The Maze Runner Reacts and Oneshots

Frypan Reacts to you Not Liking His Food

The day had been long and exhausting, with the usual routines in the Glade pushing everyone to their limits. By the time evening rolled around, the Gladers were all eagerly gathering in the dining area, drawn in by the enticing smell of Frypan's cooking.

Frypan took great pride in his work, always making sure to whip up something hearty and satisfying for the boys. Tonight, he'd outdone himself with a new recipe— a savory stew with thick chunks of meat and vegetables, served with freshly baked bread.

As the Gladers filed in, grabbing bowls and helping themselves, Frypan watched with satisfaction as they dug in with gusto. But then, he noticed you hanging back, looking hesitant. You shuffled forward, took a small portion, and then sat down quietly, picking at your food.

It didn't take long for Frypan to notice your lack of enthusiasm. He watched from the kitchen area as you pushed the food around your bowl, taking only the tiniest bites. The usual chatter and laughter of the Glade filled the air, but Frypan's attention was focused on you. Something wasn't right.

After a while, he walked over, wiping his hands on his apron. "Hey, Y/N," he said, trying to sound casual. "Everything alright?"

You looked up, startled, and gave a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

But Frypan wasn't convinced. He glanced down at your barely touched bowl and frowned. 

"You don't like the food?"

Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head. "No, it's not that! It's just... I don't know, I guess I'm just not that hungry."

Frypan raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Come on, spill it. I can handle it."

You hesitated, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. The last thing you wanted was to hurt Frypan's feelings—he worked so hard to feed everyone, and you knew how much pride he took in his cooking. But there was no escaping now.

"I don't know," you admitted, your voice low. "I guess it's just not my taste. I feel bad, Frypan, but it's just... I'm not really into it."

Frypan looked at you for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay. I get it."

He didn't sound angry or offended, just thoughtful. He leaned against the table, folding his arms. "I know not everyone's gonna like everything I make. It's hard to please a bunch of shanks with different tastes."

You could see the wheels turning in his head as he spoke, and you felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry, Frypan. I didn't mean to—"

"Hey, stop that," Frypan interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm glad you told me. The last thing I want is for anyone to go hungry because they don't like what I'm cooking."

He glanced at your bowl again, then back at you. "What is it about the stew that you don't like? Is it too spicy? Too bland? Just not your thing?"

You thought about it for a moment, trying to put it into words. "I think it's the texture," you finally said. "It's a bit too heavy for me. I guess I just prefer something lighter."

Frypan nodded again, taking it all in. "Alright. Thanks for letting me know. I'll keep that in mind for next time."

He gave you a small, understanding smile. "How about I whip you up something else real quick? It won't take long."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, you don't have to do that—"

"I insist," Frypan said, already turning to head back to the kitchen. "I can't have one of my Gladers going to bed hungry, now can I?"

You watched him go, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude. Within minutes, Frypan was back with a plate of something simple yet delicious—some scrambled eggs with herbs and a side of toasted bread. He placed it in front of you with a flourish.

"There you go," he said, grinning. "It's nothing fancy, but it should hit the spot."

You took a bite, and the taste immediately brought a smile to your face. "This is perfect, Frypan. Thank you."

He gave you a satisfied nod, looking pleased with himself. "Anytime, Y/N. Don't ever be afraid to tell me if something's not working for you, alright? I want to make sure everyone's happy with what they're eating."

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. As you continued eating, Frypan gave you a friendly pat on the back before heading off to check on the other Gladers.

From that day on, you knew you could always count on Frypan to make something just for you, no matter what the rest of the Gladers were eating. It was just another way he showed that he cared, making sure everyone felt at home, even in the harsh world of the Glade.