#tmr alby

[crazyhappycat]

Me and my friend were talking about The Maze Runner

I feel bad…

[agneslovestheinternet-blog]

FUCK YOU, don't leave me

Part Three: Heat (Part One, Part Two, Part Four, Part Five)

Gally x Fem!Reader, NSFW!!

Considering your antics last month, your friends are shocked to see that both you and Gally have been allowed to come to bonfire night tonight. They would have been shocked to see both of you entering the woods only minutes apart, if they had noticed. Although this imminent confrontation is going to end in a very different kind of heat; the type that threatens to change your dynamic forever.

Genre: enemies to lovers, SMUT (starts abt 4.1K words in there’s lots of exposition)

Word Count: 7.3K  Read Time: 25 minutes (it’s a long one, ik, bear with)

Warnings & Info: protected, drunk p-in-v sex, despite the fact that both characters are drunk when they have sex there is very clear implied, physical, and verbal consent!! slight mutual masturbation, missionary, virgin!Gally & virgin!Y/N, underage drinking, strong language, “we shouldn’t be doing this” vibes, Gally's thoughts in green, Y/N's thoughts in blue

Author’s Note: I’ve never written smut before but I have had sex so how hard could it be? I hope you guys love this part; I absolutely loved writing the woods scene and I truly think it is the best writing of this whole fic thus far so tell me what you think! Part 4 will be the final part!

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

As you were cleaning the med-hut, Gally was changing out of his work clothes, taking a moment to wipe his face with a clean towel and inspect the muscles in his arms, feeling suddenly self critical. He had never really cared about his appearance before, but something about the content of his dreams lately had him wondering things he’d never wondered before, like if his hair was cut too short or if his muscles didn’t compliment his height. He cursed at himself for acting like a dumb teenager with a crush, but that didn’t stop him from picking out his best shirt, (the one he never wears while working), and running his hands nervously through his hair. He walked out of his hut quickly, trying to shake the thought of what expression might be on your face when you see him tonight. 

Now that you were back in your hut that you shared with all the Glade girls (Elsie, Lireale, Gia, Ariana and now, supposedly, tonight’s greenie who hasn’t remembered her name yet), you peeled your Med-Jack uniform off methodically. You hesitated over your clothing trunk before changing into the closest thing to a nice outfit The Glade affords you; a deep red, v-neck top with a small black bow in the middle of the v (courtesy of Lireale’s sewing skills) and black pants that are tighter fitting than your work pants. You were grateful that all of your roommates were already at the bonfire, as you were sure that at least one of them would’ve asked you snidely who you were trying to impress tonight, if they had watched you pick this outfit.

If everyone’s going to be staring at me tonight, I might as well look good.

You ran your fingers absentmindedly through your hair as you tried to shake the feeling that this idea of Alby’s was going to go terribly wrong. You were pretty sure Gally had moved past his murderous rage from that night, but that still left his regular rage, and that’s not much better. Although he did offer to stay home tonight which suggests a lack of rage entirely and besides that he’s probably been too distracted lately to want to come after you. Feeling you’d procrastinated enough, you walked to your door, prepared to face whatever fresh hell this night had in store for you.

As it turned out, there wasn’t much hell to be had currently. You and Gally had both been greeted by your respective friend groups with shock and delight. They were trying to be non-invasive and avoid pointed questions about how the hell you managed to be here tonight, but you both noticed their eyes darting between you two in the dim light of the bonfire, waiting for the tension to break. After settling into the festivities with a lot less apprehension, you decided to make a pit stop at Frypan’s table, to ask for something you knew you shouldn’t.

“Hey Fry!”

“Hey Firecracker,” you cringed at the nickname. “How’s your night going? Are you thinking of setting the place on fire again?” his eyes flashed mischievously.

“No no, my arson days are behind me, Fry. I could use a drink though,” you slipped in, slyly, hoping Alby hadn’t gotten to him first.

“Shit, you know Alby would kill me if I gave you one,”

Fuck, he had gotten to him first. Either that or he was just demonstrating common sense, you thought to yourself. It was actually the former. The day after the incident last month, Alby had forced Gally to clean out his entire stock of his drink and hand it over to Fry for safekeeping. He had also forbidden Fry from giving Gally any of the ingredients to make more. When Alby had finished with you earlier that night, he had marched straight up to Fry and made him promise under threat of a week spent in The Pit to not give you or Gally even a drop of alcohol tonight. Frypan had tried to tell him that Gally utterly terrified him at the best of times and he was sure he already hated him for taking away all of his drink in the first place. He further explained that you were a friend of his and because of those reasons combined he didn’t think he’d be very good at resisting either of you, but the leader wasn’t having it.

“Pleeassee Fry. You know bonfire nights are the only nights I ever drink. And I’ve been doing really good this month,”

“I don’t know…” Fry was getting nervous. On the one hand you had a fair point, one he’d already considered you’d make. On the other hand, he had just gotten back into Alby’s good graces after an incident of his own two months ago that involved an out-of-control smoke bomb and he didn’t want to jeopardize his leader’s favor.

“Just one glass, I promise I won’t do anything stupid. I just want to hang out with my friends,” Fry looked nervously from left to right, half expecting Alby to appear and scold him on the spot. But against his better judgement and in line with what he told his leader would happen anyways, he reached behind him and filled a mason jar of Gally’s signature elixir.

The night had quickly blurred into an orange colored haze from there. You downed your jar as quickly as you could, feeling the familiar warmth of it spread first to your cheeks then to the rest of your body. You laughed with your friends, played a convoluted drinking game with your fellow Med-Jacks, introduced yourself to The Glade’s newest female greenie (promising her that you weren’t normally this chatty), and got dared to take your top off by an equally drunk Slicer who’d always had a thing for you. You didn’t comply….obviously. And yet, through all the camaraderie and the feeling that things were finally getting back to normal after the horrors of this last month, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. You’d turn your head to try to find the pair of eyes responsible for this feeling, but that only led to more blurry vision, the alcohol in your system disagreeing with the movement. 

“I’m going for a walk,” you blurted out suddenly to Lireale, who’d been singing an abstract melody over a very out of tune guitar Thomas was absentmindedly strumming.

“What! Are you crazy?” she slurred back at you, trying to snap her mind back to reality to keep you from doing something excessively stupid for the second bonfire night in a row.

“I just need some fresh air,” 

“Are you fucking kidding me Y/N? We live in a Glade; this whole place is fresh air!” she hissed. You couldn’t help but giggle at her outburst. But something was nagging at you and you just felt like you had to get away from people for a while.

“I’m just gonna walk to the little river past the deadheads and then I’ll come back. Promise,” Lireale’s expression shifted from shock to exasperation. It was clear she wasn’t winning this fight and there wasn’t much use in arguing with you; you’d always been stubborn to a fault.

“Fine. But if you’re gonna go skinny dipping, make sure you keep your clothes right next to the water so no one can come over and steal them from you,” You smiled at Lireale’s practical advice, rising from your seat in the grass and giving her an unsteady kiss on the forehead before taking off in your desired direction.

Gally watched your slightly stumbling figure disappear into the darkness of the woods, his interest piqued. He’d been stealing glances at you all night, trying to ignore how much he liked the shade of your top and how he never noticed that you got even prettier when you got drunk, with your hair all astray and a giddy look on your face. Every time he’d feel that familiar heat of desire bubble in his chest, he would dig his fingernails into his palm, trying to use the pain to bring him back to reality. Despite his terrible nail-biting habit leaving his fingernails flush to the skin, they still left small crescent shaped markings and he was beginning to believe they’d become permanent with how often he was having to police his own thoughts.

His looks had gone from quick glances to several uninterrupted seconds of staring as more of his drink began to flood his bloodstream. He’d let Alby believe that he’d given his whole stock to Frypan, but he’d swiped a bottle from an undisclosed personal store under his bed before heading out for the night. No fucking way I’m doing tonight sober, he’d thought to himself before taking the first swig.

So now here he was, plenty drunk with his eyes blurry, his cheeks flushed, and his groggy mind just now beginning to realize that maybe adding copious amounts of alcohol to an already stiff inner cocktail of repression, frustration and desire wasn’t exactly the best way to calm his racing thoughts. He tried to snap out of his lustful haze by tuning back into the spirited conversation his friends were having around him as they lounged on the grass.

“...would fucking kill him before he even tried. Right Gally?” Ben asked indignantly, clearly looking for backup.

“What? Kill who?” Gally muttered, trying to focus his eyes on Ben’s face and figure out what side of this undoubtedly pointless debate he should be on.

“Minho wants to fuck Y/N,” Zart stated bluntly, flashing Gally an evil grin as he watched Minho’s eye widen with fear.

“I do not! I just said she was kinda hot!” Minho blurted back, his voice slurring. He did not want to start a fight with Gally over this of all topics and he was regretting ever mentioning this opinion in Zart’s presence, who he should’ve known wouldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“And I said don’t even think about it because you’ll fucking kill him if he gets within ten feet of her,” Ben finished with an arrogant tone. He was unaware of the sudden tension that fell over the group as they watched Gally think over this information. They were hoping they hadn’t set him off like last month’s incident when one of them, (no one could remember exactly who), revealed that Builder’s crush on you that made him pick a fight with you in the first place.

“Why can’t you shanks ever focus on anything other than girls?” Gally hissed, hoping his blatant hypocrisy wasn’t showing on his face. The group breathed a collective sigh of relief as he seemed no more angry at this prospect than he normally would be.

“Because we’re teenage boys,” Newt piped up from the corner, smiling to himself as he took a deep sip from the mason jar in his hands before passing it to Ben.

“And fantasizing about girls passes the time faster,” Ben continued, taking another sip from the jar and shuddering at its bitter taste. The rest of the circle grunted in agreement as he passed the jar to Zart.

“And we’re all pretty sick of just fucking our hands in the shower every morning!” Zart finished grandly, holding the jar in his hands in front of him like he was making a toast. This sent a chorus of raucous laughter through his friends and Gally went an even further shade of red. He was hit with the flashback of the fantasy of you that had him partaking in that very activity this morning when he suddenly realized he probably shouldn’t be around his friends anymore tonight. Too many eyes are on him and too many potential questions could be formed about just what had gotten him so flustered these past few weeks. 

“Alright guys, I’m turning in for the night,” Gally stated which elicited disappointed groans from all. “Hey somebody has to keep you shanks in line when you’re all hungover tomorrow,” he glared at a small group of the youngest Builders in The Glade, who had been listening in on the conversation without participating. Gally rose to his feet slowly to avoid stumbling like a drunkard and began taking off in the direction of his hut, nodding curtly at the goodbyes his friends called out. Minho scrambled to his feet upon realizing Gally was leaving and rushed to catch up with him, though his head was spinning quite unpleasantly.

“Hey Gally! I’m sorry about that. I’m not gonna do anything with Y/N, I swear. I’m just-I’m really drunk, man, and we were talking about our types and, ya know, which of the girls in The Glade are closest to it and someone brought her up and all I said was-” he rambled nervously as he half jogged next to Gally’s surprisingly swift gait.

“Jesus, Minho, calm down,” he shoved a forceful hand against the Runner’s chest. “I don’t give a shit man, I know it’s all talk,” he dismissed as he took up walking again. 

“Yeah all talk definitely definitely,” Minho repeated breathlessly, relief washing over him as he realized Gally hadn’t noticed how he was spending more and more of his dinners in the Med-hut with you these past few weeks. The increased closeness that was tentatively budding between you two wasn’t anything yet but whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t all talk.

“Get some sleep, man, Ben said you guys are running the outer sections tomorrow,”

“I will, in a bit. ‘Night Gally,” Minho stopped for a moment and willed himself to calm down. It’s nothing, he thought to himself as he meandered his way back over to his friends. I barely know her; we just started talking, he continued in his head. Gally probably won’t murder me if I make a move…probably. He was so preoccupied in his own anxiety that he failed to notice that Gally had veered very distinctively off course.

“Where the fuck is that shank going? I thought he was going to bed,” Zart exclaimed, watching Gally cross from the path he’d been on towards his hut to a path towards the woods.

“I don’t know, it’s Gally mate,” Newt responded, trying to sound nonchalant but secretly logging this in his mind to ask his friend about later when he was sober and during daylight hours. “Hell’ll freeze before we figure him out,”

Nobody from Gally’s circle of friends in the grass had seen you slip into the woods ten minutes earlier. And nobody from your group of friends by the bonfire had seen Gally change course to follow in your footsteps. The Glade remained blissfully unaware of the imminent collision of its two most-at-odds members. 

Gally wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone what made him change course for the woods at that specific moment. He knew he really shouldn’t have, and that the fallout of you two meeting face to face again would most likely end in strict punishments for both of you. But he couldn’t bring himself to care at that moment. He couldn’t deal with the searing heat that was coursing through his body just beneath his tanned skin for even a moment longer. 

Gally was steaming mad. Not at Minho, for thinking you were attractive, not at that Builder from last month for having a crush on you, not at Alby for punishing him, Newt for questioning him, his crew for making fun of him, the entire Glade for whispering about him or even at you for so consistently irritating him. He was enraged with himself for a multitude of reasons; letting his otherwise unperturbed mind be corrupted by mindless teenage sex fantasies, looking at you that night in the Med-hut when he should’ve just kept his eyes to himself, feeling the distinct burning of lust boil in his stomach, for the first time since he had arrived in The Glade. So he was going to do something about it.

He marched through the pitch black of the woods with a renewed vigor that sent a little more coordination through his drunken body. He finally spotted you in the exact spot you had told Lireale you would be in; sitting next to the little pond past the deadheads, your right hand absentmindedly stirring the still water. 

“Y/N!” he barked, making you startle as your ears took in the sudden gruff tone piercing through the silence of the woods.

“Gally?! What the hell are you doing here? Did you fucking follow me??” you yelled, spinning around to face him and jumping to your feet, ever-familiar venom searing through your body that was at peace moments ago.

“No!” Gally snapped back, his voice not reflecting the brief panic now filling his mind. He hadn’t thought about what he’d say to you until right now. “I’m just so fucking tired of this shit!”

“What the hell are you talking about now?”

Gally faltered slightly, trying to find a justifiable reason to be as upset as he was. Without warning, he found an abundance of them that began pouring from his lips like a suddenly opened dam.

“All of this! This whole last month; it’s been fucking ridiculous! You burned both of us for no fucking reason and now we have to tiptoe around everybody here like we’re fucking criminals. We had to apologize to each other like we’re fucking five years old and come to this stupid bonfire night again this month because Alby wants us to put all this shit behind us; but fuck that! I can’t fucking stand you, Greenie!”

Fuck, she looks really…

“Good! Glad we’re on the same fucking page Gally. And it wasn’t for no reason, you dumb shank; you called me a slut in front of the entire Glade! Did you think I’d just lie down and fucking take that?? And you’re not the one Alby threw in the pit every night for a month straight; count your fucking blessings, asshole, at least everyone doesn’t think you’re a deranged fucking arsonist!”

Is he seriously doing this now? I know his timing is always shit but…

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Everybody always thinks you’re just the defensive one but you start fights just as much as…”

“Me?! I would be perfectly happy to never get into another fight again but every time there’s something to complain about, we all have to hear it from….”

“You know that’s not true. Face it Y/N; you fucking love this!”

Silence snapped into place like the final piece of a puzzle as soon as those words left Gally’s mouth. You felt the heat of your anger traveling up to your cheeks but also down to your stomach, creating a dizzying sensation you weren’t familiar with. You barked a forced laugh to try to diffuse this new feeling.

“I love this? What the hell is there to love about this?!”

Is this why I’m always so mad at her? I mean what the fuck kind of coping strategy is…

“This is the reason you and I can get through all the bullshit of living in this prison. Because if we’re fighting with each other, we can’t really think about anything else,”

We’re insane. I think he might actually be…

“Right, so what am I supposed to do, thank you?”

“Maybe it’d be a nice change of pace,”

You both hadn’t noticed it, but you had been stepping closer to each other this entire exchange. You were no more than six inches apart now, breathing heavily, both sets of eyes roaming the other with greedy contempt, almost hungrily.

“Fuck you, Gally,” you finally managed to spit out, almost breathless, the heat in your stomach coiling into tight knots. “Fuck you, Y/N,” he hissed back, positively burning up now.

And suddenly, as if this had been the plan all along, Gally was grabbing your waist and pulling you into a hot, angry, pent-up kiss. His calloused hands grabbed at your hips as his tongue explored your mouth vigorously, finally connecting the heat that had been building up in both of your bodies. He was kissing you like you were the last woman on earth. And you might as well have been.

Despite any protests you should’ve had, you let yourself enjoy the sensation of being manhandled by Gally. He was feeling you up desperately, his hands now slipping underneath the fabric of that damn red v-neck top, snaking their way up your back and then back to the front, his fingers fiddling with the underwire of your bra. He felt his blood rush downwards to where he really wanted you and he was sure that with you pressed up against him, you could feel it too. He disconnected his lips from your mouth and started trailing hot kisses down your neck, sending stifled moans and gasps tumbling from your lips. You pulled away slightly and he adjusted his head to look you in the eyes.

“Are we really fucking doing this?” you questioned, trying for the same angry tone you had used before but your voice was too breathy now.

“Yeah. Fuck it,” Gally responded hoarsely, surprisingly accepting of this objectively insane situation.

“Then let’s go to your hut,” 

“Are you serious?” Gally questioned, only to be absolutely sure this wasn’t just a convoluted revenge plot.

“Deadly,” you whispered back. The heat in your stomach was now replaced by an intense pulling sensation. You needed him. In ways he couldn’t give you while you were both standing fully clothed in the middle of the forest.

Gally disconnected his arms from your body and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the original path he had told his friends he was taking. That felt like a lifetime ago. Bonfire night was still going strong in the distance, so undercover of the intense darkness of The Glade, you and Gally snuck in the back of his hut and he shut the door as quietly as he could. 

He crossed the room to where you were now sitting on the edge of his bed, (just like you had been in all of his fantasies over the past three weeks), pulled your red top over your head and threw it in a ball on the ground. He admired the expanse of soft skin that was now open to him as he stood above you. He wanted to really take it in now, not like that quick glance in the Med-hut, and several tension-filled seconds passed with his eyes roaming your chest greedily, watching it rise and fall with a quickened pace.

“Are you just gonna stare at me or are you gonna fuck me?” you snapped bravely. You could tell that the alcohol in your system had drafted that response. Gally shook his head slightly to break his gaze and looked apprehensively in your eyes.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” he faltered, hot guilt washing over him as he began to consider the consequences of this action for the first time.

“It’s a terrible idea,” you replied, chuckling slightly. You tried to look him in the eyes but couldn’t tear your blown pupils from his lips, which you wished dearly were planted back on your neck at this moment.

“We’re both really drunk,” Gally continued, tentatively running a calloused hand over your shoulders. You felt yourself ease into the contact, your heart rate rising to match your shallow breathing.

“We’re also not supposed to be anywhere near each other,” You lifted your arm to run a hand over Gally’s forearm. The strong muscles from years of manual labor felt like heaven under your soft touch. The Builder’s breath hitched at the innocent contact, feeling a mixture of comfort and lust spread through his body.

“We hate each other,”

“Well we don’t have to right now,” You let a smile spread slowly across your face.

Consequences be damned.

Gally didn’t respond to this statement, he just pulled his blue shirt off of his body and threw it on top of your red one. This triggered an avalanche of movement from the both of you as two sets of shaking hands flurried to undo belts, boot laces, and waistbands, worried that if they moved any slower, all momentum for this batshit idea would be lost.

When the movement finally slowed, you were both down to your underwear, you laying on Gally’s bed with your head on the pillow, your hair forming a halo around you. Gally was still standing at the side of it, his toned chest heaving, and you beckoned to him with your finger. You had both come to a non-verbal conclusion that the less you talked during this exchange, the better, and so a comfortable silence fell over the hut.

Before he joined you on the bed Gally rummaged in his bedside table for a small object he had long given up on ever using; a condom. These had started coming up in The Box every month as soon as the girls did. Alby had begrudgingly given a few to every guy in The Glade, muttering that he didn’t want anyone having sex in the first place, but if they did, he certainly didn’t want to increase the population.

Gally eased himself onto the bed, straddling your body, setting the small foil packet next to the pillow. He lowered himself down to you agonizingly slow, arms bent on either side of your shoulders. You rose your head to meet him, pink lips and alcohol-laced breath meeting once more. You pulled out of the kiss for a moment to bite down on his lower lip which triggered an uncharacteristic whimper to fall from his lips. He took this as a signal to begin placing needy kisses down your neck again, and though the heat of his lips felt divine on your skin, you wanted to move on to the main event. After all, you didn’t drunkenly strip down to your underwear in the living quarters of your worst enemy just to make out; if you’re going to make a terrible decision, at least see it through.

You started tracing your hands down his abs, hitching your fingers in the waistband of his boxers. Gally started a little at the contact, grateful that his face was pressed against your collarbone so you couldn’t see his blush deepening. He’d never had anyone touch him like this and he was quickly becoming addicted to it. All the fantasies he had conjured up of you in the past three weeks couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing. 

He felt his blood throbbing in his cock as he left several purple hickies on your chest, lavishing in the moans you made whenever he’d bite down. He finally pushed himself up on his knees, shifting from side to side as he pulled his boxers off awkwardly, leaving himself now totally exposed. You took his cue, unhooked your bra and shimmied out of your panties, throwing them both off to the side. You both took a moment to admire each other, having to stay very still to avoid the blurred vision that came when you moved too fast.

He raked his eyes over your chest, admiring the curve of your tits that were previously concealed in your bra. Fuck, she’s hot. Without thinking about it, he reached for his cock with his right hand, slowly pumping himself as he trailed his eyes to the wetness pooling between your legs, his eyes widening and the knot beneath his navel begging for release.

You took your time admiring his hulking frame and the muscles flexing in his right arm as he quickened his pace, sliding his hand up and down his surprisingly-massive cock. You liked seeing Gally like this; his jaw slack, eyes glued to you, cock leaking precum that made his calloused hand glisten in the low light and most importantly, his mouth kept firmly shut. It was such a turn on, you reached your own right hand down to your heat and slipped a finger inside, pumping slowly and growing wetter by the second, preparing yourself for him. I can’t believe I want him, but I really fucking do.

As if he had read your thoughts, Gally took his right hand from his cock and his left from his waist to grab your thighs with both and spread them further apart. You removed your right hand from its place between your thighs and gently grabbed his cock, trying to mimic the pumping motion he had been doing moments before. 

Ohfuckohfuckohfuck. Your hand on his cock felt about a hundred times better than his own and it was all he could do to suppress a moan. He let himself throw his head back, his eyes rolling, before the part of his brain that hadn’t gone fuzzy from the friction finally remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He put his large hand over yours and guided it back to its place next to your body. He then reached for the foil packet sitting next to the pillow and ripped it open quickly, sliding the slick latex over himself clumsily, needing to adjust it several times. He felt his cheeks grow hotter, feeling embarrassed at his lack of experience being shown so plainly but he shook it off quickly.

He gripped your waist with his left hand and with his shaking right hand, gently guided his cock to your slick opening. Lining up his tip to your willing hole, he pushed his hips forward slightly when a searing pain suddenly wracked your body.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed suddenly, jolting Gally out of the beautiful relief he had begun to feel. You grabbed his cock instinctively, keeping him frozen in place with just his tip sheathed inside of you.

“What? Are you ok?” he asked worriedly, his heart rate rising with anxiety. He was sure at this moment that you had realized how colossally stupid this was and you were going to shove him off of you, slap him square in the face and then run straight to Alby, who would ensure you’d never get this close to him again.

“I’m fine, it just stung a little bit. I’ve never done this before and…fuck, Gally you’re a lot bigger than I thought you’d be,” your voice was light and as soon as those words left your mouth you began to regret it. You watched a small smile spread quickly across the Builder’s face.

“I’m…big?” he repeated slowly. He’d never tell you, but this appraisal from you about his size had his heart leaping. Like any teenage boy he was naturally insecure in that department and hearing you use that adjective sent his ego inflating to a massive size.

“Fuck off! I’m a virgin, everything’s big to me,” you reasoned hotly, not wanting him to get any cockier than he already is. You were pretty sure that Gally would be considered big to any girl, regardless of their experience, but he didn’t need to know that you thought that. You let your grip around his cock go slack. Your body still wanted more of him even if it was going to prove slightly difficult now.

“So am I. I’ll just, uh, go slower? And you tell me how it feels, ok?” he responded with a softer tone that was laced with uncertainty. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing anyways so he would welcome the feedback regardless. You nodded slowly and he lined himself back up, pushing slightly inward again, watching your face scrunch up with pain again. He stopped, pulling back slightly.

“Hold on, I think I know what might help,” you said, readjusting your body until your hips were angled up instead of parallel to the bed so he’d be thrusting down, not forward. “Try again,”

“You sure?” he raised an eyebrow at you, beginning to worry this wasn’t going to work at all. Despite his long history of negative emotions associated with your presence, he found his mind cut through his lust with concern; he really didn’t want to hurt you.

“Positive,” you nodded, meeting his eyes with a determined gaze. 

Gally lined his cock up to your entrance for the third time, not having to bend over so much due to the new angle. He braced for your pained whimper as he pushed his hips down towards you but he got no such sound in response. Though it still stung slightly as he pushed his tip inside of you, a warm, pleasant pressure spread slowly beneath that feeling, starting to overpower it.

“Are you good?” Gally asked, trying to conceal the shake in his voice from the mind-melting pleasure he was getting from finally being half inside you.

“Yeah, keep going,” you muttered, trying to get used to the warm feeling of your body enveloping him.

He obliged quickly, sinking more of his cock slowly inside of you, gripping your waist tightly now. He was now realizing that it was going to be difficult not to cum after one stroke as the new sensation of your heavenly inner walls already had him teetering on the edge. The experience of his cock filling you up felt more and more natural the deeper he thrusted. He finally bottomed out with a groan, his pelvic bone now pressed against yours.

“Gally,” you moaned softly and he could definitely tell that it wasn’t a moan from pain. His cock twitched inside you at the sound. She’s moaning my name. I can’t believe this is real.

“Feeling good, Y/N?” he stuttered back, the pressure underneath his navel building up massively as he began to slowly thrust his hips back and forth, watching your face intensely for any sign of discomfort. Your face flushed at the sound of your name falling from his lips. He is big.

“Yes, fuck me faster,” 

You had meant for it to be a command but it came out in the form of a whimper. Nonetheless Gally complied quickly, cutting the time between each stroke in half, experimenting with pulling more of his cock out of you just to slam it back harder the next time. Your moans had begun to fill the air around him, just like he imagined they would. The feeling of your pussy wrapped so tightly around his cock, pulling him in, was so otherworldly it blew any sexual release he’d ever given himself with his own hand right out of the water. 

He forced himself to open his eyes and look down at you, your body recoiling from each thrust, sending your tits rippling in a hypnotizing circle. He stared down at where his cock disappeared inside you, practically drooling from the sight. He tightened his grip on your waist, now using his arms to pull your hips back and forth on his cock, instead of him thrusting his.

You started seeing spots in the corner of your vision at this new move. You could feel your wetness leaking down from where his cock was sliding in and out of you and the pressure was building in between your hips. You marveled dumbstruck at what little strength it took for him to move your entire body so easily. 

“Keep…going…like…that,” you managed to sigh between moans, your hands now reaching up to his shoulders, fingernails digging into his tanned skin. This stinging sensation sent shockwaves through Gally’s body, who now locked into his task with laser focus. He listened to the faint squelching noises of your wet core taking his cock so well as he slammed your hips repeatedly against his, even harder now.

“Fuck Y/N. You’re…so…tight,” he was having a harder time pulling you off his cock to thrust harder due to how hard your walls were gripping him.

“Gally…you’re so-….big. Fuck! You feel…sooooo…good,” you moaned back, almost crying from the feeling of how well his massive cock was filling you up. You felt like you were about to be ripped apart from the strength of his thrusts, but you just dug your fingernails into his back deeper and squeezed your eyes shut, letting the pleasure roll over your body.

Gally was trying to hold out for your orgasm but at the sound of his name leaving your lips again in such a sensual tone and the praise you were giving him for his efforts, he just couldn’t hold it in any longer. He felt the heat surge into his pelvis and barely had any time to warn you.

“Y/N…sorry...I’m gonna-” but his sentence was cut off by you pulling him down into another sloppy, wet kiss. As you pulled away from him slightly to bite down on his bottom lip, he felt his pleasure finally curl to a finish. He thrust violently into your pussy and held his position deep inside of you, feeling his warm cum spurt out of his pulsing cock and into the condom. He let out a few very undignified moans into your mouth, and was too high off the feeling of you wrapped around him to feel embarrassed about it.

“I know you didn’t-” he started, slowly opening his eyes to meet your glazed ones underneath him. You were coming down from the high a lot quicker than he was, your lack of climax not really bothering you as you somehow knew this wouldn’t be a one-time thing.

“It’s fine. Next time,” you nodded at him with a wink, watching the shock color his sweaty face.

“Wait,” he paused briefly, pulling his leaking cock out of your pussy, eliciting a groan from both of you, “‘Next time’?”

“Yeah,” you sat up gingerly to meet his eye level. “Isn’t fucking me better than fighting with me?”

“Well, yeah…”

He withdrew his legs from around you gingerly, reaching for the towel he’d used to wipe his face before he left for bonfire night. He removed the condom wrapped around him slowly and tossed it gently into the garbage by his bed. He then focused on wiping both of you down, trying to ignore the slight spin the room had now. He was still reeling but was trying to be functional. It’s certainly a hard line to walk between; hating someone so much yet cumming harder than you ever have while inside them. The mix of annoyance and need he felt while looking at you was curdling in his stomach, making him feel slightly nauseous.

“...but I didn’t think there’d be a next time. I didn’t think there’d be a first time. I mean; what the fuck is this?”

You took the towel from his hands and finished wiping yourself clean, then swung your shaking legs over the edge of the bed, turning your head to face Gally. You felt the absence of him inside you like a chunk had been taken from your flesh. You hadn’t realized how much attraction had been simmering under your hatred for him until the tension finally broke. But despite your confused feelings, you were determined to gain the upper hand on him and win the war of indifference.

“You’re seriously pulling a “what are we”?” you chuckled.

“No, fuck no,” he recoiled with disgust that was slightly forced. “Y/N, we're both drunk. I kinda thought we’d regret this in the morning and never talk to each other again,” He hoped that wasn’t the correct assumption.

“Is that what you wanna do?” you posed innocently, standing finally and turning to face him with your hands on your hips. You tried to keep your desire for him out of your tone and you weren’t sure if you were succeeding.

“Not really, no,” he muttered, dazed at his new view of you, his eyes scanning up and down your body. His cock gave a weak throb, somehow still slightly hard even after its monumental release.

“Ok well then, let’s just do this. But maybe, sober and not like, directly after biting each other's heads off? We don’t have to talk, just meet up and…” you trailed off suggestively, posing this proposal as you searched his floor for all the clothing items you had haphazardly tossed there. Gally reached down for his boxers and pulled them over his half-hard cock.

“You sure? I feel like you’re just gonna get really mad at me and we’ll have another thing like last month and I really don’t wanna-”

“Oh my fucking god Gally do you want to fuck me or not?? What is your fucking deal?” you snapped, pulling your shirt over your head and reaching for your pants, forgetting about underwear entirely. Gally suddenly knelt down in front of you, gripping your wrists in his strong hands.

“Of course I want to fuck you again, shank! You think I can cum like that from my own hand? I just think we hate each other and this is gonna end terribly. I’m trying to avoid getting burned again; literally” he accented the last word with an acidic tone, all the dizziness from his orgasm now completely worn off and irritation at your attitude replacing it. 

“Clearly the only time I don’t hate you Gally, is when you’re inside me so let’s just do that and we’ll be fucking fine!” You shook your wrists from his grip and finished pulling your pants up in a huff.

“Fine,” he turned from you to pick up his shirt.

“Great,” you stood up with your boots in your hands and sat at the edge of his bed to put them on. You both dressed the rest of the way in a stubborn silence, with you realizing you had forgotten your underwear and just opting to shove them into one of your large pockets and Gally trading his tough cargo pants for linen shorts. He usually slept in just his boxers but he didn’t want to be undressed around you any more than he had to be. The argument that sprouted took both of your attention from your confusing feelings of lust and fondness towards one another and back on a much more comfortable plane; arguing came as easily to you two as breathing.

You finally stood fully dressed and made your way to the door. You had your hand on the doorknob, ready to make your escape when Gally broke the silence.

“Wait Y/N. Are you good?” He didn’t clarify what exactly he was trying to check that you were good with but between the concerned look on his face and the earnestness of his tone, you could tell he was strictly referring to your trial and error in the bed earlier. Gally’s stomach was twisting into knots as you thought over your response with your back still turned to him. He was torn between genuine concern for your wellbeing and embarrassment at treating his enemy so gently.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered, turning to face him and nodding with wide, honest eyes. You tried to conceal the ambiguous pang that rattled your chest as you realized his care for you. Sure it was the bare minimum but this was Gally; kindness is not a strong suit of his.

“You’re not hurt?” he clarified, keeping his tone matter-of-fact.

“Um, I’m a little sore. Like I might have trouble walking tomorrow,” you broke out into a playful grin to diffuse the tension, “but that’s a good kind of hurt, you know,”

“Ok,” he nodded to reassure himself, chuckling slightly and relaxing slightly at your appraisal of the situation. “Can’t wait to see you limping around the Med-hut tomorrow,” he cracked sarcastically, returning your grin.

You scrunched your nose up and narrowed your eyes as you put your hand back on the doorknob. “Fuck off Gally,” you muttered without your usual flair as you swung the door closed behind you.

You snuck back to your hut in silence, realizing that was probably the only time you’d ever said that phrase and didn’t really mean it.

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

Tags: @katie-tibo @my-little-universes @cthood @decaffeinatedpuppygiver

[madieflaw]

part 7 😼

[troyssix]

OKAY IF YOU LIKE MAZE RUNNER PLS REBLOG THIS POST I JUST WANNA KNOW ABOUT MY FELLOW FANS

REBLOG THISSSS

[thomins]

supportive glade 😭

(Drawing for a almost dead fandom + not well known ship)

( dont follow me because i quit ♡)

[mssorceressupreme]

Saviour | Minho x Reader

Summary: the gladers pull a prank on you, stealing your clothes while you’re showering, leaving you stranded there with nothing at all. Minho accidentally walks in on you, and you ask him for a favour.

Warnings: mild bullying/teasing

——

The hot water felt like a rare luxury, washing away the grime and exhaustion from your time in the glade. Being the newest member, or greenie, as they called you, meant that every day was a new challenge, full of unfamiliar faces and daunting tasks.

The shower was the only place where you could find a moment of peace, especially since you were the only girl.

You had just finished lathering up and rinsing off when you heard faint giggles and whispers outside. You dismissed it, assuming it was just some of the boys messing around.

But as you turned off the water and reached for your clothes from the shared clothing rack outside, panic set in. The rack was empty. Your clothes were gone.

All that was left was a tiny towel which you brought with you inside the shower. And it was barely enough to cover you.

Given that it was only boys in the glade before you arrived, there wasn’t a need for shower hooks or racks inside the shower, as most of them wandered around freely without a single care, grabbing their clothes from the shared rack outside the shower station and proceeding with their day as usual.

Your heart ached as you clutched the towel around yourself. There was no way you could step out like this. You were stuck, anxious and scared, not knowing what to do.

Minutes ticked by, and your mind was a whirl of panic and embarrassment. You were so caught up in fear that you didn’t hear the door open.

Minho opened the door, a white towel wrapped around his waist, revealing his well-carved and defined abs. You knew that being a runner meant that he was fit, but wow, he was truly fit.

“Ah-I’m in here—” you shouted, voice trembling. Moving to the corner of the shower to distance yourself from Minho.

Minho froze, his eyes wide with shock and embarrassment as he saw you without any apparel except for the tiny towel, “Oh, uh, sorry! I didn’t think anyone was in here.” He turned around, closing the door.

“Wait—please, don’t go!” You pleaded, desperately.

Though this was your first time properly interacting with Minho, you felt that he was someone you could trust.

You saw Minho come to a halt outside from the opening beneath the shower door, his feet facing towards the door now, “You need something?” His voice curious, a hint of concern.

“Someone stole my clothes, and I can’t leave like this—please, I feel so humiliated…” you felt a lump in your throat, eyes welling up from this situation, honestly, it was a combination of emotions making you feel on the verge of tears. The feeling of being in this new unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people was petrifying.

Realisation dawned on Minho, and he frowned. On his way back from the maze, he recalled a group of gladers running around and sniggering, carrying clothes that seemed a bit too small for them. “Stay right here. I’ll handle this.”

He left the shower station and you sank to the floor. Clutching the tiny towel around you.

Moments later, you heard Minho’s voice, angry and authoritative, echoing through the compound.

“Hey! Get back here, you shanks!”

Through the small hole in the shower, you saw Minho, dripping wet, chasing after a group of gladers. His towel was barely holding on, his muscular build flexing as his ran. Despite your predicament, you couldn’t help but admire him.

“If you ever pull something like that again, I’ll have Alby put you guys in the pit! And if you’re still not careful, banished.” He was stern, no glimmer of kindness.

Though he wasn’t first or second in command, the gladers held Minho highly. His position as keeper of the runners was much respected, especially since it would be him, of all people, finding the way out for you. It was no easy job, even you knew he was someone important when Newt explained who Minho was before you even saw him.

A few minutes later, Minho knocked on the door, “Still here greenie?”

You slowly opened the door, reaching your hand out to grab your clothes from him. His face was flushed, a mix of anger and exertion, “Here,” he said, as he handed them to you. “I’m sorry about those shuckheads. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, “I really appreciate it.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “I’ll wait outside to make sure no one bothers you.”

You quickly dressed, feeling a mix of gratitude and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

When you stepped out, Minho was leaning against the wall, his eyes scanning the area protectively.

“Thank you Minho,” you said again, feeling the need to express my gratitude. The awkwardness from earlier became a foreign feeling, for some reason, it was comforting to be in his presence despite him seeing you cloth-less just now.

“It’s no problem,” he replied gently, “We look out for each other here. I’ll make sure no one messes with you again.”

You shared a moment of silence. A sweet but short gaze into those warm brown eyes of his, before he cleared his throat.

“Well uh, I better clean up before the builders hog the stalls, but catch you at dinner?” Minho smiled.

“Oh yeah right—yeah, see you at dinner!” You jogged off.

——

Dinner time arrived in a matter of moments. It was a chaotic affair with everyone crowding into the dining hall, laughing and talking loudly.

You scanned the room and spotted Minho, who waved over to with him and the other runners. Relief warned over you as you made your way through the crowd to his side.

For the first time you had someone to sit with, it felt nice to have a friend.

We barely settled into our seats when a group of boys approached our table, the same ones who had pulled the prank earlier.

“Need your boyfriend to get your clothes for you again?” One of them sneered. “Want him to serve you dinner too?”

Heat rushed to my cheeks as they laughed, their teasing hitting a sore spot. Being the only girl in the glade was hard enough without their torment.

Minho’s expression darkened, and he stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor which darted most of the attention towards him, “You better shut up before I make you,” he gritted his teeth.

He had no idea where this sudden protective instinct was coming from, especially since you barely know each other, but he felt the overwhelming urge to protect you.

The laughter stopped abruptly as the boys realised that Minho was serious. Tension crackled in the air and for a moment, it seemed like a fight was inevitable.

They stood face to face, Minho’s fist tightening as he clenched his jaw.

Just then, Alby and Newt appeared, quickly moving to pull Minho back. “Calm down, Minho.” Alby said firmly, placing a hand on his chest.

“Yeah they’re not worth it,” you added, stepping forward to calm him. You placed a hand on his arm, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch.

Minho looked down at you, his anger slowly dissipating. He let out a frustrated sigh and allowed himself to be guided back to his seat. The boys, seeing they were outnumbered, backed off, muttering under their breaths.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly once you were seated again.

“Yeah, I just hate seeing them treat you like that. If they weren’t so lucky, they’d be banished by now.” Minho replied, his eyes smouldering with residual anger. “I just don’t want anyone hurting you.”

You held your breath, before placing your hand on his, both of you jolting slightly at the contact of your hands, it was an all too familiar touch. You smiled softly at him.

His protectiveness touched you deeply. Despite the touch exterior, there was a kindness in him that made you feel safe.

“Can I stay with you for the rest of the evening?” You asked hesitantly, “I just…I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Minho nodded, a small but assuring smile, “Of course.”

The rest of the evening, you grabbed dinner and found a quiet spot away from the others. You talked, shared stories, and slowly, a bond began to form between you.

Minho’s presence was a comfort, and the more time you spent with him, the more you realised how much you liked him. Could this friendship turn into something more? You wondered.

As the night wore on, and the glade fell silent, Minho walked you back to your hammock. “Thank you for today,” you looked up at him with an appreciative smile, you truly did not know what you would have done without him.

“Anytime greenie,” he replied, a warm smile playing on his lips, “I’ll always be here for you.”

[shimmerytimbers]

love how Thomas was like "ayo i aint befriending a weird 12 year old go away" at first and immidiately went "okay i change my mind pls come back i think ur my only friend here :(((" a few minutes later

[newyorksecrets]

Part 2 !! Thank you to @ermdotorg for giving me the app name LMAO 💖

I changed a few of the pfp pics after scavenging Pinterest and I think I like them better. also the font is bold bc idk how to change it LMAO

[thominho-incorrectquotes]

Alby: No. Thomas: Alby: What did I tell you about the puppy dog eyes? Thomas: Thomas: ... They only work on Minho.

[ermdotorg]

okay erm i'm actually kind of mad that they made alby all sweet and silly in the tmr movies. i'm actually very mad about it.

where's my hot-tempered, pissy, no-bullshit alby?

where's my alby "quit yappin' my ear off, thomas!" einstein?

where's my alby that can only be calmed down by newt?

where's my alby who only lets minho talk back to him?

where's my traumatized alby who doesn't trust thomas from the start?

where's my failed sacrifice alby?

where's my crazy alby who everyone trusts anyway?

where's my problematic alby that tried to burn down the map room to keep them from escaping?

where's my alby that sacrificed himself not only for his friends, but because he would rather die than go into the world he saw after being stung?

ugh. they did him dirty.

[poorgirlinpoorworld]

Boys waiting for the pole dance instructor to finish demonstrating the new move ✨

I cant unsee it sorry not sorry

[crazyhappycat]

Newt: I’m having a mid life crisis

Sonya/Lizzie: You’re not having a mid life crisis. You’re 11

Newt: *dies at 16*

[thegladescameragirl]

THE GLADE’S CAMERA GIRL.

Chapter #2, The Only Girl.

POV: THOMAS

What is this place?"

He shifted on his feet for a moment before extending his hand toward me. "Let me show you." He smiled.

I began to reach out, my fingers hesitating mid-air, when a blood-curdling scream tore through the silence like a blade. My breath hitched, my heart lurching in my chest as the sound clawed at my ears. For a moment, it was as though time froze—my skin prickling, stomach twisting with an instinctive dread. Both of us froze, heads snapping toward the sound.

"Shit, Greenie," Alby muttered before sprinting toward the source, a few other boys following suit. Those who weren't already at the Med-hut joined the commotion. Alby left the pit's entrance open, and curiosity got the better of me. I slipped outside, pushing past the crowd. Shouts and clattering echoed through in the hut, the chaos growing louder as I shoved my way forward.

Once through the wall of boys, I saw her. The girl from earlier. She was wide-eyed and frantic, hurling whatever objects she could get her hands on at the approaching boys.

"Where am I?! Who are you people?! Did you kidnap me?!" she shouted, her voice trembling with anger and fear. She launched a tin bowl at Alby, who was trying to approach her calmly with his hands raised in surrender.

"What the hell happened?" Alby demanded, stepping back slightly to avoid another projectile.

Jeff, I presume, hunched behind one of the bunks, shouted over the ruckus, "She freaked out as soon as we woke her up! I swear, we didn't do anything!"

"What do you want with me?!" she demanded, her voice breaking as her gaze darted between the boys.

"Listen, lady, you're acting crazy right now—" said a tall, broad-shouldered boy with dark hair and a sharp jawline. His annoyed expression stood out, his cocky attitude clear in his stance, but the girl was quicker. Her hands patted her pockets frantically before pulling out a small switchblade. The sight of the blade froze the room, tension thick as she swung it in front of her in warning.

Gasps and whispers could be heard around the room as the circle of boys expanded, moving to get farther away from the blade.

"Hey, hey," I stepped forward cautiously, palms up in mock surrender. "Just calm down, okay?"

"Why am I here?!" she snapped, cutting me off, the blade now trembling but still aimed directly at me. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to show weakness.

I hesitated, my mouth opening and closing as I struggled to answer.

"Look," Alby interrupted, moving beside me, his hands still raised. "None of us know why we're here. Not me, not him, not anybody. We're in the same boat, alright? Now, if you put that thing down, we can talk this out like normal people. I promise, no one's going to hurt you."

Her grip on the blade tightened, her knuckles whitening as though the blade were the only thing tethering her to reality. Thomas couldn't help but notice the way her eyes darted across the room—not just looking for danger, but searching for something, someone, familiar. There was a raw desperation there, a mixture of fear and defiance that he couldn't quite place. She wasn't like the others; she wasn't just afraid. She was ready—ready to fight, to survive, even if the odds were stacked against her. "Where are the other girls?" she asked, her voice quieter but no less urgent.

The room fell into an uneasy silence. Finally, Alby spoke, his tone firm but kind. "There are none."

She blinked, her face paling. "What?"

"There are no other girls here," Alby repeated. "You're the only one."

Her gaze dropped to the floor, her breathing shallow as she processed his words. No other girls. Just her.

In that moment of distraction, the tall, broad-shouldered boy moved. He lunged forward, locking her arms behind her back in one swift motion. The blade clattered to the ground as she thrashed and kicked, her screams cutting through the stunned silence.

"Help me out here!" he shouted, struggling to keep hold of her.

A few other boys rushed forward to assist, some grabbing her arms while others weren't so lucky, finding themselves on the receiving end of a well-placed kick to the chest. It took several of the boys to subdue her, but eventually, they managed to hold her still.

"What now?" a smaller boy with curly hair asked from the doorway, his wiry frame leaning against the wooden post, a smug grin plastered on his face like he was enjoying the chaos.

"Tie her up. Arms and legs," Alby ordered.

Thomas flinched at the command, an uneasy knot forming in his stomach. The words felt wrong somehow—cold, maybe even cruel. He glanced at the girl, her chest heaving as she fought to stay defiant despite her obvious fear. She didn't deserve this—not really. But what other choice did they have?

The tall boy holding her glanced at Alby and groaned. "Really? Fine, i don't care. Someone grab the rope."

A runner—a wiry, tan boy drenched in sweat, his shirt sticking to his back—appeared into the hut suddenly, a question already on his face. "What'd I miss?" His partner behind him peering at the trashed room, as he panted, resting his hands on his knees.

"Minho, help 'em out," Alby barked, ignoring the boy's question.

The tan boy—Minho, I guessed—shrugged and moved toward the struggling girl like it was nothing new. Her arms and legs were already tied together, but that didn't stop her from thrashing wildly as he approached. Without much effort, he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder, her muffled protests breaking through the chaos. He smirked, seemingly unfazed by the ordeal. "Guess I came back at the right time." 

The girl screamed in protest, pounding her fists against Minho's back. "Put me down! Let me go!"

"Quit moving," Minho muttered as he carried her toward the Pole in the center of the grassy area, where Alby was already leading the way. I trailed behind, my unease growing with every step. I still didn't understand this place, or why this was happening.

When we reached the Pole—a thick wooden beam standing about eight feet tall—the group stopped.

"Tie her up. Tight enough to keep her down, but not enough to hurt her," Alby instructed firmly.

One of the boys ran off and returned moments later with a coil of rope. Minho set her down while the broad-shouldered boy and a few others quickly worked to secure her wrists and ankles. She glared daggers at anyone who met her eyes, her breathing ragged with frustration and fear.

When they stepped back, she shouted, her voice hoarse. "You can't just leave me here!"

Alby crouched to meet her gaze, his tone steady and calm. "We're not leaving you here for long. But until we're sure you're not gonna hurt anyone—or yourself—this is how it's gotta be. You'll get food, water, whatever you need. But we need to trust each other to survive here, alright?"

She didn't respond, her jaw clenched as tears of frustration filled her eyes.

I hesitated before stepping forward. "What's your name?" I asked softly.

She paused for a long moment before finally whispering, "_____."

"Alright, _____," Alby said, straightening up. "Let's start over. We're all in this together, whether we like it or not. Just give it some time. You'll see."

As the crowd began to disperse, I lingered for a moment. My eyes met hers, and I swallowed hard. "You're gonna be okay," I said quietly, though I wasn't sure I believed it myself.

With that, I turned to follow the others, but my feet felt heavy, as if each step pulled at the knot twisting in my stomach. I glanced back over my shoulder, catching the way her gaze darted across the Glade—confusion and disbelief etched into her expression. She looked so small against the vastness of the strange world she'd been dropped into, and for a brief moment, I wondered what she was thinking, what she was feeling. Did she hate us already? Did she think we were monsters? The thought lingered as I turned away again, forcing myself to follow the others, even as her glare burned into my back. I hesitated briefly, turning just enough to meet her eyes again. "I'll come back for you," I promised quietly, the words slipping out before I could stop them. I wasn't sure what I meant, or how I'd keep that promise, but it felt important to say. Her expression flickered—confusion, distrust, and maybe something softer—before I forced myself to keep walking.

___________

Another chapter in! 

Can't wait till people actually start reading it!!!

I took some time on it, writing and double checking for errors or things I wanted to change but, yeah! Reader's introduction!!!

[madieflaw]

part ate 🫢

[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!

[la-gotica-fantasma]

What I think Maze Runner characters would be arrested for -

(except it's extremely specific)

Thomas - Sexual harassment because he pantsed Minho on a public subway. Newt - Picking up a hitchhiker (and then inevitably getting really pissed at said hitchhiker because they kept asking for stuff he didn't have). Minho - Public indecency on a subway because Thomas pantsed him. Winston - Confessing to a murder he didn’t commit because he couldn’t decide how to explain how he didn’t commit any murder. Alby - Arson. Zart - Accidentally selling weed. Not accidental because he didn't know it was weed, but accidental because he didn't mean to sell it. Frypan - Turning the house he's renting into a restuarant without asking his landlord. Jeff - Bringing Bark into "no pets allowed" zones and then lying that Bark was a service animal. Clint - Stealing a shopping cart from a Walmart. Ben - Chasing children on all fours and growling and barking at them. Aris - Accidentally firing a gun in a public setting because he thought the bullet in it wasn't real. Chuck - Going behind an Italian ice stand while the server is gone and taking a spoon and eating a bunch of the Italian ice. Gally - Bringing a knife to school (for "safety reasons") Jorge - Beating up a pedophile on the middle of the beach. Janson - Buying a human cancer tumor off of the dark web to try and give his enemies cancer. Teresa - Trying to bypass Afghanistan laws against women receiving healthcare. Brenda - Purposefully creating and running a gunrunning-ring, but only letting women buy the weapons she sells. Sonya - Public indecency because, to prove a point that the female body isn't inherently sexual, she went on strike at work with her shirt off after a disagreement with her boss on what was appropriate to wear at work. Harriet - Getting and auctioning the guns for Brenda's arms trafficking. Rachel - Using brass knuckles in a fight with a waitress who looked at her boyfriend "weirdly". Beth - Stalking and planning to ruin the life of the girl who used to call her "Brace-face" in the 6th grade/year 6. (The girl also had braces) Ava - Kidnapping. Dr. Crawford - Texting a groupchat about something extremely illegal that she saw without calling the police. Her excuse in court was "I thought you'd find out yourself". Mary - Buying governmental secrets for personal enjoyment, rarely ever doing anything with the information.