Maze Runner - Oneshots and Imagines

Shirtless - Minho

It was way too hot today. Fry and me were forced to work inside while everyone else seemed to enjoy the weather outside. I had counted twelve shirtless boys running to the kitchen to get water by now, and stopped counting at twentyone who were just in the process of getting rid of clothing. The only one I hadn't seen the whole day was Minho. And that was not because he was out in the maze, no, he had his day off. 

It was lunchtime and we were sitting outside, finally taking a break. I was peacefully eating the sandwich I had made for myself, leaning against a tree that was giving shade for me. I was resting my head against the cool tree trunk with closed eyes when I heard someone approach me. "Hey (y/n)", he greeted me and I immediately grinned, realising it was the one Runner I had been missing. I opened my eyes - a mistake in hindsight - and groaned. The bright sunlight hurt my eyes, practically blinding me for a moment. I took a second to adjust to the sudden intensity before I could make out a grinning Minho. 

"He-", I began, before my voice broke and my chin dropped in shock. It was not like I had never seen a shirtless boy before - in fact, I was basically surrounded by shirtless boys - but I had never seen shirtless Minho. And holy shuck. I had always known Minho was well-built, but I hadn't thought he was that muscular. 

"You good?", the boy smirked at me and I closed my mouth forcefully, unable to even react. God, Minho was toned. For a moment I wondered whether he'd ever run the maze shirtless. The Grievers would probably have been too impressed to move. 

"So", he started and bent down. He came a lot closer than necessary, making me gulp. "Are you still eating that?" He pointed at my sandwhich and without even looking down I slighty shook my head, unable to open my mouth and say something. He smirked again and grabbed it from my plate, shoving it into his mouth with a mumbled "thanks" before turning around and jogging away. 

My eyes were glued to his back. How could a back even be good looking? I had no idea. But, apparently it was possible, because this boy even had an attractive back. And his shoulders- heavenly. "You can stop staring now", Fry interrupted my stalking from behind and I snapped around to look at him, laughing at my ridiculous reaction. I muttered something even I myself couldn't understand and got up, just now realising the heat in my cheeks that probably made me look like a tomato. 

Cursing under my breath, I walked over to the kitchen and put away my empty plate. I turned on the water and washed my hands, then waited for it to fill the small sink. I'd wash the dirty plates from lunch in a second - the one thing I hated the most about being a Cook. Cleaning.

As I looked out of the window, my lips parted a second time this day, leaving me a gaping and staring mess. Minho was working out just in sight - and he was still shirtless. In the background I heard Fry groan, but I didn't react. My gaze was fixed on the Runner, the way his muscles flexed in the sunlight as he moved around, the slightly sweaty back- "(Y/n), snap out of it", Fry complained and waved his hand in front of my face, getting me back to reality. 

"What?", I mumbled defensively and tried to hide the blush on my cheeks by looking down at the sink that was already too full. In a hurry I turned off the water and shot Frypan an apologetic look, but only earned an eyeroll. I started to wash the first plate carefully but couldn't help looking up again. Minho was now doing press-ups on the grass and I bit my lip unnoticed. Shuck. I watched as he pushed himself up and down again. It looked as though he didn't struggle at all. Would he have a hard time even if I sat down on his back right now?

"(Y/n)!", Fry complained and I lowered my gaze, realising I had been holding the plate but not washing it, so I started to scrub. I finished cleaning two plates when I finally looked up again, just in time to see Minho ending his press-ups. He straightened, so I could take in his whole body once again. Perfection. So shucking unfair. 

"For shucks sake (y/n), go out there and tell him to get his shirt back on, I can't have you staring at him all day", Fry grunted, took the plate I had been holding from me and gestured at the door. I moved to the side, but didn't take another step further. "You- You really want me to- to go and tell him he has to put his shirt on?", I asked, stuttering. I peaked out of the window, watching as the Runner stretched his arms, and gulped. Yeah, sure, I would just go out there like 'Hey Minho by the way you need to put your shirt on because you look so shucking hot I can't concentrate on work'. 

"Yes", Fry said, not even looking up at me. "Or I will do it." 

I cleared my throat and turned around to walk out of the kitchen with shaky hands. I knew that if Fry went and told him he'd have to put his shirt back on that would be way worse. Minho stopped and waved with a smirk on his face when he saw me walking towards him. Did this boy ever do anything else than smirking? I sent him an insecure smile. "Hey (y/n)", he greeted me and I stopped awkwardly. "Hey Minho." My voice sounded hoarse and I cursed it when I saw his grin widen. 

"Fry-" I inhaled to work up the courage to continue my sentence while the Runner raised his eyebrows. "Fry says you need to put your shirt back on." 

I tried to keep my focus anywhere but on the boy, pretending to be amazed by the dry grass at my feet. "And why would I have to put my shirt back on?", he asked and I could almost hear the smirk in his tone. If he were any more confident, he would be a God. "Distracting", I mumbled as quietly as I could manage.

"Distracting who?" 

I groaned, rolling my eyes as I did so. Slinthead. Slinthead for making me say it. "Me." I blinked and raised my eyes to the sky, hoping, praying that he wouldn't torture me any further. 

"So do you want me to put my shirt back on?", he asked. No, I did not want him to put his shucking shirt back on! I wanted him to... I didn't know what I wanted him to do, but I sure as hell did not want him to put his shirt back on. 

Minho apparently sensed my desperate try at suppressing a strong disapproval and laughed. When I found the courage to look up at him, he winked, turned around and snatched his shirt off the grass that he had tossed there carelessly. "See you around", he shouted as he jogged off, pulling his shirt over his head. I stood where he left me, frozen. What the shucking hell had just happened? 

"(Y/n)! Get back here!", Fry cried from the kitchen and with a last confused look I turned around to walk back.

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i dont even have anything to say to this- i genuinely dont know what its supposed to be :)) im just a simp who really desperately needs to be saved from themself