omorfax

[omorfax]

ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴀ11 - ɴᴇᴡᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪɪ.

A Maze Runner Series :)

TW: character death(s)

Days seem to pass as you lay in the grass behind the walls, the ones that were set to open back up in just a few moments. Gally is there, preparing for the worst, as were many other Gladers who gathered in the early morning. Contrary to the worried looks of the others, you refused to jump to conclusions. You could not fathom the thought of losing any of them, not your friend, not your boyfriend, not even the kid just introduced to the lot. They were just here, here within arms reach. Your eyes simply bore into the split growing by the groan and grind of the walls. Once opened, those of you that gathered meet only the empty walls of the maze, the sway of vines and moss sing in the eerie silence of this morning. 

You only scramble to your feet when there's a sliver of movement beyond the vines, in the distance. It's then that you see the trio, Minho and Thomas struggling with a still unconscious Alby. Once assisted into the Med-Jack Hut, you and Jeff both see the deathly mark creeping up his neck. 

"Stung. . . he's been stung." You shake as you cut open the fabric of his blood and dirt-stained top, feeling tears brim in anger. 

You don't even bother to dress the sting itself, merely clean him up and get him damp towels for the ever rising fever. It pained you to see him like this, so helpless against something that only the Creators could be damned for. You allow tears to roll down your face as soon as the Keepers, Second-in-Command, and Thomas attend a Gathering in the Homestead. Gally of course was the one to have called it, being the hot-headed, cautious brother you came to know. In all honesty, you were grateful for Thomas helping Minho and Alby. Without that impulsive decision, you would have lost them both. 

You are replacing a damp towel on Alby's forehead when a familiar blaring alarm echoes throughout the maze. The box. There's an uneasiness brewing in the pit of your stomach, recognizing that the premature delivery would be nothing good. Rushing out of the hut, the Keepers are already halfway to the box, running with an urgent curiosity. There is a Glader trying to keep up with them, but slows to a stop a few feet out in front of you. It's Newt, meeting your gaze when he realizes you are looking at his leg, the one he had been limping on quite often more recently. You look up, finding a rather unreadable expression on his face, when you remember how you had been sobbing into your arms earlier, above your unconscious and rather sickly boyfriend. 

You rush to wipe away the remaining tears as he resumes his jog to the box, and you follow close behind once regaining composure. Everyone is looming over the box again, similar to the day you arrived. Newt jumps in the box, an incredulous look painting his face before saying, 

"It's a girl."

***********************

"We don't even know what this stuff is," Newt turns to you and the newest Glader, Teresa.

"We don't know who sent it, why it came up with you." He accuses further, before turning to you.

"You haven't even met the girl before recently, and now ya wanna shoot our Leader up with it?" 

Grabbing the vile from Newt, you sneer at him, "At least she has something to offer here. I don't see anyone else bringin' anythin' to the table. He's dying." 

A pause settles amongst the group, when Newt finally nods ahead, finding no alternative to the situation. You walk back to Alby's side, raising the solution before slamming down to his chest. Only, you don't make contact. Alby awakens with a quick growl, gripping onto your wrist with a strength hard enough to make you drop the vile onto the cot. He is looking right into your eyes, and you watch his look of pain and betrayal as he looks between you and Thomas with a sort of knowing you both could not understand. 

"Alb-" you start, whimpering at his crushing grip, he was hurting you.

"You shouldn't be here, you both shouldn't be here." 

His grip only tightened as he pulled you closer, everyone else hollering to grab the vile, grab the vile before he got worse. Thomas is pulling you out of Alby's grip when Newt grabs and slams the solution into his chest, finally releasing his suffocating grip on you. You fall back into Thomas, before releasing a shuttering breath out. Your wrist is slowly returning to its original hue, yet you found a reddening shade spread throughout, ghosting the grip that just held you. Everyone is looking at you, you could feel it. 

"I guess I should go tend to this," You mumble, slowly moving towards the medical kit in the corner. 

Newt's eyes follow you, concentrated on your nursing hold on the wrist. But, when you meet his gaze, he hurriedly looks away, commanding to all that he be put on a mandatory 24-hour watch. A few hours after the fact, Minho was the one to find you beside Alby's cot. He finds a stray stool to bring next to you, watching as you trace the bruise darkening around your wrist in an empty gaze. Rather than speak, he rests his hand around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side. An act of comfort, pity, you could not tell. He was just there, and you believe that was all you needed at the time. You let yourself fall against his chest, hearing the steady thump of his heartbeat while he rubs circles on your shoulder. 

"What could he have meant, Minho," you take a shaky breath before continuing, "Why shouldn't I be here?"

"It's the Changing, it'll do some jacked things, ya know?" 

"You didn't see him, the way he looked at me. He looked angry, upset. Like he didn't want nothin' to do with me." A tear slides down your face, as you relive the scenes before. 

"I'm sure you can talk to him once he's up, (Y/N). How 'bout ya get some shuteye, yea?" Minho releases you from the hug, urging you on out, "I'll get Newt to take over for the night."

Speaking of the devil Himself, Newt walks into the room, only to halt before the sight. You have your hand shading your eyes, letting your injured hand fall onto your knee. Newt's eyes bore into yours, it was hard not to feel such an intense look. He immediately knew you were shading your tears from him, trying to hide the pain from the one you were sure to make fun of you. Minho looks between you two, before confirming Newt take over in your place by Alby's side. 

"Good that. C'mon, (Y/N), off to bed with ya." Minho drags you out, avoiding the gaze of Second in Command. 

***********************

The following day, you leave Jeff and Teresa to monitoring Alby while you, Gally, and the others await the newly appointed Runner on his first official day on the job. Minho and Thomas return with ample time, relaying to Newt their findings of a new part of the maze: a possible way out. You follow behind them as Thomas tells you all of the possible Griever den, and how it their way in is our way out. 

"But you don't really know, do you, Thomas. Let's be honest here, the shank doesn't know what he's done, and what he coulda brought to us." 

"Yea? Well at least I did something, Gally." Thomas spins with a face of anger, meeting your brother close. 

"Let's get something straight here, Greenie. You've been here three days, I've been here three years."

"Yea, and yet you're still here, Gally! What's that say?" 

You step between them, just about to diffuse the confrontation, when Theresa runs up in a quick nature. You knew what it meant, it meant he was awake. Alby. You follow her, Thomas, and the others to the bedside, finding him sitting upright in his cot. You sigh in relief, everyone allowing you to crouch beside him.

"Alby? Alby. It's me," He doesn't respond, only seemed to contain his gaze to the floorboards. 

"Alby, you alright?" Newt joins, to no avail. 

You roll forward on your knees, reaching up with a wary hand to cup his face. He turns his empty gaze to you. "Thomas and Minho may have found a way out, we're getting out of here." A tear rolls down his cheek, and you know you all share the same drop of your hearts, trickling as the tear did to your feet. The Leader was breaking. 

"No, no we can't. We won't, they  won't let us." He reaches up, holding your hand closer to his skin before glancing to Thomas, "You were always their favorite, Thomas."

Sudden hollering and frantic voices sound beyond the hut following his statement, gaining the attention of the others. As the others depart in curiosity to the noise, you look back to Alby, who is gazing at you already. He has a knowing look, one that scared you. 

"(Y/N)," He brushes back a stray strand of hair, before placing a kiss on your forehead, "you were always the strong one. They didn't like you very much." He chuckles, as do you with tears streaming down your face. "I need you to promise me something." Alby pulls you close hugging you as he says his next phrase, one that chills you to the bone. "No matter what happens, promise me you'll follow him. Follow Thomas. . . and protect him. Protect Newt."

Screams bring you both from the embrace, and you jolt as Griever roars sound throughout the Glade. Immediately, Alby is grabbing you, pulling you outside to meet the others. They've already split, but Thomas is leading you all to the Homestead, Gally leading the rest to another location. Panic settles as you realize you're split from your brother, and now you were sitting ducks in a hut built of flimsy wood planks and straw. Alby holds you close, eyes training on Thomas as he shushes the lot of you. 

It was then that the Griever reached its stinger in, destroying the roof above you all. Screaming continued as Gladers get ripped from all sides, until it openly targets Chuck. "Chuck, no!" You reach out to grab him, as does Thomas, who pulls and pulls on him from the mechanical grip of the machine, but you cannot seem to pull hard enough. Grunting and groaning came from the Gladers, all trying to save the younger one from the fate the others succumbed to. That is, until Alby begins screaming, smashing the Grievers stinger repeatedly, as if all his pain, anger, and fear released with each smash. He ended up detaching the stinger from the Griever itself, sending the appendage flying past Thomas's head. Chuck is immediately pulled into the arms of his fellow Gladers, but the reunion is short-lived when another stinger crackles behind him.

"Alby!" 

You run toward him, but he's already being pulled up, through the roof. Alby holds himself by the beams, holding himself steady as you and Thomas reach out to him. 

"(Y/N), remember my promise." 

"No, no, Alby, please." You sob, desperately pulling at his shirt to keep him here with you.  "Thomas," his voice is calm, steady, but your heart and mind race miles a minute, "get them out."

He lets go of the wooden beam, and you're both left empty-handed. Alby was gone. Gone. 

***********************

this is so crazy I can't believe (Y/N) gets in trouble w the creators. that's so crazy. can't believe i'm also about to k word mister toy story next. (y/n) is about to go THROUGH it. <33

anyway thank you all for the support! I hope you love this story as much as i like writing it. definitely comment what you think/want to happen between the to-be-lovers ;)

PART IV COMING SOON!!

[omorfax]

ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴀ11 - ɴᴇᴡᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ.

A Maze Runner Series :)

TW: attempt

A warm trickle down your cheek woke you, and a blaring throb greeting you as soon as you open your eyes. You were in the Med-Jack Hut, surrounded by none other than the pair of leads, and the Med-Jacks themselves. The boys were murmuring about you, but the Med-Jack you know to be Jeff asks you to follow his fingers, and you do so easy. 

"She's only a bit dizzy. Looks like she's all there, though. She just needs some adjustin' to the light." Jeff turns to the bowl of warm water to your side, squeezing out excess dirt and blood from your small wound. 

"You took a nasty fall, Greenie, yet you still got up to fight a third round, huh." Alby furrowed his brows in concern, watching you cover your eyes with your hands. 

"Where is he?" You groan, trying to contain the ringing in your ears to a minimum while voices echo around you. 

"Who? Gally? Now's not exactly the time for some revenge, (Y/N)." You recognize Newt's voice, but nothing gets through to you in this moment of clarity. You had to talk to him. The one you remember, the one you knew. 

"P-please. I need to talk to him. Take me to him," you start, rising from the bed with a wince.

"Woah there," hands push you back, down to the bed, "you just woke up, how 'bout some water before going all shucking crazy." 

"Yea, you're right." You push their hands, straightening your back against the hut, beckoning to the water sitting on the table across the room from your bed. 

Jeff nods, walking away. Alby and Newt return to their earlier conversation, arms crossed along their chests, engulfed on their own. You take a breath, feeling that surge of adrenaline once more as you jump up, avoiding their grasps at you. In no time, you are running out the hut, towards the Builders. Shouting can be heard behind you, but you focus on Gally, who has little reaction time before you tackle him to the ground, pinning him between you and the dirt. 

"Shuck, Greenie. . . I thought you were comatose with how long you'd been out." He gasps for breath, panic spreading across his face as he lays - trapped. 

"You were there, Gally. You were in the storage room. You were-" You speak so quickly, he can barely keep up. 

Two pairs of hands grab a hold of your shoulders, pulling you off of him, but you continue to scream out your flashbacks, trying your best to get through to him. It wasn't until you recite what you heard in the flashback, the reason for your urgency, that the Glade is engulfed in silence, and the hands stop pulling you away from the Builder's Hut. 

"What did you just say?" Gally spoke softly, a shakiness heard in his voice.

"I said, you're my brother. I heard it. I saw it. I spoke it. All in the flashback. You, Gally, are my brother." 

***************

A year and then some pass since those memories of Gally resurfaced, and you solidified your position as third Med-Jack. You managed, bandaged, and reprimanded all the Gladers, and especially catered to the Runners and Slicers themselves, who routine the Medical Hut more than often. Many Gladers came and left, and you had more than enough experience with the dead and dying, the Changing, and morbidly simple deaths like sickness. The Deadheads were a place you frequented, especially after the Med-Jack who usually threw them out there recently underwent the Changing himself. 

You got along well with most of the boys, especially Alby, who confided in you regularly. Newt had been right when he said he was soft, but not for the reason he thought. Rather, you and Alby got along well in other ways as well. Much to the dismay of certain Gladers, you had become quite the item. Gally seemed to have no issue, and actually encouraged you both to get together. Speaking of, your brother had grown fond of your relationship, truly stepping into the sibling role, as well as Keeper of the Builders. You would eat lunch together, and even quarrel as siblings do, as you remembered. 

Essentially, you have a great relationship with all the Keepers. Minho being amongst them. He and Alby are close, inviting your own closeness as proxy, at first. When Minho came in with shin splits, pulled muscles, the laundry list of injuries, you were his attending. He could trust you, he was absolutely like your second brother, best friend, at that. 

Unfortunately, in your time here, there had been one person of which you lost respect, trust, and even liking towards. It all started after the first three months passed for you in the Glade. You had been shadowing Jeff as a new Med-Jack. Young as he was, he was phenomenal at his job, and as a teacher. In the midst of your early morning lesson on re-dressing wounds, screaming is heard throughout the Glade, and a sickening crack is heard. More screams followed, along with hollering for Med-Jacks. 

What greeted you was a stomach-churning site. A Glader had seemingly jumped from the walls, and was writhing in pain, blood pooling atop the dirt patch of the maze entrance. It was Newt. 

You, Jeff, and Clint nursed him back to health, but you had been the one to truly be there day and night, even going as far as sleeping in the chair most nights beside him. It terrified you, to lose not only Second-in-Command, but your friend, your then best friend. It would then be days before he woke up, and the screams were horrifying, to say the least. Newt was in pain, and there was no medicine to subside it. Not only did you nurse him following his wake, but further take the blunt of his grabbing at you, his seething anger towards you for saving him. 

Nobody visited during that time, not until he was 'better.' At some point during recovery, Jeff and Clint had to carry on with duties as normal in a separate hut until Newt's anger and pained screams fell out of the routine. You, however, remained by his side, continuing through the suffering he shared with you. He had been so close, yet blamed you for saving his life. He would tell you he had nothing left, no will, no hope, and that maybe you shouldn't either. 

After his recovery, he went back to work, and no matter your attempts, he continued to ignore you or make passing comments of avoidance. It was never the same, and you merely fell back from his mind, as he did yours. Your own hatred for him grew, how could it not? He took your job to save or help him as a nuisance. He had no respect, let alone regard, for those who look out for him. How dare he push you away, after you sat there to change his wounds, to perform makeshift physical therapy, to make him a splint out of Gally's own building advice all yourself. You went above and beyond for someone you considered your best friend at the time, before gaining relationships with anyone else but your brother.

Again, it had been years since then, but still remained fresh in your mind. He continued his passive comments until you got together with Alby, especially due to their close friendship. But that only meant his harshness towards you within the Glade grew. Not only that, but he wouldn't even visit for his limp. He would rather revel in his hatred than take care of himself. A truly selfish guy, as you concluded. 

Aside from your ever-growing hatred for the blonde, most other things were normal. That was, until Ben was stung in the daylight. It changed the tides for a lot of Gladers, especially since this was unheard of. You weren't there for the attack to happen to Thomas yourself, but you were there for the aftermath. Newt and Alby were the ones to drag him over to the hut, Clint addressing the situation as you and Jeff set things up for Ben's next few hours. You all knew what would happen, and you knew that the Banishment would sting you just as bad as the others. 

That following day, Alby and Minho set off in the maze, to which you and Newt see them off. You could practically smell the tension between the two of you when they left. "The Greenie's gonna be shadowing Med-Jacks today." 

"Thomas." Newt's head snaps to you, meeting your eyes with a glare.

"Slim it, else I'll throw ya right in there with the Sloppers for the day."

"Right. I'm sure Alby'll love that idea. For what, again?"

"The bloody mouth on ya, that's what," he grumbles and starts on his way to his own role, "Shuckin' woman."

You make your way to the Med-Jack hut, meeting the newest member of the Glade on his second day in this hell of a place. Thomas learned the basics, from cleaning to dressing wounds, and even some stitches. To his own luck, a Slicer even came in with a nasty cut, enough to allow the Newbie to witness a real-time cleanup and stitch-up. Ignoring the wincing and groaning of the poor fellow, you turn to Thomas in an encouraging manner, trying to calm his nerves of a long 24 hours. 

"Ya know, Alby's runnin' today. He may be Leader, but he's to be one of them." You turn back to the wound. 

"Alby's a Runner?"

"Absolutely. Back when there was just a handful of us shanks, he was out there runnin' and managin' the place," you smile at the thought, back when all of you were more than just civil, "they should be coming back soon."

"I want to be one, a Runner."

You and the Slicer chuckle, before patting the kid's arm in a finishing marker. "All done. Say, they should be back anytime soon. Let's go meet 'em, Thomas."

Thomas led the way to the eastern opening, joining the crowd growing in anticipation. It seemed that the pair of them were a bit late, as you explained to Thomas. You watch the sun's shape begin its descent over the walls, and find Newt's standing beside you once you made your way to the front of the crowd. He has an unreadable expression, no doubt trying to hold in whatever two-faced comment coming to fruition in his mind. Ensuring to roll your eyes when he turns to meet your gaze, you look ahead, watching the vines sway in the distance. Thomas is talking to Chuck about the tardiness of the Runners, only feeding the worry brewing in the pit of your stomach. Something was off. Very off.

"There!" Thomas points to the two Runners turning the furthest corner.

"Wait no, something's wrong." Newt's voice echoes through your head as all eyes lie on Alby, who's slumped against Minho's back, unconscious.

"They're not gonna make it," You hear it, just a whisper, but it's loud enough to crush you.

The sound of the walls grinding against the stone only drown out the cheers that he can make it and the screaming for Minho to leave him, leave him there. People look from one to another, mimicking Newt in that they won't make it, and that someone needs to help before getting shut down by the others in more rules talk. Minho grunts and groans, sludging along the stone when you step closer to the wall in anticipation. Thomas says something you can't quite catch, but you have no time to ask before he lurches his body through the closing gap. Chuck, Newt, and the other Gladers desperately grab at him, but he's already gone. He has already lunged into the maze, into the graveyard. Where your friend and boyfriend are left. To the Grievers themselves.

Gally wastes no time rushing to your side, right as you feel yourself meet the grass beneath you. He is holding you, and Chuck is reassuring you, kneeling down beside you. Rather than hear or feel the either of them, you're looking straight at the line in the wall, the one cruelly separating you from your family, from your person.

***************

ayooooo, how do you think this'll turn out. probably not to great for the reader huh :*

[omorfax]

ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴀ11 - ɴᴇᴡᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ.

A Maze Runner Series :)

An alarm blares in your ears, bringing you to a choking breath. You clutch at your throat, feeling as if you had been deprived of oxygen for too long. Underneath you is the bottom of the metal cage holding you, and is all you can grasp at to try to steady yourself. Looking below you, you find only an abyss, so you figure it must have been minutes since it began its ascend. 

Where were you?

Gears turned, metal grinding together in an ear-piercing screech. It felt as though you were rising for hours, though you only just woke up. It's shaking kept you swaying, so you use the boxes to the right of you to pull yourself up. 

How did you get here? Where are you going?

With a sudden, unnerving lurch, the elevator shaft sped up, slamming you to the ground effortlessly. You shook with anxiety, feeling certain it would send you straight to the heavens themselves with its speed. 

It was then that the smell of product and the uneven sway of the shaft encouraged disorientation, keeping you from keeping a straight line of thought. You felt yourself drift in and out of nausea and greying out. After what seemed to be another few minutes of steading your racing mind and swaying body, the box finally groaned to a halt at the top.

What was waiting for you here?  There were no doors in sight. 

As if answering your thoughts, a splitting of light spilled into the darkness of your cage. You lift a hand above your eyebrows, squinting as the light and therefore the ceiling expanded to the side. This was when you recognized human voices, and a particular word echoing in your mind:

Your name was (Y/N). 

Suddenly, the voices quieted. In the adjustment of your eyes, you find a looming group of individuals, bewildered and with a sort of curiosity. Your mouth agape, eyebrows furrowed, you follow the movements of a certain boy, one with dark skin and a shirt that accentuated his build. He is crouching down, seemingly analyzing your reaction. 

"W...Where- No. What the hell?" Your voice surprises you, and you hear a choir of laughter from above.

The boy jumps into the box, hand outstretched, a smirk plastered on his face from your rather blunt entrance. 

"Hey there, name's Alby. Welcome to the Glade, Greenie." You accepting his helping hand initiated a cheer amongst the others, but your wary eyes remained unwavering. 

*******************

Alby spent the rest of the afternoon showing you the ropes, from divided responsibilities to the maze itself. He quickly gained your respect and trust, being reassuring yet realistic in your new home. 

"I understand it's a lot, and it's even more frustrating to not know who you are, let alone why you were sent up with us. You will have more than enough time to adjust, and even to find ya place, but should ya run into any issues, you know where to find me." He smiled knowingly, and you scoff. 

"Yea, I can't imagine how difficult it would be to find anyone with this box of a Glade." You grin back.

The sun sets following the return of who you know understand to be the Runners. Alby is the one to lead you to the firepit being prepared for your welcoming ceremony, though you don't suppose it is such a celebration as it is a period of mourning. 

Scanning the Glade, it is difficult not to feel fear the reality of your situation. How safe could you be in an environment of only boys with these walls encompassing you all? It was all you could think about as you approached the now bonfire growing in flame and crowd. Boys laugh and dance all around you, enjoying their monthly period of "letting go". Rather than join them, you approach a sitting log, relaxing your body against it as you ate the dinner made by the kid you now know to be Frypan. He was a kind, unassuming fellow, cracking jokes in an attempt to ease your nerves in your first few hours here. 

"Mind if I take a seat?" 

A noticeable accent shook you from your thoughts, and you meet the gaze of a slim blonde, one you remember being introduced to you as Newt, Second-in-Command. You nod in acceptance, swallowing the food you could barely get down in such an anxiety-inducing situation. 

"Ya know..." He shoves food in his mouth, "I'll admit. Alby seems to have a soft spot for ya." He chuckles, swallowing before stuffing more.

"Hmm, I wouldn't assume so. He seems and was reassuring."

"As I recall, my first day started with a 'Nice to meet ya, shank' and ended with 'Learn the rules quick, don't talk, listen,' or somethin' like that." He dissolved his original accent for thematic purpose, waving his fork next to you.

He then gazes at you, a goofy grin plastered as he pointed the fork directly at you, "Look at that, she can smile!" 

Flustered, you quickly grab the drink handed to you earlier, only to feel the burn rise back up your throat in disgust. This only encourages Newt's laughter, as he patted your upper back.

"Gally's lovely recipe, it truly never fails. A sort of initiation, if ya will." You grin sheepishly at him, and he rests his arms on the log behind you both. 

"I suppose he sympathizes with ya, considering him being some of the first of us. Now, you're the first girl. I'm thinkin' he sees himself in you." 

"I suppose you could be right. Am I really the only one?"

"An unfortunate thing, but don't worry," He finds your worried glance, "We take good care of each other here. Follow the rules, and you'll be shinin'." He pulls his gaze back to the fire. 

It was then that a chorus of shouts and hollers rose in volume behind the fire. It was a couple of boys roughhousing, circled by a majority of the others cheering either side on. Newt encourages you both to step over there in an attempt to get you involved in your own celebration, and you follow. Upon joining the circle, you recognize the one boy, Gally, the hot-headed one you met as soon as you were helped out of the box. He was a strong one, easily pushing the others out of the circle within seconds of the start. He outstretched his arms after each match, encouraging more challengers to take him on before picking out the next target himself. In his quick victory, he gave a beckoning hand to his next challenge, while all Gladers seemed to avoid his glance, until you. He met your eyes, stopped, and you could see his hesitation. Was he afraid to challenge you? His gaze fell upon the kid to your left, and he smiled knowingly before pulling him along.

You felt unsettled, perhaps even a bit of anger at this simple gesture, but you could not understand why. You knew that he, as anyone, would be more wary of a new type of character, but it could not be that discouraging that he would ignore or dismiss the challenge in your face before playing it off as nothing. You felt a surge of adrenaline, and shook out your hands in anticipation. You could get involved, just as anyone else. 

"I'll do it," Gally's laugh hitched as he beckoned another, eyes landing on yours once more, "I said, I'll challenge you."

Hushed whispers sounded around the circle as you entered the ring. Gally followed your gaze, clearing his throat once you stood in front of him. He cracked his neck, shaking out his own hands before vocalizing the rules. That initiated a new wave of hollers and cheers, mostly for the 'New Greenie' to 'show 'im!'

Both of you circle one another as he explains the goal: Just throw him out of the circle before he can. Easy enough. A Glader calls the start, and you both stare. He expects you to be on the offense, as you observed from the previous opponents. He smirks, hands reaching out to you as he charges. Rather than meet it, you duck, covering your head as he lurches over you, tripping over your body. Laughter erupts around you as you jump up, seeing him scramble on his feet before charging again, but this time very successfully. You gasp as you hit the ground, feeling the rope beneath your back as the breath is stolen from you. Cheers follow, and a pair of hands rush you to your feet. 

"Nice move, missy, but I'm what you call the champ here."

"One...more," 

"As you wish, Greenie" 

He prepares his stance again, as do you. Before you can even acknowledge the start, he is already swiping you off your feet, and you slam your head on the dirt with a bang, causing you to gasp once more, but not of windedness. You were getting flashbacks.

*******************

It was a woman, no earlier than forties, and you recognize an empty storage room. There is a mat on the floor, and she is holding your hand out, she is explaining something, but you can only make out snippets. 

Defend. . . Wicked is not good. . . help. . . remember what I teach you. . .

*******************

You sit up with a start, hand gripping the dirt beneath you. There was another one there with you, one of the boys. You lock eyes with him, Gally. 

"You were there. You...you, why were you there?" 

It came out as a whisper, but you knew he heard you, hand outstretched just a few inches from your crouched figure. He appears taken aback, but his hand remained, waiting for the offer to be taken. As you are lifted off the ground, you maintain eye contact, "Again. One more Gally." 

He stutters, something about you being jacked in the head, no doubt, but steps back to his starting position. When nobody calls it, you do it yourself. Immediately, Gally grabs at you, both hands on your shoulders, and your body reacts subconsciously. Hands curve under his own, and you swipe away his hold. He stumbles, and you take your chance to kick him in the chest, back beyond the rope. 

Instead of hearing cheers, you hear a ringing, a deafening one at that. You fall to your knees, screaming at the unbearable ring and pain that consumes your head. You can barely register the hands on you, the shaking of encouragement, and the voices that try to get your attention. Rather, you revel in absolute terror, fearing your head might explode. The flashbacks consume you. 

*******************

"We can't let them get away with this. Take this with you. We will be watching, waiting. Save your friends." 

The woman sits you down before the others entered. You didn't understand why, but there was a sense of urgency and fear running through you as you swam in and out of memories. She shoves something in your hand, telling you to keep it safe, no matter what. The flashback fades, but an image is left in your brain: a small medical vile, hanging along the threading of a necklace. 

*******************

Part II.

Re-entering my maze runner phase. It has been 10 years somehow. . .

I hope you enjoyed part one tehe

[omorfax]

hey all :)

unsure what this blog will turn into, but I'm rlly tryna get back into writing. been working on some newt x reader series ;)

I'll absolutely be posting part i. here in like,,, 5 seconds. you should send requests if this fandom isnt entirely dead. . .