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heliads · 5 days

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Newt x reader Bridgerton AU. Reader, the diamond of the season, is the Duchess of Hastings. She wants to marry someone who likes her as a person and isn’t after her money. Newt, son of a widowed viscountess, needs to marry to save his family’s reputation because his sister Sonya was seen alone with her fiancé Lord Aris before they were engaged. The anonymous writer Lady Whistledown is Ava, a widowed modiste who has her nose in everyone’s business, and Aris is the only one who knows.

'foxes and hounds' - newt

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The start of a new social season, although intended, supposedly, to be a cause for joy, feels rather more like a fierce uprising of dread, not celebration. Across the ton, young maidens find themselves new entrees– or, entrants– to the marriage mart. This game of rings and dances, men with ambition and women with more, will end in blissful happiness or deepest discontent. And all will be witnessed by every worthy family from one corner of the country to the next.

If all goes according to plan, an eligible would-be bride will find herself engaged to a man she loves, a man in possession of a handsome fortune and a sterling reputation. If luck slips past her, she’ll settle for someone decent, or someone without any income at all. If nothing goes in her favor, her first year in society will not be her last as a single woman. She will have to repeat her attempt the next year, this time without the glimmering aura of a new arrival, and hope that something within her has changed enough to attract a proposal. Otherwise, she will sink to the bottom of the pile of dance cards, ignored, abandoned, and grown up into a spinster. All that hard work gone to waste.

You’ve heard many young women discuss the marriage mart with nothing short of absolute terror in their voices. A good opening season can seal a girl’s fate forever. Attracting the eye of a worthy man is an impossible task for all but the best of the rosebuds, or so it seems. Most of us will settle for something halfway decent– a tidy sum per annum but nothing extravagant, a man with casual disinterest but nothing harsh. Something that can be shaped into something good, or at least ignored in favor of not being alone. Such is the romance of a married life.

You, however, hope to extract a little more out of the whole affair. As the Duchess of Hastings, you have no need for money. A marriage would be nice, the final touch on the portrait of a successful lady, but you do not require the financial stability of a husband. You have plenty of money and plenty of friends. You will inherit your estate. If you look for a husband, you will look only for love.

One would think, then, that entering your first season among the eligible women of the ton would be bereft of the panic permeating through most of your friends in search of husbands. However, when you line up with the rest of the young women to be presented to the Queen at the start of the season, you find that it couldn’t be less true.

Your stomach is in knots, even as you sweep confidently through the corridor to wait outside the door. The white feather in your hair stands tall and proud. Your dress is crisp and finely stitched, the highest of fashion yet never gaudy. You attract stares wherever you go– from the other girls, envious and jealous and heartsick, from the men, longing and cutthroat and mercenary– but pretend they don’t phase you in the slightest. As duchess, you’ve had plenty of time to grow accustomed to onlookers. You won’t allow them to interfere with you on this all important day.

At last, your name is called, and you enter the throne room, your mother behind you. You keep your steps small but light, and seem to float towards your queen. When the time is right, you sink into an elegant curtsy. The moment seems to last forever, your knees bent, your hands shaking slightly, but when the queen calls you to stand, you look up to find her smiling benevolently at you.

“I believe I have found my diamond of the season,” she announces.

The room erupts in polite applause, and you do your best to smother a smile that’s entirely too giddy to be proper. As you retreat from the room, you gaze at the faces surrounding you, trying to remember which ones look genuinely happy for you and which seem to be identifying a prize pig for the slaughter. When the town gossips all gather later to share their thoughts on today’s proceedings, you’re certain that some of them will attempt to discredit you, saying that of course the queen would choose the duchess as her diamond, but you know just as well as all of them that you deserve the honor today. You were the best of everyone here, and it’s plain to see.

Among all of them, your gaze catches on a singular man, almost lost in the crowd from all the bodies packed together but no less entrancing. What strikes you the most is that his face seems kind, and his eyes sparkle with pride as they watch you go. Pride for you, for your accomplishments. As if he couldn’t be more delighted that you of all people were named the season’s diamond.

Then you’re gone from the room, and the kind man is no longer before you. Still, you puzzle over the encounter long after your carriage takes you home. You don’t believe you recognize him, but that doesn’t mean anything to sway you towards any decision. An image of the young man swims in your mind– short, dirty blond hair, an upturned mouth, dark eyes, his face almost spritely. Clever, for sure.

You know better than to mess with clever men. Clever men are the type to try and twist your mind, convince you that they only love you then attempt to make off with your money. You know full well what marriage to you will offer any would-be suitor. This season, you may be looking for affection, but every man in the room will be after your fortune. The task of finding someone who truly cares for you will be a difficult one indeed.

So, clever men or not, you’ll have to keep your heart under close guard. When the first ball of the season comes to be, you don one of your finest dresses, and firmly admonish yourself to be careful. The game of hearts is not one that you lose. Either you win, or you destroy yourself.

You time your arrival carefully, so as to make the best entrance, and your efforts are rewarded. From the moment you’re announced, all eyes turn to you. Were it not for your extensive experience with being scrutinized in the grand magnifying lens that is the ton, you’d be nervous to have that many people looking at you. Even still, you can’t pretend you don’t feel a small flutter in your stomach.

It gets easier once you sweep further into the room, once people start smiling at you again, when the conversation picks up and you’re asked for your first dance of the evening, which you accept. Your partner is a charming man named Minho– dark hair, witty eyes, an excellent sense of humor. He’s athletic and a decent dancer, and by the time the music stops, you’re back to your usual self again. You can’t stop yourself from mentally sizing up your dance partner. He seems nice, and you wouldn’t be bored around him, at least. His family owns land. Although he’s not of your precise social standing, few are, and he’s close enough to you that it would be a respectable match.

Still– still, you think to yourself, as you move away from the center of the floor once more to consider your dance card, it’s not quite enough. You want love, you want a spark, and you didn’t quite get that with Minho. There are plenty of eligible suitors here, though, and many more balls to come. You’ll have other opportunities to select a match.

A few dances later, though, your feet are beginning to feel heavy and you’re still no closer to finding someone of interest than you were at the start. A good lady of extensive training such as yourself should have no problem dancing the entire night through with a pleasant smile on her face, but you’re still human, still tired, and your charming demeanor is beginning to pinch at the seams before long.

The music for the latest dance ends, and you curtsy to your partner, praying silently that no one else will be looking to fill your dance card for the next rotation. However, when you turn around, you’re greeted with the sight of many anxious faces. Something inside you wilts, perhaps your endurance.

Before the mobs can descend upon you, however, a figure appears in front of you. You sigh in relief to see one of your closest friends, Miss Teresa Agnes. “Teresa! And here I thought I wouldn’t have a single good friend all evening.”

Teresa laughs, her dark hair shining. “I would never abandon you. Certainly not when our diamond is sparkling so spectacularly tonight.”

You smile at her. “I’m not the only one who’s sparkling, Teresa. You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” Teresa says sincerely. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce someone to you. This is Viscount Newt, a good friend of mine. I met him through Thomas.”

You smile to yourself as Teresa turns to beckon someone towards you. Teresa has been harboring a not-so-secret admiration for Thomas since you were all small. This is her first season in the social circles, too, and if she doesn’t come out of it with a proposal from Thomas, you’ll think the sky has fallen. Even now, he’s watching her fondly from across the room, trying to pretend as if he isn’t pining madly while Minho teases him for it.

“Here he is at last,” Teresa says, and all of a sudden you can’t think about Thomas’ case of lovesickness for a second longer, because Teresa has brought her friend before you, and you know him. It’s the stranger from your presentation to the queen. The nice one, the clever one. The one that caught your eye, and then your imagination.

You curtsy automatically, and Newt bows. Once the two of you straighten up, you’re able to observe him more closely. You’d only gotten a fleeting glimpse earlier, but now you can drink in the sight of him, and you do. His eyes are dark, but catch the lights like stars. His mouth has a habit of twitching up at the sides, as if he’s always thinking of a joke but just barely managing to keep it at bay. When he looks at you, he really looks at you. You’ve been stared at all night by would-be suitors, but their gazes never went farther than surface level. Right now, it’s as if Newt can see through to your very soul, and most intimately of all, appreciates it.

Teresa gives you a confused look, and you realize you’ve been standing in silence for longer than is probably courteous. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say.

“I must return the sentiment,” Newt returns. “Teresa has talked about you many times. I’ve been quite eager to meet you.”

“I hope I’m worthy of what she’s told you,” you say.

Newt smiles again. “I believe you’re even better than that,” he tells you.

Teresa is looking at you with an odd smile. “I believe I’d better let the two of you get to know each other, then,” she says, and sweeps away before you can stop her.

Newt laughs. “She’s been wanting to set us up for ages. For a friendship, I mean,” he breaks in hastily. “Apparently, she thinks we have a similar sense of humor.”

“I look forward to finding that out myself,” you smile.

Newt’s eyes flash with mirth again, delighting you. Behind you, the music picks up again. Newt extends a hand towards you. “Would you mind if I shared a dance with you? Unless, of course, you’d rather sit for a while.”

“I’d love to dance,” you say quickly, and it’s true. All of a sudden, the pain in your feet is gone, as if it had never existed at all.

Newt smiles and takes your hand to lead you to the dance floor. The orchestra begins its melody, and you start your dance. You make a mental note to ask Teresa a little more about Newt later; he dances like an aristocrat, but he speaks so freely to you. It’s nothing like you’ve ever experienced in a suitor before.

Newt arches a brow as he steps through the dance. “Sizing me up, are you? It may be improper of me to ask, but I do hope I’m meeting your requirements.”

Your cheeks heat up. “I’m simply appreciating your mastery of this dance. Nothing more.”

Newt laughs easily. “Of course not. It’s not as if everyone else here is doing the same thing right now. Every dance partner is a strategy meeting. In just a matter of minutes, you’ll walk away knowing if I am a worthy wager, and I will do the same. This ball is full of hounds and foxes, my lady. We all know our parts.”

You glance at him, feeling a curious grin tugging at your lips. “And which am I? Fox or hound?”

Newt returns your proud gaze. “I suppose we’ll find out at the end of the season, won’t we?”

You laugh, feeling oddly triumphant. Newt has this way about him that you find enchanting. It’s almost breaching impropriety with how candid he is around you, but it only makes you trust him more. The dance ends far sooner than you’d like. Newt relinquishes you to the storm of suitors outside, hopefully with just as much reluctance as you.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Newt is truly the only one that stands out to you. You don’t have a chance to dance with him again, but you keep making eye contact as you dance with other partners. You can practically hear his clever words in your head, catching you in the act of evaluating the suitors in front of you. Fox or hound?

When the ball ends and you return to your carriage for the ride home, you’re blissful, practically dreamy. You’ve had enough time with Newt to dream about it until the next ball, where you’ll likely repeat the same cycle over and over again until the season ends.

However, your golden mood is shattered when your chaperone sits down across from you. Her face, by contrast, is twisted with disappointment. “Do you have any idea what sort of trouble you’re getting yourself into?” She asks once the carriage pulls away.

Still caught up in the heady dream of a merry boy who smiled the brightest when he danced with you, you don’t realize the trap descending around you until it’s too late. “What trouble?”

Your chaperone’s lips purse. “You’re meant to be dancing only with eligible gentlemen, my lady. I should hope that you’d be able to recognize the suitable candidates from the unseemly by now.”

The veil is pierced, and you’re beginning to be brought back to earth. “What are you talking about? I thought I made perfectly reasonable choices with my dance partners.”

Your chaperone shakes her head, a quick, sharp gesture. “All but one. Goodness, haven’t you heard about the trouble with that one family? I can’t believe Miss Agnes had the nerve to introduce him to you, but perhaps the fact that she’s so besotted with Lord Thomas is upsetting her mind.”

Your heart freezes in your chest. “You can’t mean to say that the Viscount is not a suitable bachelor? What else could he be?”

The other woman sighs. “You don’t know, do you? My lady, I would not interfere if I did not feel the need, but I can assure you, his motives with you are purely mercenary. That man is desperate for something to cover up the follies of his family, and you, my dear, are the perfect gilded shield.”

You feel cold. “What follies?”

“His sister, Miss Sonya, was seen alone with her fiance,” your chaperone murmurs at last. “Lord Aris. I would think you would have heard his name, although perhaps not connected it with Viscount Newt. Miss Sonya and Lord Aris were happily engaged, and by all accounts it was a fine union, but they were seen together without a chaperone past dark. Quite the scandal. The Viscount knows it and is eager to get the ton talking about anything but his sister’s misdeeds. Entering into a courtship with you would do just the trick.”

She’s right, and you know it, and you hate it. “He seemed so genuine,” you whisper, and instantly know how foolish it sounds.

Your chaperone, to her credit, is kind enough to take pity on you. “He did,” she tells you, “and you looked happy together. You would be less happy, however, when you found out the truth. I would rather you know now and stay away. Men like that are nothing but trouble.”

You nod solemnly, turning your head to watch the dark landscapes rumbling past. The sun is already beginning to rise, a hallmark of a late night out. It had been a beautiful night up until this, and now the entire evening is ruined in your mind.

“I feel for Miss Sonya,” you whisper. “She was already engaged. They were just talking.”

“She knows the rules of society, and so do you,” your chaperone reminds you. “We all have our roles to play.”

And the consequence of setting a foot outside your role is instant public mortification. Yes. What a forgiving world. You immediately plant your exhausted body in your bed when you return, hardly sparing the time to wash and dress, but the only things to bloom from your rest are troubled dreams of the boy that could have been yours. Now that you know the truth– that Newt was only trying to use you for a better reputation– every interaction with him is tainted.

You’d meant what you said in the carriage, though. You did think Newt was genuine. Hadn’t he laughed more than usual when he was with you? Hadn’t he regarded you with that fierce pride of his, as if he’d finally found a mind that was an equal to his? Hadn’t he watched you with something akin to jealousy when you danced with the other men that weren’t him?

Hadn’t you wished he would only dance with you? And don’t you wish that you could truly do what you promised yourself and marry only for love, never mind the rest? It is a simple dream to think that love is easy. Marriage is not simple, not in the ton, not in your lifetime. Every one of your days will be shaped by the whims of society, even when they take Newt away from you.

When it comes time for the next ball, you do your best to strengthen your spirits before you go. You intentionally avoid him, making sure to always have your dance card full whenever the music ends. It’s easy enough to find a crowd large enough to hide you from him, and yet you still catch glimpses of Newt from across the hall, several partners down, in a carriage many behind yours. You successfully go two balls, then three, without seeing him, but it aches like a knife in your ribs when you think about what could have been.

As it turns out, you’re not the only one wishing you were with him. At the fifth ball of the season, your attempts to distance yourself from the viscount are foiled at last. Newt tracks you down, signing his name on your dance card before you can stop him before leading you out to the dance floor.

“That’s a rather abrupt way of asking a lady to dance, don’t you think?” You ask as you curtsy.

Newt bows. “I felt it was the only way of guaranteeing that you would dance with me.”

“A lady never declines a gentleman in need of a dance,” you remind him.

The music picks up, and the two of you begin your paces. “A lady also never avoids a gentleman as thoroughly as you have at the last few balls,” Newt says. “Were it not for the fact that I know you to be as perfectly agreeable a duchess as there could ever be, I would say that it was personal.”

You can’t look him in the eyes, even with his hands on you, guiding you through the steps. “It’s not meant to work out, my lord. Us, I mean. We cannot forget the rules.”

When Newt speaks again, his voice sounds hurt. “Why not? Forgive me, my lady, but I remember what it was like that first night. You were happy. We were happy, and happy together. What changed?”

At last, you risk a glance towards him, and instantly regret it. Newt’s eyes are filled with genuine hurt. Are you wrong? Did he actually want you as more than a cover-up? “I heard about your sister,” you say as delicately as you can.

Still, Newt flinches as if you’ve hit him. “You don’t know the full story,” Newt says raggedly.

“Then tell me,” you beg him. “I would choose you if I could, but everyone seems to think that you are only interested in me to advance your station. Give me a reason to believe in you, not them.”

“I can’t say it here,” Newt whispers.

“I can’t go somewhere with you alone,” you tell him quietly. “Especially not after what happened to your sister. You must tell me now, or we will never have another chance.”

“Alright,” he says at last. “But you mustn’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”

Once you agree, Newt begins to speak in a hushed whisper hardly audible to you, let alone the other couples around you. “Sonya is deeply in love with Lord Aris, and he is in love with her. So much so to the point that he has been battling a deep rage ever since that awful gossip rag, Lady Whistledown, slightly disparaged her last season. He took it upon himself to find out Lady Whistledown’s identity, and somehow, he did. The only problem is, Lady Whistledown is not someone Sonya would consider a friend. He wanted to warn her about the dangers of being anything less than perfect around that insidious writer, and he didn’t want to waste a moment. He called on her to meet with him as soon as possible. He didn’t think they would be seen, but they were, and of course Lady Whistledown ran with it to discredit them in case they would reveal her.”

You suck in a harsh breath. “It was never anything wrong, then. He merely wanted to protect her.”

Newt nods. “Lord Aris is a good man. He never would have done something like this if he realized how it would backfire. He regrets it daily, even though all he wanted to do was keep my sister safe. The ton knows their characters, too. Neither of them would do anything unseemly. The rumors diminish by the day, and soon, it will all be over. They will be happily married.”

He sighs and looks at you again. “I tell you this to explain myself, and to clear my name. I have nothing to hide from the situation with my sister and her future husband. In fact, it is only because they directly asked me not to spread this information that I haven’t gone public with the identity of Lady Whistledown herself to spare their reputations. I have nothing to fear, my lady. Certainly nothing that would make me risk the happiness of my marriage on a good rumor. I would court you because I have never met anyone like you before, nor do I think I ever will. You are utterly entrancing in every possible way. If you do not wish to be with me in that fashion, I would understand.”

You shake your head quickly. “I do want that, my lord. I want you.”

A careful smile slips across Newt’s face. “Do you mean that?”

“I do,” you tell him. “I have wanted you since the moment I saw you at my presentation. I would have found you no matter what lies they spread.”

Newt grins. “I believe I have decided something important, my lady. About your inner nature.”

You arch a brow as he spins you. “And what is that?”

“You’re a hound,” he informs you matter-of-factly. “Sharp and bright. Brave, too. But, then again, I am a hound as well. We make quite the pair, I think.”

“I think so too,” you tell him. In the days to come, rumors will abound about the viscount and the duchess. At first, there will be surprise across the ton, but then, even the most tenacious of gossips will realize that this makes perfect sense. The most clever of men and the most ambitious of women, bound together in holy matrimony. Even the best of poets couldn’t concoct a story that beautiful.

requested by @thornyrose463, i hope you enjoy!

the maze runner tag list: @blondsauduun, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver, @il0vebeingdelulu

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bunbunbl0gs · 10 months

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︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶ ⊹𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶ ✩𝒏𝒉𝒍✩ ✩ 𝒐𝒃𝒙 ✩ ✩𝒈𝒐𝒕 ✩ ✩𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒐 ✩ ✩𝒕𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒑 ✩ ✩𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 ✩ ✩𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒅 ✩ ✩𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ✩ ✩𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 ✩ ✩𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 ✩ ✩𝒂𝒉𝒔 ✩ ✩𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 ✩ ✩𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇 ✩ ✩𝒕𝒎𝒓 ✩ ✩𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔 ✩ ✩𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓✩

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arcadian-litterateur · 3 months

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sick of kissing you in my head (when can it be real instead?) | modern au!gally x fem!reader

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summary: your boyfriend, gally, is across the country, and despite the struggles a long distance relationship can bring, your love is strong enough to carry you through the long distance season of your relationship. but spending your birthday without him is different than spending normal days separated, and you know deep down that nothing will make you happy on your birthday when he’s all you need.

word count: 8k holy—i really didn’t even realize how long this was till i checked the wc omg

warnings: emotional meltdown, mention of anxiety and anxiety meds, brief mention of panic attacks

a/n: hey guys! i love love love the song this is based off of: all i need (the distance song) by avery lynch. it's such a good song. this was supposed to just be fluff about visiting your bf gally, and then it turned into a whole thing lol. so yeah, i hope you guys enjoy this long ass one shot. i really really enjoyed writing it.

“𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦. 𝘪𝘧 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪’𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥. 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥.”

𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥 onto my side, legs brushing against my sheets, I smile at the FaceTime call on my phone, but it's bittersweet. On the other end of the video call sits my boyfriend, the soft smile on his face mirroring my own. From where he sits, I can see the San Francisco skyline out his hotel window, highlighted by the rising sun.

“I miss you,” I mumble, studying the lines and contours of his face and wondering if they've changed since the last time I saw him in person. If I've missed any change; any detail while we've been separated. If anything has changed or tipped the balance since we've been apart.

I'm not insecure in my relationship with Gally, but be long distance for enough time and everyone gets in their head about it. Catches themselves wondering; doubting.

“I miss you more every time we have to part,” I add, watching the bitter take over the sweet in my boyfriend's eyes for a few seconds before he replies.

“I know, baby, I know.” His gaze wanders into the space between the atoms, his mind leaping forward into the future as he assures both me and himself, “Once my contract with WCKD Enterprises is up, I'll be able to move back to Denver. We'll be back in the same city.”

My smile is tired, only half there, and Gally knows it. It's been months since I've held him in my arms. This long distance routine is wearing us both out. We're both running out of steam—not for each other; not for our relationship, but for the complexity that being long distance has brought to our relationship. Conflicting schedules, spotty internet, the deprivation of physical contact with the person we crave it from the most…it's all beginning to pile up, and we both know it.

In an attempt to change the subject, I ask, “When is your flight back to Chicago again?” I already know, but I'm not sure what else to say, and besides, it's always good to check.

“Your birthday,” comes the cheeky reply, my eyes rolling of their own accord as I secretly admire the handsome grin on my boyfriend's face. But all too soon, his grin fades.

“I'm sorry I can't be there for your birthday,” he says gently. I wave him off, assuring him that I'll be just fine.

“Bren, Tes, and Sony are planning something. Won't tell me what, though.” I sigh before admitting, “It won't be the same without you. But your work's important.” Gally smiles gratefully, but there's cracks in the smile, and my stomach sinks. Guilt over my last comment settles in my digestive tract. “Sorry,” I mumble.

“No, no, don't apologize,’’ Gally says quickly. “You're allowed to be sad that I can't be there.” His amiable grin morphs into a scowl, “Tried to get Janson to give me the time off, I really did. But that rat wouldn't do it.” I give Gally what I hope is a reassuring smile.

“It's okay, babe.” We fall into silence, not necessarily comfortable, but not bad either, before Gally interjects,

“It'll be nice to be in my own apartment, though. I'm getting sick of all these Californian hotels. I'll be glad to be home, smog and noisy L-trains galore.” I chuckle, knowing that Gally loves Chicago because of its quirks, not in spite of them.

Still, Denver has always been home to me. But Gally and I've decided to cross that bridge when we get to it. We've got enough to think about as it is.

I'm trying to come up with another conversation topic, since I don't have work until later today, but unfortunately, Gally isn't so lucky. It’s the perks of working from home as a crisis hotline counselor, I guess. The hours aren’t as demanding, since the work itself is.

“Shoot, I have to go,” he hisses. “I'm sorry, princess. I'll call you tonight?” I nod, forcing myself to look forward to tonight's call, rather than be sad that this one is ending. “Alright, good that,” Gally grins. “I love you, babe!”

“I love you, Gal,” I smile and wave goodbye. The half-baked grin melts right off my face once he's hung up. Gosh, I miss him so much.

There's only so much comfort a video call can give.

Teresa calls me soon after Gally hangs up, blabbering on and on about a date she'd had with some guy named Ben, but I can't focus on her stories like I normally would. Usually, I'm all in to hear my friend's tales, but my mind is still fixated on the miles separating Gally and I. Something in me wonders how much longer we'll be able to go without holding each other. How much longer we can stand to be separated.

When we first started dating, I could have gone months, as long as we were still interacting. But as my love for Gally increased, the length of time I could stand to be without him decreased.

I'm fully, unashamedly in love with Gally now, and part of me wonders what I would do to be living in the same place as him. To be in his arms for good. The easy answer—the most raw answer—is anything. I'd do anything for him.

“(Y/N)?” Teresa's voice brings me out of my thoughts, her suspicious tone confirming that she's noticed my lack of focus today. “You weren't listening, were you?” To an outsider, her tone might sound harsh; reproachful, even, but I know her too well. She's not mad. Just annoyed she'll have to repeat her story if she wants me to hear it.

“I'm sorry,” I mumble, and it's sincere. I am sorry that I lost focus. But I don't apologize for pining after my faraway boyfriend. There's no reason to, for one, and two, I won't ever apologize for thinking of him. For missing him.

Teresa is grinning at my distracted tone, I can tell. Even through the phone, I can tell. “You're good. Dreaming about your bae, aren't you?”

I don't hesitate to admit, “Yes. I miss him more than I thought was even possible.” I hear Teresa's hum from the other end of the phone.

“You need to see him,” she declares. I scoff.

“Believe me, I know, and we're trying to figure out when he can next visit, but we're both just so busy.” Teresa clucks her tongue, the sound distorting oddly through the phone speaker. I imagine it running across the telephone poles, through the wires, twisting and bending and knotting out of shape as it flies all the way to me.

“I didn't mean like that, (Y/N). You need to go see him.” I chuckle, I wish I could.

“He's busy, Tes. Besides, he isn't even in Chicago right now,” I reason. This doesn't deter her.

“Well, when will he next be in Chicago?”

“His flight's on my birthday.”

“That's perfect!” Teresa squeals.

“How is that perfect?” I huff.

“You can fly out and spend your birthday with him! Surprise him!”

I actually laugh at this. “Um, no, I can't. I don't have the kind of money to just throw down for plane tickets. Besides, weren't you, Brenda, and Sonya planning something?”

“Well, yeah, but we could always change plans if we needed to,” Teresa says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. On any other day, I would entertain this kind of silly daydreaming, but today, I already felt lonely enough.

“Sorry, Tes. Those spontaneous decisions are not my cup of tea,” I sigh, and I think she can tell I'm shutting the conversation down. She lets it go, and I thank her silently, forcing the ache in my heart left by Gally's absence to venture to the back of my mind. If I waste the day away, it'll be evening again, and then he'll call, just like he said.

And so despite the fact that I know wasting the days away is bad for me, I do it anyway. Just today, I tell myself. Just today.

Of course, I know I'll do it again tomorrow, and the next day, and all the hours in between my calls with Gally. It's ridiculous, how they all say having space helps one think clearer, when having space just distracts me by making me miss him that much more.

When he's gone, I'm reminded that much more that he's all I need.

_______________________________

𝗜𝗧’𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡 p.m. by the time Gally calls, his eyes lighting up when he sees me despite the exhausted, burnt out look on his face. I'm equally as ecstatic as he is to revel in the gaze of my lover, both of us simply brushing every inch of each other's faces with our eyes, memorizing each other for the millionth time. It won't be the last time, either. I could never get tired of scanning my gaze across his skin, memorizing every inch of his beautiful face.

In our current situation, it's the closest I can get to kissing every inch of his beautiful face.

Gally is the first to break the silence, and I'm okay with it. He's the one who's had a long day. He knows what he needs to talk or not talk about. I just love hearing his voice.

“How was your day, baby?” he asks, a tired sort of happiness seeping into his voice. Like I'm giving him some kind of rest just by smiling at him.

“It was good. Uneventful.” I shrug, knowing that I'd barely moved from the chair I occupied now. “The real question is, how was your day, my love?”

Gally grins at the pet name. He always does. It's the same reaction that I have whenever he uses terms of endearment on me. It's our own personal love language of sorts. How many different ways can I call you mine?

“My day was okay,” Gally says quietly, sighing when he sees the look on my face. The one that tells him to lay it on me; rant if it'll make him sleep better tonight. “Well, it was…mediocre,” he amends, running a hand through his short hair. “Tim was being an ass. As always.” I nod sympathetically, understanding the deep hatred he harbors for his coworker.

Why Gally doesn't like Tim, I'm not exactly sure, but I know it has something to do with taking credit for a project that Gally did all the work on. It resulted in a harsh lecture from their boss for Gally, who was presumed to have slacked off, and a promotion for Tim.

Anyone who knows Gally knows that he would never slack off. He takes duty and work seriously; more seriously than anyone else I've met, in fact. I know my boy. He wouldn't hurt his company's productivity, even if his boss is an asshole like Janson.

“I'm sorry Tim was giving you trouble, baby,” I croon, watching the aches and tension of the day seeping out of his stiff shoulders at the sound of my voice. His smile weaves its way back onto his face. It's a soft, vulnerable smile, the one that makes me want to take him in my arms and just hold him like the precious treasure he is.

“I wish I could hug you,” Gally groans, rubbing his chin with his fingers before trying to regain his composure. “Sorry…I don't mean to bring everything up again. I just…I just miss you.” My comforting smile wobbles, knowing that those same thoughts are eating away at me inside, but I bring the happy thoughts back to the surface and my grin rights itself.

“Soon, love, soon,” I murmur, knowing I can't truly promise anything with how busy our lives have become. But soon doesn't have a time slot or expiration date. I can promise soon and define it later. All I know is that it brings a smile to my boy's face, and that's what I need right now.

We spend the rest of the night talking, lifted by the promise of Soon, love, soon, knowing that it could very well mean a long, long time.

_______________________________

𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠𝗦 in my bedroom window, blinding me when my eyes flicker open. But once I blink away the black spots in my vision, I see that the sunlight isn't the only reason I was pulled from the comforting arms of sleep.

Brenda, Teresa, and Sonya are standing at my bedside, my sheets in a bunched up ball in Sonya's hands. I groan, trying to roll away, but Bren, ever the fearless one, grabs my shoulder and pulls me back to face them.

“Get up, (Y/N). No spending the day moping,” she orders. I heave out an exaggerated sigh, making my body intentionally limp as Brenda and Teresa each grab one of my arms, pulling me upright until I have to support my own weight.

“Sometimes I really regret giving you guys my apartment passcode,” I comment, leading Sonya to pinch my arm. I yelp, rubbing the red mark as I get manhandled out of my pajamas and into a new outfit by my best friends. “What—what are you crazies doing?” I splutter, quickly taking the pair of jeans from Teresa's hands before she can try to shove them on my legs, opting to put them on myself.

“We aren't letting you mope around until Gally visits. Who knows how long that would be? It's not healthy,” Sonya explains, linking an arm through mine as the three girls drag me to the bathroom. Brenda shoves my toothpaste-loaded toothbrush into my hand as Tes starts pulling my hair brush through my hair.

“Ow,” I complain around a mouthful of toothpaste suds, pulling away from Teresa's assault on my tender scalp momentarily to spit. She and Sonya make quick work of my slightly frizzy hair, tag teaming it to create a fun yet elegant braid.

“Beautiful,” Sonya sighs, leaning back to admire her handiwork. Brenda, on the other hand, seems to have some kind of mental checklist, full of all the tasks she must see me complete.

“Breakfast is next,” she commands, and I find myself being pulled into my kitchen, watching helplessly as my friends dive into making us a scrumptious, sugary feast.

I have to admit, the fluffy blueberry pancakes filling my stomach certainly make venturing out into the world much easier than I expected. I only feel the need to text Gally three times before leaving my apartment with my friends, rather than the usual five to ten. Whether these texts are to let him know I'm fine or to make sure he's fine, I've never been able to figure out. Maybe they're both. Either way, it's a good thing Brenda shoved my meds into my hand before breakfast.

When I'm here alone, I don't take them. Sometimes I skip them on purpose, sometimes I just forget. But either way, I don't take my anxiety meds unless Brenda is there to shove them down my throat. Thinking about it, I'm grateful she's here to force me to take them today. With all of these mixed up feelings about being separated from Gally for so long, having more control over my anxiety will be good.

A day shopping with my best friends is a good distraction from the painful loneliness I've been feeling without Gally. It's not exactly a cure, but it's close. My friends know this; know their own limitations, and so they do the best they can.

And I'm so grateful that they've put in the time. Put in the effort. All for me.

“Thank you,” I whisper to them as we sit in our favorite coffee shop, sipping oat milk lattes.

“Of course,” Brenda immediately responds.

“We love you,” Sonya adds.

“We know we aren't your boy,” Teresa chimes in, “but we're your best friends, and that means we stick by you. No matter what.” She leans over to rub my arm. “When you're down, I'm down. We wanted to help pick you back up.”

The smile on my face is genuine for the first time in a long time, knowing that my friends love me enough to support me despite having the knowledge that they can't give me everything I need. They give what they can, and accept me when it doesn't fix everything.

I haven't always had friends this good, and I look up at the sky, thanking the heavens that I've been blessed with such good friends now.

_______________________________

𝗧𝗪𝗢 𝗗𝗔𝗬𝗦 before my birthday, I can’t get Teresa’s half-joking, hare-brained idea out of my head. Realistically, I know that the likelihood that I could find a flight on my birthday to Chicago that isn’t full (or way too expensive) is slim. Realistically, I know that I don’t have the money for plane tickets right now. Realistically, I know that flying halfway across the country on a whim to see my boyfriend is ridiculous.

But when Gally sends me his flight information, knowing I like to watch his progress and get confirmation when he lands safely, I find myself checking flights from Denver to Chicago, telling myself it’s just out of curiosity. Because what if there is a flight to Denver from Chicago on my birthday? What if there is a possibility that I could see Gally on my birthday? What if there is a chance that I could have this gift; the only one I truly want?

If there’s even a chance to see Gally on my birthday, I want to know.

Gally’s flight information is pulled up on my phone, which is next to me on my desk as I scroll through flights on my laptop. My right thumbnail is between my teeth, bitten down to the quick and then some. It seems that flying is a popular travel option right now, as flights are filled even into places like Dawson County, Montana. Every flight I find from Denver to Chicago is either full or too expensive for someone just out of college, like me. The cheapest is $374, and I know rationally that blowing through that much money would be devastating for my finances.

I swear under my breath, angry at myself for even getting my hopes up. It was a stupid idea to check the flights, and I find myself wishing I could go back in time to stop myself from looking. The disappointment grows even larger knowing that there would be a way to get to him if I wasn’t a broke post-college student making minimum wage in the Mile-High City. Then the disappointment and anger melt away, leaving me with a heart wrenching sadness that feels so empty and yet so all-consuming that I can’t help but break down into tears.

I don’t want to let myself cry about a silly daydream that was unlikely to happen anyway, but I’d let myself entertain the thought of seeing Gally soon; of holding him close and kissing him until we couldn’t breathe, and now everything else seemed pale in comparison. It wasn’t that my life had no purpose outside of him—I’d made it very clear when we started dating that the two of us needed to make sure we had lives outside of our relationship, too. But Gally had become a part of me; my favorite part of me, in fact. I was perfectly happy with the life I had, but Gally made it even sweeter. And knowing that sweetness was mine but was inaccessible made the absence of it even more palpable. Even more unbearable.

Crumpled into a heap on my floor with tears slowly leaking from my eyes is how Teresa finds me when she opens my door fifteen minutes later. “Hey, girl—” she calls before seeing me, rushing to my side with a worried, “Oh, my gosh, what’s wrong, (Y/N)?” I just shake my head, the waterworks turning back up to full blast.

“I miss him so much,” I sob as she gathers me in her arms, unable to care that I sound pathetic.

“Oh, I know, darling, I know,” Teresa coos, rocking back and forth with my shaking body, whispering comforting words into my ears just like she always does when I get so worked up. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, hand flying up to wipe the snot from my nose, but of course, the minute it’s gone, more replaces it. I’m past the point of an easy calm-down, instead finding myself close to the edge of hyperventilating. Thankfully, Teresa isn’t a stranger to my emotional meltdowns, and she isn’t afraid of them, either. Instead, she’s the kind of friend who will take my hand and guide me through it.

“Did you take your meds this morning?” she asks cautiously, to which I shake my head in embarrassment. Tears are still pooling in the corners of my eyes as I manage to get out,

“I’m sorry.”

Teresa just shushes me calmly. “Don’t apologize. It’s in the past now. I just wanted to know.” I nod shakily, the soothing pressure of her hand rubbing my arm helping me steady my breaths slightly. “What set you off?” she queries, squeezing me a bit tighter when the tears speed up again.

“I—I decided to check the flights for my birthday,” I answer, sniffling as my best friend strokes my hair lovingly. “It was stupid, because it just made me upset. They’re all too expensive, and I knew they would be, and it just made me miss him so much more.” Admitting it out loud makes me feel even dumber, the guilt creeping into my stomach. “I did this to myself,” I mumble. Subconsciously, my nails find their way to my arms, digging into the delicate skin and leaving pink crescents behind. Teresa pulls my hands away from my arms quickly.

“Stop blaming yourself. You did nothing wrong. I would’ve done the same, (Y/N).” I know she’s trying to comfort me, but I just squeeze my eyes shut.

“Yeah, and it wouldn’t have caused you to end up on the floor like a pathetic child.”

“(Y/N)! Stop!” Teresa scolds me. “Stop with the negative self-talk.” I try to protest, but she fixes me with that no-nonsense look that can get anyone to agree to anything, and I find myself nodding meekly. “None of this is your fault. You’re in a difficult situation, being separated from your boyfriend, and your heart isn’t sure how to handle it. That’s okay. You don’t have to know how to handle it perfectly yet.” I sigh, leaning into my best friend’s shoulder, feeling slightly calmer now. She always knows the right words to say when I’m in too deep to think straight.

Teresa coaxes me into the kitchen to drink hot chocolate once my breathing has steadied somewhat. She’s looking at me with an odd look that I can’t quite place, as if she’s…proud of me?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask warily over the top of my steaming mug. My best friend grins, staring at me for a couple more seconds before replying,

“You’re just, like, the strongest person I know.” My face turns what I assume is beet red at the compliment, not expecting such high praise from the woman who just held me in her arms as I sobbed like a baby. But then again, Teresa is special. She doesn’t judge based on outward appearances or impressions. She can see right into the heart of people, as if she can sense their goodness; their potential, and then she nudges them down that path. Helping them choose the sunshine. The good side. The light.

Knowing her compliment is slightly overwhelming, Teresa shrugs and changes the subject so fast I think I get whiplash. “You should call Gally,” she suggests. “Tell him that you were missing him and ask him for some love.” I cringe, turning away from her.

“I don’t want to make him feel bad that he isn’t here. I think I’ve already done that too much this week.”

Teresa scoffs, “That’s nonsense. He’ll be happy that you reached out to him after your meltdown. He’ll be touched that you wanted to let him know how you’re doing. He’ll feel honored that you’re willing to be vulnerable with him.” I know deep down that she’s right; that the only thing he’d do is make me feel better. Never after calling Gally do I feel worse. I know I’m just scared to hurt him, but he always assures me that I don’t need to harbor that fear. I don’t need to hold onto that anxious voice in my head that whispers, You don’t deserve him.

I can even imagine him next to me if I try hard enough, murmuring, “You’re perfect, baby,” when I grow insecure. Whispering, “I’m so lucky to have you” in my ear when I doubt myself.

“Okay,” I agree, letting Teresa take my phone and FaceTime him. Despite the fact that it’s the middle of the work day, Gally picks up on the first ring, a concerned look decorating his handsome face.

“Teresa? Wha—”

“She’s fine!” Teresa rushes to assure him, motioning for me to join her on the couch. I pop my head into the frame, wincing as I see how swollen and puffy my face is. Gally’s forehead immediately creases upon seeing me, obviously still worried when he sees the tear stains on my cheeks.

“Babe, are you okay?” he asks. Teresa silently asks if I want to take the phone, but I shake my head. My hands are still slightly shaky, and holding the phone is an added stressor. Teresa understands and angles the phone towards me.

“Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry,” I whisper, my boyfriend’s shoulders relaxing only slightly. “I just had a bit of a meltdown. Teresa found me and helped me calm down.” Gally’s eyebrows soften, his mouth tilting down in a sympathetic frown.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “What happened?”

“I just miss you,” I mumble sheepishly after a second’s pause. It seems kind of silly once I admit it out loud, and I start to duck my face away when Gally gets my attention.

“Hey, (Y/N), (Y/N),” he says, waiting until I’ve turned back to him before continuing, “You don’t need to feel embarrassed. I miss you, too, okay? I miss you so much. You don’t need to feel ashamed for struggling.” He waits for me to respond, and I nod slightly. Truth be told, just hearing his voice has made me feel better; stronger. There’s something about his comforting, strong tone that soothes me. Just his voice can make me truly believe in myself. I swear, this man could make me believe anything as long as he says it aloud.

“Thank you for picking up,” I smile, finding my mood lightening as a grin finds its way back onto his face. “Seeing you helped.” Gally blushes slightly, rubbing a hand along his chin.

“I’m glad I could help, baby.” Offscreen, someone gruffly commands him to get back to work, and he mutters an apology before turning back to the screen. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. But call me if you need anything, okay?” I nod, trailing my eyes over his freckles one more time as he thanks Teresa for taking care of me and then hangs up.

“It helped?” she asks, as if double-checking to make sure I truly am feeling better.

“Yeah,” I grin sheepishly. “You know what you’re talking about.” With a roll of my eyes, I joke, “You should be a counselor for a living. At this rate, you’re better than me at my own job!” Teresa just laughs.

“Well, now that you’ve cracked a joke, I know you’re feeling better.” She pulls me into a hug, and I gladly return it, silently wondering how I got blessed with such an amazing best friend.

“Hey, I’m here for you,” she reminds me one more time as she leaves, her meticulous check-ins a promise for the next few days.

“I know,” I assure her. “I promise I’ll call if I need to.”

“Good,” she says, smiling as she waves. “I love you, babes!”

“I love you, too, Tes!” Feeling a bit lighter, I wave back as I close my front door.

_______________________________

“𝗜 𝗖𝗔𝗡’𝗧—I can’t take this,” I stutter the next day, wide-eyed at the wad of cash Teresa is currently shoving into my hands. Brenda and Sonya are flanking her on either side with looks that imply they’re attempting to telepathically convince me to take the money.

“Yes, you can,” Teresa sighs exasperatedly. “Like I already told you, it’s the money we were going to spend on your celebration pooled together. But we all know you’d rather spend your birthday with Gally, and we want you to be able to, so we’re giving you the money for that plane ticket you couldn’t afford. It would be a waste to throw you a party you don’t want to be at. Helping you see your boyfriend is a much better use of that money. We all agreed.” Brenda and Sonya both nod, Teresa shoving the cash even further into my palms. I take it shakily, counting silently as I gape at them. “But—but this is nine hundred bucks! I can’t—I can’t take this, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t be sorry!” Brenda sighs. “Just take the money! It’s our birthday present for you!” I look back and forth between my three best friends, realizing that there is no way they’re letting me reject the money. But it feels so weird having this many fifties weighing heavily in my grasp.

“Please take it,” Sonya says softly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “We want you to be able to go see Gally. We want you to enjoy this birthday. You’ll be giving a gift to us by making this impulsive choice to do what makes you happy.” My resistance gets melted away by her words, knowing that this was their tactic all along. Get (Y/N) all toughened up to the ‘just take it’ ruse and then let Sonya slip under her defenses when she least expects it. But I’m not annoyed by it. Instead, I let Teresa close my fist over the cash.

Immediately, the three start cheering, but before I can even blink, they’ve moved on from celebrating and are pushing me towards my laptop where, just as I’m sure Teresa suspected, the flights from Denver to Chicago are still pulled up. Teresa obviously asked Gally to share his flight information with her, because she seems to have it memorized as she scans the flights.

“Alright, here’s the best one,” she announces after a few minutes of looking. “United, nonstop, leaving at 9:30 a.m. MT and arriving at 12:56 p.m. CT. It’s in the same terminal as Gally’s flight, and he lands at 2:23 p.m. CT, so that gives you a little over an hour to get to his gate and wait for him. Sounds good?” I nod wordlessly, still slightly in shock over the way my best friends have handled this so nonchalantly, as if their friend flying across the country on a day’s notice is just a normal part of their lives.

Sonya pulls me towards my room as Brenda takes the stack of cash back from me, mumbling that Teresa insisted they have it for show but was just planning on Venmoing the cash to me. I laugh at our friend’s antics before following an impatient Sonya, who grabs my suitcase from my closet and starts making a list of what I should pack.

“We’re not buying you a return flight,” she explains, “because we didn’t know how long you’d want to stay, and we figured you didn’t know either. Just bring your work stuff and you can work from Gally’s apartment, and use the rest of the money to buy a return ticket when you decide to come back.” I shake my head in awe at the schemes of my friends, who have obviously thought of every single anxiety I could have because of this plan and have set out to refute them.

With Sonya helping me pack, a task that would usually take me at least three hours, two cups of coffee, and a panic attack is done in under one hour, no coffee or panic attacks in sight. While I wouldn’t have minded the coffee, the no panic attack part is nice, and I decide I can live without those two cups of coffee if it means my peace of mind is intact.

And the next morning when Teresa drops me off at the airport, my medicine taken and an ample breakfast eaten, the nervous butterflies in my stomach don’t feel scary. In fact, they feel almost…exciting. And I feel crazy for doing this; for flying halfway across the country to surprise my boyfriend so I can kiss him on my birthday, but I also feel so alive.

And today, the idea of living doesn’t seem as scary anymore.

_______________________________

𝗔𝗦 𝗜 wait at my gate and sip my Starbucks latte, I answer the countless birthday texts I have already received, smiling at the overflow of love from people I talk to everyday and people I barely even know. It’s funny, knowing that there are people out there who remember my birthday but don’t talk to me otherwise. Some might feel disheartened at the idea, but I just giggle quietly to myself, wondering if I’m going crazy for feeling so lighthearted.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, I think to myself. The adrenaline from doing something so stupid and yet so exciting. Shrugging to myself, I take another large gulp of coffee, finally getting to the text from Gally. I saved it for last, knowing it would be the best one. And sure enough, as I read the message, I feel happy tears pricking my eyes. As always, he’s sweet; sappy, even, but his message also holds the serious intensity that he always has around him. It’s like an aura, telling those around him that he does everything fully and completely, never giving only half of his effort. That intensity is probably why I love reading texts from him over and over. Even if it’s a simple good morning, his texts always seem to scream I love you from between the lines.

I text Gally back, thanking him for the love he’s sent zipping along telephone lines, across the country and all the way to me. I suck the last dregs of liquid from my Starbucks cup, finally accepting that the beverage is gone as the gate attendant calls for Boarding Group 1. I find myself bouncing from foot to foot, realizing once again that I’m really doing this. I can’t bring myself to sit down as I wait for my group to be called, instead standing by the gate’s charging station, fidgeting like I’m about to run the 100 meter dash. By the time I’m boarding, I’m breathing heavily like I just sprinted up Pikes Peak. Whether from nerves or excitement, I can’t really tell, but it’s enough that the flight attendant touches my arm as she checks the cabin.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” I look up in surprise before giving her a quick grin.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous.”

She smiles empathetically. “Is it your first time flying?”

“No. I’m flying out to surprise my boyfriend, and I guess I’m just hoping it all works out like I planned,” I explain.

At this, I receive an even bigger grin from the flight attendant, who thinks that is just—“the most adorable thing ever!” I nod along, unsure whether I’m actually smiling or just masking my anxiety. Either one is a plausible explanation, and I’m pumped so full of adrenaline that all of my emotions currently feel interchangeable.

I spend the entirety of take-off nervously fiddling with the little screen in front of me, trying to distract myself. Once we’re at a constant altitude, the flight attendants offer drinks, and I ask for a ginger ale, my go-to drink on airplanes. It calms me down, the comforting security of it helping me stay rational. Unfortunately, the ginger ale combined with my anxious thoughts cause my bladder to reach its limit quite quickly.

I hate the little bathrooms on airplanes. So loud, so claustrophobic, so turbulent. It’s like trying to pee while in the middle of an earthquake. But my bladder isn’t playing games today, and the last thing I want to do is ignore it and then pee myself. The intrusive thoughts fight to take over as I rush through the motions, washing my hands as quickly as possible, but I stave them off and make it back to my seat in one piece.

The remaining hour until landing is the longest hour of my life.

When we finally touch down and taxi to our gate, all of the tension that has built up inside me feels ready to explode, but I hold it in, knowing that I can let it all out once I see Gally. It’s barely even occurred to me that I’m a year older now—that it’s my birthday—because all I can think about is getting to hold my boy.

I almost trip getting off the plane, too busy checking his flight’s progress and landing gate. His flight is still an hour and thirty minutes out, giving me more than enough time to go to the bathroom, get some food, and wait for him. I pull my suitcase behind me, so glad I decided to take everything in my carry-on, as I’m now realizing that baggage claim is outside the secure area of the airport. I break free from the flow of traffic heading in that direction, redirecting towards the bathroom.

One bathroom trip, makeup refresher, and food court scavenger hunt later, I’m standing against a column at Gally’s gate, drinking my second Starbucks latte of the day. Normally, I wouldn’t let myself indulge like this, but it’s my birthday, so I feel justified. I even treat myself to a slice of sweet bread, too. I’m too anxious to eat a full lunch. Besides, I’m sure Gally will be happy to get lunch on our way back to his apartment. He’s always willing to eat, no matter the time of day.

I’m trying my best not to look suspicious. There’s a flight leaving from this gate after Gally’s flight arrives, so I blend in, but my leg is bouncing nervously and my hands are shaking slightly. I’m a naturally energetic person, but the fidgeting increases exponentially when I’m either excited or nervous. Right now, I’m both.

Thankfully, no one seems to notice me or think I’m behaving weirdly. I’m simply overthinking, like I often do. At least it passes the time. I only have thirty minutes left to wait.

I run back to Starbucks and buy another latte. It’s gone within ten minutes, my anxious energy prompting me to gulp it down like I’m dying of thirst. Then I’m running to the bathroom again, bladder shouting angrily at me for the caffeine abuse I’ve been subjecting it to. It’s unpleasant, but it kills more time.

Ten minutes to go. I’m staring at my phone, Gally’s flight details pulled up, reloading the page over and over in hopes that magically, they’ll teleport and be here instantly. With anyone else, I wouldn’t be this obsessive; impatient, but it’s Gally. I could obsess over Gally for days on end with all the love overflowing from my heart. So I pass three minutes refreshing the page persistently, watching the minutes countdown.

I let out a quiet, barely there gasp when my phone screen tells me he’s landed. I can barely contain my excitement, nervous energy causing me to wiggle my hips like a rhythmically challenged dancer. His plane is on the ground, taxiing over, right to where I’m waiting. He’s going to walk through that gate, and I’m going to see his beautiful face, and I’m going to run and jump into my boyfriend’s arms.

All of a sudden, doubt crashes into me like a fucking tidal wave. What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if this is weird, and he’s going to be all awkward about it? What if this was one huge fuck-up? I can feel myself starting to spiral, starting to lose touch with the confidence I’ve been channeling all day. The panic has started to grow, and it surges through my veins, reaching to the tip-top of the cliff that is followed by a plunge off the deep end. Thankfully, though, with only a few minutes to spare before my boyfriend gets off his plane, a little girl in a princess dress bumps into me, hard, causing my knees to buckle and my head to snap out of the spiral it’s in.

I catch myself against the trusty column I’m leaning against, looking down to find a young girl, maybe six, wearing an Elena of Avalor dress-up costume with a stuffed animal that looks like some kind of leopard with bird wings.

“Amity!” her mother scolds her, ordering her to apologize for bumping into me. Amity looks up at me with big, brown doe eyes and a huge, genuine grin.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” she chirps. I smile back, making eye contact with her mom, before crouching down to her level and holding out a hand to shake.

“I forgive you. I’m (Y/N). Want to know something?” Amity shakes my hand, grinning widely, before looking at her mom as if to make sure it’s okay to talk to me. Her mom gives a gentle nod, a kindness in her eyes as they meet mine. “Well, Amity, you actually helped me just now. I was feeling super duper nervous and it was making me get shaky and worried. But then you bumped into me, and I saw your smile, and it made me feel a lot better!”

I can tell Amity’s mother is touched, and I make sure to assure her that I’m doing better. That Amity’s little scuffle with my legs was truly helpful. And then Amity and her mom are on their way, Amity’s tight hug and whisper of “You look like a princess” giving me the last boost of confidence I need.

Right as I finish waving goodbye to the adorable little girl, I hear the sounds of passengers starting to come down the jetway. I suck in a sharp breath, making sure my small suitcase and jacket are safe by the column before stepping closer to the junction between gate and jetway, watching passengers closely as they start to trickle into the airport.

It’s no surprise that I can pick Gally out of the crowd immediately after he walks out of the jetway, his head easily peeking over every other passenger. He doesn’t see me at first, focused on trying not to trample the small toddler whose family is trying desperately to get him to behave as they walk in front of my boyfriend.

I wait until he’s right there, just the toddler’s family in front of him, to call his name. “Gally!” His head snaps up, eyes scanning the surrounding area before settling on me, his jaw going slack, falling open in surprise as the toddler’s family quickly moves out of the way.

It’s like we’re living in slow motion, the way I watch Gally’s backpack slide out of his hand and hit the floor with a thump, his look of shock morphing into a state of joyous disbelief, as if he’s not sure he’s truly seeing me. He looks frozen in this state, unable to move towards me, but I don’t care. I’m already running up to him, happy tears gathering in my eyes as I jump into Gally’s arms, my head burying itself in his neck before I lean up to kiss him with all the pent-up love, tension, and nerves that have been coursing through my body all day.

His lips are warm just like they always are, soft and full and inviting as we kiss passionately; shamelessly, right in front of everyone waiting to board their flight. I can’t bring myself to care, anxiety nowhere to be found now that I’m here. In his arms. Held tightly, kept safe, flooded with warmth, just like I’m supposed to be.

He pulls away first, still in shock as he scans my face, as if expecting to find some imperfection that reveals me as a doppelganger. “Baby—” he chokes out, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes, my own tears rolling down my cheeks. “Baby, you’re here.” He lets out a giddy, confused laugh, cupping my cheek with his hand as he wipes the remnant saltwater away with his thumb.

“You’re—you’re here. In Chicago,” he repeats, putting my feet back on the floor so I can stand there with my arms around his neck, his other hand coming up to cup my other cheek. “You’re—it’s your birthday!” he says, and I can’t tell if it’s another reason he’s confused I’m here, or if it’s just an observation. Well, probably both, so I just giggle.

“Yes, Gally, it’s my birthday.”

“But—did you—when did you get here?” he asked, bewildered, a lovestruck, excited smile lighting up his whole face. I run my hands through his hair, admiring his gentleness as he cradles my face in his palms.

“An hour and a half ago, I think. I’m not sure the exact timing,” I shrug. He gasps.

“You flew on your birthday?” I give him an odd look.

“Yes…why? Is that illegal or something?” Gally chuckles through the joy-filled tears still drifting down his face every once in a while.

“No, baby. I just thought—most people wouldn’t be willing to fly or even be at an airport on their birthdays. Don’t you have cool stuff to do? Fun people to see?” I shake my head, pulling him as close as I can, our lips hovering inches apart.

“You’re the only person I wanted to see. This is my birthday present.”

Gally’s eyes water even more as he presses his forehead to mine, running his hands through my hair. “Baby, I—” He pulls away to wipe a tear from his eye and then leans back down, pressing a gentle peck to my forehead, “I love you so much.”

“I love you even more, Gally,” I whisper back, staring into his teary eyes with my watery own. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Not possible.”

“It is, too,” I giggle, still whispering as I press a kiss to his lips, “and I’m the birthday girl, so you have to let me win the arguments today.”

“Oh, that’s how that works,” Gally laughed, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Well, I suppose I can let you win this one, since you did fly all the way to Chicago on your birthday.”

“Oh, but that was selfish,” I smiled. “I wanted to see you. I needed to see you. It was purely selfish.” Gally just hugged me tighter, pressing kisses to the top of my hair as he admitted quietly,

“Well, I needed to see you, too. I needed to have you in my arms.” I relax into the warmth of my boyfriend’s chest, the material of his hoodie tickling my nose. I endure it because it smells like him, and that makes it the most calming aroma in the world.

“Being in your arms is all I need. You are all I need,” I whisper.

I kiss him again, a loving, sweet kiss, reveling in the presence and taste of my boyfriend, a sense of peace and safety wrapping its warm arms around me.

Nothing else matters in this moment. Not my job, or my life in Denver, or my birthday. All that matters is that I am here, in my boyfriend’s arms. In Gally’s arms.

Right where I’m supposed to be.

the end

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star--anon · 3 months

Text

Minho's the type of guy to undercut an intimate moment with a quip

his and Thomas' first kiss happens on a secluded balcony, in front of a full moon, of which the reflection is glistening in the water below, the waves of the water lapping at the shore creates soft whispers in the night air, as though even the ghosts of the sea are rejoicing at their love, and-

"You need some Vaseline? I'm not judging your lips, but if we're going to make this a full-time thing, I want you to get some Vaseline."

Thomas balances him out, though. Because you KNOW he's gonna kiss him breathless for it each time.

Minho's a little too flustered by the fifth kiss to say something sarcastic lol

#big fan of when characters get absolutely loved into oblivion. You wanna deny yourself feelings? lmao get cherished #also a big fan of when someone has a much longer lung capacity than someone else #realistically it'd be Minho because. Running. regulating your breathing and all that #but if we consider swimmer Thomas? like Minho did track in college and Thomas did swimming #(man why do all my Thominho headcanons devolve into modern AU)#anyway #just imagine Minho struggling to breath. meanwhile Thomas is in his Zone™#lmaooo now I'm just picturing Minho literally spluttering for air and Thomas is just like mwah :3 #anyway..#I don't take constructive criticism because I'm not wrong #thominho #tmr minho #tmr thomas #maze runner #headcanons #kissing #:3

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yikestripes · 1 year

Text

Chapter Two

A/N: chapter two to the amelia, taryn, newt maze runner fic!!!

___

“I have no idea where that little bugger got off to.” Newt said, mostly to himself.

The girl smiled a little to herself. Newt was already a semi trusted person for her.

Considering he was the only one that seemed to care, he was a comforting presence to her.

“Chuckie! There you are, mate.” Newt clapped a small boy on the shoulder. His corkscrew curls were askew and his round cheeks were red. He smiled proudly at Newt, as if being sought out was an accomplishment.

It seemed as though this was the case for this young boy. The girl took note of his dirty clothes, rumpled hair and gloves, and determined that he probably had some sort of janitorial duties. He was probably eager to avoid those, thus being needed by the second in command was as good of an excuse as any.

“What’s up, Newt?” He threw his gloves in the bucket.

“I’d like you to meet our newest Greenie,” The girl stepped out from behind Newt and gave a shy wave.

“Holy shuck! I heard rumors about a girl, but I thought it was someone trying to pull my leg,” Chuck stood, seemingly awestruck. The girl giggled.

“Close your trap, Chuck, flies’ll get in.” Chuck’s cheeks reddened at Newt’s command, but his smile quickly returned.

“Do you remember your name yet?”

She shook her head.

“That’s okay! My name’s Chuck, and I was the Greenie before you. I klunked my pants three times before they even got me out of the box.” Newt grimaced, probably remembering.

“K-what?” She asked, eyes narrowed. The connotation of the word seemed negative, and to lead to something she didn’t necessarily want to know about.

“It means sh-” Newt clamped a large hand over Chuck’s mouth. She looked at Newt, eyebrows raised.

“Nothin’. You’ll get the hang of the Glade slang later. Anyway, Chuck is gonna show you to the kitchen, it’s almost time for dinner. Eatin’ something might make your headache go away.” At the mention, the pulsing began again.

“Okay.” She was afraid to chance a nod and make her headache worse again. Newt nodded.

“Good that.” He went off in another direction, leaving her with Chuck.

“Follow me, Greenbean! Kitchens thisaway! You came in on a good day, Frypan should be making stew today. It’s really good! Frypan gets a lot of shit for his food, but it is actually pretty good.”

A few Gladers were already lined up, bowls at the ready. Chuck grabbed two bowls and handed one to the girl.

They sat at a picnic table near the back and ate in silence for a few minutes, before Newt joined them.

“How’s your first dinner in the Glade?” He asked, spooning stew into his mouth.

The girl nodded, mid swallow.

Newt smiled a little. “Good that. Any luck on the name?”

“Not yet.”

He nodded and took another bite of stew.

“Hey, Newt, are we still having the welcome bonfire tonight?” Chuck asked.

“You know it, Chuckie boy.” The girl looked at Newt.

“It’s sort of a welcoming party,” Newt swallowed another bite of stew. “We started that tradition a few Greenies ago, usually helps the new ones get acclimated with the others.”

She nodded.

“It’s a lot of fun! Gally makes this crazy concoction, but I wasn’t allowed to have any last time since I was the Greenie. Hopefully they’ll let me have some this time!” Chuck grinned, leaving the bench to see if he could get seconds.

Newt glanced at the girl, grinning.

“It wasn’t because he was the Greenie,” He said. “It’s because it’s got some alcohol in it and he’s just a kid.”

The girl giggled at the thought of the Gladers drinking some weird drink that made their minds go to mush. She was excited to see what that did to Newt.

Chuck was a sweet kid, but there was something about Newt that just made her feel so at ease.

It could’ve been his accent, his attempts to make her more comfortable by being gentle with her, being her friend.

Chuck returned a minute later, sans seconds. Newt and the Greenie finished their stew in silence, clearing their plates and returning to the heart of the Glade to get the bonfire started.

Several boys surrounded the large pile of wood in the center of the Glade, Newt and Alby included. They all had torches and after a count of three, tossed them all into the wood pile at once. The wood immediately ignited, earning a cheer from the surrounding Gladers.

“Let’s get this party started!” Alby called, earning another cheer from the boys.

She watched as the Glade came together, surrounding the fire, a nearby sandpit, and a grill that was already being lit.

Frypan stood above the grill, tossing skewers onto it. Boys were already lined up with plates.

The Greenie giggled to herself.

Not even an hour after dinner.

Gally was nearby, stirring a giant pot with mason jars at the ready. He started spooning out varying proportions of the amber liquid that was coming from the pot, handing the jars out to various Gladers. The Greenie decided to avoid partaking until she was more comfortable around the others and in the Glade.

Tired of standing, the new girl decides to sit and lean against a log, a few feet away from the fire. She rubbed her temples gently, noticing suddenly that her headache had finally subsided.

Newt was right. Eating really did help my headache.

She sat there for another minute, thinking through the events of the day. The ride up in the box and hitting her head against the floor seemed so far away.

Taryn.

She sat up a little straighter, startled. Was that her name?

Taryn.

It sounded familiar in her head, weirdly like greeting an old friend or finding something important you had lost long ago. Taryn smiled to herself. She finally had a piece of herself, and that was her name.

Taryn shivered and realized that it was getting colder as the sun was going down. She stood from her place beside the log and moved to a log that was much closer to the bonfire. She leaned against the closer log and stretched her legs out in front of her.

“Hey!” Taryn snaps her head up to see Newt approaching her, just as she makes eye contact with a boy who was staring at her from across the fire, munching on something on a stick.

“Hey,” She grins with a smile. Newt plops himself down next to her, taking a long drag from Gally’s drink.

“How are you enjoying yourself, guest of honor?” Taryn smiled at the way he said “honor.”

“I’m good. I had to get closer to the fire because I was getting cold,” Newt nodded in acknowledgement, taking another drink.

“Have you gotten yourself anything to eat or drink?” He asked.

“No, not yet. I don’t know what exactly is in that drink, and I’m not sure I’m ready to find out.” She laughed a little. Newt liked the sound of her laugh.

“Yeah,” He replied. “I can’t quite say I blame you.”

The pair was quiet for a minute or two.

“Taryn, by the way.”

“S’cuse me?”

“Taryn. My name. It’s Taryn. I remembered.”

“Taryn,” Newt said, testing out the name. “I like it. Suits you quite well.”

“How’s that?” She asked. Newt muttered something she didn’t quite understand. “What was that?”

“S’pretty. Like you.” He repeated, still quiet. Taryn grinned to herself a little.

“Well, thank you Newt.” She said.

Just as Newt was about to respond, Chuck walked by, taking a long drag from Gally’s drink.

“Hey!” Taryn called out, catching up to Chuck within a few strides. “Gimme that!” She took the drink from Chuck and held it out of his reach.

“No faaaiirrrr!” Chuck whined.

“No fair?! You’re just a kid! No adult drinks for you,” He pouted and stomped off, presumably to watch the fights that were going on at the sandpit.

Taryn returned to her spot beside Newt and took a drink from the confiscated liquor.

“Euch,” She said upon swallowing. “How can you guys drink this stuff?”

“Puts some hair on your chest,” Was Newt’s response.

“Mhm.”

Newt stood abruptly, finished the rest of the drink by throwing it back, and stalked off in the direction of the cook and the pot.

Taryn sat by herself for the duration Newt was gone, just observing the other Gladers. Hearing the noises of an evening in the Glade.

“You hear that?” She jumped a little, not realizing Newt had returned.

“Yeah, what is that? It sounds like stone scraping.”

“It is. That’s the maze, changin’ and movin’.” “The maze? What maze?” Newt just smiled and rested his arm behind her, on the log.

“Yeah. Out there, beyond those doors is a giant maze.” He took another drink.

“Wow.” There was not much for Taryn to say beyond just wow. She truly was wowed by the power of this place.

“Taryn,” He says, looking away from her.

“Yeah?”

“Just testing out the name. Like I said before, it’s quite beautiful. Like you.” He said the last part very quietly, but enough for Taryn to hear. She raised her hand, the sudden movement causing Newt to look at her.

Their faces were close.

She gently brushed the hair from his eyes, so gently that Newt closed his eyes and leaned into it. She ran her fingers through his bangs one more time until she was sure they were out of his line of vision, when Chuck appeared behind Newt.

Taryn and Newt both moved back and turned their attention to Chuck, a flush creeping up on both their cheeks.

“Whatcha doin’?” He asked, plopping himself down in front of Newt.

“N-nothin, Chuckie boy. Just talkin’.” Newt finished his jar of drink and set it down, raising a hand to rub his eye.

“Tired?” Taryn asked, eyeing Newt.

He nodded.

“Want me to help you back to the Homestead?” He giggled in response.

“I-I don’t need help!” He proclaimed. He stood successfully, but was swaying slightly.

“Chuck, walk behind us to make sure he stays upright.” He saluted Taryn and did as she asked. She wrapped an arm around Newt’s shoulders to help guide him in the right direction.

“Come on, sweets, let’s get you upstairs.” A goofy grin crossed Newt’s lips but he remained quiet for the entire walk.

Chuck followed behind them until they made it into Newt’s room, which was impeccably clean.

“I got it from here, Chuck. Thanks for your help, for everything you’ve done for me today.” Taryn faced the younger boy as Newt sat on his bed, head hanging in exhaustion.

“Anytime! I’m so glad not to be the Greenbean anymore,” He said, puffing his chest out.

“Whatever you say. Can you make it back to your hammock okay?” She asked.

“You know it. See ya tomorrow!” Chuck made his way back downstairs and out into the Glade.

Just as Taryn turned back to Newt, he was curled up on his side, shoes on and everything.

She huffed and began undoing his shoes, before pulling back his covers.

Newt stirred slightly and slowly eased himself under the blankets.

“Thank you, Taryn.” He muttered sleepily, a smile crossing his lips.

“Anytime, Newt. Thanks for everything you did today.” She brushed his bangs out of his eyes again and made her way to the door, and to her room that was next door to Newts.

She took off her own shoes, curled up in her bed the exact same way Newt had, and dreamed of their future in the Glade together for the rest of the night.

#the maze runner newt imagines #newt imagines #newt maze runner #newt tmr #newt #newt and thomas #newt au #newt the maze runner #the maze runner #newt from the maze runner #the man the myth the legend #the love of my life #newt the maze runner x reader #the maze runner imagines

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heraxic · 18 days

Text

Medusaberg first encounter pt3 (final) (cw eye-related gore, thanks miranda)

(pt2:)

something something xenia guest rules and handshakes to show you’re unarmed

imagine you get horribly mutated and kidnapped to an inescapable island where the only times you’re not completely isolated is when you’re getting hunted down and attacked by people who see your head as a glorious trophy. imagine begging for them to listen, begging for your life, but they only see it as trickery and weakness. eventually you give up trying to convince them and strike first cause you want to survive. now for the first time in 700 years you meet someone who isn’t taking orders from your abductor or an overconfident fool striving for legendary status. theyre like you but marked for death and old hopes reignite, but your amiability has rusted over from centuries of cruelty.

wouldn’t it be wild if they were the first to listen anyway.

#i need to find a better way to format these comics #they look so crusty #re8 #greek mythology #re8 ethan winters #ethan winters #re8 heisenberg #re8 karl heisenberg #ethan x heisenberg #wintersberg #fanart #my art #sketch

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year

Text

Measuring

Media The Maze Runner

Character Newt

Couple Newt X Reader

Rating Smut + Funny

Concept Measuring

Smut Nudity / HJ / Mild BJ or Kisses / Cumming / Jizz in hair

I stood in the garden shed pad and pencil in hand, counting up all our tools, all our seeds, all our garden stock that we had lining the selves in the shed. I made sure to make accurate notes as this would be used then to make the list for the box and the list for the builders to tell them how many of each tool or item we need making up for us. It should be zarts job as keeper however he outsourced it to me as usual. I was making my notes peacefully when the shed door opened wide. I glanced over to see a familiar sight.

Y/n our only girl currently, in her usual little shoes, the same cargo trousers as everyone else but she had cut them into shorts due the hot weather, a loose blue shirt with it slightly hung off her left shoulder exposing her bra strap. She had her hair in a long plait a blue ribbon worked into her plait and around her head like a headband to keep the hair out of bed face, her measuring tape around her neck and her own writing pad In her arm. She was our laundry girl and repair girl cleaning and fixing all the clothes of the glade. Frankly she had been a godsend in that respect as It meant at least we could have some fresh clothes every once in a while.

"Hi love" I smiled

"Take out your dick"

I froze up for a moment having to have a moment of buffer "uuuuuuuhhh… what!?"

"Take out your dick" she repeats

".... Yeah that's what I thought you said. One more time I think I might be loosing my mind"

"Take out your dick. Your penis. Your cock. Your manhood. The doohickey between your legs"

"I. Have. So many. Questions"

"I don't have time for this newt come on"

"Have you been out in the sun too long love?"

"Fine I'll do it" she sighed coming in more but I backed away holding my pencil like a machete as I didn't have mine and the pad to protect myself

"Ahhh no! No! Ain't nobody touching my doohickey!" I complained "now please. Explain what the bloody hell is going on"

"I'm making a graph"

"A graph? What kind of graph?"

"I'm measuring every boys height and penis length I'm trying to see if there's a correlation"

"....why?"

"I have a day off and I'm bored" she shrugs "come on newt I have to do everyone in the glade for my research, I have them all written down"

"-im not the first person you came to with this?"

"No, I didn't know were you where your going to be my twentieth seventh subject"

"How on earth did you get anyone to agree to that?"

"Well I'm also going to have to make a largest to smallest scale for the graph"

"AHH. That's how. You realize the only reason anyone has agreed to this is A to show the only girl in the glade there cocks and B because they all wanna see if they have a bigger cock then someone else"

"Science is science I don't care why they agreed so long as they do" she shrugs "so… may I measure?"

"No" I told her

"But my graph! Science!"

"Your graph will be fine without one participant"

"Please"

"No. Besides once Minho finds out where I am on the scale he'll never let me live it down" I sighed returning to my work

"Why? Are you going to be one of those really weird variables?"

"Y/n. Just no."

"Fine. Fun crusher" she sighed

I shook my head as went back to my work making notes and counting things up but as I did I noticed her out the corner of my eye with her tape measure checking my height

"Y/n!"

"Newtie 5'10 and a half" she notes on her little pad

"You're not going to give up on this are you?"

"Nope"

"Fine" I sighed "on the condition I get to know everyone else's"

"Okay"

"Alright" I sighed making sure to lock the shed so knowone would come in

"Go on then" she smiled with her little tape measure

"Alright alright." I told her undoing my pants unable to stop glancing at her as I did eventually they dropped to my ankles and she waited smiling at me moving to kneel on the floor In Front of me stroking her tape

"Come on I haven't got all day" she says so I slowly tugged my underwater down enough she could do her measuring. She wasted no time immediately starting her work it was

"For god sake newt it keeps changing" she complained

"It's cold in here love!" I complained 'don't get hard. Don't get hard. I know there's a girl like an inch away from my cock but don't get hard! She's gonna notice that'

My thoughts were rather suddenly interrupted but her blowing a warm breath across me "come on little guy I know it's cold in here but I'm trying to measure" she giggled stroking her hand up my shaft a few times

"Uuuuuuuhhh…." Well. There goes the idea of not getting hard

"Yay there he is" she giggled returning to measuring and making her notes "thank you newt" she smiled giving me a kiss but that was enough- "Ahhhh!" She squealed in shock "newt!" She screamed

"I'm so sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry" I told her as quickly as I could even if I was still a bit disoriented quickly pulling my pants up as she got to her feet

"Seriously!" She yelled

"I'm sorry!" I told her "it uhh it's in your hair"

"I know!" She complained as I had managed to hit both her face and her hair

"I'm really really sorry y/n" I told her letting her use my hoodie to clean her face and hair

"It's fine." She sighed "what I get for helping"

"Have you… helped anyone else today?"

"No, but I figured you'd need a hand" she smiled giving my cheek a little kiss too

"Thank you very very much" I smiled giving her a kiss too "so where do I rank?"

"Not sure. A bit unfair given you were hard" she giggled

"Ohh trust me any guy in the glade saw you on your knees they were hard" I told her

"Interesting" she giggled "it's fine some boys were. I'll show you my graph later" she smiled giving my cheek another kiss and heading to the door "think positive newt you beat gally" she smiled as she headed out into the glade

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lostmyremembrall · 11 months

Text

Tom's Speciality: Manipulation &Manwhoring

Y/N: 10 galleons say you can't make Abraxas fall in love with you within the night.

Tom: *strips his robe to make you hold it*

Tom: Get ready to see manwhoring and manipulation at its finest.

Tom Riddle Incorrect Quotes

@buckysmetalhand @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @percy-the-hufflepuff

#tom riddle fluff #tom riddle x fem!reader #tom riddle x gn!reader #tom riddle oneshot #tom riddle #tmr #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle incorrect quotes #tom riddle imagines #lord voldemort #tom marvolo riddle #harry potter incorrect quotes #tom riddle fanfiction #harry potter #tom riddle x you #tom riddle au #tom riddle fic #harry potter fanfiction #tom riddle x abraxas malfoy

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miryum · 2 years

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Mum and Dad (Newt x Reader)

AU: “You’re the mom friend of the group and I’m the dad friend of the group, I think we should get together, y’know for the kids.”

I know that Minho is totally the dad of the friend group, but we’re switching that to Y/n for a sec. Newt is still the mom cause we love our British Glade mother.

F/s: favorite sport

F/t: favorite team of said sport

“Newt, where do you keep your beer?” Thomas rifled through Newt’s fridge.

“Uh, bottom left.” Newt said from the stove. “Though this is your second. Watch out.” Thomas sighed but put the beer back.

“And… uh, did you buy the feminine products?” Sonya nudged.

“Yep. They're in the bathroom in the little brown box above the toilet.” Newt nodded, glancing back at his sister.

“Thanks.” Sonya rushed to the bathroom.

“Thanks, mom.” Minho joked from the couch. Y/n glared at him.

“Hey, Newt?” Y/n called to the boy. “Do you need any help in there?”

“No, I’m good. I’m almost done. And you already helped with drinks.”

“Okay.” Y/n sat back and held a hand out to Brenda.

Brenda stared at her hand before wondering, “What are you doing?”

“I want some of your goldfish.”

“No!” Brenda shielded her food. “Go get your own!” Y/n gave her a look and Brenda sighed before offering her some.

“Thanks!” Y/n happily crunched on the snack.

“Hey, Y/n,” Gally said, heading to sit down next to the girl. “Could I borrow a ten?” Newt scoffed from the kitchen. Gally rolled his eyes at the noise.

“What for?” Y/n twisted away from him. “This is, like, the fifth time!”

“I know, but I’ll pay you back!” Gally whined. Teresa laughed at his lie.

Y/n sighed and said, “No you won’t.” Yet she still pulled out her wallet and handed him a ten dollar bill.

“Thank you!” Gally snatched the money and hopped out of his seat.

“Food’s ready!” Newt called.

“Here, lemme help.” Y/n dashed to help him. She took the heaviest dish, despite Newt’s protests, and plopped it on the coffee table. “Minho, change the channel to f/s.”

“I’m watching the amazing world of gumball!” Minho protested.

“Minho, come on.” Y/n said, “F/t is playing!”

“Newt, it’s your TV.” Minho pleaded, “Tell Y/n I can watch cartoons.”

“Hey, you heard her. It’s f/t.” Newt chided as he carried the pizza out.

“Thanks Newt.” Y/n kissed him on the cheek, eliciting a blush from him that she didn’t see.

Minho huffed and muttered something to Brenda and Sonya who laughed.

“What?” Newt asked as he sat down.

“It’s just…” Sonya started, “you’re kinda like the mum of the group and Y/n/n’s like the dad. Just think it’s interesting.”

“And why is that interesting?” Y/n asked, brows furrowed as she served everyone else before herself.

“Well,” Sonya coughed before continuing. The rest of their friends grinned while avoiding eye- contact. Sonya, being Newt’s sister and one of Y/n’s close friends, had been specifically chosen for the task. “Mom and dads are usually… together. In an intimate relationship. It’s obvious you two like each other. Why not get together for us kids?”

Y/n’s face flushed at the end of her sentence and she couldn’t look at Newt. “Just… put on the game.” She finally managed to say.

Minho shot a tense glance at Thomas. Did they do the right thing by trying to force their friends to see their feelings?

The low mumblings of conversation slowly stirred as the f/s played. Y/n still couldn’t look at Newt, her face still bright red.

“You okay?” Newt whispered to her. “Sonya shouldn’t have said that if it made you uncomfortable.”

“No, no.” Y/n stretched her feet out onto the ottoman. “It didn’t make me uncomfortable.” She didn’t take her eyes off the TV.

“Seriously, are you okay?”

“I- I guess I’m trying to gauge your emotions. Did you feel disgusted when Sonya said we should date?” Y/n took a big bite of her pizza.

“No! No!” Newt loudly said, gaining the attention of their friends. He lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t mind at all if we dated.”

“So you want to date?” Y/n asked hesitantly.

“Do you?”

“I mean, I don’t know.”

“Oh my god!” Thomas cried out, “Just go on a shucking date!”

Y/n went back to staring at the TV, her blush now ten- fold.

The conversations returned. After a while of awkward silence between Y/n and Newt, Y/n broke the silence. “Coffee? Tomorrow, 10 am?”

Newt hid his smile. “I would love that. Can’t wait.”

“Thank god.” Brenda mouthed to Sonya who was just happy to see her friends find happiness.

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newtkive · 3 months

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pixels [ newt x reader - modern text au ]

ch. 3 - infamous minecraft night

summary: the usual minecraft night ensues, and newt comes to a realization.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

note: the first meme is minho i swear. anyways first written chapter yaaaay !!

The only sounds coming from Newt’s apartment were the whirring of his pc and the shuffle of his friend situating himself on the living room couch. Newt was stationed in the corner of the small apartment, typing away at his computer, head down and floppy blond hair over his forehead.

“Dude, chill. You’re going to give yourself carpal tunnel from typing that fast.” Minho said from his spot on the sofa. His hands were behind his head, feet on the coffee table and shooting a judgmental look Newt’s way.

The older looked over his shoulder, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I told you to stop putting your nasty feet on my table.” He retorted.

Minho rolled his eyes, dramatically stomping his feet back on the ground. Another look was shot his way, curtesy of Newt before he turned back around, focusing again on his screen. “We getting on Minecraft or what, man?” Minho sighed, putting his laptop on his lap.

“Uh, yeah, go ahead and get on. I just finished my work and I’m gonna join the call.” Newt mumbled, taking hold of his mouse to click off of the library website he was editing, and switch to the Discord app. It took a second for him to find ‘The Glade’ group, noticing three active members in the voice chat to the left side of the main chat. He suddenly saw the chat moving as an alert popped up, showing that a familiar name was typing.

y/n: yooo newt get on!!

y/n: i see you online. get on call! we need a voice of reason

Newt’s dark eyes flew across the screen, a small smile gracing his lips as he read what you said. Behind him, Newt could hear Minho scoffing. The sound must have sobered the blond up, since his smile fell and he coughed to snap himself out of it.

“Dude, how come she asked you to join? I’m online too!” Minho grumbled like a spoiled kid.

Newt smirked, sending him a look again from over his shoulder. “Because she needs a voice of reason, or so she says. You’d only serve to make things worse in whatever is going on in that call.” The older snickered, and a harsh glare came from his friend. Newt swore he heard Minho mutter a few curses under his breath as he turned back around, but he let it go.

Clearing his throat, Newt clicked on the voice chat and prepared himself. An onslaught of voices immediately filled his ears, a mix of halfhearted arguing and giggles from Alby, Gally, and yourself. As usual, dark eyes instantly found the small square that housed the image of you and Newt couldn’t control the smile that lit up his face.

“Newt!” You beamed right back at him, waving through the screen.

“Y/n!” The blond reciprocated the wave and felt his cheeks heat up as you giggled a bit.

A few groans lit up the call belonging to Alby and Gally. The two had a similar set up going on; sitting in front of their fancy gaming computers while adorning a headset, a bit distracted as they played Minecraft.

“You could say hey to us too, Newt.” Alby sassed, with a broad grin and raised brows.

“Yeah, but you guys probably caused whatever problem is going on." Newt chuckled. This elicited a furious nod from you in the corner, and Alby immediately began wagging his finger in the camera with a series of 'no, no, no's.

"Sure, go see what Y/n did to my house." Gally remarked the bottom left corner of the screen and rolled his eyes.

"I only blew half of it up because you destroyed my shed!" You gasped at Gally. Newt's smile grew at their antics.

"You mean my shed that you've been squatting in!" Gally shouted back at her. There was a hint of an amused smile on his face despite the obvious irritation about the TNT blowing his hard work up. Newt figured it would have been a bigger deal if it was anyone else's property, but Gally was an absolute beast at Minecraft; he could fix any damage within mere minutes.

Before you could retort, the sound of another person joining the call cut you off. A vertical screen stretched to fit the layout, and a blurry image of a familiar brunette was shown.

"Heyyyy, guys!" Thomas sing-songed out, holding his phone up in the air like a stereotypical dad. He was clearly walking along the snow covered streets, wired headphones in as he adjusted his beanie. The crew let out a chorus of 'hey man's and 'hey Tommy's'.

"Where the hell are you?" Newt asked, laughter laced in his voice, head tilted to the side to decipher where his friend was going.

"Uhhh, I'm on my way home," Thomas started, looking around as snow began to fall a bit, almost seeming unsure of his own words, "I think, at least."

"You think?" Newt echoed, amused.

"You're like one of those kids who need a leash on their backpacks." You said, grinning at your best friend as he trudged along the almost barren stone street of New York.

Thomas shrugged, a little laugh bubbling out. "I guess. I kinda got lost, I thought this old lady was following me so I faked her out and went a weird direction. Now I'm in a fancy neighborhood." He explained.

Alby, Newt, yourself, and even Minho from behind Newt let out a loud laugh.

"Dumbass." Gally snickered, grinning for once on the call.

"Tommy, you're nuts." You mumbled, hand moving rapidly along with your mouse as you tried to fix your shed, eyes glancing back and forth between the screens.

"Who was that? Is Min there?" Alby questioned, squinting at Newt's image on the screen.

Newt scooted his rolling chair to the side to reveal Minho's slouched over form on the couch. The man's smile comically fell as he was revealed, almost like he had an upset image to keep up (he did). "Wow, you know my laugh anywhere. You're obsessed with me." It was Minho's turn to sass out, as usual.

Alby rolled his eyes and Tommy grinned at the sight of their friend. "Minho! Hey, buddy!" The latter waved enthusiastically as he trudged the quickly darkening streets. Minho simply flashed a middle finger, making him pout.

"Join the call, Min. You should get on Minecraft too." You piped up, eyes looking away from your phone camera and glued to your laptop.

"No, fuck you guys. I'm mad at you." Minho all but shouted, arms crossed and leaning back on the couch.

Newt scooted more into the frame again, shaking his head. "He's pissed still, as you can tell."

"You're the one who removed him." Alby said, clearly annoyed.

"But you guys are the ones who didn't add me back!" Minho shouted again, glaring at the screen from his spot.

"I added you back!" Alby corrected him.

"Oh, please." Minho didn't know how to reply, so he just scoffed at the man. He was right after all, and Min didn't like being wrong.

Newt shook his head, leaning back in his chair. He shrunk the screen a bit to pull up Minecraft, eager to see what kind of damage was done to everyone's homes.

They had build up a cute little town: dark oak houses, each unique to every person who built them, all leading up to a giant cherry blossom mansion that Gally resided in. The shed beside the mansion housed any stray horses found—each horse assigned to a different person—and your own little blue bed. You refused to live in your own home after everyone made fun of the dirt house you and Tommy built together. Unlike you, Tommy stood his ground and stayed inside of it. You chose to spite everyone who made fun of you and move into the public stables, inconveniencing them.

Newt crossed his arms and patiently waited for his game to load as he tuned back into the conversation. You had convinced Minho to play with all of you if you gave him your hard earned diamond—emphasis on the singularity of the use of diamond. You often had a hard time mining without dying, so you took pride in your jewel.

"Oh, c'mon. That just means you'll steal more of my shit." Newt said, pretending to sound exasperated.

At the sound of his British accent rolling through your speakers like honey, your eyes immediately darted back to the screen to see Newt's smirk. A blush emerged on your cheeks and you bashfully smiled. "No, I won't! I swear." You said, a bit embarrassed.

Newt didn't mind you borrowing his things, and he had an inkling that you knew that. "Sure, I bet that'll last for an hour." He chuckled.

Internally, Newt was giddy at your interaction like a school girl. Now he was internally embarrassed. At the perfect time, his game screen loaded and he began playing the game to distract himself.

"Guys, promise me you'll tell me if there's someone behind me." Thomas piped up while trekking through the streets. Everyone monotonously agreed, not fully paying attention.

"Guys, c'mon!" Thomas whined incessantly, sounding like a little kid. You giggled and assured him you'd keep an eye out, and he seemed to calm down at those words.

With that, the group gaming really started up. It was weird without Thomas being online and his little character not moving around, but his constant talking filled the void.

On the other side of the screen you were reeling at the sight of Newt. He was focused on the game, lip between his teeth, brows taut, and messy, thick, blond hair splayed over his forehead like a golden crown. Brown eyes constantly flickering around the screen but somehow finding their home on you in the end—or at least you hoped.

Newt was thinking similar things about you. Eyes catching your form every time you moved your hair to the other shoulder, or ran your hand through it. He tried not to be obvious and strayed away from glancing over at every movement, but it was hard. If he caught your gaze, he would waggle his brows a bit, and you would dissolve into that cute little smile that lit up his stomach in butterflies. Thankfully, no one noticed your interactions—or at least that's what both of you told yourselves.

By the time Thomas got to his own apartment, and those affected rebuilt their in-game homes, things were slowing down and tiredness overcame most of you. Even Minho's shit talk from behind Newt had almost came to a halt. The first one out was Gally, claiming he had work tomorrow. Next was you.

“G’night, you guys. I have a 9 am Zoom class tomorrow, I gotta be up early.” You grumbled. A hand came up to lazily rub at your eyes as you carried your phone to your room, and Newt resisted the urge to say something along the lines of 'goodnight sweetheart' (which he didn't know why that popped up in his brain).

The group of guys chorused a goodnight to you, all waving. Newt stared at your image, your sweet smile that would stick in his mind long after you hung up. The sound of you leaving echoed in his brain as he stared at the spot where you once were. That is, until Alby's video replaced where yours once was and he scowled.

"What's with the stink face?" Thomas gawked at his friend from where he laid on his bed, phone sat up next to him on the pillow. His friends sudden smile turning into a stoic expression startled him.

"His girlfriend left, that's what." Minho said, walking up behind Newt. Min placed his hands on Newt's shoulders, and the blond shot him a dirty look, shaking his hands off.

"Shut up. The fuck does that mean?" Newt grumbled. Everyone seemed to notice how bothered Newt sounded, which only made smirks grow wider. Everyone but Tommy, who was just about half asleep by now.

"Ahhh," Minho started and tapped Newt's bicep, "just as we all thought." Minho left it at that and stood up straighter, hands on his hips. Newt looked up at him entirely confused.

"Do you guys talk outside of the groupchat?" Alby asked.

"We talkin' about Y/n?" Thomas slurred out.

"Yes, dumbass." Minho leaned down so Thomas could see his annoyed face, but his eyes were closed.

"Uhhhh, not too much, no." Newt shrugged. "Why does it matter?"

Minho gave him an 'are you actually stupid?' type of look, arms crossing as he gazed down at his best friend. "'Why does it matta?'" He mocked his accent, "It matters cause it'll show her you like her!" Arms flew up in the air, as if the answer was obvious.

All Newt could manage to do was look to the side, tongue to his cheek as he ignored the blossoming blush thanks to the topic.

"Min is right, dude! You should talk to her more." Alby's words seemed more encouraging than Minho's. Maybe it was due to the fact that all Minho ever expressed was sarcasm and disdain, but Newt just didn't find him as earnest as Alby at the moment.

"They're right," Thomas piped up, lazy smile on his face. "She's super easy to talk to."

"What?" They all bellowed out in unison.

"You talk to her?" Newt was flabbergasted at this new revelation.

"Uh, duh. She's my best friend. So what?" Thomas scrunched up his brows, eyes cracking open.

Newt just scoffed and shook his head. He wasn't jealous, just.. at a loss for words. "Alright, on that note, goodnight." Newt punctuated his goodbye with a press to the 'end call' button.

The black screen faced both boys, and Newt quickly stood, beelining for his kitchen to make some tea.

"Dude, you call me dramatic." Minho grumbled. Newt just gave him the umpteenth pointed look of the night from his spot next to the sink. As soon as the blond turned around to put the kettle on, filling it up for two, Minho let his knowing smile show.

"You stayin' the night?" The older one called from the kitchen. He decided to ignore whatever that humiliating topic was prior.

Minho plopped down on the couch, head in the pillow, and fishing for the television remote. "You know it." He said. It wasn't odd for Minho to spend the night, as the couch was honestly dedicated to man at this point. Newt liked the company anyways.

The best friends fell into a rhythm of one finding a Netflix show and the other preparing two mugs of tea (Minho usually detested it, claiming it was too British for him, but he surprisingly learned to like it. He would never admit it, but he actually found himself making some tea when he was at home).

Newt had the previous short conversation replaying in his mind over and over as he zoned out while waiting for the water to boil. Did he really like Y/n like that? Yeah, she was gorgeous, and he always found himself looking for her approval and reactions, but he didn't want to be that guy who liked the only girl in the friend group. Although, he knew the situation wasn't really like that.

As Newt brought over the steaming hot mugs and sat on the opposite couch from his friend, waiting for whatever action movie was pulled up to play, he decided talking to Y/n more wasn't such a bad idea.

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heliads · 6 months

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Hello 💕🌸 can you do a Thomas modern au fic when the reader is not well, sad. And Thomas come to her house to shower her « the boyfriend package » : hug kiss, etc… the reader is adopt sister of Brenda, Teresa is Thomas twin sister. Newt is their best friend (who also had been matchmaker before they dated..) can you do à maximum of fluff please 🥹🥹

'boyfriend checkup' - thomas

masterlist

Being sick is terrible, isn’t it? From the second you felt the first threads of the cold start to clog your throat and nose, you knew it was all over. Mentally, you signed your death certificate: Y/N L/N, passed away today, gone from the most horrific cough known to man. That’s how it felt, at least, yet you’re still expected to get up and act as if nothing was the matter. Those kids with tuberculosis in the Victorian age who got to lie around in bed all day while their parents treated them like royalty didn’t know how good they had it.

Thankfully, you have at least a couple of days to feel better before you really have to be productive. You started feeling poorly on a Friday, barely managing to stumble through class before heading home as quickly as you could. Not wanting to complain and spoil the good mood of everyone excited about their weekend plans, you had tried to tell as few people as possible. Specifically, you hadn’t told your boyfriend, Thomas, but now you’re missing him more than ever.

It’s not like you’re intentionally trying to keep things from him, you just don’t want him giving up whatever fun things he was supposed to do this weekend so he could hover over you. You love your boyfriend more than anything, honestly, but when it took you so long to admit your feelings for him because you were certain he would never like you back, small things like this make it even easier to talk yourself out of thinking he’ll want to know about it. Thomas is the varsity cross country athlete, the popular one. He loves you, and he’ll tell you that as many times as it takes so you believe it, but some part of you will always wonder why.

That’s why you haven’t told him, not yet, although you have a feeling that he’ll find out sooner or later. Your adoptive sister, Brenda, is best friends with Thomas’ twin, Teresa, and they trade gossip like no one you’ve ever seen before. Both of them have repeatedly assured you that Thomas is head over heels for you, but what if he’s not quite infatuated enough to want to drop his weekend plans to take care of an invalid?

As the cold progresses, though, you start to wish that you had bothered him anyway. You’ve shut yourself up in your bedroom with all the lights off, just lying there and reminiscing about the golden days when your nose had worked as it was supposed to. You had taken so much for granted, and now you’re afflicted with a truly terrible fate indeed.

You’re miserable even on a Saturday, which is how you know things have truly taken a turn for the worst. Not even the weekend, the blessed release from work, can lift your spirits. Your best friend Newt was the only one who knew that you were going through it, and he’d made you promise to call him the second you started feeling better so he could plan a friend group movie night or something. Newt’s always the one on top of stuff like that. You doubt any of you could accomplish anything without his work behind the scenes to keep you all organized. He holds all of you together and keeps anyone from straying too far.

You had hoped that Newt would forget that you were feeling down, but it’s half past noon when your phone buzzes with an incoming call from the blond boy. You briefly consider just letting it go to voicemail, but that would alarm him even more than if you admitted that you still aren’t feeling your best.

You end up giving yourself a second or two to put on your best fake smile before answering the call. Thankfully, Newt had elected to go for just a talk over the phone instead of FaceTime, so you only have to disguise your voice and not your expression, too.

Newt’s voice rings over your phone. “What’s up, Y/N? How’re you doing today?”

You’ve never planned on a career as an actress, but when you answer Newt as happily as you can, you start to consider it. You sound chipper and excited, surprising even yourself. “Doing fine, Newt. How about yourself?”

Maybe this is actually doable. Maybe you might be able to convince your friend that you’re fine so he doesn’t do something terrible like try to get involved. Right now, you just want to be left alone to wallow in your dark room until you’re physically forced out of it.

Newt clicks his tongue in disapproval, sending a rush of static crackling over the phone. “Y/N, are you being honest with me?”

You start to sputter in surprise. Hadn’t your ruse been perfect? “What? Of course I am!”

Newt lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Sure thing. We’ve been friends for years, I know when you’re lying. You want to let me know how you’re really feeling?”

“Really, I’m great,” you eke out. “You’re being paranoid, Newt.”

“Am I?” He asks.

“No,” you admit. “I’m still miserable. My head is killing me, and I haven’t left my bed for more than a couple of minutes all day.”

Newt sighs. “That’s what I was worried about. Is there anything I can do? Maybe rally the group to swing by your house to cheer you up?”

“No, honestly. I don’t want to do anything. Hopefully I’ll get better soon, but until then, I don’t want any crowds around.” You tell him.

Newt pauses for a moment, thinking, then asks, “What about just one person?”

You frown. “Are you offering? I thought you were busy all day.”

“I am,” Newt clarifies, “But Thomas isn’t.”

You go silent. Newt, always the perceptive one, sighs again. “You haven’t told him that you’ve been feeling under the weather, have you?”

“No,” you admit, “but I didn’t want to bother him, that’s all. There’s nothing Thomas can do about this. I don’t want him to worry about something out of his control. He’s already got enough on his plate already, you know that as well as I do.”

Although this conversation is happening over the phone, you can picture Newt’s look of disappointed consternation anyway. “No, he would be furious with me if you were sick and I didn’t tell him. I’m letting him know immediately.”

“Newt, don’t you dare,” you admonish.

He just chuckles. “Too late. Texting him now. With any luck he’ll be over within the hour.”

“You’ve betrayed my trust. You’re a terrible friend,” you admonish him, but only half heartedly.

Newt laughs openly. “No, I’m a fantastic friend and you know it. Did I not use everything in me to get the two of you together?”

You giggle in spite of yourself. “You did indeed. I remember you bringing that up many times.”

“As I deserve,” Newt grumbles. “The two of you fought me all the way despite supposedly wanting this. He had better make you happy now, I’m not ruining all of my hard work for a bad cold.”

You smile. “Thanks, Newt. I’m very glad that you suffered so much for us.”

“You had better be,” he says, but he’s laughing when he hangs up.

Seconds later, you get a text from Thomas: On my way ASAP. Might be breaking the speed limit.

You grin and text him back. Don’t get pulled over.

Never, he answers, and he’s true to his word, a knock sounding on your front door about five minutes later. The rest of your family is out of the house, so you have no problems creeping down the hall to unlock the door and let him in.

Thomas swoops in immediately, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pulling away so he can get a good look at you. “How are you feeling, Y/N? Dizzy? Feverish? You look alright, if a little tired, but let’s get you back in bed at once.”

You laugh. “I’m not dying of the plague, Thomas. I’ll survive standing up for a few more seconds.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to,” he says. Pausing briefly to leave his shoes at the door, Thomas proves his point by picking you up in bridal style and carrying you back to your room despite your protests, which are admittedly pretty halfhearted.

Once Thomas has gotten you back in bed again, found a glass somewhere to bring you water, insisted on watching you drink all of it, run back downstairs so he could fill it again, and returned, he perches on the side of your bed, gently squeezing your hand.

“Well, Doctor Thomas?” You ask teasingly. “What’s your diagnosis?”

He grins and plays along. “Not terrible. I recommend bed rest, and maybe also letting your boyfriend know when he needs to take care of you.”

This last bit is delivered with increasing passion, and you’re left sheepishly smiling at him. “Alright, maybe I should have told you in the first place, but I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“Worrying is my job,” Thomas says, “I am excellent at it. Also, if I think you’re not telling me when you need extra love, I’ll worry even more than usual. The only way to keep me from worrying is to let me know when you’re sick or hurt. Deal?”

“Deal,” you agree, and smile when he kisses your cheek.

“You should get some rest,” Thomas urges you. “Here, I’ll close the door so the noise from downstairs doesn’t bother you.”

He moves to stand, but you reach for his hand and he freezes at once. “Stay with me?” You ask hopefully.

“Of course,” he smiles, and, careful not to disturb you, climbs into bed next to you, lying down on top of your blankets to keep his street clothes off of the mattress. You curl into him, letting your eyes shut as the steady beat of his heart lulls you to sleep. Once you wake up, you’ll feel better, and be more open to conversation, but for now, both of you are quite content with the silence. Peace is good for both of you.

requested by @hope92100, i hope you enjoy!

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#thomas #thomas imagines #thomas x reader #thomas oneshot #maze runner #maze runner imagines #maze runner x reader #maze runner oneshot #tmr #tmr imagines #tmr x reader #tmr oneshot #tmr thomas #tmr thomas imagines #tmr thomas x reader #tmr thomas oneshot #maze runner modern au #modern au #tmr modern au

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