#🌿 petri writes tmr

[petrichor-idyllic]

Heyyy do you do reacts? Like "How the TMR boys would react to you calling them pretty" . If so, thank youuu :)

Oooo I never even thought about doing this, but I can absolutely give it a go :))

YOU THINK I'M PRETTY?

MASTERLIST | MULTI-CHARACTER MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Gender neutral reader.

WARNINGS: None really, maybe some inappropriate language and flirty behaviour.

"You know, you're actually kinda pretty."

THOMAS

Would not know how to react.

Thomas absolutely would be completely dumbfounded.

He'd been attracted to you ever since he'd arrived in the Glade, so you complimenting him would leave him in a stunned state.

Probably would also be the first and only time he gets complimented because the Gladers just call each other ugly on a daily basis.

"Oh, uh- thanks- thank you."

You probably wouldn't think much of it and go about your day.

He would spend the next four years thinking about it.

"They think I'm pretty."

Definitely a much needed confidence boost since he (especially in the books) is having a permanent identity crisis.

He might not know who he is, but damn, at least he's pretty.

NEWT

Newt isn't a stranger to compliments. He's one of the oldest standing Gladers and people often comment on his work ethic and ability to think fast.

His appearance though?

That's new.

He'd probably freeze, laughing it off as you just kinda randomly say it whilst he's working with the Track-hoes.

"Heh, what?"

In all honesty, you'd have been watching him for a while, admiring his features and when you say it, it would have been a thought you didn't mean to say out loud more than anything.

That wouldn't stop him from thinking about it. It would get brushed over fairly quickly since Newt is a busy dude, but he would definitely ask Minho and his friends about it.

"What do you think it means?

"Uh, that they think you're pretty? Duh."

Like Thomas, he would probably lie awake thinking about it, or just throughout his day, a soft smile playing on his lips, and he would definitely get caught laughing.

"Dude, you're thinking about it again?"

"Shut up, slinthead!"

"Touched a nerve, pretty boy?"

MINHO

Minho knows he's pretty. Everyone knows he's pretty. Just look at the guy. Even Thomas thinks he's pretty (*cough* the three paragraphs dedicated to describing Minho's arms in the book *cough*).

He'd probably laugh.

Sure, it's common knowledge that he's a good looking guy, but for someone to say it to him?

That'd be entertaining.

He'd tease you about it, making you the one that becomes a blushing mess.

"Hey, so how pretty do you think I am, exactly?"

He would not let it go.

But he wouldn't brag to the other Gladers about it. He would keep the information to himself, mainly keeping up the light bullying in private and leaving other Gladers confused as to why you tended to leave his presence bright red.

Secretly, he'd be thrilled. Of course, just that you think he's attractive to begin with, but also because it clearly runs deeper at your constant embarrassment.

He probably also wouldn't know how else to flirt with you. But he's trying his best. Compliments don't come as easy to him as they do you, so this is how he expresses it.

Definitely an ego boost.

GALLY

He would be insulted.

Gally wouldn't take it as a compliment at first. He wants to be a tough guy and you calling him pretty feels like a insult to his masculinity.

Definitely not the intention.

You think he's soft? Pretty? How dare you. How could you?

It wouldn't be until he spoke to Frypan that he'd realise.

"They called me pretty. Pretty! Do I look like a shuckin' sissy?"

"Dude, I'm pretty sure it was a compliment- they think you're hot."

"Oh."

That's when he'd be flustered.

In private, of course, but flustered nonetheless.

He'd feel like such a dick for reacting how he did and without even processing it properly.

He'd end up apologising and you'd laugh about it.

"It's okay, I won't call you pretty again. Promise."

But now he knows you think he's attractive, he'd definitely be bummed that you said you wouldn't compliment him like that again.

"I mean- you can still... yanno- say that."

Turns out Gally actually kinda is a softie when he wants to be.

You find it cute.

FRYPAN

He would be ecstatic.

Oh my God, you think he's pretty? His life is complete. The world is good. Kill him now, this is the best day of his life.

He'd tell everyone who would listen.

"Yeah! They called me pretty! Suck it! I'm prettier than you slintheads!"

"Fry, I really don't care."

He'd constantly ask you to call him pretty again. Or even other compliments and you'd find it funny.

He'd be surprising hard to fluster, but very easy to please.

It wouldn't be uncommon to find him grinning from ear to ear after talking to you.

He would also have the courage to return the compliments, creating a friendship that's basically filled with constant praise.

He would worship the ground you walk on.

Thinks he's in love every time you make eye contact.

ALBY

"Yeah, okay."

Alby would not give a shit.

The man is stressed 24/7.

You can't really blame him. He's in charge of a bunch of teenage boys in a Maze full of monsters, and he has to make sure that everyone is comfortable and surviving.

He has too much on his plate to even realise what you'd be saying at first.

The brain lag is real, and it would be three days later when he'd understand what you said.

"Wait a shuckin' second..."

After that, he'd think about it a lot, internally kicking himself and regretting the choice.

You wouldn't be shocked. This is exactly the kind of response you'd expect from the Leader. But you almost said it because you knew what his response would be.

You wouldn't have to worry about Alby being weird or acting different or telling anyone.

Though, he would become a lot friendlier towards you, starting to develop a sweet spot for you.

Would ya look at that, I can actually write for characters other than Minho? Who woulda guessed? In all seriousness, this was really fun and I enjoy writing headcanons as much as I like writing stories. I really enjoy these typa requests, tysm for sending it in.

Hope you all enjoy :))

[petrichor-idyllic]

LONGING FROM AFAR

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: Minho x fem!Med-jack!reader. Kinda mutual pining. Takes place before Thomas arrives.

Minho has always been confident and cocky, that is until a girl shows up in the Glade, completely changing the dynamic. What makes it worse is that Minho recognises her, though he doesn't know where from. It doesn't help that he's having some less-than appropriate dreams. The last thing he needs is an injury out in the Maze, leading him to being treated by you. Little does he know, it's not just him experiencing everything.

CONTENT WARNING: language, suggestive content and spice, minimal use of (Y/N). Pretty long but bear with.

Minho noticed a lot of things about you, even at the beginning.

When he got back to the Glade and heard about a girl coming up, he thought Newt was telling him a bad joke. But it was the truth. There you were.

Minho wasn't going to talk to you. He had no intention of distracting himself from his work. But the night you showed up, he was the same as everyone else. All eyes on you as you stared into the flames of the Bonfire

Newt had been put in charge of looking after you since Alby was sceptical about trusting the other Gladers just yet. He sat beside you on a log, offering you a drink and talking with little to no response.

You didn't seem scared. Or even uncomfortable. You just looked lost; like you were still processing what was going on. And the Maze and your life now was something you never really wrapped your head around.

Minho could tell you didn't see the boys as a threat. It wasn't that they wouldn't try anything, it was that you seemed confident in dealing with it.

Your baggy jacket had the hood pulled up, your hair falling around your face and the fabric being used as a shield. Something that would become somewhat of a trademark of your look.

But the thing that stuck out was he knew you. He couldn't point out where or how, but he did. He figured he'd known you before the Maze. It wasn't uncommon for Gladers to say they recognise people, like when you know someone's face but can't figure out where from.

But this was different. He knew you, like actually knew you. He hadn't spoken a word to you, yet he could make some pretty accurate guesses about you. All of which ended up not being that far off.

Even as time passed, whenever you were there, Minho's gaze always fell on you. You didn't say much to anyone, really. You were often found with Newt, who seemed to be your favourite Glader.

You would eat and spend free time with Newt, and he would guard you whilst showering. It was also obvious to Minho that Newt enjoyed spending time with you as well. He seemed brighter and spoke about you a lot; something that Minho didn't complain about.

But it did make him feel weird.

When you became a Med-jack, there was a string of "injured" Gladers who were very disappointed when they ended up getting treated by one of the boys. The medical hut had never been so busy.

Once the new Greenie came up after a month, Minho realised he was jealous. You were nurturing yet forward and the Greenie clung to you like there was no tomorrow.

I know her. She's mine.

The thought shocked him. He wasn't like that; at least he didn't think he was like that. He had no right to be like that, you guys had never even spoken.

That was when the dreams started.

Heated breath against his neck. His fingers bruising your waist. Unholy noises that filled his hut. Feelings he had never experienced before.

The dreams would vary. Some were loving and filled with sweet nothings and slow, caring intimacy. Others were rough; more forceful. Full of passion and greediness as need would consume him whole.

He'd always wake up the same, though. Flustered and frustrated and having to get up to work before he could deal with himself. It was definitely starting to cause a problem in rising sexual frustration.

He didn't really get it before. The other Gladers were always complaining about how horny they were and the straight dudes always pining for a girl to show up. Typical teenage hormones. But Minho had always been too preoccupied to even think about it. His goal was freedom and survival. And now a girl he had never even spoken to was making him go feral.

"Dude, are you good?" Ben had been watching Minho for a while as he leaned over the table in the middle of the Map Room. They were meant to be comparing routes and examining them before they headed out into the Maze for the day.

Minho had been staring at the same piece of paper for about fifteen minutes. Clearly, none of it sinking in.

"Minho?"

"Hm?" The boy looked up, meeting the concerned gaze of his friend. Minho had never been like this. He was always on the ball, noticing things that Ben wouldn't have ever even paid attention to. Yet, he was totally spaced out.

"Are you good?"

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're acting shucking weird, bro. The shuck's goin' on?" Minho wasn't about to admit that the reason his abilities were slipping was because he was being haunted by his wet dream from the previous night.

"Nothin', alright? I'm good."

This went on for weeks. Newt picked up on the change and he was the first to figure out why. He told Minho to talk to you but at this point, Minho couldn't bring himself to. What would he even say? How would he even interact with you like a normal human being after he'd had you in every position in his head?

Newt found it hilarious when a conversation about the complete lack of female anatomy knowledge started at Bonfire night. It was one of the few conversations the both of you had been involved in, even if you still weren't directly speaking.

Being a biology expert and a vagina owner, it quickly turned into a lecture that the boys were surprisingly respectful of. They seemed eager to learn and you weren't ashamed about talking about it, since sex education was just another health topic. Though Minho didn't know how to act when he found out you were on birth control.

Minho's red face and avoidance of eye contact with, well, anyone just egged Newt on more. He asked at least once a day if he'd gained the courage to talk to you yet.

He had not.

He started actually liking going out into the Maze. The Maze was when he got to be alone. The breeze blowing through his hair, his mind occupied with keeping track of his path and an ironic sense of freedom. And he was a safe distance from his nagging friend.

That was until he turned a corner and nearly ran face first into a Griever. Grinding to a halt, the slimy, grotesque creature turned to face him. Without hesitation, Minho took off, turning around and sprinting as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

The Griever easily gained ground on him, swiping and slashing from mere metres away. In his escape, he tripped, his feet catching over themselves and he fell to the floor, twisting his ankle.

The Griever wasn't able to stop in time, practically diving over him and rolling to a stop once it realised its mistake. One of it's mechanical arms slicing his back and he hissed in pain, praying that he wasn't stung. He didn't have time to process what had just happened as he scrambled to his feet.

Grievers were scary but dumb. This was common knowledge amongst the Runners. The fleshy monstrosity was yet to turn around as it seemed to be trying to process what had happened itself.

Fighting through the pain, Minho sprinted away in the direction he'd just fled from.

His leg was in agony, his back bleeding but he didn't stop. Running as fast as he possibly could towards the safety of the Glade.

After a couple of swift turns and a lot of painful footsteps, he dared look back. The Griever was gone. He was safe.

"Shuck this," he mumbled to himself. He had plenty of time and was meant to be running his route, but there was no way he could even begin to think about daring to do that in this condition.

Minho started making his way back to the Glade. The desperate urge to stop and sit down and rest was intoxicating. But he wouldn't get up again, and he knew it.

He didn't even realise his face was bleeding until he entered the corridor leading to the Glade and the crimson liquid dripped off, hitting the stone floor. He must've cut it on a rock on the floor or something.

Entering the Glade, it didn't take long for him to be noticed.

"Minho!" Alby's sharp voice cut through the serene farm setting. "The shuck are you doing back?"

Alby jogged towards him, his face shifting from irritation to concern once he noticed the Runner's injured state.

"Shit," the Leader grumbled, "Newt! Get the Med-jacks!" He shouted in the blond's direction.

"Minho," he approached the boy, "Hey, Minho," Ably grabbed him, wrapping his arm around his back, only for Minho to jolt away in pain. "Shuck it, what happened?"

"Griever," Minho grunted.

"Did you get stung?"

"Do I look like I've been stung?"

"Alby!" Jeff shouted as he approached. "What's going on?"

"Minho got attacked by a Griever, he needs checking. Now."

Newt, Clint and Jeff scrambled to help the injured boy, all three of them in a state of panic. It was rare for Minho to get hurt. It was even rarer for him to get this hurt.

They half-dragged Minho towards the Med-jack hut as the boy tried his best to keep himself going. In the midst of the chaos, Minho had completely forgot that you are, in fact, a Med-jack.

"Holy shit," you gasped and Minho's head snapped towards you. "Newt, what the shuck happened?"

"I-I don't know," the blond spluttered out, "he said he got attacked by a Griever."

"Shit, sit him down," the boys do what you tell them, walking him over to the bed and struggling to place the Runner safely. "Minho," your voice is soft and Minho knows that if he wasn't in agony he wouldn't know what to do. "Do you know if you've been stung? How are you feeling?"

"Like a klunk in a t-shirt," he attempted to joke, "no, I'm not stung, just cut up."

You examined him, taking his face between your fingers, taking in he features and the cut across his cheek. He moved his arm slightly and you caught a glimpse of the blood slowly soaking through his shirt. Walking around, your eyes widened.

"Take his shirt off," you directed your coworkers. "Now, c'mon."

"What?" The thought of being shirtless in front of you somehow freaked him out more than his recent brush with a Griever.

"Your back is bleeding badly," you stated, "and I have to check you for any other injuries."

You moved out of the way to let the boys help Minho undress, leaving him embarrassed and exposed. Not that there was anything to be embarrassed about. Minho looked like he had been carved out of stone. He spent all day every day exercising, so it wasn't much of a shock, but you still had to remind yourself not to get distracted.

The main focus was sorting out Minho's back and to check for spinal damage. Luckily, it was just a minor cut that was bleeding a hell of a lot.

Minho seemed to be incredibly jumpy. Every time you touched him, he flinched away. You used glue strips to pull the skin back together and wrapped the bandages around his middle. With Minho becoming visibly tense when you pressed your hand against his abs from behind to stabilise the fabric, you assumed that he didn't like physical contact. So, you became cautious to touch him as little as possible to try not to make him uncomfortable.

That was easier said than done when it came to addressing his facial injuries. It didn't look that bad; a surprisingly clean cut.

You stood in between Minho's legs, his face once again between your fingers as you delicately tried to pull the sides of the wound back together. Clint and Jeff were busy making sure Minho's back was appropriately covered and preparing more supplies for you accordingly and Newt was just watching.

Unbeknownst to Minho, you'd actually been sharing the same far away glances. You'd drunkenly confessed to Newt during a game of truths that Minho was the only Glader you were actually attracted to and it felt like you knew him. But with him always being out in the Maze and you always being busy with work, you felt like your paths weren't really meant to cross. You lived in the same place, but it was painfully obvious Minho didn't want to interact with you.

What you failed to tell Newt was that you felt a strong connection with the boy that was basically a stranger. He was unbelievably familiar to you, something you failed to explain even to yourself.

Newt was getting frustrated himself with the stubborn awkwardness you both possessed, but all it did was further prove you'd be a good match. He'd decided to stay and observe because Minho was his friend, but it was also because this was the first time either of you had actually interacted.

You were oblivious to it all at the moment. The panic of Minho being injured caused your anxiety about talking to him to vanish and be replaced with focus on your work. You were also oblivious to Minho's lingering hands as he fought to urge to put them on you waist and the puppy-dog look he couldn't seem to stop.

He'd never been this close to you. The closest being your sex ed lesson. He took the opportunity to watch you. Your face was stoic and firm as you concentrated on placing glue strips in a way that wouldn't be uncomfortable. He couldn't help but find the way your brow furrowed and the way strands of hair escaped your poorly tied up hairstyle cute.

God, you were so close. Too close. Close enough for all of Minho's dreams to start filling his head. He tried desperately to stay calm and distract himself but it wasn't working. You were being so gentle and attentive.

"How does that feel?" You asked absentmindedly, something you did to all your patients. It was such an innocent question that is made Minho even more flustered due to the context he'd previously heard it in his own head. "Minho?"

"It's uh, it's fine- it feels good. Well, not good, it feels klunky- but not like bad, like you've done a good job it just hurts. It.. it feels okay," you raised your eyebrow slightly, a small smirk playing on your lips. Minho inwardly cringed but you were entertained.

From what everyone had told you, Minho was smart and smooth, often overly confident and quick with his wit and even quicker with his actions. Maybe it was the injuries, but the Keeper of the Runners was currently a stuttering mess in front of you.

"Does anything else hurt?" You didn't falter at Minho's response. You're a professional, after all.

"Uh, yeah, I think I rolled my ankle."

"Which one?" He tapped his left leg and you nodded. "Can you take your shoe off?" He winced as he attempted to do so only for you to gesture him to stop.

You lowered yourself to the floor, kneeling in front of him as you untied the laces of his running shoes, trying to be as gentle as possible removing it.

Minho thought his brain might actually melt. You were on your knees in front of him, nursing to his injuries.

He made eye contact with Newt as you rolled his trouser leg up, examining the potential damage. Newt was grinning like an idiot. He had never seen Minho like this. Clint and Jeff were oblivious to whatever was going on and Newt felt like he was in on a well-kept secret. All Minho could do was glare at his friend.

"It looks sprained," you mainly said it to yourself but it quickly dawned on Minho what that meant.

"What about running?"

You looked up at him, pressing your lips into a thing line. "Sorry, buddy, you're gonna be out of commission for while." You rose again, hands in your pockets as you looked down at him. "You've got off pretty lucky all things considered. The cuts aren't deep, they just look bad and your ankle just has a nasty sprain. It should be better in a week or so, but that's only if you rest and stay off it."

"You gotta be shucking kidding me." You scoffed at Minho's dismayed.

"Don't worry too much - I'll give you some regular check-ups and keep an eye on it. You'll be back in the Maze in no time; I'll make sure of that." You playfully winked at him in an attempt to ease his nerves, which seemed to work.

You turned to Newt, "You gonna break the news to Alby or should I?"

"The shank should be happy Minho here is still bloody kickin'," Newt stood up straight, stretching slightly. "I'll go let him know."

You left Minho sitting there as you started talking to Clint and Jeff, telling both of them to go on break since both boys were suddenly very pale and slightly shaken up. You figured losing Minho would have been a massive hit to the Glade and for a second there, it felt very life or death.

"What am I meant to do now?" Minho asked as Clint and Jeff left.

You shrugged. "Whatever you want, man." You walked back over, returning to your position standing in front of him. "You've got a week off, enjoy yourself - well, not too much but you get what I mean."

Unlike Minho, you were having a surprisingly easy time talking to him. Almost natural.

"If you're bored, you can always chill here. It's not like serious injuries are common. You guys are pretty good at your job, so we mainly just deal with Slicer incidents." You were trying to be subtle about it but you were hoping that Minho would take the casual hint to spend some time with you.

You suddenly remember something, walking over to a cupboard, you pick up a makeshift crutch that was leaning against the wood, curtesy of Gally. "Here."

You handed him the crutch and he clearly didn't want to take it and admit defeat, but he did.

"Thanks," the conversation and interaction had reached it's natural end, but despite Minho's determined avoidance, he found himself not wanting to leave. "Can I, uh, can I stay here?"

You grinned at him, "'Course you can. I just said you could, didn't I?"

And that was it.

You and Minho were officially friends. Kind of.

It took a while, but Minho spent most of his week off talking to you and you both fell into a routine. He liked watching you work. You could effortlessly multitask, patching up people's injuries and maintaining a conversation with him.

Newt was also a welcomed addition during your free time. Well, to you at least. Minho wasn't exactly a fan of watching the pair of you talk and mess around. Your relationship with Newt seemed natural and friendly, something you and Minho were yet to have. Or he doubted ever would ever have. He also started to notice some flirting.

He hated it.

Minho had never been a possessive person, but watching you flirt with his best-friend was invoking even more complicated feelings in him.

It was a joke. Minho didn't know it was, but it was. You and Newt flirted all the time - because it was funny. Newt wasn't attracted to you at all. He had made that abundantly clear but that also meant you trusted him because it meant he wasn't going to try anything. And it was funny watching his disappointment when he didn't think the new Greenies were attractive.

Minho was unaware that it was a joke, though. So, by the time it came for him to go back into the Maze, he was reluctant.

Mainly because he was scared of running into another Griever, but also because he couldn't keep an eye on you. He hadn't exactly been keeping an eye on you before but seeing yours and Newt's dynamic up close wasn't pleasant.

Though, the Maze was a break. An actual break this time and a much needed one.

He'd often spend dinner time sitting with you and Newt, but for the rest of it, Minho would make himself scarce. Even when he was in the Glade.

It didn't help that the dreams were getting worse and it didn't take a genius to see that the tension between the both of you was thick. Exchanging glances, standing near each other when you were both involved in a group interaction, Minho's constant watchful gaze. It wasn't just Newt noticing it anymore.

"Dude, will you quit staring? You're freakin' me out." Alby leant against a post as Minho sat on a log, once again observing from a safe distance. Newt had informed him of Minho's growing crush and Alby had decided to keep an eye on things. He knew that Minho would never do anything to make you uncomfortable, but he still liked to make sure things were running smoothly for you. After all, being the only girl wasn't easy.

"I'm not staring," was Minho's response, even though he didn't bother stopping his glare.

"I thought you two were friends now?"

"She'd rather be friends with Newt."

The comment struck Alby as he looked at his long-time friend. Bonfire nights had become like clockwork to the veterans of the Glade, so neither boy really joined in on the festivities.

"Minho, are you jealous?"

The silence was loud and more than enough of an answer for Alby. Minho dropped his head, some kind of shame washing over him.

"Shuck me," the Leader barked a laugh, a rare occurrence, "you actually really like her, huh?"

"Slim it, man," Minho grumbled.

"Well, you better act on it, shank, you've got some competition," Minho figured Alby was referring to Newt, but when he looked up and saw Gally's arm draped around your shoulders, he felt a pit form in his stomach.

You made no effort to push Gally away, he was drunk and definitely not a threat. You weren't even talking to him; you were talking to Newt, who kept giving you gesturing looks, silently asking if you wanted him to deal with Gally. The Builder had originally done it as a flirty gesture but had seemingly forgot that he'd even done it in the first place.

For Minho, however, it was the straw that broke the camels back. Newt? Sure, whatever. He could get it - he liked Newt as much as anyone would, he was his best-friend after all. But Gally? Seriously?

He was on his feet before he'd even processed what he was doing himself, marching over to you. Gally said something, gaining your attention, which is why it startled you when Minho grabbed your wrist. You turned, prepared to rip your hand away only to soften when you realised who it was.

"Hey, can I talk to you?"

You blinked at him. Minho was hard to read and his ever-changing personality and treatment of you had you lost most days. You glanced at Newt, who seemed equally stunned at Minho's sudden confidence.

"Yeah, course, what's up?" He simply nodded in a different direction, gesturing for you to both leave to have a private conversation. You pushed Gally's arm away from you, thoughtlessly following Minho as he dragged you away.

He let go once you'd left the buzzing crowd of the Bonfire and you silently followed him to the edge of the Deadheads. He stopped near one of the closest trees and turned to face you.

"Is everything... okay?" You felt nervous, fiddling with the hem of your jacket, something Minho noticed.

"Uh, yeah," he took a deep breath, collecting himself. He didn't know what he was doing but, low and behold, he was doing it.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Right, yeah," he cleared his throat, "okay, this is gonna sound shuckin' weird but I've just gotta say it, okay?"

"Okay." You tried to stay calm, but you could feel the bubble of stress starting to form. Did he know? Had Newt spilled the beans? Was he about to reject your silent desires?

"So, I, uh, I think I know you," you once again blinked at him and he shuffled awkwardly, "I don't know how to describe it - I just do. Ever since you first came up in the Box, I just- I just wanted to be around you."

"I thought you were avoiding me?"

"Well I was, kinda, I didn't want to get distracted from running- and then there was the dreams and I didn't know how I'd even talk to you and-" Minho had started rambling pretty quick. All his stress from the past few months starting to pour out.

"Dreams?" Minho froze. How exactly was he going to explain that bit? Why the shuck did he mention it to begin with?

"Uh, yeah, I don't wanna- I mean I didn't mean to- you're just so- shuck!" He exclaimed, his face growing redder by the second, "I'm bad at this. I don't know why I brought that up."

"I'm not gonna judge you, dude," you reassured him. "I understand brain klunk and it's weird. Dreams are normal."

"Yeah, but not these ones," he sighed, pausing to gain some courage, "I've been having these dreams, about us, uh... doing.. things."

"Huh?" You tilted your head. Then it clicked, and it was now your turn to get flustered. "Oh! Oh. Oh, right."

"Yeah," he scratched the back of his neck, refusing to make eye contact. "I don't know what it is, but I like you. Like, I really like you. And I know that's weird because we've only been friends for a couple of weeks but I can't help it. I don't want to think of these things but I can't help it and it's starting to cause a problem." He finally looked at you for a second. His rambling caused him to repeat himself as he stopped thinking about what he was saying before he said it.

Your expression was blank as you tried to process everything he was saying. He seemed genuine, and genuinely embarrassed about the whole thing.

"Sorry," his eyes fell to the floor, "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable and you can shut me down and we can just be friends- I don't care about that as long as we're fine. But watching Gally hang off you, and the new Greenies look at you. And the way you and Newt flirt all the time- it just, shit, it just makes me mad, dude. I can't take it, watching everyone want you when I want you too. I mean-"

"Minho-"

"It's driving me mad. Everything you do is stuck in my head-"

"Minho-" you stepped forward, though he's too in his own head to even notice.

"I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore. And Alby was saying all this klunk and-"

You cut him off. Lifting his chin to look at you, you pressed your lips to his. He froze, completely. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

"Shut up, Slinthead," you mumbled, pulling away slightly, basically saying it into his mouth, "I know you too. I want you too."

That was enough for Minho. He pushed his lips against yours. It was sudden and bold as he pushed against you. Your bodies moulded together as your arms went around the back of his neck, your fingers brushing the short hairs at the base of his head. His hands went to your waist under your jacket, pulling you impossibly closer.

The kiss quickly becomes passionate and heated, his fingers brushing against your skin under your shirt, padding against your flesh. You hummed in response, just pushing him further as he span you around. Backing you up against a tree, your back hit the bark, earning a squeak.

He broke the kiss and the way he looked at you made your knees weak. He gaze was full of a mix of lust and want, but also was loving and cautious. He didn't want to over step, but he was desperate. The frustrations were finally coming to the surface and he knew he had to stop himself.

"I can't..." He panted, "I can't do this anymore. I need you."

He was making you weak. It wasn't like you'd never been aroused before but this was different. You couldn't even form words as you connected back to him. A guttural, deep noise escaped his throat.

Things were moving fast as your hands left his neck, dipping lower and and under his shirt. Feeling his skin and his solid mid-drift. You grazed your nails against his skin and his teeth lightly brushed your bottom lip.

This wasn't the plan. But at the rate things were moving, you didn't want to stop it either.

"Holy shuck!" Newt exclaimed, dramatically throwing his hand over his eyes, scared to witness anything else unsightly.

You and Minho stopped, snapping to look at your embarrassed friend. Minho stepped back, awkwardly crossing his hands over his crotch as you tried to catch your breath.

Newt awkwardly peaked through his fingers before sighing from relief and lowering his hand.

"Uh, the Runners wanna talk to you about Maps or some klunk - Alby wants an update on how it's going."

Minho cleared his throat, "Right, yeah. I'll uh- yeah." He looked at you, "I'll uh, I'll catch you later, right?"

"Mhm."

"Cool." He brushed past Newt, not daring to make eye-contact, knowing he'd hear all about it later anyway.

Newt looked at you, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

"You finally spoke to him then?"

"Shut your shucking mouth, Slinthead."

Woah, Petri actually writing a piece of fanfiction? Mad. Anyway, here is my first actual writing piece on here and I know the TMR fandom is kinda dead, but I love Minho with my whole heart and he's probably one of my favourite all time characters, so I figured this would be a good place to start.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think. :))

[petrichor-idyllic]

Can u do Minho x reader where reader is just gawking at minhos arms and he catches her 🤭 it can be a gender neutral reader with spice ☝🏽

Alright, alright, I know, I have been very MIA, very sorry, life is a lot atm.

But this request is an easy one, so I'm tryna get through the easy ones. (Totally not cause I'm procrastinating a massive request and have fallen back into my OBX phase or anything shhh)

BEST FEATURE

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. GN! Reader x Minho. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, you're a simp, sorry, spice.

You like to pretend that you're a level headed and controlled person. That things such as desire or general human nature don't faze you and you're focused on work and helping around the Glade.

And, for the most part - that is completely believable.

Mainly because Minho is always out in the Maze. Thank God.

Because every time you guys are in the same room, you can't take your eyes off of him. His shoulders, his back, his weirdly perfect hair, that stupid blue shirt that just clings to him in the best way- and his arms.

(Something you and a specific future Greenie and ex-WCKD member would have in common.)

His arms.

His fucking arms, man.

You just can't help yourself. He walks back into the Glade every day, sweaty and dishevelled, his blue shirt sleeves rolled up as he casually glances at you as he walks past. Sometimes, you swear he walks past you on purpose .

Newt suspects you purposely hang around the Map Room so he has to.

It's been months, and you just can't seem to force yourself to get over it. You've tried, but Minho is the hottest guy in the Glade.

You're fucked, basically.

That is no different when it comes to Bonfire night. A new Greenie pops up, every gets hammered, Gally gets in a fight, Alby looks like he's gonna have a stroke.

But it's all in good fun.

Minho doesn't normally join in the festivities. He's a very stressed individual. Sometimes, you think about attempting to convince him to join in so he can let off some steam, but you don't.

I mean, most of your thoughts are about him letting off some steam. If you get what I mean.

But, this specific night, somehow, Newt, the absolute Lord and saviour he is, has managed to convince Minho to play a game of beer pong.

Well, not beer pong, but "Gally's suspicious special brew pong" is a bit of a mouthful.

You sit at the sides with a couple of boys, watching Minho laugh along as he throws a ball (a screwed up piece of tinfoil) into a cup across the table. Cheers break out in his success, but you just stare.

Minho's arms flex under his shirt, the curve of his upper arm visible through his shirt, his forearm tenses as he goes to throw the ball agsin you swear you can see the blood pumping veins from here.

"You're drooling, mate." You're snapped back to reality as you look at Newt, who passes you a drink.

"Huh?" You catch on. "What? No - I'm not." You attempt to lie, but the heat rising through your face is a bit of a hint.

"Yeah - you are. As always."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means." You look away in respond, groaning as you rub your face with your hands.

"Shut up."

Newt snorts at this, rubbing your back with a mocking "There, there."

You want to punch him.

"Yo, (Y/N)!" You look up, heat rising in your face as Minho shouts you. "Ben just bailed on us, you wanna take his place?"

You open your mouth to speak, but your words catch in your throat, causing Newt to cringe in second hand embarrassment.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles. "Yeah! They'd love to join." He nudges you. "Right?"

You clearly your throat. "Uh, yeah? Yeah."

Minho chuckles at this. "Come on, then."

You look at Newt again, as he nods his head to go join. Awkwardly, you stand up, walking over to join Minho's team.

"You know how to play?" He asks you.

"Uh, yeah- yeah, I know how to play." You attempt to sound confident.

"Cool - I should shuckin' hope so, you've been watching like a hawk." Oh God, he noticed. He noticed you staring. Hopefully, you can play it off as just being interested in the game.

"Y-yeah. Looked like you guys were having fun."

Please don't notice. Please don't notice. Please don't notice.

Please.

Minho's eyes flicker down you, almost like he's examining you, but also like he's drinking in your appearance, a slight smirk playing on his lips before he looks you in the eyes again. "Uh, huh."

Oh, God.

You immediately look away as another Glader passes you the ball for your turn. You miss, instantly as your body feels flushed, and then the game continues.

This goes on for quite some time.

You would think that any normal person would look away, now. I mean, Minho has noticed and Newt is undoubtedly going to bully you for it later. But, you are not that person, and you just can't help yourself.

Up close and personal, Minho looks like a God carved him out of stone. And when it's his turn, your eyes fall on his arms.

Because of course they do.

The way he rolls his sleeves up further, his muscles tensing, his veins flexing as you follow them down his forearms and down the back of his strong hands. You're seeing stars and your brain feels fuzzy.

"You good?" Minho's voice snaps you back to reality once again. Your eyes flicker to his face, his eyes narrowing as a smirk creeps across his face.

"Yep."

"You were staring."

"No, I wasn't." You say a bit too quickly, making his smirk turn into a grin.

"You sure about that? Positive you were just, checking me out?"

You blink at him, your face rising in heat.

"Yo," Clint snorts, having been also playing the game. "You were perving on Minho?" He drapes an arm over your shoulder, clearly drunk, but the implication making you more flustered.

"What? N-no. No. I wasn't."

"Mhm - I'm sure he doesn't mind." Clint snorts.

"Yeah, I don't mind." Minho agrees, grinning.

"I wasn't!" You attempt to defend yourself. "Ugh, shuck this." You grow irritated, shoving Clint's arm off. "I've had enough of this game."

You say, starting to walk away.

"What?" Minho's smile drops as he shouts after you. "We were just messing around! (Y/N)!" He huffs, dropping his head, watching you walk away. "Shuck's sake." He mumbles under his breath.

Newt, who has been watching the whole thing, stands from his seat and walks over. "Go on."

"What?" Minho asks.

"Go after them. I'll take your spot."

"Dude- why would I-?"

"Shut up, shank - you know you're just as bad."

Minho freezes at this, blinking at Newt.

Well, he's not wrong.

Minho has been listing after you for about just as long as you have him. And Newt has more social awareness skills than the both of you combined.

Minho huffs, but he turns on his heels, following after you, jogging to catch up as you make your way to the Deadheads.

"Yo! Hey! Wait up!" He says, slowing to a walk.

"Why? So, you can bully me again because you thought I was checking you out?" You snarl, mainly out of pure embarrassment.

"...But you were checking me out."

"No-"

"Yes."

"Fine! Whatever!" You throw your hands up in frustration. "I was checking you out! Big shuckin' deal! I can't help it, okay?"

Minho blinks, not expecting the sudden out burst. "Okay."

"Okay? Cool, okay? It's not my fault that you're hot, okay? A-and it's not fair that you look that good! All the time! Like, how is that fair? And how the fuck is your hair always flawless? You run for miles everyday - and somehow, you look like you've escaped Vogue! And your arms... how am I meant to even pretend to cope, you prick?"

Minho blankly stands there. "You done?"

You blink at him. "Yeah, I think so."

Minho slowly nods, stepping towards you as you both stand near the edge of the Deadheads, the drama of the Bonfire a now distant memory as he stands in front of you. He's so close and tall and generally intimidating in a way you shouldn't find attractive.

"So, you like my arms, then?" Minho acts, clearly enjoying the not needed ego boost. All you can do is blankly look at him.

What the hell is happening here?

"Do you?" You nod in response, slowly and unsure. "Okay, you can touch them, if you want?"

Your brain has melted and burnt. "...What?"

Minho huffs, simply grabbing your hand and putting it on his arm. You eyelids flutter, swapping between his face and his arm. "Don't be scared." He murmers.

Slowly, you drag your fingers down the fabric of his sun faded blue button up over his bicep, feeling the muscle and the curves of his left arm, tracing delicate shapes over the material. You move further down, passing the threshold where the fabric stops and the bare skin of his forearm starts.

To your surprise, Minho's breath hitches slightly at the contact. This is the first time you've ever touched him, and even he didn't expect the feeling to send chills down his spine and goosebumps dance on his skin. Your palm contacts with his forearm, rubbing down to his hand, feeling the visible veins as he creeps closer to you.

Your eyes go from his arm to his face, flickering to his lips as he stands directly in front of you. He becomes bold, raising his arm, your hand still loosely around his wrist as he touches your cheek. Slowly, he closes the gap.

Your chest feels like it's about to explode as his lips comnect with yours. He breaks the kiss, trying to figure out your reaction, but when you kiss him again, he takes the hint.

He's slightly taken aback from the passion and the heat, humming against your lips unintentionally as he kisses back. You're letting out the months of tension you've been feeling, your hands coming around his shoulders, feeling the muscles and caressing the tops of his arms as he backs you into a tree.

You gasp, your back hitting the back as he pushes his body against, his hands grasping at your sides. It seems that the kiss gave him all the answers he needed. His hands move down before slipping under your shirt and brushing at your bare skin - almost like he's becoming desperate for direct contact.

Pushing yourself forward, you can already feel Minho through his trousers, the kiss already getting him worked up.

For a second, you genuinely consider just letting him take you then and there when Newt clears his throat.

You both snap in the direction of the blond boy. Minho's chest rises and falls as you look away, using Minho's shoulder to hide yourself from your friend.

"As much as I hate to interrupt - but let's be real, this has been a long time coming, the others want you back at the game because apparently I have klunky aim." Newt shoves his hands in his pockets, casually rocking on his heels.

"Are you serious, right now?" Minho asks as you pant into his shoulder, clearly able to maintain his composure better than you.

"Yeah." Newt responds. "And I don't think Alby will be happy if he finds his favourite Runner fooling around in public."

Minho looks at him, before dropping his head. "Alright, give me a second."

"What? Need a moment to calm down?" Newt teases.

"Shut your shank mouth."

Even you can't help but chuckle at this as Minho starts to grin before sighing and stepping back. "I'll uh, I'll catch you later, maybe?"

A half-smile creeps across your face and you nod, your heart banging against your ribcage. "Yeah - yeah, sounds good."

"Good that." He slowly steps back, smiling at you as he walks over to Newt.

"You good?" Newt snickers at his friend. "Sure you can walk straight so lightheaded? I mean, lack of blood to the brain is a bad thing. Especially when-"

"Shut the shuck up, Newt."

Ahhhh I'm back. Kinda.

Don't bet on it.

But anyway, I've actually written something for the first time in weeks.

Hope y'all enjoy :))

[petrichor-idyllic]

BRO I AM OBSESSED WITH “LET ME MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER” WOULD YOU EVER BE WILLING TO DO A PART TWO WITH STRAIGHT SMUT

Yeah, okay.

I'm doing it.

Finally.

So, this part 2 is by far the most requested piece I've ever gotten and I just keep putting it off because I suck at writing smut.

But I'm gonna do it because it keeps getting hyped up and I need to get this off my back before I do anything else lmao.

LET ME MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER PT. 2

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2

SUMMARY: Direct continuation from part 1. See above. Fem! Reader x Minho.

WARNINGS: Smut. Minors DNI, 18+ content, sexual intercourse, sexual themes, dumbass virgin activities, unprotected sex but you're on birth control because I said so - I ain't dealing with Glade babies. Pls rubber up tho.

You know, if someone would've told you this morning that you were about to go down on your best friend, you'd probably have punched them.

Yet, somehow, one awkward pathetic joke has led to something the pair of you have been fantasising about since you first became friends.

Minho's fingers massage your scalp as you leave wet kisses down his middrift. He hums in response to every small touch, occasionally pulling harder on your hair. Your hand rests between his underwear and his running pants. You occasionally roll you palm against him, and he's already solid, so it's not like you need to do much.

You're both incredibly inexperienced. As in, you're both massive virgins. But you're already starting to learn things about yourself. Minho's heavy breathing and tense muscles is making your body throb and your head fuzzy.

You've barely done anything and he's already falling apart at your touch. And you love it. You like making him feel good.

Without warning, and wanting to test something, you let your teeth graze the sensitive skin of his abs. His breath hitches and his body jolts, so you suck on the skin instead.

He lets out a gasp, grip tightening on your hair, but not pulling it intentionally. Your mouth makes a popping noise when you pull away. Admiring your work, Minho shifts, looking down at you as he lies on his back.

"Did you just shuckin' mark me?" He mumbles.

"Problem?" You ask, saliva staining your lips.

He simply shakes his head before flopping back down. "No, that's shuckin' hot."

You grin to yourself and repeat the action. Before you know it, Minho's stomach is covered with deep purple marks.

Okay, enough fucking about.

Moving your hand, you hook your fingers under his underwear. "Can I-?"

"Please," he gasps, not even letting you finish your question. He's using his manners more, at least. His fingers loosen from you hair, giving you more movement as your knees hit the floor of his hut.

Neither of you decided to make the smart choice to move from laying sideways on the bed.

You hesitate for a second, collecting yourself before pulling down the garments. His dick springs free and you have a second of pure panic.

Okay, so it's not like you've never seen a penis before. You live with exclusively teenage boys. They run through the Glade naked as a joke, and people steal each other's clothes from the showers all the time.

So, there is occasionally exposed body parts just casually around.

But this is different.

Minho is a decent size, dark hairs littering the area and is already leaking precum.

"Please, stop staring at it," he mumbles, his forearm flops over his eyes, trying to hide his embarrassment. He's normally confident, but this is new territory.

"Sorry, I just don't..." you trail off, not quite sure how to word it.

"You don't have to do anything. We can just call it quits and cuddle in bed or whatever klunk couples do."

You smile. Despite the mildly awkward sexual encounter, Minho referring to you as a couple makes your heart flutter.

"No, I want to," reaching towards him, you run your finger over his tip, watching him squirm immediately. But you seriously don't know what to do. "Can you... show me? Maybe? I don't know what I'm doing."

He pauses. "Yeah," he sounds defeated. "Alright, yeah." You've never seen Minho bashful before, but you could get used to it. He uses his arm to continue to cover his face, but his free hand reaches down. You sit back on your heels as you watch.

His movements are slow, like he's giving you a detailed demonstration. He pumps his hand up and down, rubbing his thumb occasionally over the tip.

Well, this is hot.

After watching him for a while, you gingerly touch his hand, telling him you want to take over. He slowly moves away, his hand lingering around his stomach.

You do what he did, copying the movement and doing exactly how he seemed to like it. Though, this isn't what you originally intended to do.

You adjust yourself, leaning forward and licking the slit of his tip with no warning. Minho's whole body tenses, his hand flying to your hair again.

You do it again, this time taking more of him into your mouth but still maintaining the movement with your tongue. You keep doing this, taking more of him each time. You occasionally break, needing to breathe for a second and using your hand.

"Shuckin'... fuck," he hisses, suddenly bucking his hips and hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. "Shit, sorry."

"It's fine," you pull away, wiping your face with the back of your hand. "Do whatever you like. I'm tryna cheer you up, remember?"

He blinks, sitting up on his arms, staring at you on your knees, drool dribbling down your chin, stray hairs sticking to your forehead.

"Shuck it, get up here."

"Huh?" He leans forward, grabbing your shirt and pulling you towards him as he sits on the edge of the bed. He grabs your jaw with reasonable force, kissing you deeply.

He breaks the kiss. "You're gonna make me finish too quick," he mutters into your lips as your hands rest on his thighs for support - since you're still on the floor between his legs. "It's embarrassing and I haven't even touched you."

"You don't have to-"

"Shut up," he kisses you again, "stand up."

You do as you're told, rising up as he kisses you. Once on your feet, he grabs your shirt, sliding his calloused hands over your skin. You pull at the hem, yanking it over your head and letting it fall to the floor.

Minho's lips fall to your chest, peppering your collarbone with sloppy kisses before giving you the same treatment you gave him. You suck in a deep breath at the stinging, watching Minho pull away and run his finger over the purple, slightly raised chunk of skin.

He hums, almost in approval.

He continues this, switching between delicate affections and staining your skin. His hands come to the sports bra you're wearing, breaking the kiss as he looks up at you. You grab it, pulling it over your head and he just blankly stress at your bare chest.

Becoming insecure, your hands come across your chest.

He grabs your wrists. "You're beautiful, (Y/N) - you don't have to hide from me."

He leans up again, kissing you again as you let your arms fall limp. His hands come to your chest, gently rubbing your nipples with him thumbs. You whimper into his mouth, a noise he already knows is going to be replayed in his head constantly.

He breaks away, one hand coming to the underside of your boob and connecting his lips to it. You gasp, throwing your head back as he gently nips on the sensitive area.

Your breathing becomes heavy, occassional soft noises escaping the back of your throat.

It's all getting a bit too much.

Desperately, you fiddle with your pants, letting them fall to the floor and leaving you in your underwear. His hands come to your thighs as he swaps to your other tit, giving it the same treatment.

Sliding his hand up, he seems more confident than you as he slowly rubs at you through the thin fabric.

Maybe you don't remember it, but Minho definitely remembers your drunken ramble about female anatomy after one of the Gladers said the clit was a myth. Living with these boys is a lot, sometimes.

And he's using that knowledge.

"How's that?" He pulls away, talking into your skin.

You only hum in response, giving a weak nod.

"Need you to use your words; tell me what you like."

"It's good, Minho," you mumble, gasping as the fabric adds more friction to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"You want more?"

You nod again.

"Words."

"Yes - please, yes."

Slipping his fingers under the material, you can already feel how wet you are. "Shit-"

"Shut up," you say almost immediately, not needing the teasing off of him. You can't help how your body reacts to him.

He chuckles slightly, slowly rubbing circles into your clit. Desperate and needing more, you buck your hips against his hand.

He doesn't even know how to react.

He's dealt with monsters, violence and tragedy - and this is what stops him in his tracks?

Minho moves his hand away, making you groan. But he's simply trying to get easier access as he pulls the remaining cover away, letting them fall around your ankles.

His hand returns to your core, this time with more to work with as he gets a better look at you. Almost hypnotised, he slowly pushes a finger into you, making you gasp before starting to roll your hips again.

He adds another one.

You mewl, the noise unintentionally escaping your throat.

Minho's eyes lock with yours. Lids heavy and pupils wide, his lips are parted slightly. Almost like an animal, you dive forward, desperately kissing him and knocking him back slightly. He pulls his fingers out of you, his hands coming to your waist, guiding you towards him.

You sit on his lap, grinding against him, fingers clawing at his back, gasping into each other.

Your slick coats his dick, both of you caving into ecstasy.

"Wait," he mumbles, "maybe there's a better position than this?"

You blink before chuckling. "Yeah, probably."

You stand up off of him. "Lie down, then. Tryna do a job here." You attempt to joke, but you're basically panting.

He obeys, lying down on the bed - the actual right way this time, and you throw your leg over him.

Returning to the previous action, you continue to grind on him, your lips coming to his neck. You suck and pull at the skin - Minho knows full well he's going to get some interesting questions in the morning. Though, the thought of the other Gladers bog-eyed stares and whispering, maybe even the teasing out of envy, makes him smirk.

He makes no effort to correct you.

After some more grinding, Minho's had dips down between your bodies. Directing his dick, he whispers into your ear.

"You sure about this?"

You move away from his throat, looking at him. "We can stop now, if you want?" You shake your head.

"Words, girl."

"No, I don't want to stop - I want you." You pause, your voice has a slight tremble to it. "Please."

Leaning up, he kisses you, guiding himself and pushing the head against your hole. You gasp, sitting up more and sinking down on him. It stings for a second, but you're so turned on that the pain is immediately overrided.

It still takes you a second to adjust as Minho watches himself disappear into you. Bottoming out, you look him before rolling your hips.

Minho's hands grip your waist, offering you guidance and pulling you down onto him even more.

After a few seconds like this, you cave, leaning forward, using your elbows to hold you up as your arms rest on either side of him. Your tongue dips into his mouth, his quickly brushing against yours. The speed of your movements picks up as you press your forehead against his.

You pant into each others mouths, occasionally sharing messy pecks and kisses. But neither of you can maintain it with the other feelings involved. Every time you roll your hips and he bucks his, you feel so unbelievably full, and the mix of actions is quickly making a knot form in your lower stomach.

You didn't know it was possible to feel like this.

Neither did he, to be fair.

"Shit," you hiss, "I think I'm gonna- fuck!" The feeling of orgasm rips through you, moans escaping your lips.

Which is probably what also pushes Minho over the edge - not that it was hard. The boy has been desperately trying not to jizz his pants since you first suggested a massage. Never mind this.

He whimpers, groans coming from deep in his throat as he dives forward, making an attempt to silence both of you. His hut isn't exactly soundproof, and you're not exactly quiet.

You ride out your highs, hips spasming and grasping at whatever flesh you manage to get your hands on.

Slowly, your movements start to calm, coming to a stop. You break the kiss, both of you struggling to catch your breath.

"Well, shuck," Minho says after a second, making you snort and break into a fit of giggles.

You both laugh for a second before he kisses you again, feeling him soften from inside of you.

You move off of him, lying next to him as he puts his arm under you, letting you snuggle into his chest.

"This better mean you're my shuckin' girlfriend."

You laugh again, shifting to kiss him on the cheek. "Yes, Minho, it means I'm your girlfriend."

And he grins like he's just conquered the world.

"Bro," Ben says the next morning after eyeing the Keeper for at least five minutes whilst they wait for the Doors to open. Him and the other Runners have been exchanging glances at the state of Minho's neck - something he's made no attempt to hide. "The shuck happened to you?"

"What?" Minho raises his eyebrow, probably because he's off in fantasy land thinking about last night, and waking up to you this morning.

"...your neck, dude." He looks at his men, his gaze flickering between them as they all stare at him. No one seems to even notice the Doors opening despite the deafening noise.

Minho simply shrugs. "Got a massage off my girlfriend."

And with that, he runs into the Maze, leaving Ben standing there with his jaw agape.

IT'S DONE.

It's also not proof read and don't expect it to be, I'm never gonna reread this because I hate my own sex scenes.

But IT'S DONE.

FINALLY.

No more smut for a while, I'm going back to fluffy requests for a minute lmao.

Though, I hope you enjoyed :))

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hi cutie <3, I would like to request headcanons for the maze runner boys on how would they flirt with you.

Wooo more headcanons. This one should be fun.

HOW THEY (ATTEMPT TO) FLIRT

MASTERLIST | MULTI-CHARACTER MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Gender neutral! Reader x All main boys.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, terrible flirting from teenagers, suggestive jokes.

THOMAS

Thomas wouldn't be great at flirting.

He spends half the time talking to Newt or Minho, and he spends the other half of his time talking about the Maze.

He's either bouncing off of the Walls or obsessing over them.

It'd probably take a bit for him to even notice you properly.

But once he does- he'd spend every opportunity trying to talk to you.

He'd definitely be an awkward flirt.

Yanno, the type to try casually leaning on something, only to trip and fall.

Compliments would not come easily, and when they do, it'd be... something.

"Hey, (Y/N), you, uh, have you- I think you- your face, is uh, your face is good today."

Truly a poetic man.

That being said, he'd also be the protective and assistive type.

Shielding you from Grievers, arguing with Gally on your behalf and helping you with work are pretty common occurrences.

It's not Thomas's words that are his strong point of expressing his feelings (no matter how hard he'd try), but his actions.

The way he'd act and how passionate he is would definitely be more seductive than his failed flirting.

Though, that would still be cute.

NEWT

Newt would be a kind of casual, sarcastic flirt.

It'd be subtle.

Often more in passing looks and soft smirks, maybe even the odd friendly nudge.

He's not the type to straight up say anything, but when he does, compliments and comments roll off of his tongue like it's nothing.

Something that would probably leave you stunned before he'd swiftly move on.

"Those jeans look shuckin' good on you."

"What?"

"Nothin'."

This means you'd see a more playful side to him.

It's not like Newt is a cold or stoic guy. He's friendly and open, but the extra attention he'd give to you is what sets his feelings for you apart from everyone else's.

It'd be subtle, but if you know what you're looking for- it's not hard to tell.

MINHO

Minho would be a weird mix of Newt and Thomas- but twice as obvious.

Minho has no time for subtleties, nor does he care for it.

He's hitting on you.

And you're gonna know about it.

He'd be smooth with it as well.

Minho is confident and impatient, which makes for an interesting mix when he's hunting for someone's attention.

Though, it comes across as more of a joke than anything else.

His sarcasm (and fear of rejection) would lead into a more joking relationship where he'd end up in too deep to back out and admit that his attractions are genuine.

He'd still be smooth though.

Resulting in a flirtationship, that's actually just a joke, that's actually a flirtationship because Minho has smooth-talked himself into a corner.

"Yo, (Y/N), lookin' good today."

"Aren't I always?"

"Of course."

Definitely an amusing watch for the rest of the Glade.

GALLY

Gally would straight up just be bad at flirting.

He's too proud to give compliments or admit that he actually has human feelings.

So, his "flirting" ends up becoming bullying.

He'd just tease you, and think it would be playful and funny but he'd just fully be insulting you.

"Oi, shuck-face, watch it."

How he thinks this'll work is beyond me.

????

Strange behaviour.

But Gally isn't exactly known for his intelligence and good choices.

Though, he'd never admit his feelings, or even express them in a healthy way.

So, this is about as good as you're gonna get until he sucks it up and confesses.

FRYPAN

The man is a flirting GOD.

I will not be taking criticism on this.

(Might be biased 'cause Fry is a personal favourite of mine but shhhhh)

Frypan would absolutely shower you in compliments.

Kind of like how Minho would, except he is clearly genuinely earnest.

"You look lovely today, (Y/N)."

Would absolutely give you little treats and sneak you snacks.

Would give you the best food and put extra effort to make sure you're always satisfied with your meals.

It is his speciality, after all.

There's not much to say for him.

He'd just do everything possible to make you smile

ALBY

He wouldn't.

He would not flirt, he would just tell you he likes you and that would be it.

He does not have time for flirting.

You can make your decision about what to do about that.

But he will not flirt.

Sorry.

Okay, another piece done. I've got a lot of requests to get through so yall are gonna have to bear with me.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy these dumb headcanons as much as I like writing them lol :))

[petrichor-idyllic]

Heyyyyy i think your writing has become my drυg so here I'm again with another request. So Minho comes back from the maze really stressed so female reader offers to give him a massage and it ends up spicy obviously. TYSMMM! :)

The Minho brain-rot continues. Let's goooooo.

LET ME MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER PT. 1

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2

SUMMARY: See above. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Spicey content, inappropriate language, scenes straight out of the start of a porno ngl, but no explicit smut.

You wait in front of the Doors, eagerly awaiting your best friend's return to the Glade.

This was your routine. Wake up, say bye to Minho, do your job, lunch, do your job, greet Minho, chill. Of course, Minho had to go to the Map room, but at this point, the Runners weren't fazed to find you in there with him.

From the outside, it probably seems strange to onlookers, but it's a perfectly normal relationship for the two of you.

When you first arrived, you were treated like a sideshow freak, and your forward and aggressive nature led to even more interest. It wasn't until Minho returned and acted like it was no big deal that you started to relax. He told everyone to get a grip and quit staring and it finally provided you with a much needed moment of peace.

You thanked him, and the pair of you started talking.

And you've been close ever since.

Though, you were starting to grow anxious. Where is he? He's already five minutes late and the other Runners have already returned.

This is weird.

Your excitement dwindles into anxiety as another few minutes pass, only for Minho to finally emerge from the last corner. He slows to a jog as he approaches, sweaty and tired, it's unusual for him to be this dishevelled upon his return.

What's even more unusual is that he completely blanks you, walking past without so much of a glance.

"Minho?" You jog slightly to catch up to his power walk.

"What?" He snaps, almost biting your head off with a single word.

"Shuckin' hell, what's up your ass today?" Minho freezes to snap his head towards you, but his expression melts when he sees that you're clearly upset just from the brief interaction alone.

Minho would be lying if he said he didn't have a soft spot for you. How could he not? You're the only girl in the Glade and maybe it would've been easier if they sent someone that, well, wasn't you. You're exactly Minho's type, easily matching his sarcasm and not taking his bullshit mood swings - not to mention you're gorgeous in his eyes.

"Sorry," he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, completely unfazed by the rumbling of the Doors shutting. "Just... had a klunky day, dude."

"Yeah, well that's not my fault, is it?" You cross your arms, tilting your head at an angle. You'd been waiting for him to return and this is how he treats you? Typical.

"Yeah, I know."

"Did something happen?" Your bitterness quickly turns into concern. It's rare for Minho to take his anger out on you, so you can tell something has seriously got under his skin today.

"Just... a lot of little things, and-" he sucks in a deep breath "-we've nearly fully explored the outer sections, and we still haven't found shit. It's just... yanno." You give Minho a sympathetic smile which he doesn't bother returning.

"You gotta learn to relax, man," he scoffs at this.

"That's easier said than done."

"Well..." you think for a second, trying to come up with a way to help, "I'm always here to talk to - and we could always go for a swim in the pond or just have a walk," you pause, trying to conjure up another option, "or I could give you a massage?"

Minho seems to spark up at this, though he just shakes his head, your attempts to lighten the mood already working.

"A massage?" Sarcasm drips from his voice as he raises his eyebrow, "Seriously?"

"Sure," you shrug, "why not? If it helps you to slim down for a little bit, then sure."

"Alright, then." He almost laughs at the absurdity, expecting you to tell him you're joking any second now.

"Okay, I'll meet you in your hut once you get back from the Map room," you flash him a smile before walking away.

"I'm gonna hit the showers, too, first," he shouts over to you, playfullness evident in his voice as he predicts you to turn around and tell him you're messing with him. But you give him a thumbs up, not even bothering to turn around.

You both seem to come to a realisation as the distance between you increases.

What the actual fuck just happened?

You were just spit-balling; throwing out ideas that could make Minho feel better. And now you've arranged to meet so you can rub your hands all over his body?

Fuck.

Despite your closeness, you've somehow managed to unintentionally take a step in a more... intimate direction.

Minho actually hasn't moved from where you left him as the cogs slowly start to turn in his head.

He thought you were joking. He agreed as a joke in response to your joke. And now it was actually happening. Or maybe this was still a joke? Maybe you're one-upping his joke?

His brain is fried.

You let yourself into his hut. How do you even do a massage? It's not like you've done this before, and if you have, you don't remember it.

Where do you put your hands? Do you make him lie down? Sit up? Should you ask him to take his shirt off?

Oh, Jesus.

You feel heated at the thought. Minho is attractive and well-built; easily the only guy you find yourself daydreaming about or staring at for a bit too long. And you actually enjoy being around him. You'd be lying to yourself if you said that you hadn't developed a crush on the boy. Which was something you forced yourself to ignore and push down.

Especially with Alby putting in a pretty strong "no touching" rule in place when it came to you. You didn't want to make things awkward or cause any potential problems for Minho.

This is a terrible example of your precautions.

Somehow, you both reach the same conclusion.

Let's just go with it. Let's see what happens.

Trust sexually frustrated teenagers to make bad choices- not one person is shocked.

Minho found himself eager, quickly getting through his work and attempting to use the cold shower to keep himself under control before making his way over to his hut. Curiosity driving him more than anything. What exactly were you planning to do?

You, however, have taken to pacing the room like a mad woman.

You're quick to compose yourself as the door opens, and Minho smirks at you, slipping into his own space. You are very visibly awkward and shuffling on your feet. Something Minho thinks is cute.

"Hi." You squeak out, your voice sounding like anything but your own.

"Hey," his hair is still slightly damp, making his normally spiked up quiff lie flatter. He quietly closes the door behind him. "So, how, uh, how we doin' this then?"

Minho's plan is to push you far enough that you crack and the joke ends. The problem with that plan is that this isn't a joke.

Sure, you might've said it with some underlying comedic tones, but the second Minho agreed, it kind of stopped being a joke to you. After all, you have this deep need to please Minho - something else you're never going to confess.

"Oh, well, I- I was thinking that, um- maybe-" you make eye contact with him, amusement swimming in his dark eyes, and you give up, letting out a sigh of defeat, "I don't know."

He laughs, dropping his head for a second before looking back up, "Look, you don't have to give me a massage. We can just chill and talk like we always do. It was a nice gesture and all, but I don't wanna make you uncomfortable-"

Yeah, okay, cool- it was a joke, right? You definitely don't seem to want to take this any further, which is proof enough to Minho.

"No," you say, a little too quickly, "I mean, I already said I would - you've had a shit day, and as your friend, it's my job to change that."

"Yeah, but it's really not your job to make me feel better - I kinda thought you were j-" it had actually started to sink in now. The thought of you caressing him and trying to ease him with your hands suddenly felt very real.

"I want to make you feel good, Minho." That was the final straw. The words made his expression fall, and his heart rate pick up. The change of the word 'better' to 'good' catches him completely off-guard.

Good, huh? You want to make him feel good? How good, exactly? How would you-?

Shuck, Minho- stop.

His head flies through about a hundred different scenarios, none of which he'd ever say out loud. He clears his throat in a poor attempt to hide the room feeling very hot all of a sudden.

"Alright," watching him suddenly become tense gives you a weird confidence boost and a strange feeling of dominance takes the place of your awkward anxiety. Minho is just as, if not more, flustered than you. "Take your shirt off and have a seat."

You sit down on the edge of the bed with your legs open, leaning forward and patting the ground in front of you, sending a friendly smile his way. He looks at you, then at the bed, then back at you.

"Yeah, alright." He murmurs, deciding to just accept his fate. He's in too deep now. All he has to do is keep himself under control and let you be a good friend. That's not so hard, is it?

Wrong.

He turns around, facing away from you as he takes off his weird harness/backpack thing that he religiously wears. He fiddles with the buttons on his blue shirt, the fabric is faded and sun-kissed from being Minho's favourite item of clothing. It's also your favourite item of clothing on him.

You can't help but stare at him as he lets the un-buttoned shirt fall to the floor. His back is toned with prominent shoulder blades. He stretches, and you watch in awe as the muscles tense before he turns around.

You have to force yourself to not have any kind of physical reaction as you look at him. He looks like he's been carved out of stone. There's the odd scar littering his tanned skin - something you're actually shocked there's not more of. A few dark hairs dust across his lower stomach, and his V line is sharp and dangerously on display as he makes no effort to readjust his low-hanging pants. You're assuming that the shirt added some extra padding for his belt to hold onto.

Shit - it's making your mouth water.

Though you maintain composure and Minho clears his throat, "You want me to sit on the floor?"

"Mhm," you hum, taking another second to make sure your words don't fail you, "back towards me."

Minho scoffs. Some part of him is still trying to understand what's going on, and the other has completely given up. He wordlessly does as he's told, and you're baffled that he's being so obedient.

He grunts softly as he lowers himself, clearly still aching from the rough day he's had. He sits between your legs, his back pressed to the bed frame. It wasn't exactly an uncommon position for you both to take, especially when you're spending time in his hut and you decide to play with his hair.

Honestly, you still don't really know what you're doing, but when you put your hands around his tight shoulders, just at the base of his neck, and start kneading the muscles loose - you seem to be doing a good job.

Minho wasn't expecting much, but the second your hands touched his skin, he knew he was a goner. You seem to effortlessly find the tension in his back and shoulders, relieving him of the days events.

He doesn't know how, but everything you're doing is lowering his stress and causing adrenaline to course through him at the same time.

You take to working in methodical circles, occasionally changing your approach. When your thumbs gaze the back of Minho's neck, softer than before, barely ghosting over his skin, a soft smirk appears across your face. Goosebumps creep across his skin, his breathing hitches slightly, and he leans back, further into your touch.

His eyes are shut and despite this being to relax him, his fists are balled as he attempts to will his sexual frustrated body to calm down. You guys are friends - you're doing this to be nice because you care about him.

"Did you like that?" It comes out as barely audible, something that you mainly said to yourself. Your own mind is starting to become foggy with desire.

He hums in response.

"Yeah?" You push, now knowing he heard you.

He hums again, but with an added nod this time.

He's turning into putty in your hands. You repeat the simple gesture. This time, Minho releases a noise. It's more of a hum than a moan, but it's deeper than the noises he made in agreement.

"You sound really pretty," you coo. It's almost like you're not meaning to even say these things but it keeps coming out. It's almost second nature to praise him and push him to answer you. You didn't even really know there was this side to you.

Neither did Minho. Minho was also blissfully unaware that he was into praise, but now he has to shift slightly at your words as a tightness fills his pants.

Not ideal.

"Don't say that," he mumbles, sounding a lot less assured than he intended. His brain feels fuzzy, and his body is a lot warmer than before.

"Why not?" The coyness fades from your voice for a second, your question becoming more genuine. You don't want to make him uncomfortable, but you're getting some mixed signals here.

Minho doesn't respond. He's too drunk on the skin-to-skin contact. So, you push him further, "Minho? Why shouldn't I say that?"

"Because I want you bad enough, and this is just driving me mad." Your movements slow, Minho's barely coherent grumbling takes a second to sink in.

He's also too high on lust to process it straight away.

"What?" You can hear your pulse in your ears as Minho's eyes flicker open, his head is resting back - pretty much in front of your crotch. Your face quickly grows red and it clicks what just happened.

"Shit- sorry, I didn't-" his head shoots up, but he doesn't get up, just rubbing his face with his hands. "I knew this was a bad shucking idea. Listen, alright, I didn't mean it- well, I did mean it, but I wouldn't have ever said it. You were just- you're just so-"

Minho's stunned into silence as you lean forward, your lips connecting to his nape. Electricity jolts through him, and he physically flinches. A shakey breath escapes him.

He wants you?

He wants you.

He's just said it. Maybe it's the sexual tension in the air or the fact you've been crushing on him for so damn long - but you don't care anymore. So, you press another kiss to his neck.

He accepts the gesture, moving slightly to face more to you, giving you easy access to his jaw. You kiss up his neck, lightly nibbling his jaw, and he purrs against your touch when you take his ear lobe between your teeth.

"I want you, too," you whisper into his ear.

Minho struggles to believe the words he's hearing, so he turns to face you fully, moving his body to the side with his legs crossed still.

He looks up at you. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, the sudden eye contact making your confidence dwindle. Your pupils are blown wide, and you desperately want to squeeze your legs together, but Minho is, quite literally, in the way.

A few seconds pass whilst he just looks at you, seemingly weighing his options out.

"Shuck it," you barely have time to react once the words leave his mouth. He raises suddenly, turning his body fully towards you. He catches your face in his hand as his pushes forward, leaving you resting on your elbows as he hovers over you on the bed - taking the power from you in one swift motion.

Your noses brush against each other, and you jolt forward. The desperation and heat is starting to drive you insane and he's too close to not be doing anything.

But he pulls away.

Shit.

Does he not want this after all? Have you almost ruined your friendship for nothing?

"I really like you, (Y/N), okay?" Minho's breathing is heavy. "But I don't wanna ruin our friendship- so if this is just dumb, teenage hormones to you... please just tell me, and we can stop this before we destroy everything."

His words are sincere, a tinge of pain creeping into his voice. Minho is used to taking risks, but this feels so current and scary. He's never put his heart on the line before, and it's a different kind of stress.

You take a second to think of the right words. There's so much you want to say, but there's also so much you want to do.

"It means everything to me," you lean further forward, "You mean everything to me."

Your foreheads bump and his lips ghost yours, making you whimper before he finally caves. Pushing his lips to yours, it's feverish and hot.

You follow his lead, feeling all the built-up tension and wants as he puts it into the kiss. Minho is basically on Cloud 9 - he's been dreaming of this for what feels like forever.

You flop backwards, letting Minho put more of his weight on you, resting himself between your legs. He basically growls into your mouth when you grind your hips against his, trying to get some kind of friction. You'd take anything to soothe the throbbing sensation pooling between your thighs.

His mouth dips down, kissing along your jawline, then down to your neck. His teeth graze the sensitive flesh, and he sucks down, causing you to claw at his back and let out a gasp.

He travels lower, hands under your shirt, and working their way up, brushing against your bra.

It's all moving very fast, and Minho is quickly becoming more needy, almost animalistic as he digs into your skin.

That's when the thought hits you.

"Minho, wait." He stops immediately, pulling away. Panic flashes across his face and concern washes through his body.

Shit, he hasn't done something wrong, has he?

"You okay?" He pushes off of you, standing up straight, making sure to give you any space you might need. "You want me to stop?"

"No," you confess, scooting back over to the edge of the bed and standing up yourself. Minho furrows his brows as you stand in front of him.

You stand on your tiptoes, pressing against his lips once more. He immediately melts, his hands going to slip to your waist but you grab him, taking him by surprise and spinning him around. You push him backwards, making him hit the mattress with a heavy thud.

"(Y/N)? What are you-?" You silence him with a kiss, using one arm to stabilise yourself as you hover over him, your free hand fiddling with his belt.

You pull on Minho's bottom lip with your teeth, watching his eyes roll back into his head as you palm at him through his underwear.

"I'm meant to be making you feel better," you talk into his skin as you start to kiss down his chest, "remember?"

This ended up being slightly more steamy than intentioned, but tension is what I'm good at writing so tension you shall get.

Love y'all, hope you enjoy :))

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hellooo how about a Minho x she/her reader where Minho has been hit by the lightning and hs the scars and one day Reader walks on Minho being half naked and she traces his scars and theres tension building up ;) THANK YOU

I love lightning scars Minho so absolutely.

This is a relatively new request, but I'm trying to get some of the easier ones done since I'm currently away.

And I just liked this idea.

SPARKS

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. After TDC in the Safe Haven. You're a Right Arm member because I just like the idea.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, spice, typical dumb horny teenage bullshit. That's it, really.

You're a member of the Right Arm.

You're not high-ranking or necessarily special. You just ended up tagging along after Vince came through the refugee camp you were staying at.

But that doesn't mean you don't do anything. You're bold and forward, and you went through life-risking measures to help WICKED's Subjects escape.

Because, well, everyone did.

That doesn't matter now, though. They're safe, you're safe - everyone is safe and everything is okay.

Well, kind of.

Trauma doesn't just vanish. But, people are getting on with their lives.

And so are you.

You've ended up befriending some of the Gladers. Originally, you were friends with Harriet and Sonya since they'd been around a while - and they introduced you to the boys. So, you've got your own little friendship group now.

You're particularly close to Frypan and have some friendly competition with Gally. But you like them all the same.

Well...

Almost.

You don't know what it is about Minho that has you in such a chokehold. Sure, maybe if you were some innocent girl from a Maze who didn't know how to act around boys, it would make sense. But you're not.

You've survived the Scorch and the land outside of the remainder of society. It's not like Minho is the first person you've ever been attracted to either. So, why does he make you feel like this?

Apart from the fact he is undeniably attractive.

You figure it's just dumb surface level physical attraction. And with nothing else better to do, you decide to test the waters a bit.

Glancing at him across the table as the bonfire dances and his friends chat, often meeting each other's gaze. He holds it longer than he should. He always does.

Always standing or sitting next to him; your arms or your knees brushing as neither of you make any effort to grow the distance between you.

Playful inside jokes that often have subtle suggestive undertones. Normally, in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it style that the other Gladers brush off or don't notice. This results in Minho smirking into his chosen beverage, drinking up your figure out of the corner of his eye.

It goes on like this for a while; just being in the same friend group with some subtle flirtations going on. It's actually kind of fun and a much needed way to relax.

But it doesn't actually go much further than that. And you're fine with that.

For a while.

The jokes start becoming more explicit. The eye contact becoming less subtle. The closeness becoming drunken dancing instead of just standing together.

People are starting to notice.

The dumb attraction is starting to become actual feelings. He's brave and strong and funny and everything you want - and it's just making the sexual tension thicker.

God - it's getting bad. Anyone and everyone in a room with you two would be able to feel it.

The Gladers often tease Minho about it, talking about how he's one wrong move away from ripping your clothes off and cracking where he stands.

It's taking a lot of resilience from the both of you. Especially since you're both stubborn - it's become a silent game of who will crumble first.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" You're currently sorting out bedding and hauling different types of sleeping arrangements around camp. With Gally being put in charge of the Builders now, the huts are being thrown up like there's no tomorrow.

The Gladers and other Maze Subjects got the first available buildings, along with high up Right Arm members. You don't really mind, to be fair, you enjoy the hammocks and are happy to help the Gladers.

But as Thomas shouts you, you groan, turning around, blankets threatening to spill out of your hold. "Hey, Thomas. You good?"

"Yeah," something seems off about him as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, "I know you're already busy, but could you check on Minho for me?"

"Huh?" You tilt your head, concern immediately setting in. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Uh," Thomas did not think this far ahead of his dumb plan. "Well, we just haven't seen him all day - seems kinda down. Figured you'd be the best person to speak to him."

This perplexes you. "Why me? You guys are closer."

And you could've sworn you'd seen Gally and Minho shoving each other about earlier today. Though, maybe you're just mixing up your days.

"Yeah, but he likes you, so..." You pause, farrowing your brows. He likes you? In what context? Like you know that he likes you. But... like, more than just the dumb flirting?

You shake it off. "Alright, gimme a second."

You dump the bedding off where it needs to be and make a beeline for Minho's hut.

Little do you know that Minho has just gotten out of the shower - and is completely fine. Thomas and Frypan decided they'd had enough of enduring the tension between you and this is the result that.

Reaching the door, it's slightly ajar, and in your concerned state, you, for some reason, decide not to knock.

"Hey, Minho, are you-?" You push open the door and immediately freeze.

Well, shit.

Minho stands with his back to you, loose sweatpants hanging off of his hips and he's without a shirt. He rubs his hair with a towel, freezing at your voice and turning slightly to look at you.

Which would be less awkward if you weren't in some kind of trance.

Minho is tall and muscular, and he doesn't have to be half naked for you to be aware of that. But, that's not what's stands out.

All over his upper body, mainly populating his back, are pinkish lines. They travel down his spine and split like webs across his back, some whisps creeping across his sides and grazing his front.

"You just gonna stare or ask me about it?" Minho says after a good few seconds pass.

What do you even ask?

"Uh, what... why..?" You trail off and Minho raises his eyebrow before scoffing.

"I got hit by lightning." He states matter-of-factly. "Ended up giving me some scars."

"When did that happen?"

"Out in the Scorch, just before we met Brenda and Jorge."

"And you never mentioned this?"

"Well, it didn't seem like a big deal," he smirks. "And I'm kinda enjoying the look on your face."

This kind of snaps you back into reality. You're here for a reason.

You clear you throat, closing the door behind you for more privacy just in case the ex-Runner is on the verge of a meltdown. "Are you... alright?"

"Uh, yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Minho is growing more concerned by the second. What is happening here?

"Well, Thomas said that something was wrong and asked me to talk to you."

Minho scoffs, putting the dots together and slowly nodding his head before rubbing his face with his hands. "Did he, now? Shuckin' slinthead. I knew they were up to something."

"Huh?"

"They're messing with you - us, even."

"Huh? Why would- oh! Oh."

Ah. That makes more sense. And is mildly mortifying.

"Yeah." Minho shakes his head, turning away from you again as he mumbles to himself. "Sorry, my friends are dicks."

"It's uh, fine. It's fine."

Your gaze falls back on Minho's chiselled form. He's practically mouth-watering.

And it's not like this is weird. You've been pushing each other's boundaries since day one. This could be another opportunity to see how far you can take things. I mean, he would if this were the other way around. So, with a sudden peak in confidence, you walk over.

Minho chucks his towel on his bed. "So, are you-?"

Minho doesn't even get the chance to finish his question as electricity sparks through him. Again. This time, not because he's nearly dying, but because your fingers graze his back.

His entire body stills, his mind immediately becoming foggy, and the hair on his arms stands on end.

"Do they still hurt?" You ask, your gaze focused on his skin and your voice low.

You're gentle in your moments, letting your fingertips barely tickle his flesh. But with the immediate and tense reaction, you're reminded that Minho is about as touch-straved as someone can get.

He's just good at hiding it.

"Uh, no, not really. They kinda feel weird sometimes, and I was really buggin' out about them when I first noticed them. But I guess I had bigger klunk on my plate." He tries to maintain his composure, but his voice wavers at several points.

You bring your hand higher, dancing across his spine and between his shoulder blades.

"Why were you buggin' out?" You've grown somewhat used to the Glader way of speaking.

He hesitates for a second, physically jumping when your other hand joins in, using your thumb to rub circles and pull at the scars threating to escape to his middrift.

"Well, I uh- shit," he mumbles the cuss word, stepping back more and into your touch, letting his head fall back. "I just... they just look weird, yanno?"

"I think they look hot."

Okay, you're becoming very bold.

"Hm? You think I look hot?" He asks, half-looking over his shoulder at you, not wanting to fully turn around and lose the feeling.

"That's not what I said."

"That's what I'm askin'."

You blink at him, watching his lopsided smile creep across his face.

In a game of confidence - Minho will always win.

Which means trying to play it cool.

"I just think scars are interesting, they tell a story."

"Do you go around touching everyone's scars, then?" He cracks a wicked grin you can't see as he turns his head away again. "That might get you in a bit of trouble around here."

"Yeah, but not with you." It actually is genuinely fun tracing the patterns in his skin. You have one hand following one path and the other following a different one.

"Oh, yeah? How do you know that?"

"Because you like it."

He peers at you again, his face suddenly serious and his tone lower than before. "You're really starting to push it, yanno that?"

"Push what?" You tilt your head, pretending to play innocent.

"You know what."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"So, you're just feeling me up because you think my scars are hot?" He scoffs. "That's what's happening here?"

You think for a second. Fuck it. "Yep."

"Well, there's more scars if you wanna touch them?"

Your eyes flicker to his face, letting your arms fall from his skin. He turns around, holding his hands behind his back, he rocks on his heels.

From his back, travelling to his front are smaller webs of the scarring. At first glance, you thought they only reached around his sides, but now you're realising there's thinner, less noticeable branches trailing across his abs.

He presses his lips into a thin line, almost like he's calling your bluff. Because this is the game you've been playing. Pushing each other. And you've pushed him so he's pushing you.

Though, this very well might end up being the breaking point.

Too stubborn to back down, your hand connects with his stomach area. He flinches, but very quickly relaxes again. You gently run your fingers across the lines and the curves of not only the remains of the electricity, but of just his body.

Your eyes flicker to his face as you expect him to make some cocky comment about how that's not a scar. But he doesn't. His eyes are fixated on your hand.

It's a feeling he's never really experienced before - watching someone enjoy him. Someone touch him with such care. With such want. Someone touching him like this at all is new.

And it's you.

You're the one touching him.

You.

And that's making it so much worse.

He doesn't make any effort to hide or stop the tightening sensation in his pants or the way his chest is rising and falling. His mind is falling into complete fog; he feels like he's taken something he probably shouldn't have.

You notice it, too.

"Minho-?"

"Shut up," he says almost immediately, eyes finally meeting yours. His pupils are wide and his eyelids heavy. "This... this isn't fair. You can't..."

He seems a strange mix of stressed and turned on.

"Okay, I'll stop," you pull your hand away, but he immediately grabs it, laying it flat against his middrift. "Minho?"

"Don't," he mumbles. "Don't stop." He can't look at you properly.

God, what's happening to him?

"Look," he continues, trying to gain some sort of clarity for a second. "If you're just messing around, that's fine, but leave now, okay? 'Cause this is getting cruel."

His words and the way he's acting is sending heat straight to your core. You step towards him, your faces inches apart.

"Are you caving, Minho?" Your voice is sultry as your hand slides further down his front.

"Are you?" He responds, leaning in further, your noses brush and you can feel his breath on your face.

"We can't keep doing this, yanno? One of us has to break eventually." You mumble, practically into his lips.

His eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips.

"Shuck it," his hands come to your waist, yanking you closer as he finally kisses you. You squeak from the force behind it as you throw you arms around his neck, clawing into his back to try and steady yourself.

It takes a matter of seconds for Minho to spin you around, pushing you onto the bed, both of you tangling together. Desperation sets in fairly quickly.

Minho's hands under your shirt as you try to pull it over your head. His lips on your neck and chest as he slips a hand under you, trying to yank your jeans down. You leave stains on his skin from your nails.

It's a blur of emotion and hormones.

Then Minho hesitates as he sits back. At first, you think he's just admiring you as you lay in your underwear, but there's something else.

"You good?" You ask, becoming concerned.

"You know we're not gonna be friends anymore if we do this, right? Like the flirting and klunk is fun, but this is different. We can't take this back. A-and I've never done this before. I don't wanna shuck up our friendship or make things weird."

You blink at him before sitting up. He watches you as you move onto your knees and kiss him again.

"I don't wanna be your damn friend, Minho. Take the hint."

It's like there's a light behind his eyes, a smile creeping across his face, but unlike his usual cocky smirk, it's soft and warm and genuine.

He pecks your lips. It's sweet and unusual for him. "You wanna be more than friends, then?"

"Yeah," you chuckle, "but I'm sure we can worry about that later. We're a bit busy right now." You wrap your arms around his neck again, lightly touching the scars on his back. He grins at you, connecting your lips again as he pushes you down.

He pulls away, his teeth brushing your ear lobe as he lets out a low chuckle.

"Sounds like a good plan."

Here ya go, another spicey Minho piece for y'all.

I hope you enjoyed :))

[petrichor-idyllic]

I loved your Minho x female reader so could I please request another one? So the main idea is Minho teaches the female reader how to fight so she can protect herself if its needed. And ya know there's some liking between those two building up and it includes some spice as well. I trust your writing skills to fill the gaps of this idea ;). Thank you so much

Oooo, I really like this idea, tysm for your request :)).

FIRECRACKER

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMERY: see above. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: inappropriate language, violence, implied sexual content and spice.

"It's not happening, dude," you groan at Minho's clear reluctancy to listen to you.

The past few months had been rough. Rougher than usual. You were the only girl in the Glade- something you'd come to accept and live with fairly quickly, especially when the next Greenie came up and was male.

But now, every month, another boy came up in the Box, had a meltdown, then tried to flirt with you. It was like clockwork.

And you hated it.

It was like every person who joined the Glade saw you as some kind of trophy. And every single one of them, without fail, would try to hit on you at some point after their arrival. It would be a flex for them to have the only girl hanging off their arm and wanting their attention.

But that wasn't how it worked- and these dumb boys couldn't seem to work that out.

As more and more hormone filled teenagers joined the crowd, you started to grow more anxious. Sure, Alby has put some strict rules in place about respecting your boundaries, but if they decided to break the rules, then the damage would've been done before Alby could stop it.

You knew that the boys wouldn't dare do that, but with some becoming more pushy and their drunken flirting becoming less subtle; you knew you had to do something.

And that something was Minho.

No- not like that.

You wanted him to teach you to fight.

Minho's the best of the best. He always has been, for as long as you'd been there, at least. He's fast, strong, brave and completely and utterly stubborn.

That's the problem. Minho is a busy dude. He's one of the most resilient people in the Glade because of the traumatic shit he deals with on a pretty much daily basis. He wants to help you defend yourself, but he's also one bad thing away from collapsing from exhaustion. Not to mention, he thinks you're kind of hot, which could become a problem.

Kind of.

Not that that's anything new to you.

Minho's not like them- of course, he isn't. He respects your boundaries and treats you like he would any other Glader. Which is why you asked him in the first place.

Apart from Newt and Alby, Minho is grouped in with the few boys here you actually trust. You saw Minho as a leader with one-track-mind and you seriously admire his drive and determination.

You guys aren't exactly close. You're friends with Newt, he's friends with Newt, the Runners are also friends with Newt- damn, Newt's popular. Anyway, because of your friendships entangling with one another, you knew Minho pretty well.

Sure, he's irritating occasionally and talks too much, but he's got a good heart. And right now, that's what you need.

"Minho," you whine, following him towards the stone Doors. You'd managed to catch him before he ventured out into the Maze for the day, something you'd become incredibly good at timing. Much to his dismay. "C'mon, man! You want me to be able to look after myself, don't ya?"

"I'm sure you can manage that without my help- half of these shanks will be buggin' to help you out."

"Yeah, but I don't want them to help me; I want you," Minho stops in his tracks, trying to hide the slight smile playing on his lips and you take this as a hint that he actually might listen to you, "you know I don't trust these slintheads." You pause, rocking on your feet and shoving your hands in your pockets. "And," you drag out the syllable, "you know I'm not gonna leave you alone until you agree."

You're persistent, alright. Something he admires about you. You're going to get what you want, one way or another.

Minho sighs, pinching his brow as rumbling fills the Glade. With you preventing him from following his cue to leave for the day, you flash him an innocent smile. He huffs again.

"Fine."

"Yes!" You exclaim, having a slight premature victory.

"Meet me tonight by the Map room once the Doors close. I got klunk to do and my job comes first. Once I'm done, we'll get started, okay?"

You nod, "Yes, Sir." He rolls his eyes and turns away, jogging towards the Maze.

"Wait, what about dinner?" You shout after him.

"Not my problem!"

So you went about your day, eagerly awaiting for Minho to get back to the Glade. You knew there wasn't much point going after him when he arrived because he still had shit to do. So you wait about fifteen minutes before making your way to the Map room.

The minutes feel like hours as you impatiently bob your foot up and down, leaning against the side of the wooden hut.

After what must've only been ten minutes, Minho emerges, though he does seem slightly shocked to see you.

"You forgot, didn't you?" You sigh and he shakes his head.

"No," he clears his throat, taking his trade-mark stance as he pulls down on his harness, "just don't know why you're so eager to get your ass kicked."

"I'm eager to learn, shuckface, and who says I won't kick your ass?"

"Lotta spark for someone who's begging for my attention."

You shove him. It's playful but still warning. You let Minho get away with a lot more than the other Gladers. Maybe it's because he's easy on the eyes and is too smart for his own good.

You'd never admit it to him, hell, you can barely admit it to yourself, but Minho is pretty. He's the definition of a pretty boy. The dude is stuck on a farm in a Maze full of monsters and he looks like he's broken out of a magazine.

It's unfair.

It's just a dumb surface level attraction, though. You don't know much about Minho apart from what you've seen in a group and what Newt's told you. But the boy is good-looking. Painfully so.

He leads the way, coming to a more open part of the field, but far away enough from the main civilization to not get disturbed.

It starts simple. Minho talks you through some basic self-defence moves. How to block and dodge- something that is basic enough, and you get the hand of pretty fast.

Minho knows you're observant and you learn fast, effortlessly copying him and managing to follow his instructions with little to no problem.

He swings at you, and you step back, letting his fist brush past you. He goes again, and this time, you block it, already feeling the bruises starting to form on your forearms.

"Not bad, Firecracker," you throw a sarcastic grin his way as you try to ignore his wicked grin. It definitely made you feel some type of way- that cocky smirk of his.

He lunges forward again and you go to block, only for him to grab your wrist and spin you around. He steps side-way, spinning himself and yanking you towards his back. He flips you over his back and you hit the floor with a thud.

You groan out, sharp pain lacing your spine as Minho cackles.

"You shucking.. bitch," you grunt, sitting up, your hands flying to your head in an attempt to stop your brain bouncing around your skull.

Minho just continues to chuckle as he kneels in front of you, his hand outstretched and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. "I think that's enough for one day."

"Yeah," you mumble, "it might just be."

"Same time tomorrow?" Minho asks as you dust yourself down, fully back on your feet. You smile at him.

"Sure thing, slinthead. You wanna eat?"

You fell into an unusual routine. Minho would come back from the Maze, you would finish your job, then you'd go meet him and you'd fight for a couple of hours before raiding the kitchen and get shouted at by Frypan.

It was surprisingly fun, and over time, you noticed that you weren't waiting nearly as long for Minho to finish up his job in the Map room.

And you were getting good. Like, actually good. Your simple blocking and dodging had turned into full-out fighting. Minho's faster than you, obviously- he has years of training hanging over your head and can run for miles without even breaking a sweat.

The man has the stamina of a God. And even though you are improving, you doubt you'd ever be able to match him. But you're starting to give him a run for his money.

"That all ya got, Runner boy?" You hold you hands in front of your face, fists loose and guarding, one leg pushed behind you as your gaze holds on his.

It's tense. The competitive spirit only makes it even more so.

"Please," Minho scoffs, "I'm going easy on you." He darts forward and you swerve out of the way as you both make accurate and relentless hits at each other. It's more methodical than aggressive. You block him, he blocks you and it's obvious despite your training that neither of you have any intention of actually hurting one another.

He swings and you manage to avoid it, stepping to the side as he moves back away. In a last second decision, you move your foot behind his. He doesn't react fast enough and it catches, making him stumble backwards.

But not before he grabs you.

In a meaningless attempt for stability, Minho accidentally grabs fist fulls of your shirt, making you yelp and swiftly forcing you down with him.

You both land in a heap on the grassy floor. You're lay on top of him, your legs tangled together as you nearly swallow a mouthful of his shoulder.

Minho's hands fall from your chest as you both let out pained and slightly stunned grunts. Your hands go to the floor as you push yourself up, moving your leg from between his and swinging it over his thigh to make it easier to get up. You freeze when you meet Minho's gaze.

This looks... bad. Minho's face is mere inches away from yours, his breathing heavy, and you realise he moved his hand prior to try and stabilise you from falling further, meaning they're firmly planted on your waist. You also failed to notice that your other leg was already on the other side of him, so now you're basically sat on his crotch- casually straddling him.

You feel your face begin to go red. Minho's hair is dishevelled, a thin layer of sweat sticking to his forehead, and the tight harness acts like a corset in showing his defined chest through his blue, already tight shirt.

This looks like something straight out of a poorly scripted porn scene. What do you even do now? What is the appropriate move to even start thinking about getting out of this situation?

"Are you, uh, you okay?" Minho speaks, thank God, and you collect yourself.

"Uh, yeah, I'm okay- are you?"

"Mhm, yeah, but we should probably, uh-"

"Right, yeah," Yep. It would be a smart move to get off of him as quickly as possible. Not that you go about that in the right way. Minho cautiously takes his hands away from you, like if he moves slowly enough, you'll never notice they were there in the first place.

You sit up straight, so you're no longer hovering over him and in your attempt to get one of your legs up to stand, you accidently shift forward.

Now, in most normal circumstances, this wouldn't be a problem. You're sparing partners- things get physical sometimes. No biggie.

Except Minho is a touch-staved permanently-stressed teenage boy who has more frustrations and problems than a fully grown adult. And the only girl he can even remember meeting has just accidentally ground against his dick.

Not ideal.

His hands fly to your legs, forcing you to completely still. His jaw is tense, and his eyes flutter open. He notices the concern on your face and manages to mumble out:

"Don't do that. Please."

Please.

Since when did Minho ever use his manners? There's a certain rasp in his voice that goes straight to your core and your body feels on fire from embarrassment as you realise what just happened.

"Sorry," you squeak, moving as fast as physically possible to get up. You stumble to the side slightly, catching yourself and not daring to meet the Asian boy eyes.

He sits up, leaning forward as you extend a hand to him to help him up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to- yanno, I-I just-"

"It's fine," he stands without taking your offering, "let's just... just call it a day, yeah?" You give him a rapid and awkward nod. "I'm gonna," he clears his throat, throwing his thumb over his shoulder, "take a shower."

You watch him walk away. There's no way you're about to ask him if he wants to eat after that shit-show.

Minho thought that the cold shower would calm him down. He'd always been respectful; never joining in on the gross jokes or the staring, and he often told other Gladers to shut up or knock it off. The bare minimum, really, and he knew that.

But now, suddenly, that was hard. And that wasn't the only thing.

He understood teenage hormones and sexual frustration, he sure as hell heard enough about it from the assholes he lived with. And it wasn't uncommon for him to experience his own frustrations. But this? This is embarrassing.

You'd barely done anything. You'd been pulled on to him and then, what? Moved slightly? And he's reacting this way? Jesus, he felt pathetic using the cold water hammering against his nape to lower his blood pressure. He's better than this.

You weren't doing much better in all honesty. Except, you're not as good at keeping your mouth shut.

"Please tell me you're joking." Newt sits across from you, his face in his hands and his elbows resting on the table in front of him.

"I didn't mean to!" You whisper-yell between mouthfuls of bread. You'd approached Newt before, face burning, on the verge of tears because you thought you'd just fucked up your blossoming friendship with Minho. Newt's first move was to feed you. You'd calmed down since.

Though it was embarrassing explaining why you were so upset- especially since the whole ordeal was kind of, well, you didn't want to admit it, but it was hot.

"God, he hates me," your hands also go to your face and Newt holds back a laugh, resulting in it coming out as a strained snort. "It's not funny!" You throw a stray piece of bread at him and he swats it away.

"It kinda is, mate," you glare and Newt drops his hands to his lap.

"He looked so uncomfortable! I don't think he's gonna forgive me, man."

"Trust me; he's gonna forgive you," you blankly look at your companion, "look, from what I've heard, the problem probably comes from him, uh... enjoying it."

"But that doesn't-"

"Bloody hell, let me finish!" You immediately silence, your mouth closing like a trap. "But he's a nice dude- probably didn't wanna seem like a perv."

"Whatever," you brush off the thought, not wanting to get into that conversation right now, "I don't think I'll be training for a while."

And you were right.

It'd been radio silence on Minho's end, and you were too awkward to change that. Newt became very much piggy in the middle for the next few days, but he quickly had enough.

You had been moping around because you'd started to actually like Minho. You enjoyed being around him, and you liked seeing the looser, more free version of himself he became when he was teaching you.

Minho had apparently been more snappy too. The Runners were being pushed to their limits this week as Minho became more demanding and frustrated with himself, resulting in pushing it on them.

"Talk to him," you'd been staring into the flames of the fire in the middle of the main area for about fifteen minutes, contemplating that yourself. "Please, for the love of God, just talk to him."

Newt hovers over you, standing behind the log you're sat on. He'd spoken to Frypan about it, who had told him he'd been letting you guys get away with stealing his supplies because it was rare for Minho to be so joyous.

And that's when it clicked for him.

"No."

"Shuck it," the blond lets out a frustrated groan, "if you don't talk to him, I will and that'll be a lot shuckin' worse for ya." You finally look at him, a warning glare. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He grabs your sleeve pulling you to your feet. "Go, now."

"You can't tell me what to do." You shove him off and he rolls his eyes.

"Actually, yeah, I can- it's my job. He's in his hut. Go. Now."

You huff, giving him a 'seriously?' type of look before he jolts his head to the left, silently telling you to move.

You dramatically turn, stomping away and walking in the direction of Minho's place of rest. As you progress, your footsteps become lighter. The nerves start to build up in your stomach and your anger at Newt suddenly seems so small.

You suck in a deep breath, shaking your hands as you glance at the ground. You can see flames dancing in between the cracks of the poorly constructed building, but you can't make anything else out apart from shadows in the candlelight.

You force your fist to hit the oak before you have the chance to take it back. Newt's right; this is dumb. And far too petty considering everything else you have to deal with on a daily basis.

There's no response.

So you knock again.

"Shuckin' hell, give me a damn second-" Minho rips the door open, startling you, and you jump back slightly. "Oh. Hi."

"...Hi."

Minho stands, tall, shirtless, slightly damp and with a towel in his hand as he dries his hair. He's clearly just gotten out of the shower and only bothered to sort himself out once in his room.

Terribly inconvenient for you.

"You good?" He's surprisingly casual, draping the towel around his neck and holding either side, just like how he holds his harness.

"Uh, yeah," you clear your throat and force yourself to look at his face, "I was just wondering if you wanted to keep training me?" Minho raises his eyebrow. Honestly, once he opened the door, your mind went blank.

What exactly were you meant to say to him? 'Just talk to him' is incredibly vague.

"Uh, I thought you didn't wanna do that anymore?"

"I mean, I didn't say that, did I?"

"No, but you haven't shown up at the Map room for a couple of days- I just kinda figured."

"Oh, right..." This was your fault? Of course it was. Minho had assumed you didn't want to after your unexpected interaction and had taken it at face-value. And when you ghosted him, he assumed he was right. "I didn't think-"

"But if you wanna keep training, then I'm down."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, cool," you grin at him, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yeah," you push your lips into a thin line before turning around and walking away.

That wasn't that bad.

Things were going to go back to normal.

Sike. Of course they weren't.

Your fighting sessions picked up easily enough, but now there was something else. Everything went fuzzy when he stood too close, or when he put his hands on you to correct your fighting stance. Which only made you lose focus and become sloppy, which only led to more physical contact.

It was a vicious cycle. Yet, a welcomed one.

People started to notice, too. They caught Minho staring at you more, and the way you'd change your demeanour the second he joined a conversation.

But you didn't want to make things weird again. Well, weirder at least.

That was until Minho decided to teach you to tackle. An odd decision on his part, all things considered, but you agreed nonetheless.

For the most part, it consisted of you barging into him from the side at high speed and almost always resulted in sending you both flying and landing separately, several metres away from one another.

"Come on, you can do better than that," Minho encourages you.

"Dude, everything fuckin' hurts, man," you grumble, composing yourself again.

"Suck it up, sweetheart, you wanted to do this."

You growl at him, teeth bared like an animal. "Fine." You charge towards him with no warning, clashing into him.

It easily knocks him down since he wasn't even trying to stay on his feet, but this time you hook your arm around him.

You both roll, bodies connected and close and after a couple of turns, he lands firmly on top of you. Not wanting a repeat, and wanting to use some previously learnt methods, you react.

You go to kick his legs from beneath him as he kneels to give you the upper hand, but he predicts this, blocking you with his other leg.

You try to shove him instead, but he grabs both of your wrists. It's effortless, smooth and incredibly dominating, holding both your arms against the dirt with one arm.

"Okay," he mutters, mainly to himself, "this is something we definitely have to work on." He's referring to the vulnerable situation you're in- something he's meant to be teaching you to fix.

But you're too distracted. A lot of his body weight is on you, not all of it because he doesn't want to crush you, but enough for you to feel him. His arms bulge out of his shirt and you watch the muscle flex as it holds you firmly in place. Oh God.

You stare at him, completely hypnotised as the setting sun breaks free over the Maze walls and bounces off of his tanned skin, creating a golden effect. His long eyelashes fan as he seems to be examining the position you're in so he can figure out how to tell you to get out of it.

His eyes flicker to your face, and he suddenly tenses. Your slightly parted lips and deep breaths make his brain short-circuit. He's got to get off of you.

He moves to do so, but before he can, his grip on your wrists becomes loose, and you lean in, pressing a kiss against his lips. It's gentle and nervous, completely taking the Runner by surprise.

You pull away when he doesn't reciprocate. You don't know what came over you. You acted completely without thinking, like some kind of instinct captured you.

Your eyes widen- the dizziness of his closeness evaporating.

"Oh my God," you stutter out, your head resting back on the ground, "Minho, I'm so sorry. I didn't think- shuck, I'm sorry!"

"Don't be," his voice is barely above a whisper as he leans back in. Your noses brush against one another as his grip tightens again.

He's testing the water; seeing whether or not that was a dumb mistake you just made or if you accidentally just showed him what you wanted.

He smells almost sweet, a mix of the soap sent up in the Box, his sweat and plants from rolling around in the grass for the past hour. It's intoxicating. He's intoxicating.

You connect your lips to his once again. It's deeper this time, gaining almost an instant response from him. It's still short, though, as he pulls away for a second to look at you.

"Shit," he mumbles into your mouth before you connect for the third time, this time your lips moving against each other, becoming more sloppy and desperate.

Minho is a surprisingly good kisser for someone with so little experience, and you let him take the lead, copying his movements as your mouths mold into one another.

He lets go of your wrists, instead using both arms to stabilise himself, and you take the opportunity to wrap your arms around the back of his neck. Your fingers run through his hair and he shivers at the contact, humming into you.

He, completely instinctively, rolls his hips against yours, causing some much needed friction to the last couple of tense weeks. You whimper quietly, telling him that he's doing something right at least.

Bucking your hips up into his, you feel him harden against you and he brushes his tongue against your bottom lip.

Your tongues meet, slipping into one another's mouths, somehow even closer than before. His hand travels down to your leg, grabbing your thigh and hiking it higher, almost hooking it over his shoulder so he can move more.

It's all getting heated very fast, especially when your hand drops from his shoulders and slips under his shirt, forcing it to expose more skin as you dig your nails into his back. This earns you an almost moan, more of a grunt, but it still sends butterflies through your lower stomach.

"What the shuck?" Someone shouts from a fair distance away, "Jesus! Get a shucking room!"

Minho breaks this kiss, glaring at the Glader before looking at you and grinning, the bright red state of your face bringing him great amusement.

"You know," you start, dragging your finger down his chest, "that isn't such a bad idea."

"What isn't?" He raises his eyebrow slightly. What are you talking about?

"Getting a room," your bashful gaze avoids him, but your blown-out pupils and puffy lips are more than enough to convince him.

Minho doesn't even hesitate to climb off of you, yanking you to your feet with him and throwing you over his shoulder. You shriek, and he barks a laugh as he starts to carry you in the direction of his hut.

"You've done it now, Firecracker.

Woo, another request done. I guess writing for Minho is kinda becoming my thing, huh? Not that I'm complaining.

Let me know what you think and whether you like it, he's definitely a fun character to write for. Requests are still open :))

[petrichor-idyllic]

Heyy I would like to make a Minho x fem reader request but it contains slight SA and if you aren't comfortable writing that, it's okay :). So one night the reader isn't able to sleep so she decides to take a walk around the Glade but a boy decided to attack her and threaten her with a kn¡fe to do stuff with him but she manages to break out of his hold and hit him so he can faint (Minho's fighting lessons came handy here ;) ). But she is in shock of what happened and got cut on the hand at the progress so she just goes to Minho's hut to help her (Kind of "I didn't know where else to go" trope) and he takes care of her but also makes sure to banish the piece of shit that tried something on her. Thank you sm <3333333

Damn I'm actually getting requests this is kinda mad lol. I'm so happy that y'all are like my work :))

Also, sorry, this one isn't as long because normally I write multiple scenes in one, but this is really just one long scene.

SAFE PLACE

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above, but I am going to try to not describe the assault very much so there is nothing explicitly violent. This takes place after the direct aftermath of the attempt. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Themes of sexual assault and references to blood. Nothing explicit. Inappropriate language.

It was meant to be a simple night. You'd always been restless and sleep never came easy to you. It was kind of common knowledge that you're an insomniac, so when you decided to go on a late-night walk earlier, you never expected to end up on Minho's doorstep, blood dripping from your palm, physically shaken.

Another Glader, a Builder called Darren, had come onto you a couple of times, so when he'd tried tonight, you thought nothing of it. That was until there was a knife pressed to your throat.

It's almost a blur. You got away- there's no way you weren't going to put up a fight. A swift knee to the groin, grabbing the knife and headbutting him square in the nose was more than enough damage to sprint away.

Though, in your desperation, you'd grabbed the blade of the knife, causing a deep gnash to spread across the delicate skin of your hands.

You knock again. You know Minho has to be up early in the morning- he has to be up early every morning. Being the Keeper of the Runners is a demanding and hard job to do, and under normal circumstances, you respect this.

But not tonight. Minho is your best friend. He was the one of only boys that treated you like a normal person when you first arrived. Sure, he still made some flirty passes, but whilst the other boys stared and stuttered around you, Minho was smooth and joking. And with Newt and Alby always being caught up in something, you spend most of your evenings with the Runner.

And you trust him.

And you're desperate.

You knock again. "Minho!" A pit forms in your stomach. Darren could easily still be around here, recovering in time to attack again.

"Jesus, you wanna see me that bad?" Minho's playful tone reaches you through the poorly constructed door, but his face pales once he sees you.

Tears threaten to roll down your face as you tremble in front of him, cupping your injured hand in an attempt to nurse it and ease the sharp sting.

"Shuck, what happened?" Minho steps forward and reaches out to you, but you immediately flinch away from his touch.

"Hey, it's me," he pulls his himself back, "you're safe with me, yanno that."

"I didn't know where else to go," you confess, and he visibly softens, his tough guy facade crumbling under your teary eyes. "Can- can I just come in? Please?" You sniff, trying to stay reasonably stable.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," he steps aside, and you brush past, hearing the click of the door behind him.

You've never actually been in his hut before. It's surprisingly nice- homely even. It's simple and clean, only a couple of maps scattered around the room to show that Minho actually lives here.

"Sit down," he gestures towards the bed and you obey, sitting on the edge whilst blood starts to pool in your hand. He rumages through a drawer, pulling out what looks like a make-shift first-aid kit. "I'm no Med-jack, but you can't be bleedin' everywhere."

You attempt to laugh at his poor joke. Concern is written on his face. He's never seen you like this. You're always capable and competitive, always bringing fire to your work and getting shit done.

He sits next you, not close but not too far as he holds his hand out, wanting you to show your injury to him. After a second, you do so.

You hiss slightly as the antibacterial wipes contact the wound, earning a string of mumbled sorrys from your friend. The cut is deep and angry, making you cringe as you look at the state of your own hand.

Minho is incredibly delicate. Something bad has happened, and he can tell- hurting you further is definitely something he doesn't want to do.

He cautiously puts glue strips against your palm. Like he said, Minho is no medical expert, but he's used to getting scraps and scratches out in the Maze, so he is well prepared. Though he's unsure if this will actually stay in place. It looks like it'll need stitches, but you look in no state to be asking Med-jacks for help.

As he cautiously starts to wrap a bandage around your hand, he finally speaks.

"What happened?" His eyes flicker up to meet yours. You'd calmed down a bit now; the feelings of panic having faded into a numbness. Silence settles for a second and he knows better than to push you.

You take a shakey but deep breath. "I couldn't sleep, so I went on a walk- a-and this Builder, Darren, he came up to me," you pause, processing everything like you're starting to understand it yourself, "and he started hitting on me. It was nothing new and I told him I wasn't interested, and I don't really remember what happened next, but..."

"But, what (Y/N)?" It's rare that Minho uses your name. He's nervous himself and rage he's never experienced before has started to bubble in his stomach.

"I don't even know what happened next, I just remember being pinned to a tree with a knife pressed against my throat. He was saying all this shit and told me to be quiet and tried to undo my belt and-"

Minho's knuckles go white as they fall to his sides, fury seeping through his veins. He's in the right mind to go and find this guy right now- but he knows he'll be the one that gets banished for what he'll do to him.

"-and I kneed him in the balls and ran off, I cut my hand escaping." Minho stares at the ground, his gaze fixed on some invisible spot.

After a few seconds pass, you grow concerned, "Minho?"

"I'm going to fucking kill him."

Minho isn't exactly known for being the most level-headed shank around. He's picked a lot of fights in his time and is no stranger to a night in the Slammer. But this? This is different. He looks like he might actually stand by his words.

"You can't do that, man-"

He's on his feet, walking towards the door before you can stop him. "Minho!" You scramble up too, blocking him as he gets to the door. "The shuck are you doing?"

"I've gotta tell Ably, slintheads can't be getting away with this klunk!"

"Alby will be asleep."

"I don't care," he goes to move past you, but you grab his wrist.

"Please, can't this just wait 'till the morning?" You sigh, "I don't wanna think about it right now. Please."

It's his turn to sigh. He doesn't want to make things any worse tonight than they already are. "Okay. Fine. But I'm getting his ass banished- he hurt another Glader. He hurt you- he tried to do worse. I'm not letting that slide."

Minho is murderous. He's protective and angry; something you expected but not to this extent. He's literally going to get Darren killed. Not just get him killed- but make sure of it.

He's right, though. That's the penalty for hurting another Glader. And if everyone else can respect Alby's rules, why can't this Builder?

"I have to tell Alby." He's more definite this time, and you give him a soft nod.

"I know," you fall into another round of quiet and he's heart-broken seeing you like this.

"Can I, uh, can I hug you?" He doesn't want to cause you anymore discomfort, so asking for permission is key. You nod.

He's quick to wrap his muscular arm around you, something you accept easily, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

His comfort and the emotions catching up to you finally cause you to break. A sob shakes you and Minho's grip tightens as you cling to his shirt.

"Hey," he rubs circles on your back, "hey, it's okay."

You can't speak, and you both stand there for a while. His warmth is swallowing, and you've never felt safer. Minho isn't going to let anything bad happen to you.

You're safe with him.

You look you, sniffing, feeling slightly guilty when you see his tear-stained shirt. "Can I stay here? With you? For the night?"

He blinks at you. He was too blinded by his own anger to consider what he was going to do with you. Obviously, you're not going to feel safe going back out there.

"Yeah, yeah, 'course." He steps away, looking around his room, trying to work out the best way to go about this. "I'll uh, I can sleep on the floor and you can take my bed."

"You don't have to do that-"

"Dude," he sends you a sympathetic look, "you've been through a shuckin' lot tonight. I'll take the floor."

You give him a sad smile, choosing to nod in agreement instead of using your words.

Minho stole a pillow and a blanket and you both settled into your sleeping arrangements, but it's clear neither of you are getting any sleep.

Minho's bed smells like him. It's strangely comforting, and it's helping relax you. But that doesn't stop you from tossing and turning. After what must have been an hour, you give up.

"Minho, you awake?"

"Yeah," his voice is groggy and rough, tiredness taking its spot in his mind.

You turn to face him, opening the blankets. "Get in."

He sits up on his hands, using them to level him up. "What? I don't want to-"

"Just get in. Please."

Minho hesitates, but does as you say. Standing up, he slips under the covers with you. Normally, you'd be too embarrassed or anxious to even dare to be so bold, but you need comfort.

Once he's lay down, he opens his mouth to speak but you shuffle closer to him, once again hiding your face in his chest and flopping your arm over him. Minho stills for a second, deciding to keep up the wordless interaction and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer.

"It's gonna be okay, (Y/N)," he mumbles as he soothingly strokes you hair, "I'm gonna look after ya- you're safe here."

Here is another request for Minho. I love writing for this man and it's a nice change to write something softer, even if it is under some horrendous circumstances. I didn't want to write anything explicit because I think that's unnecessary, but I hope that works here.

Anyway, as always, let me know what you think. Some more light-hearted stuff is on the way soon.

[petrichor-idyllic]

I would like to request headcanons for the maze runner boys for how would they react when they're jealous of you.

Luv you <3

Wooo, I love writing headcanons, they're a hell of a lot easier than full stories. I'm assuming you mean when they're jealous over you, so that's what I'm going with.

Gender neutral reader because the pronouns are unspecified.

Also I have seen your request for a part 2 to "warmth in cold places" and I will do that after I've finished your headcanon requests because it'll be simpler lol, hope that's okay.

ENVY IS A SIN

MASTERLIST | MULTI-CHARACTER MASTERLIST

SUMMERY: See above. Gender-neutral!Reader x All boys. Not established relationships, just long-term crushes from some jealous boys. You're close with the boys, and despite them not knowing how you feel- they just can't help but be jealous.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, some possessiveness, violence and suggestive themes. Alby is based more on the book to add some variety.

What happens when your favourite Glader boys get jealous over you?

Let's find out.

THOMAS

Thomas is definitely a... controversial character amongst the Glade.

Which means that the Gladers (especially Gally and the other's that don't hold his favour), would often flirt with you just to get a rise out of him.

It's not like you two are dating or anything, but he'd clearly have a thing for you.

And he's not exactly the most self-assured person around. Yanno- with the identity crisis, no memories of his life, people accusing him of everything under the sun- you get the picture.

The boy already has enough insecurities on his plate- nevermind watching the person he has feelings for get hit on.

He's not exactly one to start physical altercations, but it wouldn't be rare to feel his 500-yard death stare from across the Glade.

"Gally's talking to them again."

Newt would get to hear the worst of Thomas's internal conflicts.

He'd find it funny, but kind of annoying.

"They're just talkin', mate- it ain't a crime."

"He's doing it to get to me. I know he is."

"Seems to be workin'."

"Shut up."

Despite not wanting to get into a fight, Thomas would occasionally butt into conversations.

He can be sarcastic, something he's picked up off of Minho (but not nearly as good at), and he would be snappy and condescending when diving face first into trying to steal your attention.

Which would leave you concerned as you'd have to blankly watch Thomas bicker with someone in a way you can't quite understand.

Thomas isn't stupid.

He'd be fully aware he has no right to be so jealous or meddling, but until he actually gains the courage to say something about his feelings, you better get used to it.

NEWT

Newt is far more level-headed than Thomas.

He is respectful and busy, remaining calm in the majority of situations he has to face.

Though, like Thomas, he would absolutely be the type to stand with a tense jaw, staring while you interact with some poor, unknowing boy as Newt plots murder in his head.

Newt is confident in his skills, and doesn't have much time to focus on romantic endeavours. But there would be the creeping feeling of possessiveness as he'd watch you talk to the other boys.

He'd prefer to talk to the culprit in private, giving them a warning nod to keep their distance.

"I'm telling you to stay away from them."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

It wouldn't go much further than that.

The boys heed Newt's warnings- despite his reputation, he isn't exactly someone people want to upset.

Alby and Minho would find it very funny that the only time Newt chooses to actually use the power he has is when it comes to scaring people away from you.

"You're literally the Second in Command, and the only time you actually tell people what to do is when you get all shuckin' possessive over a crush? Ha! That's the best thing I've ever heard."

"Shut up, Minho."

When you'd bring it up to him that less and less people are talking to you, he would just shrug it off.

Of course, Minho would absolutely tell you what's actually going on because he can't keep his mouth shut, but you can only knowingly smile until Newt is willing to finally tell you himself.

MINHO

Minho is a reckless and unsubtle man.

He lives with his life on the line permanently, and is pretty blunt about most things.

He would absolutely tell you to your face that he doesn't like someone, or how they're acting around you.

"I just don't like what Zart said earlier- he's gettin' too shuckin' friendly."

He'd also go out of his way to be physically intimidating and make himself look better than whoever his competitor is.

That includes but is not exclusive to:

- Knocking shoulders with people who are talking to you.

- Loud (and obnoxious) insults aimed at anyone who dares get too close.

- The more than once he'd almost get into a physical fight.

- Casually throwing an arm over your shoulder to assert dominance.

He'd also be a sulky bitch.

Minho doesn't seem like the type to be good with his feelings, so apart from the initial rage, confrontation, and warnings- he would strop.

He'd have no grounds to, and Newt would remind him of that since you guys aren't dating.

But that wouldn't stop him.

"Dude, if you keep pouting like a shank, they're never gonna like you back."

"I'm not pouting."

He'd get over it, eventually.

Minho isn't an insecure person. He'd know there were something more between you both. The problem would lie in whether he'd be the only person you had that something with.

That is why he would sulk.

Because deep down, you'd be almost like a weak spot for him.

Though, it would kind of become a sort of unspoken rule not to flirt with you- after all, no one wants an angry Minho after them.

GALLY

Gally is like Minho, only ten times worse and borderline homicidal.

There would be many Gladers who would show up with broken noses and a nervous disposition after they'd be seen talking to you.

(And Gally with broken knuckles.)

He's terrible at controlling his feelings and expressing them in a healthy way.

He would be especially harsh if he saw someone making you uncomfortable.

"I'm going to shucking kill that bastard!"

Frypan would make comical commentary.

"Y'all still aren't together then, huh?"

"Shut up, Fry."

"Ah- figures."

He would also be incredibly insecure.

Sure, he's not the most liked guy around, but he thought you guys were close. That he might have a chance with you.

So, instead of having a healthy conversation with you about maybe establishing a relationship, he would react in a rash way.

Which would definitely not be a good way to show he cares about you.

But the boy has issues.

Alby would absolutely get mad at him and tell him to stop.

He'd then start insulting people instead.

FRYPAN

Frypan would probably...

Do nothing.

Nope.

He doesn't like conflict and despite being a jokester, he doesn't actually want to cause any problems.

And he's not about to go around bashing people when he doesn't even know if the feeling is mutual (*cough* something the other boys can learn from *cough*).

He'd probably keep his mouth shut and try to judge things from spending time with you.

He might talk to Gally about it.

"You could just ask them?"

"Would you ask them if you were me?"

"Fair point."

He'd definitely just silently simmer in his own emotions whilst staring off into space.

Though, when he'd be with you- you'd have absolutely no idea he was jealous or possessive at all.

He would never do anything to upset you.

He'd definitely lie awake at night thinking about it and how you might like someone else and what would he even do with himself?

But he'd never tell you.

Or show you.

Your happiness always comes first.

ALBY

Alby would throw them in the Slammer.

Wouldn't even hesitate.

Looked at you for too long?

Slammer.

Made a flirty comment?

Slammer.

Bad and slightly inappropriate joke?

Slammer.

He is a very busy man. He doesn't have the time to keep an eye on you all the time, so, putting anyone who crosses a line in the Slammer would definitely make that easier.

"Why's Ben in the Slammer again, Alby?"

"Why do you think, Newt?"

"Ah, (Y/N)? Again?"

It's not like Alby is insecure or even possessive.

He has much more important things that he needs to worry about.

But, watching people try and flirt with you would make him uncomfortable, and Alby has no time to process this discomfort.

So it obviously means that they're doing something wrong, right?

So, Slammer.

It is the simplist answer.

You'd have to ask him to stop because he'd keep locking your friends up.

He would begrudgingly agree.

Though, people definitely would not dare hit on you once they started to understand that Alby liked you.

That'd be an easy way to a fast grave.

In reality, Alby wouldn't have any reason to be jealous- he is the Leader for a reason.

He probably could've just told people to back off with no context, and they would've, instead of the immediate jailing.

It would be a very odd phase for the Glade.

Yoo, back with more headcanons. I try not to take these too seriously because I feel like they're just a bit of fun instead of the usual one-shots.

I have some more headcanons coming up next.

I hope you enjoyed :))

[petrichor-idyllic]

@lu-thinkingstuff I accidentally deleted the original ask (and the entire fuckin fic I'd nearly finished along with it) so have a screenshot of your ask I managed to keep. Sorry.

I'm writing this as a standalone piece, but it can be read as a prequel to quite a few of my pieces if you please.

INDOCTRINATION

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. I know the request is fem!reader, but I guess this can be read as gender neutral since I don't think I used any pronous to refer to you, apart from you obviously lmao. Follows no cannon events. I am making this shit up. Can be read as a prequel to "Life before Drowning", any other of my fitting work, or as a standalone. Whatever ya want. References to the simulation sky that's in the books - if you're reading this as a movie fic, then let's pretend this is a failed WICKED experiment.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, annoying WICKED shenanigans, traumatised children, Ratman.

You met Minho when you were seven. Maybe eight.

The last few weeks had been a blur of chaos you can barely remember. With the Flare finally taking its victims in your hometown, families flocked to their last resort, donating their children to WICKED.

Most children weren't picked.

Of course, they weren't. Most children aren't immune. The occasional normal child was also plucked from the masses and swept away from the warmth of their families to the cold, white walls of WICKED's laboratories. But that was rare, and they were only ever valued as a control variable in whatever twisted experiments they took part in.

Not that you ever knew that.

The potential horrors didn't matter to most parents; yours included. Mothers and Fathers desperately passing their remaining blood to men in masks in hopes of saving their loved ones. There really wasn't much choice.

You were given even less choice as you were one of the lucky ones to be picked.

A white room became your home for several weeks. They made you forget your parents - those parents who willingly passed you into Ava Paige's custody in hopes you'd have at least a fleeting chance of survival on the infected planet.

They took your name, too. Your personality. The few memories you'd managed to develop so young. All of it; gone.

You were almost in a state of shock when they finally said you could leave your pristine tiled prison cell.

Following your capture through the endless high-tech halls and flawless clean corridors, you reach a large dining hall. Several long tables fill the room, along with the high-pitched chattering voices of children. The kids vary in age - some older, some younger, but that doesn't matter. They're all talking.

"Grab your food and find a seat." The booming, hollow voice of the balding man in a labcoat reaches your ears, and you can't even begin to process what he's saying.

"W-what?" Your voice is barely a whisper as you squeak out a response.

"Join the queue, and then find somewhere to sit. Your lunch break doesn't last long." He gives you no chance to ask anything else as he turns and walks back down the corridor. Leaving you with very little choice but to continue into the room.

Getting the food is the easy bit; a tray full of a passing excuse for food and a small cup of juice. Finding somewhere to sit is the problem. You mindlessly search for an empty seat, though your gaze mainly lingers on the masked individuals lining the room; armed and dangerous.

"Psst. Don't stare. They don't like it when you stare."

Your head snaps towards a voice. An Asian boy, about your age, leans over the table top, hand cupped around his mouth as he whisper-yells at you, like he's pretending to be subtle.

"...What?" You stare back at him as a grin creeps across his face as he sits back down.

"Those freaks? Duh? Don't stare at 'em. They'll snap at you." When you don't respond, the boy starts to sense your unease. "...You gonna sit down or what?" He vaguely gestures to the empty space on the bench across from him. It takes you a second to move, but he seems relieved when you do. "You got a name?"

"Uh, (Y/N)... I think."

"You think?" He scoffs as you struggle to get your leg over the slightly wobbly bench. You think it's wobbly, or maybe you're shaking too much; it's hard to tell.

"Well, yeah - that's not my real name, is it?" Your response leaves the boy unsure how to react. You're... not wrong.

"Huh. I guess. I'm Minho." He says with a grin. "And even if it ain't my real name, they made a good choice. It suits me, right?"

For the first time since you'd arrived, you find yourself smiling. Minho is charming, for a kid. He's already got an air of confidence about him, which is almost reassuring in this situation.

"Yeah," you giggle, "I guess it does suit you."

And that is how you met Minho. Reckless, cocky, funny, brilliant Minho. And by brilliant, I mean he is a brilliantly bad influence.

It's not like you got to see him very often - just over lunch and the rare breaks you both got at the same time. But when you did, it was always fun. You even developed a little group, mainly including Minho's friends - he has enough charisma for both of you.

The first time Minho snuck into your room, you were eleven.

It's the middle of the night, the faint sounds of footsteps from WICKED guards echoing through the small white room you reside in at nights. It's all background noise, now, you barely even notice it as you drift off to sleep.

Until the loud clattering of the vent hitting the floor makes you jump out of your skin, shooting up in bed.

"...shit." Minho murmurs as he peers into your room.

"Minho?" You whisper-yell at the sudden intrusion. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I couldn't sleep." He responds, matching your tone as he attempts to clamber out of the vent and onto the safety on the floor below.

"So, you decided to break into my room?" You climb out of bed, coming to assist your best friend as he slides down your wall.

"Yeah. Figured I'd give you a visit."

You cross your arms, eyebrow cocked as you glare at your friend. "Are you insane? We're gonna get in so much trouble if you get caught." You grumble at him, swallowing your initial shock (and your small smile thanks to his presence.)

"So? What are they gonna do?" Minho dusts himself off. "Make me train more? Poke me with another needle? However shall I cope?" His sarcasm results in another eye roll from you, but you can't help but chuckle as you shove him, playfully - but warning.

"They could lock you in your room for a week." A beat passes. "Again."

"Great." He grins. "Means I get some peace. Sleep away my problems."

"You're such a dick."

"You love me, really." He flashes you another signature cocky grin.

You don't even dignify that with a response. "What exactly are we doing then? Just... hanging out in my room?"

Minho hesitates, then looks back at the vent, then you again as a sly smile slowly creeps across his face. "I think I have a better idea."

And that is how you end up crawling through a vent in the middle of the night, and following your chaotic friend through the facility. Minho is a lot calmer than you are; cracking jokes, whistling and generally being a cocky little shit. You, however, are hissing at him every thirty seconds to shut the fuck up.

Somehow, you both stumble into a vacant hall. Well, Minho dragged you through another vent and whilst he gracefully jumped down, you fell in a heap on the floor.

"Christ-" you grumble as you dust yourself off, looking around the room. It's dark, unusually so - the only light creeping in from under the locked door to the room from the buzzing halogen bulbs. "Where are we?"

Despite your low tone, Minho doesn't do much to hide his voice. "Dunno. Damn - this place is huge!" The boy chuckles to himself, dragging his hand across the wall to navigate, the sound of his words, and comfort, creeping away from your reach.

"Minho-" you say into the void, further panic swelling in your gut.

"Yo, I think I found a light switch."

Before you can object that this is a bad idea, there's a hollow click, quickly follow by a binding light.

You weren't expecting it; expecting the same dull bulbs that consume the WICKED labs. But what you get is anything but.

The entire ceiling springs to life, imitating the bright blue of the sky you haven't seen since you found yourself in WICKED's custody.

"Holy shit-" Minho gawks upwards as he stares, too, finally in your line of sight.

The fake sky is scarily realistic - the glow of the sun, the faint fluffy clouds floating across the screen. You're not even sure you could call it a screen, honestly. There's not lines, or glitches or lagging from the technology. It looks so real. Like you could reach out and feel the damp clouds through your fingers, the heat of the sun on your skin.

You look at Minho, who looks at you at the same time. Both of you have no words; how could you? But your silence and exchanges looks say everything words could - what the actual fuck is this?

"...this is.." Minho starts, losing himself quickly.

"..beautiful." You finish for him.

"I was gonna say freaky." He responds, earning a chuckle from you as you wander into the middle of the room. "Hey, there's other buttons-" He says, gesturing to the control panel on the wall that he originally assumed was a light switch.

With the click of his fingers, dark clouds start to fill the fake-sky, creating a dimmer, more stormy atmosphere. But there's no rain. Just clouds.

Those seem to be the only two weather modes as Minho keeps switching between the two. Cloudy and sunny. It's definitely not quite advanced enough to imitate the real thing.

"Look- there's a time monitor." Minho mumbles as he moves a slider. The sky dims, as bright sunset colours fill the ceiling before it creeps into dusk, and then into a series of bright stars.

Minho's goofy grin says enough as he moves away from the controls, joining you in the middle of the room. You barely even notice him until he's crouching the lie on the floor.

"What are you doing?" You raise an eyebrow at him as he moves to lay on his back, looking up.

"Star-gazing, duh. What does it look like?" He says as he smiles at you, before gesturing for you to join him.

"We're gonna get caught-"

"Will you relax?" He chuckles, leaning up on his arms. "When are we ever gonna get a chance to do this for real? Might aswell enjoy it whilst we have the chance."

"It's fake." You cross your arms defiantly.

"Still pretty. Still better than our boring white rooms." He retorts. "C'mon."

You sighs, but relent as you move to lay next to him.

He's right. It really is pretty. The mimic stars sparkle and flutter, and suddenly the labs and the experiments feel worlds away, even if your escape is an extention of your captives skills.

Minho suddenly starts chuckling.

"What? What's so funny?" You say, turning your head to look at him.

"Nothing." He shrugs. "Just thinkin' that if Thomas was here, he'd probably be telling us about all those star thingies."

"...star thingies?"

"Yeah. You know? Those... stars that are, like, in a pattern."

"...constellations?" You can't help the amused smile creeping across your face at your friends ignorance.

"Yeah- those. They got names don't they?" Minho turns to look at you. "Thomas is such a dork. He'd know all of them."

You shake your head as you look back up at the ceiling, but Minho keeps looking at you.

"We should tell the others." You say, not noticing his gaze.

"What?"

"About this room. Newt and Sonya would love this."

"I thought you didn't want to get caught?" He chuckles and you roll your eyes.

"Yeah- but this is cool. They should see it."

A beat passes as Minho continues to look at you. "Nah."

"Nah?" You look at him, surprised by this. He's rebellious and fiery and is normally the first to drag everyone into schemes and fun despite the risks.

"Nah... this is... ours." He says, smiling softly at you, before he shifts slightly to slips his fingers between yours, looking back up. "Just ours."

And that's what it became.

At least once a week, you and Minho would sneak around and into this secret special room. You'd spend hours talking and messing around, and somehow, you didn't get caught. Or maybe some of the kinder WICKED people were turning a blind eye to two kids enjoying themselves.

Who knows.

It was like this for about a year. Maybe a year and a half.

But, things took a turn.

Minho was starting to revieve praise for his athleticism. He became one of the most physically capable subjects, and it was impossible to get him away from a rigged-up treadmill. So, by the end of the day, he was exhausted. Too tired to be crawling around vents with you.

You were thirteen, maybe fourteen when Minho ended up crawling though your vents again.

Hearing the familiar noise, you're out of your bed before he's even here, your bare feet already on the cold floor as he appears.

"Minho-?"

"I know. I know." He grumbles. "I'm sorry." He says, before you can even get so much as a word in, and it leaves you stunned.

"For what?"

"For like... not being here. For neglecting you, I guess." He shrugs as he runs a hand through his hair.

"Neglect-?" You cut yourself off. "Dude, they've been working you to the bone. You don't have to apologise."

He sighs, seemingly of relief. "Yeah, well, I still feel like a dick. You're my best friend."

"Well, you're here now." You attempt to reassure him. "We can go back to the sky room."

He shakes his head. "Nah. I was thinking we could go exploring." He flashes that damn grin at you again.

"...exploring?" You raise a brow, crossing your arms.

"Yeah. Yanno- like me, Newt and Thomas used to do."

"I never joined in with that."

"Well- you should've. And we were exploring when we found the sky room, so you're no so innocent." He chuckles, and you can't help but admit he's right. Yet, he continues at your hesitation. "Look, we found that room by chance. Surely there's more cool and interesting things to find. I'm getting bored of looking at the same fake sky everyday."

Something in that comment stings. You'd never gotten bored of that pretend sky. Maybe because you'd always been with him - and you could never get bored of him.

"C'mon." He drags out the syllable. "One night of exploration. Just one. Who knows how far they'll be making me run from now on. Better take the chance whilst you have it."

You playfully shove him at this. "...fine. One time only. Okay?"

"Okay." He smiles. "Let's go."

So, once again, you find yourself creeping around the sleeping facility with your far too confident best friend.

Though, when Minho reaches a locked door, you would've never expected him to slip an excess card out of his shoe, swiping it into the card reader.

"What? Where did you get that?" You hiss, wide-eyed and stunned.

"Some dumb lab-coat dude left it on the side. So, I picked it up. Finders, keepers." He says as he pushes the door open.

Sneaky around is one thing, finding hidden rooms through vents - but stealing an ID card is something else. You're literally never going to see each other again if you get caught. Not that you get chance to voice your concerns as Minho walks into the room.

This sinking feeling creeps into your gut, yet, you can't find it in yourself to tell Minho. What if he really is starting to find you boring? Being whiney to him about this would only confirm that. You don't need him getting closer with someone else, especially not the flocks of girls in the dining hall who have started taking interest in the boy since he started his physical training.

Okay. Maybe this is creeping beyond friendship. It was years ago, but you're always thinking about the way he held your hand the first time you found that room. How it was just yours. Your special place, just for the two of you. And he doesn't want to go there anymore?

You've never felt so insecure.

So, you keep quiet.

The first room is full of labelled chemicals you don't understand.

The second is full of strange, clouded tubes, with slimy, creatures with metal arms. Even Minho was eager to leave that one - to remain ignorant for his own bliss, pulling you along once you stop to stare into the tubes. You suspect Thomas mentioned something to him. Thomas has always been Ava's favourite.

Though, the third is far less scary. It's a office - well, more like a small library with a computer and a desk. Filing cabinets liter the walls with endless documents.

Minho lets out a low whistle. "A computer." He grins, casually sliding into the office chair as he starts fiddling with the computer. Having most of the common sense in this friendship, you've assumed that the computer is password locked.

Which is confirmed by Minho's hushed cursing.

So, you start looking through the documents in the drawers. A lot of them are medical files and general testing that you don't really understand.

Though, a few documents contain blueprints and titles such as "the Maze Trails" and "The Scorch Trails". They're detailed and confusing.

"Minho-" you gets his attention, passing him the notes as he's distracted from the computer, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he looks through them.

He doesn't get much time to comment as you find another interesting drawer; labelled "Subjects."

Flicking through a few, you recognise the pictures of the people you've spent the last few years with. Teresa. Thomas. Gally.

You stumble upon Minho's- grinning at his awful mugshot style photo. A7. The Leader. They've already got him marked down pretty faithfully.

Though, something consistent through all the documents is the phrase "status: Immune." Something about that stands out to you, for some reason.

That is until you reach Newt's file.

Staus: Nonimmune. Control Variable.

Nonimmune?

Nonimmune.

"Uh, Minho-?"

"These maps are insane." He mumbles, still examining the blueprints. "Do you reckon these are those big plans Thomas is always yapping about?" He picks his head up to look at you, noticing your face drop, concern written throughout your features. "What? What is it?"

"...we're all immune to the Flare, right? That's why they're testing us. To find a cure?" You don't even look up at him.

"Yeah..? Why else would we be here?" His grin is there, same as always, but now it's uneasy and uncertain. You look at him, before walking over and slapping Newt's file onto the table.

It takes him a moment to catch on, but when he does, his face drops, and he just looks at you.

Before any words are exchanged, footsteps can be heard from down a corridor.

"Shit-" you both scramble, collecting all the papers and stuffing them in whatever drawer they came from (or whichever is closest.)

It's a mad dash to get out of the room - adrenaline and fear coursing through you both. You didn't even find your own file.

Are you immune? Could the Flare get you?

Little do you know, Minho is internally freaking out over the same thing.

In your panic, your silence evades you, which alerts whatever guard was prowling the building.

"Quick! Up here!" Minho commands as he struggles to open a vent, giving you a leg up before yanking himself up the wall and diving in.

You don't even know where you're crawling to, you're just trying to rush away. But, eventually, it goes quiet, only the sounds of yours and Minho's panting in the small vent system.

"We have to tell Newt." You say, managing to turn in the small space to face him. Minho hesitates for a moment, but nods.

Of course you have to tell him.

"Yeah, at lunch, tomorrow. We'll tell him. But right now, we have to get back to our rooms. They'll be checking." You nod in agreement. "Let's get you back first."

Minho has a far better memory than you, leading you back to the safety of the room before he turns to navigate the way back to his.

"Minho-" you say, turning to look at him once your feet hut the floor, a sense of dread overwhelming you.

"..yeah?"

You can only look at him. There's so much you want to say, but none of it want to come out. Some deep gut feeling screams at you that this is the end, but you tell yourself you're being silly.

His blank expression pushes you to talk, though.

"Just.. be careful."

He offers a warm smile, but rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. See you at lunch tomorrow."

Your attempt to mimic his expression falls flat as he shimmies back into the vent and on his way.

You didn't know how accurate your instincts would be.

The next day, you make your way to the lunch hall. You're late- your lab testing ended up being longer than possible. But when you enter the dining hall, Minho's absence is quickly noted.

Though, you do spot Newt. Maybe Minho's running has gone overtime, again?

"Newt-" you shout him, jogging across the hall. "Have you seen Minho? We need to talk to you."

Newt doesn't even have to say anything as he glances at Thomas, whose eyes are burning into the table in front of him. There's some sense of desperation in Newt's expression, mixed with grief and regret, but like he can't say anything.

It makes your stomach flip and your heart stop as you open your mouth to speak, but you don't get any sound out.

"(Y/N)." Janson's annoying voice sends a chill down your spine as you turn to look at him. Two guards stand by his sides, his forced grimace doesn't reach his cold, unforgiving gaze. "I need a word."

Janson gestures for you to walk with him and you swallow a lump in your throat. Your first instinct is to run. Like Minho thought you. But in a room full of people? It's not like your quiet escapades in the middle of the night.

Your feet are like concrete as you force yourself to walk towards him.

Janson walks in front of you, the guards behind you. You're trapped, and even if you did run, that wouldn't change anything as he leads you into a room. It's a room you're familiar with.

It's where you have one-on-one progress conversations with Janson to discuss how you're doing. Minho spent more time in here than you ever did, but that doesn't mean the confines space doesn't fill you with anxiety, even in normal circumstances.

You take your place in the cold chair as Janson sits across from you, the slab of metal that is meant to be a table keeping you separated feels like a godsend. Though, not much of one with the guards breathing down your neck.

"...Where's Minho?" You manage to croak, attempting to mimic your missing friends confidence.

"He's been dealt with." Janson says, and your blood runs cold.

"What- what does that mean?"

"I'm sure you already know what that means. From your adventures last night." The world stops.

You knew.

You knew it was a bad idea and your own insecurities led you to keeping your mouth shut and hiding away from your concerns. What? Because of a stupid crush? Your own feelings of inadequacy have led to Minho's demise. And it's soul-crushing.

"I-I don't understand." You words falter, any false confidence quickly shattering.

"It's a shame. Really. It is." Janson nods as he leans forward, his elbows on the table. "We let yours and Subject A7's strange relationship slide because it was showing promising results. New waves in the Killzone we were examining. I knew we should've stopped it." He sighs. "...and now, you know too much."

"Where is he?" You spit, fists clenched, unused adrenaline causing you to tremble.

"I told you." Janson hisses. "You already know. But don't worry. You're not going to remember any of this." Janson nods towards the guards.

"What-" your words catch at a sharp sting in the side of your neck as one of the masked-men injects a burning liquid into you. You gasp, grasping the side of your neck. "What have you done?"

Your words slur slightly as a dull buzz fizzles into your vision, your head feeling light.

"My job." Janson leans back as he watches you sway in your seat. "What was always going to happen."

You can't even respond as your limp body slips out of the seat, and your consciousness leaves you before you even hit the floor.

WHOOP WHOOP. 1K BABYYYYY.

I guess this is my 1k follower post - and it's angst. That's typical of me. Sorry for the massive gap since I last posted something, but everyone's support has given me a drive to write. Well, at least finish writing this. Sorry if its not everything you wanted, but I've always felt there's something so much sadder about not getting that chance to say goodbye to someone, and things fizzing out instead of a bang.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed :)

[petrichor-idyllic]

And just because I love your writing and definitely love Minho I would like to make another request (yes your personality now is to make Minho x fem!reader stories sorry :) ). So it's bonfire night and reader gets kinda drunk being somewhat flirty with Minho and when the bonfire is over Minho takes her to bed safely so she doesnt get taken advantage of some drunk boy and she confesses that she feels safe with him. Thank youuuu :)

Oooo yessss. This is right down my alley aha. I guess writing for Minho really is becoming my thing. Not that I'm complaining since I've been in love with him since I read the books when I was like twelve. That being said, I have a list of other characters I will write for pinned on my blog :))

UNDER THE INFLUENCE

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, some suggestive language and actions, teenage drink and dumb drunkenness.

Greenie Day has always been your favourite time of the month, even since you experienced your first day in the Glade.

Because it meant it was Bonfire night. It's the one night that everyone let loose a little bit. Under the night sky with the burning flame dancing and people enjoying themselves.

It was rare for people to have a break during the month, so you're not the only one who impatiently waits for the next day a scared Newbie shows up.

And now, it's even better. The boys were getting used to you and you them, earning a mutual respect where you aren't as scared to have some fun.

"Yes!" You exclaim, punching the air in celebration as the empty cup lands on it's head, beating Gally who is just hairs behind you. Claps and cheers from the small crowd of observers break out as Gally has to down another glass of his mystery liquid.

You'd been playing some dumb drinking game with a fair few boys for a while now. The faint buzz of the alcohol sinking in feels good, and you know Newt's nearby to step in if he needs to.

It's nights like these where the Glade doesn't seem so bad. Sure, the Maze is shit, but the Glade is like a mini heaven slapped right in the middle. When things goes smoothly, you really don't mind living there.

You fake bow, chuckling to yourself before you fistbump Gally, showing some true sportsmanship.

You continue playing some games, including a game of truth or dare, which ends up with Frypan sitting on the floor with no shirt on and you having to down an entire glass of moonshine.

"Okay, (Y/N), truth or dare?" Clint asks you between sips of his own drink.

"Hmm, truth."

"Ugh, again?"

"There's no way that I'm taking dares off of you slintheads."

"Okay, okay, uh," Clint thinks for a second, trying to think of a question, "Okay, I got one. Who, out of everyone here, do you think is the most attractive?" The boys seem to perk up at this question, all eyes falling on you.

You have an answer. Of course, you do. But you're not gonna answer.

You give Clint a smirk before taking a swig from your glass, silently forfeiting and earning a series of growns.

Subtly, your eyes wander last the group you're sitting with and over to the Runners. They normally sat on the outskirts of the group, and tonight isn't any different. They didn't really involve themselves with the events of the party, preoccupied with thinking and talking about the Maze.

It makes you feel bad for them. They sound all day, everyday out there and then they come back and can't get it out of their heads.

Which sucks for you because the answer to Clint's question is Minho.

The man is drop-dead gorgeous. He's athletic, quick, witty and respectful. You always find yourself staring when he comes back to the Glade- the sweat makes his already tight shirt stick to him, the harness exaggerating his features, his hair is always perfect to the point of it almost being comedic the casual glances he throws your way make butterflies form in your stomach. Not to mention, he's always been respectful, even jumping to your defence when the other boys try taking things too far.

It's not like you'd never spoken. You'd had a couple of brief conversations and you liked talking to the Runners- you seemed to brighten their grim days.

Someone sitting next to you suddenly clicks their fingers in front of your face, snapping you out of your trance. "Hello? You in there?"

"Sorry, what?"

"It's your turn to ask a question."

"Oh, right, sorry," you fake laugh, "totally zoned out there."

The drinking games continue, and by the end of it, you are drunk. You don't normally drink this much, but you've been having fun, so you lost track of yourself, and with Newt too distracted to stop you, you've slightly overdone it.

The light from the flame stretches in front of your eyes as you sway slightly. And all it takes is one glance at Minho for the liquid confidence to take over.

You strut- sorry, you attempt to strut over.

Minho has been left to his own devices, the other Runners have probably called it an early night, and no one else has approached him yet.

"Hey," you basically flop onto the log next him and he immediately raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly at your drunken state.

"Hi?" It comes out as more of a question, his natural curiosity taking over.

"You know," you slur slightly as you lean forward on your knees, "we don't speak very much."

"Yeah? Well, I'm a busy guy."

"Yeah, but it sucks."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Because we don't speak? Duh." A smile slowly creeps onto his face.

"I didn't know you wanted to speak to me so bad," he takes a sip out if his own drink and you watch as it leaves his lips and settles between his legs as his arms loosely fall between them.

"Yeah, well, you're hot, so," you drag out the 'o' sound and Minho sits there in some form of confusion and amusement.

You think he's hot? The only girl in the entire Glade thinks that he's attractive? That's got to be a flex if he's ever heard one.

Of course, Minho was just as bad as every other straight boy in the Glade- he's attracted to you. Unlike the other boys, he's respectful and keeps his distance. Even now, he's treading on thin ice, and he can tell you're under the influence.

Drunk words are sober thoughts and all, but he's not about to risk something you'll regret. He's smarter than that.

You take a swig from your glass, your lack of sobriety causing you to not even pay attention to Minho's lack of response.

"Okay," he leans over, taking the drink away from you and making you whine, "I think you've had enough."

"What?" You move towards him, swiping at the glass, which he moves behind him and above his head, completely out of your reach. "Give it back, Minho! You can't yell me what to do!"

You pay little attention to how close he is, too focused on retrieving your questionable beverage. But that doesn't mean Minho does. You're half sat up, nearly sitting on his lap as you lean forward, you shoulders almost connecting.

"Absolutely not," he puts his hand on your collarbone, careful with the placement as he pushes you back down and away.

"You're drunk."

"And?"

"You're too drunk."

"No, I'm not."

"You just called me hot."

"You're hot sober, too."

Minho snorts. Like, he actually laughs. There's no way this is happening. You're going to be kicking yourself in the morning, that's for sure.

"You're gonna regret this," Minho warns you.

"Why? You scared you'll have some fun?" You attempt to make a suggestive face, which comes across poorly. It just makes Minho hold back a laugh.

"We're not having any fun. There's no way I'm letting you do something you'll regret."

"Who says I'll regret it?"

"You, probably, a few hours from now."

"Find. Shuck you, then," you stand up dramatically, "I'll flirt with someone else then."

You walk away, not giving him a chance to say another word as you approach the closest Glader.

He can't hear what you're saying due to the chattering buzz that surrounds the Bonfire. But he watches as the other boy lets you hit on him, something you're doing in a very poor attempt to make Minho jealous.

It doesn't make him jealous. Well, it kind of does, but he can see what you're doing. More than anything, he's concerned. If you keep this up, you're going to get yourself in a very uncomfortable situation.

So when the Glader rests his arm around your waist, Minho is left with little choice but to act. He's on his feet fast, storming over and grabbing your wrist.

"Hey! What are you doing-?"

"Come on, I'm not watching this klunk," you let him pull you away from the dude. Minho leads you away, having to slow down slightly to make sure your drunken dumbass doesn't fall over.

"Changer your mind, pretty boy?" You coo, and he rolls his eyes, not even glancing at you.

"No." He's blunt. Understandably so.

He practically drags you to your hut- it's essentially a couple of twigs tied together with cement and rope. It was thrown up in a couple of days due to your unannounced and shocking arrival. Alby thought it wouldn't be a good idea for you to be out in the open in a hammock like most other Gladers. The only real requirement for the Builders was a locking door.

"Where's the key?" He says after trying your door.

"Huh?"

"The key? For your hut? Where is it?"

"Huh? Oh! Oh, okay," you've probably got the wrong idea about what's about to happen here. He wants to take you to bed. You want to take him to bed.

You fiddle with your jean pocket, pulling out an iron and slightly rusted key, which Minho basically snatches off you before kicking the door open.

Once you're inside, you grab his shirt, giving him no time to respond. "I knew you'd cave," you mumble, thinking that you're victorious, only for him to grab your arms and direct you towards the bed, pushing you and forcing you to fall backwards.

You screech, hitting the old mattress with a heady thud.

"Okay, sleep," he demands, pulling the covers from under you and making you fall again though you're quick to sit up straight.

"What? No! I don't wanna sleep- unless you-"

"Sleep. Now."

You groan, flopping back, your head fortunately hitting the pillow. He takes this opportunity to pull the blankets over you, tucking in the sides the minimise the chance of you moving again.

"You've gotta sleep this off, dude, this is concerning."

"But I'm still wearing my shoes!" You drag out the final word and Minho pauses, grumbling to himself.

"You gotta be shucking kidding me."

He moves the bottom of the blanket, untying your laces and struggling to get your boots off. You try to help by kicking them off, but it really doesn't do much.

"Okay," he stands up straight, "bedtime. Go to sleep."

He goes to leave, planning to lock the door behind him and then to just slip the key back under the door.

"Wait, Minho," he huffs,looking at you over his shoulder.

"What?"

"Thank you," your voice is quiet and suddenly he knows he's talking to you. "You make me so... safe. Thank you for protecting me."

Out of everything you've said and done in the past hour, that's the comment that almost makes him blush. He lets out a content sigh before offering you a soft smile- a gesture that few people get to see.

"Yeah, whatever," he manages to get out, "sleep."

The door slams behind him, and he does exactly what he intended to, leaving the key for you to find in the morning.

The walls begin to spin as you lay there, groaning into your pillow. You quickly start to wish you hadn't drank so much.

You don't remember when you fell asleep, but your head spins as you rise from your slumber. Your body hurts, but you're pleased to find yourself in your own room with little to no information of how you got there.

Your eyes fall to the key sitting on you floor, not that far away from the door.

"The hell..?" You stand up, swaying slightly and reaching for the wall as a wave of nausea hits you.

You struggle to pick up the key, but slowly, the pieces fall back together. It takes about fifteen minutes, but your brain manages to put the story back together.

"Oh, shit," you rub your face in your hands, sitting on the edge of your bed, cringing at yourself and not daring to leave just in case someone saw or heard how you interacted with Minho.

But you have to leave. You also play a role in the Glade, and you have to go to work.

Shit.

Eventually, you force yourself to get ready and head out. You let the shower wash away last njghts events and head to your job.

No one seemed shocked that you were late, but they also didn't seem to know anything that happened, which at least meant Minho had kept his mouth shut.

You'd missed breakfast and were too queezy for lunch, so when dinner came around you ate as much as you could.

You're so focused on your food that you don't even notice the Runner approach you until it's too late.

Minho clears his throat, scaring the shit out of you and making you physically jump.

The second you look at him, your face starts to burn. Oh God. It doesn't help that he looks so good after returning from his days work.

"Hi," he grins at you, making you shift under his gaze.

"Hi," you spit out and he sucks in a deep breath to try and stop himself from laughing before he can get his words out.

"So," he clears his throat, leaning on the table in front of you from the side, so he's close enough for other people to not hear, "you still think I'm hot?"

You practically choke on your unfinished mouthful, trying to compose yourself but your burning ears and avoiding eye contact is enough of a giveaway.

You finally manage to speak.

"Shut the fuck up."

Minho just laughs.

Another Minho piece so I can feed your guys' addiction. Sorry, this one isn't that long, but I felt like some light-hearted shenanigans were appropriate for this request. I know the plot is kinda vapid and not up to my standards, but this was fun to write.

Hope y'all enjoy :))

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hi Petri <3, I have a request for a Minho x fem!reader where they're still in the glade. It's the middle of the night and everyone's sleeping, Minho and reader are together on his tent (because here they're already dating), she hears a little cry so she goes outside to see what's happening and find Chuck sitting on the ground and crying next to a tree, he's sad cause he thinks he's not good at anything and is just bothering and annoying everyone around, so she talks to him and explains that he's new and its normal to not know what to do or how to help properly, she tells a story about when she wanted to be a runner just to impress someone and prove her worth, even though she was really bad at it, and how she discovered that actually she was really good at something else, gardening. They have one beautiful conversation and hug it out, after that she put him back to sleep and goes back to the tent, just to be surprised by Minho who was awake and heard the whole conversation and begins to tease her about the little crush she had on him, the ending can have a bit of spice if your comfortable with that.

That was it, love you :)

This is an adorable idea and I have been itching to get around to it.

Your ideas are always so good, man. I'm always honoured to write your work.

EXPOSURE

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas, but not by much. Established relationship.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, spice, Chuck being sad, you getting bullied by your boyfriend.

You've been dating Minho for a while now.

And you couldn't be happier.

You love him. He's your favourite person in the Glade by far, for multiple reasons. Being the only girl is no easy feat, but Minho was always respectful and any flirting was always jovial and friendly.

Unlike some other people.

He always defended you and was sure you were always comfortable, and if he came back from his job and found out someone had upset you - well, good luck to them.

In your eyes, Minho is the perfect man, even if he is a bit too cocky.

And is never fucking there.

The most contentious point in your relationship is definitely Minho's line of work. He's always busy out in the Maze, and whilst a lot of the other Runners work on a cycle so they're not bleeding themselves dry - Minho doesn't get that luxury. Day in, day out, Minho goes out into that Maze. He's Keeper, so he has to.

Which sucks for you because that means the only time you get to see your boyfriend is in the evenings. When he's exhausted. Well, Minho is a stronger man than you, for sure. You doubt you'd have any stamina if you had to do what he does every day. And he still manages to come back to the Glade and not pass out.

So, that's something, at least.

Though, this means the most time you spend with him is at night.

No - not like that.

At least not most of the time.

The man is tired, okay?

The Builders made you a hut the first week you arrived by Alby's orders. Mainly for privacy reasons, but also Gally thought it might get him on your good side.

Gally wasn't very happy when Minho started sleeping in your hut.

So, whilst Minho sleeps through the night, you often spend some time watching him.

Sometimes, it scares you how much you care about him. Especially since he risks his life literally every day.

Every night, you admire him and appreciate that he's still here and that he's asleep; safe and sound - next to you.

Your fingers trace the scars littering his bare back as he faces away from you, the blanket loosely covering his lower half. You and Minho are comfortable enough around each other that you normally just sleep in your underwear.

His soft breaths reminding you how lucky you are to have him, you lay on your back.

You should probably get some sleep, too. Zart will have you doing heavy lifting in the morning, no doubt.

You sigh. Going to grab the blanket, you freeze when you hear what sounds like someone sobbing, and then trying to stop themself. You sit up straight, listening for the sound again.

And after a couple of seconds, it returns.

You swing your legs over the side of your creaky, makeshift bed, grabbing Minho's trademark blue button-up and slipping it on.

Being careful not to wake your boyfriend, you open the door and peer out. It's hard to make out since the Glade is quiet and dim at this hour.

But, with your hut being pretty close to the Deadheads, it doesn't take you long to spot Chuck, sitting in front of a tree. His knees are pulled up to his chest and his face buried in his knees.

Chuck is the latest Greenie - and the youngest Glader here. He's about twelve, definitely no older than thirteen.

You walk the couple of yards away from your hut to the crying boy.

"Chuck?" You ask after a second, standing in front of him. "Are you okay?"

He sniffs, not even bothering to look up from his self-cradling. "Go away."

You sigh.

Looking back at your hut, you almost want to go back and cherish your precious time with your boyfriend. But you can't leave Chuck crying here - you promised you'd look after him when he first got here.

You take a seat in front of him, crossing your legs and adjusting Minho's shirt to make sure it keeps you decent.

"Chuck," you say, your voice low and reassuring, "what's going on? It's me; you know you can talk to me."

He peaks up at you, thinking for a second before shaking his head and returning to his hiding.

"Chuck-" you huff, "I'm not leaving you here."

"I'm not gonna tell you."

"Guess I'm staying here all night then, hm?"

Chuck glares at you, his eyes appearing above his knees, and you grin at him. He rolls his eyes, but moves his legs so he's sitting how you are. Legs crossed, sitting opposite each other, you raise your eyebrows, promoting him to speak.

"It's just... ugh, it's dumb," he rubs his face with his hands, trying to hide any remaining tears.

"I'm sure it's not - if it's upsetting you this much, then that means it's important to you. Come on, what's wrong?"

He hesitates. "I'm just... I'm just sick of being useless."

You furrow your brows. Chuck's been here for two weeks; he can't be sick of anything yet.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm- I'm just bad at everything. And no one likes me. I just piss everyone off and get in the way and everything thinks I'm useless - and what's the point? Why is everyone else so good at it all and I... suck."

"Hey," you shuffle forward, reaching for his hand. "You're not useless at all, Chuck." You rub his hand, offering some comfort. "You're just new, dude. Everyone feels useless and annoying when they're new because you don't know anything yet. We were all the same - we've all gone through the same klunk."

"Yeah, right," he scoffs, clearly not believing you.

You think for a second, recalling your own first couple of months here and smiling to yourself. You let go of Chuck and let your hand fall into your lap.

"It's the truth."

"Uh huh."

"You don't believe me?"

He shakes his head.

"Alright, you wanna hear a story? Something I've never told anyone?" This gets his attention. You smirk. "It's embarrassing."

"Yeah, okay." He crosses his arms. "This better be good."

"Well, did Newt ever tell you that I wanted to be a Runner?"

Chuck tilts his head, his mood already lifting. "No? You wanted to be a Runner?"

"Mhm," you nod, chuckling to yourself. "My first few weeks here, I didn't really know what to do with myself. I tried everything and nothing really fit - and then I suddenly decided I wanted to be a Runner."

"So? What's embarrassing about that?"

"Well, I'm not sure if you've noticed Chuckie-boy; but I am no Runner."

"So, what happened?"

"Well, I uh," you scratch the back of your neck, "I actually wanted to become a Runner because I... well, because I had a crush."

Chuck blinks, and you look away, sheepishly. You've never actually told anyone how long you've had a thing for Minho - but it started way before you started dating, and probably way before he had a thing for you.

"Shuck off," Chuck snorts, "you wanted to be a Runner 'cause you wanted to screw Minho?"

"Ew - don't say it like that!" You warn him, but he simply raises his eyebrows, giving you a knowing look. "Well, yeah - but that's not the point."

You clear your throat before continuing. "Anyway, I didn't really have any other motivation to do a job. So, being a Runner seemed like a good bet. I convinced Alby to get Minho to trail me - and I was shit." You snort, mainly out of embarrassment. "All I did was embarrass myself in front of the hottest guy I'd ever seen. I'm not fast, and I have a klunky memory and no sense of direction. So, I made a complete fool of myself."

"How is this meant to make me feel better?"

"I'm getting there," you snap. "After that, Newt got me a second trail in the Gardens - and because I wasn't so hell bent on being a Runner anymore and accepted that was dumb, I actually tried and ended up being good at it. And now I'm a Track-hoe - and it's great."

"So, you've got a decent job? Congrats." The boy flops backwards, sarcasm lacing his voice.

"Jesus- Chuck," you try to level with him. "It all takes time. It took me months to even trial as a Runner; never mind, shuck it up. You can't expect to be brilliant straight away. It takes a lot of effort and patience, and you've only been here two weeks. And sometimes things don't go how you expect them to, but that's fine. You'll be fine. You're gonna find your place and settle in - you just have to be patient." You pause. "And shuck what everyone else has to say; I know you're capable, and so do you. That's all that matters."

He smiles at you, nodding. "Yeah, okay, you're probably right. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, you will," you shift so you're on your knees, "now, gimme a hug and shuck off to bed, Chuckles."

Chuck sniffs, but grins at you, leaning forward and hugging you. He buries his face in your neck. "You're okay, yeah?" You ask as you rub his back and he nods.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he pulls away, "thanks, (Y/N)."

"Don't worry about it, kid, now - scram. Bed time." You stand up, offering a hand to him and yanking him to his feet before playfully pushing him away.

He laughs when you push him again. "Okay, okay, I'm shuckin' goin'."

You stand there for a moment, watching Chuck vanish off into the Glade and to his hammock. Shaking your head, you scoff, turning around and returning to your hut.

Though, when you open the door, you did not expect to find Minho sitting up straight. His legs hang over the bed, the blankets bundled around his crotch, a grin plastered across his face.

You freeze.

He's meant to be asleep.

"You should wear my shirt more often," he hums, "it suits you."

"Shut up, shank," you roll your eyes, shutting the door behind you.

"Hey, that's no way to talk to your long-term crush, is it?" You pause again.

Oh God.

He's never going to let you live this down.

"You're eavesdropping on my conversations now?" You cross your arms defensively, trying to ignore the heat coming to your face.

"Kinda hard not to when you talk so loud. Ain't my fault the walls are thin," he leans forward, tilting his head slightly and a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Dammit.

He's hard to resist.

"So, how long were you crushing on me for, exactly? 'Cause I don't think we've had that conversation." He's enjoying this new power. You are not.

You sigh, walking towards him and standing in front of him. You touch his hands, which he gladly reciprocates. You look at the floor and his looks at you.

"You're cute when you're flustered."

"Shut up, Minho," you hiss, making him let out a chuckle.

"You became a Runner because you wanted my attention?"

You look at him, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. "Yeah," you say reluctantly.

"How much?"

"What?"

"How much did you want my attention?"

"Minho, seriously-?"

"And for how long?"

You throw your head back, groaning. "Minho-"

"No, no," he cuts you off, "I wanna hear it."

You hate it when he's like this. Well, no, you don't - but you do. He knows exactly how to get you to talk and how to turn you into putty at his touch.

You huff, dropping your head again. "I... I always wanted your attention." You murmur, the words being barely audible.

"What was that?"

"I always wanted your attention," your eyes meet his as you raise your voice. "From the first time I saw you jogging back into the Glade, gross and sweaty." You fiddle with his fingers, avoiding his gaze once again. "I was never attracted to anyone else." You press your lips together. "I was immediately attracted to you - there."

Your face burns, and your hands are sweaty. It's not like you can't tell Minho everything - it's just that this is going to be a teasing point for the rest of your life, and Minho doesn't need the ego boost.

"Is that so?" His voice is heavy and silky as his hands come to your waist. He slips them under your (his) shirt, resting them on the skin just above your underwear. He draws small circles into your hips.

You look at him, already getting drunk off of his touch. "You gonna show me how much you want me, then?" He mutters, leaning up.

Caving in, you press your lips against his, allowing him to guide you with his hands. He frees one hand and tosses the blankets to the side, leading you to sit on his lap. Your hands come to the back of his neck, brushing against his hair and deepening the kiss.

The thin amount of fabric between your bodies and the energy in the room is enough to get friction going. You hum into his mouth, grinding against him as you feel him harden against you.

Your hands go to the bottom of the shirt, about to lift it over your head when Minho stops you.

You pull away, puzzled and he grins. "Keep it on, it suits you, remember?"

You roll your eyes, kissing him again, your hands coming down his back, digging your nails in as you roll your hips.

"Shit," he mumbles pulling away for a moment, panting into your mouth. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling gently. "I shucking love you, you know that?"

"I love you, too." You look at him for a second before shoving him back.

"Shuck!" He exclaims just before you kiss him again, you lips trailing down his jaw and littering his neck. You leave deep purple marks on his chest, making the boy hiss and pull on your hair.

You keep going further down, peppering his abs with your affection as Minho's eyes roll back into his head.

"Shit," he repeats, his forearm coming to cover his eyes as his brain completely short-circuits. "What are you doing to me?"

His skin is flushed, his chest rises and falls, his hair is a mess, and you don't have to see his face to know his pupils are blown wide.

Sure, Minho holds a lot of power over you, but it goes both ways. You're the only person that gets to see him like this; dishevelled, whimpering, needy - weak.

You fiddle with the waistband of his boxers, feeling his grip tighten.

You look up at him, admiring him once again before you speak.

"I'm showing you how much I want you."

Whoop whoop, another Minho piece done.

The Glade pieces are so fun to write, and it's not very often I get to involve Chuck, so this was a nice change.

I hope you enjoyed :))

[petrichor-idyllic]

Heyyy! How are you doing? Can you do a story where the female reader accidentally turns Minho on? Thank you

I'm doing good thank you for asking, and of course I can :))

Back on my Minho grind, lmao. Idk why I struggled with this one so much, but I must've rewritten it like seven times, bro.

INAPPROPRIATE WORKPLACE BEHAVIOUR

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Reader is a Runner. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas. You and Minho have always had a tense relationship, but when you guys work in the Map room together, you start to wonder if there's something else. Especially when you get a new kind of reaction out of the Keeper. Kinda enemies to lovers if you squint a bit.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, spice and suggestive content, dumb teenagers and dumber teenage hormones

"Bro, I'm telling you, there's nothing new."

You hate nights like this. It consists of you and the other Runners meeting up and spending hours looking and comparing maps. Once a week.

Every week.

For as long as you've been there. Well, since you became a Runner at least.

And you've been there long enough for it to not be that big of a deal if another girl were to show up.

But tonight is different. It also happens to be Bonfire night. It happens occasionally that Greenie day and the meetings fall on the same day. Most of the Runners left early to go celebrate.

And you did, too, a couple of times. Joining in on the celebrations and congratulating whatever poor Greenie on losing to Gally in the ring.

But you felt bad, so you started staying.

Minho always stayed. It didn't matter what was going on outside; the boy had a job to do, and God dammit, he's going to get it done.

You don't know why you felt bad- or even why you feel bad now. It's not like Minho has ever actually been nice to you. He doesn't take you as seriously as the other Runners and it's not uncommon for him to blatantly ignore you.

Which is shit because the Keeper makes for some great eye-candy.

"I don't care," Minho huffs as you sit with your legs on the table, leaning your chair back, shuffling through numerous sheets of paper. "If you wanna leave, then leave."

"Dude, we've been doing this for literally hours." You try to reason with him but it's not going well.

Minho has been worse as of late. With the exploration of the outer sections coming to a close and the sinking realisation that there isn't actually an exit to the Maze- his bitterness is becoming exponential.

"You can leave." He simply repeats.

You don't understand Minho's problem with you.

In reality, Minho doesn't have a problem with you. All of his extra criticisms and harsh nature comes from a place he doesn't quite understand. You're the only girl in the Glade, and even if everyone else got used to you, he never did. He's had a thing for you ever since he saw you. How could he not?

Which is bad.

Because it's distracting.

So, you can imagine his dismay when Alby suggested you be a Runner.

You pout, letting your feet hit the floor and walking over to Minho. You lean in front of him and across the table, having to stretch further to try and grab more papers that are scattered across the table.

Obviously, this was an incredibly innocent action. You were literally just trying to do more work, but Minho's entire body freezes.

His eyes flicker to your ass as you bend over against the poor wooden structure. It doesn't help that you're still wearing your tight running clothes that leave very little to the imagination. The fabric clings to your ass, and Minho suddenly feels like a complete creep. You mumble something to yourself when you can't reach, but your tone and the lack of coherency just makes Minho's breath catch in his throat.

Ah fuck.

You stand back up, tilting your head slightly as you try to understand whatever pattern Minho swears there is.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. The problem here is that Minho is just as sexually repressed as every other boy in the Glade, but his one-track-mind and work ethic makes it seem like he isn't.

But he is. Boy, he is.

You say something. He doesn't even acknowledge it as he just blankly stares into space, questioning his existence for a second and silently praying that he can keep himself from being... physically affected.

"Minho?"

"Hm?" He looks at you, concern written on your face. Suddenly, he crosses his wrists, dropping them to his crotch. You obviously were not going to look, but as his pencil scatters to the floor and you watch him visibly cringe, your eyes flicker down and then back up. "You good?"

"Mhm."

"You sure? You ignored me, and now you're acting kinda weird."

"No, I didn't. I mean, I didn't ignore you, I was just thinking, okay?" Okay, so he's panicking. He doesn't really want to get caught because that's just going to make things incredibly awkward. He's literally your boss, and with the way he treats you, there's no way you like him back.

"What did I say then?" You cross your arms, looking down at him. He's acting super weird all of a sudden. He seems almost flustered and embarrassed, and with his hands covering up his dignity; you have your suspicions. It's not like it's the first time here you've accidentally given someone a boner. And it's not like it's hard to tell.

If you catch some of the boys on a bad day then they'll get hard if you so much as look in their general direction. But Minho?

Minho?

Always calm, always collected, always in control, Minho?

It's actually kind of entertaining watching Minho's confidence slip away. He's so cocky and self-assured all the time, and you've, what? Leant over a table? And he's lost all capability? Incredible.

You do admire Minho. For many reasons, mostly including his job- but also his self-control. The boy is athletic and confident and bold, all traits that you're attracted to and have been ignoring. But this is now a form of amusement, especially after being stuck in here for hours.

"You don't know, do you?" You ask after an embarrassingly long pause.

"Uh, yeah, no. I don't know what you said. Sorry." He adds the 'sorry' after you raise your eyebrows at him, and it is very clearly reluctant.

"Sorry you didn't hear me or sorry you were staring at my ass?" You cross your arms as you turn to sit on the edge of the table. Your expression is testing as Minho drops his head forward, hiding his face in his hands.

"I, uh, I mean- shit," he grumbles.

"Wow, okay," you scoff, "I was joking, but I guess you really were just staring at my ass."

"I didn't mean- I couldn't help it, alright?"

"That's bullshit, we both know you are beyond fully capable of controlling yourself," Minho suddenly feels like he's getting lectured. But he's your boss, and he really doesn't know how to feel about the sudden shift in relationship dynamics.

"Yeah," he sighs, "you're right, but you- you're just-" You stand up straight, stepping towards him with fake understanding. He shuffles uncomfortably as you stand in next to him, enjoying the newfound power. "You're hot, dude, what am supposed to do?" He sighs, giving into defeat since there's no good way for him to get out of this.

Minho's forward nature shines through, and the compliment actually takes you by surprise. "You think I'm hot?"

"Everyone here thinks you're hot."

"That's not what I asked."

"Yeah," he basically spits out, "I think you're hot. But I also think you're one of the best Runners I've got, and I'm your Keeper, so..."

"Wait, have you been being a dick to me because you're attracted to me?" Minho's guilty expression says it all. "Holy shuck. You have!"

"Alright, alright- slim it," he warns.

"How many times have you criticised me because you actually wanted me?" You lean further forward, one arm on the table, kind of trapping him.

"Listen, don't start-"

"Or the amount of times you've ignored me because I looked too good?"

"Hey!" Minho snaps, even his ears are burning now, "Quit it, alright? I get it. If you're just gonna be a slinthead about it, then go. I don't have time for this klunk. And you might not like me, but I was always respectful and gave you the same workload as everyone else. I can't help being attracted to you, (Y/N)."

His words sound suddenly sincere, like he's been dealing with this on his own for a while now.

"I.." You start, but your words get trapped in your throat, "I never said I didn't like you." You avoid his gaze as you kind of stand to the side of him. There's a scratching scound as he turns the wobbly chair towards you, his attention now peaked at your sudden bashful tone.

"So you like me?"

"I didn't say that, either, just... you're a good-looking guy, Minho. I'm not mad at you 'cause that'd make me a hypocrite." Minho's hands graze your hips, sparking a flame in you but making you flinch. So, he immediately moves away again.

"You think I'm good-looking?" Minho definitely does not need the ego boost, but then again, neither did you.

"Shut up, okay, you're being honest, I'm being honest. It's not a big deal."

"Okay," he holds his hands up, feigning innocence, "guess we're just two attractive people sitting in a room together then, huh?"

You scoff, shaking your head, "No, we're two people who are attracted to each other sitting in a room together. There's a difference." You meet his eyes, and the tension suddenly feels very thick.

This time, Minho puts his hands on your waist with more certainty, and you move closer, swinging your leg over his, straddling him. Suddenly, it doesn't matter that Minho is your boss, or that this could make things awkward working. You just want to feel good, and Minho's flustered confession is making you feel pretty decent all on its own.

"Bold, hm?" Minho mutters, your noses brush, and your foreheads press together. You can feel his breath on your lips, and you never expected this to happen when you came to work during the Bonfire.

"Learnt from the best," you almost speak into him, earning a chuckle. "Is that okay?"

"Mhm," he leans in, finally forcing months of frustration into you as your lips connect. His grip on you tightens and it barely takes anything for Minho to be hardening under you again. Your mouths move in unison, his tongue brushing against your lower lip.

You slip your tongue under his, making him hum as you buck your hips against his. Your hands come to the back of his neck and into his hair, taking the opportunity to ruin his permanently perfect hair style.

He pulls away, panting slightly, "Wait, what does this mean?" He seems anxious, but he's still trying to move under you. You've never seen him like this before, and deep down, you know all you want is to see it again.

"It means I want to fuck you." His body physically reacts to your boldness, almost whimpering under your touch.

"Yeah, alright, I'll take it," you're back on each other in seconds. Having a friends-with-benefits situation with your boss is probably not the best idea, but damn, is it hot.

Friction starts to pick up fast. His hands are under your shirt, papers are flying everywhere as you use the table to try and stabilise yourself and a string of unholy gasping and faint moans is escaping the private place.

That's until there's a cracking sound. Both you and Minho fall in a heap on the floor as the shitty chair breaks, one of the legs snapping off and sending you plummeting. You land next to each other.

"Gally's klunky shuckin' furniture," Minho complains.

And you just laugh.

Not going to lie, lads, this was, for some reason, a complete struggle. Idk why this one was so hard and took me so long, but here it is, and I don't even think it's good lmao. Definitely not my best work, but I'm trying my best.

I hope yall kinda almost enjoyed it :)

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hi Petri, soooo I just finished Dead man walking and already (not that soon though, cause I know you have many requests to get through) need a part 2 because this is my new favorite thing, I love it, you did amazing (as always <3).

You can do whatever you want for part 2 but I wish you could do a little scene where the reader is trying to figure something about her job out and Gally is there just staring at her, and how beautiful she looks when concentrated,and they're just flirting and having fun. Also please do a lot of Fry teasing them because I absolutely love it.

Yes, absolutely, I can.

Love my boy Gally.

Sorry I've been MIA.

DEAD MAN WALKING PT. 2

MASTERLIST | GALLY MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2

SUMMARY: See above. Continuation from part 1. Time skip to the Safe Haven.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, Frypan bullying Gally, awkward tension, you not being sure what to do with yourself, reference to Chuck's death. WICKED being WCKD because movie. Newt's dead. Rip.

The past few weeks have been a blur of chaos and emotion.

You'd arrived at the Safe Haven. But, you were the only person left from the rebels.

Lawrence stormed the City, destroying and setting fire to everything, which was not the plan. And not something you agreed with.

You'd split off and made your own way through the City, managing to bump into Gally on his way to their escape ship. His group had taken some blows.

They'd lost Newt to the Flare. Teresa got swallowed by a burning building. Thomas had been shot. Minho had been deeply traumatised at WCKD's hands.

Life hadn't been easy on these kids. But at least they're safe now.

And so are you, even if you're permanently having some kind of identity crisis due to too much free time and losing your rebellious means.

But, hey, you've still got Gally, at least.

Well, sort of.

Things have been painful awkward since your kiss in the Last City.

It's no one's fault in particular. You've been moving a hundred miles an hour your entire life, and now you get shouted at for finishing your work too quickly, and you're not really sure how to deal with people when you're not bossing them around or being bossed around.

And, Gally is just generally terrible at feelings.

It's actually mildly concerning, sometimes.

Which has led to a weirdly tense friendship where neither of you really know what you're doing.

It's a painful watch.

And you kinda sorta forgot that Gally is still a slightly awkward teenage boy with no experience with women.

It's definitely an experience; but on the bright side, you've become an honorary Glader. Sure, you don't understand the slang still, and you have to remember to not ask too much about the Maze or some of the people because you'll be met with several PTSD induced panic attacks. But, you've befriended them.

Minho is funny and sarcastic and incredibly tough.

Frypan is sweet, and also kind of funny. And he's an excellent cook despite what the other boys say.

Thomas is bold and determined, even taking a bit of a leadership role alongside Vince - even after his well-deserved break.

And whilst Brenda and Jorge aren't quite Gladers, you also like them quite a bit. Jorge reminds you of Lawrence in a way. He's rebellious and bold, but instead of cold and occasionally terrifying, he's funny and fraternal. And Brenda is kind of like you in a way, except she's playful. Which you have severely been lacking in the last few years of your life.

Yet, despite integrating into his friend group, his new home, his daily life - yours and Gally's relationship is still at a weird standstill.

So, you've decided to dive into work. Helping Vince is an easy way to clear your mind, and helping out people who've suffered under WCKS's hands is kind of your speciality.

You prepare blankets, clean, help Frypan in the kitchen, help with building plans, settle petty disputes; you name it, you do it.

And that's something Gally has always admired about you.

"Oi, shank, you're starin' again." Frypan says, snickering as he sits next to Gally, the light from the flames bouncing off his face.

Bonfires are an almost nightly occurrence at the Safe Haven. A celebration of their freedom and security. But, it's a bittersweet experience for the remaining Gladers. Memories of happier times dance in the fires of community. They always thought escaping the Maze would be the end, but they often find themselves remembering simpler times.

You don't share the same heartfelt irony.

"I'm not starin'." Gally grumbles back, yet his eyes still linger on you.

You walk around, handing out drinks and occasionally adding to the fire, making small talk; mainly with Vince, Thomas, and Brenda. You also occasionally take grimances sips of Gally's special brew - another festivity bought from the remains of the Maze.

"Uh huh, sure you aren't." Frypan chuckles as he sips his drink, a beat passing between the boys. "I don't get it. You guys kissed. Like, you kissed an actual girl. And now... what?"

Gally sighs, dropping his head as he speaks in a grumbled tone. "I... I don't know, man. She's... she was my boss. She saved my life. You know she found me in the Maze and-"

"And did everything to patch you up. Took you under her wing. Yeah, yeah, we know, we get it." Frypan rolls his eyes, knowing the story off by heart. "You clearly care about her, so why not actually doing something about it?"

"She hasn't done anything about it."

"Uh, yeah, she did."

"When?"

"When she shuckin' kissed you, slinthead."

Gally falls silent for a moment, eyes landing back on you. It's everything about you; your hair, your eyes, your smile, the way you hold yourself, your passion - everything.

"...I don't wanna shuck it up, Fry."

Frypan's eyes land on his friend, the teasing tone slipping away as he looks at him. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Gally anxiously taps his foot, eyes lingering on you again. He looked at you like you were a Goddess and him a feeble insect, blessed to be in your mere presence.

"Gally?" Frypan presses him, brows starting to furrow in worry.

Gally has never been good with words. He's aggressive, and scary, and dangerous. Even if he has learnt to forgive and become more humble thanks to you, it's not like he's become an expert at this. And now he has...

Feelings.

Ew.

He sighs, running his fingers through his short hair. "...I messed everything up back in the Maze. I was scared, and I acted on my own. I tried to hurt you guys, and I..." He trails off, the sound of the gunshot and Chuck hitting the floor still burnt into the back of his retinas. He shakes his head, clearing his throat. "I don't wanna mess this up, too."

Frypan looks at him for a few seconds, before smacking him on the back of the head.

"Klunk-! Fry! What the shuck, man?" Gally grumbles as he rubs the back of his head.

"Are you hearing yourself, shank?" Frypan leans forward on his knees. "That girl over there brought you back from the dead. She saw the potential in you and made it work. Without you, we would've never been able to save Minho, we would've never stopped WCKD - hell, we probably wouldn't even have made it here, man. Get a grip. You ain't that same sissy that spent his time buggin' out around the Glade, terrified of change. You're a hero and a rebell who risked his life for change."

Gally looks at his friend, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"And the only way that you're shucking this up, is if you sit you shank-ass here and do nothing." Frypan continues, letting the statement hang in the air for several moments.

Gally nods, churning the words over in his head.

"I'm right. Am I right, or am I right?" Frypan grins.

Gally snorts, shaking his head slightly. "You're right."

"'Course I shuckin' am." Frypan grins, patting his long-time friend's back. "Now, are you gonna sit here, wasting your breath yappin' my ear off - or are you gonna go get your girl?"

Gally struggles to hide the smile playing on his lips.

His girl.

He likes the sound of that.

"I'm gonna get my girl."

Whilst Gally gets his heart to heart (lecture) from Frypan, you've taken to cleaning up cups and desperately trying to stop drunk people from falling over. It's not a pleasant way to spend your evening, but it takes your mind off your boredom and constant speculation about your relationship with Gally.

"Hey, Boss." The familiar voice pulls you away from your thoughts, landing on the broad boy.

"I told you you don't have to call me Boss anymore, Gally." You roll your eyes slightly, continuing to pick up glasses.

"Yeah, sorry, force of habit." Gally rocks on his heels, anxiously looking at you.

"...You good?"

"Uh, yeah - uh, can we talk?" You raise an eyebrow at his words, a bubble starting to form in the pit of your stomach. "Like.. in private?"

"Sure. 'Course. Uh, wanna walk along the beach?"

"Yeah." He smiles slightly. "Sounds good."

You put the glasses you've collected down, nodding for him to follow you as you both head towards the waves, starting to wander as the waves just miss lapping up your feet.

Gally doesn't look at you for a while. His eyes fixed on the endless sand ahead of him; it's a heavy silence.

You don't push him. Sure, you spent months pushing him to his full potential. But when it came to talking, it was better to let Gally take his time.

After about ten minutes of walking, he finally takes a deep breath. "So, uh... I spoke to Fry.."

"Oh, yeah? What did he have to say this time?"

"He basically called me a useless slinthead." He chuckles dryly, glancing at you.

"Slinthead? That's like a dickhead, right?" He grins slightly; you're still getting used to the dumb slang of the Glade - it really doesn't help that every group of Maze escapees has their own set of personal curse words.

"Yeah, basically." He chuckles.

"...why'd he call you a dickhead? Sorry- slinthead."

He can't help but shake his head at you, that smile still on his face. "Well, uh, I've been a massive diaper-klunkin' sissy, basically."

You blink. What the fuck does that even mean?

He laughs at your confusion before composing himself, stopping to look at you, which makes you stop, too. You face him, brows furrowed slightly as nervousness starts to feel heavy through your inside.

"...remember before the Last City fell? When you kissed me?"

You freeze, embarrassment heating your face as you'd began to start cringing at the memory when you fall asleep. "Honestly, I thought you'd forgotten that." You attempt to joke to lighten some of the tension.

He scoffs. "Yeah... I've been a bit of an idiot." He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just... I was worried about ruining things between us, yanno? I'm so used to messy everything up and-"

"You don't mess everything up." You interject, immediately prepared to defend him against himself.

"Yeah - I know; Frypan already gave me the lecture." He grimaces slightly, almost like he's cringing at himself. "But... I like you. Like, I really shuckin' like you. And... we're safe here. I wanna stop being such a pussy and just..."

It takes a second to sink in what he's saying, your skin feels warm and tingly, butterflies erupting in your stomach. "...just?"

"...I just wanna ask you if... you'd... like to be my girlfriend?" His confidence falters with every word, voice raising in pitch, scrunching his face as he finishes his question in embarrassment. "That sounded shuckin' awkward." He sighs. "Listen-"

You don't listen, because he has no time to speak. Adrenaline takes over as you step towards him, hand coming to cup his cheek as you press your lips against his once again.

The kiss is short and sweet as you pull away, meeting his half-lidded eyes and wide grin. "Take that as a yes?"

"Yes, Gally, I'd love to be your girlfriend. Took you fuckin' long enough."

He snorts. "Yeah, yeah." He leans back in, kissing you again, this time deeper and with more passion, his fingers creeping around the back of your head and into your hair.

"Shuck yeah!" Both of you pull away from each other, seeing Frypan shouting from half way down the beach. "Told you she's your girl!"

You look at Gally. "The fuck is he on about?"

"...Don't worry about it."

So, I'm back.

Again.

And back with a part 2, nonetheless. Sorry for vanishing, lads, I've had some wicked lack of motivation and I feel like a bit of a dick about it.

Yanno... since it's been literal months.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed :))

[petrichor-idyllic]

HiI would like to request two Minho x female reader please.

1. Minho gets in the shower ro relax and reader joins him and they are starting fluffy but when they start cleaning each others body things get heated and it turns into smut.

2. Reader and Minho liked each other but noone had time to explore the feelings. But when Minho gets back from that night with Thomas in the maze the reader is so happy hes still alive and there is some tension building up...later on the keepers meeting (book scene) where Minho is a total hottie and says the most iconic stuff as usual reader cant help herself and once the meeting is over she suddenly kisses him.

Thank youuuuu <333

Okay, yes I can totally do this, however I am still new and bad at tumblr so idk how (or if it's even possible) for me to respond to something twice. So, here is the first one and I will try to write both and post them at around the same time, so keep your eye out for the second :))

REWARD AFTER A LONG DAY'S WORK

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above- 1. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, guess I've put it off long enough so have some actual smut. Unprotected intercourse. Reader is on birth control because I said so, we ain't having any Glader babies running around. Unedited because I refuse to reread my own sex scenes- cope. Minors DNI 18+.

You and Minho have been dating for a while now. Everyone in the Glade knows because, well, it's kind of hard not to notice.

When Minho isn't out in the Maze, he's clinging to you like there's no tomorrow. Probably because for him, there might actually not be. His job is dangerous, and he could literally die every single time he heads out there.

So, he spends as much time as he physically can with you.

Not that you're complaining. You love Minho- I mean, who wouldn't? He's basically your personal guard dog, not to mention he's passionate and caring and does everything he can to make sure he's not making you uncomfortable.

He's literally the perfect boyfriend, much to the other Glader's dismay- it means you're probably not going to be single again anytime soon. And with you being the only girl, there's definitely some pouting in Minho's presence.

Speaking of your boyfriend, you haven't seen him since you greeted him at the Doors. He's been pretty busy recently, especially with Alby doubling down on the workload.

"Newt," you spot the blond from a mile away as he sits in a group of boys but that doesn't stop you from approaching him. People are starting to settle down for the night. The Doors are closed, dinner has been and gone, and the dim light of numerous flames is the only thing keeping the Glade alive. "Have you seen Minho?"

"Hm?" He blinks for a second, pulling himself out of his current conversation and processing what you just said. "Oh, yeah, he's in the shower- he got stuck in the Map Room late. 'Said sommet about needing to relax." The boy shrugs, clearly having not paid that much attention to his friend.

"Alright, thanks," you flash him a smile before heading in the direction of the shower block. The showers are actually normally empty at this time, because this is around the time that you take a shower, and the boys respect that.

"Minho?" The sound of running water fills the rows of showers, covered with curtains.

"Hm? Yeah?" He responds, voice gravelly and tired.

"Is everything okay? Newt said you needed to relax?" You creep further forward, not wanting to startle him as you stand outside of the closed sheet.

"Yeah," you can hear the smile in his voice, "yeah, I'm alright, just a rough day."

Silence settles as you can hear Minho quietly hum to himself out of satisfaction. You smirk to yourself for a second before you speak.

"Yanno, I also need to have a shower," you pause slightly, "do you mind if I join you?"

The curtain moves, not exposing Minho but he does stick his head out, smirking at you. "You wanna shower with me?"

You shrug, feigning innocence, "Might help you relax, yanno?" He rolls his eyes, dropping the curtain and letting it fall back in place.

"Get your ass in here." You snort a laugh, doing as you're told. You strip from your clothes, hooking them over the top of the curtain bar with Minho's clothes. There's no way you're leaving them on the floor. You're already taking a risk getting undressed in an open area- though the Gladers know better due to routine.

You move the worn piece of fabric, slipping into the small area as Minho has his back to you, hogging the water. Though, you take a second to admire your boyfriend's perfect form.

His back is muscular and toned- he's obviously got an athletes build. He runs the Maze all day, every day. But even so, seeing his perfect body us more than enough to have your heart racing, even if you see it pretty much every day.

"Are you gonna move, or what?" Minho scoffs as your blunt tone, stepping aside to let you squeeze next to him, allowing the luke-warm water to hit you both.

He looks down at you, his smile is soft as he drinks in your appearance. It's not like he hasn't seen it before- you guys struggle to keep your hands off of each other most of the time. But still, he always feels so lucky to have you, and he thinks you're gorgeous.

They could dump a bunch of girls in the Glade tomorrow and Minho wouldn't care.

You picked him- him! He at least has something good going for him.

"The shuck you staring at, pervert?" You joke and he jabs you in the ribs, causing you to squeak.

"Uh, my girlfriend? I'm allowed to look at my girlfriend last time I checked."

"I'm allowed to look at my girlfriend," you mock him, making him push his tongue into his cheek. "What happened today, anyway? I've barely seen you."

"Sorry," he mumbles, throwing his head back and letting the water wash through his hair, running down to the front of his neck and down his defined chest. "A couple of Runners are getting frustrated and have started causing problems. It happens every now and then after someone becomes a Runner, and they think they're gonna change the world or some shit, and then they throw a tantrum when nothing happens."

"That sounds pretty klunky," he hums in agreement. You and Minho are long past the honeymoon phase, but that's not a bad thing. You're comfortable with each other, and it also means you know one another, and your bodies, pretty well. "You want me to wash your back?"

"Of shuckin' course, I do," you roll your eyes at him, but you still take the soap off of the shelf. You run your hands over his back, letting your nails sink in, but you know Minho doesn't mind.

You trace your fingers over the occasional white line; the scars are old, and it's been a while since Minho's been seriously hurt. But they're still a bitter reminder that he's literally risking his life on a daily basis.

"Alright," Minho turns to face you, pressing a quick peck to your lips, "your turn- spin."

"You're not at scary as you look, you know that, right? The other boys would never let it go if they saw you acting like this."

"Yeah, yeah, but they're never gonna see it, are they?" You turn around, facing the wall as Minho's hands start to run along your back. "It's all for you." Minho has you rolling your eyes a lot, but you do release a snort as well at his cheesey behaviour.

You let yourself relax, melting into his touch as you lean back, resting your head against his shoulder. You let him massage you, feeling him press light kisses against your shoulder and the side of your neck.

"Minho.." You murmur, letting out a satisfied breath, feeling heat starting to surge between your legs. Minho had always been an expert at doing so little to get so much out of you. It's almost annoying, but definitely a skill to be sure.

"Hm?" His teeth graze against your throat from behind as his hands come to your hips. He's not forceful by any means, but you take the opportunity to push your ass back against him. He quickly reciprocates the action, as you feel him getting hard against you.

Likewise, it doesn't take much to get him going either.

His boldness grows as he very gently drags his fingers down your mid-drift. Your head starts to feel fuzzy, and you gasp as his hand only travels lower.

"Can I make you feel good?" He mumbles mainly into your hair as his warm breath catches against your ear. "Can I touch you?"

You nod, your words catching in your throat as you suddenly forget how to function.

"Use your words for me," it takes you a second, but overwhelmed by need in the growing steamy room, you manage to squeak out a vaguely strung-together sentence.

"Please, touch me, Minho."

He's more than pleased to oblige, dipping his fingers lower and between your folds. You breath hitches, becoming heavier as he starts to gently rub circles over your bundle of nerves.

His rhythm is painfully slow as he teases you, knowing exactly how to make you melt under his touch. You whimper, clinging to his arm for some kind of support.

Your body already aches for him, but with his current actions, he knows you're not going to achieve anything.

"Minho, please," you stress, grinding against his hand to try and desperately get some more friction. Well, he can't say no to you, so he increases his movements.

He adds a little bit more pressure, touching you exactly as you need to be touched. It doesn't take long for you to feel tense in your lower stomach, your body trembling, mumbling gasps escaping you.

And then Minho pulls away.

You whimper at the lack of contact, turning to face your boyfriend. An attempt of a pout is quickly dispersed as Minho pushes his lips to yours. You hum into his mouth as you let him push you against the cool wall of the shower.

One of your hands comes to the back of his neck as he holds your face and you hip. Your other hand brushes against Minho's hardened dick, breaking the kiss for a second.

"Can I-?" You ask.

"Please." He begs.

You run your thumb over the tip, feeling him shivering against you as you connect again. Slowly, you start to touch him more, but he doesn't let it last long.

"We've, uh, we've been un here a while- you wanna hurry this up before someone comes looking for us?"

You smirk. "Sounds like a good idea."

Minho's mouth goes to your neck, hiking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist. His teeth nip at your skin as you gasp, feeling him fill you.

His pace starts slow. Probably because you're not exactly in the most natural position. But with your soft mewling into his ear and nails carving into his back is more than enough to make him rougher.

He knows your body perfectly, and he can tell you're close simply from the noises you're making. As much as he'd hate to admit it, he still hasn't quite built up a resilience to your vagina just yet, which is why he puts more attention on you. Finishing too early is natural, but he's still embarrassed by it.

His fingers once again reach for your clit, and very quickly waves of pleasure are washing over you, leaving you trembling and moaning as Minho holds you in place.

After a few more thrusts, he groans, trying to use the crook of your neck to stifle his noises. His body relaxes, falling limp. You listen to his heavy breathing for a short while, taking the time to compose yourself.

"You good?" You chuckle as he pulls back, also pulling out of you. In response, he kisses you again.

"I shucking love you," he mumbles as he presses your foreheads back together.

You, once again, roll your eyes, but you can't help the soft smile playing on your lips. "I love you too, slinthead."

Yeah, okay, I've actually finally wrote smut. And it's not even good smut- I am not proud of this. But I also refuse to reread it because I cannot read my own sex scenes without cringing so y'all are just gonna have to deal with it.

I'm definitely better at writing spice and fluff- but I am here to entertain the people and ask and you shall receive.

Bit dramatic lmao, but anyway I hope y'all kinda enjoy :))

I am sorry.