So, Requests?

About me 🕊️

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

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

>> I am 18

>> I am a student— currently in school

>> I am Asian with French roots

>> Contributing to this blog is a hobby

>> My English is not perfect, but I try

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MASTERLIST **

Wattpad

Spotify

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

(Enjoy and have a lovely time 🥰)

Credit to @cafekitsune for the banners

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.

Friction

Peter Hayes x Badass!Reader

Fluff, some fighting (but it’s the usual, dauntless-style sparring kind of fighting)

Summary:  A fierce sparring match between the reader and Peter Hayes blurs the lines between rivalry and desire.

AN: You have no idea how stoked I was when I got this idea like I really REALLY checked this one

story under the cut

The atmosphere in the Dauntless training center buzzed with excitement as members gathered around the fighting ring, anticipation crackling in the air like electricity. You and Peter Hayes faced off, adrenaline coursing through your veins, the crowd’s shouts fading into a dull roar. You exchanged quick jabs, punches landing with precise accuracy, each strike fueled by an unspoken rivalry that simmered just beneath the surface.

“Come on, is that all you’ve got?” you taunted, sweat glistening on your brow as you ducked and weaved, trying to avoid his powerful swings. The truth was, you were losing ground, and every passing moment made the pressure weigh heavier on your shoulders. Peter was relentless, his focus unwavering as he pushed you back against the ropes.

With each blow, you felt the sting of his punches and the laughter of your peers echoing in your ears. A mixture of anger and determination bubbled within you. You couldn’t let him win. Not like this.

In a moment of desperation, you remembered something, a playful strategy that could tip the odds. You feigned left, then swung around and pretended to stumble, drawing him in. As he approached, you executed your plan—leaning in close, you clung onto him, letting out a seemingly pained groan— which turned out more sultry than anything.

Then, just as he reacted, you leaned into him, pressing your body against his for a split second. The shock on his face was priceless, and for that fleeting moment, his focus broke. You took advantage, shoving him backward with all your might. Peter stumbled, losing his balance, and you seized the opportunity, driving your fist into his stomach.

The crowd erupted in cheers as he went down, the satisfaction of victory surging through you. “Looks like I win!” you shouted, grinning widely as the Dauntless members clapped and hooted in approval.

With the adrenaline still pumping, you stepped out of the ring, heart racing. As you walked toward the changing room, the excitement of the match still lingered in the air, but you felt a surge of confidence. You had beaten Peter Hayes, and it felt incredible.

Just as you reached the door, you heard heavy footsteps behind you. You turned to find Peter storming toward you, his expression a mix of anger and something else—something almost dangerous.

“Hey,” you said, trying to play it cool, but the smirk on your face faltered under his intense gaze.

“What the hell was that back there?” he snapped, closing the distance between you. His voice was low and charged, sending a thrill down your spine.

“Oh, come on, it was just a little distraction,” you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly. “You can’t tell me it didn’t work.”

“Is that really how you think this works?” he shot back, his eyes narrowing, body tense with frustration. “You think you can just—just use that to win?”

“Why not? It got the job done.”

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. “You think it’s a game? That you can just toy with me like that?”

Your heart raced, the energy between you shifting. “Oh quit moping over it. I get that loss is hard, but surely you’re not that much of a baby.” You taunted, rather amused.

Peter’s gaze locked onto yours, the tension thickening. “Oho, you just watch it sweetheart, I’ll fuck you up.”

Before you could respond, he reached out, gripping your arm firmly and pulling you closer until there was barely an inch between you. “You might think you’ve won, but you need to understand your place.”

In that moment, the anger simmered beneath the surface, but there was something else too—a heated charge that pulled you into him, an undeniable attraction. Your breath hitched, and you could feel your pulse quicken, the distance between you collapsing as you stared into his eyes.

“Is that so?” you challenged, tilting your head defiantly.

His grip on your arm tightened, his breath warm against your face. “You think you can just flaunt yourself and get away with it?”

“I just did,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes, feeling the pull between you intensify.

Then, without warning, he closed the gap, capturing your lips with his in a heated kiss that sent a shockwave of electricity through you. It was fierce, demanding, a culmination of all the tension that had been building between you. The world around you faded away, and in that moment, there was nothing but the heat of his body against yours and the taste of adrenaline on your tongue.

But just as quickly, he pulled away, a frustrated growl escaping him. “Don’t do that again,” he warned, voice low and dangerous, but his eyes held a flicker of desire that made your heart race.

“No promises,” you challenged, your pulse racing as you stepped back, a triumphant smirk on your lips.

As he glared at you, you could see the battle within him, the tension lingering in the air as you turned and walked away, a rush of exhilaration coursing through you. You had ignited something between you, and this fight was far from over. 

Heads up

tomorrow, 2nd November, I'll ditch tech for the whole day. That means no post for tomorrow... sorry :(

anywho I will pick up again afterwards (hopefully) because I'm still in the midst of my exams and while I'm coming close to the end, I can't just stop the grind after my last paper. Learning is a long-term thing you get me? So if, by any chance you happen to look at my blog and I happen to be... active... *gasp, shocker* pls pls, tell me to get off my ass and get off of Tumblr. This is basically just a challenge I've put myself up to so... yes. Also, comfort fic recs are highly appreciated. Thank you for the notes, hearts, boops and messages.

love yall and have a great day!

The Wild Robot userboxes!! 🌱

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

Live and Let die

Obi Wan Kenobi x Padawan!Reader

Angst and comfort

Summary: Finding solace in him through suffering.

Inspired by: Live and Let Die by Wings. (Yes, from Shrek)

Story under the cut:

The bruises from the mission hadn’t even begun to fade, yet the sting of failure burned far deeper than any wound. You replayed the scene in your head—the split-second hesitation, the wrong move that cost lives. It didn’t matter that your mistakes weren’t intentional. The weight of them crushed you all the same.

You were supposed to be better. Stronger. Wiser. But instead, you were here, curled up in the shadows of the Jedi Temple’s gardens, your hands trembling as you wiped furiously at the tears tracking down your face.

“I thought I might find you here,” Obi-Wan’s voice cut through the quiet like a gentle blade.

You stiffened, dragging your sleeve across your face as if you could erase the evidence of your breakdown. “I’m fine, Master,” you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

Obi-Wan didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he moved closer, lowering himself onto the stone bench beside you. The silence stretched, his presence steady but unyielding.

“You’re not fine,” he said at last, his tone soft but resolute.

That broke something in you. “Of course I’m not fine!” you snapped, your voice trembling with the force of your emotions. “I keep screwing up, Master. Over and over again. No matter how hard I try, I always let someone down.”

Your fists clenched on your knees, your nails digging into your palms as you stared at the ground. “Do you know what they said?” you whispered, voice cracking. “They said I hesitated. That if I hadn’t—if I’d just been faster, stronger—people wouldn’t have died. And they’re right. I keep failing, and I don’t even know how to stop.”

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed, his expression shadowed with concern. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on your shoulder. “Padawan,” he began carefully, “you’re carrying the weight of this entire mission on your shoulders. That’s a burden no one should bear alone.”

“I have to bear it,” you shot back, your voice rising. “If I don’t, who will? I’m supposed to be a Jedi, aren’t I? We’re supposed to protect people—keep them safe. But I keep failing. How can I call myself a Jedi when I can’t even do that?”

Your words hung in the air, raw and bitter. For a long moment, Obi-Wan said nothing. Then he spoke, his voice low and heavy with memory.

“There was a time,” he said slowly, “when I stood where you are now. When I thought every failure was a sign of my inadequacy, a mark of my weakness. I believed I had to be perfect. That anything less meant I wasn’t worthy of being a Jedi.”

You looked up at him then, startled by the vulnerability in his voice. His gaze was distant, as if he were seeing ghosts.

“But perfection,” he continued, “is an illusion. One that will destroy you if you let it. The galaxy is cruel, Padawan. You can do everything right, and still, it won’t be enough. You can’t save everyone. And that… is not your fault.”

Your chest tightened, his words both a comfort and a knife. “It feels like my fault,” you whispered.

Obi-Wan’s hand tightened gently on your shoulder, grounding you. “That is the burden of compassion,” he said. “We carry the weight of others’ pain because we care. But if you let it consume you, it will drown you. You must learn to let go—not of your care, but of the guilt that comes with it. We live. We let go. And we learn.”

Tears burned in your eyes, and you let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “Because I believe in you. Even when you doubt yourself, I will never doubt the strength I see in you. But that strength doesn’t mean never failing. It means standing back up, no matter how many times you fall.”

His words cracked something open in you, the floodgates breaking as the tears spilled freely. Obi-Wan didn’t move away. He stayed beside you, his presence a steady anchor as you let yourself feel the weight of your grief and frustration.

When the tears finally slowed, you turned to him, your voice hoarse. “What if I mess up again?”

“You will,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We all do. But you’ll rise again. And when you do, you’ll be stronger for it.”

You nodded slowly, his words a lifeline you clung to. The weight on your chest wasn’t gone, but it was lighter now. Manageable.

“Thank you, Master,” you murmured.

Obi-Wan rose, offering you a hand. “Come now, Padawan. There’s much to do, and tomorrow is another chance to grow.”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. And for the first time, you felt like you could keep going.

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."

Tides of Tension

Māui-tikitiki-a-Taranga x Reader (ft. Jealous!Moana)

Fluff, angst

Inspired by a comment by: @eragon-and-arya98 on part one of this story called Tides of Change.

Summary: As Maui, Moana, and a reluctant eel guardian journey together, an unexpected bond forms… but jealousy and unspoken feelings threaten to tear them apart.

Story under the cut

The mist thickened again, swirling around us like a web of secrecy. I stood at the edge of the boat, my gaze fixed on the water, trying to ignore the way Maui kept glancing over at me. I wasn’t sure if it was the dim light, or something about his grin, but there was something in his eyes today. Something softer than before.

The boat rocked under us, and I shifted my weight, feeling the current pull against the hull. Moana, still gripping the oar with her usual focus, glanced between Maui and me. She raised an eyebrow, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You alright there?” Moana asked, her tone casual but with an edge. It wasn’t hard to tell that she was watching us more than she needed to.

Maui gave a lazy shrug, turning his back to her. “Yeah, just… you know, taking in the view.”

I stiffened, but it wasn’t the insult that bothered me—it was the way he said it, the way he looked at me as if there was something more. Something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

Moana’s eyes flickered to me, her gaze sharper now. Her lips parted, and I saw the muscles in her jaw tighten. She was pissed.

“You’re not… flirting with her, are you?” she shot out, her voice too casual for the sharpness in it.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Moana.” I turned my attention to the water, trying to ignore the unease stirring in my chest. The last thing I needed was more drama.

But then Maui’s voice broke through the silence, his tone a little too light. “Relax, Curly, I’m not flirting.” He grinned at me, and this time, it didn’t feel like a joke, it felt like something else, something I couldn’t quite place.

Moana’s glare hardened, and I saw her grip the oar a little too tightly. The tension in the air thickened, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. All I could think about was the way Maui had looked at me just now. The way his eyes seemed to linger longer than necessary.

I wanted to hate him. Really, I did. He had that smug, overconfident air about him that should’ve made him unbearable. But every time he looked at me— every time he brushed past me with that cocky grin or leaned just a little too close… it did something to me that I couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t love. Of course not. I wasn’t naïve. But something in me stirred, something I’d buried deep for so long.

I didn’t know what it was, but I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Moana shifted her weight, the frustration practically radiating off her as she glanced between us again. “Maui, stop. I can tell when you’re trying to make things awkward,” she muttered.

Maui just raised an eyebrow, unbothered by the tension. “What? You don’t like my charm?”

I couldn’t help the slight smirk that pulled at my lips. “I don’t think anyone could like that charm.” My voice was sharp, but there was a hint of amusement that I wasn’t ready to admit to.

He chuckled, leaning back casually. “Fair enough, Legs. But don’t worry—I’m just here for the ride.”

The boat swayed again, and I found myself stepping a little closer to steady myself. Maui didn’t move, but his proximity was undeniable. The air between us shifted once more, and it was suddenly hard to breathe.

For a second, I thought I might have imagined it, but then I felt the warmth of his hand brush against mine as he reached for the oar.

I stiffened, eyes flicking to his face. He was still grinning, but there was something else behind it now—something that didn’t belong in the quiet tension of the boat.

“You okay?” Maui asked quietly, his voice lower than before. His thumb grazed my hand, and I had to force myself to breathe normally.

I nodded, swallowing the sudden dryness in my throat. “I’m fine,” I muttered, not trusting myself to say more.

Moana, on the other hand, had had enough. “I don’t get it,” she spat, her words sharp enough to cut through the fog. “You’re not… seriously flirting with her, right? I thought we were past that, Maui.”

Maui paused, and for the first time, I saw something flicker in his eyes. It wasn’t his usual teasing, cocky expression—it was something more. “What if I am?” he asked, his voice quiet and uncertain for the first time.

I felt my heart skip a beat, but I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. Instead, I turned away, my gaze returning to the mist ahead, trying to keep my composure.

Moana’s voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again. “You’re really going to mess with her, aren’t you?”

Maui didn’t answer right away, but his expression softened as he watched me, and I saw the faintest hint of something like regret flicker across his face.

But it didn’t last. Instead, he grinned again, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug. “You know me. I like a good challenge.”

And with that, I felt it—my resolve weakening. Because no matter how much I wanted to pretend I didn’t care, I knew that this… this thing between us was far from over.

Moana glared at him, but her gaze flicked to me for a moment, her expression unreadable.

I couldn’t tell if she was more jealous, or if she was just worried. Maybe both.

But I didn’t care. Not anymore.

Perhaps… I was finally done pretending.

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.