#maze runner thomas x reader

[heliads]

Hello hey can you do some fluff with Thomas ? 🥰please

when they are talking in the safe heaven they was mutual pinning for them since the glade. She was all ways there for him and vice versa. They are a balancing personality. She was pessimistic and he was optimistic. But they have matching energy: one day he make a stupid joke and she says «  why I’m in love with you remind me «  but she didn’t mean to, and Thomas was surprised because they were in love it was obvious and didn’t stop teasing her for it.

Ps : Newt and Teresa are alive

i believe in newt and teresa being alive

masterlist

There is no such thing as winning over Y/N. That’s one of the very first lessons Thomas learned upon entering the Glade, along with the other crucial ones such as ‘don’t pick a fight with Gally,’ and ‘for goodness’ sake, Greenie, stop trying to go in the Maze.’ Still, he’s not inclined to give up yet. On any of those topics, actually. 

Thomas is not prone to surrender. He is a fighter, always has been. Or, he’d like to say that, if he had any idea what he ‘always has been’ in his life. There is Thomas now, Thomas when he first came up in the Box, and then a great expanse of nothingness before and after that. Blank emptiness is his past, unknowable odds his future. There is only Thomas in the present moment, so capable of changing his future that he doesn’t even know his past.

The nothingness makes it easier to remember the lessons. He has so few concrete memories in his head that the day-to-day events stand out in bright highlighter neon. Thomas can remember the sensation of a pen but never what brand he liked best nor what he might have written with it. Thomas does not know if he has ever worked in a garden growing up, but he knows what seeds can become and that he hates being a Track-Hoe, so he focuses on the last bit instead.

It makes him lie awake at night, spending hours staring up at a sky utterly foreign to him in the hopes of remembering any more of it. The constellation over his nose could have been his favorite, once upon a time, it could have been taught to him by a mother or father, but now it is just a broad handful of stars somewhere beyond his reach.

With so little to fill his head except fear and paranoia of the day before, Thomas is forced to conjure up something better worth his imagination, and more often than not, that happy thing becomes Y/N. Y/N is probably what Thomas will become sooner or later, once the initial rush of finding himself in the Glade wears off and he just grows sick of everything in sight.

Y/N has been here longer than most everyone here. The only rivals she has in terms of tenure would be Alby or the dead boys lying in a grave somewhere in the Deadheads. All that time stuck in these stone walls, and it taught her the importance of never getting your hopes up. Thomas met her the first time and thought that he might make it his goal to get her to smile.

He reached that after a few days, but that didn’t stop him from trying again and again. So what if Y/N is a realist who’s given up on dreaming of a way to get out of here, Thomas has enough heart for both of them and he’ll wield it just the same. Thomas sidles up to her at meals and tells terrible jokes until she has to sip at her water to hide a smile. He listens to her talk about everything that goes wrong in the Glade and intersperses recollections of what went well that day as well.

Slowly, surely, Thomas swears that she’s coming over to his side. He can win her friendship like a battle, a round of cards, anything he can make his own with enough dumb luck and a good few twists of fate. He’s come closer than anyone else, so that surely should count for something, right?

Thomas knows he’s getting there when the other kids start intervening. Minho takes it upon himself to tell Thomas that this whole thing is a lost cause. Been there, done that, Minho says one day while they’re out mapping a sector of the Glade, you’re going to have to give up eventually, and you know that. Y/N doesn’t want to suddenly become an optimist. It’s not going to happen.

I don’t want her to suddenly become an optimist, Thomas argues back, I just want her to like being around me even if I’m one.

Later that day, while they were taking one of their few much-needed breaks, Thomas had dared to ask Minho more in between desperate sips of water.

You knew her at the start, didn’t you? What was she like? He’d prompted.

Minho had sighed, stared at the water in his hands. She was like you. I never thought she’d give up on the hope that we’d get of here, and then she did.

Thomas had pushed for more details on just what had happened to change Y/N’s mind, but he hadn’t been able to get any additional facts out of Minho other than a recollection of several Gladers lost without any monumental change in their slow slog towards getting answers out of the Maze.

Mainly, though, what had done Y/N in was time. She’s spent three years here now, three years without any sign that they’ll ever leave. Fine, then, Thomas decides. If Y/N can’t see a world in which they ever get out of here, he’ll forge a new one just to make her eyes light up again.

He’s good on his word, too. When Thomas finds the way out, when their entire way of life goes awry and Gally tries to exert his control over the Glade, Thomas fights his way out with his friends. He shows Y/N the door out of the Maze, and he takes her through it.

Thomas doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget the look on her face when they step out into the sunlight for the first time. The sun was still there in the Glade, obviously, but it isn’t the same when you can feel the shadows of the Maze walls on your back with every other breath. Out there in the real world, though, that was something else altogether.

It was good, even when they were fighting for their lives in the Scorch. They spent their days terrified of Crank activity, but when the sun sank beneath the horizon and they were finally able to rest in whatever meager shelter that crossed their path, Thomas looked at Y/N and he knew that her hope was back. It was enough to make him keep fighting for a better life. It was enough to make him feel infallible.

And they did it, didn’t they? They found their way out. Thomas is reminiscing about old, worse times from his hut in the Safe Haven, far away from harm. Cranks cannot reach them here, nor WICKED, nor anyone else. He is here with his friends and Y/N, and he could not want for anyone else.

The final fights were the worst of Thomas’ life. He lost allies, but he saved some, too. Thomas doesn’t know that he’ll ever experience a fear quite like the one ricocheting through his chest when Newt was bitten. For a few horrific minutes there, Thomas had thought that he might lose him, the one friend he’d had from the very start. 

Minho had made it back in time with the cure, though, and then Newt was blinking up at him with shocked eyes and asking what had happened. Thomas hadn’t been able to answer him, not for a while. He remembers standing there, clutching Y/N for support, knowing that without her there he might have collapsed to the ground by Newt’s side.

That was Y/N for him, Thomas supposes. Whenever he was low, she was high. They complemented each other perfectly. He held out hope when she couldn’t, and when he was in danger of losing himself, Y/N pulled him back from the brink. Survival does horrible things to us all, but sometimes it gives you salvation in the form of people. Y/N is his people. Y/N is all he has ever needed.

Y/N was the one Thomas was thinking about when he was fleeing Janson through a burning city. Y/N was the name on his mind when Thomas caught Teresa just before the roof caved in. When the explosion hit him too hard and Thomas passed out on the Berg carrying them away, her face was the last one that flashed through his head.

It is all okay, though. They have lived through the horrors, the desolation, the grief. All that is left for them now is a quiet sort of ending, an epilogue in which the heroes win and the villains are forgotten. Thomas rises with the sun and goes to bed with the moon, and slowly, carefully, he heals.

They do that together, too. Thomas hands over leadership duties of the new settlement to the others; he wants no part of that now, no forced maturity of any kind, and he runs away to the one person who will always want him now. It’s funny, looking back on the Glade, how Thomas had always operated with this slight fear that Y/N was just humoring him because they were both stuck in the same place. He knows now for a fact that was never the case.

She’s told him as much, both directly and through the little things. He picks a wildflower out of surprise that such a colorful thing could idly grow on the side of the road and she tucks it behind her ear for the rest of the day. He wakes with nightmares and she holds him until the dreams become just that, just dreams, just memories which can no longer touch him.

Thomas thinks for the first time that growing old sounds like something that he can finally ignore. In the Glade and Scorch, the thought of making it to infirmity was something of a dream, an impossibility he would never reach. Right now, though, Thomas wants all the time he can get his hands on. He’s desperate for it, greedy and drunk on every moment. He loves the little things. He is enchanted by the big events. All of it is his, and all of it is beautiful.

He finds Y/N in the mornings, the evenings, the afternoons. They walk until their feet ache and sleep until the sun has climbed far too high in the sky, laugh and cry and live. It is nothing like what he thought growing up would be like, but then again, he never thought he’d make it far enough to judge. Right now, he is happy.

Very happy. He turns to Y/N as they’re sitting by the edge of the water and tells some sort of stupid joke. He’s been prone to them recently, like some inner comedian has suddenly remembered it exists and dusted itself off for its fair share in his personality. Maybe the Thomas before the Maze liked being funny. He’s never had enough time to figure out who that was at all.

Thomas waits for Y/N to say what she usually says in response to his attempts at being funny:  laugh along, maybe, or swat him on the shoulder, or come up with an even better joke just to make fun of him.

Instead, she rolls her eyes fondly. “That was awful.”

“Great,” Thomas corrects, “I think you mean it was great.”

“I certainly do not,” she says, smiling, “Remind me again why I love you?”

It’s late in the evening, maybe she’s tired, maybe that’s why she slips up and says something like that. Neither of them have been willing in any way to put a name on what they have or what they feel, but it occurs to Thomas that he wants that label more than anything he’s ever wanted before.

Y/N’s face looks tight, as if the skin has been yanked up on her bones to expose the skeleton beneath. She starts talking about something else quickly, the words tumbling out in an attempt to hide what had been said before. It doesn’t matter, though, Thomas knows what he heard and he adores it.

“I love you too,” he says. He feels like shouting it.

Y/N stares at him. “What?”

“I love you,” he answers her. “I love you. And you totally knew that, by the way. You’ve known that all along, so you do not get to just pretend like that didn’t happen. I know what you said. Also, I want it remembered from here on out that you said ‘I love you first.’”

Y/N gives him a look, but she can’t stop her lips from twisting up into a grin, so even her fiercest glares can’t weather him in the slightest. “Why does the order of who said what first even matter?”

“Who knows?” Thomas says, shrugging as casually as he can, “Probably that you’re just, you know, obsessed with me or something. I wouldn’t blame you.”

This time Y/N does swat him, but she kisses him too, so Thomas supposes she could be forgiven. He already has. He’d do it in a heartbeat, even if she was stabbing him through the chest instead of toying with him. He loves her. He loves her, and he won’t do anything else but that.

requested by @hope92100, i hope you enjoy!

tmr taglist: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver

[rainydaydreamsideblog]

(The Maze Runner) Arguments With Him

Author’s Note:  In my fics/imagines/headcanons, Gladers are aged up, and also movie version.

Warnings: Mentions of anger, arguments, conflict.

Thomas:

To him, a little heated argument every now and then is not the end of the world. He's used to communicating a bit loudly at times with others in the Glade, though he doesn't do so unless provoked. Thomas prefers to have everything out in the open. He'd rather you speak your mind than contain anything, even if it's uncomfortable.

The argument will be brief, and he does what he can to have it resolved before you both walk away. He is never too proud to apologize and make things right for any part he played, and he doesn't hold grudges. It's a clean slate with him.

Newt:

As second-in-command, he's quite used to handling disagreements. There are plenty that occur day to day in the Glade. Even so, things can be a bit different when it's with someone you're in a relationship with. He's quite patient with you, but he's only human. When he's angry, his voice is low and stern at first. He does not wish for things to escalate, but he will eventually raise his voice if the argument drags on and he feels it's not getting anywhere.

The two of you might need a bit of time to cool off, and any time you catch a glimpse of him around the Glade during that period, you can see him grumpy and a bit pouty. After being apart, even if it's only for a short time, the argument suddenly seems silly to you both, and you make your way back to each other to work things out.

Minho:

Sass master. When you two get into an argument, pettiness and clapbacks are not uncommon. He doesn't raise his voice, but it's still safe to say that verbal jabs don't really help the situation. Sometimes it ends in you two going around in circles, going down rabbit trails and debating on things that are totally unrelated to the actual conflict at hand.

He's a got a pride issue when it comes to a resolution. There are indeed times you will need to reach out first to him and reconcile, but there are also plenty of times he will be the first one to do so. He is aware that his conflict style is klunk and is working on it, and he'll apologize sincerely for it after the fact. It's not unheard of for him to make it up to you with a sweet gesture like a bouquet of Glade flowers.

Gally:

He's a Keeper, and an alpha male, and conflict with him starts out with him speaking in a firm, almost authoritative tone- like he expects you to cease and desist or "fall in line." It's truly not intended to be condescending or belittling. He thinks, if only you could see his side, you'd see that he's right.

But it still can come across the wrong way because you of course have a mind of your own and of course he's human and is not always right. Not to mention he can be a bit petty. If things get heated, he may raise his voice a bit, his frustration evident, but he won't lose his temper with you. If you aren't getting anywhere, he might just throw his hands up and insist he's too busy to continue the conversation at the moment, but really, the two of you just need some time to think things over.

He'll approach you later, and despite being a notorious tough guy, he will be the first to utter a gentle and sincere, "I'm sorry" to you.

[heartach3d]

official miscellaneous masterlist!

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Wayne McCullough

face masks

fights

meeting family at christmas hcs

bully

Peter parker

nervous

Benny Rodriguez

sneaking in

Benny sneaking in through your window

Charlie Dalton

I'll see you around?

Charlie meeting Neil's sister when she comes to visit

Todd Anderson

my boy

HEADCANONS

minho

Shy

you get drunk and show your true colors to Minho (not angst)

thomas

no matter what.

Thomas comforting you after almost getting took by a griever

secret language

you aren't fluent in english and Thomas isn't fluent in Hungarian.

questioning.

Thomas questioning his sexuality while with you (male reader implied)

sort of Easter special

newt

so don't write me a letter.

inspo by sweet carolina by Lana del Rey where instead of Thomas getting the letter in newts necklace while newt is dying he tells the reader to take it

newt valentines day special!

little valentines blurb with newt from voting help from you guys!

weak

newt gets kidnapped by wicked and reader has to go save him

your safe now.

reader insists that Newt should go to sleep even though he struggles with recovering what he's been through while being tortured by wckd

blurby blurb

your fine.. your fine

reader has a breakdown because she remembered chuck died so newt comforts her

can't help myself!

cracked

aris

only ones left

you guys were the only ones before the new group came

gally

alright fine

anon request

sick

the spoon incident..

"newt!!"

luke castellan

it's okay!

lost

Cameron james

French, the language of love

bill dendrough

stutter

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

with more to come!

[aphroditelovesu]

Hi can I request yandere romantic maze runner Thomas x gender neutral reader love letter 💌 please and thank you 😊

Dear (Y/N),

I write these words with a heart full of emotion, even though I know that our love is like a flame burning in the darkness of the labyrinth. Every day that I spend by your side is a gift, a light that illuminates my uncertain path. In the labyrinths of life, you are my constant, my anchor in the midst of the storm.

Every moment we share together is an eternity of happiness. I know that the labyrinth surrounds us, with its challenges and dangers, but I will face each obstacle with courage, because I have you by my side. Your smile is my compass, your voice is my song in the silence of the labyrinth.

You are my light in the darkness, my reason for living amid the chaos that surrounds us. Your smile is my source of hope, and your voice is my favorite song. I love you more than words can express, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you by my side forever.

I feel complete by your side, as if all the missing pieces of me have found their place. How is it possible for you to have such an effect on me? I don't remember much but I know that I love you and always will.

I don't know what the future holds for us, but I know I want to face it by your side. I promise to protect you, love you and be your safe haven in this maze of uncertainties. May our hearts remain united, like two fearless explorers navigating life's winding paths.

I love you. Always remember that.

With all my love,

Thomas.

[shy-blue-blossom]

New Beginnings

Thomas

Thomas, Minho and Newt were running away from Jansen and some of the guards when they ran into a room to escape. Minho and Newt pushed things in front of the door for extra security they heard a squeak when they did. Thomas who was already pacing the room trying to find an exit, had a rough idea where it came from. He moved a few chairs and saw a little girl sitting curled up in the corner clutching onto a bag. As gently as he could he picked her up while reassuring her that they were trying to escape the building.

When she looked at Newt and Minho she nodded and then pointed to the window behind them. Turning around they moved towards it and looked outside to see a small pond below them. Thomas gave the little girl to Newt to hold while he and Minho picked a big silver cylinder up and threw it at the window once they saw the sparks from Jansen and the guards trying to get in. Thomas took the little girl into his arms before they all moved back and prepared. Just as Jansen and the guards started to push the door open they ran and jumped. Thomas held on thightly which she returned. They swam out of the water and Thomas helped Newt out before he made sure the little girl was okay.

"Y/n," She told them her name. 

Just before they could reply some guards spotted them and told them not to move. Thomas pushed y/n behind him to keep her from being seen. Thomas reached for the gun on his leg but the guard in front saw him and told him to stop. As the guard was telling them to get on their knees one of the other guards attacked them and they went down. It was Gally who had come back for them. They followed Gally but y/n tugged on Newt's pant leg before pulling a syringe out of the bag. Newt stopped and looked at her but before he could ask her what was wrong she stuck the syringe into his leg. Newt let out a scream which caught the attention of Thomas, Minho and Gally. Gally pulled y/n away while Thomas ran over to Newt and pulled the syringe out of his leg but whatever was in it had been injected. Minho rushed to Newt as well. Before Gally could start interrogating y/n Newt walked over to her and hugged her. The three looked at each other in confusion. 

"Thank you, y/n,"

"Newt are you crazy, she just stabbed you with a syringe!" Gally and Minho said at the same time. 

"She saved my life," Newt pulled up his sleeve as he showed them the crack bite healing and he was not coughing anymore. They all looked at y/n and saw that she was looking towards the floor and holding out another syringe to them. 

"What's this?" Thomas asked her as he knelt in front of her and took it out of her hands. 

"I took them off the lady who was messing around with a bloody bandage because she seemed to be excited about it working. I'm sorry I hurt you without knowing if it would work." Y/n explained without looking up from the floor. 

Newt thanked her for taking the risk and told the others they should as well because if she did not he might be a crack and one of them would have to end his life. A bright wall of flames caught their eye and they decided they needed to carry on moving and try to get out of the city. 

They all began to run and almost got caught up in the gunfire. Thomas got a hold of Brenda on the radio and told them to leave with the others. She told him she was not going to leave them behind. Vince and Jorge had come with a berg to rescue them. Brenda told Thomas to meet them at the tunnel entrance. Thomas passed y/n to Minho and told them to run to the others as fast as they could. Before Minho, Newt or Gally could stop Thomas, he had already run off. They went to berg and told Jorge to get high in the sky. They found him and Teresa on top of a building. Teresa Saved Thomas.

Safe Haven.  

Thomas came to and found himself in a wooden hunt. He walked outside and found y/n sitting on the steps watching the ocean. Bending down he said hello causing her to turn around and jump on him. 

"Tommy!"

He picked her up into his arms and carried her through what he could guess was the safe haven. When he saw Minho, he placed her on the floor again and watched as she ran off. He gave Minho and the others a hug before he looked around. 

"Where's Newt?"  Thomas asked but he nearly toppled over when y/n ran into his legs while telling him to turn around. walking up to them was Newt. Newt hugged him.

"You got yourself a little companion," Newt told Thomas while looking down at y/n who had not moved away from Thomas. "She refused to leave you unless it was absolutely necessary," 

"Ah, well," Thomas also looked at y/n who smiled up at him. "I could use the company," He smiled back at her. 

That night they all celebrate the people who sacrificed to get them there and show they would never be forgotten. In the end, Thomas became y/n's big brother and if you were looking for her you most likely could find her with him. 

The end. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maze runner

Masterlist

[aesthetic-bbyg]

I hate when I get excited to search a ‘character x reader’ and only find a dead fandom with a sprinkle of crumbs. LIKE HELLO? GET TO WORK.

[noelan1]

I can't trust character ai with my fictional crushes because they make them completely different and always say things that aren't canon

¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[sundrop-writes]

Trouble Is...

Thomas (The Maze Runner) x Fem!Reader

All that I know is I just can’t say ‘no’ to you,

Funny how things never change.

All that I wanted was just to get over you.

Trouble is - I can’t find a way.

You’re part of me.

Trouble Is - you’re part of me.

Summary:

Now out of The Maze, everyone is enjoying their newfound sense of safety. Everyone except for Thomas.

He can’t enjoy the soft beds or the clean clothes or the food, because he’s too worried about you. You’re quarantined off somewhere else (presumably with other girls), and he hasn't seen you in days.

When he finally sees you, he’s too thankful to question why the two of you are put in a room alone together. Too thankful to question the mysterious smoke that’s pumped into the room. Too thankful to question why the door is locked.

Thomas (TMR) x Fem!Reader. Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Sex Pollen. Set during The Scorch Trials. 

Word Count: 7,900

The Maze Runner Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warning that any and all TMR fics I write will be based on the movies and not the books, so any lore inaccuracies can be blamed on that; also this is a YA series, but DoB was in his 20s when he played Thomas, so for our purpose, these characters are aged up to at least 19 or 20; often sex pollen comes with a dubcon warning, but I’m not sure that applies here - these characters have a great deal of pre-existing affection for each other (I might even go so far as to say that they are in love), and they would have intensely enthusiastic consent, even without chemical enhancement; the reader does have some mental hesitation when she feels the pollen taking effect, but it’s not because she doesn’t want to have sex with Thomas, it’s because of PTSD from WCKD and feeling suspicious towards them (and when Thomas assures her that he will ‘take care of her’, she enthusiastically consents to having sex); warnings for unethical science because our characters do not know that they are part of a science experiment and have not consented to have these chemicals used on them (but that is just the canon of WCKD); the reader character has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; this fic DOES USE Y/N; this fic uses the beautiful age old trope that the reader character was the only girl in The Maze; mentions of the mental and emotional effects of isolation - the reader has been isolated from everyone else since leaving The Maze and Thomas is the first of her friends that she sees in days; this is mostly just smut with very little plot; because of the canon, both characters have had their memories erased and theoretically might be virgins or might not be virgins (yes, in the book, they were put into the Maze as ‘children’, but as I said, for my purposes, everyone is aged up) - so I am not explicitly stating if this is their first sexual experience or not, but this is their first sexual experience as a couple/first sexual experience with each other; as mentioned before, the main point of this is sex pollen - in the form of a mysterious sci-fi chemical compound that is injected into a locked room by WCKD as a part of a random experiment; scent kink - Thomas loves the way Reader smells (and has since long before being dosed with sex pollen); orgasm from clit stimulation through clothing; oral sex - reader receiving; hair pulling - Thomas receiving; unprotected penis in vagina sex; there is NO breeding kink here (the characters aren’t motivated or turned on by the idea of having a baby); there is creampie kink - Thomas does not pull out, and the characters are turned on by the idea of him cumming inside of her; Thomas is very possessive in this fic (but it’s almost unconscious, as a need to keep the reader safe, not in a jealous or romantic way); cockwarming - they fall sleeping while Thomas’s cock is still inside of the reader; the ending is slightly bittersweet (it’s implied that the reader is kidnapped/hurt by WCKD, but not explicitly stated). I believe that’s all for this short fic.

A/N: I am genuinely surprised that it took me this long to write and post a sex pollen fic, because it's absolutely one of my favourite tropes ever to read. WCKD is such a perfect backdrop for a sex pollen fic - shady unethical company that does weird science experiments - it's just too fitting. I have a few more sex pollen fics in my drafts that are yet to be finished, but I can definitely see myself writing a lot more of this trope because it was so much damn fun lmao. I will squeeze it into any fic universe that I possibly can. I love tropes that make things hornier than they should be - sex pollen, fuck or die, hate sex. All of it. Anyway - I hope you enjoy the fic, especially those of you who have been waiting for this fic in particular!!

...

Thomas was going insane. 

At least - that’s what it felt like. Sure, escaping The Maze had been a victory. Being rescued by the military and being taken to a (supposedly) safe place was, for all intents and purposes - a victory. 

But there was one detail that Thomas was hung up on that nobody else seemed to care about. While everybody else seemed content to go about their ‘new’ everyday lives - sleeping in the dorms, eating in the cafeteria, going through the barrage of medical tests without question - you were missing. And apparently, Thomas was the only one who seemed to care. 

Perhaps that was an exaggeration, seeing as the other boys from the Glade had known you longer, and they were likely worried about you silently because you were a dear friend to them. But it certainly felt like Thomas was the only one who was anxiously awaiting your return. 

When Thomas had come out of the Box, terrified, clueless, panicked - you had been the first person to be truly kind to him, rather than laughing at his blundering confusion. Every single time there had been an argument, you had stepped between him and Gally, making yourself known as a calm, motherly force that the other boys listened to - more out of habit than fear. 

You were a kind leader in the Glade that everyone respected, because you had earned their respect. Not because you bullied them into following you or even because you wielded some kind of natural seniority over them like Alby had. You were kind and sweet, and all the boys responded to that. 

Thomas had been surprised to learn that you had been one of the first people ever to come out of the Box. The second ever, according to Alby. You had such a strong, long-standing friendship with Alby, such a close bond with him. When Thomas saw the tears that streaked your face when you thought that Minho and Alby weren’t going to make it back before the doors closed was likely the number one thing that motivated Thomas to go dashing inside. He had wanted to rescue your closest friend for you. Some signal, some blaring siren inside him that screamed that he would do anything for you, that he needed to protect you. 

It was the same thing that caused him to hold you tight when you saw Alby slowly dying from the poison of the Griever’s sting, letting you cry on his shoulder. The same thing that drove him back into The Maze, looking for a way out. A deep longing to escape, to find a better home for you. 

And now, he was going more insane with each passing minute that you weren’t in front of his eyes. He was being driven out of his mind with each moment that your hand wasn’t grasped tightly within his own. Each moment that he couldn’t see you, feel you, hear your voice and know for certain that you were okay - it was slowly driving him mad. 

When the group had first arrived at this facility, this supposedly safe place - you had been ushered away from the rest of the group, viciously torn out of Thomas’s arms. His grasp on your hand the whole time had been bordering on melting his flesh into your own, and he was surprised when you had been the one to relax your hand out of that grip and give him that same soothing voice you did when he got into fights with Gally - telling him that it would be okay, that you would ‘catch up with them’ later. 

Thomas had wanted to kick and scream - he had wanted to yell, complain, protest about you being separated from everyone. He wanted to put up a fight about you being separated from him. But Minho clamped a hand on his shoulder and advised him to ‘shut the hell up’, clearly not wanting to upset the fragile peace they had established. Not wanting to disrupt the safety they had so freshly claimed. 

So Thomas kept his mouth shut - for now. It was for the greater good of the group. Everyone was bathed, clothed, fed, sleeping in warm beds. But he couldn’t help but to feel strange that he was the only one worried about you when they hadn’t seen you in days now. 

Minho simply assumed that girls weren’t allowed to co-mingle with guys in this new facility - and maybe he was right about that. But something about the whole thing just felt off to Thomas. It kept him on edge and kept him from sleeping more than an hour or so most nights while the other boys slumbered peacefully around him. 

On this particular day, Thomas was in the middle of picking at his meal, scoping out the area, theorizing if he could sneak past the guards somehow. If he could get past them, he could venture down any number of the hallways that they hadn’t been to before in order to look for you. He had all this romping through his mind at a break-rate pace when someone came up behind him - tapping on his shoulder and breaking him from these thoughts in a way that utterly startled him. 

Thomas whipped his head around to find one of those anonymous masked soldiers standing behind him. 

“Thomas?” 

He nodded in response.  

“Come with me.” 

Thomas wanted to question it, and when he looked back across the table, he saw Minho, Newt, and Fry looking at him with concern - but he gave them a gentle nod and rose from his seat to follow the man. Something in his gut told him that this might finally lead him to you - that his patience would finally pay off. And he wouldn’t risk that by throwing an emotional fit now. 

He followed the man through a door he had never been allowed to touch before, down a long hallway, through another set of doors, and down several more long hallways - Thomas memorized the twists and turns as he had done with The Maze. First left, then right, then another left. It felt like they had been walking for too long, and Thomas had to wonder just how large this building was. 

Just as Thomas was starting to feel truly on edge, the man came to a stop in front of a seemingly random door - one with a number on it. 708. He reached out, turned the handle, and opened the door. Then he nodded toward it. 

“In.” He said, giving Thomas a simple, brute instruction to get inside. 

Thomas was anxious and hesitant, but he pushed back those feelings - and he ended up being so glad that he did. 

When he stepped inside, he was overjoyed to see you. 

You were sitting on the edge of the bed (it was a room that, upon closer inspection was more like a one room prison cell - with a single bed, a single a toilet in the corner, and a small metal desk with a chair in the other corner) - you looked up when you saw movement in the doorway, having no clue what was coming next. 

Your entire face lit up with intense joy when you saw Thomas. 

“Thomas!” You cried out his name with intense relief, emotional tears quickly springing up in the corners of your eyes as you jumped off the bed and rushed to greet him.

“Y/N,” He breathed out your name like a prayer, his arms opening wide for you as they had been many times before. 

You were quick to fall into the hug, tightly wrapping your arms around his strong torso, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. You had just been escorted back from your daily shower and your fresh clothes were still clinging to you with wetness, but he definitely didn’t mind the feeling of your damp skin under his hands. He didn’t care if you were getting his clothes wet because it was you. 

It only truly hit you now how utterly terrifying the past few days had been. Going from your home in the Glade to such a strange new place, being ripped away from everything you had ever known. Alby’s death, Chuck’s death, Gally’s death - your friends dropping like flies. Being brought here and being ripped away from the safety of your friends, ripped away from the last people you knew and being completely isolated from them, not knowing when you would get to see them again. 

Thomas’s tight hold around you - the familiarity of his body surrounding you, making you feel safe, it was something that made you realize how truly alone and scared you had been over the past few days. It made you realize that you had been swallowing down all of your emotions in an effort to protect yourself. It made you realize how much you truly cherished his hugs. How much you truly cherished him. 

“I was so worried about you.” Thomas breathed out, clearly making a heaving effort not to cry himself. 

You let out a gentle sob into his chest and he rubbed your back, trying his best to comfort you. 

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “It’s okay - I’m here now. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you go ever again. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Y/N - I swear.” 

Unconsciously, he was promising these things more to himself. He felt like a failure for letting you out of his sight in the first place. He had no clue what they had done to you that had made you so upset, and he cursed himself for not being with you in order to protect you from it. Even though he didn’t know what ‘it’ was, it was stupid for letting anything bad happen to you. 

If either of you had been paying more attention, less caught up in the heightened emotions of the reunion, then you would have noticed the door sealing shut behind Thomas. You would have noticed the heavy ‘click’ of the lock as both of you became trapped there. But you had each other back now, and you couldn’t exactly care where you were in those moments - as long as you were in each others’ arms. 

“What happened?” Thomas demanded sharply, pulling away from the hug slightly in order to put a hand on your chin, forcing your tear-streaked gaze toward his, hoping to get the truth out of you. “What did they do? What did they do to you?” 

His energy increased in franticness the longer he went without an answer, staring at the sadness in your eyes with a knot forming in his stomach. 

“Nothing.” You quickly replied, feeling as though this was the truth. 

They hadn’t done anything to you. At least not anything that was outwardly malicious. 

They had let you shower, given you fresh clothes, fed you three healthy meals a day. And other than the medical appointments that you didn’t fully understand the point of (some of which were slightly more invasive than you would have liked), none of it was dangerous or painful. You had simply been kept in this room the whole time. You had been scared from being under-informed and lonely from not being allowed to see your friends. 

But none of that seemed like a crime. Especially compared to the treacherous deadly Grievers in The Maze. 

“Please don’t lie to me.” Thomas said quietly, his throat choked off by the intensity of the emotions - the grief he felt for your sadness, the anger he was holding back toward whoever had hurt you. (And towards himself for not better protecting you.) 

“Look, it’s nothing.” 

You assured him, reaching up and grabbing his hand, soothingly petting your fingers over his knuckles in a gesture almost too affectionate for someone you called ‘friend’. 

“Just - I was lonely. And I was scared because they wouldn’t let me see you. I was probably stuck in here, feeling all the same things you felt-” 

Thomas cut off your words by pulling you back into another crushing hug, which you eagerly leaned into, cuddling your cheek into his chest, enjoying the warmth and the safety you felt from having his arms around you again. 

“Yeah.” He easily agreed to this sentiment. And then he wondered: “Where have you been the whole time?” 

“Just here.” You told him honestly. 

You didn’t feel the need to tell him about the doctor’s appointments - even the unpleasant ones. Especially because you assumed that he and the other boys had been through the same, likely with a different doctor. 

This caused another knot in Thomas’s gut. They had been keeping you in the same tiny room, not letting you see any other people? So - Minho’s theory about you being off in some other dorm making friends with a bunch of girls had been completely wrong. 

It wasn’t outright cruel, but it made alarms go off in Thomas’s head. It made his protective instincts toward you act up again. 

“I won’t let that happen to you again.” Thomas said firmly, trying his best to be assuring, even though he knew that he had no real authority over the decision. 

He cradled your head soothingly, petting a hand over your hair in a sweet, protective way. 

“Thomas-” 

You were about to remind him of the fact that he held no power over this when a very strange sound caused your voice to shrink back into your throat as you became distracted. 

You and Thomas both became drawn to the sound, both of your heads whipping up to look at it. Immediately, you saw that some of the tiles lining the ceiling had shrunk back, making way for small metal tubes that protruded out of the walls all around the room, creating a high-pitched hissing noise as they sprayed some kind of white mist into the air. This went on for about twenty seconds before it stopped, and then the tubes retracted back into the walls and the tiles slid back into their usual place. 

… 

“Chemical compound LI69 has been distributed.”

“How long until the subjects feel the effects?” 

“Effects will be immediate. Symptoms should be noticeable in ten to twenty minutes. Desired outcome will be inevitable within twenty four hours.” 

“Good. Keep bi-hourly notes. I want a full report.” 

… 

“What - what the hell was that?” Thomas wondered aloud, frantically looking around the room where the tubes had disappeared into the walls. 

“I don’t know.” You replied honestly. “I mean - that’s never happened before. It - it was probably a disinfectant or something,” You shrugged, trying to rationalize it, trying not to jump to the conclusion that it was something poisonous or harmful. 

Thomas let go of you and whipped around to the door - panic flooded him when he turned the handle and found it locked. 

“Hello?!” He screamed, banging on the door and fruitlessly jiggling the handle. “Hello?! Assholes! You can let us out now!” 

“Thomas,” You scolded him gently - his panic naturally unsettling to you. 

You wanted him to calm down - his nervous energy was making you nervous. And you had spent far too much time over the past few days cramped up inside of this room being nervous. You wanted to simply be able to enjoy the pleasant fact of his presence after missing him for what felt like decades of loneliness. But Thomas wasn’t going to lay down and make that easy on you. 

He rushed to the other end of the room, stepping up onto the desk chair and then the desk, peering into the vent as though he would be able to find a way out through there. 

“Thomas, please - just calm down. I’m sure it was nothing.” You continued, trying to get him to calm down. 

“Nothing?” He scoffed. “It’s never just ‘nothing’ with these people.” 

This was the last thing he said to you before his mind locked in on the task, and he focused on trying to find a way out of the small room. 

He spent a few minutes trying to loosen the bolts on the vent (which wouldn’t have been large enough for either of you to crawl out even if he did get the vent cover off). So all he did was make his fingers sore fighting against the welded metal. And then he moved on to brute force - he picked up the chair and tried to simply beat the doorknob clean off. 

But again, it was something that was very well made, seemingly bulletproof. And by the time he had taken a few good swings, he was heaving with sweat, breathless, and he found it to be way too hot in the small space. 

Surely his body was boiling over from the efforts of swinging the chair around in such a small, closed space. So he placed it down and moved to take off his shirt, surprised by just how damp the fabric was, seeped with sweat already in such a short time. He balled up the fabric and began patting himself down with it, trying to get some relief on his overly heated skin. 

And then, his entire system became utterly distracted by a single, tiny sound. 

A whimper. 

He whipped his head around at lightning speed, realizing that it had been you who had made that sound - it had been your whimper. And suddenly, everything in Thomas’s body, every single one of his senses became utterly overwhelmed by you. 

The sight of you on the bed, sitting patiently, waiting for him to fetter away at whatever plan he came up with next - you looked so stunning, so breath-taking. You were covered in a sheen of sweat, obviously warmer than before - so it wasn’t just Thomas. It wasn’t just because of his exertion in trying to break out of here. 

Were they turning up the temperature in the room? Were they planning to cook the two of you as some kind of punishment? 

Yet - that thought quickly dissolved off into Thomas’s mind as a distant worry the more he looked at you; the more he drank in your slightly parted, bitten lips - so pretty, so kissable. The more he looked at the way stray hairs stuck to your flushed, sticky skin, wanting to gently wipe them out of the way. The more he admired your breasts gently heaving with each breath, your nipples sticking off through your shirt and thin bra. 

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before, but he could even smell you in the air. 

Your natural smell was something so prominent in the air, something so perfect he could suffocate in tight in the small space. Shamefully, that scent was something he knew so damn well, something he had memorized and treasured close when his memories of life had still been so few and his head had still been so empty. 

Hugging you those first few times, he had tucked his nose into your hair and greedily whiffed deep breaths of your scent, absolutely loving how you were sweet, soapy. Even if you were slightly sweaty from a long day of work, your natural scent was so damn perfect to him. 

It was a smell that he loved so dearly - on top of everything else that he loved about you. 

This time that wonderful scent that he knew as yours had something else underlying with it - something needy and pungent that he wouldn’t quite know yet was arousal. Your arousal. But it was bringing back that feeling of anxious insanity that he had been boiling with earlier that day. The feeling that made him practically crawl out of his own skin, feeling like he needed to get to you. Feeling like he needed to save you from some big, unseen danger. 

Here, now, being in this room with you - he still didn’t feel close enough. He wasn’t close enough to you. He still didn’t feel as though that anxious thing inside of him, calling out for you had been answered. Not yet. 

Thomas had the urge to reach out and pull you close, hold you in his arms again, but he had a feeling that he would squeeze you tight and not want to let go - and then he would lose focus on getting you out of this room and to a safe place. And that just wouldn’t do. 

“Thomas - you-your shirt…” You whispered the words on the edge of your breath, as though you were breaking some terrible secret by speaking it aloud. 

He had almost forgotten that he had stripped off his shirt in such a haste. The fabric was now clutched tightly in his shaking fist. Unconsciously, he was directing all of his energy to that point, furiously focusing on his grip to help himself resist the urge to reach out and grab you. 

He hadn’t yet noticed the way you were looking at him. 

Your eyes hungrily raking over his bare torso, scanning over every inch of him. From the muscles that bulged in his biceps while he moved, to the veins protruding in his forearms, to the trail of delicious dark hair down from his belly button that disappeared into his pants. It was a way you had never looked at him before. You had never truly noticed how Thomas - your strong, comforting Thomas - was so utterly, carnally sexy. 

He thought nothing of taking off his shirt in front of you, because it was something he had done plenty of times before. He had done it while working in the gardens with you (as a leader in the Glade, you had rotated jobs a lot, going wherever a spare hand was needed). And you certainly hadn’t looked at him with anything resembling hunger in your eyes back then. 

At least, he thought you hadn’t. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled out, worried that he had made you uncomfortable by stripping so casually in front of you. “I just find it really warm in here, too warm, it’s hot - do you find it hot?” 

He had to ask, hating that nagging heat, almost as if it was crawling under his skin - something so much different from the pleasantly warm sun of the Glade. This was a heat bubbling up from his very core, pin-pricking all over his skin from the inside out. He wondered if this was what a fever felt like. 

Was he getting sick? Was he going to get you sick?

He felt another thick bead of sweat roll down his face and he used his balled up shirt to wipe it off. 

“I guess?” You huffed out, seeming irritated. “Maybe.” 

You squirmed on the spot and let out a pained sound, something that had Thomas on high alert once again. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, purposefully locking his knees to keep himself from jumping toward you. 

If he was getting sick, then invading your personal space wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact - he made it a point to take a step back, putting distance between himself and you. But he kept his eyes locked on you, keeping a protective watch over you while his back became flush with the metal of the door. It was a pleasantly cooling sensation for a moment before the fever inside of him overpowered it - reminding him just how boiling hot he was. 

“It hurts.” You told him, your voice dissolving into a shaky, pained whine. 

Shamefully, the sound rocked Thomas, and flooded him with something that could have only been described as arousal. 

Fuck. 

The way you looked up at him with glassy-eyes, tears barely edging your waterline, clearly hot and overwhelmed yourself, squirming against the bed - trying to get some friction against your… oh. Oh wow. That realization rocked him like a ton of bricks to the head, and even more heat swelled up inside of his gut. 

You must have been feeling all the same things that he was. 

Dizzy, hot, overwhelmed - having an intense need to hold you and to be held. Brain thumping with nothing but thoughts of you, mind littered with nothing but your smell, nothing but thoughts of your skin. Willing to do anything for you at a moment’s notice. 

Thomas finally let himself flex to those needs, and raced across the room toward you - literally falling on his knees in front of you. 

If you had pain, he would fix it. He would do anything for you. 

“What hurts?” He asked, realizing that the desperation throttling his throat made it sound more like he was begging. But he was too far gone to care. “What hurts? What’s wrong? Come on, tell me. Please.” 

You were almost too incoherent to put the feeling into words so quickly, as quickly as he needed you too. You were too distracted by the sight of his big soft brown eyes staring up at you with utter worship in them - along with his pink cheeks and bits of his dark hair stuck to his face with sweat, that softness contrasted by the broad hardness of his shoulders spread across your lap. 

“Thomas-” You gasped out, cut off by his next action. 

“Y/N, please.” 

He grabbed up both of your hands, clutching them tightly in his own - and that, the first skin-to-skin contact you had felt since becoming this overwhelmed with the heat and the need - it set something off inside of you. It sent sharp shocks up your spine and made your pussy clench around nothing, sending a flood of wetness soaking into your underwear. And it made you feel too weak for your own good in that moment. 

If you lingered there for too long, you would tumble into the abyss. You would simply give into every instinct screaming inside of your body and beg for him to fuck you until you didn’t know your own name. 

And even though that was everything you had ever wanted, all you could remember wanting right then and there, especially from Thomas, the small remaining sense in your brain said that it was a bad idea. 

You let out a sharp gasp, and raced to escape the touch - you knocked your hands out of his and squirmed away from him, jumping up off the bed. Thomas let out a whine of disappointment and crumbled tighter onto his knees, wondering what he could have done to disappoint you. Knowing that he needed to do anything he could to make up for disappointing you. 

But something inside of his skull was chanting: 

She’s in pain. Make it stop. Make her pain go away. 

You know the answer. 

And while you panicked, hoping to fight against what your body wanted, hoping to delay the inevitable, the thing that Thomas already knew he wanted, Thomas picked himself up off the floor. 

All too soon, he crowded into your personal space from behind. You let out another shocked gasp as he pressed his body into yours from behind, the firm, intensely heated muscle like wall of lava engulfing you. 

This time, not letting you get away, he secured you there with a hand around your chest that was oddly comforting, making sure to pull you close and keep you close. He forced you to feel every single inch of his boiling hot body pressed right up against yours. Sweat gently sticking against you through your clothes, his hot breath huffing against your neck, and what must have been the hard bulge of his cock pressing against the roundness of your ass. 

It was all too perfect. And still, something nagged in the back of your mind that you couldn’t have that perfection all to yourself. Something must have been wrong in order for this to be happening to you. 

“Thomas,” You whined out - unsure if you wanted to tell him to get off or wanted to beg him for more. 

Instinctively, you reached up and gripped at his forearm, sinking into the security of his touch. It was soothing, in a sense, and at the same time - it drove your body mad and made the pain in your cunt so much worse. 

Any mental clarity you previously had was quickly fading. 

So much so that neither of you had the mind to piece together that this was happening to you because of the chemicals that had been sprayed into the room earlier. Not that you could do much about it now. 

Thomas leaned over your shoulder, stuffing his nose into your neck, taking in a purposeful, thick whiff of your scent. He drank you in so shamelessly now, so happy to have you in his arms, right where he wanted you - right where he needed you. He held your body so tight to his, almost crushing you in his grip in the most perfect way - as if worried you might escape if he let you move even an inch. 

Between desperate pants, he laid slick, open-mouthed kisses along your forehead, down the side of your face - lavishing you with affection, grateful and greedy now that he had you in his arms, now that he had caught you. Grateful that he had taken you from those bastards who had stolen you from him. Grateful that he had won. 

His actions left you panting wildly into the air as the heat surged within your body - this attention on your skin not being enough, but yet, your mind was too muddled with the overwhelming heat to ask for more. 

He continued kissing your skin, even nosing along your cheek before he finally gathered enough of his mind to speak. 

“I’ll help. I’ll help you, Y/N.” 

He huffed out, heaving more of his dense beautiful breath across your skin, making you whine again in return. 

“I’ll fix it. Just tell me. Just tell me what hurts. Please, tell me. I promise I’ll fix it. I can fix it.” 

His utter dedication to you was sewn into every word, clutching you tighter across the chest in a way that almost crushed your windpipe - something that made you gasp for air and nearly thank him for it, wanting to dissolve back into his hot muscles and live there, somehow still not close enough. 

“I’ll do anything for you, Y/N, I will. I’ll help you. Just tell me, please.” 

You found the fire of that dedication more enlightening than the one slowly boiling you to death from inside, and it was that - that sacred promise that had you finally giving in. It was Thomas’s sacred affection for you that finally made you feel safe to give into your body’s needs. 

You reached out and grabbed Thomas’s hand - the one hovering by his side that wasn’t keeping you trapped tightly against his chest. His fingers locked tightly in a fist without the fabric of his shirt to keep his knuckles from popping under the fury of his own grip this time. You rubbed soothingly on the back of his palm, loosening the muscles there before you guided that hand between your thighs, guiding him to touch you on your still clothed pussy, through your pants. 

“Here, Tommy.” You breathed out, your tongue feeling so fat and useless in your mouth. “It hurts here. Need your help. Need you.” 

Without a moment of hesitation, instantly understanding what you needed, sparked with even more desperation by the nickname on your lips, Thomas sprung into action. 

He began frantically rubbing your pussy through your pants - inadvertently pushing the zipper at the front of your trousers right up against your clit with the heavy weight of his palm. A sensation that made you keen out and arch back into him as though you had been possessed, harsh, amazing tingles zapping through your body from that tiny point. You threw your head back against his shoulder and relied even more on the strength of his body and the will of his grip across your shoulders not to fall down as ravenous pleasure overtook you. 

“I’ll fix it.” He huffed into your ear. 

His voice barely registered to you past the shocking beautiful pleasure he was causing between your thighs as he continued to rub your clothed clit. 

“I’ll make it better. I’ll make it all better.” 

He laid more hot, sloppy kisses against your neck and your cheek, and you could do little more than moan out loudly and squirm against him, becoming utterly lost in the sensations. You accidentally humped your ass against his cock in a way that made him growl and rub your clit even harder, even faster. It made you absolutely alight with pleasure, filling all of your senses with nothing but him. Nothing but the feeling of his strong arm working between your thighs, nothing but the scent of his sweat in the air, nothing but his quiet growls against your ear. 

“Oh, Tommy!” You moaned out. “I’m gonna-” 

Before you knew it, your body had been overtaken by the intense wave of an orgasm, something that had you crying out loudly and shaking in his arms, your body beautifully dizzy in seconds. You reached out to grip his forearm, leaving claw marks in his skin while you let out a stream of incoherent sounds as the sensations rocked you. 

“Hey, shh. I got you. I got you,” He was nothing but a sweet assurance in your ear - his dick still throbbing and utterly needy in his pants, but forgotten in favor of pleasing you. For now. 

After a few moments, he lifted his hand from between your thighs, causing a sharp whine of disappointment from you. He used this touch to force your jaw toward him, twisting your neck awkwardly to meet him in a kiss over your shoulder. It caused an ache in your neck, but you delighted in the feeling of his lips desperately clinging to your own, the chance to steal his breath.

You had thought about kissing Thomas many times before - but you had never imagined that it would be like this. 

When it was over, there was one thing that both of you knew for certain: you both needed more.

“Please, Tommy.” You breathed against his mouth as you pulled away from the kiss. “I need more. Please.” 

Every single instinct inside of him screamed to follow this order - that this was the divine answer to his existence. This was everything his life had been leading up to from the moment he had seen your sweet face after he had been pulled out of that fucking Box. 

“I got you.” He assured you. 

He then guided you back to the bed and - very hesitantly - separated his grip from you in order to make sure that you could comfortably lay down on your back. Within seconds, he was on you again, absorbing your mouth into a hot, desperate kiss while he laid flush on top of you. 

You couldn’t help but to moan into that kiss, fisting your hands into his hair, holding him tightly to you as though he was your only source of oxygen - welcoming it when his tongue forced its way into your mouth. You sucked on it and moaned around him, becoming dizzier with the heat. 

When you felt his hard cock against your thigh, feeling him jutting his hips forward to try and find some relief against you - it caused a deeper pain in your pussy, a distinct feeling of emptiness and you knew that you needed more. You knew exactly what you needed - what that ‘more’ was. 

You pulled back from the kiss to whimper against his lips. 

“More.” You pleaded gently. “Please, Tommy.” 

“Yes.” He huffed back in return. “Anything - anything for you.” 

Naturally, his hands went back between your legs, and you guided him up to the button of your pants, both of you working frantically in tandem to get your pants off this time. That nagging heat only building inside of you, something telling you that you would go insane if you didn’t get your clothes off soon. While Thomas ripped your pants down over your thighs, pulling your underwear with them, you sat up slightly and ditched your shirt, leaving you wearing only the thin cotton bra that had come with this set of new clothes. 

Thomas let out a growl when more of your delicious scent hit him. With your pants around your ankles, it was more pungent now, ripe in the air, smacking him in the face in the most perfect way. And he felt another wave of crippling heat punch him in the gut as it fogged his brain over. It was so pungent that it was ripe on his tongue and he needed more. Something in his brain was chanting at him that he needed to taste it - he needed to devour that delicious scent, the essence of you, right from the fucking source. 

With his tongue lapping at the air like a fucking dog, Thomas let out more thick, heavy breaths while he desperately tried to untangle the fabric from your ankles, trying to free you so that he could have better access to you. After a moment too long of struggle for both of your liking, he was finally able to toss it all carelessly behind him, leaving you almost naked beneath him. 

But he didn’t have a moment to marvel at the beauty of your bare body. A sight that he had imagined so many times before in his mind’s eye, snuck away into the privacy of the woods with a hand tight around his cock thinking about this exact sight - no, he couldn’t sit back and simply drink it in. 

He was a man on a mission - a man living through a years long drought and finally met with the glorious fountain that would eternally quench his thirst. 

He didn’t even question the need to put his mouth on your pussy, didn’t wonder why the thought was so prominently at the forefront of his mind. Instead, he simply pinned your legs open against the bed with his palms flat on your inner thighs and did it, chased the urge that rang through his mind so damn clearly. 

“Oh, Thomas!” 

In seconds, it was the most divine thing he had ever experienced. 

With you moaning above his head, gasping out his name, with your taste so pungent on his tongue, with your heat beating under his mouth - it was too fucking perfect to let go of. 

Thomas moaned into your pussy, pure fuzzy pleasure melting his brain between his ears, making it impossible for him to think of anything but you. His mind filled with nothing but feed me, feed me, keep me alive, you are my life. 

The thick taste of your wetness on his tongue was all he needed, all he needed to live from now on, nothing more. He could feel you squirming and fighting against him; he could feel your thighs jolting and jumping under his hands as your nerves were overstimulated. He could feel your hips bucking up into his face, smearing more of that perfect wetness across his chin and cheeks, smothering him in it - perfect, how perfect. 

He could feel the sting of you tugging on his hair but it only added to the perfect sensation of dumb dizziness that pumped through him, that made him so fucking ravenous for you. It only made him moan into your cunt louder and shove his tongue into you deeper, looking for more. 

“Oh, ugh! Tommy! Tommy!” 

You felt like you were burning alive. 

His tongue against you was horrible and perfect - doing nothing to relieve the ache deep inside of you, one that demanded to be filled. 

His tongue lapping at you so hungrily only added more terrible, sweltering heat, causing more shocks of pleasure stinging up your body with each deep pass of his tongue that he swept over you, trying to devour you whole. 

The more he moaned against you, the more he vibrated your already sore clit, making you cry out, the more he caused your body to be consumed by that deep, uncomfortable he. The more he made it near impossible for you to breathe past the moans fighting out of your lungs. 

You desperately tugged on his hair, but only got his attention when you finally fought hard enough to get words out. 

“Tommy, please!” You begged, tears spilling out of your eyes now. “Please, stop! It hurts!” 

Those words - those painful words shocked Thomas back to reality. 

Had he been selfish, drinking from your essence to satisfy his thirst without considering your own? 

He pulled back from your pussy with a wet smack that made you whimper, taking his hands off your thighs, finally freeing your legs from the tight, stretched out position. Somehow, he looked even better staring you down with those needy, wide eyes while his face was covered in your juices. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I-” 

“Please, just - I need you.” You choked out in reply, reaching a shaking hand toward his pants. “I need you inside me, Tommy. I need you to fix it.” 

“Yes, yes, yes.” Thomas replied, chanting to you as though answering a prayer in a place of worship, fully prepared to worship you as the goddess you were to him. “Yes, I’ll fix it.” 

He rushed to get his pants and underwear off with just as much frantic struggle, and soon he was naked on top of you. Meanwhile, you ripped off the stupid bra in order to feel the satisfying press of his bare skin on yours, something impossibly boiling hot. A feeling that had you moaning into his shoulder while you hooked your leg around his hip, urgent to get closer to him. 

Without a second of hesitation, Thomas sunk his cock inside of you. 

His cock was a searing hot rod pressing into your well-slicked entrance, making both of you white-out with the feeling for a few moments while the need and satisfaction rattled through your insides. It was what you had both been waiting for, desperately needing from the moment that mystery chemical had hit your systems. And now that you had it - Thomas’s cock deep inside of you, the perfect satisfaction of being joined, being as close as possible, your body sang with perfect relief. 

But there was still that nagging for something more. 

Neither of you would be satisfied - it wouldn’t fully be out of your systems until you both came from this. 

It was that nagging that had him gripping onto your hips, holding you still so that he could begin hammering into you, desperate to answer that nagging in the back of his skull: fuck her, take her, fill her up - she’s yours. She is yours. 

It was a feeling so utterly perfect that you instantly relaxed against him - all of your muscles melting into the feeling of his cock fucking into you so rapidly, filling you up so well. You gripped tightly at his back, determined to hold him close, just as he had done to you before. You needed to keep him absolutely close, so tight to your body while his cock filled you up so perfectly. 

“Tommy, please. Oh, oh, Tommy!” You moaned into his neck, your pussy fluttering around him as his hips stuttered. 

Overwhelmed and dizzy with the heat, from the tips of his ears to the space where his cock sunk deep into your warm pussy, drowning in wetness, he could only focus on one thing. One single mission rattling between his ears. 

Fill her up. Make her yours. 

“Gonna fill you up.” He growled back, not even entirely realizing that he was speaking these words aloud - a sacred promise to him now, the only driving force of his entire life, the thing that his entire existence hinged on. “Gonna make you so full of me. So perfect, so full of me.” 

Getting lost in your warm pussy, filling you up, making your pain go away, worshiping you. He wasn’t going to lose you again, he was going to keep you safe. He was going to keep you in his arms forever, was going to keep you safe, wrapped around his cock - forever. He fucked his hips forward harder, making a loud, wet smack continually resonate throughout the room as he tried his hardest to deliver on these promises. 

“Gonna make you mine,” He growled, his voice reaching a deep tone that you had only ever heard when he had argued with Gally - ticked off, full of rage. “Gonna keep you safe. Forever.” 

But somehow - this was different. It was a rage that was twinged with passion. 

With love. 

It was a sound that made all the hair on your body stand on end, forced a sharp gasp from your lips as it utterly rocked your body. 

You dug your nails into his back, possessively gripping the flesh, holding him tightly, trying to keep him close. Forcing him to keep his promises. 

“Yours.” You echoed back, your voice half-breath, half pure need. 

“You are mine.” He groaned in return. “Mine, mine, mine, mine-” 

He chanted this as a mantra, fucking into you harder with each utterance of the sacred word before he cut himself off with a harsh gasp, his hips stilling suddenly. 

And then - perfection. 

He pressed into you as deeply as possible, filling you up with perfect warmth, delivering on his promise. Your gut curled with a nearly painful orgasm in response, causing you to bite down tightly on the flesh of his shoulder as you moaned wildly against him. Tears leaked from your eyes as you were nearly blinded with euphoria. 

“Mine.” Thomas hummed again, almost quietly to himself, leaving a small peak on the side of your neck to compliment his point. 

Once again, just as he had done when he first entered the room, he cradled your head so softly, petting your hair soothingly. It was a deep contrast to the near rabid man who had been fucking you only a minute ago. And he gently humped his hips against you, something unconscious telling him to make sure that he fucked his cum deeper into you - nice and deep. 

The two of you stayed tangled like this, instinctively not wanting to pull away from each other, an intense need to stay locked so close. Needing to be close to the person you needed most. In an effort not to crush you with his body weight, Thomas rolled onto his side, with you still holding him tightly, with your leg still hooked over his hip, with his softening cock slightly falling out of your now messy cunt - much to the disappointment of both of you. 

(Thomas surprised himself when he shoved his hips forward, trying to get closer, trying to get back inside of you.) 

But you both felt much more at ease now. And tangled together like that, with your arms wrapped around each other, with Thomas gently kissing over your forehead and your shoulders - you both dozed off into a gentle sleep. 

… 

Thomas woke up cold and alone. 

He dressed frantically, and surprisingly, he found the door unlocked. 

He had too many questions, and had one singular mission on his mind: 

Find you, and kill anybody who had laid their hands on you without his permission.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. If you liked this fic, please consider showing me that by reblogging or commenting, but if you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written instead of asking for more. If you want to see more fics from this fandom, I will be posting more in the future, and if you want to see more things that I have already posted, I have over one million words worth of work between my AO3 (linked in my pinned post) and my Masterlist for you to enjoy. Happy reading, and I hope you have a great day!!

[graciepasty]

Newt. The Maze Runner (2014).

[revengesthings]

in LOVE.

[agneslovestheinternet-blog]

FUCK YOU, don't leave me

Part Four: Better Terms (Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Five)

Special Thanks to @gallyismylittlesilly for reminding me to keep writing this lol :)

Gally x Fem!Reader NSFW

Your purely-sexual relationship with Gally is threatening to blossom into something all-too-terrifyingly real. Your unsaid feelings for each other create an awkward tension that breaks abruptly one night in a very unexpected way. Is this the end of your relationship with Gally? Or just the beginning?

Genre: enemies to lovers, lowkey angst at the end, smut scenes sprinkled throughout

Word Count: 4.4K Read Time: 14 Mins

Warnings & Info: protected p in v sex, blowjob, Gally praise kink???kinda???, nonessential OC’s, movie versions, takes place in TMR with thomas but kind of in a vacuum the plot doesn’t move forward Gally's thoughts in green, Y/N's thoughts in blue

Authors Note: I KNOW I SAID THIS WAS GONNA BE THE LAST PART BUT IT’S ACTUALLY NOT THERE’S GONNA BE ONE MORE LOL. I picked a different format for these last two parts and I hope you like it. I cannot believe the amount of support I’ve gotten on this, I truly appreciate all of you so much. Thanks for waiting so patiently as I abandoned and then re-found this fic:)

–Prologue–

The time has come. That dreaded moment nobody who drank too much last night wants to reach. But it’s here:

The morning after. 

The time when the sun seems too bright, the world seems too loud and everything is moving too fast for you to collect the disjointed memories of the events that led you to the state you’re in now. You’re sweaty, shaky, have a pounding headache and a very weak stomach that is violently threatening to empty its contents, if it hasn’t already. 

This is usually around the time that you start swearing to yourself, your friends, and anyone that will listen that you’re “never drinking again”. This is almost always a lie. 

The version of you that downs shots like they’re water has never met the version of you that is bent over a toilet, feeling those shots come back up, burning your throat just as much the second time as they did the first. The drunk version of you thinks the hungover version of you is a buzzkill and the hungover version of you thinks the drunk version of you is a maniac. But they’ll never meet, so they’ll never reconcile their differences, and you’ll cycle between them continuously until you get older or more boring or die.

The hungover version of you and Gally are doing about as well as you’d expect them too. The former is currently ducking her head behind a bush next to the Med-hut to vomit up bile for the third time this morning and the latter is swaying unpleasantly on the construction site of a new hut that’s going up, silently willing the sun to stop beating down and the volume of his crew’s voices to silence. It is the opposite versions of these two people that have set into motion a chain of events that will lead to a conclusion neither of them would be able to fathom at this moment. 

In exactly 49 days starting from today, Gally will confess his feelings to you. And in exactly 49 days and several minutes starting from today, you will confess yours back.

How exactly does this happen? The versions of you and Gally that exist today still despise each other. 50 days hardly seems like an appropriate turnaround time to go from hatred to fondness. In fact when you look back on the events of this story, the timeline befuddles you as much as it would anybody else. It’s hard to look at the big picture and see the slow change from you two being The Glade’s biggest rivals to then becoming a steamy secret hookup, then a very strange situationship, and then finally two parts of a genuine, real connection. But when you zoom in on all the small moments, (ones that seemed insignificant at the time), it becomes clear as day.

{<--------->}

Day 1

“You came back late last night,” Gia poses suggestively while straightening out the covers on her bed.

“We thought you died,” Ariana continues with mock concern, braiding her hair while sitting on the hut floor.

“Or fell in the pond,” Lireale counters earnestly, setting a stack of her newly folded clothes into her trunk.

“So which one was it?” Elsie takes the direct approach while sitting on the edge of her bed, removing her socks.

“Neither; I just got lost for a bit. Drunk Y/N has a terrible sense of direction,” 

Your lie comes easily and your friends roll their eyes at your poor decision. You usually loved these nighttime debriefings but this one was starting to feel like a minefield.

“I thought you might’ve snuck off with a boy,” the newest Greenie pipes up quietly from atop her new bed in the corner, a smile tugging at her lips. The group breaks into barking laughter that’s just distracting enough to keep anyone from noticing the heat prickling under your eye sockets.

“Y/N isn’t exactly into boys,” Ariana pipes up with a knowing look at you as soon as the laughter dies down.

“I would be if we lived somewhere normal. But we don’t. Trust me, greenie, none of these shanks here are worth any of our time,” Your friends give a rousing cheer and the conversation pivots naturally to the new greenie and how she’s liking The Glade so far. You’re grateful their eyes have left your face, allowing your blush to dissipate gradually and your mind to stop replaying flashbacks of the night before.

Day 2

“Jesus, Newt, I don’t know! I was drunk, I don’t even remember going into the woods the other night. All I know is that I somehow made it back to my hut before morning” Gally snaps, trying to stop the barrage of questions tumbling from his friend's mouth.

“Well, drunk you seemed to be on quite a mission,” Newt counters with a grin, not at all phased by the Builder’s trademark aggression. Newt has a creeping feeling that Gally is full of shit and knows exactly why he entered the woods the other night, but he knows better than to press him. It’s rarely worth it to pick a fight with him.

“I’m sure he was. Next time I’m hammered, I’ll let you know what that mission was,” Gally grumbles, trying his best to put on a sarcastic tone. If he ever did get drunk enough to confess the mission he had been on the other night, he’d throw himself to the Grievers.

Day 5

It hadn’t taken much, really. Some lingering glances, a head jerk in his hut’s direction from Gally, an acknowledging nod from you, a hand signal from him; closed fist to open palm twice in rapid succession (flashing five fingers twice = meet at ten). You’d both been a lot more apprehensive losing your clothing sober, but you’d quickly picked up the passion that had burned the other night once more.

You’re on all fours with your back arched on Gally’s bed and he’s standing behind you, thrusting his hard cock into your quivering pussy as he grabs your waist tightly.

“Are you close?” the Builder huffs out in a low tone.

“Yeah…” He is determined to not leave you without a climax this time and reaches a hand around to your front, fumbling blindly until he locates the bundle of nerves hidden between your folds. When his rough fingers begin to fondle it, you feel a jolt of pleasure zap your body that causes your arms to buckle beneath you.

“Keep…doing that….and…slower….pleeease”. The whine on that last word makes Gally’s cock ache for release but he focuses on delivering you slow thrusts as he swipes at your clit. You feel the warmth building in your core as each stroke pushes you further to the edge until you’re gripping the sheets beside your head and pushing your thighs together, riding your climax to its satisfying finish.

“Did you..?” // “.....duh,” // “Can I-” // “Yeah go ahead,”

With your permission given, Gally quickens his thrusts for a few seconds, his own familiar wave of pleasure washing over him as his cum spurts into the condom buried deep inside of you.

Neither of you says a word while cleaning up and redressing, too high off the post-orgasm endorphins to trust your mouths not to say anything stupid.

“You fuck better when you’re sober,” you finally state with an air of constructed indifference.

“Really?” Gally raises a well-defined eyebrow at you, his blue eyes wide.

“You’re less sloppy. More…” // “...Focused?” // “...Intentional.”

Gally’s heart is pounding in his ears. Your praise of his sexual prowess seems to affect him more each time you express it.

“Thanks. You’re more…responsive, when you’re sober,” It was your turn to become skittish at his soft-spoken, rather clumsy compliment. 

This conversation has been backed into an awkward corner. You cross the room to his door, avoiding his eye contact in the process, ready to make a quick escape.

“‘Night” // “Yeah see you, um, later I guess” // “Yeah,”

The door closes quickly behind you, leaving Gally to curse his lack of verbal smoothness in his now starkly empty hut.

Day 7

You’re wrapping a thick gauze bandage around Chuck’s left ankle, which he rolled while trying to catch up with Minho earlier today. Why Chuck would ever believe he would be able to catch up to a guy whose only job is to run, is beyond you. The youngest Glader always seems to be tripping over his own feet, so this incident is nothing new. As he chatters idly, Jeff pokes his head around the med-hut’s dividing wall.

“Are you close?” he asks simply, entirely unaware of the context in which you last heard that phrase.

“What?!” you snap, your head swiveling so fast to meet his eye line that your hair slaps you in the face.

“Are you close to being done with Chuck?” he repeats, his forehead creasing in bewilderment at your reaction. “Fry burned his hand, we need the exam table,”

“Oh, yeah, give me two minutes,” you reply, relief coloring your voice now.

Day 11

Alby had sent one of his orderlies to fetch Gally “to talk”. The entire walk over, the Builder’s stomach had been doing somersaults. Had Alby somehow seen? Did someone else, and had they told? Did you tell him? His panic was for nothing, as it turned out the resounding answer to all of them was “no”.

All Alby had wanted to say to him was a generic message of praise. He gave sincere thanks for the incident-free bonfire night and encouraged him to keep up his civil behavior. He told Gally that he appreciated that he could be the bigger person.

The Builder had tried to conceal a chuckle at his leader’s choice of words as he exited the meeting room. He knew he shouldn’t be reminiscing about the walls of your pussy taking his cock as deep as he could bury it while getting genuine compliments from an authority figure, but the memories were too intoxicating to stop.

They had him riding a high of lustful endorphins for the rest of the day that confused his crew as they whispered theories to each other about what the hell was making their otherwise surly leader so easy-going today.

Day 14

“Dinner in the Med-hut tonight?” Minho asks comfortably, taking a spot behind you in line in the dining hall.

“Yeah, I’ve gotta restock supplies. Tomorrow Alby’s doing an inspection and the place is a goddamn disaster,” you sigh, not looking forward to your task but feeling it might be better with Minho to keep you company. The Runner was notoriously easy company to keep.

“Cool, I’ll give you a hand,” he states.

“No you don’t have to, you can just sit and talk to me while I-”

“I want to help,” Minho cuts you off, surprising himself with his boldness. Too forward, Minho, way too forward.

“Ok then. I’d appreciate your help,” you smile back, pleasantly surprised by his kindness.

Maybe not too forward?

Day 17

“...and thanks to Gally and his Builders for the new hut by the Map Room. I’m sure everybody who no longer has to sleep in a bloody hammock is grateful,” Newt reads from a clipboard of meeting notes, pride coloring his tone. A small smattering of applause ripples through the meeting room, with the inhabitants of this new hut clapping louder than all others. 

Gally gives an uncharacteristic smile that warms his usually stony face. You lock eye contact with him from across the room. Your gesture is small, (an almost-imperceivable nod and one singular clap of your hands), but he finds himself exceptionally appreciative nonetheless.

Day 19

You’re on your knees in the deadheads with the full length of Gally’s erect cock sheathed in your willing throat. He’s standing against a tree with shaking knees, his large fingers threaded through your soft hair, scattered moans and guttural whimpers falling from his lips.

“Fuck, ‘mclose…” he manages to breathe out, his grip on your hair tightening. 

Your heart flutters at this comment and you alternate between taking his entire length to the back of your throat in short, coarse jabs and swirling your tongue around his tip. The fluctuation is overstimulating for Gally, who still can’t believe you agreed to do this to him, in the middle of the work day. Maybe it’s this sudden surge of gratitude that brings a certain nickname to his mind.

“Thank you…princess…” he moans out, cringing slightly at his own comment at first but quickly losing himself in the pleasure once more. You run your tongue back and forth over the sensitive area just underneath his tip and stroke the rest of his shaft with your right hand.

“Princess…’m gonna…cum-” he chokes out, which serves as your cue to take his entire length deep in your throat and swallow every spurt of bitter liquid that ejaculates from his swollen tip. Gally releases his death grip on your hair and smooths it out softly, breathing heavily and trying to get his vision to quit spinning.

He looks down at you, as you release your mouth from around his cock and plant small kisses up and down his shaft that send shivers through his already-sensitive body.

“Sorry,” he mumbles through a blush, his rough hands traveling from your hair to your cheeks, where he cups them gently. The gesture is affectionate, which means it’s very out of character for Gally. So is apologizing, actually.

“Sorry for what?” you inquire, making eye contact with him through heavily lidded eyes.

“The nickname. I know it was dumb, I don’t know why I thought-”

“I liked it, actually,” you confess, standing and brushing away the dirt that sticks to your knees.

Gally pulls up his pants and boxers that had been pooling around his ankles and breaks out into a proud grin. He stretches himself to his full height and leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Well then; have a good day princess,” he coos, letting the lust color his voice as he slinks away before you can respond.

Day 21

The air in between you and your Runner companion is unseasonably chilly but calm. Birds chirping loudly in the trees, leaves rustling in the trees and two pairs of boots squelching on the wet ground creates the sonic palette beneath your easy conversation. You gather white-headed mushrooms littering the forest floor to make a pain-relieving salve and deposit them in the wicker basket Minho insists on holding for you. 

“No offense to those guys obviously,” you start, depositing a handful of mushrooms into the basket with a soft thud, “it’s just that I wish we could have, like, real clothes,”

“Ones that aren’t sewed by teenagers using whatever materials they can find?” Minho asks with a smile.

“Yes. Ones that might be a tad more flattering to my figure,” you chuckle, straightening up from your leaning stance to stretch the loose fabric of your tunic to its full size with your hands. Minho seems to ponder this comment for a moment.

“I don’t know…” he mumbles, “I don’t think your figure needs much flattering,”

The statement hangs in the air for a moment, almost creating a tense cloud that you quickly dissipate with a well-placed snide comment.

“Yeah right,” you snort, forcing down the smile that threatens to envelop your face.

Day 24

“Y/N, can you toss me that rope?”

Gally realizes his faux pas as soon as the question leaves his lips. Everyone in his immediate vicinity snaps their heads up to look at him, having never heard him say your name for any other purpose than to start a fight. He tries to keep his expression neutral, though internally he’s panicking. There’s no way his fellow Gladers could work out that you two were having sex based on him asking you to hand him a piece of equipment…. but could they? 

“Sure, here,” you respond evenly, tossing the rope that was sitting in the grass next to you towards the Builder. You try to ignore the stares and hope the heat in your cheeks can be easily excused by the midday sun.

“Thanks,” he mutters, and all but leaves a cartoonish puff of smoke behind him, as he turns on his heel and returns to the task he needed the rope for.

That was bold, you think to yourself, watching the Glade’s inhabitants dart their eyes between you and him in bewilderment. You fix your face into a neutral expression, and silently plot to slug Gally in the arm for being so obvious when you see him in his hut later tonight.

Day 27

As it turns out, Gally asking you to hand him a rope is indeed enough to stoke rumors in The Glade that have been steadily growing for several days now.

“It was so weird,” Gladers would whisper to their friends who didn’t witness the minor incident, that has now been retold so many times it’s akin to legend.

“I thought they hated each other?” another would ask.

“I guess they made up,” others would chime in reluctantly.

You and Gally’s outright display of civility seemed to have marked a distinct end to an era for the most prolific gossipers among The Glade’s midst. For months upon months, they could rely on your feud with him to create consistent, free entertainment that provided a welcome respite from the horrors of everyday life. But now the fireworks seem to be over and the only question on everyone’s mind is; why?

Day 29

Gally stands in front of the closed door and allows his eyes to linger on you longer than he normally does. It’s bonfire night once again, and the both of you got stumbling drunk and ended up back here, repeating the steps of last month’s escapade like a well-rehearsed dance. He watches your figure, clothed in just your linen bra and underwear, sway to a beat no one but you can hear. 

Gally can’t explain why, but he’s beginning to like this arrangement for more than just sexual gratification. After the stress of each day beats him down, he can look forward to moments like this. Watching you dance to an imaginary audience, concealed in his hut, away from prying eyes and Grievers and mazes and chores. Just you and him, in your own little world. 

Day 32

“You know, I don’t think you’ve ever actually told me what you’re into. Like, in words,” you say, pulling away from kissing Gally and continuing the conversation you’d been having a few minutes ago about your preferences in bed.

“Oh, uh, fuck. I guess…ok, don’t laugh at me,” he shoots you an acidic glare. “But I guess I like when you…compliment me? Like when you tell me I’m doing good or I feel good or whatever. It’s uh…it motivates me, I guess,” His face is bright red and his stomach is doing flips; he’s never been this honest and it’s making him feel uncomfortably exposed.

“I probably would have guessed that,” you chuckle, diffusing the tension, “Noted,”

You file this information in the back of your mind and pull him back into you.

Day 34

“So you and Y/N are on better terms then?” Minho asks tentatively over dinner.

“Uh…” Gally pauses. To an untrained eye it might seem like he’s embarrassed, but he’s actually searching his mind for an appropriate half-truth. He is an impressively bad liar and might not be able to contain just how much better the terms he’s on with you are when asked about them directly.

“Yeah kinda. We uh…talked and kinda realized the whole feud thing is dumb. It’s childish,” Gally dismisses, clipping his voice with frequent pauses to keep his tone steady.

“Oh, that’s…that’s great dude!” Minho exhales, trying to keep the swell of excitement from bursting through his chest. If Gally doesn’t want to kill you anymore, then there aren’t many other obstacles keeping him from pursuing you.

Minho steers the conversation away from his question easily, starting in on the newest Greenie and how he nearly took Newt’s head off with a backhoe earlier today. 

Both the Runner and the Builder are blissfully unaware that the slight blush in both of their cheeks have the same source.

Day 35

“You’re so big, Gally,” you moan out, feeling every inch of him stretch your walls deliciously.

“You fill me up so well…” he leans down to kiss your neck, “...no one else could make me feel like this…” his thrusts quickens as desperation for you sets in, “...you’re so hot…” he whimpers in your ear, feeling his climax looming, “...and strong,”

Your addled mind, too preoccupied with the feeling of Gally’s cock sliding in and out of you, starts babbling compliments that are a lot less sexual in tone. 

“You’re so pretty…and smart…you can do…fucking anything. I’m happy I can…do this…for you. You deserve…a fucking….break. You’re so strong…and good. Gally; you’re so good….you’re good…you’re so good…soooo good…Gally…”

It’s this phrase that causes the Builder’s heart to race like never before. You’re so good. Not good at fucking you, not good in bed, just good. Inherently worthy. 

He’s never had anyone tell him he’s good, full stop. He thrusts harder and sloppier, trying to repay you for the praise. When his orgasm does come, it’s better than all of the other times combined.

He leans down to kiss your collarbone. It’s gentle and needy, not frenzied like before. You feel a drop of liquid on your bare skin, then a few more, then a stifled whimper. 

Gally’s crying. 

His face is hot and he can barely process the feeling of finishing inside you over the shame that’s now washing over him. He kisses your skin, trying to cut off his sobs with the pressure of his lips.

You instinctively run your warm hands up and down Gally’s arms, which simultaneously soothes him and furthers his embarrassment. He sighs and slowly lowers his torso on top of you, nestling his head in the crook of your neck. His heavier body causes unpleasant pressure on your chest but something tells you that moving will spook him. So you don’t. 

Until he pushes himself off of you jarringly, wiping his face and beginning to dress under the oppressive silence that’s now fallen between you two. You do the same, trying to keep your eyes off of him. You debate whether you should just leave his hut without saying a word, until you turn to face him. 

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, bouncing his left knee nervously, his hands clasped in a tight fist in front of his mouth, his eyes staring straight ahead. You sit down next to him and place a timid hand on his arm, which he immediately flinches away from.

“Jesus, dude, I can’t touch you now?” you hiss in a biting tone. You know that Gally deals with outright aggression a lot better than shows of vulnerability.

“I just didn’t know what you were doing, damn,” he responds in an equally huffy tone, though his body language doesn’t match. He lets one of his arms fall from his face and you both intertwine your fingers. Another moment of silence passes, and he finally speaks.

“I don’t-I don’t know what that was. I’m sorry. I just-I didn’t expect-I didn’t think that’s what you were gonna say and I-”

“It’s fine. I didn’t know I was gonna say all that stuff either. It just kinda…came out,”

“Yeah…yeah I get it,” 

Another agonizing stretch of silence fills the room.

“Did you, uh…did you mean it?” he winces as his mouth forms the words, as if anticipating a gut-punch.

“Mean what?” Playing dumb won’t stop this display of feelings but it’s your only defense. Gally doesn’t realize that vulnerability terrifies you just as much as it does him.

“What you said. That I’m…” his voice falters. 

He knows he’s about to puncture the nonchalance of your dynamic like a pin through a balloon. But he can’t stop himself. He thinks about the way your praise made his heart race and the rush of affection towards you he’s feeling right now as your hand is wrapped in his and out comes the word vomit, stinging his throat almost as much as the real thing.

“…pretty and uh, smart and that you like doing this for me…” he’s nervously scanning your face for a reaction but it’s your turn to look straight ahead now, becoming frozen with panic. “...and that I’m-I’m good. Do you…really think I’m good, Y/N?”

Yes, you want to scream, yes of course I meant it. All of it. Yes Gally; I think you’re-I mean, yes; you’re good. 

But you don’t say that. You can’t bring yourself to. This is all starting to feel very real and very far from the no-strings-attached sex you signed up for. You’re not ready to admit that this might be something more. So what you actually say is,

“I don’t know. It was just bedroom talk, Gally. I-I just got carried away. I’m sorry if I gave the impression that any of that meant-”

“Right, yeah, ok,” Gally cuts you off quickly, feeling a terrible ache rumble his chest, like a wall’s been dropped on top of him. He feels the hot sting of humiliation like flames connecting to his skin. He drops your hand quickly and resumes his original position of clasping his fists in front of his mouth, his elbows propped up on his knees.

“Gally I-” It’s already too late for justifications. The moment has passed.

“I think you should leave,” he’s still staring straight ahead, his eyes glassy.

“Uh, ok. Like, now?” you try to keep the pain out of your voice by feigning confusion.

“Yeah. You came here to fuck me and you did so, you can leave now,” he snaps back. Anger always seems to suit Gally better; it’s more becoming of him. 

“I don’t…I don’t understand what I did wrong,” Yes I do.

“Nothing’s wrong. We’re done having sex. Get the fuck out of my hut now,” Please don’t leave.

“Fine asshole; I’m leaving!” I’m sorry.

You rise to your feet dumbfounded. I’m sorry. You grab your jacket from the floor. I’m sorry. You walk to the door. I’m sorry. You turn the knob. I’m sorry. You step over the threshold. I’m sorry. You shut the door behind you. I’m sorry.

Despite the hundreds of times the phrase “I’m sorry” pounded in your ears as you left Gally behind, you never found the courage to say it out loud. You wipe your own tears from your eyes as you walk back to your hut, hoping that wasn’t the last chance you’d ever get to say it.

{<--------->}

Tags: @katie-tibo @my-little-universes @cthood @decaffeinatedpuppygiver @sarahstar11

[heliads]

After Everything

Based on this request: "The reader is sick and Thomas stays with her and watches her and he also cures her. Like he did with Brenda where he gave her his blood. It takes place in the Safe Haven."

why do my thomas fics always end up angsty, riddle me this

masterlist

Thomas doesn’t know that he can take much more of this. Of hiding, running, losing. Of anything. Some part of him despises the fact that his only known memories involve complete and utter terror; other voices in his head whisper that he should hate himself instead, because he had the choice to get more of his history back and he decided against it.

Is it Thomas’ fault, then, that his world is composed solely of fear and anguish? Is it his fault that he grew up the second they took his memories away and he stopped thinking that ‘at any cost’ was a worthwhile justification for all the pain he has experienced and still will?

No, his head whispers back, no, it isn’t. Someday Thomas will learn to stop second guessing any thought of his, to go a day without wondering if his own internal monologue is truly his or just the work of some scientist up in a lab plotting out the inner wirings of Thomas’ brain like a circuit board. The Gladers might have removed the tracking chip in the back of their necks, giving WICKED that much less sway over what he can and cannot do, but that doesn’t mean Thomas will ever stop being quite so paranoid.

He supposes he’s been getting close to a point in which he can lay down his armor. They’re really in for it now, tearing through the streets of the Last City like there’s no tomorrow, because in all honesty, there might not. The Last City was the final stronghold against the Flare, and now it’s about to come crashing down. The fireworks have already started, the tide of danger lapping against the buildings. The inhabitants may not know it yet, but their lives have already ended.

Thomas can feel no sympathy for them. He tries, fleetingly knowing that they should, but the fact that these people got to be safe while Thomas and his friends suffered under WICKED’s thumb robs him of the last bit of his emotional connections. Surely they knew what was going on in those labs, and yet they never tried to stop it. Turning a blind eye did as much help as joining in on WICKED’s side, and so Thomas watches the entire city go up in flames without feeling a single thing.

He doesn’t feel anything for them, at least, those nameless masses. Thomas feels plenty for the people right here in front of him. He has lost Newt, he has lost Teresa, he has lost and lost and lost again. At some point, he would like to have something without having it taken from him. After all this, hasn’t he done enough to deserve it? A fate better than death, for once in his remembered life?

Thomas is on a Berg right now, flying away from it all. His arm is still stretched out in front of him from where he failed to catch Teresa. Thomas lies flat on his stomach, staring as the aircraft pulls away from the wreck of the city, wondering why he thought he would ever be able to take all of the anguish that has overcome him. 

At one point just a few months ago, Thomas was so desperate to escape the Glade that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. Now, Thomas lies as still as death, wishing that he could be there still. Four walls keeping him contained, keeping him safe. Grass that was always green, never charred or burnt by the solar flares. Friends that were still alive, who could still smile at him without that thread of agony woven throughout everything.

Thomas lets his vision go hazy. He’s exhausted from their run through the city, but at least now he is out of it, alive if not well. The last thought he has before he closes his eyes is of that space within the Maze again, how it felt to come out of the stone corridors every evening after a successful run. He swears he can hear the cheerful voices of his friends calling out to him one last time, and then he hears nothing at all.

Thomas wakes up slowly, in a place he cannot recognize. There’s a faint sound playing at the edge of his consciousness, and it is this unfamiliar noise that wakes him at last. After a moment, Thomas realizes that it’s the crashing of waves against some distant beach. He doesn’t know that he’s ever heard it before, at least not since his memories were taken. Perhaps he had been there all the time when he was younger, back when he still took such things for granted as a blue sky and a family he knew.

Thomas starts to sit up, and he must make a fair amount of noise as he pulls the stifling blankets off of him, because Minho pokes his head inside a second later. Although the boy’s face is twisted with stress, he brightens somewhat upon seeing Thomas alert.

“Good of you to wake up at last,” Minho grins, “I thought you were going to sleep forever, you lazy shank.”

Thomas snorts. “Why would I possibly want to sleep when I could be around such friendly people?”

Minho chuckles. “I missed that attitude.”

Thomas frowns. “Why, how long was I out?”

“Just a couple months,” Minho says offhandedly, and bursts into snickers upon seeing Thomas’ face. “About a day, don’t lose your mind.”

Thomas drags a tired hand over his face. “I can feel every one of those hours, trust me. Was I one of the last to wake up?”

Minho’s face sombers, back to that stress that Thomas had seen earlier. “Actually, no. We thought everyone who was on the Berg was alright, but–”

Instantly, Thomas is on high alert. “But what? Who’s not okay?”

“Y/N,” Minho whispers, and just like that, Thomas is ruined.

He’s on his feet before he knows it, striding for the door. Minho catches him before he can get too far, and starts to guide him towards a makeshift hut on the horizon.

“There’s something you need to know,” the other boy says, “About Y/N, I mean. She wasn’t one of the Immunes.”

Thomas nods mechanically. “A lot of us weren’t.”

“Yeah,” Minho grimaces, “Problem is, when the city was going to hell a bunch of Cranks found their way into the place. Y/N was scratched by one of those crazies while she was racing for the Berg. We thought everything was fine, but she took a look at her arm this morning and, well, she’s not doing too hot anymore.”

Thomas’ footsteps stutter, and he almost trips before he manages to get himself under control again. “So she’s going to–”

He can’t finish the thought, can’t possibly bear to picture the fact that after everything, he’s going to lose someone else. Thomas can’t take another hit, and not her. Not Y/N, who’s been by his side through everything, who kept him sane when Newt wasn’t, who made him want to find a way out of the Maze in record time. Thomas has lost again and again, but he can’t survive her.

Minho sighs, the sound so grieved and weary that Thomas can’t believe it came from the same boy who was once so carefree and joking. “I know,” he says simply, “but there’s nothing we can do.”

“Actually,” Thomas says hesitantly, “there might be. Do we have any medical supplies?”

“Yeah, what some of the guys from the Right Arm managed to bring. Why?”

An idea is occurring to Thomas, and all he can do is hope that he won’t be wrong. “Brenda got the Flare a while back, and when she received my blood, she was alright. Brenda wasn’t Immune, just like Y/N. What if we do the same thing again?”

Minho grabs Thomas’ arm. “It just might work. Get your ass to the new Med-Jack hut as soon as you can. We’re taking your blood.”

Despite his rush, Thomas doesn’t go get his blood drawn immediately. Instead, he finds Y/N’s room in the makeshift hospital. It’s deathly still in the place. Y/N is sitting calmly at a chair in the corner, leaning against the back with her eyes closed.

She glances over when he knocks, and instantly she breaks into a grin. “Thomas, you’re awake! It’s so good to see you.”

Y/N starts to stand up, then glances at her arm and remembers herself, sitting back down again. Thomas looks at the wound too; there’s a small cut on her forearm, barely big enough to be bandaged, but it’s the same ghastly black that Newt’s veins had been when he was turning into a Crank.

She winces at the expression on his face. “I know,” she murmurs, “I can’t help being mad about it. I was so close to getting out, and after everything, I couldn’t quite manage it. If I had just been a little faster, maybe I would have been alright, but no.”

Thomas shakes his head mechanically. “This isn’t your fault.”

Of course it isn’t, but it’s not like saying it does anything. The only thing that will help is if Thomas gets his blood in her system now, but he couldn’t resist stopping by.

“We’ve got an idea of something that may be able to help,” Thomas says. Anything to lift her spirits.

The promise of help does the trick. Y/N smiles again, and this time Thomas almost believes it.

“You really think so?” She asks.

He smiles too. “I do.”

After that, all that remains is to find someone halfway decent with a needle and get his blood drawn. One of the Right Arm doctors has been posted a few doors down from Y/N’s room just in case, and they’re more than happy to take his blood and see what will happen.

A few minutes later, they’re transfusing Thomas’ blood into Y/N’s arm. Thomas hangs around in the room for a while after that, and although he knows the effects won’t be immediate, he can’t help the foolish hope that if he’s just there, he’ll be able to see some sign of it.

Besides, it gives him a chance to talk to Y/N, and Thomas has never been able to pass that up. They’re quiet at first, still stunned by everything they had to endure over the last few weeks, but after that, conversation loosens. By the end of it, they’re almost laughing again. Thomas can imagine that if enough time went by, they could be normal again, or as close to normal as they would ever get. He thinks he’d like to try his hand at normal at least once. It would be a wonderful goal to achieve.

Thomas bids Y/N a very reluctant goodbye once the Right Arm doctor all but kicks him out, citing the patient’s need to get some rest. That doesn’t stop Thomas from showing up the next morning, bright and early, although he waits outside the door for a while once he realizes that Y/N is still asleep. She looks so peaceful when she’s dreaming, and Thomas wonders if that’s how she must have looked before all of this, just a girl who had never had to watch her friends slowly lose themselves to a battle that never should have had to be theirs.

Thomas’ presence soon becomes a fixture at the makeshift hospital, and he’s pleased to see that Y/N’s condition progresses favorably. After the first day, she seems more alert, and the black spidering veins recede into almost nothing at all. Eventually, Y/N is cleared to leave the hospital, and Thomas couldn’t be happier than the first time he sees her out in the sun, happy to be talking to everyone.

Most of all him, as it turns out. Y/N finds him not long after she’s first allowed to leave the hospital.

“I need to thank you for the blood,” she says, “I hear it was all your idea, and it’s clearly why I’m still alive. I didn’t really want to turn into a Crank.”

“Well,” Thomas smiles, “I didn’t really want you to turn into a Crank either. It was a win-win for all of us.”

Y/N laughs quietly, turning her attention to the island surrounding them. Thomas thinks that they had superb luck in their choice of Safe Haven– not only is it safe from Cranks and WICKED alike, but it’s also quite picturesque. Not a terrible place to live out the rest of your days, indeed. Thomas has known far worse.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, “I’d always wondered about a place like this, back in the Glade. I never really knew if it would exist for real, and now it’s ours.”

“Ours?” Thomas asks, curious.

Y/N looks faintly self conscious. “I don’t want this quiet happy ending just for me, Thomas. You know, that was what I hated most about getting bitten. I had promised myself that I would tell you how I felt once we were all safe, and then I was going to die before I got the chance.”

Thomas’ heart freezes in his chest. “And how do you feel?” He asks, scarcely daring to wonder.

“I love you,” she says simply, “I love you, and even if you don’t feel the same way, I’m happy enough to be alive long enough to tell you.”

“Whoever said I didn’t love you back?” Thomas says, amused.

Y/N looks startled by this declaration, but she doesn’t have much time to be surprised before Thomas leans over and kisses her. The silence is sweet, and Thomas thinks that he has never been so happy in his entire remembered life. Perhaps even the time before it, too. At last, he feels enough to be sure of it.

tmr tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43

[rainydaydreamsideblog]

(The Maze Runner) Imagine: He Protects You

It can be dangerous, especially for the only girl in the Glade.

Warnings: Guys being creeps in the Glade (nothing graphic), bullying, the Maze, danger.

. . .Thomas. . .

It’s a beautiful evening in the Glade.  You’re walking straight along the treeline on your way to run a final errand for Alby at the end of the day.  The sun is no longer visible, as it already descended far enough to be blocked by the walls.

Suddenly, you get the creeps.  It was hard to explain, but you feel goosebumps bloom along your skin, and you get the distinct feeling that you’re not alone.  The lovely glow of the bonfire is in your field of vision, but it’s so far away. It’s where most of the guys are gathered.  You can hear their distant whoops and hollers, reminding you that help is far away too.

A twig snaps, and your suspicions are confirmed.  There’s a figure following several feet behind you, lurking in the shadows cast from the trees above.

So, you veer off your original path to draw closer to the homestead where there would hopefully be someone who hadn’t made it to the bonfire yet.  Whoever it was must have caught on to what you were doing because they instantly pick up their pace.  You begin to hurry, increasing your speed so that they can’t catch you before you make it to what you hope will be a haven of safety.

Your heart is pounding, and your chest heaving with panicked breaths as you finally make it to the homestead.  

“Hello?” you call frantically.  

Suddenly, Thomas appears.  He sees your nervous state immediately, his hand taking yours.  But then his eyes lock onto something behind you, and he moves right past you to intercept your pursuer, effectively blocking them from you.

“What’s going on?” he demands.  Your follower is frozen to the spot, stuttering, failing miserably to offer up some sort of explanation.  Thomas steps forward, towering over the guy.  It’s plain to see that he is furious.  His forearms flex and his jaw is clenched.  You can hear his angry breaths as he speaks again.  “That’s what I thought.  Now, get out of here.”

As soon as the guy is gone, Thomas turns around to face you.  His close presence eases your fearful state when he steps into your space, filling your nose with his scent. “You okay?” he asks gently.

You manage a nod.

“We’re going to tell Alby right away.  This isn’t going to happen to you again.  Come here…” He carefully pulls you into his arms for an embrace, as if you’ll break apart if he’s too sudden. You bury your face in his chest, breathing a sigh of relief.  His heartbeat is close to your ears, like a lullaby.

“Thank you…” you whispered.

. . . Newt . . .

You couldn’t take it anymore.

The teasing, the taunts… The inability of certain individuals to just leave you alone.  Ever since you’d rejected him, Allan had made it his life’s mission to make your existence in the Glade all the more difficult.

Most recently, he had purposely bumped into you at lunchtime so that your meal was spilled all over your clothes and onto the ground.  Resources were limited in the Glade.  It was understood that wastefulness wouldn’t be tolerated.  You couldn’t afford to lose food or have clothing ruined.  Fortunately, your clothes would be fine after a wash, but the discarded food was a different story.

You dab at your tank top with a washcloth and pause to look at your reflection in the mirror.  It was all too easy to recall how quickly you’d reached your limit after Allan’s ridiculous ploy.  Your face is still wet from crying, eyes puffy, and lips parted as you took deep breaths.

There’s no use crying over spilled milk, you thought. Or in my case, spilled lunch.

After composing yourself, you decide it’s time to go back out there and face the music. You toss the damp rag aside and march determinedly out of the empty washroom.  To your surprise, you smack right into another individual coming in.  You instantly recognize the blonde hair and grumbles of complaint as he reels from the collision.

“Oi, shank, watch where you’re going-”  Newt quickly realizes it’s you and clamps his mouth shut, extending his hands to each of your shoulders to steady you gently.  He takes in the sight of your tear-stained face with his eyes showing clear concern.  “Hey, what’s gotten into you?”

“Oh, just… Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Newt looks far from convinced, and you lower your gaze.  He’s about to inquire further, but a familiar voice sounds from outside the washroom.

“Hey, _______!” Allan calls tauntingly, making you freeze up.  “How’s it going in there?”

Newt’s eyes instantly flash, and his face scrunches up anger.  You can hardly believe it when Allan continues.

“Sorry about my clumsiness earlier.  Maybe I can make it up to you.  Come on out before I go in there!”

Newt can’t contain himself anymore.  He turns on his heel and heads out of the washroom, and you follow behind just to see the look on Allan’s face when he realizes he’s been caught.

It is so worth it.  Allan’s stupid grin falls hard into a look of horror as the Second-in-Command approaches him furiously.  He doesn’t lay a hand on him, but he looks like he’s awfully close when he jabs a pointer finger in his direction.

“If I ever catch you bothering her, or even breathing in her general direction again, you’ll be a permanent Slopper for the rest of your time here in the Glade.  Do you understand, shank?”

Allan nods quickly, and doesn’t even wait to be dismissed.  He just hurries away, leaving you and Newt both standing there watching him flee.

“Coward,” he mumbles.  Then, Newt turns to you, resting a hand on your arm in a comforting gesture.  “I mean it, you know.  He’ll never bother you again.”

. . . Minho . . .

It’s hard not to panic when you glance up and can no longer see the sun above you. It’s the end of the day, and you’re nearly out of time.  The lightning pain that shoots through your ankle suddenly just becomes too much.  You lean against one of the ivy-covered walls and exhale.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it,” you say aloud, and the words weigh heavily on you.  You mentally scold yourself.  You can’t afford to think that way.  A Runner knows better.  With a wince, you continue limping on your way.  It’s not that the exit from the Maze isn’t close.  If memory serves you right (which it did), it wasn’t too far at all… but at your pace, it would take a lot of effort and some good luck to get you back in time.

Just when you are about to give up again, you hear footsteps rapidly approaching.  Your first thought is that perhaps your cowardly companion had a change of heart, but the footsteps didn’t match.

“Hello?” you call.

“_________!” Minho’s voice responds, and your heart swells with hope.  You aren’t out of the woods just yet, but your chances were much better with help. Minho nearly slides to a stop in front of you, instantly taking your arm and putting it around his broad shoulders to help you up.  There is no time to stop and compare notes, so you update him as he begins helping you back along the path.

“I sprained my ankle.” You hold onto Minho like he’s your lifeline as you push through the pain to keep up with his pace.  He’s right to go so fast.  Time is running out.

“Where’s Derek?” he asks with a grunt.

“He…he left me,” you gasp in pain.  “I think he was worried he wouldn’t make it out in time if he helped me.”

Minho goes quiet for a moment, and you can practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves.  His eyes are focused straight ahead at the path, and he huffs.  Finally, he bites out a sarcastic comment. “I think it’s safe to say that he’s getting demoted from being a Runner.”

You keep talking, trying to distract the both of you from the familiar groan of the Maze walls shifting.  “Why did you come out here?”

“Because it was getting late in the day, and no one had seen you,” he pants.  “Usually, you check in with me right away.  I knew something had to be wrong.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

You continue limping with all your might toward the gate, feeling your heart jump, as the walls on either side begin their agonizingly slow crawl to a close.  There’s a small group standing on the other side, ushering you both out anxiously.  It was mostly Keepers, a select few who had been informed of the problem by Minho.

The two of you fell onto the green grass, gasping for breath, while the others surrounded you.  Alby knelt down beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder.  You just let yourself breathe, tears welling up in your eyes from relief.

“So it’s true?” Gally questioned, brows raised.  “Derek left her in there.” “Yes,” Minho replied, sitting up.  “And he will face the consequences.”  He looked over at you, finally catching his breath.  “You’re safe now.”

. . . Gally . . .

James had been haunting your steps for far too long.  He was always there, always hanging around, and sometimes showing up at the most alarming of instances.  What could be done about it?  It wasn’t as if he’d taken severe enough action to warrant disciplinary measures, you thought.  He was only ever seen staring at you, smirking, and just being an all-around jerk at times.

This time, he’d snatched your tools away from your working station while your back was turned. After uncovering a particularly tough old root, you turned around to get a spade to chop it up, only to see that your things were gone.

A few laughs caught your attention, and you glanced over to see James and one of his shadows standing there, staring at you from several feet away.  You couldn’t say for certain, but it seemed like they had something to do with your missing tools.

So, now you’re debating with yourself on the best course of action.  Do you ignore him and try to rustle up some extra tools from Newt or Zart?  Or do you bother to give this shank the attention he’s so desperately seeking to get your stuff back?

You don’t really like the latter option.  Frankly, James gives you the creeps. The last thing you want is to play his little game… But every minute that you spend deliberating is wasted time that could be put towards helping the Glade.

As much as you despise indulging him, you find yourself marching right over to his work area.  Both James and his minion are laughing in amusement, shoving each other at the sight of you approaching.

“Do you know where my tools went?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I might,” James replies cryptically.  “And I might be willing to strike up a bargain for that information.”

You fold your arms across your chest.  “What could you possibly want?”

“Ohh, I don’t know…Perhaps a kiss will do.”

You make a face as the disgust hits you.  “Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Yeah, that’s going to be a ‘no’ for me.”  You wave off the concept, turning around.  You decided that your best bet is to find some spare tools.  This just wasn’t worth all the trouble.  Just as you start to leave, James comes running around to block you.

“Hey now, I didn’t say you could go.”

“Yeah, you might want to think about his offer,” James’ lackey said from behind you.  The two of them close in, and you clench your fists in preparation to fight.  If you make enough commotion, you’re sure that someone will notice and come to your aid.

You give him one last chance.  “Let me pass.”

“Come on, just one kiss.  Unless you want more than one after that-” to your relief, James is cut off by a new voice interjecting.

“What’s going on here?” The three of you turn to see Gally standing there, sweating from whatever project he was working on,with dirt and wood shavings on his clothes.  His expression looks expectant as he waits for an explanation, though his tall and bulky form makes him appear positively dangerous as he stares the two guys down with his hands resting on his hips.

“I, uh.. We…”  They break off in stutters and fumbled words.

“I’m fairly certain they have my tools,” you say, and Gally’s famous arched brows raise at the two guys in disbelief.

“Is that so?” As Gally walks forward, he plants his palms harshly on James’ shoulder, shoving him clear out of the way. James stumbles unceremoniously, almost falling straight into the grass.  Gally walks over to the bench and pauses.  He picks up a bundle of leather and tosses it to you, the tools rattling inside.  “Are those yours?”

You recognize it immediately.  “Yes, these are the ones.”

“You shanks had better never even speak to her again.  Understand?” He stares at each of them pointedly with all the authority of a Keeper, and they both nod.  With that, Gally walks up to you and ushers you away with a warm, gentle hand on your back protectively.

“Your timing was impeccable,” you say quietly.  “Thank you.”

“They won’t bother you again.  I’ll make sure of it.”

“I think you already have,” you chuckle.

[heartach3d]

secret language

thomas x reader

requested by @yourlittlefries!

1.2k words

I love picking flowers in the Glade.

when they grew at least it was fun and distracting from all of my other problems. but of course only in my free time. I would hate to be called a freeloader.

so I did really anything. I helped in the kitchen, the aid and everything but the builders and slicers. It reminds me too much of getting hurt and I can't handle pain.

so of course in my free time here I was. in the grass picking the pretty colors of the flowers and slipping them into the opposite hand.

no one batted an eye since this was a frequent occurance. this is also probably because I have a bit of an accent and they don't bother to talk to me.

I mean yeah I talk to Newt and Thomas and stuff but they don't mind it. and their patient when I cant pronounce or remember a word correctly.

-

while walking around the Glade looking for stuff to keep me busy I saw y/n in the grass picking flowers like usual. I smiled and stared at her in her own world. not paying attention to these walls around her. like she was actually free for once.

after I snapped out of my thoughts I went up to her and tapped her on the shoulder when I reached her.

she flinched a little and stumbled forward before looking back and realizing it was me. "oh hello tho-mas" she said with a light smile and flush on her cheeks.

"hello y/n what are you doing?" I asked already knowing but still asking to start conversation. "nothing just picking the flowers!" she said with a brighter smile at the mention of the colorful flowers in her hand.

"hey and did you know the little petals to the.. virág! are colored or shaped to attract more p-..pollin- pollinator? nem tudom de ez valószínűleg nem így van..." she said breaking off while saying certain words.

"are you trying to say pollinators?" I teased lightly sensing how hard it probably is to remember long words.

"and what'd you say! I couldn't understand that last part." I say confused on if I just didn't hear her right or if I didn't understand it at all.

"it was my language? you've heard me speak it before yeah?" she asked just as confused as I was but for different reasons.

"no! teach me some please!" I asked suddenly feeling interested in what she was saying. it was interesting since no one else in the glade spoke a different language.

"oh I don't know im not good teacher" she said and I felt sad for a moment. "please! I'm a fast learner I promise and I'll help you with more english if you want? "I suggested so it'll be a win win situation.

"we can teach each other! " I say trying my best to convince her. "alright I guess I can try and teach a little bit." she said looking away and thinking of what she could teach.

-

so far everything had been fairly easy and he'd gotten the hang of it well! I thought it would be harder with the little language barrier already going on but it's going nice.

it's also gotten me closer to Thomas and I've got to know him better. all the stuff that he remembers I know. and all the things I remember he knows.

I've been feeling this weird feeling recently talking to him and my ears feel all hot and my heart starts to beat. I've never felt this before so I don't know what it is.

maybe I'm coming down with a sickness.

I don't know but it only happens when I'm around him. what if I'm allergic to him or something?

it has been too much so I went to jeff since he's a aid and I thought something was wrong with me. and his diagnosis was a crush.

what else did I really expect though after only feeling that around him? it still felt weird but at least I had something to blame for it.

and I felt like I couldn't tell anyone so secretly I told him but using Hungarian so he wouldn't understand it of course.

"okay so say tetszel nekem" I say looking up from the flowers in my hand. again we were doing this while I was picking flowers and he was just standing around.

"t-tetszel nekem?" he said in a weird way. I laughed and tried to cover it up to not make him feel bad.

"no no! I'm not laughing at that you got it right it was just the accent!" I said and stopped laughing and just smiled at his reaction.

"hey if you taught me better we could talk infront of all these shanks and they wouldn't know what we were saying" he said smiling at his own idea.

"yeah yeah you'd have to learn it first!" I say laughing before it slowly dies down. a silence occurs as we just think our own thoughts for a minute.

"hey so what were those words you were teaching me?"

hii! I hope this isn't terrible since it was a really cute request!

translations:

nem tudom de ez valószínűleg nem így van = I don't know this is probably not correct..

virág = flower/s

tetszel nekem = I like you!

[lizzysbrain]

I swear to god this man comes back to get me at least once a year EVERY SINGLE YEAR I CONVINCE MYSELF HES NOT THAT CUTE BUT THEN IT HAPPENS AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND FUCKING AGAIN.

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

As Brave As You Are (Newt x Reader) - A Maze Runner Story

As Brave As You Are (Newt x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 12,051 Warnings: death, bloody wounds, fighting, mental and physical torture, guns, suicidal thoughts and actions Spoilers: no spoilers because the books and films came out ages ago

After helping Newt recover from his ankle injury, Y/N and Newt formed an unbreakable bond that always had them looking out for each other. When they escaped the Maze, then navigated the Scorch, they always had each other’s back. It isn’t until Y/N is captured alongside Minho by WCKD and Newt contracts the Flare that he realises how he truly feels about Y/N.

Problem is, will he rescue her in time to tell her?

Note: I'm back in my dystopian future era thanks to the new Hunger Games film so of course I had to write for my original YA crush. This piece is based on the movie series mainly. Don't get mad at me, I love the books more, but I can appreciate the storylines that came out of the path they took with the films. And if there is one thing the TMR fandom can agree on, it is that the film cast was the best cast ever for the series. So enjoy - not sorry that it's horrendously long, Newt deserves it xx

‘Medjack! Medjack, now!’

Y/N recognised it was Minho was calling for help. Clint and Jeff ran out of the med hut to see what all the commotion was. It wasn’t long before they were hurrying back inside, carrying Newt of all people between them, Minho and Alby in tow.

‘Clear the table,’ Clint ordered, and Y/N quickly followed through, practically throwing off containers, bowls and medical instruments to get Newt on there as quick as possible. Once Newt was up, Y/N finally noticed the unnatural twist in his ankle and it almost sent Frypan’s sloppy sweet potato soup right back up. 

She was still pretty new to her job as a Medjack, being the greenie and all. She was the only girl in the Glade of the current twelve residents, so she was intimidated at first as to what role she could play in the place. Medjack seemed the most suitable, and she seemed to have a knack for it, having stitched up some eyebrows and cleaned up knee scrapes with ease and precision. 

But even though she’d seen blood, dealt with displaced bones and joints, she still got queasy doing her job. It didn’t help that Newt was hissing through clenched teeth from the intense pain, an occasional sob passing through.

‘What happened?’ Y/N asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Minho said. ‘We split up for only five minutes. I thought we could cover more ground that way. And we’ve run that part of the Maze like a hundred times already. I thought we’d be fine…’

Clint held Newt down as Jeff and Y/N took a look at Newt’s ankle. Jeff only pressed gently with his fingers around the bone, but Newt’s responding howls confirmed the severity of the injury.

‘The bone is completely shattered,’ Jeff said grimly. ‘We’re going to need to reset his foot first though. Y/N?’

‘On it.’ She rushed to a shelf that held bandages, then to a cupboard with flat boards about shin length. She grabbed two of those before heading back to the table.

‘You’re going to have to hold him down,’ Y/N directed at Alby and Minho, gesturing to follow Clint’s efforts. Then she turned to Newt, whose face was slicked with tears and sweat as he continued to writhe in pain. ‘Newt. Newt, can you open your eyes for me? I need you to focus on me.’

To his credit, Newt opened his eyes and he didn’t look away from her. 

‘Good. Good, Newt,’ she said. ‘Now, we have to realign your foot. It’s going to hurt a lot. We’ll go on three, okay?’

In the short time Y/N had known Newt – which arguably was no time at all, as he ran every day and she was in the Medjack hut all day. They didn’t interact unless he or another runner got hurt, or at dinner if only to say hello. Even so, she had come to know he liked it plain and straight, no bullshit. So, despite his pain, he took two deep, calming breaths and gave her a nod to say he was ready for what they had to do.

Y/N nodded back, then looked to the others, who had their hands braced on all Newt’s limbs. ‘Ready?’ she asked, to which they nodded in reply. Y/N gently held Newt’s ankle, eliciting a quiet whimper from the boy. ‘Okay, on three. One, two…’ She cut herself off as she slammed her hands either side the ankle bone, causing a loud cracking sound as the ankle snapped back into place. 

Newt’s wail of pain must’ve been heard from across the whole Glade it was so loud. He writhed and pulled to sit up, but the boys held him down as Y/N and Jeff bandaged the two splints either side of Newt’s ankle. Jeff then dabbed a small dose of chloroform in a cloth and pressed it to Newt’s nose. Soon enough, the boy was unconscious, finally pain-free.

‘You guys go have dinner,’ Y/N said to Clint and Jeff a little while later as they were cleaning up the hut. Alby and Minho had left soon after Newt fell asleep, but it was almost dinner time now. ‘I’ll stay with Newt tonight.’

‘You sure?’ Clint asked. ‘We can do shifts if you’d prefer.’

Y/N shook her head. ‘I insist. You guys rest up. I can do this. Consider this my final test to becoming a fully-fledged Medjack.’

Jeff chuckled. ‘You have much more to learn, Greenie, but suit yourself.’

‘We’ll bring you back some food, Y/N,’ Clint said as he and Jeff left the hut, leaving Y/N to idly clean up.

Newt woke up from a dull throbbing in his ankle, which turned into a harsh pain, causing him to sit up in alarm. 

‘Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,’ a voice gently said as equally gentle hands pushed him back down.

‘My ankle,’ he said, voice hoarse and dry. ‘It hurts…’

The face of the voice finally came into view: it was the Greenie. Y/N offered him a small smile as he finally recognised her. In one hand, she held a needle with clear serum. Her other she offered to his leg. ‘May I? It’ll help, I promise.’

He hesitated for a moment, but the intense pain in his ankle broke his composure as he eagerly nodded. The painkiller worked immediately, and Newt sighed with relief as the throbbing eased significantly.

’There,’ Y/N said, wiping the needle. ’That should help for a bit. Sadly, we don’t have much left for me to give you more than once a day, but I’m hoping you won’t need it beyond the end of the month.’

Confusion clouded Newt’s mind as he tried to process her words. ‘What… What happened?’ But he answered his own question as images of the Maze flashed through his mind, and he remembered it all. How he bid farewell to Minho. How he climbed as high as he could along the Maze walls. How easy it was to let go. 

Then the pain fully encompassed him, and then it was just a blur. How Minho found him. How Clint and Jeff laid him on the table he realised he was still on. How angry and embarrassed he felt having his friends see him broken and miserable. 

Newt managed to pull himself into a sitting position, propping a pillow behind him to cushion the hut wall. ‘How bad is it?’ he asked glumly, eyes unable to lift from his injury.

He couldn’t be bothered with pleasantries. He was too tired, and, frankly, saw no point in keeping up appearances anymore. 

To her credit, Y/N seemed to pick up on his mood, saying, ‘It will heal to a point you’ll be able to walk again. But it won’t ever heal properly.’

‘You mean I’ll have a limp?’

‘Potentially.’

’So I can’t be a Runner anymore?’ Y/N didn’t reply, finally drawing Newt’s attention away from the source of his pain and to her. 

Newt had only interacted with Y/N on a few occasions. Mainly at mealtimes or the odd occasion he passed her by on the way back from a run, only talking as much as greeting and farewelling one another. As the only girl so far, of course he found her intriguing, but he never had time nor a reason to get to know her.

And while he’d come to think of her as the quiet and gentle Medjack in comparison to Clint and Jeff, he didn’t see an ounce of pity on her face as she looked at him. Only quiet contemplation, as if there could be any other answer but no to his question.

‘I guess that’s up to you and Alby,’ she finally said. ‘I mean, I know what I should say is no. I’m sure Clint and Jeff will say no. But it’ll more so come down to if you want to go back in or not.’ Her eyes flickered to his ankle, sadness glazing her eyes briefly before returning to him. ‘But I think I can take a guess as to what your answer will be.’

Newt’s gut twisted with guilt and shame that she’d figured it out, and his face flushed with embarrassment and anger. ‘So, you going to tell everyone?’ he asked, words thick  with hopelessness. ‘I mean, that’s your job, right? Diagnose me, then tell Alby, then the whole glade how pathetic I am?’

Y/N shook her head. ‘I think you give me too much credit. I’m not an actual doctor, you know,’ she said, coming to stand beside him. She inspected his ankle for a moment, then turned her gaze to him, and it shocked him to see such intensity in her eyes. It was as if suddenly he was the most interesting person in the world.

‘I can say it was a running accident,’ she finally concluded. ‘You can tell your truth when you’re ready. It’s not my place to take away hope when the others are so full of it right now. That includes me.’

He stared, stunned, as she packed up the last of her things by a spare medical cot at the other end of the hut. It wasn’t until she let out a loud yawn that Newt noticed it was dark outside. The silence of the Glade told him everyone else had gone to bed so it was late. Or early, he couldn’t really tell.

Y/N fluffed a sad excuse of a pillow and put it on the cot. ‘Now that I know you’re alive, are you going to be okay if I get a few minutes shut eye? I can stay up if you’d like.’

Now that the initial shock and embarrassment of the day’s events had subsided, Newt realised how exhausted he was still. ‘No, that’s okay,’ he said. ‘I think I should rest a bit more anyway.’

Y/N nodded and swung her legs up to lie down fully. Newt went to slide himself and his pillow back down to do the same when Y/N spoke again.

‘And Newt?’ she said, her voice soft and almost hesitant.

‘Yeah?’ he called back.

She was silent for so long Newt thought she’d gone to sleep. But then she spoke. ‘For the record, I don’t think you’re pathetic. For wanting it all to end, that is. I actually think what you did was really brave. You might be scared and maybe out of hope, but at least you did something about it. The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you.’

Newt’s breath caught in his chest as it swelled with a mix of emotions. Brave? What he did was the act of a coward. Tears streamed silently down his face, both from a deep shame, but also a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you…

Newt had lost all hope after a year of searching for a way out and finding nothing. But she didn’t know that, and neither will the next Greenie, or the Greenie after that. Even some of the boys already in the Glade didn’t know that. That’s why they waited every day for the runners – for him – to come back with news, with a shred of hope that they’d get out of there soon. 

Newt twisted himself so he could see Y/N, who was rolled away from him, her body rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. Even if he thought it would all be hopeless in the end, some truly believed they would get out of here.

And maybe that was something worth fighting for.

~

Two years on and Newt and Y/N had managed to forge something akin to a friendship. 

Y/N had kept her word and said Newt had had a running accident, and he’d agreed with her for the sake of his worried friends. Y/N had also been right about his ankle; it healed to point where he could walk and do a decent jog with a limp. But he would never run again. 

He was transferred to work as a Track-Hoe in the gardens with Zart. But it wasn’t all bad. As more boys arrived – never any girls much to their confusion ��� Newt developed a knack for leading others, for diffusing hard situations, and for wrangling the boys into line. Because of that, he was promoted to Alby’s second-in-command, which gave him more meaningful work to do than just the gardens – stuff that might actually get him and the other Gladers out of the bloody Maze. 

It also meant he had more time to talk to Y/N. He would make sure to drop by once a day (and not just at mealtimes) to check in on her. For a time, he convinced himself he did that because it was his job as second-in-command to keep up group morale, and he would visit everyone in the Glade. Eventually, however, he realised it was because he genuinely enjoyed her company.

Since that night, Y/N had come out of her shell more. Still a little shy and apprehensive at times, but she would openly joke and play along with the boys’ antics. She was more confident in her work as a Medjack too, not afraid to boss Clint and Jeff around if she needed something from them.

Newt’s visits became longer, as they talked about any and all things. Aside from Alby and Minho, Newt considered Y/N one of his closest friends. And she must’ve felt the same – or at least in a similar fashion – as she entertained his thoughts about life beyond the Maze, and the rants he would go on thanks to whichever stupid shank put the fertiliser in the wrong place.

It was a friendship built on mutual respect and genuine care for one another, something that helped Newt convince Y/N to come with him and the others when they finally decided to leave the Maze. But he couldn’t help but feel a deep dread and guilt as he waited behind Thomas, knowing that Grievers were right around the corner.

While the others caught up, Newt turned to Y/N – who’d been helping him through the Maze with his limp – and offered her a spare spear he’d been carrying.

Her eyes widened at his offering. ‘I can’t take that. I can’t fight.’

‘Well, you can’t just go in there without something to protect yourself,’ he said, this time forcibly handing the spear over. Y/N clutched the spear awkwardly, and Newt saw the uncertainty in her eyes, in her trembling hands.

Newt felt bad for making her hold such a violent weapon. All her hands had ever done were help people, save them at times. Now he was asking her to kill. It was for the greater good they both knew, but to kill, nonetheless.

Newt placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and locked eyes with her. ‘Hey,’ he said softly, ‘you stay with me the whole time, do you understand? I promise you won’t have to use that unless absolute necessary.’

Y/N bit her lip to stop it trembling too, but she nodded, steeling herself in preparation for the fight ahead. Newt reciprocated the action and gave her shoulder a final squeeze before turning to face Thomas as he explained the plan.

They fought the Grievers, taking down a few while some of them took down Gladers. The Gladers were backed against the door that Teresa and Chuck were trying to open with a code. Minho shouted numbers at them as he, Newt, and the others fended off one last Griever.

Before he could finish, Minho was caught by a Griever, and Clint ran out to save him. But the Griever’s tail caught him, sending him over the edge of the walkway they fought on with one flick.

‘Clint!’

Before Newt could stop her, Y/N rushed out from behind him, spear drawn back and flying at the Griever in seconds. Not being a fighter to begin with, let alone a good one, the spear bounced off its metal leg without much effect. It did, however, alert the Griever to her presence, turning all its attention to her. Minho leapt to his feet, finally free, and ran back to the group. ‘Y/N!’ he cried as he ran. ‘Run!’

Y/N seemed to finally realise her situation, looking up at the Griever frozen with fear. The horrible creature raised its claw to end her, but Newt moved faster. 

He ran as fast as he could, limp be damned, past Y/N and threw his spear at the Griever’s head. It landed true, puncturing one of the creature’s bulbous eyes, drawing a painful screech from it. Newt didn’t wait to see what it would do next, as he grabbed one of Y/N’s arms and Minho grabbed the other and ran back to the group, practically throwing her behind the front line and against the door. 

Teresa finally got the door open and the Gladers tumbled in, Thomas throwing one last spear down the Griever’s throat as the doors closed. 

Lights flickered on to show they were in some empty room with a door on the wall behind them leading to a corridor.

Thomas looked at the group, taking heavy breaths. ‘Everyone okay?’

‘What’s left of us, that is,’ Winston said, his tone sad and regretful. 

As Newt eyed the group, he noted how many they’d lost, how little their group seemed all of a sudden. 

Minho stepped ahead with Thomas, pointing towards the door. ‘Well? It’s not going to open itself.’

As Minho and Thomas led the group to the exit, Newt turned to Y/N, whose eyes had a distant look glazed over them. ‘What were you thinking?’ he asked, bringing her attention to him. ‘I told you to stay behind me. You could’ve been killed.’

‘I-I know. I’m sorry,’ she stuttered out, tears teetering in her E/C eyes. ‘I just… Clint… It all happened so fast, and I was just kind of moving before I knew what I was doing.’ She looked down at her hands then, and Newt noticed a slight tremble to them. ‘I thought I could help, but I was too slow. And I put you guys in danger too. I’m just… I’m sorry.’

Newt’s guilt came back full force then. He placed a gentle hand over her trembling one, grasping her fingers to stop their shaking. When she looked up at him confused, he just said, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you into thinking you had to fight. You won’t ever hold a weapon like that again. I promise.’

Y/N opened her mouth to object no doubt, but Newt cut her off. ‘But you have to promise me something back. Promise me that you’ll let us protect you. You can help by keeping us alive, just like you always have. But you’ve got to listen to me, you got it?’

He used his authoritative voice this time, and it seemed to work as Y/N calmed down, her unshed tears now gone.

‘Okay,’ she said, quiet but strong. ‘I promise.’

Newt nodded. ‘Good that.’ He turned to see the others leaving through the door then turned back to Y/N. ’Do you think we’d be lucky enough not to face anything else beyond those doors.’

‘I think we should consider ourselves lucky for getting this far.’ To her credit, Y/N managed a small smile as she looked up at him. ‘But why should our luck run out now?’

There it was again; the glimmer of hope Newt had felt from her since the night he injured his ankle. Newt couldn’t deny that they’d made it this far – by design or by luck, they’d made it. 

And who was he to deny that things might be on the look up for them now?

Together, Y/N and Newt followed the rest of the Gladers to meet their makers.

~

‘I never thought I’d say this… but I miss the Glade.’

The group around the fire grew silent at the implication Frypan’s words had, the memories they conjured up. Y/N couldn’t help but agree as she looked into the dark sky above her, peaking from behind the crumbling pillars they took refuge under. 

The sky was always so clear back in the Glade, she recalled silently. But, just like their current situation, the sky was now obscured. 

The people who rescued them from the Maze were actually WCKD – the people who’d put them in the Maze in the first place. The past twelve hours had seen herself, Newt, Thomas, Minho, Frypan, Winston, and a boy named Aris find Teresa, break out of the facility, and enter the deadly Scorch. In their search for supplies, they’d been attacked by crazed, infected people, driving the group to hide where they were.

The Maze was dangerous, but it was familiar and the only home Y/N recalled ever having. Out in the Scorch, safety wasn’t guaranteed. 

She looked to Winston, who laid back, his shirt pulled up to expose the bloody bandage she’d wrapped his torso in. Y/N tried not to think about the infected scratch marks underneath, and more specifically what gave them to him. The Grievers were one thing, but the things that attacked them? They used to be people.

Not wanting to sit in her thoughts anymore, Y/N stood up, brushed off her pants, and grabbed knife from their pile of weapons they’d found in the abandoned mall. ‘I’ll take first watch.’ 

She didn’t wait to hear if anyone objected, already walking around the stone that covered them so she was on top. To her relief, the others let her go without argument, putting out the fire and quickly settling down to sleep.

After half an hour, Y/N decided to get up and patrol around the area, knife tightly gripped in her hand and her footsteps quiet despite the sand. 

There was so much of it,  the sand. The lady in white – Doctor Ava Paige – had said in her video that the whole world was just desert now. The thought made Y/N yearn for the Glade even more. For the grass, and the woods, and the bonfires they used to have, and the games they played. The boys – Clint, Jeff, Alby, Gally, Chuck. 

Y/N wasn’t a hateful person, but she clutched the knife tighter at the thought of all the loss they’d all suffered at the hands of WCKD. 

It’s why she didn’t hesitate to follow Newt when he’d found her in her room – for some reason, she hadn’t been allowed to stay with the other girls from the other mazes just yet. It’s why they were now braving the Scorch searching for people that Thomas didn’t know even existed. They wanted a better life out from under WCKD’s thumb.

The crunch of sand had her whirling around, awkwardly poising the knife as if to attack, but she relaxed at the familiar person standing there.

Newt raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘Whoa there,’ he said, the quirk of a smile on his lips telling her he was just joking. ‘You could do some real damage if you’re not careful.’

Y/N blew out in relief, the knife dropping to her side again. ‘Thanks, but we both know that’s not the case, Newt.’

Newt shoved his hands in his jacket pocket, shrugging his shoulders as he did. ‘I don’t know, I’ve seen you with a scalpel. Absolutely terrifyingly precise with that thing.’

Y/N chuckled softly, appreciative of the distraction. But her smile dropped as she looked out into the dark cityscape. The moon hid behind clouds so Y/N couldn’t make out anything. ‘Is it pathetic that I’m scared to see what the world has become?’ she asked, not daring to raise her voice above a soft mumble.

Newt stepped up beside her, his body radiating the last remnants of heat from the fire and it warmed her slightly. ’Someone once told me that I was brave for facing my fear,’ he said after some quiet contemplation. 

Y/N looked up at him confused, but he looked down at her with a knowing, smug smile. Much to her chagrin, she couldn’t help but chuckle and shake her head at him. ‘I don’t recall saying that specifically. But if that’s how you saw it, who am I to tell you that wasn’t what I meant?’

Newt hummed in agreement looking back out at the dark expanse, contemplation scrunching his brows together. ‘I’ll be honest with you, I’m scared too.’

That surprised Y/N. Newt, second-in-command, casual, leader Newt was scared? ‘You are?’

Newt nodded. ‘I’m scared that we’ve made a mistake. That Thomas is wrong and there aren’t any mountain people.’ He turned back to Y/N, the most serious she’d ever seen him. ‘I’m scared we’re going to lose more of us, and then what was our escape for? But… it’s not my place to take away hope when the others are so full of it. Including myself.’ Finally, Newt’s smile returned, and it warmed that cold pit of despair Y/N had been falling into ever since they left the WCKD facility. ‘Or, at least, I think that’s what someone very wise once told me.’

Y/N stared at him, awestruck. Hopeful. Newt was hopeful again. And she didn’t want to read into it, but she thought the knowing smile he was giving her told her that she had something to do with it. The thought alone strengthened her resolve, and she looked down at the knife in her hands, less afraid of it all of a sudden.

Y/N held it out to Newt. ’Teach me.’

He raised an eyebrow in a silent question. ‘What?’

’Teach me. How to fight,’ Y/N explained, eyes unwavering from his. 

Concern flashed across Newt’s face for a brief moment. ‘Y/N, I told you, you don’t have to fight if you don’t want to.’

‘If there is one thing I’ve come to know about WCKD is that it doesn’t actually matter what I want anymore. What any of us want,’ Y/N said, feeling the most certain she’s felt in a long time. ‘The one thing we have on WCKD is that we are defiant. We escaped, and are taking away the one thing they want most of all: a chance to find a cure. So, if we’re going to have any hopes of making it to the mountains alive, I’m going to have to know how to fight. So please – teach me.’

Newt contemplated her for a moment, and Y/N just prayed he wouldn’t say no. Or even worse, laugh. Instead of doing either, he took the knife from Y/N’s hand, his fingers brushing across her palm as he did. 

‘All right,’ he said, moving his feet apart to get into a fighting stance. ‘First of all, you’ve got to have a wide-ish stance, and stay light on your toes so you can control when you back away from your opponent.’ 

He demonstrated the movement by quickly shuffling away, always keeping his feet a certain distance apart and the knife gripped tight by his hip. ‘…and when you go into attack.’ He moved so fast Y/N didn’t see his footwork, her eyes locked on his as they bored into hers, knife poised at her neck as if he’d strike.

He stepped away and gave her the knife back. ‘You think you can do that?’

Y/N nodded and took the knife, and for the next hour Newt taught Y/N basic blocks and manoeuvres that he’d picked up from Thomas and Minho and just from basic instinct. Just like she’d been with her Medjack skills, Y/N was a quick study, performing move after move when Newt asked her to. 

She impressed herself. For a natural pacifist, she wielded the knife quite fluently.

They decided to finish the session on a quick sparring match. Newt took a swipe at Y/N, and she stepped back just like Newt had taught her. She then rushed in for an attack, to which Newt threw up his own knife in time to block. Y/N anticipated the pushback and twisted out of Newt’s way as he stumbled slightly forward. While he was disorientated, Y/N gripped his wrist that controlled his knife and pointed her own into his back. 

‘Looks like I win,’ she said, breathless but proud.

Y/N didn’t like the carefree scoff he gave her, followed by, ‘Are you sure?’

She doubted herself for a moment, loosening her grip enough for him to twist out of her reach, knock her knife away and bend to sweep her legs out from underneath her. Y/N landed hard, groaning at the pain in her butt as Newt looked down at her and laughed. 

‘I’m glad you find my pain amusing, Newt,’ she grumbled, rubbing her sore behind.

Newt laughed for a moment longer then calmed down. But his radiant smile remained on his face, brightening the darkness surrounding them. ‘I’m sorry, love,’ he said between remaining chuckles. To his credit, he held out his hand in an offer to help her up. ’But the surprise on your face was priceless.’

Y/N contemplated his hand for a moment, whether she should just push it away or take it. Instead, an idea came to mind, and she gripped his hand tightly then pulled him to the ground with her. He landed on his stomach beside her, getting a face full of sand.

Y/N let out a loud laugh before quickly covering her mouth to stifle the relentless laughter that wished to burst from her. 

Newt spat and coughed out sand as he made to sit up. ‘Well,’ he started, spitting out more sand as he looked up at Y/N, ‘I should’ve seen that coming.’

That just made Y/N laugh even harder, using now both hands to quieten the giggles. Goodness, when was the last time she’d laughed this freely? When was the last time she’d felt such joy? After everything they’d been through, Y/N was worried she’d forgotten what was like to laugh.

When she’d calmed down, she looked down to see Newt propped up on his arms looking up at her with an odd expression on his face. Like he was in awe, maybe. Whatever it was, it made Y/N acknowledge how handsome Newt had become. His baby features had faded since she’d first met him, being replaced by a lean figure and a toned jawline from working in the gardens every day for two years. And with his big brown eyes, tousled blond hair and funny accent, Y/N wondered how he had changed so much without her realising it. How she hadn’t realised he’d grown up.

The intensity with which he looked at her brought a heated blush to her face, and so she turned away into the cool night breeze, willing the blush to cool down. Newt shuffled to sit up next to her. They didn’t speak for a minute, until Newt suddenly stood up. 

‘Well, um,’ he started, and for the first time since Y/N had known him, he sounded uncertain about what to say. ‘I better let you continue with your shift. At least you know how to defend yourself now.’

Y/N hastily stood up as well, making sure there was at least a step between them. ‘Yes!’ she said. ‘Thank you for that. I’ll be sure to practice.’

‘Good that.’ 

They looked at each other for a moment, and even though Newt said he was leaving, he made no move to leave. Maybe he doesn’t want to, she thought, and the mere possibility of that being true warmed her heart.

But he took a step away, gave her a shy smile and a small wave farewell. ‘Goodnight, Y/N.’

‘Goodnight Newt,’ she said, those two words hanging in the air long after he’d left.

As she finally woke Frypan up for his shift, she clung to the knife and went through all the manoeuvres Newt had taught her until she fell asleep. 

Newt was unable to sleep until Y/N woke Frypan up to take the next watch shift, and laid down to sleep herself. Newt opened his eyes to see Y/N laying across the pit they’d dug out for the fire. She faced him on her side, and Newt noticed with curiosity that she held the knife she’d practiced with close to her chest. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, and paired with her heavy breathing, Newt figured she was completely asleep. 

An odd sensation fluttered in his chest and stomach as Newt considered Y/N’s sleeping face. It was the same feeling that had fizzled in his chest when he’d looked up at her as she laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time any of them had laughed as freely as she had. 

And he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she looked doing so – hiding her bright smile behind trembling hands, eyes narrowed but sparkling with joy. 

All because of him.

He rolled onto his back then, not wanting to give the thought anymore weight. There’s no point getting your hopes up, he reminded himself. But like a moth drawn to flame, Newt couldn’t help but tilt his head to gaze upon her peacefully sleeping. An ache carved itself deep in his heart. How had he not realised her growing up, changing? Being the only girl for a long time, of course he and the others found her pretty. But now that he looked at her – really looked at her, and wasn’t concerned with his life for just a split second – he realised just how beautiful she was. 

It was in her features, but also in her determination to be better for the group. It both hurt and impressed him when she asked for his help. He promised her she would never have to fight again, but things have changed drastically since the Maze.

It was in her ability to still find the joy in things, to still be able to laugh despite their situation.

It was how she believed in Thomas, in Aris, in the mountain people, even if she was scared. 

‘The rest of us can only wish to be as brave as you,’ he whispered into the night, a silent promise that he’d tell her that sometime. 

And with the fluttering in his chest finally easing into a calm warmth, he finally fell asleep.

~

Everything exploded with chaos as Y/N, Newt, Thomas, and Minho navigated their way through the Right Arm camp as guns fired and explosions went off. 

Teresa had betrayed them. Y/N couldn’t believe it when it was revealed in front of everyone, and she still couldn’t believe it as Minho pushed her head down, sheltering her from another explosion. Teresa truly believed WCKD could find a cure, but still at the expanse of Y/N and her friends’ pain. And just when Thomas was going to blow them all sky high, Jorge and Brenda had come in like a saving grace, and that’s when all hell broke loose.

‘This way!’ Thomas yelled over the din, beckoning them behind a weapons container.

However, Minho stopped suddenly and picked up a launcher. Keep going!’ Minho called over his shoulder as he shot at WCKD soldiers around him. ‘I’m right behind you!’

Thomas and Newt reached the container, but Y/N stopped and turned at the sound of a painful cry. ‘Minho!’ she cried as her friend fell, his body convulsing from a launcher shot. 

‘Y/N, no!’ Newt called after her, but she was already running back to Minho, grabbing at his jacket to drag him to safety. 

But Y/N was not strong like the boys, and certainly not strong enough to move Minho in any hurry. She looked up just in time to see a launcher fire at her, then her body felt like it was on fire. 

She was sure she was screaming, but she couldn’t hear anything as the electricity struck every nerve with a vicious bite. After what felt like an eternity of pain, she was granted a moment of peace as her vision went white, then in a flash was swamped by darkness.

Newt’s heart stopped when he saw Y/N shot. She convulsed as Minho had, then collapsed beside their friend unconscious. The second Y/N hit the ground, Newt found his voice again, feelings of anger and desperation clawing their way through every vein in him.

‘Y/N, no!’ His cry came out broken as he made to run to her, but a strong hand gripped the back of his jacket and pulled him back. 

‘No, boys,’ Vince shouted over the din, holding both Newt and Thomas back. 

‘Let me go!’ Newt protested, struggling against Vince, eyes darting between him and Y/N. ‘I need to help her! Y/N!’

But WCKD soldiers were already picking up Y/N and Minho’s unconscious bodies, dragging their feet through the red dirt and into a berg.

‘I’m sorry, son,’ Vince said, and Newt thought he sounded genuine. But that didn’t stop icy terror gripping tight on his heart as the doors began to close on Y/N, Minho, and other immunes from the Right Arm.

Thomas called for Minho, and Newt called for Y/N, but neither could do anything to help their friends as they were flown away. Back in WCKD’s clutches once again.

When the sun rose, the remaining survivors came out of hiding and began scrounging up supplies. They were moving on, Vince claiming there was nothing they could do but keep going with who and what they had left.

Newt couldn’t accept that, and neither could Thomas apparently, as he claimed he was going after Minho, Y/N and the others. Without hesitation or any further explanation, Newt was the first to sign up and join him.

And so, they went on a quest to rescuing Minho, Y/N, and as many immunes as possible. The train hijack was a huge success with immune numbers, but no Minho and no Y/N. Even so, Newt refused to accept that he’d never see either of them again. Even when they almost got killed by cranks. Even when he, Thomas, Brenda, Frypan, and Jorge were almost blown up by turret guns.

Even when he found out he was infected with the Flare.

He could feel it, his mind slowly slipping away as the Flare ate away at his sanity. He was usually level-headed and rational – it’s part of the reason he became second-in-command in the first place. Guilt and shame ate away at him as he sat on the rooftop of their hideout in the outskirts of the Last City, explaining to Thomas why he just bit his head off about being in love with Teresa.

Not that I’m one to talk, he thought as he rolled down as his sleeve, silence wrapping around him and Thomas comfortably. Newt could feel Thomas didn’t know what to say, and Newt didn’t like long silences so he broke it.

‘The crazy thing, though is…’ Newt started, a soft but sad scoff escaping him, ‘I’m not scared of dying. I used to be, back in the Maze. Because it felt like my friends were dying for no reason, without purpose. But…’ Newt looked over his shoulder, past Thomas, and to the peaking spires of the Last City. To where Y/N was being held somewhere.

‘I have something to die for now,’ Newt said, eyes never wavering from the spires.

Thomas came to sit beside Newt, a sad realisation drawing his brows and lips down. ‘You’re not just talking about Minho, are you?’ he asked.

It was how gentle and matter-of-fact Thomas spoke that had Newt’s chest tightening with fear and an immense pressure he’d been scared, until now, to acknowledge. His throat threatened to close on him as he spoke, rendering his words tight and uncontrolled. ‘I failed to protect her, Tommy,’ he managed to get out. ‘I promised I’d always protect her, and I didn’t.’ 

It surprised Newt how simultaneously hard and easy it was to speak about his feelings, and now that he had started, the words just flowed. 

’She’s just always been there, so I never saw it coming,’ Newt continued, a melancholic smile adorning his lips as he recalls the day he met you, how you helped him with his ankle. How, since then, you’ve always been by his side, growing with him, changing with him, supporting him and everyone else around you. 

’Saw what?’ Thomas asked.

‘I never saw that I could have a future after the Maze, after all of this,’ Newt explained. ‘That I would want a future… with Y/N.’ And with that, his tears finally spilled over, the pressure in his chest bursting into sobs that wracked his whole body. Newt was vaguely aware that Thomas was now holding him, and so he wrapped his arms tight around his friend, around his brother.

‘I love her, Tommy,’ Newt whispered over Thomas’ shoulder, his words obscured somewhat by his tears and holding back sobs. ‘And I’m scared I’ll never be able to tell her before I go.’

‘Hey,’ Thomas said, pushing Newt to arm’s length. He kept one hand on Newt’s shoulder and used his other to grip Newt’s neck, forcing their eyes to lock. ‘We’re going to find her – and Minho, and the other immunes. We’re going to get you that serum that helps with the Flare – as much of it as possible – and you’re going to tell her. You’re not dying. No one is dying. You hear me?’

No one could replace Alby, but the way Thomas was taking control of the situation reminded Newt of his old friend. How kind yet stern he could be. How hopeful yet pragmatic he was. It was something familiar that Newt was thankful for. He quickly calmed down, wiped away his tears and nodded at Thomas.

‘Good that,’ Thomas said, a small proud smile gracing his lips at his use of Newt’s common phrase. 

Newt couldn’t help a chuckle as well. ‘Good that, indeed,’ he agreed, and followed Thomas back inside the hideout to finalise their plan to get into the WCKD facility.

…and you’re going to tell her. You’re not dying. 

There was a nagging voice in the back of Newt’s head that was telling him not to believe Thomas. That Newt was going to die, or worse, turn into a crank and hurt his loved ones. That voice had followed him from the Maze, to the Scorch, and now the Last City. It was the voice that had driven him over the edge of the Maze walls all those years ago. But not anymore.

Newt had to keep hope, just as Y/N had taught him. He just had to be brave.

~

Y/N sat in the corner of her white-walled cell, hugging her knees to her chest as she rested her head on top. She’d sat there for hours, perhaps days. Y/N lost track of time after her first month in WCKD’s facility. 

There were no windows, and the lights never dimmed. She pressed her eyes into her knees in the hopes of downing out the incessant white light. Her eyes ached with sleep deprivation, but she refused to sleep. The nightmares were much worse to deal with, and they always came whenever she closed her eyes.

Images of her friends dying in the Maze and the Scorch, of Grievers chasing her, of her friends turning into cranks and attacking her. Images fed to her by WCKD. 

She knew they weren’t real, but she could never wake herself up in time to escape them. So, she stayed awake, knowing that she’ll have no choice but to face her nightmares when the doctors and scientists come to test on her again.

Y/N shivered at the thought of seeing another needle, of seeing her blood drained from her while WCKD turned her mind against her. When will it be enough? She might’ve lost track of time, but Y/N knew she’d been in the facility for a while now. If they hadn’t found anything by now, something told Y/N that nothing she gave would ever be enough. That included her life.

She knew Thomas and Newt would be dumb enough to come after her and Minho – that’s just the kind of people they were. Her heart ached at the thought that their efforts would be in vain. 

Y/N hadn’t seen Minho since they arrived, having been separated from each other and the other immunes. Something about how they were the most promising subjects, she overheard from a scientist one time. Y/N didn’t know if Minho was alive, and if he was, what condition he was in. 

But Minho was strong, the strongest of all the Gladers in Y/N’s opinion. If he was being tortured like her, he would be able to hold on. Y/N highly doubted she would last much longer.

The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you…

Y/N wasn’t sure if Newt knew she was actually awake that first night in the Scorch, but she’d heard him, his words so soft she thought she’d dreamt it at first. But it had been real; Newt thought she was brave.

She was too dehydrated to produce tears, but an ugly sob desperately tried to escape her aching chest. She bit her lips instead, hard enough to draw a little blood, and the sob died out, leaving her body quiet except for her mind.

I’m sorry Newt, but I am not brave.

Even so, Y/N refused to crumble to WCKD anymore. They’d taken everything from her. Her life, her memories, her loved ones, her friends. Even her hope – something she so naively believed no one could take from her. They would not take her dignity.

She raised her head at the sound of her cell door unlocking, blinking a few times as bright light flooded her vision once more. Two WCKD soldiers and two scientists stood by the door, and Y/N spied a gurney just behind them. 

One of the scientists – young male, maybe in his early twenties – stepped forward. ‘Time for more testing, Y/N,’ he said in a cold tone. But he had the sense to look sympathetic as his eyes roamed over Y/N as she stood up, showing how pale her S/C skin had become, how dark the circles beneath her eyes were, how the cargo pants and grey t-shirt hung off her in areas where she used to fill.

Y/N knew it was useless, but still she ran for the door, pushing past the scientists with ease despite her weakened state. However, she hit the soldiers like a brick wall, unable to fight against them as they restrained her arms and pressed her against the wall. The male scientist recovered quickly and injected her with a serum that made her drowsy enough that she wasn’t in control of her body. She was conscious as the soldiers strapped her to the gurney and the four of them wheeled her down corridor after corridor, and all she could do was watch fluorescent lights pass her by as she stared at the ceiling. 

Soon enough, she was in a familiar room: the test lab. 

‘It hasn’t been that long since we last tested her,’ the other scientist – a female, about the same age as her co-worker – said, her words laced with worry. ‘We put her under again, we risk losing her for good this time.’

‘I didn’t make the call,’ the male said as he continued to set up equipment around Y/N. ‘When Janson says he wants a cure, I don’t question him. Do you?’

The female didn’t answer, switching her focus to helping her co-worker. Y/N could slowly feel the serum wearing off – it was obviously only a light dose, the scientists knowing they’d put her under when they began testing. 

But just as they unstrapped her to move her to the nightmare simulator, the room shook, sending Y/N rolling to the ground as glass and steel broke around her. 

Sounds were muffled briefly and her vision blurred in and out of focus. She couldn’t hear what exactly the soldiers were shouting, but she saw them run out of the room alongside other soldiers. That just left her and the scientists. 

Y/N flexed her fingers, the serum completely wearing off. Before she could stand though, two hands roughly grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet. ‘Come on, Y/N,’ the male scientist said, pushing her towards the machine. ‘Just one more trip under…’

Fear electrified Y/N’s every nerve. No, not again. With a desperate cry, she shoved the male into the utensils table, sending him and the tools scattering across the ground. Before he could get up, Y/N straddled his upper body and slammed his arms into the ground.

‘Get off me!’ he yelled, struggling violently beneath Y/N. He managed to twist them both around until she was the one pinned to the ground. Y/N struggled but to no avail. She was significantly weaker than she was when she was first captured and he knew that.

‘You little brat,’ he spat in her face. ‘Ungrateful, selfish immunes. Your duty is to save us all! You–’

He was cut off when he suddenly went slack, falling unconscious on top of Y/N. She scrambled out from underneath him, then looked up from the floor to find the female scientist with a syringe in her hand. She looked between her unconscious co-worker then Y/N, a scared and disbelieving expression morphing her delicate features. 

‘Go,’ the scientist finally said, her voice shaky, but the resolve in her eyes told Y/N that she wouldn’t chase after her. The room – no, the whole building – shook again, and when Y/N looked out the window, she realised why.

The city outside was on fire. Buildings crumbled, and Y/n could hear the screams and cries of civilians through the broken windows. The scientist wouldn’t chase her because there was no point. 

This was the end.

‘Go!’ The scientist insisted, and Y/N didn’t think twice. She picked herself up, ignoring the cuts and scraps of glass it caused her, and ran out of the room.

She ran into the corridor, ignoring the cries of soldiers and other scientists who recognised her as a subject. She didn’t know where she was going, but this was the most freedom she’d had in forever.

Then a thought came to her – Minho. She had to find him, he surely had to be alive. She would run through every floor if she had to to find him. So she ran, looking into every test lab, every storage closest, every break room on the floor. 

‘Minho!’ she cried, uncaring at this point if someone heard her. She just wanted to find him. She didn’t want to die without a familiar face with her. ‘Minho, where are you?’

She rounded a corner, right into the chest of a WCKD soldier. He was caught by surprise, giving Y/N an opportunity to slam him into the wall. It was like her fear was giving her a boost of strength, as she kneed him in the groin, sending him to the ground. He dropped the pistol he was holding, and she quickly picked it up and smacked the butt over the back of his head. He fell to the floor in one last scuffle and laid unmoving as Y/N sucked in deep breaths.

‘Y/N?’

She whirled around at the familiar call of her name, only to find three other people had entered the corridor. Thomas, Minho, and Newt. Her eyes scanned over them all, heart aching with an intense relief it threatened to crush her chest. ‘Guys?’ Her voice was hoarse with disuse and exhaustion. She was surprised she even had a voice after all her screaming.

Newt stepped forward, a relieved smile gracing his lips. ‘Yeah, love,’ he said, sounding on the verge of tears. ‘It’s us.’

Y/N’s first instinct was to run into his arms, the only place she’d felt since leaving the Maze. But she took a closer look at him. He was paler than when she last saw him, almost sickly with how dark the circles under his eyes were. Crank.

She pointed the pistol at her friends, causing them to raise their hands in shock. ‘Whoa, Y/N, it’s us!’ Thomas exclaimed.

‘No,’ she said, her voice cracking ever so slightly. ‘How do I know I’m not in that simulator again? How do I know this isn’t just another test, another trial?’

‘What are you talking about, Y/N?’ Newt asked, worry crinkling his brow. 

’She doesn’t trust her mind,’ Minho said, as if in explanation. ‘Boy, they really did a number on her…’

‘Shut up!’ Y/N unlocked the safety and pointed the gun at Minho. ‘You’re just trying to trick me. Make me think everything is all right. But it’s just a lie. You’re not here. You’re not here…’

Newt stepped into the firing line. ‘We are here, love. I promise, we’re really here.’

‘Newt…’ Thomas warned, but Newt remained, eyes locked on Y/N’s.

Y/N couldn’t look away from Newt. He sounded so genuine, so much more real than previous simulations. But WCKD couldn’t be trusted, and they were wearing soldier uniforms…

Her hands shook but her voice was strong. ‘Prove it,’ she said. ’Tell me something only the real Newt would know.’

Newt swallowed thickly. ‘Okay, um… You cut yourself when you tried out being a Slicer and had to have Clint and Jeff fix you up. That’s when you thought being a Medjack would be a good idea.’

‘WCKD was watching us the whole time. They would’ve seen that,’ she countered, using both hands to grip the gun. 

‘Okay, okay,’ Newt said, looking away a moment to think of something else. When he finally looked back at her, he was calm once more, eyes genuine and sincere. ‘How about how I jumped off the walls of the Maze in an attempt to kill myself?’

The world around the four of them seemed to freeze, as if the world wasn’t collapsing outside. To Y/N’s knowledge, Newt had never told anyone the truth of what happened that day. It was the shocked and tragic expressions on both Minho and Thomas’ faces respectively that had Y/N loosening her grip on the gun slightly.

Newt took a small step closer, eyes never straying from her. ‘I had lost all hope of getting out of that bloody maze. So I did the one thing I could do to control the situation. But I failed.’ He stepped closer again. ‘I was embarrassed, ashamed. I was just a coward. But you healed me and told me something I will never forget. I have held onto it like a lifeline through the Maze, through the Scorch, and all the time I was looking for you.’

He took one final step towards her, unfazed at how the gun pressed hard against his chest. Now that he was so close, Y/N saw just how sick he was. He looked like the early stage victims of the Flare they’d seen in the decrepit city they’d lost Brenda and Thomas in temporarily. And while Y/N refused to believe Newt – her beloved, sweet Newt – was infected, his eyes were the same as always. Open, honest, and truthful.

‘The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you.’

It wasn’t the fact that he knew the exact words – again, WCKD had cameras everywhere in that Maze, they would’ve heard it. It was instead the emotion tied to the words. She felt them, felt the lifeline they’d created for him in his darkest moment. He wasn’t lying, and that meant he was real.

Finally, she allowed the sob to break free as she dropped the gun and threw her arms around Newt’s neck. He breathed out in relief, bringing her closer to his chest, face pressed into her H/C hair.

‘It’s really you,’ she whimpered, grasping tighter to the person she’s always been able to rely on. The person who has always protected her and brought out the best in her. Her closest friend, her safety net, her home. 

‘It is, love,’ he said into her hair, breathing her in deeply. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you before.’

‘It’s okay,’ she said, pulling away to look up at him then to the other two. ‘I can’t believe you came after us.’

‘I know right,’ Minho said, punching Thomas’ arm lightly. ‘Dumb shanks.’

‘You can berate us later,’ Thomas said, rubbing his arm. ‘Right now, we’ve got to get out of here before Lawrence brings down the whole city.’

Y/N went to ask what he meant but gripped onto Newt instead as the building shook again.

‘Come on, let’s go,’ Newt said, grabbing Y/N’s hand with one hand, and holding a launcher in the other. Together, the four of them ran to escape WCKD once and for all.

~

‘Brenda!’

Y/N didn’t care about the rain of bullets and walls of fire around her as she ran for the berg. After hearing Teresa’s broadcast, she needed to get the cure back to Newt fast. Leaving him was one of the hardest things she has had to do. He wasn’t in great condition, but Thomas insisted that he’d take care of Newt. But the medicine Thomas had given Brenda all those months ago didn’t just buy her time, it had cured her completely. It could do the same for Newt.

If she could make it in time.

‘Brenda!’ Y/N cried as she spotted her friend. ‘The cure! I need the cure!’

Brenda understood, immediately retrieving one of the extra capsules Mary had made from Thomas’ blood before WCKD raided the camp. ‘Here,’ she said, passing over the injector. 

‘Thanks!’ Y/N said, already sprinting back into the war zone before anyone could stop her. 

She could feel it, the exhaustion, the strain she was putting her body under. Underfed and under trained, she was struggling. But she refused to stop. Newt had come all this way to find her, risked his life to get her out of WCKD’s clutches when he could’ve been administered the temporary cure and been safe on the berg already. No, Y/N refused to let him die without trying.

Minho, Brenda, Frypan, and Gally – Y/N was still shocked about that revelation, but that was for another time to discuss - followed around her, covering her with guns and other weapons as they ran through the war zone.

After an eternity of running, the group rounded a corner to find a sight that made Y/N feel like she was back in the nightmare simulator. Newt was leaning over Thomas with a knife aimed at his chest.

‘Newt, no!’ Y/N cried, running towards the two boys without thought. 

Newt faced her at the call of his name, and she froze as she saw his black eyes. Dark veins branched over his skin and black blood dribbled from his chin. He was a full-blown crank now. 

He raced at her, snarling as he swung the knife at her throat. She ducked just in time and rolled away as he slammed the knife down where her neck was. She quickly jumped to her feet, and despite her fatigue, muscle memory took over her legs, then her hands. That first night in the Scorch came to mind, how her and Newt sparred. The injector was her knife, and Newt her proper opponent.

‘Newt, it’s me,’ she said, slipping into her Medjack demeanour – calm and steady. ‘It’s Y/N. Please, snap out of it for a moment so I can help you.’

She thought he would run at her again, but his brows crinkled with concern and he looked at the knife in his shaky hands. He looked back at her, and the voice he spoke with broke her heart. It was a mixture of his sweet accent and a gargled croak where blood clogged his throat. 

‘Y/N…’ he started. ‘Run away… Before… Before I kill you.’

The scene reminded her of the time he came in with his injured ankle. How desperate he was to fade into nothing because he was scared and ashamed of what he’d done. But just like then, she refused to be scared of him. 

Y/N shook her head. ‘I’m not leaving you, Newt,’ she said. ‘None of us will.’

Newt seemed to realise there were more people than just her and Thomas, turning around to see the others. The sight of them seemed to distress him, though, as he snarled angrily and charged at her. She shuffled back as he swung at her again and again, but as she stepped back again, she tripped on something. She fell onto her back, knocking the air out of her lungs. Before she could gather herself up, Newt was on her, straddling her similar to how he had Thomas pinned before. Newt raised the knife to bring down on her but was tackled by Thomas.

They rolled for a little, then scrambled to their feet as they fought once more. This was Y/N’s only chance. She pushed herself up and ran for the boys, injector at the ready. Newt was bringing the knife forward in a wide arc that would gut Thomas when Y/N threw herself in between them, slamming the injector into Newt’s arm.

Right as his drove the knife into her stomach.

‘Y/N!’ 

She wasn’t sure who called her name, because all she could focus on was Newt as some of the blackness in his eyes cleared and she saw some of his gorgeous brown eyes. She also felt her body finally giving up. As if it knew that this was the end. After all the torture and pain, she had stayed alive so long for one reason. To save Newt – the boy who had been there from the start. So much so she hadn’t realised until he wasn’t there how much he meant to her. How he’d wormed his way into her heart and consumed it without her even knowing. 

She gripped his hand that held the knife in her stomach, unfurled his fingers from the handle, and brought them to her chest where her heart was slowly slowing down. Her weak legs gave out, and she brought Newt down to his knees with her. She could’ve been imagining things, but she swore she saw recognition in his half-black eyes which made her smile as tears finally fell from her eyes.

‘It’s okay, Newt,’ she whispered. ‘It’s okay because… I love you.’

Her vision blurred and she finally let go of Newt as the both of them collapsed to the ground. Her breaths were short and sharp as the pain made itself known. A rush of feet thumped around her, and she had the slightest awareness that someone was moving her, but she didn’t care. She was finally at peace as darkness, at last, consumed her.

~

Y/N woke to the sound of waves rolling over on sand. The first thing she saw was grey canvas, then rolled her head around to see she was lying on a cot in a small tent with tables and medical supplies similar to how her Medjack hut looked. But she wasn’t alone.

‘Oh my God.’ Brenda’s face came into focus as the girl crouched by Y/N’s cot, disbelief and relief morphing her gentle features. ‘You’re awake! You’re finally awake!’

‘Ow,’ Y/N clasped at her head at the sudden loudness. ‘Could you lower your voice please?’

‘Yes, right, sorry,’ Brenda said, but her lips split in a bright smile as she helped Y/N sit up. ‘I’m just so happy you’re okay.’

‘What happened?’ Y/N asked, all she remembered was being stabbed then falling unconscious. She pulled up her fresh linen shirt to see her wound bandaged. ‘I thought I was done for.’

‘So did all of us,’ Brenda admitted, her tone sombre as she pulled up a seat beside the cot. ‘We got you to the berg as quickly as possible and Vince got you stable, but you just weren’t waking up. It’s been a week.’

‘A week?’ Y/N made to get up but sat back down as her wound pulled in an unpleasant way.

‘Whoa, where do you think you’re going?’ Brenda asked stabilising Y/N back in her bed. ‘You’ve just come out of a coma induced by physical and mental torture. Not to mention you were stabbed.’

‘I’m fine. Trust me, I’m trained… somewhat,’ Y/N said, this time able to swing her legs over the side of her cot. Brenda didn’t try and stop her, but she did have to help Y/N when she stood. ‘Now, where is Newt?’ Brenda didn’t answer right away, and tears threatened to pool in Y/N’s eyes at what her silence could mean. ‘Brenda… Is he… Is he alive?’

Brenda, again, didn’t answer, and her face didn’t give anything away either. Instead, she just held back the flap of the tent and motioned for Y/N to exit. Y/N took cautious steps forward as she followed Brenda into a completely new place that had her staring in awe.

It was a bustling camp where sleeping quarters and other spaces were mapped out by canvas strung up on carved wood pillars and posts. Y/N spied a kitchen area where she swore she heard Frypan laughing with some others. 

There was a gathering area where a giant stone stood in front of the seats. There were names carved into it, like what they used to do in the Glade. Y/N tried to make out if a certain blonde’s name was on it. She caught familiar names like Alby and Chuck, Clint and Jeff. 

‘Y/N?’ 

She swung around to find Brenda smiling as she was joined by Thomas, Minho, and Jorge. The three of them ran at her, arms wide open to capture her in a hug.

‘You crazy shank, Minho said, laughter on his lips. ‘Look who finally decided to join the living again.’

‘And here I thought I was the lazy slinthead for sleeping for so long,’ Thomas said jokingly, pulling Y/N in for another hug. ’I’m so relieved.’

‘Welcome back, hermana,’ Jorge said, a warm smile gracing his lips as he gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

‘Good to be back,’ Y/N replied, smiling at the three males. ‘What happened after I thought I’d died?’

Thomas went to reply, but Minho cut in. ‘We’ll explain later. Right now, I think you should go say hi to someone else.’

Confused, Y/N followed Minho’s gaze to Brenda, who stood atop a hill and was staring over the other side of it. Y/N quickly reached Brenda’s position and followed her gaze to a large garden that people were working on. But her breath caught at the sight of a familiar blond at the edge of the gardens talking and pointing in all directions to people.

‘Hey, Newt!’ Brenda called out, causing the blond to turn around and look up. At first, he saw Brenda, but his gaze soon fell on Y/N and his whole face changed into disbelief.

With the other gardeners forgotten, he started climbing up the hill, and Y/N couldn’t wait another moment so she started walking down the hill. 

They met in the middle, with Y/N standing at Newt’s height on the uphill. Neither said anything to begin with, both in disbelief and awe at who stood in front of them. Y/N looked over Newt, noting he still looked pale and somewhat sickly. But the dark veins were gone, as was the black blood and his black eyes. And the sun shone so brightly that his hair looked golden. It was as if he was never infected to begin with.

With a shaky hand, she reached out to rest her hand over his beating heart. ‘You’re alive,’ she whispered, too scared to voice it too loudly in case this was also another nightmare. 

But he proved her doubts wrong as he rested his own hand on top of hers. ‘I am,’ he said, and the usual warmth of his voice truly convinced her he was real. 

His face pinched suddenly with concern and guilt. ‘I’m so sorry, Y/N,’ he said, his hand tightening slightly over hers. ‘I hurt you. I almost…’

‘It’s okay,’ she interrupted, using her free hand to cradle is cheek and keep his eyes on her. ‘You didn’t. I am here, too. Looks like we both saved each other.’

To her relief Newt smiled. It was a genuine, happy smile, something she hadn’t seen on him in a long time. He nuzzled into her hand briefly, before bringing it down with his free hand so he held her hands between them. 

‘Before I passed out,’ he started, ‘I remember you saying something.’

‘Oh.’ A blush heated upon her cheeks, but she refused to look away from him. ‘Right. I did say something.’

She was trying to play it cool, but as soon as his deep brown eyes fixed on her, she knew he could see right through her. But he didn’t smile smugly, he didn’t tease. He actually looked scared as his jaw clenched, fighting to find the next words to speak. 

‘You said you love me,’ he finally said, words tight but hopeful. ‘Is that true?’

Y/N’s mouth dried up suddenly, constricted by all the things she wished to say but couldn’t say all at once. It’s not like she was scared, she just never thought she would live long enough to have a future, let alone one with love. One with Newt.

But she had – she had survived WCKD’s cruelty, she had survived the terrors of the old world, she had survived when so many of her friends hadn’t. And it was her duty to live her gift of a life to the fullest.

‘Yes,’ she finally said, and it was like breathing in fresh air after being underground for so long. ‘I love you, Newt. I don’t know when or how it happened, but I do. I love you.’ 

There was a second of hesitation, but then Newt broke out into a wide smile, and Y/N swore she saw tears brim in his eyes. He suddenly reached one hand up to cradle her neck as he pulled Y/N in for a sweet kiss that simultaneously knocked the air out of her and breathed new life into her. He held her neck and hip, and she pressed her hands against his chest, satisfied to feel his heart thundering beneath her hands. The heart that almost never beat again, the heart that had saved her over and over again. 

The kiss was short but was no less breath-taking, and when they pulled apart neither could stop the smiles on their faces. 

‘I love you, too,’ Newt said. ‘If that wasn’t already obvious.’

Y/N threw her head back in a hearty laugh. She slung her arms around Newt’s neck, a cheeky grin dancing across her lips. ‘I’m not so sure. Maybe we could try that again to make sure?’

‘Cheeky bugger,’ he murmured as he pressed his lips to hers again. Y/N sighed into the kiss, grasping the baby hairs at the base of his head. 

They pulled apart at the sound of their friends whooping and clapping atop the hill. Y/N felt her face erupt with embarrassed heat, to which Newt laughed as she ducked her head into his chest. 

‘All right, come on lovebirds!’ Minho called out. ‘Dinner’s almost ready.’

As they walked down out of sight, Y/N went to follow but was stopped by a loose grip on her wrist.

‘What is it?’ she asked as she turned back to Newt.

‘I just…’ Newt turned to the gardens below, then to the water, then to the sunset that bathed the whole camp in beautiful hues of orange, pink and purple. When he finally turned back to Y/N, she thought he couldn’t look any more handsome with that pure sunshine smile and sparkle in his eyes. ‘Thanks.’

‘For what?’ she asked.

‘For teaching me how to be brave,’ he answered.

Y/N gave his hand a squeeze. ‘You were always brave, Newt,’ she said. ‘It’s how I learned how to be brave in the first place.’

Newt squeezed her hand in return, then they walked hand in hand back up the hill and down to dinner to where their friend awaited them. 

Where the lives they never imagined they’d get a chance to live awaited them.