#thomas tmr drabble

[kareofbears]

"You know," Thomas starts, putting the flowers down on the sand as he rolls his sleeves up. "How you yelled at me, back in the Glade, because I wasn't helping out?"

A breeze ruffles his hair, longer than it was a year ago, and the tang of salt doesn't register anymore. "I know, I know. You technically didn't yell. To be fair, I was new, and it's not like I had someone showing me the ropes."

He kneels on the ground, in front of where the tombstone stood. This wasn't the boulder that Vince had set up in the beginning of Safe Haven's existence--this was smaller, flatter, bordering on where the sand meets the dirt. "Now, I feel like all I'm doing with these kids is showing the ropes."

Busying himself with rearranging the flowers, he rubs his thumb on a golden petal idly. "They're doing fine. Between me and the others, things are getting done. Maybe not as efficiently if you were here, but we're trying." He pauses. "I'm trying."

Thomas' voice doesn't shake, not anymore. How can it? It's just him and Newt. His voice never shakes with Newt.

Waves crash somewhere behind him. A bird chirps, its tune lively and bright. The world continues to spin, and it's a long moment before he speaks again.

"I'm throwing myself into work, Newt." His gaze tilts skywards. "I'm working, aren't I? I build homes, I teach, I train the others. There's food, so much of it, enough for years and for anyone who wants to start a family. Last night, I woke up because people were laughing so loud near my bed--laughing. I couldn't even get mad."

Careful not to mess up the floral arrangement, Thomas leans forward slowly until his forehead is pressed right up against the slab, stone cool to the touch. "How busy?" he wonders. "How busy do I need to be until this gets better? How much more do I need to do before it starts to get better? How much more do I need to give?"

When he doesn't get an answer, Thomas lets his eyes slip close. "I'm busy, Newt. I'm busy, and I'm trying, and I'm so fucking sad."

Eventually, Thomas raises his head. He presses his lips to the top of the tombstone, smiling wryly to himself. "At least I can actually reach the top of your head like this, right?"

He gets on his feet, brushing the sand off of his pants, feeling the sun beat relentlessly down on his skin. "Tomorrow, then. Maybe it'll get better tomorrow."

[ssseashell]

i wrote a stupid newtmas drabble yesterday ‼️🫂 💌

[newtslvt]

Ooh look what we have here! Another drabble (double drabble this time).

Summary: Newt meets an awkward Barista who happens to love Star Wars just as much as he does.

For @ssseashell <3

[arlowthenacho]

*warning for drug use (sleeping pills)*

dreams are hard.

thomas understood that more than most. sleep was just another prison to escape for him--images of his friends corpses coated his subconscious in something sticky and impossible to wash out. no amount of peer-mandated therapy would ever wipe away the faces he saw every time he closed his eyes.

but everyone still seemed to love trying. thomas had gone through every available option to stop his nightmares. white noise, co-sleeping, reading, tea, even avoiding the shucking thing altogether. nothing had worked.

well, nothing but the sedatives.

brenda had found them in a box one of the adults in the haven had packed. the package was a strange mix of letters that thomas couldn't pronounce--diaza-something and valium--but they got the job done. every night before bed, thomas would pop one of each into his mouth and pass out in 5 minutes flat.

his sleep was dreamless, finally a reprieve from the hell his mind loved to make him relive. but unfortunately, all good things must come to an end--that was a lesson thomas always learned the hard way.

as his body got used to the medication, memories slowly started to filter back into his slumber.

it was innocent at first; flashes of lush green grass, the smell of sun-warmed earth, the feel of dirt under his fingernails and on his skin. thomas could practically feel the artificial sun shining on his back, the sweat beading on his brow. it was comforting in a morbid sort of way. he vaguely knew where he was and what had happened there, but he couldn't muster up the energy to care. these dreams were the only ones that didn't feel like purgatory--rather ironic, considering how they came to be there.

then people came into the mix.

a face he couldn't name smiled at him. thomas lifted his hand in a wave before he continued to wander his old home. he made it a few steps towards the east wall before another unknown glader appeared and nodded at thomas. the pattern continued for what seemed like hours until he finally made it to his destination.

the gardens were just like he remembered. they still smelled of damp soil and fresh cut grass, the wind still weaved through the leaves of each plant, the fences still creaked and groaned against the breeze.

thomas took a deep breath in and held it. he would never admit it, but the gardens were the only place he really liked in the glade. it was the only spot that felt like it belonged there.

he took another breath, a lazy grin stretching across the length of his face. god, what a nice break from the world he lived in. no grief or misery, no death or destruction, only the sound of wind whistling through the--

"oi, shuckface! get your butt over here! garden's won't bloody till themselves!"

thomas woke with a scream that could shatter glass.

he felt around the bed, a constant stream of "newt, newt, newt" leaving his lips. he fisted the sheets for another minute before dread settled over him like an icy blanket.

newt died. newt died and it was his fucking fault.

-- -- --

the next night was worse.

thomas had taken 3 pills this time, desperate to return to what he had before. brenda would definitely beat his ass for it if she found out, but thomas could deal with that. all he needed was a good-night's sleep that consisted of nothing but the black behind his eyelids.

of course, nothing ever goes his way.

it started the same as every other. trees and grass and dirt and people. a few offhand waves or nods from unspecified boys as he made his way through the small box of green.

thomas deliberately passes the gardens, not wanting a repeat of last time. instead, he glides to the kitchen and observes the lunchtime rush, lets out a chuckle at the face frypan was making.

he lingers by the tables for a while, watching the residents of the glade talk and eat.

at some point, he senses minho sit next to him. thomas smiles and lets a bit of his weight lean against his friend, who happily returns the gesture. after another moment, minho claps thomas on his shoulder and fully pulls him into his side. they both laugh as thomas lightly shoves him off, the pair just enjoying each other's presence. the moment is soon ruined when a third person joins the table.

its newt.

green veins jutting out of his pale skin, black fluid dripping out of his mouth and onto the wood in front of him. his eyes were pools of black, so dark thomas could see his reflection in them.

his breath caught painfully in his throat when newt began to speak.

"dear thomas," no. no, no, no--"please tommy, please..."

he was reciting his own last words. this couldn't be happening. it felt too real, it all felt too real--thomas couldn't live through this again, he needed out--

"i would follow you anywhere."

thomas woke up a sobbing, screaming, thrashing mess. he had somehow managed to fall of his bed in his sleep, the hardwood of the floor biting into his back. he couldn't find it in himself to care.

the grief in thomas' chest was so powerful it felt like a tangible weight. he could feel it shattering his ribs as he backed himself into a wall and sobbed himself hoarse on the ground.

-- -- --

the third night, thomas gave up on the sedatives.

he figured he would have a nightmare no matter how many pills he swallowed, so he decided to stop fighting and surrender himself to whatever his brain could conjure.

so, when the night reared its ugly head once more, thomas just face-planted into his pillows and willed sleep to take him hostage.

-- -- --

thomas opened his eyes to the sun blinding him through the gap in his window. he groaned and threw a hand over his face, attempting to shoo the light away by willpower alone.

when his efforts proved useless, he gave up and rolled over into what he thought was empty space. it was very much not.

his arm collided into a warm body.

thomas gasped, sat up so fast he nearly have himself whiplash. he heard the person chuckle, something low and gravelly with sleep. had minho snuck into his room again?

"it's just me, love, what's the matter?"

thomas felt like all the air had been punched out of him. newt was in his hut. his newt was in his hut. his newt was in his bed. what the fuck was going on?

"i--what--newt? how are you--what--" the more thomas spoke, the quicker the tears filled his waterline. his voice wobbled and shook, like one wrong move would send him off the edge. newt sat up so quickly the bed rocked.

"tommy? baby, what's wrong, talk to me," newt cupped thomas' cheeks, slowly tilting his face to look at the taller man. thomas sputtered as tears tracked down his face, finally setting the sobs he had bottled up for months free.

"i miss you so much, newt, you don't understand--" newt could barely hear thomas' voice over his bawling.

"oh, baby," newt carded a hand through thomas' hair, softly shushing him and wiping away his never-ending stream of tears. "i'm here now, shhh, im here now, love."

the two stayed like that for a long while. every time thomas would stop crying he would remember who was holding him in his arms and stroking his hair and kissing his forehead and he would start right back up again. newt was patient with him. he tried to comfort thomas the best he could, which eventually proved to be successful when the boy could finally look up at newt without bursting at the seams.

when thomas calmed down, newt guided them both to lay down on the bed. thomas carefully rested his head on newt's chest and let him continue to run his hands through his hair. newt made a pleased sound in the back of his throat and brought his other hand to rub at thomas' back.

after a while, tommy finally allowed all of the tension to drain out of his body. he was a puddle on top of newt, which the man snorted at. the lovers settled into a comfortable silence, which tommy broke with a soft statement.

"i love you, newt. i hope you know that." his whisper was so soft newt almost mistook it for a breath.

"i love you too, tommy. remember that for me, yeah?" newt punctuated his sentence with a lingering kiss on thomas' lips. it was chaste, and over far to quickly for tommy's liking, so once newt pulled away thomas craned his neck up and caught his loves lips with his again.

they stayed like that for what felt like hours, lazily cuddling and kissing on thomas' bed, not worrying about any responsibilities they might have had. at some point his eyes flutter shut, and he falls asleep with comforting hands on his skin.

when thomas wakes up, he feels tingles on his skin and a dent in his sheets.

[itsthemxze]

It’s cold outside. And damp. Rain is pattering against the windows, they can hear the wind rustling in the trees behind them, they can almost hear the waves lapping on the beach.

But he’s warm. The blankets are wrapped tight around him. And she’s here, smiling up at him.

“It’s raining.” Her voice is soft, sleep still laced in the words.

He nuzzles into her, basking in the sound of her gentle laugh. “Hmm. It never rained in the Glade.”

“Vince says it might rain a lot here.”

“Good for the plants, probably.”

Her hands trace his face. “Good for the soul.”

Then she’s slipping away from him, out of his arms and out of the bed. She stands by the door, hand extended to him, smile bright.

He follows. Slowly, but he always follows.

Standing in the doorway, their blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, he watches her leap into the rain. Bare feet splashing in the puddles, the damp grass between her toes, hair gathering droplets.

It’s beautiful, watching her move. So full of joy and so full of life after everything they went through.

He leaves behind the quilt and the warmth of their cabin.

The rain patters against his skin, the chill will reach him soon, but her hands are still warm when they hold his face. Her laugh is still bright.

It never rained in the glade.

He hopes it rains again here.

@thomesa-week day 1: Rain

A moodboard and a lil drabble!

[zuzufromtheafterlife]

In His Arms

The hammock swayed back and forth, a rocking endorsed by Thomas' leg as it hung over the side, Newt felt himself slowly slipping further.

His eyes were drooping while his head lay tucked into Thomas' chest. The hand running through his hair wasn't helping much either, soothing nails scratching across his scalp. It was as if a spell had been cast over him, urging him to finally close his eyes and fall asleep.

Most nights it would be difficult, the screeching maze too loud, but under Thomas' care and the stars above, he couldn't find it within himself to resist.

Read here on ao3 @eclipsingbingo

[saltwaterburns]

Teresa & Thomas are endgame AND I'M TIRED. OF YOU GUYS. ACTING LIKE THEY AREN'T.

[harringtonstilinski]

here you can find all the drabbles in my collection <33

~~~

steve harrington -back on you (337)

gator tillman

eddie munson

stiles stilinski

dave hodgman

stuart twombly

thomas (tmr)

mitch rapp -texting mitch (4 images)

sam taylor

joel dawson

ritchie boyle

[its-tea-time-darling]

Sterne (Thomesa)

a translation of Stars by @pathsofoak 💚

Thomas denkt über die Sterne nach…

submission to the maze runner languages and cultures bingo (@tmr-cultures), square: translate a fic. the original fic was also a submission to @thomesa-week 2023 💜

[underoospeterparker]

PRI'S 600 "UNDER THE SEA" CELEBRATION! (now closed)

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[ssseashell]

i forced myself to write a stupid drabble so i can remember the joys of writing and finally work on the damn hogwarts AU i planned like 3 months ago, also on ao3:

Like Flowers Bloom

He wakes up, — like flowers bloom, like water runs, and trees grow, and the Sun rises: there’s nothing unnatural in it.

But he sighs before he even gets to open his heavy eyelids, already used to the pain on the back of his head. Although there is this incredible self-consuming pain eating him alive from the inside, like he just fought the greatest battle of his life: that’s new pain.

Still, nothing out of place in such a world, Thomas laughs to himself — and regrets it immediately for the explosion of head pain it makes — as the last threads of a heavy sleep slip from him.

But then, no. There isn’t any sand or warm, rocky ground under him; he doesn’t feel it, even with his eyes still shut. He's in what feels like a bed — a comfortable enough bed, compared to all of the other surfaces he had to deal with sleeping in the recent past.

And there isn’t any heat, just the breeze that softly hits his face like silk. A subtle salty taste to it.

Salt.

And there’s the not-so-distant churn of waves in a slow, tired rhythm.

The constant and comforting sound hits his ears as he notices. The ocean.

They made it.

“Took you long enough.”

The familiar voice touches his body, and Thomas can almost cry as he opens his eyes to find the figure of his best friend sitting beside his bed.

It’s all too bright, his head is still spinning, and his whole body still hurts, but tears touch his eyelashes and a mess of a relieved smile appears on his cracked lips.

“How do I look?” He asks, voice harsh and croaky, but he’s sobbing suddenly, and his plan to sound unbothered failed miserably.

“Uglier than ever.” Minho laughs back, but his eyes are just as wet. He tries not to get caught, and Thomas pretends not to see him wiping away the tears.

The brunet looks around, relief hitting him again and almost winning through the pain as he finds himself in a small tent made of wood and bamboo.

Sunlight seeps through the window and doorframe. There’s only blue outside.

And there’s another bed on the other corner of the tent. A boy lying there with his eyes closed, but face so serene and skin so alive, he looks like he almost knows he’s going to be okay.

Thomas couldn’t mistake those golden curls in any lifetime.

They’re going to be okay.

Flowers bloom outside, waves hit the sand and rocks and trees grow, the Sun rises — and Thomas breathes.

He’s safe.

[newtslvt]

Back on the drabble grind!

Summary: The Gladers had arrived at the Safe Haven for some time now but Minho notices subtle hints at something more between Newt and Thomas. Wait a minute, are they holding hands under the breakfast table?

For @vallerius <3

[thominho-incorrectquotes]

would you ever write.. anything other than thominho (i cannot think of anything else i am sO SORRYDKNF)

With characters within The Maze Runner I presume? Because I've written few fanfics for Young Royals and One Piece, my two other loves beside TMR.

But within TMR, I wrote a Frypan x Zart fanfic (The little cottage) which I really love and I wrote three drabbles for Brenderesa (Modern Witches). I also wrote some short fic for Nalby, and I would write more if I have the time. But I will not write for a ship that has Thomas or Minho with someone else than Thomas or Minho because I don't ship them with anyone else, but I'm totally fine with people shipping them with other characters^^

Thank you!

[stilinskibaby]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀♫﹒⇆﹒🧷﹒⊹﹒FAQ.

: ̗̀➛ REQUESTING.

okay to request:

characters — most teen wolf characters (especially stiles and theo). thomas (tmr). stuart twombly (the intership).

story type — drabble, blurb, headcannon, imagine, ficlet. full fic. female reader. neutral reader.

tropes — brother's best friend/best friend's brother, dark fic. stoner!character. (childhood) best friends to lovers. (fr)enemies to lovers.

do not request:

characters — jackson whittmore, mason hewitt, allison argent. any character not listed.

tropes — self harm. incest. domestic abuse.

story type — male reader. series. child reader.

other things to request

✰ ≫ moodboards! (trope, character, etc)

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ex. what do you think theo’s favorite snacks are. does stiles like anal?

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≫ minors, bigots (zionist, racist, homophobe, transphobe, sexist, etc.), proshippers, ship adults with minors (sterek, sceter, etc.), other shitty ppl.

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≫ this blog is focused mostly on teen wolf, and reblogs alot of smut. you may see other dylan obrien media as well.

≫ i will not discuss shipcourse, but i love talking about ships.

≫ all hate anons will be deleted

≫ no drama please.

≫ i am the host of a did system.

[loloisloco]

his eyes burnt from lack of sleep

THIS SENTENCE I KNEW IT WAS GONNA BE AMAZING WHEN I READ THIS. Its silly but the choice of vocabulary, even though it is sorta simple is so good. Thomas is burning. And througtout tmr fire has always had disaster coming afterwards. After the ending was triggered and the grievers came, after Teresas betrayal, and after Newts death. When theres fire its never good, so the burning, as well as being the best way to describe that he does not care the pain its causing him, he has to keep working is amazing because of fire in the rest of the maze runner.

so calming he doesn't question the source as his eyelids grow heavy.

THE AMOUNT OF TRUST THIS REQUIRES. There's no way after all the shit he's been through, that he doesn't have trust issues. BUT HE DOESN'T EVEN CONSIOUSLY REGISTER ITS NEWT. His brain just trusts him and knows he's safe. Newt rests a hand on the back of Thomas’s neck, his touch soft and gentle, coaxing Thomas’s head to come up.

AGAIN WITH THE TRUST. He's hiding, perhaps from himself, but only Newt would be able to coax him up when he's that exhausted. Thomas can't pull the memory from his brain where Newt would have said that, his chest throbs at the words either way. 

and then i started sobbing. Throbbing with hurt and love. his neck feeling much colder

Cold without Newts touch, Newts his light, his warmth. The only thing that will ever keep him steady. 

He's defieantly not steady any longer then omd Thomas wished to meet him halfway his body seemed to be frozen, he felt frozen.

Without Newt, he's cold, he's frozen. THE PARALYSING FEELING HES EXPERINECING AND THE FACT HES LITERALLY COLD i want your writing injected into my blood. He pulled the pillow closer to his chest

He can't hold Newt anymore, so he holds a pillow. becoming as small as possible as he wept

Newt cant hide him anymore, can't hold him. So he tries to hide himself. his bones chipped deeper and deeper until it felt as if he would never move again

ITS DESTROYING HIM. It's eating away at his bones until he's not able to stand anymore, can't move, can't carry on. any amount of discomfort would be worth it to wake up to the scent of mint and the feeling of Newt’s warm body against him. 

My favourite line throughout the whole story. I think Thomas, at least in this moment would rather still be with WCKED and running from them than be safe here. He feels he doesn't deserve to have comfort anymore. But he also would give anything, to wake up next to Newt again.

I LOVED THIS AND IT WAS BEAUTIFUL AMD SOUL SHATTERING AND BONE CRUMBLING AND BLOOD FREEZING BUT IT WAS THE BEST THING. I love reading your writing, and you are defiantly gonna go far because a drabble should not destroy me as much as this did. Thank you so much for sharing this with me, and the rest of us lucky people 💚

I sleep so I can see you 'cause I hate to wait so long

story summary: Thomas struggles with heart wrenching loneliness. this manifests in this dreams through blonde hair and touches that never happened. (this drabble is inspired by this post!)

TW LIST: depictions of grief. (if you are struggling with grief please reach out.)

genre: canon compliance, hurt/no comfort. (seriously this is just sad sad sad. no happiness here. you have been warned!)

word count: 971

Thomas found himself in the map room as he did on many days, his hand cramping from writing while his eyes burnt from lack of sleep. If his gaze could burn the maps before him, they would have been in an uproar of fire 3 hours ago. The thought of resting his head, just for a moment, even though he knows the outcome, comes to him and he gives into the impulsive urge as he has many times before. Knowing his future self will scold him for the pain in his neck come daylight. 

He doesn't hear the uneven footsteps enter the room, or the presence behind him. A quiet chuckle fills the room that sounds so distant, yet so calming he doesn't question the source as his eyelids grow heavy. Just as his vision grows dark he feels lean hands rest on his shoulders, he mumbles incoherently as familiar fingers find their way into his hair, rubbing and scratching his scalp softly. 

“How many times do I gotta drag you outta this room, hmm tommy?” Newt’s voice is so far away yet so close, as if the sound came from his own brain instead of the boy's pale lips. The brunette merely hums in response, in his dazed state wishing for the fingers to never leave his tangled hair. A warmth washes over his body, a smile playing on his lips comfortably at the blonde's presence. 

As if that single thought brought the action to life, lean fingers slip away from his head, a grumble of annoyance making Thomas’s throat wobble. He distantly listens as Newt presumably grabs a chair, the chair coming to his left, Newt places himself in said chair and must be facing him, because even as Thomas's arms cover his face he can feel a sad gaze on him. A moment passes in complete silence, Thomas’s gut clenches for some odd reason, somehow knows once the silence is lifted.. Something will happen. 

He lifts his head, Newt in his peripheral vision as he faces forward, Newt resting his head on his arms facing thomas. His cheek squished against his forearm. He sees Newt raise his head, now resting his chin against the palm of his hand. Thomas presses his face back in his own arms, his inside of his arms almost shielding him from whatever near future makes him so sick. Newt rests a hand on the back of Thomas’s neck, his touch soft and gentle, coaxing Thomas’s head to come up.

Thomas sits with his shoulders slumped, his eyes on the incoherent writing in front of him. “I told you to take care of yourself.” Newt says almost as kind as his touch, his scolding light. Thomas can't pull the memory from his brain where Newt would have said that, his chest throbs at the words either way. 

Newt’s hand slips away from Thomas’s nape, his neck feeling much colder as the touch ends. Much to Thomas's delight, Newt cups Thomas's cheek and pulls his face to make Thomas face his gaze. “You need to leave me.” Newt’s words sound drowned, as if they were underwater. Thomas opens his mouth to speak, the words he wishes so desperately to say unable to be vocalized. 

im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry he thought. He doesn't practically know what he's sorry for. 

Newt’s other hand makes its way to the other side of Thomas’s face, the brunette leans into the touch desperately, trying to soak in the feeling. Before he knows it tears spill from his eyes which the blonde wipes away without a second thought, the only thing holding Thomas steady is hands on his face. The only thing that will ever keep him steady. 

Newt came closer, despite the fact how badly Thomas wished to meet him halfway his body seemed to be frozen, he felt frozen. The only thing not impossibly cold being Newt’s hands. Newt brought his lips in between Thomas’s furrowed brows, a shaky sigh escapes Thomas. The kiss is impossibly gentle and lingers for an impossible amount of time, Thomas feels himself slipping from the moment, being pulled away from the oh so lovely feeling of Newt’s hands and lips. 

Newt pulls away, once he does the blonde presses his forehead against Thomas's. “So much guilt, even while you sleep?” 

Thomas opens his eyes and doesn't find blonde hair and freckled skin, he finds darkness and a damp pillow. 

His heart is racing, hammering into his ribs, his breathing no slower. Thomas realizes in his sleep he brought a pillow in between his arms, he stretches his arm out instinctively, reaching out for the warmth of Newt’s body.

…

Oh.

Right. 

It's been almost two weeks since arriving at the safe haven, he almost always wakes up strangling onto something. Whether that be pillows, sheets or his own waist in a quite pathetic manner. He remembers when he used to wake up to a sore back or neck from sleeping in cars and up against walls, even now, in his bed he would give anything to go back because any amount of discomfort would be worth it to wake up to the scent of mint and the feeling of Newt’s warm body against him. 

His chest shakes, his lip wobbles as he tries to fight back a sob. He pulled the pillow closer to his chest and the thought of Newt’s head resting in his lap, smiling up at him with a slightly crooked tooth smile broke the dam. He clenched his eyes shut bringing his legs to his chest, becoming as small as possible as he wept. The forever now carved into his bones chipped deeper and deeper until it felt as if he would never move again, he was forever stuck with stinging eyes and wobbly cries.

Authors Note: yeah i told you this was sad. this was supposed to be a warm up for a night time writing sesh then i got distracted.. ate.. watched youtube.. and suddenly it was 10 o'clock. sorry guys 😭 im sorry i haven't updated any of my wips in weeks.. please take this as a formal apology I'm tryna get back into my writing game :( anyways tell me what you think (if your not sobbing to hard like our boy thomas here. bro cannot catch a break.)

(anyone interested in my compass IT IS NOT ABANDONED. I PROMISE. also expect rage filled Newt next chapter hehehehe)

[scvrllet]

📃 with Thomas (tmr)

Tonight, I want to see it in your eyes

Feel the magic, there's something that drives me wild

And tonight, we're gonna make it all come true

'Cause girl, you were made for me

And girl, I was made for you

(I was made for lovin’ you by Kiss)

(📃) SHEET MUSIC - send me a few lyrics (no more than five lines) along with a character and i’ll write a blurb.

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I Was Made For Lovin' You by KISS with Thomas (tmr) x Reader

Tonight, I want to see it in your eyes

Feel the magic, there's something that drives me wild

And tonight, we're gonna make it all come true

'Cause girl, you were made for me

And girl, I was made for you

contains gender-neutral!reader and thomas being an idiot (affectionate) really. (437)

Thomas was never one to thoroughly plan any idea he came up with, especially when it came to his friends and tonight was no different. With a life on the line, yours specifically, Thomas had gotten no rest as he came up with a poorly thought out plan to get you back from WICKED's hold.

From what he's seen and been told, WICKED returned Minho to the Gladers in exchange for you due to some complications with Minho's cooperation skills. Apparently they believed that you would be easier to manage but if you still had the will you've always had, he was sure they wouldn't get that far. Despite this easing his worries by a bit, he still needed you back by his side, and preferably today as it was the day Right Arm planned to go to the Safe Haven.

"This is a terrible idea." Gally said as he looked over the brief plan Thomas had come up with. Frypan and Newt looked at the boy with their lips pressed into a line as they agreed with him.

Thomas sighed in defeat as he rested his head against the table. "Well it's not like we have any other options! It's either we go through with my admittedly shitty plan or let them kill them and I am not letting WICKED lay a hand on them."

Now it was the other three boys turn to sigh. They too wanted to get you back, they really did, but they couldn't potentially throw all progress with Right Arm out the window just to save one person. It wasn't fair, especially with all the immunes they've managed to save already. Perhaps if they didn't have so much on their shoulders they would be on their way to you right now but they couldn't.

"The berg takes off tonight, in the meantime, time is yours." Gally told the group before heading off to meet Brenda with Newt and Frypan following as well, leaving Thomas alone with the image of a faulty plan before him.

"If they can't come along, then I'll go alone." He muttered to himself before sitting up from his seat. Quietly leaving the room to where the weapons and equipment were stored, Thomas hastily grabbed what he could and left for Last City.

Thomas knew this was a suicide mission. The chances of his and your survival had immediately dropped the second he decided to do this alone but it was a risk he was willing to take. Even if they may never be able to reach the Safe Haven, he just needed to be with you again.

FIN.

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