#TMR

[that-tmr-girl]

Frustrated

After a long and pointless day running, you take it out on Thomas until he cries.

Soft dom reader, hand job, blow job, vaginal sex, slight overstimulation, praise kink

We were both runners so it was kind of obvious that we were close. We had to spend a lot of time together. I had trained him myself, showing him everything he had to do.

I think that probably played into our relationship dynamic. Neither of us expected to even be together, much less me being so . . . in charge of him, but nevertheless, too much to drink and a sloppy kiss led to some confessions and an awful hangover the next morning.

Still, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I would have a thousand hangovers if it meant I got to be with him.

Side by side, we were comparing our notes. It was just a normal ending to the day. As disappointing as it can be, every page is another way out. The work we’ve done is right here, something that will save us all one day.

That day is not today though.

“Same old same old,”I sighed.

“Unfortunately,”He mumbled.

I feel a lot of things when it's like this. Upset, frustrated, sad, angry.

Willing to take my feelings out any way I can.

Staring at him, I found myself entranced by his features, his tousled hair, bright brown eyes, soft pink lips. All of it.

I love what's under his clothes just as much.

Grabbing his shirt, I pushed him against the wall, smashing my lips against his. He froze in surprise for a moment before wrapping his arms around my waist, kissing me back. Placing a hand behind his head, I forced my tongue past his lips as I reached for his clothed dick, palming him.

“Fuck, Y/N,”He moaned as I pulled away.

“What's wrong?”I taunted.

“I need you,”He breathed out.

“Yeah? You need me?”

“Yes.”

“You going to do what I tell you?”

“Yes,”He eagerly nodded.

“Take your pants off.”

He did as was instructed, struggling with the zipper for a moment before unbuttoning them, letting them fall around his ankles. The outline of his hard on was already obvious through his boxers, something that made him blush.

“Shirt too.”

He tugged it over his head, throwing it on the floor. Scanning his muscular figure, I bit my lip before getting on my knees, pulling the last of his clothes off. Grabbing his cock, I looked at him as I lightly licked his tip, working him up even more. Squirming against the wall, his hands balled into fists of anticipation.

Pursing my lips around him, I took him halfway in my mouth, slowly trailing my tongue along him. Letting out an antsy groan, he thrusts his hips into me, his head thrown back already.

With my mouth open as wide as possible, I pushed the rest of him into me, his tip touching the back of my throat, before pulling off him again, my spit shiny on his dick. Grabbing him in my hands, I started pumping him from tip to base, watching his face screw up with pleasure. Increasing my pace, I felt him already twitch in my hands, his precum falling from his tip. Grabbing his balls, I played with them while still pumping him.

Throwing his head back, he pushed himself into my hand as he came. It felt good. Getting that out.

I’m still pissed though, and he still will let me keep going.

Standing up, I pulled my clothes off, being quicker than I am in the maze. As he looked at me, I grabbed his shoulders, pushing him to the floor. As he let out a small sound, I positioned myself over his dick before sliding down making us both moan.

He looks good. He looks so damn good as he bites his lip while I fuck him.

Pinning him down by his shoulders, I kept rocking myself against him, my nails digging into him. He whimpered as he threw his head back, twitching inside of me.

“Yeah? You gonna cum? You gonna fucking cum as I take you on the floor?”I taunted, feeling the knot in my core as I clenched around him.

“Yes. Yes,”He breathed out.

“I know. I can tell. I can-oh god,”I moaned as I grew wetter. Throwing my head back, I let myself moan his name as I kept bouncing on him, getting closer and closer. He moaned louder, his back arching as he twitched again, making my eyes roll to the back of my head. Breathing heavily, I let out a quiet groan as I released, the familiar pressure that I adored.

The opposite of Thomas having to cover his mouth so he wouldn't scream.

Not giving him time to recover, I got off him, only to force him up. As his legs shook, I got back on my knees and took all of him in my mouth, moaning as he filled my cheeks. He groaned as he leaned against the table, his hips already thrusting into me.

Pushing myself to his base, I just kept my tongue on the underside of his cock as I started humming. Looking up, I watched his eyes clench shut as his precum filled my mouth. Feeling my gaze, he looked down while I swirling my tongue around him. His eyes widened in excited surprise before he finished. Keeping my lips there, I swallowed his liquids. All. Of. Them.

“Thank you. Thank you,”He panted.

I can believe he thought I was done.

Bobbing my head, I pushed his dick in and out of my mouth, pursing my lips around him. Throwing his head back, he shut his eyes as he repeated my name, his legs starting to shake. I would feel bad if he didn't like this. If he wasn't always begging me to take him.

Bobbing my head faster, I made sure my tongue was all around him, feeling his veiny cock. He gasped as he twitched inside my mouth, already close again. Continuing my pace, I kept sucking him, taking him in my mouth until he broke, cumming all over my mouth.

As I stood up, I saw him panting as tears threatened to spill. Aww. My baby.

Grabbing his face, I gently held it before kissing his temple. He let out a sigh of relief as he pressed his forehead against mine, trying to even his breathing.

“You can take one more round. Right?”I cooed, lightly running my hands through his hair. Not answering, he just groaned as he rested his head on my shoulder. “Hm? Are you okay, baby?”I hummed, trailing my hands down his neck.

“Yes,”He breathed out.

“Yeah? You want to be fucked again?”I teased.

“Please? Please?”

“There. I knew my good boy would,”I praised, firmly cupping his cheeks to place a loving kiss to his lips. Wrapping his arms around me, he trailed his tongue along my bottom lip, requesting entrance. Knowing he deserved it, I opened my mouth, letting him press his tongue against mine. Moaning against my lips, he stumbled a little, pushing my back against the wall.

“You were more ready than I thought, huh?”I grinned, tilting his chin down so he had to look at me. His face flushed as he sheepishly nodded. “I want you to take me against the wall. Okay?”

“Okay,”He breathed out.

Grabbing his hands, I locked our fingers together as I forced them behind me. Dropping his head, he nudged into me, making me moan. When he was all the way inside, he pulled out only to slam back in, crying out a little at the pleasure.

“Yeah? Feels that good?”I moaned, throwing my head back as I tightened my grip on his hands. He couldn't answer, too busy whimpering as he kept thrusting in and out, his breathing barely existent as tears started spilling down his cheeks, his cock already throbbing inside of me.

Fuck, he looks good like that. So, so good.

Moaning louder, I wrapped my arms around him, digging my nails into his back. He let out a small sound as he kept going, his breathing more and more ragged.

“Good job, baby. Good job,”I praised as I grew closer and closer. His thrust got sloppier, his hands desperately holding me as I dragged mine down his back, scratching it. As he twitched inside of me, he threw his head back, showing his cheeks wet with tears. Tears because the sex feels that damn good.

Closing my eyes, I moaned as I finished, spilling down my thighs. Not that I got a proper sense of relief as he kept going, about to reach his breaking point again. Not that I minded as he kept slamming into my wet cunt. After all he had given, all he had to take, he earned it.

“Fi-finish. Look-fuck-look good while you finish,”I panted, my legs getting more and more sore.

Burying his face in my chest, he whimpered as he exploded inside of me, filling me with his warm liquids. Panting, he stayed there, needing a minute to adjust as his tears slowed down.

You know what? I feel better already.

[madieflaw]

*in the maze*

Thomas: maybe we should hold hands?

Newt:

Thomas: uh for safety

Newt: you’re right

[for-my-reasons]

this felt right

[waste-land-babey]

MONTHLY INSTALLMENT!!!!!! READ ALL ABOUT IT!!!!!!!!

[ssseashell]

tmr characters texting pt. 5 (i think) 🎊

[agneslovestheinternet-blog]

FUCK YOU, don't leave me

Part Five: Thin Line THE FINAL PART (Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four)

Gally x Fem!Reader

There is a paper thin line between love and hate. You and Gally have been using that line as a proverbial jump rope for multiple passion-filled weeks. In the wake of your last argument with him, you both are pulled further towards the affectionate side of said line, much to both of your protests. 

Genre: enemies to lovers, light angst, smut scenes sprinkled throughout

Word Count: 6K Read Time:

Warnings & Info: movie version, arguing, lowk angry sex, betrayal??????

Author’s Note: IT’S DONE!!! Oh my god this has been so fun to write. I had no idea what this series was going to turn into when I started it and it has been a JOURNEY. Thanks to everyone who left a kind comment, reblog, or heart; y’all truly motivated me to keep going when I felt like giving up due to writer’s block lol. Thanks for everything and stay tuned for my next upcoming fics! I’ve got a new, super duper Hurt/No Comfort Teen Wolf series I’m dropping soon and a Maze Runner one shot that’s lowkey a crackfic???? Maybe??? So hope you enjoy those!

<----------------->

Day 37

Gally feels as though a large rock has been dropped straight into his chest cavity. He wasn’t aware that emotional pain could manifest physically until this moment. He wonders how long he can lay here until his crew or his friends come knocking, starting up another slew of well-meaning questions that he might not be able to answer without bursting into tears again.

Fuck, I’m so pathetic. All those months spent preaching about how Glade girls are a distraction and here he is, letting his heart get practically ripped open by one. I’m so stupid. He pulls himself up to a sitting position, almost wincing in pain at the movement. She just wanted to fuck you, why’d you have to ruin it? He pulls his clothes on slowly, his limbs feeling significantly heavier today than any other day.

Day 39

You shouldn’t miss him. You know you don’t have any right to anxiously search for his face across The Glade. But every time you do catch a glimpse of his broad figure, doing manual labor under the hot sun or his bright blue eyes, crinkling with laughter while talking with his friends, or his calloused hands, holding a backhoe as he helps out in the garden, you feel like all of the breath has been sucked from your lungs in one fell swoop.

Despite the torture of your access being cut off from him, you still haven’t even begun to understand your feelings for him. Or how they had managed to blossom despite the thick layer of hatred you had fought hard to smother them with. 

Or maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe the hate wasn’t covering up the mushy feelings, but mixing themselves in, like an emotionally taxing cake batter. Love and hate coexisting within your frame drew you like a magnet towards Gally. Whether fighting or, (to put it indelicately), fucking, there’s something within you both that ignites everytime you two are near each other. You hope that that flame hasn’t been extinguished indefinitely.

Day 40

Gally opened his eyes this morning. He thought of you. He closed his eyes late tonight. He thought of you. His dreams aren’t even an escape, as you’ve become the only subject in them. They’re not sexual, like they were before you two hooked up for the first time. They’re embarrassingly soft.

You, nestling against his body in his bed. Your laugh, just ringing on repeat. You, patching up an injury of his in the Med-hut, smiling gently at him the whole time. You, holding his hand under the table in the dining hall as you eat. But the most captivating one by far is the one where your face slowly comes into focus out of a white void. You smile at him for a moment, then speak; “Gally…I love-

He awakens with a start, his bleary eyes wildly searching his darkened hut for anything that will bring him back to reality. When he finally does come to his senses, the ache in his chest starts afresh, fueled by your imaginary confession.

Day 41

“I don’t mean to pry. Just, checking in, I guess,” Thomas had whispered over breakfast this morning.

“You good?” Zart had asked with an uncharacteristically concerned look on his face this afternoon. 

“Seriously, if there’s something going on; you can tell me. I’m here for you, mate” Newt had stated softly this evening, before quickly leaving Gally to eat his dinner alone, as he could tell the Builder wasn’t in the mood for company.

Each display of concern had tightened Gally’s chest and made the air dissipate his lungs for just a moment. Each question sent a kaleidoscope of memories of you spinning through his head. He doesn’t know how to answer them; he doesn’t even know how to answer himself. Racing questions of love and feelings and hatred and lust have been swirling in his head since the moment he sent you away that night. He can’t seem to separate what he’s been telling himself to feel and what he actually feels. And would it even matter if he could?

If he could figure out how he felt about you, would it change the way you saw him?

Day 42

You watch Minho jog confidently back into The Glade after another evidently successful day of dodging death in the Maze. The setting sun casts a romantic backdrop behind him and you admire the swiftness of his gait, the angle of his jawline, the veins bulging in his hands and the way all of those things are getting closer to you as you’ve begun walking towards him as though entranced.

“Hey Minho,” you call out when you’re several paces away from him and he looks up with a smile.

“Hey Y/N; how was your day?” he asks, quickly breaking from the group of his friends forming around him in favor of walking in step with you.

“Fine. Listen; do you wanna go out with me?” you blurt out, surprising yourself with the question as much as him. 

Minho blushes and shock causes the smile to fall from his face unceremoniously. His mouth feels dry all of the sudden and he has a hard time hearing his own response over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

“Um…yeah? Are you-are you asking me out?” he croaks out quietly, feeling as though this moment might just be too good to be true.

“Yeah…” you nod, as if pondering the question yourself. “Yeah I am,” You’re not quite sure why this is the coping mechanism you’ve decided to employ, but you once heard Ariana mutter a crude phrase to Gia when she got left high and dry by a Builder and you’ve always wondered if it’s true; “The best way to get over one guy is to get under another,”

Day 43

Gally was usually in bed at this hour, but he realized he left his jacket sitting on a pile of lumber at the construction site and it was almost certainly going to rain tonight. So he dragged himself out of bed to go and get it and that’s when he heard the telltale pitch of your voice cut through the otherwise silent Glade.

“Minho…” your muffled moan rings out clearly, in a tone of voice Gally is all too familiar with. It’s coming from the Keeper of the Runner’s hut and the soft grunts and garbled compliments in the lower voice that accompanies yours, are no doubt coming from him.

Gally stops dead in his tracks, the cool breeze of night whistling the tall grass around him. The bitter drip of betrayal floods his veins like a deadly poison that effectively stops his heart for a moment. He should be furious, as that’s his time-tested reaction to almost any wrongdoing done to him. He’s territorial and aggressive and certainly not above ripping Minho’s door off its hinges and confronting the both of you for this unexpected menage a trois. He doesn’t, though, as he can’t bring himself to move, let alone cause substantial property damage.

He stands motionless in the field, his jacket balled up in a two-handed, white-knuckle grip, and he waits for the familiar heat of his anger to rush to his temples. But it doesn’t go there. Or to his fists, to prepare him to punch. Instead, it pools gently behind his eye sockets, squeezing his tear ducts until hot tears are streaming down his face for the second time this week.

Gally lets the humiliation wash over him like a gentle wave. He’s used to pushing away feelings like these, trying to remain strong no matter what obstacle he’s faced with. But right now, his resolve weakens and crumbles, like an eroding sand castle. He lets the tears fall without protest and the pain in his chest spreads outward until every fiber of his body seems to ache slowly for you.

Only for a minute though. Just a few moments of weakness. Of letting himself be a boy with a broken heart and nothing more. And then that minute passes. He wipes his tears, he starts back towards his hut, he forces his body to move from its leaden stupor.

It isn’t until he’s laying in his bed several minutes later that the anger finally starts to replace the pain. He comes back to himself, letting his fury cover up the sadness beneath it like the sun eclipsing the moon.

Day 44

The med-hut can often feel like a thatched-roof prison, but today it seems to be the opposite. It is a fortress, shielding you from the litany of awkward encounters that might occur, should you step outside of its boundaries. You move through your to-do list of mundane tasks, your hands completing them easily as your mind wanders elsewhere. 

As you restock the supply closet, it plays the memories of your spontaneous tryst with Minho last night as clear as if you were watching a recording of them. The sound of his gruff voice, the sight of his shoulders glistening with sweat above you, the feeling of his body colliding with yours over and over; these images dance intoxicatingly on your consciousness. You tried to keep your mind on the Runner for most of the morning, thinking of how easily your conversations with him went, how he just seemed to fit into your life without you needing to move anything around to accommodate the space he takes up. 

It also helps that he’s clearly very into you, and probably has been for a while. But no matter how many pros you could come up with for Minho, there was always one, glaring con burning in the back of your mind.

He’s not Gally.

Which is a ridiculous thought because Gally is an infuriatingly difficult person to be around, let alone pursue romantically . He’s an arrogant asshole most of the time. He’s exceedingly angry and decided to hate you the moment he met you. He called you a slut in front of everyone. He’s coarse and prickly and generally unhelpful. He’s nothing like Minho, with his heart on his sleeve and a helpful attitude.

Having sex with Minho felt like what you assumed sex should feel like before you had it; good, but slightly awkward and then over entirely too soon. But sex with Gally felt like something almost indescribable. When he’s with you, he doesn’t just make the world seem better; he makes it melt away entirely. There’s a passion that sizzles beneath every encounter like two live wires intersecting. 

It can’t be replicated with anyone else. So as sweet as you knew the Runner would be to you, something tells you that you’d never be fully satisfied with him. The Builder is the only option for you.

Day 45

Gally moves through the slow-moving dinner line as if in a daze. Once his plate is full, he scans the dinner hall for the emptiest table he can find, until he catches a glimpse of his friends, animatedly talking at a table in the direct center of the room. He feels a pang of guilt reverberate through his chest as it dawns on him that he’s been essentially ignoring them for days now.

As he walks over to their table, he starts to pick up on bits and pieces of their conversation and it becomes increasingly clear that his original path was the correct one to take.

“...believe you got lucky, you dog,” Zart hisses, barely concealing his jealousy. Minho grins knowingly.

“I know. And she’s…” he trails off and widens his eyes, “good,”

“Like she’s done it before?” Newt asks with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah. But who could she-” Minho starts but his sentence is cut through with a barking order, courtesy of Gally.

“Are you talking about Y/N?” He’s standing with his feet spread apart, his dinner tray in one hand, the other balled into a fist. He looks like he’s ready for a fight, and Minho’s never seen that stance directed towards him. The Runner feels his heart rate spike and the heat drain from his cheeks as he struggles to come up with an answer.

“Gally…I ...yes but-,” Minho manages to stammer out but it doesn’t seem to matter much. Gally swiftly pivots on his heel and storms out of the hall in a huff, resigning to eat his dinner in livid silence in the comfort of his own hut.

“What the hell was that?” Zart blurts out as soon as Gally is out of earshot.

“Why’s he so angry?” Thomas asks genuinely.

“I thought you said Y/N and him made up,” Newt says earnestly, searching Minho’s face for answers.

“I thought they did,” Minho whispers quietly, trying to keep the shiver of fear from creeping down his back. He finally gets with you and now Gally’s going to kill him? Great.

“Guess they didn’t,” Zart shrugs, “You might as well start planning your funeral now, Minho,”

Day 46

You had almost jumped out of your skin when Gally had leaned in close and told you to meet him in his hut at nine. He’d said it in your ear as he passed you to get into the meeting room for one of Alby’s “town hall” meetings, as he called them. Just as quickly as he had gotten next to you, he had disappeared to the other side of the room, and had seemed determined to avoid your eye contact for the entire meeting.

You had half a mind to think that this might be some kind of cruel joke as you walked obediently to his abode as soon as it hit nine. But it didn’t matter. You wanted to see him so badly you didn’t care how this could end.

You slink through his door in your familiar way and stand to face him. His expression is unreadable and his body is tense. There’s a strange energy in this room that you haven’t felt all the other times you’ve been here. You open your mouth to greet him but he cuts you off with a coarse command.

“Get on your knees,” It’s not an aggressive statement, just firm. You’re taken aback by his directness, but then become intrigued as a smile pulls at your lips.

“Is that any way to talk to me?” you tease. Gally stiffens and holds firm.

“It’s a fine way to talk to you. Do it,” he repeats in the same monotone.

You comply wordlessly and he makes his way over to you, undoing his belt as he walks. He stands in front of you and lets you do all the work of pulling down his pants, then his boxers, then taking his hard cock in your hands and eventually, your mouth.

He lets his head lull back and his hands find a firm grip in your hair as he tries to lose himself in the pleasure of your tongue swirling around his tip. He tugs on your strands sharply, extracting a strained whimper from that Gally tries to ignore. Everytime he gets close to his mind going blank, a worry manages to slip through the cracks. 

Did she do this for Minho? When they…was he better than me? Did she miss me? Like, at all? Did I miss her? Do I love her? And if I do, what the hell am I doing treating her like this? 

Though you’re growing wetter by the second and determined to make your companion feel good, your mind is far from at ease as well. Guilt rattles your chest at the memory of your tryst with Minho that failed to smother your feelings for the Builder then anger at said Builde’s forcefulness replaces it then a deep pining overtakes that feeling and then your brain finally circles back around to raw sexual attraction.

Both parties can feel that the other is in vacillation between an array of conflicting emotions and it reads plainly in your body language. Gally’s hips are taught and his breathing is shallow and your hands are gripping the backs of his thighs with desperation, as if terrified he might walk away at any moment.

The sexual encounter continues robotically, as if you two are just carrying out a complicated program of instructions given to you by software developers. Clothes come off, lips meet, hands travel downwards, cores pulse with heat but the spark is dead and buried

Gally’s eyes laze out of focus as his hips thrust themselves into you. Your soft moans and the sounds of skin chafing against each other fills the warm air in his hut. He can feel the emergence of an orgasm unraveling his core and pants with pleasure as he plunges deeper inside you, but neither sensation can stifle the mounting dread he feels.

He then ceases his movement abruptly, causing your mind to reel from the sudden lack of friction.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he mutters softly, more trying to convince himself than you.

“What?” you murmur breathlessly, pulling your neck upwards to look him in the eyes.

“I said I don’t want to do this anymore,” he repeats louder, still not meeting your eye line. He pulls out of you and gets off the bed, leaving you in place.

“Wait…what? Gally what the hell are you talking about?” you accuse, pulling your once aroused body up into a sitting position.

“This was a mistake. I never should’ve invited you here. Get dressed,” he rasps, aggression growing in his tone. You scoff with indignation but follow his instructions.

“I’m sorry, what about this was a mistake?” your voice queries, venom filling your tone, “Starting this in the first place or ignoring me for like, two weeks and then suddenly inviting me back?” you continue, your hands fumbling for your underwear as Gally pulls his on in front of you. His back is still towards you, conveying a level of coldness that plants an ache deep in your chest.

“Does it fucking matter Y/N?! I don’t wanna do this, can you please just leave?” he snaps angrily, wheeling around to face you as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“Yes it does fucking matter! Why is your first fucking instinct always to tell me to leave?! We never talked about what happened two weeks ago and now you just wanna avoid discussing whatever the hell is happening now?” your voice rises to a screech as you clip your bra together in the front and spin it around so it’s on correctly.

“What’s there to discuss? If I send you away now you’ll probably just jump on Minho’s dick again so what’s the issue?!” he bellows, stepping closer to you and abandoning all attempts at dressing further. You recoil in shock, a sharp inhale piercing your lungs.

“How the fuck did you know that?” you question desperately, all vitriol lost to bewilderment.

“I heard you, shank. You weren’t exactly being quiet,” Gally mentions, his voice staying cold as ice while his heart burns at the memory of your betrayal.

“You’re fucking insane! Are you jealous of Minho?” you rant, feeling the distance between your words and your feelings grow larger with each passing remark.

“No, I’m not jealous!” Gally snaps, the lie almost burning his throat on its way to his lips, “I just didn’t sign up to fuck a girl that gets passed around to every guy in the Glade!” he yanks the door to his hut open, jabbing the air violently with the back of his hand, clearly motioning for you to leave.

“‘Passed around’?? I have sex with two guys, one of which is a massive prick,” you shoot an acidic glare into Gally’s steely blue eyes as you stomp towards his position at the open door, “and that counts as being ‘passed around’?”

“Well it does count as something that I don’t want to deal with; can you please just fucking leave?!” Gally snaps, his patience running thin, all positive emotions now buried under the burning hatred for you that simmers underneath his skin.

“NO!” you snap, crossing your arms and planting yourself firmly in place in front of the open door. If you two keep yelling like this in your underwear, eventually someone will hear and come over. But you can’t bring yourself to muster anything but apathy for that prospect.

“What do you mean no?!” Gally scoffs, releasing his hold on the door with his right hand and now assuming a defensive stance in front of you, his shoulders rolled back and chest puffed out.

“I mean; no,” you repeat, instinctively taking a step backwards. You are officially out of his hut, meaning you are standing in the grass wearing nothing but your bra and underwear. “I am so sick of all this back and forth, Gally. First I’m a slut, then I’m the girl you lost your virginity to, then you cry in front of me for whatever fucking reason, we stop talking, you invite me back, now I’m a slut again?? Your opinion on me flip flops like, every other day. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? What the fuck is this? Why are we even doing this at all??” you rant, slightly stumbling over your own feet as the Builder keeps advancing menacingly towards you.

“We did this because we got drunk and horny one night; you’re the one trying to put words in my mouth and make this something it’s not. And I’m sorry I don’t lie down and worship the ground you walk on! If that’s something you want, princess,” he spits the nickname at you like a slur, “then why don’t you just find Minho?” Your voices ring through the clear night like alarm bells and you both can hear footsteps approaching from afar.

“Gally you are so full of shit. I see the way you look at me,” you snarl and the Builder’s face goes white, “If you want to lie to your friends or yourself then go right ahead but you can’t lie to me!”

“Oh, and you aren’t obsessed with me too?” Gally retorts and now it’s your turn to be taken aback with shock, “‘Gally, you’re so smart and strong. Gally I’m glad I can do this for you’,” he mocks in a high-pitched voice.

“I’m not obsessed with you!” you lie, “If you’re actually stupid enough to believe shit I said when you were fucking me than you’re even dumber than you look! But don’t worry, it won’t happen again, because I never wanna-” you step gradually closer to him, your nostrils flaring and eyes glinting as you round out your raving with a pointed finger in his face. Your sentence is abruptly cut off by the bark of your leader’s unmistakably furious voice.

“Stop! What the hell is this about?” Alby demands, taking both you and Gally by surprise, as he rarely swears. You turn your barely-clothed bodies towards him and begin explaining your side of the conflict in blustering detail, your words climbing and clamoring over each other. Alby holds up a palm that sends a hush through the both of you.

“Alright, alright!” he yells to be heard over the raucous explanations you two are providing, “Y/N where are your clothes?” he asks sharply, carefully keeping his eyes focused on your face as you jab a finger in the direction of Gally’s hut. “Go get dressed, now. Gally stay right here,” he orders and you comply instantly, the hot blush in your cheeks dissipating slightly when you reach the hut’s door.

You dress quickly and exit the abode, awaiting your leader’s punishment.

“Gally, Y/N; get to bed, now,” Alby instructs, shoving the Builder’s shoulder in the direction of his hut, “And the rest of you,” he snarls, spinning to address the growing crowd of sniggering boys gathered around this altercation, “If I hear a word of this discussed or spread around tomorrow, you’ll be without dinner for a week!” 

The crowd disperses with a jolt, their leader’s uncharacteristic anger necessitating a quick escape. You steal one last look at Gally before turning to walk away. His face is hardened and angry, but his eyes are welled with tears. He stalks back to his hut and slams the door so loud it shakes the whole building. 

Day 47

“You guys must think I’m really stupid,” you confess shyly, keeping your eyes focused on the rug on the ground. Your friends sit around you in a semicircle. They had hung on to your every word as you clumsily recounted everything that happened between you and Gally in the last two months.

“You’re not stupid,” Gia reassures, placing her hand on your knee and rubbing gently.

“You can’t pick who you fall for, you know” the newest member of your girl group, Erica, pipes up earnestly.

“Yeah, but I can pick what to do about it,” you fidget with your hands and try to steady your tone, “Or what not to do about it,”

“I mean, he’s kind of obsessed with you Y/N,” Lireale responds and you feel your face flush uncontrollably.

“Yeah, I mean he’s always talking about you,” Ariana pipes up, and the rest of the group nods.

“Yeah but it’s more like complaining about me,” you counter unconvincingly.

“Still obsessed with you,” Lireale repeats, “I mean that’s gotta count for something,”

“So I should pursue him because he has an unhealthy attachment to me?” you ask, your forehead wrinkling in confusion. 

“No, you should pursue him because you like him. You tried to distract yourself with Minho and that was a flaming disaster. There’s no other way out of this than through it; you’ve gotta tell him how you feel,” Erica rattles off confidently. The rest of the group turns to face her with stunned expressions that turn into concurring nods in a matter of seconds.

No other way out than through it.

Day 48

The water rushes from the crudely-constructed spigot at a nearly boiling temperature. Gally drops his towel and enters the warm stream, feeling his tense muscles relax under the constant water pressure. He goes through the routine of cleaning himself from head to toe, but when he finishes, he doesn’t move. He just lets the water fall as he attempts to unravel the knots that have formed in his mind over these past few days.

He’s pretty sure that he’s in love with you. 

He’s tried to come up with other explanations for his attraction to you and his want to see you, despite how much you hurt him by getting with Minho and how angry you made him for arguing with him the other night. But there isn’t another one at this point. He’s drawn to you in a way he’s never been to another person. Your laugh, your smile, your sarcastic insults, your nagging jabs, your body, all of it acts as a magnetic pulse that just keeps pulling him back to you, no matter how much he digs his heels in and refuses to budge; he always pulls back towards you.

Day 49

It might not have been the best idea to come clean to Alby. Gally had felt uncomfortable at his own vulnerability the whole time, though he found that once he started talking about you, he couldn’t stop. The Leader had been pleasantly surprised at the Builder’s willingness to open up, and listened intently, nodding along wordlessly through the whole thing.

“What do you think I should do?,” Gally mutters sheepishly once he finishes his tale.

“What do you think you should do?” Alby repeats with a wan expression on his face. 

“I don’t know…I feel like I’m going crazy,” the Builder replies, dropping his head in exasperation.

“I’ve been told love can feel like that,” the Leader responds evenly. Gallys head snaps up to meet his eye contact at the particularly terrifying word.

“I’m not in love with her,” the Builder snaps defensively. He’s not sure he means it, but he still didn’t want to hear someone else tell him that.

Alby shows his palms in an act of surrender. “All I’m saying is that you’ve always been very passionate about her. At first it was with hatred, now it’s with the opposite. There’s a very thin line between love and hate and you and Y/N have been walking that line since the day you met. I think it’s only natural that something like this would develop,” the Leader recites matter-of-factly. Gally’s mind begins replaying all of his memories of you in a new light and he realizes with horror that his leader is right.

Whether with hatred or affection, Gally has never felt more strongly about anyone else.

“So…I should tell her?” he asks nervously, feeling that he already knows what Alby’s answer will be.

“I don’t think you could go on if you didn’t,” the Leader states bluntly. “And that kind of passion doesn’t come around very often. I think if anyone feels like that about another person, it’s worth holding on tight to,”

Day 50

“Can we talk?” Gally asks sheepishly, keeping his blue eyes focused on yours instead of the slightly terrified looks on Clint and Jeff’s faces. 

You take in his nervous frame in the doorway of the medhut, too intrigued to say no. You set down the log book and move to leave without consulting your coworkers.

“Sure,” you say with a nod, trying to arrange your features into a neutral expression.

The walk from the med-hut’s doors to the site of your first rendezvous with Gally occurs in abject silence. Two sets of work boots navigate the woodland path as easily as the breathing two sets of lungs perform, unperforated by words.

Gally reaches the clearing he was aiming for and stands with his back towards you, fidgeting with his hands as his heart rate increases. You cock your head to the side slightly, waiting patiently for his clumsy monologue to begin. 

“Y/N, I-,” he starts, and turns to face you, not taking his eyes off of his rapidly moving fingers, “I’m only gonna say this once and then you can think whatever you want about it and-and if it doesn’t go well then…” he trails off, a slight quiver warbling his voice.

“I don’t think you need to say anything,” you interject boldly, and the Builder’s eyes meet yours.

“You…don’t? What about-” he goes to ask about the fiery argument that occurred the last time you two were in each other’s presence.

“Well, I thought about it, and I think actions speak louder than words,” you explain evenly, stepping closer to him, “Your pupils are huge,” you remark with a chuckle and take his hand in yours, “your hands are…very sweaty,” you continue with a twinge of disgust and Gally’s face turns a deep shade of pink, “And,” you lean forward slightly, bringing your ear to his chest, “your heart is beating ridiculously fast,” you turn his hand palm out and place it on your own chest, “Mine is too by the way,” Gally smiles warmly and you return the gesture.

“So…you don’t think we need to talk about anything that happened?” Gally responds, his mouth dry as a deep yearning makes a home in his chest.

“Oh we definitely do,” you respond slyly, “I just don’t think you need to tell me how you feel about me…” you lean in closer, warmly placing your arms around his broad shoulders, “...because I already know,” 

Your lips brush his as you form those words and at your sentence’s conclusion, Gally pulls you in desperately, his lips connecting to yours with a proverbial smattering of sparks. He keeps his hands planted firmly on your waist, not wanting to let go for anything. The kiss is drawn out and passionate, with two sets of tongues dancing, not fighting for dominance. There’s no expectation for sex or bracing for argumentative comments.

You both just let it be what it is.

When you both finally pull away from the kiss, a blissful sigh escapes from your lips and Gally rests his forehead on yours.

“I don’t think you need to tell me how you feel either,” he adds with a smirk.

-Epilogue-

“That’s the gardens, where the Trackhoes plant all our food,” Newt points out, a lanky finger pointed in the direction of said Trackhoes, who sweat profusely under the midday sun, “That’s the main meeting hall and that,” he continues, pivoting his body to the side and pointing at a thatched-roof building, “is the Med-Hut. If you get sliced, tripped or poisoned, that’s where you’re going to want to go,”

The Greenie commits Newt’s words to memory, but his eyes are soon distracted by another sight; a girl, holding the door to the building open as several boys file past her with large boxes of supplies from The Box in their arms.

“Who’s that?” the Greenie asks, his gaze following your every movement. Newt chortles darkly, drinking in the newcomer's dopey appearance and relishing in the delight of the information he’s about to reveal.

“That is Y/N. She was just made Keeper of the Medjacks a few weeks ago. I wouldn’t stare though,” he grins.

“Why?” the boy asks with his eyes still transfixed. As if on cue, a gruff boy with a toolbelt set around his waist walks into the Greenie’s eyeline, delivering a swift peck to your cheek.

“That’s why,” Newt smiles, clapping a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “See that, is Gally. Keeper of the Builders, a nasty piece of work and Y/N’s boyfriend. If he ever catches you staring at her like that, you had better run or grab the nearest weapon,” the second-in-command advises, watching the Greenie’s face blush and his eyes dart quickly away.

You take your boyfriend’s hand and stroll leisurely towards the Box to pick up the next round of supplies.

“So how much of a fight do you think that new Greenie’s gonna put up tonight?” Gally asks with a mischievous smile, referencing his habit of challenging each new Glader to a fight on their first bonfire night. He only extends this invitation to the male Greenies, (obviously), so he’s been itching for new competition for two months.

“Oh god, go easy on him, baby,” you whine playfully, rolling your eyes.

“Why do you care about that shank?” he asks. 

If he hadn’t been reassured of your complete devotion to him so often, he might’ve had half a mind to be jealous. But the entire Glade is resolutely aware that you only have eyes for him. They’re also aware that Gally has hands for anyone, (besides himself), who dares to have eyes for you.

“I don’t,” you retort sharply, “It’s just that if you beat him to a pulp, I will be the one who has to put said pulp back together,” Gally laughs.

“You could just get Clint or Jeff to do it. Besides, there are worse things to happen at bonfire night, princess,” he smiles warmly, invoking his favorite pet name for you.

“Yeah, like stoking the fire with your elixir, huh?” you ask sarcastically, keeping your facial expression vague.

“Yes, that would definitely be worse,” he replies, his face going slightly pale as realization dawns, “You’re not actually gonna do that again, right?”

“I don’t know…the flames were really pretty…” you start with a smile.

“...Y/N, please, no,” your boyfriend pleads exasperatedly.

“...and Chuck said it looks really cool…you know I was too drunk to notice it last time…” you continue, reveling in your ability to raise Gally’s blood pressure with a joke.

“Yeah and I got burned! I still have scars on my arms,” he snaps, humor still coloring his outburst.

“I know,” you concede roguishly, “But come on, it’s not all bad. It got you this,” you reason, lifting your intertwined hands.

“That’s true, but once is enough,” he smiles, flaring his eyebrows upwards in shock, “Come on, Y/N, seriously don’t do that,” he replies, his tone settling back into sincerity. “No promises, Gally. I’m a bit of a loose cannon, so I’ve been told,” you jest, leaning in to kiss him gently on the cheek, “Just don’t stand so close this time,” you whisper in his ear.

<--------------->

Tag List: @gallyismylittlesilly @my-little-universes @cthood @katie-tibo @sarahstar11 @cxlt-lamb @hellokitty811 @alia0102 @honethatty12 @randallkirkland @strangunddurm @goldenfaced @coaquinbae @oak05

[makeittmr]

Newtmas fic recs pretty please

from the plethore of very good fics out there, i'll choose a few for now that i have bookmarked especially for revisiting them every once in a while.

• Of Liars and Lap Dances by songbvrd

- fake/pretend relationship!!

- fairly loser pathetic thomas (affectionately)

• Nicknames and Coffee Cups

- personally advocating for this cos it's that damn good.

- newtmas are employees. hatred to love trope.

• Belonging by tasteofdreams

- set in the maze runner au

- silly, cute, and FLUFF.

• Symbiosis: The Art of Relationships by acecereal

- fake/pretend relationship (again cos it's probably my fav trope)

- strangers to lovers.

• all we do is drive. by newtedison

- road trip au

- they're both so dumb and so in love.

alright that's it for now. hope this helps!

i am also accepting all your fic recs, so share them here <3333

[la-gotica-fantasma]

Rewatched The Maze Runner (the first one) and I just realized how high Thomas flew when Gally pushed him. I’m chuckling so hard, I’m sorry

ALSO. That clip of Frypan trying to stop Gally from running out of the meeting ????? Guys they’re best friends

I need more media I need more media I need more media I need more media necesito más medios necesito más medios necesito más medios necesito más medios

[crvngefrvll]

UGGGHHHHH THEY'RE SO CUTE I CAN'T EVEN

Newt who is the sun • Thomas who is the moon

Newt who is always cold •Thomas who warms him up

Thomas who cant cook to save his life • Newt who makes dinner for them

Newt who is a cat person • Thomas who is a dog person

Newt who loves gardening • Thomas who can’t keep plants alive

Thomas who is disorganised • Newt who gets anxious if things aren’t organised

Newt who had autism • Thomas who had ADHD

Newt who loves to read • Thomas who loves listening to him read

Newt who doesn’t like talking about his emotions • Thomas who is there for him anyway

Newt who likes to sleep in • Thomas who wakes up early to run

Newt who’s leg hurts him • Thomas who massages it for him

Thomas who is always fidgeting • Newt who is the only one who can make him relax

Newt who has nightmares a lot • Thomas who holds him and tells him he isn’t alone

Thomas who has survivors guilt • Newt who tells him it isn’t his fault

Newt who has never felt loved • Thomas who loves him unconditionally

[nature-hiking]

Glacial river cutting through the landscape - Tour de Monte Rosa, July 2021

photo by: nature-hiking

[dulmetra]

Some unfinished black and white pieces of young Thomas as Voldy <3

[c-taylor-wanna-be-a-glader]

I still love this so much 🥲

YOU’VE GOT THIS

(TMR: Gally, Chuck)

Based on this headcanon by @c-taylor-wanna-be-a-glader , hope you enjoy! 💜

The Glade was an intimidating place. Surrounded by a square of giant impenetrable concrete walls covered in ivy, doors closing every night to shield their living space from the monsters that lurked in the Maze. Grievers, they called them. Of course, nobody but the Runners knew what was really out there. Maybe it was for the best - most of the boys seemed comfortable adopting the “Know less - sleep better” policy. The Builders, the Track-Hoes, the Medjacks, the Cooks - ever single person did their part to make it a livable place to be, to build a community. And it worked - life inside the walls was a relatively peaceful one. But with no memories of who you were, where you came from, or why any of this was happening, one couldn’t help but feel scared. Even more so when you’re the Greenie. Even more so when you’re the youngest one yet.

Chuck aimlessly wandered around the Glade, hands stuffed into his pockets as he tried incessantly to find himself something to do. He’s only been there a couple of days, still not knowing what his place would be, not knowing half the boys’ names or who they were.

Some were harder to miss than others, though.

Gally was a good example of that.

Keeper of the Builders. At over 6 feet tall, broad shoulders, an imposing, dominating presence - it was impossible not to notice him. Despite his intimidating appearance, he wasn’t a bad guy. He just liked things to be in order and got frustrated with people shucking up the simplest of tasks. Not a bad quality for a guy in charge, Chuck thought to himself. He was strong as hell, too. Chuck got to witness Gally wrestle in the Circle on his first bonfire night. Wipe the ground with every poor shank who dared challenge him. It was impressive. Maybe one day he could be strong like that too…

“Can I help you?”

Chuck was efficiently snapped out of his musings as his head turned in the direction of the voice.

Gally was seated on a log, looking up at him, one of his uniquely-shaped eyebrows arched in slight amusement as a knife danced in between his nimble fingers.

The younger boy awkwardly shifted his weight between his feet. Deep in his thoughts, he must’ve lost all sense of direction if he’s wound up near Gally’s work station.

“Lost, Greenie?”

Chuck shrugged, eyes timidly glued to the ground

“No, I’m just…” he paused, gesturing vaguely “Walking around.”

Gally gave a short nod, not bothering to ask any more questions as he returned to his work.

Chuck watched as he proceeded to carve something out of a piece of wood in his hands. He couldn’t help but stare at the way his knife worked so effortlessly against the rough texture as it gradually gained form and turned into something useful.

“What are you doing?”

Gally glanced up at him “Making a handle.”

“A handle for what?”

“For a thing that needs a handle, I don’t know, Fry asked me to make one.”

Chuck fidgeted for a moment, gathering up the courage before asking

“Can I… Can I try making something too?”

The older boy looked up once again, more intently this time

“You wanna learn to carve wood? Why? No offense Greenie, but I don’t think the Builders are the place for you.”

Chuck knew, of course. The job required a certain amount of physical strength that he simply didn’t have.

“No, it’s not that, I just… I don’t know, forget it, I’m sorry.”

Gally watched as Chuck turned to leave. Some part of him couldn’t help but feel bad for the kid. He didn’t know why the Creators kept sending up people every month. He didn’t know what the selection process was, if such a thing even existed. But to send up a child? That was cruel, even for them. Every Greenie was a confused frightened mess, every month, it was a pattern everyone had gotten used to by now. But none of them were ever this young and innocent and…

“Hey.”

Chuck stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of Gally’s deep voice behind him. He slowly turned back around.

“Yeah?”

Gally gestured for him to come closer, taking a second knife out of his tool belt and nodding towards the spot next to him.

A relieved smile lit up the younger boy’s face as he scurried over and settled down on the log.

Gally reached somewhere behind him and handed over a smaller piece of wood before passing the knife as well.

“Here. You have the material, you have the tool. Knock yourself out.”

Chuck scratched the back of his neck, fumbling the piece of wood in his hand

“…What do I make?”

Gally let out a light-hearted sigh, looking over to him

“A spoon. Make a spoon.”

“But we have spoons…”

Gally’s unfaltering gaze effectively stopped him from questioning it any further.

For a few minutes Chuck fiddled with the knife as he attempted to mimic earlier movements of the Keeper’s skilled hands, clumsily carving some bits off of the wooden piece. Gally wasn’t making it obvious that he was watching his struggle. He kept glancing at the boy every now and then until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Do you wanna go to sleep with those fingers?”

“Huh?” Chuck looked up in alarm, halting all action.

“Never cut towards yourself and get a better grip on the knife. Like this.” He reached over, adjusting the boy’s smaller fingers around the handle.

They spent the next half hour like this. Chuck doing everything wrong, Gally fixing his mistakes while doing his best to teach him without getting agitated. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Chuck was a relatively fast learner. He listened to his instructions and his movements were getting steadier, more confident. At the end of it all, Chuck was holding a roughly-carved, but very passable wooden spoon.

“Well look at that. That’s not half bad, Greenie.” A light half-smile crossed the Keeper’s features as he looked over the handy work.

Chuck’s smile was brighter than he could remember it being. Granted, he’s only been there a couple of days, but even so. It was genuine. It was pure. He made something! It wasn’t easy, but he did it, and he enjoyed it, too! It wasn’t much, but it was a start. With time, with practice, he was sure he could get better. Maybe even make something of his own…

“Thanks, Gally.”

He reached over to return the knife but Gally shook his head, holding a hand up.

“Nah, keep it. You just might have a knack for this.”

Chuck paused for a moment, unsure of whether or not he should really keep it. But after a subtle nod from the Keeper he smiled once again, quickly hiding the knife in his pocket.

He was grateful. He wasn’t expecting the toughest guy in the Glade to spend a half hour teaching him to carve wood. But for the first time since his arrival, he felt weirdly peaceful. He felt… good.

Chuck sprang up from the log, twirling the spoon between his fingers, already eager to show it to someone.

“Awesome! Really… Thank you.”

Gally merely chuckled at the boy’s excited state.

“No problem.”

He paused, eyeing the smallest glader with what could only be described as reassurance “You’ll be okay, newbie. You’ve got this.”

Chuck beamed, giving a firm nod before hurrying away to show his creation to Alby. Or Newt, or anyone!

Gally watched him run off in the direction of the Homestead, a small sympathetic smile etching the corner of his mouth.

“You’ll be okay…”

Thank you for reading!

[loveswirl]

a bunny's natural state is casting spells

[sncrlynwtms]

"i was born in the wrong generation" I wasn't. i love existing at the same time as fan culture. i love knowing I can make a post saying "character a wears big ass pants and is obsessed with character b's thighs" and fifty percent of people are gonna agree with me while the other half call me a dumb bitch because of it. it's great.

[m1stl3t03]

i see dreams where we reach the safe haven together