Author’s Note: In my fics/imagines/headcanons, Gladers are aged up, and also movie version.
Warnings: Mentions of anger, arguments, conflict.
Thomas:
To him, a little heated argument every now and then is not the end of the world. He's used to communicating a bit loudly at times with others in the Glade, though he doesn't do so unless provoked. Thomas prefers to have everything out in the open. He'd rather you speak your mind than contain anything, even if it's uncomfortable.
The argument will be brief, and he does what he can to have it resolved before you both walk away. He is never too proud to apologize and make things right for any part he played, and he doesn't hold grudges. It's a clean slate with him.
Newt:
As second-in-command, he's quite used to handling disagreements. There are plenty that occur day to day in the Glade. Even so, things can be a bit different when it's with someone you're in a relationship with. He's quite patient with you, but he's only human. When he's angry, his voice is low and stern at first. He does not wish for things to escalate, but he will eventually raise his voice if the argument drags on and he feels it's not getting anywhere.
The two of you might need a bit of time to cool off, and any time you catch a glimpse of him around the Glade during that period, you can see him grumpy and a bit pouty. After being apart, even if it's only for a short time, the argument suddenly seems silly to you both, and you make your way back to each other to work things out.
Minho:
Sass master. When you two get into an argument, pettiness and clapbacks are not uncommon. He doesn't raise his voice, but it's still safe to say that verbal jabs don't really help the situation. Sometimes it ends in you two going around in circles, going down rabbit trails and debating on things that are totally unrelated to the actual conflict at hand.
He's a got a pride issue when it comes to a resolution. There are indeed times you will need to reach out first to him and reconcile, but there are also plenty of times he will be the first one to do so. He is aware that his conflict style is klunk and is working on it, and he'll apologize sincerely for it after the fact. It's not unheard of for him to make it up to you with a sweet gesture like a bouquet of Glade flowers.
Gally:
He's a Keeper, and an alpha male, and conflict with him starts out with him speaking in a firm, almost authoritative tone- like he expects you to cease and desist or "fall in line." It's truly not intended to be condescending or belittling. He thinks, if only you could see his side, you'd see that he's right.
But it still can come across the wrong way because you of course have a mind of your own and of course he's human and is not always right. Not to mention he can be a bit petty. If things get heated, he may raise his voice a bit, his frustration evident, but he won't lose his temper with you. If you aren't getting anywhere, he might just throw his hands up and insist he's too busy to continue the conversation at the moment, but really, the two of you just need some time to think things over.
He'll approach you later, and despite being a notorious tough guy, he will be the first to utter a gentle and sincere, "I'm sorry" to you.
general tmr x fem!reader. rather than coming up to the glade in the box, greeted by strangers in daylight, you wake up inside the maze, in the dead of night. without any of your memories, you must escape into the glade and navigate who you are, where you came from, and what you intend to do with your new life.
𖣂 chapter 2: the beginning 𖣂
It was the hardest finish line you ever had the honor of crossing. The air tasted different, almost pulling you in with eager arms and freshness that was different from the stale, nightmarish energy of the maze. You kept running still, even though you were already out, but only ten or twenty feet beyond.
That was all your body could manage. Breathing heavily, you landed on your hands and knees. You took in deep, grateful and indulgent breaths, taking in the new air of victory. A smile twitched on your face.
Sweet relief.
There was a turning of heads. Some shouting. But your vision was blurry, your hearing unsound.
“Whoa, what the hell…?”
“Guys!”
People were calling attention to you. A boy, looking roughly around your age, and looking very confused, was now running toward your direction.
Actually, a whole crowd of them was starting to run toward your direction. They looked just as confused as the first one, but their expressions were also masking the sense of danger crawling underneath. Caution. There was a lot of shouting. Some concerned, noticing the state you were in, and some more… aggressive.
"Something just came out of the maze!” The first boy called out again, motioning for others to join him.
“Something? A Griever?!” Another boy called out, coming out of a hut in the distance.
“No, someone. A girl.” He was looking at you, looking down, like he wasn’t expecting a response. Like you were an animal.
“A what?!” Another teenage boy yelled. He headed over too, faster than the rest. You finally tilted your head higher to take in the scene, to take in the people heading toward you. It was a sea of teenage boys, and nothing else.
What the hell…
You were surrounded within seconds. Your hands lifted away from the ground, and your body automatically tilted backward to land more comfortably on your butt.
“Hey you, can you hear me?”
You should run. But you can’t.
“Someone call Alby.”
“He’s busy at the pit.”
“Well then, someone call Newt.”
“He’s coming. Jeez, calm yourself a little.”
“Calm myself?? Are we looking at the same thing in front of us?”
You didn’t speak. You were too confused, too disoriented, and definitely not in a good place physically. And what would you say?
Someone else in the back caught up to the crowd. He seemed to be the only one making his way toward the scene walking. A slight limp accompanied him. Making his way to the front, people moved aside wordlessly. He knelt down beside you, the first to actually take a good look at you.
“You alright? Can you stand?” He asked, noting the blood lining your side and the slightly faraway look in your eyes.
Honestly, no. But I would appreciate less people looking down on me right now.
It seemed like a different question than what he really wanted to ask, but your lack of response was enough for him.
Someone approached you, reaching out to touch. You noted the stain covered apron he had on.
Oh, God. Are they going to eat me? Is this some sort of weird cult I’ve stumbled into?
“Fry, watch out.”
“Watch out? For what?” He sounded panicked.
Cool name.
The other boy (no apron) motioned toward the deep red and brown still staining your clothes as your arm clutched your side again.
“She’s injured.”
“...Oh.”
A pause. “Get Jeff over here. She needs medical attention.”
“I’ll get him.” A different boy left the crowd. He was rather fast, too.
He’s the only one wearing some sort of harness.
Your eyes flicked between him and the blonde one beside you, who was now standing up and brushing himself off.
“I’m going to get Alby.”
“Newt, wait!”
Newt. Who was leaving for the moment.
The rest were looking at you like you were all wrong, probably for a number of reasons. One, it looked like there wasn’t a single girl in sight, and two…
“Nothing ever comes out of the maze.”
A taller boy stepped away from the crowd, right in front of you. There was an air of aggression. You were guilty before proven innocent. Guilty with what, you didn’t know.
“Who are you?”
“Gally, calm down. Maybe she doesn’t know.”
Gally is his name. Do they all have names that they remember?
“I don’t.” The first thing you said. Your voice came out rough, being that you hadn’t really used it since you had woken up the night before. You cleared your throat. “I uh… I can’t remember anything.”
“She speaks.” Was all he said.
You scrunched your nose, frowning with your reply. ”That’s right.”
Someone else spoke up. “Wait, you can’t remember anything?”
“So, she is like us.”
Like us.
They gossiped.
“That must mean she survived a Griever attack, right?”
“...Well, maybe they didn’t come out for one night.”
“Seriously? I doubt it.”
The boy with the harness had just come back alongside a different guy.
The medic?
“Guys, she’s right there. Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
All heads turned to you.
“Wait, so you saw a Griever?”
Your brows furrowed. “Griever? You mean those monster spider things?”
“Spider things?? Oh God, I did not want that visual. So… you saw a Griever and got away? And it attacked you?”
You blinked at him and let go of your side for a moment, side eyeing the injury you had. “Obviously.”
“And you survived.” Gally said flatly. He sounded disappointed, more than bewildered.
“Everyone move.”
The crowd immediately quieted. It was clear this new presence carried leadership.
He shifted his way through the maze of boys as a path was cleared.
“What’s going on?”
“Alby, there’s a new Greenie. It’s a girl.”
Alby.
They were addressing him with an underlying question. What do we do?
Alby looked at you, brows furrowed. “The Box came up early?” Was all he said.
“That’s the thing. She didn’t come from The Box. She came from the maze.”
𖣠
“Alright everyone, there’s nothing to see here. Just go back to work.” Alby waved everyone off. “We have a new Greenie on our hands.”
Why do they keep calling me that?
Disgruntled, people stayed still for a moment. They were confused. Eventually, they started going back to what they were doing, though some heads remained turned toward you as they headed away.
If Alby says there’s nothing to see, then there’s nothing to see.
Three people remained. Newt, Jeff (I think?) and another one who decided to open his mouth and express what everyone else was clearly thinking.
“That’s it? Just ‘go back to work’?” Gally tossed up his hands in protest.
“Yes.” Alby said flatly, not taking complaints. “This is routine, Gally.”
“Why are we all acting like this normal?” Gally continued, agitated. “I think we should all meet right now and discuss what to do with her.”
“I think we should let her rest. In case you’ve forgotten, she took quite a beating out there last night.” Newt crossed his arms in reply.
“Yeah, which neither of you guys seems to be questioning! Why was she out there in the first place?”
“Those are questions for later.” Alby said firmly. “And not here.”
Not here. Where everyone is looking.
You decided to lay down flat on your back in the comfort of the slightly scratchy grass as Gally continued to complain about you. The rest of the boys peered at you, taken aback or amused as you closed your eyes and breathed deeply.
“Is she… are you even listening??”
“She needs medical attention.” Jeff said flatly. “Which I would love to be allowed to do right about now.”
“Let’s get her to the hut. You can't walk, right?” Newt said, his eyebrows pricking up.
It occurred to you that you did not want to appear too vulnerable among this new crowd. So, no matter how much strength and energy you needed to muster, you needed to walk. You should.
“No, I’ve got it. I just… need some help getting up.” You said.
Newt and Alby met each others’ gaze. They placed themself on either side of you, grabbing your elbows and hoisting you onto your feet. Your body creaked and you resisted a pained cry. It occurred to you that okay maybe this was a terrible idea but you’re in too deep now and if you fall flat on your ass Gally might jump you.
Alby nodded toward Newt, then grabbed Gally’s arm and hauled him away. Jeff tilted his head toward the medical hut, and you stalked off, following.
𖣠
You were lying on a cot. You had to peel off your shirt (which was already on its last legs. Well, I guess a shirt doesn’t have legs. Anyway, you know what I mean) in order to receive the medical attention you needed, keeping on your cotton tank underneath. Considering the circumstances, you were given ample time alone to shrug off your near death, being stung with alcohol, covered in some sort of poultice, and wrapped in bandages.
Then, the questions began. Newt had come in first, Jeff leaving the hut right after.
“Seems like there’s a lot of uproar outside.” You remarked as he approached the cot, pulling up a chair to sit beside you.
“Yeah. They’re just…”
“Angry?”
“Confused.”
“Right.” You replied, letting out a sigh. “Well… so am I, I guess.”
That’s one thing I seem to have in common with everyone else. ‘There’s a new Greenie. It’s a girl.’
The elephant in the room.
Newt exhaled through his nose and stood up. “Is there anything you need?” He asked.
“Answers.” You replied.
He chuckled and headed over to the corner of the hut, grabbing a jug. “Will a glass of water do for now?”
“Sounds good."
He handed you a sorry excuse for a cup with water inside. You took it from his hands and took a small sip, the liquid soothing your throat and clearing your head.
“What do you want to know?”
What is this place who are you who am I what are we doing here what is that thing in the maze what is that maze why did I wake up in there why are you all men etc. etc. etc.
You settled on one. Maybe he didn’t know the answer, but it was worth it to ask. This question might contain the answers to most, if not all, of your other questions.
hiii omg I really loved your first fic!!! can you write something for thomas ?? maybe a grumpy x sunshine (reader being the sunshine). Idk maybe just thomas being pessimistic about the maze and then when he looks up there’s y/n dancing around or playing tag with chuck and suddenly the glade is not that bad anymore .
OMG HI ANON FELLOW GLADER! finally, i thought this fandom was dead, phew its not. this is my first request, hopefully i don't disappoint you, cuz i might be bad at portraying how the character might really behave and talk...anyways i will probably post in like a week or less(please be patient hehe) so stay tunedd :DD
You can’t breathe. You’ve actually made it, all of you that had left the maze, that had beaten the odds, you were all safe. You’d been joking with Newt, how he’d always poked fun at you, the second abnormality to be brought into the maze.
You’d been surprised how easily the two of you had become friends, when you’d been stuck in the maze you were convinced the both of you were going to die, and then the thought that he could make it out almost made you sacrifice yourself, which had led to him not speaking to you until you’d managed to get out of the maze.
”What do you have against me sacrificing myself! Especially if it kept you safe!”
“Because I don’t want to live in a world without you!”
Newt snarls and before you can respond he just turns and walks away, back to some hidden space Thomas had found to sleep. You’re not sure if you should follow him and you find yourself just hovering awkwardly around the pathway he disappeared down.
“Y/N, sorry I-” You don’t let him apologize, instead rushing up to him and pulling him into your arms to kiss.
“Hey Newt have you-SORRY!” Thomas yelps and you laugh a little when Newt glares at him.
This seems to happen anytime you and Newt so much as hold hands, if you’re lucky you’ll be able to steal a kiss but more often than not someone is interrupting both of you to ask some question that they could have easily asked someone else about.
You can tell this is frustrating Newt, he clearly just wants to spend some time alone with you, and you couldn’t agree more. With the danger finally over you just want a chance to be as close to him as possible and find out just what makes him blush.
You blink a little surprised Newt is refusing to let go of your hand despite you having just said you were going to bed. You can see the way he glares at everyone, a glare he hadn’t used since in the maze. Everyone besides you seems to understand it and a few wink at you as you walk by.
”Why are you coming with me? I’m actually going to try to sleep.”
“This is the first time everyone has been busy. There's no way in hell I’m letting this opportunity pass me by.”
“Opportunity?”
“I’ve been wanting to do this since you first threw yourself into-”
“If you finish that memory whatever you want to do won’t happen.” You snap and he grins, hand snaking against your hip as he pulls you back into his sleeping area.
“You sure?” He hums but you can hear a faint wobble in his confidence. You lean forward making sure to kiss him as his hand pushes fully against the crotch of your clothes, you laugh a little again at him trying to force his fingers past your clothes.
“Here babe, don’t be so intense, they’re just clothes, save that for me.” You wink and watch his face flush before he looks away clearly embarrassed by something.
“Hey, Newt, seriously, sit here.” You nod to him and he sighs a little.
“What’s going on?”
“I want to have sex with you but everyone else keeps interrupting and having to watch you wander around so fucking close to me, and not being able to do anything is frustrating, but then there’s the fact that I haven’t actually done anything with- well that doesn’t matter.” He clearly seems more embarrassed admitting how long it’s been than anything else, and you laugh a little.
“Babe, I’m just happy to spend time with you.”
“That’s bullshit.” He laughs clearly intent on teasing you, so you decide to just dive right in.
You crawl on top of him and press your face into his neck.
“Newt it’s not fair, you’re always wandering around and you have no idea how desperate I am for you.” You whine, fingers pressing down onto his hips making him hiss, as you undo your pants letting him slide his hands against your underwear.
It seems his earlier nerves are gone, you hope the talk with him helped, although your face still burns in embarrassment about how desperate you probably sounded.
It’s easy to push that aside when his fingers slide inside of you and you look back to his face to see a sly smirk.
“Do you even realize how wet you are?” He grins leaning forward to kiss you, pushing you back on his bed and moving from your lips to kiss down your jaw and neck.
“Newt.” You whine and can’t help but spread your legs a little more, his fingers pulling back out to trace around your folds instead of pushing farther in.
“Newt, please…” You huff and he pulls back to look at you squirming under him.
”Keep in mind I haven’t done this in a while.”
“Done what?” You get your answer when he moves his head towards his hand his tongue pressing against your clit as his hand now covers your mouth to keep you from making noise so no one will interrupt.
A/N: I’M BACK FROM VACATION. Thanks for being patient with me, I know it’s been a minute since I’ve updated. I actually put a lot of work (and emotion) into this chapter, so it’d be great to get some feedback on it! HUGE SHOUTOUT to my main bitch @lietomeat3am for helping me edit/word some things, idk what I’d do without your angsty ass.
Enjoy babes, thanks for reading! 💓
Word Count: 3,263
Pairing: Thomas/Reader
Warnings: Cussing, angst, general sadness, character death :(
Previous Chapter: Chapter 3
The following weeks were nothing short of difficult for you. The feelings you had begun to develop for Thomas had progressed from confusion, to you finally admitting to yourself that you not only had a thing for him, but felt irretrievably drawn to him, which frustrated you to no end. The realistic and logical part of you knew you were being ridiculous and that you should be doing everything in your power to move past whatever was happening with Thomas, but you couldn’t help yourself from smiling at the sound of his radiant laugh from across the glade, or stealing glances at him every so often at dinner, or feeling completely and utterly safe when he was around.
You were so caught up in your own head, that all the longing looks, the subtle smiles whenever you walked into the room, the way he always seemed to zone out just listening to the sound of your voice, were unnoticed.
Teresa ended up half-heartedly apologizing to you, mostly for Thomas’ sake, although nothing really changed. She still felt the need to mark her territory anytime you were around, but you hadn’t been involved in anymore screaming matches since the morning you woke up across from Thomas, so you supposed that was a plus.
You had become very good at putting on a brave face and turning the other cheek anytime you would see Thomas and Teresa together, even though you could feel your heart being ripped a little more each time you saw his hands around her waist. Every quick kiss on the cheek, every brush of her hair behind her ear, and every “I love you” were seen by you from a distance, through teary eyes that you’d instantly blink away, in hopes that your anguish would be masked. And up until earlier this week, you had thought you had been doing a good enough job and that no one had noticed, but leave it Newt to crack your tough exterior.
------------------------------------------------
DAY 53
“Do you wanna tell me why you’ve been sitting alone out here for the last hour?” your blonde friend asked as he sat down in the grass next to you.
You flashed him a pitiful excuse of a smile, “Hey, Newt. Just a lot on my mind, I guess...” you trailed off, knowing damn well why you were sitting here looking up at the names of the gladers that have been lost over the years, dusk consuming the sky above you.
It had been exactly two years since Thomas came up in the box, and the majority of the gladers felt it necessary to throw a party; one in which everyone gets way too drunk off of Gally’s infamous drink. The last thing you wanted to do was be surrounded by people who were celebrating the man you had undoubtedly begun falling for, while he held hands with the girl who managed to wrap him around her finger, so you escaped to the concrete memorial on the other side of the glade.
“Yeah, I can tell. I’ve been able to tell for the last month. Spill it, Y/N. I hate seeing you like this.” Newt questioned, a concerned tone to his voice.
You looked at him reluctantly, not knowing how to put your ordeal into words.
“I know it has something to do with Thomas.” he said lowly, his eyes not moving from the etched concrete in front of him.
“Yeah... it has everything to do with Thomas, actually.” you mumbled, his name leaving your lips causing your heart to skip a beat.
“Are you finally seeing the connection thing I was telling you about?” he asked in an almost relieved manner.
“I’m not just seeing it Newt... I’m being completely consumed by it.” you murmured as your head lowered, hands playing with a few blades of grass.
His head snapped to look at you, obviously taken by surprise at your rare admittance of emotions.
“Care to elaborate?” he asked gently, a small sigh being elicited from you.
“It’s like a constant need to catch my breath. When I’m not around him, it’s like I can’t find a way to get enough air. And when I see her in his arms, it’s like all the oxygen in the world couldn’t cure the emptiness in my chest... But when I’m around him, talking to him, seeing him smile, it’s like I’ve been drowning and he’s saved me-- I can breathe again.” you spoke with hesitance, the pain from speaking the words aloud having a bigger effect on you than you anticipated.
“And you know what the worst part is? I feel like I have no control over it. My mind is screaming at me to get the fuck over it, but my heart won’t budge. And to put the cherry on top of it all, he is perfectly happy with Teresa and has no idea I’m over here dying, or you know, metaphorically drowning... and I don’t know how much longer I can tread in this dangerous water.” you added, now looking up at the moon that was beginning to rise in the sky.
Newt was now looking at you, mouth agape in shock at your confession. He took a few deep breaths before turning to face you.
“Y/N, I... I don’t know what to say. I knew that there was something going on, but I didn’t realize just how bad it had done you in.” he said softly, still trying to come up with any kind of advice.
“I’m not Thomas, so I can’t tell you what his feelings or thoughts are, but I can promise you that it’s not as black and white as you think. Teresa is really good at painting a pretty picture for the world, but behind closed doors, it’s a different story. It’s not my place to tell, but the bottom line is that things aren’t that great between them, and as hard as it is to hold on to something so painful, don’t give up hope. You obviously feel like this for a reason, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Thomas was feeling a similar kind of way.” he spoke with a hint of confidence in his voice, which gave you a dose of reassurance you didn’t realize you needed.
You were silent for a few moments, absorbing the words that your friend just delivered. You found yourself counting the stars that began lighting up the sky above you, thinking about the life you had before the maze. You wondered if you had ever experienced pain like this in your past life, or if this was the first time and maybe that’s why it hurt so bad. You wondered if you had ever experienced intense emotions like this for someone before, and if so, you hoped it was reciprocated and not one-sided like your current situation. You wondered if you knew someone like Thomas, someone so strong and captivating and brave... everyone should know someone like that at some point in their life.
“Do you really think he could have any kind of non-platonic feelings, or are you just saying that?” you asked quietly, hating that you had reached this point of searching for desperate answers in your friend.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” he spoke clearly.
----
Newt left after awhile, the intense conversation dwindling down to normal small talk. You stayed for another thirty minutes or so, watching the party from afar. The bonfire cast a beautiful glow on the scene, illuminating the gladers that were gathered around. You couldn’t help but smile watching all your friends laugh and let loose, something that didn’t happen often in the glade. But when your eyes fell on Thomas’ lips kissing Teresa goodnight on her way to leave the party, the familiar ache of heartbreak returned to your chest, tears stinging your eyes. You tilted your head back in effort to keep them from falling, breathing now rapid and shallow.
“Damn it, Y/N. Get it together, you’re so much stronger than this.” you spoke aloud, anger surging through you. You weren’t sure exactly why you were angry; maybe because you let yourself cry over a guy who could care less, or maybe because you were stuck in a heart-wrenching position that you couldn’t break free of.
Much to your dismay, the tears fell anyway. You stood up quickly, needing to be in alone in your room before the emotional episode threatened to get worse. You walked steadfastly towards the small huts that unfortunately resided on the other side of the glade, past the bonfire. In attempt to avoid anyone and everyone, you walked along the perimeter of the buildings, as far away from the party as possible.
The tears were still streaming down your face, your hands working skillfully to wipe them away the second they emerged, when you ran into something--not something, someone.
The second you collided with his chest, your body was slammed with a wave of strange comfort that you were not in anyway expecting in that moment. You hadn’t seen the face of the person whose arms were now holding you up, but you had a pretty good idea. You looked up and were met with the whiskey eyes you had dreamed about every night for the last month, bringing a surge of emotions with them; anxiety, sadness, nervousness, fright, anger... hope. You pullled away quickly to wipe the tears from your face, instantly missing Thomas’ touch on the soft skin of your arms.
“I-uhm, I’m sorry. I should’ve looked where I was walking.” you mumbled as you wiped your face, looking down at the ground beneath your fidgeting feet.
“It’s fine, Y/N. Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying...” he said softly, his gaze boring into you as he took a step closer.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing.” you said a little more clearly, an cold edge to your voice.
When you finally looked up at him fully, he felt his heart drop in his chest. Seeing you so hurt, broken, and teary eyed was something he never wanted to witness. He couldn’t deny the growing feelings he had for you, even though he wasn’t sure if “feelings” was the correct term. Could he have feelings for someone else while he was in a relationship? And if not, then what do you call the need to always make sure the other person is okay, even if from a distance? What do you call the feeling you get when you see them walk into a room, and your entire mood shifts? What do you call the feeling of sadness when you see them unhappy? What do you call the excruciating feeling of seeing tears streaming down their face?
“Y/N... you can talk to me.” he whispered lowly, taking another step closer to you.
With each step he took closer to you and each soothing word that left his lips, your anxiety, and anger towards the whole situation, would increase ten-fold, making it almost unbearable to be in the situation any longer. Yet, you found it ironic that all you wanted in the moment was to collapse into his caring embrace.
Unfortunately, that feeling lasted for only a few seconds, anger undoubtedly taking it’s place. You honestly weren’t sure why, but you were suddenly over taken with rage over the whole predicament you found yourself in with Thomas. He was the only person to ever make you feel this low, and at that point, you had had enough.
“You know what, Thomas? Leave me the fuck alone. I actually can’t talk to you, because I can’t even look at you without feeling the hatred your girlfriend has for me, which doesn’t seem to affect you in the slightest, by the way. And I think we both know if she saw you breathing the same air as me, you’d both be fighting for days. So I’m gonna leave and you go find your girl, for both of our sakes.” you spoke harshly as you wiped tears from your eyes, anger and sadness ultimately getting the best of you.
“But I-I just want to make sure you’re oka-” you cut him off.
“No, Thomas, I’m not okay! I’m not okay and there is nothing I can do to fix it. You’re the last person that I can talk to about it anyways, so just drop it and go find Teresa, I’m sure she’s looking for you.” your words were laced with venom as you stepped past him, your heart shattering more and more with each step you took away from him.
Thomas stood there, paralyzed by your bitter confrontation. Not only was he unprepared for your outburst, but he was completely taken aback by it. He didn’t know what to think in the moment. Why were you so mad at him? What made you so upset in the first place? Why was he the one person you couldn’t talk about it with? He felt more pain than he thought possible, and he was beginning to wonder if the “feelings” he’d been getting for you had something to do with it.
Thomas went to bed that night with his mind running nonstop, thinking about you and the encounter that had happened. He was determined to get some answers, no matter what it took...
------------------------------------------
DAY 58
A lot had happened in the glade since the night you fell into Thomas’ arms.
You avoided him at all costs, seeing his face bringing up too many unwanted, visceral emotions. Not only was it agonizing to be around him, but it was confusing too. One minute you were immensely angry because he made you feel this way, and the next you were heartbroken because you hopelessly wanted to be the one in his arms. You knew damn well that both of these outlooks were pitiful and unreasonable, but you simply didn’t care. It was your own internal battle anyway, right?
Thomas on the other hand, was enduring his own kind of suffering. Not only was he having the regular issues with Teresa, but he was slowly being consumed by his growing theories behind the confrontation he had with you. He didn’t even fight with Teresa anymore, he simply let her yell at him while his mind wandered off to you. He thought about the words you said, repeating them in his head over and over again, trying to understand the meaning behind them. “I’m not okay and there is nothing I can do to fix it. You’re the last person that I can talk to about it anyways.”
He could feel his presence in his relationship slipping, and he honestly didn’t care. He hated how exhausting it was to be with Teresa, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. His longing to understand your torment was beginning to take up more of his mental space than the need to continually reaffirm his crumbling relationship, and it was concerning to him how easy it was to let the change of mentality to transpire.
----
Both of your personal thoughts, along with every other glader’s, were brought to a halt the day Ben stammered out of the woods, a demented look in his eyes as he chased Thomas. The second he had to be knocked out with a shovel, confirmed what you all had feared; he’d been stung.
His banishing to the maze was nothing short of torturesome. Ben was a good friend to all, and it was agonizing to watch him being forced out into the maze, body covered in purple and black contusions and swellings, eyes dark, skin pale.
Once the walls closed, a solemn ambiance fell across the glade, no one muttering more than a few words for a remainder of the evening. From your bed that night, you could hear the metal hitting the concrete from across the glade; Ben’s name being crossed out, joining the others who have perished in this hell of a maze. You thought back to the day in the tent when Ben told you his thoughts on Thomas and the way he reassured you that your feelings were valid. It broke your heart that you never got the chance to thank him.
“Thank you, Ben.” you said quietly into the darkness of your hut, the clanging of metal still ringing through the brisk night air.
---
The following day started with a glade-wide meeting, everyone’s attendance necessary. When a tragedy like this happened, there was always a conversation the following day that gave people an opportunity to mourn the lost. But more importantly, this assemblage took place to discuss the transfer of responsibilities that the fallen glader had. With how quickly things changed in the glade, it was important to keep things running smoothly. Normally this change of job for someone was nothing more than a planter switching to a cook, or a builder switching to a tree chopper. But occasionally, it would be a major switch...
After all the kinds words and stories had been shared on Ben’s behalf, Newt and Alby moved to the front of the crowd.
“Thank you all for your caring and compassionate testimonies, Ben was a great man, and even better friend. He will be deeply missed by all of us.” Alby said clearly, his voice slightly hitching towards the end.
“As you all know, it is now time to pass his position as a runner off to someone. We need at least three people running at all times, for safety and efficiency.” Newt said loudly, addressing the entire room.
“We thought this would be a difficult decision, but after deeply considering it, we realized it may have been one of the easier decisions we’ve had to make.” Alby added, confidence apparent in his voice.
Newt cleared his throat before taking a step forward into the small aisle way between the rows of seats.
“We have decided that Y/N will take Ben’s place as a runner. After her impressive dash to save him during his seizure, and the referral from another runner that was given to us last night, we’re confident she is the best choice to fill the position.” Newt spoke sincerely, a small smile landing on his face once he finished.
Upon hearing his words, your stomach dropped to the floor, your mind running a mile a minute. WHAT THE FUCK. WHY would they pick me? I’m not cut out to be a runner. I can’t possibly work with Thomas every single day.
Then your focus flashed to something Newt had said, “the referral from another runner that was given to us last night.”. You knew it had to be Thomas, he was the only one to have seen you run through the maze. Why would he do that, why would he willingly want to work with me, knowing Teresa would kill him, knowing the words I said to him earlier this week. WHY?
Everyone’s eyes were now glued to you. Most were encouraging, but there was one set of eyes that were burning into you like a flame from a few rows in front of you-- Teresa.
What you didn’t notice though, was the smile that flashed across Thomas’ face when Newt announced your name, and the way his eyes were now brightly gleaming at you.
He knew exactly what he was doing, and he wasn’t sure what the repercussions would be, but he knew he couldn’t take anymore days not filled with your soothing voice, angelic laugh, and radiant presence.
What Thomas, Newt, Minho, and Gally are like when reader gets a minor injury, pre-relationship and also during.
Warnings: Injuries, mentions of blood, scratches, scrapes, fluff.
Author’s Note: In my fics/imagines/headcanons, Gladers are aged up, and also movie version.
Thomas:
"Ouch!"
Thomas immediately looks up from his task at the sound of your pained wince. The two of you had spent the afternoon clearing a section to make way for a new garden. In the final stretch of the project, the garden tool in your hand slipped and scraped your other arm.
You lift your arm to check out the damage, and Thomas is making his way over toward you before you could insist it was nothing. He isn't in a panic, but the concern's evident in his expression as he crouches down beside you, carefully taking your arm in his hands to inspect it. He concludes that it's nothing serious, and his gaze travels back up to meet yours, suggesting that you pay the medjacks a visit. He lets it go if you insist you're alright and don't need to get checked out. He keeps an eye on you, though, to make sure it doesn't get worse.
If you're in an established relationship, Thomas feels free to be a bit more open about his concern. If you didn't wish to stop work and go to the medjack hut with him, then at the very least, he's getting the supplies and bandaging you up himself. He'll pull you into a hug when it's taken care of, letting you know he just wants you to be alright even when it comes to the little things.
Newt:
You're standing a little ways away from your crew, taking a break from your hard work after a spectacular fall, when Newt approaches you.
He must have been making his rounds as second-in-command, checking the progress of each group of Gladers.
Newt seems puzzled at first as to why you've paused your work- Not suspicious, as he knows you do your part. When he notices the tiny red scrape on your chin, his curiosity turns to concern as he leans in to get a closer look. You glance down sheepishly at your palms, both a tad scraped up as well.
"You just missed it," you laugh it off, though internally you're extremely glad he did indeed miss it. One misstep had all but wrecked you, and the last thing you'd want was this handsome Glader in particular to witness it.
"Are you alright?" He lifts a hand to gently tilt your chin up to inspect the wound. He definitely pulls you away from the job to escort you to the medjack hut and won't hear any "but"s or protests of any kind on your part.
In a relationship, Newt feels more inclined to take the task of tending to your injury himself. He'd rather be the one to enter your space, dab at the little scrape on your chin with a clean cloth, and bandage your hands. You can expect a tender kiss on your forehead when he's all done.
Minho:
You wince, kneeling down to take a look at the wound. You can hear Minho's steps slow to a stop ahead of you before he swings back around to see what was the matter.
An unfortunate misstep during your routine run through the maze left you with a scratch on your knee. It's red, and there is just a bit of blood beading in certain spots where the scratch went a little deeper.
"Oh shuck," he murmurs, crouching. "You okay?"
"Yeah, it was my own fault," you replied.
"You're getting that checked out when we get back." It wasn't a question.
And you do. He's glancing over his shoulder at you the whole way back, and then he walks you to the medjack hut to ask for Clint or Jeff.
In the context of a relationship, Minho is more transparent with his concern. He's a bit more in your space, in a gentle way, inspecting the injury more closely and asking you more than once if you're alright. He's good at remaining calm. He's just focused on getting you the care you need. You can expect him to be a bit fussy after you're all bandaged up, insisting you take a break from running for a while.
Gally:
You had a slip-up with one of your tools, and you're trying to hide the evidence. You were not in the mood to draw the attention of the Keeper of the Builders with a minor mistake that you thought might make you look silly to him.
To your embarrassment, he happens to be walking by when you wince, shaking your hand to fan the slice on your finger. He stops immediately and approaches, and you quickly protest that it's nothing.
"Let me see."
You sigh and hold out your hand, gauging his reaction as he leans forward to take a look.
His lips pressed firmly together, brows furrowed in concern.
"Take five, Greenie," he tells you, nodding in the direction of the medjack hut. "Get yourself bandaged up."
If you do voice any other protests, the raise of his brow tell you they're futile.
In a relationship, Gally is less reserved about his worry. He knows things happen on the job. He can't exactly blame you. Sure, he'll scold any one of his guys if they were being a shank and got hurt doing something obviously dangerous, but for the average cut and scrape, he is actually pretty understanding. He'll still tell you to be careful while he inspects the injury more closely, but it's not from a place of frustration at you. It's his protective nature, and he just wishes he could protect you from even the little things.
It can be dangerous, especially for the only girl in the Glade.
Warnings: Guys being creeps in the Glade (nothing graphic), bullying, the Maze, danger.
. . .Thomas. . .
It’s a beautiful evening in the Glade. You’re walking straight along the treeline on your way to run a final errand for Alby at the end of the day. The sun is no longer visible, as it already descended far enough to be blocked by the walls.
Suddenly, you get the creeps. It was hard to explain, but you feel goosebumps bloom along your skin, and you get the distinct feeling that you’re not alone. The lovely glow of the bonfire is in your field of vision, but it’s so far away. It’s where most of the guys are gathered. You can hear their distant whoops and hollers, reminding you that help is far away too.
A twig snaps, and your suspicions are confirmed. There’s a figure following several feet behind you, lurking in the shadows cast from the trees above.
So, you veer off your original path to draw closer to the homestead where there would hopefully be someone who hadn’t made it to the bonfire yet. Whoever it was must have caught on to what you were doing because they instantly pick up their pace. You begin to hurry, increasing your speed so that they can’t catch you before you make it to what you hope will be a haven of safety.
Your heart is pounding, and your chest heaving with panicked breaths as you finally make it to the homestead.
“Hello?” you call frantically.
Suddenly, Thomas appears. He sees your nervous state immediately, his hand taking yours. But then his eyes lock onto something behind you, and he moves right past you to intercept your pursuer, effectively blocking them from you.
“What’s going on?” he demands. Your follower is frozen to the spot, stuttering, failing miserably to offer up some sort of explanation. Thomas steps forward, towering over the guy. It’s plain to see that he is furious. His forearms flex and his jaw is clenched. You can hear his angry breaths as he speaks again. “That’s what I thought. Now, get out of here.”
As soon as the guy is gone, Thomas turns around to face you. His close presence eases your fearful state when he steps into your space, filling your nose with his scent. “You okay?” he asks gently.
You manage a nod.
“We’re going to tell Alby right away. This isn’t going to happen to you again. Come here…” He carefully pulls you into his arms for an embrace, as if you’ll break apart if he’s too sudden. You bury your face in his chest, breathing a sigh of relief. His heartbeat is close to your ears, like a lullaby.
“Thank you…” you whispered.
. . . Newt . . .
You couldn’t take it anymore.
The teasing, the taunts… The inability of certain individuals to just leave you alone. Ever since you’d rejected him, Allan had made it his life’s mission to make your existence in the Glade all the more difficult.
Most recently, he had purposely bumped into you at lunchtime so that your meal was spilled all over your clothes and onto the ground. Resources were limited in the Glade. It was understood that wastefulness wouldn’t be tolerated. You couldn’t afford to lose food or have clothing ruined. Fortunately, your clothes would be fine after a wash, but the discarded food was a different story.
You dab at your tank top with a washcloth and pause to look at your reflection in the mirror. It was all too easy to recall how quickly you’d reached your limit after Allan’s ridiculous ploy. Your face is still wet from crying, eyes puffy, and lips parted as you took deep breaths.
There’s no use crying over spilled milk, you thought. Or in my case, spilled lunch.
After composing yourself, you decide it’s time to go back out there and face the music. You toss the damp rag aside and march determinedly out of the empty washroom. To your surprise, you smack right into another individual coming in. You instantly recognize the blonde hair and grumbles of complaint as he reels from the collision.
“Oi, shank, watch where you’re going-” Newt quickly realizes it’s you and clamps his mouth shut, extending his hands to each of your shoulders to steady you gently. He takes in the sight of your tear-stained face with his eyes showing clear concern. “Hey, what’s gotten into you?”
“Oh, just… Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Newt looks far from convinced, and you lower your gaze. He’s about to inquire further, but a familiar voice sounds from outside the washroom.
“Hey, _______!” Allan calls tauntingly, making you freeze up. “How’s it going in there?”
Newt’s eyes instantly flash, and his face scrunches up anger. You can hardly believe it when Allan continues.
“Sorry about my clumsiness earlier. Maybe I can make it up to you. Come on out before I go in there!”
Newt can’t contain himself anymore. He turns on his heel and heads out of the washroom, and you follow behind just to see the look on Allan’s face when he realizes he’s been caught.
It is so worth it. Allan’s stupid grin falls hard into a look of horror as the Second-in-Command approaches him furiously. He doesn’t lay a hand on him, but he looks like he’s awfully close when he jabs a pointer finger in his direction.
“If I ever catch you bothering her, or even breathing in her general direction again, you’ll be a permanent Slopper for the rest of your time here in the Glade. Do you understand, shank?”
Allan nods quickly, and doesn’t even wait to be dismissed. He just hurries away, leaving you and Newt both standing there watching him flee.
“Coward,” he mumbles. Then, Newt turns to you, resting a hand on your arm in a comforting gesture. “I mean it, you know. He’ll never bother you again.”
. . . Minho . . .
It’s hard not to panic when you glance up and can no longer see the sun above you. It’s the end of the day, and you’re nearly out of time. The lightning pain that shoots through your ankle suddenly just becomes too much. You lean against one of the ivy-covered walls and exhale.
“I don’t think I’m going to make it,” you say aloud, and the words weigh heavily on you. You mentally scold yourself. You can’t afford to think that way. A Runner knows better. With a wince, you continue limping on your way. It’s not that the exit from the Maze isn’t close. If memory serves you right (which it did), it wasn’t too far at all… but at your pace, it would take a lot of effort and some good luck to get you back in time.
Just when you are about to give up again, you hear footsteps rapidly approaching. Your first thought is that perhaps your cowardly companion had a change of heart, but the footsteps didn’t match.
“Hello?” you call.
“_________!” Minho’s voice responds, and your heart swells with hope. You aren’t out of the woods just yet, but your chances were much better with help. Minho nearly slides to a stop in front of you, instantly taking your arm and putting it around his broad shoulders to help you up. There is no time to stop and compare notes, so you update him as he begins helping you back along the path.
“I sprained my ankle.” You hold onto Minho like he’s your lifeline as you push through the pain to keep up with his pace. He’s right to go so fast. Time is running out.
“Where’s Derek?” he asks with a grunt.
“He…he left me,” you gasp in pain. “I think he was worried he wouldn’t make it out in time if he helped me.”
Minho goes quiet for a moment, and you can practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves. His eyes are focused straight ahead at the path, and he huffs. Finally, he bites out a sarcastic comment. “I think it’s safe to say that he’s getting demoted from being a Runner.”
You keep talking, trying to distract the both of you from the familiar groan of the Maze walls shifting. “Why did you come out here?”
“Because it was getting late in the day, and no one had seen you,” he pants. “Usually, you check in with me right away. I knew something had to be wrong.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
You continue limping with all your might toward the gate, feeling your heart jump, as the walls on either side begin their agonizingly slow crawl to a close. There’s a small group standing on the other side, ushering you both out anxiously. It was mostly Keepers, a select few who had been informed of the problem by Minho.
The two of you fell onto the green grass, gasping for breath, while the others surrounded you. Alby knelt down beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. You just let yourself breathe, tears welling up in your eyes from relief.
“So it’s true?” Gally questioned, brows raised. “Derek left her in there.” “Yes,” Minho replied, sitting up. “And he will face the consequences.” He looked over at you, finally catching his breath. “You’re safe now.”
. . . Gally . . .
James had been haunting your steps for far too long. He was always there, always hanging around, and sometimes showing up at the most alarming of instances. What could be done about it? It wasn’t as if he’d taken severe enough action to warrant disciplinary measures, you thought. He was only ever seen staring at you, smirking, and just being an all-around jerk at times.
This time, he’d snatched your tools away from your working station while your back was turned. After uncovering a particularly tough old root, you turned around to get a spade to chop it up, only to see that your things were gone.
A few laughs caught your attention, and you glanced over to see James and one of his shadows standing there, staring at you from several feet away. You couldn’t say for certain, but it seemed like they had something to do with your missing tools.
So, now you’re debating with yourself on the best course of action. Do you ignore him and try to rustle up some extra tools from Newt or Zart? Or do you bother to give this shank the attention he’s so desperately seeking to get your stuff back?
You don’t really like the latter option. Frankly, James gives you the creeps. The last thing you want is to play his little game… But every minute that you spend deliberating is wasted time that could be put towards helping the Glade.
As much as you despise indulging him, you find yourself marching right over to his work area. Both James and his minion are laughing in amusement, shoving each other at the sight of you approaching.
“Do you know where my tools went?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“I might,” James replies cryptically. “And I might be willing to strike up a bargain for that information.”
You fold your arms across your chest. “What could you possibly want?”
“Ohh, I don’t know…Perhaps a kiss will do.”
You make a face as the disgust hits you. “Seriously?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“Yeah, that’s going to be a ‘no’ for me.” You wave off the concept, turning around. You decided that your best bet is to find some spare tools. This just wasn’t worth all the trouble. Just as you start to leave, James comes running around to block you.
“Hey now, I didn’t say you could go.”
“Yeah, you might want to think about his offer,” James’ lackey said from behind you. The two of them close in, and you clench your fists in preparation to fight. If you make enough commotion, you’re sure that someone will notice and come to your aid.
You give him one last chance. “Let me pass.”
“Come on, just one kiss. Unless you want more than one after that-” to your relief, James is cut off by a new voice interjecting.
“What’s going on here?” The three of you turn to see Gally standing there, sweating from whatever project he was working on,with dirt and wood shavings on his clothes. His expression looks expectant as he waits for an explanation, though his tall and bulky form makes him appear positively dangerous as he stares the two guys down with his hands resting on his hips.
“I, uh.. We…” They break off in stutters and fumbled words.
“I’m fairly certain they have my tools,” you say, and Gally’s famous arched brows raise at the two guys in disbelief.
“Is that so?” As Gally walks forward, he plants his palms harshly on James’ shoulder, shoving him clear out of the way. James stumbles unceremoniously, almost falling straight into the grass.
Gally walks over to the bench and pauses. He picks up a bundle of leather and tosses it to you, the tools rattling inside. “Are those yours?”
You recognize it immediately. “Yes, these are the ones.”
“You shanks had better never even speak to her again. Understand?” He stares at each of them pointedly with all the authority of a Keeper, and they both nod. With that, Gally walks up to you and ushers you away with a warm, gentle hand on your back protectively.
“Your timing was impeccable,” you say quietly. “Thank you.”
“They won’t bother you again. I’ll make sure of it.”
(The Maze Runner) When It's That Time of the Month
(Author's Note: In my fics/imagines/headcanons, Gladers are aged up, and also movie version...)
Warnings: Cramps, Comfort, Fluff
Thomas:
He looked for you in the morning like he usually did as he went about his first tasks of the day. When there was no sign of you anywhere, he asked around. Some Gladers had no idea where you were, but a few others said they'd heard that you weren't feeling well.
Thomas headed toward your hammock to investigate, and his heart broke when he heard your sobs as soon as he entered the vicinity. You were full-on crying, curled up in your hammock, and clutching a blanket against your stomach like it was a lifeline.
He spoke your name, making you look up at him with your tear-stained face.
"I was hoping you wouldn't see me like this," you whimpered.
He leaned down to stroke his hand against your cheek tenderly. "What's wrong?" Thomas was asking himself a million and one questions on the inside. Why were you sitting here alone? Why hadn't any Gladers thought to send Clint or Jeff over?
"It's..." you hesitated, and he leaned closer, intent to hear why you looked so miserable and in utter pain. "It's lady stuff."
His brows furrowed in confusion at first. Lady stuff..? Oh.
The realization hit him, and he felt ridiculously stupid.
Oh.
"Do you need anything?" He asked, petting your head. "How can I make it better?"
"Honestly," you murmured. "Company would be nice."
Thomas did his very best to climb into the hammock without disturbing your position too much, and he carefully wrapped his arm around you to draw you closer against him.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He whispered into your hair.
"I've been handling this alone for as long as I've been here," you replied. "It didn't seem fair to trouble you with it now that we're together..."
Thomas felt so ignorant. Why had it never occurred to him that you'd be dealing with this? He knew about these things, but it just never crossed his mind in all the time he'd been in the Glade.
He suddenly recalled the days you'd taken off from your responsibilities. It was usually a few every month, and none of the Keepers seemed to think it was odd.
"I'm sorry," he told you. "You can come to me about anything. We're in this together."
You snuggled closer and hummed appreciatively for the warmth he provided in the cool early morning. Your cramps were just beginning to stop.
Newt:
"Luv, are you alright?" He called softly, though he was positive he already knew the answer to that. It was one of those days- or so he'd guessed when you didn't show up to work in the gardens with him that morning.
You were hunched beside your hammock, hand over your tummy, with lips quivering.
"Hi, Newt," you greeted, looking up at him. "I'm sorry."
He was at your side in the next instant, putting his arm around you comfortingly, kissing your cheek. "There is absolutely nothing for you to be sorry about."
"I hate taking these days off. Not contributing."
Ever since your arrival in the Glade, he'd been one of the few to be told of what you dealt with each month, so that he could properly excuse you from your responsibilities and protect your privacy from the others.
But this was the first time you'd encountered this while in a relationship with him.
Newt shook his head. "Are you joking? You are one of the most determined Gladers here. It's just...You have this to deal with. Something that no one else here does. No one would blame you for that."
You nodded along to his words, realizing he was right.
"I brought you something," he said then, and you noticed that he'd had his other hand behind his back. He brought it around, and in it was a large piece of bark resting on his palm like a platter with a steaming hot cloth on top. "I hope this helps."
You nearly gasped. "Oh, thank you!" You climbed into your hammock and draped the cloth over your belly, sighing at the relief it brought. "That feels so much better."
He smiled softly at you, helping you get properly situated in the hammock.
"I've got a few urgent things to take care of this morning," he said. Ah yes, all part of his responsibility as Alby's right hand man. "But I'll return in a short while, and I will be spending the rest of the day here with you."
You smiled, despite a painful cramp. "Thank you. I can't wait."
He took your hand in his and kissed it.
"Anytime, luv. See you in a bit."
Minho:
"Hey baby," he murmured, and you woke from your slumber to see him lean over to plant a kiss on your cheek. It almost felt like a dream. "Is it one of those days?" he asked.
You gave a tired nod, eyes still heavy from sleep.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here." He carefully maneuvered his way into the hammock with you, wrapping his arms around your form.
You'd gotten that time of the month in the afternoon, long after Minho had already headed into the Maze for the day. So, you simply endured the bout of cramps in your hammock alone, finally falling asleep in the late afternoon just before he got back.
"I feel much better now that you're here," you mumbled.
"Is there anything you need?"
You shook your head. "Just your beautiful self."
He seemed to like that comment, exhaling sharply in a short chuckle.
"Alright then, that's what you get."
Gally:
His gaze swept across the Glade for the second time, searching for any sign of you. You'd been working all morning. He was sure. He always checked on you.
But about a half hour out from lunch, you'd suddenly vanished. Gally finished up the task before him, brushing the wood shavings from his hands, and set out to find where you'd gone.
At the very least, he wanted to be certain you were alright. It wasn't like you to duck out in the middle of a job.
He checked a few of the usual places you might be, to no avail. His growing concern was nearly at its peak before he decided to swing by your hammock just in case.
There you were, curled up in the cool shade, in tears.
He quickly called your name, rushing to your side. "What's wrong?"
"It's...my monthly deal," you said, voice shuddering as another painful cramp hit. "I just needed to lie down for a while."
"Oh." He exhaled a sigh, glad it wasn't a crisis, but the momentary relief was replaced with sympathy. "Do you need anything?"
"Company?" you asked, giving him doe eyes he could never say "no" to in a million years.
"Sure," he replied. "I'm a little dirty, though."
You reached out with open arms. "Don't care. Come here."
He chuckled at that and climbed in, jostling you until he finally was laying on his back with you curled up against him in your hammock.
