#tmr thomas fanfiction

[bruisedboys]

please write for tmr!thomas i beg of you

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

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

“Are you awake?”

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

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

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

“Nothing,” you hum. “Just thinking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

[blackbirdi]

Tired

Brief Description: You're tired and your boyfriend's making sure you're getting to sleep.

Point of View: 2nd Person

Word Count: 454

Character: Character not specified; Multifandom x Reader, whatever character you so desire x Reader

It was movie night, like every Friday night, and you and your boyfriend had just sat down to pick something to watch.

As your boyfriend was scrolling through your movie options, out of the corner of his eyes he saw you yawn. He smiles like a lovesick fool at how cute you look when tired.

Turning to you, he chuckles quietly asking, "Tired, baby?"

"Extremely," you reply in a soft voice, leaning against his side.

He throws an arm over your shoulders, pulling you onto his lap. You shift slightly, trying to find a comfortable position before you lean your head against his chest.

"What time did you go to bed last night?" he asks you softly, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

You shrug, answering, "I don't know."

He rolls his eyes affectionately at you, pressing his lips to your temple, which only causes you to melt into his embrace more.

"What was the last time you saw on the clock?" your boyfriend rephrases his question.

Your eyebrows furrow together in thought, your boyfriend's heart melts just a little bit more at the sight. God, you're gorgeous.

He never thought he could fall in love before, let alone this in love. Every little thing you've done and will continue to do since he met you has only made his heart beat stronger for you.

"One twenty ... something," you respond.

Your boyfriend's arms tighten around you, holding you closer as he asks in worry, "You went to bed that late?"

With a small giggle, you reply, "I went to bed like two hours after that."

He makes a sound between a sigh and a laugh, bringing you closer to his chest as he presses a series of kisses to your face.

"Baby, you need to sleep more," he gently scolds you, smiling down at you with that same lovesick smile.

"I know," you whisper back, nuzzling your face into his chest.

Getting a sudden idea, your boyfriend twists around on the couch, laying down across it as he settles you onto his chest.

"How about we play the movie as background noise so you can sleep?" he suggests, running his hand through your hair as you snuggle deeper into his chest.

"Sounds good," you mumble, yawning once more.

He kisses the top of your head, clicking on your favourite movie as his arms encircle your waist, keeping you close.

"I love you," he mutters, nuzzling his face into your hair, smiling at the smell of your shampoo.

God, he was whipped.

"I love you too, sweetheart," you mumble back, closing your eyes as the feeling of your boyfriend's finger running through her hair and the warmth of his embrace lulls you to sleep.

[rainydaydreamsideblog]

(The Maze Runner) Imagine: He Protects You

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

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

. . .Thomas. . .

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” you call frantically.  

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

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

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

You manage a nod.

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

“Thank you…” you whispered.

. . . Newt . . .

You couldn’t take it anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, just… Nothing. It’s nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . . Minho . . .

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

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

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

“Hello?” you call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

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

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

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

. . . Gally . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

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

“Hey now, I didn’t say you could go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think you already have,” you chuckle.

[star--stilinski]

I would absolutely LOVE to request a buzzcut stiles smut omg😭

If you are comfortable and if this is not too much detail could you write something about Stiles being insecure of his buzzcut thinking it makes him unattractive but when he tells his other bsf/reader she’s like flabbergasted and tells him how hot it makes him and it makes him all cocky. Then he’d probably like ask her is she’s serious and when she says yes finally act on his feelings. Maybe soft smut? If that is okay

HALLELUIAH YES GAWDDDD i love this sm omg

☆

stiles frowns at his reflection. scott is ranting in the school bathroom again, but it's all stuff stiles has already heard before and he's distracted anyway. he runs an absent hand over his short hair before following a still-rambling scott out of the bathroom and down the hall.

it's been getting on his nerves lately, how slow his hair is growing. he thought it was pretty cool at first, until he was slapped in the face with the reality of his best friend getting girls left and right and leaving stiles completely dry. not that it's scott's fault- he's just easy to get jealous of with this kind of thing.

"dude, are you even listening?" scott abruptly stops and whirls on stiles. "you've been dead silent for, like, three minutes."

"yeah, i heard you. but it's a little hard to care about your girlfriend strife when she actively wants to sleep with you. speaking of,"

allison is leaning against a locker, watching scott with a dreamy look. she waves and smiles softly, leaving scott to return the smile-wave combo with a lot less charisma.

"listen," stiles sighs, trying to keep the bite of envy out of his tone, "you probably just need to talk to her. girls love confidence. just, i dunno," he waves wildly with his hands. "do that."

scott squints at him. "i think that might be the worst advice you've ever given me."

"worse than killing derek?"

"possibly. now, i'm gonna go-" scott throws a look towards allison and swallows thickly, "figure that out. i'll see you."

stiles calls after him; "don't be an idiot! remember i'm living vicariously through you right now!"

once scott and allison are far enough down the hall, he rubs a hand over his hair again and huffs. stupid, stupid freshman stiles and his bad hair decisions.

"you're gonna rub right through your skull."

"GAH!" stiles jumps back from you, snapped out of his spiraling thoughts. you laugh at him behind your hand, looking up through your pretty lashes. "jesus, your footsteps are like feathers. i need to put a bell on you."

that makes you frown, shoulder-checking him as you start walking. "you're just not used to anything other than two-left-feet scott mccall. i have perfectly regular footsteps."

he jogs to catch up with you as you make your way to the school parking lot, eyeing your choice of shorts. your legs being out is a big plus for his racing mind today.

"hey, you busy today? scott ditched me to go play loverbirds and i don't want to do my homework." he hums, pushing one of the heavy doors open and letting you through.

"hmm, that depends, do you have food at your house?"

"not even a little," he smirks at the almost-yes as you both trot through the empty lot towards his jeep. "that's why we're getting drive thru."

"who's paying?"

"who do you think?"

you cheer excitedly as he unlocks the jeep.

☆

you're sat criss-cross on stiles' bed as he paces, tracking his movement with your eyes. he's on a tangent about scott, actually, and how his decision-making skills are subpar. you're listening intently with a tilted head, watching his hands flex as he talks, and the way his biceps bulge without his flannel on, and how his jawline is so sharp-

"and girls are confusing, y'know? sorry, no offense, it's just-" this catches your attention, making your eyes flit up to his as they dart around the room. "it's just that you're all so... so... what do you guys even want? can't be money, because scott has a girlfriend. can't be personality, because jackson has a girlfriend. definitely can't be looks, because i'm pretty sure greenburg is going out with abby right now."

he sighs and turns on you, taking a dangerous step closer to the bed. his brow is upturned, eyes pleading, lips parted.

"it's this stupid buzzcut, isn't it?"

you blink, just once, before squinting. "what?"

"my hair, it's so-" he pushes a frustrated hand through it, and his jaw clenches. "so not hot."

and when he says it, with his narrowed eyes all sharp and his pink lips pressed together, you think for a moment he must be joking. "...what?"

he turns his glare onto you. "you know what i mean, okay? it's unattractive, it must be. i mean, i go completely unnoticed-"

"wait, you actually mean to tell me you think your buzzcut is ugly?"

stiles huffs, clearly not liking the bluntness of his feelings being laid out. "that it makes me ugly, yeah."

this makes you pause. maybe you're a minority, but when stiles drives his jeep and starts talking fast about something nerdy, you imagine climbing into his lap and making him crash the car. one time you two were arguing while he was in his lacrosse uniform and you genuinely wanted to offer to suck his dick. and even right now, with his too-tight t-shirt and his frustrated face, you want to ask him to take his frustration out on you... in- in a hot way. you may have gone a little far with that one-

"would you stop looking at me like that?" he snips, eyes darting over your whole face and then your body like he's looking for the off switch. you frown up at where he stands.

"like what? i'm just in disbelief."

he rolls his eyes. "like you're gonna tackle me. it's weird, after what i just told you."

"well, maybe i do want to tackle you." oh shit, that was supposed to stay in your head! quick, make it look like it was on purpose! "the buzzcut doesn't make you ugly."

his face screws up in confusion. "well, then, what does it make me?"

"hot."

you both kinda falter, like there's nowhere to go from here. his mouth gapes open and you watch his cheeks grow pinker, much similar to your own. and since you've already dug the hole and he doesn't seem too bothered, you make it an inch or two deeper.

"you're pretty hot, stiles. i mean, you hang around scott and stay in your room, so it's not like you're around enough girls for them to tell you. and you never ask me, so... that's probably why you're unaware."

he gapes at you, a hand going to his hair like it has a whole new purpose to him. "i didn't know asking you was an option...."

"apparently it is." you shrug. your oversized t-shirt and shorts suddenly seem not pretty enough for where this conversation seems to be going, but it's too late to linger on that thought now. anyway, his eyes are on you like sniper lasers... or something... and he takes another step closer to you.

"okay, um... i'm asking you."

you raise your eyebrows. what, he just wants you to lament on how sexy he is? you're not that easy, he's probably going to use that information to chase the skirts of some long, skinny-legged girl at school. besides, there's not even that much to-

"please." he hums.

you swallow, turning your face away from him. "okay, well, you've got the whole secretly smart guy thing going on. and your nose is really nice. mix that with the way your eyes are...-"

"my eyes are what?"

you glance up to glare at his impatience. he tilts his head at you, and you swear you can see a mischievous glint in those stupid, stupid (aggravatingly sexy) eyes. bastard.

"they're, um, provocative. when you're frustrated. or focused." you turn your eyes awayyyy from his reaction, for your own safety. "and your jaw is nice, so. plus your hands-"

"my hands?"

"are you gonna keep interrupting me? 'cause i'll stop." you gripe up at him, but looking back up was a big mistake. his cheeks are tinted pink but his mouth is quirked up into a knowing little smirk, like your embarrassment is suddenly clay for him to play with. yeah, no. you are not getting stuck in this position with stiles. "okay, yeah, that's enough."

"no, nonononono wait." he crosses the rest of the distance to crouch in front of the bed, looking up at you. "i'm sorry. i'm just not used to this. or you, like this." his hand rests atop your knee. "i won't even react. keep going, just a bit?"

you pout and look at his hand as his thumb rubs back and forth on your bare skin. it's warm and relaxing and makes your whole body burn hot when his hand inches up your thigh just barely. you look back up at him, but his face is earnest, promising. you sigh.

"your buzzcut makes you look good."

his eyebrows inch up his forehead.

"really good."

stiles grins.

☆

you're not really sure if you left stiles' house or escaped it, after that. all you know is that last night did some serious damage to your ego... and some serious maintenance to his. as you leave school, your mind replays the series of events and the blush that has been plaguing your cheeks and making you overheat returns.

dammit! you had to avoid stiles all day because of this stupid embarrassment. which proved difficult, since you guys had plenty of classes together and ate lunch with each other every day since forever. you slap your cheeks as you shoulder your way past the school doors and into the parking lot, glancing over at the field where lacrosse practice is in full swing.

your eyes catch on something odd, and coach's voice fades into the background when the image registers in your mind. stiles is leaning on the fence with his helmet in hand, sweat making his skin glow and a cocky look on his face. he's leaned over the fence, chatting up three soccer girls, who all seem very interested in whatever he's saying.

this, unfortunately, does not make you happy. but alas, what are you going to do? pull him away by the ear and chastise him for... talking to girls? you just wish you hadn't said anything about his stupid buzzcut (which looks unrealistically good with his lacrosse uniform).

all three of the girls throw their heads back laughing. and it's not even, like, pretty girl flirtatious laughter. it's loud, and one of the girls slaps her friend's arm. you want to rip the arm off.

but you keep walking instead, because you decided the bus was too much and walking home was the best option. better than standing in the parking lot, staring like a creep as your best friend (who you want to messy-make-out with) finally gets girls (who you want dead).

this is going to be a pathetic walk home.

you barely get to the end of the parking lot when you hear stiles shout your name as loud as he can.

part of you wants to stomp your feet and cry, or ignore him (as if the echo didn't reverberate off of the school building), or flip him off. like a middle schooler. because right now, you don't want to deal with the humiliation of telling stiles (through mumbles and attitude) how hot he is and how badly you want him to fuck you into his mattress, only for him to use you as matchmaker for hotter, more experienced girls.

but you're not a child, and he's still your best friend. plus, his lacrosse uniform.... yum.

jesus christ, you need a drink. there is no way that thought just consciously happened.

you drag your feet walking back, and the soccer girls skip off with their ponytails swinging. stiles is smiling all big and bright when you finally reach him. you are not smiling at all. "you needed me?"

"yeah, i wanted to know if you were coming over tonight." he stands taller than you, and his buzzcut looks so touchable right now, you want to bend him down to your level and run your fingers through it. you blink up at him as you stare, and the silence stretches. his hand comes up to the back of his neck. "uhh, just 'cause i could help you with the homework we skipped yesterday-" he interrupts himself. "are you okay?"

"i'm fine. for both. the homework and the question." you press your thumb into your palm and turn towards the lacrosse field, away from his searching eyes and worried lips. "see you tomorrow, yeah?"

you start to back away from him when he steps forward, the fence catching him from coming closer to you. "well i just- you should come over. i want you to."

"stiles, i can't wait for lacrosse practice to end-"

"i'll skip. they don't even need me." he clenches his jaw when you look back at him. there's a determination in his eyes you've never seen directed at you, and it makes your stomach flip. you've never fell victim to being his prey before, when he wants something so he gets it. the feeling is unrivaled. his lips part. "please."

you can feel your cheeks flush. why does that always have to work on you?

"okay, alright, no need to beg." you nod your head to his jeep, on the far side of the parking lot. "let's go."

he does a subtle fist pump that he doesn't think you see, and hops the fence to follow you, leaving literally everything in the locker room except his car keys. "how was your day?"

you glance up at him, but only for a second when you see how he's staring. all curious and excited, probably from the attention he was getting from those soccer girls. your lips press together in distaste before you even realize.

"it was fine." you shrug, watching as he gets ahead of you to open the passenger door. "got an A on mrs. martin's project."

stiles hums in approval, which may or may not make your lower stomach fizz with butterflies. then he closes your door and makes the short jog to his side, clambering inside. "good job. you hungry?"

you shake your head as he pulls out of the parking lot, doing your best to ignore the vein in his neck when he looks over his shoulder as he backs out, hand resting on your seat. yeah, you totally don't notice that. "no thanks, i'm okay."

"are you sure? i didn't see you at lunch. or english. or-"

"i wasn't feeling well today."

this shuts him up, but not in a good way. you feel his eyes on you, even as he drives, and it makes you squirm a bit. but he doesn't comment on your icy tone, and you drive the rest of the way in silence.

☆

in fact, you're silent all the way up to his room, where you toss your bag in the corner and toe your shoes off. stiles huffs out a sigh and scrubs over his buzzcut self-consciously, tracking you with his eyes as you trail aimlessly around his room and admire the things on his walls.

he's been dying to ask it. he has to. the girls on the soccer team said... he squeezes his eyes shut while you're turned away, repeating what they said to him in his head for nth time. just be honest, and confident. that's what you'd want.

stiles takes bold strides across the room right up to you. he gives you enough room to turn around and face him, but not much more.

"hey."

you scrunch your face up just a bit in confusion. "...hi?"

he clears his throat, his jaw flexing on it's own accord. "the...- okay, when you said my buzzcut makes me look really good-"

"stiles," you scoff and push past him, walking to the middle of his room as a means of escape. "i'm not doing this with you."

"no, wait, doing what?" he scurries around you to face you again, holding you lightly by the shoulders. "waitwaitwait. you gotta let me-"

"no. stop." you're embarrassed, he can tell now. the way you turn your face away and narrow your brow, he never knew he'd be able to read you so well. but he's doing it now, and he's not happy with what he's seeing.

"no, you stop. let me ask you what i want to ask, alright?" he huffs through his nose, and watches as you seem to come to attention. it gives him an odd thrill to see you react so readily when he corrects you. "are you gonna listen to me?"

you glare up at him for a second too long before nodding slowly. he nods too, and in a impatient, annoyed tone, he grumbles: "good."

and then stiles watches your eyes flicker as you fluster much more than he expected. he didn't think much of the words when he was saying them, but here you both are, weirdly into it. he blinks hard to clear his head.

"when you said my buzzcut makes me look 'really good'," he repeats, "did you mean really good to you or to other people?"

he feels you shift your weight by the movement of your shoulders. looking away, you hum, "i don't understand why this is important to you."

stiles narrows his eyes. "yes you do. you know you're into me and you just wont say it."

you snap your eyes to his and take a challenging step forward. "who said i'm into you? just because i said you're good looking doesn't mean you get to use me as some matchmaking machine. i won't inflate your ego just so you can hook up with popular girls, stiles. you can't-"

"i'm not asking so you can inflate my ego." stiles takes a step towards you, making you step back. "i'm asking because i want to know if you were serious." another step. "because i want you to think that about me." another step, and your back hits the wall.

you watch, doe eyed, as stiles brings a hand up to push some of your hair away from your face. his eyes meet yours, but dip down when your lips part. he swallows.

"so," stiles hums, towering over you. "were you being serious?"

stiles watches in awe as your pretty mouth forms around his new favorite word.

"yes."

he half expects himself to tear both of your clothes off and go wild. but his body moves on its own accord; taking your face gently in his hands, kissing you like you're made of glass. when you reciprocate eagerly, he feels his pants start to strain. fuck. seriously? can you please pretend you've had at least some action before?

he can't believe he has to talk his dick down when he's kissing you.

pressing you back up against his bedroom wall, he feels goosebumps rise as your nails rake lightly over his buzz, and it makes him hum. stiles gently removes one hand from the curve of your jaw and slides it onto your hip instead. he loves your hips. he loves them even more when his hands are on them, apparently, because the feeling of it is otherworldly.

what's even better, though, is when your tongue collides with his and you let out a small noise. it's high-pitched and whiney, and it almost makes him finish prematurely. he licks eagerly into your mouth to try and draw it out of you again, but you seem to silence yourself from embarrassment. this does not fly with stiles. his knee draws forward and splits your thighs apart, resting in between them, and he moves down to kiss at your neck. he'll make you whine again, he's sure of it.

"wait," you breathe out. he almost doesn't catch it, too busy with the way your skin feel on his lips and how he has you up against his wall, breathless and pliant. but he pulls back (albeit reluctantly) and meets your dazed look with one of his own.

"what? is this okay? do you wanna stop?" he might actually die on the spot if you want to stop. but he'd do it, for you. his hand massages your hip where he's got you gently pinned, and he watches as it visibly makes you sway (swoon, but you'd never admit that).

"no, no. but, your dad-"

"he's out."

"he could get home anytime."

"we can be quick. we don't have to do anything more than this right now."

"stiles," you're laughing at him. it's airy, and mostly just a teasing smile, but you're still laughing at him. "are you just saying that to get me in your bed? i mean..."

your thigh, which is in between his because of his being in between yours, slides up and presses lightly against his hard-on. his jaw goes slack as the unexpected pressure washes pleasure all over his nerves, and his shoulders bend over for a moment as his hips react on their own. he stops himself, thoroughly embarrassed, and glares at you. you giggle behind your hand, raising an eyebrow. "how're you gonna say you don't want anything below the collar with that going on?"

he pushes your thigh away, shaking his head. "i never said i didn't want anything more, i said we don't have to do anything more. plus, you're the one making the noises and touching me and... so, if anything, this isn't even my fault." stiles gestures vaguely to his dick.

"i'm flattered." you deadpan, before your hand trails from his chest to his stomach. he watches in awe, still half disbelieving that he got you here. you hook your fingers into his waistband and look up at him. "promise your dad wont walk in on us?"

"can you not talk about my dad while turning me on?" he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. "swear on my life, you have nothing to worry about."

you nod and lean back against the wall, tugging him by his pants to meet you there. he follows suit, lining his body against yours as he kisses you, hands on your hips with yours running through his buzz. he captures your lower lip in his teeth and gently as he can, and you make another short, high-pitched noise again. his dick twitches in his pants.

"you wanna, um," you suck in a breath as he kisses your neck, "move to the bed?"

"yes," he sighs, and immediately pulls your hips forward and directs you to his bed. when you drop onto it and scoot back, stiles hesitates. your hair is a bit messy, lips are full, and your eyes have a glint in them he's never seen before. he's assaulted with the thought of you being his wife and having his kids and growing old and dying together, and then he blinks it away. jesus christ, you're a powerful woman.

he wants to do anything to make you look like this all the time. needy, pretty, all your insecurities and doubts kissed right off of your lips, even if it's just for a bit. is this what being horny is going to be like for him now? is he gonna be a sap when you want to fuck?

stiles crawls over you slowly, laying you back against his pillows. you're excited and it shows, and you're both smiling when he kisses you this time.

☆

he's a mess for days after, head full of the faces you make when he touches you just right, the noises coming from your mouth when you finish. the feeling of skin on skin, the picture perfect look of you wearing his shirt after. it takes scott about two and a half seconds to scrunch up his nose and make a disgusted face at stiles when he starts thinking it. your beauty is just seeping out of him, like he soaked you up and now every werewolf in a one hundred mile radius can smell the lovesick puppy on him.

you want to go on dates, too. real ones, all the time, and you think he's hot and cute and sometimes pretty, which is confusing to him but he likes it anyway. and he wants to save up his money so he can take you to a fancy restaurant. and he is so whipped.

which he's fine with. as long as it's for you. honestly, he's fine with almost anything, as long as it's for you.

☆

i didn't write smut and i apologize but my writing process is to blackout while my fingers fly across my keyboard like i'm a hacker spy until i come to and there's a story on the screen. so. smut didn't happen naturally so it ain't gonna happen at all, i guess. i dunno. ask writing star, not editing star. sorry i've been so absent, holidays is super busy with extended family and such. wish me luck. xoxo!!!

☆

BONUS!! stiles asks some poor soccer girls for help before you went to his house after lacrosse practice. the advice is... really somethin'.

"hey, um, lily?" he had to guess the name of the girl jogging past, but he got it right. she stopped and approached him skeptically, glancing at her two friends in front of her.

"yeah?" she threaded her fingers through the fence as he strided the rest of the distance to her. her two friends had begun making their way over as well. she had to squint past the sun as she stared at him. "what's up?"

"hi, hey, we have bio together. fourth period? i've sat behind you all sememster?"

her face showed no recognition.

"...anyway, i have a question. actually, i can ask all three of you. since you're, um, girls."

her two friends had approached at that point, and looked equally as put off by stiles as lily did. he cleared his throat and started on his ramble:

"so, let's say i'm best friends with this girl, and i like her. like, a lot. and she's kinda totally way out of my leauge, but we never talk about it because she doesn't see things like that anyway. and one day i get on a rant about girls and how confusing they are because, y'know," he gestured to his face like it was a tell of itself, "and she says that my biggest insecurity- err, physically- is actually really hot. and she says my hands are sexy. and my eyes are seductive. and she's like, kinda blushing a lot? but she blushes anyway about stuff around me so it doesn't really-"

"she likes you." one of lily's friends piped up behind her. "if that's what you're asking."

"are you sure? i'm not her type, plus-"

"dude," sighed the other one. the three girls shared a look, making stiles gulp. "girls don't call guys' hands sexy unless they're dying to have them in their mouth."

"mazie!" lily whirled around to slap her friend's shoulder, which did absolutely nothing to censor her. when she turned back to stiles, it was apologetically. "sorry, but she's got a point."

he slumped onto the fence in relief. "you think so? i want to put my hands in her mouth, if she's asking for that."

"nice." mazie nodded as the other two girls made noises of disgust. ignoring them, mazie continued. "honestly, she probably likes you but thinks you don't like her. especially if you're chatting up three soccer girls, looking like that."

the only girl stiles hadn't gotten the name of nodded solemly, and lily put her hands on her hips, determined. "okay, skinhead. how're you gonna confess?"

stiles smiles awkwardly. "uh, i'll just tell her when she comes over tonight?"

lily barked out a laugh, and her two friends followed suit. it was loud, like three crows making fun of him while they toss their heads back. it ended abruptly, too, and lily glared daggers at him in the silence. "no, idiot."

stiles whimpered a little "oh."

"girls love confidence." the unnamed girl declared, tilting her head. "when i flirt with girls i always make them like, say how hot i am. always gets them going."

"god," lily scrunched her nose, "are you both ovulating? we do not need to know all of that."

"so... what should i do?" stiles blinked at them, and they refocused their attention on him.

"be confident. be honest. that's always a rare, and hot, trait in a guy." lily said, before her eyes roved over him analytically. "anyway, you're attractive. it'll be fine."

"he's attractive?" the unnamed girl said, making all three of them laugh again. lily slapped her arm, and stiles let himself get distracted as his eye caught on someone walking across the parking lot.

oh, it's you.

his body feels a bit warmer, buzzing with nervous energy, as he shouts your name.

☆

[noelan1]

Zoom in for better results 🤭

[daintylovers]

oh yeah

[mssorceressupreme]

Saviour | Minho x Reader

Summary: the gladers pull a prank on you, stealing your clothes while you’re showering, leaving you stranded there with nothing at all. Minho accidentally walks in on you, and you ask him for a favour.

Warnings: mild bullying/teasing

——

The hot water felt like a rare luxury, washing away the grime and exhaustion from your time in the glade. Being the newest member, or greenie, as they called you, meant that every day was a new challenge, full of unfamiliar faces and daunting tasks.

The shower was the only place where you could find a moment of peace, especially since you were the only girl.

You had just finished lathering up and rinsing off when you heard faint giggles and whispers outside. You dismissed it, assuming it was just some of the boys messing around.

But as you turned off the water and reached for your clothes from the shared clothing rack outside, panic set in. The rack was empty. Your clothes were gone.

All that was left was a tiny towel which you brought with you inside the shower. And it was barely enough to cover you.

Given that it was only boys in the glade before you arrived, there wasn’t a need for shower hooks or racks inside the shower, as most of them wandered around freely without a single care, grabbing their clothes from the shared rack outside the shower station and proceeding with their day as usual.

Your heart ached as you clutched the towel around yourself. There was no way you could step out like this. You were stuck, anxious and scared, not knowing what to do.

Minutes ticked by, and your mind was a whirl of panic and embarrassment. You were so caught up in fear that you didn’t hear the door open.

Minho opened the door, a white towel wrapped around his waist, revealing his well-carved and defined abs. You knew that being a runner meant that he was fit, but wow, he was truly fit.

“Ah-I’m in here—” you shouted, voice trembling. Moving to the corner of the shower to distance yourself from Minho.

Minho froze, his eyes wide with shock and embarrassment as he saw you without any apparel except for the tiny towel, “Oh, uh, sorry! I didn’t think anyone was in here.” He turned around, closing the door.

“Wait—please, don’t go!” You pleaded, desperately.

Though this was your first time properly interacting with Minho, you felt that he was someone you could trust.

You saw Minho come to a halt outside from the opening beneath the shower door, his feet facing towards the door now, “You need something?” His voice curious, a hint of concern.

“Someone stole my clothes, and I can’t leave like this—please, I feel so humiliated…” you felt a lump in your throat, eyes welling up from this situation, honestly, it was a combination of emotions making you feel on the verge of tears. The feeling of being in this new unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people was petrifying.

Realisation dawned on Minho, and he frowned. On his way back from the maze, he recalled a group of gladers running around and sniggering, carrying clothes that seemed a bit too small for them. “Stay right here. I’ll handle this.”

He left the shower station and you sank to the floor. Clutching the tiny towel around you.

Moments later, you heard Minho’s voice, angry and authoritative, echoing through the compound.

“Hey! Get back here, you shanks!”

Through the small hole in the shower, you saw Minho, dripping wet, chasing after a group of gladers. His towel was barely holding on, his muscular build flexing as his ran. Despite your predicament, you couldn’t help but admire him.

“If you ever pull something like that again, I’ll have Alby put you guys in the pit! And if you’re still not careful, banished.” He was stern, no glimmer of kindness.

Though he wasn’t first or second in command, the gladers held Minho highly. His position as keeper of the runners was much respected, especially since it would be him, of all people, finding the way out for you. It was no easy job, even you knew he was someone important when Newt explained who Minho was before you even saw him.

A few minutes later, Minho knocked on the door, “Still here greenie?”

You slowly opened the door, reaching your hand out to grab your clothes from him. His face was flushed, a mix of anger and exertion, “Here,” he said, as he handed them to you. “I’m sorry about those shuckheads. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, “I really appreciate it.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “I’ll wait outside to make sure no one bothers you.”

You quickly dressed, feeling a mix of gratitude and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

When you stepped out, Minho was leaning against the wall, his eyes scanning the area protectively.

“Thank you Minho,” you said again, feeling the need to express my gratitude. The awkwardness from earlier became a foreign feeling, for some reason, it was comforting to be in his presence despite him seeing you cloth-less just now.

“It’s no problem,” he replied gently, “We look out for each other here. I’ll make sure no one messes with you again.”

You shared a moment of silence. A sweet but short gaze into those warm brown eyes of his, before he cleared his throat.

“Well uh, I better clean up before the builders hog the stalls, but catch you at dinner?” Minho smiled.

“Oh yeah right—yeah, see you at dinner!” You jogged off.

——

Dinner time arrived in a matter of moments. It was a chaotic affair with everyone crowding into the dining hall, laughing and talking loudly.

You scanned the room and spotted Minho, who waved over to with him and the other runners. Relief warned over you as you made your way through the crowd to his side.

For the first time you had someone to sit with, it felt nice to have a friend.

We barely settled into our seats when a group of boys approached our table, the same ones who had pulled the prank earlier.

“Need your boyfriend to get your clothes for you again?” One of them sneered. “Want him to serve you dinner too?”

Heat rushed to my cheeks as they laughed, their teasing hitting a sore spot. Being the only girl in the glade was hard enough without their torment.

Minho’s expression darkened, and he stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor which darted most of the attention towards him, “You better shut up before I make you,” he gritted his teeth.

He had no idea where this sudden protective instinct was coming from, especially since you barely know each other, but he felt the overwhelming urge to protect you.

The laughter stopped abruptly as the boys realised that Minho was serious. Tension crackled in the air and for a moment, it seemed like a fight was inevitable.

They stood face to face, Minho’s fist tightening as he clenched his jaw.

Just then, Alby and Newt appeared, quickly moving to pull Minho back. “Calm down, Minho.” Alby said firmly, placing a hand on his chest.

“Yeah they’re not worth it,” you added, stepping forward to calm him. You placed a hand on his arm, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch.

Minho looked down at you, his anger slowly dissipating. He let out a frustrated sigh and allowed himself to be guided back to his seat. The boys, seeing they were outnumbered, backed off, muttering under their breaths.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly once you were seated again.

“Yeah, I just hate seeing them treat you like that. If they weren’t so lucky, they’d be banished by now.” Minho replied, his eyes smouldering with residual anger. “I just don’t want anyone hurting you.”

You held your breath, before placing your hand on his, both of you jolting slightly at the contact of your hands, it was an all too familiar touch. You smiled softly at him.

His protectiveness touched you deeply. Despite the touch exterior, there was a kindness in him that made you feel safe.

“Can I stay with you for the rest of the evening?” You asked hesitantly, “I just…I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Minho nodded, a small but assuring smile, “Of course.”

The rest of the evening, you grabbed dinner and found a quiet spot away from the others. You talked, shared stories, and slowly, a bond began to form between you.

Minho’s presence was a comfort, and the more time you spent with him, the more you realised how much you liked him. Could this friendship turn into something more? You wondered.

As the night wore on, and the glade fell silent, Minho walked you back to your hammock. “Thank you for today,” you looked up at him with an appreciative smile, you truly did not know what you would have done without him.

“Anytime greenie,” he replied, a warm smile playing on his lips, “I’ll always be here for you.”

[mae-gi-writes]

Arch-nemesis . Gally (themazerunner)

There's a thin line between love and hate, especially when it concerns Gally.

A/N: I've re-watched the three Maze Runner movies and now I'm obsessed and getting back onto the TMR fantrain so bear with me and the future fics I've already got saved in my drafts TT 3 TT ------

You hate him with all your heart.

Truthfully, honestly. There isn’t anyone you hate more than this stupid asshole that thinks that he’s the centre of the earth.

You met him only when he’d been brought in by Lawrence and a few of his other guys, having been there just for a few weeks prior. Thinking that this might be your chance to make a new friend, you’d sidled over to him with a small smile as you asked for his name. That didn’t go as smoothly as you thought when he just grunted out his name in response and turned away from you like you were a pest instead.

But it isn’t just that. It’s the way he says your name in that really aggravating tone that grates at your nerves. It’s the way he always insists it’s your fault when you’re out on missions and come back with no updates. It’s the way he bullies you and calls you names whenever your paths cross and it makes you want to gouge his eyes out. It’s enough to say that you know Gally now and you know exactly what he’s made of. That, and the fact that you’d stay far away from him as you possibly could if that was an option.

“You’re loading it up wrong shank-face,” he’d tell you as you were re-filling your gun.

“Shut up Gally, I’m doing it properly.”

“Don’t come crying to me when the gun doesn’t work.”

“It’s none of your business if it doesn’t work.”

“It is my business if you’re gonna—“

“Right that’s enough,” your mentor and leader called Jared had to step in, like he did numerous times, to get you to cool off. You’d storm away in a fit of annoyance and irritation, hating how easily Gally got under your skin.

It’s been a few weeks since weird sightings of stray immunes have circulated the area and in reply to this, Lawrence had set you up for a mission with Gally to scout the outer walls of the Last City. That had only caused you to grumble about the unfairness of the situation.

“Why do I have to go?” Your eyes narrow at the familiar tall figure lingering in your peripheral. Gally is busy setting up his weapons as you try to plead your case, seemingly uncaring about your protests, “and with him of all people? We don’t work well together Lawrence—“

“Everyone else is taken or busy with other tasks. Meaning that only you two are free,” Lawrence cuts you off without a hint of sympathy, “so either you do as you’re told or you can leave Y/N. As simple as that.”

In the end you have no choice but to abide by his rules, strapping up your weapons and defenses before Gally calls out your name. You turn just in time to catch the water bottle he sends your way, yelping in the process.

“You’re looking a little distraught, shank-face,” he smirks at you from where he stands loading up the provisions, “scared of what you’ll find out there? If you ain’t good enough, just don’t come and waste people’s time.”

“Nobody asked for your opinion, ugly brows.”

“I’m just worried you might slow me down. I’m not a goddamn babysitter.”

“I didn’t ask for one, now will you shut up and stop talking?”

“I’m surprised these two haven’t killed each other off yet,” murmurs one of Lawrence’s men.

“Killed or kissed you mean,” Jared lets out a chuckle.

These words are enough to cause the others to look at him with shocked faces, “what do you mean?”

“Isn’t it clear?” Jared motions towards the two currently bickering, “bet that by tomorrow night these two will get together.”

“I bet they last a week before they kiss.” Another says.

“Oh come on, I’m betting two weeks. Gally isn’t that type of guy.”

“What about me?” Gally’s voice causes them all to shut up, looking at him with guilty smiles and with shakes of their heads.

“Nothing to worry about Maze boy,” Jared flicks him off with a wave of his hand, “now off you go, both of you. And I expect some good news when you return.”

“Of any kind,” someone adds quietly, to which they all cackle.

You’ve toured the city a million times before in search of any kind of entrances that might lead to the inside, where all of Wicked laid. So it’s nothing out of your depth to follow Gally around as you survey the area and scout for more sources of information.

In all honesty, touring with Gally isn’t that much different from anyone else. On the contrary, Gally’s determined nature conjoined with his natural physical ability to excel just renders him an even more ideal battle partner. Not that you’ll ever tell him that. It will surely come bite you in the ass later when you least expect it.

You’re almost at the perimeter when you notice something off about one of the citizens. It’s a little girl, her face contorted in a grimace as she holds her hands in front of her tummy. For a moment, she sways in the middle of the crowd and you’re about to dismiss it, when another figure stalks in and takes a swipe at her with a stick.

The girl yelps as the stick hits her knees, crumbling to the floor like a sack of bones.

Before you know it, you’re sprinting towards her, anger flaring through your chest as your hands steady themselves on the gun. You barely hear Gally’s voice as you stumble in front of the kid just in time to point your weapon at the older man.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You hiss at him.

The man’s eyes widen. He takes a step back, “no no, get away from her, you don’t understand—“

“Understand what? That you were going to beat her to death?” You click your gun into place, “nice try old man, now tell me—“

“Get away from her!” He yells at you, “she’s not normal! She’s—“

And a growl erupts from behind you. You swivel around in panic, eyes going wide upon noticing for the first time the dark patch close to her eyes.

The Flare.

The girl twitches. A small sob falls from her mouth. Your heart jumps to your throat, stumbling back half a step as weird animalistic noises echo from her mouth.

And then, she pounces.

You yell out something— you’re not too sure what — and are about to knock her on the head as she throws herself at you—

A bullet explodes on the right side of her brain and she falls to the ground like a puppet.

You stare at her for a minute. One more.

Your gaze slowly trails up to see familiar booted feet.

“What were you even thinking?”

Gally’s voice is usually deep. But this time, even you can’t stand up to the anger simmering in his voice. It’s dark and holds some kind of laced savagery that makes your toes curl in apprehension.

He takes your silence as guilt before grabbing onto your arm and roughly pulling you out of the crowd. He doesn’t stop and for once you don’t fight him, still not over the shock of seeing that poor girl’s face, the crazed look in her eyes. You’re so deep in your thoughts that you don’t realize you’re at your truck until Gally practically throws you against its side.

Your back digs into the metal and you grunt at the impact, the ache stinging your spine. But before you can do anything else, huge palms come to a rest on either side of your head.

Gally leans into you, so close that you can feel the heat radiate off him in waves.

“What the fuck was that about?” He growls, voice dropping even lower.

Somehow, it causes a shiver to run up your spine. Not one of fear, something else. Something that makes your stomach squeeze into knots.

“I—“ for once, you don’t seem to have any words. Instead your head turns away from Gally’s eyes as you bite down onto your lower lip, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” He scoffs, laughs to himself before his gaze hardens once more, “sorry for what Y/N? For almost getting yourself killed? Are you insane?! She could’ve literally infected you and you—“

“I didn’t know she was infected.” You tried to protest.

That seems to aggravate him even more, “You didn’t even bother to check!” His nostrils flare.

“Well I said I’m sorry!”

“Sorry’s not going to cut it if you turn into one of those Cranks you stupid slinthead! You need to be more responsible! I literally turn away for one minute and you’re—“

“Oh stop exaggerating Gally. I was trying to protect her—“

“Yeah and look how that ended!”

You snap, “why are you so pissed? It was an accident and I already said sorry!”

“It’s not just that Y/N!” He yells with such emotion that his face flushes red, “What if I wasn’t there? What would you have done then?!”

“Why the fuck do you care? You wanted me gone—“

Your words cut off in mid-conversation when his large hands suddenly cup your face before pulling you in to crash his lips against yours.

Your eyes widen, brain freezing, as butterflies erupt through your stomach.

Wow.

Is this what a kiss is?

And this is Gally, kissing you like he means it.

It's almost like time has stopped.

Heart pounding, your body slowly melts against his. You’re in a trance-like state, watching yourself crumble under his fingertips that he places right under your jaw, his other hand sliding down to your hip to pin you in place.

The kiss is surprisingly gentle yet firm. His mouth moves slowly, hesitantly, almost like he fears breaking you. And yet, when you respond with a soft movement of your own, the rumble of his chest has your stomach squeezing with adrenaline.

You’re not too sure what’s happening. Here you are, with the world’s biggest dick, kissing him like he’s your lover when all you’ve ever wanted was to kick him in the face for being a class A asshole.

But it’s weird because this, however, feels so right. Like you’re meant to be locking lips, like he doesn’t want anyone else in his arms but you. And when he cages you in his hold with even more intensity it makes you gasp, causing him to slip his tongue into your mouth with an ease that has you parting like melted butter.

Slowly, your hands trail up to his chest, grabbing hold of his dark tunic and tugging slightly as his teeth suckle onto your bottom lip. A noise echoes from the back of your throat and he growls in response, pressing you even harder so that your head tilts back against the truck’s surface.

You need air at some point and so break away from him with a small gasp, chest heaving.

Gally doesn’t hesitate. He dives down to press a kiss to the side of your jaw, down your neck, imprinting his mouth over your skin over and over again in a way that has your body shuddering with delight. Big hand sliding down to the back of your neck to pull you even closer into him, the young man’s lips find a soft spot at your pulse point, causing a whine to fall from your lips at his action.

His chest rumbles in satisfaction and before you know it he’s back to kissing you. This time it’s more heated; mouths clashing and teeth clicking and tongues battling.

And then, the reality of the situation hits you straight in the face.

You freeze. What in the shucking world are you even doing?

You’re making out with Gally, right beside your truck. In broad daylight.

The thought alone makes your hands push him away and your lips disconnect with a small ‘pop’ sound.

You’re gasping for breath at this point, eyes wide as they flutter up to lock onto his own and you’re surprised at what you find there.

There’s some sort of softness, genuine care and something more, something darker that you can’t really put your finger on.

It makes you want him.

You want him.

Shuck’s sake.

“Y/N—“ Gally starts but you’re already moving out of his hold, slipping away from his warmth and suddenly it feels a little too cold.

You shake your head at him, decide it’s best to keep your eyes away as you open the door to the passenger seat, “let’s go. We have a mission to finish.”

You don’t want to talk about it.

————

It’s been days.

Days since the incident.

Days since you’ve been trying to get Gally out of your head.

You don’t understand why he’s having such an effect on you. Theoretically speaking, you should’ve bashed his head in and turned him over to Lawrence for sexual assault.

But you haven’t, and he’s also probably questioning why.

As a result, you’ve done everything in your power to avoid him. You wake up thirty minutes earlier to eat your breakfast so that you don’t have to bump into him at the table, you take the first errands that come to you — the boring ones like refilling tanks and getting the food supplies and guarding their premises. All that so that you don’t have to deal with Gally’s bullying.

Well, not that you’ve heard from him much either.

“What happened between you two?” Jared asks one evening as you help him move the supplies fresh from the last raid from the Last City.

“What?” You stare at him blankly, “what are you talking about?”

“You and Gally. You had a fight or something?”

“When are we not?” You snort, though you can’t deny the flush creeping up your neck as the memory of Gally’s body against yours resurfaces.

“Well I know you fight, but you’ve been ignoring each other.”

“And? Why is that a concern? Shouldn’t you be glad there’s less noise?”

“You’ve got a point I suppose.”

You don’t tell him it’s because you’re nervous of all the things that keep flashing through your head. You don’t tell him about how you keep on thinking of Gally’s mouth on yours, the lingering taste of him like a ghost along your lips. You don’t have to and you don’t want to, because you know that it’s going to entertain an idea far too surreal and ridiculous for you to think about.

It isn’t until a few days after your little mishap that Gally finds you in the storage room. You’ve woken up early to help the newest recruit unpack the food supplies just loaded into the main building dock, only to find out that he had this massive crush on you.

So you’ve been trying to bat him off all morning despite his most desperate attempts.

“Just give me a chance Y/N,” he says as he takes a box from your hands with a wink, “I promise I won’t make you regret it.”

You snort, “no thanks,” and turn back to keep unloading.

But he makes a grab for your hand. You yelp, pulling it out of his grasp, “what do you think you’re doing—“

“You think you’re so tough huh?” He makes another grab for your forearm this time and cages you into his grip. You try to wriggle out to no avail, his fingers squeezing so hard that you let out a cry of pain, “ow—“let me go, asshole.”

“Not until you agree.”

Your glare deepens, “I said no.”

He pulls you closer, stinky breath washing over your face and making you want to barf, “did I tell you how sexy you are when you try to act all tough and shit? I mean that’s literally—“

“Get your hands off her.”

He freezes. You do too. You recognize that voice. You could've recognized that anywhere. Your head tilts over.

Gally.

Oh.

Eyes widening at the sight, you quickly pull your arm away when the newbie drops it in shock.

“Move away,” Gally’s voice drops an octave and causes a string of butterflies to erupt through your chest, “now.”

The newbie frowns, “Who’re you to boss me around?”

“I said: Now.”

And maybe it’s the fact that Gally seems to straighten when he says it so it looks like he’s towering over the other boy, but the latter mutters a curse word under his breath and finally relents, throwing you a scowl in the process as he ducks out of the storage room.

You can’t help but lock eyes with your savior, though quickly averting your eyes in embarrassment as you resume stacking boxes after boxes. You hope that he’s just going to turn around and act ignorant, just like these past few days.

“Y/N.”

You don’t answer, resolutely trying your best to act busy.

“Y/N.”

Maybe it’s the way he says your name that makes you turn impulsively. Your eyes flit to his face, then look back down to his chest. A safer bet, “what?”

He takes a step closer, and another, and another. You swallow thickly, feeling your throat clog up with emotion as you stumble back against the boxes until no escape seems available.

Why is it that you’re always getting trapped by him?

“W—What is it?” You stammer out in hopes he can’t hear how wild your heart is beating, "What do you want?"

He lets out a soft sigh and seems to drop his shoulders in defeat, opening up his palms in a sign of defeat, "I just--I think we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Y/N--"

"No Gally," you whip around then with eyes narrowed into slits and your fists curled beside you, "if this is about what happened in the Last City, I don't want to talk about it. It was a stupid shucking mistake and--"

"Stop using Glader slang," he interrupts like a smart-ass and you all but growl at him in irritation, "it doesn't suit you."

"Oh shut up already," you whip around and decide that it's useless to try and have a civil conversation. You'd rather focus your energy on finishing off your task.

But seems that he's determined to bug you, for you feel the warmth of his hand imprint itself on your forearm before he's tugging you. Not too harshly, gently enough that you could've stopped if you wanted to.

You let yourself turn around, cursing inwardly at how the closeness between your two bodies is rendering you a little breathless, a little weak in the knees. He's so close that you have to tilt your head up to look at him, and what you see in his gaze makes your heart skitter.

"It wasn't," he murmurs, "a mistake."

"It was a mistake," you shoot back straightaway, "we can just forget about it--"

"I don't want to. I--" he clears his throat, looks away for a second. And when his eyes find yours once again you feel your breath catch in your throat because he's looking at you in a certain way. That way. With the same kind of tenderness that makes you want to wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his chest and smell the earthly, Gally scent that had wrapped around you back when you'd kissed--

No.

You almost smack yourself, horrified. What in the world are you thinking?!

"I like you, Y/N." Gally’s voice jerks you back to reality, “I like you a shuck lot and—“

“Don’t,” you press a finger to his lips as you try desperately to put some distance between, shaking your head in horror, “no no, you don’t like me. You like me ‘cause I’m the only girl around here and it’s just your hormones talking—“

He shakes you off, “what are you on about?” He frowns before grabbing both your hands to cage them in his grip, “I know what I feel Y/N. Don’t tell me otherwise—“

“Gally please,” you scramble for coherent thought but logic is slipping away by the second. Even more so when he’s tugging you gently to him, even more when his face is a picture of softness and affection, “we hate each other’s guts—“

“I never said that.” He pauses to read your expression, fear suddenly flickering in his expression, “do you hate me?”

“I—“ the words get tangled in your mouth. You want to tell him you hate him, loathe him with all your heart and that you just want him gone and that you hates his kiss.

But you can’t.

Because it’s a lie, the truth is that you think your heart beats for him. You’re not sure since when, but that kiss had confirmed it surely enough: you like Gally more than you think you do. And that thought is terrifying.

You’re so close to him that if you let your hands drop they’ll brush against his chest, so close that you can feel his warm breath fanning across your skin and the heat of his jody permeating to yours.

Ducking your head in embarrassment, you bite down onto your lower lip.

“Answer my question, Y/N.”

You swallow thickly, “I—I don’t know.”

Gally looks down at you still, not giving you the easy way out you would’ve preferred and you find yourself crumbling under his stare.

“No,” you whisper, “I don’t hate you.”

He shifts a little closer still, eyes flitting down to your lips in a silent question.

Your breath catches. Your mouth parts. His scent wraps around you like a soft cocoon.

And then you’re lifting yourself up to kiss him.

He makes a noise of surprise at the back of his throat and you grin to yourself, loving that you caught him off guard. But that doesn’t last, for his big hands quickly drop yours to wrap around your waist before pulling your body to his and kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in ages, like he’s missed you, like he wants to do this forever.

Gally, you soon realize, kisses with his entire intention, not leaving one part of your mouth untouched and adamant on making you go pliant in his hold. You allow yourself to back up as he prods you, until your back hits one of the storage boxes hazardly stacked one atop the other, and Gally doesn't hesitate to press his chest against yours as a soft moan echoes from the back of his throat.

As his lips curve against yours in the most intimate of manners, your hands seem to take on a life of their own as they travel up his chest, caress the broadness of his shoulders, before wrapping around the back of his neck and teasing the soft baby hairs found there. You feel him grinning into your mouth and soon enough you're grinning too, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath.

"Not bad at all," Gally murmurs, stealing a kiss from you and causing your face to flush deep red, "for someone who can't load a gun properly."

"I can too load my gun properly," you pinch him playfully and he responds with laughter.

That's when you hear your mentor's voice booming with surprise from the front entrance of the storage room:

"Well look what we have here! I told you guys they wouldn't last a week!"

[majesty31]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 | 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚑𝚘 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝒂/𝒏: 𝑯𝒊𝒊, 𝒔𝒐 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒐 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒚 𝒓𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅, 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒍, 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉, 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔/𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: 𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉, 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒓𝒔, 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅, 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒈

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟑𝒌

The day you first entered the maze you knew something was off, not just the obvious fast that you were a girl in a glade full of boys but also your memories. You remembered. And not just the little bits and pieces the other boys did but you remembered faces, names, and the maze.

You didn't know the reason why you'd been sent to the maze, and you didn't remember who had sent you there but you remembered the maze and the glade, as if you'd been their before or seen it somewhere. You remembered the boys, you recognized their faces and that freaked you out more than you let yourself know. But there was one boy who you recognized more than the rest, you knew his name before he told you it and you knew he was a runner.

Minho.

You never shared this with any of the boys for you knew that they would most likely throw you in the maze to die. You feared everyone when you realized it, feared they would kill you, slice you in half and string you up for everyone to remember, so you stayed away from everyone and never talked. You felt something deep in your chest that made you feel as if you were different from them, as if you were sent here for different reasons. And it scared you.

All the boys were really nice to you, they all tired to get you come out of your shell, they would tell you it was okay to be scared but they didn't understand the reasons you were scared in the first place. You didn't fear the maze or the things that were inside, you feared them, and your secret.

And after two months of silence from you they all begun to wonder and worry. They made up their own conclusions as to why you never spoke and why you shut down whenever they came near. Some said you were just a scared little girl, others said you were mute and the rest said you were stupid. They were a wrong, they didn't know a thing about anything. About the maze, about the people who sent you all here. They were as clueless as a lamb for the slaughter.

But you hated it in there, you hated being trapped, you hated being the only one with memories and you hated that you didn't know why the hell they put you in there. Why they put all of them in there. No matter how hard you raked your brain you just couldn't think of one reason.

"Minho," You were surprised at the sound of your voice, it was a lot different than you had expected, and Minho who had turned around so fast that the water in his cup splashed all over your face must have thought the same thing.

That morning you had woken up and thought enough was enough, you were going to stop hiding around and wallowing in your own self pity and do something to get out. You were done with not talking, you were done with ignoring everyone and you were done with wondering how the hell to get out of here. It was time to go in there and see for yourself. And Minho was the one and only way to do that.

"Holy shuck," He whispered, stepping closer to your wet form, he didn't seem to notice how your face was dripping or it was just that he didn't care. His face was full of shock, or was it awe? You didn't know, all you did know was the way Minho was looking at you right now made your stomach turn in a way you've never felt before. "Say that again,"

"Do you not see my face?" You questioned, refuring to the water still dripping off. Then it seemed to click. His eyes widened and a small smirk made way on his face. One that you loved.

"Sorry," He said as he tired wiping it away with his sleeve, which only irritated you more. You pushed his arm away but he didn't even seem to care, for the look in his eyes never vanished. He seemed as if in a daze, or dream.

"Will you stop?" You questioned, shifting under his stare.

"Stop what?"

"That,"

"What?"

"Never mind its not important, what is important is why I came to talk to you," You said with a roll of your eyes, this only made the boy worse it seemed. You furrowed your brows but continued. "Uh anyways. I came here because I wanted to ask you about becoming a runner," It grew silent for what felt like forever, as if he was processing what you had just said.

"Are you joking?"

"Does it look like I joke?" He scanned your serious face for what also felt like forever.

"You? The girl whose never said a single word since she came from the box for who knows why wants to become a runner?" You nodded. And then he started laughing. You stared, watched and waited until he was done. Your jaw was clenched as were your fits. You did not find this funny.

"I'm serous. I think I can help,"

"I don't think so shebean," He patted the top of your head as if you were some child which only added to the irritation. You slapped his hand away before grabbing him by the coler of his shift and pulled his stunned face twards yours, your lips close, and your eyes never left his wide ones.

"Don't treat me like a child Minho. I know you must think the reason why I didn't talk was because I was scared but you sorely wrong. I know more than you think about the maze, I know I can help you, I can help us all get out. I know you haven't found a way out, I know you've searched the whole damn place and still nothing. You've lost hope and you think there is no way out, but I know there is and I can help you find it," He stood there shocked, his mouth opened but he didn't have a word to say.

"Okay," And thats how you became a runner. For the next week you trained and then finally you went into the maze. And it was like you expected, all familiar. You didn't feel scared as you ran next to Minho, and you realized how you already started turning before Minho had even told you were to go, as if you knew the way.

And Minho noticed this. He noticed it all. He saw the way you knew the maze as if it were written on the back of your hand, he saw the way you knew the order to which walls would open what days and it was starting to scare him. You knew far to much for someone who just started. But as much as it scared him he never said a word, he was going to at first but than something happened.

You happened.

He started to fall for you, and he hated himself for it. He was like every other shuck face in the stupid glade. But he didn't care, for when he was with you which seemed to be all the time, he felt as if he weren't in the glade, he felt as if they weren't trapped in a death prison with no escape. He felt alive, he felt sane and he felt a sense of normality.

And he just couldn't seem to get enough of you, you felt like a drug to him, and he caught himself thinking about you at the most random times, he would think about you in the dead of night, when everyone was asleep he was up, thinking about you. And he just couldn't keep you out of his head, no matter how hard he tried it just seemed impossible.

As for you, you felt a connection with the boy, one you've never felt, one you never thought could even be possible. He was like you other half, as if someone had ripped you apart and know you had found each other, making the other whole again. But you were still scared, each night you would have dreams, each reveling more and more of the past, and each one was filled with Minho.

You didn't know if they were just dreams or if they were memories, you hoped each morning they were just dreams for what you did to him was something you knew he would never forgive you for, something he would maybe even kill you for.

So you kept you mouth shut about them as-well.

And after three months another greenie had come up, one that you recognized in an instant, and before you even remembered his name you did. You had seen him in your dreams, but he was different, he was reblouse, and you knew he did something to get him put down here, but you just couldn't remember what it was. And it was driving you crazy. For you had little bits and pieces of it but not the full puzzle.

And too soon, much to soon the boy became a runner, a lot of things started going wrong the second he showed up, and everyone saw this. But no one said a word about it other than Gally of course. But the rest saw hope in him, a hope that maybe he was the key to getting out, so when Minho had declared him a runner everyone kept their mouths shut when you three entered the maze.

But that day, was a day you would never forget, a day you wished never happened, a day he wished never happened.

You were running a good distance behind Thomas and Minho, looking around the maze when you spotted it. It looked awful, worse than any nightmare, worse than any monster and you new that you wouldn't be able to get away from this thing. It was too close.

But you tired anyways, yelling out to the boys and running faster than you had before, the greavior right at your heels, screaming and snapping its jaw as if trying to catch you in its mouth.

When Minho saw you he knew, and it made his heart drop, it was too close, it was too fast, and you were already tired from the run. He could see you struggling to keep moving, he felt sick to his stomach when he saw the cold fear laced in your eyes, he wanted to run towards you and take your place but Thomas grabbed his shirt pulling him to run before him.

But Minho stopped running altogether the second he heard your screams, screams he knew he'd hear in his nightmares, screams that made his heart shatter into a million pieces. He turned around, his eyes going towards your screaming and bloody form that was laid on the cold stone floor. The greivor was on-top of you, its jaw inches from your crying face, the only thing that kept it away was the stick that was pressed agents it, one that you must have found near you.

He had never heard cries or screams like this and he hopped he would never hear them again. He tired running towards you but thomas held him back, yelling at him to keep going and how it was to late for you, but Minho was barely listening to him, his eyes were fixed on you. He felt his whole body shaking, he thought he might cry, yell something, anything. This couldn't be your ending. He didn't even get to say everything he wanted to. He never told you his feelings, or how much he thought about you, or how he craved to be kissed by you or even just hugged by you.

It all felt as if it were happening in slow motion, Thomas's yelling was background noise, as was you, all he could hear were the same thoughts in his head. You can't leave her. You can't leave her. You love her. You love her! They were yelling at him. His heart felt as if it would explode, he just wanted this nightmare to end. It had to end now!

You screamed louder, so loud that Minho was sure they heard you from all the way in the glade. You felt something stab your side and just like that you blacked out.

Minho and Thomas ran towards you the second the greavior ran off, leaving you there, bloody, crying and violent. You were stung. Dread filled both boys when they saw you, how you acted. They knew. And no matter what you were ruined.

They dragged your body back to the glade, all of the boys were already at the opening. They must have heard your screams.

~~~

You woke up with a gasp, sitting up with wide eyes as you looked around the room, trying to figure out where the hell you were. The room was dark, and empty except for a body that was slouched over on a chair. Minho.

You tired moving off the bed but this only woke him, cauing him to move towards you, worry written all over his face. You back away, tears coming to your eyes and your hands pushing at him. He was confused, and looked to be scared. You don't think you've ever seen him scared.

"Y/N wha-"

"Get away from me!" You yelled, falling off the bed completely when he tired to reach out to you again. You were quick to stand up but he was also quick to reach you.

"What the shuck is going o-"

"Stop Minho please don't come near-"

"Why not!? What did I do? What did you see?" Your hands were shaking, your face was wet and you were so scared. He could see it. And it only made him more and more worried.

"You," He blinked, confusion taking over all other emotion.

"What?"

"I saw." You paused, catching your breath and calming your nerves. "I saw you,"

"What did you see?" He asked again. Stepping a little closer. You looked at the ground, knowing if you told him you might lose him forever. You had grown to love him, and you were starting to wonder if maybe he felt the same.

"You will hate me Minho,"

"I couldn't ever hate you." You shock your head. He was right in front of you now. You could see his shoes and feel his warmed. He lifted your chin, his eyes connecting with yours. "It doesnt matter what you saw."

"Yes it does," You whispered, taking his hand away from your face. "Minho. I did this to you." His brows furrowed.

"Did what?" He already knew what you were talking about and he didn't know why he was even asking, but he wanted to hear it from you.

"I put you in here. The whole time you were here I was-I was watching from the other side. I saw everything that happened to you. I was in charge of you Minho," He blinked. And everything clicked. Why you knew so much about the maze. He didn't even know what to say, he didn't know how to react.

"What?" His voice was quiet, you've never heard him so quiet. He seemed confused, betrayed and hurt. He backed away from you causing your heart to drop to your stomach.

"I-I was your doctor, I did the tests. You were my test subject, you were the one I was responsible for..." You stopped, your voice breaking when you saw a tear slip from his eyes.

"You?" He was hurt, his heart was shattered. "You did this to me!" He yelled, making you flinch. He trusted you, more than he's ever trusted anyone else before, he fucking fell in love with you. And you were behind all of this! He couldn't believe his ears. He didn't want to believe it.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Sorry doesn't do shit! It doesn't make it all better! No matter what you fucking sa..." He paused, looking at the ground as you heard a sob. "You did this damage to me, to us. You traumatized us all and for what?"

"I-I don-" He moved so fast, so fast that you got wiplash. He pushed you agents the wall, taking both hands and pinning them to the wall.

"You what!?" He yelled. You let out a sob, shaking your head as you looked down. "Look at me!" You didn't do it, you couldn't look into his eyes without it ripping your soul into pieces. But he lifted your chin up, making you look into his eyes. "You what?"

"I don't know why, it hasn't all come back to me yet," he let go of you and took a step back, giving a small laugh as he shock his head.

"Isn't that fucking convenient," You were scared. He never acted this way. "You don't remember why. But it must have been pretty fucking important if it meant to traumatize and experiment on teenagers. Fucking children!"

"But that isn't me anymore!" You yelled back. "I don't know who that girl is anymore. I don..." You felt as if you were going to have a panic attack, you didn't know how to explain it to him, and you were so scared you had just lost him forever.

"Y/N?" His voice was like a background noise. You felt lightheaded and so warm. This wasn't good. You felt yourself waver and stumble. And soon he was right by your side, holding onto you so you wouldnt fall.

"Minho," You cried. "I know. I know you hate me right now," You felt as if you were going to black out at any moment now but you had to say this before. "But I would never do anything she did. I would never hurt you, and I'm so sorry I did," You were only being held up my Minho at this point. You couldn't see his face, you couldn't hear his voice. And then you blacked out.

[m30wk1ttycat]

maze runner masterlist !

› updated: 30.11.24, masterlist w all my other works

★ - masc!reader ☆ - fem!reader ✮ - gn!reader

characters:

𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚

☆ i love you - brenda just randomly saying 'i love you' to her best friend.

𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲

✮ gally's runner - you're not sure how to apologize to him after an argument about you volunteering to be a runner.

✮ rainy day - you teach gally how to braid your hair on a random, very boring, rainy day.

𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐭

★ wish you were sober - newt is drunk, and confesses to the person he tries to hate, only that he's too drunk to realize it.

✮ whoops! - you and newt get caught cuddling. feat. minho and thomas <3

✮ first and last 'i love you' - you confess to newt, but it's too late.

✮ stay? - newt takes care of you after you witnessed your friend's death.

✮ early bird - the box arrives too early, and the only glader awake is newt.

✮ pretty face - sucking him off in the deadheads. (incase you haven't noticed, this is smut. minors, NO. bad kids. I WILL BE INFORMING YOUR PARENTS :3)

✮ blondie - sleepy newt being clingy.

✮ flowers - newt giving you flowers ! (headcanon)

✮ double trouble - sonya and newt take care of you when you get sick. (platonic?)

✮ failed attempt - your attempts at comforting him were - quite frankly - futile.

✮ the not so subtle note passing - newt slips you a note during a keepers meeting.

✮ newt hcs because i was bored - pretty self explanatory.

✮ tough love - he confronts the med-jack, who's been acting as if he put all of them in the maze. (kinda nsfw lol)

✮ sleepyhead - newt being affectionate while you two cuddle in his bunk in the wckd facility.

✮ next time - newt being more rough during make-outs with his darling in the early stages of the flare infection)

✮ kiss me hard before you go - one last kiss before he goes on the mission to save minho.

★ dizzy - and not in the good way - newt gets really queasy when it comes to blood. his boyfriend, a slicer, who's always bloody in some way after his shifts at the blood house, adores to tease him about it (and then he feels really bad about doing it).

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨

✮ make up, not make out! - apparently, he 'misheard' you.

✮ minho tripping you just for shits and giggles - headcanon :3

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐚

✮ double trouble - sonya and newt take care of you when you get sick. (platonic?)

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬

☆ drunken greenie - thomas being moody when he's drunk.

✮ angel - as much as vince tells him that he needs to rest and recover from everything they've been through, thomas is too stubborn and asks gally if he can help the builders. thomas, however, manages to get injured during the job, too distracted by a certain someone, and finds himself contemplating his, admittedly, very bad decisions.

✮ dionaea muscipula - after a long, exhausting run, thomas still somehow finds the energy to sink his teeth into his beloved's flesh. (tw, slight biting kink!!)

✮ tommy's own personal human heater - how thomas likes to warm his hands up, feat. gn!reader!

✮ ridiculous - while attempting to run from his problems, he only causes more. (this isn't angst, sorry, angst lovers)

✮ the blind leading the blind-er - when a tiny little crush starts to turn into something so much more, thomas is too awkward to say it out loud, so he keeps giving not-so-subtle hints. of course, minho, his best friend keeps reassuring him that you picked up on his hints. (you didn't.)

✮ be my baby? - what should've been common knowledge by now still manages to shock you whenever you witness it.

✮ thomas with reader on their period

..𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 !

[wheelsvoid]

WE FOUND YOU ; THE MAZE RUNNER

⇢ you have been stuck at WCKD for months, when the gladers finally find you

masterlist

genre: platonic, angst

word count: 888 words

warnings: mentions of torture, kidnapping, weapons and violence

The last time I could remember seeing the boys, they were all screaming in terror. You’d think they were on the brink of death, and maybe they were, but it was the sight of me being dragged away that was the source of their pure fear.

It made me feel guilty to think of that.

WCKD had stolen me from the only people I could call family, and after months of torture and testing, I was getting tired. Some nights, I couldn’t even remember my own name.

I was the most scared when I started to forget their names, too. Minho, Thomas, Newt, Frypan… every person I could ever call a friend, I tried to keep track of every night. The only thing I had to remember them by were memories, but I didn’t trust my own mind to keep those.

I sat alone in my room. A sterile smell was in the air, and the blank walls and cold bed were in the back of my mind, but I ignored it. I continued to repeat the names of my friends. My brothers.

Minho, Thomas, Newt—

The door creaked open loudly, cutting off my train of thought. I slowly turned my head, my neck had a dull ache from lack of movement—a result from the hours of staring up at the top, empty bunk.

A woman stood there, with a man close by. I didn’t know either of them. I couldn’t remember if we had met before, and I didn’t care.

My eyes glanced down at the gun the man held tightly in his grip, before I met his eyes. His stern ones stared into my hazy ones. “Get up.” He said. Before I could even move, he shouted the command again. “I said, get up!”

My legs ached much like my neck did as I stood on them, but I didn’t make any move to disobey the man. I had to be smart about it. He had the gun, and I had nothing.

I let him lead me down several hallways that I had grown uncomfortably familiar with. The woman, who was a doctor with a clipboard in hand, was leading the way, completely unbothered with the violence.

It was routine at this point. Every day I was dragged out of my room to be tested on—to find out what made my brain different. The results were usually the same, but they were beginning to see improvement. It felt like I was the only one who saw that I would never be good enough to be the cure.

Typically, the hallways were buzzing with the sounds of technology, footsteps and soft voices. Something was different today.

The sound was quiet at first—distant—but growing louder. Stomping footsteps grew closer, gunshots rang though the hallways, and three familiar voices caught my attention.

My eyes grew impossibly wide, and I held onto the almost faded memory of their faces. I knew them.

With the man’s surprise, he wasn’t ready for me to snap out of my daze, whip around and punch him in the face, but I did it so quickly that he was out in seconds.

I was quick to pick up his gun, rushing away to follow the voices, while being mindful for other guards and flying bullets.

“Come on, this way!” I heard a voice echo down the hallway to my left. I snapped my head in that direction, and my heart stopped. I held my breath.

Three boys had stopped on the other end, focused on hiding from the gunfire. They had yet to see me, but then the blond shot the final bullet, and the gunfire stopped.

They let out heavy breaths, slowly backing away before turning to face me. Once they saw me, standing there with my jaw dropped like an idiot, and my appearance a complete mess, they froze.

The four of us looked at each other, and slowly, each of us began to grin.

“Y/N!” Thomas’ voice was shaky as he began to sprint in my direction, the other two following quickly behind. I ran as well as I could, my legs being somewhat shaky, but I didn’t fall or trip. I was determined to stay standing like I had all these months trapped within the walls of WCKD.

Thomas reached me first, pulling me into a desperate hug. Minho was next, and finally, Newt. The four of us stood there, trying to stretch out the moment.

I don’t think any of us thought I would ever be saved, so we were holding onto the fact that this was real and we were together.

“We’ve got you.” Minho said. At first, I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or not. WCKD had shown me a lot of things to get my mind going. Nightmares, illusions. But this… felt so real. I felt a tear slip from my eye, landing on Newt’s shoulder.

We pulled away, and I looked at each of them closely, noting the relieved smiles on their faces. “I missed you so much.” My voice cracked. I couldn’t help it. I’d been through hell.

The boys smiled at me. Thomas’ lips pulled down like he was trying not to cry. Newt held a firm hand on my arm. Minho had his arm wrapped around my shoulder.

“We missed you, too.”

[l0v-ly-c4t]

EXCUSE ME?

Summary: Glade boys reacting to someone making you feel uncomfortable.

Pairing: Just fluff, nothing else

T/w: none, just casual fluff and confort

Wc: who knows

A/n: I really hope the Maze Runner fandom isn't dead because I watched the movies again, and I just NEEDED to write something down, ANYTHING!

Navigation - masterlist - Instagram - pinterest

Thomas:

If some boy ever makes you feel uncomfortable, either with touches or words, Thomas would be the first to intervene.

He would step into the conversation and cross an arm on your shoulders, protecting you for whatever the boy is doing

He would chat with him as if nothing had happened, pushing the boy away little by little.

When he finally gets to get rid of the boy, he would try to be alone with you and talk to you about what happened.

He would listen to you and comfort you, offering a kind hug or even a shoulder for you to cry.

He would be a perfect gentleman and a little too worried about you after that.

He would always keep an eye on you to prevent it from ever happening again.

Newt:

Newt would easily get angry anytime he thinks you're uncomfortable, especially if it's because of one of the boys.

He would step into the conversation with no shame and just grab you away from the boy.

He would guide you to somewhere else and try to distract you, chattering and telling jokes so you can smile.

He would make anything just to see you happy.

When he finally could make you feel better, he would let you come back to your work.

But never completely leave your side until he makes sure everything is really okay.

Minho:

He can pretend as much as he wants, but seeing someone making you uncomfortable drives him crazy.

He would step into the conversation with a smile, chattering with the boy calmly.

He would stand still next to you the whole time.

He would keep the conversation until the boy decides to go away.

Once you'r alone he would instantly check to see if you're okay.

He would grab you and drag you to someplace private just so he can put his hands on your cheeks with a worried sight.

Once he makes sure you're okay, he will escort you for the rest of the day, keeping you away from everyone and everything.

Such a protective bear.

Gally:

Seeing one of the boys talking to you very intimately already makes him a little jealous.

But he would get mad if that person started making you uncomfortable

He would run into the conversation and start yelling at the boy pestering you.

He would grab you and take you away from him just in time so a fight doesn't start.

Once you are far from everyone else, he would start being a cutie and taking care of you

He would see if you're really okay and hug you.

He wouldn't let you leave his side for the rest of the day, keeping you away from your own duties just so he can make sure he's protecting you.

F/n: yes, this is shitty, rushed, and too short, but I wrote it like literal months ago and decided to post it just now. That's why it is so bad. But if you enjoyed it, I love you.

[star-writes-fanfiction]

:: i n n o c e n c e :: ʚїɞ :: n e w t ::

concept: y/n has just arrived in the glade and has virtually no knowledge about s3x or s3xual things, and newt feels the need to *teach* her

warnings: smut [oral, penetration, finger fucking, only semi-consesual ], swearing, alcohol consumption

other: your nickname is bunny, it explains why but just go with it.

🔞*MINORS DNI*🔞

:: newt's pov ::

We were all gathered at the monthly bonfire to celebrate our newest arrival, just one month after that of Y/n. I sat myself down next to Minho, a bottle of Gally's moonshine in my hand, fully intending to get ridiculously drunk.

The night was going great. Thomas had already held three philosophical debates with Zart about, well, everything, Minho had been dared to run around the Glade with no pants on yelling "FREEDOM FOR THE SCROTUM!"... which I wish I could say was a fever dream, and we'd danced around to music from the little radio the Creators sent up.

Eventually though, everyone had to sit down because we'd had at least three moonshine-induced casualties. We instead played a more 'gentle' game of just asking people deep questions, and if they didn't answer, they'd drink (funny that we were answering our drinking problems with more drinking, but anyways).

I got asked first by Jack from the gardens. "So, Mr. Second-in-Command, what's your type?" I wasn't quite sure. I mean, there weren't exactly many girls in the glade, only five, so I hadn't had much to assist me in figuring it out (unless I liked guys, but that's a whole different story). However, I could easily spot what traits were bad in a girl from what I'd seen so far.

"Gotta be funny," I started, looking over to Minho for approval - at this point we were basically married, and all the Gladers are our children. Everything we do the other parent must approve. "...and kind. I guess attractive, but I wouldn't know much about that. So maybe... y/h/c hair, and nice eyes." The other Gladers gave small nods of agreement.

"Alright, Newt. Your turn. You ask someone a question."

I looked around me, my sight landing on Thomas, cheeks flushed from all he'd been drinking. "Tommy. What's your favourite..." I tried to think of something that wouldn't get me demoted by Alby and ruin my reputation. "...what's your favourite... thing about Bunny?"

He blushed slightly, clearly wanting to be polite to the girl sitting only a few metres away. "She's nice, from what I've seen. Nice eyes." Despite his saying, he averted eye contact.

"Fair," I replied. This went on until Minho's turn. I love the guy, but he clearly does NOT know how to respect a Greenie or he probably wouldn't have chosen to ask Bunny a question, let alone the one that he did.

"Hey, bunny, what's your favourite sex position?

:: ʚїɞ ::

:: your pov ::

"Hey, bunny, what's your favourite sex position?

Sex position? What the fuck shuck is that? I vaguely remembered learning about sex, but never that there were positions. It was just... sex. And to my knowledge, I'd never even had sex before.

"I don't know, the normal one," I replied, trying to asnwer as nonchalantly as possible. Even though I was sure they wouldn't necessarily judge me, it's likely that they'd make fun of me for it as long as I lived. A few boys laughed.

"The normal one, and which is that?" Minho asked, probing me sassily. "The one where..." I froze, trying to think quickly. "I don't know, I've never had sex, okay?" As I suspected, most of the boys chuckled, but luckily didn't make fun of me. As they were laughing, I caught someone's eyes across the room. Newt.

I couldn't quite his expression. Anger? Concentration? Wanting?

I hadn't been in the Glade long enough to read and comprehend his facial expressions, and definitely wasn't close enough to him to understand what they meant. I was confused, so I decided to leave and head to my hammock to hit the sack.

:: ʚїɞ ::

:: newt's pov ::

When I gave Y/n the nickname 'Bunny', it was because she looked innocent. The way her y/h/c hair fell around her sweet, round face, and the way her eyes glistened when she looked up from the Box. It was the first thing I thought of, just as how beautiful she was was the first thing I saw when I pulled her out of that cage.

But I didn't know then that she was a different kind of innocent too...

I watched as she departed the gathering, headed to the hammocks. I found the urge to follow her growing inside of me (and in my pants), but I knew I needed to let her sleep.

However, there is such a thing as lying, so I decided to get up anyway. "Hey, Minho," I said, looking in his direction. "I'm gonna go check on Bunny, and then head to bed, alright?" He nodded absent-mindedly.

As I walked to the hammocks, I started hearing sounds, but I brushed it off, thinking it was the wind. But as I started to get closer to where Y/n was 'sleeping', they grew louder and more frequent. It sounded like... moaning?

I couldn't hold back my curiosity any longer.

I quietly crept over to the hammocks to see Y/n splayed across hers, hands between her thighs, ducking in and out of herself. Fuck, that's hot, I thought as I knelt down beside her.

"Hey," I muttered, smirking as she recoiled in surprise.

"Oh my stars, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were there." She said, pulling her hand out of her pants. This was my shot.

"It's alright, Love. Let me help," I said, placing my hand over hers before reinserting it inside her. I set the pace, moving quickly. She let out little whimpers as I continued, our four fingers combined making her arrival come faster.

"Fuck, Newt~" she cursed, throwing her head back. I sped up in response, my movements faster and jerkier until I felt her clench around my fingers.

Her breath hitched as she came, wetting her canvas hammock.

"Mmm, great job, Love," I said, whispering softly in her ear, watching as her face flushed with embarrassment. "Thank you."

:: ʚїɞ ::

:: your pov ::

I yelped in surprise and anticipation as he lifted me up from my hammock, and took me to his room. He laid me gently on the sheets, closing and locking the door as he unbuckled his belt.

"Is this okay, Bunny?" He asked, now pulling off his shirt and walking over to the bed. I nodded intently, my eyes skimming over his toned chest. I blushed as he pulled his boxers down every thought in my mind being replaced by the idea of him inside me.

Before long, he laid in front of me, and hooked his thumbs in the waist of my pants, pulling them down. I lifted myself up to help him.

He held himself atop me as he began to leave ghost-like kisses across my neck, nipping softly and sucking on my sweet spot. "Fuck, that feels so good," I muttered, leaning my neck to the side to allow him more access. His hands grasped the hem of my shirt, signalling for me to take it off.

With my bra exposed, he kissed the tops of my breasts too, moving slowly down my stomach. I was getting desperate. "Newt, hurry," I managed to sputter, as he narrowly avoided the place I needed him most, and instead kissed down my thighs. "With time, Love," he simply replied, fingers latching on to the band of my panties. "May I take these off?" I nodded - even when drunk, and clearly aroused, Newt was always a gentleman.

I felt myself grow wet as my core was exposed to the cold air, whimpering from all these new sensations. I felt his tongue press against me, his fingers entering my heat once again. "Newt, shit, fuck~" I cursed as he ate me out, sucking on my clit.

It didn't take long for me to fall off the edge, his calloused thumbs rubbing circles on my hips as he helped me ride out my high.

Soon it was time for the real thing.

"You ready, Love?" He asked, positioning himself at my entrance.

"Mm-hmm," I replied, just eager to finally feel him, even after my two orgasms.

He slipped in slowly, allowing me to adjust to him. "Fuckkk," I whispered, head thrown back in ecstasy. After a few seconds of stillness, I longed for speed. "Move," I said quietly, gripping the sheets. As if something clicked in his head, Newt began to thrust, methodically and mechanically.

It wasn't long before his dexterous hand found it's way between us and began to circle my clit. The added stimulation filled me with fireworks of pleasure.

He let out little grunts with each movement, me adding to the sound with my high-pitched moans.

Before long, I felt his cock twitch inside me before he came. Although, he rather politely continued his motions until I too came with him.

I felt him pull out of me, leaving what felt like a gaping absence, before he layed down beside me, cradling my naked body.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do this, Love," he mumbled in my ear.

Yeah. Best sex-ed lesson ever.

Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to leave requests in my inbox (read my pinned post first). See y'all next time with another story!

Also, please like and reblog because it helps promote my content!

-star ✨

[star--stilinski]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ masterlist ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

works for more mature audiences will be marked with an 18+, but i was on here at like 11 reading smut so i really can't do much more about it. just... guys if you're young just get off tumblr.

✩

stiles stilinski-

"is that because of me?" - 18+ stiles cannot stop getting turned on from the randomest things you do. so when you call it out, things in your friendship take a turn.

cool off - 18+ on a beach trip, your boyfriend is receiving some female attention that you're not fond of. so, you remind him of who he belongs to.

"oh yeah?" you and stiles are bickering. and he's hot. why does he have to be so hot?!

so whipped stiles is insecure about his buzzcut, and you alleviate his worries.

meet the parents when you officially meet your boyfriend stiles' father, stiles cannot keep his hands to himself. how distracting!

blurbs & rambles-

stiles is a whirlwind of a relationship!!

stiles is accidentally hot

stiles accidentally teasing reader - 18+

stiles and pet names

thomas (tmr)-

coming soon! feel free to request for him or other DOB characters ;)

[riordanness]

— say don’t go - [tmr!newt]

wordcount: 0.9K

warnings: uh- you have the flare

requested: no

We’d been running for… how long? It felt like forever. Days and days of scorching heat, oppressive sunlight, harsh winds. My throat feels dry all the time, my eyes ache, and my legs are rubber.

At least I have Newt. No one could ask for a better friend. He’s always there for me, right beside me no matter what. He gives me the water even though I know he must be just as thirsty as I am.

He makes sure he’s the one carrying the pack we’re supposed to be sharing; he’s always taking my turns.

How can I tell him I know I’m not immune? That the cranks scratched me back in that old warehouse a few days ago? The weight of knowing my days are dissolving in front of my eyes is so heavy I can barely breathe. What should I do? What does anyone do, knowing you’re about to die?

I know I have to tell him soon. I can’t keep putting it off — it’s killing me in more ways than one.

Minho calls for a stop hours after nightfall. I have lost complete track of time; too lazy to keep track with my wristwatch. My head is fuzzy enough as it is.

Newt glances at me, and gives me a weak smile. I try to return it, but I can’t. I collapse to the ground, my knees giving way after one too many hours of walking.

Newt is at my side in an instant. “Are you alright?”

I try to nod my head. “Just… tired. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He holds out our shared water bottle. There’s barely a gulp left in the bottom.

I shake my head. “You take it. I had it last.”

“No.” Newt is serious. “You need it more than I do. Besides…” He hesitates, but doesn’t continue. I’m too scared to ask what he means.

I eventually give it and take the water, the few semi-cold drops helping immensely. I feel my body shutting down, my eyes trying to close.

Newt shifts over to sit beside me. “Go to sleep, love.”

I don’t even try to stay awake. I lean against him and am instantly in darkness.

The next thing I know, I’m startled awake. I don’t know why, as it’s still pretty dark, the air is still cool, and none of the boys have stirred. I wonder briefly if a sound in the night woke me, but I see and hear nothing.

It’s probably just the growing anxiety and disease taking over my brain. I inch away from Newt, desperate not to wake him. He’s been doing so much for me, for everyone. I owe him my life ten times over, and I don’t want to disturb maybe the last peaceful sleep he may get.

I get to my feet, and my eyes stray to Newt’s sleeping face. I have a ridiculous urge to touch his cheek. He looks so soft and pretty and perfect, just laying there.

I force myself to turn around. I walk a minute, until I stumble across a little boulder and sit down, my chin in my hands. This illness inside of me is eating me up. I can feel myself fading away, everything that makes me me slowly dissolve into nothing.

I don’t know how long I sit there, despairing.

Eventually, someone approaches. I can tell by the slightly uneven footsteps who it is even before they speak.

“Hey, Newt.” I have no emotion in my voice, struggling to keep it even.

“Y/n,” he replies, gently sitting beside me. “What’s up, love?”

I shrug. “Nothin’.”

Even though it’s too dark to tell properly, I know he’s got his you-are-such-a-bad-liar face on. “Y/n.”

I sigh. “Okay. Fine. I—“ But the words die in my throat. I can’t seem to find the right way to tell the boy I love more than anything that I’m about to, well, die.

“You have the bloody Flare.” The anger in Newt’s voice takes me by surprise more than the fact that he knows.

“What—“

He slams his hand into the rock we’re sitting on, cutting me off. “It’s not fair!” He hisses. “We have to fix this, we have to—I cant, lose you—“

His voice cracks, and I hear him inhale sharply, like he’s trying not to cry.

That makes me break down. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I sob. “I just—I didn’t want… I don’t know. I just don’t want this.”

“Nobody shuckin’ wants the Flare, Y/n.” Newt’s voice is gruff, but almost teasing, a little reminder of what we used to be together. Joking, teasing best friends.

That makes me break down completely, and I cry heartbrokenly into my hands. I feel Newt wrap his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. I cry into him, clinging to his shirt like it’s my life.

“Newt,” I manage. “I’m going to die.”

“No you’re not.” His tone is firm. “I’m not gonna lose you. I—I love you, ya dumb shank.”

“What…?” My tears come to a hiccuping stop, and I lift my head to look at him. “You…”

He lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “Yeah. Sorry. Bad timing?”

I shake my head, a smile on my face despite it all. “I love you too, idiot.”

“Oh,” Newt laughs. “Oh, okay. Good.”

I lean towards him, pressing a kiss to his mouth. “Just hold me, please? Help me forget for a while.”

And Newt does exactly that.

[sundrop-writes]

i know it's one of the lesser voted ones, but i'm really excited for trouble is!! your fics are so good. take your time ofc, you're super awesome! <3

thank you so much!!!

I am honestly surprised that Trouble Is is one of the lesser voted ones. I thought it would be popular just on the basis of it being Sex Pollen. And because TMR seems to have a big active fanbase on Tiktok? There are a lot of edits for it? There are a lot of edits for it, with new ones being posted often. That's how I got inspired to get into my own personal TMR renaissance

Thomas is really hot as played by Dylan, and I am surprised that more people wouldn't be excited by the idea of a Sex Pollen fic starring him.

Anyway - the content of the votes don't really matter to me, because all the fics are finished in my drafts and will be posted at some point. And because you're excited about it, I have decided that I'm gonna post a little preview of the fic just for you <3

Trouble Is... - FANFIC PREVIEW

Thomas (TMR) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: sex pollen - which means dubious consent (but in the full fic it's implied that the characters have pre-existing feelings for each other, therefore they want to have sex with each other very badly, the sex pollen just distracts them from the existing dangers of their world); WCKD drugging the characters with sex pollen for nefarious purposes; chemically induced arousal (to an extreme); there is no explicit sex in this section just mentions of sexual arousal and sexual attraction between the characters; implications of scent kink (from Thomas toward the reader; I think that's it for this section? It's not mentioned here, but Thomas and the reader are being trapped/held in a room against their will (which they are distracted from by the sex pollen chemicals in their systems).

...

All that I know is I just can’t say ‘no’ to you - funny how things never change.

All that I wanted was just to get over you.

Trouble is - I can’t find a way. You’re part of me.

Trouble is - you’re part of me.

...

“Chemical compound LI69 has been distributed.”

“How long until the subjects feel the effects?” 

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

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

...

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before, but he could even smell you in the air. Your natural smell was something so prominent in the air - shamefully, something he knew so damn well, something he had memorized and treasured close when his memories had still been so few and his head had still been so empty. Hugging you those first few times, he had tucked his nose into your hair and greedily whiffed deep breaths of your scent, absolutely loving how you were sweet, soapy - even if you were slightly sweaty from a long day of work, your natural scent was so damn perfect for him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hadn’t yet noticed the way you were looking at him. Your eyes hungrily raking over his bare torso, scanning over every inch of him from the muscles that bulged in his biceps while he moved to the veins protruding in his forearms to the trail of delicious dark hair that disappeared down into his pants. He thought nothing of taking off his shirt in front of you, because it was something he had done plenty of times before while working in the gardens with you (as a leader in the Glade, you had rotated jobs a lot, going wherever a spare hand was needed) - and you certainly hadn’t looked at him with anything resembling hunger in your eyes back then. 

At least, he thought you hadn’t. 

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

He moved on, hating that nagging heat, almost as if it was crawling under his skin - something so much different from the warm sun of the Glade. This was a heat bubbling inside of him, pin-pricking all over his skin from the inside out. He wondered if this was what a fever felt like. Was he getting sick? Was he going to get you sick?

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

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

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

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

If he was getting sick, then invading your personal space wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact - he made it a point to take a step back, keeping his eyes locked on you, keeping a protective watch over you while his back became flush with the metal of the door. It was a pleasantly cooling sensation for a moment before the fever inside of him overpowered it - reminding him just how boiling hot he was.  “It hurts.” You told him, your voice dissolving into a pained whine - shamefully, the sound rocked Thomas, and flooded him with something that could have only been described as arousal.

Fuck.