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bri-the-fando-meister · 1 year ago

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A Long Time Coming

Gally X Original character female (OC IS THE POV)

TW: Assault, fight, yelling, first-time sex

Shit, I'm doing smut. Hate me later, read it now

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The backstory:

You and Gally had a relationship that many would call, a love hate relationship. You could barely say you were friends, you had a tolerance for each other, yeah, that's what it was, a tolerance.

Now being the only girl in the glade however, it kind of made you like the fact that Gally wasn't begging for you to do him, it was actually somewhat nice, having someone that hated you.

You, Paisley the rebellious Paisley hated? Never. The fact that the boys were head over heels for you was, definitely something.

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"Hey Paisley, are you actually going to build or what?"

"Oh darling, go buy a bloody brain. You, shank, should already know that I rather climbing all the things that we, I mean you, dearest Gally builds."

"Oh, fuck you Paisley."

"I mean, if you insist" you look at Gally, grinning, but you knew if you went at it much longer you would step the line.

"I'd be in the right mind to call a bloody meeting of my fellow keepers and have you thrown in the slammer. Tread lightly, shuckface."

Now, as you'd learn soon, Gally would keep his word.

"Well, Gally's point still stands. Paisley doesn't chip in, she does no work."

"Newt, c'mon. I am not meant to be a builder, I want to do something where I can get rid of my energy, roam free or something."

Newt pulled Minho to the side, it was definitely something, why the shuck would Newt involve Minho, he was a runner, not a builder or a keeper of anything even closely related, wait, he was a runner, he got rid of energy, and got to roam free. Shit, Newt didn't think, shuck did he?

Minho looked at you, then back at Newt. They continued to talk, after they talked, they nodded in agreement.

"Hey Alby, C'mere for a second."

"Yeah, Newt, Minho, what's up?"

They whispered again, this time, it was Alby who nodded.

"Everybody quiet down, we have come to a conclusion."

Each keeper in the room took to their seats without a word, waiting eagerly to see what you were in for.

"Gally, I would like you to state what has been happening, for everyone to understand the situation."

"Ok, as everyone knows, Paisley, is not a very hard worker, and of all the jobs in the glade, she has failed to do any of them. With me, she is a bit more tame, because she is seriously just climbing around, she has seriously only built one thing. A shucking climbing frame."

A few people laughed at Gally's proclamation, a few look at you in annoyance.

"Okay, okay. Newt and myself have come to an agreement with one of the other keepers. Paisley has stated that she needed to get rid of her energy and roam free. Make you think of a job anyone?"

Frypan was first to speak "Runner?"

"Right on mate, Minho has agreed to this."

Minho nodded, he always liked a challenge, but, the two most sarcastic and snarky people in the glade, being cooped up with each other for 6-8 hours at a time, that, could get interesting.

Gally rolled his eyes, "Come on, give her the title of being a runner and then she can stay in the shucking maze for as long as she wants, you won't be able to get her out of there."

"Now now Gally the superhero, keep on rolling your eyes, who knows, maybe one day you will find the brain I told you to buy. Anyways Gally, you are seriously concerned or something."

"Oh you stupid klunk, I am just saying that you will probably stay in there, hopefully getting trapped. Then we won't have to deal with your shenanigans anymore, don't you get it, you, don't, belong. You aren't normal" he said the last two sentences with spite.

"Gally, Gally, Gally. How hard it must be for you, using all of your vocabulary in one statement. Also, define normal."

"Paisley, how about we go outside." a voice said, it was manipulated, like Gally's but also like Newt's, assuming it was Newt's you just walked outside.

Only after you got a few meters outside of council hall did you turn around. There he was, Gally, looking fuming.

"You better watch your self, you are getting so fucking close to being dead meat. I promise you, you don't want to be a runner."

"Well I don't give a fuck"

Gally, the giant he was, towered over you furious.

"You aren't my keeper anymore, that is Minho's job now, you are now a fucking nobody to me in this glade, you are just, another, person"

Gally, not being able to hold his temper, swung at you, aiming for your gut. Luckily you ducked and elbowed his crotch, causing him to fold like a deck chair. Flinging a fist to his back he collapsed completely to the ground.

Gally flung his arm out and snatched your wrist, pulling you into him.

"I tolerated you, haven't you noticed that I was nicest to you. You don't understand, now you have stepped the line."

Gally pulled himself up, and still held your wrist.

He began to walk toward the slammer, pulling you along with him.

He grabbed your other wrist and put it into his other hand, he had both of your arms in the grip of one hand.

"Gally, stop it."

You wriggled your wrists, attempting to remove them from his grip, only to being given an even tighter grip and to be dragged even harder.

You were almost at the slammer when Gally spoke,

"You know, Paisley, there is a reason I have always picked on you, been really stubborn with you."

"Why is that, Gally, because I am fun to annoy, because I bite back?"

"Ughh, shuck it. It's because I fucking like you, you dumb shank, how hadn't you noticed. It's ruined anyways, no doubt about that."

Gally yanked the door to the slammer open.

It wasn't your first time being in the slammer, you had seen in when you were on the tour.

It smelled musty and sweaty. The walls were cracked and scratched at, they had a bit of graffiti on them too, typical boys. The ground, it was just dirt. Sitting in the middle of the slammer, covered in dirt, was the chair, the one that Nick, poor, poor Nick told you had 1 leg shorter to cause discomfort.

"Gally, what are we doing here. I don't under-" Your words were stopped by Gally pushing you in, this wasn't a gentle push, it was enough to send you into the opposite wall, even though the slammer wasn't that big.

The door slammed behind you, making you shudder.

"Gally, what the fuck has gotten into you."

"Paisley, I need you to listen to me, and don't interrupt me until I am done"

"Well it's not like I have a choice, is it?"

"Nope"

"Well go on then, I don't have all night"

"I have always told myself that, you were the only girl, that must have hardships, she probably has had enough with boys and their desires, so I should treat her how I treat my men, never make any exceptions, and crack down just as hard for anything she does. And for the most part, that is what happened. But Paisley, I like you, I like how you are sarcastic, I love that you can stand up for yourself. And I am sorry for trying to punch you earlier, I needed to get you here, so you would have to listen."

"Gally, slow down, let me out."

He complied, prepared for you to be angry.

The door creaked open and he got punched in the face with the smell of sweat and mildew.

You walked out, confidence filling your body, you had the upper hand, the ball was in your court.

"Gally, I can't believe you. I fucking can't believe it."

He was confused, he expected you to hit him already.

I mean, you did hit him, but, like, with a hug.

You slammed your body into his, pushing him backwards into the door, grasping your arms around him, savoring the warmth of his body, turning your head into his chest, you listened to his heart, it beat quite fast.

Gally smelled like clean, like fresh, he had the smell of soap, but a hint of lemongrass and dill.

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Gally POV:

I thought she would have hit me, I made an outrageous statement, that I was in love with her, yet she took it so easily.

She just leapt at me, as a flash of black and blue. It all went so fast, I tried to stand firm, knowing that we were probably about to get in a fistfight.

I stood frozen for what felt like forever, and then she was on me, small little Paisley, the little fighter, but she wasn't fighting, she was embracing.

I don't know what got into me, I was paralyzed. She gripped her arms around my midriff and clawed at my back, pushing herself into me, refusing to let go.

My heart was pounding, I still don't know what got into me, the effect she was having was unrecognizable to any other emotion that I had.

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He wasn't present in that moment, he was like a statue. That was until, you felt him begin to melt, his muscles relaxing and his bending over, leaning into you.

His arms drifted slowly around you, like they were light as a feather, he took care not to put too much pressure on your body.

You released your arms from his back, moving them up to his face, pulling his face in toward yours, closing the gap between you even more.

Your lips pressed together, slowly moving, creating a gentle suction, Gally grazed your lips with his teeth, making your lips tingle.

Gally moved his up and down your hips, pushing on them, all the while pulling you in.

Before you knew it, his hands slipped under your shirt and tried pulling it off, man, this boy has got some nerve, but you allowed him, momentarily stopping kissing.

Then he pulled off his shirt, showing his smooth, layered, rippling muscles, and his tanned skin, warm and inviting.

He pulled you behind the slammer, so nobody could see the two of you, making love after you just got into a fight.

Gently tracing up your arm, over your collar bone, up your neck and chin, he spoke soft words,

"Are you sure you are fine with this Pai?"

"Yes, yes, show me how much you have always wanted me." you spoke breathy, flustered and alarmed. He wanted you, shit, that is cool.

As soon as you had finished speaking, he grabbed both your hands in one of his, in a simple sweep, then he had them up and slammed them against the wall of the slammer.

He pushed his head into your neck and sucked, leaving marks, leaving hickeys.

Your breathing and your heartrate sped up and you couldn't stop yourself from making a small noise, a moan.

Gally let go of your hands and worked at removing your jeans, undoing the button, and undoing the zipper, before he finally pulled them off.

"Seriously Pai? Pink underwear, for the way you act, I would have thought it would be black hole colored."

You winced, embarrassed, but Gally took this as a chance to dominate you even more, he yanked your underwear down, dropping himself with it.

Peppering your abdomen with kisses was annoying, why can't he just get to the good stuff.

Then he began to finger you, effortlessly finding the right bundles of nerves on your skin, leaving you a trembling mess, shuddering and shaking.

You wrapped your fingers through his hair tugging at it. "Gally, we really shouldn't be doing this. It's too much."

"Pai, calm down, you don't need to get so concerned."

"Gally. Gally listen to me."

He stopped everything, and stepped back and looked down on you.

"What Pai, what is wrong, the fact that for once I am actually being nice for once?"

"No Gally, it just feels wrong doing, this. Especially when less than an hour ago we just fought each other. Maybe we can try this another day, please Gally, just let's take a break for a bit."

"Ok Pai, sorry I made you feel like that. But Pai, just remember I love you."

Gally stepped towards you.

"If you want to stop Paisley, I am fine with that, I only want to do what you are comfortable"

He cupped his hands around your cheeks and used his thumbs to massage up and down your cheek bones. He slid his hands around your head and dropped them behind your shoulders, pulling you into a gentle hug.

"I love you Pai, I love you Pai, you are so beautiful." he whispered into your ear.

"We can try again whenever you want. If that's okay with you."

"I love you Gally, thank you."

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Ok, it is finally done, this took way too long. Hope you enjoyed!

#tmr gally #fan made #maze runner the death cure #tmr minho #tmr newt #the maze runner #maze runner #tmr #tmr fandom #tmr alby #smut tmr #fem reader #female reader #gally x reader #tmr original character #smut writing #paisley is an icon

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awkward-halfhug · 4 months ago

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to soften rough edges | gally x oc

summary: Subject B10 Rosalind Franklin (Frankie) was supposed to be sent to Group B. Due to a mixup by an incompetent WICKED employee, she was sent to Group A, the all-boys maze. How will her unexpected appearance affect the variables, the Glade, and the lives of everyone in it? For one Glader in particular, Frankie might be changing, not only his present, but his entire life going forward. And not because he can't get her to stop following him around like a baby duck....Well, not only

(also on my ao3)

Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

4.6k

"Teeny tiny shovels and prison walls"

Ping. Ping ping ping. Whoosh, Ping. Ping ping. Whoosh.

“Awww yeah! Take that, Rebecca from accounting!”

Peter K. Rosenthal, Head of operations at the World In Catastrophe Killzone Experiment Department, Base A, let out a girlish squeal of victory as his initials finally topped the charts of the online pinball tournament. Most of the Base had become obsessed with it the last few months. He took a moment to stare at the screen, basking in the glory of his hard-earned achievement. Rebecca had been stiff competition; it was going to feel so good to gloat about this in the morning.

Letting out a yawn, Peter read the time at the bottom of his computer screen. The numbers 3:07 blinked back at him and he sighed, remembering what day it was tomorrow. Or rather, today. Greenie day, as the kids have named it. The set day each month that they send a new subject into the Maze. A lot of preparation and paperwork had to be done the week beforehand, but it always seemed to get put off to the last few hours the night before. This month they were cutting it especially close, being the early morning. It was their own fault, he supposed. Them and that silly pinball tournament. But he wasn't worried.

Fighting another yawn, Peter shook his head and grinned as a thought occurred to him.

“There ain’t no rest for the W.I.C.K.E.D.” Peter chuckled to himself.

Standing up to go refill his coffee, Peter nearly tripped and broke his mug when his office door burst open. A sheepish looking intern stared up at him, his brow worried. Peter sighed heavily; he had been in such a good mood.

“What is it?” Peter raised an eyebrow, already feeling impatient.

“Um..eh heh” the intern shuffled his feet “Uh sir, there’s been a…well I wouldn’t call it a mishap, more like a, like a surprising turn of events. Er, what I’m trying to say is…”

Peter ground his teeth. “Just spit it out already!”

The intern squeezed his eyes shut and let out one long rush of breath, “We brought a girl, sir”.

The intern peeked open one eye to see his boss standing in the same position he had been, wearing a blank expression.

“Sir?” he whispered. Several long minutes passed.

“What do you mean you—“ Peter’s forehead crinkled “How did that even--?”

“Well, it was a big crowd, sir. You know the girls and boys hang out together in the rec room. And we’ve been running a bit behind as you know, so we weren’t quite as thorough in our examination of the subject before we—“

“’Not quite as thorough’? What kind of idiots am I hiring if you can’t even tell a girl from a boy?”

“W-well she was wearing a hoodie, sir, and it was kind of baggy, so—“

“Stop. Just stop talking. I am this close to firing you, I swear. Just erase these last few hours from her mind, send her back to the facility and fix this.” Peter waved him away and plopped back into his swivel chair, feeling more exhausted than he was when he started his break. As he was turning back to face his desk, however, the intern’s mousey voice broke through his calm once again.

“We can’t, sir.”

Peter sat up straighter. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“It’s too late. The drive to the facility holding the kids is already hours away, since it’s night it would take almost twice as long trying to avoid the cranks. We don’t have that kind of time. We only have a few hours before we send the subject up.”

Peter cracked his knuckles, staring at the wall behind the intern’s head, presumably deep in thought.

“Sir?... Sir, what do we do? Should we postpone the arrival?”

Several minutes passed before finally Peter seemed to remember the intern’s question, looking him straight in the eye. “No. No, send her up.” Peter nodded to himself, affirming his own decision while the intern spluttered.

“Send her up? Sir, are you sure that’s a good idea? Won’t the variables—“

Peter’s voice hardened with authority. “I am the head of operations here, I decide the variables. You are an intern, you do as I say. Are we now clear on our positions?”

“Yes, sir. You’re right, sir. Sending her up, sir.” The intern gulped before scurrying off to inform his coworkers of the decision.

Peter sank back into his chair when he left. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Sending a girl in could mess with the other variables. Their results might be affected negatively, and they’d end up wasting time they don’t have starting the process all over again. On the other hand, this could be just the variable they’ve been looking for. The change could trigger reactions and emotions in the kids’ brains that otherwise would have gone unexplored.

This could, in fact, turn out to be a very good decision. Time would tell. In the meantime, Peter prepared this explanation over and over again in his mind, perfecting it for when the time came to answer to the higher ups. A conversation he was most definitely not looking forward to. Just in case, he started thinking up some rebuttals to any arguments they might have, including reminding them of what the ‘E’ in W.I.C.K.E.D. stands for.

“Yeah, that’ll shut ‘em up.” Peter mumbled to himself, just before drifting off to sleep on his keyboard.

Pain. In her neck. Neck pain. That was the first thing she was aware of. She changed positions but found that made it worse.

Awake now, but still unwilling to open her eyes, she stretched out her limbs to get more comfortable and smacked her wrist on something hard. Groaning, she recoiled from the source of her pain, clutching her wrist for comfort. She sighed, realizing that trying to sleep anymore would be pointless.

With a frown, she opened her eyes and promptly jumped back, in pain once again. This time it was the back of her head that got smacked, but that was the least of her concerns. As she took in the unfamiliar room she was in, barely being able to make out anything in the near-blackness, she racked her brain but couldn’t for the life of her remember how she got there. Or where she would normally wake up, for that matter.

Frantic, she sat up straighter, trying to retrace her steps from the day before. Her breaths came quicker as she realized she couldn’t remember anything. She could picture images in her mind's eye. Things like purple clouds and a stuffed animal of some sort. Several different cats. Movie-like snapshots of moments that meant nothing. She couldn't remember anything important— her life, her history, where she lived, friends, family, not even her own name.

Suddenly, the room she was in seemed a lot smaller. She hugged her knees to her chest, shying away from the light filtering in through slits in the walls. She realized she was moving, upward, like she was in some sort of elevator, which seemed even more frightening. As off-putting as this room was, she felt sure that whatever was at the top of this thing would be a lot worse, somehow. The creaking and grinding of gears all around her seemed foreboding and her pulse quickened as each second passed.

After what seemed like hours, the elevator room stopped, making a horrible sound and jolting her forward onto her knees. She took a few deep breaths, mentally preparing herself for whatever came next. Several tense minutes passed. Finally, the doors opened.

Light streamed through the ceiling, so bright it was almost blinding. Preparing for the worst, she backed up until her back hit a wall, reaching around for something to use as a weapon if necessary, but couldn't find anything. She waited for her eyes to adjust and steeled her nerve for whatever nightmare awaited her.

Her vision cleared. She laughed. Long and hard. Enough to turn the few murmurs she could hear above her, into alarmed bickering.

Having expected to see monsters of some sort, or even something just a little more intimidating, being greeted by a group of teenage boys was, to say the least, anti-climactic. And it was more than a little funny. In her adrenaline-addled mind it was hilarious.

She could feel her laughter melting away some of her stress and by the time she heard someone jump down into the box with her, she was feeling a lot calmer than she had just minutes before.

As the boy approached her, a bit more fear started creeping up her spine again. He towered over her, his form imposing. And he wasn't laughing.

Why was she laughing again? She felt like she should stop, but she couldn't. More giggles bubbled up from her chest, now tinged with anxiety instead of mirth. They tapered off as the boy came closer and closer, her pulse now loud in her ears.

Okay so maybe teenage boys aren't monsters, but they could still hurt her if they wanted to. This one certainly could. Did he want to hurt her? What was going on here? Why hadn't he said anything yet?

He'd just been staring for a solid minute, stood before her with his brows scrunched up in...anger? Or confusion? If he was confused that made two of them.

His eyebrows could go up really high. She almost started laughing again, it was so comical, but she managed to control herself. What was wrong with her? This was a tense situation. Focus. She decided to wait on him to break the silence.

"Gally, what's going on down there?"

Or that guy could break it.

The boy in front of her, Gally apparently, opened his mouth and closed it a few times, like a fish. This time she did let a laugh slip, but she clamped her mouth shut again when his eyes narrowed slightly. Focus.

He shook his head a bit as he called up to whichever boy had spoken. "It's...it's a girl."

Chaos broke out above them. Boys shouting over eachother, some sounding confused, some happy for some reason, and a couple even sounding angry.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, right! We're not falling for that one again."

"There's no way."

"Is she hot?"

"What's she look like?"

"The Creators have finally answered our requests!"

The voices were mingled with laughter and jeering and she could see a few of them playfully shoving eachother. All of it mixed together to overwhelm her senses.

Unconsciously, she pressed herself as far back against the wall as she could. There were a lot of them. Not monsters; teenage boys. But a lot of them. She didn't feel like laughing anymore.

Gally seemed to notice her distress, almost taking another step towards her before stopping himself. Kneeling down to her level, he softened his features marginally. He wasn't very good at it, but he seemed to be trying.

"Hey. You're alright. I'm sure you've got questions, and we'll try to answer 'em. But right now, how 'bout we get you out of this box, yeah?"

She started to nod, his voice was gruff, yet calming, and she felt somehow safer listening to it. She didn't know anything about herself but hopefully she was a good judge of character. He seemed genuine. But flicking her eyes up to all the boys huddled over them, she felt anxious all over again.

"Don't worry about them", he leaned in a bit and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "They're a bunch of shanks but they're pretty harmless." His mouth quriked up to the side and she felt herself smiling in return.

"Okay..." her voice sounded small. Was that how her voice usually sounded? She sort of hoped not.

He reached a hand out for her to grab and she took it with only slight hesitation. Hoisting her up, Gally caught her by the arms before she barrelled into him.

"You ready?"

She nodded in reply, and he wrapped his large hands around both her sides securely, before hefting her up and over the side of the elevator like she weighed nothing.

Pulling herself over the lip, she almost fell back into the box when she looked up. Yep. A whole lot of boys, all staring at her, and very very close now. She tried to smile at them but it felt more like a grimace.

Cue more nervous laughter. She's gotta get that checked out.

"You weren't kidding, Gal" one said in amazement, his eyes glued to her.

A few hoots and hollers started going around the crowd along with some whistles. Someone reached out a hand to touch her shoulder but she jerked away.

She wanted back in the box. She turned to climb back down when Gally appeared over the edge, carrying a large crate over one shoulder. She ducked out of his way while he deposited it on the ground next to her with a thump.

He jumped back down to collect another crate and she climbed down quickly behind him, before one of the boys could grab her. One had made a move toward her and she heard a few aww's as she went.

Hearing a roar of laughter from above, Gally turned around to find her back in the box, hiding in the corner closest to him, nearly out of sight of the other boys.

He looked annoyed for a moment, before sighing and coming to stand in front of her with his hands on his hips.

"Didn't I just get you out of here?"

She nodded sheepishly.

Realistically, she probably couldn't just stay in this box forever. For one, there was no bathroom. Or food for that matter. And for two, as much as coming out of the box scared her, the thought of going back to wherever the box came from scared her even more.

Still, she didn't want to be alone with those boys up there.

"Do you...do you need help?"

Gally looked amused. "You wanna help, huh?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

Gally chuckled. "Well, this is another first. Sure, why not? Why don't you hand me those crates over there?"

Immensely relieved, she made her way over to the crates he pointed to and tried to pick one up.

Tried. She forgot about her wrist, still sore from banging it earlier. It didn't seem actually injured, but she could tell it was going to bruise.

It wasn't that bad, she could manage. Furrowing her brow, she straightened up, stretched her arms, and tried again. And again.

Laughter picked up again, this time Gally joined in. She looked over and frowned at him. She'd thought they were friends. Granted, she'd only known him for a few minutes, but still.

She huffed and tried one more time, and finally managed to lift it up off the ground as high as she could...for all of 5 seconds before her wrist twinged and her arms gave out. The crate crashed to the ground; the sound of the wood breaking apart and tools clattering against the metal floor making her wince.

Slowly, she turned on the spot to look warily at Gally. Her new friend. Her buddy ol' pal.

He was glaring at her. A soft glare, but a glare nonetheless.

"Sorry..." she mumbled, and his glare softened further.

He shook his head. "S'okay. Just, no heavy lifting I guess." Gally looked around and seemed to think. "How 'bout you grab one of those bags over there and start picking up the tools?"

She did as he said and started gathering the tools that had fallen and placing them in one of the empty potato sacks nearby. There were a lot of tools. What did they need all these tools for? A shiver of fear went through her, again reminded of how much she didn't know.

Who even were these boys? And why did they need her? Were they going to kill her? Is that what they needed the little shovels for? Are they going to kill her and bury her with these teeny tiny shovels? Is that why they need so many? They'd be digging for a long time, these things are so small.

"You about done there?" Gally's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts and made her jump.

She spun around to see him just behind her, having finished hefting the rest of the crates up to the other boys. She looked back at the tiny shovels, then back to him. Might as well just ask.

"What are these for?" She held one up for him to see.

He looked at her with amusement again, laced with a little bit of pity. "Gardening."

" Oh. Right."

Her relief must've shown on her face because he smirked and asked her "What did you think they were for?

She debated not telling him, but she's not sure what could've told him besides the truth. Besides, she was probably being ridiculous. She settled on mumbling it under her breath.

"...to bury me with"

"What was that?" He looked like he was about to laugh.

She huffed. "I thought they were to bury my body with after you've killed me." There. She said it, loud and clear. He can laugh if he wants.

Oh. Oh no, what if she just gave him the idea to kill her and bury her body with all the little gardening shovels?

He did start laughing, like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Maybe it was. Maybe these boys were the furthest thing from dangerous as they could be and the idea was so preposterous that-

"Greenie," Gally got out between laughs "if we were gonna kill you, we wouldn't bother burying your body. We'd just leave you to the grievers and they'd take care of it for us."

Her eyes must've looked like saucers, they were so wide. They might still kill her! Without even the decency to bury her, even though they had perfectly good little shovels to do the job. And grievers? What the heck were those? They sounded scary.

"Gally!" An authoritative voice called down from above. He sounded chastising.

Gally tamped down on his chuckles and seemed to finally take in (or care about) the horror that must be painted on her face. He sighed and attempted to soften his features again.

"We're not gonna kill ya. That's one of the rules around here. We don't hurt each other." He reached over and ruffled her hair playfully, before kneeling down and putting the rest of the tools in the bag. He finished the job efficiently and swung the bag over one of his shoulders.

Gally turned to climb back up out of the box but stopped and looked at her over his shoulder.

"You comin'?" He lifted an eyebrow expectantly.

She hesitated.

Gally's expression turned to one of impatience and he opened his mouth to say something but she spoke before he could.

"I'm scared." Her eyes flicked upwards and back to him.

Gally dropped the bag to the floor and came to stand in front of her again. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her directly in the eyes. The weight was oddly comforting.

"Look," he sighed, and gentled his voice. "Nothing's gonna happen to you, alright? I won't let anyone hurt you...Do you trust me?"

She barely knew him. Then again, she barely knew herself. If she couldn't trust her memory, she should at least trust her gut.

"Yeah, I do." She nodded firmly.

That was apparently not the answer he thought she'd give. Gally looked surprised, like he didn't actually expect her to say yes. She supposed that made sense. Maybe he thought she was too trusting. But then, why ask her?

Gally recovered quickly. "Well...good, then. Good. Uh, well let's get you out of here. Again." He emphasized that last word with a pointed look.

Allowing Gally to heft her up once again, she braced herself for the crowding and the cacophony of noise that would greet her.

When she got topside, however, the crowd had dispersed considerably. How had she not noticed how quiet it had gotten? There were still a couple boys that were left, but they didn't appear to be rowdy like the others, and they weren't looking at her in a way that made her uncomfortable either. She could feel her heartrate slowing, the fear calming down as she looked at the small crowd.

One of the boys was tall and blonde, with long, gangly limbs. He was smiling at her gently. Beside him stood a shorter boy; stockier and with darker skin. He looked at her cautiously but still kindly.

They both had varying levels of curiosity in their expressions. She wondered if her face reflected it back to them.

She was getting dizzy with all the emotions fighting for dominance in her body. Fear, confusion, amusement, calm, fear, calm; each shoved the last aside and took its turn at the helm, like they all wanted to be captains and she was the pirate ship.

That was a funny mental image. Guess it's amusement's turn.

She forced herself to pay attention when she noticed one of them was talking.

"Welcome to the Glade, she-bean." The darker boy extended his hand to her. She looked to Gally and he gave a little nod so she took the outstretched hand. He had a firm handshake.

" I see you've already met Gally," the boy continued, glancing at Gally with a wry smirk. "But don't let him give you a bad impression, we're not all slintheads."

At his words, Gally colored and looked away, his jaw set and brows furrowed. He looked angry, and a little hurt. She didn't know what a slinthead was, but it couldn't be good. She felt hurt for him.

"I'm Alby. and this here is Newt. We'll give you the tour tomorrow and try to answer any questions you have. If you-"

Gally started to walk away and she found the courage to speak up.

"Gally's not a slinthead." She interrupted whatever Alby was going to say, her voice only shaking a little. She couldn't focus past the sudden indignation anyway.

Gally stopped in his tracks.

Alby looked taken aback. His mouth hung slightly open, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. She took the opportunity while he was at a loss for words.

"He's not. He was nice to me. Maybe you're the slintheads for saying that."

Okay, maybe that last bit was too far. She felt her face burning; her chest constricting in fear. Why was she antagonizing him? She knew nothing about her current situation and this guy looked to be the leader of this gang. She should not be picking fights!

But Gally had been kind to her. He was her friend, she'd already decided. And they were being mean to him...

She held her breath and ducked her head like a child awaiting punishment. Peaking up at him through her eyelashes, she watched as Alby recovered from his shock. His face was stern, a little confused perhaps, but his lips were twitching.

It was Newt that broke the tension by busting up laughing. She took in a lungful of air in relief. She just learned something about herself: she did not like tension.

"She sure told you, Alby. We better watch our shuck mouths around this one." Newt playfully pat Alby on the shoulder, and Alby rolled his eyes at him. Extending his hand out for her to shake as well, Newt continued. "You're gonna be a lot of bloody fun, I can tell. Nice to meet you."

She liked Newt, she decided. She smiled a little as she shook his hand.

"Thank you. I mean, it's nice to meet you. I mean, I'm sorry for calling you a slinthead. I mean-"

Newt cut her off with a chuckle and a shake of his head. "Easy there, she-bean."

She saw Gally out of the corner of her eye trying to stifle a smirk. He called back to the other two boys.

"You two slintheads need anything else, or can I get back to my job?" He winked at her when he called them 'slintheads'. Her heart did a funny flipping thing. Then his words registered.

"You're leaving?" She took a step towards him unconsciously, her eyes pleading with him to stay with her.

Gally looked surprised again. He hesitated, looking between her, Alby, and Newt. "Umm..."

Alby was smiling broadly now; a stark contrast from his previous guarded expressions.

"Yeah, Gally, why don't you stick around? I've got a few things to see to anyway. You and Newt can show her to her hammock." Without waiting for a reply, Alby clapped Gally on the shoulder and took off toward some sort of building in the distance.

Watching him go, her eyes finally took notice of her surroundings. They were in a large grassy area. She saw gardens, trees, wooden buildings, more trees, more buildings, animals. There were animals!

Then she noticed the walls. Big, ginormous stone walls, covered in ivy, wrapping around the entire space in a huge square. They reminded her of something...

"This is a prison" she breathed. Panic was taking the helm.

Newt held his hands out to placate her. "Now, hold on."

She stepped out of his reach, bumping into Gally in the process. She turned and addressed her questions to him.

"Are we prisoners? Did we do something wrong? Did I kill someone?" Her eyes widened in horror; her breaths coming in quicker. She really hoped she hadn't killed anybody. The possibilities ran through her mind and filled her with a sense of dread.

Gally placed his hands on her shoulders and, like before, the weight helped steady her. He took her chin in between his fingers and gently forced her head up to look him in the eye.

"Calm down, greenie." Her shoulders relaxed. She did feel calmer. How did he do that? "Look, none of us know what this place is. But I do know one thing for certain: you did not kill anybody."

"How do you know?"

He smirked at her. "I just know."

She's not sure how he would know that but Gally seemed certain, so she'd take his word for it.

"So, what's outside the walls?"

Gally's eyes had a faraway look in them when he replied. "For now, all you need to know is that you're not allowed past them, and that it's for your own good."

With those foreboding words still ringing in her ears, Gally removed his hands from her shoulders, apparently deeming her calm enough.

Newt spoke up again. "Right, how about seeing where you're gonna sleep, yeah? Follow me."

Newt started walking towards one of the forested areas. She looked at Gally, who gave her a nod, and she followed Newt.

"Gally, can you come up here a second?" Newt called back. Gally jogged up to walk with Newt a few steps ahead of her.

Newt leaned in close to Gally as they walked, affected a high pitched voice and said "Calm down, greenie".

Gally rolled his eyes and shoved Newt away, but Newt just laughed and leaned in again. "I'll protect you greenie, do you trust me?" Newt batted his eyelashes. "Didn't think I heard that, did ya?"

Gally was beet red as he gave Newt another half-hearted shove. "Shut up."

Newt's laughter could be heard across the Glade as they made their way to the hammocks.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging, it means a lot ♡

#maze runner #gally x oc #gally/oc #tmr #tmr gally #tmr gally x oc #gally x fem!oc #gally x original character #gally fanfiction #the maze runner fanfiction #maze runner fanfiction #tmr fanfiction

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emixunn · 6 months ago

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Mazeclan page 1

A maze-runner and slightly warrior cats inspired webcomic!

#mazeclan #warrior cats #warriors #digital art #art #artwork #cat art #character art #webcomic #original comic #comic #a maze runner inspired warrior cats au #maze runner

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zelcii · 2 months ago

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Nº1 SWITCHED TMR: BOX

Contents, Next

She was never really fond of the dark.

Steady, metallic clangs echoed down the long concrete tunnel, almost like the drumbeat of a death march.

The girl laid with her knees against her chest, eyes shut tight, willing herself to "wake up" because she just had to be in some terrible dream.

She opened her eyes roughly fifteen minutes ago, gasping for air as she coughed out cool water from her lungs. A remnant of some nightmarish ordeal she had no memory of.

For a while, her blood ran cold.

Her heart pounding rapidly in her chest, her breaths quick and shallow, as if she'd just run a mile.

Her bones felt hollow and brittle as if there were termites inside her, wearing away the marrow.

She felt damp, her hair sticking to her skin with water lodged in her throat. She was in a cage, moving slowly down a long corridor. The sound of harsh metal grated in her ears.

The darkness swallowed her whole and it made no difference whether her eyes were open or closed. All she could see was black.

She could feel the void against her skin. It seeped into her. It made a home in the pits of her stomach.

It was silent except for the roll of wheels that echoed against the cold walls. The air was thick. The smell of rusted iron stung her nose, making it scrunch up.

Usually, when she pulled a face, she could feel how her skin creased. A hand flew up to her face and she pressed her fingers against her temples. Then she swore.

What the fuck.

She called out into the dark. Her voice meek and low.

She stood up slowly, her joints cracking under her weight. She could feel fatigue staining the muscle under her skin and bleeding into her fingertips.

There was a sense of caution sewn into every movement. She shook her head and decided she must have been imagining things.

Then she thought about who she wanted to save her. Family. She had a mom, she was sure. Knowing if she was alive was a different story. She had a father. She wondered if he was in the picture. Did she have siblings? She did.

She wracked her head for an explanation as to why or how she got into this situation, but her mind ran blank. In an eerie run of reflection and as an act of dumb curiosity, her mind wandered to thoughts of home—family.

She slowly started to register that she had one. But she just couldn’t remember. As she tried to grasp onto the tiniest senses of familiarity, they seemed to slip further away from her.

"Nick.." Her voice trailed off as she called out into the dark. The name echoed off the tunnel walls. It grew softer and more distant as it travelled further away. Then it faded into silence. The name slipped past her lips with tender familiarity. The name seemed to be the only thing she could remember but she knew it wasn’t hers. She couldn't even recall knowing anyone named Nick. She waited for a response. None came.

She felt cold and numb. A chilling sensation ran up her spine. She could feel her bones buckle against each other, following the sway of the cage. She instinctively brought her hands up to rub warmth into her arms. As her fingers brushed against her skin, she realised she couldn't feel that either. The texture of her touch was absent. Her blood ran cold. Her mind began to process that she wasn’t imagining anything. She wasn’t going crazy; this was all real. Her breaths drew shallow.

It was like a thin barrier stood between her fingers and skin, stopping her from making any physical connections with herself or the things around her. The strange numbness made her feel more alone in the darkness. That’s when she realised she was laying all her weight behind her on a wall of sorts.

The darkness felt alive. It closed in around her, suffocating and cold. Now she could hear nothing but her own breaths, echoing unnaturally in the dark. Every time she called out, her voice would yell back at her louder. It answered spitefully, taunting and angry.

“CAN ANYONE HEAR ME!?” She yelled this time, her voice trembling. Again, the response was nothing but her own angry voice, followed by an uneasy quiet. Panic started pressing down like a weight on her chest. She heard her voice, she sounded insane. Her heart beat louder, each jump a desperate cry against the invasive silence. She fought the urge to scream, yell, kick and cry.

“Please…” she murmured pathetically, her voice breaking. The plea was a near whine that felt hollow and helpless. The shadows creeped in on her in ways that made her skin crawl, their shapes twisting, morphing, moving. She rubbed her arms, trying to stave off the creeping chill. It was useless. She felt nothing. The cold seeped into her bones. It gnawed at her sanity.

“Nick..” she called out one last time, her breaths shaking.

“NICK,” she cried out desperately. There was a furrow on her brow. One that she couldn’t feel. Again, there was no answer. No reassuring voice or warm presence to confide in. She was utterly alone. She let it sink in, and then she cursed loudly into the echoey corridor, “SHIT!”

She couldn’t take it anymore. And she couldn’t help the horrifying cry that ripped through her throat. She cried and screamed, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. Strings of words that resembled pleas and begging. This went on until her voice was nothing but a horse, a raspy mess of broken syllables.

Panic welled up inside her. Her mind flooded with frightening, disturbing thoughts. She wanted to feel something. The dig of her nails in the palm of her hands, the wet trails of tears running down her face, the coarse sting in the back of her throat that she must have had after screaming for so long.

She looked down at her hands. When her gaze hardened, she could make out its organic shape. Her eyes traced every line of movement. Her eyes lingered on the bones that lead to the tips of her fingers. She bit her lip hard—still nothing.

In a desperate attempt to feel something—anything—she raised a shaky hand to her mouth and let it rest between her front teeth. She tensed. What the hell was she thinking? She yanked her hand from her mouth and let it swing back behind her. She heard the rattle of a box as her hand struck it, but she didn’t feel the impact.

Her eyes were vacant and her head stayed empty. She was losing her mind. Again, she swung her hand back into the box. Nothing. With as much strength as she could muster, she struck the box. Nothing.

She was tired, frustrated and horrified. Then without a second thought, her hand flew up and the girl bit down on her thumb. She heard the unsettling crunch of bone, flesh, and nails between her teeth.

She awaited a sharp sting. Still, she felt nothing.

“What the fuck…” A hapless ache of misery surged through her. Then she bit down even harder, desperate to break through the numbness. Overwhelmed, she stumbled backwards into a wooden mass. She whimpered as she cradled her hand with tears streaming down her face.

Slowly, she noticed a warm, sticky feeling spreading down her hand. Then a similar feeling came out of the corner of her mouth.

First, she felt her blood running down her hand. Then a sharp pain shot through her arm, eliciting from her a strained, guttural moan that broke in and out as her voice scraped against her throat.

She could imagine the blood trickling from her thumb, flowing down her arm, and staining her skin—pooling in her palm. The image was horrifying and the pain was surreal.

She curled into herself, cradling her injured thumb as she cried out a series of strong swears. The pain in her thumb never subsided, though her senses slowly returned. It started from her hands, then spread to the tips of her ears in curious waves.

Her lungs itched from within. A sensation no amount of coughing could relieve. Then an ache began to throb at the back of her head and in her throat. She could feel the sting of meshed metal digging into her sides and biting into her skin.

It reminded her of the sting she would feel sitting in a grocery cart, wheels rolling beneath her as her mother pushed her down long, endless aisles. For a moment, she felt calm. She fought hard to forget about the searing pain in her hands. That comfort quickly faded as she tried to recall details about her mother, her family, and what she could have looked like. She shivered when her mind could only flood with blank faces, devoid of features.

She felt disturbingly incomplete.

The last thing to fill her senses was the soft cluck of chickens from a nearby corner. Fear and fright churned in her empty stomach, fueling her doubts with resentment. She had no recollection of anything before the rust, the darkness, and the persistent pain in her arm.

As the cage suddenly came to a stop, a dim light filtered into her space. Faint glimmers danced over her surroundings. She was lured into a cold vent that led to even colder heights. She forced herself to look down as the floor got further away. She tried counting the metres to measure just to see how far she was from solid ground. But when she looked down, there was no floor. She was never on solid ground.

She sat paralyzed in the middle of the cage. Her vision was growing blurry, and she had reason to suspect it was due to her increasing blood loss. She kept her hands to herself, afraid to lose them if she let her arms stray too far. Her clothes were heavy against her skin.

With nothing but the clucking of chickens and the pain in her hand to keep her company, she sat there, soaked in her own blood as a dim light forced her to watch the blood trickle from her hands, into her clothes and on the meshed floor below her.

In the dim light, she scanned her surroundings and spotted dozens of boxes and barrels encircling her. Each one was labelled with the letters W, I, C, K, E, and D.

Above her, bright red lights flickered ominously, casting a taunting glow. She sat in the rising cage, alone with her thoughts, for what felt like hours.

A sudden jolt of the cage made her gasp, and she tightened her grip on herself, sending a sharp pang up her arm. The girl winced.

The sound of metal ticking and rattling sent a chill through her spine. Though she knew she was alone, she couldn't shake the creeping feeling that something was watching her from behind.

Then, once again, everything went black.

Contents, Next

#the maze runner #tmr newt #tmr #james dashner #maze runner #tmr thomas #tmr gally #tmr minho #fiction #fandom #series #original character

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theanonymousscop · 4 days ago

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FANDOMS

MCU (not only the avengers)

Harry Potter

Lord of the rings

The Hobbit

Teen Wolf

The Vampire diaries

The Originals

The Walking dead

Once upon a time

Stranger Things

The chilling adventures of Sabrina

Supernatural

Buffy the vampire slayer

Twilight

The Hunger Games

The Maze Runner

Bridgerton

Hansel & Gretel: witch hunters

The Chronicles of Narnia

I will write for all the listed fandoms (and for many more that i can’t recall). Requests open.

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foreverforgally · 2 years ago

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In The Garden

a Gally Fanfic; Chapter 2

The Bonfire

Summary - You, The reader, are the first female ever to grace the presence of the Glade. At first the tensions between you and keeper Gally are high, the enemies to lovers trope creeps through your life. Will you give into the trope? Or will you chose the love triangle?

Warnings - Maybe smut in different chapters or hints of sexual activity. Fluff! Angst! I am definitely not a good writer!

Hollers of celebration filled the air as the boys surrounded the pit. “Tonight, we honor a new greenie, a girl!” The boys around Alby shouted in salute to my existence, it made me giggle and holler in acknowledgment.

“Light it up!” the stakes they all held were thrown into the fire and the wooden statue lit up so bright. The feeling it gave me was exhilarating, everyone cheered on and smiled through their conversations.

“Fun right? it’s like the family you got stuck with.” newt slid down to my side, a jar of suspicious yellow liquid in his hand.

I turned and looked at his boyish smile, “ I wouldn’t say it’s my happiest moment, I once found ten pounds in my pocket and it was amazing.”

He laughed, “How do you remember that and not your name.” He leaned in closer.

“I’m lying out of my ass.” I giggled and grinned, his matching mine from ear to ear. “You’re really something, aren’t you greenie?” He got closer and I could feel his breath on mine.

“I don’t remember being told so, so I’ll take your word for it.” I pulled away from the moment, feeling shy out of my mind and eager to change the topic.

“So, do I want to know what the hell is in that jar?” I said, grimacing down at that suspicious jar of liquid again.

Newt beamed and offered the jar in my direction. “Want to try it? It’ll knock you off your boots and take the edge off.” he swished the liquid around to try and make it more appealing

The jar made me nothing but uncomfortable, Newt swished the jar at me again with a stupid smile plastered on his face. it probably wasn’t even that gross so I took the jar from his hands and took a swig.

Immediately I gagged and swallowed the substance as hard and fast as I could as Newt completely laughed his ass off at my choking.

“Oh my fuck what the hell is that?” I coughed so hard I couldn’t breathe. “Can’t handle your alcohol newbie?” God I could wipe that grin off his british mug.

“Yeah well I was going to give you a nasty look but I see you already have one.” I choked off my words as he laughed out again. “Please greenie I’m beautiful, you just can’t hold your own.”

“Ok get up, there’s a few people I want you to meet.” Newt stood to his feet, exhaling his laughter as he he reached his hand out to help me up from my seat on my log.

Newt walked me over to multiple groups, introducing me to everyone of them. He told me that starting tomorrow I will work in every department to see where I fit best. Hopefully I won’t have to bust my ass to prove myself.

The group gathered in a circle behind us, was this another part of the bonfire? “Cmon let’s go check it out.” Newt lead me towards the circle, letting us have front seats to the show.

It was brutal, in the middle was none other than Gally and he looked.. so good. If I didn’t have a vendetta against eyebrows i would definitely say the warm light of the fire kissing his skin made him look knee bending. But of course why would I ever say that.. where would my self respect be?

“Gah!” he threw the other guy out of the circle with an ease of a grunt, like the weight was nothing to him. The crowd around us cheered him on yada yada, is this why his ego is so massively inflamed? Someone oughta put him on his ass.

“See, this is a game we play every bonfire, if you remember our rules i told you earlier you’d remember no glader can physically hurt each other. The point of this game is to push the other bloke out of the circle. Currently however, that shuck is undefeated.” Newt pointed towards Gally as he stalked around the circle, looking for his next pray.

His eyes locked on mine, and a one sided smirk crept onto his face. His pace around the circle stopped and he lift his finger to point at me.

“Greenie! Come, show us what you got.” Everyone around us oohed and laughed as I looked towards Newt who shrugged.

“Gally.” Alby gave him a look. “What i’m not gonna hurt her.” Gally brushed off his warning and turned his attention toward me.

“What, too chicken? Too scared little girl?” The word girl sos off his tongue like venom, his tone was threatening and i so needed to gouge his pretty eyes out.

All I had to do was kick his ass out of the circle, that should be easy enough.

I stomped one foot into the circle, “Please, you’ll never be the man your mother was.” This had him going. The reaction from the crowd combined with his embarrassment, you could see the smoke spilling from his ears.

“Alright greenie, rules are simple. I try to push you out of the circle, and you try not to cry like a girl.” Gally smirked at me, his stance widening as he grounded himself.

If looks could kill, he’d be ebliterated. Huffing, i waited for him to make a move. The guy was a big but he was such a bigot.

He grunted as he sprinted at me, arms held out to grab me but I ducked. Last minute I darted quickly under his arms and ran behind him, sliding to the ground to carry me out of the way.

He turned around prepared, but I swept my legs below his, knocking Gally to the ground. He got up quicker than he was on the floor and was back to strategizing. He ran towards me, barreling in a heat of rage to catch me.

this time he caught me and took me down with him. I struggled but i got him on his back. The crowd roared as I slid my legs on his sides and pinned him down. "Not bad for a girl, huh?" I smirked, huffing at his defeat. His eyes glazed over, and he placed his giant hands on the sides of my thighs.

"Yeah, but you haven't won yet." And he flipped us over, so he was on top. The both of us were winded, our chests heaving in synch and the eye contact was heavy. it felt like people were maving slowly, the cheers drowning out. "C'mon Greenie!" I reached my hand up slowly, placing it on the side of his jaw.

His movements faltered and his gaze grew softer. A smirk grew on my face, I got him right where I need him. I quickly slammed his head to the ground next to our bodies. I grabbed his shirt and successfully kicked him out of the circle.

The Crowd cheered me on, screaming my glade given name. Being in the center of cheers like this felt normal, I was used to being in the center like this with my arms up and the energy boosting my ego.

"C'mon Quinn, get his legs!" The trainer paced across the training mat as me and another person wrestled. My arms and legs were at their limits, and I ran towards A-9 and ducked under their swing, I pushed their back down and swept my legs under theirs, their head slamming into the ground.

I panted hard, struggling to catch my breath. "And that’s a match, you need to improve your swings, Quinn. You cant rely on your fists all the time." The trainer let out a breathy chuckle and laid his arm over my shoulders, my white jumpsuit darkening in areas l've sweated. "I’ll work on it Jansen, can't be a weapon if I cant fight, huh?” smirked and nodded my head towards him.

"Quinn! My name is Quinn!" Alby ran over and grabbed my hand, raising it towards the sky. “To Quinn!” He bellowed out and the other Gladers crowded around, taking turns shoving me and patting my back, cheering my name.

I never felt more belonging.

#gally maze runner #gally imagine #gally #tmr gally #gally x reader #newt tmr #tmr x reader #tmr alby #the maze runner #fanfic #famfiction #oc story #original character #foreverforgally;itg

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arcadian-litterateur · 10 months ago

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rivers run dry | gally x oc

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

summary: the four times gally cried in the glade, and one time he cried while escaping it.

word count: 4k

warnings: suicide, death, suicidal thoughts, nightmares, knives, blood, bodily fluids

a/n: so gally is my sweet baby boy and i have a feeling he masks his feelings and never lets himself cry. this one shot started out from that basic idea and then i decided to add in a love interest oc. jaelin is definitely flawed as you'll see, but she's also my baby and i will probably write more about her.

jaelin is named after "jael" from the bible. when israel was getting attacked by (some foreign army), the guy in charge of the israelite soldiers chickened out, and the leader of the attackers escaped, but jael, an israelite woman, lured him into her tent and was like "take a nap here while i make you a snack" and then while he was asleep she hammered a tent peg through his temple (he died lol). so she became the hero of the battle! pretty badass, if you ask me.

jaelin is played by jasmin savoy brown

In all his time in the Glade, Gally had only cried four times. He'd felt close to tears hundreds of times; at least once a week if not once a day, but the tears only fell four times. He only let them fall four times.

The first time Gally cried in the Glade was when he came up in the Box. He was jammed into the tight, confined space with what seemed to be twenty other boys, with no memory of who he was and the sinking feeling that he was hurtling up towards death. The smells of vomit, sweat, and urine mingled in the air, Gally unsure if his neighbor had pissed himself or if Gally himself was the culprit. When the Box slammed to a halt, the possibility that he'd pissed his pants became less of a priority, the crying and yelling of the boys pausing when a tall boy at the front climbed out of the Box to check their surroundings.

“It's a clearing, surrounded by walls too high to climb,” the boy observed, as he scanned the dark, evening-shadowed Glade. “But nothing too dangerous. It looks like it's made to be lived in.” At this affirmation of safety, the sweaty boys started clambering to leave the confined space. Gally hung back, not wanting to be trampled—or, considering his large frame, accidentally trample someone else. Eventually though, he was pulled out of the Box with the other stragglers, a wiry, tall boy with sharp eyes and brown hair taking control. Thin, wire-frame glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. Trying to assess the situation, the boy asked,

“Does anyone remember anything?” A chorus of names rang out but no other information seemed retrievable, some boys still at a loss for what their names were. Gally had remembered his name as an older, dark-skinned boy had helped him out of the Box. “I'm Nick,” the self-appointed leader stated. “That's all I remember, and it seems like whoever put us here might have made us forget everything on purpose.” A murmur of agreement rose amongst the group, one blond boy remarking,

“They've given us supplies to start a homestead in this Glade, whoever they are.” Gally noticed an interesting lilt in his voice. He was British. Gally also noticed that he was right. The supplies in the Box were for building; starting a life here…and that scared Gally.

The dark-skinned boy who'd helped Gally out of the Box was standing next to Nick, obviously taking the spot of Second-in-Command. He addressed the group, “My name's Alby. And I think this blondie here is right. What's your name, Blondie?”

“Newt,” the Brit answered.

“Like a lizard?” another kid spoke up. Newt rolled his eyes,

“No. It's short for Newton. I just have this feeling that I was always just Newt, before. Whatever before was.”

“Newt, it is, then,” the other boy shrugged. “I'm George.”

“Alright, introductions later,” Nick interrupted. “For now, let's unload the Box. Then we'll figure out where to go from there.” In robotic, shocked motions, the boys got to work, Gally's mind numb and void of memories, but buzzing with an odd feeling about something important.

It hit him then, how shitty and confusing this situation was. He felt so utterly alone. He had this sinking feeling that loneliness had been a common variable in his before, and he had a feeling that would remain true even now, in the Glade.

Much to Gally's chagrin, tears pricked his eyes as the panic caused by the amnesia found a grip around his heart. The boy tried to hold the tears back for as long as possible, but the desire—the need—to cry was overpoweringly large, and as quick as they'd formed, droplets were rolling down Gally's face and onto his shirt.

Gally was sobbing, and anyone could see him.

Newt was the only one brave enough to approach Gally. Every other boy in the Glade had shrunk back, obviously intimidated by Gally's height and strength, despite his current state. However, Gally's height advantage over everyone but Alby didn't seem to intimidate Newt.

“Hey, Bud, are you alright?” Newt asked, placing a gentle hand on Gally's broad shoulder. It took Gally a second or two to gain enough composure to whisper,

“Yeah.” Of course, that was a lie; none of them were fine, but Newt let it slide.

“What's your name?” the British boy inquired.

“Gally.”

“Well, it's nice to meet you, Gally. You're pretty strong, it looks like. Care to help move and sort these building supplies?” The offer was an olive branch, and Gally knew that he wouldn't be judged for refusing and staying here to cry some more. But the word “building” seemed to reignite a spark in him; give him a reason to get up.

“I think I'm supposed to build stuff, he mumbled, the epiphany lighting up a once-dull face with hopeful determination.

Newt looked surprised, but then grinned, declaring, “Then build, you will!” He offered a hand to Gally, who let himself be pulled to his feet. Newt looked his age—maybe younger, even—but there was a nurturing air about him that made Gally trust him enough to follow him.

Drying his tears, Gally followed Newt to the building materials, ready to jump right in.

The second time Gally cried in the Glade was when Jaelin told him she wanted to die. Jaelin was the only female Glader, and her intended role was still unclear—at least, as far as what the Creators wanted. However, she'd adjusted well during her first year in the Glade, almost becoming “one of the boys.” She'd made it clear that she wasn't interested in romance, and was badass enough to kick your ass if you tried anything funny. The first two guys were humiliated enough for all the other Gladers to get the memo—you did not mess with Jaelin.

Jaelin could see past Gally's tough exterior to the light within, even when he couldn't see it himself. She had this talent of bringing out the best in him. In everyone. He trusted her with his life. All his struggles, secrets, and slip-ups were hers to know.

He always felt extra special when she'd share something in return, but he never could've prepared himself for the way Jaelin's sunny face dropped, her body slumping against his as she mumbled, “I'm so tired of all of this. Of the monotony. The loneliness. I want to end it.”

Gally's heart immediately skipped a beat, his mind racing as he muttered, “No, no, Jaelin. No, you can't. Jaelin, please.” The teenage girl just looked up at him pleadingly, those doe eyes filled with desperation.

“Gally, you don't get it. You don't understand what it's like.”

“I know I don't, but I care too much to let you give up,” he argued, unsure of how to show her that she was needed. A blurry image of him chiseling a line through her name popped into his head, and he felt tears rush to his eyes, seemingly out of the blue. “I know it's selfish as hell, Jae, but I can't lose you,” Gally confessed. “I don't know how I'd survive without you.”

Almost of their own accord, his arms wrapped around Jaelin, enveloping her in a warm, secure embrace. She didn't fight it, slowly wrapping her own arms around Gally's waist. She could feel his face pressed into her hair—which she didn't mind, seeing as her face was smushed against his chest—and from the vibrations of his sternum, Jaelin had a feeling the boy was crying. She'd never witnessed him crying before. She knew he was being exceptionally vulnerable, all in an attempt to reach her and pull her from such dark depths.

Gally knew his tears were dripping down his face and onto Jaelin's hair, and he truly hoped she didn't mind, because there was no way he was letting go. He'd hold onto Jaelin for the rest of time to keep her safe, if need be.

“Jaelin, please don't go,” he murmured, body shaking as tears poured from his eyes. “I'll do anything.” Gally felt the girl's body go completely lax as a small wet mark appeared on his shirt, right where her eyes were. She was crying, too. “Jae?” he asked, concerned.

“I'm okay,” came the soft reply, Gally becoming hyper aware of Jaelin's warm breath blowing across his chest through his thin shirt. Gally's hand automatically found her hair, running through it in soothing repetition. Of course, he'd done that before, but this was a different dynamic. A different purpose. Not playful or teasing, just “I love you and I'm here.”

“Are you?” Gally questioned. It wasn't that he didn't believe her—far from it—but he just wanted to make sure she had a good grasp on her mental state.

“Well, I'm doing better than a few minutes ago,” Jaelin clarified. Gally nodded,

“Good. Now, is it safe for me to let you go? You're going to be smart, right? You're not going to try to hurt yourself, right?”

“Right,” Jaelin agreed. “I'm going to help you finish Builders' inventory, and then eat dinner with you, and then hang out with you.” As she said this, Jaelin used her long sleeves to dry Gally's face of the remaining tears he'd shed for her, the small but kind gesture making the teenage boy's heart soar.

“That sounds like a good plan,” he chuckled, standing up and pulling Jaelin up with him.

“Where to, Captain Gally?” the girl joked. Gally laughed, accepting her offer to link arms.

“To storage!” And off the mismatched pair went.

The third time Gally cried in the Glade was when he was stung. Now, Gally wasn't stupid—he knew that as a non-Runner, he wasn't allowed to enter the Maze. And Gally, being the stickler for rules that he was, would over the rule of the Glade till his dying breath.

But, of course, everyone has a weakness. Everyone has something that would make them risk it all, just to secure some kind of finality for whatever that something is. Or in Gally's case, someone. Jaelin.

Looking back, it was clear to Gally that Jaelin was just as much of a rule-follower as he was. Jaelin would never enter the Maze when the rules clearly forbid it. She appreciated order; swore by it. No, Gally should never have thought that Jaelin might have entered the Maze. It wasn't in her nature. And he learned from this mistake; Gally did. Yes, he suffered for it dearly.

It had been a few weeks since Jaelin had opened up about being suicidal, and much to Gally's relief, she'd remained open and happy to accept help. She even told Gally herself that she was doing better, which he was glad about. And seeing Jaelin smile again? Gosh, it made Gally's days complete, filling his stony heart with meager fragments of hope. Small, but definitely there. Everything felt as it should be in Gally's book.

But then one day, Jaelin was nowhere to be found. Gally checked all their usual spots and even the obscure ones, several Gladers helping, but the girl seemed to have vanished. No one could figure out what happened. And then Gally found the note on his desk that simply read, ‘“I love you ~J.” His breath caught in his throat, mind racing to connect the dots as he came to the conclusion,

“She went into the Maze to end her life.” Alby just stared at Gally, not moving, and the boy grew impatient, grunting angrily, “Fine! I'll go after her myself!” Before anyone could stop him, Gally rushed into the Maze.

Jaelin, who'd retreated to the tallest tree in the Deadheads in an attempt to be alone, didn't become aware of what was happening until she heard the screams of a stung Glader being rushed to a Med-hut. As a Med-jack, she was supposed to be there. The girl found herself rushing there as fast as possible in order to find out who the unlucky sting victim was.

When Jaelin saw Gally thrashing against his bonds on a medical cot, her heart stopped.

Her first thought was that as a Builder, Gally never should have been in the Maze. So why the hell had he gone into the Maze?

She got her answer when the boys surrounding Gally saw her and gave varying exclamations of,

“Jaelin!”

“Where were you?”

“We've been looking for you!”

Jaelin was confused by this, questioning their concern about her whereabouts with a quick explanation as to where she was, confused and shocked when Newt cussed loudly.

“Will someone tell me what's going on and why Gally got stung?” the girl pleaded. Of course, the answer was not one she expected—or wanted—to hear.

“He was trying to find you,” Minho said flatly. “Found your note, convinced himself it was a suicide note, and ran into the Maze.” Jaelin's jaw dropped, hands coming up to cover her mouth as guilt started to toss and turn in her stomach.

“So why'd you leave a note like that if you weren't going to kill yourself?” Newt snapped. Jaelin winced, knowing this was a touchy subject for the second-in-command. “Jaelin, that's basically the exact note I left Alby, and Gally was here, then, remember?”

“It was a love confession!” Jaelin spat out, embarrassed to admit to it, given the circumstances, especially. “I didn't think of the similarities to Newt's note, so I'm sorry about that, but honestly, it was just a love confession. If he'd flipped it over, he would've seen that it said, ‘If you feel the same, meet me at the tallest tree in the Deadheads.’”

“So you aren't going to commit suicide?” Alby clarified.

“No!” Jaelin exclaimed, walking over to Gally's side sorrowfully. “It's not even an option. I stick with you guys.”

A look of relief passed over the faces of all the boys in the room, despite the circumstances. Jaelin ignored this, too guilty to think of anyone but Gally.

He'd stopped thrashing, instead trapped in his own head, trying to separate nightmares from memories, which is difficult when most of your memories are as horrific as nightmares. Jaelin was able to loosely clap his right hand in both of hers, his hands significantly larger than hers.

“No!” Startled, Jaelin looked down at the boy, who was still trapped in his mind, obviously recalling something awful, because he was whimpering and murmuring phrases like “It hurts” and “Please stop.” Jaelin felt her heart fracture slightly, once again overwhelmed by the thought that this was her fault. It was only made worse when the tears started leaking from Gally's eyes and rolling down his face, sobs becoming more pronounced. The words he'd been muttering became unintelligible, drowned out by his cries.

There he was, Jaelin's strong rock, crying in the middle of the Med-hut.

The girl felt her own eyes start to water at the pained noises coming from Gally's mouth, unable to imagine how much physical and mental pain he was in. Gally's eyes flew open, blue orbs finding her chestnut brown ones, before he screamed,

“Stop! Make it stop!” When he broke down into sobs again, it became clear that he'd been reliving a memory verbally, Jaelin still unable to do anything more than hold his hand and whisper reassuring comforts, placing a cool compress on his forehead to combat his raging fever.

Jaelin used a rag to gently wash Gally's face, removing the tear stains on his cheeks. His tan skin was flushed pink from fever, face breaking out in severe patches of acne from the stress of the Changing. She did her best to treat that, too, even going so far as to wash his hair after his second day, the fever causing extra sweat to find a home in his sandy colored hair. She found herself struggling to leave his side, growing heavy with guilt whenever she tried. So she just stayed by his side, holding his hand, for five days.

“Jae?” came a raspy cough on the afternoon of the fifth day. The girl immediately woke up from where she'd dozed off in the chair next to Gally's bedside.

“Gal? You're back?” she asked, excited but tentative.

“Yeah,” he answered, “I think it's over.” Jaelin let out a sigh of relief, only hesitating for a second before leaping onto cot with Gally to give him the biggest hug she could.

It was Newt, however, not Jaelin, who explained the note and everything that had happened, Jaelin unable to find it within herself to explain again.

When Newt told Gally the vital piece of information he'd missed—Jaelin’s note was a love confession—the boy gasped, a dopey smile landing on his face as he muttered,

“Can you get Jaelin for me?” From the look on his face, Newt assumed the boy returned Jaelin's feelings, but this was confirmed without a doubt when Jaelin walked to Gally's bedside, unable to make eye contact out of nervousness, and Gally whispered, “Jae, look at me.” The girl obeyed, warm brown eyes meeting Gally's deep blue ones. Before Jaelin could say a word, Gally reached up and cupped her face in his hands before guiding her lips to his in a gentle yet passionate kiss.

It was a ‘finally’ kiss, symbolizing two kids finding love against all odds in a place resembling utter hell. And so when Jaelin pulled back for air, a surprised look still frozen on her face, Gally confessed,

“I've had the biggest crush on you for fucking ever.” Newt clucked his tongue, leading Gally to revise his statement. “Sorry, I've had the biggest crush on you for shucking ever.”

Jaelin's face broke into a wide, ecstatic smile. “Really?”

“Yes, Jae, for real,” Gally chuckled.

This was all it took for Jaelin to full-on leap into Gally's arms, the medical cot shifting in protest at the sudden addition of weight. The two teenagers didn't seem to notice or care, too set on colliding with the other's lips again to worry about something so trivial as the integrity of the cot. Jaelin's lips, chapped from nervous biting and dehydration, found Gally's, which were surprisingly soft, mouths brushing in romantic, teasing kisses before she pressed her lips firmly to his, unable to resist the promise of making out with her long time crush.

A low whistle caused Gally and Jaelin to pull apart for a second, observing Minho's triumphant stance in the doorway as he crowed, “Knew it!” Rolling their eyes, the two lovesick Gladers went back to exchanging kisses, all tears from days prior forgotten.

The fourth and final time Gally cried in the Glade was when Jaelin died. More specifically, when Jaelin went crazy and then stabbed herself to death.

Everyone swore they didn't see it coming—didn't expect the self destructive desires in her head to win—but every single one of them was lying. They'd all seen Jaelin start to spiral. But none of them had known how to help her and so, like the cowards they were, they left the girl to sink or swim.Gally hated every single one of them now, himself included.

Jaelin's role as a Med-jack meant that she didn't have one continuous work day, like with the other jobs. Rather, once she finished her daily tasks, she was free until someone called for a Med-jack. She spent lots of time with Gally while he built, and otherwise hung out in the Deadheads to journal. This solitude was good for her—but it ended up being her downfall.

She spent too much time alone with her thoughts, and it made her go insane.

Gally had been working on a building project when it all happened, Jaelin's screams in the middle of the Glade drawing everyone's attention. Gally immediately hurried down the ladder, dropped his tools, and sprinted towards Jaelin, who was holding a knife up to ward off Newt and Alby's attempts to talk her down.

“Jaelin, put the knife down and we can talk about this,” Newt reasoned, Gally falling into place beside the Second-in-Command.

Jaelin's eyes flickered to Gally's for half a second before she turned back to Newt and spat, “No, I won't. I hate it here.” Gally winced as Alby interjected,

“Why do you hate it here?” Jaelin scoffed.

“Why don't I hate it here? I'm stuck in a Glade, surrounded by a Maze filled with monsters, with only guys as company, harboring that knowledge that if at any point you all turned on me together, I'd be powerless to stop it.” Jaelin's chest heaved with emotion as the knife she held in front of her shook.

“We won't turn on you,” Gally insisted firmly, but Jaelin's eyes just flashed,

“Until you do. Until you're all so desperate that you gang up on me and grab me and rape me until I bleed out and die.”

Alby's jaw dropped, Newt shuddered, and Gally's eyes started to water.

“What?” Jaelin screeched. “It'll happen and you know it!” Gally took a step forward, hands outstretched as if to seem unthreatening, but Jaelin screamed again, so he backed away.

“Have you been stung, Jaelin?” Alby asked bluntly, earning a dry chuckle from the girl.

“No, Alby. I'm very much in my right mind at the present. I'm a Realist. I'm thinking realistically.”

Gally shook his head, unable to keep quiet now. “No, Jae! This isn't realistic. And you can't do this. I love you too much, remember?” He got choked up as the first tear slid down his cheek. “I can't survive without you.”

Jaelin's eyes grew cold, “Then die, too.” The girl stabbed the knife into her stomach.

“No!” Gally screamed, floodgates bursting open as Jaelin let a pained yell, yanking the knife out of her body before stabbing again, this time a little further up. “Stop!” Gally begged the girl, who let out some kind of agonized shriek-cackle, her face a confusing mix of defeat and triumph.

As if she was winning and losing at the same time.

She'd stabbed herself at least five times now, blood gushing from seemingly small cuts. Jeff and Clint had rushed over quickly, but she was crazed enough that no one could get close enough to subdue her. Gally tried, but got pulled back by Frypan and Winston right before Jae's knife would have slashed his carotid artery. The blood was coming too fast, anyway. She'd already lost too much.

The girl's grip went slack, the knife sliding out of it in time to hit the ground with her body. She immediately went still, sprawled across the ground, Jeff and Clint hurrying to try and save her, but it was too late. It was only a few minutes later when they got up solemnly, Jeff whispering, “I'm sorry.” Clint practically collapsed into his arms, both boys starting to sob as the death of their fellow Med-jack became real.

Gally stood staring at Jaelin's body numbly for a few moments before trudging over to her still form. He cradled it in his arms so gently that it surprised some of the other Gladers, but he didn't care. All he knew was that the love of his life had just died. Had wanted to die. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead before tilting his head up to the sky and, without warning, letting out a long, loud, anguished bellow.

“Fuck you!” he screamed at the Creators of such a hellhole; such a nightmare. No one had the strength to chastise him for cussing, not even Newt. Then he broke down in pained, heartbroken sobs again, the ache in his chest akin to a thousand splinters driving their way into every vital organ.

Without Jae, part of him—a large part of him—wanted to die, too. And that part grew and grew, slowly taking over until it was almost the only thing left. It ate away at this once untouchable boy, stripping him of his defenses and hope.

The next time he cried, he was barely even Gally anymore; just WCKD's puppet with Gally's face. He had lost the ability to fight their sick programming, and now, it had taken over. No, Gally wasn't truly living that last time he cried.

Without Jaelin, Gally would never truly live again. After all, when you give someone your heart, you place your life in their hands. And so when Jaelin died, Gally did, too.

Two rivers, running dry.

the end

#gally tmr #gally one shot #the maze runner #tmr fanfic #tmr one shot #gally angst #gally x oc #gally x original character #angst with a sad ending #fanfiction #tmr angst #i write depressing stories #oc goes insane and i love it #will poulter #jasmin savoy brown #the scorch trials #the death cure #movie alby is superior #literally so sad

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werdlewrites · 1 year ago

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summary: “Fuck you!” “Stop, stop!” Gally has his arms wrapped around the girl like a prison, containing the beast that bared its teeth until it surrendered to the emptiness. “There's nothing you can do! He's gone, Gwen!” Thomas has drifted from the scene before she's even noticed him. His own voice plays out pained apologies for what he's done. And for what he plans to do. warnings: death, violence, child death(canon T_T), MIX OF BOOKS AND MOVIE wc: 3,326

The first time he sees her is late in the day - eyes trained on the doors in anticipation of what Chuck's promised. Machines built into stone, coming to life just before the sun begins to set. It's insanity, and a piece of him believes it was all some elaborate trick they played on every boy brought up through the box. Some sort of initiation, and it was sick. He pictures them all gathered, looks of joy on their faces while the newcomer spun out of control, unable to grasp this new reality. Thomas felt as if his mind had been torn not in two, but completely apart in scattered pieces. Shards of memory scrambled in with this new life - one that seems impossible and too cruel for anyone to manifest. "Right on time," the shorter boy states with a wide and silly grin, almost pleased to share this moment with his new friend. To prove him wrong in a matter of minutes. The Newbie spots a dark-haired boy first - shirt tight around well-trained biceps, coated in sweat from a long day spent on the move. She rounds the same corner just after him. Dirt stains paired with her own exhaustion, cheeks red, and focus locked straight ahead - on home. A cloth lays tight against her face, concealing one eye, where multiple scars trail out from beneath and down towards her chest. He feels nauseous - not at the sight, but rather the idea of an unknown tale and how it all came to be. Neither of them slow to a steady stride until each foot landed on the warm grass, moving with purpose and ignoring the sight of a new Glader. She doesn't see him - but he sees her. Brown eyes are glued to her back as she joins others at the steel door, following the small group into the shadows of a mysterious building. "That's Gwen," Chuck chimes in with a smug expression as if hearing the mental torment Thomas put himself through. "Didn't ask," is his dry retort, making a sad attempt to shake away the daze he felt trapped within - gaze still locked on the quiet building, heart aching to know its secrets. "You will. Everybody does." Thomas’ head turns with a look of confusion in his eyes.

What was so special about the girl named Gwen? Why do they care so much?

"Only girl in The Glade." Thomas can't be sure if it's the boom of his heart rattling in his ears, or the metalwork coming to life inside the maze, but it renders all thoughts static.

The only…one?

"Don't get smart, Greenie. You're nothin' special."

She sees him hours later when dinner is loaded up onto plates. Another Greenie is just another mouth to feed and put to work. Nothing more than a body and having seen so many, they all begin to blend together in a mess of testosterone. She's forgotten the date until she spots him across the way - fighting through flames to take a closer look at the boy next to Newt. His movements are quick, head hung low as if having been caught doing something he most certainly shouldn't have. His guide wears a look of amusement, almost laughing to himself at the sudden shyness. "Who's the shank?" She questions, eyeing her mug as the concoction is filled to her liking - and just a smidgen extra. The girl lets out a gasp as the dark liquid continues to rise, the palm of her hand quickly meeting the back of the boy's head, putting the pour to an abrupt stop and spilling down her fingers. "You're shucked in the head if you think I'd drink all that." With a roll of his eyes, Gally sinks away to rest against a tree, arms crossed with his own drink in hand. "’Bout as boring as Alby." The boy takes a heavy swig of his own creation - long immune to the harsh sting against his throat. He waits a moment, a glare somehow parting through the sea of fire just to make his disgust known - hatred of a boy he knows, yet cannot place. He shrugs at first, replying, "Just another Greenbean. A pain in my ass. First place runner for a Slopper." It's his companion's turn to roll her eyes, knowing the boy all too well and his unfavorable attitude - to the Gladers, but most of all, the newbies and their curiosities. "You're bein' mean." He scoffs in reply, unable to pry his eyes away from the dark-haired teen just across the way. "I don't trust him," he states plainly. "You don't know him-" "Made himself right well at home by visiting Benny boy," he interrupts, a look of smug amusement on freckled skin - knowing full well he gave the warning, then let him slip by to suffer the consequences. He can see the way her face pales in horror - a look of shock with one good eye now fading of its spark. She thinks of Ben writhing on the bed, body twisted and drenched in his own blood and poisoned veins. It's a sight to leave anyone petrified - as if they've stumbled into a nightmare with no waking up. "Seen him in The Changing, not more than that. When Baby Benny gets it together, bet he'll tell the same." The confession leaves a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach - nausea boiling up the homebrew until it burns at her insides. The drink is long forgotten, feeling it climb and scratch like the thorns of vines as it seeks an escape. She remembers The Changing - how Gally cried and screamed for death. The way his fingers reached out into nothing, nails shredded to jagged tips as he continued to dig himself out of the grave. Not many have been stung - even fewer have survived the terror. Insanity stripping them of a sense of self as they plunge themselves into darkness if only to escape their hauntings. Gwen sees this boy differently now.

Not just a Greenie, not just a nobody tossed onto the field - but somebody from a life they've forgotten.

A life she had been robbed of.

By the time they make it out to safety, the girl is nothing more than an exhausted and emptied shell of a person. Chuck's blood stains the fabric of her shirt, dried up and stuck beneath her fingernails. There's some sickening feeling of remorse at the idea of washing him away, discarding his sacrifice, and forgetting his pain. He's at the forefront of her mind as they stand amongst…people. Strangers promising sanctuary - a light the boys left behind would never know. As if he can feel the hurt within her, the boy at her side responds in silence - seeing the broken heart she carries. Thomas' hand squeezes hers, a gesture to lift the heavy weight of grief while he continues to work through this bizarre puzzle before them. "Come with me," a woman states in kindness. Her cheeks are rosy and she appears older than her companions - slight wrinkles in her features suggest long stretches of time or severe stress. "Let's get everyone cleaned up. If you'll follow me-" she suggests, easily snaking an arm through Gwen's, guiding her away from her family - from Thomas. The feeling of his hand slipping away from her own sends an immediate panic to run hot through her. The girl's feet are planted and she's looking at the boy with wide eyes, not ready to leave him - unwilling to go with strangers. "Can't have the boys and girls together," the woman says with a laugh, using up her patience as she waits for Gwen to find an ounce of trust. It's never given. Her movement is only encouraged by the small nod of his head, telling her it was okay to go. The girl follows after her guide, focus not once leaving the freckled boy as he too watches with an intense stare. Was it longing? Or something fearful swallowed down to appear more confident for her sake. But she sees the guards at the doors, and can't help but feel as if she were in The Maze once more. Openings protected by Grievers - keeping her locked away from the ones she needed. Gwen slips from her jacket before the escort can process what's happened, watching as the girl flies across the space to collide in his arms, entangled and welcomed in his hold. He clings to her, desperate for closeness - as if her torso pressed to his own isn't enough. Her arms squeeze around his neck, face buried into him as he pulls her in. Thomas keeps darkened eyes trained on the ones at her back, intentions not truly known despite saving them from an unknown fate. "Don't want t'go," she mumbles. Thomas doesn't shift - a threat unheard but gaze burning the words against their skin.

Keep her safe - keep them all safe.

He parts from her but barely. It's just enough to lay a kiss against her forehead, before whispering words of promise, "I'll find you."

She sees him in The Scorch - that’s what they called it. A desert for miles with no hope in sight - only rocks and buildings crushed under the weight of Mother Nature, taking back what was rightfully hers. But Thomas sees something the others don’t; a chance. A life to be had free of WICKED’s grasp. Yet, they carry on and follow his steps marked in the sand. Minutes turn into hours - to days and what feels like a lifetime. Every second spent beneath the sun is more tortuous than The Maze. Still, he does not falter while others submit in his shadow. Gwen is amongst the many who surrender to the powerful forces against them - breathless as she kneels in the sand, waiting to die or be granted peace just over the horizon. He comes for her - a halo of light igniting a look of not only fear but worry in once bright eyes. “You can do this,” he encourages, leaving the weakened girl to roll her eyes. Ever the optimistic. She stands with his help, fingers laced together, not daring to part for fear they’ll suddenly vanish in the storm. “I'm sorry,” he chokes out - the dry air stealing every ounce of remorse that threatens to spill from his eyes. “I - I didn't want-” She sees Thomas as a man with hope brighter than the sun, despite the endless sea they must cross as the harsh wind tears at their skin. There's regret there, too. He endured the loss of Winston with a heavy heart - burdened by guilt and the failure of protecting his family. He's become more than just another pair of hands to build - more than some boy playing hero as he dives headfirst into certain death. He's become a leader and someone she deeply admires through unspoken words, soft touches, and subtle glances beneath the dark of night. “I'll follow you anywhere,” she says, a gust of wind knocking her tired frame forward just enough to see the shock in his eyes. He's just a boy, wearing the weight of the world on his shoulders as he carries them away without a full plan. A choice they allowed to be made for them. Widened eyes settle into realization, and his hand squeezes tightly before tugging her along the journey ahead.

She's not sure when it was decided.

When she felt the pull towards his every step, unknowing he felt the same for hers.

Hope is gone and he's lost sight of purpose in the city. The world is on fire and there's blood in the streets - blood on his hands. Brown eyes had become eerily dark as the flare took their brother. Once kind and full of a certain spark that took Thomas back to when things were simpler. They shift from a man he once knew, to ravenous and desperate for the pain to stop. He swore it all came to an end as their bodies collided, expecting a knife to dig through his flesh, only to find Newt had finished what he couldn't - providing the peace he longed for. And he thinks now, even though he was left standing, that it all did end for him there. She's on her knees at his side, head cradled in her lap with angered slaps against his cheek, as if he were only asleep. “Newt! God damnit!” The blade is ripped from his chest and tossed elsewhere, hoping the reaper would spare this one, and play favorites with a second chance. He sees her and the dread of understanding fills her expression. It pushes him further away into the shadows. “No! Fuck!” Fists pound against his heart, her sanity slipping and becoming unreasonable as she runs for Minho, demanding the serum he holds tight in a trembling fist. “Give it t'me!” With tears in tired eyes, he stands his ground and her desperation comes out as rage, lunging at him with fingers reaching for the vial, unable to grasp the concept of the loss. A brother from The Glade now gone like the others. “Fuck you!” “Stop, stop!” Gally has his arms wrapped around the girl like a prison, containing the beast that bared its teeth until it surrendered to the emptiness. “There's nothing you can do! He's gone, Gwen!”

Thomas has drifted from the scene before she's even noticed him. His own voice plays out pained apologies for what he's done.

And for what he plans to do.

The Safe Haven. A place too good to be true. Full of light and blissful smiles beneath the clear blue skies. There's no more fear, or running. The only stress being how to build the community and protect it from the forces of nature - how it always should have been. No tricks or games. No tests and gunfire to ring out in shattered eardrums. It's almost unsettling to be this still, the waves that crash against rocks and the shoreline the only thing to keep him grounded in this new reality. The taste of salt in the air is a reminder that this was no hallucination, a world people died for. Thomas could see their faces in the darkness just before he woke from a long slumber. There’s no haunting or mocking of his failures, they were just with him. Just present, never to be forgotten. He hadn't locked eyes with Gwen for more than a few seconds at a time, always in a hurry to escape the veil of guilt he wore whenever she smiled his way. Promises had been made and stripped from him as life faded from their eyes. Sometimes he thinks it’s better this way. Letting the pair fizzle out until they become strangers, to end the pain of remembering all they’ve lost. She seems to notice this poorly thought-out plan, yet instead of confronting it head-on, Gwen gives him the space he needs to grieve. Up until they stumble upon one another in the sand. This time, he doesn’t run. The space at his side is filled with her presence, arms just ghosting over one another as they take in the view before them. Having her so close is enough to ease a troubled soul, his lungs exhaling the demons he keeps close with eyes fallen shut, simply basking in the relief and she does the same.

The two remain silent for an unknown amount of time - too fearful of breaking through the calm at risk of either party walking away. But it had been weeks since she heard him speak more than a few mumbles at a distance, she aches for it. Her focus shifts from the crashing waves to his freckled skin. More sun-kissed than she remembers when they first met. A spark of blue shines from the fist at his side, muscles twitching with excitement as her fingers work their way inside. He finally looks at her, watching as she studies the vial up close and how the serum practically glows beneath the sunlight. “This yours?” There’s an uncomfortable shift. A heavy swallow working its way down as he remembers the chair he had been strapped to and all the tragedy to come after. “How’d you know?” A small smile creeps over her features, a softness he had longed for but couldn’t allow himself to enjoy. “I didn’t think you’d stop by the lab for a nice chit-chat.” A weak laugh escapes his chest, nearly missed if it hadn’t been for the smile he held in return. But it’s quick to fade as Teresa’s demise plays on loop, saddened eyes now focused elsewhere to drown out the flashing images. A deep breath steadies Gwen as she embraces the moment, following his gaze out into the horizon, waves now disguising the sound of hard labor and squeals of delight from the camp just over the cliff. “Y’know,” she begins, arms now crossed over her chest. “When I first saw you, I thought you were just another shank.” Another chuckle, unable to resist the pull as tired eyes land back on her. “Just another boy. Another ‘too curious for his own good,’ boy. Curious t’crazy. Robbing me of my ‘glory’ as ‘The Survivor,’” Gwen ends in quotes, cheeks now pink as amusement sweeps in despite the horrors mentioned. An old tale of a Griever finding her in The Maze and striking hard enough to suffer long-term damage, including the loss of an eye, where a bandage always lay.

Lips part to speak, but she’s quick to cut him off before he’s begun. “Reckless and selfless. Willing t’let them take you. Feed you fine meals and bleed you dry.” He feels his knees nearly give in as she makes the connection. There’s no more fun, only the residing fear of his almost sacrifice as he stumbles back into Janson’s hands. “A pig for slaughter.” The memories give enough discomfort that she’s shifting in place, turning to fully face a man who fought for her life. Fought for her to stand on this very beach. “Newt would have been pissed.” For a moment, his name is the dagger that tears its way through his heart. But remembering the fire the boy once had encourages a small smile and she takes it as a victory. “Come back t’me, Thomas.” She’s closer now - unable to avoid even if he wanted to as her hands lay against his sides, keeping him secured. “I want to. I - I just,” It’s the first time speaking since The Flare took their friend and all thoughts are rushing forward to be heard. He has to swallow them down in order to make any sense. “I can’t stop thinking about how I could’ve saved him. Saved Chuck and Winston. Ter-” “You can’t save everyone,” she cuts in, watching as he practically deflates and surrenders to her touch. A safe place to land no matter the distance he forced between them. “I know.” His gaze is fallen and avoidant - staring down at nothing in particular between the pair before roughened hands cup his face, thumb soothing along a stray drop of water on his cheek. “I see them all when I close my eyes. I still - I still feel Chuck’s blood on my hands, and every boy that came before him.” The sight of him is quick to blur as old wounds open, reminders of agony and mourning as the people she cared for slowly fade like a dying star. “For a while, I thought The Glade was built on the bodies of children. My family-” Thomas leans into her, foreheads pressed together with dirtied fingers laying over her touch. He hopes to absorb the hurt, letting it fill him up until her unsteady breaths begin to even out.

“For the first time in my life, Thomas, I want t’live. For all we’ve gone through. For all we’ve lost. If I can’t, then what was it all for?”

#the maze runner #tmr #thomas the maze runner #thomas tmr #thomas x oc #thomas x original character #thomas x original female character #thomas (tmr) x oc #thomas (the maze runner) x oc #newt #gally #the scorch trials #the death cure #the kill order #minho #dylan o'brien

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