TMR Imagines and Preferences

You Accidentally Nick Yourself in the Shower

Thomas- Just as you leave the shower house, Thomas comes up behind you and grabs your hand, pulling you to the kitchen where he has two jars of Gally's mixture sitting by some old candles. You laugh at his attempt at a romantic evening, and sit down opposite of him. When the drinks are almost gone, you raise your legs and set them on the table while talking to Thomas. You wince slightly, remembering where the razor had cut you before, and adjust your legs so that the cut is not being pressed on. For a few minutes, the conversation carries on, but with a gasp, Thomas notices the gashes along your calf. "Y/N! What happened?" Thomas rushed over and inspected your leg while you tried to explain. "Thomas, it's nothing. Just an accident. I promise nothing serious." He looks up and does not believe you in the slightest. "Y/N. Come on. Tell me. I don't know what I can do to help you, or what I did that caused this, but I swear I will listen." You are surprised by his seriousness, and also quite confused. "Thomas," you begin to reply, before stopping in pity at his puppy dog eyes. "Thomas, it was a bad razor. Nothing more. Promise." He does not understand nor believe you. "It's because I'm in the maze so much, or because I don't talk to you enough, or maybe I'm just really bad at- well, never mind. Shuck, how could I be so careless?" Thomas is still kneeling next to your chair, and he brings his head to rest before groaning pitifully and crying into your jeans. You gently kiss his forehead after lifting his tired face. "Babe, it's not your fault. It's mine. Well, really, it's the razor's fault. But understand me, and listen now. I couldn't stand myself if I ever did something to hurt you so bad. I wouldn't be able to bring myself to do it. I love you to the moon and back, you know? Tommy, I swear. You are breaking my heart," with that, your voice cracks and he lifts his gaze to your face. "I'm sorry Y/N," he whispers. Then, he takes your waist in his muscular hands, and sets you on the floor. Starting at your toes, he kisses you gently, sucking at some places, and leaving hickies at others. On your neck, Thomas bites a small trail down to the top of your breast and you shiver at his touch. Slowly, he raises himself up on his hands and comes back down again on top of you, pressing his lips to yours. You can taste desperation, relief, and a small bit of alcohol on Thomas's lips when he deepens your kiss. You run your hands through his dark, feathery hair, and he groans into your kiss, going faster and then hugging you tightly in a sitting position. The two of you spend the night watching the candles flicker while peppering each other with bursts of kisses every time you feel too alone, even though Thomas's arm never leaves your waist, and yours never leaves his thigh.

Newt- While in the shower, you run your razor over the soft skin on the back of your thigh. With a cold tingle, you feel a large nick on your thigh from the klunk razor. You could never get nice ones from the box, and always had to use the same type of razor that the other gladers used for their faces. When you finish your shower, you slip on a pair of athletic shorts and and old tshirt, unaware of the blood still running down the back of your leg.

In the homestead, Newt is waiting in your room, with an old and rusty radio he requested from the creators. There was no source of power visible, but one station that played lazy folk songs and alternative rock. You smile when you walk in the room, seeing Newt holding a small handful of wildflowers in his hand. After setting your clothes on a chair, you walk barefooted over to him, taking the flowers and raising up to your tiptoes to kiss him on the nose. "What have you been up to, Love?" he asks, while you place the flowers in a ball jar with a sliver of water in the bottom. "Not much," you reply. "Just missing you." You can feel him smile, and turn around to see the radio on the bed. Newt turns the knob and a song comes on, words unintelligible, but the melody still coming through. "Really?" Newt asks, unsure as to whether you actually cared. "Of course. How could I not miss the guy who managed to procure a working radio in a place with no electricity or outside connections?" He laughed, but still had a look of uncertainty in his eye. You reached up and pulled his head to meet yours, kissing him passionately on the lips before trailing your kisses to his ear and then down his neck before draping your arms over his shoulders. "Yes, Newt. Of course I missed you." Finally reassured, Newt grabs your hand and spins you, leading an awkward dance around the room. If someone were to look in, they would see the wooden room, lit with flickering lights casting shadows on the numerous jars of flowers on the counter, and the old radio on the bed. In the middle of the room, you swayed with your head on Newt's broad chest, feeling better with bare feet and a messy bun than you ever remembered feeling. The chorus of the song surged through the speakers and Newt rested his head on top of yours, with one hand around your waist, and the other clasped with yours, jutting out into the air. He clenched his biceps and raised you up so that your legs rested on his hips, and he could carry you around while dancing. He went to readjust your body when his hand gripped and pulled on the slash in your leg. You gasped and let out a small shriek, before you fell to the floor panting, tightly squeezing your eyes shut. You heard a loud gasp, and then Newt kneeled down close to your body. "Y/N," he whispered, his face paler than the sheets and eyes hollowing out into black stones on a milky complexion. "I'm fine. Just a scratch." You get up and walk to the sink, aiming to grab a wet cloth to wipe off your leg. Turning back around, you see Newt glance from your leg, back to his hand, where there is fresh blood imprinted on his long fingers. You kneel down to his collapsed position against the bed and wipe the blood off of his fingers, feeling the warmth in his touch seeping away. "Newt, I'll be fine! It's nothing you have to worry about. I'll take care of it." Newt still did not move, his eyes still staring holes through the hand that had held you. With a sigh, you walk away, turning and trying to find the spot where the blood is still seeping out from the gash. Thankfully, you find the cut, and place the cloth over the bleeding area until the pressure finally stops the flow. Once the cloth is rinsed off, you go back to Newt. The radio is still on, playing in the background. His hand is now limp in his lap, fingers curling upward, and his wide eyes stared into blank space. "Newt. Come on. I'm fine, it's just a cut, and it will heal. Seriously. Do I need to have Clint come and explain it to you? It's just personal business of mine, you don't have to worry your precious mind about it." With this, a single tear rolls down his cheekbone, followed by a spurt of them when Newt scrunches his eyes shut. His face contorts in pain and your heart speeds up while sinking at the same time. "Newt! What's wrong? Newt, darling, please tell me! Did I hurt you?" He continues to sob, not meeting your eyes. Silently, he rises and goes to the window and stares out at the glade. You stay crouched near the bed, waiting for his response. After seconds that seemed like forever, Newt came to a realization. "It's my fault." You are confused and wait, a sense of dread creeping into the corners of your mind. "It's my fault. It's my fault! MY BLOODY SHUCKING FAULT! I TOOK YOU FOR MY OWN AND I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH. I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOUR, Y/N! I BLOODY DRAGGED YOU INTO THIS SHUCKING MESS AND NOW YOU ARE STUCK JUST LIKE I WAS! I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN! I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU! YOU DESERVE SO MUCH BETTER!" You are silent, shocked at Newt while he stared at his reflection in the window pane. "I should have known. I should have bloody known that I wouldn't be good enough. You should've gone with Minho, or Thomas, or Alby, or Clint, or anyone except for me! You would be better off with Gally! He might act like a slinthead but at least he could protect you from himself! You should have gone with one of them. I should have known," Newt repeats, dropping his head and letting a torrent of tears rain down from his face. With a growl, Newt turns slightly and punches the wall, over and over and over again with a grunt each time until you can tell his knuckles are bleeding. Slowing down, his sobs finally overpower his grunts. Determinedly you stand up and walk over, putting a hand on Newt's shoulder and turning him to face you. His eyes are red and puffy, and tears still run down his cheeks, but you resist the temptation to kiss him and instead continue with your intent. "Newt, I don't know where you got this klunk idea in your head that you caused this, but you need to get rid of it. Now. The only thing that happened was a shuck razor, a bad blade, and a piece of clumsiness on my part. Nothing you ever did or could do would drive me to that, Newt. Ever. I could never bring myself to do anything that might put permanent distance between us. I love you, you slinthead. But you are scaring me. You don't deserve me? That's klunk. I don't deserve you. I'm this crazy, messed up, hopeless romantic with a dirty mind, who would never have dreamed that a guy like you would actually care for me like this. But he does, and I love him dearly for that. Newt, hearing you say I should be with another glader is tearing me to pieces. It hurts, a lot. You know, I'm always scared. Scared that I'll do something to scare you off, or make you realize how stupid you were to choose me in the first place. And right now, that's all that is going through my mind. I'm not worth it all, I realize that. But please, if you could do one thing for me, do not blame yourself for something that wasn't caused by either of us. Something so stupid." Newt's reflection shows absolute shock, but you feel empty and weak after revealing yourself. Silently, you turn and are ready to exit the room. Newt then runs to you and pushes you against the door with his slender hips, while his passionate kiss makes your heart erupt into butterflies. His tongue asks for entry and you deepen the kiss, savoring the British boy who you thought you had lost. "Shuck, you taste so good," Newt says, untangling his arms from yours. "Y/N, listen. I don't deserve you. I really don't. You have given me just a small piece of that dirty, hopeless romantic inside and already I am madly, desperately, bloody in love with it. Just promise me, promise me you didn't do that on purpose. " He stares at you, biting his lip and eager for an answer. "I promise," you say, more relieved than ever to hear the words coming from Newt's mouth. With a great sigh, he kisses you again and carries you to the bed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling the blanket up before going back in for another kiss.