Author’s Note: In my fics/imagines/headcanons, Gladers are aged up, and also movie version... Also please bear with me, I’m getting the hang of Thomas’ character.
Thomas: He trusts you, and he knows you care for him, but he gets jealous on occasion. He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing, so he will quietly watch you and who you’re interacting with, distracted from whatever job he is currently occupied with. He might ask you later in passing what you were talking about, but won’t say anything more. He is more worried for your safety than anything. Sometimes he’ll warn you about being alone with certain gladers, or check on you every now and then if he hasn’t seen you for a while. He really doesn’t want to smother you or seem overbearing, he just worries. If anyone makes you feel unsafe, he is bold in protecting you and making sure no harm comes to you.
Newt: He’s generally chill, but once in a while, an interaction in particular with another glader will bug him. Maybe the guy was getting a little too friendly, or maybe you laughed just a little too hard at a joke he made. Either way, Newt’s not going to make a scene. He’s more on the petty, subtly possessive side. If he’s not already in the vicinity, Newt will make his way over and inject himself into the conversation. He wants not only your attention, but to also to shoo the other glader away and lay a silent claim. If the person in question that’s giving you attention is being so forward as to make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe, Newt won’t hesitate to jump to your defense and be direct in telling them to back off.
Minho: He is rather confident in himself, you, and the relationship in general. He isn’t one to really get jealous or possessive. He actually finds it funny when greenies have crushes on you, and he’ll let them know you’re not available with a chuckle and a playful clap on the back. He might even throw in some humorous bragging for good measure. If someone means you any harm or discomfort, there will not be a trace of amusement in his eyes. He will undoubtedly put himself between you and the threat, expression hard and intimidating.
Gally: He gets jealous rather easily in the Glade. Early on, he has some insecurities to work through, so it’s a process. He finds himself less tolerant of other gladers getting too friendly, and he gets irked when greenies come right out of the box staring at you. He’ll get petty with you over it from time to time, but most of his anger is directed at the person who makes him feel threatened in some way. One of the more level-headed keepers who he trusts will give him advice, and it’ll finally dawn on him that behaving like that will only push you away. His patience and confidence begin to build from there. He still gets jealous, but he doesn’t respond to it in such an unhealthy way. He even starts teasing the greenies who are crushing on you, and relaxes a bit. He still doesn’t hesitate to show others you’re his and lay claim.
hiii <333
I came across your 'subspace' newtmas dialogue and I was instantly enamoured by your work!
I was wondering if maybe you could write something smutty with a subby!Thomas (from Maze Runner) where reader is the only female in the Glade (and was kind of one of the first to be brought there) and he's just like following her around like a lost puppy and she finds him totally endearing so she acts literally like the most sweet and loving girl in the world to him (to the others she's more like a kind "okay, I knwo you exist, kiss kiss, now fuck off /affectionately).
So one day Thomas just kind of randomly wakes up in the middle of the night all needy and whiny because he had a very explicit wet dream but he woke up before he could finish :(
And he's all whiny and subby while clinging to reader and begging her to please make it better? (maybe with Thomas having a few orgasms but still being hard inside her because she just feels so good) and reader being all sweet, cooing and praising him for being the best boy while Thomas' just a melted puddle in her arms.
hi darling! thank you so much for your support, you're so kind <3
it's difficult for thomas to openly admit that he's in need of help, that he's incapable of solving a predicament on his own, but with a tail tucked in between his legs, he rolls over, face stamping into your ribcage. that's the first thing you feel, and then it's the firm dick against your thigh, announcing its appearance through the damp patch in his slacks.
you hide your eyes under a crooked arm, chest still heavy with fatigue as fingers curl into your shirt, twisting the worn fabric over trembling knuckles. "hey," you whisper through the morning air, and his curls are matted with sweat when you find them. "what's the matter, huh?"
he's wordless in his response, nose finding a slot between two ribs when he rolls over onto his belly. his breath is hot against your exposed navel, and you huff. "come up here, tommy, c'mere."
he scrambles, clammy palms smearing against your hips, and your own cradle his scruffy jaw, drawing him in close to seal a kiss over a mole. "get your dick out, tommy," you try to keep the laughter in your tone to a minimum, but it still seeps through.
the ties on his pants are too taught, and his forehead falls against your collarbone as he tries harder to undo it, baritone grumbling with despondency. "you're fine, sweetheart," you coo, working your hands around the waistband of your shorts so you can shimmy them down your thighs. "take a deep breath and try again, you've got it."
thomas shuffles awkwardly, elbow knocking into the fatty innards of your thigh, and finally his cock is free, and searching hopelessly for the slick slot between your thighs. he finds it, and nearly splits you with the forceful shove of it. he's so close, his pre lubrication enough, and he swears he sees stars behind the eyelids he allows to slip over his tired eyes. "oh god," are the first words of the night, and his enraptured face slots under your jaw.
your legs fall further open, thighs tensing when the head of his cock kisses against your cervix, thomas anxious to shove every last inch of his aching dick into your cunt. it takes one, two, and three thrusts until his abdomen tightens above yours, muscles seizing when he cums. his spend floods against your cervix, tacky, thick and warm inside you, pubic bone brushing against your under-stimulated clit when he shifts. "sorry, sorry," he pants against the hollow of your throat, trying to peel himself away from your body.
"no, baby, it's okay," you assure, aiding him in finding your pussy again once he's slipped out. it's left coated with the viscous white, and you whine yourself when the head of it accidentally shoves against your clit.
you roll your hips once he's found the weepy hole again, adjusting to the girth again, and grunting when he drops his weight back onto you. "you can stay here for a sec, okay?" you pant, carding your fingers through the damp hair at the back of his neck. "just give you a minute to let your head settle down a bit, i've got you."
"you didn't even cum," he grouses against your cheek, and you hum.
"i know," you murmur, tightening your fingers around his curls. "you can help me after you've slept a little longer, hm? just stay here with me for right now. you've been a good boy, sweetheart, just sleep."
hello may I have a thomas (hehehe I’m back) httyd au when the reader is the daughter of a chief but it’s Thomas who discovered a night fury the first. And try to make her warm up to it (and to HIM) also please
'A Way Out' - Thomas
masterlist
One of these days, you’re finally going to have everything under control. Growing up the daughter of the chief, you’ve had the perfect view of the maelstrom of chaos surrounding your family, how the singular burden of leadership means you’ll never have a waking moment of peace. For such a tiny village, Berk seems to have no shortage of problems. It’s honestly quite remarkable, if it weren’t for the fact that they’re all continually laid at your doorstep.
Your father has borne this burden for years, never backing down no matter how great or small the woes brought before him. As his daughter, you’ll inherit the title of chief some day, hopefully far into the future, so your father has taken to roping you into his chiefly duties as a sort of training process. You shadow him in meetings, you listen to the complaints of the townspeople, and recently he’s even allowed you to make decisions on public matters, albeit only the small ones.
You’re glad to be able to help your village, even in the small, carefully limited way permitted by your father, but you’d be lying if you said it was all smiles and well wishes. It feels like there’s always someone left jilted and sour-faced by one of your decisions, even when you’ve spent far too much time deliberating. Everything has a trade-off, every good choice has unintended consequences. You know that’s the lesson your father hoped you’d understand, but it’s so hard to accept. You hate letting people down, so you can’t help but overthink everything, trying to find the impossible decision that lets you make everyone happy. Very rarely does that ever play out in your favor, but you still hold out hope.
Hope, however, is a fleeting thing, and certainly not something that can survive long in a Viking village. If it weren’t enough to have burly, disagreeable warriors all trapped together on an inhospitable rock, constantly in danger of running out of resources or getting on each other’s nerves, you have to face one big problem that blows everything out of proportion. Life wasn’t difficult as is, so your ancestors had to move to an island home threatened by dragons.
Dragons. Behemoths of scale and talons scorching your homes and carrying off your livestock. Your father is obsessed with them, of finding some way to their labyrinthine nest and slaughtering the lot of them. He dreams of the day when he can eradicate the disease of dragons and protect everyone for good. It seems an impossible task– how could anyone fight against something like that– but if anyone were to do it, Chief Janson seems the best suited for it. He’s fiendishly clever and brutal with his methods. There is no bridge he wouldn’t burn to end the dragon threat, once and for all.
For years, you’ve watched the warriors of the village setting out to slay the dragons that plagued your home, mostly to mixed results. A successful raid will be rewarded by a vicious slaughter one week later, or they’ll manage to keep their homes from burning down one night only to lose an entire street a few days afterwards. It’s a constant battle, ever changing, ever dangerous. You’ve begged your father to let you join the warriors, but he’s never let you, not until you were old enough.
Secretly, awfully, you think Chief Janson doesn’t keep you from the dragons because he’s worried you’ll get hurt, but because he thinks you’re too young to handle yourself. If you went out in a blaze of glory, cementing the legacy of your people, stopping the tide of dragons, your father would be delighted. If you embarrassed him by putting on a poor performance in front of his people, Janson would wish you had just died instead. He’s more of a schemer than he ever has been a father, and even if he says he loves you, he loves his vengeance more. To disappoint him would be deadly. It is a fate you cannot allow.
So, when your father finally announced that this was the year you’d be allowed to take part in dragon training, you knew that this opportunity wasn’t just a privilege but an expectation. A winner is announced among the students every year, and if it isn’t you, if you cannot prove yourself as worthy of your father’s legacy, he might honestly just offer you as bait to the dragons then and there. At least then you would be of use to him.
In order to win the coveted title of best among the dragon trainers, you’ll have to beat out the other students. The competition is mixed this year– a few top contenders, like always, and those on the outskirts. There’s Gally, the stonemason’s son. You think he could out-wrestle a dragon even without training. Minho is lithe and fast, and still quite strong even if not quite at Gally’s level. Newt, a farmer’s boy, doesn’t even need to be here, everyone knows he’ll be a future advisor to your council one of these days. In fact, you’re fairly sure he’s more trusted to solve conflicts than you, and you’ve got the direct tie to the chief. You’d be jealous of his clear favor were it not for the fact that he’s a genuinely nice guy, someone you consider a friend.
They’ll be your toughest competitors, strength and speed and skill. There are a few other sons and daughters, no one really worth considering, and then there’s– well, there’s Thomas, but that’s an entirely different conversation altogether. Thomas– he tries, you think, he really does, but Thomas is better known for his mishaps than his successes. He’s attempted many different professions, but after nearly breaking Gally’s foot by dropping a heavy stone a hair’s breadth from the older boy’s boot, then outright refusing to join the butchers, then dozing off at a council of the elders, he’s shown less promise than most. Right now, they’ve stuck him in the smithy, somewhere he’s not completely terrible, for his strength to improve while he keeps out of trouble.
Thomas is somewhat of a nuisance to most of the village. He’s best at appearing when you least want him, always snooping around like he’s suspicious of the very walls that surround you. If he’s looking for a way out, though, he’ll be hard-pressed to find it. Your village is tucked into rocky precipices that plunge to the ocean below. It’s this life or no other, something even the always-questioning Thomas has to accept.
Your father seems to have written Thomas off completely. There was hope for him at some point– his mother was a prominent council member, and he was effortlessly brave growing up, always running ahead of the pack, but then he kept running and refused to settle down. He’s too flighty, so claims your father, too wild. He’ll never fit in.
You, on the other hand, have a less critical view of the boy. Thomas was always kind to you growing up, even if your father stopped allowing you to be near him once it became clear that your playmate might convince you to run from your problems instead of facing them head on and screaming a war cry like any proper Viking. What you remember was a nice boy, if quiet at times, who looked at the world like a puzzle to be solved. He fascinated you, the way his curiosity never failed him. You’d love to read his mind someday, to find out all the things he’s learned that you could only imagine.
To you, Thomas is a bated breath, a pull of air trapped in the lungs, stuck until ribs crack and bend and break. He will spend his whole life waiting for the one thing he’s meant to do, and when that day comes, he’s going to blow all of you away. You know it like muscle memory. His entire being, body and blood and mind, seems tense and ready for something that has never happened to him. There’s a sharpness in his eyes, a fuse in his mind ready to light. You can only wonder if he’ll ever stumble across his purpose, or if that bright fire in him will crumble to ash without even so much as a spark before it goes.
You watch him during dragon training when he isn’t looking. For someone everyone considers a fool, too busy running to stand and fight like a proper Viking, Thomas doesn’t seem particularly afraid of the fire-breathing monsters thrust before him. He takes proper care, of course, always keeping himself well out of reach of claws or fangs, but he isn’t running with fright or hiding behind wooden structures like some of the other would-be students. Instead, you swear Thomas is watching them, as if he knows some secret of theirs that you could only guess.
It confuses you. What has Thomas figured out? He manages to emerge from every dragon training session completely unscathed, even after that one Razorwhip that left everyone’s armor in tatters, even yours. Yet when the rest of you were trying to get ash off of your skin and mourning the deep scores in your shields, Thomas was totally fine. He griped with everyone else about how difficult the dragon had been, but not so much as a hair was out of place. Somehow, he’d figured out how to navigate the beast’s attacks, but he never bothered attacking, just kept himself safe. You’re fairly sure your father would consider that a coward’s plan, but you think there’s more to it. Thomas seems to understand the language of dragons, you just can’t fathom where he could have learned it.
Maybe you’re too focused on Thomas instead of actually fighting the beasts you were sent here to slay. Maybe that’s why Gally ends up getting the decisive blow on a Windstriker during one of the later lessons instead of you. Normally, it would have been no matter at all, you’d get the upper hand on a later day and show Gally up like usual, but your father had happened to be in attendance that afternoon. He was expecting a great show of your prowess, but instead he saw Gally win the accolades that day.
You dread returning home after the lesson, dragging your feet as if to fight off whatever’s waiting for you behind your front door. However, you can’t delay forever, and you know your father well enough to tell that any more dilly-dallying will only get you in more trouble than you are already, so you gather your spirits and head inside at last.
The chief is waiting for you by the great hearth, arms folded across his chest. He doesn’t bother with greetings, but since when has Janson let etiquette get in the way of what he wants?
“Is this how you spend every lesson?” Your father asks coldly. “You chase the dragon’s tail while someone else goes after the head? I was under the impression that I was raising a warrior, but I saw none out there in the arena today.”
You fight to keep your chin up, already wanting to shrink under the weight of his disapproval. “I let myself get distracted, it was my mistake. Clint had tripped and fallen, I was trying to pull him out of the way when Gally charged.”
Your father arches a brow. “That’s your excuse? One healer’s boy?”
“I was trying to prioritize the strength of the village,” you plead. “Isn’t that important for a chief?”
“What’s important is slaying a dragon when you see it,” your father says icily. “One dragon can slaughter a thousand healers. If this had been a real attack, you would have saved that boy only to see that Windstriker destroy half the village. You cannot let your emotions get in the way of your true purpose.”
You nod, but you still feel upset. “So, next time I should ignore a friend in need? How could I expect them to trust me? What if I needed help and they left me to die because I did the same to them?”
Your father scoffs. “No chief would need help. If you were ever in a situation in which you had to rely on one boy to save you, I would rather–”
Stupidly, you interrupt, fury radiating through you. “You’d rather I died, right? Better a dead warrior than a living embarrassment.”
Your father refuses to rise to the bait. “You seem to know my position perfectly. Why should I bother to agree with it?”
You shake your head disgustedly. “Maybe I wanted you to contradict me for once. Maybe I wanted to believe that, as my father, you cared about my life in any way.”
“No Viking needs petty condolences,” your father sneers. “I don’t recall raising you to rely on pretty lies. The truth should be sufficient, and if it doesn’t make you feel better, maybe you should try improving yourself. I’ll never lie to you, Y/N. I’ll never tell you I need you if I don’t.”
The words cut to the quick. He’s hinted at this before, but he’s never said it, not outright. Your throat burns, and before you can say something to land yourself even further in your father’s disregard, you turn and head for the door. You’re sure he’ll hate you even more for it, for running instead of facing what bothers you, but you’ve had enough fighting for the day. Just once, you want to be enough for somebody. Just once, you want to matter.
You’re through the village and into the surrounding forest in the blink of an eye. You’re not sure where you’re going, only that it cannot be here. You vaguely remember seeing Thomas walking down into these parts of the woods a few times, and the thought fills you with an odd sense of relief. Thomas has figured out how to survive despite the ire of the villagers. The comments and mutterings about his isolation and unusual behavior seem to wash off of him. You could learn a thing or two from him, or at least you could commiserate.
Your eyes prick as you remember the harsh words from your father. He’s been in a worse mood than usual, ever since the dragon raid a week or two ago. There had been a clear spell of attacks for a bit, and your father’s confidence had grown, assuming it had been his direction in leading raids and fighting off the beasts that had finally scared them off. No sooner had he said that, though, than your village had suffered one of the worst raids in a while. There were even rumors of a Night Fury sighting, although no one had been able to land so much as a scratch on the thing, and those that did catch a glimpse ended up with the healers, badly burned and talking gibberish.
Your progress through the forest is harsher than usual, twigs snapping under your feet as you irritably swat low-hanging branches away from your face. It feels as if no one wants you to succeed, no one cares about you, it’s just as your father said–
The brush clears away, and you find yourself in a clearing surrounded on all sides by swooping faces of pale rock. You’re not alone, either, Thomas is sitting on a smooth shore by a small lake and writing something in that journal he always carries around. He’s clearly lost in thought, and only looks up when you’re quite nearby to him. Since you’re not the closest of friends, you weren’t expecting an enthusiastic greeting, but you certainly didn’t think he would jump up immediately, eyes full of panic, and start trying to force you back the way you’d come.
“What are you doing?” You ask, confused.
Thomas shakes his head frantically. “Nothing. Nothing! Just, uh, writing. Super boring. Say, I think some of the healers wanted to see you about something? Something important, for sure. You’d better leave as fast as you can and–”
You shake your arm free. “Why are you acting so weirdly? Are you hiding something?”
“No, not at all,” Thomas says suspiciously, “I hate hiding. I’ve never hid. You should definitely go, though.”
The sound of movement echoes across the clearing, and Thomas steps forward to try and block your view of whatever is happening behind him. It’s too late, though, you’ve already ducked around him and seen– and seen–
Thomas isn’t just hiding a stray cat or unusual collection of runes. No, his secret is dangerous and terrible, so completely unexpected that all thoughts of the argument you’d had with your father are erased from your head in the blink of an eye. Climbing down from one of the far rock walls is a dragon, and not just any dragon, either. You’ve heard whispers of those ink-jet scales, the wings that could cover an entire house, the brilliant green eyes that stare straight to your soul.
“That’s a Night Fury!” You hiss, eyes wide.
Thomas winces. “Would you believe me if I said it wasn’t?”
You’re unable to tear your eyes from the dragon. “Why aren’t you running? We should be running.”
Thomas shakes his head. “No, don’t run! Please. I can explain.”
You shoot him a suspicious look. “You were certainly in a hurry to get me out of here earlier, but now you want me to stay? You had better explain yourself.”
“I will,” Thomas pleads, “I just need you to trust me, alright? I was hoping to get you out of here so you wouldn’t see him, but it’s too late for that, obviously, so I’m going for a different approach. I think you two can be friends.”
“Friends,” you repeat dubiously. “You want me to be friends with a Night Fury?”
“I’m friends with a Night Fury,” Thomas says pleasantly. “He’s actually pretty great, disregarding the obvious attitude issues. Serious entitlement, I’m telling you.”
“Obviously,” you repeat faintly.
Thomas makes a face. “Let me start from the beginning. I found Toothless after that bad raid a few weeks back. He didn’t like me at first, but we’ve gotten to trust each other. Look, I can prove it. I’ll introduce you.”
“That’s alright,” you say hastily. “I think I can go without introductions. In fact, I’m pretty sure I can just leave right now, and it won’t be an issue at all.”
“I think it’s a little late for that,” Thomas says, forcing calm into his words. “Toothless wants to meet you.”
You start to ask him what he means, and then you happen to glance over your shoulder and you realize that the Night Fury has crept up on you while you were talking. It’s impossible that a creature that large could move without making a sound, but now it’s regarding you from just a few steps away. You’re certain it could lunge and tear out your throat in the blink of an eye, or bite your head off, or incinerate you with that infamous fire–
“Stay calm,” Thomas tells you firmly. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear it. Toothless, this is Y/N. She’s a friend of mine, alright? That means she’s a friend of yours, too.”
It is absolutely ridiculous, but you swear the dragon cocks its head as if it’s listening to Thomas. You’re still not sure why you both aren’t dead yet, but the dragon looks back to you expectantly, and you feel the odd urge to say something. “Hi, Toothless. It’s, uh, nice to meet you.”
Thomas nods. “That was great. Here, give him this.”
You risk a glance away from the Night Fury to realize that Thomas is handing you a large fish. You take hold of the slippery thing and hesitantly toss it to the dragon, who swallows it up in one gulp. The Night Fury tilts its head to the side, and if you weren’t absolutely crazy you’d honestly believe it smiles at you, leathery skin pulling a little away from its mouth. You smile back, and Toothless makes a sort of keening noise.
“Perfect,” Thomas says. “You can touch him, if you want.”
“I can?” You ask.
“Sure,” Thomas answered. “He’s spoiled, anyway. Might as well make it worse.”
He goes first, approaching the dragon and rubbing small circles into the scales above its nose. He nods at you to follow and you do, albeit much more slowly. Your breath catches when you place your hand on the black scales, certain your luck will run out and Toothless will bite you in half, but instead the dragon just sighs and leans into your touch.
You let out a surprised laugh. “This is crazy. You’re friends with a Night Fury.”
“You are too, now,” Thomas says. “If you bring him more fish, he’ll probably like you more than me.”
You shake your head, dumbstruck. “You amaze me, Thomas. I knew you had some sort of secret, but I never imagined this.”
Thomas looks over at you. “You thought I had a secret?”
“Not something as big as this,” you murmur, embarrassed, “It’s just– you’re good at dragon training, that’s all. Better than the rest of us. I just thought you studied a lot or something.”
Thomas snorts. “I’m awful at dragon training. I have yet to strike a single one of them, even the weak ones.”
“That’s on purpose, isn’t it?” You ask, realization dawning upon you. “You know how to live with the dragons because of Toothless, but you don’t want to hurt them, either.”
Thomas shakes his head, looking oddly guilty. “How could I? I mean, what if every dragon is just like Toothless? Dangerous, sure but so are humans. We just keep attacking each other for no reason, but if a human and a Night Fury can get along, I figure the same is true for everything else. My friendship with Toothless feels more real than any fake battle in dragon training. This can’t be wrong. I know that somehow, I don’t know why. I can’t help but believe that we aren’t supposed to fight them, even if that’s why we were put on this island in the first place.”
He looks suddenly abashed. “You probably don’t want to hear that, though. Chief’s daughter and all. I don’t mean to insult your father or his way of ruling, it’s just–”
“No, you should,” you interrupt. “He’s wrong. Wrong about a lot. He doesn’t care about the village, just slaughtering dragons. Growing up, I thought a chief was supposed to protect his people, but my father’s only obsession is killing. That’s no way to lead your people. He’ll get all of us killed in the name of salvation.”
Thomas stares at you, respect blossoming in his eyes. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
You let out a quiet half-laugh. “I’m the one who knows it the best. I see him all the time. He– he’s worse than you could ever imagine.”
Thomas reaches out, gently laying a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, if you ever need an escape, you’ve always got us. You know, all the best friends are dragons or loner misfits.”
“I don’t think you’re a misfit,” you say. “Never have. I think you’re smarter than the rest of us. Smart enough to figure out that we’ve trapped ourselves in a war we’re not supposed to fight.”
Thomas smiles. “If anyone had to find out about Toothless, I’m glad it was you.”
You frown. “Why? Because I can protect him from my father?”
“No,” Thomas says, shaking his head, “Because I trust you. Always have. Your father has years of experience, and the council is fine, but whenever someone had to weigh in on a tough decision, you always gave the best advice. Even when no one could agree on anything.”
The words mean more to you than you could have expected. They’re enough to convince you to stick around a little longer than you planned, to talk idly with Thomas until the sun starts to dip over the horizon and you realize you’ve spent hours here instead of minutes. Thomas doesn’t seem to mind, in fact he appears glad for the company, for your company. You had always assumed he was perfectly fine on his own, but he opens up to you as if he had been waiting his whole life for you to get to know him.
Maybe that’s why you come back the next day, and the next. Thomas takes you up into the sky with Toothless, soaring until the whole world seems just a hazy smear of green and blue below you. Every ride is perfect, enough to steal the breath from your lungs with a rush of adrenaline, but it ends, it always ends. No matter how crisp the air, how far you soar, you always have to come back. You wish you could stay up there in the clouds forever, answering to no one, but there always comes the point when your feet touch back down, when you begin the slow trek back to your house, where the weight of your father’s disapproval threatens to pull you under.
You live for those stolen hours with Thomas. In just a matter of weeks, he seems to understand you better than any of your friends, even your father. It’s a welcome relief, especially since the time you spend in the company of Thomas’ Night Fury only serves to pull you down his path and all of a sudden you don’t want to slay any dragons, either. This only serves to make your father even more furious with you, so you sneak out to visit Thomas more often, and the cycle intensifies.
As the days tick down to the final day of dragon training, where one of you will have to actually slay a dragon, you get more nervous. You’re still in the lead, even despite your refusal to actually harm any of the dragons. That only means that you’ll be the one to do the bloody deed.
Thomas tries to help talk you through it, but neither of you can find a way out. “Just refuse,” Thomas urges. “They can’t make you kill it, right? If you found some way to rise above, maybe argue for working with them instead of against, if you had enough reason, maybe–”
“That would never work,” you laugh bitterly. “You don’t know my father, Thomas. You haven’t lived with him as I have. Every moment in his presence is a test. Every conversation is a demand to prove my worth. I hover on the knife’s edge of his approval, and if I ever fall, he’d have my head in a moment. I cannot disappoint him, Thomas, not like this. He would feed me to the dragons himself if I let him down in front of the whole village.”
Thomas sees the true fear written plainly on your face and reaches over to take your hand, squeezing it comfortingly. “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll find a way out, I swear it. Maybe I’ll crash your ceremony and stop the whole thing. They’ll think I’m just jealous, but I could get you out and they’d only blame me.”
You shake your head fervently. “Then they’d make me go after you. I’ll never betray you, Thomas, I swear it.”
“Then you have to know I’m not letting you do this alone, either,” Thomas says. “We’ll find a way.”
In the end, you leave the clearing together, no closer to a way out than you ever had been before. Running seems the only option, but you have no idea where you’d go. The only way out, it seems, is through.
When you get back to the village center, though, thoughts of dragon training are quickly swept from your mind. Everyone seems on high alert, rushing to the smithy to get more weapons and hurrying with shields and spears down to warboats waiting below.
You catch the arm of one of your father’s councilmen as he passes. “What happened?”
The councilman shakes his head darkly. “Some of our warriors went out for a raid on a nearby island. It should have been an easy task, but they were caught unawares by a nest of Grievers. We set off to save them, but we fear it’s too late.” He fixes you with a wary look, then continues. “Your father was among the first party.”
You draw in a sharp gasp, and the man leaves, pulled back into the throngs of rushing Vikings. You may not always get along with your father, but even he doesn’t deserve this fate. Grievers are monsters worse than dragons, worse than anything. Some say they clawed their way up from the very reaches of the land of the dead. They’re massive, sharp things that have killed dozens if not hundreds of warriors from your island home over the years. Dragons are smart, they could be trusted, as you’ve learned. Grievers are another story. There is no befriending a Griever. To see one is to accept your own death, and your father has been set upon by a nest of them.
As the village center quickly empties of people, you turn to Thomas. “We have to save them. We have to do something.”
Your voice catches on the word, and Thomas’s face twists to see you in pain. “We will, I swear.” A look of dawning realization crosses his countenance. “Actually, I think I have an idea. Gather your friends, tell them to meet me in the dragon training arena as fast as you can.”
You look at him questioningly, but Thomas doesn’t elaborate. There’s no time to ask, with every passing moment more of your people put themselves at risk, so you start to run. Thomas knows what he’s doing, you’re sure of it.
Soon enough, you’re in the arena. You managed to track down Gally, Newt, Minho, Winston, and a few others. When Thomas tells you all that he intends to rescue your father and his warriors by using dragons to fight the Grievers, no one believes him at first. It’s only when Thomas calls his Night Fury down from the skies that people start listening.
It takes less time than expected to coax the dragons out of their cages from training, to convince them to trust you, but then you’re up in the air, clutching at crevices in blue-green scales as you soar through the skies. Minho shoots through the air, racing Newt, who laughs delightedly as the wind pulls at his hair.
The laughter dies at once when you come upon the scene of the fight. Already, you see bodies crumpled on the ground, but you feel shamefully relieved to see your father isn’t among them. Thomas leads the charge down, and the terror on your villager’s faces when they see the dragons quickly melts into confusion when they realize you’re riding them.
The Grievers are deadly, awful things. You’ve never seen them face-to-face, only heard awful stories from people missing legs or eyes or lives. Even on dragonback, they pose a substantial threat, but slowly, tenuously, they succumb to the burns and slashes of your dragons. Once you’re sure the danger is past, you land your dragon and climb to the ground, searching the gathering crowds for your father.
He finds you soon enough. Your father stalks through the throngs of Vikings, eyes cold. “What is the meaning of this?”
You straighten up, forcing yourself to seem confident even if you don’t entirely feel it anymore. “We had to save you from the Grievers. This seemed the best way.”
“Dragons,” your father spits out. “You trusted dragons over your own people. You should have been down here fighting with the rest of us, but you turned to the beasts.”
“We saved your life,” you retort. “We were wrong about the dragons. They saved all of us today from the Grievers. Doesn’t that warrant a second chance?”
Your father scoffs. “No Viking would ally itself with a monster. You’ve disappointed me, Y/N, for the last time.”
Your eyes widen, but all of a sudden Thomas is emerging from the crowd and putting himself between you and your father. “You’re wrong, Janson. Y/N is more a Viking than you ever could be.”
The crowd behind you dissolves in shocked gasps. You try to tell Thomas to stand down, but he shakes his head, as obstinate as ever. “Y/N would have given her life to save you, to save this whole village. She trusted the dragons because she would do anything to protect her people. If you think that’s a failure, then you have no idea what I think of you.”
Your father’s eyes flash, and he opens his mouth to argue, but he’s interrupted by a voice from the crowd. “He’s right,” a woman says. You recognize her at once– Ava Paige, one of the village’s finest warriors. She’s covered in long scars from a Griever attack, making her one of only a small handful that had survived such a deadly assault. “I see nothing wrong with their plan. Better than they acted quickly to ally themselves with the dragons then watch all of us die throwing ourselves at the Grievers.”
You smile thankfully at her. Your father turns to Ava, then takes in the approving looks being exchanged by the rest of the village and realizes at last that he alone has a problem with your plan. He forces a thin smile. “Fine,” he says briskly. “All glory be yours for this battle. I only hope that your dependence on the dragons does not prove dangerous in the end.”
“It won’t,” you vow. Your father seems to disagree with this, but he heads back into the crowds to the boats, leaving you with Thomas.
“Thank you,” you whisper to him.
“It’s nothing,” he says. “I’ve been wanting to fight with him for a while, anyway. No one should make you feel so badly about yourself. There isn’t a single thing about you that could ever disappoint me, and I’ll tell that to the whole village if I have to.”
As it turns out, he doesn’t need to tell the whole village anything. He says enough when he kisses you, right there on the bloodsoaked beach, under the light of the afternoon sun. If this is victory, you want all of it. The only glory you would ever want is here, with him, knowing at last that you’ve proved yourself. It’s better than you could have ever imagined.
Media - The Maze Runner Series
Character - Newt
Couples - Newt X Reader
Rating - 18 + kissing / groping / fondling / breast play / nipple play / fingering / finger fucking / eating out / squirting / nudity /
Word Count - 652
The moment they got inside Newt locked the door, Newt's hands wrapped around Y/n’s waist, pulling her close as he pinned her against the wall of the shed, his lips crashing down on hers in a fierce kiss. His hands roamed over her body, tearing off her hoodie and revealing her bare breasts. He ripped open the front of her shorts, his fingers diving into the warm folds between her legs.
He pulled back from their kiss, his eyes blazing with hunger as he looked at her. “Oh, love,” he groaned, “So wet…” he growled, “I wanna go inside you.” his fingers slipped deeper into her pussy.
She softly squealed trying to stay quiet, as his fingers moved back and forth inside her hard and fast making her moan and slightly squirt on his hand,
Newt's eyes widened in shock as he felt the rush of warmth spill onto his hand, his fingers still pumping furiously into her slick heat.
“Ah, love,” he breathed, his voice trembling with excitement. “You're so...responsive,” he whispered, his fingers still buried deep within her pulsating core. “I need to taste you.”
she whimpers at his words but before she can say anything he removes his hand, moves to his knees and pulls off her shorts exposing her dripping pussy
Newt's eyes locked onto her exposed flesh, his gaze drinking in the sight of her glistening labia. “Mmm... look at you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his own heart. He leaned forward, his nose burying itself in the damp folds of her pussy, inhaling deeply as he savoured the intoxicating scent of her arousal. “God, you smell amazing,” he murmured, his tongue darting out to lick the length of her slit, gathering the juices that dripped from her opening.
she gasped and threw back her head biting her lip hard to stay quiet,
Newt's grip on her thigh tightened moving one leg over his shoulder to get a better angle, holding her in place as he continued to feast on her exposed pussy.
She struggled against his hold, but he held firm, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thigh as he pressed her leg higher onto his shoulder.
Newt's tongue delved deeper into her sex, probing the tender tissues and coaxing forth a fresh wave of moisture. “Ummm, you taste so good,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin as he devoured her. He reached up with one hand, cupping her breast and teasing the nipple, sending shivers coursing through her body.
she screamed and squealed, her whole body trembling while he ate her out and rubbed her nipple driving her to the edge,
Newt's mouth worked its magic, his tongue dancing across her sensitive flesh as he brought her to the brink of her orgasm.
Her screams and squeals filled the air, echoing off the walls of the shack as she lost herself in the intense pleasure he was giving her. He felt her muscles tense, her body coiling tight like a spring about to snap.
“Cum for me, love,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire as he increased the pressure of his licking and rubbing.
And then, suddenly, she was there, convulsing in a riot of colour and sensation as her orgasm washed over her.
Newt drank in every last drop of her release, his tongue lapping up the juices that spilt from her as she trembled and shook. Newt's lips left her trembling form, and he rose to his feet, pulling her upright with him. his hands lingering on the curves of her hips as he looked down at her dazed expression. “Well, well, well,” he groaned, “You look so beautiful when you cum,” he smirked, “But… now it’s time you do something for me love?”
She gulped as she caught her breath and nodded,
He smirked and undid his trousers pulling free his throbbing erection, “Come on love, don’t keep me waiting,” He purred,
Requested by anon “would you mind doing another thomas request? i kinda am in love with him rn🥰. maybe where the reader is injured in the last city and gally is taking care of her and he gets really jealous? tysm!!! take your time!❤️❤️”
Warning- mentions of blood, fluff
———-
What were these weird feelings Thomas was feeling taking over him. He saw how Gally was treating you, how Gally made you smile just now and he felt anger boil within him. He disliked the idea of him being close to you and having his arm around you as he helped you back inside.
Thomas wanted to be the one to help you, to pull you away from Gally, but he held himself back and reminded himself that Gally was just a friend.
“Why are you never careful?” Gally complained to you as he sat you down, “this is why you’re always getting hurt.”
You roll your eyes and scoff softly, pulling off your bloody shirt to reveal the bleeding wound on the side of your stomach. “I've managed to live through the maze and the time after, so I’ve been careful enough.” You grin.
Gally walks off to grab first aid, shaking his head in disapproval to your comment.
You hated that you hadn’t been careful and you had gotten hurt, that you were a burden especially now when the mission was so important, but it had been unexpected. Through your adrenaline rush you didn’t even feel getting shot until things had calmed down. That was when pain shot through your body and your wound felt like it was on fire, where you were finally intent of your surroundings.
Realizing in that moment as you waited for Gally inside the dimly lit secret building, that you were aware of another feeling burning at the side of your face. You try to feel your face, but feel nothing, when you instinctively turn your head, you see Thomas eyes on you, he looks away instantly for a brief moment but his attention returns to you as Gally comes back to you.
“Be more careful next time or else I’ll tie you to a chair and keep you here.” Gally continues to scold you, “we’re not in the maze anymore, everything is much harder here.”
You look away from Thomas and sigh, “yeah, I know. But,” you pause and snicker, “there are some things that haven’t changed, you’re still very bossy and mean.”
Gally scoffs and lifts his eyes from your wound that he's cleaning to shoot you a glare.
“That hasn’t changed either,” you continue to laugh, in that moment feeling that same burning feeling on the side of your face as before. When you glance to the side you notice Thomas had never looked away, he kept his eyes glued onto Gally and you, he only pretended he needed to be doing something else beside burning holes on your face the second time you caught him. It was honestly annoying that he got the way he did, oftentimes you’d find his jealousy cute, but in this instance it was annoying.
“I’m surprised you’re even alive.” Gally continued, causing you to look back at him, but also remain attentive to Thomas pretending to be busy behind Gally.
“Yeah well, it’s like I told you back in the maze,” you smile faintly while you watch him wrap the bandage around you, “I plan to live a long life to see peace.”
The corner of Gallys lips twitch and as he finishes wrapping the gauze, he for once throughout the years you’ve known him says something positive. “Well we’re almost there.”
“Thankfully,” you grin.
Gally pushes himself to his feet and offers you a slight assuring look before he walks off to wash his hands and do something else. Finally leaving you to fully focus on Thomas finally completely tearing his gaze away. But only to turn and walk towards you.
“Jealousy,” you point out with a smirk, “is not a good look on you Tommy.”
“I wasn't,” he scoffs as he hands you a clean shirt.
You lift a brow and shoot him a pointed look after you carefully put your shirt on. “No then what was with the daggers thrown Gallys way?”
Thomas averts his gaze and shakes his head to deny your claims. “I was just watching if he would do it right.”
“Mhmm, right.” You stand up and cup his cheek, “well you have no reason to be jealous.”
“I know,” he mutters.
You kiss his cheek and show him a sweet smile before you walk past him and throw him a last comment. “Just a reminder.”
hey yo! just letting you know that this is my first fanfic I've written (at least on Tumblr), it's been a while since I've written so my writing is probably a little rotten, but I can't do anything.
NOTE: english is not my mother tongue, I'm actually Latin American, I'm from Brazil, so I don't think it's going to be good, but that's it.
SCENARIO: Y/n is insecure with her own body, but Thomas was there to help her with that.
WARNING: mention of mini-smut, insecurities and cry
♡ - Fluffy
✩ - Smut
✧ - Sad
❀ - Random mix
Y/n - your name
Y/nm - your nickname
1, 2, 3, 4; 1, 2, 3 motherfucker!
"I'm horrible!" - she complains for the fifth time that day, while trying on some clothes she bought. "Nothing it suits in me." - She sniffed, about to cry.
"Principessa? What's happening?" - Thomas arrives in the room finding it full of scattered clothes and a Y/n only in only of her underwear, which made Raggi shiver.
"Thomas? Darling, please close your eyes and get out of here, I'm ugly and you don't deserve to look at this."
Upon hearing these words, the blonde frowned, confused by what she had asked for. Why would he stop looking at a creature that was carved by the finest angels? He lifted his gaze to her teary eyes and said firmly:
"But what is beautiful has to be admired, isn't it, bunny?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked.
He crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, looking her body up and down, lightly biting her lip.
"You can't imagine how beautiful you are, dolcezza." – He moistened the mouth and walked towards she. "You're so magnificent..." – he reached behind her and ran his hands over her bare shoulders. "So lovely..." – he placed soft tender kisses on her nape and neck. "So wonderful..." – He lowered his long fingers to her waist, where he lightly squeezed her beautiful folds, in a gesture of affection.
"You're just saying that to make me feel better..." - she closed her eyes and sighed deeply, enjoying those caresses.
"Not in a million years, mia cara, do you really think your golden boy would tell lies about you, uh?" - He whispered maliciously in her ear, feeling her have slight spasms. - "Look at that mirror." - He guided her to the large glass cabinet that reflected her reflections ahead. - "You know what I see, dolcezza? A tremendously hot, controlled person, who shouldn't mind stupid comments from people who don't have a love for their own life." - He rested his head on her shoulder, bringing his hands now to her breasts, where he squeezed lightly, eliciting a sigh that made Thomas smile. - "Let me love you princess, huh?" - His member was already showing signs of life in his pants, he was anxious, he wanted that woman so much that he was even a little nymphomaniac, he wanted so much to fuck her from every possible position, he would love to fulfill all his fantasies and fetishes possible, he would like so much of being her submissive, he loved being spanked by an attractive woman.
"Thomas... I don't know if this is a good idea, I think you won't like it and..." – she threatened to look at him, but he stopped her.
"Be quiet, concentrate on looking at you and not on the actions I do. I want to prove to you that you are incrible and deserve all the love and pleasure in the world." – he turned the other's face to the mirror.
"O-ok..." – She swallowed, but deep down, She really wanted to see his golden boy make him scream.
The blonde was happy with the answer, so he got out from behind her and stopped beside her, with a smile on his face.
"To be more comfortable, sit on the bed and spread your legs, okay?" – she didn't say anything else, just sat down. Raggi crouched down in front of her, making her startle but soon get used to it. - "I'll take off the your bra, ok?" - Caressed his red face, which made the boy more excited.
She nodded, not even looking at him, which was good. Slowly, Raggi removed her bra, freeing her from that tight garment, he was delighted to see the pair of breasts.
"They're so cute, dolcezza. How could you hide them from me all this time?" - Feigned disappointment, then taking his hands to both of them and squeezing again, only a little stronger. — "I'm so looking forward to sticking my dick in these." – he whispered to himself, but it seems she heard him, as she gave a heavy sigh.
Without warning, he grabbed one of her breasts and sucked greedily while the other pinched her nipple. He circled his tongue around the areola, sucking the tip violently, but not so much because he didn't want to hurt her. Meanwhile, she moaned with pleasure, she never imagined she could feel something so libidinous. He came down with kisses on her hip, where he promptly started giving her nice hickeys 'and the traces of cellulite and stretch marks under her belly, as much as she said she hated it, he spoke in reverse, said he loved it and he thought she was extremely cute with them.
He turned it down his hands to her thick thighs, where he gave her several delicious squeezes that made her gasp. He deposited several kisses and hickeys all over the area, from knees to shins and calves. And he distributed several kisses on her feet.
"I like your feet." - He said, offering a little massage on the heel. - Looks like two buns, makes you want to bite.
"You're an idiot." - He rolled his eyes and laughed, making the boy laugh too.
"Idiot fer you, mia regina." - He looked at her smiling mischievously, seeing her blush and resist a smile.
He brushed his lips between her inner thighs, moistening the entire area, keeping that hot, sticky spot but feeling good. He wrapped the long fingers of his right hand in the baby pink panties she wore, squeezed the fabric tightly, and whispered:
"Are you sure you want this?" - He looked at her deeply.
"You've already started, so finish." - she replied immediately.
He was a little surprised, but deep down he wanted that answer; oh how he wanted it. He would obey your every wish. He would even try to be a clown in the middle of the circus, as he just wants to entertain her.
"Oh dolcezza, you are so good to me." - He let out a cynical laugh as he sucked on the fabric covering his genitals, rubbing his tongue there and lowering her well-oiled entrance even further. - "I want to draw you with my hands, with my mouth, with my body..." - he took his left hand to the wet spot, rubbing his index finger on the spot, feeling the clitoris extremely swollen, which left it with a smile . - "As if you were my Monalisa..." - he whispered softly. - "Would you leave me, principessa? Uh?" He pressed his index finger on her apparent button, making her moan.
"Oh fuck, just do it at once!" - She complained in constant moans, needing carnal contact.
Thomas chuckled, then immediately scraped off her panties and dove between her legs. Thomas was perfect in so many ways, and you wondered every day how lucky you were to get such a sweet boyfriend.
with dreams came rain, part one. thomas x green-eyed reader
summary 📣: in which thomas has a dream about a pretty girl with pretty green eyes from his past
warning/s 🚫: “angst”
slater’s note 🗯: au but also still follows the storyline of the scorch trials (part two?)
sleep was hard to come by now a days.
the heat of the scorch sent thomas over on edge as he would have barely have time to sleep before being woken from deep sweats of stress and bad dreams that were always the same and always reoccurring but always so short.
he’d lie awake at night with his hands folded over his chest while his eyes studied the surface of the sky. dark and blue with tiny little lights that were just barely visible through the usual clouds full of thunder and lightening but never really rain.
he’d think and he’d hope for sleep and for peace to come to his mind at last but he knew it’d never come.
when sleep did come, he’d wish for the dream.
the dream with the pretty girl around his age with memorizing pretty green eyes filled with youth and spark. he could see the soul in them, full of harmonious joy that gave him life, that fueled him with happiness.
it was always the same. begun the same, ended the same, never with a hello nor with a goodbye.
and that angered him. he was always set mad with the lack of time he had. he wanted more. he wanted to say goodbye.
“look at the sky, thomas, look how pretty.”
everytime he saw you, it always rained.
literally rained. water fell from the sky, drenching the dry, hot sand. blinding any live eyes of the scorch.
“looks so soft and...”
“...calming.”
he held you closely and tightly with his arm wrapped around your back while the other held your arm, making sure you were stable up close on top of him.
“you make me feel calm... you make me happy, thomas,” you rolled over so your chest was fully pressed against his, hearts connecting, hands lacing together like puzzle pieces.
he felt like he couldn’t breathe. everything you were doing he wanted to last forever and yet he hadn’t had the slightest clue who you were despite everything feeling familiar.
like this was done before, you were real and not a figment of his imagination. every repetitive touch you shared together, every kiss, every word, every noise... it seemed all real and all just a distant memory that his subconscious was pulling up for a sense of relief.
“i feel stuck in my head when i’m not with you,” you whispered, lips moving closer to his, every inch closer to desire and praise and relief.
relief from the built up tension in his stomach. relief from the scorch. relief from WICKED, being hunted, seeing his friends dying, starting life over and over again. it was all relief once your lips touched his.
“please, never leave me.”
he should’ve known it was a dream by how good he felt and by the words that fell from his mouth so effortlessly and mindlessly and by how he didn’t worry about anything.
his stomach felt like as if there were a million tiny bunches of bubbles swarming and consuming every bit of him as he took in every bit of you.
“i wouldn’t dream of it.”
it always ended there. the fantasy world of soft colors and warm weather began to melt away and disappear, slipping from his finger tips no matter how hard he tried to grasp it, hold on tightly, but that only made it fall away faster.
Dude! Someone needs to make me a Stiles Stilinski FBI trope fic thing…..
Like y’all have no clue how I LIVE for stiles fics where he’s in FBI.
Idk for what the storyline would be, maybe like reader grew up as his and Scott’s other best friend. Reader and stiles always had something for one another, but they both never act on those feelings. Come to after they all move both stiles and reader move on from Beacon Hills together and wether they go to collage together or not they end up both going into the FBI and end up being one another’s partners. Reader and stiles end up getting into a fight over something and it messes with their partnership (everyone is like “yo what’s up with you too. You guys never fight…”). Then they end up having to go on a case and the reader ends up hurt in some way. When readers getting surgery or something stiles calls Scott in a huge fit saying something about it being all his fault that reader was hurt and Scott quickly calms stiles down. In the end stiles ends up sitting next to the reader till she wakes up then he’s all like “I’m so sorry.” And the readers all like “what for?” Then stiles breaks down about almost losing the reader and she just holds him as he cry’s. When he’s done crying he just blurts out that he’s in love with the reader and reader just says something like “took you long enough.” Or something like that and in the end they end up happy to be with each other and cuddling on the readers hospital bed.
Dude you don’t get how much I need a fic like this for stiles….. like I’m dying to read a super angsty but lovey dovey stiles Stilinski FBI fic. Like 😩 I neeed it!!! Someone please write it for me?!
