#frypan is just a dream :(

[breadbrobin]

gladers as people you meet while working in hospitality/a restaurant

from me, someone who currently works in hospitality/a restaurant

thomas: the newbie who t e c h n i c a l l y finished his training, but still has no idea what’s going on. asks dumb questions. finishes homework on his break. never calls in sick unless he’s literally dying. will power through. steals fries on the way from the kitchen. often forgets to go on his break and gets told off by newt. breaks too many rules (just because he forgets about them or wasn’t taught them). barely knows the menu. has never eaten there. functionally broke. cries a lot over small things. breaks at least one glass almost every shift. isn’t allowed to work with gally (they fight). always running a few minutes late. loves setting up for breakfast. tries his best. doesn’t know where anything is but that doesn’t stop him from trying to find things. once led a customer around the entire restaurant trying to find the bathroom (eventually, he just asked teresa (it was literally right behind him)).

minho: been there for ages but doesn’t act like it. knows all the regulars by name. bartender!! so good at bartending fr! trains all the newbies and isn’t very good at it (case and point: thomas). has tried everything on the menu and gives the best recommendations. always drinking some random concoction of (non-alcoholic) drinks behind the bar. does not give a fuck. will blank stare at rude customers until they get uncomfortable. turns away big groups walk-ins for fun (gets in trouble). hates big bookings and has cried when he found out there was a booking of 18. always running late, but always leaves late too. likes to get things done fast, but not always well. hates setting up for breakfast. hates polishing glasses and cutlery. flirts with everyone (staff and customers). was a delivery driver for two weeks then crashed his car, so now he buses to work or gets a ride with someone else’s

frypan: the only nice chef you will ever meet. asks what you want for your staff meal and makes them all specially. great with allergens. will (and has) yell at a customer for yelling at a waiter. incredible cook. gets compliments all the time. head chef. hates his sous chef for no reason that he has ever explained. great listener. makes random shit when it’s quiet and gets the staff to try it. didn’t go to culinary school, is just that good. really funny. often comes out and chats with staff and customers. once cried when a little kid told him she liked his food and his “pretty white shirt” and told him she wanted to be a chef like him one day.

teresa: new like thomas but she’s worked in hospo before. quiet, keeps her head down. gets things done. scarily good at balancing plates, trays and even glasses. can carry the most (empty) wine glasses in one hand. basically everyone’s go-to if someone’s upset because she can calm them down easily. no one knows where she goes on her break, but she always comes back in time so no one asks. does homework and assignments on her break. one time, on the few occasions where she stays at work for her break, gally came in to see her crying over english. he backed out very slowly. everyone’s kinda scared of her—she’s too nice! she has to snap at some point. has a second job (more like a paid internship). eats in the restaurant almost more than she works (discount baby!!). ADORES polishing glasses and cutlery.

gally: the one who not so secretly hates it. he often goes in the back and talks shit about customers (or fellow staff) with fry and anyone else who’s there. will roll his eyes at customers. has very little patience when people are taking a long time (“if you’re not ready to order, don’t say you’re ready to shucking order!”). has been given multiple disciplinary warnings, but he somehow has the best sales on the team?? no one knows how. also newt and alby like him too much to fire him, so he’s safe for now. hates everyone. the second he leaves work, no one will hear from him under any circumstances until his next shift. works like, two nights a week. isn’t allowed to work with thomas (they fight).

brenda: always calls in sick. is hardly every there. but also will cover any shift in a heartbeat. talks shit with gally a lot. likes hiding in the back. drinks minhos dubious concoctions. hates cleaning up. hates polishing. hates folding napkins. hates setting up for breakfast. has been there almost the longest, but doesn’t act like it. really good with kids. knows the menu back to front but won’t give recommendations. just suggests what’s popular. perpetually tired. laughed at teresa while she was crying over english, then helped her (she got an A). actually really nice if she likes you. heart of gold. fully supports minho turning away big bookings. fights for workers rights—she’s the reason they all have mandatory breaks (one time, she didn’t eat anything all day so she could pass out at work. ever since then, breaks have been mandatory. (she’s not proud of the method, but she was happy to take one for the team)). randomly shows up with a new hairstyle and random tattoos at least once a month. secretly loves her job.

newt: the nice team leader that everyone’s secretly kinda scared of. like, they love him, but no one wants to piss him off. has kicked people out for yelling at staff. has kicked people out for less than that honestly. helps people with homework. always lets people go home early. best at making coffee and doing latte art. somehow both chill and uptight at the same time. knows all the regulars by name and knows most of their regular orders. him and alby instated a no swearing rule (everyone found a way around it. he thinks it’s hilarious).

alby: the hardass supervisor who loves his team but doesn’t show it. great at rostering and is very strategic about it. when he’s working, he’s all hustle. can sweet talk any customer. has kicked someone out for yelling at staff. many times. he will ban them from the premises. threatened to call the police one time. not very artful about everything, but he’s quick and smart. has come up with a bunch of ways to make everyone’s life easier while working. him and newt instated a no swearing rule (everyone found a way around it. he hates it).

[bruisedboys]

please write for tmr!thomas i beg of you

tmr!thomas x reader | established relationship, fluff and hurt/comfort, 1k words (set in the scorch trials!)

you, thomas and your friends find sanctuary from the scorch with the right arm. unfortunately, they don’t provide any sanctuary from nightmares.

“Are you awake?”

Thomas feels you shift under his arm. You’re curled into his side, arm slung over his chest and thigh pressed to his. He hums.

“Yeah, I’m awake,” he murmurs back. “What’s up?”

He feels your hand glide across his stomach and your fingers curl around his hip. It makes him shiver.

“Nothing,” you hum. “Just thinking.”

Thomas huffs. Typical you, keeping yourself awake for no good reason. “Stop thinking and go to sleep then, sweetheart. You need rest.”

You muffle a giggle in his shirt. It warms his chest all the way through. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re keeping me up,” Thomas says back, only half serious. “Go to sleep.”

Eventually you do as he says. These days Thomas always always has waits for you to fall asleep first before letting himself drift off. It makes him feel better about himself. He does everything in his power to make sure you’re safe and healthy and happy, but it’s hard when you’re on your own in a sick world, running from a government organisation that wants you for your blood.

The Scorch has been unforgiving, but you’ve braved through like you always do, never once complaining, always making sure the rest of the group are okay. Thomas thinks someone as lovely as you doesn’t deserve to live in a world like this. It’s half the reason he’s as determined as he is the find somewhere safe.

Well, you’ve found sanctuary for now, at least, with the Right Arm. You and Thomas are sharing a tent with the rest of the group — Minho, Newt, Frypan — none of whom seem to be willing to seperate from each other, despite the spare tents the Right Arm offers. It speaks volumes about where the real safety net is.

Eventually Thomas falls asleep too. He’s not sure how long he sleeps until he’s woken by you. You don’t mean to wake him, he thinks, but he’s a bad sleeper at the best of times, and he’s got a sixth sense for this kind of thing, anyway.

He blinks his eyes open sluggishly. It’s dark, but the campfire still flickers outside the tent, so he can just make out your figure. You’re sitting up straight, stiff as a board. Panic slices through his heart like a cold knife.

“Y/N?” He murmurs. He finds your thigh under the sleeping bag you’re sharing and braces his hand on it to help him sit up. “Baby, are you okay?”

Thomas’ eyes slowly adjust to the light until he realises, with a pang in his chest, that you’re crying. Thankfully, you don’t seem to be in any immediate danger. Everyone else is still fast asleep, and everything’s quiet outside the tent. Still, he doesn’t like the way your shoulders are shaking.

“Sorry,” you gasp. You’re holding your face in two clammy hands, fingers cruel where you scrub at your tears. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I just—“

“Bad dream?” Thomas asks gently. He can guess well enough. He’s had his fair share, and while he’s not an expert on the human mind or anything, he can see that you’re pretty shaken up.

You nod. Tears splash down your front. “Yeah,” you mumble. “Sorry.”

Thomas frowns at you as he brings his hand to your shoulder.

“Stop apologising,” he says, squeezing you gently. His drags his thumb across your collarbone, soothing. He doesnt want to think about what you’d’ve done if he hadn’t woken up. Would you have suffered all by yourself? The thought alone feels like a bullet to his heart. “It’s okay, babe, really. Can I give you a hug?”

You nod viciously. Thomas makes a pitying sound from deep in his chest and wraps you up in a hug, sliding his hand to the nape of your neck to encourage your head over his shoulder. You’re shaking like a leaf, your cheek damp and warm where it presses to his neck.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs to you. It’s all he can say, really. He can’t tell you it wasn’t real, because the chances that you had dreamed about something very real, and equally horrifying, are high. He strokes your hair, feeling a little useless but a lot sorry. “I’ve got you.”

Somebody stirs across the tent. Thomas watches over your shoulder as that somebody sits up.

“Thomas?” It’s Newt. His voice is raspy with sleep but he sounds concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Thomas feels something akin to a rush of gratitude for his empathetic friend. If anything was ever to happen to Thomas, he at least knows for certain Newt would take care of you.

“Yeah, Newt,” he says. “Everything’s fine. We’re good. Just a nightmare, I’ve got it.”

Newt hums and his lanky figure drops back to the tent floor. Meanwhile you’re sniffling over Thomas’ shoulder, your hands screwed into the back of his shirt.

Thomas can’t be sure if Newt’s still awake, but he doesn’t really care if his friend hears him or not. He’s past being embarrassed about how much he cares for you. Thomas draws back and takes your face in his hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks you.

“Not really,” you whisper back. Your anguished tone breaks Thomas’ heart clean in two.

“Okay. That’s alright,” Thomas tells you, as kind as he can when he’s up to his ears with worry. He swipes his thumbs over your cheeks, rubbing away your hot tears. He gives you a reassuring smile. “Do you want some water?”

You nod. Thomas reaches behind him to pull his metal flask from a meagre pile of supplies. He unscrews the lid and encourages the bottle into your hands.

“Here, babe,” he says softly. “It’ll help.”

He steadies your shaking hands with his own and helps you have a few gulps of water. When he returns the bottle to it’s place you’ve calmed significantly. Your cheeks are still damp and sticky but your tears have ebbed, at least.

Thomas smiles at you. He’s sure he looks sick with concern but he tries not to let it show, thumbing your cheek with as much tenderness as he can manage. “Let’s lie down, yeah? C’mon, sweetheart.”

He tugs you down with him. You slump onto his chest and push your hand under his shirt. You’re really warm, but it gives him goosebumps anyway.

“You’re safe with me,” he promises. It’s a promise he doesn’t plan on breaking, ever. He rubs your back. Big, rough sweeps that have you going lax in his arms almost instantaneously. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I promise.”

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed, and feel free to send more reqs for thomas!

[alicechess]

Art x reader part 2

Note: This hasn't been proof read, so my bad if it's not the greatest I smashed this out in like 4 hours. So not the highest quality chapter. I might fix this up at one point, heavy maybe.

@ch1hvro

--------

--------

You felt ill after the shift, it could be explained, it absolutely could be, right? Just a coincidence, a man dressing up to be a dick, then point at the plastic ring on your hand because he thought it was amusing, and joked that it was him who gave it. Yeah, just a joke, coincidence. You settled on it being a coincidence. 

As soon as you got home, you took the ring of and but it on your bedside table, you didn't want to wear it, you were meant to Halloween night, but it completely slipped your mind. 

However, that night, you heard on the news he somehow escaped the morgue today, in the morning. The news reporters stated the injuries, and allegedly a few people who work in the medical field said how unlikely it would've been for him to survive. They then stated that the poor mortician was brutally murdered too from him, because of course he had to do it. Does that mean it is possible he came to your work today? If that was him, why? He didn't have any blood, or any visible injuries at least. He moved perfectly fine. 

You shook your head, there was no point in thinking about it. If you saw him again, then it absolutely wasn't a coincidence, as there would be no way to justify it. You then turned the TV off, then went to bed. The thoughts of him stuck in your mind as you laid there, the whole day repeating over in your head. How his attention was stuck on you, why that specific Cafe, and although again, the ring may just be him being a dick and not knowing. It still bothered you, all of that happening within the span of an hour. Eventually you fell asleep, your dreams, of course, had him there too. 

The next morning you awoke in a cold sweat, your heart racing rapidly. Once you glanced around and noticed you were in your room, you felt relief.

Just a dream

Maybe you needed to ignore the news, take a break from social media for a few days or even a week. You had no doubt some people would be talking about stuff, but you just had to hope you wouldn't overhear anything. Maybe it'd be good to take a day off, though you knew your boss would be pissed and so as your co-workers. You've barely taken days off the whole year, maybe 3 at most. 

You decided to send a message to your boss, explaining that you have some family stuff going on, and if you could take the day off tomorrow. 

Hopefully he'd be fine with it.

You started getting ready, after showering

--------

You walked into the door of the Café, the ringing bell irritated your ears. You walked into the back, you had to do a bunch of dishes from last night since one of the other workers had to leave early. Your co-worker spotted then greeted you, "Hey, you look like shit."

You rolled your eyes, "Wow, what a nice way to say good morning Charlie." 

They gave you a cocky smile, "I know I know, I'm wonderful aren't I?"

That damn smile was contagious, "Aww, and I've got you smiling too."

A small chuckle left you, "Yeah yeah, anyway, how longs your shift today? Anyone else in?"

"Uhh, till about 4. I have another job on the side to earn extra. And no, Laurie left about 10 minute ago, she had to leave early as she had an appointment."

"Ew, that's gotta be painful, and god damn it, it would've been nice having a third for today.

"It's painful, but moneys money, world can't go on without it." They sighed, "And I'm trying to save for a new car, the shitbox out there ain't gonna last much longer." They said, taking the eggs out the frypan. "Anyway, can we talk more during our break? Can't have customers complaining."

"Yeah sure, that'd be great actually." They then walked out with the plate of food. 

Your morning was a lot easier to deal with after that interaction, although you hated to admit it, they were annoying at times but you loved them. They were a great friend, and made working a lot easier to tolerate.

You filled the sink and placed the dishes in there, cleaning the least dirty to the most. More and more dishes came, but you tried your best to stay ahead. The dishwasher was going to take forever and only could do a small amount at a time, so this is unfortunately a job that had to be done.

After about an hour, you were close to being finished, and so was the dishwasher. After, you put the dishes away, then went up to your Charlie to check if they needed help with anything.

"To be honest, not really, business is slower than normal, which is a fucking relief." They whispered, so none of the customers could hear. 

"Nice, is Chloe gonna be here soon? It would be nice if she could cover the register, and we can chill in the back."

They shrugged, "Not sure, she's meant to be here at some point today but that's all I know."

You groaned, "Alright, since business is slow should I just sweep and mop now?" 

You heard that cursed bell ring, and you heard a honk. You instantly turned around, wondering what that noise was. 

"What the fuck..." Charlie muttered under their breath.

Your eyes widened, bile rose up in your throat. You stood still for a few moments as you locked eyes with that fucker, then you sprinted towards the staff toilet. You leaned over, the breakfast you ate not longer ago instantly came up. Your throat burned as acid tore at your throat. You clenched the toilet bowl as it kept going. You body shook rapidly from fear and shock.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

Why is he here, it was meant to be a fucking coincidence. Do I have a murderer stalking me?

You weren't sure what to do, but after about a minute you heard your Charlie running over.

"Hey, hey!" They said crouching down, rubbing your back. "What the hell was that? Are you okay?"

You nodded, "Yeah...." You croakily mumbled, your legs wobbling as you slowly stood up.

"Stay there if you need to, I can handle the front for a bit." 

You shook your head, "I'll be fine, it's fine. Just give me a minute and I'll clean up."

"Look Chloe should be here soon, when she gets here I'll explain you were sick so you had to leave. Got it?"

You rolled your eyes, "I'll be okay, I just got nauseous.-"

"No, you're heading home when she gets here."

You wanted to argue, but you knew it was probably a good idea. You didn't want to see... it again. 

"Fine, can I help just till she gets here?"

"Yeah sure, just don't overwork yourself and let me know if you feel ill again."

You nodded, moving towards the sink to splash water on your face. "Alright, I'm gonna head back, don't rush yourself I can handle it." They patted your back again, then walked off.

You looked down at your shirt, and thankfully there was no vomit. So, you went back to helping Charlie. As soon as you were in the doorway you spotted him, sitting down. "Hey, is it okay if you could pass this to the customer in the clown suit real quick? I just need to prepare another order."

You nodded, trying to not show your fear to them. "Yeah, of course!"

While you walked over, you noticed his eyes were on you. You looked at the floor, knowing it was rude but you were so afraid. You put the pancakes down in front of the clown. "Here's your order... sir." You mumbled, giving a forced smile. As you starting walking away, he beeped the horn. 

"Did you need something?" 

He nodded, gesturing you to come closer.

He looked at your hand, a frown forming on his face. But not a second later is was replaced with that eerie smile. He stared at you as he purposely knocked the plate down onto the floor. It shattered onto the ground. He covered his mouth, giving an exaggerated 'Oops' face. A few customers looked over giving a confused and concerned expression.

Your face turned into a thin line, what the fuck "I'm sorry sir, I'll be back." You quickly muttered, walking to Charlie, "Hey, look I can't do this right now, can you please talk to the clown? I'll do whatever you were doing before. I'm just really uncomfortable around him."

They nodded, noticing you were shaken up. "Yeah that's fine, but what's going on? You look horrified, did something happen?"

You shook your head, "It's nothing, just can you help him?"

"Okay, I'll do that now, you just need to make a strawberry milkshake for table 5 while I deal with the clown."

"Easy." You immediately started to work on it, you scooped the ice-cream, poured the milk and strawberry-flavoured syrup and then blended it. You occasionally heard words from your Charlie while they were trying to communicate with the clown. But of course it went nowhere. As you were pouring the milkshake into a plastic cup, they came up to you. "I have no idea what he wants, he's not responding at all to me. I clean up the mess, but I don't know what else to do. Was he at least responding to you?"

"Yeah, I guess, but I really, really don't want to talk to him. He's... scaring me." You glanced at the floor, feeling embarrassed. 

"It's okay, I'll figure something out. Other customers are starting to feel uncomfortable as well. Fuck, Chloe needs to get here soon."

"Yeah, hopefully, should I contact the boss?" 

They nodded, "Can you contact Chloe first? We need her here soon."

"I'll do that now, I'll try and make it quick." You hurried out to the back again, pulling out your phone. You dialled her number, but it immediately when to voice mail. "What the fuck..." You murmured, trying again. And again. You groaned, then decided to send her a quick message.

Y/n: Hey, are you still coming into work today? 

You hoped she'd read it soon, then you dialled your bosses number. Thankfully, you heard her voice on the other end. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, I heard from Charlie that Chloe would be coming in today at some point. What time would she be here? She isn't picking up any of my calls. "

You heard a sigh on the other end, "Give me a moment."

After 15 seconds of rustling sounds, she answered. "Alright, it says she'd be on around 2pm till 8pm. Is she not there?"

"No, she's not. It's 2:30."

You heard another sigh from your boss, "I'll try and contact her, that's all I can do. Is that all you needed?"

"No, I was wondering what to do about a customer. One of them is making me and Charlie uncomfortable. He keeps.... just doing stuff."

"If you want advice I need more details." 

You took a deep breath in, "For one he's in a clown outfit, which in itself isn't bad but it's just how he's acting doing it too. If that makes sense, and he purposely broke one of our plates, and acted like it was all funny. He then wouldn't talk to Charlie, only me. It's just such bizarre behaviour."

"Normally threatening them with the police will cause them to stop, but if he continues call the non-emergency line for the police. That's it."

"Alright, thank you."

"Bye." She said, the line ending.

You walked back to the register to talk to your Charlie. "Chloe was meant to be here at 2. What the fuck do we do? She isn't picking up my calls, she's not answering my messages and the boss just told us to threaten the clown with the police but fuck that I'm not comfortable with it I don't know him and he's scaring-"

"Calm down, you're gonna be okay. This isn't a big deal you'll be fine we can figure this out. I'll talk to him."

You glanced over your shoulder to look at the clown. He was sitting there, his chin resting on his hands, giving you a wink. 

"God fucking damn it." Your muttered under your breath, he waved at you, then gesturing for him to come over again. "He wants me to go over again, what do I do? What the fuck do I do?"

Charlie bit their bottom lip, "I can go over if you like and try again, but I doubt he'll listen."

"Fuck, fine, I'll fucking doing it." You whisper-yelled, immediately going over towards the clown. You noticed most of the customers had left. How had no one called the police yet? Maybe they thought it was someone trying to be funny? 

"Hello sir, is there anything I can help you with?"

The clown told you to stop, raising his pointer-finger. He then went through the garbage bag next to him. You heard the sounds of metal hitting metal, making you feeling almost as sick as before. He pulled out an envelope. You stared at it for a moment, noticing brown splotches over it. It looked like dried blood. You also noticed how there was a bump inside. You were about to place it down, but he gestured for you to open it.

You stared with widened eyes, really not wanting to. "I'm sorry sir... I-"

The clown gestured one more time, a deep frown on his face. You were afraid, so begrudgingly, you open it. And inside was a chunk of blonde hair, with a small amount of dyed-blue strands. You pulled it out and saw a piece of someone's scalp was attached. The blonde hair looked identical to Chloe's. You placed it back down onto the table, stepping back. 

"Why.... what did she do to you?"

You knew what he did. It was obvious. But all you wanted to know is why. Yeah she could be bitchy at times, but she never had bad intentions. Not anything worthy of her fucking dying.

The Clown silently giggled, slapping his knee like it was the funniest joke in the world. He pointed at you, mimicking a horrified look and then continued laughing. 

"Oh fuck this." You muttered, Charlie looked over and saw the terrified look on your face. "Charlie we need to get the fuck out now!" You yelled, grabbing their arm, dragging them into the kitchen. To get out through the front, you would've had to walk past him again, and that was not something that you wanted. 

You shoved them inside and slammed the door shut, locking it. "Grab a knife Charlie." They didn't ask questions, just grabbing it off the bench. The clown was walking over towards the counter, where you'd pass food through to the person at the register. He stood there smiling. 

"Nope, don't look just fucking get out." You urgently said to Charlie, grabbing their arm and leading them to the back door. You unlocked it ran out with them. You rummaged through your pockets and grabbed your keys, your hands shaking as you tried to open the car door. 

"Y/n your tires have been fucking slashed!" 

"Oh for fuck sake!" You yelled, this time they dragged you. You dropped your keys while they pulled you, "My keys!"

"It doesn't matter Y/n! There's a fucking psycho chasing us." 

You followed them, running to the nearest store. You looked behind, noticing the clown was behind, with that fucking garbage bag thrown on it's shoulder. 

As Charlie ran into the store, they yelled to call the police. They didn't care about scaring the workers, they just needed to make sure the both of you were safe. The woman at the register looked confused. They ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind the both of you. They fumbled with their phone, dialling the emergency number. 

"What's your emergency?"

"There's a fucking psycho chasing after us! He's trying to fucking kill us!" They yelled, sounding hysterical. 

"Okay, calm down. Are you safe right now?"

"I think so, we've locked ourselves in a random stores bathroom. We don't know where he is right now."

"Okay, what did he look like?"

"He-he was wearing a black and white clown outfit, like the one from the news!"

"Alright...." The operator said, sounding like they thought it was a prank call, but they still continued.

"What store are you in right now?" 

Charlie turned to you, "Do you know where we ran to?"

You shook your head, "I-I wasn't paying attention, I'm sorry!"

"It's fine." Charlie murmured, "We don't know, but can you guys track the phone?"

The woman sighed, "Yes we can, but if this is a prank call you will be in serious trouble."

"We aren't fucking lying, my fucking car tires were slashed and this fucker gave me an envelope with co-workers scalp in it! Get the damn police here right now or we could get brutally murdered!" You screamed at the operator.

"Please calm down, the police are on their way." The operator said, "Please stay on the line, are you hearing anything outside of the bathroom?"

Charlie spoke up, "No, it's oddly quiet out there, I... I don't know where he is. I don't know if he followed us in or not. We didn't look around."

The only thing you could hear was cars driving by, it was otherwise painfully silent.

"Fuck what happened to Chloe, oh god I hope she's okay. Please Chloe be okay." You whimpered, dropping to the ground. "Fuck I'm sorry Chloe, I'm so sorry." Tears welled up in your eyes, then started streaming down your face.

Charlie knelt down, placing their phone on the tiled floor, "Hey, it's okay, Chloe might still be out there. Probably not in the best condition but still maybe out there." They gently hugged you.

You sniffled, "What if that psycho grabbed my keys, I'm not even going to be safe in my own fucking home." You sobbed, "I didn't even do anything to him!" 

"I know, some people are just messed up, but you'll be okay, I'll make sure of it. No ones going to hurt you." 

Eventually, you heard the police sirens and them shouting. After a few moments they knocked on the bathroom door. You immediately unlocked it, running out. "Did you find him?" You asked, your eyes showing the hope in this being simple, like maybe he was waiting outside or something stupid. But of course, reality didn't work that way. 

"The only people we found were the workers here, I'm sorry." One of the officers said, "Do you have any injuries?"

You and Charlie shook your head.

"Alright, we're going to need to take you in for questioning."

--------

[serafilms]

song 72! you belong with me (taylor swift) + newt requested by @misty-inferno (2023 spotify wrapped event)

dreaming ‘bout the day when you wake up and find that what you’re looking for has been here the whole time

If anyone were to ask where either you or Newt were, the other gladers would say to look for the other. They’d probably end up finding the two of you together.

At least, that was the case before Thomas came into the picture.

Today found you sitting on a bench near the kitchen, where Frypan had kicked you out. Apparently your sour mood was spoiling the food. You glowered when you looked in the distance and saw Newt walking the newbie around.

“Whoa, why are you trying to commit a felony?”

Your eyes flitted up to where Minho was hovering over you. Still scowling, you said, “What felony?”

“Attempted murder. Using your face.”

“Man, fuck you!” you exclaimed, smacking him on the arm.

“Hey! I didn’t mean it like that! I meant like, the whole ‘if looks could kill’ thing,” he defended himself, rubbing his arm.

“Well either way, I’m not trying to murder anyone, you slinthead.”

Minho shrugged. “Tell that to Thomas. He’s been asking since last night why you keep glaring at him.”

“I’m not glaring at him,” you scoffed, “I’m observing. Analysing.”

“Right, right,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “You sure you’re not just pissy he’s hanging out with Newt?”

“Well,” you huffed, “he already got the tour from Chuck, what more does he need to know?”

Minho finally joined you on the bench, and nudged you with his elbow. You massaged the sore spot on your ribs.

“You should tell him how you feel, you know.”

“I’ve tried, Minho.”

He looked very unimpressed. “How? Telepathic signals?”

“I- well, you know,” you spluttered, “I wrote a note that said ‘I love you’ and left it in his hammock? But then it fell out and he didn’t see it.”

“My condolences,” Minho drawled.

You stuck your tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes. Minho was right, to some extent, you thought. But you didn’t want to confess to him, not with everything he’d been through, and with this horrible situation you’d been thrust in.

Newt was the best, most deserving person you’d ever met, and you knew you couldn’t force him into anything. Also, you were a bit of a coward. But that wasn’t the important part. You wanted him to realise by himself that you loved him and decide what he wanted.

And if what he wanted was Thomas, so be it.

“It’s not that simple,” you said to Minho. “Nothing is ever simple in The Glade. If I have to keep pining after him until he realises I love him or decides he loves me, then I will.”

Minho’s lips pursed and his gaze softened. “Okay, fine.”

Then he looked forwards and his eyes zeroed in on something. “Heads up, though, they’re coming this way.”

You looked up instantly and found Newt and Thomas heading your way. Newt raised his hand in a wave and Thomas gave what was probably supposed to be a smile but ended up being more like a grimace. Wow, he really did think you hated him.

“Hey Y/N, Minho,” Newt said, but his gaze was fixed on you. “Could I talk to Y/N for a second?”

“Fine,” scoffed Minho, “get rid of me. Come on, greenie, let’s go raid the kitchen.”

He threw an arm around Thomas and guided him away, and Newt took his spot on the bench while your heartbeat and body temperature rose alarmingly.

“Hi,” you managed to squeak out, “what’s up?”

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I found this on top of your things when I tried to look for you this morning.”

He started to rummage around in his pants pocket. “And then Thomas told me he saw the same piece of paper lying on the ground under my hammock last night.”

Dread filled every crevice of your body as Newt pulled out a folded piece of paper and unfolded it to reveal the words ‘I love you.’

“That’s… quite a coincidence,” you muttered.

Newt’s face twisted in a smile. “Yeah, I thought so too.”

Your face was unimaginably red when he started digging around in his other pocket and then turned to look at you.

“But what’s an even bigger coincidence, is this.”

He handed you a second piece of paper, folded only in half. Your heart lurched as you peeled it open. ‘I love you,’ it said, in a perfect imitation of Newt’s handwriting.

“What?”

He laughed at your dumbstruck expression and took the paper from your hands, then took your hands in his, forcing you to look at him. “I was going to give it to you tonight.”

“You love me?” you asked, still dumbstruck.

“I do, yeah.”

Your stomach did flips as you grinned at him. “Can I kiss you?”

Newt turned a little pink, and you flushed with pride at being able to embarrass him, then he nodded.

Nobody was surprised when you both showed up hand in hand to dinner that night, nor when you kissed afterwards. And nobody, not even Thomas, was surprised when Newt climbed his way into your hammock instead of his.

Because that was where he belonged. With you.

the maze runner: apocalypse sassy man apocalypse

based off of the ybwm music video

[lightwise]

The Sun Also Burns

gifs by @amiracleilluminated. Dividers by @dystopicjumpsuit

Come get your (very) late dinner with a side of Jod Juice. 'Tis very long, so read on AO3 here if you prefer.

Jod Na Nawood/Original Character. Character Study, Post-Finale, Canon compliant.

Words: 8,792

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Here be smut, your friendly neighborhood star wars pirate, we could fix him but it's better if he fixes himself, emotional angst, emotional sex, PinV (wrap it up kids), oral sex, vaginal sex, hurt/comfort/and then hurt again, light hand on the neck/choking mention, past character death referenced, kidnapping mentions, swearing/foul language, emotional baggage, Jod has spent his whole life running and he doesn't know how to stop now, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mutual pining, oh and did I mention the emotions

Summary: Jod managed to escape the Supervisor’s tower, his choices and life path now open before him. But he can’t escape his past, his demons–or an unexpected reunion. Will he finally grasp onto the pinpricks of light trying to break through his darkness? Or will he make another trip around the void he’s been circling before he’s willing to change his ways?

Notes: This came to me in a dream. Literally. 

Well, the diner scene did. Everything else is just an attempt to justify the ever expanding black hole labeled “Jod” that Jude Law (bless that man) and Skeleton Crew (bless everyone involved in this show) have introduced to my brain. 

Also, the belt buckle took on a life of its own before I went back and realized that Jod doesn’t have it in the first episode. I can’t tell if it was Rennod’s or someone else’s, but regardless, I put too much work into certain headcanons to change them now 😅. Fun fact though, everything else toward the end of this fic is actually canon (check out the book Choose Your Destiny: A Luke and Leia Adventure), and I was thrilled that my character and Jod ended up slotting in perfectly. 

You sighed as you picked up a napkin and wiped your mouth carefully at the corners. The clinking of silverware and buzzing of the overhead lights created a low level hum in the background, just enough to make a conversation feel private without having to yell across the melamine tables. The neighborhood diner had been the first place to reopen after the chaos on At Attin that evening, after a rerouted electric track was restored down the block.

It seemed like a fairly dull but cozy place on the best of days, but now it was jam packed with server droids, neighbors gathering around in gossiping circles, and the sizzling of frypans serving up every fried food imaginable.

Everyone was famished for both food and community after the once-in-their-lifetimes excitement of a pirate invasion, the destruction of the Barrier that had kept their planet hidden for centuries, and the arrival of New Republic X-Wings in its stead. The place remained packed even as the hours dragged on into the early morning. The saviors of the day—Wim, Fern, KB, and Neel, along with their parents—had made their rounds earlier, but had since gone home. The kids' faces were alight with excitement and pride, neighbors and Republic pilots alike shaking their hands and clapping them on the back.

You knew there would be no sleep for them tonight, no matter how dedicated their parents were at herding them home after one too many yawns had split their faces. A small, nostalgic smile appeared on your own, hidden behind the smooth white barrier of the napkin. Oh to be young and full of unbridled optimism again. You hoped that they never outgrew it.

A deliberate cough from the man sitting across from you broke through your thoughts, prompting an irritated eye roll in response. He was the exact opposite of what you hoped for those kids—the pirate currently in your custody had lost his last ounce of innocence long ago, if he ever had any in the first place. 

Handcuffed, hemmed in on each side by an imposing security droid, with one of the fighter pilots standing behind the booth waiting for your release, he still exuded a sense of boyish arrogance that you begrudgingly admired. He was practically lounging, for Force’s sake, his legs spread, the tails of his army green coat draping casually around his thighs and over the plasticine bench.

Jod’s face was arranged in an adequately contrite frown, but you knew him better than that. Forcing your eyes back onto your plate, you scooped up another bite of hashed potatoes into your mouth. You just wanted sustenance to fuel what was sure to be a long ride back to the embassy. Dealing with this perpetually scheming bastard had not been on your radar for tonight.

“Sooo…” his lilting voice drifted across the table. “How have you been?”

You barely restrained a scoff. “You are seriously not trying to do small talk right now.” Lifting your gaze, you saw that he had steepled his fingers together (as best he could with the chains hampering his wrists), elbows laying claim to the table and his head cocked slightly to the right. The classic Jod smirk just barely stretched the corners of his mouth.

“Isn’t that what two old friends are supposed to do when they have a chance to…how do they call it? Catch up with each other?” His eyes gleamed, though not with sincerity. Beneath the charming veneer and polite cooperation, the desperate calculations of a man who was caught, but had not surrendered, were whirring in the shadowed lines of his face.

“We are not catching up,” you frowned at him. “Your actions have caught up with you, and you alone.” You swallowed the last bite and scraped the fork harshly across the edge of your plate, hoping it would make him flinch. It didn’t.

“And of course,” you continued, exaggerating the disappointment lacing your words, “once again, Kh’ymm and I have to pick up the pieces of the chaos you unleash.” You slid your plate to the edge of the table as a server droid passed by, not bothering to turn your head.

“I really should be charging you a transport and protection fee every time I have to drag your sorry ass across the galaxy. Add on the multiple bounties on your head, and now charges of abduction and endangerment of children? Not to mention trying to take over an entire planet??” You clicked your tongue like an angry mother kroop bird.

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

His answering laugh built on itself until the smirk spread through his cheeks and crinkled the corners of his eyes. The energy rolling off of him felt frayed around the edges.

“Ahh, still as passionately eloquent as ever, my dear.” Despite yourself, your heart gave a faint clench at his choice of endearment. “I truly must have caused quite the stir if you came out all this way to deal with me personally.”

“That was not a compliment.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Well, that’s true for one of us then,” he winked back. “You’ve got yourself a fancier gig than I realized. They must put a lot of trust in you.”

You ignored the slight ache in your chest. The attempted banter and familiarity threatened to spark memories that were best left untouched. Ones you thought you had left rotting in a corner, like a pirate’s forgotten carcass, speared through the heart, buried alive. Never to be seen again.

“Have you really been this bored? Trying to rack up a sheet that rivals Gorian Shard?”

He shook his head slightly, the thin smile still stretching across his face, eyes sweeping over every inch of yours.

“Or have you truly become something this cruel?”

The smirk vanished instantly. His mouth drooped, eyes gleaming still, but this time with something brittle, bitter, and desperate.

“That’s not…ugh…I didn’t…” he trailed off in frustration, silently begging you to understand.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

You studied him silently for a moment before scooting sideways off the bench and rising to your feet.

“You never do.”

A flicker of anguish overtook the pirate’s face as you nodded at the pilot to take him away. The crack in the facade almost gave you pause, but the glint of sincerity was lost as his usual mask slammed back into place.

“No, no, no, wait! I can explain…”

The droids grabbed his arms and hauled him roughly to his feet as the pilot began to maneuver them towards the door.

“I had to see if the legends were true! And I needed the credits…my crew needed the credits. We didn’t mean any harm…agh!”

One of the droids clamped onto his arm, shutting him up for a brief moment. The five of you made your way out of the crowded diner, the smell of hot caf fading into crisp night air. Only the soft sound of chirping crunch bugs interrupted your measured footsteps.

The Corellian embassy corvette you had arrived in loomed ahead. The August Prime, while not officially yours, had become somewhat of a home the last few years. She was a little weather beaten from the war, but a new coat of paint and the occasional tune up had made her quite serviceable for emissary trips, and both Chancellor Mothma and Senator Leia Organa had made sure that it was available whenever you were called upon to represent the New Republic (and by extension, them) across the galaxy. 

Your career (you were still surprised it could be called that at this point) had started when you were young, taking whatever jobs you could find in order to survive. You quickly found that you had a knack for translation, bargaining, and brokering deals, and you made a name for yourself as a reputable goods and antiquities dealer–serving a rather diverse client base, as you liked to put it. You were nowhere near the league of legendary dealers in the Core Worlds like Luthen Rael, but your willingness to work with anyone who would abide by guild laws gave you a wide variety of contacts.

After the war, you had transitioned into being an ambassador for the New Republic, serving as a liaison between the fledgling government and the thousands of planets it sought to rebuild. In your previous life, you had often joked that you were far too addicted to a hot shower to indulge in a true pirate’s lifestyle, but really your morals were a touch too scrupulous to ever let yourself linger in filth for too long. That fact, along with your connections to pirates and politicians alike–and every class in between–made you an invaluable representative. 

Sometimes a true friendship sprang up along the way, like the one you developed with the owl-ish navigational wizard, Kh’ymm. Occasionally, you found something a little more than just friendship. 

And once or twice, a lot more, if you were honest with yourself. 

Which explained the current tension running like a live wire between you and the slightly cowed, but unbroken man in front of you. The droids were heading toward the August’s boarding ramp, and you could tell by the tilt of the closely-cropped head in between them that the pirate was staring quizzically into the dark hold, as though hoping the fate that awaited him on board that vessel would suddenly blink, and miss him.    

Your stomach gave an unexpected churn. You had to see his face again.

“Jod.” It came out as a whisper.

He stopped completely, limbs rigid, back straight. The droids were forced to stop with him. 

It was the first time you had said his name aloud in years.

Willing your legs to move again, you circled until you were facing the man you had once given a piece of your heart. Or had he stolen it? You were never quite sure. All you knew was that ultimately, what he truly treasured had never been you. 

“I know you’ve seen the inside of prison cell after prison cell.” Your voice was low as you reached out your hand and cupped the side of his face gently in your palm. 

“Until you’re free of the one in here,” you tapped your finger slowly against his temple, “nothing is ever going to change.”

His eyes grew wide and heartbreakingly solemn. You couldn’t miss the tremor in his throat, nor the subtle lean he made into your hand. 

As his lips parted, you almost held your breath. But no sound came out. After a moment of those storm-colored eyes staring straight into your soul, you let go and reluctantly moved up the gangway. You didn’t look back. 

******

An hour later, you were finally back in your quarters and slumped wearily in a chair. After debriefing your captain and copilot, recording a quick message to send to Mon’s secretary ahead of your arrival, and signing off on the path back to Coruscant the ship would take in the morning, you had beelined straight for your suite and locked the door behind you. 

Glancing at your desk, you caught sight of your daily log laying haphazardly in the corner, neglected after the unexpected distress call from Kh’ymm had come in. You couldn’t believe she hadn’t told you that Jod had shown up on her doorstep several weeks before, and with four bedraggled children in tow. There hadn’t been time to argue about that, however. Having heard from one of the children–KB, you believed it was–that a group of pirates had both found and infiltrated At Attin, an old Republic mint most people in living memory had never even heard of, it was clear that a squadron had to be sent, and quickly. A call to Leia and an emergency page alert to Mon, and you had been reassigned and on your way, though you hung back a little from the fighters to give them room to do their jobs. The August Prime had quite a few turbo lasers on her, but you had no interest in serving as a blockade runner unless it was necessary.

When you showed up to one (large, but still outmanned and outgunned) pirate frigate, a population who had never seen an X-Wing before (or stars, for that matter, as you later found out that evening), and a suspiciously familiar pirate captain who was nowhere to be found, you wanted to adopt the pirate code and throw someone–preferably him–out of an airlock. 

Although the battle itself was short lived, you were wholly unprepared for the chaos that followed. At first intending to remain on the planet to establish ties to the administration there, you quickly realized that the myth behind the lost planet of At Attin, versus the reality of the sequestered population having lived their lives under the control of a well meaning, but automated central computer system, was going to require more effort than anticipated.

After talking with Undersecretary Fara, whose daughter Fern was one of the children involved in this debacle, you decided to deal with the meddling pirates first, report back to Coruscant with a sample of the solid gold credits At Attin had been sequestering all these years, and then return with a few colleagues to establish further relations. You had a feeling you might even be bringing Fara and Fern with you on one of your trips–Fern’s inquisitive nature and brash confidence reminded you of yourself, at that age. You were interested to see what some encouragement might do for the girl’s prospects, along with the other kids, as well. You had noticed Wim almost jumping out of his skin with excitement when talking to one of your fighter pilots, while Neel just seemed to be relieved to be back with his siblings and parents on solid ground. 

KB, for her part, had explained to you in less than two minutes the elaborate systems that powered the money making machine at the core of the planet. A mere fraction of the wealth found in those vaults now lay on your desk, the pile of gold dataries glittering in the low lamp light. After her explanation, you had asked to be taken down into the vaults in order to collect a small sample you could bring to the Senate for inspection. 

While leaning over the platform, the two of you waiting for the service droids to return with the chest you had provided, KB had suddenly gasped, her visor flipping down as she spotted movement further along one of the air shafts. A series of shouts floated down to both of you as a scuffle took place. It looked like some of your guards had caught another intruder. 

“It’s him.” Her voice was soft and quiet. Almost disappointed.

“Who?” You turned to the slim girl, wondering at the change in her demeanor.

“The man who helped us…and then betrayed us.” Her shoulders slumped a little. “The captain.” 

Alarm bells were ringing in your head. KB hadn’t given a name, and there had been no designators on the frigate that caught your eye. But a slight tug in your gut warned you who you were about to face, even as one of your men reported over the comm. 

“We captured the instigator, your excellence!”

You braced yourself as the platform rose back to the surface. It felt like an eternity, but really it was only a few moments before the somewhat pathetic excuse for a pirate–his grimy blue shirt and tattered coat snapping in the wind as he struggled–was thrust in front of you. 

You raised your head slowly, the world tilting off-kilter as you came face to face with a soft smirk and a pair of intense blue eyes you had never expected to see again. The air between you shimmered with recognition. 

******

Joints aching, you eased yourself up and toward the ‘fresher. There was no use in dwelling on the past now. Or the man currently chained up in the hold of this very ship. You stopped in front of the mirror and let out a low groan, grimacing at the strained lines that had etched into your forehead. You thought about washing off the grime of the last twelve hours, but you honestly weren’t sure you could stay upright much longer. 

Deciding to forego a shower, you shuffled over to your bed and began changing into a set of night clothes. You had just started to relax when you heard a faint knock and then a scuffling noise at your door. Then another knock, slightly louder this time.

You groaned again. Who could possibly still be needing your attention at…well, you didn’t want to look at the chrono and find out.

Muttering several choice curses under your breath, you crossed the room and swiped the latch on the door, ready to chastise whoever stood on the other side. But the words died in your throat as it slid open.

The figure in front of you slipped through, silent as a shadow, punching the lock on the door as it closed behind him. A scarf obscured his face (had that been on him the whole time? you distantly wondered), but that didn’t stop every nerve in your body from screaming in recognition once more. 

Before you could utter a sound, he pressed a gloved finger to your lips. That touch alone was enough to send tremors through your limbs, and he took advantage of your shock to push you slowly back across the room.

Your lips opened and closed helplessly, the cut of his coat brushing against you and the sway of his boots on the floor disintegrating any words that tried to make it past your throat. Even in the dim light, you could see his eyes twinkling with mischief like you remembered, two shining pinpricks in an otherwise dark galaxy.  

And they were utterly fixated on the curve of your mouth. 

Fuck.   

He stopped a few feet from the patch of wall between your bed and your desk, breaths coming heavily as he tore the scarf down from his face. He stared straight through you, as though he was trying to decide exactly what it was that he wanted to do. 

You couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes dropped to the chiseled edge of his mouth, remembering the insistent way those delicate, full lips used to drag against your own. 

You gulped at the memory, and his gaze shifted to track down every inch of your throat.

Before you could blink he slammed you hard into the wall, hand grasping your jaw tight, lips crushing yours in a bruising kiss. They were warmer than you remembered.

A startled, but pleased moan made its way up your throat, and just as you began to feel lightheaded, he pulled back a few centimeters. A soft gasp escaped you as he changed course, his scruff brushing against your cheek as feather light kisses tracked down the side of your jaw, in sharp contrast to the ferocity with which he had just claimed your mouth. A pleasant hum began to settle in your blood.

You knew he had seen the chest of gold gleaming on your desk. You knew that nothing good could come of this. And yet this wasn’t just a distraction, wasn’t just another calculated ploy for him to find a way to escape. Against all odds, you knew that too. 

Jod made his way back to your lips, letting just the tip of his tongue flick over you before he pulled back completely. You were stunned at how…open he looked, the lamp on your desk gently caressing the side of his face. There was no mask, no pretense in his gaze. Just a quiet, wistful seriousness that you had rarely seen before. A hint of boyish desperation, too.

“One last romp?” His voice was smooth, head cocked a little to the right in that endearingly smug way of his, but you could feel the tension strung like a wire underneath.

You shook your head, chuckling under your breath at his audacity. “You are crazy, Jod.”

He simply continued staring at you, one hand making its way to your waist and resting lightly on the jut of your hip bone, thumb beginning to draw slow circles.

You let out a huff of resignation, your fingertips trailing over the tight line of his jaw. “Only if you brought condoms.” You were only half joking.

Something like relief flashed across his face. “You know I always do,” he smirked in return.

You rolled your eyes at that. “The one thing you’re reliable for.”

A flicker of real hurt sparked in his eyes, simmering into frantic desperation. You could sense that something fragile underneath was screaming for his attention, even as he still couldn’t bear to let it have control. 

“You really are…something, my dear,” he rasped, his nostrils flaring as frustration mixed with admiration. 

Your eyes softened as they passed over his hardened features. He had aged since the last time you saw him, fine lines in places they hadn’t been before. Heavy shadows hung under his eyes, and his shortened hair was touched with grey. But the green and brown flecks that danced in his irises held the same warmth as always, glimmers of unspoken affection swirling you into their bright orbit.  

“So are you.” And you meant it.

You surged forward, capturing his mouth for your own, needing to taste him. His muffled gasp curled over your wandering tongue as you asked for entrance, thrilling at the feeling of his fingertips scraping up the sides of your waist. Grasping the high collar of his coat, you tugged it sideways, trying and failing to pull it down his shoulders. 

He chuckled at your sudden insistence, his tongue licking against yours. Lazily plundering the roof of your mouth, he awkwardly shifted one arm out of the fabric only to wrap it immediately around your waist, doing the same with the other as he let the rest of the coat fall. 

Heat pooled in your belly as he pulled you tight against him, the familiar ridges of his Quarran forged belt buckle digging into your flesh. He had shoved his leather gloves into his pocket, leaving his rough, sensitive fingers free to trace mesmerizing patterns over your thighs and hips. It almost tickled through the fabric of your dressing gown.  

Groaning as your teeth caught on his swollen lip, he reached lower and grabbed the backs of your thighs, dragging you roughly up the wall until he could wrap them around his waist. Taking a moment to adjust his stance, he pulled at the edge of your gown until it fell to the side, letting the tips of his fingers drag along your skin, all the way up to your breast. Your back arched in anticipation.

You felt the air punch out of your lungs at a sudden tilt of his hips, almost choking at the feeling of his half-hardened cock now pressing urgently against the warmth of you. He managed to graze his thumb across your nipple at the same time, and your jaw dropped as a jolt of electricity went straight to your cunt.      

“You still like that, huh,” he gave you a cheeky grin.

“I’m surprised you remember,” you retorted, flushing as you tried to hide just how much it affected you.

“I remember everything,” he replied earnestly. Sweetly. “You know I don’t fuck around, unless I have to, or I want to.” His other hand shifted slightly to keep you in place, the one on your breast teasing light, reverent circles. 

“And which one was I?” You breathed, struggling to keep your composure.

“Both.” His eyes bored into yours. “Always both.” 

Your heart stuttered, and you traced one hand slowly up the subtle angles of his chest, letting your fingers tangle in the patch of hair that tumbled over his open shirt. Clasping the other tightly behind his neck, you tugged him back against you, and he groaned in satisfaction. The heat of his mouth against yours was the only thing you wanted to feel in that moment. 

****** Jod couldn’t believe he was actually here, standing in your quarters, his belt unclasped and your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. 

He had to choke down a maniacal laugh when he first saw your face on that platform. 

Of course.

He knew that a CR90 had shown up after his frigate had been pummeled to the ground, had seen it appear in the newly dark sky as he escaped the Supervisor’s tower and made his way down to the vaults. But not on the wildest bet would he have considered that you might be inside. 

He had hoped for a clean getaway. Salvage a few dataries, pick up whoever else had escaped, and hightail it to a distant port to nurse his latest defeat in a strong bottle or two. Carefully try to ignore the long-buried wound that Wim’s unexpected concern for him had prodded. It was the only way he had survived this long.

And then you had appeared in front of him, and that ache cracked open wider than an entire kriffing galaxy spinning in orbit.  

There was nothing the universe loved more than reminding him of his failures.

Your hands were inching their way along his back, attempting to lift up the hem of the threadbare shirt he had pilfered off the floor of the Onyx Cinder. He knew what you wanted but he couldn’t bear to separate from you long enough to accommodate the motion. 

He had almost forgotten how good you tasted. The room threatened to spin around him as he breathed in your warm scent, heard the familiar gasps in your throat, felt the delicate pull of your fingers. The taste of your lips was intoxicating, but he needed more. 

He wanted to drown himself in you. 

Reluctantly straightening, he bowed his shoulders to heft you higher under his arms, clicking his tongue in amusement as you tensed with the fear that he might drop you. Crossing the extra few feet to your bed, he carefully tilted you back on the mattress, one hand still greedily grasping at your waist as he scrambled to kick off his tall boots. 

Normally pants and shirt would have followed too, and your hands had already reached for the hems again, but he was too impatient. He grabbed your wrists as they inched lower and pressed them together, fingers locking around the fragile bones. Pulling them up and crossing them over your chest, he held them gently in place, shaking his head in warning. 

Your cheeks flushed with heat, and he relished in the way your eyelids fluttered as he lowered his gaze to your chest, slowly sweeping his other hand down until he came to the ties still holding your robe loosely together.  

“On, or off?” His voice was gentle, interested. You nodded. “Off then.”

His hand moved quickly, unlacing the ties and brushing the garment aside. Releasing your wrists, he lowered his face until his nose dragged against your sternum, licking and sucking his way across your salty skin. His pebbled tongue scraped roughly over one nipple and you arched against him, your throat and chest gleaming in the lamp light. His cock twitched as your hips squirmed beneath him, and he laved over your nipple one more time before making his way down your stomach.

He could smell your arousal as he kissed along the groove of your hips, and he grinned at the sight of just how soaked you already were.

“All this for me?” He teased, eyes narrowing in amusement as he glanced up at you. 

“I don’t think you need me to inflate that head of yours any further,” you quipped back, pretending to scowl as he carefully slid your underwear off your legs and onto the floor. You had missed this ridiculous banter.

“Oh, but I really think I do,” he winked, his smile fading as he closed his eyes and breathed you in. Head dipping, he kissed softly up your thigh until you were squirming, silently begging him to move closer.

Digging his fingers into your hip, he finally let his tongue take what it wanted, reaching out with just the tip to tease your folds before fully diving in. You were soaking wet, your lips slick and dripping onto his chin as he drank you in. Letting his tongue wander, he reached up and cupped a breast with one hand, the other holding your hip secure against the mattress.  

Wonderful. You were wonderful. Your taste was so sweet and rich. You filled his palm perfectly. Memories began to trickle back, unbidden, as he pulled you even closer and dipped his tongue into your pussy just to feel you quiver. Days spent arguing over the worth of his latest finds, your smile smooth and eyes filled with a challenge that he could never back down from. Nights spent mapping each other’s bodies while spinning dreams of exploring the galaxy. Sitting side by side, hours whiled away but never wasted. One of the few gleams in an otherwise dim existence. 

Suddenly he felt one of your hands curl over his head, brushing softly against his hair as you sought to anchor yourself in his presence. The motion was comforting at first, a slight tension in his scalp soothed by the tips of your cool fingers. 

Until a jarringly recent memory launched a mutiny in his mind–the sensation of his head bowing under the cascade of a very different kind of lust earlier that evening.

The waterfall of credits. A room literally bursting with the golden light of limitless wealth. A life-long dream–no, need–finally come true.

He had the sickening feeling that after today, the pursuit of security he so ravenously clung to now felt more like an anchor that was dragging him down faster than any shipwreck. Shackles too thick for him to casually break, unlike the handcuffs he had disengaged twice already with a subtle flick of the Force. 

No. No, no, NO. He shook his head in frustration, biting roughly down on your thigh in a futile attempt to disguise his own contradictions. He wasn’t just thirsty. He was hungry. He always had been, and here you were willingly satiating him, and he wanted it to be enough. Needed it to be enough. You deserved everything he had to give.

And everything he couldn’t. 

Shifting your leg at the knee, he rutted his shoulders under you and lifted you to his face again, devouring you like the starving man he was. Your back arched, your hands clenching helplessly as your nerves trembled from his onslaught. He focused on your clit, easing one finger, and then two, into your warm depths as he sucked, feeling your hips buck against him like he knew they would. 

He pulled you closer, ignoring the pulsing in his own groin, fingers relentless in the pursuit of your pleasure. He chased every twitch, every moan, feeling your walls tighten until finally, with a wrench of his knuckles, it was enough. He shivered as your taste flooded his mouth, gratified to hear the whimpers leaving your throat as he flattened his tongue and licked you clean. 

He didn’t come up for air until he realized your hands were tugging at him, begging him to slow, the pressure now too much. Catching one of them in his, he gently kissed your knuckles in acknowledgment. The cool air shifted against his back as he disentangled himself, and it suddenly registered just how tight and uncomfortable his clothes had become. They were practically soaked through from his efforts. He gave you a quick smile and sat up, peeling off his shirt and pants haphazardly before crawling back over to you and flopping down with a sigh.

******

Still trying to catch your breath, you reached down and ran your hand lightly over him, admiring the view you had been craving since the moment he stepped through your door. His wiry, lithe frame had always held good muscle, and the curve of his ass against your palm was a comforting weight. He would never know just what the sight of him with his mouth buried between your legs meant to you. 

Your lips pursed as your heartbeat began to slow. You hadn’t missed the earlier shift in his mood, but you decided not to question it. You just ached for him. 

“Was anything on you actually yours? Besides the belt,” you gestured at the glint of his buckle half buried under the pile of clothes now strewn on the floor. His weapons had all been confiscated, but even those had been borrowed or stolen. “Oh, and your coat, of course.” 

He paused for a moment, his lips tilting in a smirk. “Well, I would say this is,” he gestured down at his stiff, aching cock nestled against your thigh. “But I’m afraid that belongs to you at the moment.” Once the words left his mouth, he realized how little of a joke it actually was. 

“Oh really?” You couldn’t help but laugh gently, and he looked almost relieved. “Well, that’s nice to know.” 

Your fingers trailed lower, relishing the way he began to squirm as the back of your fingers brushed over his stomach, his hair, and lower until they finally whispered teasingly over his shaft. His jaw clenched, a half smile belying the slight shake of his head. 

“Careful,” he rasped, eyes easing shut as you took him fully in hand. You rubbed your thumb gently over the velvet skin, humming a little as he curled into you, chasing the sensation. Pulling long, smooth strokes, you reacquainted yourself with his thickness, the veins running up the side, the way he curved as he hardened in your fist. 

His jaw slackened a little as you picked up the pace, and you shifted yourself so that you could lean over and still look up at him. Pausing, you ran your knuckles lightly over him again and waited until he opened his eyes, and then slowly, you let your face hover over him, lips parting, until you felt him throb in anticipation. Gripping him tightly, you reached out your tongue and licked. First a quick swipe of his tip, and then letting your tongue circle his head, savoring his salty taste. You licked a wide, slow stripe up his shaft, and then welcomed him into the heat of your mouth with a rhythm of pumps and licks, a groan occasionally escaping him at the twists of your hand. 

A glance caught him biting his lip, eyes half-lidded, and you smirked as you leaned down, mouth wide, and took him in as far as you could, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked. Your nose just barely brushed against the curls at his base. 

“Hhhah, wait, wait,” he gasped, reaching down and fiercely gripping your chin to haul you up and off of him. His eyes were wild. Your teeth scraped against him in the process and you almost thought he would come right then and there.

He flipped you over, pulling you up to the top of the bed, and it was your turn to whimper at the feel of his teeth as he mouthed along your neck. Grabbing the packet he had set on your bedside table, he pulled away just long enough to sheath himself before crowding you with his hips. He kissed you deeply, reaching down and lining himself up to sink into you, slowly at first, and then all at once.

Every muscle thrummed at the stretch of him, and you closed your eyes as you felt your walls pulse, willing yourself to relax. It was almost overwhelming, the teasing pace he set, deliberately keeping you both at the edge. You moaned helplessly. There was something about him that could reach places in you that no one else could. 

He closed his hand around your throat and your eyes flashed, the slight pressure on either side of your neck heightening every sense. You were so close. 

“I need you to come on my cock”, he growled, almost breathless from the heat of you. “Need you…to…” his hips faltered for a moment. “Give me one more, pretty girl.” 

You murmured something he couldn’t quite catch. He released your neck and moved his thumb to meticulously explore the curve of your collarbone, letting you both catch your breath.

“What was that?” 

A small, teasing smile crept onto your face. 

“Yes sir.” Your voice was light and airy. 

His eyes widened comically, his hips stuttering with unexpected violence. That was…oh, that was…

Before he could muster any scrap of control, your hips snapped up in desperation to meet his, giving him room to slide one hand under your sacrum, fingers nestling in the indents on either side. 

Your fingertips clung to the planes of his shoulders, traced the cage of his ribs in a plea no words could convey. He couldn’t leave you wanting. 

“You can let go.” Your whispered release floated into his ear.

“I need you with me.” 

Shoving one elbow down for support, he twisted his thumb over your clit, gathering your slick in calculated circles and pressing, begging you to follow him into the void, to yield to the burst of heat flaring down your spine. 

Until with a few staggered gasps, you both fell over the edge in a pulsing surrender. 

******

Once breath settled back into your lungs, you rolled over and reached for him across the tangle of sheets, your heart catching as he turned to you with a languid, peaceful smile. 

“Sorry for the mess.”  

‘I mean, there’s ways to deal with that.” Your eyes glinted with mischief. Flipping onto your stomach, you flicked your tongue over him and then moved to take him back into your mouth. 

His hand flew to your head. “I wouldn’t do that…unless you want a repeat.”

You pulled off and gave him a sweetly innocent grin. “I have a perfectly good shower right there, if you’d prefer that instead.” 

“Are you calling me dirty?” he scoffed.

You slid off the bed and sauntered through the room, pausing at the ‘fresher door. “Very,” you winked. 

He groaned, head in his hands, before forcing himself up. A persuasive glint filled his eyes as he caught you by the waist and pulled you into the shower, muffling your laughter with determined lips. 

******

You both collapsed back on your bed, cleaned off and utterly spent. You were shocked that you hadn’t fallen asleep standing up. 

Jod wrapped himself around you, chin tucked against your shoulder, legs slotted between yours. You were savoring how the two of you fit together, limb against limb, and you let your hand wander up and down his back in a soothing sweep. 

You were about to drift off when you remembered something you had been meaning to ask. 

“So, how did you actually get up here? Don’t tell me I need to completely overhaul my security systems.” Your voice was thick with drowsiness.

He snorted. “I mean, I’m sure your crew is doing their best,” a flippant wave contradicting the sentiment until a yawn interrupted him. “But you seem to have forgotten that I’m quite capable of getting myself out of handcuffs when the situation requires.”

You slowly smiled. You had spent more than one night taking advantage of that fact in the past, though it apparently had slipped your mind since then. 

“Guess I need to start hunting for some of those old repression binders that could keep Force users in line if this is going to become a regular occurrence.”

You knew it was a horrible joke before it even left your mouth, and you belatedly winced, holding your breath as Jod stilled beside you. 

But his response was not the rebuke you expected. 

“I…” he cleared his throat, his voice muffled against the side of your arm. “I told them…about Ninaa.” 

You didn’t trust yourself to move. “Told who?”

He glanced up at you before burying his face in your chest. “The kids.” 

He had been drunk, and very morose, the night he told you about the Jedi woman who had found him as a ragged child. He was begging on the streets, she was a survivor on the run. They were perfect for each other. Jod learned a little about his natural giftings from her, and they kept each other safe. Until they couldn’t. 

“Told them how she died. What she taught me, the potential she saw in me”–he almost spit the word out of his mouth–”only for those bastards to use her own lightsaber to kill her in front of me.” His teeth ground in their sockets.  

The children must have gotten deeper under his skin than you thought if he had unburdened that story on them.

“And then I threatened to do the same thing to them. As if I could convince myself that I could actually follow through on it.”

He exhaled a slow breath, his features cycling through emotion after another. And then, so quietly you weren’t sure the words hadn’t just appeared in your mind–

“Don’t give up on me just yet.” 

The weight of his body on yours was suddenly crushing.

“I’ve never given up on you.” Your pulse raced. “Those kids haven’t either.”

His voice was measured, low. A steel knife dragged against the edge of a whetstone.

“Yeah they have. Just like everyone else.”

Before you could protest, he lifted his head, eyebrows raised. “I know you don’t trust me fully. Nor should you.” His mouth drooped in defeat.

Your lips parted but no sound escaped at first. Your hands trembled slightly. 

“There’s always time to surprise them.” Surprise me. 

He lowered his head in resignation.

“Maybe.” Someday.

You hesitantly swept your hand over his strained shoulders, wishing you could pierce through the shadows engulfing you both. Your voice was barely a whisper. 

“You know those pinpricks of light you always talk about? The few good things in the galaxy that are so… sparse and unattainable.” 

You waited. It was a long moment before he nodded, reluctantly. 

“They only stay pinpricks when you keep running away from them. Up close…those stars are suns. They give light. Warmth. Life.”

His limbs tightened around you. His breathing was so shallow you almost thought he had fallen asleep. 

“Yes.” The quiet hiss startled you.

“But the sun also burns.”

The night itself seemed to hold its breath at his admission. Your heart spasmed in your chest, frayed nerves bare and broken at the acknowledgement of the open wound seeping into the air between you. 

The starved desires of a frightened child whose every grasp for the light left him shrouded in darkness. Fear of abandonment leaving ash on everything he touched. 

The silent screams of a boy who had never been able to become the man he thought he would be. 

The barrier on At Attin may have evaporated, but a different, more insidious fog swirled around the Force-sensitive pirate’s heart and mind, clouding him from your sight. All you could do was hold onto him, keep a sliver of hope for him shining like a beacon in the night sky. 

Hope that one day, that light might become a flame that could illuminate rather than ignite and burn.

A gleam that wouldn’t cheapen into fools’ gold. 

The moments warped around you, plasma slipping through a time-glass, until the man in your arms shifted slightly. His hands dug into your sides, lightly at first, and then gripping you like a vise. He leaned up, his eyes meeting yours in mute exhaustion, and pressed a slow, cautious, achingly tender kiss to your mouth.  

You fell asleep to the imagined hum of a lightsaber, slashing and cutting as terrified screams filled the air, burning a hole in the hopes and dreams of the poor boy who carried its scars still. 

******

Jod could still feel your lips on his as he stood in the doorway of your room, the gasps of laughter (and more) you had shared with him through the night echoing in his skull. It was early morning, the sun about to rise over the newly exposed plains on At Attin. He had to move if he was going to steal one of the RZ-1 interceptors docked on the hull of the ship and make his escape. 

But he couldn’t stop staring at the one streak of light that trickled through the curtain onto your peaceful, sleeping face, framed by your loose hair and the sheet he had pulled carefully over your shoulder.  

Slung under his arm was the chest full of credits that had been sitting on your desk. Face strained with regret, he turned one of the datary shards over in his palm. It was cold–hard–the sharpened edge firm and unyielding. Such a stark contrast to the softness of your body, the sunshine of your lips, the pliant way your curves filled his hands. He clenched his fist until the sting of the metal sent a jolt through his palm, blood beading in its wake. 

He was itching to choose the warmth of you instead–to turn away for once from the blinding gleam of the forged gold pieces at his side–but he still couldn’t make himself do it. Not quite yet. He couldn’t shake off the darkness that surrounded him on a persistent, daily basis, and until he found a path through that haze, he couldn’t bear to shroud you in it too. 

His jaw jutted forward, lips pursed in a scowl that threatened to slice the cool air. 

No attachments. The one rule of the Jedi he had always been able to follow through on. Forget ‘em. That’s what he had told Wim when the boy was crying, scared and shaking from missing his parents. He recalled boasting like a mynocked fool that he had done just that. 

He shook his head. Call him a fool if he ever found it within himself to forget Ninaa, or those damn kids–or you.

Especially you. 

He pulled his scarf up over his face, double-checked that your blaster was still cocked at his hip, shut your door behind him, and left. 

******

A beam of sunlight bursting at the seam of your eyelids finally woke you. Eyes screwed tight, you immediately buried your face in the cooling relief of your pillow, not caring whether you had slept past your alarm or not.

Until the memories of the previous night that led to why, exactly, you had turned off said alarm came rushing back, unbidden. 

Your hand stretched out hesitantly, feeling along the mattress. You knew even before you opened your eyes.

He was gone. 

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you reluctantly stretched your arms, spine, and neck in turn, and scanned the room. 

You weren’t surprised that the chest of gold was gone from your desk. Nor even that one of your blasters had disappeared too (although it was a rather expensive antique, damn him).  

What was surprising was what the missing pirate had left behind. In the middle of your desk, surrounded by a sea of papers, lay a small bag of coins–deliberately culled from the cache he had absconded with–the worn clasp from his belt, and a hastily scribbled note. 

You picked that up first, willing your fingers not to shake.

You told me once to make my life the one I want to live.

I haven’t forgotten. I promise you, I will.

A hitched breath escaped you, turning into a laugh halfway through. 

Promises were like breathing to him. But this was one you would try to believe.

Laying the letter down with a sigh, you picked up his buckle and ran your fingers over the familiar scuff marks. It had been years since you had first seen its plundered steel. A token of the meager threads that held a pirate’s humanity together. 

Not that the buckle’s first owner had been human at all. Originally strapped around the waist of the Quarren upstart Kragan Gorr, it made its way into Jod’s hands during a scuffle in the Outer Rim, which you once called a nuisance, and would later call fate. 

Visiting Kh’ymm and rather bored at the time, you had agreed to join Jod on a supply run when he picked up a distress signal near the Kiax Nebula. You learned the hard way that the one-eyed pirate Grox was running a grift to lure unsuspecting ships into the system, before stripping and selling them (and whatever cargo and crew they contained) to a group called the Tech Masters, who ruled the nearby planet of Trionax. 

Jod had been intrigued by the rumors of ships going missing, tales of a hidden junkyard planet somewhere in the nebulae, and whispers about the loot Grox was accumulating. He never could resist a tall tale.

Convincing you that the scavenging possibilities would be worth the detour, Jod followed the signal until you found yourselves locked into a tractor beam. Predictably, the two of you were no match for the formidable Lasat, although you put up a dirty fight. Gruesomely efficient, with only Kragan and two others for backup, Grox had eventually shipped you off to Trionax alongside a rather banged up Corellian light freighter he had captured on the same trip. 

Unbeknownst to everyone until you landed, the freighter was not unmanned. Inconvenient capture turned into a fateful rendezvous as you met the woman who would become your employer, role model, and friend. Why Senator Organa, her blond, innocent-faced twin, and their blue and silver astromech were wandering around in that part of space was beyond you, but you didn’t have time to question the situation. 

Trionax had remained hidden for so long due to an artificial force field protecting the planet. After realizing your ships couldn’t take off even if you could sneak back on board, Leia was prepared to brashly try and force a way out of the situation. You had a feeling Luke both could and would back up her threats, but the Tech Masters had no patience for being patronized. Trying a different tack, you let Jod and Luke sweet talk their way into finding a communications panel, while you summoned every power of negotiation and a pocket translator you had to try and stall for them. 

And it worked, Force knew how. Alerting the Empire to the planet’s location, you all managed to slip away in the chaos that unfolded as a Star Destroyer appeared in the atmosphere above. 

Not, however, before Leia slipped you her comm number, muttering something about reaching out if you ever wanted to lend your impressive skills to a good cause.

That had been years ago, before the Empire fell. 

You and Jod returned home in one piece, the stolen belt buckle the only memento of your unexpected adventure. But something had shifted in you, and bargaining your way through Jod’s whims was becoming less of a thrill, especially when capture and near death were involved. 

While you stayed in touch for a while, the two of you drifted apart, Kh’ymm giving you updates on his expanding crew and latest escapades until even she lost contact with the man you had once dreamed of a future with. She was never willing to divulge why.

And now here you were. Headed back to Coruscant with gold left in your possession by the same pirate who had tried to steal the lot of it–twice. A trusted ambassador carrying news to your Chancellor of a planet that might as well be from another galaxy. Crafting the explanation you would owe your senator on how exactly one of your prisoners had managed to take a detour–again. Choices made, paths crossed, fates open.

And yet, you knew Leia would understand having a soft spot for handsome pirates who were nothing but trouble. 

A sudden buzz from your comm pierced through your introspection, the flickering blue figure of your haggard-looking first mate appearing in front of you. 

“Excuse me for waking you, but there’s been a disturbance. We believe one of the fighters took off a little while ago without authorization.”

You chuckled inwardly, rolling your eyes at the pirate’s predictability. You had known from the moment your security dragged him up the August Prime’s boarding ramp that he wouldn’t accept leaving the same way. 

You held down the receiver to answer.

“It’s alright, I was already awake. Thanks for notifying me. I doubt there’s anything we can do at this point, but I’ll be right there.” 

Jod’s penance would have to wait. 

Prison had never really suited him, anyway.

✨ Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off pls!) ✨ @jetii @probadbatch @arctrooper69 @freesia-writes @drafthorsemath @sunshinesdaydream @heyclickadee @burningfieldof-clover @the-little-moment @dreamless-daydreamer @ladyzirkonia

[nomoreusername]

Random TMR Headcannons

• Frypan is Gally's best friend. He's the only one who knows how to calm him down.

• Frypan once went on strike and wouldn't cook his famous stew because everyone made fun of it. It lasted just two weeks.

• When they were Runners Gally always wanted Newt to be his partner in the Maze.

• Aris loves history books.

• Aris is just naturally a night owl.

• Rachel and Aris were together at one point or extremely close to it.

• Aris always blamed himself for Rachel's death.

• Harriet almost died in the Maze but never told anyone.

• Minho called Gally eyebrows instead of Greenie.

• Minho refuses to let anyone see him cry.

• Minho admires Newt more than he could describe.

• Newt did write Minho a letter. He just took a long time to get the strength to read it.

• Newt always wanted someone with his accent to come up.

• Newt is extremely self conscious about his limp.

• One time a Greenie asked about Newt's limp. Someone else had to take over the tour that day.

• Newt gives the best hugs.

• Thomas still has dreams that everyone is alive only to wake up to everyone dead.

• Thomas is scared to love someone because they all end up dead.

• Teresa has extremely neat yet tiny handwriting.

• Chuck only started pranking people because he wanted someone to pay attention to him.

• For about 5-6 months the Gladers purposely sent down stupid requests they knew they wouldn't get because they wanted to piss off tbe Creators.

Books

• Teresa was excited about being with the Group B girls because she didn't get a chance to be around any before.

• Whenever Sonya hears someone say Lizzie she feels like it's familiar.

• Sonya randomly felt like a part of her was missing when Newt died.

• Aris would debate telling someone about his bigger role in WICKED to get some of the guilt off of his chest. 

Movies

• Brenda used to call Jorge Dad when she was little.

• Minho spent every Greenie night for a year after he got his limp.

• Thomas always wears Newt's letter around his neck because it makes him feel safe.

• Newt came up with the idea of a fight ring on Greenie night because he could tell that Gally was holding in a lot of anger.

• Gally threatened anyone who was even slightly mean to Chuck.

• Gally used to test out his 'special drink' and made himself sick the first few times.

• Sonya, Harriet, and Aris had dreams of being reunited while they were apart.

• Aris thought he recognized Sonya and Harriet's voices from the start when they were reunited but was terrified of being wrong.

• Sonya and Aris ended up being together.

The Fever Code

• Sonya used to constantly talk about Newt to her friends

• Harriet would comfort the new girls and explain everything whenever one came.

• Teresa hated being immune because of everyone isolating her.

• Aris would color code his notes.

• Aris would constantly fall asleep in class.

• Occasionally some bored teenagers would dare each other to get as close to the Crank cage as possible.

[titi-1188]

NSFW DNI, NON-MINORS DNI

authors note : first fic that i’m basing off of my dream, hope u enjoy !!

—

Reunited.

Walking into the canteen for the first time in the facility they were in—the ‘safe haven’ as Janson, the man who saved them, calls it—Minho couldn’t help but find that his line of vision kept on moving towards this girl sitting at the end of a table, across some scrawny looking kid. It is like there was some gravitational pull that wanted him to go to her.

Who exactly is this girl? Why does he feel like he knows her?

“Hello? Earth to Minho?”, Frypan said to get the boys attention—waving his hand in front of his face. Minho snapped out of it and looked back to his friends. “What? Someone caught your eye?”, Newt questioned—trying to find the person Minho was looking at by forcing himself into his line of vision.

“What? What, no, never—who do you think I am?”, Minho responds, acting offended.

“Just saying—you were definitely staring at someone…just who”, Frypan says, mimicking Newt’s actions trying to spot the one who got Minho speechless.

“Shut your holes—there’s no one.”

“Okay okay…don’t get too defensive”, Frypan says, raising his hands in defeat, Newt backs off as well turning his attention to Thomas.

Minho sneaks one last glance at the girl, only this time to find her looking back. They hold eye contact, something in their heads clicking before looking away at the same time, looking back again, and finally looking away. Minho involves himself in the conversation happening around him.

“How long you guys been here?”, Newt asks. “Not long, just a day or two”, the boy across them who Thomas and now Newt are talking to responds. “Those kids over there have been here the longest—almost a week.“, he indicates to the girl Minho could not stop looking at and the boy she’s sitting with.

“They’re from the same maze—he was the only guy”, another guy interjects, a small smirk on his face.

“Really?”, Minho questions. “Some guys have all the luck”, the first guy replies, slight jealousy in his tone.

There’s a brief silence before it’s interrupted, the man—Mr.Janson, who is responsible for them being her walking in the door, followed by his men. “Good Evening, gentlemen, ladies. You all know how this works—you hear your name called, please rise in an orderly fashion, join my colleagues behind me”, he gestures towards them “who will escort you to the eastern wing. Your new lives are about to begin.”

He began listing, stopping at eight names, the teens in the canteen groaning in disappointment. However, Minho wasn’t exactly paying attention when all this was happening—his gaze again fixed on the girl and boy at the end of a table who seem to keep their gazes low when Janson walked in, and as Thomas got up to go after Theresa, taking all the attention with him, he decided now was a good time to go and talk to this mysterious girl.

He strides over, leaning on the table—looking down at the girl, the boy across from her indicates for her to look up. And so she does and their gazes meet.

And suddenly he doesn’t know what to say. Actually being up close to her and making eye contact like this suddenly just took all the words out of him.

“Hello?”, the girls speaks, snapping him back to reality. “Hey…uhm—do you—do I..do we know each other?”. The girl and boy exchange a look, Minho glances down at the two before fixing his gaze on her again. “I don’t…think so”, she replies. “I just—there’s something, and we—“, a quick realisation hits him and he continues “you made eye contact with me I know you know what I’m talking about.”

The girl gives the other boy a quick nod—he reciprocates that and stands up, walking off. “I think I know what you’re talking about but I don’t know what it is either”, she says, making direct eye contact. “Maybe we knew each other before the maze?”

Their memories before the maze were supposed erased—but when she said that, it was like it made perfect sense in Minho’s head. Maybe she was important, maybe she was someone he couldn’t forget.

“Okay well—if that’s the case, maybe we should reintroduce ourselves?”, he says in a tone that screams ‘isn’t this the obvious thing to do’.

The girl rolls her eyes hearing the suggestion but looks up at him again “Y/N”. She sticks out her hand to him, he takes it into his “Minho”. They shake hands. He takes in the way she looks, her eye shape, the way her hair frames her face—just her face. He knows this face. This face was important. “Who’s your friend?”, Minho looks around trying to spot the guy who was sitting with her. “Aris—he was the guy in my maze, we escaped and we’re brought here”. “Cool cool cool…”, Minho sits down beside her.

“So…”, she starts, looking at him. “So..?”. “Say something”. He looks at her “You say something.”. “Well—no, you’re the one who came to me”. “Well you could put some effort in as well, I can’t be doing all the work”. “Jesus you’ve been sitting here for not even a minute and you’re already insufferable”, Y/N sighs, rubbing her temple.

“Okay—fine, I’ll start a conversation“, he states. Minho thinks for a moment before looking back at Y/N “What’s your favourite…colour?”. “Seriously?”, she asks, slightly in disbelief, raising her brows. “Seriously. What is your favourite colour?”.

A quick pause. “…pink, what’s yours?”, Y/N replies, asking him the same question he asked her. “I guess I like…blue and like a dark green”, Minho responds “Ooh a dark green? We’re really getting into specifics and personal things here”, Y/N teases, chuckling. “Shut it..”, Minho says, a grin on his face.

And that’s how it went—small simple questions. Getting to know each other, growing more comfortable—until it was time to get to bed.

Two people who used to be lovers brought back together by fate.

Reunited.

—

sigh i still don’t know how to feel about this but oh well!!

hope u enjoyed it :))

[heliads]

IMAGINE

mordern au!newt whos readers classmate and hes like a nerd etc and reader just fell for him because of how cute he is and like they sit next to eachother in some class and reader keeps catching newt whos staring at them and its because he wants to ask them out ? HEBFISNIDNFI i hope this makes sense and i hope you have an amazing day🥰

happy birthday anon!!!!!

masterlist

There is a boy in the corner of this room, and he is– he is looking at you. Yes, you’re sure of it now, even though he glanced away as soon as your eyes met. He wasn’t expecting you to notice, which is silly, because you’ve noticed almost everything about Newt since the moment he first showed up in one of your classes. 

The only thing you haven’t noticed about him is all the times you haven’t caught him staring, and how he smiles when he knows you won’t be able to question him for it. Similarly, when Newt hastily turns his head and pretends that he’s been studying the board at the front of the classroom this whole time, he misses how long your eyes linger on him instead. Almost as long as his, maybe. Shame that neither of you will do a thing about it.

You don’t think you’re staring for the same reasons, though. You only look at Newt because he’s already looking at you. Newt must have a different motive for getting distracted by you so often, but he’s not likely to breathe a word of it to you. Until that impossible day, though, when Newt finally manages to get over himself and finally confesses something, you’ll keep looking back at him, wondering what all of this is about, and never, ever knowing.

You can’t hold too much of a grudge against him for looking away, nor for rushing out of the classroom without a word more than hello or goodbye or the occasional sorry when he brushes against you in the hallway. That’s not personal, that’s just how Newt is with everybody.

Newt’s quiet, you know. Doesn’t talk to a whole lot of people if he can help it. Most of the time, he’s perfectly content to sit by himself or walk alone to class, not needing anyone around him. He brushes off eye contact like dust from a faded photograph, not straying to orbit around the popular circles like everyone else in this school. The only exceptions are the small and select group of friends he likes to keep around, and then– well, then there’s you, but that feels different, somehow.

You know of Newt’s friends, they’re all good people. The kind of good people that you’d expect someone like Newt to hang out with. There’s Alby, tall and strong and ever-present in student leadership organizations. He keeps trying to get Newt to run with him in various elections. Usually Newt’s too good of a sport to say no, but the blond boy would much rather fade into the background under more secretarial roles as opposed to vocal vice presidencies. You’d know, you’ve seen him.

Minho’s a ton of fun, too. No one can crush the student athlete grind like him. He’s captain of the varsity cross country team, and will happily swear to anyone around that he’s the fastest one by far. Newt used to run with him, but there was an injury and a lot of crushed dreams and no one likes to talk about it much. It’s surprising how quickly people can move on.

Thomas is new, just switched over to your school a few weeks ago. He’s got this freaky sort of determination that makes you want to stand and watch while he tears up everything you’ve ever known. You’re all sort of fascinated by him, and you have no doubt that if there’s anyone capable of acing the SAT and making it far enough out of here to see the walls of an Ivy League, it would be him.

The others are just as fun. Teresa’s new too, although she usually keeps to herself. Thomas knows her the best. Frypan, president of the school cooking club, can usually be seen proffering boxes of freshly baked delicacies to his friends. They’re all good kids, the lot of them. Even Chuck, who might have been someone’s younger brother or babysitting victim or just some kid they picked up. He’s years younger than any of them and goes to the local elementary school, but he’s still there half the time you see them hanging out together.

Of all of the friends, though, Newt is the enigma you’d most like to decipher. He’s quiet, for one thing, even despite the fact that he’s in such a joyful friend group. He’s smarter than anyone gives him credit for, maybe because he’s too modest to brag as much as anyone else.

And, for another thing, he’s cute. Terribly charming. Utterly impossible to ignore. He’s been in a handful of your classes for years now, and you’ve never been able to muster up the courage to have a conversation about more than classwork. Usually, he’s just on the other side of the room, working on the work from your very same lecture, and yet you can’t seem to say what you really want to him.

That might change this year, though. He’s in your history class, and the teacher has given you the best blessing any educational faculty member can provide and seated you right next to him. The desks in that room are arranged in pairs, separate from everyone else save one person, and you are with Newt. It’s absolutely lovely.

So, yes, you can stare at him in math, as you’re doing right now, but the second that bell rings, you can take your time getting to history next period, because he will be there waiting for you, and he will smile up at you, and everything, everything, will be alright.

Only– when you get to class, there’s someone in your seat. It’s not a case of someone who forgot where their assigned seat was halfway through the year. In fact, this misplaced student isn’t even in your class. This is Thomas, who should be across the hall, but isn’t.

Apparently he’s run in to urge Newt to do something. You try to hear more as you drift closer, but just when you’re within hearing range, Newt’s eyes flicker up to you and his entire body seems seized by some sort of terrible panic. He frantically cuts Thomas off, saying something about how he’ll totally do whatever they were talking about.

Thomas looks confused by the sudden change in mood, and glances over his shoulder to see you standing there, waiting for him. He stands up quickly, jokes about stealing your seat, and leaves in a rush. You let your backpack drop to the ground, and look back at the hurriedly departing Thomas. The brown-haired boy flashes Newt an eager thumbs up before leaving, which makes absolutely no sense.

You take your seat at last, peering over at Newt for some kind of explanation. The blond boy just stares intently at his homework, mumbling something about how he doesn’t know what that was about. It’s obvious that you’re not going to get any answers from him now, so you sigh and grab your books from your bag.

The second you look away, though, you can see Newt cautiously looking back at you out of the corner of your eye, a soft smile slipping over his face when he thinks you won’t notice. You trust Newt that he won’t do anything to embarrass you, so that business with Thomas truly must have been nothing at all.

Still, you’re curious, but Newt behaves pretty much the same throughout the class. You watch him out of the corner of your eye the whole time, waiting for him to slip up and say something, but no dice. He looks a little uneasy, but it doesn’t seem like anything major. 

When the teacher dismisses the class to work on a packet with your assigned seating partner, you expect Newt to do something, but no. He keeps clearing his throat like he’s going to say a few words, but he seems to lose his nerve every time and fades back into silence or, worse, a discussion of 17th century trading practices as you’re meant to be doing.

You almost think that you’re going to go the whole class without a single thing coming of Thomas’ intrusion when the bell rings, dismissing everyone to their next period. You stand up, starting to shove your books and folders into your backpack once more. Newt stands too, looking gripped by panic.

“Y/N,” he begins, then cuts himself off just as quickly.

“Yeah?” You ask, distracted by the zipper on your backpack, which has chosen this very moment to get stuck.

“Would you– would you like to see a movie with me sometime? There are a few good ones at the theater nearby, if you’d want to do something like that. If you don’t want to, that’s cool, obviously, but I was kind of hoping that–”

Newt’s tripping over himself by now, but you clear his nerves with a single smile. “Newt,” you say, “I would love to go out with you.”

“Really?” He asks, a little ahead of himself. “I mean, yeah, that sounds great. Does Friday work?”

“Friday’s perfect,” you tell him.

“Cool,” he says, “Cool, yeah. I’ll see you then.”

“Can’t wait,” you grin.

You don’t think you’d mind standing there a while longer, with Newt looking at you with that radiant smile, but unfortunately you are still in school, and you still have classes to get to. One of your friends calls your name from across the room, irritably wondering why you’re still lingering there. 

You allow yourself a beat longer, then leave at last. Newt is looking at you when you vanish from view, you think, but for once you understand what he’s not saying, what he means the most, and that– well, that is absolutely everything.

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver

[poorgirlinpoorworld]

I asked chat gpt how movie version boys from tmr would react to meeting book version of themselves :D

This is what came out:

Thomas

Movie Thomas: Confident but still a bit reserved, Dylan O’Brien’s Thomas would initially approach Book Thomas with cautious curiosity. “So… you’re me, huh? I don’t think I look that bad.”

Book Thomas: Much more prone to self-doubt and overthinking, he’d probably size up Movie Thomas and mutter, “You’re awfully sure of yourself. Didn’t you almost get everyone killed, like… multiple times?”

Dynamic: They’d bond over their shared sense of guilt and leadership struggles, but Book Thomas might accuse Movie Thomas of being “too Hollywood.” Meanwhile, Movie Thomas would roll his eyes, joking that Book Thomas needs to lighten up.

Newt

Movie Newt: With a softer, more compassionate demeanor, Movie Newt (Thomas Brodie-Sangster) would greet his book counterpart warmly, offering a handshake. “Bloody hell, mate, didn’t think I’d be seeing myself today.”

Book Newt: A bit gruffer and more haunted, he’d smirk and say, “Well, you’ve got the charm, I’ll give you that. But don’t you think you’re a bit too polished?”

Dynamic: They’d likely find common ground quickly, both sharing their loyalty to the Gladers and their frustration with Thomas. However, Book Newt might tease Movie Newt for being too clean-cut and “soft.”

Minho

Movie Minho: Ki Hong Lee’s Minho would swagger up to his book counterpart, grin, and immediately challenge him to a race. “So, you’re me? Bet you can’t outrun this.”

Book Minho: Not one to back down, Book Minho would cross his arms and smirk. “I don’t need to prove anything. But you look like you need to prove everything.”

Dynamic: The two would have a competitive streak, constantly trying to outdo one another. They’d also bond over their shared no-nonsense attitudes and mutual annoyance with Thomas’s hero complex.

Gally

Movie Gally: Will Poulter’s Gally, more nuanced and misunderstood in the films, would approach his book counterpart with a wary glare. “So, I guess you’re the angry version of me?”

Book Gally: Full of fire and resentment, Book Gally would sneer. “And you’re the one who got a redemption arc. Lucky you.”

Dynamic: There’d be tension at first, but Movie Gally might soften Book Gally’s edges by explaining his motivations and eventual growth. Book Gally, however, might accuse Movie Gally of being too sympathetic and not enough of a realist.

Frypan

Movie Frypan: The jovial and slightly quirky Frypan from the films would immediately try to bond with his book counterpart. “Man, I bet you make a mean stew too, huh?”

Book Frypan: A bit more serious, Book Frypan would nod and say, “Yeah, but I don’t need to crack a joke every time I open my mouth.”

Dynamic: They’d connect over their shared love of cooking and loyalty to the Gladers, but Book Frypan might roll his eyes at Movie Frypan’s more lighthearted approach to danger.

Alby

Movie Alby: A natural leader with a calm yet commanding presence, Movie Alby would likely greet his book version with a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, man. How’d you keep everyone alive?”

Book Alby: More volatile and blunt, Book Alby would shrug. “Barely. And with a lot less talking than you.”

Dynamic: They’d respect each other’s leadership styles, though Book Alby might see Movie Alby as overly dramatic. Movie Alby, in turn, might find Book Alby too harsh.

Chuck

Movie Chuck: The lovable and innocent Movie Chuck would be excited to meet his book counterpart. “Whoa, you’re me! Do you think they’d let us keep a pet pig here?”

Book Chuck: Slightly more grounded but just as endearing, Book Chuck would laugh and say, “Maybe if we don’t die first.”

Dynamic: The two Chucks would instantly become friends, sharing jokes and dreams about life outside the Glade. They’d also both tease Thomas mercilessly.

I know it may not be totally right but I still think it’s funny 🫶

[theangelssing]

Good Morning

Ben being Ben, neutral!reader, Ben and Reader are engaged, third pov, spoiler free (only mention is soldier boy’s story)

warnings: physical touch (romantic way), fluff & soft mostly, domestic fluff

a/n: this imagine doesn’t take place during The Boys’ events, I just took Soldier Boy’s story and did the imagine, only based on the tv show! I wrote that one at midnight, sorry if there’s any error, please do tell me. as always, if you want more, feel free to ask!

prompt: what if Soldier Boy was free from the Russian by you a long time ago? You and Ben living an happy romantic life.

The sun was hitting through the open windows while the curtains were moving slowly because of the wind. It was a peaceful summer morning. The light woke you up. It was still early and you were still sleepy. The body against yours didn’t move when you tried to come closer, you just heard a grunt. You kissed one of your boyfriend’s cheek. Only after that you finally felt an arm around your own body, making you giggle.

Ben and you bought a cosy house far away from the city. You always wanted to live in a cottage and he made sure your dream comes true. You spent many months working together so the house could become your little nest. You were proud of you, and at the end of the renovations Ben asked you to be his spouse and you said yes without any doubts.

As a young engaged couple, you were always watching your ring a lot. Ben chose the perfect one. This morning didn’t escape your routine. You tried to remove your arm from Ben’s and you watched the little ring shining on your finger. It made you smile. You felt and saw Ben’s hand on yours, intertwining your fingers.

“Already awake sweetheart?” he asked while kissing your forehead.

“Mmhmmh,” you muttered.

A small smile appeared on his lips and he started to slowly stroke your hand with his. You really liked the cute Ben, you always liked everything about him, except his misogyny – even though he was doing his best to actually change the way he’s acting as he doesn’t live in 1940 anymore.

“What are you thinking about?” he wondered, as you were staring at your intertwined fingers without moving.

“I wish we could make breakfast together, today,” you replied while moving your head to meet his eyes. He was looking right at you, with his usual lovely morning expression.

“Right, what d’you wanna eat?”

You were kinda surprised he accepted that fast so you didn’t answered right away. You were too lost in his glance anyway.

“Baby? What do you want for breakfast?”

“I want some pancakes! Oh and can we make some cookies too?! Not for breakfast but i really want cookies. With orange juice. Or apple juice! Wait wait, with milk, it’s better with milk.”

You heard him laughing before kissing you.

“Sweetheart, you can eat whatever you want y’know,” he said then kissed your forehead for the second time this morning.

“I know but.. It’s breakfast..”

“Well, let’s have some pancakes with milk for breakfast then we do your cookies while drinking apple and orange juices.”

Oh how you loved this man. He was always there for you whatever you needed or wanted.

“Are you sure you want to make pancakes and cookies with me?” you asked, not so sure of you though.

“Of course, as long as it makes you happy,” he replied with his eyes in yours, the green meeting something deep in your soul, you could feel it.

You muttered a thank you and before being able to understand what was going on, you were in his arms and out of bed.

“Ben!” you yelled as he was holding you on his shoulder. He sure was laughing, proud of him, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him as he was heading to the kitchen.

“I’ll land your majesty on the counter, if that’s good for your majesty.” You just nodded as an answer.

He gave you a little squeeze on your thigh before you felt the wood under you.

“What do we do first?” he asked you.

“We find the ingredients, a bowl and a frypan.”

“Don’t move, I do it.”

You contained your laugh while watching him struggling to find everything. This poor man didn’t know his own kitchen that well.

“Want some help?”

“Uh.. No. You stay on the counter,” he replied, not so sure of himself.

After some minutes Ben finally found a bowl and a frypan. But he was clueless looking in the fridge.

“Do you even know what are the ingredients?” you finally asked him as he was closing the fridge’s door.

“Well.. I never made pancakes y’know..”

“That’s what I thought,” you laughed and get down off the counter. “Let me explain.”

Ben wasn’t the best, you knew about his past, but you were both in love with each other and nothing else mattered during those soft moments. You knew he still had a lot to learn if he wanted to fit in today’s society but you always promised to be there for him. Of course you also knew Soldier Boy would always be Soldier Boy, but for you he was Ben, the man who asked you to become his only spouse. He still was making mistakes but he was so careful with you.

[zelcii]

like he used to | newtmas

thomas tended the garden with a reverent touch, each movement a careful dance amidst the greenery. he had always admired how newt used to tend to his plants, their growth a reflection of his own steadiness and care. now, as he worked, memories of Newt swirled around him.

he remembered when newt showed him what he had to be able to do as a track-hoe—how newt’s hands moved with effortless grace, demonstrating the patience required. thomas had been clumsy, his fingers eager and uncertain. he could remember the way newt had chuckled softly, guiding his hands with a gentle firmness, explaining that good things took time. the way newt’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled stayed with thomas, a constant presence in his thoughts.

the garden had been newt’s sanctuary in the glade, a place where he could escape the harshness of the maze and find peace. whenever he really tried to, thomas could see newt’s figure bent over the soil of the safe haven, the soft hum of a song under his breath, the way he would wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. each day in the garden now, thomas felt newt’s spirit lingering in the air, a comforting presence amidst the blooming flowers.

thomas’s hair, once cropped short for practicality, now grew longer. he let it flow a little past his shoulders, tying it up with a band as he had seen newt had done. he remembered the mornings when the blond would tie his hair back with a quick, practiced motion, the small ritual a source of quiet confidence. thomas found himself mimicking the gestures, his fingers clumsy at first but gradually finding the rhythm. it was as if he was drawing strength from the memory, feeling newt’s hand guiding his own.

the garden thrived under thomas' care. each bud, each sprout felt like a whisper from the past, a reminder of newt’s patience and kindness. he recalled moments when newt would explain the importance of nurturing each plant, his voice calm and reassuring. thomas worked diligently, finding solace in the act of creation and the silent companionship of newt’s memory.

in the quiet of the garden, surrounded by the scent of earth and flowers, thomas found a sense of peace. each day brought him closer to accepting newt’s loss, and each moment reminded him of newt’s lasting presence. as he worked among the plants, he hoped for a time when the grief would ease and his heartache would become a gentle memory. he imagined a day when his eyes would no longer tear up while tending the stalks of green beans. he pictured sitting with gally, minho, and frypan, reminiscing about the good memories they had in the last few months rather than avoiding his name. and he dreamed of a morning, not too distant, when he would breathe just like he used to.

im supposed to be sleeping. oopsie.

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

Maze runner chapter twenty one Death Cure.

Previous chapter

Masterlist

Newt lay in his hiding place, the sun hot above him as he waits for the signal. It had been six months of waiting, of looking and planning. Six months of living without you by his side. It had taken four days before fatigue finally took him over and allowed Newt to sleep. Not even Mai Mai pressing herself against could stop the nightmares. Every night Newt would dream of you, of losing you, of living without you. He didn't know how much longer he could do it. Newt needed you now more than ever.

His biggest regret was the doubt he had felt, even just briefly it had been there. When he had learnt of Ava's breeding experiment he had wondered if it was all fake. If he never truly felt love for you. Had his feelings for you been manufactured by some evil doctor? Yet as he lay in tears again on the fifth night, Mai Mai pressing against him, Newt had known that the heartache he was feeling was real.

The sound of the train coming breaks his thoughts and Newt peaks over the mountain top.

The train came apart and rolled to a stop. That was his signal, Newt leapt up and ran over to the metal vehicle. Using a very large blow torch he melted the hinges and locks that held the carriage to the base of the train. His heart beat uncontrollably in his chest as he worked. Soldiers closing in.

Finishing it, Newt climbs the ladder to the top, Thomas following him. A burg that Jorge, Brenda and the others had just stolen hovered above them releasing cables down which the boys attached to the carriage. When Vince grabbed the ladder Jorge lifted the carriage and they flew away, leaving the W.C.K.D soldiers behind.

Newt held his breath as Vince used the blowtorch to break through the locked door. It fell down with a thud. Thomas and Newt stepped in, their breaths were taken away by the sight of so many teens chained to the train. A few seats in they see Aris and Sonya, Thomas stops to speak with them as Newt passes him.

“Newt?” Your voice was like a song to him, calling to his heart. He hardly wanted to believe it when he saw your face. Your hands were pulled high above your head lifting you off the ground at the very back of the train car. He rushed up to you.

“Y/n, thank god.” He pressed his lips to yours, but you were weak to weak to really kiss him back. Vince came.pver to you and started cutting you down.

“Newt! He's not here.” Thomas said.

“What?” Newt looked around at the frightened faces looking back at him. None of them Minho.

Having cut you down Vince holds you against his side.

“Newt, here you go.” He says, helping you over to him. Newt grabs you and leads you out of the train. Frypan spots you and comes.running over.

“Hey, y/n.”

“Hi Fry,” you say with a dry throat and reach out for him. He takes your hand and helps to support your weight into the medical building, where they lay you on a cot. Aris and Sonya follow you in.

Newt grabs you some water and helps.you to drink it.

“Where's Mai Mai?” You ask.

“She's working, helping out with the other kids, she'll come up soon.” Frypan assures you. Across the room Thomas steps in, coming to your side.

“Hey,” he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Here, drink this.” Harriet passed Aris and Sonya mugs of warm tea.

“Took you guys long enough to rescue us” Aris laughed.

“It's good to see you, too, bud. So what happened?” Thomas asked, pointing to the bruise on Aris’s left eye.

“I fought back. Tried to, anyway.” Aris said.

“You're lucky you found us at all. They had us

on the move a lot. It felt like something big was happening.” Sonya explained.

“Any idea where they were heading?” Newt asked, he had perched beside you on the cot.

“All I know is they kept talking about a city.” Aris said.

“I didn't think there were any cities left.” Harriet shook her head.

“That's because there aren't. Not still standing, anyway.” Brenda pitched in. She stepped across to you, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Okay, wait. What about Minho? Why wasn't he on the train?” Thomas asked.

“I'm sorry Thomas, he was.” Aris admits.

You push yourself to sit up, drawing everyone's attention.

“They wouldn't let us be close.” You say. Sonya laughed.

“They're what kept the rest of us going. Tried to escape anytime they put the two of them in the same room.” She giggled, “It was brilliant.”

“What did they do to you?” Newt asked. He was supporting most of your weight.

“They kept taking blood, they couldn't make it work. So they just kept taking more.” It was hard to speak through your exhaustion.

Aris lifted his arm, showing needle track marks.

“They tried giving it to us. Y/n’s blood to see if it would mix with ours.”

“Did it?” Thomas asked sceptically.

Sonya shook her head.

“There's something else. When I was with Teresa, she kept leaving me alone and I was able to look at her notes. Almost everyone in the maze was related to someone else, but they didn't keep them in the same groups. Frypan, I'm sorry but your brother…” you trail off but he just nods at you.

“Thank you.” He says quietly.

You look between Newt and Sonya, only now seeing the similarities in their eyes, their hair and their smiles.

“Newt, Sonya is your sister.” You push the words out before lying back on the bed. Newt turns to the girl beside Aris. She breathes out a heavy breath. Without speaking the two stand and cross the room, grabbing each other in an embrace.

“Hi brother.” She says to him.

After a little while the others head out for food leaving you and Newt alone.

“I'm sorry, we didn't get to you sooner.” He says to you, stroking back your hair.

“Sorry I couldn't escape.” You laugh back to him. Newt bent down and kissed you once more before a doctor came over to check on your wounds.

Next chapter

@fandomfan-102 @deanstolemydragon @afalls14universe @akilaporu001 @green-which

[lenreli]

Day 23 - "Good morning, sunshine" [Human AU]

[AO3]

The eggs are frying to almost soft-yolked perfection when Dream comes out of his room with a grimace, all but glaring at the light. Dream’s put on one of Hob’s blue boxers, pale skin covered in marks, and Dream’s arse probably hurting from either the fucking or light spanking, and Hob grins brightly. “Good morning, sunshine!” 

Dream just grumbles unintelligibly, arms going around his waist and soft hair against his shoulder as Dream glares at him ― for being a morning person, or the pain he woke up in, it could be either. 

“Want a painkiller?” He asks, and Dream’s head nods, soft hair moving against his skin, and Dream groans as Hob moves to get some water and the tablets, taking one out of the blister packet and giving them to Dream, who takes away a hand to get out his other meds he usually takes of the morning, still leaning heavily against him as they get taken swallowed. 

“Did you need to get up?” Dream rasps, voice low and Hob shivers as he goes back to the frypan with eggs, putting them on plates. 

“Well food is good to have, and delicious to eat, and good fuel for other things,” he says as he gets out some toast and tomatoes from another pan, roasted and cooked, and Dream scowls. “If we eat well, maybe I can do that thing you wanted last night,” he offers, “with the wax,” he tempts. 

Dream sighs and sits down on the stool near the kitchen table, “you better,” Dream glares down at his breakfast, and winces as he gets comfy on the stool, expression dour as he eats through his meal. Hob watches him fondly between his own bites.

[serenefreakgeekao3]

Apricity... Masterlist

You've read the books, you've seen the movies- and now you're living it? You wake up in an elevator with only flashes of your old memories. You remember slowly, bits and pieces that make no sense at all. Everything anyone remembers involves a facility, some scientists, even drowning. But you remember reading.

When you begin to not only care for the people surrounding you, but remember feelings buried deep down, what lengths will you go through to ensure their safety? You know all the plays, all the answers, so long as you don't change too much. But things have already changed, and you're struggling to keep up.

Or, alternate summary… You were transported from our reality to theirs. You're living in a book you once read and you need to fight to survive. Honestly, just an indulgent self insert where I get to have both boys of my dreams, and they get to have each other and also live. (By the by, everyone is aged up because I'm not about having romances with teenagers woops)

Relationships: Newt/Reader, Thomas/Reader, Newt/Thomas, Newt/Thomas/Reader, Gally/Ben, Gally & Reader, Minho & Reader, Chuck & Reader, Chuck/OC: Josh, Frypan/OC: Holly,

Characters: Newt, Thomas, Minho, Alby, Gally, Ben, Chuck, Winston, Zart, OC: Holly, Frypan, OC: Josh,

Tags: Second person POV, Third person POV, Switching POV, Reader POV, Gender neutral reader, Fix It, Aged Up Gladers, Polyamory, Canon typical violence,

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

Prologue, The Boys Find Comfort

Chapter One, The Beginning

Chapter Two, Settling In

Chapter Two 1/2, Newt's Mistake

Chapter Three, Growing Closer

Chapter Four, Remembrance

Chapter Five, Contemplation

Chapter Six, Preparation

Chapter Seven, Execution

Chapter Eight, Disorientation

Chapter Nine, Bated Breath

Chapter Ten, Resultance

Chapter Eleven... coming soon

[witchedwisteria]

@xuoria wanted ‘so much angst it hurts’ so blame them again!!! x, you asked for this.

thomas sees blonde everywhere. in sonya, in the sand beneath his feet, in the pale yellow of the sunset in winter. he sees it in his dreams, newt’s hair fanned out on the pillow next to him, threaded between his fingers.

he sees red, too. in brenda’s favourite shirt, in the apples growing in the orchard (he can’t go near the gardens, he just can’t), in the blood of the sunset. he sees it seeping through newt’s shirt and dripping onto the floor, sticky and hot.

he doesn’t want to forget. he doesn’t - he wakes up sobbing every night with anguish and gratitude. because if he remembers that then he remembers the little half smile on newt’s familiar mouth before he collapsed in his arms, and that…he would take every ounce of torture to get another glimpse of newt’s happiness.

it has been five years. brenda and frypan have a little one on the way. sonya and harriet are married. minho and gally are…something.

and yet, thomas is the one most committed.

a girl came up to him, once, with dark hair and green eyes. she was all coy, gentle scheming touches, until thomas tells her no.

“i’m in love,” he tells her honestly. minho closes his eyes in pain from across the fire. “i’m waiting, until i can see him again.”

she scoffs. newt is as famous as thomas here; the wicked children they’d saved ask thomas and minho for stories of the boy with the strange accent, and minho seems determined to preserve newt’s fearlessness. she knows who the ‘him’ in question is. “it’s been years, and he didn’t look anything special-“

thomas is shoving her off, red hot fury pulsing through him. “don’t you dare,” he snarls. he relishes in feeling something other than grief. “he was everything - he is everything. i love him. he loved me, and i’ll never love again as long as i can - “ he shakes his head, hand finding the familiar metal under his shirt, and runs off. he’s always been good at running.

not anything special?

thomas slams into his tent, shaking. he doesn’t know what to do. his memories of newt are slipping, and even now he knows that newt was the most beautiful thing he will ever see, an odd juxtaposition of tenses. because newt is here and gone, present and distant. thomas wants him nearer.

there is a knock on the tree by his tent. a woman stands there - an old wckd defect, an ex scientist. she holds a faded paper copy of records. “i am sorry,” she whispers. “i kept them because i…wasn’t sure if by giving them i would do more harm than good.” she passes it over, and thomas opens it silently.

it’s records. hundreds of them, labelled ‘A2 and A5.’ thomas’ heart jumps. there are photos.

he sees newt. he doesn’t register that he’s alone again; he sinks to the floor and cradles the worn black and white security images of them as children as if they’re his last sip of water in the scorch again.

there are photos of them in the maze, the labs, in the last city. surveillance of them, grainy and terrible in quality, but thomas can make out the thin curve of newt’s mouth, the lightness of his frame, the way his body curves next to him.

how can he move on when just a photo takes his breath away?

he clings onto the pieces of newt’s memory and sobs; he’s half agony half relief, and he reaches the last page of the record and -

it’s them kissing in the last city. maybe two hours before newt died. thomas is supporting him, protecting him, but they’ve paused. newt’s fingers are soft and gentle on thomas’ jaw; thomas’ hands are protective on his waist. it was their last kiss.

he presses his mouth to the paper, and closes his eyes.

that night, he dreams of the kiss instead of newt’s body collapsing in front of him.

[nomoreusername]

Things We Won't Admit

Pairing:Brenda x female reader

Summary:When a new group keeps teasing Brenda and you about being together, you both deny the feelings she knows may be there.

I was more than grateful to be on my way to the Safe Haven. After waking up bond in ropes while coming off of mystery drugs I just wanted to somewhere safe. Preferably, somewhere I don't risk getting sold.

"Did you have a grand old time?"Y/N asked sarcastically, beaming at me with her bright smile as she did. 

"It was great. There's no better way to spend your day then unconscious,"I played along.

"I am so jealous. That just sounds like a dream,"She responded, giving a dramatic sigh. 

"Ah yes. It's such a shame you missed out,"I continued, nudging her. She rolled her eyes before resting her elbow on my shoulder. 

"How do you even have time for that out here?"One of them, I believe his name is Frypan, asked.

"Time for what?"I asked, leaning closer against her.

"That,"He repeated.

"What even is-"

"He's wondering how you had time to fall in love when you're probably always close to dying,"Newt interrupted her. We just looked at each other confused.

"We're not together,"I explained. 

"Really? Her head is literally on your shoulder,"He pointed out as if we didn't know.

"Yeah. We're close. We're practically family,"Y/N shrugged.

"Like wife and wife?"Frypan continued. I just ignored it as she traced little shapes into my hand. It's something that calms her down and just a small gesture of affection that makes me smile each time she does it. 

"I don't think they're official . . . yet,"Newt trailed off. I rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of that. There was nothing romantic in-between us. 

At least, not that anyone is willing to admit.