Dylan Obrian - Tumblr Posts
Let Me In
Thomas x reader
Movie: the Maze Runner
Requested by: @imdeadinsidexxx
The reader is depressed and Thomas wants to help her.
It had crawled up from the deepest, darkest hole from Hell - wrapped its claws around your helpless mind and heart. Dragged you down, while you tried to scream and get the attention from the other Gladers. However, none of them would turn their head around.
You felt its wicked hand place itself over your mouth, preventing you from even trying something. You would wiggle and push, but nothing made it go away - it only made you tired.
It made the activities you had loved, not enjoyable anymore. Everything you did became wrong, even the smallest task was getting harder to do. To cut up some carrots was like a challenge to you, but Frypan had been kindhearted to give you time - however, it only made you feel stupid.
And the mornings were no longer filled with laughter from you. Everything became grey and white, no colors filled your world. However, only one person had managed to pull you out from the hole you had been dragged into.
“(Your name),” you heard someone whispered perhaps a few centimeters away from you, with a turn with your head you looked into two green eyes. Thomas climbed the few steps of the ladder, placed himself on the wooden floor of the tower. You furrowed your eyebrows but said nothing.
Thomas looked at you, taking deep breaths and out again. His green eyes were focused on you, every movement you would make. As he was afraid that you would soon throw yourself over the edge of the tower. You had been thinking about it, but never had the strength to do so.
“Hey,” Thomas greeted you softly, as he pushed himself slowly backward. You could see from the corner of your eye that he placed himself next to you. His shoulder brushed against yours, warmth filled your body just by that small touch.
“Newt and Chuck are worried,” Thomas breathed out, lifted his legs up so he could rest his arms on top of his knees. You said nothing, only dug your face deeper against your own knees. “And so am I, (Your name).” He said after a few minutes, but he said nothing and only sat there.
Seconds turned into minutes, as you lifted your face and looked over at the boy beside you. Thomas turned his head around, his green eyes focused on your own (Eye color) eyes. Somehow it felt good to hear that someone cared for you, but you could not find any strength to speak.
“I’m here for you, (Your name). No matter what, I’ll always stand by your side.” Thomas said, his voice clear from the humor that would always linger in his voice. You swallowed, blinked once and twice. The burning sensation in your eyes started once again, however, this time you were not alone. Thomas’ eyes widen but said nothing as he wrapped his strong arms around your body.
He pulled you towards his body, you did the same thing to him - but grabbed a hold of the fabric of his shirt. Pressed your face against his shoulder, as your shoulder was shaking and you were sobbing heavily against him.
Thomas said nothing but pressed his own face against the side of your face. His lips brushed against your temple, mumbled soft nothings into your ear. However, you did not listen to those words. Only the feeling that someone hugged you, made the claws of the wicked darkness pull away from your mind and heart.
Perhaps you should tell Thomas how you felt about your situation? He had always been there for you, the moment he had sprinted over the field of the Glade you had thought highly of him. You two had become good friends over a short time.
“Thank you, Tommy.” You whispered against his shoulder, feeling the said person tightened his grip around you. “Any time, (Your name).”
However, it would take time before you truly could open yourself up freely. But this was a good start, to cry in the arms of your good friend - to feel that someone was indeed worried out about you. With time everything would get better, right?
Isn't it awful when someone comes dressed in the same costume as you on Halloween, and they look better?
Poor Derek...
And Happy Halloween!
Derek Hale and the Chocolate Factory
Derek Hale was not looking forward to wasting his Saturday touring some random chocolate factory. However, his boyfriend, Stiles, had somehow managed to come by one of the elusive Golden Tickets, and therefore, the alpha werewolf found himself being dragged around the semi-magical candy factory, surrounded by annoying children (and Stiles). Plus, Derek was never a fan of sweets.
The tour group followed the eccentric owner, Wonka, around the factory as he rambled on and on about stuff that Derek wasn't paying any attention to. "...and this is a prototype that we've been working on..." the older man ranted as he showed off what looked like a simple stick of gum.
When Derek got close to it, the werewolf huffed and popped the stick of gum into his mouth, figuring that it was yet another free sample on the tour that he'd get looks from Stiles for turning down again. Seriously, he'd had so much sugar already that he was getting a headache. But not wanting to upset his boyfriend, he chomped down on the gum, cocking his fuzzy eyebrow when the rest of the tour group gasped at him.
"What?" he asked.
"Der, it's a prototype," Stiles whispered to him, "we're not supposed to eat it."
Derek huffed. "We were literally asked to lick the damn walls earlier, and now you're telling me I can't chew gum?" The werewolf paused when the gum in his mouth seemed to take on a different flavor, but instead of being disgusted by the overtly sweet sensation, he actually enjoyed the taste of blueberry. "This... this is actually pretty good."
Stiles immediately forgot the indiscretion that was committed and happily grasped onto Derek's buff arm. "What's it taste like?" he asked.
Derek swished his tongue around, a faint smile finally appearing on his usually grumpy face. "Blueberry."
Wonka cleared his throat. "Um, I wouldn't do that if I were you. We usually have some troubles when the blueberry course happens..."
"What do you mean?" Derek asked, the blueberry flavor increasing in his mouth.
The rest of the group gasped loudly again, further confusing the werewolf.
Stiles, luckily, had no problem with blurting out loud what everyone else was witnessing. “Derek!” he exclaimed, sounding both worried and excited. “You’re face! It’s turning blue!”
“What do you mean…?” Derek’s voice trailed off when he looked down at his hands, his eyes widening when he saw his pale skin taking on a bluish hue. The cyanosis was subtle at first, but soon it deepened until his skin was flushed deep blue, almost violet. “What the fuck’s going on?”
Wonka, looking uninterested, shrugged before blowing some weird tune on some flute that he kept in his jacket lapel. “This always happens when it comes to blueberries,” he muttered, his voice laced with disappointment.
“What happens?” Stiles frantically asked.
Before the candyman could answer, a loud pop was heard.
Derek looked down, and would’ve blushed red if his blue skin would allow, at the sight of his pants button bursting from his inflating midsection. His formerly flat stomach steadily pushed outwards, rounding into a rotund gut that caused his blue t-shirt to stretch over it. In fact, Derek’s entire body was steadily inflating, the sweet taste of blueberries intensifying in his mouth as he grew.
“What’s happening to me?” Derek panicked, looking over at Wonka with worry, fighting hard to prevent his alpha red eyes from flashing.
“You’re turning into a blueberry,”Wonka hummed, nodding at the little oompa loompas who entered the room. “We need to get you to the juicing room as soon as possible.”
“A blueberry?!” Derek roared, wincing when he looked down at his rounding body. His midsection had grown so much that even his upper torso and lower half were starting to round out, making him look like a giant blue ball. He had grown so large that his arms and legs had gotten so stumpy that they appeared to sink into his blueberry body, leaving him with flailing hands and unsteady feet.
It was only a matter of seconds before Derek stood in the center of the room, colored dark blue and perfectly rotund, like a giant blueberry.
“You have to fix this-ssshhhh!” Derek demanded, but his voice was a bit cut off when he felt his cheeks starting to inflate, rounding out and making him look like a chipmunk with its mouth full of nuts. In his irritation, he tried to stomp his foot angrily. However, the massive amount of blueberry juice inside of him sloshed around too much and caused him to lose his balance off his stubby feet, making the round werewolf roll helplessly onto his back.
Derek tensed up at the feeling of the small oompa loompas walking up to him and literally rolling him away through large metal doors, like he was some oversized exercise ball. The juice in his round body sloshed noisily and he was getting dizzy from being rolled through the factory, beyond humiliated at his predicament…
— — —
“Shoot, I can’t believe there was secret contest to win the factory!” Stiles pouted as he and his boyfriend stomped through the parking lot towards his Jeep. “And we lost!”
“Yeah, sorry about that…” Derek growled, still trying to get used to the jiggling sensation from his gut every time he walked.
The werewolf was still a dark blue color, feeling completely ridiculous. What was worse was that the juicing room had tried to empty him of as much blueberry juice as it could, but it couldn’t get all of it out, leaving Derek looking like he was stuck in some serious bulking phase. His t-shirt strained over his beefy, blue body, and his large (but much more manageable than before) gut protruded out the bottom of his shirt and loudly sloshed with every step. His butt was puffed up significantly, so the werewolf had to borrow a pair of sweatpants since his own jeans wouldn’t fit— and the sweatpants were still painted on over his new dump trunk. Derek figured that he must’ve kept at least sixty pounds from his blueberry fiasco. Even his face looked a bit round still, making him sneer whenever he caught his own reflection in one of the car mirrors.
Derek huffed as he struggled to settle into the passenger seat, his rotund booty making it difficult to get comfortable. And he had to stretch the seatbelt nearly to its limit in order to make it fit over his beefy body. He winced at the foreign sensation of his large gut resting on his lap, the blue mass clearly visible as it poked out into the open.
As soon as Stiles started up the vehicle, the radio blasted with “Blue” by Eiffel 65. “♪ I’m blue, da ba dee—”
Stiles shut it off and blushed as he looked at his scowling, blue boyfriend. “My bad.”
