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.
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gender neutral reader, alcohol consumption, 257 words
Bonfire nights were fun but always ended in some form of chaos. More often than not, it would be the aftermath of you consuming too many mugs of Gally's special drink and tonight was no different than expected.
Inside the small hut you and Newt slept in, laid you on the bed who was babbling nonsense. Occasionally, he would catch a "love" or "a-lot" but nothing he could make sense of as he was prepping not only himself, but you for bed. Once he was done, he sat beside you on the bed and helped you into a comfortable position, all while you were still saying something he couldn't seem to make out.
"Love I can't understand what you're saying." He said as he ran his fingers through your hair. "How 'bout you whisper it to me."
Propping yourself up so that you could whisper into his ear, you managed to whisper "I love you so much." before losing your balance and falling onto his lap.
Too drunk to notice the blush on his cheeks, your nonsense babbling had turned into compliments and words of affection directed towards Newt, him. He had never been one to rush into things, wanting to take things slow and steady so confessing your love for each-other had been off the table for a while but perhaps you were ready all along.
Finally growing some courage to do something, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, mumbling a "I love you too" as you continued your serenade to him.
GALLY
gender neutral reader, 125 words
His large calloused hand against your smaller one was a humorous sight to Gally.
Working as a builder, it was no surprise that his hands wouldn’t be the smoothest and softest to hold but you didn't mind that. In fact, nothing seemed to ever stop you. If the two of you were next to each other and his hands were free, it’s be no surprise when you would reach out to hold it.
So as he sat there, watching as you compared your hand with his, Gally couldn't help but smile before linking his fingers with yours. Bringing your hand towards his lips where he placed a kiss on it, Gally watched as a smile grew on your face.
God he loved you so much.
MINHO
gender neutral reader, 237 words
Minho's life, despite being stuck in the Glade for years, has always felt fast-paced. Every day in the maze felt like a day closer to finally escaping and he was always so tense after his runs, wondering if he ran a bit more, ran a bit faster, would he have finally helped his friends escape. Being Keeper of the Runner added more to his stress and desire to find an escape but luckily for him, he had you there for him; someone he didn't feel the need to rush anything around. He never felt the rush to say "I love you" or to kiss you or to even ask you to be his- though he did eventually ask you.
Resting his head on your shoulder as you mindlessly played with his fingers while you spoke to Newt.
Minho sighed contently as he listened to the two of you speak about something he couldn't be bothered asking about. Unlike the times where he's working, he didn't feel like he was running out of time. When he was around you, it felt like he had all the time there was in the world. He knew he'd never lose you, he'd fight through hell and back a million times if he had to just to keep you safe, and even if you were all stuck in the maze, he would be fine with it as long as he had you.
THOMAS
gender neutral reader, 204 words
Thomas, despite barely being in the Glade a month ago, had felt like he'd already experienced everything it had to offer (and he did, technically). From the maze to every square feet of the Glade, he was confident he could remember it like the back of his hand but you, you were something that never failed to surprise him.
Even though he swore he knew every inch of the Glade, you managed to show him there was more to it than he may have once thought. Deadheads for example, while usually avoided by other Gladers due to it being a graveyard surrounded by tall trees, you found a small area of soft grass on the opposite side of where the makeshift graves stood. Here, there was a small clearing where the stars (or at least you all assumed there stars) could be seen.
Laying on a blanket, leaning your back against his chest, the two of you would take turns pointing at funny shapes the stars created. And while Thomas desperately wanted to get out of the maze and escape, he wouldn't entirely hate it if there was really no way out. As long as he had you, he'd be fine with whatever happens.
"Can’t you see!? Look right in here (Y/N),’’ he pointed at one of his teary eyes, ‘’look right in there and you’ll see the person who killed Chuck! The monster that I am!!’’
The words stung. Not because they hurt you, but because it was so clear that the one you loved believed so firmly in them, and it was reducing him to this crushed state.
Staring right back into his eyes, you muttered calmly, ‘’All I see in there is guilt and pain, Gally. I see that the person that I love is hurt.’’
An angsty and fluffy Gally x Reader oneshot that takes place after the books' events.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Request: can you do a new Newt imagine where y/n(can her name be Lydia?) had a talent at drawing and most of her drawings where Newt and one day Newt went to wake her up and saw that she wasn’t there and before he left he turned around and saw some papers in her bed and saw what she had and he saw himself in the papers and in this moment the reader came in and said “What the hell are you doing with those?!” and newt didn’t answered and then she said “yeah I know they are awf-” and newt cut her by a kiss ~ Anonymus
thx for your request! hope you like it :*
Masterlist
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hummed to myself while i sorted the medicines on the shelves in the med-jack hut to create some free space for the ones which would arrive later this afternoon with the box.
At least i hoped so, because lately a lot of the boys had injuries, some of them worse than others, and everyone needed medicine and we wouldn’t last a few days more without new bandages and painkillers.
The ear-splitting sound of the box almost made me jump. Months in the glade, and i still wasn’t used to this.
I walked over to the crowd and squeezed myself through the boys. Secretly, i hoped for new paper for me, last month, the creators didn’t sent anything for me to draw, and i needed it.
Gally and Newt opened the box, and immediately, nearly everyone let out disappointed sighs and got back to whatever they had been doing last.
I guess most of them had hoped for a girl and the person sitting in the corner of the box, pressed up against some cages was clearly a boy.
To be honest, this wasn’t a surprise to me and after a few months with only boys arriving, i had stopped hoping for some girl company for me.
Some of the builders had begun to unload the different cages and barrels, and one gave me the box with new supplies for the med-jacks.
Somewhat disappointed, i turned around and trotted back to einordnen the new supplies, when Albys voice stopped me.
“Lydia! Come back, here’s something for you!”
Immediately, i put down the cage i was holding and rushed back. Alby gave me a small, simple box with my name on it.
“What is this? You get this every month.”
I shrugged and saw Newt taking a quick curious look at it, while he lead away the greenie, who appeared pretty distraught by the whole situation.
“You know… stuff. Girl stuff.”
I smiled awkwardly and walked back to the other cage, which i picked up and when i was back in the hut, i put it aside to open the box with my name.
It contained a stack of paper, five new pencils and two erasers. I almost danced of happiness and had to force myself not to scream, when suddenly the door opened and Clint entered to room.
“What are you doing?”, he asked amused, “and what is in this box?”
I immediately shut the box and shot back: “Nothing for you” He chuckled and raised his hands in surrender.
“Ok, calm down. I just searching for Jeff. Do you know where he is?”
“Nope i don’t know where he is. But shouldn’t you as his boyfriend know things like this?”
Clint turned bright red but smirked. “If i’d were you, i’d shut up. At least i have a boyfriend”
I sticked my tongue out at him, but he had already vanished.
Smiling to myself, i quickly began to sort in the new medicines. Clint and Jeff were too cute. I was the only one who knew they were a couple, and only because i one they catched them kissing once. They had pleaded to me on their knees not to tell anyone, and of course i didn’t, but since this day, we were really good friends. I also told them about my crush on my best friend Newt, and so we constantly teased each other.
When i finished, i took the box with the papers and hurried into my room. I couldn’t wait to draw again.
On my way i had been stopped by Newt who told me dinner were ready so had to wait before i could be again alone in my room.
But now i was finished and closed the door behind me and plopped down on my bed, cuddled myself into the blanket and layed a sheet of paper on my thighs and started to draw.
I was a good drawer, you could even say i had great talent. I came up in the box with a few sheets of paper and a pencil, and despite the fact that i had lost all my memories, i somehow felt familiar with the feeling of the pencil laying in my hand. Since this day, i had drew literally everything, the homestead, the deadheads or even the whole glade.
The creators sent up a package with new paper every month, but nobody knew about my hidden talent. I only drew in the evenings in my room, remembering what i had seen this day.
Most of the time it was Newt. He was definitely the motive i drew the most. His face, his smile and laugh, while he worked, ate or slept, i had drew almost everything.
It wasn’t like i was acreepy stalker or something, but i usually just drew what popped into my mind - and this was mostly Newt.
I watched the drawing getting more detailed, and with every line i made, i felt myself relaxing. For me, nothing was better than drawing to calm down after a long day of hard work, and i absolutely loved the feeling.
When the drawing was finished a few hours later, i almost instantly fell asleep, sourrounded by paper and pencils.
The next morning i woke up earlier than usual, and decided to use this time for a shower before the boys would wake up. This opportunities were rare, usually i had either Newt, Clint or Jeff to wait in front of the bathrooms to make sure i could shower alone.
Newt P.o.V
As usual, the first thing i did in the morning was waking up Lydia, and when i stood in front of her room, i knocked three times.
Since i once walked in on her changing, i was careful not to forget to knock everytime.
Not that i didn’t liked seeing her in her underwear, but she was my best friend and i shouldn’t think of her that way.
When nobody answered, i carefully opened the door and entered the room. She didn’t lay in her bed, but before i left again, my gaze fell on some papers shattered acroos her mattress.
I didn’t wanted to root through her private things, but i was curious and snaked back into the room, after i quickly looked around if maybe Lydia would come back.
I picked up the paper and turned it around. It was a drawing. A drawing of me. Did Lydia drew that? It looked shockingly realistic, almost as if it was a photo.
I took in every detail of the picture, when suddenly Lydia next to me out of nowhere and when she realized what i was looking at, she almost yelled: “What the hell are you doing with those?"
I didn’t reacted, too memerized by myself smiling up to me on the paper. All of the rage had vanished from her voice and had been replaced with insecurity when she spoke again.
“Yeah, i know they are awf-”
With sudden anger about what she wanted to say, i dropped the drawing, cupped her face with my hands and pressed my lips on hers.
I could feel her whole body tense up and when i was about to pull away because she clearly didn’t wanted me to kiss her, she hesitantly started to kiss back.
I let go of her cheeks and slid my hands to her waist, where i pressed she closer to me. She seemed to grow more confident and wrapped her arms around my neck to play with my hair.
Before things could get heated, i pulled away and looked at her. She was blushing furiously, her lips red and swollen and her damp hair was an adorable mess. Beautiful.
“You weren’t supposed to see these. I know they are terri-”
Again i cut her with a quick peck on the lips. She stared at me, speechless.
“But-”
“No buts. These drawings are bloody incredible. And i love the way you drew me. I love you.”
She smiled. “I love you too. But i won’t show you the other drawings.”
“We’ll talk about this later. Now come here, where did we stop?”
What Thomas, Newt, Minho, and Gally are like when reader gets a minor injury, pre-relationship and also during.
Warnings: Injuries, mentions of blood, scratches, scrapes, fluff.
Author’s Note: In my fics/imagines/headcanons, Gladers are aged up, and also movie version.
Thomas:
"Ouch!"
Thomas immediately looks up from his task at the sound of your pained wince. The two of you had spent the afternoon clearing a section to make way for a new garden. In the final stretch of the project, the garden tool in your hand slipped and scraped your other arm.
You lift your arm to check out the damage, and Thomas is making his way over toward you before you could insist it was nothing. He isn't in a panic, but the concern's evident in his expression as he crouches down beside you, carefully taking your arm in his hands to inspect it. He concludes that it's nothing serious, and his gaze travels back up to meet yours, suggesting that you pay the medjacks a visit. He lets it go if you insist you're alright and don't need to get checked out. He keeps an eye on you, though, to make sure it doesn't get worse.
If you're in an established relationship, Thomas feels free to be a bit more open about his concern. If you didn't wish to stop work and go to the medjack hut with him, then at the very least, he's getting the supplies and bandaging you up himself. He'll pull you into a hug when it's taken care of, letting you know he just wants you to be alright even when it comes to the little things.
Newt:
You're standing a little ways away from your crew, taking a break from your hard work after a spectacular fall, when Newt approaches you.
He must have been making his rounds as second-in-command, checking the progress of each group of Gladers.
Newt seems puzzled at first as to why you've paused your work- Not suspicious, as he knows you do your part. When he notices the tiny red scrape on your chin, his curiosity turns to concern as he leans in to get a closer look. You glance down sheepishly at your palms, both a tad scraped up as well.
"You just missed it," you laugh it off, though internally you're extremely glad he did indeed miss it. One misstep had all but wrecked you, and the last thing you'd want was this handsome Glader in particular to witness it.
"Are you alright?" He lifts a hand to gently tilt your chin up to inspect the wound. He definitely pulls you away from the job to escort you to the medjack hut and won't hear any "but"s or protests of any kind on your part.
In a relationship, Newt feels more inclined to take the task of tending to your injury himself. He'd rather be the one to enter your space, dab at the little scrape on your chin with a clean cloth, and bandage your hands. You can expect a tender kiss on your forehead when he's all done.
Minho:
You wince, kneeling down to take a look at the wound. You can hear Minho's steps slow to a stop ahead of you before he swings back around to see what was the matter.
An unfortunate misstep during your routine run through the maze left you with a scratch on your knee. It's red, and there is just a bit of blood beading in certain spots where the scratch went a little deeper.
"Oh shuck," he murmurs, crouching. "You okay?"
"Yeah, it was my own fault," you replied.
"You're getting that checked out when we get back." It wasn't a question.
And you do. He's glancing over his shoulder at you the whole way back, and then he walks you to the medjack hut to ask for Clint or Jeff.
In the context of a relationship, Minho is more transparent with his concern. He's a bit more in your space, in a gentle way, inspecting the injury more closely and asking you more than once if you're alright. He's good at remaining calm. He's just focused on getting you the care you need. You can expect him to be a bit fussy after you're all bandaged up, insisting you take a break from running for a while.
Gally:
You had a slip-up with one of your tools, and you're trying to hide the evidence. You were not in the mood to draw the attention of the Keeper of the Builders with a minor mistake that you thought might make you look silly to him.
To your embarrassment, he happens to be walking by when you wince, shaking your hand to fan the slice on your finger. He stops immediately and approaches, and you quickly protest that it's nothing.
"Let me see."
You sigh and hold out your hand, gauging his reaction as he leans forward to take a look.
His lips pressed firmly together, brows furrowed in concern.
"Take five, Greenie," he tells you, nodding in the direction of the medjack hut. "Get yourself bandaged up."
If you do voice any other protests, the raise of his brow tell you they're futile.
In a relationship, Gally is less reserved about his worry. He knows things happen on the job. He can't exactly blame you. Sure, he'll scold any one of his guys if they were being a shank and got hurt doing something obviously dangerous, but for the average cut and scrape, he is actually pretty understanding. He'll still tell you to be careful while he inspects the injury more closely, but it's not from a place of frustration at you. It's his protective nature, and he just wishes he could protect you from even the little things.
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It can be dangerous, especially for the only girl in the Glade.
Warnings: Guys being creeps in the Glade (nothing graphic), bullying, the Maze, danger.
. . .Thomas. . .
It’s a beautiful evening in the Glade. You’re walking straight along the treeline on your way to run a final errand for Alby at the end of the day. The sun is no longer visible, as it already descended far enough to be blocked by the walls.
Suddenly, you get the creeps. It was hard to explain, but you feel goosebumps bloom along your skin, and you get the distinct feeling that you’re not alone. The lovely glow of the bonfire is in your field of vision, but it’s so far away. It’s where most of the guys are gathered. You can hear their distant whoops and hollers, reminding you that help is far away too.
A twig snaps, and your suspicions are confirmed. There’s a figure following several feet behind you, lurking in the shadows cast from the trees above.
So, you veer off your original path to draw closer to the homestead where there would hopefully be someone who hadn’t made it to the bonfire yet. Whoever it was must have caught on to what you were doing because they instantly pick up their pace. You begin to hurry, increasing your speed so that they can’t catch you before you make it to what you hope will be a haven of safety.
Your heart is pounding, and your chest heaving with panicked breaths as you finally make it to the homestead.
“Hello?” you call frantically.
Suddenly, Thomas appears. He sees your nervous state immediately, his hand taking yours. But then his eyes lock onto something behind you, and he moves right past you to intercept your pursuer, effectively blocking them from you.
“What’s going on?” he demands. Your follower is frozen to the spot, stuttering, failing miserably to offer up some sort of explanation. Thomas steps forward, towering over the guy. It’s plain to see that he is furious. His forearms flex and his jaw is clenched. You can hear his angry breaths as he speaks again. “That’s what I thought. Now, get out of here.”
As soon as the guy is gone, Thomas turns around to face you. His close presence eases your fearful state when he steps into your space, filling your nose with his scent. “You okay?” he asks gently.
You manage a nod.
“We’re going to tell Alby right away. This isn’t going to happen to you again. Come here…” He carefully pulls you into his arms for an embrace, as if you’ll break apart if he’s too sudden. You bury your face in his chest, breathing a sigh of relief. His heartbeat is close to your ears, like a lullaby.
“Thank you…” you whispered.
. . . Newt . . .
You couldn’t take it anymore.
The teasing, the taunts… The inability of certain individuals to just leave you alone. Ever since you’d rejected him, Allan had made it his life’s mission to make your existence in the Glade all the more difficult.
Most recently, he had purposely bumped into you at lunchtime so that your meal was spilled all over your clothes and onto the ground. Resources were limited in the Glade. It was understood that wastefulness wouldn’t be tolerated. You couldn’t afford to lose food or have clothing ruined. Fortunately, your clothes would be fine after a wash, but the discarded food was a different story.
You dab at your tank top with a washcloth and pause to look at your reflection in the mirror. It was all too easy to recall how quickly you’d reached your limit after Allan’s ridiculous ploy. Your face is still wet from crying, eyes puffy, and lips parted as you took deep breaths.
There’s no use crying over spilled milk, you thought. Or in my case, spilled lunch.
After composing yourself, you decide it’s time to go back out there and face the music. You toss the damp rag aside and march determinedly out of the empty washroom. To your surprise, you smack right into another individual coming in. You instantly recognize the blonde hair and grumbles of complaint as he reels from the collision.
“Oi, shank, watch where you’re going-” Newt quickly realizes it’s you and clamps his mouth shut, extending his hands to each of your shoulders to steady you gently. He takes in the sight of your tear-stained face with his eyes showing clear concern. “Hey, what’s gotten into you?”
“Oh, just… Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Newt looks far from convinced, and you lower your gaze. He’s about to inquire further, but a familiar voice sounds from outside the washroom.
“Hey, _______!” Allan calls tauntingly, making you freeze up. “How’s it going in there?”
Newt’s eyes instantly flash, and his face scrunches up anger. You can hardly believe it when Allan continues.
“Sorry about my clumsiness earlier. Maybe I can make it up to you. Come on out before I go in there!”
Newt can’t contain himself anymore. He turns on his heel and heads out of the washroom, and you follow behind just to see the look on Allan’s face when he realizes he’s been caught.
It is so worth it. Allan’s stupid grin falls hard into a look of horror as the Second-in-Command approaches him furiously. He doesn’t lay a hand on him, but he looks like he’s awfully close when he jabs a pointer finger in his direction.
“If I ever catch you bothering her, or even breathing in her general direction again, you’ll be a permanent Slopper for the rest of your time here in the Glade. Do you understand, shank?”
Allan nods quickly, and doesn’t even wait to be dismissed. He just hurries away, leaving you and Newt both standing there watching him flee.
“Coward,” he mumbles. Then, Newt turns to you, resting a hand on your arm in a comforting gesture. “I mean it, you know. He’ll never bother you again.”
. . . Minho . . .
It’s hard not to panic when you glance up and can no longer see the sun above you. It’s the end of the day, and you’re nearly out of time. The lightning pain that shoots through your ankle suddenly just becomes too much. You lean against one of the ivy-covered walls and exhale.
“I don’t think I’m going to make it,” you say aloud, and the words weigh heavily on you. You mentally scold yourself. You can’t afford to think that way. A Runner knows better. With a wince, you continue limping on your way. It’s not that the exit from the Maze isn’t close. If memory serves you right (which it did), it wasn’t too far at all… but at your pace, it would take a lot of effort and some good luck to get you back in time.
Just when you are about to give up again, you hear footsteps rapidly approaching. Your first thought is that perhaps your cowardly companion had a change of heart, but the footsteps didn’t match.
“Hello?” you call.
“_________!” Minho’s voice responds, and your heart swells with hope. You aren’t out of the woods just yet, but your chances were much better with help. Minho nearly slides to a stop in front of you, instantly taking your arm and putting it around his broad shoulders to help you up. There is no time to stop and compare notes, so you update him as he begins helping you back along the path.
“I sprained my ankle.” You hold onto Minho like he’s your lifeline as you push through the pain to keep up with his pace. He’s right to go so fast. Time is running out.
“Where’s Derek?” he asks with a grunt.
“He…he left me,” you gasp in pain. “I think he was worried he wouldn’t make it out in time if he helped me.”
Minho goes quiet for a moment, and you can practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves. His eyes are focused straight ahead at the path, and he huffs. Finally, he bites out a sarcastic comment. “I think it’s safe to say that he’s getting demoted from being a Runner.”
You keep talking, trying to distract the both of you from the familiar groan of the Maze walls shifting. “Why did you come out here?”
“Because it was getting late in the day, and no one had seen you,” he pants. “Usually, you check in with me right away. I knew something had to be wrong.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
You continue limping with all your might toward the gate, feeling your heart jump, as the walls on either side begin their agonizingly slow crawl to a close. There’s a small group standing on the other side, ushering you both out anxiously. It was mostly Keepers, a select few who had been informed of the problem by Minho.
The two of you fell onto the green grass, gasping for breath, while the others surrounded you. Alby knelt down beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. You just let yourself breathe, tears welling up in your eyes from relief.
“So it’s true?” Gally questioned, brows raised. “Derek left her in there.” “Yes,” Minho replied, sitting up. “And he will face the consequences.” He looked over at you, finally catching his breath. “You’re safe now.”
. . . Gally . . .
James had been haunting your steps for far too long. He was always there, always hanging around, and sometimes showing up at the most alarming of instances. What could be done about it? It wasn’t as if he’d taken severe enough action to warrant disciplinary measures, you thought. He was only ever seen staring at you, smirking, and just being an all-around jerk at times.
This time, he’d snatched your tools away from your working station while your back was turned. After uncovering a particularly tough old root, you turned around to get a spade to chop it up, only to see that your things were gone.
A few laughs caught your attention, and you glanced over to see James and one of his shadows standing there, staring at you from several feet away. You couldn’t say for certain, but it seemed like they had something to do with your missing tools.
So, now you’re debating with yourself on the best course of action. Do you ignore him and try to rustle up some extra tools from Newt or Zart? Or do you bother to give this shank the attention he’s so desperately seeking to get your stuff back?
You don’t really like the latter option. Frankly, James gives you the creeps. The last thing you want is to play his little game… But every minute that you spend deliberating is wasted time that could be put towards helping the Glade.
As much as you despise indulging him, you find yourself marching right over to his work area. Both James and his minion are laughing in amusement, shoving each other at the sight of you approaching.
“Do you know where my tools went?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“I might,” James replies cryptically. “And I might be willing to strike up a bargain for that information.”
You fold your arms across your chest. “What could you possibly want?”
“Ohh, I don’t know…Perhaps a kiss will do.”
You make a face as the disgust hits you. “Seriously?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“Yeah, that’s going to be a ‘no’ for me.” You wave off the concept, turning around. You decided that your best bet is to find some spare tools. This just wasn’t worth all the trouble. Just as you start to leave, James comes running around to block you.
“Hey now, I didn’t say you could go.”
“Yeah, you might want to think about his offer,” James’ lackey said from behind you. The two of them close in, and you clench your fists in preparation to fight. If you make enough commotion, you’re sure that someone will notice and come to your aid.
You give him one last chance. “Let me pass.”
“Come on, just one kiss. Unless you want more than one after that-” to your relief, James is cut off by a new voice interjecting.
“What’s going on here?” The three of you turn to see Gally standing there, sweating from whatever project he was working on,with dirt and wood shavings on his clothes. His expression looks expectant as he waits for an explanation, though his tall and bulky form makes him appear positively dangerous as he stares the two guys down with his hands resting on his hips.
“I, uh.. We…” They break off in stutters and fumbled words.
“I’m fairly certain they have my tools,” you say, and Gally’s famous arched brows raise at the two guys in disbelief.
“Is that so?” As Gally walks forward, he plants his palms harshly on James’ shoulder, shoving him clear out of the way. James stumbles unceremoniously, almost falling straight into the grass.
Gally walks over to the bench and pauses. He picks up a bundle of leather and tosses it to you, the tools rattling inside. “Are those yours?”
You recognize it immediately. “Yes, these are the ones.”
“You shanks had better never even speak to her again. Understand?” He stares at each of them pointedly with all the authority of a Keeper, and they both nod. With that, Gally walks up to you and ushers you away with a warm, gentle hand on your back protectively.
“Your timing was impeccable,” you say quietly. “Thank you.”
“They won’t bother you again. I’ll make sure of it.”
(The Maze Runner) When It's That Time of the Month
(Author's Note: In my fics/imagines/headcanons, Gladers are aged up, and also movie version...)
Warnings: Cramps, Comfort, Fluff
Thomas:
He looked for you in the morning like he usually did as he went about his first tasks of the day. When there was no sign of you anywhere, he asked around. Some Gladers had no idea where you were, but a few others said they'd heard that you weren't feeling well.
Thomas headed toward your hammock to investigate, and his heart broke when he heard your sobs as soon as he entered the vicinity. You were full-on crying, curled up in your hammock, and clutching a blanket against your stomach like it was a lifeline.
He spoke your name, making you look up at him with your tear-stained face.
"I was hoping you wouldn't see me like this," you whimpered.
He leaned down to stroke his hand against your cheek tenderly. "What's wrong?" Thomas was asking himself a million and one questions on the inside. Why were you sitting here alone? Why hadn't any Gladers thought to send Clint or Jeff over?
"It's..." you hesitated, and he leaned closer, intent to hear why you looked so miserable and in utter pain. "It's lady stuff."
His brows furrowed in confusion at first. Lady stuff..? Oh.
The realization hit him, and he felt ridiculously stupid.
Oh.
"Do you need anything?" He asked, petting your head. "How can I make it better?"
"Honestly," you murmured. "Company would be nice."
Thomas did his very best to climb into the hammock without disturbing your position too much, and he carefully wrapped his arm around you to draw you closer against him.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He whispered into your hair.
"I've been handling this alone for as long as I've been here," you replied. "It didn't seem fair to trouble you with it now that we're together..."
Thomas felt so ignorant. Why had it never occurred to him that you'd be dealing with this? He knew about these things, but it just never crossed his mind in all the time he'd been in the Glade.
He suddenly recalled the days you'd taken off from your responsibilities. It was usually a few every month, and none of the Keepers seemed to think it was odd.
"I'm sorry," he told you. "You can come to me about anything. We're in this together."
You snuggled closer and hummed appreciatively for the warmth he provided in the cool early morning. Your cramps were just beginning to stop.
Newt:
"Luv, are you alright?" He called softly, though he was positive he already knew the answer to that. It was one of those days- or so he'd guessed when you didn't show up to work in the gardens with him that morning.
You were hunched beside your hammock, hand over your tummy, with lips quivering.
"Hi, Newt," you greeted, looking up at him. "I'm sorry."
He was at your side in the next instant, putting his arm around you comfortingly, kissing your cheek. "There is absolutely nothing for you to be sorry about."
"I hate taking these days off. Not contributing."
Ever since your arrival in the Glade, he'd been one of the few to be told of what you dealt with each month, so that he could properly excuse you from your responsibilities and protect your privacy from the others.
But this was the first time you'd encountered this while in a relationship with him.
Newt shook his head. "Are you joking? You are one of the most determined Gladers here. It's just...You have this to deal with. Something that no one else here does. No one would blame you for that."
You nodded along to his words, realizing he was right.
"I brought you something," he said then, and you noticed that he'd had his other hand behind his back. He brought it around, and in it was a large piece of bark resting on his palm like a platter with a steaming hot cloth on top. "I hope this helps."
You nearly gasped. "Oh, thank you!" You climbed into your hammock and draped the cloth over your belly, sighing at the relief it brought. "That feels so much better."
He smiled softly at you, helping you get properly situated in the hammock.
"I've got a few urgent things to take care of this morning," he said. Ah yes, all part of his responsibility as Alby's right hand man. "But I'll return in a short while, and I will be spending the rest of the day here with you."
You smiled, despite a painful cramp. "Thank you. I can't wait."
He took your hand in his and kissed it.
"Anytime, luv. See you in a bit."
Minho:
"Hey baby," he murmured, and you woke from your slumber to see him lean over to plant a kiss on your cheek. It almost felt like a dream. "Is it one of those days?" he asked.
You gave a tired nod, eyes still heavy from sleep.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here." He carefully maneuvered his way into the hammock with you, wrapping his arms around your form.
You'd gotten that time of the month in the afternoon, long after Minho had already headed into the Maze for the day. So, you simply endured the bout of cramps in your hammock alone, finally falling asleep in the late afternoon just before he got back.
"I feel much better now that you're here," you mumbled.
"Is there anything you need?"
You shook your head. "Just your beautiful self."
He seemed to like that comment, exhaling sharply in a short chuckle.
"Alright then, that's what you get."
Gally:
His gaze swept across the Glade for the second time, searching for any sign of you. You'd been working all morning. He was sure. He always checked on you.
But about a half hour out from lunch, you'd suddenly vanished. Gally finished up the task before him, brushing the wood shavings from his hands, and set out to find where you'd gone.
At the very least, he wanted to be certain you were alright. It wasn't like you to duck out in the middle of a job.
He checked a few of the usual places you might be, to no avail. His growing concern was nearly at its peak before he decided to swing by your hammock just in case.
There you were, curled up in the cool shade, in tears.
He quickly called your name, rushing to your side. "What's wrong?"
"It's...my monthly deal," you said, voice shuddering as another painful cramp hit. "I just needed to lie down for a while."
"Oh." He exhaled a sigh, glad it wasn't a crisis, but the momentary relief was replaced with sympathy. "Do you need anything?"
"Company?" you asked, giving him doe eyes he could never say "no" to in a million years.
"Sure," he replied. "I'm a little dirty, though."
You reached out with open arms. "Don't care. Come here."
He chuckled at that and climbed in, jostling you until he finally was laying on his back with you curled up against him in your hammock.
(Author's Note: In my fics/imagines/headcanons, the Gladers are aged up and movie version.
Thomas:
He's tossing and turning in his sleep so much that you were woken up first. You sigh sympathetically, watching the strained expression on his face. Thomas had nightmares every now and then. You'd discovered this on the lazy afternoons spent dozing in his hammock, or the times you both fell asleep beside a fire after a celebration.
Thomas finally wakes with a "no!" while jolting completely upright. You rest your hand on his shoulder, whispering words of comfort and easing him back down onto the hammock.
"Thomas, it's alright. It was just a dream."
He speaks your name, confused, and then realizes where he's at. Safe in the Glade. Safe in your arms.
It takes some time before he calms down enough to go back to sleep, but after dozens of shaky breaths, the rise and fall of his chest finally slows again.
Newt:
He's a quiet sleeper. He doesn't talk, and rarely do you hear a mumble or sigh, so there aren't any indicators that he's having a nightmare until the moment he wakes from it.
It's sudden, like that feeling of falling in your sleep. He jolts with you laying on his chest, and that's when it wakes you.
"What's wrong?" you ask in a hushed tone, in case he is somehow still sleeping. Newt lets out a shuddering breath.
"Nightmare," he whispers back. Then he trembles, and you hear a sniffle. It's the faintest sound, but you know what it means. You don't draw attention to the tear that slipped down his cheek; you simply reach up to comb your fingers through his curls soothingly.
Newt hums his appreciation of the gesture. Moments later, the tremors cease. He is always quick to fall back to sleep.
Minho:
It isn't unusual for him to talk in his sleep. Sometimes you'll hear "shank" or "maze" muttered along with an occasional shift of sleeping position. Sometimes he smiles- laughs even- in his slumber.
But then there are the nights when he is eerily quiet and body is completely still. Even his facial expression while fast asleep is solemn. Those are the first signs of a nightmare, though not always.
Minho is quiet when he wakes. He's immediately aware of his surroundings and doesn't wish to disturb you or anyone who is resting nearby.
"Was it a nightmare?" you ask quietly. "Do you want to talk about it?"
He won't open up about it then and there. He'd rather forget about it as quickly as possible and go back to sleep.
He'll tell you about it the next day if you wish to know. In the meantime, he just pulls his girl close and drifts off again.
Gally:
He sleeps like a log. All that time in the sun building has him in a deep sleep almost immediately with a bit of a snore.
Even when it comes to nightmares, he generally doesn't let them get in the way of his rest. But every now and then, there's that one bad dream that has him unpleasantly awake in the middle of the night.
He's got to have a drink of water, and while he tries to extricate himself from the cuddle with you, it's hard to do so without waking you.
"Nightmare?" you ask, knowing well what it meant when Gally gets up at any time of night.
"Yeah," he says matter-of-factly. After his drink, he returns, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders the moment he sits down. He clasps a hand over yours, and leans over to give you a grateful nudge.
Not much else is said. The two of you are more fixated on drifting off into peaceful slumber, curled up together.
