Kept From You Thomas [tmr]

kept from you — thomas [tmr]

summary ; in which WICKED take y/n to experiment on her, and thomas loses his mind worrying about her. [040218]

warnings ; thomas x fem!reader, being drugged, unconciousness, violence, angry!thomas, angst.

word count ; 2.4k

masterlist

IT HURT YOUR head. The bleach white of the walls, the floors, the lights. The endless corridors of pale, blanch colourant glaring down at your weak figure. It made your fluttering eyes sting, a grimace contorting your features as you felt the thundering in your skull - like war drums pounding in a constant, ruthless beat.

A woman, dressed in a lab coat and a red veneer of lipstick painting her smirk sinister, had a grip on your arm so tight you were sure it would leave a bruise in the mark of her hand. Her long legs were paced fast, her heels clicking rapidly against the ground, one after the other in a gruelling pattern. Her swift walk had you stumbling on shaky legs in your hospital gown behind her, trying to keep up with her as she dragged you down the maze of corridors.

And although you distantly recognised the situation you were in to be cunningly evasive (something was definitely not right), your head was elsewhere. It was spinning.

Foggy were the memories of them sticking needles in the vein in your neck, in your arms, your wrists. You weren’t sure if you dreamt it or not, but by the way that you couldn’t stand up on your bare feet properly as you staggered behind this unknown woman, you had an idea that you had been injected with something. You had been drugged. It wasn’t a dream.

As you came to the dreaded conclusion, you tried to pull back. Your muscles felt feeble, all the energy in your body having seemingly dissipated up into the tense air and had you feeling unsteady, wobbly. The woman felt you meekly fight back, too drowsy to change your uncharted fate. She let out a chuckle, although void of any emotion it seemed. She barely glanced over her shoulder as you grunted lightly, your breath coming out choppy and your head lolling to the side with tiresome enervation. What had they done to you?

Alas, her iron grip on your aching arms only tightened as she tugged you sharply forward - as if she was silently telling you that you were being too slow. Inevitably, the yank had jolted your indolent body to a collapse, your knees giving way and smacking against the cold, tiled ground. The woman let out an irritated huff, stopping shortly to snatch the collar of your hospital gown and jerk your thin body back to your feet.

“We don’t have time for this.” She muttered, the gripe of her voice low and venomous in your ears.

“W-Where-” Your stuttered and hushed words quickly slammed into their demise when your chest heaved, sweat dripping down your forehead as the floor tipped. You had to squeeze your eyes shut as the world spun right before you. “Where am I- Where are you… Where are you taking me?”

She didn’t answer. Or she didn’t hear you, your panting words barely registering in your own ears through the high pitched screeching ringing in your head - like a shrill whistle.

The two of you turned yet another corner, you fully expecting it to be one more corridor in a never-ending compound of corridors. But then you passed a window stretched out to fit the entire length of the wall, and your dazed attention shifted to the variable.

Behind the glass, tables full of people that looked close to your age were situated, chatting with each other, eating peacefully from food trays. You wondered if that was where you were being taken, your empty stomach growling and your dry mouth and cracked lips begging for a drip of water.

But that hope was crushed when you noticed your attire was clearly different to their plain shirts and trousers and trainers, compared to your thin gown that hung limply from your malnourished figure and your bare feet that slapped against the floor.

Unbeknownst to you, in the bland room of teenagers, Thomas immediately noticed you stumbling down the hallway through a small window of glass. He straightened sharply, his dark eyes widening.

“(Y/N),” He breathed out, his heart racing so quick he thought it would burst from his chest.

When you had all arrived at this unknown building after escaping from the maze, his hand had been clutching yours with anticipation and the instinct to protect you from whatever came next had washed over him. Then, the people who saved them proved to be noble and considerate when they ran some tests of all of the Gladers, checking their vitals and making sure they were healthy.

A woman, dark-haired and smile sickly sweet, gently guided you away from the rest of the boys. You’d looked over your shoulder sceptically, peering over at Thomas with eyes clouded with dubious confusion. He’d held your gaze as you gingerly followed the woman, itching to jump up - from where some doctor was holding the chest piece of a stethoscope to his chest and monitoring the rhythm of his heart - and pull you away from the stranger who could potentially bring you harm.

But then he had reminded himself that these people had saved them, they’d been nothing but nice to them and caring of their well-being. So, instead of pulling you into his arms and away from the lady, he’d sent you a small, reassuring nod. To that, you’d reluctantly nodded back, following the doctor out the room and into another - one more closed off and desolate. You trusted Thomas, with everything you had and more. If he believed you’d be okay in the hands of these people then you would believe it too.

It had been a week since then. Thomas hadn’t seen you since that very day, and each passing day that he spent not seeing you had his heart spiralling further and further into an abyss of worriment and distress. Nobody would tell him where you were, how you were, what you were doing. Nobody would answer his questions, and it infuriated him to no end.

The other boys were concerned too, troubled by the fact that you had seemingly disappeared from the face of the dying earth. So when they vaguely heard Thomas call your name through the faintest of whispers of disbelief - they too perked up.

“What?” Newt asked sharply, his eyes trying to find where Thomas’ were glued to.

“It’s (Y/N),” He muttered again, swiftly jumping up from his place at the table. “(Y/N)!” Your name fell from his lips in a rush, his legs carrying him to the window. His palm banged against the glass, wide eyes watching as you passed - the same woman he’d seen guide you away on their first day there forcefully wrenching you along.

Your hair staggered in front of your face when you head dropped forward sluggishly, as if it were too heavy for you to be able to hold up on your shoulders. Your feet stumbled over themselves, your body’s vitals failing as your head spun with whatever serum was rushing through your veins. You looked like you were about to pass out. Thomas’ fleeting thoughts told him once again that something wasn’t right with this place. It had seemed too good to be true when they’d first arrived, but now seeing you in the condition that you were in, he knew it was too good to be true.

Running along the window to keep up with you, your name echoed up into the now eerily silent room of teenagers by his will, “(Y/N)!”

Your head lifted at the muffled sound. Your tired eyes locked with a pair of familiar dark ones and your heart jumped, “T-Thomas?” To you, the sound left your lips in a hushed breath. But the boy read your lips perfectly, his worry only increasing when your eyebrows tugged inwards and your eyes glazed over, welling with glimmering tears.

You struggled to draw back from the woman once more, wanting to prolong the glimpse of hope that coiled in the pit of your stomach when you saw the boy that you loved - even if it was through a barrier of glass that made it sound like the words he called were said from underwater.

The wall of window was quickly running out, the end of the corridor nearing with a dread that curled around your bones like vines. At the very end, a door. You shuddered at the thought of what was behind the steel, and fought harder to release yourself.

The woman noticed you trying to make your escape, digging your heels into the ground in an attempt to try and stay in the eye-line of your boyfriend’s tormented gaze. Her tug was sharper than the first time you revolted from her grip; it sent you lurching to the ground almost immediately with a pained groan, your body screaming - courtesy of the burden of aching affliction put upon you.

Weakly, you wrung your arm from her fingers and shuffled back on the tiles as quick as you could. Regardless of your infeasible attempts, you weren’t quick enough - your lack of desired energy costing your life as she trapped you like a caged, hopeless animal and pulled a syringe from the pocket of her doctors coat.

The needle looked salient and treacherous, taunting you as she cornered you against the wall. Her bony fingers grasping grimly at your jaw and keeping you locked in place as she shook her head, almost in disappointment. “I told you,” She seethed, her eyes dark and menacing and her tone marred with unmerciful malice, “We don’t have time for this.”

“Hey!” Thomas’ voice boomed, his fist repeatedly smacking against the unbreakable glass in his burst of fury as he watched you struggle away from her. “Let her go!”

The woman blatantly blanked the racket that Thomas was making behind her, the pad of her thumb pressing down on the syringe and injecting the unidentifiable liquid into your bloodstream anyway. A gasp slipped from your lips in the shape of Thomas’ name, fear coursing through your being like a tidal wave as your body reacted instantly to the haunting inoculation.

The lights seemed more blinding than ever, the walls closing in on your helpless figure, the inky darkness creeping up into your eyesight - until you saw nothing, until you felt nothing, until you were nothing. Your body slumped over in the desolate corridor, and the woman wound her arm around your waist like a python suffocating its victim. She lugged your unconscious body to the door, her emotion stolid.

Thomas felt frantic as he watched the woman swipe her ID through the monitor and carry your limp body through the door, unable to do anything from his side of the glass. His darting eyes saw the guards standing in the doorway of the cafeteria and he immediately took off running - needing to get out and find you. He tried to get past, his chest heaving and panic shrouding his rational thoughts. The two guards, a lot taller than him and armed, shoved him back with ease.

“This is a restricted area, kid.” One of them spoke. Thomas would’ve scoffed at the term ‘kid’, but he was too panicked to care. Nobody else saw what that woman did. Nobody else saw the condition you looked to be in.

“Where is she going? Where are they taking her?!” He bellowed, trying to look over the guards’ shoulders and catch a glimpse of your dark head of hair being hauled away against your will. The guards didn’t answer, acting impassive and as if Thomas hadn’t said anything at all.

“Tell me where they’re taking her!” He shoved the guard back as hard as he could, his frenzied worry for you forging all of his actions. The rest of the boys were instantly by his side, trying to hold him back from causing more of a scene and getting in trouble.

“She’s fine.” The other said, grave and inscrutable and dodging the question easily.

The sudden hot temper that adorned Thomas was only fired up further at the guard’s uncaring response. His heart pounded in his chest, so fast that the iambic rhythm became utterly lost between the waves of chaotic, choleric rage. “She’s not fine!” He all but roared, struggling against the hands of his friends attempting to hold him back.

“Why won’t you let me see her?! What are they doing to her?!” The spat of alarmed questions erupted, his dark eyes wide and glowering as the guards continued to refuse his entry.

He wasn’t getting anywhere. The distant sound of his friends trying to tell him to calm down, that you’ll be fine, that they’ll find you skimmed over his head completely. The only thing ringing in his ears where the echoed sounds of you calling his name, panic and despair etched in your sunken features as you looked to him through the glass. The only haunting image in his head was the one of you hanging unconscious in the woman’s cruel grip.

He couldn’t give up on you, he would never. The two of you had been together since being in the Glade, unable to deny the feelings that had been mutual before your memories got wiped. When Thomas had gotten himself stung, he’d seen you. You and him, together. You’d been by his side since the two of you had first been taking in by WICKED when you were young, and after, when he’d come up in the box - despite not recalling the memories you shared with him.

You were what got him through being trapped in the Maze. The thought of you, of seeing you again, of holding you in his arms once more, had got him to strive to survive the night he, Minho and Alby had been stuck out there in the depths of the deadly night. You were what got him through defeating the Maze, through Chuck’s death, through everything. He needed you.

That was when he decided. He will get you back, he will find you, even if it’s the last thing he does.

part II

feedback? // tags; @virgincreek @writing-in-riverdale 

Of Fear and Foxes

Pairing: Draco x muggleborn!Reader (ft. Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore)

Content/Warnings: Violence; angst; fluff

This is set during The Order of the Phoenix.

Words: 1482

A/N: Another prompt for you guys! This was a request from anon for 29 and 31 with Draco, I hope you like! I queued this (first time for everything!) since I’m gone all day and won’t have time to post. I’ll only be on mobile and even then not that much, so enjoy and I’ll see you guys Sunday!

Prompts are open!

You were trapped. You knew it, and so did the seventh year Gryffindors, who had grabbed you when you were on your way to dinner from the library. The rest of the Slytherins probably thought you were still in the library, and with everyone at dinner, no one would come looking. It gave them enough time to rough you up a little.

“Even the muggleborn’s a Death Eater,” One sneered. They hadn’t even bothered putting you in a full body bind - after all, there are three of them, and one of you. Not to mention you’re only a fifth year. You didn’t have a chance, and you all knew it. “Guess being in Slytherin just takes all the humanity out of you.”

“I’m not a Death Eater,” You said with a snarl, doing your best not to wince when they slammed you into the wall. “You want proof? Check my arm.”

Another grabbed your left sleeve, yanking it upwards to reveal smooth skin and no mark. “She’s clean, guys,” The third said. “Are you sure -” “Only a matter of time, right?” The tallest one said, grabbing your wrist in an iron grip. You knew it was going to bruise later. “I mean, Slytherin is basically where they train all the Death Eaters. Isn’t that right?”

“We’re not all evil!” You said, wishing you had your wand. But they had tossed it away, and it was several meters out of your reach. “Aren’t you high and mighty Gryffindors supposed to be the good guys?”

“Why do you think we’re doing this?” The second one asked, twirling his wand between his fingers. “Got to nip it at the bud, right? Maybe we should give her a taste of her own medicine? What’s that signature torture spell that You-Know-Who uses? Oh yeah!”

“Those are illegal, are you crazy?” The third said, grabbing the second’s arm. “We could all get sent to Azkaban!”

“What, like the snake’s nest should be? Let’s put them on the receiving end for once!” The first one snarled as you edged down the wall towards your wand. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Dinner?” You squeaked hopefully.

Keep reading

Muggle or Not

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Muggleborn!Reader

Content/Warnings: angst; fluff

Words: 1265

A/N: I just chose a random, not-Slytherin house for this fic. Draco may be a little OOC here, but I tried to write him knowing the possibility that his soulmate might be a muggle. This was a request from @alexisbeck23 for 9. Anything you draw/write on your own skin appears on your soulmate’s.

Compared to other people, your skin was starkly empty. There was a time when your skin would be covered in words you and your soulmate had written back and forth to each other. It was usually from after the two of you had just learned to write, your small arms and legs decorated with the messy handwriting of two six-year-olds. As you got older, your soulmate wrote less, saying that his father disapproved of the ink that often coated most of his body. Still, the two of you often communicated - you just made sure to use marker that washed off easily.

You had always gotten the sense that your soulmate was a little odd, from the strange comments he had tended to make over the years, though by far the oddest was one he had asked when you were around eight years old. ‘Are you a muggle?’ His surprisingly neat handwriting asked. You furrowed your brows, staring confusedly down at the unfamiliar word.

‘What’s a muggle?’ You wrote in response, your handwriting a little less neat that his.

Letters appeared under your question almost as soon as you had finished writing it. ‘Nothing. It’s not important.’ He never brought it up again, but you were still stuck with the niggling thought that no matter what he said, it really was something important.

Keep reading

We’re Getting Married

Pairing: Dylan O’Brien x Reader

Author: @cxddlyash  

Words: 7923

Author’s Note: So, I love wedding stuff and I planned one out for a Dylan fic and I basically wrote this in one day! Eh? Hopefully you guys will like it. It’s super cute and smutty! Thanks to @mf-despair-queen for proofreading this for me. Pst, she’s amazing.

You can find all the wedding stuff here

Keep reading

cat & mouse

❝ rule number one of bro code states that sisters are completely off-limits, and, y/n, we just pushed that limit. ❞

PAIRING ▸ na jaemin x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, crack, fluff, college au, friends with benefits au

WARNINGS ▸ lots of !! sexual tension !! and jaemin acting like a dick, protective big brother!jaehyun, lots of sneaking around, jaemin calls you princess a lot, teasing, fingering, alcohol consumption, hooking up, thigh riding, smut, oral sex, aftercare

SUMMARY ▸ tired of meaningless hookups and dull parties, na jaemin had always been hesitant to indulge himself. that is, of course, until he met you. however, upon realizing you’re none other than jeong jaehyun’s little sister, jaemin has to keep his relationship with you under wraps to make sure his team captain doesn’t find out. 

PLAYLIST ▸ move! by niki • playinwitme by kyle (feat. kehlani)

WORD COUNT ▸ 17713 words

TAG LIST ▸ @chubsluda​ @celestialchans​ @treasurestay​ @luvlyjaemin​ @lanadreamie​ @kylomeyon​ @taehinsano​ @jenotation​ @ovelha-colorida-v​ @hrjflrt​ @to-blessed-2-be-stressed​ @honeyju​ @chanluster​ @sweetjaemss​ @najaemsenthusiastttt​ @neovrse​ @jjikyuu​ @treasurestay​ @ahgastayzen​ @wcnderlandss​ @jaehy9ngs​ @jaemxins​ @syhznanny​ @lilminyoongles​ @bbnana​

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so much for all of your love and support !! it’s beyond me & i hope you guys enjoy this ! part of the slam dunk! series but it can be read separately ♡

NA JAEMIN HATED PARTIES.

In the same vein, he hated basketball to an extent. It wasn’t the sport itself that he despised, it was the commitments that followed it. As a vital player on the team, he was obligated to attend every afterparty despite how much he loathed parties. Yet, what he couldn’t stand was being nagged by his teammates, so Jaemin went to the parties. He went to the parties and drank until he was numb and the party was tolerable.

Keep reading

runway (m) | jung yoonoh

pairing: model!jaehyun x fashion designer!reader

words: 18.7k

summary: there are some things that come with dedicating your life to fashion: a taste for finer fabrics, a splash of love for art, and an appreciation of the human body. none of these are supposed to include the hottest model you have ever laid eyes on, or the fact that you completely, utterly hate his guts. 

genre: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, light smut, comedy-ish

warnings: sexual content, mentions of anxiety

a/n: woohooooooo she’s finally here!!!! i cant believe this!! everything aside, i do not have first hand experience working in the fashion industry so please do take this with a grain of salt. i’m also going to pass out. good night <3

A list of things you appreciate: colours, satin, comfort.

A list of things you do not appreciate: Jung Yoonoh. Jaehyun. Whatever.

The hum of the car engine has little effect on you; you travel like this almost every day. Tall buildings, scorching pavement, the blare of traffic—it’s Seoul, after all. You sigh, more of a short expression of annoyance, scrolling down with your thumb and back up again. Since when did he get permission to post pictures from pre-fittings? And one of your works, no less. 

His feed is so messy. You click your tongue. For a model, that is. 

Keep reading