#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.

[noelan1]

Zoom in for better results 🤭

[daintylovers]

oh yeah

[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 ��𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉, 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: 27.10.24, 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.

..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.”

[yourloverfromthepast]

Y/N: I don't trust Teresa.

Minho: Why? She seems fine to me

Y/N: Something's off about her behavior...

Newt: You're right, I have a bad feeling about her

Thomas: What? No! Newt! What the fuck is wrong with you guys? *Scoffs* I- ugh, admit it y/n, you're just jealous. I- I can't believe this! Wow!

*Teresa betrays the entire team*

Y/N: *Click their tongue and inhale sharply* SOOOOOOO, THOMAS-

Thomas: Don't. Just- don't. Please.

[mssorceressupreme]

Hi! I absolutely adore your writing (also going through a maze runner hyper fixation🤭).

Would you be able to do a fic where reader was thought to have died when they originally escaped the maze but reader got out with Gally. Then Minho and reader reunite when they see Gally again (if this makes any sense).

Thank you!! 🫶🏻

hiii aw thank you love that means a lot 💓💓 omg yesss this is such a lovely prompt!! I love reunions lol especially when one s/o was thought to be dead 😝

——

Into Your Arms

Pairing: Minho x Reader

Summary: the gladers thought you were dead (you were shot instead of chuck), but what happens when you’re reunited at last. Your bond with Minho proves unbreakable as you face the future together.

Warnings: mild violence, mentions of bullet scars

——

You sat in the dimly lit room of your shared safe house in the Last City, your fingers tracing an old scar on your stomach.

It was a constant reminder of the day you had narrowly escaped death, a brutal memento left by a bullet from Gally, who wasn’t in the best state of mind a year back.

The pain of that moment, both physical and emotional, had nearly broken you. Yet, here you were, alive and determined, haunted by thoughts of your friends from the glade. Every night, you wondered if they had survived, if they were out there somewhere, fighting the same fight. If Minho was doing alright.

The last memory you had of your boyfriend was him shedding tears as he cradled you in his arms, before you passed out from the loss of blood. That was when they presumed you were dead. Everything after that was a blur, well, until Lawrence and his crew rescued you and Gally.

A knock on the door broke your reverie. Gally stepped in, his expression serious but tinged with something else—hope. “We spotted something, or rather, some people, and we’re bringing them in soon. You might want to be there when we arrive back.” What did he mean by that?

Though Gally was the person who gave you that scar, you forgave him for it. The both of you looked past that and decided to start fresh when Lawrence brought the two of you to his army. Gally even became a brother figure to you, constantly on the lookout to keep you safe.

Moments later, they returned.

Your heart pounded as you waited for their vans to reveal the mystery guests inside.

No shucking way.

The sight that greeted you made you gasp. As soon as the doors slid open, familiar faces emerged. Your gladers. Thomas, Newt, Frypan—they were all here. Relief and joy surged through you, but a sharp pang of anxiety struck you when you didn’t see Minho.

You stood there blending in with the crowd, not knowing what to say or do.

“Hey Greenie.” Gally greeted Thomas, to which he replied by striking Gally’s jaw. Gasps were heard and our soldiers cocked their guns, aiming at Thomas.

“Woah woah woah—stop, stop!” Newt rushed to the front, preventing Thomas from striking Gally once more.

“He killed Y/N…” Thomas spat, “do you have any idea what that did to Minho!”

“I know, I remember. I was there…but I also remember that he was stung and out of his mind.” Newt defended Gally, hoping to calm Thomas down before a fight escalated.

“I’m actually right here...” You said aloud, pushing past the crowd and making your way to the front. You slowly helped Gally up and stood face-to-face with your fellow gladers.

“Y/N??” They gasped in unison. Thomas and Newt rushed to hug you, Fry followed not long after.

“It’s so good to see you again.” Thomas softly said, squeezing you, “He would be elated to know.” You immediately knew who he was referring to. But where was he?

“H-how?! How is this possible? We watched you die. Both of you.” Newt questioned, glancing from Gally to you.

“No, you left us to die.” Gally retorted, “We were lucky Lawrence found us when he did, if not Y/N wouldn’t have made it.”

“What’re you guys doing here anyway?” You inquired, “and where’s—” Before you even finished your question, Newt read your mind.

“Minho. WCKD has him here, we’re looking for a way in.”

Your heart sank, he was here the whole time and you didn’t know?! “Let’s get him then! Gally?”

Gally nodded, “I can help with that. Follow me.”

——

The hours that followed were a blur of planning and preparation. You donned WCKD soldier suits, your faces hidden behind masks. Each step you guys took inside the compound was a step closer to Minho, but also a step deeper into danger.

The tension was thick enough to cut through it with a knife, every sound amplified, every shadow a potential threat.

As you fought your way through the facility, the adrenaline was mixed with fear. You were fighting to save someone you thought you’d lost forever.

“We’ll wait here.” Gally and you waited outside a tall modern building, WCKD’s headquarters, squatting behind a large pillar.

“Are you sure they’re doing alright inside? Shouldn’t we go in to help them?” I demanded, “I need to know that Minho and the others are safe.”

“Trust me, they’ll find a way out of that building.” As though Gally had predicted the future, a glass window on one of the higher floors smashed, and out jumped three figures.

“That’s our cue!” Gally hastened, both of you got in position and followed the other “WCKD soldiers” as they approached the trio.

“Freeze! Put your hands in the air!” One of them commanded pointing guns at your boys, “Uh uh uh!” He continued, when Thomas reached for the gun in his leg strap.

Gally and you acted quickly, shooting them, one by one the soldiers passed out.

The trio stood there dumbfounded, and finally sighed with relief when Gally revealed his mask first.

“Gally?” Minho’s jaw dropped.

“Minho.”

You followed, revealing yourself next.

Minho froze, eyeing you up and down. He shook his head, tears welled up in his eyes, “Y/N?….”

You nodded, wasting no time running up to him and embracing him. “Minho!” You breathed, your eyes filling with tears, body trembling with relief and emotion.

He held you tightly, his breath ragged in your ear, “You’re alive…?!?” He whispered, disbelief and relief mingling in his voice, “All this time…baby, I thought you were dead.“

You pulled back slightly, tears streaming down your face, and punched him playfully on the shoulder, “You were here all this time, and I didn’t know?”

Minho’s eyes were wide with emotion, his voice cracking. “I thought I lost you forever when you got shot in the glade…by him,” He glared at Gally but couldn’t find a reason to be angry now that you were alive, “I mourned you every day.”

Your heart broke at the raw pain in his voice. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. “I’m here now, Minho. I’m here.”

He hugged you again, tighter this time, as if afraid you might disappear. “Gally took me under his wing,” you explained softly, feeling Minho tense at the mention of Gally.

Minho’s eyes flickered over to Gally, anger flaring briefly, “You shot her,” he said, his voice hard.

Gally raised his hands defensively, “I was stung and truly didn’t mean to—”

“Thank you.” Minho’s responsed baffled Gally, he was sincere, “Thank you for taking care of her.” Once Minho saw that you were safe and well, forgiving Gally was easier.

Minho’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had flared. He sighed, his shoulders relaxing, “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He said, looking back at you, “that’s all that matters now.”

——

Timeskip to Safe Haven (and Newt survives cause I want him too 😩):

After the festivities of celebrating your first day at the safe haven, Minho guided you to a quiet corner, his eyes never leaving you while the others continued socialising.

“Let me see your wound,” he said gently.

You lifted your shirt slightly, revealing an old scar. Minho’s fingers traced the mark, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I never should’ve left you at the glade,” he whispered, “I should’ve protected you then.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you replied, placing your hand over his, “none of us could have known what would happen.”

He looked up at you, his eyes wet with unshed tears, “When I thought I lost you, I didn’t know how to go on.”

“You don’t have to anymore,” you gently replied, “We’re together now. We’ll face whatever comes next, together.”

He pulled you into his arms, and you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. For the first time in what felt like eternity, you felt a sense of peace. The nightmares of your separation were over, and you had been given a second chance.

As the night wore on, you talked with Minho, your words a balm for your wounded souls. The two of you shared everything—what you had endured, the fears you faced, and the hope that had kept you going. Each word, each touch, strengthened the bond between you.

The sun began to disappear into the horizon of the sea tinting the sky a beautiful shade of orange, purple and pink.

That was when Minho finally spoke the words you had longed to hear. “I love you,” he said, voice raw with emotion. “I never stopped.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your heart swelling with joy. “I always have.”

You held each other close, the horrors of the past fading in the light of your reunion. You had found each other again, and together, you were ready to face whatever the future held.

[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.

[petrichor-idyllic]

Heyyy do you do reacts? Like "How the TMR boys would react to you calling them pretty" . If so, thank youuu :)

Oooo I never even thought about doing this, but I can absolutely give it a go :))

YOU THINK I'M PRETTY?

MASTERLIST | MULTI-CHARACTER MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Gender neutral reader.

WARNINGS: None really, maybe some inappropriate language and flirty behaviour.

"You know, you're actually kinda pretty."

THOMAS

Would not know how to react.

Thomas absolutely would be completely dumbfounded.

He'd been attracted to you ever since he'd arrived in the Glade, so you complimenting him would leave him in a stunned state.

Probably would also be the first and only time he gets complimented because the Gladers just call each other ugly on a daily basis.

"Oh, uh- thanks- thank you."

You probably wouldn't think much of it and go about your day.

He would spend the next four years thinking about it.

"They think I'm pretty."

Definitely a much needed confidence boost since he (especially in the books) is having a permanent identity crisis.

He might not know who he is, but damn, at least he's pretty.

NEWT

Newt isn't a stranger to compliments. He's one of the oldest standing Gladers and people often comment on his work ethic and ability to think fast.

His appearance though?

That's new.

He'd probably freeze, laughing it off as you just kinda randomly say it whilst he's working with the Track-hoes.

"Heh, what?"

In all honesty, you'd have been watching him for a while, admiring his features and when you say it, it would have been a thought you didn't mean to say out loud more than anything.

That wouldn't stop him from thinking about it. It would get brushed over fairly quickly since Newt is a busy dude, but he would definitely ask Minho and his friends about it.

"What do you think it means?

"Uh, that they think you're pretty? Duh."

Like Thomas, he would probably lie awake thinking about it, or just throughout his day, a soft smile playing on his lips, and he would definitely get caught laughing.

"Dude, you're thinking about it again?"

"Shut up, slinthead!"

"Touched a nerve, pretty boy?"

MINHO

Minho knows he's pretty. Everyone knows he's pretty. Just look at the guy. Even Thomas thinks he's pretty (*cough* the three paragraphs dedicated to describing Minho's arms in the book *cough*).

He'd probably laugh.

Sure, it's common knowledge that he's a good looking guy, but for someone to say it to him?

That'd be entertaining.

He'd tease you about it, making you the one that becomes a blushing mess.

"Hey, so how pretty do you think I am, exactly?"

He would not let it go.

But he wouldn't brag to the other Gladers about it. He would keep the information to himself, mainly keeping up the light bullying in private and leaving other Gladers confused as to why you tended to leave his presence bright red.

Secretly, he'd be thrilled. Of course, just that you think he's attractive to begin with, but also because it clearly runs deeper at your constant embarrassment.

He probably also wouldn't know how else to flirt with you. But he's trying his best. Compliments don't come as easy to him as they do you, so this is how he expresses it.

Definitely an ego boost.

GALLY

He would be insulted.

Gally wouldn't take it as a compliment at first. He wants to be a tough guy and you calling him pretty feels like a insult to his masculinity.

Definitely not the intention.

You think he's soft? Pretty? How dare you. How could you?

It wouldn't be until he spoke to Frypan that he'd realise.

"They called me pretty. Pretty! Do I look like a shuckin' sissy?"

"Dude, I'm pretty sure it was a compliment- they think you're hot."

"Oh."

That's when he'd be flustered.

In private, of course, but flustered nonetheless.

He'd feel like such a dick for reacting how he did and without even processing it properly.

He'd end up apologising and you'd laugh about it.

"It's okay, I won't call you pretty again. Promise."

But now he knows you think he's attractive, he'd definitely be bummed that you said you wouldn't compliment him like that again.

"I mean- you can still... yanno- say that."

Turns out Gally actually kinda is a softie when he wants to be.

You find it cute.

FRYPAN

He would be ecstatic.

Oh my God, you think he's pretty? His life is complete. The world is good. Kill him now, this is the best day of his life.

He'd tell everyone who would listen.

"Yeah! They called me pretty! Suck it! I'm prettier than you slintheads!"

"Fry, I really don't care."

He'd constantly ask you to call him pretty again. Or even other compliments and you'd find it funny.

He'd be surprising hard to fluster, but very easy to please.

It wouldn't be uncommon to find him grinning from ear to ear after talking to you.

He would also have the courage to return the compliments, creating a friendship that's basically filled with constant praise.

He would worship the ground you walk on.

Thinks he's in love every time you make eye contact.

ALBY

"Yeah, okay."

Alby would not give a shit.

The man is stressed 24/7.

You can't really blame him. He's in charge of a bunch of teenage boys in a Maze full of monsters, and he has to make sure that everyone is comfortable and surviving.

He has too much on his plate to even realise what you'd be saying at first.

The brain lag is real, and it would be three days later when he'd understand what you said.

"Wait a shuckin' second..."

After that, he'd think about it a lot, internally kicking himself and regretting the choice.

You wouldn't be shocked. This is exactly the kind of response you'd expect from the Leader. But you almost said it because you knew what his response would be.

You wouldn't have to worry about Alby being weird or acting different or telling anyone.

Though, he would become a lot friendlier towards you, starting to develop a sweet spot for you.

Would ya look at that, I can actually write for characters other than Minho? Who woulda guessed? In all seriousness, this was really fun and I enjoy writing headcanons as much as I like writing stories. I really enjoy these typa requests, tysm for sending it in.

Hope you all enjoy :))

[xoxostilinski]

MARRY ME PLEASE?!!! HES SOOOO FINEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE I NEED HIM! ❤️‍🔥

[thepersassiest]

When The Bombs Began To Fall

Minho stumbled through the chaos of the riot, the bliss serum clutched tightly in his hand. His eyes searched the wrecked street, finally landing on Thomas, who was on his knees amidst the smoke, leaning over something. The dark-haired boy’s shoulders were heaving with sobs, and blood stained his hands and clothes. Minho sprinted toward them, but was stopped in his tracks as he realized what Thomas was crying over.

Newt.

The blond boy was lying still on the pavement, his long hair spread like a halo around his head. His eyes were open, but his expression was slack. There was blood on his face, on his chest. Then Minho's eye's drifted further down the boy's body, and he felt his heart drop.

A knife protruded from Newt’s stomach, the wound where the weapon met his skin stained with dark blood.

This can’t be real. He thought desperately, slowly making his way toward Thomas and Newt. It must be another trick, another simulation from WCKED. Minho fell to his knees opposite Thomas. His hands hovered over Newt, as if touching the boy would make the scene in front of him suddenly real.

“No,” he whispered, his hands trembling as he finally allowed himself to cradle Newt’s cheek. The blood on Newt's face coated his fingertips. It was warm. The simulations at WCKED had never felt like this. “Shit, Newt— no .”

read the full fic on ao3:

(tysm to my lovely beta reader @ssseashell <3)

[mae-gi-writes]

Finders Keepers | Gally [TMR] - Part 1

In which Gally gets soft for one of the boys in the Glade, only…is it a boy? alternatively; In which Mai disguises herself into a boy to fit in the Glade, only to be suspected by the keen eyes of the Builder's Keeper.

NEXT >>

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"Enjoying life, Greenie?" 

Dark eyes framed by thick lashes look up with a scowl at the said Builder's voice. And here Mai had hoped for some peace and tranquility after having spent all day out in the sun pulling out weeds and listening to Zart talk incessantly about his love of plants and whatever. 

Gally stands ahead of the new boy, leaning against one of Homestead's supporting structures with the kind of grin that makes Mai want to run for it. No wonder so many new Greenies decide that the Maze is a fair chance. When Gally's out here storming through the grounds, Mai isn't quite sure that the Glade is as safe as they all make it out to be. His temper is something to be reckoned with. 

Mai's been here for only over a week and to say that it's comfortable would be a lie. It feels suffocating, all the more because of the number of people cramped into the Glade. 

Gally takes a step towards the Greenie and the latter freezes up for a second, inwardly screaming at him to go back where he comes from because god knows Mai does not want the peace created undisturbed. But seems that Gally doesn't read faces well, for he plonks himself down next to the new boy while pushing up his shirt sleeves currently caked with mud from all the hard work he's been doing around the Glade. 

The words fall from Mai's mouth without warning, "aren't you supposed to be with your Builders?" 

For a minute, Gally's eyebrows quirk up in surprise. Not a lot of people dare to stand up to him and yet, this new recruit has the kind of fire in his eyes that makes Gally smirk. Little smartass, he thinks to himself. 

"I'm their Keeper, I can do whatever I want." 

"Slacking off is also part of that job title?" 

"You've got quite a mouth on you for a Greenie." 

Mai's scowl merely deepens before he looks away. Gally's right. That's not the right way to keep a low profile here. In the Glade, hierarchy was everything and Mai is stupid to believe that Gally's interest in him excuses Mai from any sort of punishment he might have to offer. 

"Sorry," Mai mutters. 

Gally doesn't seem to mind, clapping a hand on the younger boy's back before he pulls himself back up, "Gotta go back to work Greenie. You coming?" 

Mai grumbles but does as told, already feeling the scars on his hands where he'd been pulling out weeds all morning. He just hopes that his phase with the Garden people is just what it is - a phase. There are far more fun things to be done around the Glade and unwillingly, the Greenie casts a glance back at Gally's broad back as the latter makes his way to his newest architectural invention.

Mai feels his face flush and quickly averts his gaze, knowing full well that he needs to get a hold of himself if he wants to survive in this place.

Well, she needs to get a hold of herself. 

----

Lie.

Lie to them. And to yourself.

Lie, Mai.

Those were the first few words that Mai heard echoing in the back of her brain the moment she'd stepped out of the metal box. The crowd of boys around her hadn't suspected a thing, considering that she was dressed as a boy, had close-cropped hair and was so scrawny one could barely believe a female's body laid underneath. The words were so poignant, dripping with venom of instructions, that Mai had done as told. She'd lied to them all, for the sake of safety.

And maybe that was what had saved her, in the long run.

It's complicated living in a Glade full of horny boys. Mai has to be careful because every second counts. When she goes to the toilet, for example, making up the excuse that she needs to do "a big one" as she'd mutter out to the other boys while averting her gaze elsewhere. Or when she's changing, always volunteering to go pick out weeds and quickly dropping into the Runner's chambers so she could get into fresh clothes. The biggest challenge had been the showers. It was communal and most boys didn't care at all for privacy. So Mai had to wait out in the dark. No boys enjoyed bathing in utter darkness, so night time was her best opportunity. She'd wait until everyone was drowsy enough not to realize that she was gone, scrubbing down her body in milliseconds before shoving on her new clothes.

Thankfully, the boys are either too dumb or too preoccupied with dealing with what the Maze has to offer to give her attention, and for that Mai is grateful.

"So have you decided?"

She looks up from her bowl of soup freshly made by Frypan and herself -- they'd decided to put her with the said young man for the day to see how she would fare and in all honesty, Mai thinks that this is probably the first time she's felt at ease with something -- into Alby's dark eyes.

Their leader is not one that speaks for nothing, and so everything that does come out of his mouth is of some importance.

"I definitely don't want to be a Slicer," she responds with a shrug, and takes another gulp of her soup. The leader takes a seat across from hers with an amused smile, "why not? I think it's fitting."

"Shut up Alby," she scowls at him.

"Alright alright," he lifts his hands in surrender, "considering your frame, I say we make you a Cook. Frypan needs all the help he can get anyway."

"That's offensive," Mai states, "what's wrong with my size?"

"C'mon Greenie, you're like four feet tall. You can't hold or build nothing, you suck at gardening, you've got no shuck stamina. I think the kitchen's where you belong."

"Thanks Alby, really shucking inspirational."

"You're welcome." Alby grins. Someone cries out his name then, something to do with the Runners, and he hits you lightly on the arm as he stands, "right. Off to work, shank."

Mai watches as his back shrinks with more distance, and wonders whether Alby suspects something off about her — or him. She's so careful, always double or triple checking, but she can never be too sure. Is that why he's sticking her into the kitchen where he thinks girls belong?

No, you're thinking too much into it, Mai thinks to herself. It's fine, you're doing fine.

Obviously, it's not just fine.

She busies herself all afternoon working as Frypan's assistant in the kitchen. He is easy-going and makes her feel a lot better, something about his presence reassures her, even though the close cooking quarters makes moving about impossible without touching one another. That's not something that Mai feels comfortable with, so she does try her best to avoid moving in the same direction.

Tonight is pork curry from the Slicer's last batch, paired with flavored rice and some green beans from the Track-Hoes gardens. The boys are hungry by the time evening falls and Mai busies herself by serving them one another another, until the familiar clamour of metal causes the entire Glade to freeze.

It's been a week, and yet Mai is still not comfortable hearing the gates close them in every night. The same gates keeping them from the outside. The same gates trapping them in, in a world that they can't even control.

Mai's fury burns as she thinks of it.

"Hey," she turns to see the blonde, the one that looks like an elf with features so delicate that she might swoon at the look of him. He's the next in line, amused by the fact that she seems distracted.

"O—Oh. Sorry," she quickly shoves a few pieces of Pork into his plate and loads it up with the greenbeans, "here you go."

"Thanks Greenie," he cocks his head st her curiously, "how you holding up?"

Mai shrugs, embarrassed that she can't seem to recall his name even though she knows he's second-in-command, "doing alright I suppose. Alby finally figured out what to do with me."

"Yeah I think you're better suited for it than picking out weeds. Zart wasn't impressed."

"It's not my fault your weeds seem to be ten meters long." Mai protests as a flush creeps up her neck.

Newt laughs, "I'm joking Greenie. Relax. Anyway," he lifts his plate in mock salute, "thanks for this. Hope I don't choke on it."

"Well I hope you do!" Mai yells out after him, only to add after some minor reflection, "—a little bit."

After having served all Gladers, Mai takes her own plate and tries to find a seat. Alas, the task proves itself hard upon noticing that all tables are already full. There's only one place open — and that one place is by the Runner's table.

Now, it's not that Mai wants to be rude and ignore them altogether. But the Runners only bring out the particular memory of her pathetic wheeze after having run merely a mile, deeming her not fit for the said job. That embarrassment had only made Mai want to avoid the Runners altogether if she could.

But alas, fate is not on her side today. She spots the asian boy called Minho, whose eyebrows quirk up when their eyes meet. He casts a quick glance at her tray, has a look around, before he grins and beckons her over.

"Hey Greenie," he says as soon as her butt hits her seat. His dimpled smile paired with his pretty crescent moon eyes doesn't help with her heart, "thought you'd never wanna show your shuck face around us after that run."

"Some people aren't Runners. Get over it," you say it more in a mutter but loud enough that it gets the entire table into chuckles.

"Well I think you might just be the next Frypan," another Runner says, "I'm Ben by the way."

"Mai," she responds, not enjoying the way his eyes seem to flicker over her face in thought, as if he's trying to figure out what's off with her.

Because there is something off, just not the kind that they'd expect.

"Huh, Mai." Ben tries it out on his tongue. He takes another bite of his curry, "how are you liking the glade?"

"S'alright. I just wish the Builders could maybe build us actual beds instead of having hammocks."

"Oh he said it," Minho claps Mai's back so hard she almost spits out her food, thankful he hasn't noticed when he only slings an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer, "hey Gally! Greenie here has a problem with your hammocks!"

Uh oh. Mai's horror triples as she watches the said Builder stand from his seat. Numerous eyes have swayed across tables to land on her now. Gally strides towards them slowly, a predator confident in his skin, she can't help but squirm back.

He's intimidating and scary. And yet, her stomach squeezed with an unfamiliar feeling altogether.

"You got a problem with the hammocks?"

Gally's voice brings her back to reality. Mai blinks, "uhm—no, not at all—"

"That's not what you said a few seconds ago Greenie," Minho grins, "come on. Tell him. He doesn't bite."

"He might," mutters Ben from your other side.

"Uh— I was saying how comfortable the hammocks were," Mai responds with a nervous laugh, "so yeah— good job Gally."

Gally doesn't seem convinced, but a call from Alby stating that he wishes to see the Keepers thankfully breaks the attention from Mai.

"Right," Minho quickly clears the plates  away, but not before ruffling Mai's hair as he does so, "I'll see you guys tomorrow. Try not to die Greenie."

Mai lets out a soft sigh as the asian boy makes a run for it, followed by Gally after having thrown her another glance. He doesn't say anything though and as the Glade slowly starts to die out — boys settling into their hammocks and others taking their turns in the showers — Mai is glad when no one seems to pay her attention in favor of sleep. No surprise there, considering how tiring they are after all this hard work.

She settles into her own hammock, tied up close to the elfin-looking blonde, and tries to get comfortable. The Maze walls look even larger as she stares up at them, her breath catching in her throat as she thinks of all the boys that have lived here for months without hope.

Mai falls asleep that night, dreaming of the what ifs and the endless possibilities of what the future might hold.

She just hopes that they'll make it out one day, hopes that the echoing voices at the back of her head are just that — voices.

-----

A/N: AAANd that's a wrap for the first chapter! Like I said, I'm in a TMR brainrot so don't mind me or my obsessive behaviour towards Gally in these series. And can I just say that Will Poulter has aged like fine wine. See you in the next chapter! Do let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist <3