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luminouslywriting · 2 months ago

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Chapter 45: We All Fall Down—The Prophecy (BoB Fanfiction)

Notes:

A/N: Is this what James Dashner refers to as an unfortunate little incident? Yes. Yes it is. Y'all ARE NOT prepared for the next few chapters. That being said, I'm double-updating today and I'm updating State of Grace for you Masters of the Air fans, so go and give that some love haha!! Enjoy (at least as much as you can) and I'll see you in the second update later today. Oh and Happy Father's Day! (And yes, there's some intentional irony with these chapters being on Father's Day oops).

Chapter Text

It all started with a crack in the wall that made Winnie Allen feel like she was Cassandra of old. See, the thing about Cassandra was that she saw things that no one else did. She knew what was coming. And she warned them. But she was cursed to never be believed. Something about women never being believed by a group of men who personally thought that they knew better than some woman.

There was a legitimate crack in the wall that Winnie had pointed out to one of the doctors and the nurses.

Right on the ceiling—the floor above them sagging ever so slightly, the crack above their heads. There were even a few other cracks in the walls of the church.

But this was the safest place, they had said.

What would a doctor know about structural damage anyhow?

Well Winnie Allen had grown up in a house that chewed up and spat out structural damage after every winter and well into the spring. Her house’s roof had caved in in the kitchen—right in the middle of 12 year old Winnie cooking spaghetti for her brothers. There had been cracks in their rooms, signs of water damage.

Her father had ignored it.

She had dealt with it quietly, as she always did.

So when Winnie saw the crack in the wall in the church, it felt like some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. Sure, it wasn’t from water damage. It was much worse than that—the damage was from the bombs that were consistently falling overhead.

And being underground, all Winnie could see was that this place was going to be one large mass-grave for all of them.

Winnie Allen had no intention of dying in a church. The irony of that would have been in the cruelest order.

There were other signs that she was right. The fact that Toccoa wouldn’t come down the stairs anymore, whining and shaking at the sight of going underground when just a few days prior, Toccoa was just fine doing so. And when a dog was scared of doing something, it usually was because they sensed some sort of danger that the rest of them were all nissing.

She had never had a dog before. But back in school, she had been friends with a girl whose father was a sheriff and he had had a dog. And the sheriff would take the dog with him into places. The girl had told all sorts of stories about how that dog had saved lives.

So call it superstition. Call it Winnie being overly cautious. Maybe even paranoid. But given what had happened to her thus far, Winnie wasn’t willing to take any chances.

Circumstances had called for a survey of the surrounding buildings and debris—what was left of the town. There wasn’t much, truth be told. And while the church was the one remaining structure, likely for religious purposes (no one on either side of the war wanted to particularly anger a Christian God by burning His churches), it wasn’t the safest place anymore.

What Winnie had found was a half-standing row of apartments. It was no longer being bombed and hadn’t been touched the entire time she had been in Bastogne. So she had quietly moved some of her supplies there. Extra morphine and a few bandages.

Just in the event that something didn’t go well.

She wouldn’t abandon her post or the soldiers therein the Church. But that didn’t mean she had to be buried alive whilst sleeping underground either.

Renee had noticed all of it. The moving. The unease.

So that afternoon, as Winnie ate a stale piece of bread, Renee glanced in her direction silently. For a moment, the French girl just looked at her. “I noticed that you’ve moved some of your things,” Renee said softly.

“Yes.”

“Because of the damage?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t believe it’s safe?”

“That’s right,” Winnie replied quietly. “I’ve told you what I think. If you don’t believe me, that’s fine. I’m good at taking care of myself.”

Renee gave her a look that Winnie couldn’t quite decipher. “Do you think we should move the patients?”

“What I think,” Winnie said, turning to face Renee. “Is that no matter what we say, they’re more prone to listening to the male doctors or medics here. Because we’re women and therefore we don’t know anything about structural damage. Trying to move them would cause chaos. And where would we move them?”

“So you’re fine with letting them die?”

Winnie flinched at the words. Violently.

Heavy silence for a beat.

“I didn’t mean—” Renee started.

“I know what you meant. And I didn’t say that I was fine with anyone dying. I’m just talking about our reality. Just because we’re taking refuge in a church doesn’t mean the good Lord won’t see fit for us to be buried in it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bombing started that afternoon, sometime around 3 or 4. Winnie remembered because she had just gotten done washing her hands of the blood. It had been in thick amounts, up to her wrists from performing a surgery. A soldier had been brought in with his guts torn up, and half-spilling out. It had been a miracle that he had even made it as long as he had before getting onto the cot.

And then he bled out.

And the blood had made Winnie vomit from nausea, the smell overpowering her sensitive stomach.

She had promptly exited from the group, making her way to a small basin of water and trying to get the blood off of her hands. After scrubbing and scrubbing and nearly rubbing her hands raw, Winnie had gotten the blood out from under her nails .

Tears had stung at her eyes, remembering how blood had coated her hands in other ways—Reba’s blood. Eileen’s blood.

Vomit threatened to spill out again but before Winnie could even be caught up in the memory, the ceiling above her had shook and a small sliver of dust had fallen through the cracks.

Winnie froze, staring at the dust that now coated right in front of her. She could hear the sounds of bombs falling overhead and the ground was shaking like mad. It had started up again. Before, it had only been at nighttime. Now though, it was during the day and the sounds of gunfire and explosions filled the air.

It made her heart beat rapidly in her chest and blood rush in her ears.

“Doctor Allen, we need you in here!”

And then her reprieve was gone and she was getting pulled into another surgery. And every few seconds, Winnie’s eyes would flash to the ceiling and the crack in it. Watching it and waiting for the shoe to drop. Because the minute that it got to be too much, Winnie knew that she would not hesitate in getting the hell out of the church.

The bombings lasted for hours. All around the church. Shaking the ground. Making the men cry and whimper in fear. Making the nurses hold onto their patients tighter and give empty reassurances.

Winnie kept a steady expression on her face.

Right up until Toccoa’s barking reached its peak of panic.

And the ground shook more.

Winnie stopped her motions in wrapping the patient’s leg, glancing at Anna. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

Anna must have sensed the urgency of Winnie’s tone because she started yelling at everyone to move. Winnie was the first one up the stairs, shoving up the stairwell as dust came down on her hair. She had managed to make it up and into the ground floor of the church as the stairwell began to crumble—

Only two or three medics had made it up the stairs and then the whole thing had collapsed.

And Winnie just stood there. Crestfallen.

Eyes locked on the blue headband that Renee had worn, just barely peeking out of the wreckage of the stairwell. The ground was still shaking and fire raged everywhere. Winnie didn’t feel the loss though.

Over four dozen people buried alive in a stairwell and underground portion of the Church. Likely going to suffocate to death from lack of oxygen. If they weren’t crushed by the crumbling of the floor beneath her very feet. Winnie had no intention of even moving, frozen as she stared at the collapse.

Something nipped at her leg and she nearly screamed at the sensation—remembering the mouths of Nazi officers on her legs—and instead she found Toccoa, barking voraciously at her feet.

It snapped her out of the memory, though she could still viscerally feel the teeth of the Nazis on her legs and in other intimate places.

She stumbled away and Winnie didn’t even realize that she was still in her coat and gloves, helmet missing. The sound of planes overhead made her fingers tingle with numbness. Winnie made it to the spot she had designated, near the half-crumbling apartments, eyes immediately landing on her supplies tucked away.

When she glanced down, Toccoa was gone.

Winnie never got the chance to question why.

Because the next thing she knew, the ground was shaking. The building was shifting. And then the debris was all coming down on her.

#band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers hbo #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers fic #band of brothers #winnie allen #the prophecy #ron speirs x oc #ronald speirs x oc

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percontaion-points · 8 months ago

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Gate Crashers chapters 43 & 44

Click here for the rest of the series!

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 43

“That’s wonderful, Felix, and we’ll celebrate properly later. But right now, I have to fly.”

Chapter 43 summary: Allison sent Felix back to the parked shuttle, for him to go back to either of the ships and send a message through their instant radio device. Apparently, none of the aliens have the same sort of technology… Which is something that the humans have been keeping quite close to their chest.

But since the aliens don’t have this technology, there’s no way to stop the aliens from destroying earth. The literal only thing the humans can do is to warn everybody on earth to evacuate as many people as possible onto spaceships before the geocide happens.

Chapter 44

Eugene waited impatiently for the elevator to reach the QER center basement level.

I literally forgot Eugene existed. That’s how important not only his character, but his character arc was for the story. (lol what character arc? He’s barely a character.)

“Yes, Dr. Kiefer said we were to remain standing out here for four days and four nights without sleep or food to prove our commitment.”

[...]

“So you’re telling me that you were ordered to stand in a hallway for four days by a crazy-haired man with an abacus around his neck?”

“Yes, sir.”

[...]

The call disconnected, and Eugene spun around to run to the Unicycle’s sister machine. He was still spinning on his heel when he heard the pop. Before he knew what the sound was, a violent jolt of painful spasms erupted across the left side of his body. Muscles frozen, he fell to the floor with a mighty crash.

In a moment of terror, Eugene realized he’d been tased. Unable to move a muscle, his head was fixed toward the far wall. To his horror, he saw the table that had previously been covered by a velvet sheet. Sitting on top of it, illuminated by the flicker of candles, was a sculpture that looked suspiciously like two fire extinguishers joined at the neck; a buoy idol.

Oh, shit. They’ve gone off the deep end.

Through the agony and spasms, Eugene heard the voice of the Keeper addressing his minions.

“Gather round, my brothers, and bear witness to prophecy. Soon, we chosen few shall ascend the mountain to claim our reward. For, at long last, the Day of Due Consideration is at hand.”

Eugene found enough strength to shout. “What the hell are you doing?”

I would like to remind everybody that they all wanted to replace this mentally ill person because… well. He was not quite well in the head to begin with. However, they determined that training somebody on the old instant radios was too much trouble.

Now, this lunatic is going to let billions of people die and the human race mostly go extinct… Because of whatever the voice inside his head is telling him to do today.

Sitting on top of it, illuminated by the flicker of candles, was a sculpture that looked suspiciously like two fire extinguishers joined at the neck; a buoy idol.

Oh, shit. They’ve gone off the deep end.

Through the agony and spasms, Eugene heard the voice of the Keeper addressing his minions.

“Gather round, my brothers, and bear witness to prophecy. Soon, we chosen few shall ascend the mountain to claim our reward. For, at long last, the Day of Due Consideration is at hand.”

I’d also like to point out: this is how you do a cult side-story. Please take note, James Dashner. (I was complaining the other day about how there’s not a cult subplot in Maze Runner, and it made the story really unbelievable. But then again, there’s also not a gay subplot either, and that’s even harder to believe.)

With well-rehearsed cues, Ja’kel’s toes signaled Grote to start walking toward the bridge of the largest warship in Assembly space.

Chapter 44 summary: Eugene goes to accept the message from Felix. Then he gets on the radio to talk with one of the military guys in charge about what they should do. The military guy is of the opinion that while they only have the one warship, they still have ground weaponry that they can shoot at the ship.

However, after getting off the second call but before he can leave the room, Eugene is tased by the keeper of the radio, who has had a cult of the aliens going for a while now. The entire thing is unhinged, as I mentioned.

Then, jumping back to the aliens… The humans are nothing but a ploy for them to get control over the council. With only one more chapter and the epilogue left, I kind of don’t care though.

#The Breach series #Gate Crashers #bookblr #book review #scifi #humor novel #space opera #aliens

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nsfwmiamiart · 9 months ago

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Part 5 - Incoming Text for Ryan Gosling (@ryangoslinger) and Charlize Theron (@charlizeafrica) and Natalie Portman (@natalieportman): “An Idea Worth a Billion Dollars”

Questions and ChatGPT Answers:

Here are the Wikipedia pages: Links:

Movie: The Maze Runner (film) - (click on the blue link)

Book: The Maze Runner (novel) - (click on the blue link)

Here’s a comprehensive overview of the movie The Maze Runner and the book it is based on:

Overview of The Maze Runner

1. What is The Maze Runner? The Maze Runner is a 2014 science fiction action film directed by Wes Ball. It is based on the 2009 novel of the same name by James Dashner. The film is the first installment in a trilogy, followed by The Scorch Trials (2015) and The Death Cure (2018).

2. Plot Summary The story follows a teenage boy named Thomas (played by Dylan O'Brien) who wakes up in a mysterious elevator, known as the Box, with no memory of his past. He finds himself in a large, enclosed area called the Glade, populated by a group of boys who have formed a society. The Glade is surrounded by a massive labyrinth that changes every night.

The boys, known as Gladers, work together to survive and find a way out of the Maze. Each month, a new boy arrives in the Box, and they have learned to navigate the Maze during the day, searching for an exit and avoiding terrifying creatures called Grievers that roam the Maze at night.

As Thomas becomes a member of the Gladers, he feels a deep connection to the Maze and begins to uncover its secrets. The arrival of a girl named Teresa (played by Kaya Scodelario), who brings a message that changes everything, propels Thomas and his friends to take action and try to escape the Maze.

3. Themes The film explores themes of survival, friendship, memory, and the struggle against oppressive systems. It raises questions about identity and the nature of humanity when placed in extreme situations.

4. Reception The Maze Runner received generally positive reviews from critics and was a commercial success, grossing over $348 million worldwide. It was praised for its thrilling action sequences, special effects, and engaging plot, though some critiques noted its pacing and reliance on typical young adult tropes.

Overview of the Book: The Maze Runner

1. Author The Maze Runner is written by James Dashner and was published on October 6, 2009.

2. Plot Summary The novel closely follows the same plot as the film, beginning with Thomas waking up in the Box. It details his experiences as he navigates the challenges of the Glade and the Maze. The book delves deeper into Thomas's thoughts, memories, and the relationships he forms with other characters, providing more context and background than the film.

3. Characters Key characters include:

Thomas: The protagonist who becomes a leader among the Gladers.

Teresa: The only girl to arrive in the Glade, bringing significant news and a connection to Thomas.

Newt: The second-in-command of the Gladers, who provides guidance and support.

Gally: A Glader who is initially hostile toward Thomas but has complex motivations.

4. Themes Similar to the film, the book explores themes of friendship, survival, and the search for identity. It also examines the psychological effects of being trapped in a controlled environment and the moral dilemmas faced by the characters.

5. Reception The book was well-received and gained popularity, particularly among young adult readers. It became a bestseller and was praised for its fast-paced narrative and suspenseful plot. The success of the novel led to two sequels: The Scorch Trials and The Death Cure, which continue the story of Thomas and his friends.

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holyviolence · 1 year ago

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my old copy of this book only has various lines highlighted, i didn't take notes in the margins like i usually do, EXCEPT towards the end i was so infuriated i circled one sentence and wrote in all caps "DELETE. WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN???" and i stand by it still. it's the last sentence of a very serious and sad chapter (about a suicide attempt...) and this sentence is sooo tonally dissonant and also makes no sense why it'd be said in this situation. james dashner i haaate youuuuuuu

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hollybell51 · 3 years ago

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Soup

Series masterlist, masterpost

Newt x fem!Reader

Maze Runner, (2009 novel - James Dashner, 2014 film - Wes Ball), the Fever Code (2016 novel - James Dashner)

Word count: 1438

Summary: your favourite time of day is when the runners get back from the maze, because that’s when you get to see Newt again. It is Frypan’s least favourite time of day, because it means dealing with both of you.

Content: implied/referenced making out, kissing, hand holding (*gasp*), alcohol (mentioned), ehhh I think that’s it

Notes: I like to imagine Newt used to be much happier and brighter before the whole leg thing (hence the Fever Code as source material since it’s kinda pre-canon), so I wrote him like that here. He deserves happiness. Also I’m in love with his smile.

You stood up, stretching your arms over your head to ease the ache in your back and shoulders. The sun was just beginning to sink behind the walls, and that meant two things. Firstly, that the doors would be closing soon. Secondly, and much more importantly, it meant that the runners who hadn’t already returned would be back any minute now.

As you turned to survey the closest door – the western one – three figures appeared, jogging smoothly into the Glade. You could watch them run all day, you thought. You could watch him run all day. Your eyes followed one of the figures as he stopped, hands on his hips, and looked around. The setting sun glanced off his hair, lighting it up like molten gold even from this distance. He raised a hand, waving to you before walking in your direction.

“(Y/N)!” he called as he drew closer. “Alright, love?”

“Sure am now that you’re back,” you returned.

Newt just smiled and shook his head, slinging his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

“You stink!” you protested, struggling against his hold.

He snorted, tightening his grip momentarily before letting you go. “And you would too if you’d been running around the shuck Maze all day.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Honestly, you were just glad he was back. Every day ran the risk of Grievers, getting lost, not making it back before sundown, and countless other things you weren’t aware of. And you weren’t even sure if what they were doing out there was making a difference.

“If it’s gonna stop you coming within a metre of me I’ll take a shower,” he said, snapping you back to the present. “D’you know how far away dinner is?”

You smiled at him. “You go do that, and I’ll find out.”

Newt bent to place a soft kiss on your cheek, then turned to go. He stopped after a few steps, spinning back to face you, a grin dancing on his face.

“What?” you sighed.

“Wanna come with me?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “In the shower?”

“Save water,” he shrugged.

“Since when have you been so keen on saving water?”

“Oi,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “I’ll have you know that I am very passionate about conserving our resources.”

“Mmm, sure, conserving resources.”

“So? Yay or nay?”

You screwed up your face, weighing your options. You definitely would like a shower, you’d like a shower with Newt even more, but… “Can’t,” you said, pointing at the pile of carrots lying by your feet. “Frypan’s waiting on this.”

Newt shook his head. “Bummer, you’re missing out.”

“You’ll have to make it up to me next time,” you smiled.

“Will do.” He clapped his hands, then spun and resumed his trek towards the shower.

You watched him for a moment, then bent back to your task. You’d started talking to Newt almost as soon as you’d arrived in the glade. He was friendly where lots of others weren’t, and didn’t seem to be as hung up about the fact that you were one girl among twenty guys as so many of them were. He was nice, chatty, he made you laugh. It had only been a few weeks when you’d realised you liked him as something more than a friend, and not too long after that that you’d gotten together – courtesy of one of the boys working out how to make moonshine.

You couldn’t remember the night as clearly as you’d have liked – thanks to said moonshine – but you did remember the bonfire, and the way he’d looked. He’d been glowing, like he was lit up from the inside, and you’d been totally mesmerised by everything he did. Then he’d taken your hands and pulled you into the clumsiest music-less dance you’d ever experienced (it was the only one, but you were sure nothing would ever top it), and kissed you, to your horror, in front of everyone. He’d apologised the morning after and you’d talked about it, and while you’d (mostly) forgiven him in light of the fact that he was a damn good kisser, it was still something you brought up when you wanted to make him squirm.

Now, you shook the dirt of the last carrot and stood once more, the vegetables dangling from your hands by their leafy ends in two bunches. They weren’t all too big and were twisted in weird shapes, but they tasted good once Frypan got his hands on them.

You crossed the space to the kitchen, dumping the carrots unceremoniously in the sink with a curt announcement of “carrots.”

“Hello to you too, (Y/N),” the cook said sarcastically. “I’m well, thanks for asking.”

“Great to hear,” you replied. “Newt wants to know what’s for dinner.”

“Newt can wait and see.”

You sighed, leaning heavily on the counter. “Please? He won’t leave me alone if I don’t find out.”

“He’s only gotta wait an hour, he can suffer like everybody else.”

“You’re ruthless, Fry. And after I spent the better part of the afternoon pulling out all those carrots–”

“It took you twenty minutes.”

“--you don’t even have the good grace to tell me what they’re gonna be used for. Is it bologna? Is it a pie? Does it have sauce? Come on man, give me something.”

“Jesus ok!” he relented, throwing his hands up. “It’s vegetable soup.”

You tilted your head to the side, slightly disappointed. “Soup? The kind with all the little bits in it or the kind that’s blended up?”

“With the little bits in it.”

“Oh,” you said. “Ok then.”

The cook crossed his arms, frowning at you. “You got a problem with it?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I like soup.” It wasn’t a lie, you did like soup. You just didn’t like the sadly stewed vegetables floating in the saltiest watery stock you could imagine that was what Frypan called veggie soup. At least it was hot.

“Good, cause we’re having it tomorrow too.”

You hummed, flicking at a carrot. Before Frypan could say anything else, a pair of warm hands settled on your waist. Maybe Newt did like saving water after all.

Frypan groaned, looking skywards as if to the heavens. “And now there’s two.”

“Sure is,” Newt said, his chin resting on your shoulder and his arms snaking around your waist. “Do I still stink?”

You pretended to sniff deeply, then shook your head. “Fresh a daisy. Veggie soup for dinner, with the little chunky bits in it.”

“Chunky bits? I love the chunky bits.”

“You better,” Fry snorted, “blender conked out. It’s gonna be chunky everything for the next three days.”

You felt Newt shrug. “Texture,” he said.

“Also we’re having it tomorrow as well,” you told him.

“Will there be bread?”

“There’s always bread.”

“Yes,” Frypan sighed. “There will be bread. Now will two piss off so I can actually make it? Go make out or whatever you do in your free time.”

You turned your head, drawing back to meet Newt’s gaze. “You wanna go make out?”

“I would like nothing better,” he grinned.

“Awesome. Thanks Fry,” you called as Newt took your hand, leading you away from the more crowded areas of the glade.

“You can have my bread if I can have your soup,” he said as soon as you were out of earshot of the kitchen.

“Deal. I don’t know how you like that stuff.”

“I don’t know how you don’t.”

“It’s so watery and salty,” you complained. “And the veggies are always too soggy.”

“It’s just the right salty, and the veggies are suitably soft. That pie we had last week, however–”

You gasped. “That pie was heaven-sent!”

“It was so dry! I felt like my mouth was the freaking Sahara desert after eating it. And it had no flavour.”

“Because you didn’t put the relish on it. Mine was delicious.”

“I’m sure it was to you,” he said. “I didn’t like it.”

“Just like I don’t like the veggie soup. The pumpkin soup, however…”

Newt hummed in agreement. “That bloody pumpkin soup.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “That was good.”

“So.” He turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “Making out?”

You pretended to think for a moment, then grinned. “Better do what the cook tells us, right?”

“Right, wouldn’t wanna miss out on that soup.”

“Shut up,” you said, grabbing the front of his shirt and kissing him.

“Ok,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands sliding once more to rest around your waist. You smiled into the kiss, pressing close to him. God, you were grateful for that stupid moonshine.

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acciopietro · 3 years ago

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lonesome love - n.

pairing: newt x gn! reader

summary: newt is one of the first few to arrive in the glade, and you do your best to help him navigate this new life. he has a difficult time adjusting.

word count: 7,576

tw: suicide attempt. also, it’s the maze runner, so like... confused chaos.

a/n: hi everyone! i am now on SUMMER BREAK BABY which means hopefully time to write. i figured i’d get this one out of the way since its low in demand. side note, i know that james dashner has confirmed newt as gay, so this is gender neutral reader out of respect for that :) btw this is HELLA long and i didn’t even mean it to be. sorry not sorry!

EVER SINCE HE EMERGED FROM the box, you were worried. There was an air of helplessness that dripped from his every word, a sense of melancholy with his every movement as though his very existence was painful. Newt was a very sweet and very thoughtful boy— but he was also very, very sad.

Selfless and humble, Newt tried his best in everything and later on became a wonderful friend to you. You held onto him with every ounce of strength you had, even if it meant holding down the feeling that you had the potential for something more; there were things more important than your measly crush.

Like most Greenie’s, he had been timid at first— keeping his head down and his mouth shut for the most part, doing his job all whilst trying to get answers to all of his questions. It had taken you (who was second-in-command at the time) and Nick (who was first-in-command) the entirety of the boy’s first week, however, to get him to crack a smile. The thing about Newt, though, was that even after he shed the shy layers, he behaved as though he always had a weight on his shoulders, a constant air of dread of every next moment. And that was what worried you.

There were mornings when the two of you would rise early and stand before the closed doors to the Maze, waiting for the earthquaking rumble of their opening. The sun would peek above the walls, the golden light casting over the dewy skin of his face, the glassy sheen of his warm brown eyes glimmering. You’d stare at him, lips slightly pursed, endlessly pondering the reason behind his eagerness to enter the Maze.

Newt would fiddle with the hems of the harness on his chest, tucking and untucking the knives in each pocket. He’d wobble his wrists out at his sides as though to shake off the remnants of sleep before dropping his shoulders with a sigh, turning his head to you and asking, “Sleep okay?”

You’d give a shrug and say some variation of, “As okay as sleeping in a shuckin’ maze can be.”

His lips would twitch up sympathetically. On occasion, if he were in a good mood, he might nudge your shoulder with his and say something like, “Let’s kill a Griever or somethin’ today,” or some kind of joke to try and lighten your mood. Momentarily, it worked. But once you ran into the Maze again, you were reminded of your situation and you started back from square one.

Once a month, you and the other Gladers held bonfires with the intention of sparking some joy within the glade when the new Greenies arrived; it worked, for the most part, especially when Gally would whip-up a drink of unknown contents that loosened your nerves and lifted your spirits.

Newt, however, on his first few bonfires, had a hard time loosening up. He had sat by the edge of the perimeter, an empty mug of Gally’s drink in his hand and his elbows resting on his propped up knees. You kicked his knee with your foot, standing above him with a grin. His warm eyes flickered up to meet yours, brightening at the sight of you.

“What’s up, shank?” you greeted happily, taking a sip of your drink; it was almost bitter, with a hint of something sweet that you assumed had been stolen from Frypan’s food storage. Sitting down beside Newt, your shoulder brushed his and you asked, “What’re you doin’ over here?”

Newt shrugged, turning the empty mug over in his hands. “M’just tired.”

“All that running, huh,” you stated, pursing your lips jokingly. Newt, to your delight, cracked a smile.

“Someone’s gotta keep up with ya,” he side-eyed you, brown eyes raking over your face for a moment before shifting back down to the empty bottle in his hands. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“Y’know what? I am,” you sighed, resting your elbow back on the log of wood the two of you leaned against. You shifted your body to face him, knees tucked in and brushing the side of his thigh. His eyes flickered down to them before meeting your eyes again. “I love the bonfires. Makes things feel nice for a change. It’s less... er... dystopian.”

Newt's shoulders bounced as he chuckled. Glancing back at the other Gladers, he said, “Wish it was always like this.”

“Yeah,” you said gently, eyeing him carefully. His eyes were wistful, shoulders slouched. His frowning lips twitched, and when his eyes traveled back towards you, his brows furrowed.

“What?” he said in response to your staring. Instead of shyly lowering your gaze, you held it, smiling. You shrugged.

“Just lookin’ at you.”

He gulped and glanced at his lap, a pink tinge on the apples of his cheeks. Your smile widened at the reaction you got from him.

“C’mon,” you placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. Jerking your head to the other Gladers and getting to your feet, you said, “Let’s fill up that drink of yours, yeah?”

Newt sighed, tilting his chin up to peer up at you. Lips twitching, he got to his feet and breathed, “Yeah, alright.”

You slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. He turned red and bowed his head to hide it from you, eliciting a laugh from you and a flutter in your chest.

“Good that!”

---

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, YOU HAD woken up before the sun. The Glade was glazed with sleep, silver light of the moon brightening up small slivers of darkness among the grass pathways. Even after closing your eyes and snuggling into your blanket, sleep refused to take you back; accepting defeat, you withdrew yourself from your warm cot and stepped outside, slipping your sneakers on unconsciously.

The Maze Doors were going to open any minute, you thought as you glanced down at your watch. You, Minho, Newt, and the other few runners weren’t due to start running for another few hours, and you wondered how long it took for the Griever’s to go to wherever they went during they day. The rumble of the doors broke you out of your harmless thoughts.

You watched them open, the wind rustling the lush ivy at its edges as the moonlight flooded into the open hall of the maze. You leaned against the wall of the Keeper Hut, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched the walls come to a standstill. Your eyes were still glassy with sleep, drooping a bit as you stared off, but it was a tall figure walking by the Maze doors that perked your interest.

Narrowing your eyes to try and see through the darkness, you watched as the tall figure paused in front of the doors, staring, hesitating. They ran a hand through their hair — you were sure it was blonde — and glanced behind themselves at the rest of the Glade. They took a step closer to the entrance before pausing again, and you, too, took a step closer; squinting, you tried to decipher who it was. When the figure moved again, you were sure it was Newt, solely by his stride.

And then, without another hesitation, he ran into the Maze; you could see the tightness around his shoulders and figured he wore his harness and other running gear, but couldn’t for the life of you figure out why he would go running so early. The first thought that came to mind was to immediately go in after him, but you reluctantly turned around to go back inside the hut. At the very least, you could get your running gear on.

“Psst!” you whispered at the door of Minho’s room, rapping your knuckles on the doorframe before stepping inside, adjusting the straps of your harness. “Minho!”

No answer. Soft snoring came from the right side of the room, and as your eyes adjusted to the darkness of his space, you saw Minho’s chest rise and fall with his each breath. Hesitant to wake him up, you whispered his name again. He only stirred.

Fed up, you shook his shoulder a bit, whispering his name once more. As though you had brought a flame down to his skin, he shot up, gasping as though he had woken from a nightmare.

“Y/N?” he grumbled, scratching at his neck. “Shuckin’ scared the daylights outta me...”

“Sorry,” you said half-heartedly. “I think Newt just went into the Maze, man.”

“Huh?” he mumbled, tilting his head and squinting up at you through the darkness.

“I think Newt just ran into the Maze. Like just now.”

“Now?” Minho glanced down at his watch. “Sun’s not even up yet.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’m worried ‘bout him.”

“Probably just wants to get a head start today, I dunno,” Minho shrugged, making a move to lean back down into his cot, slipping his blanket back over his chest.

“But why so early? We don’t run for another three, four hours or so,” you gnawed at the corner of your lips. “I think I’m gonna go in after him.”

“Why’re you so worried?” Minho asked.

“I just have a weird feeling,” you said honestly. “I don’t understand why he’d want to go into the Maze so early, ‘specially when we’re gonna be out there all day, y’know?”

“Y’sure it’s not to go and make out with him out there?”

You flushed and were silently grateful for the darkness so Minho couldn’t see. “If I were gonna go make out with Newt, I certainly would not come in here to let you know first.”

Minho pursed his lips and threw his blanket off of his legs. “Touchè. All right, you’ve convinced me. Give me five minutes, will you?”

You retreated outside of his room while he changed after Minho insisted it’d be “cheating on Newt” for you to see him void of clothes. Tapping your foot with your eyes glued onto the open doors of the Maze, you waited.

When Minho was done, the pair of you silently walked across the Glade and approached the doors, the absence of the howls from the Griever’s offering you a sliver of comfort. Minho, however, paused at the entrance, staring out into the abyss as though the Grievers had not yet gone to bed.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him, one foot inside of the Maze.

“Now that you mention it... he has been weird that past couple of days. Y’think he’s okay?” he said quietly, brows furrowed. You bit the inside of your cheek.

“I hope so,” you replied honestly. “Let’s go find him.”

“Should we split up?” Minho wondered as the pair of you ventured into the Maze, taking your first right and staring up at the ivy-covered stone walls that towered over him. “Cover more ground? We both know the Maze enough not the get lost.”

“Good idea,” you nodded your head. “I’ll take sections one through four, you get five through eight.”

“Yes, General Y/N,” Minho saluted you, to which you playfully rolled your eyes and saluted him back. "I’ll yell if I find him. Meet back at the entrance in an hour or so.”

You were swiftly engulfed by the ominous interior of the Maze, eyes scanning up and down the length of the walls and lines of the pathways. The sun still had not risen, but the chirp of the morning birds reminded you of the time. When your watch began to beep from your old morning alarm, you wondered how long you’d been searching and whether or not Minho had found him or not.

“Newt?” you cupped your palms around your mouth and called out, wondering if perhaps he were nearby. You halted your movement at the rustling sound of leaves, but when more silenced ensued, you continued your strides. You wished you could have tracked his footprints or something of the sort, but the stone floors were too solid for shoes to leave imprints.

You slowed your pace as you rounded the corner, sure you heard someone speak; could it have been Minho? Had you circled the sections and accidentally made your way back to the center? Steadily moving, you took a few more steps forward.

And then— more rustling. You froze, waiting. A sound that reminded you of a gasp followed, but you were sure it could’ve been the wind. More resulting ensued; you closed your eyes for a moment in an attempt to locate where the sound came from, or at least which direction it was in. For a moment, you wished Minho was with you; he was the better tracker out of the pair of you.

Your head suddenly snapped up to your left, gaze sliding across the edges of the various walls and ledges within the maze. The ivy beneath the walls was teeming with wild leaves and branches, a curtain of lustrous green coating the stone. For a moment, as you stared you were sure you saw something move.

“Newt?” you tried again, your voice losing its strength and becoming small like a child’s. You continued down the corridor, but the sound of a voice had forced you to fall to a halt. You stood by the corner of the corridor, waiting, eyes closed to listen.

“...I don’t know who you people are, but I hope you’re happy,” you heard. It had to be Newt, it sounded like his voice... he sounded strained, out of breath, but him nonetheless. “I hope you get a real buggin’ kick out of watching us suffer. And then you can die and go to hell. This is on you.”

And then, all at once, the sound of fierce rustling of the ivy, a thud, and finally, a slam. You ran around the corner of the corridor and continued down towards the final wall, glimpses of blonde and brown flashing before your eyes; the leaves rustled again, and you saw Newt at the very bottom of the wall, curled up into a ball. The leaves became stagnant once more.

He lay on his side with his leg pulled up, arms wrapped around it; he rocked back and forth, groaning, sobbing. He let out a deep, painful cry that made your chest hurt, and you broke into a sprint, willing your legs to move faster despite the burning of your muscles. He let out another cry of anguish before shouting, “I hate you! I hate you!”

Cursing under your breath, you ran and ran and ran until you reached him, sliding to reach him as fast as you could, despite the stinging of your knees scraping against the stone ground. He hadn’t noticed you yet, eyes squeezed shut, tears pearling out between his lashes.

“Newt,” you said carefully, your breath catching in your throat as you moved to place a hand on the side of his face. His eyes opened, pupils widening in humiliation, before he closed them again. “Hey, hey, hey... let me help you, okay?”

“Just leave me here,” he muttered, his voice cracking. You clenched your jaw, swiping the damp blonde hair off of his forehead. His face ran pale, long lashes brushing his red- tear-stained cheeks. The rising and falling of his chest began to slow, his body becoming less reactive. “No, stop, you... don’t...”

The tears began to pour out of your own eyes, thumbs grazing his cheekbones as though your soothing touch might bring back his energy. Taking a deep breath, you glanced around you as though Minho might magically pop out to help you. You glanced back down at Newt; he had passed out from the pain of his leg, head lolling to the side.

“No, c’mon, Newt,” you babbled as you shook Newt’s shoulders, your movements becoming frantic the longer you laid there. “You gotta wake up, you shank, you can’t do this to me!”

Your quick breaths turned rapid, the more you hyperventilated, the faster your hands trembled against his skin. Desperately, you turned your head to side, and shouted, “MINHO!”, praying it might reach the other side of the Maze, or wherever your friend was.

The silence that emanated from the Maze was unnerving. You took a final glance down at Newt’s closed eyes, his pale face, before you clenched your jaw and got to your feet. Lifting him by his underarms, you slumped him over your back as though you were giving him a piggyback ride, and trudged along the Maze. You were unsure how long it’d take you; Newt was significantly heavier than you expected him to be, and you could barely see which way to turn with the tears clouding your vision.

“Minho!” you shouted again, voice cracking, and found yourself puzzled about how long you’d been walking. What section were you in? How far were you from the Glade? Was Minho even nearby? “Minho!”

“Y/N?” came Minho’s voice. You could’ve fallen to your knees in relief at the sound of it. “S’that you?”

“Follow my voice!” you cried, tightening your grip on Newt as it began to grow more and more challenging to carry him. You only stepped forward once more before falling to the ground, lowering Newt as gently as you could before you collapsed over his torso, sobs racking your body from the stress of your situation. “Over here!”

“Did you find him?” Minho called back. He was getting closer, and soon enough, you could hear his footsteps racing towards you. “I couldn’t find anything, I think he just...”

He halted, skidding to a stop right at the end of the passage. You lifted your head, lower lip trembling, and Minho suddenly sprinted towards the pair of you, falling to his knees.

“What...” he murmured. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you bawled. “He was talking to someone, one of the Beetle Blades I think... I think he...oh, Jesus, Minho, I think he jumped!”

“From the ivy?” Minho froze, thinking, before his face dropped. Eyes darting down to Newt’s face, he placed a hand on his friends shoulder and mumbled, “God, please tell me you didn’t.”

“He’s breathing, but his leg, it’s... I think he might’ve broken it,” you sniffed, staring down at him. “I’m sure Clint and Jeff can fix him up, but... I can’t carry him anymore.”

“Okay, let’s just... let’s just rest a second,” Minho breathed heavily, sitting down. You could see he was trying to stay calm, but even you could see the way his body was tensed in his panic, his muscles like a cocked gun. “He’s alive. He’ll hurt more if we try to carry him in the state we’re in, we gotta take a breather for a second.”

“Okay,” you stammered out, unable to catch your breath. Running your hands through Newt’s hair, you glanced up an Minho unsurely. “Oh, god...”

“It’s okay,” Minho told you, but you could tell he didn’t believe his own words. “He’s gonna be fine. Just a broken ankle... or leg... could be worse. Bright side is that he’s not stung, he’s alive, he’s breathing, heart’s beating, and... shuck, y’think he’s waking up?”

“Huh?” your head snapped down. Newt was stirring. “Oh Jesus, his leg probably hurts so bad!”

“No shit,” Minho grumbled. “We gotta get out of this shuckin’ Maze.”

“Newt?” you said gently, brushing his hair softly and trying to ease him out of sleep. His eyes rolled beneath his eyelids before they peeled open, squinting at the light of the world. You hadn’t even realized that the sun had risen. Brown eyes stared up at you, almost in disbelief.

“What...?” he murmured almost incoherently, glancing around him, before he suddenly grimaced, hissing through his teeth.

“His shuckin’ leg,” Minho muttered, getting to his feet and dusting off his hands. “Okay, Y/N, get his other arm. We gotta try to not put pressure on his left leg—”

“The shuck are you doing?” Newt slurred as the pair of you frantically moved around him, unsure how to lift him up. His eyelids fluttered as though he were teetering on the edge of consciousness.

“Tryna carry you back to the shuckin’ Glade!” you said frantically, wiping tears from your face. You caught glimpses of his mellow, ebony eyes through his lashes, the leftover tears managing to slip down his cheeks and roll soullessly down his jaw. Running a hand over his forehead, you frantically went on, “The hell are you, doin’, goin’ into the shuckin’ maze at the ass crack of dawn—?”

“Slim in, Y/N,” Minho said quickly. You shot him a broken look, jaw clenched and body tense. He frowned, getting to his feet and grabbing one of Newt’s arms. “Let’s just get him back.”

“I can walk,” Newt mumbled, his words sounding like one big jumble of nonsense. Ashen-faced, he shut his eyes and mumbled something more as you grabbed his other arm; Newt’s hand flexed and grasped at your forearm, fingers sinking desperately into your skin as though trying to hold onto consciousness.

“No, you can’t,” Minho fired as you felt Newt’s grip on your forearm loosen. “Y/N, come on. Let’s get out of this damn maze.”

---

IT WAS GRUELING TO HAVE to exist in Newt’s absence. The poor boy had been passed out in the Med-Hunt for three days now, and although flushes of color had returned to his once-gaunt skin, the sight of him laying so unnervingly still on the white cot made your stomach turn. Nick cut you some slack, knowing how close you held the boy to your heart, but after day two, the Glade needed you to get back to work; however, the last thing you wanted to do was go back into the Maze.

“How’s he doin’?” Minho asked grimly late that afternoon, sauntering into the Med-Hunt with a frown. You took your head out of your hands, pursing your lips and turning to face him from where you idly sat beside the cot. You shrugged. “Still lyin’ around like a shank, huh?”

He was joking of course, but his tone lacked the usual humor it carried. His dark eyes casted over Newt, fingers fidgeting at his side as though he were anxious for him to wake from his coma. You stared at Minho for a moment, his disheveled appearance and untidy hair; he had just gotten back from running.

“The swellings gone down in his ankle,” you muttered, sitting back in your chair and running a hand down your face. Minho gave an almost inaudible hum as a response, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest, the muscles of his forearms flexing.

“Hope he’s okay,” he muttered. “Shank dropped us down two runners.”

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I just feel like as soon as I leave, he’ll wake up, and—”

“I’m kidding, Y/N,” Minho said carefully. “I get it. Not like I’m itchin’ to get back in the Maze after the other day.”

You pursed your lips in a tight smile of understanding before turning back down to look at Newt again. Brushing the hair out of his eyes, you mumbled, “I don’t understand why he would...”

You trailed off, unable to say the words. Minho hung his head.

“It’s this damn Glade,” he answered tacitly. “The Maze. Easy to feel helpless in here, y’know? When you’ve been stuck here for so long...”

He didn’t need to say more. You sighed, moving your hand away from Newt’s hair and settling it on your lap. Minho casted a sympathetic look down at you before pushing himself off the doorframe and extended a hand to you.

“Let’s go get something to eat, okay?” he offered. You only stared at his hand, hesitant to leave. “You can come back right after. Frypan’s making breakfast for dinner.”

You heard your stomach grumble; you hadn’t even realized how hungry you were. With another sigh, you spared Newt’s peacefully sleeping figure a sad glance before taking Minho’s hand and getting to your feet.

Frypan was elated to see you walk through the door, grinning at you as you and Minho approached. He served you a little extra bacon than the others as though he were thanking you for coming by, and you ate happily with Minho, Nick, and the other Gladers.

You and Minho kept you lips sealed about what actually happened in the Maze. When others asked, you both stuck to the same story: that Newt had taken a wrong turn and taken a really, really bad fall. The other Gladers, most of which who hadn’t ever stepped foot in the Maze, believed it for the most part. Alby had his suspicions, the cynic, but he didn’t dare ask you questions. He knew you weren’t talking.

“Hey, Y/N, Minho,” a voice called from behind you as you swallowed the last of your meal. It was Jeff, one of the Med-Jacks, out of breath and leaning down on his knees. “Newt’s up.”

“He is?” your head whipped up, swinging your arms around the wooden bench you sat out and began power-walking in the direction of the Med-Hut. Minho followed suit, excusing the pair of you from the table before jogging to match your pace.

An abundance of thoughts dashed through the walls of your mind was you approached the Med-Hunt, Minho at your side and Jeff following at your heels. Would Newt want to see you? Would Newt want to see anybody? You couldn’t imagine what he must be feeling like.

When you burst through the door, stumbling slightly on the doorstep when Minho practically crashed into your back, Newt’s honey colored eyes flickered up at the pair of you. They were glassy, rose colored cheeks standing out starkly from the new-found paleness of the rest of his skin.

You let out an exhale, staring at him as Jeff walked around to the other side of the bed, sitting down on the small chair.

“His leg’ll be fine,” he told you and Minho, gesturing to where Newt’s left was propped up. “S’healing real nicely. Might— er— might have a bit of a limp, I think.”

You watched Newt clench his jaw at this, his eyes downcast, his chin tucked into his chest as though he were afraid to meet your or Minho’s eyes. Minho gave a sigh of relief at Jeff’s words.

“That’s good, ain’t it?” He said. “I mean, not the limp, but that it’s healing nicely... uhm...”

Minho trailed off, sort of rocking on his toes as though he felt uncomfortable. Newt wouldn’t look at either of you; he clenched his jaw again and shifted around where he lay on the cot.

“How ya feeling?” you asked hesitantly, stepping further into the room and taking a seat on the edge of the cot. Newt still wouldn’t look at you. He gave a lackluster shrug. “Do you... do you want somethin’ to eat or somethin’?”

“No,” he muttered. “M’fine.”

“Y’sure?” Minho asked. “Fry made bacon with dinner... Gally’s gorging himself and someone’s gotta take it from ‘em.”

Newt looked like he wanted to crack a smile, but stayed solemn-faced and shook his head. “M’good. Thanks.”

Minho pursed his lips and nodded. You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to say. Newt’s demeanor implied that he didn’t want either of you there, but you couldn’t find it in you to leave him.

“I’ll, uh...” Jeff awkwardly paused. “I’ll let you guys have a minute...”

Jeff hastily left the room, and you were slightly envious of him to easily escape the awkwardness. Minho slumped his hands into his pockets, still standing by the doorway, and you stared at your hands in your lap.

“Y’don’t have to stay here, y’know,” Newt muttered. “You can go back to whatever you were doing.”

“We wanted to see you,” Minho told him. “T’make sure you were all right.”

“Well, I am,” Newt said shortly. He said nothing more, still avoiding both of your eyes. You made quick eye contact with Minho. He pursed his lips again.

“Uhm, okay, well...” he swallowed. “I gotta go talk to Alby about somethin’... er... get some good sleep, okay?”

“’kay,” Newt mumbled. Minho spared you a final glance before backing up out of the room, leaving just you and Newt to sit in silence. Newt was visibly uncomfortable, fidgeting around, eyes flitting to everywhere but you.

“Y’know you can talk to me,” you finally uttered. You weren’t sure if he looked up at you; you kept your eyes cast down. “I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have an outlet here.”

Newt said nothing for a moment. When you finally glanced up at him, he was staring at you, his face downcast. Finally, after a pregnant pause, he said, “I know.”

“I really care about you,” you went on. “Anyway I can help you, I... just let me know, okay? Getcha back on your feet again, y’know?”

“Well... foot,” Newt joked. You blinked before smiling at him. Frowning again, he said, “I erm... I couldn’t think of an alternative. Felt too trapped in here.”

“I get it,” you nodded your head sympathetically. “I feel it, too. But... I’m glad you’re still here.”

His lip quirked up. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” you smiled at him. Reaching out to grab his hand, you asked, “Do you really not want me to bring you dinner?”

He pursed his lips. “No.”

“I’ll go get you some.”

---

WITHIN THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, word had spread of Newt’s injuries. Only you, Minho, and Alby knew of the true events of the what happened in the Maze, however to the other Gladers, Newt had simply ‘injured his ankle whilst running’. They accepted it and didn’t ask questions, which was, in the end, better for everyone.

He was back on his feet quicker than Clint and Jeff anticipated, hobbling around on a pair of make-shift crutches before he was finally able to put some weight on his ankle. He wouldn’t be able to be a Runner anymore, that was obvious, but he had taken a place behind Nick and Alby as a sort of third-in-command. Aside from that, he’d hang around the gardens, watching the Track-Hoes work, or even in the kitchen, helping Frypan cut up fruits and vegetables for the next day. He found new purpose aside from running.

He still woke up to bid you goodbye. While you, as always, were in your running gear, Newt wore his normal clothes, even sometimes in his pajamas. He’d sleepily rub his eyes and give you a dopey grin, gazing out at the maze. His eyes were no longer eager when he stared at the great stone walls, but a combination of fearful and satisfied. He had done his time.

“Hey,” he said sheepishly one morning, shrugging his hands in his pockets. He was off the crutches now, although it seemed he would be limping forever. “How you feelin’?”

“All right,” you replied, staring at face, cheeks pink that you assumed were from sleep. “Kinda sore.”

“M’sorry,” he told you. “You, er... you can always take a rest day.”

“Nah,” you sighed, adjusting the straps on her harness, only to find they were twisted. A rumble sounded, the doors of the maze slowly diverging and revealing the trodden stone path of the first corridor of the maze, ivy lining its walls and floor, a few beetle blades skittering away from the entrance. “Told Minho he could take the day off... shuck, this damn harness always gets screwed up...”

“Let me help,” Newt offered, and without waiting for a response from you, he stepped forward and touched the straps, fiddling around with them to try and disentangle them. His fingers kept brushing the skin of your neck as he adjusted them for you, digits fumbling along the canvas fabric of the harness. “Is that good?”

“Yup,” you said, glancing down at them before up at him. He was standing closer now, less than a foot away from you, golden hair tousled over his forehead and honey-brown eyes shifting between every pore on your face and the grass by his feet every few seconds. He seemed nervous, you thought. Hm. “Thanks, Newt.”

“You’re—” he cleared his throat and paused. “You’re welcome.”

He said nothing more, licking his lips and swallowing. Lips twitching, you found yourself smirking. “You okay? You look flustered.”

“Oh, oh yeah, I’m— fine!” Newt fiddled with something in his pocket. “I— yes.”

“Mmhm.”

“I have something for you,” he said, and from his pocket he withdrew a small envelope with your name on it in sweet, crooked handwriting. You narrowed your brows.

“Newt...”

“I had it from before,” he jerked his head. “Y’know, everything. But... everything in it still stands, so... figured I’d give it to you.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, tentatively taking it from him. He nodded, giving a crooked smile.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Read it on your break, yeah? Come find me afterwards and, uh... let me know what you think.”

“O...kay,” you said, slipping it into your bag. “Will do. Wish me luck in there.”

“Always am,” shrugging his hands into his pockets, he gave another one of those soft smiles of his, apples of his cheeks round and glowing golden from the heat of the rising sun. Jogging backwards, you gave him a false salute before disappearing into the maze.

---

AN HOUR OR SO INTO your run, you took a break to sit down in one of the dead-ends to eat the lunch Frypan had so kindly packed for you. Sinking your teeth into the bright red honey crisp apple, you slipped Newt’s now creased and wrinkled envelope from out of your pocket, staring at the scrawl of your name as the paper rested on your lap. Holding the apple between your teeth, you tore opened the letter; out fell a very small string bracelet, the colors blue, pink, and purple twisted together with knots and braids. You grinned and tied it on your wrist before sliding the worn parchment out of the envelope and unfolding it, your dirty, calloused hands clutching the sides. With a deep breath, you began to read.

Y/N,

I’ve never written a letter before. Not that I could’ve remembered if I wrote one before this. I hope this one is a good one. Chances are you’ll never get this, since I probably won’t have the guts to give it to you. Truth is, I just want to talk to you. Even though you can’t respond. Because this is a piece of paper. Okay, this is off to a bad start. Let me start over.

When I got to the Glade, you were the first to really welcome me here. You make this place feel like home. I’m appreciative for all you have done for me. I’m grateful for having met you and having the honor of becoming your friend. I wish I had the guts to ask you for more. Because in the time that I’ve spent with you, that’s all I’ve wanted.

I miss you when your gone. I lose my mind when we get separated when running. I pray you sit next to me during mealtimes and my heart skips a beat when you bump your shoulder into mine. I love that you like to watch the sunrise every morning and I love the way the hair by your ears curls up after a run. I love how your eyes crinkle when you laugh and I love that you hum to yourself during the bonfires. My face is getting warm as I write this simply by the thought of you reading this. I’m kind of rambling at this point. I guess it’s sort of pointless since you probably won’t read this.

Just know I care for you more than I’ve ever cared for anyone. That I can remember, at least. I wish I could be suave and poetic with this letter, but I’m kind of just spilling my guts everywhere, so I hope the message gets across the right way. I love you, Y/N. Thank you for brightening my life.

Love, Newt.

Ignoring the two tears rolling down your cheeks, you held the letter close to your chest and curled your back, resting your forehead to your knees. Your heart was fluttered, stomach erupting with butterflies. You still had to run the length of the rest of the Maze, but you found yourself counting down the minutes until you could go back to the glade.

---

NEWT SPENT THE MAJORITY OF the rest his afternoon stressed and anxious. In the midst of his work in the gardens, he’d zone out, pondering the endless possibilities of how you might react to the vulnerability within the letter he gave you. He tried his best to make it out to be no big deal, and that the letter was something trivial, but it was harder to relax now that he knew that you knew the truth. The idea of that very fact seemed scarier than anything in the maze.

“Would you stop fidgeting like that, you shank?” Minho had grumbled as the pair of them walked towards the kitchen, where Frypan and the other cooks were starting to serve out dinner. Newt stopped wringing his hands together and dropped his hands to his sides, deeply inhaling through his nose. “What’s your problem?”

“Nothing.”

Minho gave a scoff. “Yeah, okay. And the Greenie doesn’t klunk his pants every three hours.”

“Seriously,” Newt lied through his teeth. “M’fine.”

“You sure it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain Runner who gave me a day off?” Minho hinted, nudging his shoulder.

Newt rolled his eyes, his gaze unconsciously darting towards the open doors of the Maze. Y/N and the other runners should be back any minute now.

“What’d you do?” Minho asked after Newt only gave silence to his last question. “C’mon, man, just tell me. No doubt they’ll tell me later, anyways. We’re, like, best friends, y’know, so I’m sure they’ll just tell me everything—”

“I gave them a letter,” Newt blurted finally, face red and jaw clenched. Minho raised a brow.

“Wow, the jealous tactic does work on you,” Minho mused. “Okay, well... what’s the big deal about a letter?”

“The big deal, Minho,” Newt stopped walking altogether, jolting towards Minho and grabbing him by the shoulders. “Is that that letter just so happened to be me spilling my guts to them about how I feel!”

Minho blinked. “Isn’t that good?”

“No!” Newt shrilled, dropping his hands and starting up his stride again. “No, it’s not good. Because no they’re going to think I’m— like— obsessed with them, or that I’m weird and then they won’t want to be my friend anymore.”

“But... you are obsessed with them.”

“Not the point. That is so far from the point,” Newt ran his palm over his face. He glanced back at the south doors behind him; he watched Ben and Oscar, the newest Runner, run out of the doors. “They’re gonna want to talk about it. And... I’m worried that it’ll be them sitting be down and saying, oh, that was so nice of you, but we’re just friends and then things will never be the same.”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” Minho said carefully. Newt glanced back at the doors; you came jogging out of it, pausing at outside of the doors just as they began to rumble closed. Newt clenched his jaw and whipped his head back around. “They for sure feel the same.”

Newt shook his head. “No, I can already see it. Maybe if I avoid them, I can prolong the inevitable rejection I’m going to face.”

“With that attitude, they’ll turn to me instead,” Minho joked, to which Newt slapped him on the arm. Wincing, Minho chuckled. “Sensitive topic, my bad.”

Newt hastily glanced behind him again; you were striding towards the kitchen with Ben and Oscar flanked at your sides, chest heaving. You ran a hand through your hair and, at the sight of Newt, lifted said hand in the form of a wave. He gave a half-assed wave in return before whipping around again.

“Damn,” he hissed. “I should just... I should—”

“You should turn around and go makeout with them or somethin’,” Minho said casually. Pink in the face, Newt gave him a funny look. “That’s what I would do in this situation.”

“I can’t do that, you shucking idiot,” Newt grumbled. “I’d rather a Griever to this.”

“Hey, Newt!” your voice called from behind him. Newt cursed, pursing his lips, and sent a look at Minho. He smirked and nudged his side. Sighing and bracing himself, Newt turned and waved again, halting in his spot.

“Good luck, Romeo,” Minho patted him twice on the shoulder. “See you at dinner... if there’s any left by the time you guys are done having a steamy session of—”

“Shut it!” Newt hissed and shoved him away. Laughing, Minho jogged off. Your face was shiny from the day of running, hair curled up at the ears, but her cheeks were flushed and your teeth were flashed in a wide grin. “Hi, Y/N.”

“What a day,” you sighed, falling into step with him, shoulder brushing his every few steps. “Should’ve given myself the day off, not that shank Minho.”

Newt allowed himself to crack a grin. “Take the day off tomorrow.”

“Nah, Alby’ll have my head, I’m sure of it,” you smiled. “It’s okay. Got all night to reset my body.”

Newt said nothing, staring at the kitchen ahead as the pair of you walked. You kept shooting him glances, licking your lips as though preparing to speak. Newt swallowed anxiously.

“I, uh... I read your letter during my break,” you finally said, and his breath caught in his throat, heart leaping.

“Oh,” was all he could muster up the energy to say. You were silent for a moment, before you stopped walking. He, too, paused, and glanced up at you; your e/c eyes were glossy, brows tilted up as you stared at him. He blinked.

“It was really...uhm...” you paused searching fro the words. Newt felt his insides shrivel up.

“Yeah, you don’t... you don’t have to say anything,” he muttered. “I know that it was... I... you can spare me the gentle rejection.”

You furrowed your brows. “I was going to say beautiful.”

Newt glanced back up into your eyes, letting out the breath he had been holding in. “Oh.”

“And I wasn’t going to give you a gentle rejection, either,” you told him. “I just... I’ve never really done this before, so... I, erm... I really loved the letter, Newt. Made me cry.”

“Oh!” Newt’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to make you cry! I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s good! Good crying!” You reassured him, to which he gave a nervous laugh of relief in response. “I... wrote one back.”

You handed him a small scrap of paper, no doubt torn from a paper in the map-room. Written in a scratchy scrawl were the four words I love you, too. Newt’s heart picked up its pace, heat rushing towards his cheeks in a fiery frenzy. He almost couldn’t tear his eyes away from it before he remember you were there in front of him, and he let his eyes lock on yours.

“You do?” he asked, to which you smiled. He let out a breath of relief. “Oh, jeez...”

You laughed. “Mines not as lovely as yours, but... hope the message is there.”

“Oh, it’s there,” he said, his lips now curving up into an uncontrollable smile, beaming from ear-to-ear. “You’re wearing the bracelet. Sorry, I don’t really know how to make them. Frypan tried teaching me, but I’m not so good and this was already my third or fourth try so I was—”

You leaned over and pecked him quickly on the lips, shutting him up. When you pulled back, you saw his eyes were wide, lips parted.

“It’s okay,” you grinned and glanced down a the bracelet, touching the string with your other hand. Newt watched you, warm eyes sparkling. “I like it this way.”

“I really like you,” Newt blurted, staring, the apples of his cheeks glowing bright red. Heat crept up your neck.

“I really like you, too,” you smiled, looming forwards, rocking on your toes. “We should probably go eat before Gally takes everything.”

“Yeah,” Newt said, although he didn’t move. You stared at him, eyes flickering around his face, watching as his gaze stayed flitting between your eyes and your lips. “I really want to kiss you.”

“Do it, then,” you muttered. He gulped, inching closer, and you felt his nose brush yours. He paused, eyes closed, breathing you in, before he leant down and pressed his mouth to yours. His arms snaked around you, melting against your skin, your fingertips grazing the back of his neck in a quiet, constant motion.

Something whacking against your back forced you to jolt away, on guard; it was Ben and Oscar, giggling and now running away. Flaring your nostrils, you yelled after them, “ASSHOLES!”

Newt was bright red, chest rising and falling faster than you’d ever seen it. You glanced back at him, shyly smiling. Jerking your head towards the kitchen, you said, “C’mon.”

“Okay,” he said immediately, falling into step with you. Hands brushing and cheeks red, the pair of you walked towards the kitchen. Somewhere along the way, your hands found each other and held on tight.

---

taglist:

@niallhoransupremacy @childishnewt @criesinlies @fairydxll

a/n: some of my description of minho might be overly descriptive cuz he’s so hot and i can’t help it sorry sorry. also this is so unedited its not even funny. not a single proofread im sorry im SORRY.

#newt #the maze runner #newt x reader #newt x y/n #newt x you #maze runner fic #maze runner fandom #maze runner fanfiction #newt fanfic #thomas brodie sangster #minho tmr #thomas maze runner

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minhos-harness · 4 years ago

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Strikes from Above {Minho x Reader}

DISCLAIMER: QUOTES TAKEN DIRECTLY FROM "THE MAZE RUNNER" BOOK ARE IN BOLD. I DO NOT TAKE CREDIT FOR JAMES DASHNER'S WORK.

Note: This story takes place over the course of The Maze Runner series, though each part can be read and viewed separately.

it's been three months since I posted the previous part but here it finally is

{Masterlist}

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | {Part Four}

Pairing: Minho x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Overall Synopsis: With (Y/N) being appointed the role of a Med-jack and Minho winding up injured during a venture in the Maze, the two end up becoming close friends. Throughout their journey to freedom alongside their fellow Gladers, deeper feelings grow between the two. However, both Minho and (Y/N) hesitate to act on them due to the uncertainty of reciprocation and their overall futures.

Description: With new threats and dangers looming ahead, (Y/N) and Minho face the Scorch together and do what they can to protect one another. But when Minho is badly injured, (Y/N) once again recognises that her biggest fear is losing him.

Since their departure from the Maze, the Gladers experienced a series of intense events. From the discovery of a horrific disease pushing humanity to the brink of extinction, to the realisation that they were still within WICKEDs clutches, the Gladers found the world far more cruel than they could have imagined. Their initial sense of security in being freed from the confinement of the Glade was quickly shattered. After a single night of eating wonderous food and sleeping in soft, comfortable beds, they were thrust into a "Trial" - the next phase of WICKEDs inhumane experiments - the very next morning.

They found the Scorch to be a very fitting name for the place they'd wound up in. The sun offered no mercy, and everything around them resembled a desert wasteland under the harsh, unforgiving heat. When they'd first emerged from the darkness below - after facing horrifying, silver balls that appeared to consume human flesh - the Gladers traversed the flat, open land between them and their goal, the city in the distance. They ended up travelling under the sheets they'd brought with them, with two people sharing one between them. (Y/N)'s eyes met with Minho's once the decision was made, and he jerked his head in his direction, motioning for her to join him. She didn't hesitate nor complain.

"Ain't this cosy," Minho said teasingly as the two huddled together. His tone was light and laid-back as though they were strolling through a park. (Y/N) didn't know how he managed to maintain the attitude, but it was impressive nonetheless.

"Yeah, well...," (Y/N) sighed, unable to joke in return after what they'd witnessed just a few moments ago. "I'm just glad I still have my head."

Images from Winstons nearly being swallowed by the ball and the result afterwards flashed before her eyes. Every strand of hair had been devoured, leaving nothing but furious red sores littering his scalp. The poor boy was understandably shaken to his core.

"Who knows what else is out here in this shuckin' place," Minho commented with a quick peek beyond the sheet.

"That's what I'm afraid of," (Y/N) mumbled.

"Hey," Minho said, his voice notably softer. "It'll be fine. I won't let a shuck thing harm you."

This was a promise Minho never broke. No matter what, he did what he could to ensure (Y/N)'s safety. After the Gladers were taken from the Maze, their 'rescuers' insisted in placing (Y/N) and Teresa in separate accommodation to that of the boys. Minho flipped. He'd almost tackled them when they repeatedly told him they wouldn't allow (Y/N) to stay before Newt grabbed and restrained him. With no sign of him backing down, they eventually gave in to Minho's demand.

That night, he and (Y/N) shared a bed, and not a single Glader batted an eyelash in response. It was ordinary behavior for them and had been ever since (Y/N) was nearly taken by a Griever back in the Glade. After the scare, Minho took (Y/N) into his arms that very night, and she drifted off within his hold. From then on, falling asleep together became a regular occurance. At first, other Gladers would make comments, but with either a remark fired in return from Minho or simply a look, they'd back off.

During the nights in which (Y/N) was consumed by panic attacks, Minho was the only thing that could bring her back. He would reassure and do breathing exercises with her, gradually grounding her. He was always calm and collected, even though underneath it all he really hated seeing her that way. But panic attacks were something Minho himself had plenty of experience with, so he used his own insight to aid (Y/N) with hers. Sometimes, if Minho had fallen asleep first or if she woke during the night, (Y/N) would find Minho squirming restlessly and even hyperventilating at times. Although he never said as much, (Y/N) knew he was tormented by nightmares. And so she did what she could to comfort him as he did for her.

As she lay curled up with him when everything was quiet, (Y/N) often questioned how Minho felt about her. Did he share the same feelings for her as she did for him? Did he see her as more than a friend? Did he want her to be more than a friend? Every time the thoughts circulated her mind, however, she countered them with the logic of their situation. A relationship was far from ideal in their current position, what with every day bringing new dangers as they strived to survive alongside the other Gladers. So despite her feelings for Minho, she refused to pursue anything beyond their friendship.

And yet, whenever Minho smiled at her, made her laugh or jokingly winked at her, (Y/N) just wanted to kiss him. She wanted to know if his lips were as soft as they looked and how they'd feel against her own. She wanted to shower his face in kisses and tell him she loved him. But she couldn't.

The following morning after the Gladers slept in the dorm room - after their "rescue" - everything fell to pieces once more. Minho made sure (Y/N) remained by his side at all times. Whether it was during the Cranks clawing at the windows, the hanging bodies instilling shock into the Gladers, the Rat Man's appearance prompting more confusion or when the Gladers first travelled through the Flat Trans, Minho and (Y/N) were never further than an inch of each other.

Minho's protective nature was something (Y/N) adored. His softer side appeared to be reserved solely for her, as she was the only person to receive it. Minho cared for all of his friends, of course. But he didn't treat anyone else the way he treated (Y/N).

(Y/N) couldn't help but think it may very well be possible that Minho reciprocated her feelings...But she brushed it off.

Returning to the present and kicking herself from her thoughts, (Y/N) continued under the sheet with Minho. As they trekked across the desert, she allowed her hand to brush against his at their sides, and it didn't take seconds until their fingers laced. (Y/N) knew that no matter what came their way, they'd face it together.

The darkening clouds rolled in above as the gusty wind picked up. The Gladers' hair, clothes and sheets whipped around frantically and the majority of the sheets were ripped from their grasps, snatched and claimed by the wild wind. The storm was here.

Minho gestured to the nearest building in the distance and they all began to run toward it. As they did, the elements only appeared to strengthen. Dust, sand and debris were swept up and thrown around by the powerful gale as the group hurriedly made their way to their destination. It didn't take long for bolts of lightning to accompany the rest of the storm, slamming into the dry earth around them.

(Y/N) didn't know what she feared more; having one of her friends struck, or being struck herself. She forced herself to focus on reaching the looming shadow of the building they were firing for, keeping an eye on the Gladers around her as best she could. Amongst it all, she could feel someone grabbing at her and pulling her along. It was Minho. Even in the middle of a storm, he remained by her side.

The lightning continued to fire down from the black sky above. People stumbled all around, some regaining their footing and others falling completely. It was inevitable that some unlucky shanks were struck by the lightning. (Y/N) knew it was a matter of luck and the best thing they could do was move as fast as they could and push against the paralysing fear they were all drowning in.

Just then, (Y/N) lost her footing and tumbled down. Her face smacked the ground and it took a moment for her to snap from her daze. Squinting through the ever-building dust, she managed to make out Minho. He'd just turned to see she'd fallen behind when a blinding light flashed before (Y/N), right where Minho was. Panic surged within her.

"Minho!" She cried out, but her voice was lost to the deafening elements.

Through it all, she managed to make out what appeared to be a dancing fire up ahead as she scrambled up. The ball of flames fell to the ground and thrashed around desperately in a heap, and (Y/N) realised with a twisting churn in her stomach that it was Minho. She threw herself forward as someone else rushed alongside her - Thomas. The two of them reached their friend who thumped and swatted at himself in an attempt to beat back the flames. They both frantically dug at the earth and threw the softened ground at Minho, and with their combined efforts, the fire eventually died out.

With the shrieking wind, the deafening bolts from above and the violent rumbling of thunder, (Y/N)'s hearing fled. She was thankful for Thomas who obviously recognised they needed to keep going and pulled Minho to his feet. He pulled the Runner until he lost his footing, tumbling to the ground. Thomas quickly grabbed him and got him back to his feet, slinging Minho's arm around his shoulder. Though she was smaller than both Minho and Thomas, (Y/N) went to the other side of her injured friend. She locked an arm around his waist, sharing his weight with Thomas, and pushing him up and forward. A searing line of lightning ignited right above them, striking the ground behind as they continued the race to the building.

It felt like an eternity, but the Gladers eventually reached the first building of the city, crashing into the darkness of its shelter. The grey walls illuminated with the flashes of ongoing lightning outside. Newt spotted the three approaching and took over from (Y/N), as another swapped with Thomas in assisting Minho indoors. Once inside, the rain took no time in finally making an appearance.

The group - what was left of them, anyway - huddled in the building. Not a word was uttered as they absorbed what had happened, and their exhaustion caught up with them. They silently mourned the people they'd lost, but also found gratitude in that they'd survived. But was death a kinder offer than the world they faced? With all the horrors, was this really a way of life?

(Y/N) sat with Minho.

He'll be alright, she thought as she tried to convince herself, observing as he lay curled up next to her. His head rested on her thigh and she gently ran her hand through his hair in an attempt to soothe him. He always is.

Agonised whimpers consistently slipped from Minhos lips and he lay as still as he could, as though moving even an inch would cause excruciating pain - which (Y/N) had no doubt in being the case. The rain continued to fall outside and the Gladers remained frozen as time went on. How many people had they lost now? And not just to the storm; their numbers had dwindled since their time in the Maze alone.

(Y/N) continued to run her fingers through the dirtied strands of Minho's dark hair as her anxiety ate at her. She wondered how many more times the world would threaten to take her closest friend from her. It was her biggest fear and she was aware it was very much a possibility. After all, no one was safe in the sick, twisted game that WICKED had thrown them into.

"You're going to be okay, Minho," (Y/N) told him softly, unsure if he heard her or not. "You're going to be okay."

(Y/N) never slept. She couldn't, not with Minho being injured and in pain. Her worry was sky high, and she kept a vigilant watch over him through the night. She couldn't see the damage of the lightning strike due to the darkness, but she knew it wouldn't be pretty.

Hours dragged by as the rain stopped and, eventually, the sun began to make an appearance once more. A streak of pink lined the sky on the horizon, and so began a brand new day. A new day with, undoubtedly, new horrors awaiting.

Still, seeing the soft colours of the sunrise and knowing Minho was alive and next to her, (Y/N) felt a wave of calm wash over her. And in that moment, she was slammed with the exhaustion she'd somehow managed to keep at bay until that moment. Her body screamed with aches and her eyelids grew heavy. Glancing down at Minho, briefly observing the steady rise and fall of his chest as he'd fallen into a light sleep, she leaned her head against the wall and succumbed.

Words being exchanged between two distant voices was the first thing to tug (Y/N) awake. She felt a heavy grogginess as a golden glow lit the back of her eyelids; the sun was in full force once more with the storm long gone. Unsure of how long she'd been asleep, her eyes remained shut as the drowsiness hanging over her held her down, refusing her to properly waken.

"Ohhhh. Oh, man. I'm shucked. I'm shucked for good," someone groaned. (Y/N) could feel a stirring on her lap and the drowsiness began to lift from the touch.

"How bad is it?" A second, accented voice asked from a few feet away.

"Can't be too bad if you can do that." A third person chimed in.

"Shuck it," the first voice grunted in response. "I'm tougher than nails. I could still kick your pony-lovin' butt with twice this pain."

(Y/N)'s eyes fluttered open. She inhaled as her vision adjusted to the morning light filling the building the Gladers had taken shelter in. Everything around her became clear, and her gaze landed on Minho, who was sitting up next to her. Without thinking and feeling a burst of happiness and relief from seeing he was okay, she threw her arms around him. He winced in pain, to which (Y/N) immediately jolted back, apologising as she mentally scolded herself for being careless.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Minho!" she exclaimed. Leaning away from him, she caught sight of the impact the lightning strike had left behind. His clothes were charred and ripped, revealing sweltering burns staring out from the revealing fabric. Though not minor injuries, they weren't nearly as severe as (Y/N) feared.

Minho gave a lazy wave of dismissal in response to her apology.

"You really scared me," (Y/N) muttered. "Don't ever get struck by lightning again."

"Yeah, hang on, I'll just let the lightning know I'm off limits," Minho said with a slight eye roll as he looked to the ceiling. "Pretty please with a cherry on top, Mr Lightning, please don't burn me to a crisp next time, 'cause I'll get told off by this scary little shank otherwise."

A grin cracked across (Y/N)s mouth and for the first time in a while, she felt genuine happiness. Minhos sarcasm was a sure sign he was alright.

"Pity the lightning didn't knock the snark outta you," Thomas remarked from next to them.

"Ah, slim it," Minho told him, his joking tone vanishing. His facial expression hardened and he glanced around the room at the other Gladers. They all remained huddled, either asleep or simply lying in shock of the events they'd been through. The injured boy returned his gaze to (Y/N), and his eyes bounced between hers as though silently communicating with her. She knew he was relieved she was alright and that they'd both survived the storm.

(Y/N) shuffled closer to Minho and peered at the infliction scattered across his skin.

"It isn't nearly as severe as I thought it'd be," she said to him as she inspected his injuries. "It's amazing, really."

"Yeah well," Minho snorted. He continued with a confident tone; "It'll take more than a little lightning to take me down."

"Okay, I get it, tough guy," (Y/N) murmured with a smirk pinching her lips.

"Yup, that's me. And don't you forget it."

"Oh, how could I?" She laughed.

Everything and everyone else around (Y/N) faded away as she focused soley on Minho. She allowed the relief to truly sink in. Minho was okay. Though injured, he was still breathing, able to move and already dishing out sarcastic comments.

"I really was scared, you know," (Y/N) told him, her voice almost a whisper as their banter transitioned into a serious conversation. "I thought I was going to lose you, Minho."

Their eyes locked and a familiar, stirring feeling bubbled inside (Y/N)s abdomen. In a flash, she gave herself away as her gaze subconsciously slipped to Minhos lips. Catching herself and feeling her cheeks flush, she gave a small, nervous chuckle.

"I guess what I'm saying is...thanks for not dying on me," she said in an attempt to divert his attention from her slip-up. She forced herself to look at him and ignored the burning of her cheeks.

"You too, shank," Minho said.

If she wasn't mistaken, his eyes snuck a peek at her own lips in that moment. Convincing herself it didn't happen, she took a glance at the other Gladers who were immersed in their own conversations. Thankfully, no one was paying them any attention. She looked back to Minho.

"Alright, bring it in," he said lightly, lifting an arm up as an invitation. "Just don't be so rough this time."

(Y/N) returned the smile he offered and gingerly embraced Minho, taking extra care not to hurt him. Minho leaned his head against hers, his lips just inches from her ear. When he spoke, his voice was so close and his breath tickled her skin, sending a shiver through (Y/N)s body.

"Thank you, (Y/N)," Minho said so quietly that only she would hear him.

"What for?"

"Being there."

After a few seconds, they parted. And this time, (Y/N) was certain of what she saw: Minhos eyes fell to and lingered on her lips. Her heart thumped wildly in response. Did he want to kiss her? Surely not... Was he going to? No, he couldn't....

Minhos gaze returned to her eyes once more. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. But there was something in it that (Y/N) couldn't quite place...perhaps a hint of sadness? With the smile slipping away almost instantly, Minho spoke once more, and did so softly. And his words left (Y/N) speechless as he once again looked down at her lips.

"Maybe one day we'll get to be in the right place at the right time, huh?"

#this is so messy smh #I've gone through it repeatedly and tried rewriting what I'm not happy with #but that seems to be the whole thing to be honest #I've just accepted that this is as good as it's going to get #so...uh...here you go #tmr minho x reader #minho x reader #my writing

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iwillbeinmynest · 4 years ago

Text

Safer Behind It - Newt x Reader(f)

Authors Notes: Well here it is my first Maze Runner fic! Hopefully y'all like it, or at least don’t hate it. This is based on moments from The Scorch Trials (book). Bold words are direct quotes from the book. I do not take any credit for Dashner’s work.

Word Count: 1.7k

Notes/Warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of violence, mentions of trauma (from the maze), some fluff and angst if you look hard enough.

Masterlist

Jorge found them after the lightning storm. Eleven new faces in the building on the outskirts of town. You listened as Jorge gave them the rundown of how things were going to go. When he called for the rest of you, you followed Brenda close.

You and Brenda hadn’t known each other too long but she was good and you trusted Jorge more than anything.

One of the new kids- a boy with dark hair- asked for a few minutes with Jorge.

“Me and you,” The kid begged. He stood over another boy who looked like he had been fried by lightning. Maybe he had, that storm was brutal.

“Ten minutes. Alone. That’s all I ask.” He went on.

You were surprised when Jorge agreed. He must have seen something in the kid you didn’t.

He told you and the others to watch this new group and to kill them if they made any moves. You knew he was being dramatic, adding the threat of death to remind the other Cranks behind you that he was in charge.

One of the boys you were supposed to be watching caught your eye. He was blonde and thin. He had a limp - you’d noticed it as he walked over and checked on the others in his group.

Brenda caught you staring at him. “Careful, Y/N.” She said quietly so the Cranks couldn’t hear her.

You rolled your eyes. “I can handle myself.”

“He’s not gonna like it if you don’t keep up the facade.”

“What’s he gonna do, have you run me through?” You tested.

You saw the twitch of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. “Just don’t be stupid.”

You tugged up on the thin, tan, scarf that covered your nose and mouth. You didn’t like it to be down.

You walked over to the limping boy. You say boy, but really he was near your age if not a bit older. “You need to sit down,” you told him.

He looked at you carefully. “I’m just making sure these guys are alright.”

His voice sounded funny but you kinda liked it.

“I’m not going to ask again.” you drew the makeshift dagger you had from where it usually was sheathed at your lower back.

He sighed but sat on the hard concrete next to the fried boy. He pulled a knee to his chest and mumbled, “Bloody shank girl.”

You smirked at that.

“What’s your name?” You asked him.

He looked up at you and there was no hiding the annoyance in his eyes. “Newt.”

“Newt?” You almost laughed. “Like the lizard?”

The boy next to him chuckled.

“No.” Newt huffed. “Like Issac Newton.”

“I think I like my reason better, lizard boy.”

“Hey!” One of the Cranks behind you caught your attention. It was an older man, you didn’t know his name but you knew you didn’t like him. “What are you talkin’ so much about?”

“None of your business, old man.” You turned to him and left no room for him to think you might be afraid of him, which you weren’t.

“Back off, Murph.” Brenda said calmly as she whacked the flat side of her machete on his chest. “Let her have some fun before we rip them to shreds.”

It seemed to tide him over and he walked away but not before he stared you down again.

You rolled your eyes when his back was turned and exhaled a silent groan. You looked to Brenda.

She had her eyebrows raised and was clearly waiting for you to say,

“Thank you.” You muttered.

“Mhm.” She grinned. You knew she’d never say it out loud but she was starting you like having you around.

You turned back to Newt and crouched down, your sharpened letter opener gripped tightly in your hand. “So, tell me, Newt, What brings you out into the Scorch?”

“Don’t tell her klunk, dude.” The burnt boy said with spunk.

“I bet you’re the fun one.” You teased him, “You look like garbage. What happened to you?”

“He got struck by lightning,” Newt answered, “Or close to it anyways.”

“Yikes.” You responded. You’d been right.

“Didn’t even hurt.” He lied.

“Shuck off, Minho. You’re not fooling anyone.” Newt rolled his eyes.

“Screw you, man.” Minho all but pouted.

“Why do you cover your face?” Newt asked, ignoring his friend. “No sun in here.”

You paused but tried to cover it and said, “So you don’t get distracted by how pretty I am.”

He smirked at that.

He had a nice smile. It lit up his eyes.

You stood up quickly and walked back to Brenda. Why did you care what his smile was like?

“You good?” She asked low again.

“Fine.” You lied. Actually you were scared by how much you were starting to like Newt. No sense in hurting yourself by getting attached.

Jorge and the dark haired boy reappeared from down the back hall.

Jorge told everyone that he, Brenda and yourself were going to take these few to get some food and that you’d all meet back up at the tower.

You didn’t know what he was planning but it had to be something, because he was putting on quite a show. He mentioned cutting off Minho’s fingers for punching him earlier and you honestly thought he might be serious about that part.

The other Cranks left and you walked behind Brenda as she led the way to the tunnels where you had hid the stash of food.

You helped pass out cans of food and watched as Brenda sat by Thomas - you’d recently learned his name.

You looked around, wondering where to settle amongst these new boys and found Newt looking at you.

“Here goes nothin’” you muttered to yourself beneath your mask.

You made your way over and sat against the wall beside him.

“Enjoying the meal?” You asked. He sure looked like he was.

He nodded, mouth full of cold beans.

“When was the last time you ate?” You realized that he, and everyone else that he’d come with, were eating like they’d been starved.

“Not but a few days ago,” He said when he’d finally swallowed. “But we were out in that bloody heat for so long.” His eyes stared into nothing for a moment and you could tell he was reliving something awful.

“How long were you actually out there?”

“Three, four, five days,” he asked himself. “I’m not sure.”

“Where did you come from?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” He returned to the present and out of the bad memories he’d been replaying. You watched him plaster on a smirk.

There was that smile again. You were glad your cheeks were covered because you were pretty sure you were blushing.

“Do I get to ask you any?”

You nodded, “Sure.”

“Why do you wear that over your face?” He repeated.

“Why do you care?”

His head ticked to the side. You’d asked another question.

You relented. “I already told you.”

“But we both know that wasn’t the truth.” He said before taking another bite.

You sombered and sighed. You were trying to find the words.

“I only partly lied.” You finally said.

Newt stopped eating and shocked you with what he said next. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business if you don’t want to talk about it.”

It was so...considerate of him to say that. It had been a long time since anyone other that Jorge was considerate to you. Even Brenda was harsh when you’d met her and she still makes comments about it.

The look in your eyes must have revealed something to him.

“You really don’t have to tell me.”

For some reason you did, though. Maybe it was his soft voice, maybe it was the random kindness he’d displayed, but suddenly, you wanted to show him. Almost like a test to see if he was genuinely kind at heart.

You slipped your index finger under the cloth near your nose but before you pulled it down you said, “Just...brace yourself.”

You pulled the mask down below your chin, revealing the angry red scar that ran from your upper lip, just below your nose, all the way to your ear, which had a notch missing from it.

Newt barely flinched. He just looked at you.

Your scar had healed thick which made it distort your lip slightly.

“When I was first sent here, after finding out I had the Flare, a crank attacked me with a shard of glass. He got me pretty good but Jorge was there and he saved me. He couldn’t do much to make me look better, though.” You pulled your mask back up. “Most people just stare at it, instead of me. So, I cover it up.”

“You shouldn’t.” He offered a hint of a smile as he switched to his second can of food. “Nothing wrong with the way you look.”

You sat stunned.

“I broke my leg in three places. That’s why I have a limp. Do you only see the limp when you look at me?” He asked.

You shook your head, unable to think of anything to say.

He shrugged his shoulders. “See?”

You bit down a smile that threatened to spread across your mouth. Good thing your mask was on.

“I’m sorry I called you lizard boy.” You felt bad for teasing him, now.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been called worse.”

The two of you sat in silence for a short while. Then, you wondered something.

“What’s a shank?”

He chuckled, “Just something we say. Why?”

“Back in the building you called me a ‘bloody shank girl’.”

His cheeks flushed and he stared down at the can he was eating from. “Sorry.”

“So, shank isn’t nice then?”

“Depends…” He smirked, almost embarrassed he’d said that about you.

“And here I thought you were soft.”

He looked at you. “Nope, just wrong on occasion.”

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” You suddenly realized you’d never told him your name and now you wanted him to know it. To say it.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He paused a moment before adding, “ I have a feeling I won’t regret it.” He glanced over at you again.

“You won’t.” You promised.

* * * * * * * *

TMR Tags:

@mo320

#tmr #the maze runner #the scorch trials #newt x reader #reader x newt #new muse #tmr newt imagine #tmr newt x reader #tmr thomas #tmr minho #brenda #jorge

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popurikat · 4 years ago

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Newtmas essay when?

Finally getting to this, thanks for waiting, I needed to go over a few bookmarks. (Warning, this post contains spoilers from the MAZE RUNNER book and FEVER CODE book, so if you haven’t read either or yet and want the jist of my analysis; just know that in general the fandom interpreting Newt as gay before it was revealed on a twitter post was not just a random headcanon and that Thomas in general is portrayed to have very strong unconditional love for Newt throughout the series; and it shows. To the point that even the director for the movie has stated that Newt and Thomas have a strong bond and portrays that in the movies. I will also preface that I am NOT adding personal opinion anywhere here, these are just backings from quotes and how they are thus meant to be taken/read as. My words are taken as a reader who is currently reading Scorch Trials has yet to fully read Death Cure or Crank Palace.) Anways, without further ado at 3AM today, I’ll try my best to explain how even though Dashner tries his best to make Thomas have other, female love interests; he creates a not so subtle gay subtext for Tommy boy here when in the context of interacting with Newt throughout the lore. Apologies beforehand for any grammar mistakes along the way.

To commence, I am going to start with FEVER CODE, as its supposed to act as the story’s preface to the actual events that play out later. Newt and Thomas upon meeting each other describe their presence as “familiar” and or as a “long lost friend” and they genuinely hit it off from the start to the point that Newt is okay with having Thomas see him cry over the fact that he and his sister are separated since he is doomed to be WCKD’s control analysis as he’s the only one lacking immunity from the flare itself. Once Newt is done being emotionally vulnerable we get our first instance of his personal nickname for Thomas: “That’s the way things are Tommy,’ he said his voice not quite steady. ‘The world outside’s gone to hell. Why should we expect any different here? [...] He said it as if they’d been friends for years” (ch. 14). An interesting note here is that Thomas doesn’t bother to correct him or stifle the moment by feeling that all this information was too much, he genuinely wanted to hear Newt out and is fine with seeing this side of him; if not slightly taken aback by how natural it is that they can converse about such aspects of their lives. In fact, Newt makes such an impact on Thomas that Thomas ends up that same night dreaming of him: “Throughout his shortened night, he dreamed of Newt and Sonya. Of Newt and Lizzy“(Ch. 14). The thing with Thomas though is that the idea of comfort and connection is very foreign to him as he’s been basically isolated all his life with only the adults like Ava to talk to and the one exception being Teresa as his only kid companion. So Thomas didn’t even think he could make others like him for being himself unless they were vital to the overall production of WCKD. Seeing this portion right before the end of chapter 14: “Alby, Minho, Newt, Teresa. Thomas had friends.” shows that Thomas really had to deep dive to see how he deals with personal connections and why he was excited about the notion of friendship. He could’ve been happy with just Teresa, but only fully cemented her bond to him as “friend” when his circle grew and these kids he got to hang with taught him he can be himself, a concept he didn’t realize was possible when all his life was dictated on what he was supposed to learn or do. It becomes especially clear just how controlled his life is with the aspect of sentiment when later on Teresa’s mental communication evokes physcial pain and fear in Thomas. I’ll get back to that later as its more of a small tid bit of Thomas’ view on his forced love interest, Teresa. And yes, I say forced because multiple sentences with Thomas have him even wish he could cease all communication with her. Moving on, let’s talk about mimicking for a second. As humans, we mimic as a behavioral response to become closer to the person we care about. It’s the reason why yawning or laughter is contagious and or why we copy the posture of the person we converse with face to face. Thomas is seen to do this the most with Newt’s quirks. I’ll give the example in chapter 15: “Newt has been promising them that he was saving something special, and he did that annoying zipped-lipped sign every time [...] the little light in his eyes showed he enjoyed every second of their torture” versus Thomas: “Thomas did Newt’s zipped-lipped gesture, and that got him a sharp poke in the ribs”. So, we know enough that Thomas’ mannerisms are developing as a sign that he wants to be closer to Newt and to continue this sense of playfulness they both enjoy from the other. This is the start of their budding bond and a clear indication that they hold each other at greater fondness than the rest through this unconscious copying. Through this copying, they also pick up on emotional cues the other lets up on. Newt is especially good at noticing small things like when Thomas is anxious or overthinking: “He was just shocked that with all their exploring, the others hadn’t already discovered it on their own. And there were supposed to be TWO mazes. How had Newt and his friends not stumbled upon either one of them? ‘Tommy?’ Thomas realized Newt was staring straight at him, eyebrows raised. ‘Sorry,’ he said embarrassed, ‘wandered off for a second there what did you say?’ Newt shook his head in admonishment. ‘Try to keep up, Tommy Are you ready to see the grat outdoors?” (ch. 15). Also in chapter 23: “Tommy?’ It was Newt, breaking him out of his thoughts. ‘I can see your wheels spinnin’ up there.’ He tapped the side of his head”. This furthers Newts perceptiveness on his friend and Thomas’ ability to pick out when he is being looked after. And they bounce off each other really well in that aspect. To the point that Newt can crack a joke he knows will land right on Thomas’ sense of humor: “Newt waggled his fingers in front of Thomas’ face [...] A laugh exploded out of Thomas’ mouth that sent a spray everywhere. ‘Sorry’ he said, wiping his lips on his sleeve” (ch.15). It’s enjoyable to know that at least at a surface level, they have fun together and can cheer the other up if needed or know when to ground the other to reality. It is also through these instances that as a reader I pick up that Thomas’ nervous ticks perhaps allude to an anxiety disorder he has; of which Newt is aware of and never puts Thomas down on for exhibiting. He in fact understands it and deals with it accordingly as he himself has a similar circumstance. SO, what does all this paying attention lead to? Thomas’ devotion to protect Newt. Yeah, thats right I said devotion. Thomas’ actions are influenced by his developed instinct to protect Newt at all costs. Here is the biggest example that comes to mind: “What in the world happened to Newt? -- Less then two hours later, Thomas had spliced together a series of camera clips [...] Thomas turned off the feed. He couldn’t take it anymore...Newt, Newt, Newt, Thomas thought, feeling as if the very air around him were turning black.”(ch.52). Essentially, Thomas seeing Newt plummet to his near death by falling from the maze wall as a result of Newt’s ongoing depressive state, this is the moment that makes Thomas realize WICKD isn’t as good as they seem and that he is going into the maze to save Newt. Its admirable how much self sacrifice Thomas does for someone he cares so much about, to the point that their name is like a mantra. Thats a sensible area of passion and fighting spirit for someone who is “just a friend”. Oh and, the feeling of fondness is mutual mind you if I haven’t been clear. After experiencing the horrors of cranks for the first time, realizing Newt was not immune, and watching Newt until they entered the pits it has been months since they last interacted; this is their first reunion: “What’s up Tommy?’ Newt exclaimed, his face filled with genuine happiness at the pleasant surprise that’s been sprung on him. Thomas couldn’t remember exactly how long it’d been since he’d seen Newt. ‘You look bloody fantastic for three in the morning” (ch. 23). I need to preface this that Newt DOES NOT mean that sarcastically and that out of all the people in the room (Minho, Chuck and Teresa are there in this scene), Thomas only reacts this way specifically toward seeing Newt is okay and back. The characters are also not afraid of being physically close. “Well, look who the bloody copper dragged in,’ Newt said, pulling Thomas into a big hug” (ch.31), “They shook hands, and then the two of them set off...” (ch. 31), and my favorite: “Thomas jumped at the sound, then stumbled. Newt tripped over him, and then they were both laughing, legs and arms tangled in a pile on the ground”(ch.32). I don’t think this far in the novel, Thomas has been AS (emphasis on as) comfortable with touch with anyone else other than Newt. And thats a big step forward on the aspect of trust in a relationship, being able to be comfortable with the presence of another person enough to be as intimate with them as shown here. And all this, is just fever code itself. Mind you this is not the MEAT of the novels as it came out later. But even without it, lets look at Thomas in Maze now, I’ll try to keep this segment a lot more brief. Here’s Thomas looking respectively at boys his age: “A tall kid with blond hair and a square jaw...a thick, heavy muscled Asian kid folded his arms as he studied Thomas, his tight shirtsleeves rolled up to show off his biceps [...] Newt was taller than Alby too, but looked to be a year or so younger, His hair was blond and cut long, cascading over his T-shirt. Veins stuck out of his muscled arms”(ch. 2). Thomas’ initial reaction to being surrounded by boys is to deeply analyze their rugged good looks and heavily emphasize their best physical traits. When reading this the first time, my mind immediately thought this boy at the very least is supposed to be portrayed as bi, especially when later down the line Teresa gets a similar descriptor: “...despite her paleness, she was really pretty...silky hair, flawless skin, perfect lips, long legs.” So right off the bat, we know that be it boy or girl, Thomas emphasizes how attractive someone looks in his eyes when he truly does have a sense of attraction to them. Case closed. Within the same chapter we get Thomas also immediately clinging onto Newt for a sense of grounding, it is now ingrained in him at this point that the boy is his lifeline, a person to rely on. “Thomas looked over at Newt, hoping for help.” And help he does, Newt in this chapter helps ease his worries, explain a general idea of what the glade is and even pats him on the shoulder a bit to ease tension. And Thomas doesn’t bat an eye in the same way he’s weary of literally everyone else. In fact, he’s eager to stay put with him as shown with; “If Newt went up there, then I wanna talk to him.” And if none of that seals the deal, we got early bird Newt being so touch starved he flattens himself next to Thomas to wake him up at the crack of Dawn in chapter 6: “Someone shook Thomas awake. His eyes snapped open to see a too-close face staring down at him, everything around them still shadowed by the darkness of early morning...’Shh, Greenie. Don’t wanna be waking up Chuckie, now, do we?’ It was Newt --the guy who seemed second in command; the air reeked of his morning breath. Though Thomas was surprised, any alarm melted away immediately”. This whole scene follows firstly by Thomas once again impressed by how strong Newt is and then Newt giving him a rundown of what everyone else was too afraid to show Thomas, the grievers. And you know, this scene could’ve ended well and everything as totally platonic, but then we have “Newt turned to look at him dead in the eye. The first traces of dawn had crept up on them, and Thomas could see EVERY DETAIL OF NEWT’S FACE, HIS SKIN TIGHT, HIS BROW CREASED.” Now, look me in the eye and tell me there is a hetero explanation on looking at your best bro like they are the sun reincarnated themselves. But let’s not hog all the homosexual undertones with Thomas here. Wanna know what Newt’s initial reaction to having a girl in the glade was? “It’s a girl,’ he said [...] Newt shushed them again. ‘That’s not bloody half of it,’ he said, then pointed down into the box. ‘I think she’s dead” (ch.8). It’s actually a stark contrast to the other gladers eagerly wanting to know her age, how pretty she looked, and calling dibs to date her; Newt isn’t interested in any of that, he’s more perplexed on her status and not even bothering to remark on her looks, he was the only one not to and even remarks a few other instances that girls are more Thomas’ domain. For instance, he makes a joke in fever code when Thomas remarks that the girls in the institution were going to tackle him down, Newt proceeds to point out sarcastically something along the lines of “wait, isn’t that YOUR dream though?” So Newt is pretty out spoken of his disinterest in girls, and his full admiration and attention on Thomas. Oh, and yes, Newt immediately switches over to “Tommy” the moment Thomas mentions he hates being called greenie, and once again it just becomes a thing between only the two of them. Newt is also the one to be straight forward about the whole Runners business. He warns Thomas about the dangers and doesn’t necessarily turn him down on his desire to be one, he in fact encouraged him to just wait until the right moment. “No one said you couldn’t, but give it a rest for now”(ch. 15). So once again, Newt is the voice of confidence and reason for Thomas to prosper. In turn, this time around Thomas is the one to catch when something is bothering Newt. For instance, “Newt chewed his fingernails, something he hadn’t seen the older boy do before...he was genuinely concerned -- Newt was one of the few people in the Glade he actually liked ”(ch.16). Interesting how we went from fever code “friend” to “like”. And also, when Newt explains his concern about the runners not coming back yet, Thomas pieces together how scared Newt is of the Maze without being told and goes to stand next to him as a physical presence to ground Newt as they wait near the entrance. In fact, this piece is trivial to understand why Thomas does what he does next. When everyone else had given up on the Runners still outside with 2 minutes left til closing, and Newt was escorted away from the entrance, Thomas waited. And when Thomas saw them, he yells to Newt, realizes he’s too far to do anything, and makes a decision himself. He KNEW how much Newt cared about his fellow Gladers, they were like family or “kin” as its said in the book, so what does he do? “Don’t do it Tommy! Don’t you bloody do it!’ ... Thomas knew he had no choice. He moved. Forward. He squeezed past the connecting rods at the last second and stepped into the maze”(ch.16). Yes, Thomas does this because of his empathy for the Gladers, but the chain reaction of Newt’s concern is what sets his decision in stone. And yet again, Thomas enters the maze for Newt. And that’s pretty much the constant for the rest of Maze Runner the book, Newt just sticking up for Thomas and Thomas in turn just being happy that: “He was at least relieved that Newt was there” (ch.17). And thats basically their entire dynamic. Newt just going: “If you really did help design the maze Tommy, it’s not your fault. You‘re a kid -- you can’t help what they forced you to do” to ease the survivor’s trauma Thomas has, as well as saying “I actually believe you. You just don’t have an ounce of lying in those eyes of yours. And I can’t bloody believe I’m about to say this...but I’m going back in there to convince those shanks we should go through the griever hole, just like you said”(ch.51); and I think thats the most romantic thing to hear from him. Just right out being all for supporting Thomas no matter what happens as long as he stays alive and continues to fight, he doesn’t care about what happened before. And Thomas eats that up because it fuels him even more to seek out a means to escape for the people (Newt) that deserve a life outside of running from monsters forever. So essentially, I’ll state again, it’s always been Newt the catalyst for Thomas to run head first into the Maze and seek freedom. And with all this I can clear that these two are shown to if not be romantically involved, at least have unconditional love for the other that transcends the author’s original intention. And with that in mind, here’s the thing with Teresa as a love interest. I can list here quotes of every time she mind speaks to Thomas and how that affects him, but then this would be too long. And this is a newtmas post gosh darn it. Teresa is gleeful to humiliate, control, hurt, and force Thomas to believe they’re in love. In multiple instances we get her barging into his mind unwarranted making him understand that she has full access to his inner most thoughts. Theres nothing romantic about that, and I think its why Thomas ends up being so perceptive to the smallest of gestures that allow him to think on his own and feel like his own person. Something I’ve seen Brenda do later in scorch, and something I’ve seen Newt do since the very beginning is that they allow Thomas to come to his own conclusions in order to create his own opinions on the matters at hand. Thomas’ love language revolves around words of affirmation. He likes it when people confirm his thoughts are valid and that remind him that WICKD can’t hurt him anymore now that he has the power to be his own person. This is where Newt comes in very handy. He allows Thomas to grow in ways his female love interests have yet to show, sorry Brenda but I’ve heard you were trying to unite all immunes together to the safe haven by the end and in a sense still only using Thomas to get by; I still think she was the better call than teresa of course and I have no remorse for Teresa getting smushed by a boulder. But essentially my point here is that, how do you fail to make your initial love interests clash so badly where one has no real care about the others well being so long as everything goes according to WCKD by using a form of gaslighting and manipulation? AND THOMAS HAS STATED HIS DISCOMFORT ON THIS MULTIPLE TIMES, but the narrative always erases these instances from his mind in place of pity for Teresa’s well being (as you can tell, Teresa through this becomes my least favorite character, I can rant about her some othe time though with proper backing). The narrative in turn treats it all like a joke. I understand there are scenes where Thomas is worried about her and looks out to make sure shes ok, but even then he doesn’t know how to react with mental images of her kissing his cheek or when she screams the next minute that she doesn’t know who he is or how hes speaking into her mind. And thats because they can’t properly communicate their emotions to the other, not even in fever code could Thomas give a forward answer if he loved Teresa or not, she just assumed. Come to think of it, Thomas really doesn’t show much affection to Teresa of his own accord. So then, how DOES Thomas show his affection? Thomas provides acts of service as his love language, if he cares about you enough he will risk his life for you. Why? Because Thomas values putting the people he loves foremost knowing full well they are what help him have purpose and succeed in continuing on. In a way, Newt and Thomas’ dynamic works in this instance because they balance the other out and because they have seen each other at their worst and at their best. In a way, that's why knowing the ending of the books makes it harder to accept that Thomas would just easily take the shot...when all his life clung to Newt’s survival. But that’s a story for another time where I compare the movies (of which let me make that clear, yes I prefer) over the books. For now just know that the book may have done this by accident, maybe not, but at the end of the day theres solid proof that Thomas and Newt care about each other in a way that is separately portrayed from their connection to the other glade members, and have this consistency of soft moments running through the entirety of the series. In conclusion; newtmas. Newtmas. NEWTMAS, etc.

#Newtmas #long post #Skquill #ask #The ending gets a bit ranty with Teresa I must admit #but for the most part its just me recalling the best newtmas moments from the novels I've currently read #Please add on more newtmas proof to the thread

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young-writer-yay · 4 years ago

Text

My Book Recommendation List:

(not in any order other than the order they came to my mind)

Gender Games by Bella Forrest

Starfire Wars by Jenetta Penner

Royal Replicas by Michael Pierce

The Burning Sky by Sherry Thomas

Percy Jackson by Rick Riordan (and all his other books)

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer

Winter World by A.G. Riddle

Reawakened by Colleen Houck

Uglies by Scott Westerfeld

The School for Good and Evil by Soman Chainani

Nobody’s Princess by Esther Friesner (and all of her other books)

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel by Michael Scott

Shadowfell by Juliet Marillier

Ruined by Amy Tintera

Divergent by Veronica Roth

Legend by Marie Lu

Matched by Ally Condie

Maze Runner by James Dashner

Tigers Curse by Colleen Houck

Personal notes:

Winter World takes place in space and took me a lot of concentration and brain power to read. It just kept blowing my mind, just ask anyone in my family, I was literally screaming.

Gender Games is a seven book series with each book with about 450 pages. It keeps the same plot line throughout the whole series, which I love. It is set in the future and has an amazing plot line.

Ruined has a lot of gore (based on my opinion, I was in seventh grade when I read it) but it is an amazing book.

Shadowfell is about the fae folk. I love it and defiantly recommend it to someone who is into folklore.

Nobody’s Princess is a two book series, but there are four (I think) series like it by the same author. I love all of them.

🚨SPOILER ALERT🚨 : STARFIRE WARS HAS A VERY HAPPY ENDING OMG I WAS SQUEALING

Other notes:

I’m sorry if I spelled any authors names wrong.

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barcaavengers · 5 years ago

Text

Irreversible || Newt Imagine || Part 1

Note: And here I am with another Newt imagine cause I can. Switched the events a bit so it could make sense as to why there are two females in Maze A. This one is basically a background kind of thing and next part should be fluffy and angsty. (: Dashner teasing with another book with Newt had me thinking so while he decides to throw me a bone on what we should expect, here is me trying to fix things or making them worse. Anyway, enjoy protective, boyfriend-to-be Newt in the Scorch and next part will take place in the Death Cure events. As always, don’t forget to provide some feedback and ideas! I promise second part will be best. Just thought TST had some moments I could insert protective, loving Newt.

It felt like you won't stop running any time soon. You were a runner, and you loved the feeling. The wind going through your hair and face, the feeling of freedom even if you had spent what you could remember of your life stuck in a Maze. It did it for you. Now in these cases, it was a completely different story. You could tell it hasn't been a full day since you have gotten out of the Maze, into the new compound and now Thomas had the whole group running for their lives after finding out that the compound belonged to Wicked. You didn’t really escape. Now you were out in the desert at night, getting inside a building had Teresa found open and which you thought ten times before going in as you didn't trust her. Minho was the second one to hesitate, but what other option did you have? Wicked was on your trail and if what Thomas said was true, you didn't want to go back in there. You didn’t want to be another subject.

"What's the plan?" Newt asked and Thomas proceeded to mention he didn't have one. Yet when Newt started to point out they had run away following him in hopes he had a plan, Aris mentioned something and Thomas put a name to it. The Right Arm.

"People? In the mountains? Mountain people?" Newt asks almost in disbelief.

"We don't even know how far these mountains are. If Wicked with all their helicopters lost them, we don’t stand a chance on foot unless we come up with a plan fast" you point out. You tried not to sound harsh since he did help you run from Wicked once more but sometimes Thomas did questionable things...

Everyone was silent for a moment, knowing deep down that there was no other way. This would have to do for now until something else came up, or at least while the sun came up because walking at night with those things out there and not knowing where you would all be heading would only worsen things.

"Get what you need, we meet back here in five" Thomas says and you nod your head.

"Come on" Newt signals with his head and you follow, so does Frypan, Aris and Teresa stick along in a distance while Minho and Thomas split from the group.

The group continues to light up the corners in search of anything. It was quiet...too quiet, and it was getting chilly so you grabbed the first jacket you could find, then found a set of clothes that would do for now. In any other case, you’d probably think it twice before putting on some random person’s clothe one, but not now. Not when it was getting cold and you didn’t know what it would be like out there tomorrow. "I will go change" you say to Newt and he nods quietly and watches you distant from him. You take your pants off first, stumbling a bit as you did.

"Careful there" you hear his accent and jump.

"Shit, Newt!" You squeak and he smiles.

"Sorry" he says and gets closer to you. "Habit" he teases with a shrug, meaning the times he'd sneak into your hut at night when you have just finished taking a shower close to the river. Newt would sneak in and hug you from behind, or plain scare you which he loved to do.

"I can see that" you tease. "Try not to be so obvious" you shim into your new pants. You look over his shoulder and notice Frypan prying so you turn around to take your shirt off. It isn’t like the guys haven’t seen you without much clothing before, you knew they have. Your hut being by the river meant going into it at night randomly and you knew they’d be on the lookout. You couldn’t blame them, you were the only girl for a while and boys were boys. It wasn’t like you didn’t eye some of them when the chance was given. They were your friends anyway, and Newt…well, whatever weird relationship you had. You two weren't public, but neither were you private. It isn’t complicated, but it doesn’t have a title either. Everyone knew you two had something going on but never called yourselves girlfriend or boyfriend. After everything that you have been through, there wasn't much time to place labels in the relationship even if you had time to act like one.

"I am" he says and you can feel his gaze on the scar the Griever had left on your shoulder the time you had run in to find him when he had gone alone into the Maze. For him it was probably a reminder of what he had done and consequently of almost getting you killed. For you it was a reminder that you had risked your life for him and would do it again without question.

"Don't" you say knowing he was silently blaming himself, a shiver runs down your spine as he places his cold fingertips against the skin. You eye him over your shoulder and he frowns, "Newt…" you whisper to him and he turns you around. "Shouldn't you be changing or looking for clothes?"

"In a minute" he says and pulls you close to him and pecks your lips. "You know I won't let anything happen to-"

"Hey. We will be okay… As long as Thomas comes up with a plan, or we do" you say with a smirk and he chuckles. You run your hand through his hair and kiss him. It has been a while since you have felt his lips on yours and with all this madness it certainly was a small break from it all. He pulls away and looks over his shoulder before making you walk backwards against a corner and he resumes kissing you. His lips move slow and you sigh happily into him, his hands holding you close to him before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. "We will be okay…"

"You two lovebirds done?" Frypan's voice echoes and your eyes widen.

"Yeah!" Newt says and you glare at him before pulling down your shirt over your head.

"Hurry" you say to him and take the flashlight from him as he changes. You smile to yourself as you take in his body. Newt was skinny alright but he had quite the arms and body. Helping in the garden did pay off and you felt lucky to sleep in those arms most nights...

"Enjoying the view, love?" He teases as he pulls a brown jacket on. For some reason the way he was dressed made him look so…

"Shut up, shank. Let's go" you shove him and he chuckles, taking a bag he had found and shoving some extra clothes. The lights start turning on and you hear a screech. "That can't be good" you stay still as you try to catch where the sound came from, so did Newt. "Let's get close to the others, yeah?" You say and he nods his head, reaching for your hand and leading you to the others.

"Run! Move!" Thomas shouts and you eye him as he and Minho run towards you.

"What the hell?" Frypan voices before everyone's eyes widened, noticing the Cranks running after them.

"Let's go!" You shout and all of you start running as fast as you could. You dodged cranks that would run into the windows and fall off the sides, you had your gun still with you and it was secure in your hand. You kept an eye on Newt as he ran, making sure he was ahead of you at all times. That way you'd keep him safe from the Cranks. p>

The group is running nonstop through what looked like a mall maybe. How did you know? No idea. It just gave you the vibes and with the electric escalators it confirmed it somewhat. Yet you could barely see a thing as all flashlights were being held randomly as you all ran. You stumbled as the group continued to run. "Guys!"

A Crank had fallen on top of Newt and you were quick to shoot the Crank who even after being hit tried to hurry to Newt. You ran towards it and kicked it, sending it flying against a window and down the floors.

"You okay?" Thomas asked Newt after helping him up as they continued to hurry.

"Yeah. Thanks, Tommy" he says and nods at you before running.

"It's a dead end!" Teresa shouts.

"Over here!" You pull the door open to show some stairs, you look back and notice the Cranks closing in on you and everyone went back and inside, closing the door, yet a hand reached and clawed at Winston as he fell, you managed to shoot the hand, the owner of it screeching unbelievably loud as it echoed.

You came down the stairs and hid under what looked like to be a wall in the darkness, the screams were heard further and you hoped you lost them. "Everyone okay?" You ask and everyone nods as they try to regain your breath, so were you. "Winston?" You turn your head to him.

"I'm fine" he says and your head nods. The boys take a piece of a shirt to place it around his wound.

"We should stay here for the night" you say. "I'll keep watch."

"I'm in" Newt voices and you frown.

"You need to rest" you two exchange a look and he nods his head signaling for you to get close. You push the bag off your back and place it besides him, sitting with your back against it and leaning into him, snuggling close, his arms securing you.

The sun was starting to come up, heating the ground you had all fallen asleep in, even yourself. You probably lasted an hour or two before falling asleep, but you tried to keep it light in case you heard anything. In other words, you slept but didn't rest so well. "Come on, everyone" you yawn as you pull away from Newt's embrace to stand up. You stretched your legs and arms before turning to the group. Everyone gathers their belongings before continuing.

"What the hell happened to this place?" Frypan asks as you all resume your walk.

"It looks...burned up" you say as you look around.

The heat was starting to burn your face, so you wrap a scarf around your head and it probably wasn't that much of a good idea as it was hot as well making you sweat. Add to it that it seemed to be a desert storm around you and the wind barely left any visibility with all the sand. After climbing on top of a mountain of sand though, you finally saw the mountains, yet they looked days away on foot. "We are almost there" Thomas says and then Winston is falling down.

"Winston!" You shout as you run to his side. "Are you okay?"

He was too weak to speak, only coughing. "Come on, buddy" Thomas says and the boys pick him up.

"We can hide under that bridge" you say, grabbing the bags of the boys to help them as they carried Winston. Once at the bridge, they settled him down. You found the bridge to be some good shelter for a couple of hours. The wind was strong and would only complicate things, and Winston needed to rest, all of you did after those walks.

"Be like Y/N, she is keeping it together" Frypan jokes as he spoke with Aris and you scoff as you sit besides the guys, Teresa and Thomas being away from the group.

"Yeah, right. I barely slept and this heat is killing me" you toss your scarf on the floor with a frown.

"I told you I could keep watch too" Newt steps in, and he even sounded concern that you hadn’t gotten much sleep.

"Oh we know the watch you two would do. Going somewhere private and-" Minho starts doing kissing noises, so you pick up your scarf and toss it as his face.

"Shut up" you pretend to be serious yet you can't as Minho laughs.

"It is true. Back at that place I thought we would have to move away in case we interrupted."

"Frypan, were you watching me change clothes?" You tease playfully.

"Yeah, Fry. Were you watching her?" Newt steps in, hands on his hip, him though, did not sound playful as you.

"Oh come on, Newt. You watched her change. Besides, it's not like we haven't seen her back at the Glade coming out of the-" You wince at that. You look at Newt and he was dead serious.

"Go on" his accent coming through. "Finish" he takes a step closer and Minho just laughs, earning a glare from the blonde.

"I mean- I know you and her-“ Fry seems to be looking for the right words, but they can’t find him.

Newt's body doesn't relax so you stand up and take his hand, your lips part to say something when a gun goes off besides you, you jump and your heart skips a beat from the sound. Winston.

"Wow. Wow. Hey!" You turn and rush to Winston. Newt is quick to call Thomas and everyone rushes to take the gun away from the injured boy.

"What happened?" Thomas asked as he got closer.

"I don't know, he just woke up and grabbed the gun and-" Fry trailed off.

"Hey, Winston" you kneel down on his left side.

"It's growing inside me…" he lifts up his shirt. It looked so bad in so little time. Black blood, black veins, he looked paler… "I'm not gonna make it…" and deep down you knew it, but there was that one part of you who didn't want to let go. He was part of the family.

"Winston…" you breathe out as you feel a knot on your throat.

"Please…" he reaches for the gun in Newt's hand and your eyes close for an instant. "Don't let me turn into one of them…" The blonde crouches beside him and hands Winston the gun.

"Thank you…" Winston says weakly.

"Goodbye, Winston…" a sob shakes through you as you stand up, Frypan places a comforting hand on your shoulder and you lean against him.

"Go…" Winston says and smiles weakly at you, a tear rolling down his cheek and you are quick to look away and gather your things.

The group walks silently away, and you chew on your lips nervously. Then the gunshot echoes through the open area and the air gets caught on your throat and you forget to breathe. You stop on your tracks and lose your balance for a moment, eyes shutting tight. Yet another Glader you were unable to help. You didn’t want more of this. You wanted it to be over.

At last you have all reached a building in the desert, where you had hid after Minho got struck by lightning. Cranks were chained everywhere and a girl had come down referring to them as the guard dogs. After that you found the girl's name to be Brenda, who took you to a man, Jorge, you had the feeling he would sell you all back to Wicked. Yet he had not, and even though he had you all dangling from ropes with your heads down, he said he would help. After that it was a blur, you had gone down a zipline to escape from the Wicked guards and Janson and in the process Thomas and Brenda had gotten lost. Jorge though, insisted to keep moving knowing Brenda knew where to meet them and they should wait there.

Upon arriving at a place asking for Marcus, you had to drink a strange looking liquid to get in, you feel like you had drunk more than the others for being the first one. No sign of this Marcus. The place was awfully crowded and Minho stood behind you, Newt upfront, Frypan covering for Teresa. The music is going through your body and you start to sway and smile. If this is where you will be waiting for Thomas and Brenda, might as well enjoy some music, right? It wasn’t long until things started to get confusing. The familiar metallic grinding together echoed and you stood still. You recognized it too well, it was a griever, but you couldn't spot it through the crowd. Why would a Griever be in this crowd? You spin quickly as you hear it again, yet no sign. You spin to the other side and the screech gets louder before it's just too much and you scream, holding your hand to your ears. It's metallic sound echoing through your ears and you shake your head.

"They are not real. They are not real." You repeat in whispers. A hand is offered to you and when you look up, you shake your head. "No. No. No!" Newt was offering his hand to you, black veins covered his once pale face, black goo coming from his mouth offering a sinister smile. You pull away and someone lifts you up, turning you around and there was Winston and Alby, looking like Cranks. Then the piercing screech of the Griever echoed again now with the sound of the walls from the Glade. "Stop! Make it stop!!!!" You scream as tears stream down your cheeks.

"Y/N! Love!" Newt called out as he shakes you and your eyes go wide open. You were no longer in the crowd, but in an open room with chairs and couches. Your breath was heavy from all the screaming. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Don't make her think of it." Minho says quickly and you notice you were on the floor, your back to his front. "Easy. Just relax." Minho runs a hand through your hair.

"I just need to get some air" you say before standing up seconds after, Newt helping you out before you walked out to what you guessed was behind the club. You took the chance to look around in hopes of spotting Thomas and Brenda, but no luck. You were starting to get worried. It had been a long walk from the place you have seen them last, how could they make it if it was just them all alone in this place?

"You okay, love?" Newt asks as he walks to you, you smile and turn around.

"Yeah. It's just…What I saw...it was too much" you shake your head.

"You don’t have to remember it" he comforts in a soft voice and you smile up at him. He was so understanding you just wanted to get up and hug him.

"I think… I haven't gotten over it…" you voice and he nods his head, he knew what you referred to. You two sit against a wall that threw a shade just enough to hide from the scorching sun. "I'm glad I can remember most of those things, I guess...In a way. I wonder sometimes if they erased part of those memories, put in new ones...Some things seemed that they happened differently, you know?"

”If you ever have any doubts, I can help with that,” he says. “I remember most things” he sounds proud of himself.

”I know” you give him a small shove with your shoulder as you smile. “Its just...The things that happened after, and the memories that came back from being stung, what happened after they brought me back to the Maze...Some things just don’t make much sense.”

”Well...can’t help much with those,” he admits. You had spent a year or so in the Maze. Your memories came to you quite frequently. You didn’t voice it, but it would be a really bad headache every time they came in. “All I know is that I remember seeing you again and I just wanted to go on and-”

"They are here" Minho interrupts and in perfect sync, Newt and you turn to Minho with a glare. "Sorry" he grins before walking away.

Jorge finds Marcus and beats him up, gets a car enough for all of you to fit to get to the Right Arm and once there, you could see everyone feeling at ease. Thomas was in a tent with Brenda and a doctor after he saved her from the crank bite. Everyone was doing their own thing and you watched them from the rocks on top of a small mountain by yourself. You smiled at the scene. Everyone seemed happy, away from Wicked, no worries for now. You could all be happy now as soon as Vince took you to the Safe Haven he had mentioned. It sounded like paradise, and you couldn't be happier.

"Penny for your thoughts" Newt teases as he places a jacket around your shoulders. "Brought ya' some gloves" he sits beside you and you scoot closer to lean against him. "You okay, love?"

"I think I've never been better" you admit. "Away from Wicked, soon on our way to the Safe Haven, away from everything…" you trail off.

"Yeah, it is good to know we are done with that."

"Mhm" you hum, he pulls you closer and kisses your temple. "I kept thinking…" you start.

"Might be a first" the blonde jokes and you push him playfully.

"Like I was saying!" You giggle and he pulls you close again and kisses your cheek. "About the Maze, and how they just took me out and then threw me back in…It didn’t make any sense.”

"It still doesn't," he admits with a shrug.

"I do remember something though, them mentioning feelings and wanting to see how it affected us. How it could be a variable…" you pause. "I remember them mentioning you. Us." This takes Newt's attention and he looks down at you. "I don't remember much, but they said that after what happened to you and me coming in and spending time together changed something. Then it changed again when I disappeared at the Maze. It also happened to the others, the experience of losing someone, making it afterwards and how it made something in the brain stronger" you frown at the thought of how Wicked could play with their minds just to see how they would all react.

"We all lost our bloody minds, love" Newt says. "Minho would constantly go out there looking for you. Hoping you'd be alive" he says and you notice his gaze soften. "He gave up when he found a Griever's nest that had your bag. We realized we lost you...I lost you" he frowns. "It was so strange to see you again, walking out after a year."

"I could barely remember things. It was like they wiped out details that connected my memories. I remember going into the Maze and getting lost, getting stung by a Griever and memories rushed gave me a whiplash. Then I woke up in a white room and I had these...things in my head and I could see you all...but I only remember that much” you admit.

"You don't remember how you got back in?"

"Not really" you shake your head. "Only that I was unconscious and waking up. I remembered fragments of the Maze so I think that is why I made it out, if not probably I'd be dead" you admit. "I remember afterwards though" you smile and he does as well. "I remember watching you by what was supposed to be my grave as soon as the walls opened…”

By instinct, his arms held you closer to him. "I remember looking up and seeing you. I thought I was hallucinating on Gally's moonshine" he chuckles.

"I miss that moonshine. I could drink one right now" you giggle and snuggle closer to Newt. The wind was turning quite chilly now.

"You know, now that we are on top of a mountain like I once said…" Newt trails off and smiles down at you, your heart pounding hard against your chest.

"You are really doing this?" You laugh nervously.

"Before one of those bloody shanks interrupt me" the blonde says and you pull away from him to be able to take him in. His brown eyes had that little twinkle and his smile was just...contagious. "Y/N" he starts. "We have known each other for two years now, unless you count the one you were away" he says and you roll your eyes. "And I don't know how much time we have, because we don't know if this Safe Haven will keep Wicked away but...I want to-"

"They are coming! Everybody get down!" You hear Thomas scream from a distance.

Newt closes his eyes in annoyance and sigh, "Will I ever not be interrupted?" He says and you decide to turn to where Thomas was coming from. "What does this sh-" Newt's eyes widened and you follow his gaze. The Bergs.

"How did they find us?!" You ask as you stand up, Newt by your side.

"I think we already know," Newt says, quickly taking your hand and you all move to reach the others.

"Get all the weapons you can" Vince says and the first impacts of the Bergs start hitting the camp.

"Incoming!" Minho shouts and you all run for cover.

You and Newt run quickly behind a rock, a missile hitting right besides you made Newt shield you with your body. "You okay?!"

"I'm fine" you nod your head and you both raise from your spot to see the scenario before you. You see a guard getting knocked over and you reach for the gun, a shotgun, perfect! "Newt go to Vince, I'll cover!"

Newt goes to Vince and you run behind him, shooting one more guard. Upon reaching Vince, he gives Newt and Minho a weapon and everyone continues to shoot to cover each other. It turned to be too much for everyone, except Wicked and you had been defeated. You get lined up as guards read your tags, so you remain still.

"A6" the guard says as they scan yours, as he moves to the next one, you bring your hands down from your head and pull a small blade you had on your shoe and stab the guard on his leg.

"Y/N, don't resist please!" Teresa says as she gets closer to you. Two guards come your way and hit you with a nightstick on your back.

"Hey, leave her alone!" You hear Newt shout as he struggles.

"You are a traitor!" Even after the impact, you struggle to try to reach Teresa. "You killed them! You are killing us! We-" You scream at her, a guard binding your arms and just in time, Jorge and Brenda hit one of the helis with the truck and open fire. Frypan, who was right behind you, pounces on the guard and you move away, taking the nightstick and hitting him with it. "Thanks, Fry" you both high five before running. They had taken most of the subjects into the Berg, like Aris and Sonya, and you see one that catches your eye. "Minho!"

Thomas and Newt turn to your voice and rush to try to reach Minho but there was no luck. They were closing the door of the Berg and the camp no longer had enough ammo to take it down. You drop on your knees on the floor in defeat, anger and revenge combining in your body. All against Wicked. All against Teresa.

The Berg left and you found yourself not moving, watching it go. Thinking. Plotting. When Newt found you, your hands were shaking, your cheeks with warm streams of tears that you hadn't noticed when they started coming out. "Come on, love" Newt whispers in a soothing way but you stay still.

"I'm going to kill her…" you mutter.

"We will get Minho. Even if it is the last thing we do. There has to be a way" he assures you, yet you don't meet his eyes.

"We have to end this! How many more people she will take away from us for this stupid cure!?" You scream and Newt winces before taking your hands.

"We will find a way, love. Tommy will find a way" he says as he drops to the floor with you. "But we need to be calm upstairs to make it work okay? We will get Minho back" a sob shakes you and he pulls you into his arms and you break. You wrap your arms around him and hide your face on his neck.

After a few minutes, Newt helps you up and Thomas is giving his speech, wanting to kill Ava and end Wicked as we get Minho back. While everyone hesitated and called Thomas' plan suicide, you couldn't agree more with the shank. They had to be stopped before they could take anyone else you loved. "I'm in" you say and stand up, Newt's eyes widen at your willingness.

"That's a great speech, kid." Vince says. "What's the plan?"

You have to mentally face palm yourself at the question because there was a ninety-nine perfect chance that Thomas did not have a plan.

#newt tmr #new the maze runner #the maze runner imagine #the scorch trials imagine #the death cure imagine #the maze runner #newt imagine #newt tmr imagine #(mine)#(irreversible)

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