The Maze Runner Preferences & Imagines

He Has A Nightmare

Minho -

"Please, I'm sorry-" Minho whimpered next to you. You eyes fluttered open and your dazed state ceased immediately when Minho's body writhed next to you. Shooting up, fear creeping into your veins, you turned over and pushed Minho's shoulders down as he started to shake in his sleep.

Words, random and full of pain, fell from his mouth. His skin was soaked in sweat. "I can't please don't-"

The strain in his voice was too much to bear, his black hair was messy and ruffled against the pillows he shook against. "Minho." You said softly.

He didn't wake and you saw his hand clench against the sheet around him, fingers curling as if he were fighting the nightmares that plagued him.

"Mihno!" You called louder. "Wake up, baby wake up please."

Moving a strand of matted sweat-ridden hair from his forehead, you place a hand on the side of his face, willing him to wake up. "Minho, come on they're not real. Please."

His body shot up from the bed with a cry and you jumped back but went back to him straight away; pushing his shoulders down.

His eyes were wide and full of fear, searching all over you. Scouring for any sign of injury; something obviously conjured in his dreams.

"Shh." You said softly, his large hands grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to him. His chest going up and down quickly, his breathing erratic.

"I took you- I took you into the maze. And you- you were taken and I couldn't save you-" He started to rock slightly, the hysteria taking over. "-I couldn't save you-" he whispered again. "- I couldn't save you."

"It wasn't real. Minho, look at me." You said firmly, holding his face firmly in your hands. "I'm here, I'm with you right now.

He didn't reply, he exhaled and stared into your eyes like he was trying to make sense of the world in his head.

You gently pushed his shoulders down, he was shirtless so the sweat clung to his biceps and collarbones, up along his neck too. "It's alright Minho, I'm here with you."

"Y/n, I'm sorry."

Giving a sad smile, you brush your thumbs over his cheeks. "There's nothing to be sorry for, come on." The softness of your tone is warming and he brushed his hands up your arms, pulling you to him.

"I don't want you to go into the maze."

Sliding your hands over his, you littered kisses over his bruised knuckles; evening fights with Gally. "I'll always be safe with you Minho. Don't worry."

Thomas -

It was late, the moonlit sky shone a dark and foreboding glow on the whole Glade. The churning of the maze outside the borders made your bones rattle as you carried the remainder of the washing across the field; walking passed the sleeping boys.

All lay in hammocks, mouths agape as slumber overtook them, they seemed in a peaceful bliss. Except Thomas.

You snapped your head in the direction of a low whimper, the type of noise a young boy would make when he became too afraid to even try. The noise came from him, from Thomas. His arm was outstretched over the side of the cotton hammock, his neck shining in sweat as he writhed in his make-shift bed.

You watched for a moment as he threw his head back and mumbled words in his sleep. Endless profanities escaped him and it was only when he let out what sounded like a blood-retching sob that you hurriedly dropped the bundle of clothes and hurried to his side.

"Thomas." You whisper, trying not to wake the others. Chuck rolled over and his thick mop of curly hair covered his snoring face.

Placing each hand on his shoulders, you shook him slightly but he writhed between your fingertips.