OKAY IF YOU LIKE MAZE RUNNER PLS REBLOG THIS POST I JUST WANNA KNOW ABOUT MY FELLOW FANS

Resistant

Kylo Ren x ResistanceSpy!Reader

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

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

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

story under the cut

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

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

But her calm was short-lived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heart of the Forest

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hello, could I make a oneshot request?

of course! My inbox is open, so please do give me your suggestions and requests 🥰

Maybe do a scene where he actually slams a clipboard on the table 😂

I saw your post...and I thought...

"Why not make that scene..."

Honestly he's so fine I definitely would be folding like a lawn chair ...💀💀💀

Tether

AD Janson x Reader

Bit of Angst, tension (lots of power play)

Not exactly proofread

Summary: 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.

Story under the cut

The room is freezing.

But you never shiver.

Because shivering gets noted. And nothing in WCKD goes unrecorded.

You sit like you always do. Neutral, composed, spine aligned with the back of the steel chair. You fold your hands just loosely enough to look relaxed, but never so tight you look scared.

You’re not scared.

You’re watching.

That’s the key to survival here—watch more than you speak.

Play helpful. Play small. Play invisible.

It’s why you didn’t flinch when the guards dragged in Thomas last night. Or when Minho screamed his throat raw. Or at least, tried not to.

You watched the cameras. You watched the mirrors. You watched him.

Because Janson doesn’t operate like the others.

He doesn’t threaten.

He studies.

Ironic. The least likely to hurt her was the biggest threat of all.

When the door opens today, you know it’s him before he steps in. The air shifts. Thicker. Heavier. Like he brings the storm in with him.

He closes the door. Doesn’t bother to announce himself. You don’t look at him until he sits down across from you.

“I’ve read your file,” he says, calm as ever. “But files lie.”

You tilt your head—just a little. Feign interest.

“So I prefer asking the subject directly.”

Your lips press into a polite line.

Good. Keep the act warm. Cooperative. Non-threatening.

He opens a folder. But he doesn’t look at it.

“What did you whisper to Newt before the lights went out two nights ago?”

You blink slowly. “I told him I was cold.”

“You weren’t.”

A beat.

“You never show discomfort. Not even when they turned the vents up to freezing.”

You offer a ghost of a shrug. “Maybe I was trying to comfort him.”

“You don’t comfort people. You observe them.”

His voice is soft. Accusing.

Too accurate.

You breathe through your nose.

“What’s your point?”

He watches you for a moment. Silent. Like he’s peeling back skin.

“You play quiet. Play cooperative. But you never give.”

You open your mouth to speak—

—but he slams the clipboard down like a gavel, fast and loud.

SLAM.

You jerk slightly, then lean back just enough. Your thighs press against the edge of the chair. You shift. It’s subtle, practiced. But your lip catches between your teeth for half a second. Just one.

And it’s one second too long.

His eyes catch it. And stay there.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t speak yet.

Just watches you bite your lip and recover.

“Interesting,” he says finally.

You shake your head. “Reflex.”

His brow lifts. “That wasn’t fear.”

His tone is lower now. Controlled. Curious.

“That was something else.”

You meet his eyes again, voice cool. “You’re imagining things.”

“No,” he says. “I’m not.”

He leans in.

You feel it in your chest. The weight of his gaze. The way the air closes in like it’s watching, too.

“Tell me something, then,” he says, voice just above a whisper. “If you’re not afraid of me… if you’re so calm, so unbothered… why are your pupils dilated?”

Your throat tightens.

“I’m in a cold room. Low light.”

“Wrong,” he murmurs. “That light hasn’t changed in sixty hours.”

Silence. Thick. Loaded.

He tilts his head slowly, examining you like you’re some rare, caged creature on the verge of revealing its real shape.

“You’re trying to stay in control,” he says. “And it’s beautiful to watch you fail.”

Your nails dig into your thigh under the table, but your face? Still smooth. Still even.

“What do you want from me?” you ask, voice quieter now.

He breathes out through his nose. Almost a laugh. But it isn’t kind.

“I want you to stop pretending.”

Another pause.

“Because the moment you do…we’re going to get somewhere real.”

He stands. But not to leave. Not yet.

He leans both hands on the table. Closer now. Close enough that if you wanted to, you could flinch. Or slap him. Or maybe—

But you don’t.

You can’t.

So instead, you say the only thing you can.

“I’m not pretending.”

His eyes darken. Something shifts in them. Some quiet little thrill.

Because you’re lying.

And you both know it.

He leans down, voice curling against your ear like smoke.

“Then why does your heartbeat sound like a fucking metronome?”

And then—

He walks out.

Leaves the door wide open.

But you don’t move.

You don’t chase.

You just sit there.

Heart hammering.

Pulse ringing.

Still pretending.

Still calculating.

But this time…

not so sure you’re winning.

Outplayed

Stephen Strange x Spy!Reader

Fluff, flirting

Summary: A spy seduces Doctor Strange to steal crucial information and distract him for long enough to draw what she wants from him

Story under the cut

The dim light of the café cast long shadows across the wooden table where you sat, carefully stirring your coffee as you watched him from the corner of your eye. Doctor Stephen Strange. The Sorcerer Supreme. But here, in this low-key corner of the city, he wasn’t the all-powerful, stoic hero. Here, he was just a man, and you were here to take advantage of that.

Your mission was clear. He had information you needed, and you'd go to any length to get it.

"Mind if I join you?" His voice was calm, controlled—a stark contrast to the excitement thrumming beneath your skin. You didn’t even have to glance up to know that the air had shifted the moment he took a seat.

“No, not at all,” you said, offering a smile that you hoped was warm and welcoming, but you knew it came across as something else entirely—calculated, like you had an agenda. Which you did.

“Good,” he replied smoothly, taking a sip of his own drink. "I wasn’t sure if I was being followed."

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, your eyes finally meeting his, and damn, there was that glint—sharp, almost knowing. "I’d say you’re paranoid, but you wouldn’t be wrong, would you?"

He arched an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair slightly, as though already analyzing you. Smart. You could see it in the way his fingers rested on the rim of his cup, in the way his eyes tracked every small movement you made. He was more aware than you’d like.

"Let me guess," he said, his voice low, tinged with amusement. "You're here to ask me questions."

You leaned in, careful to let your lips curve in a way that could either be interpreted as playful or dangerous. "It’s a bit more complicated than that," you purred, your voice a soft lull, an invitation he couldn’t resist. "I need something. Something I’m sure you’re just the man to provide."

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving yours. "Is that so?" he asked, his tone full of that subtle challenge you knew too well. “And what exactly is it that you think I can help you with?”

You didn’t flinch. No, you were too good at this. Too smooth. "You know exactly what I need," you said. "Information. A little bit of knowledge that only you have."

For the briefest moment, his expression flickered—a flicker of something unreadable—before it was gone, hidden behind a cool smile. “You seem awfully confident.”

You let that linger in the air, then allowed your own smile to bloom, teasing but still sharp. "Confidence has always been one of my strengths."

He laughed softly, but the sound was cold, like it wasn’t truly a laugh at all. More like a warning. "You don't think I know exactly what you're up to?" His eyes glinted as he leaned in a little, his voice dropping just a touch. “How long did it take before you realized I could see right through you?”

Your pulse quickened, but you didn’t let it show. “You don’t know a thing about me,” you countered, your voice low and deliberate.

He tilted his head, studying you with that calm, unnerving gaze. "I know enough."

It was like a game now, a cat-and-mouse dance you both played so well. You were too good at getting what you wanted, and he was just... too good, period. You could feel the tension tightening in the air, crackling between you, but you weren’t about to give up so easily. Not when you were so close.

Then, just as you leaned in slightly—just enough for him to feel the heat of your presence—you slid your hand across the table, brushing lightly against his. Not a hard touch, but deliberate, calculated. A little touch of intimacy meant to throw him off.

His breath hitched ever so slightly.

And there it was. The briefest of breaks in his usually steady composure. The smallest crack that you were quick to notice. That was all you needed.

"Careful, Doctor," you said softly, locking eyes with him as your fingers grazed the sleeve of his coat. “You’re getting distracted.”

He swallowed, eyes narrowing as he locked onto your face. For a second, the playful tension vanished, replaced by something deeper—something almost... predatory.

"You think you’ve got me figured out?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper, lips curling slightly at the corners.

You held his gaze, leaning in just a fraction more, testing him. "I think I’ve already won."

There was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, challenge, and... acceptance. He wasn’t falling for the act. But at that moment, you were okay with that. Because while he’d been focused on you, your hand had already slipped his Sling Ring off his finger, carefully palming it like you had done this a hundred times before.

You straightened up, your expression softening just enough to be disarming. “Thanks for the chat, Stephen,” you said, standing up, giving him a coy smile.

“Wait—” He reached for you, but you were already turning, already walking out, Sling Ring safely hidden.

You didn’t look back, but you could feel his gaze on your back, that quiet realization creeping in that, for once, he'd been outplayed.

The Wild Robot userboxes!! 🌱

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

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.

STAR WARS

angst : 🌩

fluff : 🌸

requests : 📩

This is a SFW blog, so no smut (because I'm not quite there yet) Kylo Ren: > Resistant 🌩 (synopsis: After finding a Resistance spy on his ship, there is nothing more he'd want than to break her.)

Obi Wan Kenobi:

> Live and Let Die 🌩️ + comfort (synopsis: Finding solace in him through suffering.)

> The Life I Never Led 🌸+ comfort (synopsis: Obi-Wan begins to notice the quiet weight his Padawan carries, and in his own way, makes sure she doesn’t carry it alone.)

Writing Tips Master Post

Character writing/development:

Character Arcs

Making Character Profiles

Character Development

Comic Relief Arc

Internal Conflict

Character Voices

Creating Distinct Characters

Suicidal Urges/Martyr Complex

Creating Likeable Characters

Writing Strong Female Characters

Writing POC Characters

Building Tension

Plot devices/development:

Intrigue in Storytelling

Enemies to Lovers

Alternatives to Killing Characters

Worldbuilding

Misdirection

Consider Before Killing Characters

Foreshadowing

Narrative:

Emphasising the Stakes

Avoid Info-Dumping

Writing Without Dialogue

1st vs. 2nd vs. 3rd Perspective

Fight Scenes (+ More)

Transitions

Pacing

Writing Prologues

Dialogue Tips

Writing War

Writing Cheating

Worldbuilding:

Worldbuilding: Questions to Consider

Creating Laws/Rules in Fantasy Worlds

Book writing:

Connected vs. Stand-Alone Series

A & B Stories

Writer resources:

Writing YouTube Channels, Podcasts, & Blogs

Online Writing Resources

Outlining/Writing/Editing Software

Writer help:

Losing Passion/Burnout

Overcoming Writer's Block

Fantasy terms:

How To Name Fantasy Races (Step-by-Step)

Naming Elemental Races

Naming Fire-Related Races

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Home

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

Fluff

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

Story under the cut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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