Summary: you make your boyfriend play the ‘who knows me better’ game, but you told your friend all the answers before hand. So basically just rage baiting, lol. Includes Minho, Aris, Thomas, and Newt. Gn!reader, and friend
Warnings: I don’t think there are any, lmk thooo 🌸 this is really short, and really stupid lolll
A/n: I always see these types of videos, I think they’re just SO funny 😭 guys (I say while talking to a wall) be excited for me, I just got my first copy of the maze runner in English ❤️ and happy thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates 🥳
MINHO
Immediately agrees to play, has 100% confidence that he’s going to win
Knows all of them, your friend just answers like 0.02 seconds quicker
Even if he says it before them, you still give them the point, which is when he starts to pick up that something isn’t right
He GENUINELY starts to flip out. Like, new type of rage he’s never experienced before
“I SAID IT BEFORE THEM! YOU’RE BOTH CHEATING!”
Is literally yelling, thrashing, and whining by like the 5th question. He KNOWS he knows you better
Is insisting that you’re both cheating, won’t let it go until someone admits it
Actually stops the whole game, like literally won’t continue
Rage quit final boss
And if you don’t apologize best believe you’re getting the silent treatment for at least 15 minutes (know your worth, king ✌️)
ARIS
Agrees to play after some coaxing, thought it seemed dumb
He’s confident he knows you well, but doesn’t think he’s gonna go triple platinum or anything
Doesn’t get angry, like a certain somebody, just gets disheartened
After like three questions he’d start to pick up on it
“Wait, are you guys cheating?”
He went from feeling like the world's worst boyfriend, to feeling like an idiot for not noticing that sooner
Probably thought it was funny, rather than rage inducing
Guilts you into saying sorry, lol 💔
THOMAS
He agreed to play to assert a kind of superiority over your friend. In a friendly way, of course
Extremely sure he knows you better
Imminently gets frustrated when your friend gets the first one before he did
“Wha- what no! I knew that one”
Loses it once he CLEARLY gets on before your friend but doesn’t get the point
Once he picks up that you guys are cheating, he also starts to cheat 😭
Starts covering your friends mouth, or just shoving them out the way
Not afraid to get physical, clearly
Makes you apologize to him, by like pouting or something stupid
NEWT
Agrees to play, because you were acting like this was life or death
Probably picks up on the fact your ahh is cheating immediately
Just by the way you’re cheesing 😭
Doesn’t say anything
Actually, I feel like he’d just intentionally start getting questions wrong because it’s funny
“You guys are such cheaters.”
Probably rolls his eyes all sassy
You both have to apologize to each other by the end because his answers to the questions were lowk outrageous 😭💔
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.
thomas rubs his hands on his jeans, trying to rid them of their nervous sweating.
as it gets hotter in the safe haven, and civilization gets more stable, there's more time to screw around. at least, that's how frypan put it that morning when he caught thomas staring at a group game of mother may i (something brenda introduced to the kids).
the thing is, thomas wasn't staring at the kids playing specifically. he was staring at you, playing with the kids, in nothing but a tank top and some shorts. he'd never seen you in a tank top before in his life. your tanned shoulders with scattered freckles and scars, the strip of skin that peeked out underneath the hem, and most of all: the scoop neckline. he could see your collar bones, your sternum. not that he was paying attention to that, although it was a fantastic view. he was rather distracted. he had never seen your cleavage before, after all.
he had also never seen you well rested and fed. your eyes had a new glow to them as you scooped a kid into your arms and sent her into a giggling fit. your hair looked fuller, and your legs looked stronger.
and you're wearing a tank top.
now, he's trying to busy himself with helping out. construction work is fun to him, because he likes leading a process and seeing the finished result. right now, the glade guys are working on a shelter for the pregnant women to relax in. although it's in the first phase, production is moving along smoothly and thomas is feeling optimistic about the results!
or, he would be. if you weren't wearing a goddamn tank top.
he's lifting a plank over one of his shoulders when you bring a bucket of filtered water and some makeshift cups. your skin looks smooth in the afternoon sun and all thomas can think about is touching it, just there. pressing his fingertips to the curve of your neck. getting his palms familiar with the dip of your waist and the gap where your stomach shows. letting his lips follow. on your cheek, or your jaw, or making home on your pretty thighs-
the plank he was lifting slips out of his grip and flies forward. one end lands on his foot and the other end knocks him square in the back of the head, sending him stumbling forward into the ground beneath him.
a chorus of "ooo" sounds around him from the guys, while you call out a loud "oh, shit!"
and thomas just lies there, honestly. he's mortified with himself and his head and foot are both throbbing like a bitch, so he makes the executive decision to just choke on sand and die where he's laying so he doesn't have to face you.
unfortunately, he's never been so lucky, and you're on him in a second. crouched at his side and forcibly flipping him over to face you, your eyes still have that energized glow he found that morning as you worridly look him all over for other injuries. "are you okay? jesus, thomas! you need to be more careful, you could've seriously hurt yourself!"
your fussing drowns out as he gazes up at you, your head haloed by the glint of the sun and your tank top right up close where he can see the tan lines you're getting, and the scooped cut, and wow have you always smelled this good? and he's telling his brain not to let his eyes stare at your cleavage and your chest but c'mon it's right there and god his head hurts.
"okay, up. up! i'm gonna go check you out and give you a wrap for your toes. why would you do this barefoot? you're bleeding, thomas!" you urge him to sit up and he can see now that his foot does in fact have some cuts from the edge of the wood. he blinks a few times and looks from you to the guys, all watching from a few feet away. minho gives thomas a very telling look and then glances down, like he's trying to communicate with his eyes.
thomas squints, head still throbbing and making him feel all ruffled. he turns to you and mumbles, "i'm fine, i'm okay," as your gentle fingers card through his hair, caressing the spot on his head that got hit. he lets out a small grunt, uncomfortable with the increased pounding at your touch, and flinches away.
"you're not fine, thomas. just let me wrap your foot up, at least?" you look at him with pretty, pleading eyes and your unoccupied hand lands on his knee. and of course, thomas relents.
"okay, fine." he grumbles, pushing himself to his feet. he's embarrassed of the slight limp he's sporting as you lead him off to the med hut.
and, sure. thomas' pride is a bit bruised by the whole situation and he doesn't feel very much like a protector or provider when you wrap his toes to avoid infection. but all of that is insignificant when you line your body against his, letting him lean back against the makeshift counter and finally, finally slide his hands along your hips.
"i'm worried about your head," you muse, gingerly brushing the spot that was hit. thomas admires your lashes as they flutter, humming distractedly.
"i'll be fine." he pushes your hair back, wishing you'd give him an excuse to leave his work and indulge in his daydreams. "what are you doing today?"
"I'm in charge of the reading/writing classes today." you close your eyes and breathe in deep, "most all the kids are clever, but it's so hard for them to learn. just, you know, with the strain WCKD put on their brains, i can't... thomas? are you alright?"
and thomas is listening, he really is. but you're pressing every damn inch of your body to his, and your tank top is pulled low and all he wants to do is listen, can his stupid fucking brain shut off this response now, please?
"yes," he narrows his eyes, huffing as his frustration with himself escalates. you're clearly in the mood to confide in him, and he can't figure out why the only thing his pea-sized brain can conjure up is a vulgar image of the two of you. "maybe. i... i want to hear about this, i promise. and, you know i'm well aware of the damages WCKD does to the brain-"
"oh, of course, i..." you take a subtle step back, and he realizes too late how he sounds more defensive and less frazzled.
thomas' hands pull you back into him by the hips. "no, no. i'm trying to... aurgh! i'm sorry, i'm so sorry. i can't. think."
your eyebrows shoot up as his body grows more and more painfully aware of your hands on his chest, your thighs pressed to his own, the way your lips part in a little 'o' and how your eyes look when you look up at him without lifting your chin. thomas knows he's hard, he's not a blubbering idiot. but it's never really been such an issue before. as long as he fully remembers, there's always been much more important things to think about, like keeping you and the rest of the gladers alive and safe.
but now, that's not so much an issue. and it feels like every little thing you do, every noise and expression and action, makes thomas have the same reaction.
"you can't think?" you prompt, as he feels you press harder against his erection. you must not feel it, then. thomas tries not to roll his hips into the relieving release of pressure.
"i can, i can." he sucks in through his teeth and tries to gently pry you away. your subtle resistance confuses him, and he hates that he'll have to tell you if you don't figure out soon enough here. "i just... i'm, um, really sorry. that you have to start below ground zero with the kids."
there's a lengthy pause of silence as you stare up at him, like you're waiting. he waits too, hoping there'll be some kind of hint to what else he should say to get you talking again so you can both move on from this mortifying ordeal.
instead, you seem to deflate slightly and take a step back. compared to before, and now lacking the sweet press of your body on his, it feels like a mile between you.
"okay." you sigh, tucking some of your hair back. thomas watches with a level of confusion and guilt he can't even fathom. "well, i should head back. it'll probably be time for me to gather the kids soon."
he stays stuck against the counter with an unmistakable boner right up until you're about to push the curtain out of the way and leave. only then does he regain his composure enough to stop you, pushing off of the counter and taking a couple of steps nearer to you.
"wait."
you turn to face him eagerly, eyes wide and wanting something he can't place. thomas swallows thickly.
"i have to tell you something. because i hate not being honest with you. and... you can be as mad as you want, okay? i promise i won't get upset."
he watches the doubt seep into your body language. "...okay."
and it all comes tumbling out of his mouth.
"i can't stop thinking about you. like- in these terrible, horrible ways that i like. and i feel so bad because you have no idea, but it's just- god, when you wear that top. all i can- everything- the only thing i can focus on is your body. and your hair, too. and your legs. and your lips, a lot. and all i wanna do is... it's so bad. i'm sorry."
thomas wasn't aware of how terrible he felt about thinking about you compromisingly until he voiced it, but when he meets your eyes again... he's completely thrown by your expression. you look- not hungry, that's not the right word. but somehow it is, with the way your eyes rove over him and back up again, how you take a few steps closer. your face is slowly melding into that expression you always get when he flatters you. like, all pretty and flustered with eyes that say more more more.
"you're sorry about it?"
he blinks. "yeah. i just, i don't want you to be in any position you wouldn't want to be in. even in my head."
you nod, of course. because that makes sense. but that's not what your face is saying. he watches as your eyes dip down shyly. "thomas, i... i've been having similar thoughts."
"oh."
well, this changes things.
you've been thinking about thomas? like that? on top of you, behind you, under you? panting and begging and sweaty and jesus christ, he's hard as a rock.
"tell me." his voice comes out as a command, instead of a question. you respond before he can correct himself.
"t-tell you what i've been imagining?"
god, imagining makes it sound so purposeful. thomas can see it in his head; you, in your bed, imagining him doing things to you. making you squirm and whine and plead. he has to know. thomas doesn't know a lot of things, and he loves learning them. but his favorite puzzle has been you. and this is another thrilling piece.
"yes." he can barely get the word out fast enough, closing the distance between the two of you so he can guide you to press up against the rickety counters. he would totally have you perched on them, if he trusted the workmanship at all. but this will do, for now. "what have you been thinking about me?"
"it's probably worse, thomas. i don't want to make you uncomfortable." you sound sincere, but he realizes too late that this is you throwing his words back in his own face, showing that it may have offended you when he apologized for wanting you that way.
he kisses his teeth, meets your eyes. "promise it won't. i'll understand. we can do an exchange, yeah? a thought for a thought."
you huff out a laugh. "what, like a trade? are you bargaining for my dirty fantasies of you?"
his dick twitches like it heard your words instead of his head, and he nods. leaning down close, he lets a smile slip across his lips. "yeah, that's a perfect example. we can value them; the more outlandish the fantasy, the more pricey it is."
"and if you have no fantasy pricey enough to match mine?" you tilt your chin up so your plush lips are a breath away from his, and he listens as your voice dips to a sultry hum. "how will you repay me?"
thomas pretends to think, hmm's in wonder. in the meantime, his hands roam from your waist to your hips, growing confident enough to almost reach lower before he responds:
"guess i'll have to find some other way, then."
your lips meet, and thomas gets a few kisses in before he grows impatient and slides his tongue gently across your bottom lip. you only encourage his demanding mouth, pulling him closer by the back of his neck and letting his tongue press against your own.
thomas loves making out with you. it's only happened twice before, and both times he found something new that made you whimper-whipmer!- and it made him feel like he could rule the world. he's never been egotistical, but there's something about the way you pull a bit too rough on his lip with your teeth or how your mixed saliva catches at the corners of his mouth that makes him think he'd be a great father, and a perfect provider for you. when you suck on his tongue, he groans and his hips flex forward. he doesn't even realize his stupid dick is searching for friction until he breaks away to kiss at your neck and leaves you room to talk.
"thomas, you're-" you pant as he litters open-mouthed kisses against your soft skin. "you're hard."
"mmhm, told you." he rakes his teeth along your collar bone before his mouth finds your ear. "been so distracted by you lately. can't go to bed without touching myself," you moan quietly. he about cums right then and there. "thinking of you."
"m-me too." he can hear the nervous stutter from a mile away, and he smiles, pausing against your skin for a moment.
"tell me what you think of." he kisses your neck, long and soft and slow. just once. and then lifts his mouth away enough to speak again. "when you touch yourself."
he can hear you swallow, feel your heart flutter like a bunny. he doesn't know why, but he likes it. and he doesn't feel bad about it.
"it's bad." you exhale, like you don't want him to hear you.
he pulls back so he can tower over you a little, narrows his brow with concern. "it's alright. tell me."
you pout and glance away before your mouth opens again, but you don't protest any further. good girl.
"i... i like the idea of, um, you." you catch your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment as your eyes flit around the dim hut. "you... all over me. just, out of nowhere. most of the time i imagine me in the middle of hanging the laundry out to dry, or prepping for my class, or tidying or something. and you just come in and push everything out of the way and take me, no questions or comments. i know how you look at me sometimes, when there's people around. there's times i... i wish you'd just tell them to get out and act on whatever you're thinking."
he watches you swallow, so tuned into your posture and movements. listening to every word like it's a sacred truth. you take a breath and continue.
"the other night... i was in the shower late. after i helped out with the fertility house. i touched myself." you confess, and thomas notes how you refuse to meet his head-on gaze. "i was thinking of you coming in and using your... your fingers, um, on me. looking at me in that way you do, with your hair wet. making me tell you all the bad things i thought when i saw you, sweaty and working hard."
you're flustered and shy when you finish, chest rising and falling at a more rapid pace than before. thomas tilts his head as he watches your face, being sure he's keeping contact at every point between your bodies. being sure you know he's not scared of you or your wild imagination. being sure you can feel how much he loves it.
"i'm sorry." your voice is a whisper of insecurity.
thomas quickly snaps out of his silence, gathering your precious face in both of his calloused hands. "no, no, no. don't apologize." he pleads, forcing you to look at him finally. your eyes are swimming with worry and unsureness, and thomas wants to swat your thought spiral away like it's a fly. "never. never apologize for telling me something so lovely."
he pushes your hair back and kisses your cheek sensually. when he feels you melt into him a little, he continues onto your other cheek. before he can reach your mouth, you speak in more hushed whispers.
"i was afraid you'd think it's gross."
he laughs just a little at that, but mostly because it's the most unrealistic thing he's ever heard. pulling back, he finds your eyes and holds their focus with a look of sincerity. "l think the idea of you feeling good because you're thinking of me is the best thing that's ever happened to me."
"thomas, you saved society from a government domination and a deadly virus."
"yes, and you touched yourself at the thought of me." thomas can't help it, he kisses you roughly. takes you in the way you described; ravaging and sloppy and selfish. it feels good. he laps in your mouth and he likes how uncouth it is. like he's defiling you from your lips downward. "i bet you looked so pretty. all helpless and begging for me. that's..."
that's gonna make him finish in his work jeans, for sure. holy fucking shit, you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to thomas. like, seriously, just the idea of you covering your mouth in the shower, arching your back... all because of him?! everything in him is screaming to bring your fantasies to life. but he wants to respect that invisible line, between imagination and reality. you never exactly said you wanted him to do that, just that you thought of it.
thomas kisses your temple and slides a hand down your body, coming to terms with the boundary he just realized was probably there. "i'm so glad you told me."
but he cant help some of it, you're just so kissable. so he allows himself one indulgence, and kisses you slowly.
"you're beautiful." he murmurs against your lips, feeling you shiver lightly at the unprompted flattery. "so pretty. and smart. you know that?"
"thomas," you swallow, but your hand grips his neck and pulls him closer. "please."
what you're asking for, thomas has not an single clue. but when you use that tone, he'd kill a man just for you.
"yes," he matches your desperation and kisses you hungrily. "anything, yes."
thomas' grip on your hips becomes bruising as you begin to make out more explicitly, sounds of smacking and gasping and quiet sighs filling the med hut quickly. you move your hands from his hair to the front of his jeans, undoing the button without breaking your lips. thomas is grateful for the relief, as the strain was becoming unbearable the harder he would get. you're just so goddamn considerate, he'd be an idiot not to give you anything you asked for and more.
his mouth has a mind of it's own as he kisses down your neck messily, carefully guiding your head to the side enough to give him wide access so he can find your spot. it only takes him moments to make you squirm, and he spends considerable time there.
your hand, still at the button of his jeans, begins palming at his erection heavily. thomas hums, meeting you halfway with his hips before he stutters his movements and stops himself. he's embarrassed at how bad he wants the friction, the pressure. who knows what you want? just because he likes how your hand feels pressing on his dick doesn't mean you want him humping into your palm like a dog.
you whine discontentedly (even though he was so sure you liked how he was marking your neck!) and hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, tugging him into your body ruthlessly. he pulls back to look at you, confused. what do you need? he'll give it to you, whatever it is. but he needs to be sure he's got the right idea first.
"what is it?" thomas frowns down at you, rubbing your hip affectionately.
you huff, tugging at his waistband again. "thomas, i want... i-i... i need...-"
an eruption of innocent laughter interrupts you. both you and thomas whip your heads to the curtain separating you from the rest of the world, frozen in place as you listen for who's nearby.
and, to both of your dismay, there's children setting up their own game of mother may i just outside the med hut. not exactly a great place for a steamy-make-out-turned-something-more.
thomas is the first to move, sucking in a breath and running his hands up your sides. "well."
you worry your lower lip. "yeah."
"i... i can't really, um." thomas clears his throat, eyes roving up to the ceiling. his neck and ears pinken with mortification. "you go first. don't wait up."
"oh. did you not want to walk together?"
"no! no. it's not that. i just can't... really... go anywhere. right now." he murmurs, eyes dropping down before quickly meeting your own.
your eyes fall down to his unbuttoned jeans. you blush. stare. glance back up. "ah. i see. well. i will... see you at dinner?"
"yes, of course." he smiles sweetly at your understanding.
as you begin walking away, thomas grabs your wrist and tugs you back in, kissing your hand.
"i had a lovely time. you're a great nurse." he kisses your hand again for good measure before releasing you for good, watching you walk out of the med hut and look back twice.
☆
thomas rubs at his jaw absentmindedly, mind full of upcoming plans and responsibilities. the bonfire dances in front of his eyes, casting a warm glow on the haven and everyone gathered around it, eating dinner and conversing and being alive again. it's the perfect background noise for him, the buzz of safety and happiness and health. he hadn't heard it before they created this place.
his plans for reinforcing the makeshift counters in the med hut to support human weight is harshly interrupted by minho, plopping down next to him on the log he's sat on.
thomas glances at minho and his overflowing plate. they both nod shortly to one another. thinking that's the end of the interaction, thomas lets his mind wander again. they'll need to put supports underneath, some sort of beams...
"newt and frypan have a bet going." minho speaks with his mouth full.
"oh, yeah?" or maybe having them fully touch the floor, that way there's extra storage space. cabinets aren't too much work with enough hands.
"yep. if you screwed in the med hut, newt doesn't have to do chores for a week." minho picks something out of his teeth. "honestly, i thought i was the only one who noticed. tried to warn you, man."
"wait, what?" thomas blinks, turns to face minho. "you... what?"
minho takes an analyzing look at thomas' features, squinting his eyes in slight disgust. "dude. none of us are blind."
thomas is still clueless. his face must give him away, since minho goes from sorta-grossed-out to totally-making-fun in seconds. "oh, man. you don't know what i mean, do you? curing serum didn't help you remember the talk?"
"i... don't..." thomas glances around them, making sure no one is nearby to overhear. minho barks out a laugh.
"come on, thomas." minho takes a big bite of his food and nods over thomas' head, eyes flicking to someone behind him. "she showed up and it was like all the blood in your brain rushed to your..."
minho meets thomas' eyes.
"little friend."
thomas flushes, glancing over his shoulder just in time to see you press your ear to the belly of a heavily pregnant woman, smiling excitedly. "minho, tell me you're the only one who noticed."
"whatever helps you sleep at night, man." minho stuffs his mouth again, clearly unperturbed as thomas swings his head back around to gape at him. "so did y'guys get busy 'r not? we're all kinda waiting around to find out. hey, you gonna eat? food's running out fast."
"i'm good." thomas lets his eyes wander back to you as you converse easily with a few of the older women, your tank top riding up just enough to give him a peek at your lovely tummy. "uh, hey, minho?"
"yeah?"
"you... so..." thomas is slow to form words at the sight of your gorgeous hair flouncing about. "you think she'd want to do that? i didn't know... i thought it was, y'know, a guy thing."
minho laughs, clapping thomas' shoulder. it takes him a moment to verbally answer as he swallows his food, but his nodding makes thomas' heart stutter.
"oh, it's a girl thing too. trust me, they're having the same thoughts, if not worse. why do you think she took you all the way to the med hut just for some bruised up toes and a head konk? she's trying to get you to do something."
"i mean, my foot could have gotten infected. and i did hit my head pretty bad." thomas rubs the lightly sore spot as minho fixes a glare on him.
"thomas, you've been shot, drugged, stung by a griever, and jumped off a collapsing building. i really don't think some cuts and bruises are anything to worry about." minho wipes his hands on his jeans, his plate clean of any food. "besides, i bet she had to get all close and personal just to take a look at you?"
"i mean... yeah." thomas shrugs. he hadn't really thought much of it, but... well, you did press up against him, and bat your lashes in that way you do... and when he told you what to do...
oh. oh!
you were- oh wow, the whole time?!
thomas blinks rapidly at the ground, and then at minho, and then at you. and when his eyes meet yours and you smile softly, he feels like an idiot.
"yyyyyeah." minho pats thomas' shoulder lightly as you begin approaching, and thomas can feel his whole body warm. minho leaves with a "good luck, dude," and thomas can barely breathe while the whole world melts into nothing but youyouyou.
"hi." you take minho's place, and you look softly radiant in the glow of the bonfire.
"hi." thomas sighs out, stuck on every movement and shift you make. do you still want that? do you still want him?
"you didn't eat." you observe, adjusting the strap of your top.
"mhm." thomas tracks the motion, flicks his eyes back up to yours. "did you?"
your eyes narrow just slightly at the unintentional deflection, and he's enamored by the crease in your brow. the pout of your pretty lips. the way you look so perfect, he just wants to wreck you, a little. you didn't just want to imagine it? you actually wanted him to...
"yes, i did. are you not hungry, or...?"
"i'm starving." his voice drops an octave, and you bat your lashes almost on impact of the tone shift, glancing away from him.
"oh, well, there's still some fish left, and i think some corn-"
"i don't want that." he swallows, you look back at him.
he gets it now. this isn't confusion, it's not hesitance. this is a game of chess for you, and you want him to check you. to snatch up everything and leave you helpless and needy, and then finish you off.
respectfully, of course.
"but you said..." you start, and trail off when he shakes his head just slightly.
"no, i'm starving." his fingertips brush against your knee, slide barely onto your lower thigh. he holds your eyes the entire time as he caresses your knee, thumb tracing a circle. "are you?"
"thomas," you breathe out a flustered laugh, glancing around. "anyone could see."
he shakes his head again, holding your eyes when you return to him. "'s okay, we can head to bed early. if you want."
he watches you consider, deciphering the offer he's laid out. he's not sure how you do it, always reading him like a book, but it only makes him want to show you his appreciation. which... is leading him down a similar mindset. jeez, he really won't be able to shake this, will he?
"alright." you nod your head to the women you were speaking to before. "let me go say goodnight. i'll meet you...?"
"my room." he hums. it feels so illicit to sneak off like this, pretending- even to each other- that you're just tired.
thomas couldn't be further from tired if he tried.
"okay, yeah. okay." you smile shyly at him. "i'll... yeah."
and just like that, you stand and part from him. the lack of your presence makes everything seem blurry and boring, and all thomas wants to do is fast forward to the moment he has you alone. instead, he dusts off his lap and stands, scanning the beach for any watchful eyes.
minho, arm slung over the shoulders of a girl from a different sector, raises his drink to thomas and mouths, 'me too.' the girl wiggles her eyebrows playfully at thomas.
thomas nods awkwardly, pressing his lips together. other than that, he's sure no one suspects anything from the two of you having an innocent conversation. and so, he sets off.
he's out of the beach and the light as soon as possible, making a silent escape to the safety of the dark trek back to his secluded hut. he decided to keep the one that was built further away from the community enough to give him time alone; dealing with the pressure of leading the survivor colony was enough to make him want to lock himself away for a few hours everyday. plus, he liked to be up early and hated bothering anyone. especially since you're a fan of staying up late and sleeping in, and he can't stand to interrupt your rest.
the way your lashes brush against your cheeks, how you drool a little and always deny it, how sweet and heavenly your cheek looks when it's pressed against the pillow...
great, now he's thinking about you pressed into his pillow, mouth open just to gasp since he's going so hard for so long. you whine his name.
holy shit, he has no idea what he's doing.
thomas scrubs his already messy hair. sure, he's thought about this a million times. he's familiar with his right hand, he knows female anatomy, he’s had the talk! but understanding it from the outside and experiencing it from the inside…
from the very inside...
swallowing, he makes his way into his hut with shaky hands and a confusing heap of arousal clouding his brain. he wants this so, so bad. but he needs to do it right.
he fluffs his measly pillows, straightens his blankets. checks the stability of his bed, does a quick smell check (clear)... what's supposed to happen? he just wants to devour you, honestly. to live out every single idea your pretty little head conjures up. he's getting a little dizzy just thinking of it. but, y'know, outside of tackling you like a bear in heat, is he supposed to... say something?
he wants it to be so perfect that nothing comes even close to comparing. he wants to make you sob with satisfaction and see stars and feel how intensely he feels about you. is there something he can do to convey that?
unfortunately, thomas doesn't have time to write a speech, seeing as he can now hear your soft footsteps not too far off. he messes with his hair and feels his nerves thrum with excitement and anticipation. oh god, he wants you.
"how's your head?" you speak quietly when you first arrive, ducking into his humble abode. your prescense snaps him out of his spiral, making his stomach swoop and his mind fuzz out for a moment.
"uh." he swallows, hesitates, before reaching out to pull you close. your skin is so soft, warm from the firelight. "it's fine."
you giggle at his clearly dumbfounded expression and move pliantly as he wraps you in his arms and buries his nose in your hair. "i probably smell like fire and smoke. not too romantic, sorry."
"you smell amazing." he murmurs, taking a deep breath in. it's true. your scent is addicting to thomas, especially when your skin is slick with perspiration and your natural scent is clear. he could inhale it for days and not get bored. "so good."
"alright, okay, you dog!" you laugh, and it only spurs him on, attacking your neck with his nose and making you shrink back from the feather-light sensation. "stop! it tickles!" you shove at his chest to no avail, as he presses you further into him the more you push and laugh. his sniffing turning quickly into kisses, peppered from behind your ear to your collarbone and back again, despite your shrieks of protest and fits of giggles.
"i can't stop," thomas growls excitedly, backing you towards the bed with little to no effort. "my girl tastes as good as she smells."
his hands on your hips are pressing, firm. he wants you make you feel his strength. when he pulls back to meet your gaze, he watches the effect take place. your eyes have a playful glint, like you're exhilarated to not be in control. he feels equally as exhilarated to be in control. then again, you hold all the influence. he only wants this so bad because he knows you want it too. otherwise, it's no fun at all.
thomas stops the two of you just as the backs of your knees touch the edge of his bed, and a silent moment of charged eye contact occurs. he feels like he's falling, his stomach dropping out from under him. his hands are starting to wander, all on their own.
"is your foot alright?" you chirp. thomas blinks.
"it's fine." he dismisses it quickly. his fingers tuck under the bottom hem of your tank top and he tugs on it gently. "i like this shirt."
you tilt your head. "so i've heard."
"it's nice." and then his hands roam again, running along your ribs and then your back with a relaxing pressure to them. as if he's trying to press the feeling into your memory. he finds the outline of your bra and traces it on your back, wetting his lips. "when'd you get it?"
your bodies sway in unison, and he watches your mouth as you speak. the words comes soft, but tinged with feeling thomas was unprepared for.
"last night." you breathe, your brow furrowing as you recall. "some of the girls wanted to trade, and i hated watching them walk around in the same clothes they were given by WCKD. it's so... unfair."
thomas frowns, eyes tracking your features as they melt into something empathetic, sorrowful. he brings a hand to your face and caresses you gently, frustrated that his hands aren't softer, that he's not built with the delicacy you deserve. he tucks a strand of your hair back and cups your cheek, meeting your eyes.
"always thinking about everyone else." thomas states as he runs his thumb across your skin. "I wish you’d focus on what you want."
you let out a disbelieving snort, giving thomas a look. "said the pot to the kettle."
he tilts his head, squinting. "what?"
"it's... never mind, nothing." pressing your soft, perfect hand over his rough one, you turn into thomas' palm. "kiss me again. please."
and thomas is never one to turn down your requests.
he zeroes in on your plush lips this time, trying to go slow enough as not to scare you. he gets lightheaded kissing you like this, so completely alone with all the time in the world and a bed right behind you. he wants to savor you, to drink your skin and lips and hair and scent in and all the same he want to pin you down and force you to beg and whine his name and tug on his hair.
he keeps it slow to feel a sense of self control. his lips slide against yours seamlessly as he guides you by the jaw to tilt your head in cadence with his own, and the way you melt into him is just perfect. he’s obsessed with the way you relax into him, drowning out all his other senses. content with just kissing you for hours and hours, if that’s what makes you happy; anything to make you feel good.
too bad his heart and his dick are fighting for control. his hands slide under your top and across your stomach, finding their way to your bra clasp. his pants are uncomfortably tight already, his body clearly unused to his current situation.
"how..." he mumbles against your lips, fumbling with the hooks. "sorry, i..."
you let out a hushed laugh, pulling away from thomas enough to look him in the eyes as you reach around and unclasp your bra from under your tank top. he watches with parted lips as you pull off your top slowly, and then let your bra slide down your arms.
he swallows, seeming overly focused on holding eye contact.
"thomas," you slowly grin, "you can look."
he sighs with relief as his gaze dips down to your chest, pretty and perfect and all for him. his hands graze up your sides and cup your breasts, and he lets out a small "oh."
"fuck," thomas blurts, meeting your playful look with a pitifully needy one. he swipes his thumbs over your nipples experimentally. "i..."
"is- um, is it what you were expecting?" you reach out and rest your hands on his sides, just to touch him.
"better, somehow. i don't even... wow. can i-?"
"yeah. yes. 'course."
he licks his bottom lip and nibbles it softly as he examines your face, being sure that you're okay with his eagerness. he liked the tank top (no, fuck that, he loved it), but pressing his mouth to your breasts is so. much. his heart is thumping as he sucks and then nibbles softy on your hardened nipple, causing you to whine softly.
the sound alone makes his pants impossibly tighter. he switches to your other side and his movements become a tad more demanding as he tries to draw another sound out of you. and when he sucks harder than before, he's successful. you tilt your head back and whimper.
your pleasure is the hottest thing thomas has or ever will see. he steps back.
your eyes snap open and you look a bit confused and very disappointed at the suddenly ended moment. he raises his brows at you.
"since when do you sound like that?" he challenges, a cocky smirk growing on his face.
you press a hand over your eyes. "jesus, do you want me to be silent? i've never felt this before!"
"no. definitely not silent. i like it." his confidence is growing by the second, and thomas slowly sinks to his knees in front of you. "i wanna hear it again."
"oh." you huff as he kisses your tummy, running his hands up and down the backs of your thighs. his fingers slide carefully under the waist of your shorts, almost casual as he looks up at you. you nod, looking flustered and wanting and all the things he loves to see.
thomas slides your shorts off slowly, kissing along your panties. he can smell your intoxicating scent and the velvety soap you've been making, drawing him deeper into a daze for you. he looks up to find you already watching him, eyes wide and lips kiss-swollen.
"lay down?" he pats the backs of your knees softly. you oblige his request without question and lay on his bed, propping your head up on his pillows.
he returns to soft kisses over your only article of clothing left, realizing the accidental power imbalance he created when he glances up to admire your naked chest.
"oh, baby." he mumbles, sitting up on his knees over you on the bed. you hum in response before he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it across the room. "sorry. i forgot i had clothes on."
it was an honest comment, but it made you laugh. he smiles sheepishly.
"i dunno how you could. i would assume this is causing some annoyance." you sit up, sliding a deft hand over his painful hard-on. he watches your hand as it glides down his leg.
when you drop it, thomas flicks his gaze back up to your eyes. "you don't have to stop."
"neither do you." your features are focused in a way he's not familiar with, like you're determined to match his confidence. a thrill runs up his spine when you tilt your head challengingly. he smirks, and you match it with one of your own. your hand resumes palming him through his jeans, and you undo the button and zipper seamlessly.
the relief is immense. he stands up when you begin sliding the pants down his thighs so he can finish the job for you, and when you scoot forward to tug his boxers off after, he gasps.
the cool air is less shocking than the sudden sight of his dick. he's slightly embarrassed and very flushed on both heads. his mouth opens when you wrap your hands around the shaft and gently pump him once, experimentally.
"what... feels good?" you watch him through your lashes for a positive response. thomas feels as if his brain is fully submitting to his lust, at this point. "like this?"
he nods helplessly as you begin jerking him off agonizingly slow. you're an accidental tease and he's content with going insane just like this, that is until-
"fuck, holy fuck." he rambles out the moment your lips press an innocent kiss to his tip. his hands feel absolutely useless at his sides and there isn't a single filter from his brain to his mouth anymore. nor is there a filter between your mouth and his cock. you kiss every inch of him as soon as you hear his muffled moaning, spurred on by the sound of his desperation.
"y-you can't," he leans his head back and squeezes his eyes shut, clamping a hand over his mouth when you take him deep inbetween your lips. your tongue swirls around curiously and he shakes his head. "stop, please, please."
you halt immediately, pulling your lips away and dropping your hands. he looks down at you dizzily. you look up at him guiltily.
"not your fault." thomas mumbles with what little consciousness he feels he has. his hand cups your jaw comfortingly. "i didn't want to end this early. i'm... um, i'm sensitive, i think."
"you think?" your smile rests thomas' heart. good, you're not upset. he breathes out a small laugh, stroking the back of your head and leading you up to his face, where he kisses you softly.
you respond easily, and thomas takes that as you being comfortable. thank god, because he needs you relaxed and happy and every positive emotion there is to feel, otherwise he can't take this any further. he just couldn't do it.
you pull him by the neck and lay back down, guiding him to hoover over you. he's definitely nervous, completely out of his depth now. sure, WCKD educated them on health and the technicalities of intercourse, but he's got no clue how to find your sensitive spots and he can't picture the graphs that were presented to them.
he pulls away from your ongoing kiss, thumbing at your panties. "where, um..."
"it's okay." you whisper quietly. your eyes are all glassy and needy and he wants so badly to make you feel good. "you can take them off."
"no, no-" he furrows his brow, "well, yeah, okay. but i don't know how to... what to do, exactly."
"you don't know how to have sex?"
"i remember that part. but i want to make you feel... the way i did, first." he begins sliding your panties down your thighs as he explains, "i know you have a sensitive spot, but i can't remember where it is. show me."
you nod down at him while he kneels back and takes in the sight of you, fully exposed to him. his fingers slide through your wetness and he quickly finds your opening, pressing a finger inside you. "i remember... this one."
he crooks his finger and presses against a spot inside you, making you sigh. you visibly relax further into his cushions and try to close your thighs, but he catches your leg by the knee.
"not from the class i was given, though." he works the spot teasingly as he speaks. "minho gets a little too detailed when he's drunk. says this can make you cry."
his eyes flick up to your face, and he watches you while he teases you from the inside. "show me where it feels good."
"right there." you whine and nod. he chuckles quietly at you.
"no, not this spot." he slides his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and frowning at him. "show me where you touch yourself."
going quiet at the subtle callout, you take his wrist and guide him to press his middle finger against your clit. he circles it carefully and you squirm. "here. i usually... try not to go too fast, too quick. i build up."
"usually?" he raises a brow, grinning evilly. "i guess you have a lot to tell me, huh?"
you throw an arm over your face, partially because you're embarrassed at the accidental admission, partially because he's making slow, small circles against your nerves. "thomas. don't tease me right now."
"i'm not." he lies, scooting forward so that he's bracketed by your legs and sliding a finger back inside you. his finger on your clit never lets up as he starts opening you up for him, mesmerized by the sight of your slick folds.
"y'so pretty. jesus." he barely picks up pace and watches for your reaction, narrowing his eyes at your arm covering your face. "hey. let me see you."
"so much." you sigh as your arm falls. you're flushed and pleading, looking properly pent up. "your fingers are so much longer than mine, i can't ever..."
"mhm, feels good?"
"so good, yes. so good." you arch your back when he uses more pressure on your clit. he smirks proudly.
thomas has you squirming under him after he finds his way around your anatomy. he doesn't know what he was so worried about, it's not so difficult to have you how he wants you. certainly not as difficult as some of the other guys describe it. you're wet and needy and getting closer to the ledge, if your whimpers and whines are any tell, so thomas lets up on his touching and kisses your knee.
"can i...?" he mumbles against your soft skin. you huff at the abrupt ending to the pleasure but meet his eyes with a smile.
"please hurry up and get inside me."
per usual, you never have to ask him twice. he climbs over you and presses a kiss to your forehead before lining himself up.
thomas does his best to go slow, and he stops shortly after pressing his tip into you. he's going insane in his head, overwhelmed with how good it feels. he hears himself whimper in the back of his throat and your eyes snap up to his when you register it.
"that was... um," he huffs with embarrassment. "how are you feeling?'
"i'm alright," you mumble, "just... go all the way."
you don't have to ask twice. thomas sinks into you and his jaw goes slack. later, he's not sure how he didn't come immediately, because he sees stars when he first buries himself to the hilt in your perfect pussy.
"fuck," he breathes, dropping down to bury his face in your neck. "oh my god."
he's in bliss, inhaling your scent while he slowly rocks just barely to press his tip further into you again and again.
"thomas, mmm, hurts-" you gasp out. he snaps to and stumbles back up on his hands, sliding halfway out of you quickly and feeling you both pulse at the sudden sensation.
"sorry, shit, i'm so sorry baby. are you okay? i-i got carried away. i shouldn't have..."
you shake your head just slightly, a hand pressing against his chest to shut him up. he clamps his mouth shut and waits patiently as you pinch your brow together and breathe through your nose.
"it's okay," your voice is higher than usual, soaked in arousal and pain mashed into one. "you're just... bigger. than, y'know, average."
he waits a moment as you breathe, but he can feel a twinge of jealousy seeping in, even if he's halfway inside your lovely cunt and about to be more.
"...how do you know the average?"
"thomas," you roll your eyes, a good sign in terms of how much pain you're in. you're never over animated when you're hurting. "you have a big dick. i'm not talking about any other specific comparison."
"oh." thomas' pride flares in his chest, and he glances down at where you're connected. he props himself up with one hand and uses the other to massage your hip, feeling slightly guilty and slightly proud that he's rendered you helpless like this.
it's just so perfect, how you spend all day helping out everyone else, and now he gets to finally lay you on your back and help you. he licks his lips as he moves just slightly, just to see how your body responds so readily to his. how you clearly feel so much of it, giving him the incentive to make you feel good.
"okay," you sigh just as he feels you begin to relax around him. thomas meets your eyes, and you nod slightly, lips parted. you're perfect, he almost says. but you interrupt him before he can.
"thomas, fuck me."
and you both know he's eager to please.
thomas groans when he slowly sinks back into you, eyelids fluttering closed momentarily. his voice wavers when he tries to speak again "you- oh, god."
you moan right after, back arching slightly off of the bed as your hand goes to grip at his hair. his movements start out slow for your sake, trying to keep enough mindfulness to make sure it feels overwhelmingly good and not overwhelmingly painful. the hand that's not propping him up over you goes back to your clit, matching the pace of his circles with the pace of his hips. you sigh out his name and he twitches inside you.
thomas had no idea two people could be so close to each other. physically, of course, you two are connected, but he feels like you're putting your own claim on him when you tighten around him and whimper how good it feels. when you tell him to go faster, it feels like his brain is melding with yours, like he could stay here forever and feel totally complete. he gasps into your ear and rambles out something or other about how perfect you are, but he can't even hear himself over the roaring in his ears that is just you you you, you, you,you,you,youyouyouyou.
"fuck, thomas, feels so good, gonna-" you writhe pleasantly under him and he presses your chests together.
"yeah?" he huffs. "gonna cum?"
"yes," you meet his eyes and look totally wrecked. he humms loudly and kisses you to muffle a particularly loud moan building in his throat. "please, let me-"
"'m gonna, don't worry baby." he whimpers quietly as you arch under him again, his name leaving your mouth like a prayer. it makes him dizzy and he feels it in his stomach, the chord between you bending, snapping apart.
you roll your eyes back when you finish, and the sight paired with the way you grip his cock like a vice makes him release, almost too stupid to pull out.
almost.
"fuck, so good," he gasps as he hurriedly pulls out just in time to cum outside of your body. you whine at the sudden pullout, and he pops his fingers in his mouth to suck your wetness off of them before cupping your face. "sorry, i know, i know. can't get you pregnant right now."
his dick twitches at the thought.
"...but we can talk about that." thomas mumbles. you breathe out, still nonverbal after your own release. "are you okay?"
you nod, smiling up at him with eyes full of exhaustion. "sooo tired."
your voice is a little shot, probably from the whining and gasping and moaning (that he cannot stop thinking about), and thomas feels a tinge of worry in his chest.
"okay. let me clean up and you can go to sleep. okay? i'll bring you breakfast tomorrow morning, so don't freak out if i'm gone when you wake up."
you nod again, pulling him gently by the arm so he'll kiss you one last time. "i loved it. y're so hot, thomas."
he laughs bashfully and kisses all over your face, feeling your lashes flutter. he knows he needs to get some pants on and grab a rag, but it takes all of his willpower to get him away from you. he kisses down your breasts, your stomach, your thighs. he plants his last kiss to your ankle before peeling himself away. "i'll be right back."
he stumbles out of his tent, shirtless and wracked with euphoric exhaustion from a night that had been long coming. the bonfire is dim, and few people are still out when he makes his way back over to it. after scoring a damp rag and two waters, he runs into gally.
gally presses a hand to thomas' bare chest, his face filled with unrestrained disgust.
"half the bonfire was looking for you. next time, i'm not covering your ass. i'll let them hear all of that."
thomas blinks.
"oh. thanks."
gally wipes his hand on his shirt as he pushes past him, grunting in leu of a response.
thomas is mildly embarrassed that he was so incredibly horny he snuck off without saying goodnight to anyone, but his mind is still preoccupied with getting you comfortable, so he leaves those feelings at the bonfire.
you're fast asleep when he returns, but you wake when he gingerly cleans you up.
"did anyone say anthing?" you mumble when he climbs into bed to spoon you.
"nah." he kisses your shoulder. "i was pretty discreet."
you hum happily and wiggle a little closer to him, falling asleep while he softly rubs your hip.
☆
posting tmr content after it got taken off of netflix... woah im super timely
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.
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
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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.
i weirdly am getting back into my maze runner phase and the lack of fics is so 💔💔 so because i actually have motivation to write, if there’s anyone out there who’s also back into it and wants to send me some requests…pls do!! i’ll write for thomas, minho, newt, gally. same rules apply as in my pinned post!
