Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.
LOVED YOUR THOMAS FIC!! Please write more Maze Runner. ALSO, I am a sucker for established relationship.
What about Thomas and reader (established relationship) reunite after being separated?
this is literally a year old but I discovered it in my drafts and had to post! pretty sure the maze runner fandom is dead rn but I simply do not care
tmr!thomas x fem!reader | established relationship, fluff and a bit of angst (set in the death cure)
Thomas thinks, if he doesn’t find you soon, he might as well be dead. He’s well on his way. His heart hasn’t felt normal since WCKD took you. It’s felt heavy as lead, weighing down in his chest like a rock, making it hard to walk, hard to breathe. He hasn’t been able to sleep, but being awake is so much worse. It’s horrible, spending every waking moment worrying about what WCKD is doing to you, wondering if you’re even alive, thinking about all the things he could’ve done better to save you.
The guilt eats at him like a virus, clawing at his heart and up his throat. Eating him alive and spitting him right back out until he feels like a zombie. A dead boy walking.
It takes over his body now, so much so that he’s not really thinking at all as he breaks into WCKD headquarters. He’s thinking, but he’s not thinking. He lets his body take over, he smashes through glass windows and knocks out guards with the butt of his gun, he busts down metal doors and screams your name down the fluorescent white and blue halls.
He yells himself hoarse. He and Newt come to a T shape in the seemingly never-ending hallways. Newt yells for them to take one each, and Thomas barrels down the right one, his heart pounding in his ears. He peers through big glass windows, sees machines and medical carts and computers, but no you. He’s starting to feel desperate. He’s starting to feel like he might kill someone just to find you. His legs feel numb. Then,
“Thomas! I’ve got her!”
Thomas runs faster than he’s ever run before. Twists on his heel and very nearly breaks his ankle, but goes sprinting the way he came, and down the hallway Newt took. Hope and guilt and desperation and regret surge through his body like electricity in his veins. He’s running so fast, so blind with hope, that he almost slams right into Newt. His friend grabs his elbow.
“Woah.” He’s breathing hard. But he’s smiling. “She’s okay, Tom.”
And then you appear as if out of nowhere, stepping out from behind Newt like an angel in a fiery, burning hot hell. You look pale. You look weak. You’re in a hospital gown and no shoes. There’s a big bruise in the crook of your elbow and your lips are cracked. But you’re here. He doesn’t want to sound like a loser, but Thomas could cry buckets right now.
“Y/N,” he says. He doesn’t sound like himself. Doesn’t feel like himself. He feels as if he’s standing watching the scene as merely an observer. It’s an odd feeling, an out of body experience.
“Thomas,” you say, and the relief in your tone breaks his heart into a million little pieces that seem to spill out onto the floor in front of him.
Thomas surges for you. He scoops you into a hug so tight it’s sure to bruise, which is stupid, but he isn’t thinking straight, and you squeeze him just as hard, anyway. You fling your arms around his neck and keep them there. Thomas doesn’t know what to do with his hands. They’re everywhere — your hair, your back, your neck — it’s like he’s worried you’ll slip away, or worried you’re merely a ghost of the girl he loves. The fabric of your hospital gown is starchy and foreign in his hands, but you’re warm and soft and familiar underneath it all.
“I’m sorry,” he says. He’s crying now, and Newt’s right there watching the whole thing, but Thomas doesn’t care. His heart hammers faster than light. Or is that your heart? He can’t tell, you’re pressed so tight to him they may as well be the same. “I’m so sorry.”
You shake your head hard where it’s buried in his neck. You’re crying too, he feels your warm tears sticky on his skin. “Don’t. Don’t say that. I’m okay, Tom.” Your hand is in his hair, stroking him gently like he’s the one who’d been kidnapped, not you. “It’s not your fault.”
Thomas blinks away hot, hot tears. They blur his vision. His ears are ringing, or is than an alarm somewhere blaring in the distance? He can’t tell, it doesn’t matter, he’s got you now and he’s never letting go.
Newt says something but neither of you hear him. You’re too busy coveting the hair at the nape of Thomas’ neck, and he’s too busy running his hands over the planes of your back as if memorising them. Newt tries again, louder.
“We have to go now!” he shouts, gripping Thomas’ shoulder.
Thomas pulls back, blinking rapidly. His ears finally stop ringing, only for them to pick up something worse, gunshots and yelling coming from somewhere too close, followed by thundering footsteps. He curses and takes your shoulders in two rough hands. Just be strong for a little longer, his touch says.
“I’m sorry,” he tells you again. Guilt and sincerity roll into one to ache like a wound over his heart. “We have to go now, sweetheart. We’re gonna find Minho and get you the hell out of here. Can you walk?”
He’s willing to carry you if you have to. But you nod and grab his hand fiercely. The three of you take off down the hallway and Thomas decides he’s never, ever, letting you go again.
a/n: 2014 dylan o’brien you are so dear to me. maze runner fandom CAN YOU HEAR ME? anyways. you and thomas are cuties together.
tmr!thomas x reader, 703 words ˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
You find Thomas residing in one of the ships main areas.
It’s a place unanimously coined for map-considering and plan-making, and in the last six months, you’ve all spent countless sleepless nights in its confines. The mission to rescue Minho from WCKD is only days away, and Thomas comes in here to rove over everything more and more as the date grows closer.
You couldn’t blame him for being nervous if you tried. You’ve been planning this rescue mission for half a year, and though it’s solid, anything could go wrong.
But it doesn’t matter. It’s now or never, all or nothing. Thomas just hopes it’s enough.
His back is to you as you approach, and the blue shirt he adorns is only a shade darker than the long-sleeved one worn in the maze. It all seems distant, now. Like both the maze and the two people you were inside of it existed a lifetime ago.
It sure feels like you’ve known each other for that long. A lifetime.
Thomas proves it when he’s brought out of his head by your footsteps and he doesn’t have to look to see who it is. He turns as you approach, concentrated expression crumbling into something much softer at the sight of you.
“Hey,” he greets.
“Hi,” you smile up at him. It makes his heart do that funny flutter, and when you move to stand into the little pocket of his side, his hand comes to rest on the small of your back.
Soothing. The heat of it presses past your shirt, radiating through the rest of your skin and it makes you dizzy. You push through, glancing between the strewn about papers on the table and him.
“Hiding?”
“No,” A shake of his head. “No, just… making sure.”
His voice takes on that very special tone reserved only for you. You’re not sure if he does it on purpose, but you’ll never bring it up. Because you really, really don’t want him to stop using it.
You hum, gaze shifting onto a map of WCKD’s train routes; Though you seem more interested in Thomas (He relishes in it). “How long’ve you been in here?”
“Uh,” He checks his watch, doing a poor job of hiding his surprise when seeing the time. His voice rises in pitch, and it tells on him. “Not that long.”
You nudge him with your hip. “You should get some sun. Get something to eat.”
“I ate before I came.”
“Well, you should eat again.”
“Okay, slim it,” he says, and a laugh escapes him before he registers it. It’s been a while since he’s done that — and it feels good. It feels good that someone worries about him, too.
He doesn’t mind worrying for everyone else, but sometimes it all piles up. Alby. Chuck. Teresa. It’s easy — in the midst of it all — to feel alone. He feels a surge of affection for you, remembering that you’re here. That you’ve got his back.
He slings an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer and kisses your hair. “Thanks for checking on me.”
Before you can think of a response he checks his watch again, this time with his brows furrowing at it. It morphs his expression into something that makes him look unreasonably pretty. You want to reach your thumb to smooth out the crease that’s formed between them. “Hey, don’t you have welding practice with Newt?”
You smile at him again — this time for knowing your schedule. “Yeah, I do. You should come, Thomas.”
Something familiar licks up his spine at your mention of his name. It’s not a nickname, and it’s not tangibly different from how anyone else says it; But heat pools in his belly all the same. Maybe it’s part of why he agrees so quickly.
“Yeah, okay. I will. You go ahead though, I’ll catch up.”
You don’t try and hide you’re glad he’s going, and it makes his heart do that funny thing again. A playful twinkle dances in your eyes. He’s glad to see it.
“You better.” You throw obvious sarcasm on your sentence. “Be quick, Greenie.”
A twitch of his lips. He nudges your hip with his own. “Get outta here.”
Summary - After Thomas is shot and makes it onto the jet after successfully taking down WICKED, the team safely gets him to Safe Haven. He wakes up a couple days later, realizing that he’s still alive and it’s all over, and all he wants to do is find you, except when he does, you don’t want to see him.
A/n - My first time writing for this character so he might be a little OOC. The ending didn’t really come out like I hoped it would but honestly, this is the best piece of work I've written in a minute. Everybody say thank you Kaye for proofreading!! Feedback is appreciated. Requests are open!
Category - TMR!Thomas x Fem!Reader
Warnings - Angst, Reader doesn’t like Teresa, Newt is alive
Word Count - 2.1k
♡♡♡♡
The sea breeze blew soft and cool as the seagulls caw’d while flying by. The beach waves provided a comforting noise as you worked besides Brenda. She smiled and made conversation with the other workers, being surprisingly more open and friendly than she was when you first met her.
Yourself, on the other hand, had become more reserved and stayed quiet. Who could blame you? You'd been through hell and back, never really fully trusting anyone after what happened the last time you had thought you escaped W.C.K.D. You were just thankful that your friends didn’t rush you to trust, but understood you and only convinced you to at least be nice to the people you’d probably spend the rest of your life with, you’d come around eventually.
It had only been a few days since the final battle against W.C.K.D and the gladers made it to Safe Haven. Vincent had already done a ton of work before you guys had finally arrived and you had only started picking up the slack.
“Holy shit,” Brenda mumbled beside you, before dropping the tools she had in her hand and rushed out of the tent.
“Bren? What is it?” You called from your spot before following her out of the tent, only to stop in your tracks a few steps later.
A breath escaped your lips as you stared at the sight in front of you. It was Thomas. He had finally woken up from his few days of slumber after being shot. It was a relief that he was finally awake, but he was also the last person you wanted to see right now.
You watched from the opening of the tent you worked in as Thomas hugged Minho tightly. He made his way through the plethora of hugs when his eyes finally spotted you. Immediately, a soft relieved smile started to creep up across his face, but disappeared just as fast when you quickly turned away from him and made your way back inside the tent.
Confusion was written across his face as he started to make his way towards the path you just walked away to until a hand on his chest stopped him. He looked down at Brenda, a soft sympathetic smile on her lips, “Not yet.”
“W-what? Why?” Thomas questioned, eyes flickering back and forth between Brenda and the tent, “I want to see her, I need to see her.”
“We know, Tommy,” Newt called, pulling Thomas’ attention away from Brenda, “but she’s not ready.”
Minho threw his arm around his shoulder, starting to pull him away towards the Homestead, “we’ll explain later, but first let's get some food in you.”
Thomas hesitantly nodded and followed along with Minho, but not without throwing one last glance back at where you stood just a few seconds ago. Confused on what could’ve happened that made you not even speak to him after seeing he was alive after being shot.
♡♡♡♡
A day. It had been one whole day since Thomas had been awake and he still has yet to speak to you. In fact, he hadn't seen you again for the rest of the day after watching you walk away from him. He had tried to ask everyone, especially Brenda, on what happened to make you act this way, but for whatever reason, they all danced around the topic. He couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted to see you, hold you and kiss you again. He missed you and he couldn’t imagine why you didn’t miss him just as much.
Just as he finished carving the name into the large rock that they had dedicated to the lost lives along the way to the Safe Haven, a silhouette had caught his eyes. It was you, he could spot you from miles away. You were standing on the edge of the beach with a blanket wrapped around you. The tools immediately dropped from his hands and he started making his way towards you.
Unbeknownst to the figure approaching behind you, you stood looking out into the horizon of your new forever home. Watching the seagulls fly by on whatever adventure they’re taking as you did every morning, reflecting on your life and what it took to get here, to get to peace. The crunching of sand behind you pulled you out of your thoughts. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was, you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, but you wanted to avoid the conversation that was about to happen, knowing it wouldn’t end well.
You looked down at your feet as another pair appeared beside you. Silence lingering between the two of you, both wondering who would be the first to speak.
“Hey,” Thomas spoke.
“Hi,” You answered, still staring down at the beach waves softly washing over your sand covered toes, the cold water giving you chills each time.
“I missed you,” he replied, pausing to give you a chance to return the affection. His heart nearly beating out of his chest, especially when you don't say it back, “excuse me if I’m a little lost here, but I don’t understand what's happening.”
Your brain ran a million miles a minute as you tried to form a sentence. You knew that it shouldn’t be this hard to express your feelings, but for whatever reason, it was taking all your courage, “I don’t know what to say to you, Thomas.”
He got butterflies in his stomach, just as he always did when you said his name, “you can tell me what happened? What did I do for you to ignore me like this? Are you even happy I woke up?”
“Of course, I’m happy,” your head shot up at the accusation, locking eyes with his honey brown ones that usually always made you melt, “how could you say that?”
“What else am I supposed to think when the first thing you did when you saw me was walk away?” Thomas questioned, “And our friends stopping me from following after you? Saying you weren’t ready to see me? I just don’t understand.”
You sighed, breaking eye contact, putting your attention back towards the horizon as the sun continued to rise, “you should rest more, Thomas. This conversation can wait.”
“No, it can’t,” he shot back, stepping in front of you, forcing you to look at him, “I want to know why my girlfriend isn’t excited to see me.”
“Now I’m your girlfriend?”
Thomas was visibly taken back by that comment, his eyebrows furrowed more out of confusion, “wha-what is that even supposed to mean? Of course, you're my girlfriend.”
Even as you looked at him, flashbacks to that night appeared in your head. Every time you looked at him, all you could see was him on that roof top, laid in her arms. When you look at his lips, the picture of them on hers made your chest cave in. Knowing that in his dying moments, the only thing he could think about was kissing her.
“You kissed her,” you spoke softly, broken even. The deep furrow in his face softened as you spoke. Hearing the hurt in your voice killed him. “You were shot, you were dying–and the last thing that was on your mind while you were in her arms, was to kiss her.”
“Baby…” He whispered, the memory of that roof top slowly came back to him.
“And when that roof top caved in, you screamed. You screamed so loud, as if you had just lost the love of your life,” you started, “And I’m not dumb, Thomas. I knew you had feelings for her before. Hell, I was there when you did. But I don’t know, maybe I was dumb enough to believe that you were actually over her when she betrayed us. When she got half of the Right Arm killed and kidnapped. When we literally walked into a suicide mission to get Minho back becuase of her. Maybe because I believed all of those things, or just simply because you told me you loved me.”
“I do, I do love you, baby, you know that.” Thomas interjected, almost sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, “I want you, I love you. I was dying and-and, I was out of it. That kiss, it-it meant nothing, she meant nothing. It's you, it's only you.”
You wanted to believe him, you did. You wanted to jump into his arms and kiss him until your lips were raw and swollen and live happily ever after. But truthfully, you knew you couldn’t, because you knew that there would always be a piece of him that belonged to her, whether she were alive or not. The desperation in his eyes was clear as day as he tried to get you to understand the opposite of that. But, the truth was, you did understand. More than he would ever understand because he would never admit it, especially when he was already on the cusp of losing you.
You huffed, taking a moment to yourself knowing that the answer to this next question would be the end of it all. Foolishly, you wanted to pretend that you already didn't know what he would say, but you didn’t deserve to keep yourself in a relationship where you’d be giving a hundred and not receiving it, “who’s name did you crave into the memorial, Thomas?”
And just like that, his shoulders fell. His eyes wandered into the sky, trying to find his next words. Trying to figure out what he could say next that would make you just fall into his arms again like you did once before, “she died, she is dead. It is to remember her, that’s all. She deserves that much.”
“Does she, Thomas?” You scoffed. You knew you were about to sound bitter, but you couldn’t help yourself and express how you truly felt. How all the Gladers felt, “Sure, she switched sides last minute, got you out of there and back to us, but at the end of the day, we were in that predicament because of her. Minho nearly died because of her. Hell, Tommy, she even told you that she’d do it all again. She was ready to sacrifice lives that we fought like hell to get back, so forgive me if I don’t think she deserves to be memorialized!” You spat, eyes starting to water as tears threatened to spill out and fall, “I won’t be in competition with a dead girl, I deserve more than that.” You shook your head and started to walk away, just wanting to be done with this.
It took him a moment, processing your words before he went after you, “wait! Wait!” Thomas called out, grabbing your arm and spinning you back to him when he caught up to you. His eyes bearing down into yours, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, “it’s not a competition, it’s not even close.”
“How am I supposed to believe that?” You asked as your voice cracked from that lump that was starting to form in your throat, “You couldn’t even get over when she went back to wicked. How are you supposed to get over her now that she saved your life over her own?”
He shook his head and continued to stroke your cheek, “I don’t know, I don’t know.” He repeated, finally admitting to himself and you, “But I can, I swear I can. I love you, I love you.”
You sighed, your forehead falling onto his, tears running down your cheeks, “Thomas, I won’t fall for the guy that can’t unfall for someone else.”
The two of you stood still for a moment before you felt him nod against your head. You prepared yourself to pull away from him, your heart begging you not to, but your brain not allowing you to stay. Taking a deep breath,, you press a soft kiss to the inside of his wrist, letting it linger for a moment before finally pulling yourself away. Wiping the tears from your cheeks as you left Thomas in the distance. It took everything in you not to look back and run back to him, but it got easier once you saw Brenda, standing at the edge, waiting for you. Just as you reached her arms, you broke down. Letting out all the emotions you wouldn’t allow Thomas to see.
“It’s okay, it's okay.” Brenda whispered as she held you as you cried, “It’ll be okay.”
All you could do was hope that one day, it would be.
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tmr!thomas x reader | established relationship, fluff and hurt/comfort, 1k words (set in the scorch trials!)
you, thomas and your friends find sanctuary from the scorch with the right arm. unfortunately, they don’t provide any sanctuary from nightmares.
“Are you awake?”
Thomas feels you shift under his arm. You’re curled into his side, arm slung over his chest and thigh pressed to his. He hums.
“Yeah, I’m awake,” he murmurs back. “What’s up?”
He feels your hand glide across his stomach and your fingers curl around his hip. It makes him shiver.
“Nothing,” you hum. “Just thinking.”
Thomas huffs. Typical you, keeping yourself awake for no good reason. “Stop thinking and go to sleep then, sweetheart. You need rest.”
You muffle a giggle in his shirt. It warms his chest all the way through. “You’re mean.”
“And you’re keeping me up,” Thomas says back, only half serious. “Go to sleep.”
Eventually you do as he says. These days Thomas always always has waits for you to fall asleep first before letting himself drift off. It makes him feel better about himself. He does everything in his power to make sure you’re safe and healthy and happy, but it’s hard when you’re on your own in a sick world, running from a government organisation that wants you for your blood.
The Scorch has been unforgiving, but you’ve braved through like you always do, never once complaining, always making sure the rest of the group are okay. Thomas thinks someone as lovely as you doesn’t deserve to live in a world like this. It’s half the reason he’s as determined as he is the find somewhere safe.
Well, you’ve found sanctuary for now, at least, with the Right Arm. You and Thomas are sharing a tent with the rest of the group — Minho, Newt, Frypan — none of whom seem to be willing to seperate from each other, despite the spare tents the Right Arm offers. It speaks volumes about where the real safety net is.
Eventually Thomas falls asleep too. He’s not sure how long he sleeps until he’s woken by you. You don’t mean to wake him, he thinks, but he’s a bad sleeper at the best of times, and he’s got a sixth sense for this kind of thing, anyway.
He blinks his eyes open sluggishly. It’s dark, but the campfire still flickers outside the tent, so he can just make out your figure. You’re sitting up straight, stiff as a board. Panic slices through his heart like a cold knife.
“Y/N?” He murmurs. He finds your thigh under the sleeping bag you’re sharing and braces his hand on it to help him sit up. “Baby, are you okay?”
Thomas’ eyes slowly adjust to the light until he realises, with a pang in his chest, that you’re crying. Thankfully, you don’t seem to be in any immediate danger. Everyone else is still fast asleep, and everything’s quiet outside the tent. Still, he doesn’t like the way your shoulders are shaking.
“Sorry,” you gasp. You’re holding your face in two clammy hands, fingers cruel where you scrub at your tears. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I just—“
“Bad dream?” Thomas asks gently. He can guess well enough. He’s had his fair share, and while he’s not an expert on the human mind or anything, he can see that you’re pretty shaken up.
You nod. Tears splash down your front. “Yeah,” you mumble. “Sorry.”
Thomas frowns at you as he brings his hand to your shoulder.
“Stop apologising,” he says, squeezing you gently. His drags his thumb across your collarbone, soothing. He doesnt want to think about what you’d’ve done if he hadn’t woken up. Would you have suffered all by yourself? The thought alone feels like a bullet to his heart. “It’s okay, babe, really. Can I give you a hug?”
You nod viciously. Thomas makes a pitying sound from deep in his chest and wraps you up in a hug, sliding his hand to the nape of your neck to encourage your head over his shoulder. You’re shaking like a leaf, your cheek damp and warm where it presses to his neck.
“You’re okay,” he murmurs to you. It’s all he can say, really. He can’t tell you it wasn’t real, because the chances that you had dreamed about something very real, and equally horrifying, are high. He strokes your hair, feeling a little useless but a lot sorry. “I’ve got you.”
Somebody stirs across the tent. Thomas watches over your shoulder as that somebody sits up.
“Thomas?” It’s Newt. His voice is raspy with sleep but he sounds concerned. “Is everything okay?”
Thomas feels something akin to a rush of gratitude for his empathetic friend. If anything was ever to happen to Thomas, he at least knows for certain Newt would take care of you.
“Yeah, Newt,” he says. “Everything’s fine. We’re good. Just a nightmare, I’ve got it.”
Newt hums and his lanky figure drops back to the tent floor. Meanwhile you’re sniffling over Thomas’ shoulder, your hands screwed into the back of his shirt.
Thomas can’t be sure if Newt’s still awake, but he doesn’t really care if his friend hears him or not. He’s past being embarrassed about how much he cares for you. Thomas draws back and takes your face in his hands.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks you.
“Not really,” you whisper back. Your anguished tone breaks Thomas’ heart clean in two.
“Okay. That’s alright,” Thomas tells you, as kind as he can when he’s up to his ears with worry. He swipes his thumbs over your cheeks, rubbing away your hot tears. He gives you a reassuring smile. “Do you want some water?”
You nod. Thomas reaches behind him to pull his metal flask from a meagre pile of supplies. He unscrews the lid and encourages the bottle into your hands.
“Here, babe,” he says softly. “It’ll help.”
He steadies your shaking hands with his own and helps you have a few gulps of water. When he returns the bottle to it’s place you’ve calmed significantly. Your cheeks are still damp and sticky but your tears have ebbed, at least.
Thomas smiles at you. He’s sure he looks sick with concern but he tries not to let it show, thumbing your cheek with as much tenderness as he can manage. “Let’s lie down, yeah? C’mon, sweetheart.”
He tugs you down with him. You slump onto his chest and push your hand under his shirt. You’re really warm, but it gives him goosebumps anyway.
“You’re safe with me,” he promises. It’s a promise he doesn’t plan on breaking, ever. He rubs your back. Big, rough sweeps that have you going lax in his arms almost instantaneously. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I promise.”
-
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