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with dreams came rain, part one. thomas x green-eyed reader

summary 📣: in which thomas has a dream about a pretty girl with pretty green eyes from his past

warning/s 🚫: “angst”

slater’s note 🗯: au but also still follows the storyline of the scorch trials (part two?)

sleep was hard to come by now a days.

the heat of the scorch sent thomas over on edge as he would have barely have time to sleep before being woken from deep sweats of stress and bad dreams that were always the same and always reoccurring but always so short.

he’d lie awake at night with his hands folded over his chest while his eyes studied the surface of the sky. dark and blue with tiny little lights that were just barely visible through the usual clouds full of thunder and lightening but never really rain.

he’d think and he’d hope for sleep and for peace to come to his mind at last but he knew it’d never come.

when sleep did come, he’d wish for the dream.

the dream with the pretty girl around his age with memorizing pretty green eyes filled with youth and spark. he could see the soul in them, full of harmonious joy that gave him life, that fueled him with happiness.

it was always the same. begun the same, ended the same, never with a hello nor with a goodbye.

and that angered him. he was always set mad with the lack of time he had. he wanted more. he wanted to say goodbye.

“look at the sky, thomas, look how pretty.”

everytime he saw you, it always rained.

literally rained. water fell from the sky, drenching the dry, hot sand. blinding any live eyes of the scorch.

“looks so soft and...”

“...calming.”

he held you closely and tightly with his arm wrapped around your back while the other held your arm, making sure you were stable up close on top of him.

“you make me feel calm... you make me happy, thomas,” you rolled over so your chest was fully pressed against his, hearts connecting, hands lacing together like puzzle pieces.

he felt like he couldn’t breathe. everything you were doing he wanted to last forever and yet he hadn’t had the slightest clue who you were despite everything feeling familiar.

like this was done before, you were real and not a figment of his imagination. every repetitive touch you shared together, every kiss, every word, every noise... it seemed all real and all just a distant memory that his subconscious was pulling up for a sense of relief.

“i feel stuck in my head when i’m not with you,” you whispered, lips moving closer to his, every inch closer to desire and praise and relief.

relief from the built up tension in his stomach. relief from the scorch. relief from WICKED, being hunted, seeing his friends dying, starting life over and over again. it was all relief once your lips touched his.

“please, never leave me.”

he should’ve known it was a dream by how good he felt and by the words that fell from his mouth so effortlessly and mindlessly and by how he didn’t worry about anything.

his stomach felt like as if there were a million tiny bunches of bubbles swarming and consuming every bit of him as he took in every bit of you.

“i wouldn’t dream of it.”

it always ended there. the fantasy world of soft colors and warm weather began to melt away and disappear, slipping from his finger tips no matter how hard he tried to grasp it, hold on tightly, but that only made it fall away faster.

and then it rained.

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Me secretly hoping for a part two: 👀👀

a gradum ad lumen - part 1 .

decided to post the first chapter to the Maze Runner fanfic I discussed earlier, I thought it would be a good way to ease back into things after my prolonged absence.  hope you all enjoy, please contact me if you have any specific requests for the series and let me know what you think!  ending is also a bit rushed, because i was super excited to get this posted for you guys, but i already have the second chapter in the works.

___

Word count: 2.1k!

Warnings : general TMR TWS; blood, slight gore, disturbing ideas / images, and depicted injuries.

Pronouns used: they/them – gender-neutral.

Prompt(s) used: “Who knows.  Maybe we’ve actually made it out of this hellhole after all.”

Pairing: TMR x GN!Reader.

A/N: just one; i imagined reader had a slight british accent when writing this, but feel free to think otherwise!!  this is also open to any skin tones, body sizes, etc.  i believe in inclusion to the fullest, and plan to make a few fanfics w/ a practising muslim reader in the future; lmk if you have any ideas! 

___

Staying out in the Maze was likely a dumb idea, especially with the ever-present thought of the fact that the Doors were bound to close at any minute pounding at the back of your head.

Nevertheless, your eyes were fixated on the sight in front of you, hands on your hips as e/c irises took in the thick vines that were rooted into the cracks lining the stone floor and stretched as far as the eye could see up the surrounding walls.  Your hand reached up to thread through h/c coloured tresses, thoughts bumbling about your head in an analytical manner. 

E/c coloured eyes moved after the beetle-blade, the metal, bug-like machine chittering as its red-light flicked across the wall it was scampering along before pausing.  Almost as though it sensed your presence, the thing’s head turned to you, camera staring right back at you as it focused on the stationary Glader.  You took a challenging stride toward it, surprised by the fact that it didn’t even move, the step bearing an experimental trial as well as it encouraged them onward.  You were quick to take advantage of the situation, leaping after the machine and closing the few metres of distance between you and the beetle blade in the process.  

Unfortunately, the sudden movement on your end had sent the beetle-blade shooting further along the wall, bee-lining it straight for a crack in the stone that it would just barely manage to fit into.  However, after months of trying to catch one of the blasted things, you’d come to learn a trick or two.  You kicked off the ground, clearly determined to finally get your hands on one of the rutting machines even if it meant having to risk the slight detour from heading back to the Glade.  

You swiftly scaled among the vines, arm shooting above head as your fingertips came to wrap around one of its legs just as the machine made to disappear.  Triumph shot through you as you were about to yank the thing back and disarm it, focused solely on the task at hand when a swift shout that consisted purely of  your name halted everything and sent them tumbling backwards when your single-handed grip on the vines jerked loose in surprise.

Your ankle, however, was more reluctant to follow, remaining  entangled amongst the vines, a sharp jerk sending jolts of pain through your leg the minute your back slammed against the hard, unforgiving floor.  The pain flared, your vision swaying as your eyes flicked to the shoes of the now approaching figure, clearly not pleased with the situation in the slightest as a frustrated and slightly pained groan drew past your lips.  Your thoughts of irritated agony echoed the emotion vividly as you practically felt  the bruises forming along your ankle, only to be interrupted by the same person who had caused you to lose your balance in the first place, a teasing lilt now lacing the newcomer’s voice, which you could easily pinpoint as Minho, 

“Man, I knew you liked me, but I didn’t realise you’d be throwing yourself at my feet the minute you heard me.  Not that I can blame you, I am pretty hot,”  Came his playful words, causing you to set your  jaw in an exasperated grimace before snapping a response. 

“Slim it, before it’s your ankle getting broken, shank,”  You growled, accent heavy and thick in their unpleasant predicament.  You took note of the airy laugh their running partner allowed to bubble past him before crouching beside you and gently unwinding the shrubbery the held them captive, leaving you to wince as your leg dropped to the floor alongside your other leg with a harsh ‘thump’.  “Bloody hell, that hurts like a fucking–,”

“Woah there, you think Newt’d approve of that kind of language?”  Minho snickered from somewhere behind you, the volume of his laughter only rising as you tilted your head back to shoot him the best glare you could muster from the ground.  After a few beats, he finally stifled the rest of his bemused sounds, eyes flicking from your haphazard position and back to your eyes that strained to keep pace with his own before he rolled his eyes and crouched down to offer you a hand up. 

You were rolling onto your stomach in an instant, gingerly twisting your aching leg a moment later with great care as to not let it snag in the chipped concrete floor before you flung your hand into Minho’s outstretched one while huffing a begrudging sigh.  His grip was cold and assuaging in contrast to your heated and unpleasant grasp from being pressed against the Maze’s floor, you noted in the fleeting moment in which your eyes met once more, only for you to bite back a bark of pain as you attempted to settle a sliver of weight onto your leg.  Had it not been for the Keeper’s firm grasp on you, you would have stumbled right back to the ground and likely been left there had he not shown up in the first place, but he offered a teasing scoff instead and slung your hand that was already in his own gloved one across his shoulders.  You obliged with his actions gratefully, almost gasping in relief as you felt the crushing weight alleviated from your injured leg, and began stumbling alongside Minho as he set a rather swift pace that you struggled to keep up with, considering you were only left with only one good leg.  

“Keep up or we might as well roll out a picnic blanket and wait for the Grievers to come and enjoy the quick meal we’d make for them,”  He managed after you stumbled for the nth time, his breathing clearly heavy, and the signs of strain obvious, but he didn’t so much as falter as he continued practically dragging you in the direction of the East Doors.  You couldn’t help but cast a partially distressed glance in his direction, feeling nothing but sorrow at the unnecessary weight you were forcing him to bear, but you knew that he would only tighten his grip on you if you tried to manage without him, so it was a losing game either way.  You cast a final glance his way, but he seemed to catch notice of your lingering stare in his peripheral vision, not even fully turning his head as his mahogany irises focused on the twisting corner wreathed with thickly woven vines just up ahead.  “What’re you lookin’ at, shank?”

You pushed off the ground with your good leg, springing forward and stumbling a few steps as Minho matched strides with you, huffing your response between focused breaths and sighs,  “Nothing.  Uh –,”  you panted softly, sweat beading on your forehead as you continued to manage single steps in the time Minho made three paced strides.  “ – anything planned for tonight?” 

The two of you rounded the corner and you could practically feel your running partner quaver in relief, his response breathless but audible as the two of you attempted to hurry through the homestretch. 

“A big plate of whatever crap Frypan has cooked and a warm shower to rest my weary bones.”

You were about to scoff a laugh the moment you cleared the Doors, already shouldering him with an eye roll and a witty quip soon to follow, when someone called out to you and Minho.  Both your heads turned in unison, your steady steps pausing as his arm fell to your waist to hold you steady, and a beaming smile instantly made way through your exasperated frown as you caught sight of Chuck ambling straight for you, Newt trotting not far behind.  

“What happened?  You guys were out for like, two hours longer than usual!”  The younger boy exclaimed as he approached, finally taking in the sight of you leaning against Minho and his arm around your form before he gagged and darted away.  “Get a room!”

You choked a surprised laugh at the suddenness of Chuck’s joke, watching his retreating figure stick out his tongue at Minho’s irritated expression, which made him look as though he was about to go after him had it not been for Newt’s prompt arrival.  You greeted him with a soft “hey” and the same smile that had been present for the short period of time you had to talk to Chuck, which the blonde seemed to eagerly return, nodding at Minho and taking in the closeness between the two of you.   

“You two had an eventful evening, huh?”  There was no malice in his voice, merely just an amusingly intrigued tone to his words as he gestured to Minho’s gentle hold on your waist, which made you fumble over your words momentarily, rapidly moving to explain the situation as your hands flicked subconsciously along with your rushed train of thought.

“Oh, uh, Minho distracted me whilst I was trying to grab a beetle-blade, and I ended up falling.  Blew my bloody ankle, it seems,”  You gesticulated to the obviously sparse pressure you were putting on your leg with a slightly nervous laugh as Newt cracked into a brighter grin.  

“It was your fault,”  Came Minho’s facetious remark before he cursed under his breath suddenly and knocked your shoulder.  “Since you’re too busy chattin’ up a storm, I’m gonna have to do the maps, aren’t I.” 

It was the second in command’s turn to scoff lightly  and wave a dismissive hand in the Asian’s direction. 

“Consider it an order.” 

“The things I do for you shanks.” 

“Yeah, a bloody hard life you have, shank,”  Newt mused, his smile never once faltering before his eyes finally strayed back to you.  “I’ll get Jack or Clint over, see what they can do in the meanwhile.  Probably just needs to keep off it for a while, take it easy.”  

“Ay, ay,”  He quipped, a lazy, two fingered salute his makeshift form of a farewell, quick to turn on his heel after his fingertips tapped your shoulder in a reassuring manner before he jogged off in the direction of the Map Room, leaving you and Newt to your devices.  

The two of you immediately fell into a bout of comfortable silence as he slowly edged toward you, taking Minho’s place at your side and slipping an arm across your shoulders before looking to you for silent confirmation to begin guiding you to the Medjack hut.  You nodded easily, instantly finding a compromised speed to limp alongside Newt, your own arm settled just under his shoulder blades as you both made your way across the Glade with the sun fully beginning to set behind you.  

“So,”  He began after a moment, doe eyes fixated wholly on you as you carefully navigated through the swishing grass.  Gladers were bustling about the expansive courtyard, some carrying plates loaded with food while Builders wrapped up the day, Gally’s shouting fit heard even from the distance you and Newt were as he ordered the others around.  “You ready for tomorrow?” 

Your head perked up in curiosity, brow furrowing as you called upon even the slightest memory to recall what was supposed to be taking place the next day, finding rather quickly that you wouldn’t be able to.  You offered te blonde a confused look as you continued to keep pace with him as best you could, only stumbling every few feet or so now that you were walking across the even terrain of the grass-laden field.  “What’s going on tomorrow?” 

The second in command chuckled, the sound more akin to the shard of a melody plucked out of a long-since-forgotten song, ancient and rich and beautiful as the golden rays of the dissipating light hit the panes of his face and sent the amber tones to his eyes sparking.  It was truly a peaceful moment, one that you found yourself eager to meld into as you laughed alongside him. 

“Greenie day.  I’m surprised you didn’t remember though, you’re usually more on top of it than I am.” 

You hummed.  It was odd, how something so big followed by the most looked forward to night of the month followed right after slipped your mind, but you figured that in combination to the surge of new Runners and having to train them alongside Minho had proved to be a bigger distraction than you had originally though.  So you shrugged, a content sigh tugging at your lips as you leaned into Newt with a nod.

“‘spose so.  Let’s just hope they aren’t another nutjob like Gally.”

“newt, newt, newt”,

                      thomas thought.