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ateotd-izzy · 10 months

Text

maroon | thomas x fem!reader

“the burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me”

during his first night in the glade, thomas (quite literally) bumps into a girl.

“and how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was maroon”

as more time passes, thomas becomes closer with y/n (very close), but that changes after they escape the maze.

“the mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones”

warnings: it’s bad, kissing, maze runner, swearing and whatever (i never know what to write here)

“the lips i used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon”

☾

“our med-jacks, clint and jeff.” newt introduced to the greenie as he showed the boy around. “and this is— woah, watch out.”

the greenie hadn’t been watching where he was going and bumped right into you as you walked past, spilling the drink he had been holding all over your shirt.

“oh, god, i am so…” he paused as he met your eyes. a girl? “sorry.”

you looked down at your soaking wet shirt and a few boys around snickered.

“thanks.” you smiled sarcastically and turned on your heel, heading towards the small hut that sat not far from the homestead.

“nice one, greenie.” newt clapped him on the back. “i think you just ruined her day.”

“who was that?” the boy asked, watching as you disappeared behind the door of the hut.

“y/n. she’s one of the runners.” newt answered. “also the glade’s only girl.”

“oh.”

inside you were changing your shirt, muttering in annoyance as you did so.

your favorite shirt (out of the five or so you owned) was now covered in gally’s foul-smelling drink thanks to that greenie.

after changing, you went outside to join the party again, only for it to be declared over moments after the greenie remembered his name.

thomas.

“uh, hey.” he jogged over to you as you walked back to your hut. “i’m, um, i’m sorry about before. is your shirt okay?”

“it’ll survive.” you shrugged. “i guess.”

“so, you’re a runner?” he asked, walking with you. “you go into the maze with that minho guy?”

“yep.” you glanced at him. “are you just going to follow me the whole way?”

“oh, sorry.” he slowed down. “um, i’ll go now.”

“okay.” you stared.

“see you around, y/n.”

you furrowed your eyebrows. “right. see you around…”

“thomas.”

“see you around, thomas.”

while it may not have seemed like it, you and thomas became pretty close friends over the next week or so, and you felt dumb to admit that you even had feelings for him.

he was in the same boat. except thomas was head-over-heels in love with you.

you kissed once. when the glade was being attacked by grievers, he kissed you before the two of you split up.

so after your group escaped the maze, the two of you did your best to stick together.

the two of you sat on the floor of the room your group had been forced into after being ‘saved’.

your legs were stretched out to sit in his lap, and his hands sat on top of them.

the rest of the group was around, all full after eating more food than they’d ever seen in their lives.

you couldn’t focus on the conversation that was going on between teresa and the boys, because all you could focus on was how thomas’ fingers drew small shapes on the bare skin of your leg where your pants had rolled up a little.

you wanted to tell him how you felt. you wanted to kiss him again. but everyone else was around, and the thought of being in front of everyone made you uncomfortable.

you had no clue how thomas did his whole leader thing.

when the door to the room opened, everyone jumped up and ran over, eager to know exactly what was going on.

the man who had opened the door introduced himself as mr. janson and led your group through the compound.

thomas held your hand the whole time.

“first things first, let’s do something about that smell.”

the boys were being taken to a different room to you and teresa. just before your hand slipped from his, you kissed thomas on the cheek. simple enough.

that night you properly kissed again and he asked you to be his girlfriend, and despite all of your worries, you said yes.

it wasn’t long after that when your group had to leave the compound with another boy, aris. you still hadn’t escaped wicked.

you stuck by thomas’ side the whole time, or until you were separated again.

you didn’t even know if he was alive, but jorge was confident he and brenda were fine.

it took a few days until you reached what jorge called marcus’ place.

you got into the party and the first thing you spotted was thomas and brenda.

kissing.

then they pulled apart, thomas said something and brenda wandered off.

thomas seemed to spin around the room until he yelled out and collapsed.

your heart was broken.

you were separated for just a few days, the longest since you had met, and he was kissing a girl he barely knew.

you couldn’t even say anything to him because he was out cold. instead you had to help minho drag him upstairs and act like nothing happened.

then, after he woke up, your group was on the run again, searching for the right arm.

in the car, thomas reached his hand over and tried to take yours in his, but you pulled yours back. you didn’t let him.

he looked at you. he was confused.

you didn’t answer his look. you just turned your head away from him and looked out the car window.

he had no clue why you were suddenly ignoring him. not the entire drive to the mountains, not when the were taken to the right arm camp, not when brenda collapsed.

it was only when he was in the tent with her later, just after brenda woke up, when it clicked to him why.

you had seen brenda kiss him.

everything seemed to click into place at that moment, and he jumped to his feet halfway through his conversation with brenda.

“you okay?” she asked.

“yeah. yeah, there’s just something i need to do.” thomas looked down at her. “i’m sorry, i’ll be back later.”

then he ran out of the tent.

the camp was large, and thomas had no clue where he could find you. or any of his friends for that matter.

it took about ten minutes of searching until he found you.

you were sitting alone on a rock, looking down at your feet and mumbling something to yourself.

“y/n?”

you looked up and thomas realized you had been crying.

“what?”

there was a twinge of bitterness in your voice, and thomas frowned. it reminded him of how you had spoken to him the night you met, when he had splashed his drink into you.

“you okay?”

“i’m fine.”

he knew you weren’t, and he ignored the obvious signs that you didn’t want him around when he sat down beside you.

“what do you want, thomas?” you asked.

without another word, he simply wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest.

at first, you thought about trying to pull away. but you didn’t.

“why’d you kiss her? brenda?” you asked eventually. “do you like her better? because, you know, i’ll back off or whatev—”

“no, no, no, y/n.” he pulled back so he could look you in the eyes. “i could never like anyone better than i like you.”

“then why—?”

“she kissed me.” thomas told you, cupping your cheek with one hand. “we were drugged, okay? i…”

thomas winced slightly at the memory of brenda’s face after his words.

“i thought she was you.” he admitted. “whatever that marcus guy put in that drink had me seeing the weirdest shit.”

“are you calling me weird shit?” you teased and thomas’ eyes widened.

“what? no.” he shook his head. “that’s not what i meant.”

“i know. i was kidding.”

you grabbed his hand and interlocked your fingers.

“i’m sorry.” he apologized.

“don’t be. i get it now.” you shrugged.

“yeah, but i could’ve said something sooner.”

“when?” you asked. “when you were passed out? or when we were almost shot by mountain people?”

he chuckled. “okay, maybe not. but—”

“tommy, i get it. don’t worry.”

the feeling of freedom and happiness that evening was short lived, and soon became a nightmare.

teresa betrayed them, wicked burned the camp to the ground, and multiple people were taken.

sonya, aris, minho and you.

thomas had lost you. he had lost the battle. but he was determined to get you and minho and everyone else back.

he would do anything he could. he would do whatever it took to get you back.

taglist: @brvceyamada

a/n: why don’t these ever turn out like they sounded in my head LMAO

#thomas x reader #the maze runner #the scorch trials #the death cure #tmr x reader #tmr thomas #tmr thomas x reader #thomas #tmr minho #tmr newt #gally #tmr gally #tmr teresa #dylan o’brien x reader #dylan o'brien #tmr fic #tmr chuck

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hollybell51 · 2 years

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can you post newt x female reader smut? i had a look at your wattpad and noticed that you already had some but it's in the old style (i'm assuming it's your old style) and i really like how you write now (the stuff you post on here). obv only if you're comfortable with it, btw i love your work!

First of all, I'm glad you like my stuff! Secondly, I sure can! I've got some brand new things I cooked up a while back, and I would be delighted to share the love xxx

Just like that

Series masterlist, masterpost

Newt x fem!Reader

Maze Runner (2009 novel - James Dashner, 2014 film - Wes Ball)

Word count: 2318

Summary: shameless Newt smut. Enjoy.

Content: smut. Porn with like the tiniest hint of a plot. Friends with benefits type beat. Making out, blowjobs, hickeys, light praise kink (kind of), light dirty talk, masturbation (kind of), hair pulling (reader is the puller), cowgirl position (sort of??? Idk??), al fresco lol

Notes: I’m so sorry I have no idea how to tag this stuff. Literally what’s in “content” is in it, there might be stuff that I forgot so I apologise but it’s basically just what you’d expect from smut (I’m pretty basic)

You were kissing Newt. Or maybe Newt was kissing you, since he’d started the whole thing when he had put down the now empty cup of hot tea the two of you had been sharing, sheltered behind the partially rotted corpse of a massive tree, and taken your chin between his strong fingers, turned you to face him, then very deliberately pressed his lips against your own. You’d just smiled and let him, giving as good as you got. He still tasted like the drink, the sweetness of the honey you’d insisted on adding coating his mouth. And so it was that you came to be locked in a soft embrace now, with your movements lazy and relaxed as you took your sweet time exploring each other.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence; you liked Newt and he liked you, and both knew it. It was nice to have a sort of outlet every now and then, someone who you didn’t have to pretend to be anything other than yourself around, and who didn’t pretend around you. And that’s what Newt was, and what he had been for some time, ever since a few months ago when the two of you had found yourself drunkenly making out behind the homestead while the other Gladers enjoyed a bonfire.

Now, Newt’s hand had found its way to your breast, tracing circles over the material of your shirt and making your skin prickle. You traced a line along his jaw, your finger trailing down his neck to rest on his shoulder. You shifted yourself slightly, angling your body further towards him to ease the suggestion of a stiffness threatening to grow in your neck if you kept up your current position much longer. Newt’s mouth was still soft on yours, his tongue stroking your own lazily, but something about him was saying that he wanted more – or would soon.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you asked, breaking the kiss. The two of you had decided a while back that being open and up front was the way to go – “candid,” Newt had stated solemnly, and you’d agreed.

He seemed to consider for a moment, then glanced around to check for anyone in the immediate vicinity. The fallen tree trunk you were sitting against wasn’t all that deep into the deadheads, and while it was huge and had served as an excellent shelter numerous times before, it never hurt to be careful. It wasn’t that either of you were ashamed of your standing with the other – your “situationship” you jokingly called it – it was just that it would be awkward to get caught.

Now, Newt smiled at you and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, placing another gentle kiss on your lips.

You returned the smile, slipping your hand under the waistband of his pants, massaging his cock gently. You felt him grow hard, and when you were satisfied, you deftly unzipped his pants. You smiled again, spitting into your palm and resuming your light ministrations.

Newt raised his eyebrows, clearing his throat. “Love, that’s wonderful, but quit teasing.”

“Magic word?” you grinned.

Your friend sighed, rolling his eyes. “Please,” he huffed.

You nodded, licking your lips before gently kissing the tip of his dick and lowering your mouth over the head. Newt gave a tiny moan – well, something between a sigh and a moan – and moved his hand to your hair, his fingers tracing patterns gently over your scalp. You really liked giving blowjobs to Newt; he was always so gentle and considerate, and it never even felt like you were “giving” him anything. Sure, his dick was in your mouth, but it was more like something you were doing with him, something nice and fun and extremely gratifying. Especially when he talked to you, which he was doing now.

“That’s it love,” he murmured as you swirled your tongue around him, your hands working what wasn’t already in your mouth. “God, you’re good at this.”

The praise lit a warm glow inside you, and you sank your head lower. Newt’s breath caught in his throat as you hollowed your cheeks, the tip of his dick now almost touching the back of your throat with every bob of your head, your hand still taking care of the base. It was as slow and laid back as your kisses had been just minutes before, and you loved every second.

You continued like that, basking in Newt’s grunts of “yes” and “fuck” and the occasional “God, (Y/N)” before his fingers slid from your hair to under your chin, prompting you to stop. You released him with a wet sort of “pop” sound, licking your lips delicately while still holding his throbbing cock in one hand. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright as he looked at you. Your own face was warm, matching the not entirely unpleasant heat you’d felt building between your legs.

“Take your pants off and come here.” He patted his lap, kicking his own pants further down his legs.

You grinned. “Is that an order or an invitation?”

“An invitation, since you never do anything I order.”

“It’s cause you never say please,” you deadpanned as you shuffled out of your pants, discarding them and your underwear to one side. You swung a leg over Newt’s hips, straddling him, and placed your hands either side of his face. “How’s this?”

“Yeah, not bad,” he nodded, his own hands easing your shirt upwards. You let him, lifting your arms obediently as he slipped the piece of fabric over your head and sent it the way of your pants. He kissed along the line of your bra, then, watching your face carefully, reached around and undid the clasp. He caressed your breasts softly, sweetly, and slowly. That really did seem to be the theme of the day.

“Hey,” you said after a moment when he made no move to take his own shirt off, your hand coming to rest over his. “How come I’m naked and you’re not?”

He shrugged, twisting his hand to entwine his fingers with yours.

“Hardly seems fair,” you breathed, sliding your hips over his.

Newt’s breath caught in his throat once more, and he rolled his eyes at you. “If you insist.”

“I certainly do.” You pushed his shirt up, pulling it deftly over his head and tossing it to the side before laying your palms against his warm skin. You knew there were things Newt liked more than his own body, but you’d never really understood why. Sure, he was skinnier than some of the other boys, and his leg was a continuous chip on his shoulder, but you thought he was hotter than anyone you could name off the top of your head and you made sure he was aware of the fact.

In fact, the first time he’d expressed anything resembling insecurity, you’d been watching him get dressed after a night well spent, idly pondering how perfectly formed he was, how smooth and seamless every movement was even with the addition of his limp. You’d been so caught up in watching the dance of his lithe muscles under his skin that you hadn’t even noticed the apprehensive look on his face as he turned away from you.

“Can you… not watch me?” he’d asked hesitantly as he pulled on his shirt.

“Huh?” you’d frowned, sitting up.

“You were staring, can you not do it?”

“Oh.” You’d felt your face colour and had looked away, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“‘Sfine,” he’d said.

You’d asked why, hesitantly and as politely as you could. You just couldn’t work out why this boy, who was totally comfortable making you plead his name as your thighs squeezed around his shoulders and your fingers pulled his hair enough to make him moan (which was how you’d found out he liked his hair being pulled, but that was a story for another time), couldn’t deal with you watching him get dressed.

He’d shrugged, then turned around and spoken directly to the wall beside your head. “I don’t really like how I look.”

You were baffled to say the least, and had very nearly burst out laughing. “But you’re so…” you’d said instead, stumbling for the right words. “You’re so hot,” you’d blurted at last.

Newt had shrugged again, bending to lace up his boots. “Maybe to you.”

After that, you’d taken every opportunity – ones that weren’t too obvious, of course – to subtly express just how attractive you thought he was. From outright whispers of “fuck, you’re hot” mid tryst to casually proclaiming him gorgeous in the middle of a conversation, you really did take any chance that presented itself. And now was no different.

“Damn,” you smiled, bending to place a kiss on his collar bone. “You’re fucking sexy, you know that?”

“Look who’s talking,” he scoffed, but you caught the tiny upward twitch of his mouth. He brought your hand to his face, gently kissing your knuckles. You let a sigh escape you, rocking your hips over his once more. He was hot against you and the sun, now beginning to sink below the walls, caught in his hair, lighting it up in gold like some kind of halo. You’d hardly have been surprised if he sprouted wings right then and there.

“Quit teasing, (Y/N),” he half laughed, half growled. Then added “please” almost as an afterthought.

“Since you asked so nicely,” you smiled, the hand that wasn’t being held by him sliding down over his chest, his stomach, finally coming to rest on his dick once more. You carefully lined him up, and at his nod, sank gently onto his length.

You didn’t move right away, shifting your hands to the log either side of Newt’s head to steady yourself as you let yourself adjust. You rocked experimentally, earning a soft sigh and whispered “yes” from the boy under you.

“Just like that,” he murmured as you moved again. Another thing about Newt that you’d learnt was that he liked when you rode him like this, liked guiding your hips over his while showering you with kisses – and the odd hickey. He was doing it now, his hands gentle yet firm where they slid over the skin of your thighs and hips and waist, his mouth warm and silken where it roamed your chest and neck.

“Fuck, Newt,” you breathed, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. You didn’t pull it as such, just hinted at it. Still, Newt’s breath hissed between his teeth and he looked up at you from a particularly dark hickey at the curve where your neck met your shoulder, his eyes dark. You gave his hair the gentlest tug, tipping his head back and kissing his lips, his jaw, and down his throat.

Newt’s eyes were closed now, his breath shallow as you ran one hand down over his front, fingers skimming the subtle planes of muscle as a leaf skims the surface of a puddle. You kissed him again, slowly, your mouths melding perfectly together.

“Touch yourself,” he murmured against your lips. “I want you to cum.”

“I wanna make you cum,” you replied. It was true, you loved nothing more than watching Newt unravel because of you and only you, even if it was both of you doing the work.

He shrugged. “And I want you to get yourself off riding my dick, I want to watch you.”

“Ok.” You kissed him again, then slid the hand that wasn’t still tangled his hair down your own body to the heat between your legs. You bit your lip as your fingertips grazed your clit, stifling a moan.

“Don’t keep quiet,” Newt urged. “I wanna hear you too.”

God, this boy, you thought as you let yourself whisper a curse. Did he have any idea what he was doing to you? He probably did, actually, you reflected as your fingers rubbed tiny circles over your clit. You leant forwards to get a better angle, your chest brushing against Newt’s and your face inches from his own. He was watching you, his attention fixed only on you. You felt yourself twitch and your muscles began to tense as you found the perfect spot, the moans you let escape growing in frequency and volume.

“Move me,” you choked as you felt yourself teetering on the brink of your climax, every fibre of your being pulled taught.

Newt nodded, rocking your hips over his as your fingers continued their motion and you hung, suspended for a second before everything came crashing in on you.

“Fuck, Newt, oh my god,” you groaned as the orgasm flooded over you. You were dimly aware of him moaning your name and realised that your hand had tightened in his hair and that he was still moving you. “Keep going,” you sighed, cupping his face with one hand while the other continued to card through his hair, pulling occasionally.

“Mm, (Y/N) oh–” he broke off and you gave the handful of hair you had a firm pull, now taking over your own movements as he released inside you, bliss flooding his face.

You continued to slide your hips over his until your legs had ceased to shake and a little of the haziness had gone from Newt’s face, settling comfortably onto his lap. Wordlessly, you placed a soft kiss on his forehead, brushing the hair from his face and tracing patterns over his cheeks and neck, all the way down to his chest. He smiled at you, bending to sooth the dark marks he’d left on your skin with kisses of his own, holding you close against him.

“I love this,” he said at last.

You tilted your head to the side, nonplussed. “Having sex with me?”

He considered, nodded, then, “being with you.”

“I love being with you too,” you whispered as you kissed him again.

#Maze Runner #the maze runner #newt maze runner #tmr #tmr fanfiction #tmr fic #newt #newt x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #self insert fanfiction #maze runner fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #smut #maze runner smut

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lieutenantfloyd · 1 year

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Heyyyy!!! Since you're writing Maze Runner stories now I wanted to make a request. So it's a Minho TMR x female reader were Minho gets hurt somehow and the reader fixes him up and it's all cute and kinda hot. THANK YOUUUU

Promise Me This - Minho x Reader

Words: 1.2k

Summary: Reader, the keeper of the medjacks, is having a completely uneventful day. That is until Minho returns from the maze battered, bloody, and refusing to be treated by anyone but reader.

Warnings: Mentions of injury/blood/bandages, hurt/comfort trope, mentions of y/n, and some angst followed by fluff and a little bit of spice.

Note: This ended up kinda angsty, but I hope the comfort makes up for the hurt :)

Read on AO3

Sitting at a small table in the med-jack hut, you lazily organized and reorganized the various baskets of medical supplies. Being the primary medic for a group of well over 50 teenage boys kept you on your toes, but today had been slow and quiet. Sliding the basket of gauze back into place for what felt like the millionth time, you let your shoulders slump. Running your hands over your face you couldn't ignore the sleepiness pulling at your eyelids. The sun had already started its descent towards the west walls, but you hadn't treated a single person. By some miracle, even your most frequent patients; the builders, slicers, and track hoes; had maintained being completely injury-free. You pushed your chair back and walked out of the hut and into the bright mid-day sun. Stretching, you hoped the sunshine and fresh air would wake you. A short walk later you decided to abandon your original plans and instead stride over to the hammocks for a rare but much-needed mid-day nap. - Your slumber had been entirely peaceful until you awoke suddenly. It took your sleep-riddled brain a minute to catch up to what was happening that caused you to wake so jarringly. Hearing the sound of boots against the earth and distant shouts, you mumbled a curse beneath your breath. So much for a slow and quiet day. Making your way out of the hammock and into the open area of the glade, you tried to piece together what was happening. Your fellow gladers were scattered around the north doors, the air vibrating with panic. Despite the chaos, three voices, one sounding pained, were cutting clear above everyone else's. You couldn't make out the words from your distance but something told you to hurry up and get over there. Your walk turned into a sprint as drops of adrenaline started pumping through you. Pushing your way to the front of the group, your heart dropped into your stomach. Like always, the runners, your runner, had returned just before sunset. Except this time Minho looked like hell. His clothes were filthy and ripped while his exposed skin was covered in an assortment of cuts and already-formed bruises. Worst of all he was incoherent and frantic, evading Newt and Thomas's desperate attempts to calm their best friend down. Your body froze while your brain screamed for you to run to him. Luckily, a rather out-of-breath Newt caught sight of you and breathed a relieved "Finally!" before leaving Thomas to bargain with Minho. Newt hurriedly made his way over to you and wasted no time catching you up on things. "There you are! Two runners dragged Minho back half conscious. We tried to get Clint and Jeff to look him over, but then he woke up and had us chasing him around the entire shucking glade. He's been yelling for you ever since." Without another word, Newt dragged you into the open area Thomas and Minho were occupying. Upon Newt's return, Thomas said something to Minho that vaguely sounded like "See? I told you she was coming." before he stood and moved next to you. "Something happened out there but he won't... or can't... tell us what," Thomas warned quietly before walking off over to where Newt stood off to the side. But you couldn't quite hear him over the sound of your heart breaking as Minho's eyes met yours. In less than a second, Minho was on his feet and rushing towards you. His crazed look changed to one of total peace as his gaze locked on you. You paced forward and met him halfway, pulling him into your arms. You stayed strong while he all but melted into your touch. Minutes later, you begrudgingly forced yourself to pull away, scanning his face for injuries while your thumbs brushed over his cheekbones. Thankfully, Thomas, Newt, and a few other of your friends took the time you spent calming Minho down to disperse the crowd, allowing you to shuffle Minho into the nearby med-hut without a problem. - Fifteen minutes later, he sat on the table with you standing between his legs while you bandaged him up. His shoulders slumped and his arms hung loosely around your waist. Exhaustion had fully taken him over. As long as you knew Minho, getting him to put on as much of a bandaid was harder than anything else you'd ever done. Yet here he sat perfectly still while you fussed over his wounds. Dabbing an alcohol-dipped cotton ball over his last untreated cut, you tried to swallow down the worry building inside you. "What happened out there?" You asked before your mind could stop you. The look in his eyes grew distant as a stiff silence filled the air. Making quick work of applying the last bandage, you reach your hand up and gently stroked the short dark hair at the back of his neck. Seconds stretched into minutes as his mind recounted whatever he'd encountered in the maze. "It was just supposed to be a normal run. Just like always-" he started, his voice barely above a whisper. "-and the grievers they... t-they..." His voice trailed off as a protective rage exploded in your chest. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here." you cooed, allowing him to take a deep breath before you continued. "How can I help you? What can I do for you?" "I just... I just..." Before your mind even registered what was happening, his lips were against yours. Your heart simultaneously raced and stopped completely. Kissing Minho was always electrifying, but this was different. This kiss was heavy, feverish, and protective. Sinking into the kiss fully, your hands traveled up his sides and around his shoulders. Careful to avoid the areas you'd just bandaged. His previously relaxed hold on your waist turned into his hands working their way under your shirt to grasp and kneed at your hips firmly. His tongue forced its way into your mouth. The action gaining a soft moan from both of you. This only adds fuel to his fire. Pulling you impossibly closer to him, your hands move down and across his ribs. That's when feel him wince. "Shit, I'm sorry," you whisper to him.

You pull away, causing Minho to emit a low whine. He rests his forehead against yours breathlessly. Thoughts hazy with a cornucopia of feelings but his grip on you never falters. “I'm just a little sore. That's all.” He replies unconvincingly. Your expression sours and he sighs. “y/n, you and I both know It’ll take a whole lot more this to get rid of me. I'm fine. Really." When you hesitate to respond, He wastes no time pulling you back towards him, this time into a near bone-crushing hug. Securing one of his arms around your waist, the other moves to allow his hand to rub your back slowly in reassurance. As much as you fight it, you can't help melting under his strong yet gentle touch. Your head drops onto his shoulder and he smiles. The position now allowing him to place a kiss on your cheek before he leans further into your embrace. “I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers against your soft skin.

"...promise?" you challenge timidly. "Promise."

#minho #tmr minho #minho tmr x reader #minho x reader #tmr fic #tmr x reader #the maze runner #the maze runner x reader #minho the maze runner #top gun #top gun maverick

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justanobsessedfangirl · 11 months

Text

A Mission - The Maze Runner Imagine

Request from Anonymous: i loved ur 'how you meet' preferences!! could you write a griever slaying fem reader? i know this sounds wack but hear me out she comes straight out the box running for the hills and instead of stopping when they tell her not to go in there she runs straight in. minho or one of the other runners find her killing a griever and theyre like what the FUCK and he drags her back to the glade like why is there a girl here why was she killing a griever and everyone is like what the FUCK just everyone being confused and bewildered at the first girl in the glade being batshit crazy

Author's Note: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it!

Word Count: 2.2k

I have a mission.

It's the first thing you remember when you wake up in this cramped box, and for a while, it's the only thing you can think.

I have a mission.

The details come to you in fragments. You know you'll have to run. You're ready for that, pacing around the rising room to keep your muscles warm.

I have a mission.

There's going to be danger, that you're sure of. The scars on your body that you have no memory of getting make you wonder if this isn't the first time you've had a mission like this. There's a long one that snakes along your calf, like someone wrapped a curl of barbed wire around your leg. Your hands are littered with tiny, long-healed cuts. When you flex your fingers, you feel strong. Hardened.

I have a mission.

The room shudders to a stop. The far half of the ceiling opens up and daylight pours in. You sink further into the shadows. The light stings your eyes, and the gentle hum of the ascent has been replaced by clamoring voices and the sound of constant movement. The box shakes with the thud of someone landing inside.

I have a mission.

You dart across the room, hearing the voices change to shock and confusion, and leap for the wall. Your fingers just barely grip the top. Your feet scrabble for purchase on the slick surface, but you're determined, you're quick, you're strong, and this is your mission so you must succeed.

You haul yourself out of the box. A mob of teenage boys stands in front of you, all around you, some laughing, some glaring, many simply confused. You run at them and they scramble away. For a strange, detached moment, you feel like a queen walking to her throne, the lords parting before her in deference, cheering.

There is no cheering as you sprint across the grass.

"He's making a run for it!" someone says, cackling.

"I think that was a girl," comes a different voice.

You run faster. Your eyes have adjusted to the brightness and you can see the blue sky, the grassy ground, and the hulking stone walls boxing you in.

Escape one box and run right into another, you think, and then, I have a mission.

There are a few breaks in the walls, massive doorways leading into a mystery. You're heading for the closest one. Behind you, there are loud footfalls and cries for you to "Stop! Don't go in there!" It sounds like someone tells you to "Stop being such a shank," but his words are choppy, confusing, and all you want is to complete your mission.

The entrance is so close, just a few more seconds of all-out sprinting, when you feel the heavy presence of someone behind you. Someone who wants to grab you. Who wants to stop you.

Without planning to, you come to a dead stop and drop into a crouch. The person behind you was too close, they can't stop soon enough, their shin collides with your back as they trip over you and slam to the ground in front of you.

You're back running before you can take a close look at him. Every muscle in your body is moving with instructions you haven't given, implementing lessons you don't remember teaching. Your surroundings are entirely new, entirely foreign—and yet, there's an uncanniness to everything you see. The colors and the season and the people are wrong. But the bones of this place, those are familiar. Especially, you realize as you enter the gap between the walls, the maze.

For the first time, your steps falter. The walls are gray stone and decked in ivy. That's wrong. They should be…they should be…

You want to shiver, the memory flees, all you know is the mission.

You sprint and take a left at the four-way intersection. All of the voices have faded. No one seems to be coming after you as you make your way down corridors, following a path that's branded like fire in your mind.

Straight. Right. Right. Left. Straight. Left. Right. Right. Straight. Straight. Straight. Left.

Here.

Here is a dead end. The walls are so thick with ivy you can barely see the stones. The air is still as a graveyard. You stand, panting, trying to remember what comes next.

From atop the wall, there's a clicking noise. You look up.

The creature is hideous, all mechanical limbs and throbbing, human-like skin. You half-expect giant wings to unfurl from its back (why? The memory slips away like a shadow) but instead it starts climbing down the ivy, whirling and clicking. Razor-sharp barbs glint along its body. Its mouth, a maw of metal, gnashes hungrily.

You remember what you have to do.

The boys find you faster than you thought they would. You hear them round the corner as the monster shrieks its death knell. Its mechanical body curls in like the husk of a bug. Blood drips down your arm, getting on the wires that droop from the metal disk you're holding. It's still warm from the creature's chest cavity, where it had been nestled like a heart. The disk is pockmarked with flashing dots of light. They blink at you a few times, the pause between each growing longer, and then they wink out. The creature at your feet, speared by its own jagged limb, falls silent.

"What the fuck."

The boy isn't asking, you realize as you turn around, the metal disk slipping from between your blood-slicked fingers. He has dark hair and dark eyes and an athlete's build, all lean muscle and confidence. His gaze darts from you to the monster, then back to the monster.

He's flanked by two others, one with shaggy brown hair and freckles who looks to him in deference, and the other, dark-skinned and serious, who steps forward, side-by-side with the speaker.

"Minho," commands the dark-skinned boy, "check that the Griever's really dead."

The boy who spoke first nods and starts toward you, trepidatious at first, then more sure as sees the monster (the Griever?) more clearly. "Definitely looks dead," he says. "I don't know how she's not."

Their stares feel like drills boring into your skin. Your back aches, hot with blood, and the muscles in your legs are tightening up. Your mission is done, you should feel happy, but you're still here in this strange, wrong, too-familiar place, and the adrenaline that had been fueling you is fading. You want to go home. You want your sleeping bag, covered in a blanket of fur and nestled in the—the—Gone. The memory is gone.

I had a mission, you think. And then you say it out loud, testing the words on your tongue, "I had a mission."

The boy closest to you, the one who'd been called Minho, stares at you like you've grown a second head. "You're jacked," he says with a breathy, perplexed chuckle.

The insult is on your lips before you can remember where it comes from: "Crackhead."

Minho lets out a booming laugh, then turns to the other boys. "Can we keep her, Alby?"

The serious boy, Alby, frowns deeper. "We need to hold a Gathering. Thomas, go tell Newt. We'll be right there."

The third boy, the one with brown hair and freckles, nods warily. He takes one last look at you and sprints back the way he came. You watch him go, ignoring the boys he left behind until you hear a clatter of metal.

Your body jerks into action, spinning around and putting your hands up, ready to fight the Griever again if you have to. But it was just Minho kicking the creature's body, poking and prodding at its innards.

"What's your name?" Alby asks from behind you.

You turn and back up a few steps so you can keep both boys in your field of vision. Minho is crouched over the Griever. Alby is staring at you, his gaze heavy, solemn. Distrustful.

"Y/N," you tell him.

Minho pries the Griever's jaw open. His voice echoes off the metal tunnel of the Griever's throat as he asks, "How'd you avoid getting stung?"

Before you can answer, Alby cuts in, voice sharp and angry. "Where did you come from? What do you mean mission?"

Your body aches. You don't want to be here, standing over a mutated, cybernetic monster, being questioned by strangers. "I don't know. I can't remember anything."

"You remembered more than we did," Alby fires back.

Minho straightens up. "Let's get her back to the Glade, Alby. She can answer at the Gathering."

You hate their lingo, want to spit on all of the slang you don't understand because you know the words that should be there instead (it's not called the Glade, it's called the…) but you can't find the words, so you jog with them through the maze, following Minho, Alby a few paces behind you. They have you locked in. There's an urge to break away from them at one of the intersections. You could push Minho into the wall and sprint past him, only where would you go?

"What is this place?" you ask as you run.

Minho glances back at you. He looks apprehensive, but there's a curious glint in his eyes. "We're in the Maze. Although, you really shouldn't be in here, Greenie." Looking forward again, he speaks in a louder voice, "Clearly you're a rule-breaker."

You still kind of want to push him.

As you get closer to the "Glade," you hear the murmur of voices. It gets louder and louder, until you can see the door at the end of the corridor and, beyond it, a swarm of boys. Somehow, they get even more raucous as you get closer. Their shouts blur together, meaningless words and sounds filling the air. They clamber into each other, everyone wanting to get closer, no one willing to step into the Maze.

"Out of the way, shanks!" Minho yells.

Boys push and pull, slinging insults and questions, and somehow the mass of chaos becomes two distinct groups, one on each side of you.

Minho leads you across the grass to a rustic building. It's practical and sturdy, all of the effort put towards making a building that won't fall, none left to make it inviting. Inside is quieter. For a second, you're grateful because the blood rushing in your ears and the pain singing across your body is enough noise. But as you follow Minho into another room, the air grows thick and tense. Every breath feels like you could choke on it.

Eleven boys sit in a semicircle, two empty seats amid the line. In the middle of the room is a single empty chair.

Your stomach sinks. Your feet pulse with pain.

Alby enters behind you, jerking his chin at the chair in the center. "That's yours." He watches and waits until you slowly walk to the chair and sink into it.

Your skin feels hot. You're acutely aware of the blood on your clothes, the sweat on your body. You feel like a science experiment, everyone examining you, anticipating your reactions so they can write them down, dissect them, find the answers they want. Mouth dry, you swallow and wait.

Alby and Minho take their seats, Minho beside the third boy from the Maze, the one Alby called Thomas.

"Who—"

"Why—"

"She's a—"

"We can't trust—"

"She killed a Griever." Alby's voice rises above the rest, the stern tone of a leader.

The other boys erupt into more questions. They bounce off the walls. You don't know who to look at, gaze darting from boy to boy until you land on the blond next to Alby. He's one of the few that isn't speaking, his brown eyes boring into yours. You don't know if he sees fatigue, fear, or anger on your face, but he gives a slight nod, almost to himself, and holds up a hand.

"Slim it!"

The others get out a few more unanswered questions before falling silent.

"What do you remember?" the blond asks, his words tinged with a familiar accent. You can't place where you've heard it, who you've heard it from, but you remember that she had blonde hair too, and…The thought fades away.

"I know I had a mission," you say. It's as simple as that, but the boys stare at you like you're speaking another language.

"What does that even—"

"Who gave you—"

"Where the fuck did you come from?"

The blond again holds his hand up against the barrage of questions.

The large boy to your left who spoke last scoffs and protests, "Let us ask, Newt. I know how we can get some answers."

Biting your tongue to keep more insults, origins unknown, from bursting out, you add the name to your memory, filing it with the others. The boy with the accent is Newt. The leader is Alby. You followed Minho through the Maze. And the third boy from the Maze who sits beside Minho, eyebrows furrowed together, his name is—

Thomas stands up. He looks far away, his eyes distant and unfocused. The room slowly quiets down.

"What is it, mate?" Newt asks.

Thomas doesn't look at him. For a few seconds, he just stares at the wall. Then his eyes snap to you. "She shouldn't be here."

The large boy grins, a harsh, twisted thing. "The Greenie's growing a brain."

Thomas doesn't react. Your eyes are locked with his, your breath stuck in your chest. Should you stop him? Should you beg him to continue? You don't have time to do either. Thomas stares at you and speaks.

"She's from Group B."

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thatgingerswritings · 10 months

Text

Stay with me

Newt X Reader

→ He/him pronouns

→ Movie based but I put a few things from the books, mainly for the griever description

Synopsis: reader is a runner and unfortunately meets a Griever during his daily run in the Maze. He comes back to the Glade terrified and seeks comfort in Newt.

Warnings: none

A/N: English is not my first language, I also may not know the whole Glader's slang but I hope I got it right. Please correct me if I made any mistake!

!!REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

You were about to leave for the Maze with Minho. Your bags were ready and you were just waiting for the keeper's green light, but it seemed that he was taking his time today. Which was weird, considering Minho's devotion. Weird or not, he wasn't there, and you were not a runner for nothing: you couldn't stay still. You had zero patience and needed to let your energy out to not go insane between these walls. So you decided to do a quick warm up by jogging around the Glade until Minho decides to show up. After a quick stretch, you run to the Homestead.

As you pass by the Gardens, a voice you know very well calls you.

"Oh hi Newt!" you say as he walks to you.

"What are you doing?" he asks and looks around, "where's Minho?"

You shrug. "I have no idea. Maybe that shank decided to sleep in." you answer, earning a little laugh from the blonde.

An awkward silence followed, you didn't know what to say as you were too focused on your racing heartbeat. Newt made it beat faster than any running session, but he didn't seem to notice and you wouldn't tell him. After two seconds of silence that felt like two hours, you speak again, trying not to stutter.

"I'm going to look for hi-" you began, but you feel a fist hitting your shoulder, "ouch!"

You turn around and see your friend. His eyebrows frowned and his arms crossed on his chest.

"Where were you?" Minho asked, annoyed.

"Where were YOU? I went running because I was bored, I waited for you for almost 30 minutes!"

You pointed an accusing finger at him and he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah whatever, let's go." he said before walking to the door.

You sigh and turn to Newt again. "See how he treats me? A tyrant." He smiles at your comment. "Guess I gotta go then, see you later!"

"Yeah, be careful."

"As always," you give him a wink, which caused the boy to blush a little, but you didn't notice.

You smile at each other and you have to mentally slap yourself to walk away from Newt and get to the Maze. You join Minho who's waiting for you, the bag on his shoulders and his arms crossed.

"Who's waiting for who now?" he says as you roll your eyes.

"C'mon it's been two minutes!"

"Felt like an eternity."

Minho really got on your nerves sometimes, but you knew he was doing it on purpose so you couldn't be mad at him. He sure was funny, but you would never tell him that as he absolutely didn't need an ego boost. You put your bag on your shoulders and follow your friend in the Maze before separating ways and going to your section. You ran for hours, following the path you were used to and taking notes at every turn. You were here for almost a year and a half and you basically knew the Maze like the back of your hand.

After a few hours, the sun was at its zenith and you decided to take a break to eat and drink. You took around 15 minutes off, as you did everyday, because again, staying still longer was impossible to you. You could handle an hour or two with nothing to do in the Glade, but in the Maze it was a whole different story. So you packed your things and went on your daily routine, but before you could make a step, you heard it. The metallic stomps against the cold stone of the Maze, and the horrible grunt you could hear at night when you were not sleeping. You froze and held your breath. A thousand thoughts were running through your head and you knew you had to run, but your legs were like paralysed and you couldn't bring yourself to move. You didn't know when you started breathing again, but another set of metallic sounds and rattlings got you out of your trance and your legs finally moved again. You carefully approached the origin of the sounds. You had no doubt it was a Griever, but you wanted to make sure it didn't notice you.

After only a few steps you realised that walking towards a Griever was definitely the worst idea you've ever had, but there was no time to think about it as the creature rolled in front of you. It was on the other side of the corridor, about 50 meters away. Your body moved by itself, you had no time to think. You heard it go after you and you tried to run faster if it was possible, cursing under your breath. The Griever was getting closer, and tears started to blur your vision. Your legs felt like they were on fire and you could swear your heart was about to explode in your chest. Even your throat hurt from breathing so fast. You could still hear the Griever rolling behind you, his pliers slamming as if it was just having fun by menacing to catch you. Though the sounds were distant; your heartbeat was so strong you could feel it in your head and you heard your blood's pumping.

You turned around a few corners of the Maze without thinking and luckily you didn't end up trapped in a dead end. You ran for hours, refusing to stop before you arrived in the Glade, you weren't sure if the Griever was still after you but you were too scared to look behind you. You couldn't hear anything else than your heartbeat and your loud steps echoing on the huge walls.

One last turn and you saw the vast green expanse in front of you. You didn't slow down and even tried to run faster to the Glade. In just a few seconds you exited the Maze and were back in the only safe place you knew. A few meters in the Glade and you finally stopped running (more like your legs gave up and you fell on the ground). You tried to catch your breath but you started crying at the same time which could give the impression to anyone seeing you that you were convulsing. To your own surprise, you didn't cry for long, just a few minutes, but it took you some time to breath normally again. You sat down, your back against the wall and your gaze on the grass. Zoning out, you didn't hear the steps approaching you.

"Y/n? Why are you already back?" you recognised Newt's accent and looked up. He immediately kneeled in front of you, visibly worried. "Are you okay?"

"I... I just saw a Griever..." your voice was shaky and tears were coming up to your eyes again, "it- it chased me and... I don't know how I'm still alive..."

"What?!" Newt exclaimed before processing to check out your body for possible wounds, "did you get stung? I'm calling the medjacks!" He got up and you grabbed his hand.

"No, I'm fine..." your voice broke and tears were running down your cheeks again, "can you stay with me..? P-Please..." you said between sobs.

Newt nodded and kneeled in front of you again. Your back no longer against the wall, you threw your arms around his him and sobbed heavily against his chest. He hugged you back, his arms around your shoulders. His left hand gently rubbing your back and his other hand resting on your head. "It's okay," he whispered, "you're safe now." You stayed like that for a few minutes, until your sobs became soft sniffles. Newt's grip on you loosened when he felt that you were calming down, but you didn't let go an even held him a bit tighter.

"Wait," you said with a little panic in your voice before whispering again, "don't pull away... not yet." He put his arms on your back again. "Okay, I'll stay as long as you need."

#tmr fic #tmr newt #newt x y/n #newt x reader #gay #lgbtqia #fanfiction #the maze runner #imagine #the maze runner imagine #tmr imagines #x reader #x male reader #male reader #gay mlm #mlm #the scorch trials #the death cure #tmr fandom

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bruh--wtf · 1 year

Note

*forgot to say on my last request but can it be a tmr fanfic, I don’t mind what character but I’d love either frypan or Newt? :)

Not a Joke

Newt x Reader

Main Masterlist

Summary: Newt and the reader finally clarify that the flirts were never jokes.

Maze Runner Masterlist

2: “You ramble, I find it adorable”

24: "How about we start off slow. Can I hold your hand?"

Requests are Open for all characters

@ecstacyx

*Sorry it took so long to answer this request!*

“Newt!” You exclaim, running into the gardens. Newt looks up instantly, slightly alarmed by the way you came up to him. You were still in your running gear and grinned at him as you came to a stop.

“I went into that new section to day with Minho! It was so cool! There were these thin metal wall thingys, and-”

“Are you supposed to be telling me any of this?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. You wave him off, smiling still.

“I tell you everything I’m not supposed to. I expect the same in return,” you say, giving him a pointed look. Newt just chuckles and nods, picking up the basket he had in front of him before he started walking. You walk in step with him. “Anyways, I think we’re figuring out the pattern more and more every day. Like this part is new, but it’s similar to a lot of the old ones. I think we’re getting closer!” You exclaim, shaking his arm a little bit. Newt just smiles at you and you go back to talking, which is usually how your dynamic works.

“What would you do first when we get out?” You ask. You swing your arms a little as you walk. Newt just starts transferring the crops into their designated areas. “I think I want to have something to eat. I love Frypan, but I wanna try something that isn’t one of our designated three meals,” you say. Newt chuckles at that and nods. “What about you, Newt?”

He just shrugs and you sigh, thinking of going to shake him a little on the shoulders, but think better of lifting your arms. You need to wash up. As soon as possible. Newt raises an eyebrow at you and you sigh again. “I need a shower.” Then you smirk at him. “Wanna join?” Newt blushes as he always does when you flirt with him. You chuckle a little again. “We could start off slow… Can I hold your hand?” you say, reaching out so he can grab you hand. Newt looks at you for a second, his blush deepening.

“Maybe later, Y/N.” You frown a little as he steps away and you drop your hand. “I’ll see you at dinner.” He walks away. A second later, Frypan walks up to you and dusts off his hands.

“You’re so mean,” he says. You give him a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s so into you and you keep messing with him!” Frypan exclaims. You blink at him.

“I wasn’t messing with him,” you say. Did Newt think you were just messing with him? Oh no, you hoped he didn’t think that.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Fry says before walking away. You frown, and look over at where Newt was still walking.

You just decide to go shower before dinner. You sit next to Newt when you get to the tables. He gives you a small smile and you start talking to Minho across the table. You decide to grab Newt’s hand under the table about halfway through the meal. He tenses up next to you, a soft blush on his cheeks. You don’t say anything about it, though, and neither does he.

After dinner, you got up and Newt looked at you. “Uh, Y/N?” You look at him and raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He asks. You nod and sit back down, your legs on the opposite side of the bench as his.

“What’s up?” You ask. He just stares at you for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Why’d you do that during dinner?” He asks. Your eyes crease a little, confused.

“What do you mean?” He clears his throat again and glances around. He lowers his voice like he doesn’t want any of the others to hear.

“You grabbed my hand.”

“I held your hand, Newt. And you didn’t pull away.” You cross your arms and give him a pointed look.

He gives you a sharp look back. “Why on earth would I pull away from you?” He asks sharply. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head,” you say, making him visibly confused. “First you act like you’re uncomfortable because I held your hand, and that’s fine I won’t do it. But then you say something like that. I flirt with you and you never flirt back, but you don’t tell me to stop either.”

“Y/N,” he says, trying to cut you off but you keep talking.

“Sometimes I can’t tell if you like me or not.” He sighs like he’s going to say something, but you continue. “I don’t know what you want me to do Newt, because if you don’t like me just tell me. I won’t keep making a fool of myself if you don’t want me,” you say. You pause, out of breath and Newt just stares at you for a second. His eyes were wide and wandering over your face. “What?”

“You. You ramble, it’s adorable,” he says. Your eyes widen a little and he raises an eyebrow. “I think this is the first time you haven’t had something to say,” he says. You blush a little, looking down at the table. Newt reaches over and places his hand on yours.

“I could never tell if you were serious or not,” he admits. “I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself by flirting back with someone I like just for a bit.” You frown a little.

“I was never joking,” you say. He smiles a little and nods.

“I see that now.” He makes a point to officially hold your hand in his. “I’ll hold your hand now.”

#newt fic #the maze runner newt #newt x reader #newt #newt tmr #newt imagine #tmr newt #tmr x reader #tmr fanfiction #tmr series #tmr fic #tmr frypan

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luvieshifts · 1 year

Text

the maze runner maze diversity ideas directly inspired by this @petrichor-idyllic post!!

ive literally been thinking about it nonstop since omg okay BASICALLY its confirmed in the scorch trials movie that there are a bunch of other mazes aside from the glade and group b. since these other mazes are never touched on there are one million and one ways people could go with them in fanfiction in terms of layout, weather conditions, etc. so i wanted to share some!

petri had tons of great ideas (go follow them right NEOW) and im just here to expand on them. 4 the sake of simplicity im gonna call the “gladers” subjects/mazers since we dont really know what theyd call themselves, and im gonna call the “glade” the centre. i am gonna keep calling new kids greenies bc i think its a funny little name + DISCLAIMER i have not read the books and i also do not have the time or energy to rewatch the movies so if any information is off my bad fr

NOT PROOFREAD

MONSTER IDEAS

a maze with birdbox style monsters so they have to navigate the maze blindfolded

a maze where the monsters are deathly afraid of some sort of metal that wicked wont send them enough of to make clothes or armor (at least not enough to keep every mazer safe) so all the people are heavily pierced. greenies come up piercingless and have to sit in the piercing hut (where they keep the metal) for however long it takes them to let the maze piercers do their job because absolutely no shot are they letting any dumbass teenager go anywhere with their rare life saving metal without it being fused to their bodies. the maze record for time a greenie has spent in the piercing hut is 3 full days and the less time you spend in there when you first arrive the more street cred you get

^ the piercer would probably be the maze leader, im picturing someone who at the beginning was the only person that could talk greenies into getting the piercing over n done with and as more came up the maze just filled with people that would only listen to the one person they trusted enough to pierce them straight out of the box.

a maze with underground monsters. you drop something heavy enough and something shoots out of the ground, jaws wide open. they have treestyle type houses, floating bridges connecting buildings. they dont have runner equivalents bc theyre working on building bridges through the maze and its like a no brainer that they cant go anywhere without a bridge. instead of “someone should try surviving the maze at night” its “we should climb the walls” and everyone thinks hes just as nuts

^theyd have a box but wouldnt it be fucking funny if their greenies just fell out of the sky?? they have a little platform right underneath where the greenies and supplies land (they call it ground zero) picturing wicked somehow forgetting to cushion the platform at first and patient zero falls out of the sky and dies on impact

a maze where the monsters arent giant teen eating beasts but deadly insects. one bite of that one and youll vomit up your internal organs, breathe in gas from that one and your entire body will be paralyzed. accidentally step on that one and your foot will swell to the size of a bowling ball and fucking explode. experiment with how your mazers cope with this - maybe everyone wears layers and layers of bee keeping style clothes outside and all the buildings are netted. do they have disinfecting rooms? do they have some sort of poison that takes the insects out? how to they distribute this poison since they cant just pierce it on like the metal maze?

a maze with the hunger games mutt type monster-mutations made out of fallen mazers

a maze where the monsters arent monsters or a threat at all but contain clues or keys thatll help the mazers get out and are notoriously impossible to catch

MAZE IDEAS

on the wiki page for group b it says their maze went vertical at one point - a maze that is completely vertical, their centre (creatively named The Hole) being like a tube just walled in by heaven high maze structures. you look up and at some point the walls give way to an abyss. most of the mazers have given up hope of getting out because it looks endless - or does it? nobody really entertains the idea that the top of The Wall is closer than they think, that the creators have put in a fake ceiling to fuck with them, but the people theyve sent up dont come back down and when the hole is quiet enough they can hear something alive up there and nobody can say for sure that their little village is any worse than what theyll find if they try to leave

hunger games quarter quell type maze where different sections of it have different monsters or obstacles. the sections with the easiest to bypass obstacles have the most complicated puzzle, the sections that are the easiest to navigate have obstacles 10x as deadly

PEOPLE IDEAS

a maze where 2 people come up in the box at a time (inspired by this thomas fic). theyd have names like box-mate or smth for whoever you come up in the box with (i.e thats jeff, he’s clints box-mate) and everyone is really close with their box-mate, platonically or otherwise. i feel like theres alot of cute potential for this idea, like an alby-equivalent talking to aggressive mazers like why dont you go find your box-mate and chill out. go cuddle or something. greenies often feeling weird about their connection w their box-mate (bc who wouldnt??) and long time mazers teasing them about it “oooooh somebodys making eyes at their booox-maaate muah muah muah”

unisex maze (although all these ideas can be unisex) where the number of boys and girls is slightly or very uneven at any given time. people have bets going around that time of the month every month about whether theyre getting a boy or a girl w things like chores and food being traded like currency. the bonfires on greenie day are just celebrations for the winning party

got this idea from petri but someone alone in a maze!!! just completely isolated for however long, not being expected to survive but making it out somehow. have you guys ever read an article or paper on the long term psychological effects of solitary confinement in prisons? of course itd be different but isolation is literally used as a torture method in some places. humans are not supposed to be so alone!! a lone mazer that sleeps by the thinnest part of the walls at night so they can hear the monsters, have some sort of connection to another living thing. a lone mazer that only survives their maze because they know their monsters like the back of their hand after spending endless nights well hidden in the maze just OBSERVING the creatures because it becomes a comfort to them, seeing something outside of themself move by its own free will. a lone mazer that never stops talking once theyre out of the maze because long silence makes them feel like theyre all alone again, a lone mazer that doesnt talk at all once theyre out of the maze because they cant stand the sound of their own voice anymore.

^ petri had the idea of an animal companion and i think that is a wonderful idea!! they have this fic where the reader had a dog and theyre really cute together. go full on disney princess & give your character a bird or a chameleon or a tiger if youre a jasmine guy. a dog or any predatory animal can conceivably help your character escape the maze - give your character a sloth or a koala or just a really lazy cat. give me a lone mazer whos animal companion is dead weight but they dont have the heart to leave them, who keeps their fat cat strapped to their chest like a baby as they fight for their life.

person alone in a maze with a baby. ik this sounds so random but wicked wanting to see the effects of growing up in the maze so they send in a carer, someone that looks after the mazers before theyre sent in. the carer raises the kid angry at whoever has trapped their now adopted child in this torture chamber come to find out they used to be one of them

maze where the subjects are supposed to get injured in some way to force them to rely on one another. a subject being deafened by a banshee type monster, a subject getting a limb amputated by medjack equivalents after getting suddenly and suspisciously sick. they dont spend so much time mapping the maze as figuring out how to get all of them through to the very end because they quite literally cannot make it without every single mazer

a maze where the subjects keep their memories but theyve all been altered. some remember wicked as saviours providing shelter for them as orphaned children, others remember being restrained, poked and prodded, a vague feeling of grief and betrayal that they cant explain. others dont remember wicked at all and insist that the maze is a paradise compared to desert wastelands filled with zombie people and viral disease.

your mazers can react to this in any way shape or form. maybe factions/cliques of people with similar memories form. nobody wants a leader from a different group in charge of the entire maze so they dont have one, there not being any rules that apply to every group in the maze because nobody will listen to eachother. everyone thinks the ones that dont remember wicked are crazy and the anti-wicked group have the most reason to become violent, have been the most violent in the past so everyone thinks theyre psychos. it takes them longer than other groups to get out despite having memory because they all take over different parts of the maze and refuse to share information.

mazers that have access to technology. they can make things like recordings and audios but no way of connecting to the outside world and no information aside from what they put in themselves. they learn to program things and make robots/drones to navigate the maze for them, make intro videos for greenies so they dont have to deal with them. instead of track hoes and medjacks they have groups of people that work on different kinds of technology because theyve learnt to automate most of the stuff the gladers do by hand. some work on exploring the maze, some make weapons, some study the monster corpses theyve managed to get, etc etc.

CULTURE/TRADITION IDEAS

the different ways people commemorate dead mazers!! in the glade they cross out their names on the maze walls and in group Bs maze they like sculpt their faces into the ice. give me a maze that tattoos the names of their fallen, whos oldest mazers have the most ink so it kind of goes without saying that the more tattoos you have the more authority you have. greenies being able to tell clearly whos been around longer based on which names they have tattooed. give me a maze that mounts the weapons of the dead on a wall, a maze with a regular graveyard that the mazers visit on slow days

greenie events!!! give me greenie celebrations like the bonfire we see in the glade, parties or games, feasts to welcome newcomers. give me a maze where the arrival of a greenie is grim, one more mouth to feed, one more lost soul trapped. a maze where everything dims down around that time of the month because another person means another month theyve failed to get out. give me mazes that test their greenies to see if theyre of any use to the group because those that arent are dead weight. a maze that holds Greenie Trials, where you have to complete an obstacle course or survive a night in the maze or complete some obscure challenge and if you cant youre tossed to the monsters.

^bonus points for a gally-equivalent getting to say ominous shit like The Last One Didn’t Make It

TATTOO SUBGENRE

because i dont know what else to do with these

maze where wicked programmed the monsters to respond to some basic specific kind of symbol and the people have it tattooed in very visible places, painted on every hut and wall

maze where the monsters are deathly allergic to some sort of liquid so the subjects tattoo themselves with it

maze where you have to be incredibly light on your feet when navigating the maze so people tattoo maps on themselves.

GROUP B

i know im supposed to be talking about maze ideas not mentioned in canon but group b has so much potential their wiki says that group b doesnt have runners, they literally all just go out into the maze in a giant group, AND that their monsters are out day and night PLUS their maze is a frozen wasteland. i imagine any girls that arent strong enough to withstand everything are like pretty quickly weeded out and only the hardasses that adapted quickly enough were left omg the cultural norms that would form?? theyre all absolutely jacked and if a greenie dies nobody bats an eye cause tough shit. no introduction no transition period you come into the maze with us and dodge airborne monsters or you stay here and freeze to death. the creators do send them medical supplies but over time they start to notice the way the group interacts w eachother so they start sending less to see if they can push it even farther, make the girls have to ration their medical supplies. it works tenfold oh you broke your arm and you want a sling, aris?? rachel got her arm CHEWED OFF by a FLYING MUTANT PTERADACTDOL and didnt ask me for so much as a BANDAID

this is like evidenced on the wiki too multiple girls suggesting they just leave aris to freeze to death or get eaten by monsters in the maze because theyre SUSPISCIOUS of him?? like absolutely unprovoked too thomas had a stung glader accusing him of being at fault for the maze an unconscious girl who came at the wrong time who is apparently going to be the last greenie they ever recieve feverishly gasping his name just so much ammo for the gladers to toss him out and it takes the death of like half the glade and an insane gally to get him where aris was upon arrival. they literally punch aris square in the face immediately after they decide not to kill him bc “its the fastest way to remember your name” like how did you guys realise that??? "fastest way” so you admit there are other ways??? why are you giving all your greenies concussions

GEN

because i dont know where to put these

explore the concept of failed mazes. a desert maze where the subjects couldnt survive on the monthly supplies because they couldnt farm any food on their own because, well, desert. a maze where wicked did something like the memory altering maze, purposefully dividing them but they went too far and the mazers killed eachother off hunger games style

test mazes! have you ever wondered why the mazes operate the way they do? why do they send people up once a month? why are the mazers of all different ages? why not make the centre already stocked with food and buildings so the subjects can spend more time cracking the maze instead of learning how to grow crops?

a maze where they sent all the people up at once and without guidance from more experienced subjects they pretty quickly killed themselves off. a maze where the subjects were too young and werent organising themselves or mapping the maze fast enough, a maze where the subjects were too old and lost hope faster and easier. a maze where the mazers had everything they needed upon arrival and nobody wanted to leave.

AND MANY MORE!!!

IN conclusion make ur own mazes people!!!!! get creative w it there are so many different directions you can take it in!! pls feel free to use any ideas thats what theyre here for i dont need credit but PLEASE tag me id love to see anything that comes from this nonsense!!! nd lmk if anybody wants a pt2 because i had a million half baked ideas that didnt make the cut i am filled to the brim with Thoughts

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subjecta5theglue · 7 months

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this is your formal reminder NOT to write fanfiction in the notes of your phone, but to write it on your laptop/literally any other device instead. it's been months, and the predictive text on my phone still comes up with "newt" or "thomas" after the most random words. i literally cant get rid of it 😐

#maze runner #the maze runner #tmr #maze runner fic #tmr fic #maze runner fanfiction #the maze runner fanfiction

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bellzsad · 3 months

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listening to this while working on my newtmas fic is everything.

ITS LITERALLY SO GOOD BC MOST OF IT IS BASICALLY MY MUSIC TASTE SO I ACTUALLY LIKE ALL OF THE SONGS

thanks maya on spotify ur a real one

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thomasbrodiesandwich · 1 year

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There will come ...

a soldier

a poet

a king

hey! i wrote a fic about this if you're interested🤭

Title: There Will Come A ...

Relationship: Thomas/Minho/Newt (Thominewt)

Chapters: 3/3 Completed

Words: 5k

Important Tags: Movie-verse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Safe Haven AU, Newt Lives AU, References to Depression, Mentioned Canonical Character Deaths (Except for Mary)

Summary: Now that they have time, Minho, Newt, and Thomas deal with the past and face their future. Together.

(other disclaimers on my author's note right there in the link below!)

AO3 Link: THERE WILL COME A... - littlelass - The Maze Runner (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

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foreverforgally · 1 year

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In The Garden

A Gally Fanfic; Chapter 4

The kiss

Summary - Quinn Abigail Allen is the first female ever to grace the presence of the Glade. At first the tensions between her and keeper Gally are high, the enemies to lovers trope creeps through her life. Will she give into the trope? Or will she chose the love triangle?

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

A few weeks went by in the Glade and ultimately I had been chosen as a Builder. Although we worked together, there wasn’t much speaking happening between me and Gally.

Everytime I figured we were going to address the situation, he would order me around like I was any other Builder that worked under him. He was actively avoiding me.

Outside of “work”, I didn’t have much to do in my very little free time. I did however make a few good friends. Elijah was a slicer, however his job was primarily to raise the livestock.

Elijah was tall, strong and his locks were a messy dirty gold color. "You busy today Eli?" His back faced me, he was planted on a stool, caring to one of the Glades many sheep's.

"Yeah sorry Q, Winston has us doing double time." He turned around on his chair, he beamed at me while giving me the bad news.

"Boring, can't those shanks give you a break," I walked along the wall of the shed, touching and playing with various tools.

"Aren't you supposed to be building... Y'know, as a builder?" He chuckled, turning back and putting his attention into the animal.

"Yeah, well Gally's in a mood, just yells incoherent nonsense and expects a corporate office." Bending down, I grabbed one of the piglet and held it into my chest.

"Soo you came to bother me instead of your job?" Elijah turned and smirked at me, hanging off his chair with a brush in his hand.

I rolled my eyes and put the piglet down. "You've never minded my company," I softly stated, "I just can't handle him when he doesn't want to talk to me." I had walked over to his stool, grasping his locks with my fingers, brushing and braiding.

Over time, while spending it with Elijah, we grew close. Our relationship was strange, we had already developed nicknames for one another and were comfortable with friendly physical touch.

"And how's that going for you?" His tone softening from the teasing, enjoying the sensation of the mini head message.

"He's infuriating, It's always his way or no way." By this time, I had my own stool and I spent my time taking my nerves out on Eli's hair.

"I mean, every time I get any percentage of close to starting a conversation, he just changes the subject to work," I babbled, "Ever since the 'almost kisses' and him becoming my keeper, he's completely belittled my existence." | dropped my hands in frustration.

"Wasn't he doing that before hand?" He raised his eyebrows in genuine question, turning his head to look back at me. I slapped the back of his head and he ducked out, holding the spot I hit.

"Ow!" He sassed at me, "You have no brain cells Eli." | stood up from my stool and walked back to the piglet.

"Are you interested in that pig?" He stood up aswell, The sheep being well groomed and ready for sheering.

I shrugged, she was cute. "I don't know, I like her spots." I smiled down at the piglet, she was a white pig with black spots, it particularly tickled her snout.

"Take her." He suggested, shrugging like it was such a casual offer. "Woah Elijah, I can't just take a pig. What, What would I even do with her?" The said pig bounced around and made little squeaks as her tail danced around.

"I don't know, probably give her a better life than we could, y/know, unless you're into eating your pets." He chuckled and I grimaced.

"Even if I did take her, what would I even do with her?" I questioned, watching her run around and squeal. "Keep her here, I’ll take care of her for you." He persisted.

What if the Glade needed this adorable, cute pig? "You promise it's not a big deal?" I wanted to make sure we wouldn't become a problem for him.

"Quinn, I promise from my death bed, that l'll take care of that pig," He smiled, "No questions asked." He scooped her up, gently placing her into my arms.

My face contorted in the sweet gesture, "Thanks Eli," I hugged him hard with an umph, his arms slowly wrapping around me securely.

"Anytime Q." He whispered into my hair. I pulled away and he kept his gaze on my eyes, running down to my lips. "What're you going to call her?" He asked softly, eyebrows raising.

" think I'll name her Sadie, cute right?" I looked down the pig in my arms. "Beautiful." His arms were still wrapped around my waist, gaze never leaving mine.

"Am I interrupting something?" Jesus can I just have one moment without someone walking in? I separated from Elijah's touch, him being more hesitant.

"Gally, I was just-" I hesitated, "Getting back to your post? You've been gone for over thirty minutes." He accused, his body looked tense and I knew I was in trouble.

"Right." I retorted, "I'Il see you later Elijah." I handed Sadie back to him, He looked down at me feeling sorry for me. I walked past Gally wordlessly, shoving my shoulder into his as I made it out of the shed.

Right in the middle of the Glade, Gally grabbed me by my upper arm and pulled me towards him. "What were you doing." He pressed angerly, "What does it matter to you Gally?” I spat his name out like venom, having enough of his attitude.

He scoffed, making random noises instead of answering my question. I scoffed, "Typical." I started to walk away, but his grip on my arm tightened and he pulled me back.

He did what I never thought he could do, He kissed me.

He grabbed me by the back of my head and placed his hand on my hip, smashing his lips into mine. All the tension we had evaporated in that one moment, that soft moment.

His lips moved in synch with my movements, his lips soft and wet. He pulled away slowly, our eyes still closed and the sounds of our breathing accelerating. I was so awestruck; I couldn't mutter a word.

He pulled away quickly, eyes shot up in shock and he removed himself from my body. “You just kissed me.” I gasped, feeling the tingle of my lips fade away.

“Yeah I did.” Gally was also shocked by his actions. Although the situation we’re in forces us to act like adults, we’re still children at heart.

“I have to go.. I’m super busy right now.” I stuttered out and ran away from Gally, and heart pacing out of my chest.

I left him there, I didn’t know what to say to him after that. It was everything I’ve wanted since i’ve been here and I just ran.

“Woah woah, why are you in a rush?” Newt stop in front of me, concern splat on his face as my breathing accelerated.

“He kissed me, he kissed me like on the lips and I just ran away I didn’t know what to say-“ I rambled fastly, “Quinn calm down, take a breath. What happened?” He looked me in the eyes with concern.

“Gally and I kissed in the middle of the Glade.” I finally said to him, His form was taken aback.

“Well good goin y’a shank, even if it’s with Gally but good goin.” He was proud of me, I don’t know why it didn’t feel right when I felt like I’ve been in this situation before.

I took a second to think about what had happened in the last few weeks. So much tension, to none at all, and finally to a kiss that’s been long overdue. It felt good.

“Yeah I, I guess I should be happy.” A smile grew on my face and Newt patted my back. “He kissed me.” I giggled out and and bit my lip.

Newt grimaced and shoved me into a bush. “Don’t be gross klunk.” Newt left me in the bush a walked away, how fucking rude.

“You look like a fucking muppet.” I muttered and picked myself out of the bush.

“We kissed.”

#gally #gally maze runner #gally x reader #gally imagine #the maze runner #maze runner #newt tmr #tmr imagines #tmr fic #fanfiction #fanfic #foreverforgally;itg #gally x y/n

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hollybell51 · 2 years

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hii!! if requests are open, could i have a gally and reader where during dinnee she falls asleep on him?? and he has to carry her back and everyones teasing them?? maybe they spend the night tgt and the next morning they confess? Just lots of teasinf and fun and blushy gally! Thanks 💕

Teasing and fun and blushy Gally you ask for, then teasing and fun and blushy Gally you shall receive.

If there was an ‘out’ to go to

Series masterlist, masterpost

Gally x fem!Reader

The Maze Runner (2009 novel - James Dashner, 2014 film - Wes Ball)

Word count: 2474 (woah!)

Summary: literally what acupnoodle asked for. You fall asleep on Gally, he carries to bed and stays at your behest. Confessions are made.

Content: fluff (so much fluff), teenagers being teenagers, Gally is a sweetheart, friends to lovers ig.

Notes: ok I know it’s not that great but omg I had so much fun writing this. One request down, five to go!

You were exhausted. In fact, exhausted was an understatement. You were tired to the bone and you had no idea why. It wasn’t like you’d done anything out of the ordinary, “the ordinary” wasn’t even that strenuous. Sure, hammering in garden stakes might leave you with sore arms and blistered hands, and pulling weeds was hard on your back, but the gardens were easy. Not like being a builder. Not like him.

He was fine, laughing beside you at some (probably lame) joke from one of the other noticeably not tired boys at your little table, his shoulder bumping against yours every so often. He was always fine. Always ready with a smile and a nod to you, a large calloused hand held out like some kind of nineteenth century gentleman whenever you got up or sat down. The other boys liked to poke fun at him for how he treated you, but you adored it.

“You alright, (Y/N)?” he was asking now, his brows furrowed slightly. With a start, you realised that your head had begun to droop forwards, and that several people were looking at you oddly.

“Fine,” you said. Gally raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and continued to dig into the plate of rich stew and tender brown rice before him. Your mouth twitched with the hint of a smile as you felt his strong, rough fingers find and envelop your own under the table, squeezing gently. God, this boy.

The laughter and chatter was beginning to blur into one humming, buzzing drone in your ears, the food you’d just finished heavy and warm in your stomach. Your mind swam, at ease in the warmth and comfort of the glade, Gally’s hand anchoring you. But then you were drifting, drifting…

“Oi,” said Zart, pointing with his fork at Gally’s shoulder. “Did she just fall asleep?”

Gally turned his head carefully, glancing down at where the warmth of your body pressed against him. You were completely boneless, slumped awkwardly over his side, your hand still resting in his and your cheek mushed up against his arm. Your breathing was deep and even. Shit, you really were asleep.

“Be quiet,” he said quickly, “don’t wake her up.” He’d felt the moment your head had come to rest on his shoulder, but hadn’t let himself dwell on it aside from noting the frantic lurch his heart gave and the swarm of butterflies you’d unwittingly unleashed in his stomach.

The other boys, idiots that they were, hooted in unison.

“Gally the grump’s got himself a girl!” sang Ben, peering around to get a look at your sleeping face. “And a damned cute one too!”

Gally felt his cheeks heat uncomfortably. “She’s the only girl, shuckface.” But Ben was right. You were beautiful, when the sun was glancing off the walls mid afternoon and gilding you in gold. You were pretty, when you smiled as you took his hand when he offered it to you – something he still didn’t even know the reason for. You were fascinating to watch as you worked, your fingers effortless transforming empty dirt into a veritable wellspring of food. And yeah, you were cute, when you were slumped against his side, out like a light.

“Should we do something?” Zart frowned, still pointing his spoon at you. “She doesn’t look comfortable. And she might drool on you.”

“Gally’d love some (Y/N) drool,” someone – luckily for them, Gally didn’t see who – called down the table. “Wouldn’t you, Gally?”

“I said be quiet!” he whisper-shouted, glaring around. How you’d ever managed to conk out in this racket was beyond him, and how you’d managed to stay that way was even more of a mystery.

Ben frowned, drumming his fingers on the table. “Maybe we should wake her up, tell her to go to bed.”

“Do you wanna wake her up?” Gally almost snapped, keeping his irritation out of his voice with no small effort. “No, I’ll just carry her.” He said this mostly to himself, but realised his mistake in voicing the thought almost immediately. A massive chorus of whooping and laughter interspersed with a few whistles went up, a few boys even going so far as to bang their fists on the table.

Gally was quick to scoop you into his arms, standing carefully and gathering your limp form against his chest. It wasn’t a far walk to the tree that overshadowed your hammock, but every step risked tripping or stumbling, which would be disastrous while carrying you. You weren’t heavy, as such – certainly nothing he couldn’t handle – but you were a dead weight.

Finally, he reached the old sheet he’d helped you hang up as a sort of privacy screen, kicking it aside with a muttered curse when his foot got tangled in the material. The world really didn’t seem to be on his side tonight. Aside from the fact that he was holding you, of course.

You shifted in your sleep, a half-formed syllable slipping from your lips.

“Shh,” Gally whispered. “It’s alright, you don’t have to wake up. In fact, please don’t wake up.” God, what would you do if you saw him now? He could imagine the pink flooding over your cheeks, like it had that one time he’d thoughtlessly remarked that he loved your laugh. You hadn’t been able to meet his eyes for a full ten minutes, overcome by secret little pleased smiles whenever he caught a glimpse of your face. It’d made his heart soar, there was no other way to describe the swooping feeling inside him that still arose whenever he thought about the incident. There it was, right now.

Gally shook his head, dispelling the memory. He wasn’t going to get caught up in the stupid sappiness you unfailingly dragged out of him, the same sappiness that drew the mocking whistles and laughter of the other boys like iron filings to a magnet. You ignored it completely, though how, Gally was at a loss. He’d toyed with the idea that you were just unaware of it, but that had to be impossible. No, you were just a good deal better at keeping your head than he was.

Now, as he lowered you as gently as he could into the hammock, he was acutely aware of how close he was to you. You looked so small, bundled into the cocoon of well worn cotton on top of a mess of blankets – something he should have thought to move before putting you down. He let himself look at you for a moment. Your still, peaceful face; your chest rising and falling gently with every breath you took; the fine shadow your lashes cast on the delicate skin beneath your eyes. In the dim light emanating from the closest lantern, you could have come straight out of his dreams.

But you were real, and you were going to get cold if he didn’t give you a blanket. He wriggled one carefully from under your body, spread it over you and tucked the edges into the hammock. Then, on an impulse, he bent and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

You stirred, a faint sigh and the tiniest hint of a smile. “Gally?” you slurred, your eyes still closed. Were you talking in your sleep? Should he respond?

“Yeah,” he murmured after a moment’s consideration. “Just me.”

“Mm.” You smiled again, fumbling to get your hand free. Somehow, as though by instinct, your fingers found his and you gripped his hand firmly. “Stay,” you whispered, voice thick with sleep. “Stay?”

Gally was frozen, unable to do anything. “Yeah,” he said dumbly. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

“Good,” you smiled. You muttered something else, but it was lost as you turned sideways and snuggled deeper into the blanket.

Gally stood stock still, his hand still in yours. What the hell did he do now? He couldn’t just leave, and he certainly couldn’t get in that hammock with you. The thought made something inside him twist with longing, but he had no idea if you wanted that. Sure, you were friends – close friends – but that was a step he didn’t want to take while you were asleep. No way.

Eventually, he settled down with his back against the tree, arm resting on the side of the hammock, fingers still entwined with your own. It was far from the comfort of his own hammock some five metres away, but the sound of your breathing and the small, warm weight of your hand in his more than made up for it.

It’s not so bad, he thought, resting his head back against the rough bark of the tree. The distant sounds of the other boys’ chatter floated through the night, mixed with the scuttling and chittering of the invisible nocturnal creatures who shared their home. It’s really not so bad.

The harsh, dissonant grating of the Walls woke you, just like it did every morning. You opened your eyes and, just like you did every morning, allowed yourself a few seconds to stare into the canopy of the tree above. Like every morning, the pale light of daybreak was filtering gently through its leaves, landing in soft patches on the blanket covering your body. You wriggled down in the hammock, just as you did every morning, stretching your arms wide…

“Huh?”

You jumped. Your hand had hit something. No, someone. That didn’t happen every morning. You spun, your legs tangling in the blanket, and stared. Gally was sitting against the tree, rubbing at his neck with a grimace.

“Gally?” you asked, unsure if you were still dreaming. What the hell was he doing here?

“Hey (Y/N),” he mumbled, wincing as he turned his head from side to side. “Bloody hell, that tree sucks.” Then, seeing your confusion, he frowned. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you said slowly. “What are you doing here?”

Gally’s cheeks flushed pink, his gaze dropping from you to the ground. You were a little grateful for that; you must have looked like shit. It was stupid, you knew that – everyone looked like shit in the Glade – but something about Gally made you care about the stupid things. How you looked, how you acted, how you sounded, how you smiled, how you laughed. He’d said he loved your laugh once, and you still couldn’t stop the smile from breaking across your face every time you thought about it. He drove you insane.

“You fell asleep at dinner,” he was saying now. “It wasn’t exactly quiet over there, and you looked tired. You were probably sleep talking or something, but you asked me to stay, and I didn’t know what to do so I just…” he trailed off, waving a hand vaguely around the hammock, you, and himself.

“Oh,” was all you could manage. You’d vaguely recalled the feeling of someone’s strong arms lifting you, a rough hand in yours, someone telling you that it was alright and that you didn’t have to wake up. And a kiss, feather light on your forehead. But that had been a dream, right? A nice dream, but a dream all the same.

“I’m sorry,” Gally was saying now. “If I overstepped or… or anything. I can go if you want?”

“No, don’t go,” you said quickly, then realised how clingy and desperate it sounded. “I mean, if you want to you can but I don’t mind.” You cringed at your own words, wishing you could pull them back inside you, stuff them deep down where they’d never see the light of day. “Thank you,” you said instead. “For… this.”

Gally smiled, picking at a piece of grass near his foot, twisting it between his fingers. “Anything for you,” he mumbled, then blushed, avoiding your eyes.

Your stomach did a flip, but you laughed it off. You swung your legs over the edge of your hammock, leaning forwards and taking his hand in both of yours. “I mean it,” you smiled.

Gally’s eyes flicked up to meet your own, clear and serious. “So do I,” he said.

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. You just sat there, dumbly holding his hand in yours and smiling, your heart thundering madly. He didn’t see you the way you saw him, right? He treated you differently to everyone else, he was softer and he smiled more. He never made jokes at your expense, and sure, he’d held your hand as you fell asleep on him and then carried you to bed, but he was just being nice, wasn’t he?

“Can I…” He hesitated, cleared his throat, then began again. “Can I kiss you?”

Oh. “Kiss me?” you echoed, your mind frozen.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, his cheeks flushing crimson. “God, sorry (Y/N) I didn’t–”

You cut him off. “Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “Yes, you can kiss me. I want you to.”

He frowned. “Are you sure?”

You nodded again, leaning further out of your hammock towards him. He met you halfway, his lips soft against yours, and butterflies exploded into a whirling storm in your stomach. He was so gentle with you, his free hand cupping your cheek so tenderly it made you want to scream. You let your own hands find purchase on his chest, steadying yourself so as to avoid falling out of the hammock – you were definitely leaning too far forwards.

“Woah,” you whispered when he pulled back.

“Woah,” he repeated. His thumb stroked over your cheekbone, as strongly comforting as anything that was him was.

“I didn’t know you thought about me,” you said. “Like that, I mean.”

He grinned. “I do. Do you think about me? Like that?”

You nodded, your own smile matching his. You were downright giddy, on top of the world, and nothing could ever bring you down.

Gally stood, holding out a hand to you just like he always did. You took it, pulling yourself to your feet gingerly. But this time, where he usually would have let your fingers slip from his, he held on.

“I’d ask you out,” he said. “If there was an ‘out’ to go to.”

You grinned. “I’d say yes. Besides, it’s the thought that counts.”

“The thought that counts,” he agreed.

You stood in silence for a moment, then, “I’d go ‘out’ if ‘out’ was a landfill site.”

“I’d never take you to a landfill site,” Gally said, shaking his head adamantly. “Never.”

“What if I liked landfill sites?”

“Maybe then.”

You smiled for what must have been the tenth time in the short time you’d been awake, stretching up to place a kiss on his lips. He held you close, smiling against you. Your knees practically turned to jelly.

“We’re never going to hear the end of this, are we?” you murmured.

“I don’t care,” he replied.

You shrugged, smiling once more. “Neither do I.”

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moumouton4 · 1 year

Note

thomas x reader are dating n thomas takes them on a /stargazing date in the glade <3

A Stargazing Date In The Glade || Thomas x reader

A/n : Finally the third part is out 🎨 Also my requests are open as always so let me know if you have any ideas 🔑

Masterlist ⚜

Warning : None just fluff 😌🌺

Summary : Your boyfriend Thomas takes you on a stargazing date

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 809

He had spent the whole day working on what he has prepared for you. And what a task it was to prepare a date, here in the glade. You, on the other hand, had spent the day working with Newt in the plantations

"Do you know where Thomas is ? Is he back from his outing in the maze ?" you said with a slightly worried look

Newt who knew about his friend's intentions tried to play it cool so as not to spoil the surprise for you "I know he came back from the maze early this afternoon but no I don't know where the bloody hell he is" he said sweat dropping but you were to focus on his well being to notice

"Okay..." you answered and went back to your task. Soon the day was coming to an end. But you still hadn't seen your boyfriend

However, as night fell and you were about to join Gally and the others for dinner, a voice called out to you "Noooooo wait !" everyone turned their heads to the boy - the one you had been looking for all day

"Thomas !" you screamed before walking towards him "I'll borrow her for a while" he said before taking you by the arm and dragging you with him into the forest, as everyone resume to where heading to

As you walked he spoke "So how are you ? How was your day ?" "Other than the fact that I haven't seen you all day, it's fine. And-" you were about to ask him the same but he cut you off

"Here we are !" the brown haired man pointed to the ground

You looked down to see what he was talking about and when you saw it you squeezed his hand a little harder "Oooooh you did this for me !" you squeaked observing the blanket he had placed on the ground. On it were two plates, one with roasted corn on the cob and the other with pieces of pear and raspberries

He motioned for you to sit down, and you made yourself comfortable on the soft blanket before sitting cross-legged. He sat down across from you and did the same. He picked up one of the ears of corn and handed it to you "Here" you blushed as you took it "Thank you. For all of this"

"Don't worry, it's nothing crazy" he said, rubbing the back of his neck. You uncrossed your legs and leaned in to kiss his cheek "Still" as you pulled back you saw his cheek - even in the moonlight - take on a slight pinkish hue

You then turned your attention to the corncob in front of you, munching on it happily. Once finished you ate the juicy pears and tart raspberries

Once you finished your nightly picnic you saw that Thomas looked a little stressed so you called him once but he was too engrossed in his thoughts to hear you. You called a second time "Thomas ? Are you okay ?"

He looked up at you fumbling with his fingers "Y-yeah I was just wondering if you'd want to stay here a bit" "Of course you idiot" you shuffled closer to him and wrapped an arm around his middle. He stiffened a bit before wrapping his arm around your shoulders

After some time, you yawned and he took it as his cue to ask you if you wanted to lay down. To which you answered yes to his surprise. You lay down a little awkwardly at first, not necessarily finding the right position to adopt. But finally you manage to find a comfortable position for you both. Him lying on his back, you with your head on his chest, one of his arms wrapped around your body and your own hand grabbing his

After a time of silence you began to discuss lighter topics, laughing and giggling at each other's jokes and then finally calm returned and your eyes naturally focused on the sky and more particularly on the thousands of stars that shone in the skies

The night in the ice was dark, really dark, allowing you to see the thousands of small suns that appeared once the big sun disappeared. Without realizing it Thomas squeezed your hand a little tighter than before which made you raise your head towards him. The glow of the moon allowed you to see a slight smile on his warm face, which you quickly returned

"Next time I'm the one to organize" you said, a smile appearing on your lips as you felt his hand start to caress yours calmly

"I'm sure it'll be great" he yawned, obviously exhausted after a long day "Love you Y/n/n" he mumbled making a red tint came to rest on your cheeks "Love you too Thomas"

A/n : I hope you guys liked it ! 🎀✨ Again my requests are open 🎪🎭

Taglist : @malfoyscamander, @cl0vr, @ilovemanypeople, @glossy1pearl, @jane57sstuff

#thank you so much for this request #the maze runner #the maze runner imagine #tmr #tmr fluff #thomas #the maze runner thomas #tmr thomas #thomas x reader #the maze runner thomas x reader #tmr thomas x reader #the maze runner thomas fluff #tmr thomas fluff #fluff #tmr fic #request #miri-writes

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mazegays · 1 month

Text

could've followed my fears all the way down

please do enjoy this sunday offering of angst : ). i've played with this one a bit since i originally wrote it and personally i think it has a lot of great lines. let me know what you think!

Chapter 21

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 22

Harriet falls to her knees at the edge of the ditch, the shock of the impact zinging through her body and pulling something in her lungs taut. She has to force herself to close her eyes so that she can take a breath.

He’s on his side, wood tied to his chest.

He’s even still got his bag; if she didn’t know what she was looking for, she wouldn’t have been able to find it.

He—the body—he’s covered in mud, and dirt, and she can’t tell what’s wrong with him. She needs to get someone, needs to move, but she can’t make herself stand up,

One of his arms—oh, that looks bad. His legs look okay, just positioned oddly. He doesn’t have shoes on. How could he have lost them? What happened? Did they wear out that quickly? His feet will be a mess of cuts, for sure. And if they’re infected… what if they have to remove them? Maybe Gally will be able to build him something…

Harriet shakes herself. She can’t afford to get distracted now. She doesn’t even know… she can’t tell, not while she’s still so far away.

She can’t tell if he’s alive, or if she’s just found his body.

How long has he been here? How close were they to finding him?

If they’d spent just one more day looking, would have they found him in time?

His eyes are open, just halfway, and Harriet unfreezes. She moves as quickly as she can down the side of the ditch without tripping herself, and taps his face lightly.

It’s red, swollen; his lips are dry and cracking.

She doesn’t know what that means. Dehydration, but that’s a given. She’d be more surprised if he wasn’t dehydrated. She has to find a way to get her fingers under the wood on his chest to get to his neck.

She can’t tell if he’s dead or not. Her heart is racing in her ears, all the way down to her fingertips; she can’t get a pulse.

“Thomas, can you look at me? Can you hear me? Thomas, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay. I promise. I’ll get you back.”

Harriet’s strong, but she doesn’t think she should be able to carry Thomas.

He’s lost weight, again, that much is obvious—he’s been out here for a while without food. She doesn’t let herself think about how long it’s been. Too long, probably.

And he was right here… he was so close.

His arm is definitely broken. There’s not a lot she can do out here, but she makes a sling out of her shirt to keep it from getting worse while she carries him.

She’s not sure it even matters, but it makes her feel better, at least. If he is still alive, somehow, she’s helped. She’s helping.

So she keeps talking to him, narrating what she’s doing like it matters. Like he can hear her.

“Thomas, I’m going to carry you, okay? We’re not far, you almost made it by yourself.” It’s easier if she pretends he can. Anya can tell her later, but for now, she’s pretending. Pretending that it’s possible for him to be alive, and here, and that she’s just saved him.

“We’ll take care of it, Thomas, I promise. It won’t hurt like this for much longer.” Carrying him is awkward, but she manages to keep his broken arm against his chest.

He’s just too tall for her to be able to support his head at this angle, but she can’t worry about that too much right now.

Anya will know what to do.

She has to know what to do.

They can’t lose Thomas twice.

They can’t.

And if Anya tells her that she’s just found his body, at least she’s brought him back.

They won’t have to leave another friend unburied, with no idea where the body ended up. He won’t be eaten and picked apart by scavengers until only his bones are left.

Harriet can’t do much else now, not if he’s really gone, but she can run, and she can hope.

It’s that hope, faint as it is, that keeps her legs from giving out under her as she tears back out of the woods, directly to the medical cabin.

finish on ao3 or continue reading

Sonya knows something’s up when Harriet doesn’t visit the greenhouse after her morning run. It’s become part of their routine. Harriet runs in the woods, and Sonya pretends she’s working instead of just wishing that she could have another dirt fight with Thomas or something similarly unproductive.

Maybe Harriet tripped on a root or something, and had to go wrap her ankle. Or she could have decided to go on a longer run today. The change in routine itches at her a little; not as much as it would have back in the Glen, she’s more used to changes happening day-to-day now, but it still doesn’t feel right.

Sonya makes herself wait a while before she goes down to the medical cabin, to make sure that Harriet’s really not coming.

Then she can’t get into the medical cabin, and she knows something is really wrong. Had Harriet broken a bone? Someone should have come to get her. Unless there was no one to come and get her.

She’d be allowed in, though. She would be allowed in if it was just a broken bone, as long as it wasn’t, like, poking through the skin.

Why else would Harriet and Anya be locked in the medical cabin for? The kitchens and the greenhouse are the most injury-prone spots, and she already knows that no one in the greenhouse got hurt.

Had Harriet found—

No. She couldn’t have. There’s no way.

Sonya doesn’t let herself think about it. It’s not possible.

Minho’s by Thomas’s tree. Gally’s in the kitchen with Frypan, and Aris, Rosa, and Frankie are working somewhere. Even Jorge is out working this morning.

From what she can see, everyone is where they’re supposed to be. She can’t see everything, not as easily as she could have in the Glen, but she can see enough.

Everyone is working—or playing, in the case of some of the kids—and no one is hurt. They’re all where they’re supposed to be.

Everyone but Harriet and Anya. Well, and herself, since she’s not in the greenhouse.

Harriet might have gotten hurt, or found an injured animal. She didn’t find— she couldn’t have found him.

Thomas can’t have been that close all this time.

His body can’t have been that close the entire time.

Because that means they almost found him. It means that if they had just looked a little harder, they would have been able to save him.

Feeling lost, she sinks down next to Minho and lets him tell her facts about spruce trees.

She’s heard them all from Thomas before, but she thinks she could stand to hear them a few more times.

Minho doesn’t watch as Harriet carries Thomas’s a body into the medical cabin. He can’t.

Gally doesn’t know yet. He’d be rushing over here if he did. Shuck, not even Minho knows yet, not really. He just knows that Harriet was carrying something and rushing. It doesn’t mean she’s found a body. It could be an injured animal.

It’s probably an injured animal.

If it’s Thomas, then Minho’s not going to be the one to tell Gally. Minho hadn’t even been able to tell him the first time around, that they hadn’t found him.

When Sonya sits next to him, he tells her the facts he can remember, the ones he’s been repeating to himself for days like they’ll bring Thomas back.

Nothing will bring Thomas back, not even his body.

Maybe they’ll bury him under this tree, and then Minho can recite Thomas’s spruce facts back to him, over and over again until the roots and trunk have grown their way around him.

Sonya listens, but she’s watching the door.

“Harriet’s okay.” He tells her, realizing she didn’t see what Harriet had been carrying. “She found Thomas’s body.” He hadn’t meant to say that. He doesn’t know that Harriet found Thomas’s body. She found something, but that doesn’t mean it’s Thomas.

“No, she couldn’t have— she doesn’t go that far, he can’t have been that close for all this time. Why didn’t we find him?”

“I don’t know.” If he were less numb, Minho knows he’d be freaking out the way she is.

But he hasn’t felt much of anything since he realized they were never going to find Thomas alive.

“I just want him back.” He whispers, interrupting her. “The tree facts, they’re all from Thomas, and I don’t even remember most of them. I just— I want him back. I want him to tell us this is a stupid place for a tree, especially one that will get as big as a spruce. I want to watch his face when he’s thinking and try to figure it out. I want him to know how much I love him. He didn’t know, Sonya. I never got that chance.”

“Minho, I don’t think he’s dead.” Sonya’s still watching the door. “I don’t think she found a body.”

“What else could she have found, Sonya? He’s dead. It’s…” There are countless reasons.

It’s been too long. He would have run out of food days ago. Probably before they even started looking for him, from what Sonya and Aris have said about how much food he had. The wind storm could have caused him any number of injuries, he might have been crushed by a tree and actually died under it, because Minho wasn’t fast enough to save him.

He wasn’t fast enough to find him in time. He should have gone ahead sooner, and maybe then he would have found Thomas before the worst could happen. If they ever find him now, it will only be his body.

Minho doesn’t know if he’d rather never see Thomas’s face ever again, or be able to bury him properly.

“I think she found Thomas.” Sonya’s still insisting, but Minho can’t let himself believe it. He can’t think he has Thomas back again, only to find out he’s wrong.

He’s the one who wasn’t there in time. Thomas had always been there to save him, to make sure he was safe.

But Minho hadn’t been… he just…

He wasn’t good enough. Not this time. Not when it mattered.

Is this how Thomas felt all the time? That he wasn’t enough?

Minho should have told him earlier.

Should have said something one of those nights where they curled into each other to chase away nightmares, told him ‘I love you.’ and asked if he could kiss him.

He’ll never know what that’s like, now.

He and Gally have moved in together, but it’s not the same. They don’t love each other the way they love Thomas, not yet. They’ve been too distant for that.

He wants to.

He wants to have them both, but Thomas is dead, and now he won’t have either of them.

“No, Minho, why would they still be in there if Thomas is dead?” Sonya insists. He tunes her out.

Thomas is dead. He’s accepted that.

(He hasn’t.)

So why is he hoping for more now?

Making this applesauce, something Thomas would have loved— once he’d made the strawberry jam, it’d been his favorite food to eat. He hadn’t shut up about it.

So why now? Why would Frypan have him make this now?

He can barely see Thomas’s tree from this angle; he knows Minho’s sitting under it.

He hardly goes anywhere else these days.

Sometimes, Gally wants to join him.

Usually, he’s too afraid he’ll say or do something he’ll regret. Things have been weird between them.

Worse than before, even though he moved into Minho’s cabin because it’s closer and easier to manage with his leg.

They don’t have Thomas tying them together now, not in the same way he was before. Gally’s not quite sure what to do with that.

So he draws on his anger the way he always used to in the Glade, because it’s easier than having to deal with the sadness and the worry and the numbness that threatens to creep in and weave ivy walls over his heart and mind.

“Fry, what are we going to do with this? How long will it keep for?” Smashing the strawberries up has been vaguely therapeutic, and as much as he hates the thought of making something Thomas would love that he can’t eat, it’s still been… kind of fun.

“Well, it’s only one batch, so it should go pretty quickly.” Frypan seems tense. Like something’s wrong.

Gally can’t see anything wrong, but he knows Thomas was put at this station because it’s pretty hard to see everything.

What does Frypan know?

Why is he not saying anything about it?

Or maybe it’s just that he’s remembering Thomas, too. Whenever they lost someone, Frypan would do this. He’d be tense for a few days, throw himself into cooking and baking almost aggressively, and it’s nothing new.

But Gally desperately wants for there to be another reason for Fry to be tense.

“What’s going on, Fry?” He can’t leave the applesauce, it’ll burn, but he wants to know.

“I don’t know, Gally. I just saw Harriet running back, is all. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Running back…

Running back from the woods.

Fuck.

She’s found Thomas’s body.

“I want to see him.” He says, moving faster than he thought he could.

“Gally, don’t— ” Frypan takes his spoon and tosses it to one of the other cooks. “If you’re going, you can’t go alone. Your leg is still bad.”

“Mina, you’re in charge. Please make sure nothing burns.”

“Got it, boss.” Frypan takes one of Gally’s arms around his shoulders— it’s faster than the crutches he hasn’t quite gotten the hang of yet.

He can use them fine in the cabin, but he still has a difficult time on the grass.

They go to Thomas’s tree. Sonya, who usually avoids it, is sitting pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Minho.

Gally sits on Minho’s other side, but not quite as close.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Frypan asks. “I saw Harriet run by, but I wasn’t sure.”

“That’s why you wanted me to make strawberry applesauce. You thought— ” Gally cuts himself off.

Does Frypan think Thomas is alive?

“Would they have been in there this long if he wasn’t?” Sonya counters, softly. She sounds tired. Like they’ve been doing this over and over.

They probably have.

“He’s dead, Sonya. It’s been too long.” Minho sounds tired, like he doesn’t want to hold onto any hope that Thomas is alive, that Harriet found him after all this time.

It’s only been a week and a half since they planted the tree, but it feels like a lot longer.

Most things feel like that. Gally feels like it’s been ten years and also no time at all since they escaped the Glade, since he joined the Right Arm, since they got here.

“She wouldn’t have been running like that if he were dead.” Frypan says. “She was moving pretty quickly. Why would she do that if there was no hope?”

“To keep us from seeing? Because it wasn’t him?”

“No one else has gone missing.”

“Could be an animal.” Gally hears himself say.

He wants to believe it’s Thomas, but— he can’t. He can’t do that to himself. Because if he believes it’s Thomas, lets himself have that, and then it’s not Thomas, it will shatter him.

Minho’s doing the same thing, he realizes.

To protect himself.

Sonya and Frypan were his close friends, but they didn’t know Thomas the way Gally and Minho did.

They weren’t in love with him.

If it is Thomas, Gally’s never letting him go anywhere alone again.

Not in the near future, anyway. And by near future, he means in the next ten years.

(He’s still clinging to the faintest thread of hope that it is Thomas, that he’s alive, that he’s safe.

That he’s here.

Somehow.

He knows the truth is probably that Harriet was moving quickly to conceal the body from them, at least until she and Anya could clean it up a little, but Gally can’t force himself to squash that little bit of hope.

It’s going to be what destroys him, in the end.)

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