#the maze runner fic

[thomasbrodiesandwich]

i just want all maze runner fanfic writers to know that i will NEVER get tired of reading safe haven everybody lives or newt lives or death cure fix-it aus. NEVER. if u guys ever doubt urself and think nobody is going to read that in this day and age, I WILL !! if u write safe haven newt lives au and u have 100 readers i am one of them. if u have 10 im still one of them. if u have 1 reader thats me. if u have no readers that means im dead. go ahead, write it and i will gobble that up and give u all the love !!

[moonyswritinq]

howdy! i recently stumbled upon your account and saw that your requests were open. i have a small request for a newt x m!reader one-shot. feel free to ignore this if you don't feel like you're up for it 👍

maybe one where the reader has longer hair, and is a runner, as the weather's gotten warmer it's starting to become more of a chore when it comes to maintaining it so he asks newt to help him cut it? it can be as silly or goofy as you want, platonic or romantic is up to you.

i hope you're having a great day and enjoying the fall weather

-🦇

if the haircut fits — newt x male reader

❝ IF THE HAIRCUT FITS ❞

Thank you so much for the request, Bat. So sorry it took so long to finish, and I kind of ran away with this one, but I hope you enjoy!

SYNOPSIS ➢ As summer started to creep into the Glade, the sun’s rays had been hitting you much harder than usual; your hair, especially, have been more of a nuisance. Your solution? Get one of your closest friends to cut it for you. But losing the weight of your hair made you want to get rid of some weight off your chest, as well.

PAIRING ➢ newt x male reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ friends to lovers, kissing, touching, banter, light insults sexual innuendoes, fluff, slight hurt/comfort, mentions of eating, mentions of drinking, slight violence (a slap), mentions of body, no use of y/n

WORD COUNT ➢ 7.3 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ I like to keep any image of the reader’s body out of my writing, but in this he’s implied to be well built, but not explicitly mentioned. The hair may also be more of a non-black standard, since I’m not sure exactly how black hair behaves in this situation, but I tried to keep it as vague as possible. I’m sure there are also a lot of inaccuracies in this concerning the Glade, such as the weather and the sun and the lake, but for the sake of this fic it works like I say it does — I am the author and therefore, God.

The air had gotten warmer recently. You’d noticed it only a few days ago, when your breath hadn’t exhaled in a cloud of white smoke and your neck had started to sweat after a full day of running in the Maze. The weather didn’t exactly respond to how the seasons—that on some level your subconscious knew existed—worked, but it changed all the same. It had only gotten warmer, and quickly, too. With the sun bearing down on from overhead, the air was chokingly warm, your skin practically dripping with sweat and the ends of your hair clinging to your neck. It had grown long during the past few months and while it was a comfort in the colder weather, strands of it now hung uncomfortably in your eyes despite your best attempts to pull it back into a knot.

Minho walked just in front of you through the gates of the Maze and entered the green forestry of the Glade. The walls closed right behind you and in spite of the late hour of the day the sun still shone bright in the sky. He was just as eager to take cover from it under the cool shade of the Glade’s woods as to throw himself into the equally cool lake. You ran up beside him, patting him on the shoulder.

“This weather,” he grunted, wiping the palms of his hands on his trousers. They left tracks of sweat. “I swear it’s got something against us.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a sigh. You peeled your drenched shirt from your skin, pulling it over your head in an attempt to ease some of the warmth. It didn’t made much of a difference.

Minho threw you a sideway glance as you walked across the green fields. “Eager to show your body off?”

You threw your head back in a bark, sidestepping so you would walk backwards to face him. Your hands spread as your head tilted with conviction.

“You’d want to show off your body too if it looked like this,” you said. Minho couldn’t help but smile at your comment, shaking his head in exasperation. You turned around to walk beside him normally again. 

As the two of you made your way to the lake, you passed the gardens and its track-hoes, Newt being one among them. Despite the fact that he was second in command, he liked the calming repetitiveness of caring for vegetables and flowers. He’d told you one late night when you’d found him sitting by himself, staring up at the night sky, and your curiosity had gotten the better of you. Now, his eyes met yours in an instant, as if he’d known exactly where you were. As if he’d been watching you for some while, and waiting for you to notice. Your stomach flipped at his unashamed staring, nervous under the gaze, as your mind drew a blank. Quickly, you rearranged your mouth into a smirk, to which he shook his head out of his stunned stupor and continued with his task, but you could tell his mind wasn’t present as his eyes kept jumping back and forth.

Minho saw your smug smile and hit you across the chest, hard enough to cause you to stumble. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Newt cover his mouth from something that looked like a chuckle and you glared back at Minho’s now-smug smile. He just tilted his head and kept walking to the cover of the trees.

“You can flirt with Newt later,” he said. “Let’s go wash off.”

“I wasn’t flirting with anyone! Let alone Newt.”

“Whatever, man.”

You grumbled something unintelligible, which he ignored, as you walked together to the lake on the other side of the Glade. It was a rather long walk, but the time in the trees’ shade cooled you down nicely. Reaching the lake, the water was darkening with the passing of the sun, seeming almost more ominous now than inviting. You found a few other Gladers there already, some of them laying by the bank with their shirts discarded and the rest of them submerged in the water. Minho wasted no time removing his shirt and running into the dark water. You discarded your earlier thoughts and quickly followed suit, pulling your hair from its knot and jumping into the lake with a splash that earned you an ugly glare from a Glader nearby. Minho shared the glare and slapped the water hard, sending it flying in your direction.

“Shankhead,” he muttered.

You only laughed and leant backwards, fully submerging your body under the dark water. Your muscles relaxed and let the water carry you out further in the lake, effectively cooling you down. This was exactly what you needed after a warm and exhausting day; your head under the water, your hair spread around you like the halo of some angel—if an angel could be trapped in a maze. The cold water felt like a blanket across your mind, quieting your thoughts down to a tenth of their usual volume. There were few things that could calm you like this.

The peace didn’t last long, though, as Minho’s hand suddenly closed over your arm and dragged you above surface.

“What?” you spit at him.

He cocked his head to the end of the lake and when you turned your head you saw Newt’s figure walking closer, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. You immediately tried to stand up, but forgot you were too far out, and instead of touching the sand you sunk deeper in the water with a splutter. Again, you broke the surface with a gasp and a flail of your arms, struggling to wipe your hair out of your eyes. Minho was unsurprisingly unhelpful, barking out his laugh at your unfortunate. You glared at him and swam to the bank where Newt stood waiting. It was only then that you noticed a lot of the other boys were gone or also on their way from the lake.

“Smooth,” Newt commented when you reached him.

“Shut up.”

He nodded his head to the woods behind him. “Dinnertime’s soon. Reckoned I’d go get you.”

“I am honoured your lordship would bother thinking of little ol’ me,” you smiled. He only rolled his eyes.

Your steps brought you up further, the water splashing around your knees. Newt’s arms were crossed over his chest as he leant on one foot, waiting for you to reach him. You noticed that he adamantly kept his eyes fixated on a spot just above your head, refusing to glance at any part of your body that was currently on display. A part of you sparked with amusement. Minho stepped out just behind you and went over to retrieve your clothes, throwing your shirt and boots at you.

“Thanks,” you bit at him, just barely avoiding one hitting your head.

He flashed you with a smug smirk as he pulled his shirt over his head, immediately causing wet spots to bloom wherever it touched his skin directly. “My pleasure,” he said and started walking back to the huts, through the now-dark forest.

The sun had settled quickly and long shadows now stretched before you as you turned to walk into the forest. Newt followed suit, staring at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Not going to put on your shirt?” he asked.

You turned your head to catch Newt’s gaze sweeping across your figure. It filled you with a strange satisfaction to see him checking you out. When he noticed that you’d caught him, he immediately looked away, his posture suddenly stiff. His cheeks were definitely redder than they had been before, although it was difficult to tell in the darkening light. Your lips tugged into something resembling a smile.

“Why? Does it bother you?”

Newt scoffed and met your gaze defiantly underneath his golden fringe. “No. I just don’t want your stupid arse to get sick.”

Your smile widened. “Oh, really? Do you happen to care for me, Newt?”

“I am not admitting that,” he said and rolled his eyes. His tone was suspiciously even, as if it took everything in him not to check you out again. “I’m only saying it’d be be more trouble than you’re worth to get you healthy again.”

His brown eyes met yours, obstructed with a few strands. You had the urge to reach out and pull them away, to see his eyes more clearly, but instead you sent him a simple smile and nudged him lightly with your elbow. “Okay, you have your priorities clear,” you said.

“Just go get ready, won’t you?” His glare was enough to send shivers down your spine and his hands started to turn your body in the direction of the huts, now already having reached the end of the woods. “See what I told you? You’re already getting cold!”

“Fine,” you drawled with your hands up in defence, looking at him over your shoulder. “I’ll see you at the bonfire.”

He lifted his hand in half a wave and swiftly turned away from you, walking to where the others had begun to gather by the fire. Sometimes you forgot he had hurt his leg—it had happened before you arrived in the Glade—but looking at him now his limp was evident in his step. You lingered a moment longer to watch his hair glow in the contrast from the fire, vaguely resembling the sun in an eclipse. You found the view almost poetic, entrancing you in its picturesque aestheticism. It reminded you of Icarus flying too close to the sun, you standing by, helpless to aid him in his downfall, inevitably and irrevocably fated to meet his doom. You weren’t sure where the thought or the name had come from, but ancient knowledge seemed to lord over you in a cloud of mystery.

“Go!” called Newt suddenly over his shoulder. He met your eye with a quirk of his brow and for a second his eyes seemed to draw you into the depths of his soul, but then you blinked and the feeling was gone.

“Going!” you jumped out of your daze to call back and quickly turned to make your way to the huts. How he had known you’d stayed put you didn’t know, but didn’t question further. You rushed to your cot to grab a change of clean clothes and a towel to dry off with, even though most of the water had already dried and cooled your skin with the night’s chill. Still, your hair hung heavy with water, wetting the new shirt you put on. You groaned as you tried to wipe it with the towel, but to no avail. The only downsides to having long hair was it took forever to dry. It would have to warm by the fire.

You changed into the warm pair of trousers and put on your boots. Still, your damp hair felt cold against your skin, which would have been nice if the temperature didn’t drop so suddenly as soon as the sun was gone. You hurried to the fire, the air enveloping you into its warm grasp, eyes already searching for the familiar blonde boy. A lot of the Gladers were milling about, eating the good food Frypan had cooked up or drinking some of the incredibly strong spirit you knew Newt fancied. Someone was laughing loudly nearby but you ignored it in favour of searching for the quiet spot you knew you would find him by. When your eyes settled on him, sitting on a log with a drink in his hand and a plate on his knee, your hand reflexively made its way to pull back your bangs from your eyes. Warmth settled in your stomach that was equally familiar.

“Don’t worry, you look good,” came Minho’s voice beside you. You shot him a glare and removed your fingers from your hair, still itching to pull it away. “Not that your ego needs the boost.”

“Not what I was concerned with,” you said. You swallowed. “But thanks.”

Minho grinned. Your lips lifted into an answering grin and Minho nudged you towards the fire. “Go get ‘em.”

You frowned at him, pretending not to understand what he meant, before shaking your head and walking towards where Newt was sitting. His gaze lifted as you approached and you felt your stomach flipping, not uncomfortably. 

“So, he can wear a shirt? Was starting to believe you weren’t capable of it,” said Newt, lowering his drink from his lips.

“Yeah,” you answered with a sheepish grin.

You sat down next to him on the log and reached over to nick a few pieces of his fruit. Newt immediately leant away, lifting the plate away from your reach.

“Woah--oi, hey! Don’t take my food! Get your bloody own from Frypan,” he grumbled, settling you with a glare. You recognised the glint in his eye though, the one that told you he wasn’t entirely serious. His eyes shone in the firelight, softening the longer you stayed quiet, and his lips even started to turn up. At the sight of it, yours did as well. He always knew how to bring out your mischievous side.

“Your food tastes much better.”

“It’s exactly the same.”

You shook your head. “No, by its mere proximity to you, the food is better.”

Newt rolled his eyes and placed his plate back on his knee, where your hand quickly snatched away the remainder of his fruit. He only sighed and took a long sip from his drink, pretending to ignore your staring at him. Finally, he lowered his glass and met your gaze with a sigh.

“What?” asked Newt, tone as flat as he could manage to make it in your presence.

Your lips tugged into a smile. “Nothing,” you said and glanced away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Newt swiftly turn to you before you felt a nudge against your side, almost pushing you off balance. You cried out and reached towards him to stabilise yourself, sending him the harshest glare you could muster in spite of the laughter that was waiting in your throat. He met it with a glare of his own while ignoring your hands on his arm and shoulder, which suddenly felt too hot to the touch. Blood rushed to your cheeks.

“Nothing,” you repeated, avoiding his gaze. You were forced to let go of him with a clearing of your throat, conscious of your cold hands. You became too aware of your hair brushing your cheek, annoyingly tickling your skin. Before you could move, Newt’s hand had reached out to brush it away. Your breath hitched in your throat and you were unable to rip your eyes away from his.

“Sorry,” he said bashfully and withdrew it, curling it into an uncertain fist.

You smiled. “No, no, it’s okay. It’s getting too long,” you mumbled, your hands moving as if with a mind of their own to fiddle with the longer strands of your hair. 

“I could help you, you know?” spoke Newt, drawing your gaze to him. He seemed not to have noticed your flustered state or he chose to ignore it. You hoped it was the former.

You frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

His voice broke as he opened his mouth to speak, but he cleared his throat and nodded to your head.“I could help cut your hair.”

“Really?” you asked, surprise evident in your voice. You supposed cutting weeds while gardening got him familiar around shears. 

“I mean, yeah, sure,” said Newt. “Reckon I’d do a better job than anything you’d manage, anyway.”

Your head whipped to the side, mouth open in indignation. “That’s foul!”

His lips tugged into a grin and he lifted an eyebrow with the argument. “Am I wrong?” Your eyes swept over his own hair, which you assumed he’d cut himself, and pursed your lips in contemplation. It looked good. He looked good. Especially in that light, when the fire casted a golden aura that settled around his head like a halo. It effortlessly managed to draw your attention to every shift in his movement.

“No,” you finally grumbled, again tugging at a strand.

His hand reached out to tuck the stray strand of your hair away, and in doing so pushed away your own. The short moment of contact made your breath stutter and come out in a short burst. Newt met your gaze with a smile. It felt different than before, none of his usual amusement visible in his gaze. Instead, there now hung a heavy silence over the both of you, despite the loud chatter and laughter of those who had gathered by the fire. You were so close to him that you could count the lashes on his eyes. His gaze, which usually swirled with the pain and frustration that served as a reminder that Newt was capable of more than he let on, was now void of that. There was only curiosity and something softer that you couldn’t describe to be found. Newt must have felt your breath on his hand by now were it not for you holding it in anticipation. As if suddenly realising it, he blinked and leant away from you, his hand falling down at your side. Your breathing returned to normal as you tried to keep the warmth rushing to your cheeks at bay, trying in vain to ignore how close you two had just been. It was too dark for you to see if he was feeling the same way, or he was just too good at hiding it, but it didn’t keep you from scrutinising his face for any clues.

“Take a sick day tomorrow, meet me by the gardens,” he said after a few minutes of silently staring into the fire. His voice was level, as if he hadn’t been caressing your cheek only moments before.

You tried to match his nonchalance and arched an eyebrow. “Minho will murder me.”

Newt cocked his head. “Let that be on my head.”

“Fine,” you said and stood up with a groan, feeling the stretch of your muscles from the day’s run. Newt followed your movement, meeting your eye as you pointed an accusing finger at him. “On your head, be it.”

Newt nodded, sending a smirk your way. You stepped away from him and made your way to Frypan. As you grabbed a few sandwiches, Gally sneaked up by your side, swiping one of the sandwiches in your hand.

“Got tired of flirting, huh?” he chuckled.

You glared at him and bit into your sandwich. “Shut up.”

He smirked smugly. “It’s plain as day, Greeny.”

“You’re worse than Minho,” you grumbled. Your finger lifted to point in his direction. “And stop calling me that, I haven’t been Greeny for a year.”

His mocking laughter followed you as you walked away from the fire towards the huts, shaking your head. A few Gladers had followed your trail of thought, also deigning to go to bed early. You fell into your sleeping cot with your feet kicked up and a deep sigh escaping your lips. Your mind couldn’t keep from trailing back to the sight of Newt by the fire, his brown eyes shining along with his smug smirk. A groan fought through your throat as you rubbed your eyes in frustration.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Newt. On the contrary, you liked him a lot. He was kind and funny and witty and smart and always knew how to both make you laugh and trample on your nerves to get you furious with him. But you didn’t fancy him, no matter how much Minho and Gally liked to imply it. He just had a special way to worm his way into your thoughts and then burrow there. For days after an interaction, you would think of how he looked at you a certain way or how he would accidentally touch you while brushing past.

It drove you insane, how easily Newt could get inside your mind.

And how easily he could stir up the warmth inside your stomach and make it rush to your cheeks with only a simple gesture. You had found yourself trying to hide your cheeks when around him too often lately and you were sure he had noticed, but only given you the curtesy of not commenting on it.

“Fuck,” you groaned again and turned over in your cot, your hair prickling your skin with reminder of what tomorrow would bring.

It was difficult to distract your mind from Newt long enough to settle down. Eventually, you managed to fall into a restless sleep, filled with the muddled dreams of red sunlight bouncing off of bluish marble, almost creating the illusion of moving water. You saw the reflection of your form against the stone below you but before you had the chance to take it all in, a hand had clasped your own and another drawn you in by your waist. When you looked up, it was the face of none other than the person you had previously been trying to forget, although you could not fathom why at that moment. Newt. His warm smile calmed you down and you allowed him to lead you into the first steps of a waltz. How you had learnt it you didn’t question, but just followed his captivating eyes and trusted him to catch you if you fell. Those same eyes were gazing into yours, big and brown and with the same curiosity that had gazed on you earlier that day. Only now, you allowed yourself to get lost in the sight of them, to be entranced by their deep swirling darkness. Right when Newt had stretched his arm out and sent you into a light spin, and his hand was ready to welcome you back into his embrace, had his expression changed from one of bliss to one of chock and disgust. You halted, frowning at his actions, before following his line of sight and reaching a hand up to the top of your head. To your horror, all your hair had suddenly vanished. Panic rose through you, clawing blindly at your empty head, wanting to escape from this, from everything, from Newt’s hateful glance. You took a step and tried another but caught the only small imperfection in the marble that caused you to stumble, falling down, down, and down… waiting for the ground to hit you.

What came instead was a slap on your chin, harsh enough to force you awake.

“Ngh— fuck,” you croaked, blinking drowsily. Your vision cleared up as you squinted at your assailant, recognising the judging stare immediately. “Come on, man.”

The sun had barely come up again over the tall walls guarding the Glade when Minho had deigned to make you a visit. That time was usually when you would get ready for your run in the Maze. Apparently, Newt had not said anything to Minho which made you let out a deep groan. Minho was staring down at your messy form, his arms crossed over his chest with a harsh stare pinning you to your place. He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow.

“Anyone tell you you’re an ugly sleeper?” he asked, a sickly sweet smile on his lips.

“No, I’m adorable,” you stated, trying to sit up as best as you could. “I’m taking a day off. I’m sick.” You punctuated your words with the best fake cough you could muster.

Minho looked unconvinced. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” you countered. When he raised an eyebrow you sighed in defeat. “Okay, I’m not sick. But I’m still taking a day off. If you want to argue, take it up with Newt. He’s got senior on you. And we both know you won’t miss me today.”

Minho’s breath released in a sharp burst as he contemplated your words. Finally, he let his arms fall to his side. “Fine,” he said, but raised a finger to point at you. “But you better have a damn good reason as to why you’re staying here today.”

You shot him a smile. “A damn good reason.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to walk away. “I will miss you, by the way,” he called over his shoulder. Then, he added, with a smug smirk, “Sweetheart.”

It was then your turn to roll your eyes as a bark of laughter forced itself out your throat. You rubbed your face from sleep, trying to get rid of your sluggishness. As you were already awake, you figured you could just as well get up to meet Newt a little earlier. It wouldn’t be long until the rest of the Gladers woke up, anyway.

Minho and the rest of the Runners were already by the Maze’s walls. You could see their figures in the distance as the gates started to open with a loud rumble, one that you could feel shaking the earth beneath your feet. You shook your head and stretched your limbs, feeling them pop and crack individually. Minho liked to be up and early with his runs, but you were glad to get a day off to rest. You turned to your things, changing into a clean pair of clothes and put your hair up, mostly out of autonomy. Last time you would do that for a while, you figured.

Newt’s cot was among one of the empty ones, so you assumed he would have already gone to Frypan’s station to get breakfast. You made your way over there, spotting his slumped figure immediately. He jumped when you dropped down beside him, nicking an apple from his plate.

“Could you maybe get your own food for once?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow. You smiled through your amusement, slowly chewing on the fruit. You swallowed with an exaggerated motion, sending him a sickly sweet smile.

“No,” you said. He rolled his eyes while taking a mouthful of his scrambled eggs, ignoring your presence in the process.

“Remind me again why I needed to take the whole day?” you asked. “Hopefully, Minho won’t feel as murder-y when he gets back later as how he felt this morning.”

You saw the corner of his lip lift into what you imagined to be a smile. Smug bastard.

“My art takes time,” he eventually answered, turning to you. “I want it to look good.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I already look good.”

“And I want you to stay that way.” Newt shot a meaningful glance at the other Gladers, which had you wincing. Some of them could benefit from a more skilful haircut, you must admit.

“Fine.”

“Besides,” he said, “it’s easier when the sun is at its highest. Less chance for me to fuck it up then.”

Newt smiled at you, but his words indicated an underlying threat, one that had you smiling back in amusement. He really loved pushing your buttons. It didn’t help that you actually were concerned about your hair being fucked up—not that you would consider yourself a vain person, but you knew how much someone’s looks could be diminished because of a bad haircut. And your thoughts ran to the dream you’d had; was it a nightmare or a premonition?

You scratched your neck, conscious of the hair touching your skin. “You know what? I’m actually not so certain about this.”

Newt sighed and pinned his gaze on you. “I see you swatting your hair away all the time,” he said, exasperation shining through annoyance. “It’s clearly annoying you.”

His words made something in you flip. “Are you saying that you notice me all the time, then?” you asked with a smug smile, unable to keep your amusement at bay for long.

He ignored your question. “I’m not going to fuck it up, mate.” When you sent him a sceptical glare he sighed again, and asked, “What are you so afraid of? Don’t you trust my skills?”

Your lips tugged in earnest for a moment, before again settling into their smug familiarity. “I guess I’m just scared you’ll find me less attractive if I cut my hair.” You blinked through your eyelashes, meeting Newt’s incredulous gaze. “I mean, what if the whole reason you like me is because of my handsome hair?”

“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, turning to look down at his plate.

“So you admit you do find me attractive?” you chuckled.

“Never said that.”

Your lips pressed into a line, wondering if you had crossed the line that time. It took a moment to decide before opening your mouth again. “Will you still help me?”

“Of course,” he smiled at you, winking playfully. The gesture made butterflies immediately appear in your stomach and you had to look away lest he see the smile gracing your lips. He stood up from his seat, leaving the rest of his breakfast untouched, and nudged your side. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. Or would you rather we wait until I get tired and the light is bad for me to slip with my shears?”

He had a point, damn him. “Fine,” you admitted, following suit and going outside with him. The sun blinded the both of you, already high in the sky. It felt strange for it to be this bright out and not being in the maze running.

Newt started walking toward the garden so you followed point, close at his heel. He picked up a pair of dirty looking shears, turning to flash you a grin. You looked at them skeptically, which he must have noticed.

“Look, they’ll get the job done, alright?”

Your eyebrow cocked. “You sure? Looks like they haven’t worked since ten years ago.”

Newt laughed dryly and nudged past you, walking the way to the woods.

“Hey, where are you going?” you asked.

“The lake. Need to get your hair wet,” he called over his shoulder.

Hmm. Sounded reasonable. You ran to keep up with him and joined him by the lake you had been swimming in the day before. The water looked even more inviting now, with the sun glittering across its surface instead of the afternoon’s deep shadows. Newt, none too gently, shoved you in the direction of it, sitting himself down by the bank.

You flashed a smile to him. “That eager to see me shirtless again?”

He rolled his eyes and reached for the water to splash it up at you. You yelped and jumped out of reach, giving him a stare full of contempt. “Just dump your ‘ead in the water, you knob.”

“Since you asked so kindly.”

You lowered your body closer to the bank, only letting your head submerge under the water. It felt cold, but not uncomfortably so. You felt a tap against your shoulder, Newt, and sprang up into sitting position. Water dripped from your hair, drenching your shirt and face. When you turned to Newt, your smile was crooked.

“Great,” he said, moving to sit behind you, shears in his hands. “Now all you have to do is keep still. Think you can do that?”

“Anything for you, Newt.”

You sighed happily and leant back, letting the sun cast its warm rays over you. You didn’t notice the moment Newt hesitated after your words, before he started drawing his fingers through your hair. All you knew was that suddenly his touch was there and it felt heavenly. You knew he only did it to measure your hair to cut it, but every time his fingers brushed against your scalp shivers erupted across your spine. You almost had the mind to close your eyes and fall asleep right then and there, with Newt almost caressing you. You imagined those same fingers running down from your head, touching the skin over your neck, brushing past your abdomen and squeezing your thighs. Even the thought of it made your breath hitch and you kept still to keep him from noticing anything amiss. Slowly and carefully, he worked, cutting methodically. You cracked an eye open, trying to glance at him from the corner of it.

“How’s it going, Newt?” you asked.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled lightly, and said, “Don’t rush me.”

It was enough to make warmth travel to your cheeks and your abdomen, so you kept quiet after that and let him do his work in peace. His fingers danced closer to your skin then, trying to get to the nape of your neck and it took all your willpower not to shy away from him. Slowly, you relaxed into his hold again, numbed by the featherlight touches and breaths of air fanning over your skin when he sat too close.

And suddenly, it was all over. With one final brush of his hand, his fingers running through your hair thoroughly, he cleared his throat and moved away.

“All done,” said Newt, though it was almost a whisper.

You opened your eyes to the sight of him sitting on his folded knees and his fingers fidgeting with the shears, looking almost as if it took all his power to concentrate on his breathing. You smiled, raising an eyebrow, and ran your own hand through your hair. It felt lighter, and smooth, and you hadn’t realised how much of a relief it was to be gone with the length.

“How do I look?” you asked, meeting his eye.

“Good.”

“Better than before?”

Newt shrugged and stood up. “Good, like always.”

Your lips quirked into a mischievous smile. “You think I’m good looking?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he scoffed, but you could definitely see a redness spreading across his cheeks. He tried to turn away but you were quicker, bounding closer to him and shaking away the cutaway strands in the same movement. It was fun teasing him.

“You’re the one who said it!” you exclaimed.

“Oi, stop being difficult,” he settled his glare on you.

“I’m not.”

He shot you a look, one that told you he was trying to stay annoyed but secretly enjoying your antics. “You are,” he said while turning in the way to the rest of the Glade, shears hanging loosely from his grip.

You ripped your gaze from his long fingers, the image of them making your mind return to how you had wanted him to touch you earlier, and instead ran to keep up with his steps. You could sense the smile hiding in the corner of his lip, almost like a sixth sense, determined to bring it out. So, eyebrows lifted in a suggestive expression, you saddled closer to his side and said, “But you like a challenge, right—so why are you complaining?”

The gaze Newt responded with could only be described as filled with disbelief, and something else—something mischievous. “So now you’re a challenge, hm?” he asked, his eyebrows disappearing behind the ruffles of his hair.

You frowned and tilted your head at him. “Hey! Are you calling me easy?”

“Well, if the haircut fits…” he trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence up to your active imagination.

“Now that’s just plain rude,” you muttered, lowering your gaze to the ground to avoid any missteps in the uncertain terrain of the Glade’s woods.

“I’m so very sorry, mate,” said Newt, without much conviction. You rolled your eyes at his sarcastic tone and noticed the flashing smile that was then all too visible on his face. “How can I make it up to you?”

“You can start by not calling me ‘mate’,” you retorted, not thinking through your words except to win this ‘argument’.

Newt glanced at you. “And what would you rather me call you?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, avoiding his gaze, while all too aware of what he was trying to get you to admit. But you were comfortable with the dance you and him were engaged in. It had been going on for so long that you had forgotten how to not do it with him. It was easier to keep dancing with him, to keep the illusion of a ballroom couple perfect rather than to quiet the orchestra and run from your Prince Charming. Newt seemed to sense where your thoughts had run to, as he tried to meet your gaze.

“You sure about that?” he asked sceptically.

“Er, yeah?”

Newt was way too good at reading you and would not believe any excuses you tried to make, however convincing they may be. You both despised and admired him for it. He stopped you in your tracks with a hand across your midriff; the feel of his fingers pressing against your skin, even through the shirt, made shivers travel down your spine. The hand quickly retreated as he tried searching your eyes.

“I—,” he started, voice unsteady. He cleared his throat to regain his composure as you waited for him, arms crossed, trying to keep up the charade any way you could. “I think you’d rather me call you ‘good looking’. Or ‘handsome’. Or ‘pretty’. Or what about ‘love’, hm?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth traveling up your neck to rush to your cheeks. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” he said, an eyebrow raised from the very obvious tremor in your voice.

“Are you teasing me, Newt?” you asked incredulously.

Newt flashed you a smug smile and shrugged, looking away bashfully. “Got to be my turn to do it sometime,” he said.

You were used to you teasing him and poking fun, but he always took it in stride and seldom flirted back—which was what this had somehow turned into. If you’d known you two would end up flirting because of him cutting your hair you never would have agreed to his help—or maybe you still would have. Either way, there was no escaping it now. Fuck it, you thought. A frustrated groan seethed through your pressed lips as you threw your hands up in exasperation.

“You know what? Fine,” you said, meeting Newt’s gaze defiantly. “Yes, I’d like to be called all of those things. And I would like to call you all of those things.” You paused to then search Newt’s gaze, but he just stared at you in stunned silence and made no attempt to answer, so you kept going, albeit slightly more hesitant. “I—I want to hold you, to touch you, embrace you in the way that simple friends shouldn’t do. I’d like to whisper into your ear at night how much you brighten my days and make this shucking life worth living. Most of all, I would like to call you mine.”

You paused again to inhale deeply, your breathing shallow after your rant. It had driven your emotions to the surface so well you might as well have been wearing your feelings on your sleeve, ready to hand out romantic professions for anyone bothering to glance your way.

You hadn’t noticed how warm your cheeks had suddenly gotten, and made to move away while muttering, “There—I’ve said it. Let’s just go.”

“Wait—no—” Newt shouted, throwing out his arm to grab your wrist.

He pulled you back into him, making you lose balance, and a moment later his lips had closed over yours. The surprised gasp that had escaped your lips was quieted by his kiss and you quickly melted into his embrace. Immediately, his fingers closed over your nape, taking hold of your now-short hair and drawing you even closer. You could feel him pressing himself closer in whatever way he could manage, one hand tugging at your hair and the other clawing at your waist. Each individual touch sent sparks of warmth and cold over your skin as your hands closed over his jaw and throat. Even your imagination couldn’t have predicted how he would feel, how his body would fit against yours and make you want to never breathe again if it meant you could stay with him, like this, forever.

Finally, you had to pull away to suck in a deep breath of air, Newt trailing after and barely letting you go. You couldn’t fight the chuckle that forced its way out nor the grin that spread over your lips. Neither could he, as you saw his blushing face break out in a beam and his eyes jumping all over your face. It made you painfully aware of yourself and you bowed your head to settle against the crook of his neck, bashful in spite of your close contact. His hands were still holding onto your waist and kept your body pressed against him.

“Don’t get shy now,” he chided, though his tone was light and his fingers were rubbing slow circles across your back.

Despite the warm sun that glared over the pair of you, his gesture made a shiver crawl up your spine and you pulled away to look at him with an arched eyebrow. “Really, you’re calling me shy?” He nodded to your question. “I’m shy when you’re here— Have you completely forgotten who’s always bold and teases and openly flirts with you?”

Newt scoffed, drawing his hands over the small of your back. “Well, maybe I stole your boldness when I kissed you.”

You almost couldn’t believe him. His cheeks were already flushed, but burned even brighter when your hand pressed against his neck to pull him in again, forcefully pressing your lips against his and claiming his tongue as yours. In doing so, you swallowed his surprised gasp with your kiss, but he didn’t manage to suppress the moan when you took his bottom lip between your teeth and bit lightly. It made you smile smugly, pulling away immediately to look upon his bright red face and dazed expression.

“Who’s shy now, hm?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest and stepping out of his hold.

Newt shot you an angry glance, but it was difficult to take him seriously when he was also blushing furiously. He decided to leave it at that and with not much dignity, pick up the shears he had dropped and started walking back towards the huts. Again, you had to run after him with laughter playing on your lips. You could tell he wasn’t really annoyed, but it was easy to slip back in the comfortable dance of your relationship.

You wouldn’t let him pretend like all of this had not happened, though. He looked at you in surprise when your hand sought out his own, fingers intertwining and closing over his. You smiled back, feeling a slight burning at the tip of your ears, but he leant in and placed a light kiss that made you wish for more again, which eased your nervousness.

“Guess we’re both a little shy, huh,” he remarked. You just shrugged, looking ahead to the opening of the forest, but the smile still apparent on your lips.

“And where the fuck have you two been?” cried Alby’s voice as soon as you stepped out of the trees.

Immediately, you felt as if you jumped out of your skin and let go of Newt’s hand, his cheeks burning as much as yours did. You scratched the back of your neck and glanced sheepishly at Newt, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes; neither of you could fight the smiles that broke out on both your faces.

“On your head be it, you said,” you smirked, slipping away from his indignant eyebrow raise.

You left Newt to deal with Alby alone with a playful wink, to which he only shook his head and hid his smile as he faced the approaching commander. You had half a mind to skip away with the happiness that were bubbling through you, but managed to contain yourself to walking away with a steady pace, though you couldn’t keep your thoughts from running back to the memory of Newt against you nor the smile that followed.

END NOTE ➢ I do have an idea for a part two should anyone be interested in it. Hope you enjoyed this!

[oceans-goddess]

I don’t know if you would be open to this idea but a tmr newt imagine where the reader hurts her knee and now has a limp like newt and she is frustrated with it and it gets him to open up and it’s all fluffy??? I have just had knee surgery so I am being very self indulgent… again if you don’t want to no worries at all!!!

Author's note: Omg of course!!! Agh, I'm so excited, this is my first time responding to a request, so I hope you enjoy! Also, I wrote this really fckin fast, so I'm sorry if it's shit.

Guys, send in more requests! This was so fun to write!!!

Pairing: TMR Newt x reader

Warnings: mentions of suicide and death, leg injury

“This bloody knee!” you hissed, tossing your gardening tool to the side and pulling at your hair in frustration.

“Did you just say bloody? I must really be rubbing off on you” Newt said from above you. You gasped in surprise.

“Newt! What are you– aren’t you supposed to be talking with Alby right now?” You asked.

“Finished early. Not much to debrief today. Aren’t you supposed to be heading to lunch?”

Your boyfriend sat down beside you and picked up the tool you’d been using, toying with it as he waited for you to respond.

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it today. I’m running way, way behind. This piece of klunk knee brace won’t let me bend down to work, and Clint and Jeff refuse to let me take it off. I have to either stand straight or sit down, neither of which are fast enough to finish all this in time.”

You finished speaking with a huff, and Newt smiled beside you.

“Hey, that’s just what a brace is meant to do. You shouldn’t bend it until you’re all healed up. It’s only been a week, love.”

A week, you thought, recalling the accident that had occurred just a few days before:

“It should be all set. Just take it easy for a few weeks, y/n,” Jeff explained, helping you to stand and placing a rudimentary wooden crutch under one arm.

“And no more messing around climbing trees,” Clint warned, opening the door that led out of the med-jacks’ building where Newt waited. You nodded, but the comment stung your pride.

Earlier that morning, you had been sitting up in a tall oak tree in the deadheads. The location was morbid, you knew, but it was also quiet. A place to breathe. To think. If you sat up there long enough, it sometimes felt like the trees went on forever– like there were no walls, no maze, standing just yards away, separating you from the world beyond.

You’d been up there a while, and you knew your break would soon be over. The gardens needed tending, after all. That, and Newt would begin to worry and come looking. You knew he could handle himself, but the last thing you wanted was to see him struggle through the underbrush of the deadheads with his bad knee because of you.

You swung yourself off the branch you’d been sitting on and began making your way down the tree. As you placed your foot onto a small notch in the tree bark, the branch you held onto with your right hand snapped. You gasped, clawing at what was left of the branch, but your foot slipped, and suddenly you were falling to the side.

You let out a scream and braced yourself to hit the forest floor. Your right knee was the first part of your body to land, and it connected with a rock or a tree root– you weren’t sure. Your right shoulder slammed to the ground, though thankfully, it seemed that your knee had borne most of the brunt of the fall. Chest heaving, you slowly sat up and you tried lifting yourself off the ground. Pain surged through your leg, and a cry of agony escaped your lips. You sat back against the trunk of the tree for a moment, then tried to stand again. It was in vain– your leg couldn’t support you.

Just when you’d made your mind up to crawl back to the field where someone would see you and bring you to a med-jack, you heard a crunch of leaves nearby.

“Y/n?” Newt called frantically. When he saw you, the expression on his face made you want to disappear. His eyes were wide, and he cringed as he saw the way you held your leg. Others followed behind him. How he’d gotten here on his leg first, you didn’t know. Must’ve been the little piece of runner still left in him. He dropped down onto his knees beside you, calling out, “Bring the med-jacks, now!”

And then you wound up here, with a makeshift brace around your leg and a boyfriend that wouldn’t stop looking at you with that nauseatingly concerned expression on his face. It was all you could do not to scream in anger and humiliation.

You shook yourself out of the memory and turned away from Newt.

“I know the brace is helping. It’s just– it gets in the way. I’m so much slower than I was, so much less graceful, efficient, I feel… I feel like I just don’t operate like I used to. Like I’m supposed to. It’s so embarrassing. Like, everyone else is pulling their weight but me.”

It was quiet for a moment. Newt only watched as you clenched your fists together, but when he noticed that you were beginning to hold back tears, he reached over and rubbed your back.

“Hey, it’s alright. I understand. Sometimes I feel the same way about my own knee.”

At that, your stomach dropped, and you clapped a hand over your mouth. All the complaining you’d just done must’ve sounded so horrible– so inconsiderate– to him. You’d only been struggling for a week; his knee would trouble him for the rest of his life. And even then, he was trying to make you feel better, like always. That was what made you care so much about him. He always did what he could to make things easier for you, to comfort you, to make you happy.

“I’m so sorry,” you breathed.

“It’s okay, honestly. It’s alright.” Newt scooted closer to you and draped his arm over your shoulder. You leaned into him and took in his warmth, his earthy smell. 

“Can I tell you something kind of sad?” he asked, his voice only a whisper. You didn’t know where this was going, but you nodded silently. Newt took a deep breath beside you.

“Aah, okay… you know I used to be a runner and everything, right? Before my knee?”

You nodded again, looking up at him. His brown eyes gazed down into yours with a mixture of affection and anxiety, but he continued on.

“Well, I don’t really ever talk about how I hurt my knee. It’s…” he swallowed. “it’s hard to talk about it now.” He shifted uncomfortably beside you, but you waited patiently.

“I… I really hated it here for a long time. It’s alright now, I’ve sort of made my peace with living here, in a way, but I just couldn’t take being trapped in this box. It drove me mad. One day, while I was on a run, I climbed up some of the vines and ended up on top of one of the maze walls.”

You could hear his heart beating faster now as you leaned against his chest. The next words out of his mouth were barely a whisper.

“I knew this wasn’t what I wanted. I couldn’t stand it. And I… I jumped.”

You gasped and sat up, looking into his face for more information. He only looked back at you with the most heartbreaking expression you’d ever seen on him.

“I wanted to be done. With it all. But, much to my resentment at the time, Alby found me. Dragged me back into the glade just before the doors closed. They fixed me up. I spent about a month under constant supervision from Clint and Jeff, and then I wasn’t allowed to be alone for another few weeks. Everyone thought I’d try again. I… I wanted to.

“It was even worse with my bum leg. Everything was harder, more irritating. I felt more useless every day.”

Hot tears rolled down your face. Newt brought up one hand and wiped them away with his thumb before kissing your forehead.

“I’m so sorry, Newt,” you whispered, and he pulled you in for a tight embrace.

“It’s alright, love,” he whispered back. “Things have gotten better since then. I found I was pretty good at gardening, and now, here I am. Made some new friends as well. And, of course, I met you.”

Newt pulled away and brought his hand back up to your face, resting his palm against your cheek.

“And I promise you I’m here to stay.”

You let out a quiet sob and pulled him in for a kiss. Your lips met passionately, and you ran your fingers through his dirty blond hair. He was as gentle, as loving, as always. When you pulled away, he was smiling.

“Another thing that’s changed though,” he began, “is that I’m seriously afraid of heights now. That fear extends to you. So please, love, please, I’m begging you. No more climbing trees. I almost had a heart attack when I heard you scream”

You let out a surprised laugh before responding.

“Okay, honey. Don’t worry. No more climbing trees. I promise.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Now– let’s go get some lunch. We’ll worry about the garden later.”

[luvieshifts]

the maze runner maze diversity ideas directly inspired by this @petrichor-idyllic post!!

ive literally been thinking about it nonstop since omg okay BASICALLY its confirmed in the scorch trials movie that there are a bunch of other mazes aside from the glade and group b. since these other mazes are never touched on there are one million and one ways people could go with them in fanfiction in terms of layout, weather conditions, etc. so i wanted to share some!

petri had tons of great ideas (go follow them right NEOW) and im just here to expand on them. 4 the sake of simplicity im gonna call the “gladers” subjects/mazers since we dont really know what theyd call themselves, and im gonna call the “glade” the centre. i am gonna keep calling new kids greenies bc i think its a funny little name + DISCLAIMER i have not read the books and i also do not have the time or energy to rewatch the movies so if any information is off my bad fr

NOT PROOFREAD

MONSTER IDEAS

a maze with birdbox style monsters so they have to navigate the maze blindfolded

a maze where the monsters are deathly afraid of some sort of metal that wicked wont send them enough of to make clothes or armor (at least not enough to keep every mazer safe) so all the people are heavily pierced. greenies come up piercingless and have to sit in the piercing hut (where they keep the metal) for however long it takes them to let the maze piercers do their job because absolutely no shot are they letting any dumbass teenager go anywhere with their rare life saving metal without it being fused to their bodies. the maze record for time a greenie has spent in the piercing hut is 3 full days and the less time you spend in there when you first arrive the more street cred you get

^ the piercer would probably be the maze leader, im picturing someone who at the beginning was the only person that could talk greenies into getting the piercing over n done with and as more came up the maze just filled with people that would only listen to the one person they trusted enough to pierce them straight out of the box.

a maze with underground monsters. you drop something heavy enough and something shoots out of the ground, jaws wide open. they have treestyle type houses, floating bridges connecting buildings. they dont have runner equivalents bc theyre working on building bridges through the maze and its like a no brainer that they cant go anywhere without a bridge. instead of “someone should try surviving the maze at night” its “we should climb the walls” and everyone thinks hes just as nuts

^theyd have a box but wouldnt it be fucking funny if their greenies just fell out of the sky?? they have a little platform right underneath where the greenies and supplies land (they call it ground zero) picturing wicked somehow forgetting to cushion the platform at first and patient zero falls out of the sky and dies on impact

a maze where the monsters arent giant teen eating beasts but deadly insects. one bite of that one and youll vomit up your internal organs, breathe in gas from that one and your entire body will be paralyzed. accidentally step on that one and your foot will swell to the size of a bowling ball and fucking explode. experiment with how your mazers cope with this - maybe everyone wears layers and layers of bee keeping style clothes outside and all the buildings are netted. do they have disinfecting rooms? do they have some sort of poison that takes the insects out? how to they distribute this poison since they cant just pierce it on like the metal maze?

a maze with the hunger games mutt type monster-mutations made out of fallen mazers

a maze where the monsters arent monsters or a threat at all but contain clues or keys thatll help the mazers get out and are notoriously impossible to catch

MAZE IDEAS

on the wiki page for group b it says their maze went vertical at one point - a maze that is completely vertical, their centre (creatively named The Hole) being like a tube just walled in by heaven high maze structures. you look up and at some point the walls give way to an abyss. most of the mazers have given up hope of getting out because it looks endless - or does it? nobody really entertains the idea that the top of The Wall is closer than they think, that the creators have put in a fake ceiling to fuck with them, but the people theyve sent up dont come back down and when the hole is quiet enough they can hear something alive up there and nobody can say for sure that their little village is any worse than what theyll find if they try to leave

hunger games quarter quell type maze where different sections of it have different monsters or obstacles. the sections with the easiest to bypass obstacles have the most complicated puzzle, the sections that are the easiest to navigate have obstacles 10x as deadly

PEOPLE IDEAS

a maze where 2 people come up in the box at a time (inspired by this thomas fic). theyd have names like box-mate or smth for whoever you come up in the box with (i.e thats jeff, he’s clints box-mate) and everyone is really close with their box-mate, platonically or otherwise. i feel like theres alot of cute potential for this idea, like an alby-equivalent talking to aggressive mazers like why dont you go find your box-mate and chill out. go cuddle or something. greenies often feeling weird about their connection w their box-mate (bc who wouldnt??) and long time mazers teasing them about it “oooooh somebodys making eyes at their booox-maaate muah muah muah”

unisex maze (although all these ideas can be unisex) where the number of boys and girls is slightly or very uneven at any given time. people have bets going around that time of the month every month about whether theyre getting a boy or a girl w things like chores and food being traded like currency. the bonfires on greenie day are just celebrations for the winning party

got this idea from petri but someone alone in a maze!!! just completely isolated for however long, not being expected to survive but making it out somehow. have you guys ever read an article or paper on the long term psychological effects of solitary confinement in prisons? of course itd be different but isolation is literally used as a torture method in some places. humans are not supposed to be so alone!! a lone mazer that sleeps by the thinnest part of the walls at night so they can hear the monsters, have some sort of connection to another living thing. a lone mazer that only survives their maze because they know their monsters like the back of their hand after spending endless nights well hidden in the maze just OBSERVING the creatures because it becomes a comfort to them, seeing something outside of themself move by its own free will. a lone mazer that never stops talking once theyre out of the maze because long silence makes them feel like theyre all alone again, a lone mazer that doesnt talk at all once theyre out of the maze because they cant stand the sound of their own voice anymore.

^ petri had the idea of an animal companion and i think that is a wonderful idea!! they have this fic where the reader had a dog and theyre really cute together. go full on disney princess & give your character a bird or a chameleon or a tiger if youre a jasmine guy. a dog or any predatory animal can conceivably help your character escape the maze - give your character a sloth or a koala or just a really lazy cat. give me a lone mazer whos animal companion is dead weight but they dont have the heart to leave them, who keeps their fat cat strapped to their chest like a baby as they fight for their life. 

person alone in a maze with a baby. ik this sounds so random but wicked wanting to see the effects of growing up in the maze so they send in a carer, someone that looks after the mazers before theyre sent in. the carer raises the kid angry at whoever has trapped their now adopted child in this torture chamber come to find out they used to be one of them

maze where the subjects are supposed to get injured in some way to force them to rely on one another. a subject being deafened by a banshee type monster, a subject getting a limb amputated by medjack equivalents after getting suddenly and suspisciously sick. they dont spend so much time mapping the maze as figuring out how to get all of them through to the very end because they quite literally cannot make it without every single mazer

a maze where the subjects keep their memories but theyve all been altered. some remember wicked as saviours providing shelter for them as orphaned children, others remember being restrained, poked and prodded, a vague feeling of grief and betrayal that they cant explain. others dont remember wicked at all and insist that the maze is a paradise compared to desert wastelands filled with zombie people and viral disease.

your mazers can react to this in any way shape or form. maybe factions/cliques of people with similar memories form. nobody wants a leader from a different group in charge of the entire maze so they dont have one, there not being any rules that apply to every group in the maze because nobody will listen to eachother. everyone thinks the ones that dont remember wicked are crazy and the anti-wicked group have the most reason to become violent, have been the most violent in the past so everyone thinks theyre psychos. it takes them longer than other groups to get out despite having memory because they all take over different parts of the maze and refuse to share information.

mazers that have access to technology. they can make things like recordings and audios but no way of connecting to the outside world and no information aside from what they put in themselves. they learn to program things and make robots/drones to navigate the maze for them, make intro videos for greenies so they dont have to deal with them. instead of track hoes and medjacks they have groups of people that work on different kinds of technology because theyve learnt to automate most of the stuff the gladers do by hand. some work on exploring the maze, some make weapons, some study the monster corpses theyve managed to get, etc etc.

CULTURE/TRADITION IDEAS

the different ways people commemorate dead mazers!! in the glade they cross out their names on the maze walls and in group Bs maze they like sculpt their faces into the ice. give me a maze that tattoos the names of their fallen, whos oldest mazers have the most ink so it kind of goes without saying that the more tattoos you have the more authority you have. greenies being able to tell clearly whos been around longer based on which names they have tattooed. give me a maze that mounts the weapons of the dead on a wall, a maze with a regular graveyard that the mazers visit on slow days

greenie events!!! give me greenie celebrations like the bonfire we see in the glade, parties or games, feasts to welcome newcomers. give me a maze where the arrival of a greenie is grim, one more mouth to feed, one more lost soul trapped. a maze where everything dims down around that time of the month because another person means another month theyve failed to get out. give me mazes that test their greenies to see if theyre of any use to the group because those that arent are dead weight. a maze that holds Greenie Trials, where you have to complete an obstacle course or survive a night in the maze or complete some obscure challenge and if you cant youre tossed to the monsters.

^bonus points for a gally-equivalent getting to say ominous shit like The Last One Didn’t Make It

TATTOO SUBGENRE

because i dont know what else to do with these

maze where wicked programmed the monsters to respond to some basic specific kind of symbol and the people have it tattooed in very visible places, painted on every hut and wall

maze where the monsters are deathly allergic to some sort of liquid so the subjects tattoo themselves with it

maze where you have to be incredibly light on your feet when navigating the maze so people tattoo maps on themselves.

GROUP B

i know im supposed to be talking about maze ideas not mentioned in canon but group b has so much potential their wiki says that group b doesnt have runners, they literally all just go out into the maze in a giant group, AND that their monsters are out day and night PLUS their maze is a frozen wasteland. i imagine any girls that arent strong enough to withstand everything are like pretty quickly weeded out and only the hardasses that adapted quickly enough were left omg the cultural norms that would form?? theyre all absolutely jacked and if a greenie dies nobody bats an eye cause tough shit. no introduction no transition period you come into the maze with us and dodge airborne monsters or you stay here and freeze to death. the creators do send them medical supplies but over time they start to notice the way the group interacts w eachother so they start sending less to see if they can push it even farther, make the girls have to ration their medical supplies. it works tenfold oh you broke your arm and you want a sling, aris?? rachel got her arm CHEWED OFF by a FLYING MUTANT PTERADACTDOL and didnt ask me for so much as a BANDAID

this is like evidenced on the wiki too multiple girls suggesting they just leave aris to freeze to death or get eaten by monsters in the maze because theyre SUSPISCIOUS of him?? like absolutely unprovoked too thomas had a stung glader accusing him of being at fault for the maze an unconscious girl who came at the wrong time who is apparently going to be the last greenie they ever recieve feverishly gasping his name just so much ammo for the gladers to toss him out and it takes the death of like half the glade and an insane gally to get him where aris was upon arrival. they literally punch aris square in the face immediately after they decide not to kill him bc “its the fastest way to remember your name” like how did you guys realise that??? "fastest way” so you admit there are other ways??? why are you giving all your greenies concussions

GEN

because i dont know where to put these

explore the concept of failed mazes. a desert maze where the subjects couldnt survive on the monthly supplies because they couldnt farm any food on their own because, well, desert. a maze where wicked did something like the memory altering maze, purposefully dividing them but they went too far and the mazers killed eachother off hunger games style

test mazes! have you ever wondered why the mazes operate the way they do? why do they send people up once a month? why are the mazers of all different ages? why not make the centre already stocked with food and buildings so the subjects can spend more time cracking the maze instead of learning how to grow crops?

a maze where they sent all the people up at once and without guidance from more experienced subjects they pretty quickly killed themselves off. a maze where the subjects were too young and werent organising themselves or mapping the maze fast enough, a maze where the subjects were too old and lost hope faster and easier. a maze where the mazers had everything they needed upon arrival and nobody wanted to leave.

AND MANY MORE!!!

IN conclusion make ur own mazes people!!!!! get creative w it there are so many different directions you can take it in!! pls feel free to use any ideas thats what theyre here for i dont need credit but PLEASE tag me id love to see anything that comes from this nonsense!!! nd lmk if anybody wants a pt2 because i had a million half baked ideas that didnt make the cut i am filled to the brim with Thoughts

[obriengf]

Hey you’re the queen of Dylan fanfics so I’m wondering if you could help me find one. It’s set in the tmr after they get to the safe heaven, the reader previously had the flare so Thomas constantly needed reassurance that she was safe. He would make sure she stays inside or by his side 24/7, make sure she got her vitamins or something and was very overbearing when it came to the readers health. One night the reader snuck out to go the the bonfire and she complained to Brenda, Brenda suggested to have fun with it. Next thing you know Thomas comes back to reader after work and she’s all like “hey Doctor Thomas I need vitamin D,” (or smth idk) then they have sex.

If you have any idea where I could find this that would be amazing.

hello my lovely! first of all, queen??? hardly but i thank you soooo much for your kindness!

second, i have been searching everywhere for the past 15 mins and can't find the fic you're referring to - i am so sorry.

if anybody recognises this fic, PLEASE link it in the notes because i, too, would looove to read this and get some vitamin d from thomas

a HUUUUUGE thank you to @starkeystar for locating the fic! absolute legend!! it can be found [HERE by @mf-despair-queen]

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

The Power of Suffering - Part 1 (Gally x OC)

Summary: Joan was the only survivor from her own maze, rescued by the Right Arm nearly a year ago. But now she was going out with them to try and save some other kids just like her. Only what they find is a boy barely clinging to life - and she is determined to save him.

Pairing: Gally x OC (Joan)

Word Count: 3675

Warnings: blood, death mention, canon typical violence, sloppy medical procedures, canon divergence, background original characters

ONE | TWO | THREE

“Do you trust me?” Nellie had asked her, holding up the tracking device they had pulled from the Griever's corpse. 

Joan looked up at her, her hands still covered in the blood of her friends that she had tried to save but couldn’t, and nodded her head. Whatever was out there had to be better than staying in here. 

“I trust you,” she had whispered in return, taking her friend’s other hand and making a break for possible freedom. Only a handful of their group was left, and they all followed them into the labyrinth.  

The Maze twisted and turned in seemingly random directions, but Nellie appeared to know exactly where she was going, her eyes focused and her tired face lifted in hope. They came to a bridge, the doors on the other side already opening to reveal a path that lead away from the Maze. The group of girls, Joan included, dared to smile as they jogged across the bridge. 

But the smiles all dropped and screams filled the air when Grievers started crawling up the sides of the bridge, grabbing anyone they could get their mechanical claws around. Including Nellie. Joan screamed, pulled with all her might to keep her friend at her side, but she wasn’t strong enough. Nellie was ripped from her and thrown over the side of the bridge, just as the Grievers began to shut down and fall from the bridge themselves. 

Through the doors came a group of masked men, wearing dark clothes and carrying guns held aloft and ready to fire, but their guns immediately lowered when they saw Joan trembling alone on the bridge. Tears streamed down her red cheeks, green eyes large and terrified as they approached her. 

“We’re with the Right Arm — you’re safe now. Safe from WCKD.” 

The truck went over a bump in the desert, stirring Joan from her revery and forcing her back into the present. They were going to another Maze facility, the Right Arm chapter based near the Last City, and as their resident Combat Medic, she had been ordered to go along. Ever since she had been given the order her mind had been wandering back to that day she was saved from her own Maze. All she knew was that she was thankful that they had saved her from that hell, but they had been too late to save any of her friends. To save Nellie. 

Joan took those thoughts and crumpled them into a ball, forcing them down into her throat and into a dark place within herself where they would let her focus on the job that needed to be done. It had been nearly a year. She had hoped that the memories would have faded by now. Instead, they were still sharp and dangerous and painful. 

Beckett, the man in charge of the mission, turned back from talking to the driver, “Alright, we’re almost there gentleman — and Joan. Remember, we’re here to rescue the kids, not destroy the place.” 

“But if it happens along the way?” Farley asked from beside Joan, making the other men in the unit chuckle beneath their breath. 

“Two birds with one stone I suppose.” Beckett cracked a smile, causing the other men to stomp their feet and holler in excitement. 

Joan only betrayed a small smile before she ducked down and did her triple check of her medical bag. IV fluids. Tourniquets. Bandages. Morphine. Gloves. Antiseptic. She hoped that she didn’t have to use any of it. That her role was only a precaution instead of a necessity. But she had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case on this mission. 

The truck came to a sudden halt, and before she knew it Beckett was leading the unit inside the massive WCKD Maze facility. Memories tried to uncrumple themselves and come back into the light, but she forced them back into their corner where they belonged as she ran in through the doors that Farley held open. 

All the monitors had been turned off. There was broken glass all over the place. And two bodies lay on the floor. 

“Farley, stay with Joan in here, we’re going into the Maze to look for more kids.” Beckett signaled the rest of the unit to follow him further into the darkness. 

Joan went into autopilot as she dropped down onto her knees beside the first body she came across. It was a boy no older than thirteen, his eyes still open and a massive red stain covering his shirt. She reached up to check his pulse and wasn’t surprised when she didn’t feel that familiar beat beneath her fingers. Farley looked at her expectantly, only to grimace when she shook her head solemnly. She closed the young boy's eyes before moving onto the next body. 

Another boy, with a spear sticking out of his chest. God, what happened here? Joan had to wonder as she rolled him onto his back so she could check his pulse. He was around her age, maybe a little older, with sandy blonde hair and built like a tree. He was handsome in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

Two fingers on his carotid artery she prayed for a pulse, and she gasped when she felt a faint and slow throb where she assumed there would be nothing. 

“He’s alive!” she shouted, quickly grabbing her medical kit and taking a further assessment of the damage that had been done to his body as she cut away his shirt with her pair of medical shears. 

In the Maze, she had been the medic because somebody had to be, because she was the one unlucky enough to step in when someone hurt themselves the first time. Now it was a choice. A choice to help people in need every day that she loved to make. 

He had already bled out quite a bit, but the spear stopped the majority of the blood that was probably building up inside his chest cavity from escaping. He was going to need surgery if he was going to live, but she couldn’t just open him up right there, she didn’t have the equipment for that or the knowledge. From the discoloration of his face and the sweat on his brow, she could assume that he had been stung by one of the Grievers, so he was going to need serum as well. 

As she pulled on her gloves she ordered, “Farley, put pressure around the wound.” 

“You mean the spear?” The man built akin to a bear dropped down to the floor immediately, and put his hands on the boy’s chest. 

“He’ll live — “ she said, more to herself than anything else as she pulled out the one vile of serum she had brought with her, “As long as we get him back to base. He’ll live.” 

“Joanie,” Farley said softly, “We’re three days from base.” 

She had nearly forgotten. 

“Well, we’ll have to make due here then.” She looked up at Farley as she administered the serum, “Are you with me?” 

He looked at the young girl, unsure if he really wanted this total stranger’s life in his hands. He was a soldier, not a medic. But Joan couldn’t do this alone, and he didn’t want the kid to die either. So he agreed with a nod of his head. 

Joan, on the other hand, hadn’t even stopped to confirm with Farley. She knew she needed to act fast if this was going to work. After injecting him with a dose of morphine for the pain, though she highly doubted he would wake up for at least a few days, she pulled from her bag a scalpel, a ton of bandages, a chest tube, stitching needle, and fishing wire. 

She handed Farley a few of the bandages and picked up the scalpel. 

“On three you’re gonna take the spear out.” 

“I’m gonna what?” 

“One — “

“Wait, Joanie, I don’t think — “ 

“Two — “ 

“Oh, my God.” 

“Three.” 

Farley pulled the spear out of the boy’s chest with a grunt and threw it to the side as Joan quickly covered the gaping hole with bandages. 

“Put pressure on that. Pressure,” she said as she picked up the scalpel and the chest tube, “Now I have to make an incision between his fourth and fifth ribs in order to get the blood and extra air out of his lungs.” 

“What about his heart?” Farley asked, eyes trained on Joan’s steady hands as they drove the scalpel into the boy’s side. 

“If the spear had hit his heart he’d be dead.” She inserted the chest tube into the cut she had made and blood began to trickle out of it and onto the floor. 

“Now what do we do?” Farley asked. 

“We wait for the blood to stop. Then I can close the wound.” 

She was finishing the last stitch when the rest of the unit returned from the Maze without any newcomers in tow. 

“They’re all gone. Must have been taken to some other facility before we got here,” Beckett explained, his eyes locked on Joan at work, “What about the other one?” 

“Didn’t make it,” she replied as she tied off the last stitch on the cut she had made on his side. 

“Walter, Jameson — take him outside and bury him. He deserves at least that,” Beckett sighed, “What about this one?” 

“He might still live,” she answered as she began packing up her kit, looking up at Beckett with a near pleading look, “As long as we get him back to base as fast as we can so he can get some real treatment. This is a patch job at best. He needs to be opened up and I can’t — can’t do that.” 

“Right. Johnson, get the rescue board and load him into the truck. Joan, stay with him.” 

The three-day ride back to base was torturous, slow, and touch and go at best. Joan had to constantly monitor his heart rate and breathing, his bandages had to be replaced every few hours, and she was so terrified that he was going to die that she didn’t sleep the entire time. He had to live. She needed him to live. They had been through the same thing, had lived through the Maze and were free, and she wanted him to have that same chance she did. That same chance to finally live instead of survive. 

So she held his hand for three days straight, willing him to last just a little bit longer. 

As soon as they arrived back at base, the Last City looming over their heads, the boy from the Maze was rushed to the medical wing where an actual doctor could treat his wound. Joan followed dutifully behind him, her eyes blurred from lack of sleep and her hands shaky. The doctor told her to go get some rest as soon as he saw her, but she refused, saying that she needed to see this through to the very end. And so she sat in on the procedure to seal the wound on his lung and remove the rest of the fluids from his chest cavity. It was only when he was resting on a cot in the medical wing that she finally fell asleep. Laying in the spare cot she had pulled up next to his bed. 

He didn’t wake up for another four days. And all that time she stayed by his side. Checking his vitals, renewing his IV, replacing his bandages. She only left to eat and help with other patients. Everyone around base knew that it was not her sense of medical duty that kept her with the boy from the Maze, it was far more personal than that. It was the fact that they were one and the same, Joan and this stranger. They both were survivors, they were both immunes. There was no one else in the Right Arm who Joan could relate to, except the boy lying unconscious in the medical wing. 

It was bright and early on his fourth day after being brought to base that his eyes slowly peeled open, revealing blue eyes like the sky above. He, of course, immediately tried to sit up and possibly leave where he was lying, but Joan was there to force him back down with a gentle smile. 

“Hey, hey, hey, its okay! It’s okay! You’re safe now!” she assured him. Even in his weakened state, she had a hard time fighting back against his strength. 

“Safe? What the hell does that mean?” His voice was rough and harsh, it nearly made her flinch. 

“You’re out of the Maze — for one thing.” He finally stopped resisting her hands as he finally let her ease him back onto the cot, “And you’re no longer in WCKD’s hands. You’re with the Right Arm — you’re really free.” 

“Where’s the others?” 

“We don’t know.” She didn’t see the point in lying to him, he seemed like the kind that could tell that she was and would get the truth out of her one way or another, “You were the only one left when we got there.” 

“They left me there,” He whispered, his face contorting in pain as he rested his head back on the pillows. 

“What’s your name?” she asked. 

He glared at her for a moment, wondering if he could really trust her, but he seemed to resolve something to himself before he answered, “Gally.” 

“Nice to meet you, Gally. I’m Joan. Are you in pain?” Joan quickly stood up straight and rushed over to the medical supply cabinet by his cot, “I’ll give you a dose of morphine then we can check your vitals.” 

He didn’t say anything in return, only continued to stare up at the vaulted church ceilings of the Right Arm base. She gave him the dose through his IV line then grabbed her stethoscope to test his heart and lung function. Pressing the stethoscope to his still shirtless chest, she listened to his heart for a moment, the beat of it strong and healthy in her ears. 

“Your heart sounds good.” After helping him sit up against his pillow she moved the instrument to where his lungs would be in his chest cavity and instructed, “I need you to take a deep breath for me.” 

He complied after a moment, but seemed to struggle to take in as much air as he used to, his eyes going blurry for a moment before he let out the breath with a huff. He stared up at her calm face for a moment, taking in her soft features and the even softer look in her eyes before mumbling, “Why can’t I breathe?” 

“Do you want the long version or the short version?” she asked, but when he didn’t respond she rolled her eyes, “Long version it is then. You were stabbed with a spear. It missed your heart but tore up your left lung pretty bad. When we found you I patched you up as best I could — but it wasn’t till we got back here that the damage to your lung could be addressed.” 

“Can we switch to the short version now?” 

Joan grinned as she sat back down on the cot beside him, “Fine. In short, you only have one good lung.” 

“Joanie!” Beckett’s loud voice suddenly rang out through the nearly empty medical wing, “You were supposed to radio when the kid woke up!” 

“Sorry! Sorry! I just wanted to check his vitals first.” She scrambled from the cot, appearing nervous for the first time as she fiddled with the buttons on her long jacket, “Everything looks good. The wounds are healing nicely and his heart is strong.” 

“Thank you, Joanie, but I think the kid can speak for himself now. Go check on the other patients while I talk to him — alone.” Beckett rested his hands on the collar of his kevlar vest and watched in bemusement as Joan bristled before turning on her heel and heading across the room. He then looked down at the boy from the Maze, whose eyes remained focused on Joan even from across the room, “Name’s Beckett, second in command around here. What can we call you?” 

“Who’s she?” He ignored Beckett’s question, much to his annoyance. 

“She’s the girl who saved your life,” Beckett sighed, looking over his shoulder at Joan as she changed another patient’s bandages with a smile, “Didn’t sleep for three days to make sure you didn’t die.” 

“Why?” 

Beckett scooted the cot closer and took a seat before answering, “She’s like you. We saved her from a Maze nearly a year ago.” 

“What do you want with me?” 

“How ‘bout you answer one of my questions first,” Beckett said, “What’s your name, kid?” 

“Gally.” 

“Okay, Gally, you’re here because you have something that Lawrence wants. It’s why Joan’s here too, actually.” 

Gally glanced back over at Joan across the room. She had moved on to another patient. One she was talking animatedly with about something as she took their blood pressure. Why had he felt the need to look at her? He knew the answer but hated it just the same. He felt comfortable in her presence. The simple sight of her was familiar and kind in this place where he knew no one. He was left behind by everyone he could ever remember, yet she, a total stranger, stayed awake for three days straight so he wouldn’t die. As far as he was concerned, she was the only one he could trust in this place. 

“Who’s Lawrence? And what could we have that he could possibly want?” Gally looked back to Beckett with cold, hard eyes that even made the grown man feel a bit intimidated. 

“Lawrence is in charge around here — and you two have what a lot of people around here want. Immunity.” Beckett’s eyes turned dark, “Once you’re fit to move Lawrence wants to meet you.” 

Gally swallowed thickly, “The hell’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Listen, we’re not the bad guys, kid,” Beckett sighed, gaze back to normal as he stood from the cot, “The bad guys are the ones who kept you in that maze. We’re only trying to help.” 

“Sounds like you’re only trying to use me.” 

“You’ll feel differently when you meet him.” Beckett smirked as he gave Gally’s shoulder a pat, “See you when you’re better, kid. Bye, Joanie!” 

The blonde looked up from where she was cleaning a mess from the floor with a smile and wave to Beckett as he left. Once the mess was clean she went back to Gally with a clean shirt for him to put on. 

“Beckett’s a good guy, I promise.” She smiled nervously as she bunched the shirt at the collar to slip it over his head, “Once you get to know him, anyway.” 

“I don’t think I wanna get to know him.” Gally winced as he lent forward. 

Brows furrowed in contemplation, Joan sat down on the edge of his cot and gently put the shirt over his head and helped him to get his arms through the holes. He was strong, that much was for sure. But his body was also littered with scars. Most were old and faded to white, others were more recent and still pink. He was a boy torn apart and put back together again and again. And she could see that same tearing and breaking clouding his blue eyes. 

“Look. No one’s gonna make you stay here against your will. Not Beckett. Not even Lawrence. If you wanna leave, you have every right to. But I will say this about the Right Arm — they give you a chance to be a better person than you were in the Maze. A chance to make up for lost time. A chance to help. WCKD needs to be stopped — and the Right Arm are the only ones doing anything about it.” 

“Is that why you stayed? For a second chance?” 

Joan looked down at his hand thoughtfully before she took it. His hands were much larger than her own. And even though her hands were not Lilly soft, his were infinitely rougher. Fighter’s hands, maybe even builder’s hands. She could feel him tense when she touched him, but she refused to let go. Knowing just how important touch could be after the Maze. 

“I couldn’t save anyone in my Maze. Any of my friends. But here I’ve saved hundreds of people. Helped even more than that. Makes me feel like a human instead of…” 

“An animal?” Gally suggested with a tone of understanding he couldn’t fully comprehend. 

“Yeah. Exactly.” Joan smiled as she stood from his cot, “Now, get some rest, Gally. Big day tomorrow.” 

After helping him lay back down she turned to the cot she’d been sleeping on for the past four nights and gathered her things. A blanket she knitted herself. Her pillow. And a worn hardcover book. 

“You read?” Gally asked when he noticed the book held delicately in her hands. Almost like it was sacred. Almost as if he didn’t want her to leave him. 

“Yes. I love to read. Aren’t many books around anymore though. Most of them burnt up in the Scorch.” Joan looked down to the cover fondly, tracing her fingers over where the title used to be written in gold, “It’s the only one I’ve got. Bought it from a shady man closer to the city.” 

“What book is it?” 

“Little Women. I read from it every day.” 

Gally hesitated for a moment, questioning his motives as to why he wanted her to stay with him for just a little bit longer, but then he gave in and asked quietly, almost sheepishly, “Would you read it to me?” 

“Of course!” Joan immediately dropped back down to the cot and cracked open the book, “I was about halfway through — but I’ll start at the beginning.” 

“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” grumbled Jo, lying on the rug …

wanna be tagged? drop in a comment or message me directly

[subjecta5theglue]

ok, question...

i know i don't have many followers (plus this blog is new), so i doubt people will read this, but would anyone be interested in me uploading a maze runner fic on ao3? (my username is wonderlandianfantasy but i havent uploaded anything yet)

i've already written most of it and would hate to put it to waste, but i don't know how to upload it because there are two options:

it can either be a slightly long one-shot with sections, in which case you'd need to wait a little for me to finish writing it

OR

i can upload it in really short chapters, but i'm talking like, really short. but then i could upload the first chapter now and you'd get to see it!!

if you're wondering, the fic is a newtmas and brenderesa fic themed around winter, featuring thomas and teresa being besties, newt and frypan being roommates, thomas sucking at uno, and brenda being a crazy cat lady.

lemme know what you think and then i'll decide :)

[frost-queen]

The little things (Fem!Reader x Harriet)

Requested by: anon  Forever tag: @missmelodramatic​, @theletterhart​, @alex--awesome--22​, @elllie-does-the-posts​, @floatlosers​, @merlieve​, @queen-of-books​, @glimmering-darling-dolly​, @denkisclown​, @wildieflower​, @meyocoko​, @bubblybrianna​, @justanothercoco​ @idkwhatmyusernam,  @subjecta13-thefangirl,  @m-rae23​, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr​  

You touched your cheek feeling the sting of pain. – “Shit!” – you called out. Spitting some blood on the ground. Sonya walked over to you, moving her gun to her back. Her face contracted with sympathetic pain. – “That is for sure going to hurt.” – she said. – “Why did that idiot had to use his gun as a puncher!” – you exclaimed, looking down at the man. – “Well at least have some comfort that he is dead.” – Sonya answered setting her foot on his thigh. 

“Yeah, thanks for that.” – you breathed out. – “No worries. Harriet would have my head if something would’ve happened to you.” – she replied patting your shoulder. You laughed quietly putting your own gun away. Sonya moved her arm around you, walking you back to the vehicle. – “I think Harriet will have my head after seeing this.” – you pointed at the wound on your cheekbone. 

Sonya shrugging her shoulder. – “Maybe today is a good day to die?” – she laughed getting behind the wheel. You hopped in the seat beside her. Dust flying up from underneath the tires. You kept touching the wound, flinching at the pain. Sonya sighed. – “Will you stop touching it, you probably make it worse with your dirty hands.”

“I don’t have…” – you started looking down at your hands. Grinning sheepishly, you tugged them between your legs under Sonya’s ‘told you so’ glance. Sonya drove the truck back to camp. It didn’t take long before Harriet approach the truck. Stopping in shock at the aftermath on your face. You smiled, the only thing missing was you say ‘tadaa’. – “What the hell happened!” – Harriet looked to Sonya, angered. 

Sonya shut the door of the truck hard. – “Some idiot bullet’s ran out so he decided to knock Y/n with his gun.” – Sonya told her. Harriet gaped at you seeing you pull your shoulders up. – “Don’t worry he didn’t lived very long after.” – Sonya said having approached Harriet. Leaving her hand on her shoulder. Sonya looked over her shoulder to you before heading off. You came closer to Harriet, swallowing nervously. – “Sorry…” – you said, eyes down. 

Harriet exhaled relieved, wrapping her arms around you. – “I’m just glad you are alive.” – she spoke hugging you tighter. You hugged her back, needing her comfort. – “Come.” – Harriet said, taking your hand. You followed her through the camp.

She seated you down near a bin that contained burning wood for heat. – “I’ll be right back.” – she said leaning down to kiss your forehead. You nodded watching her head into a tent. A moment later she returned with aiding supplies. Presenting them flirtatious to you. You dramatically waved yourself some cool. – “Oh I am so getting spoiled now.” – you teased when Harriet came sitting down in front of you. 

“Give me one more heart attack and I won’t be so spoiling anymore.” – she commented sarcastically. – “Then I’ll just have to do it for you.” – you answered with a wink. Harriet rolled her eyes at you. – “This might sting Y/n.” – she let you know, putting some liquid on a tissue. She touched your chin to keep your head in place. You flinched making Harriet lower her hand bothered. – “I haven’t even touched you yet.” – she said. 

“I know, I was just preparing.” – you answered. Harriet grabbed your chin firmly wanting to make sure you wouldn’t pull back again. The tissue touched your wound as you bit on your lip, fighting the urge to curs you heart out. – “Told you it would sting.”

“Fffff fuck!” – you blurted, needing to shout something for the pain. Harriet chuckled dapping your wound more. – “You are enjoying this aren’t you?” – you spoke seeing her smile. – “Not at all…” – she answered pressing the tissue deeper onto your wound, making you cringe in pain. – “Okay maybe a little.” – she confessed teasingly with a chuckle. You crossed your arms, finding it anything but funny. 

“Oh come on Y/n. I am just playing around.” – she said lowering her hand. She reached down for a bandage. Before she stuck the bandage on your cheek, she kissed you by surprise. You smiled, kissing her back. Harriet grabbed for your shoulder, taking it. You gulped, pulling away at something sticking on your arm. You looked at your shoulder, seeing the bandage stick half on your skin. 

Harriet laughed loud apologizing. She took a new bandage sticking it over your wound. – “Now you may once more.” – you told her, gesturing for her to kiss you again. – “Yes please.” – Harriet answered kissing you. Her fingers running through your hair.

Later that night you laid on Harriet’s stomach watching the stary sky. Harriet moving her fingers through your hair. Her other hand on yours that laid on your chest. – “Does it still hurt?” – she asked. You shook your head. Harriet’s fingers going through your hair was so soothing it made you sleepy. – “Harriet.” – you said hearing her hum loud in response. – “I love you.” – you needed to say out loud before you’d fall asleep. – “I love you too Y/n. My survivor girl.” – you laughed at the nickname. 

Harriet’s upper body shuddering with laughter as well. You removed your head from her stomach so that she could lay next to you. You snugged up to her, taking a deep breath. Her arms protective over you. – “I’ll always protect you, Y/n.” – she’d whisper. You drifted away, falling asleep from a long day. Harriet kissed your forehead. Enclosing you tighter in her embrace.  

---------------------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[dahliia04]

for tmr bingo “body swap”

[justinewt]

It’s Time To Run - TMR REWRITE Chapter Five

[THE MAZE RUNNER MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: Things were definitely escalating and as they thought it was getting worse, they were actually getting closer and closer to getting out of there but there would be a few obstacles on their way out of the Maze. This first trial they had to face would take tremendous efforts, strength... and losses.

Words: 6.4k

Warnings: The Maze Runner 2014 spoilers (first movie), angst, some comforting fluff, yelling, insults, mention of healing of broken nose, mention of attempted suicide (very lightly; no description of it), blood, grievers, massacre, gladers dying, gally being an absolute dickhead, attempted sacrifice

Grace entered the infirmary’s corridor, staying out of the doorway leading into the room with all the beds and where Alby was still recovering. Her and Thomas had been advised not to go in there alone. She took a few steps and stood in the corner of the doorway, staring at Alby lying down on one of the beds. He was quieter than yesterday.

“Grace, come here.” She was snapped out of her observations by Jeff’s voice, and she looked at him. He motioned for her to follow him in another room. Glancing back at Alby she crossed the hallway and entered the room after the Medjack and sat down. He removed the dressing from her broken nose. It had been a few days since she had broken her nose when Ben chased her and Thomas down and she fell face first on the ground. When he touched her nose, she winced. Jeff stopped and looked at her. “It hurt?”

“Yeah” She nodded, letting out a sigh. “When you touched it. It felt kinda numb before you took off the dressing.”

“Uh, okay.” He disposed of the used bandage and looked at her broken nose. “It doesn’t look so swollen anymore… it doesn’t bleed and the bruises under your eyes have started to fade, so that’s good. I think your nose’s gonna stay crooked like this, though. I don’t know what I can do about it…”

“It’s fine.” Grace shrugged it off. Jeff grabbed a bucket and left the room. He came back a moment later with fuming water and set it aside on a table. He then grabbed a tissue and dipped it in the hot water and softly cleaned around her nose. She frowned as it hurt a little. He then had her tilt her head back to clean any bits of dry blood remaining and carefully wiped the inside of her nostrils, not without her hurting as he did this. Her nose was still pretty sensitive, but it was soon over and after placing a light dressing on the bridge of her nose, he let her go and everyone came at one of the entrances of the maze as Thomas and Minho were to return soon from their run across the maze. She joined Newt and stood by his side as they waited. After a moment, they saw them run toward the Gladers. Prior to their return, they all heard loud noises echoing through the Maze like a Griever was growling around the walls.

“Now, what the hell is going on out there?” Newt inquired.

“What the hell you done now, Thomas?” Gally asked, as if Grace’s brother had done something bad again. The group of Gladers gathered there walked with the two Runners back into the Glade.

“We found something, a new passage.” Thomas replied to Newt, ignoring Gally. “We think it could be a way out.”

“Really?” Newt and Grace were both surprised and they glanced at each other after speaking silmutaneously.

“It’s true.” Minho assured, confidently, breathing loudly after this run. “We opened a door, something I’d never seen before. I think it must be where the Grievers go during the day.”

“Wait. Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Chuck jogged to Thomas and Minho’s sides at this revelation. “Wait, you’re saying you found the Grievers’ home? And you want us to go in?”

“Their way in could be our way out, Chuck.” Thomas said.

“Yeah, or there could a dozen Grievers on the other side.”   Gally argued from the back. “The truth is, Thomas doesn’t know what he’s done, as usual.”

“Yeah, well, at least I did something, Gally.” He spat at him, stopping in his tracks and turning around to the Builder. Grace followed him with his eyes and stopped walking. “I mean, what have you done? Huh? Aside from hide behind these walls all the time.”

“Let me tell you something, Greenie. You’ve been here for three days, all right? I’ve been here three years.” He really thought he had a point there, except showing how useless he was really.

“Yeah, you’ve been here three years.” Thomas shouted back at him. “And you’re still here, Gally. What does that tell you? Maybe you should do things differently.”

“Maybe you should be in charge.” Gally shook his head.

“Hey.” Grace looked to the side and saw Teresa trying to get everyone’s attention but as they were too busy arguing over their usefulness, she rose her voice to be heard. “It’s Alby. He’s awake.”

“Has he said anything?” Minho asked her softly as she led them into the infirmary’s room where Alby has been resting ever since they brought him back.

“No.”

“Alby?” Newt approached him and carefully sat on the bed beside him while the first in command was walled in silence, his arms crossed over his chest, staring in the void. “Alby, you all right?” Thomas glanced at Grace as if he asked her something with his eyes and she walked past Gally standing in the way and stood behind her brother as he crouched down in front of their peer. She remained silent, just watching. Everyone was so quiet; it was a drastic change from outside yelling at each other’s face.

“Hey, Alby.” He didn’t reply nor did he move so Thomas, almost whispering, kept trying to talk to him. “Alby, we might have just found a way out of the Maze. You hear me? We could be getting out of here.”

“We can’t.” He finally said, shaking his head like he was going to cry, his lips trembling. “We can’t leave. They won’t let us.”

“What are you talking about?” Thomas wondered.

“I remember.”

“What do you remember?”

“You.” He simply said, turning his head to Thomas, looking at him and before going back to him, Alby looked at Grace for a second. If it was quiet a moment ago, now every single Glader around Thomas and Grace had wide eyes and shock on their faces. To be fair, even the two siblings were a bit unsettled. “And you. You were always their favorite, Thomas. You and Grace. Always.” They heard shouting outside so some of them looked around, but Alby wasn’t done talking yet. “Why did you two do this? Why did you come here?”

Thomas stood up as Alby grabbed his head in his hands, crying and they all rushed outside as the shoutings didn’t stop, on the contrary, they kept increasing and everyone seemed to be panicking about something. Together they walked into a mess. Gladers had lit torch in their hands, running here and there. Thomas stopped Winston as he ran by.

“Hey, Winston, what’s going on?”

“The doors, they aren’t closing.” He revealed to them before running away with some others towards one entrance, Minho, Newt, Grace and Teresa, after him. If the doors weren’t closing and the Grievers were set loose around the Maze right now, this didn’t look good for any of them. The corridor they were facing was quiet, creepers hanging from wall to wall, undisturbed unlike the rest of them down there. Some held their torches tight in their hand, the others watched, all were anxious about what was to happen. The Grievers would come, that was no theory. It was going to happen and some of them would die tonight. They all realized that at this instant. They flinched, letting out a yelp of discomfort when walls rumbled. The doors of the other walls were opening on their own, putting them even more at risk. Thomas turned to Chuck after a moment of uneasy silence hanging over them.

“Okay, Chuck, I want you to go to the Council Hall… okay? Start barricading the doors.” He requested, patting his shoulder in a comforting way.

“Winston, you go with him.” Newt ordered.

“Got it.”

“Get the others.” Gally turned to another at the back of the group. “Tell them to go to the forest, go hide. Now.”

“Minho, grab every weapon you can find.” Thomas then asked of him. “I’ll meet you at Council Hall.”

“Let’s go.” He said to a few others that came along as they left.

“Okay, Teresa, Grace, you and I are gonna go get Alby. All right? Come on.” He was about to led them away with him when they heard people yelling from the forest on the other side of the Glade, running out of the trees.

“Grievers!” One boy screamed at the top of his lungs. A second later, they heard Grivers roaring around them, triggering a chill to run across their backs. An awful lot of them were coming from the very corridor they were standing in front of.

“All right, everybody hide!” Thomas yelled. Everyone that was left nearby ran away but Teresa just stood there, so scared she didn’t even think of running as well so Thomas and Grace stopped in their tracks, and he grabbed her wrist and made her come with them. They ran to the fields of corns, everyone shouting, frightened and agitated and they just crouched there in silence, Grievers growling loudly and boys screaming in the distance. Their hearts were all racing, short of breath. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a Grievers’ arm emerged above the field and pinned Zart down before lifting it up in the air. Thomas rushed at him as everyone screamed in terror. There was no time to lose, they all stood up and ran to the opposite side.

“Go, go. Get to the village.” Thomas pressed them. Grace stood back up quicker than she ever did before, she swallowed harshly and ran to the village with the others, at the speed of light, hitting the ground so quickly with the sole of her shoes it felt like she was floating. They reached the infirmary and Alby was being helped out by the two Med jacks. “Alby!”

“Are you okay?” Teresa wondered.

“What’s going on?” Alby didn’t see what was happening outside, he was even more confused than the others.

“They’re here.” Thomas declared.

“Grievers?” Jeff inquired, as if he couldn’t believe it. Boys screamed behin them and they turned around, Thomas grabbed something on a wall, probably something with which he could defend himself and they all stepped back slowly. “Thomas, what do we do?”

“Everybody run, run, run! Jeff, come on.” He then yelled and they ran, grievers screeching and growling and their peers getting attacked by those monsters, screaming. They all of a sudden came to a stop when a Grievers bursted in their way, destroying a wall in the process. The beast roared, raising its tail with the sting, roaring with this mechanic noise to it like a machine, which only made sense. Teresa grabbed a jar with some liquid and fire and threw it at the beast with a scream. It lit in fire and the grievers screeched, moving around uncontrollably. “All right, everyone, go, go, go.”

Grace ran along, practically not feeling her feet and legs as it felt just like a reflex to start running like their lives were endangerd, which unfortunately was the case tonight. Their arms moving around in the haste, running toward the Council Hall. As they fled from the Grivers coming after them, Alby stumbled and lost his balance, falling on the grass. Jeff helped him back up and everyone turned around, Thomas standing in front of them, facing the machine monster with the piece of metal he had still in his hands.

“Come on!” He yelled, ready to fight it himself but out of nowhere, spears and arrows pierced his organic body and they looked to the side only to see Newt, Frypan, Minho and Winston running to them.

“Over here, let’s go. Come on.” Fry urged them, as they all started to run to the Council Hall again. Chuck met them at the entrance of the house, and they climbed down the stairs, entering it as quickly as they could. Thomas delegated carrying Alby to another Glader and he slammed the door shut as the Griever rushed towards them.

“Lock down the doors.” He then requested and a couple of them put things behind the door to keep it locked. They went further in the room, away from the walls and the door. Standing next to her, Thomas went to grab her hand and held it tightly in his and she squeezed as a response to the comforting gesture. They were there for one another. Like their mother asked them, they were taking care of each other, being the helpful hand the other would need. They completed each other and it warmed Grace’s heart in this scary life-threatening night. She had her brother, no matter what, and he had her too. The door started to thump violently after each blow from the Grievers and they all prayed for the door to hold and not break, staying there in silence, staring ahead of them. They all gasped when all of a sudden, the Griever jumped on the roof, screeching madly.

“Stay back, guys.” Newt mumbled. Slowly as the beast walked above them, going toward the back of the Council Hall, they climbed up the steps carved in the dirt and the Griever pierced the roof with its sting, rotating around and it went back up, making the whole building collapse on iself. They yelled, bringing their arms in front of their face. Grace shut her eyes closed, wincing as she fell on her back, pieces of wood falling on her. She coughed because of the dust and the hit on her stomach and opened her eyes again trying to catch her breath.

“Is everyone all right?” Newt inquired as he was helped up by another Glader.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Jeff replied.

“Grace.” The latter then felt hands grab her sides and get her on her feet. It was Thomas. Grace siped her face and winced upon touching her still very much broken nose and Thomas turned around when they heard a Glader calling for help from beneath the collapsed roof. But the moment Thomas and Newt held their hands out to him, he was snatched from a Griever, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Watch out.”

“Chuck!” Someone yelled when the Griever’s sting pierced through the front wall of the Council Hall, right at the young boy.

“Get him! Get him!” Thomas urged, panicked. He was picked up violently and Thomas grabbed his hand. “Grab him!”

“Pull him back!” Teresa added.

“Chuck, don’t let go.” Thomas insisted as everyone got a hold of him to keep him from being killed by the monster, strolling against the pull of the Griever, in a concert of grunting. When the Grievers pulled out its sting, Alby screamed as he struck the piece off of the beast, making him fall on the sand-covered floor and he hit and hit and hit the Griever with a huge rock to force him to let go of Chuck. It eventually gave way and went back outside after a moment. “Chuck, youokay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He articulated, coughing a little. He turned his head to their friend. “Thanks, Alby.”

“Alby! Watch out!” Suddenly the Griever came back, going for Alby this time, picking him up from the ground. He screamed, trying to hold onto the roof. Thomas and Grace rushed at him, stretching their arm out to reach Alby.

“Thomas, Grace, get them out.” Alby then whispered to the two.

“No!” Thomas yelled when the Griever snatched their peer. Grace stepped back, breathing heavily, bringing her hand to her head, her fingers in her loose brown hair.

“Thomas, no. Don’t go out there!” She came back to her and saw her brother going for the destroyed door.

“Thomas, no!” Teresa added.

“Thomas—” Grace cut herself off as they stepped out and she grabbed her brother’s arm and they just stood there, seeing the disaster outside. Fire and smoke everywher, Grievers roaring loudly in the distance. Grace even thought this was hell on Earth.

“Where is everybody? Who’s that out there?” One wondered which made the others look to the side and they saw a few figures walking aggressively towards them. Gally came up to Thomas and threw a violent punch at his face. The boys got a hold of him, keeping him from approaching Thomas, lying on the ground. Grace yelled something at him and crouched next to her brother.

“This is all you, Thomas and Grace. Huh? Look around.” He spat.

“Back off, Gally. It’s not their fault.” Minho retorted. Grace gave her hand to Thomas as he got back on his feet, looking at Gally.

“You heard what Alby said. They’re of them.” He struggled against the Gladers, yelling. “They’re of them, and they sent them here to destroy everything, and now they have. Look around, Thomas. Look around, Grace. This is your fault.”

“Calm down. What are you talking about?” Newt inquired, trying to keep him still. Grace stood there, staring at Gally spitting in their faces, blaming them for all that happened tonight and she let out a heavy sigh, swallowing harshly and she looked at Thomas, by her side. She frowned when he went to grab the Griever’s sting from Chuck’s hand. He feverishly looked at him, his hand shaking sligthly, his face sweaty and tired.

“Maybe he’s right.” He mumbled.

“Thomas?” Teresa and Grace softly called his name, wondering what he was doing.

“I need to remember.”

“Thomas! No!” Grace yelled in horror and shock when he stabbed himself in the thigh with the sting. He fell heavily on the grass, and she let herself fall to her knees, starign at his face, her hand to his shoulder. She thought she was watching her brother die in front of her eyes but she remembered about the syringes that came up with Teresa and, her heart aching, her throat feeling dry and sore, she spoke, her voice shaking. “Get the syringe.”

“Chuck, get the other syringe.” Teresa then urged the boy.

“Thomas.” Grace sobbed, unable to control her tears with all the tension, fear and pressure they went through and now she was seeing her brother just lying there, paralyzed, his eyes staring into the void, and she felt scared. She knew he would survive thanks to the syringe, but she still had the thought of him dying and she couldn’t shake it off her mind. She wiped her tears and grabbed her brother’s head softly. “It’s okay. Thomas, I’m here.”

Gally had had Thomas, Grace and Teresa, all three of them, locked up in the jails of the Glade. He opened his eyes after being unconscious through the night, waking up to Teresa and Grace looking down at him.

“Hey. Are you okay?” The brunette asked him. He tried to stretch out his head and glanced at Teresa right above him and then rolled his eyes to his sister and squeezed her hand as she had not let him go evert since they were put there.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Chuck exclaimed from outside the jail’s door. He sat up and looked at him. Minho and Newt were crouched along side the boy.

“What happened?” He asked after a second of confused silence.

“Gally’s taken control.” Newt said. “He said we had a choice. Either join him or get banished at sundown with you.”

“Grace slapped the shit out of him.” Minho added, and Grace scoffed. Thomas stood up and smiled at his sister upon hearing him tell him this. Even Grace thought it was funny because even though she could be a hell of a good liar, she wasn’t so violent. Gally was someone she could kill with her bare hands if she had the chance, though. He aggravated her so much, coming after her and Thomas. Thomas then turned to Newt, Minho and Chuck.

“And the others agreed to that?”

“Gally has everyone convinced that you and Grace are the reason all this has happened.” Teresa stated softly. Thomas nodded, looking around, glancing at his sister.

“Well, he’s been right so far.”

“What are you talking about?” Minho inquired, frowning in confusion, tilting his head to the side.

“This place… It’s not what we thought it was.” He started to explain. “It’s not a prison. It’s a test. It all started when we were kids. They’d give us challenges. They were experimenting on us. And then people started disappearing. Every month, one after the other, like clockwork.”

“Sending them up into the Maze?” Newt wondered.

“Yeah, but not all of us.”

“What do you mean?” The blonde was as lost as Minho or Chuck was. Grace leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Gally was right. We are of them.”

“The people who put you here, we worked with them.” Thomas added. “We watched you guys for years. The entire time you’ve been here, I… we were on the other side. And so were you.” He looked at Teresa who was processing all he was telling them.

“What?”

“Teresa, we did this to them.” He declared.

“No.” She couldn’t believe it. “That can’t be true.”

“It is. I saw it.”

“Why would they send us up if we were with them?” She asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head before tunring his face to Grace. “We tried to send you up here to give you guys help but we failed. They caught us and they wiped her mind and made us forget about it. This paper you had on you, I put wrote it, like you said. You still had it in the Box because for some reason they didn’t check your jacket.”

“You tried to make me this note so I would remember quicker?” Grace breathed out, bringing her hair behind her ear. He nodded, sighing silently.

"He’s right.” Newt spoke up and they raised their heads to him. “It doesn’t matter. Any of it. Because the people we were before the Maze, they don’t even exist anymore. These Creators took care of that. But what does matter is who we are now and what we do right now. You went into the Maze, and you found a way out.”

“Yeah, but if I hadn’t, Alby would still be alive.” Thomas argued.

“Maybe. But I know that if he were here, he would be telling you the exact same thing.” Newt insisted. “Pick your ass up and finish what you started. Because if we do nothing, then that means Alby died for nothing, and I can’t have that.”

“Okay.” He replied softly, nodding. “Okay, but we gotta get through Gally first.”

Gladers held Teresa and Grace by the arms, and two others had Thomas’ arms over their shoulders, pretending to be still unconscious, leading all three of them to three pikes planted in the dirt in front of the entrance to the Maze. The two carrying Thomas let him fall face first on the ground. Grace clenched her jaw, staring at Gally as he turned to the Gladers gathering around them.

“It doesn’t feel right, man.” Winston shrugged.

“Yeah, what if Thomas is right?” Jeff added. “Maybe he can lead us home.”

“We are home.” Gally insisted. “Okay? I don’t wanna have to cross any more names off that wall.”

“You really think banishing us is going to solve anything?” Teresa inquired.

“No.” He just retorted. “But this isn’t a banishing. It’s an offering.”

“What? What are you—?” Teresa and Grace got pulled to the pikes and tied to it.

“You really think I’m gonna let Thomas back into the Maze after what he’s done? Look around you.” He pointed at the burned houses and destroyed crops. “Look at our Glade. This is the only way. And when the Grievers get what they came here for… everything goes back to the way it was.”

“You can’t live like this forever, Gally.” Grace declared.

“Why are you all standing there?” Teresa smiled in disbelied. “Are you even listening to this? He’s crazy.”

“You both shut up.” He spat at them.

“If you stay here, the Grievers are going to come back.” Teresa continued. “They’re gonna come back, and they’re going to keep coming back until you’re all dead.”

“Shut up.” He rose his voice and went to point at Thomas still seemingly passed out on the ground. “Tie him up.” As no one moved, he grew annoyed. “Do you hear me? I said, tie him up.” The two Gladers bent over to pick him up but he both knocked them down and Newt came and hit one behind the head before he could hit Thomas back. Teresa kicked the guy standing in front of him and Frypan cut both of the girls’ ties with his machete. Minho had kept Gally from doing anything with his own weapon and he was slowly stepping back to join Thomas, Grace, Teresa, Frypan and Newt in front of the Maze’s corridor. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“You don’t have to come with us, but we are leaving.” Thomas declared, holding a spear in his direction. “Anyone else who wants to come, now’s your last chance.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s trying to scare you.”

“I’m not trying to scare you. You’re already scared.” Thomas argued. “All right? I’m scared. But I’d rather risk my life out there than spending the rest of it in here. We don’t belong here. Okay? This place isn’t our home. We were put here. Okay? We were trapped here. At least out there, we have a choice. We can make it out of here. I know that.” Slowly, before Gally could retort anything, Gladers started to walk to Thomas and the others, taking their fates into their own hands, giving themselves a chance to make it out alive, or at least, die trying to. “Gally, it’s over. Just come with us.”

“Good luck against the Grievers.” He just said after staring at Thomas in silence. Each of those standing by Thomas turned around and ran into the Maze. It was happening. They were going to get out and certainly not without a fight. Grace jogged along Newt who she knew had a light limp from falling from a wall he tried to climb up one day. They eventually reached Section Seven and Thomas stopped everyone around the corner leading to the Grievers’ lair. They heard one of these monster chittering and it echoing around the area.

“Is it a Griever?” Chuck asked.

“Yeah.”

“You take this, Chuck. Stay behind us.” He gave him the cylinder piece they retrieve from the Griever Thomas got smashed between walls the night he got into the Maze as the wall were closing.

“It’s okay, just stick with me.” Teresa smiled at the boy as she tied her hair.

“Once we’re through, it’ll activate, and the door will open.” Thomas instructed. “We get out now, or we die trying. Ready?”

“Let’s go.” Someone said in the back.

“All right. Let’s go!” Yelling, they ran down the corridor right to the Griever that was at the end of it. Those with the spears were leading and they pushed the Griever away towards the edge of the platform that was the corridor’s floor to make it fall down but it struggled against them, almost making them fall. They kept pushing it, hitting with the spears. The Griever scooted to the side, waving its tail around and grabbed one Glader off the floor throwing him off the edge. Teresa fell down and one of the Griever’s legs almost stabbed her leg so she struck it and Chuck lost his balance, letting the piece that would let them to their way out escape his hands and rolling to the edge. Chuck rushed after it and grabbed it, almost falling down the platform if it wasn’t for Teresa who pulled him back up. Grace joined to help her as she had heard a Griever was climbed the wall right below him, while the others kept trying to get rid of the first Griever that came at them, trying to make him fall over the edge and they cheered after successfully doing so. Teresa, Grace and Chuck ran back to the group once he was back on his feet, chased by two Grievers. The three ran to the end of the corridor while they fought of the horrendous machines and the device started beeping furiously and a section of the wall rose, opening a passage to them. They ran down this new hallway righ into a hole at the end while the rest of them tried to keep the Grievers back, slowly joining them.

“There’s gotta be a way out. Come on.” Teresa yelled, hitting on the wall in front of them. There was a black hole in the center which suddenly lit in red. Teresa ran to the opening through which they got there and called out to Thomas. “Thomas! There’s a code! Eight numbers!”

“Seven,” Minho started shouting the sequence and Teresa quickly entered them into the circle. “one, five, two… uh, six, four…”

“Heads up.” Newt yelled and a Griever fell right on Minho, pinning him down on the floor. Teresa and Grace widened their mouth, letting out a gasp as Minho struggled against the Griever. Jeff rushed at the beast with his spear held up in the air and stabbed it. He managed to help Minho out of there and buy them some time but he died crushed by the Grievers going after the boys.

“Minho, what’s the sequence? Come on!” Chuck screamed as they stepped back, getting closer to the three of them in front of this door, spears out.

“Uh, six, four, eight, three. You got it?” Teresa clicked on the numbers as Minho listed them to her all while fighting off the Grievers and finally, the circle turned green and the word COMPLETE appeared. They did it. They had their way out. The second it turned green, the walls that opened to the device they got from a Griever fell down, crushing the monsters underneath, putting an end to the fight. Grace smiled, sighing in relief, her hand to her heart. This was over. They did it. The boys screamed in surprise when the opening of the tunnel they were in closed in on them and they found themselves in the dark for a few seconds before the door opened. Teresa softly pushed the ajar door and it creaked as an artificial light made Chuck wince and shield his eyes with his hands before they stepped in a corridor plunged in a dim light, in silence. A light clunked a few feet behind them and one after the other, the rest of the lights hanging on the ceiling lit up. None of them dared say anything so they walked down the hallway to a door with a green EXIT sign over it.

“Seriously?” Fry shot up his eyebrows in disbelief. Thomas then took a few steps toward the door and slowly grabbed the handle and opened the door, as if he feared something would jump at them from the other side. As he pushed the door open, an alarm beeping quietly from the other side reached their ears. They were in front of another hallway, shorter than the one they just crossed and there were a few dead bodies lying on the floor, lights falling from the ceiling, blood here and there.

“What happened here?” Winston wondered, his question meeting a dumbfounded silence as none of them had the answer. They stepped down a flight of stairs and walked into a laboratory. There more bodies on the floor, broken light and screens, stains of blood. Grace glanced to the side and walked over to Newt and Fry who were standing in front of screens showing the Glade right now.

“So, they were watching us.” He stated.

“I thought I’d seen a red light in tree once, but the second after, it was gone.” Grace breathed out and Newt looked at her and glanced back at the screens. Suddenly, a voice resonated in the lab, and everyone turned around to see a blonde woman in a white blouse speaking on a screen. It was a recording of the very same woman Grace and Thomas dreamt about.

“Hello. My name is Dr. Ava Paige. I’m director of operations of the World Catastrophe Killzone Department.” As she introduced herself, they walked closer to the screen. “If you’re watching this, that means you’ve successfully completed the Maze Trials. I wish I could be there in person to congratulate you… but circumstances seem to have prevented it. I’m sure by now you must all be very confused, angry, frightened. I can only assure you that everything that’s happened to you… everything we’ve done to you, it was all done for a reason. You won’t remember, but the sun has scorched our world.” Archive footage of what happened flashed across the screen. “Billions of lives lost to fire, famine. Suffering on a global scale. The fallout was unimaginable. What came after was worse. We called it the Flare. A deadly virus that attacks the brain. It is violent, unpredictable… incurable. Or so we thought. In time, a new generation emerged that could survive the virus. Suddenly, there was a reason to hope for a cure. But finding it would not be easy. The young would have to be tested, even sacrificed… inside harsh environments, when their brain activity could be studied… all in an effort to understand what makes them different… what makes you different. You may not realize it, but you’re very importantant. Unfortunately, your trials have only just begun. As you’ll no doubt soon discover, not everyone agrees with our methods.” The scientists behind her started to get killed trying to flee the area. “Progress is slow. People are scared. It may be too late for us, for me… but nor for you. The outside world awaits. Remember… WICKED is good.”

Grace swallowed harshly when Dr. Paige brought a gun to her temple and Thomas, without moving, squeezed her hand. He knew why it triggered her. He had remembered of her suicide attempt that he stopped. She froze, letting out a yelp and Thomas looked away as her body fell from her chair. He let go of her hand and walked to their left, staring ahead. Grace followed his gaze and saw the boy of the woman lying on the floor on the other side of the glass separating the room. Then, suddenly, an alarm started blaring loudly and a reinforced door opened to a long corridor.

“Is it over?” Chuck asked.

“She said we were important.” Newt spoke up. “Well, what are we supposed to do now?”

“I don’t know.” Thomas mumbled. “But let’s get out of here.”

“No.” A voice rose behind them and they instanly pivoted on their feet and stared at Gally who was just standing there like a mad person, a gun in one hand, the device used to open the door in the other.

“Gally?” Thomas took a step toward him.

“Don’t.” Teresa stopped him. “He’s been stung.”

“We can’t leave.” He said, shaking his head, his brows furrowed.

“We did. Gally, we’re out.” Thomas tried to tell him. “We’re free.”

“Free?” He sobbed, the darkening veins on his neck getting worse. “You think we’re free out there? No. No, there’s no escape from this place.” Thomas raised his head, palms toward Gally as he pointed his gun at him, feverishly.

“Gally, listen to me. You’re not thinking straight. You’re not. But we can help you. Just put down the gun.”

“I belong to the Maze.”

“Just put down the gun.” Thomas insisted, speaking softly.

“We all do.” He said before pulling the trigger. The moment the gunshot echoed in the lab, Minho threw Winston’s spear right in Gally’s chest. He gasped before falling on the floor.

“Whoa. Thomas…” Chuck called out his name quietly and he turned his head to the boy. A stain of blood was growing on his shirt. He caught him as he fell and accompanied him down

“Hey, look at me, look at me, look at me.” Thomas was panicking, speaking at a fast rate. “Oh, shit. Chuck, look at me, all right? I got you. I need you to just hang on. Shit, shit, shit.”

“Thomas, Thomas.” He raised his hand to his shoulder and handed a small figurine carved in wood.

“No, no, Chuck. You’re gonna give it to them yourself. Remember… I told you that…”

“Take it.”

“No.” He mumbled.

“Thank you.” Chuck squeezed Thomas’ hand holding the little figurine as life left his sweet blue eyes and he went still, staring at the ceiling.

“Chuck?” He cried out, shaking the boy to come to his senses. “Hey, Chuck, come on. Come on, wake up. Damn it.” He let his head fall on his chest, sobbing. Tears rolled down Grace’s face as she kneeled beside her brother a hand on his back, her head resting on his shoulder, stroking him softly with her hand, frowning to keep the tears in but a few of them fell down her eyes, wetting her eyelashes as she blinked. “We’re out. We made it. Come on. I’m sorr… Goddamn it!” As he yelled, they heard the door at the end of the corridor open, a blinding light penetrating inside the laboratory. Grace held onto her brother, glancing at the figures walking toward them as she heard him scream and cry wholeheartedly. There were soldiers in masks and tactical gears. They led the others to the exit, and forcefully pulled away Grace and Thomas from each other and from the body of the poor 12-year-old, Chuck. Grace watched Thomas being dragged by two soldiers as he struggled to get back to Chuck and she cried as they brought them to an helicopter sitting on the expanse of sand stretching as far as the eye can see around them. They were then sat close together in the helicopter with one of the men who had pulled them out of there and he lowered the scarf that hid his face.

“You guys are all right?” Grace, seated in between Newt and Thomas, right in front of the man, looked at the others and they were all exchanging glances with each other in silence. “Don’t worry. You’re safe now.”

As the helicopter took off, they all straightened up to look out the window overlooking the whole maze. This was a huge and they couldn’t comprehend how this was possible. They let themselves fall back down in shock. Grace and Thomas held hands on the floor, exhausted, but they weren’t alone. The man seemingly noticed them holding hands and he looked at them.

“Relax, kids. Everything’s gonna change.” They both stared at the man, not so sure what that sentence meant and how they were supposed to take it.

[To be continued…]  

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter 

Published (05/09/2022) by Andrea

Taglist: @cathrin2405​ @kika64

[thomasbrodiesandwich]

guess what tumblr. i finally wrote a safe haven thominewt newt lives hurt/comfort for the first time ever. will probably post tomorrow<33

[book-place]

Story of Tonight

Warnings: weapons, tmr spoilers, cursing, violence, mentions of death, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Gladers x reader platonic

*not my gif*

Summary: Your chaotic order is suddenly disturbed by the arrival of the newest greenie

A/N: Welcome to book places one year event!!

Inspired by: The Story of Tonight by We the Kings

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

I may not live to see our glory

“Hey, greenie!” You called as you strolled over to the poor boy who had been whipping around, looking at the Glade in complete fear.

Alby grinned, clapping the boy on the back in a way that made him stumble forward in his already unbalanced state, “And this is Y/n.” The leader introduced while you gave a friendly wave to the boy, “And she might be the only girl here, but messing with her might be the last thing you ever do.”

You laughed, playfully shoving the boy aside, “Quit scaring the guy, Alby. You’ll make him go running off again.”

The boy's cheeks flushed at your words, “I didn’t know what was going on.” He defended weakly.

A nod of understanding came from you, “I know, I get it. We were all like that when we first got here. No matter what the other kids will tell you, not a single one of us handled it any better than you did.”

Alby began backing up with his hands in his pockets and a rare wide smile, “I’ll let n/n take it from here, but I’m serious, greenie! No flirting! If she doesn’t end you for it, I guarantee any one of the others- including myself- will!”

You scoffed and flipped him off, leaving the boy cackling as he went off to his other duties and you began steering away the new kid, who looked downright petrified.

“Don’t listen to him,” You sighed softly, “That’s just Alby being Alby. He learned over time that he had to be like that after getting the first and only girl thrown into the mix with everything.”

The boy gulped from beside you, “I wasn’t going to try and flirt-“

“I know.” You smiled kindly, bumping your shoulder with his slightly, “You don’t seem the type.”

“Have-have the others actually done things to people who’ve flirted with you?” He asked.

You grinned teasingly, “Nah, they’ve got pretty close, though.” You looked around and waved at a couple nearby boys fondly, “We’re all like a family here. And family looks out for one another, which is what they’re just trying to do.”

He nodded beside you in understanding, but then asked, “Is it normal that I don’t remember my name?”

It was so innocently asked, but his eyes were wide with fear in a way that made you chuckle slightly and swing an arm around his shoulder, “It’s your first day, greenie. You’ll remember eventually, I promise.”

You continued showing the boy around, something that had quickly become your second job around here after Alby and Newt figured out that you had more of a welcoming personality than any of the others. That alone quickly made you climb up to almost third in command around the Glade, a job often playfully fought over between you and Minho.

“What is this place?”

You faltered in your steps. After so many times of showing new greenies around, you had become used to the recurring question, but that didn’t mean it was any easier for you to talk about each time.

With a clearing of your throat, you turned to look at the small cemetery that had been set up, “These are places to rest for those we’ve lost.” It was an answer that you had been able to generate over time.

“Oh,” He breathed out, dropping his head slightly as if saddened by the loss of those he hadn’t even known, surprising you slightly. You decided that you liked this boy, “Are there many of them?”

“I believe that every loss is a great one,” You said, “So, to me, yes. But to others,” You shrugged, “Maybe not.”

“I think it is.” He whispered.

You smiled softly at his words and gently began steering him away, “I’m glad you think so.”

“But… do they die often?” The nervousness in his tone hinted at what he was trying to insinuate with the question.

“You’re going to be fine,” You reassured him, “If so many of us have made it this far, then you have lots of good people to look out for you.”

But I will gladly join the fight

“New greenie today?” Minho asked, chest still heaving up and down slightly as he leaned his forearms against the table in the map room.

You hummed, crossing your arms and leaning back against the wall, resting your head against it, “Just left him to Chuck.”

The boy grinned, “Poor kid, Chuky’ll talk his ear off.”

A small laugh left your lips, “I don’t know, the new guy asks a million questions, I think Chuck’ll be the one getting fed up.”

“Hey, sorry we’re late.” Newt's british accent rang out through the room as he and Alby stepped through the door, closing it securely behind them.

“Any new progress?” Alby got straight to business, standing over the table with cross arms.

Minho shook his head, expression dropping from the relaxed, joking one he held as the two of you conversed only seconds ago.

The leader sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “We lessen our odds of getting out of here every day that passes.” He admitted in a small whisper.

You and the other two boys exchanged a worried look, he almost never talked like that- not in front of others at least- he liked to keep hope held up for as long as he could.

With a sympathetic smile, you walked over and clapped the boy on the shoulder, making him peek over his hands to look at you.

“Take a break, Alby,” You said softly, “Relax for the rest of the night, we have the greenie bonfire still. Enjoy it.”

He reached up and placed his hand over yours, squeezing it appreciatively before nodding once to the other two and slipping out.

“Here, I’ll clean this stuff up, guys.” You picked up the papers Minho had been drawing on to showcase the map of the trails he had just run, “Save me a plate of Fry's food, will you?”

“You got it,” Minho mockingly saluted before exiting with an amused Newt right on his heels.

As soon as the door softly shut behind him, you dropped all the belongings with a tired sigh, letting your head fall into your hands.

You had to try to keep a brave face on for them- for everyone. Because even though Alby and Newt outranked you, you felt as though you were responsible for keeping their hope alive- all of the gladers hope.

You would never admit it out loud to anyone, but you had lost hope a long time ago that you were all going to get out of there. But you would fight- you would keep fighting until you had nothing left in you if only to try and give the others a chance of getting out of this place.

And when our children tell our story

“Smile, greenie,” You joked, swinging your arm around the new kids shoulders, “We’re here to celebrate you tonight.”

The boy looked over at you hesitantly, “I’m not so sure I like that idea.”

You threw your head back with a laugh, leading him towards the festivities centered around the large bonfire, “I like you, greenie, you’ve got a humor on you.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny…” He mumbled, slowly taking the glass you held out for him, “What’s this?”

You shrugged, taking a sip out of your own glass, “Gallys famous Moonshine.”

He stared down at it suspiciously, “But what’s in it?” Clearly he had met the creator of the drink already, or he most likely wouldn’t be having this much problems with it.

Your grin only widened, “That’s the thing, nobody knows. He won’t tell us.”

Hesitantly, after watching you take another swig of the mystery drink, he lifted the glass to his lips and took a slip. Less than a second later, he was bent over, sputtering and coughing.

Newt strode by just in time to see that, and laughed loudly while clapping the greenie on the back, “You get used to it after a while.” He promised with a snicker.

The boy grimaced, “I don’t know if I want to.”

“Ah, so this is the famed new greenie I’ve heard so much about,” Minho then came over, wearing a grin you knew meant he was in the mood to mess with the new boy, “Gunning to be a runner on your first day, are ya?”

A blush crept up onto his cheeks and he quickly shook his head. This caused you to scowl at Minho and swing an arm around the boy's shoulders, “Don’t listen to him, he’s just trying to get you all worked up.”

You and the other two laughed slightly while the greenie just stood there, looking uncomfortable.

Noticing this, you shifted the conversation and glanced around, “Where’s Alby?” You frowned slightly.

Newt glanced back towards the Homestead, “Already retired for the night, poor bloke could barely keep his eyes open.”

Your lips twitched into a slight frown at the news, but quickly replaced it with a wide grin when you noticed the others watching you, “Good, he deserves to get some rest.”

With that, your small group slowly dispersed, you and Minho plopping down onto some nearby logs and chatting while Newt led the greenie away to show him around a bit.

Shortly after, your attention was pulled from the boy beside you and towards where a group of gladers were huddled near the fire, cheering in a way you knew could only mean that there was a fight.

Letting loose a small sigh from your nose, you pushed yourself to your feet, ready to break up the brawl.

You surged through the crowd, the couple boys that saw you moving out of your way, already knowing that you would be mad at them for encouraging it in the first place, and wisely decided on not making it worse for themselves.

A surprising surge of anger coursed through you when you reached the front and came face to face with the sight of Gallys stupid smirk as he advanced on the greenie, who stumbled backwards in fear.

You barely knew the boy, but you already really liked him.

“Hey!” You called, marching forward and shoving Gally backwards by the chest.

Gallys eyes widened and he didn’t resist your push, everyone all around quieting as well, watching the scene before them unfold.

“Alright, ya shanks!” Minho's voice boomed behind you, “Show’s over!” Normally he didn’t get involved with the fights, but he must have followed you.

Slowly, the crowd disbanded and spread out, giving you some space, muttering amongst themselves all the while.

You turned to the boy, “Are you alright, greenie?”

“Thomas.” He mumbled, looking slightly disoriented.

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“My name- it’s Thomas.” His eyes finally lifted to meet yours.

You shot him a small, amused grin, “Funny time to remember something like that.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Thomas mumbled, shuffling his feet.

With that, you rounded on your heel to face Gally, who was being blocked from running away by Minho, who stood like a solid wall in front of him with his arms crossed.

“And you,” You seethed, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I-he-“ Gally sputtered out.

You held a hand up to silence him, “Actually, I don’t want to hear it.”

Minho let out a low whistle of amusement once Gally scampered off, “Damn, greenie, some first day you’re having.”

“Tell me about it,” Thomas muttered.

You forced yourself to let out a laugh, trying to make it sound as real as you could.

They'll tell the story of tonight

Your lips were pulled into a thin, grim line as you stood over Ben with crossed arms, your ears long since having begun ringing from his screams.

He was going through the changing and you and the others could do nothing but painfully sit around and wait for it to be completed.

Alby sat in a chair to the other side of the bed, head resting in his hands as his forehead creased with worry and contemplation.

It was beginning to get to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to get out of that room.

You turned on your heel and quickly exited, feeling a bit guilty for the sigh of relief that slipped past your lips, even though the noise of his screams were only muffled the tiniest bit through the thin door.

“Y/n.”

Subconsciously, you started with slight surprise at the sudden voice to your left, and your head whipped to the side to face Gally, who almost looked as if he had been waiting for you.

You scowled slightly, still upset with him about what happened with Thomas the night before.

“What do you want, you shank?” You grumbled, already beginning to stomp down the stairs to leave the Homestead.

“I don’t trust him.” He kept up with your quick pace with ease.

The bluntness of his tone paired with the suddenness of his words made you falter in your step slightly and you shot him a sideways gaze, “Who?” Your curiosity got the better of you.

“Thomas.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and quickening your steps in hopes of getting away from the boy.

A gentle hand grabbed your arm and pulled you to a stop. You were forced to look into Gallys eyes that held such seriousness and urgency that you didn’t even try to wretch your arm from his grip, “I saw him during the changing. I don’t know how or why, but I don’t trust him.”

“You saw him?” You hesitated.

He nodded his head, “Clear as day.”

You swallowed thickly, averting your eyes to the other side of the Glade, where Newt was showing Thomas the ropes of everything.

“Thanks for letting me know,” Was the only thing you said before slipping away.

Let's have another round tonight

She’s the last one. Ever.

Of course, you should have known. The first time there’s ever another girl in the Glade, she comes with an ominous note that shoots fear through everyone’s hearts, including your own.

Your first thought was if she was the last greenie to come up, then would the Box itself never come up again either? Would you be able to still get supplies?

The girl was quick to pass out almost as quickly as she had woken up, and you could tell right away that Thomas seemed off, as if her arrival had triggered something from within him.

Unconsciously, your mind drifted to Gallys words from earlier, the ones about seeing Thomas while he was going through the changing. Maybe this as connected to it.

You hadn’t questioned it though, or voiced your opinions, too busy working with Newt to keep everyone’s panic at bay, even when your own was rising more and more by the second.

Alby looked at you, and you picked up on a hint of duress that only those closest to him would be able to see. It was never a good sign when the leader of the Glade was worried and practically showing it.

Let's have another round tonight

A loud scream pierced through the air, immediately ripping your attention away from Newt, who was talking in front of you, and your head snapped over to the source of the noise so fast that you could have sworn you almost got whiplash.

Without a second thought, you took off as fast as your legs would carry you into the general direction, eyes zoning in on where Thomas was making a beeline out of the trees, seemingly aimlessly.

Right on his heels was Ben, who you were certain was still supposed to be on bed rest. The boy was chasing after the greenie with a murderous glint in his eyes that made your stomach churn.

Gladers all around quickly gathered close to the two boys, watching with parted lips and eyes wide with shock as Ben tackled Thomas to the ground.

“Hey-“ You yelled, moving to dove forward and push him off the boy, only for another hand to hold you back.

Your head whipped around to where Newt was shaking his head, nodding in the direction of Alby, who wore a deadly calm look and held a bow that was pointed directly at Ben’s head.

“Get off of him, Ben,” Alby demanded authoritatively.

The boy made sounds of protest, refusing to release him.

Your eyes worriedly flickered down to where Thomas lay, staring up in horror as he used all his strength to try and keep the crazed boy at bay.

“This is your last warning.”

Newts hand was still gently but firmly placed around yours to keep you from impulsively interfering and possibly getting hurt.

Ben let out a scream, arm reeling back with a sharp object grasped tightly in his fist, as if to stab Thomas, but was swiftly thrown off the boy by the force of an arrow hitting him in the side of his face.

Thomas immediately scampered up, stumbling away from the boy. Only then did Newt let go of you, and you quickly rushed to him while a bunch of the Gladers moved to secure Ben.

“Hey, are you okay?” You asked anxiously, eyes traveling over his face for any sign of damage.

He huffed out a large breath of air, muscles still tense from the chase, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

Dusk quickly approached after that, seconds ticking by until the Keepers were to get together to push Ben into the maze just in time for the doors to close. Locking him in there for the night.

You knew he deserved it- he tried to murder Thomas- but in the end, you couldn’t bring yourself to go and watch.

It was honestly sick, pushing a kid to his death, even after he tried to take another’s life.

Let's have another round tonight

It was one bad thing right after the next.

You felt like you barely ever had time to breathe, tragedy just kept striking again and again.

Now, you paced back and forth at the west door entrance of the maze that Minho and Alby were supposed to come back through hours ago. The two of them went out to explore a dead grievers body that the runner had supposedly seen, and had not been back since.

Every couple of seconds, you would glance up at the ever setting sun and your heart would just sink lower and lower into your chest.

You had resorted to worriedly biting on your thumb nail, ignoring the way all the Gladers around you were muttering amongst themselves in their own panic.

“They’ll be alright.”

Though you knew the british boy was trying to comfort you, the slight waver in his tone at the end of his sentence gave him away to only putting his confidence on for show.

You couldn’t even find it in yourself to manage a nod, urgency and worry eating up inside of you. It was getting so bad that it felt as if your chest was contracting.

You didn’t know what to do.

All of a sudden, two figures emerged from around the corner. Well, one figure was stumbling while dragging another limp figure at their side.

Minho was dragging Alby along.

Minho was dragging Alby along, and the doors were beginning to shut.

Your mouth went dry and your throat began closing up.

“Come on!”

“Hurry!”

“Leave him!”

“Run, Minho, run!”

Desperate cries broke out from all around you as everyone tried to urge the pair on. But you already knew, somewhere deep down, that there was no chance of them making it.

They were too far away and the doors were closing far too quickly.

From the corner of your eye, you barely even registered Thomas’s body moving forward until it was too late. Until Newt's arm was hanging uselessly to the side after trying to grab the boy and yank him back.

Until Thomas had slipped through the maze doors just in time for them to close with a deafening thud.

Raise our glass to freedom

Not once during any of the hours of the night had you moved from your spot.

Your feet were planted firmly into the ground right in the very center of the west door and that’s where they stayed. Your eyes didn’t close for longer than the occasional blink, and you wordlessly waved away any of your worried friends who had tried to coax you to bed.

Nothing could have moved you from that spot. Not when three of your closest friends were trapped in the horrid maze for the night.

Somewhere deep down, you knew that no matter what you did, no matter how long you waited, nothing would bring them back. It was impossible to survive a night in the maze.

“Love,” Though you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, you didn’t tear your eyes away from the bland concrete in front of you, “The doors are gonna open soon, and I don’t think we should be here when they do.”

You knew he was just trying to spare you the heartbreak of the doors opening without any one of them being there, but you couldn’t will yourself away.

“I can’t,” Your voice was slightly hoarse from non use.

“Y/n…” Chuck was there too, the poor boy was also worried about you, “Fry said we can go get some breakfast from him before any of the others get up. That means we get first dibs on everything.”

Your feet remained firmly planted on the ground.

The all too familiar groan of the doors easing open drew more Gladers near, no other sound but the quiet murmurs that slipped past their lips.

You knew that the emptiness waiting for you would be too much to bear, but you couldn’t will your feet to move, to pull you away from the scene that would leave you devastated.

But as the doors inched open, you sucked in a sharp breath and you felt as if your heart froze.

There stood Alby, Minho, and Thomas.

All very much alive- despite the fact that Alby looked seconds away from passing out.

A sob escaped from the back of your throat and you threw yourself forward before any of the other Gladers even reacted, hugging the closest of the boys, which just so happened to be Minho.

Despite being the one to be trapped in the maze all night, Minho caught you with ease and hugged you back with a tightness that you could only assume meant he needed it just as much as you did.

“Come on,” You pulled away after a moment once Newt started speaking, “Let’s get you to the med-jacks. Then we can talk about how the bloody hell you shanks managed to survive.”

Something they can never take away

“Heya, greenie.” You grinned, striding over to the slammer.

Thomas peaked his head towards one of the openings, “Hey,” He replied back.

“I come bearing good news,” You began rifling through your pocket to pull out a key, which you slotted into the lock on the jail door and turned, letting it fall open, “You’re free to go.”

Thomas quickly scrambled out, letting loose a breath of relief, making you chuckle slightly.

“Here,” You handed him a plate of lunch you had been carrying for him, “Eat it on the way, Alby wants to talk to you.”

A mixture of surprise and relief flooded onto the boy's face, “He’s awake?”

You nodded, “The first thing he did was demand that he talked to you. Alone.”

A bit of nervousness grew on his face as the two of you walked side by side towards the Homestead, “Any idea what it’s about?”

You shook your head, “Nah… but, hey, I’ll be right outside the room if you need anything, alright?”

He nodded, shooting you a grateful smile as you arrived at the room Alby was in before he carefully crept in and closed the door behind him.

You did as promised, leaning across the wall opposite to the door as you waited for Thomas to emerge from the room again, only to be alerted a couple moments later by the sound of struggling coming from within the room.

Quickly, you burst in to see what all the ruckus was about, only to find Newt- who was surprisingly in the room as well- restraining Albys hands and Thomas backing away, eyes wide with fright. Alby himself was sputtering and seemingly trying to regain control of his breathing.

He turned his head to face you and Newt, who were now standing side by side, “Be careful with the girl, and protect the maps.” Was all he told you before his eyes rolled back and he passed out.

You knew he was talking about the strange girl that arrived the other day, but his directions were eerie to you. And sudden. You didn’t know what was happening- you were no doubt missing some pieces to the story- but you were beginning to freak out.

No matter what they tell you

No, no, no, no-

This couldn’t be happening. You must have been dreaming.

But as you whipped around in circles with your head tilted back to stare with wide, unbelieving eyes, you knew that it was true, if only by the similar reactions from the other Gladers.

The sky was gray and the sun had disappeared.

Scientifically, you knew this wasn’t possible. But you also knew that scientifically, having no sun meant no crops could grow- the things keeping you all alive. So you figured that the reality of the situation was more important than how it actually came to be.

First the girl. Then the note saying the box would bring anymore supplies. Ben going insane. Then Thomas, Alby, and Minho getting trapped in the maze. And Albys weird instructions-

Sure, being stuck, helpless, in the Glade was never ideal to begin with, but you all made due. There was order to all of the chaos, but it seemed like ever since Thomas’s arrival, everything had come tumbling down, crushing you in the process.

It was all too much. You could hardly breathe.

But you couldn’t worry about that at the moment, not when so many of the Gladers were thrown into a panic that only you and the few others in charge could even have a small hope of curing.

“Hey! Alright, listen up!” Your voice boomed over the open space, effectively gaining the attention of everyone around and silencing them, “Until we know what’s going on, everyone head to the Homestead.”

Only a few quiet murmurs escaped from the lips of all the boys, but they all did as you said without question, trusting you.

All you could do was hope that their trust wasn’t misplaced.

“Y/n,” Newt came up beside you, “We have a problem.”

“You don’t say.” You deadpanned.

The blond boy shook his head, “It’s not just the sky… the doors to the maze aren’t closing… nothing's happening.”

Your throat tightened, “What the hell do you mean?”

He gestured towards the entrances, “They should have closed by now.”

Your eyes widened and you glanced towards a couple of stragglers nearby who were yet to make it into the Homestead.

“Come on, people! Move it!” You snapped, worry seeping into your tone.

They exchanged glances, but didn’t question it, just doing as you said and changing their paces to a small jog.

Once you and Newt did a sweep to make sure that nobody was left outside, you yourselves went in and assisted in barricading all of the doors and windows to hopefully keep the horrible grievers out.

Raise our glass to the four of us

“The grievers will kill one of us each night until all of us are dead!”

As if the crazed- slightly animalistic- look in his eyes weren’t enough to make you uneasy, his words threw you as well as everyone else within the Homestead into a full on panic.

Gally had burst in with disheveled hair and clothes to announce that to all of you, but you honestly had no idea how he knew or why he was telling everyone, he knew well enough that it would just shoot fear into everyone’s hearts.

Before anyone could so much as speak, the boy had already flung himself across the room just as one of the grievers that had been trying to penetrate the place broke in.

A shrill scream left your lips along with others as you all stumbled backwards.

But instead of charging at the rest of you, the griever followed along with Gallys words and simply disappeared after he had taken the boy.

A sob raked through your body when the boy who you never considered a friend nor foe disappeared along with the creatures into the night.

Thomas pulled you into a sideways hug, his chest falling up and down rapidly as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

“They’re gonna come for one of us each night,” You muttered, finally comprehending the server weight of that fact.

“The maps!” Alby burst out suddenly, leaping ungraciously to his feet and sprinting out of the room before any of you could so much as blink at his words.

Tomorrow there'll be more of us

“What the hell are you doing?” You cried, rushing towards the map room where Alby stood, torch in hand.

He released it, feeding it to the ever growing fire.

You received no response in return, it was silent as you stared at him with betrayal-filled eyes. He was destroying years of research- possibly the only chance any of you ever had of getting out of this place.

Minho came to a stop beside you, mouth slightly agape as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing- you barely could either.

“No!” You snapped out of your trance and lunged forward, as if to dive into the flames and save the maps.

“Hey, hey-“ Minho quickly caught you around the waist and pulled you back, “It’s alright, it’s alright.”

“Does this look alright to you?” Newt snapped, he and Thomas finally having made their way over to the three of you.

“I already moved the maps,” Minho explained calmly, “They’re safe.”

For the first time that day, you sagged in relief and quit fighting against your friends hold.

Telling the story of tonight

It was a code.

Of course it was, how could you have been so stupid to not notice before?

The girl- Teresa- had proven to be helpful after you let her out of the slammer and she was able to decipher the maps as different codes when all put together.

All you needed to figure out was how to use them.

“I can’t believe it,” You ranted excitedly to Newt, “After all this time, the answers have been right in front of us.”

The boy smiled softly when he heard something in your voice that he hadn’t heard in years.

Hope. Genuine hope.

As much as you had tried to fool the others that you still believed in your chances of getting out of there, he never fell for it. Not once.

“Y/n! Newt!” Minho was breathless as he came running over to the two of you, falling forwards with his hands on his knees when he reached you.

“What is it?” You noticed the worried look on his face.

“Thomas- the shucking idiot- he got stung by a griever. On purpose.”

Your heart stopped.

“What?”

As fast as you could, you sprinted to the Homestead, throwing open the door and crowding the bed that Thomas laid on.

Almost as if waiting for your arrival, his eyes fluttered open when you came to a stop in front of him.

“I have a plan.” Were the first words he uttered.

The story of tonight

It was a miracle that the Keepers- that anybody- had agreed to the reckless- and undoubtedly stupid- plan, and you honestly had no idea how Thomas did it. But now, you, and the rest of the Gladers that decided against staying, were gearing up with weapons to storm the maze and make your escape.

Minho shot you an encouraging smile- the best one he could muster- as he handed you a makeshift spear to defend yourself and others.

You tuned everything out as Thomas went over the plan once again with everyone, but you already had it down. All you had to do was keep telling yourself that it was achievable- that it was actually happening. That you weren’t just dreaming. That there was actually a chance of getting out of this place.

So when everyone charged forward with a loud battle cry, you joined in with them, falling into step with Minho and Thomas, who were leading the way through the maze.

At every twist and turn, there was a new griever lurking about, deadly weapons at the ready and deafening shrieks going.

You lost track quickly of how many of them you had stabbed, how many had tried swiping at you, only for you to duck at the last moment.

“Come on!” Thomas shouted above the chaos, rushing over and grabbing your wrist to drag you over to the edge of the cliff as the other Gladers held the beasts off.

Your wide eyes snapped over to him, “What? This wasn’t part of the plan-“

“I need you down there.” There was a sort of urgency in his voice as he spoke, and it reflected through his eyes as well, “Please, I can’t do this without you.”

You hesitated before slowly nodding. You came to the realization that you were the first person in the glade to show him kindness, and even if you only knew each other for a short amount of time, you were close friends. And he needed you, so you would be there for him.

“I’ll go first.” He called, giving you one last nod before jumping off the edge of the cliff, disappearing right where he said he would.

Your eyes flitted back to Newt and Minho, both of the boys sending your hurried nods to tell you to go along, that they would be alright and would keep everyone else safe.

So with that, you followed after Thomas, jumping off the cliff and into the abyss.

Bloody Shanks 🧪- @jvdethirlwall @ineedmorefanfics2 @etanordoesbullsh1t @kiyomi-uchiha777

[oceans-goddess]

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! go to my page to see what I write for, but if you have something different, don’t be afraid to ask! I neeeeeed some inspo!

[ateotd-izzy]

maroon | thomas x fem!reader

“the burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me”

during his first night in the glade, thomas (quite literally) bumps into a girl.

“and how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was maroon”

as more time passes, thomas becomes closer with y/n (very close), but that changes after they escape the maze.

“the mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones”

warnings: it’s bad, kissing, maze runner, swearing and whatever (i never know what to write here)

“the lips i used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon”

☾

“our med-jacks, clint and jeff.” newt introduced to the greenie as he showed the boy around. “and this is— woah, watch out.”

the greenie hadn’t been watching where he was going and bumped right into you as you walked past, spilling the drink he had been holding all over your shirt.

“oh, god, i am so…” he paused as he met your eyes. a girl? “sorry.”

you looked down at your soaking wet shirt and a few boys around snickered.

“thanks.” you smiled sarcastically and turned on your heel, heading towards the small hut that sat not far from the homestead.

“nice one, greenie.” newt clapped him on the back. “i think you just ruined her day.”

“who was that?” the boy asked, watching as you disappeared behind the door of the hut.

“y/n. she’s one of the runners.” newt answered. “also the glade’s only girl.”

“oh.”

inside you were changing your shirt, muttering in annoyance as you did so.

your favorite shirt (out of the five or so you owned) was now covered in gally’s foul-smelling drink thanks to that greenie.

after changing, you went outside to join the party again, only for it to be declared over moments after the greenie remembered his name.

thomas.

“uh, hey.” he jogged over to you as you walked back to your hut. “i’m, um, i’m sorry about before. is your shirt okay?”

“it’ll survive.” you shrugged. “i guess.”

“so, you’re a runner?” he asked, walking with you. “you go into the maze with that minho guy?”

“yep.” you glanced at him. “are you just going to follow me the whole way?”

“oh, sorry.” he slowed down. “um, i’ll go now.”

“okay.” you stared.

“see you around, y/n.”

you furrowed your eyebrows. “right. see you around…”

“thomas.”

“see you around, thomas.”

while it may not have seemed like it, you and thomas became pretty close friends over the next week or so, and you felt dumb to admit that you even had feelings for him.

he was in the same boat. except thomas was head-over-heels in love with you.

you kissed once. when the glade was being attacked by grievers, he kissed you before the two of you split up.

so after your group escaped the maze, the two of you did your best to stick together.

the two of you sat on the floor of the room your group had been forced into after being ‘saved’.

your legs were stretched out to sit in his lap, and his hands sat on top of them.

the rest of the group was around, all full after eating more food than they’d ever seen in their lives.

you couldn’t focus on the conversation that was going on between teresa and the boys, because all you could focus on was how thomas’ fingers drew small shapes on the bare skin of your leg where your pants had rolled up a little.

you wanted to tell him how you felt. you wanted to kiss him again. but everyone else was around, and the thought of being in front of everyone made you uncomfortable.

you had no clue how thomas did his whole leader thing.

when the door to the room opened, everyone jumped up and ran over, eager to know exactly what was going on.

the man who had opened the door introduced himself as mr. janson and led your group through the compound.

thomas held your hand the whole time.

“first things first, let’s do something about that smell.”

the boys were being taken to a different room to you and teresa. just before your hand slipped from his, you kissed thomas on the cheek. simple enough.

that night you properly kissed again and he asked you to be his girlfriend, and despite all of your worries, you said yes.

it wasn’t long after that when your group had to leave the compound with another boy, aris. you still hadn’t escaped wicked.

you stuck by thomas’ side the whole time, or until you were separated again.

you didn’t even know if he was alive, but jorge was confident he and brenda were fine.

it took a few days until you reached what jorge called marcus’ place.

you got into the party and the first thing you spotted was thomas and brenda.

kissing.

then they pulled apart, thomas said something and brenda wandered off.

thomas seemed to spin around the room until he yelled out and collapsed.

your heart was broken.

you were separated for just a few days, the longest since you had met, and he was kissing a girl he barely knew.

you couldn’t even say anything to him because he was out cold. instead you had to help minho drag him upstairs and act like nothing happened.

then, after he woke up, your group was on the run again, searching for the right arm.

in the car, thomas reached his hand over and tried to take yours in his, but you pulled yours back. you didn’t let him.

he looked at you. he was confused.

you didn’t answer his look. you just turned your head away from him and looked out the car window.

he had no clue why you were suddenly ignoring him. not the entire drive to the mountains, not when the were taken to the right arm camp, not when brenda collapsed.

it was only when he was in the tent with her later, just after brenda woke up, when it clicked to him why.

you had seen brenda kiss him.

everything seemed to click into place at that moment, and he jumped to his feet halfway through his conversation with brenda.

“you okay?” she asked.

“yeah. yeah, there’s just something i need to do.” thomas looked down at her. “i’m sorry, i’ll be back later.”

then he ran out of the tent.

the camp was large, and thomas had no clue where he could find you. or any of his friends for that matter.

it took about ten minutes of searching until he found you.

you were sitting alone on a rock, looking down at your feet and mumbling something to yourself.

“y/n?”

you looked up and thomas realized you had been crying.

“what?”

there was a twinge of bitterness in your voice, and thomas frowned. it reminded him of how you had spoken to him the night you met, when he had splashed his drink into you.

“you okay?”

“i’m fine.”

he knew you weren’t, and he ignored the obvious signs that you didn’t want him around when he sat down beside you.

“what do you want, thomas?” you asked.

without another word, he simply wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest.

at first, you thought about trying to pull away. but you didn’t.

“why’d you kiss her? brenda?” you asked eventually. “do you like her better? because, you know, i’ll back off or whatev—”

“no, no, no, y/n.” he pulled back so he could look you in the eyes. “i could never like anyone better than i like you.”

“then why—?”

“she kissed me.” thomas told you, cupping your cheek with one hand. “we were drugged, okay? i…”

thomas winced slightly at the memory of brenda’s face after his words.

“i thought she was you.” he admitted. “whatever that marcus guy put in that drink had me seeing the weirdest shit.”

“are you calling me weird shit?” you teased and thomas’ eyes widened.

“what? no.” he shook his head. “that’s not what i meant.”

“i know. i was kidding.”

you grabbed his hand and interlocked your fingers.

“i’m sorry.” he apologized.

“don’t be. i get it now.” you shrugged.

“yeah, but i could’ve said something sooner.”

“when?” you asked. “when you were passed out? or when we were almost shot by mountain people?”

he chuckled. “okay, maybe not. but—”

“tommy, i get it. don’t worry.”

the feeling of freedom and happiness that evening was short lived, and soon became a nightmare.

teresa betrayed them, wicked burned the camp to the ground, and multiple people were taken.

sonya, aris, minho and you.

thomas had lost you. he had lost the battle. but he was determined to get you and minho and everyone else back.

he would do anything he could. he would do whatever it took to get you back.

taglist: @brvceyamada

a/n: why don’t these ever turn out like they sounded in my head LMAO

[nat-without-a-g]

Thinking about how (almost) every kid wanted to be the chosen one for the Hell Prophecy, and Taylor’s anime opening bit in the first episode. Tried picking out who what the MC of what genre but it was really hard as someone who usually does not consider genre ^^;

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

The Power of Suffering - Part 2 (Gally x OC)

Summary: 5 years have past since Gally was rescued from the Maze. He is an integral leader in the Right Arm and Joan is lead medic at their home base. When he's not out on patrol or on mission, he can be found with her.

Pairing: Gally x OC (Joan)

Word Count: 4148

Warnings: canon typical violence, cranks, background original characters, death mention, grief, gally being so soft it hurts

ONE | TWO | THREE

Gally, after many talks with Lawrence and many nights spent with Joan reading to him, decided to stay with the Right Arm. And five years later he was right behind Beckett in the pecking order, leading missions and giving out orders. Joan was right when she saw that he was a fighter. WCKD couldn’t hide behind their walls forever, and Gally was more than willing to help take them down after what they did to him. What they did to Joan. What they continued to do every day to the less fortunate who lived outside the city. 

Today, Gally and his unit were assigned to go to the outer reaches of the city in search of supplies. Weapons. Ammo. Blankets to be passed out to the people. Medical supplies. Batteries. Equipment they could easily repair. Anything that could even have the potential to be useful was gathered and brought back to base. The only problem was that the outer reaches were crawling with Cranks hunting for anyone foolish enough to roam too close. 

“Alright, boys, we got three teams of two. Jameson and Stormes. Farley and Crouch. And me and Vince,” Gally barked his orders as the van slowed to a stop, “Nelson’ll stay in the van waiting. We only got thirty minutes to get what we can and go — and we won’t hesitate to leave your ass if you’re not back in time.” 

“Masks!” Farley yelled as he opened the doors, all of them pulling down their respirators over their faces. 

Gally emerged from the van first, gun held aloft and eyes vigilant for any danger. 

“Jameson, you and Stormes to the west. Farley, you and Crouch to the east. Vince and I’ll head south.” The unit started to split up cautiously, “And watch your six, boys. Crank territory.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Vince and Gally crept along in silence, heading south and away from the van until they found what remained of some form of shop. The walls were all but caved in, the sign that used to hang above the door dangling from one corner and half-melted. Vince pointed the location out to Gally who nodded his head in agreement. They would check it for supplies. 

Gally entered through the door first, gun held up and ready to fire at anything that moved. 

“Clear,” he announced when he’d walked the entire right side of the building, Vince repeating the statement for the left. 

The place looked like it had been ransacked a couple of times over, but there still might have been something of value hidden beneath the rubble. 

“Stay here — start searching. I’ll go check the back.” 

“Yes, sir,” Vince replied, slinging his gun over his shoulder and crouching down on the ground. 

The small room at the back of the store, which was probably once an office of some kind, was bathed in darkness. Debris and other fallen buildings had covered the windows from the outside. With a click, Gally’s hand-held flashlight came on, revealing nothing but an empty room and a pile of bones propped up in a chair. 

“Jesus!” Gally whispered under his breath at the sight. 

“You found the Lord in there, sir?” Vince called from the other room, his impeccable hearing once again making him grin. 

“Shut up, Vince,” Gally chuckled, slinging his gun over his shoulder, “We’re all clear.” 

Vince was only eighteen, three years younger than Gally and only about half his size. He’d only been with the Right Arm for a few months but had already proven himself to be an excellent fighter and an even better scout. His eyes were keen and his ears were even more so. He could hear a Crank coming from a mile off. And Gally always made sure to bring him on all of his missions. But of course, it was more than his usefulness. Vince was Gally’s friend. Though the other men in the unit found that hard to believe when Vince told them that - and Gally would never admit it either. But Vince knew. He knew in the way Gally would slap him on the back when they finished a mission or the way they always sat together at meals. 

Gally was like an older brother to Vince. He looked up to him like the Evening Star. And Gally almost wished he wouldn’t. 

Next to the chair full of bones was a table covered in random junk it seemed, sprinkled with a heavy layer of dust. Gally quickly sifted through the items just in case. An old mug. A jewelry box full of useless trinkets. And a little paperback book that he easily stuffed into the largest pocket of his kevlar vest. 

“You find anything in there, boss?” Vince called. 

“No. Nothing.” Gally did another quick glance around the room to make sure. 

“You’re spending a lot of time in there for nothing.” Gally opened his mouth to give an equally snarky reply, but the words died on his tongue when Vince went on, “Come take a look at this.” 

In the corner of the shop, Vince was sitting on the floor, a neat stack of wood and a pile of dirt next to him. 

“What’d you find?” Gally asked as he approached. 

“Medicine.” Vince threw an orange bottle at Gally who caught it with ease, “Antibiotics, steroids, allergy pills. The works.” 

“Huh.” Gally turned the bottle over in his hand, “Place must’ve been a pharmacy or something.” 

“Joanie’s gonna love us when we get back,” Vince smiled as he began to gather the medicine bottles together. 

Gally’s mouth involuntarily twitched at the girl’s name, his hand instinctively touching the book in his pocket. He had been finding them for her for years. Always keeping his eyes open for worn pages amongst the rubble. Of course, he never told anyone he was looking, but people noticed anyway. Whenever he would sneak off after a mission to the medical wing, the other men in his unit would give each other knowing grins and playful shoves not to say anything. 

“I’ll find something to put those in,” Gally said dismissively, ignoring the comment about Joan all together. 

Once a sturdy enough crate had been found the two of them started to load the medicine into it. But as the last few bottles slid into place, Vince cocked his head towards the door.

“What is it?” Gally asked quietly, trying to attune his own ears to noises in the distance. 

And after a moment, he heard it. The distinct growl of a Crank a ways off. 

“Cranks,” Vince confirmed. 

“Alright. Let’s head back. This is a good haul.” Gally pulled his walkie-talkie from his vest and spoke to the rest of the unit, “Gally and Vince heading back to the van. Cranks to the south.” 

“Shanks!” Farley’s distinctive gruff voice crackled back. 

Over the years, nearly everyone had picked up on Gally’s Glade terms. At first, they said it to make fun of him, but now it was a part of their vernacular altogether.

“Thirty minutes is almost up anyway,” Jameson replied next, “Jameson and Stormes heading back to the van.” 

“Fine,” Farley sighed, “Farley and Crouch heading back to the van.” 

“Shuckface,” Gally said with a satisfied grin before switching the walkie off. 

Vince cackled at the exchange as Gally lifted the crate with both hands. The two of them exited the shop and started heading back towards the van with smiles on their faces. It was unusual for a supply run to be this successful. 

“Waddaya think’s for dinner tonight?” Vince asked as they walked. 

“Something terrible — as per usual,” Gally snorted. 

“Will you wait to give Joanie the book before or after?” 

“What?” Gally looked like he could’ve snapped his neck, even with the respirator covering his face, the only thing giving his embarrassment away being the patches of red on his neck. 

“I noticed you always searching for ‘em. And Joanie’s the only one who reads at base. I’m not stupid.” Vince shrugged, knowing from experience that being on Gally’s bad side was not ideal. “I won’t tell anyone. Promise.” 

Sometimes that kid was too observant for his own good. 

“You better not. Or I’ll beat your ass.” Gally looked over at him pointedly, trying to gain control over the sudden heat he felt in his face. 

“Yeah, yeah — I know.” Vince rolled his eyes with a knowing grin as they walked past a towering pile of the remains of a skyscraper. 

The two men turned towards the hill at the sound of debris tumbling down the side, the echoes of it rebounding in their ears. They both knew rocks don’t fall on their own, so they looked up, only to see a Crank coming over the top of the hill. 

“Closer than I thought,” Vince commented off-handedly. 

Before their eyes, the one Crank turned into a host. All of them crawling their way over the ridge and screeching when they spotted Gally and Vince at the bottom. They all stumbled down the hill at break-neck speeds. Cranks killed themselves to fill their insatiable need to attack anything that moved, and that was perfectly exampled in the way they tripped over each other coming down the hill. Some of them crashed completely and landed with the remains of their bones sitting at odd angles, still crying out in archaic rage. 

Gally grabbed Vince by the vest and yanked him ahead of himself, “Go! Go!” 

They might have had guns and training, but that meant absolutely nothing when face to face with that many Cranks. So they took off at a run towards the van, the growls and screams of Cranks hot on their tails. 

“Shit!” Vince yelled as Gally ran ahead of him, his shorter frame giving him a disadvantage. 

Gally looked back to see his partner falling behind, his respirator fogging with his panting breath, “Come on, Vince! We’re almost there!” 

With the crate still held tightly in his hands, Gally pushed forward, narrowly avoiding the obstacles of rock and stone in his path. He rounded a corner and there it was: The van. Safety. Promise of a future. Hope that they would make it out alive. Gally looked back over his shoulder, to make sure Vince was still behind him, only to see a Crank grab the younger man by the shoulder and pull him back. 

“No! No! Get off!” Vince screamed as the Cranks started to claw at him, to tear him apart. He pulled his gun in front of him as best he could and started to fire, but there were too many of them. 

“Vince!” Gally cried. 

Everything was in slow motion. Gally could see through the horde of Cranks. Vince’s terrified face through his mask as he accepted his fate, teeth sunken into his neck and claws tearing his clothes. Gally saw Vince’s childhood on the street, begging for scraps and just wanting to belong. His first day in the Right Arm, scared and wandering off when he wasn’t supposed to. He saw Vince coming to him with every problem, in every circumstance, he finally saw himself the way Vince saw him. A friend. A brother. Someone to protect him. Then a look passed over Vince’s face, a look that said not today, as he pulled a grenade from his vest and pulled the pin. 

“No!” Gally screamed just before he was forced onto his back by the explosion. 

Pieces and parts flew everywhere, the dark blood of a Crank mixing with the bright red of the living. A high pitched whine rang through Gally’s ears as he sat up slowly, watching with bleary eyes as a few Cranks started hauling what was left of themselves towards him. He felt two people grab him by the arms and yank him to his feet, practically dragging him towards the van at a run. He was thrown into the back and the van lurched forward, speeding away from the outer reaches and back towards base. 

“What the hell happened?” 

“What happened to Vince?” 

“Where did all those Cranks come from?”

The rest of the men in his unit kept asking as they drove, but Gally didn’t have answers, he didn’t want to answer. All he could do was stare at the back of the van blankly and feel the way the engine rumbled at his skin. 

All he ever wanted to do was protect the people he cared about. And he had failed. 

No one said anything when they arrived back to base and Gally immediately took off towards the medical wing. The other men in his unit usually joked about it, even daring to make fun of their commander for it, but not this time. This time they all silently got out of the van and allowed Gally to stalk off, unloading their haul numbly. 

The entrance to base was underneath what used to be a parking garage for a shopping mall, the shopping mall was where the Right Arm offered shelter for those living outside the Last City and where meals were served every day. And right next to the mall was a church. The church was where the medical wing was, and where the majority of the Right Arm stayed. Gally made a beeline for the church, narrowly avoiding bumping into people in the bustling complex as he finally ripped his respirator from his face. He could hardly breathe with it on. 

“Hey, Joanie, you in here?” he called out upon entering the medical wing. It took everything in him for his voice not to crack. 

“Yep! I’m here!” He heard her gentle voice from the supply closet at the back of the room. His jaw clenched at the sound. 

She was crouched on the floor taking inventory, clipboard on her knees and her fingers dancing over boxes of bandages she counted silently. 

“You better have some bandages from that supply run. We’re running lower than I would like.” She looked up at Gally as he stood in the doorway, the usual smile tugging at the corners of her lips falling at the sight of him. 

His characteristically mischievous eyes were vacant and red. His hands, always prepared to fight and rough with callouses but always soft with her, were balled into fists at his sides. His clothes were spattered with red and black, the true signs of a fight with a Crank. And his usually relaxed and nearly playful stature was rigid and tense. 

Joan stood from her spot on the ground, her eyebrows pulled together in worry. “What happened?” 

Gally swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he continued to stare at the pocket of her loose cotton overalls. “I lost Vince.” 

“Lost him? What do you mean — lost him?” She knew exactly what it meant, but she refused to believe it as the tears built in her green eyes. 

Vince was her friend too. He was just a kid. A goofy kid that always tried to make her smile, even on the worst days when he was exhausted and could barely move. 

“Cranks. There were so many of them, Joanie.” He looked into her face for the first time, and she could see the tearing happening behind his blue eyes. She knew how much Vince looked up to him, how much Gally saw himself in him. “We couldn’t fight them off — I couldn’t fight them off. I couldn’t — I couldn’t — “ 

“Hey — hey,” Joan shushed him, taking hold of his hand and pulling him closer, “There wasn’t anything you could do.” 

She tried to stay strong for him, tried to be comforting instead of breaking down in tears like she so desperately needed to. But she could not help the few tears that ran down her cheeks. They ran trails through her freckles and dripped down her chin. Tiny testaments to how much she would miss him, how much she hurt for him, for Gally. 

“There’s always something I can do.” He looked down to her smaller hands enclosing his, his jaw muscle twitching as he focused on the feeling of her gentle fingers rubbing comfort into him, “But I’m always too late.” 

Joan shook her head as she looked down to their hands as well, his much larger ones still hidden by gloves. Sniffing back her tears she focused on undoing the velcro of his glove and slowly slipping it from his hand. She performed the same task on his other hand, still steady even though he was about to fall apart. Taking his now bare hands in hers she pulled him even closer, his face merely inches from her’s as she rubbed soothing circles into the backs of his hands. 

“You try and save everyone else, Gally.” Her voice came out as a whisper through her tears, and when she looked up at him with her still comforting gaze even though she was utterly broken, he was suddenly overcome with the urge to pull her closer. To wrap her in his arms and breathe in her familiar scent of antiseptic and lilac. Not necessarily a pleasant smell, but one that was so distinctly Joan that it was comforting all the same. “But who gets to save you?” 

Eyes closed, he pulled her in and pressed his forehead to hers. Over the years, a lot of things had changed. Not only was Gally in a position of authority, but Joan had also taken over as head medic. All of her time was spent at base, treating casualties from missions and offering services to the people taking up residence at the Last City. A lot had changed. They were both older, far removed from the traumas of their youth yet bombarded with new ones daily. One thing always remained the same. No matter how busy or important the two of them became, they always found time to spend with each other. That common thread of the Maze pulling them together across vast distances. Or it could be a bond much deeper still.

After a moment he pulled the book he had found from his vest and slipped it into her overall’s pocket. She opened her mouth to say something — 

“Gally! Thought I’d find you in here!” The pair stiffened as Beckett’s booming voice echoed throughout the medical wing, Gally immediately dropped Joan’s hands and turned to face the older man. “Lawrence wants a full report on what happened on the supply run.” 

“Yes, sir,” Gally replied before exiting the medical wing at a brisk walk, passing Beckett with the crate full of medicine in his hands. 

“And these — “ Beckett set the crate down on an empty cot as Joan came out of the supply closet, wiping her eyes as best she could as her tears continued to fall. “Are for you.” 

She sniffed, “Thank you.” 

Her hands had been steady and strong held in his. But now that they were gone and she was alone, her hands shook unsteadily as they wrapped around each medicine bottle and inspected their contents. Grief pulled people down differently. Some stood tall and dove into their work, seeking distraction from tasks or from others. That was Gally. While others could barely stand, could barely do anything without feeling wave after wave of sadness. It was all-consuming. This was Joan. She tried to stay poised, but Beckett still noticed the tremble of her lips and the steady stream of tears down her cheeks. 

“So, what were you two doing in the closet?” Beckett asked. 

“What?” Joan looked up from the crate with puffy and genuinely innocent eyes. “Oh — we weren’t doing anything wrong if that’s what you mean.” 

“No, Joanie, you’re not in trouble.” 

“Oh, uh — “ She touched the small paperback he had slipped into her pocket without a word before she picked up the crate and started carrying it to the closet. “Gally just had something to give me from the supply run.” 

She knew Gally wasn’t embarrassed by anything, especially when it came to how much time he spent with her. But she was also aware that he didn’t want the rest of the Right Arm to know that he always kept an eye out for books on missions. That he would sneak into her room nearly every night for her to read to him. That she would run her fingers over his short locks when he fell asleep with his head in her lap. That he could be anything other than the hard, battle-worn leader he had been raised to be. 

“Something that wasn’t with the rest of the supplies?” 

Apparently, her attempts to avoid this conversation with Beckett were futile. 

She put the crate down on the floor harder than she intended and turned to face Beckett, who’s face only read concern as she wiped furiously at her eyes, “Look, I’m really not in the mood for another one of your fatherly lectures. Gally gave me something. End of story.” 

“No — not end of story. We lost Vince. I know why he really came here.” Beckett watched as Joan turned back to the crate and began to place the medicine bottles on an empty shelf. 

She paused. “If you know why then why are you so bothered by it?” 

“Because he’s only using you, Joanie,” Beckett sighed, “You’re too kind to him. He’ll only hurt you.” 

“Kindness is a strength, I think.” She turned to face him now, arms crossed and tears forgotten. “One that you’ve apparently forgotten.” 

“All I’m saying is that I’m seeing a whole lot of receiving and not a lot of giving.” 

The sigh Joan released sounded nearly defeated, her back to him as she went back to sorting. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Beckett?” 

“Yeah. Guess so.” He finally accepted defeat as he turned from the door of the supply closet. “See ya later, Joanie.” 

His footsteps echoed through the medical wing as he left. Joan listened until they disappeared before she pulled the book back out of her pocket. A hand passed over the cover revealed the title: Till We Have Faces. Gally didn’t have a soft spot for anyone. He was a great leader. Tough as nails. But when he was with Joan he melted. And he gave so much more than anyone could ever know. 

After dinner was finished Joan made sure the night medic was all set to go before heading to her room for the night. Abnormally, her door was shut when she arrived. When she pushed it open with a creak, she saw Gally standing by her bed with his hands in his sweater pockets. 

“Joanie,” he spoke her name softly, too softly, as she shut the door behind herself. 

The grief, like a wave, pulled her back under and she was a sobbing mess. Her face pinched in anguish as fresh tears rolled from her eyes and her shoulders shook. Her fists curled her sleeves over her hands as Gally crossed the room in only a few strides. Circling his arms around her shoulders he drew her into his chest, her mournful cries muffled against him. After a minute he easily picked her up and carried her to the bed, sitting down with her in his lap. 

Joan screamed in agony for her friend and Gally let her, let her do whatever she needed to. And all the while he was running his fingers through her hair and rubbing soothing circles into her thigh. Vince was a big part of their lives. He always had been. And now he was gone. 

Once she had quieted down, Gally spoke in a hoarse whisper, “I’m gonna miss him.” 

“Me too.” Fresh tears bubbled up to the surface of Joan’s eyes. 

“Remember when we caught him sneaking biscuits out of the kitchen?” 

“Yeah.” Joan wiped at her face, “I remember you were so mad at him. But then he tried to bribe us with biscuits to keep quiet.” 

“I still can’t believe you took the bribe,” Gally chuckled. 

“I can never turn down a biscuit. And — and Vince was always so sweet.” She tilted her head up to look him in the face for a moment, studying the freckles on his nose and the curve of his mouth before whispering, “Will you read to me?” 

Gally looked over to the small stack of books on the table by her bed, nine in total in varying shapes and conditions, “Which one would you like?” 

“The one about marriage.” She laid her head back down on his chest when he pulled the correct book from the pile. “About being happy.” 

And so he began to read: 

“Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her … “

wanna be tagged? drop in a comment or message me directly