#anyway gonna see her again tmr along with my other friend who's refusing to get vaxxed and tell them again because friend no2 wasnt here to

[fandomchaosposts]

i don't want to sound ungrateful because it could have definitely been worse but! she didn't react at all?? and I hate it because bitch is this your way of showing you'll love me no matter what or your way of showing you're gonna pretend I never told you???¿ like say something?¿ you can insult me and never talk to me again if you want just,,,,, let me know where we stand,,,

[petertingle-yipyip]

This Feeling - Thomas

//Requested by rycbar-221b: heyyy! can i request a thomas (tmr) x reader fluff, where tommy and r were in love before the maze, and they meet again in the scorch and reader has a bunch of scars? so tommy asks what they were for and r reveals that jensen (aka ratface) tortured her after tommy’s betrayal bc they were in love, and lots of fluff anf angst and kisses plz thankyou//

//Tags: @rycbar-221b @writingsbychlo​ (bc i’ve decided to tag you in anything tommy that i post) // Warnings: Angst, brief language, alludes to violence, mentions and slight description of scars. Also, I did not edit this so please be nice//

Pairing: Thomas x Reader

Word Count: 2,800

Summary: She remembers, he doesn’t. When her story is too familiar to ignore, it’s hard for Thomas to place “This Feeling”. But something is different now. She’s different now.

He slammed his fist against the table, causing you to flinch. You clenched your fists, leaning your head against them for a moment before sitting tall and stretching your fingers. You stared down Janson, refusing to break first. You folded your hands neatly on the table, tilting your head slightly with a sly smirk climbing to your face.

“Did you really think I’d tell you anything?” You laughed. “What makes you think I knew anything about this?”

“You and Thomas were extremely close…” Janson said tensely. He quickly rubbed his mouth in frustration, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “If you have nothing to say, maybe we need to jog your memory.”

“Do what you want.” You shrugged defiantly. “I don’t know anything.”

“We’ll see about that.” He said with finality.

As he stood, two guards came in and hauled you from your seat. They led you down hallway after hallway, down three sets of stairs to a level of the Compound you didn’t know existed. You were pushed into a dark room, pushed so suddenly you fell to your knees. A clattering came from beside you, and looking over you saw a long spear had been thrown at you.

The ground was slick with a thick substance, too thick to be water. Your feet slid as you stood. There was a faint blinking red light coming from the other side, the creek of a door opening. Suddenly, the room was full of a squelching sound mixed with the scrape of metal against concrete. There were screams, hollow monstrous noises that echoed. Quickly, you grabbed the spear and gripped it tightly. You weren’t prepared for what happened next.

“Y/N?” Harriet asked, shaking you gently. You jumped slightly, your head snapping up to see your friend. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You nodded carefully, running your hand through your hair. “All good.”

“Found something you might wanna see.” She smiled mischievously as she led you out the building you and the rest of your friends had been camped out in. Most of your group stayed behind, feeling safe at WICKED’s compound. You saw through WICKED the moment you saw Janson.

You managed to break yourself out along with Harriet, Sonya, Aris, and a few others. Your group was small, which made it easier to hide. You found a building that was seemingly halted mid-construction, the tarps providing easy cover for you.

You came face to face with a group of about ten boys. Some were familiar, you had seen them at the Compound before you escaped with your friends. You scanned their faces, trying to remember names.

“WICKED?” You questioned simply.

“Group A.” Harriet replied with lifted brows.

“Ah.” You nodded, stepping closer to examine the boys. “Group A, huh? You don’t seem like a first group.”

“First the worst, second the best, maybe?” Harriet offered from behind you.

You laughed slightly before getting their attention.

“So which one of you are in charge?” You asked, nodding towards them. They looked between each other, seemingly having no chain of command. You stared with raised brows, waiting for an answer. “Do you speak English or…”

“Yeah, yeah sorry.” The brunette in front laughed nervously. You felt your heart slamming in your chest when he spoke. “I guess I’m in charge.”

“Alright.” You swallowed hard. “You got a name?”

“Thomas.”

“Thomas?” You questioned. “Do you, by any chance, remember anything before the Maze?”

You knew it wasn’t the question to ask right off the bat. Once it left your mouth, you instantly regretted it. But you had to know if there was a chance that he knew, a chance that your connection was strong enough.

“Things are coming back slowly but no, not really.” He studied your face as you stared at him. He watched your eyes shift from curiosity to disappointment. He could tell you were hoping to hear something else but he didn’t know what you were looking for. “Do you?”

“We’ll get to that later.” You waved a hand dismissively. “You boys can head inside. There’s not many of us but you’re more than welcome to stay.”

“Thanks.” Thomas offered a small but honest smile. 

As the boys filed in, Harriet pulled you to the side.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” She asked anxiously. “The one that you told us about?”

“Yeah, that’s him.” You shrugged. “Once he looked at me, I- I felt something, something I haven’t felt since I lost him… But it’s pointless if he doesn’t remember.”

“He will.” She comforted you. “Just give him a little time.”

“You’ve looked better, Y/N.” Janson said smugly from the other side of the table.

You glared at him, not offering any words. You felt your blood boiling in your veins, your muscles itching to act. Your jaw was tightly clenched, enough to give you a small headache. Your breathing was heavy, your anger hard to contain. But you bit back your cruel words.

“I have to say I am a bit surprised you made it.” Janson continued when you refused to speak. “Any recollection of why Thomas released classified files?”

“We all got expectations…” You said carefully. “Sometimes they go wrong. I have no information for you, Rat Man. Same as two days ago.”

“Hmm.” He sucked his teeth obnoxiously. “Fine. Let’s see how well you do in a second round.”

You stood suddenly, leaning onto the table. Your palms were flat against the cool metal, arms locked as you faced Janson. “If you really think whatever monster you have cooking down there will kill me, you’re gonna have to do better than that slime ball with the metal legs.”

“We can do much better, Y/N.” He threatened.

“You think that a scar on my face is going to break me?” You laughed slightly. A result from your fight was a long gash from your hairline to your chin, cutting through your left eyebrow and skipping over your eye. It picked up on your cheekbone and was a straight shot down. Every word from your mouth felt like it was reopening the fresh would, but you had a point to make. “In the end, it’s my decision. So it’s my fault when it ends.”

You woke that night in a cold sweat. Your hands were shaking, old scars pulsing. You let out a sigh, throwing your arm over your eyes. Sleep was harder to find, especially in the Scorch. It never felt safe, but you knew your friends were doing better than you. You were more concerned about them than yourself, so you kept your struggles to yourself.

You headed for the open space at the other side of the room. You didn’t know if it was supposed to be a window, or if it was just broken down when the world collapsed. You didn’t necessarily care either.

When you got there, one of the boys was already sitting near it. You sat opposite of him, offering a small smile in greeting.

“Need some company?” You said, leaning on the wall beside the opening.

He chuckled slightly. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

“I don’t know the last time I slept through the night, honestly.” You shrugged. “Different nightmare every night, always comes back to the same thing.”

“Need to talk about it?” He offered gently.

“You actually wanna listen?”

“I’d like to know your name first but yeah, I’ll listen.”

“Before the Mazes, there was this boy…” You started carefully. You decided to leave out the part about the boy being Thomas simply for the fact that he didn’t seem to recognize you. “He did something crazy that WICKED didn’t like, so they sent him off. They took their anger out on me and it kinda haunts me. I guess...”

“How bad was it?”

Thomas realized then who you were. He didn’t know if it was your story or your voice that triggered it for him, but something about you felt right. You were Y/N, the motivation for him to leave the Maze. The appeal of running into the Scorch. The deep, empty feeling in his chest when he was in the Maze. You were the name on the tip of his tongue, begging to be said out loud. You were the memory that danced on the edge of his mind, waiting for him to reach out and reclaim. And now you were sitting in front of him, admitting all your pain. Pain he put you through.

“Pretty bad.” You nodded slowly. “It was enough for WICKED to keep me in the Compound instead of sending me in.”

“You never went into a Maze?”

“Nah.” You shook your head. “Never had my memory wiped either. I remember everything about life before this.”

“That’s heavy.” He said sadly. “Is that how you got-” He gestured to his own face, mimicking the deep scar on your own. “That was probably not the right thing to say, sorry.”

“All your boys are curious, aren’t they?” You chuckled.

“Some more than others.”

“I’ll tell you a story before it tells itself.” You scooted closer to him, letting the moonlight illuminate your features. Thomas had forgotten how beautiful you were, and the hazy figure in his dreams didn’t do you justice. “WICKED needed someone to test their monsters. What did you guys call the creatures in the Maze?”

“Grievers.” Thomas said quietly. He was still trying to process the scars on your body, the permanent reminder of what WICKED did to you.

“I called them Skitters.” You continued. “Anyways, WICKED wanted them to be potentially deadly without being murderous, I guess. I never really understood why they needed them. But I guess they needed them to be able to fight and not just attack. Especially when you started to figure out the Maze.”

“You fought Grievers?” He asked in awe. “And you survived?”

“WICKED couldn’t let their favorite test dummy die so easily.” You laughed bleakly. When you saw the concerned expression Thomas wore, you had to quickly redirect the conversation. “So, Thomas. What was it like in your Maze?”

“Y/N, I- I’m sorry.” He said honestly, his eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head.

“Thomas?” You said to get his attention. He looked up quickly, apologetic eyes finding yours. “I never told you my name.”

“Yeah, you did.” He countered. “You said it…” He tried to remember, but he then realized you never did tell him. “Huh, guess not.” He smiled nervously.

“You know me, don’t you?” You pressed, inching forward.

“If I had known they were going to do that to you, I-”

“You couldn’t have.” You shook your head, planting yourself by his feet. “I didn’t even know they were going to do that. Once they shipped you off, they sent me into that fight within an hour. They told me think with my head, not that thing in my chest. They just wanted me to sell you out, to tell them the extent of what you did.”

“I don’t know what I did.”

“Nothing WICKED didn’t deserve.” You shrugged. “T, listen.”

“T?”

“Thomas.” You corrected yourself. “Everything that happened after you left- this -” You gestured to your face. “-had nothing to do with you. This was WICKED getting back at me because I cared about you. And if they couldn’t punish you, they’d punish me.”

“My point, Y/N, is that they never should’ve put hands on you.”

“Technically, they didn’t.” You said with a devilish smirk as an idea came to you. “But you can.”

Thomas chuckled, placing hands on your hips so he could pull you closer. You swung your leg over his lap, moving to straddle him. Your hands slid up his chest slowly before finding their way into his hair. Thomas closed his eyes and hummed in delight at your gentle, purposeful touch.

He didn’t even realize what he was missing without you. He didn’t realize how relaxing your touch was, how sweet your voice was. He had forgotten how truly beautiful you were, from every angle. Thomas was quick to decide his favorite angle was when you were on top of him.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours gently. You smiled against his lips, loving the contact you missed from him. His grip on your hips tightened slightly as he pulled you against him. Your fingers tugged gently on his hair, drawing a small groan from him. You chuckled slightly as his hands found their way up your shirt.

Thomas quickly jumped away, pulling his hands back after his fingers ghosted the deep circular scar on the center of your stomach. You stared in confusion, your feelings slightly hurt that he would pull away so suddenly. When you saw where his eyes were focused, you understood why he pulled away the way he did.

“You feel bad for me, don’t you?” You realized, your voice flattening. “Hold on to your opinions and stand by what you said.”

You knew what they had done to you was terrible and you hated WICKED for it. But the one thing you hated more than WICKED was pity. When Group B arrived at the Compound, a couple weeks after Thomas entered his Maze, you were littered with cuts and bruises you couldn’t hide. You didn’t want to hide your injuries, because  you weren’t ashamed of them. You always understood that they were purposeful, that you had fought and survived.

“I feel guilty, Y/N/N.” He sighed, casually using the nickname he had always used with you.

“Get up.” You said plainly, standing and heading outside. You heard the scuffling of Thomas following. You turned to face him once you were outside, pausing to admire him in the moonlight. “Why do you think I brought you out here?”

He shrugged slightly, his mouth open but failing to produce any sound.

“I brought you out here so you could actually see what happened to me.” You said simply. You pulled your shirt over your head, holding the fabric between tightly balled fists.

“Holy shit.” He sighed.

“Look at me, Thomas.” You said firmly when he tilted his eyes to the nightsky. “Look at me.”

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” He snapped, throwing his hands forward dramatically. “You don’t want me to apologize. You don’t want me to feel bad for you. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to look.” You stood firm until his eyes finally met yours. “I am covered in scars and bruises. You felt this one-” You pointed to your stomach. “-and you bailed. Why?”

“I wasn’t expecting it.” He tried to explain.

“I was stung.” You began explaining. “WICKED knew they had to up the ante with the serum, but they needed to see the effects before they could send it in. Once they cut my face and I didn’t give them any info, they wanted to break my mind.”

“Y/N, I-”

“No, this is the part where you listen.” You said firmly. “Alright? You don’t need to explain anything or try to come to terms with what happened to me. This is my story.”

“Then what is it about?” He cut in. “You just said that they did this to you because of what I did. But I don’t even know what I did! I don’t know how hurting you was supposed to be some sort of punishment for me!”

“This was a punishment for you, you moron.” You rolled your eyes.

“How does hurting you-”

“Because obviously seeing me like this hurts you!” You interjected. “God, Thomas, how are you so oblivious? WICKED didn’t do this because they wanted to leave me scarred and fucked up. I mean, they probably did, but the main point was that you’d eventually have to see me like this. You’d see it and blame yourself.”

Thomas stopped, pausing to digest your words. He realized that you were right. WICKED knew him better than he knew himself. WICKED knew Thomas would see your scars, feel your scars, and blame himself. WICKED wanted to hurt Thomas by guilt, by forcing him to look at the pain they caused you. He could tell that the scars didn’t bother you, not anymore at least. Maybe they did at some point, but that was long gone. Now, Thomas could tell that you saw your scars as a personal victory. WICKED wanted to break you, but they didn’t.

“Guess you won after all, huh?” Thomas offered a lopsided smirk, closing the distance between you. His hand landed on your hip and pulled you against him.

“You’re the one that I want.” You said calmly, any anger or annoyance you felt had melted when he flashed that smirk. “And if that’s really so wrong…”

“Then they don’t know what this feeling is like.”