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 doesnât find you soon, he might as well be dead. Heâs well on his way. His heart hasnât felt normal since WCKD took you. Itâs felt heavy as lead, weighing down in his chest like a rock, making it hard to walk, hard to breathe. He hasnât been able to sleep, but being awake is so much worse. Itâs horrible, spending every waking moment worrying about what WCKD is doing to you, wondering if youâre even alive, thinking about all the things he couldâve 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 heâs not really thinking at all as he breaks into WCKD headquarters. Heâs thinking, but heâs 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. Heâs starting to feel desperate. Heâs starting to feel like he might kill someone just to find you. His legs feel numb. Then,
âThomas! Iâve got her!â
Thomas runs faster than heâs 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. Heâs running so fast, so blind with hope, that he almost slams right into Newt. His friend grabs his elbow.
âWoah.â Heâs breathing hard. But heâs smiling. âSheâs okay, Tom.â
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. Youâre in a hospital gown and no shoes. Thereâs a big bruise in the crook of your elbow and your lips are cracked. But youâre here. He doesnât want to sound like a loser, but Thomas could cry buckets right now.
âY/N,â he says. He doesnât sound like himself. Doesnât feel like himself. He feels as if heâs standing watching the scene as merely an observer. Itâs an odd feeling, an out of body experience.
âThomas,â 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 itâs sure to bruise, which is stupid, but he isnât thinking straight, and you squeeze him just as hard, anyway. You fling your arms around his neck and keep them there. Thomas doesnât know what to do with his hands. Theyâre everywhere â your hair, your back, your neck â itâs like heâs worried youâll slip away, or worried youâre merely a ghost of the girl he loves. The fabric of your hospital gown is starchy and foreign in his hands, but youâre warm and soft and familiar underneath it all.
âIâm sorry,â he says. Heâs crying now, and Newtâs right there watching the whole thing, but Thomas doesnât care. His heart hammers faster than light. Or is that your heart? He canât tell, youâre pressed so tight to him they may as well be the same. âIâm so sorry.â
You shake your head hard where itâs buried in his neck. Youâre crying too, he feels your warm tears sticky on his skin. âDonât. Donât say that. Iâm okay, Tom.â Your hand is in his hair, stroking him gently like heâs the one whoâd been kidnapped, not you. âItâs not your fault.â
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 canât tell, it doesnât matter, heâs got you now and heâs never letting go.
Newt says something but neither of you hear him. Youâre too busy coveting the hair at the nape of Thomasâ neck, and heâs too busy running his hands over the planes of your back as if memorising them. Newt tries again, louder.
âWe have to go now!â he shouts, gripping Thomasâ 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.
âIâm sorry,â he tells you again. Guilt and sincerity roll into one to ache like a wound over his heart. âWe have to go now, sweetheart. Weâre gonna find Minho and get you the hell out of here. Can you walk?â
Heâs 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 heâs never, ever, letting you go again.
