberate, each step calculated. “You really expect me to believe that?”

Lauren took a step back, her mind spinning. She couldn’t run yet—not until she was sure she could shake him. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag, the weight of the real cure pressing into her side, reminding her that she still had control.

For now.

Janson’s cold gaze flickered down to the bag, his voice growing colder. “I’m not stupid, Lauren. You think you can outplay me?”

Lauren’s chest tightened, but she kept her face neutral. “It’s all there,” she said, her voice firm, “but you’ll never understand how it works.”

Janson’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he studied her. He was testing her, weighing the truth of her words, but she was too good at this. She had to be.

“You’ve always been clever,” he said, taking another slow, deliberate step toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. “But you’re making a mistake.”

Lauren didn’t move. “You already have what you want. Walk away.”

Janson’s eyes narrowed, and the tension between them thickened like a coiled wire about to snap. His fingers twitched at his side, as though ready to grab her, to pull the truth from her by force if he had to.

But he didn’t know. He didn’t know that the real cure wasn’t in his hands. And she wasn’t about to tell him.

The silence stretched between them, charged with unspoken threats and barely-contained fury. Lauren’s muscles tensed, ready to move at the first sign of weakness.

And then Janson’s lips curled into a thin smile—cold, calculating.

“You’ve always been good at hiding things,” he murmured, stepping so close now that she could feel the heat of his breath on her skin. “But you can’t run forever.”

Lauren’s pulse spiked. She knew what was coming.

She made her move.

Without warning, Lauren spun on her heel and bolted, her feet flying down the corridor before Janson could react. She heard him curse behind her, his footsteps thundering after her, but she was faster. Smarter.

She raced through the labyrinth of hallways, her mind laser-focused on her exit strategy. She had a backup route. A plan. One he didn’t know about.

Janson’s footsteps grew louder behind her, his anger palpable in the air. He was close—too close—but she wasn’t going to let him catch her. Not this time.

Lauren veered to the right, darting down a side passage that led deeper into the facility. She could hear his frustrated growl, the sound of him picking up speed, his determination bleeding into every footfall.

She turned another corner, her eyes scanning for the emergency exit she knew was just ahead. If she could just reach it, she’d be free. She’d be safe.

But then—

The mechanical sound of a gun being cocked stopped her, the barrel stopping mere millimeters from her skull. She gasped, stumbling as Janson cornered her into the wall, his eyes blazing with fury.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Lauren panicked, her breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts. She could feel the vial pressing against her side, the real cure, still safely hidden. He didn’t know.

He couldn’t know.

“I’m not giving you anything,” she spat, her voice defiant despite the fear gnawing at her insides.

Janson grabbed her, tightening his grip with his face inches from hers, the anger rolling off him in waves. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he hissed. “You think you can outsmart me?”

Lauren glared up at him, refusing to back down. “You won’t get it. No matter what you do.”

For a moment, Janson didn’t move. His eyes bore into hers, cold and calculating, as though he was weighing his options.

Then, without warning, he slammed his hand against the wall beside her, caging her in. His other hand reached for her bag, ripping it from her shoulder in one swift motion.

He rifled through it, his movements rough, angry—until he found the vial.

For a split second, Lauren’s heart froze. But she didn’t falter. She knew what he had in his hands.

Janson held it up, his eyes narrowing as he studied it. “This is it, then?” he said, his voice dripping with skepticism.

Lauren swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep calm. “That’s the cure,” she said, her voice steady. “The only one.”

Janson’s gaze flicked back to her, suspicion flashing across his face. But then, slowly, a twisted smile spread across his lips.

“I don’t believe you.”

In that moment, Lauren knew she had him. She’d planted the seed of doubt, and now it was taking root. He didn’t know what to believe. And that was her advantage.

Janson pocketed the vial, his grip still tight on her arm, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of a lie. But Lauren was too good at this. She had to be.

“You’ll regret this,” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. “One way or another.”

And with that, he released her, stepping back as if daring her to make her next move.

Lauren didn’t hesitate. She turned and ran, her heart pounding in her chest as she made her way toward the real exit, the one he didn’t know about.

The real cure was still safely hidden, and now, she had the upper hand.

For now.

🎶🤍✨when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers (positivity is cool)🎶🤍✨

Home by Good neighbours

Youth by Shawn Mendes (ft. Khalid)

The monster by Eminem (ft. Rihanna)

Let her go by Passenger

Sex, drugs, etc. by Beach weather

And thank you 🥹

(one more thing, how do I send this ask to ten people— I’m sorry I’m still getting around to tumblr… do I just tag you in my post or?? Bcs like I’ve read though like 6 different asks for the same thing inception style and I still don’t know how to do it. I need a tutorial atp, this stressed me out more than I have to be)

So I’m just gonna tag y’all and pray that someone will teach me how to do this right:

@kitkat-moon

@h3arthese4

@ghostlyuniversityhandsthing

@peterhayesllove

@demonslikeme

@fclsebnnyodair

@im-a-whore-for-evan-peters

@xxx-ang3l-w1th-a-sh0tgun-xxx

@troyssix

@urfavfairyluvr

*Disclaimer, I don’t have too many followers, but to those I have, I love you all. I suppose it’s been a mistake on my part for not being interactive, but every follow, like and comment doesn’t go unnoticed. So I’ll try and make more friends on here (bear with me, this is not fun for an introvert) and I hope y’all could help…make the first move and reach out too. Because with exception of the first two that I’ve tagged, I haven’t spoken to anyone else and I really hope I can change that.

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.